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artyandink · 3 days

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hyperthermia

Summary: Based on a request by @yinorathedragontamer. You needed a break from hunting, so you didn’t go on the latest one, but found you needed something to occupy your time. Just your luck that the Winchesters happened to return home when you were washing Baby, and you caught the eye of a certain someone.

A/N - Banners in use by @cafekitsune, first entry for Jensen-A-Thon!

TW: Set in S9 (so hot, scruffy Dean guys), and blatant checking out/fantasising

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Want to join my Dean Winchester (or any other Jensen character) taglist? Go to my main master list and find the Forms link!

Dean and Sam ambled back into the bunker, duffel bags carried by their taut arms like they’d done a million times before, so what should be a bag of bricks was a feather. Dean swept his hand over his mouth while Sam’s went through his hair, both ready to crash from the wear and tear of the hunt.

“I swear, m’ready to goddamn pass out.” Dean chuckled, nails scratching over the scruff that had grown on his cheek. He’d been hit a few times - not enough to cause bruises and whatnot - hard enough to cause fatigue once the adrenaline of the fight was used and faded.

Sam could only grunt in agreement, trying to rub the effects of a long drive from Oregon out of his eyes, paired it’s the disgruntlement of having to listen to rock tracks in the car. “You and me both. But hey, we should at least visit-”

“Roger that.” Dean cut Sam off before he could finish, in search of you. You were always a sight for sore eyes after a hunt, no matter what you were dressed in or if you were covered in blood; he enjoyed the vision that you were. More than he cared to admit.

He checked your bedroom, but he only found an unusually neat bed and a clean room, which was a rare occurrence for you and had him thinking that you were kidnapped, which prompted him to take out his gun.

You never did up your bed.

He crept through the hall, hoping to the good God that his boots didn’t squeak, but then familiar humming of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ caught the attention of his ears, originating from the garage. Followed by his arrival there, where he spotted you. And it wasn’t only just the sight of you that had him standing up straight.

You, in nothing but a soaked through plaid shirt tucked into some tight denim shorts, the sleeves of the plaid rolled up to your elbows and drawing his attention to your pretty hands. Hair damp and falling just right and had him biting his lip and fighting off the urge to ruin your friendship entirely. Droplets of water running down your neck, that damn sexy curve of your slightly bent legs and trailing beneath the v-shaped neckline that the collar of your shirt made that he was starting to think was made on purpose to make him go insane.

The image was too damn sinful. And he was suddenly not so tired and ‘ready to goddamn pass out’, more like licking his lips and biting the bottom one as he folded his arms over his chest. Eyes trained on you. Yeah, not so tuckered out anymore and ready to catch the full nine.

His bed can go to hell, he wanted you pinned against the bonnet of his Baby, legs spread wide so he could fit in between and show you how much he appreciated the job well-goddamn-done. Did he mention you were washing Baby? Probably not, he was too distracted with the way your hips were swaying as you stepped to cover another part of his beloved Impala with soap suds that then trickled down your own body and made your attire that much more see through and you that much more delicious.

Holy Jesus of Nazareth, you were giving his self control a run for its money. And his self control was likely to lose the money and go bankrupt if he wasn’t distracted pronto.

Wait- but why was he objectifying you? You were doing him a solid by cleaning the other girl of his dreams, why the hell would he think about your legs like that? And your body clearly outlined by the wet, clingy material of your shirt that he was starting to feel jealous of because he wanted to be that close to you.

No. Bad Dean.

He licked his lips again, his hips shifting slightly as he fought a clearing of his throat in case it’d alert you of his presence. His mossy eyes trained so precisely on you, it’d probably let you know he was there anyway, heat radiating from his gaze.

He didn’t want to think about the curve of that pretty neck. Or the way it’d feel under his lips.

Neither did he want to think about those delicate hands - that he knew were tough as hell - holding the sponge that was lathering up his Baby. Or the way they’d feel working his - nope, too far.

Definitely not the way the shirt looked like it now had to be peeled off your skin to reveal the treasure underneath, because god-holy-damn he had managed to catch a glimpse of black lace underneath that plaid. He’d happily unwrap you like a frickin’ present and it wasn’t even Christmas for about six months.

“Damn, pretty girl.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair that was begging to let his feet walk over, grab your hip and pull you into him so he could lick up your neck to collect all the water droplets running down them. What he wouldn’t give to just pop the button on those shorts, get to his knees and work you until his tongue ached.

Right there. Right-frickin’-there. Against his Baby-

“Pretty girl? That’s what we’re calling her now?” Sam muttered into his ear with a snort, not loud enough for you to hear as you bent over Baby’s bonnet in just the right way to have Dean’s eyes sliding down to that gorgeous ass framed in those shorts that should damn well be illegal.

Dean was snapped partially out of his thoughts, left embarrassed and disgruntled and somewhat still ogling that God-blessed ass before he followed Sam through the halls, the latter of which was sporting a smug smirk. “H-Hey, I was just-”

Sam raised his hands in surrender with a small laugh, looking back to Dean knowingly. “Hey, if you wanna check out her ass, do it at your own risk.”

“I wasn’t checking out her…” Dean got an image of it again and smirked slightly, jerking his head to the side, “yeah, maybe I was, so what? Can you blame me? That thing’s-”

Sam held up a finger, shivering in borderline discomfort as his mind filled the blank. “I’m gonna TMI you before you say it.”

“I’m just sayin’, I’m a man. I have needs, where a female who’s a badass hunter and also happens to be gorgeous and also happens to live with us is concerned. And it’s worse when she’s handlin’ my Baby.” He gave Sam a sheepish grin, but the younger Winchester only shook his head in mock disapproval, grabbing the duffel with his pyjamas.

“I’m going to bed.”

“You do that.” Dean grabbed his own duffel, heading to his room which, to his luck, passed the garage and you working on the car. You managed to lock eyes with him, and you gave him a cheery wave. He returned it, and as you turned, his eyes slid down to the curve of your ass again, eyebrows pumping once as a smirk stretched his pouty lips.

“I’ll see you in my dreams, sweetheart.” He muttered before he disappeared off to his bedroom to live his fantasy.

Meanwhile, you dried your face and neck off with a chuckle, going back to your room to change into some get into some drier and more comfortable clothing with a smug smirk on your face.

You’d noticed Dean through Baby’s newly cleaned mirror that you could probably sing ��Reflection’ from Mulan in. His eyes taking you in and licking his lips like you were the latest snack he wanted to devour. His hands itching to touch you, his mind going blank when you pushed out your ass on purpose in order to catch his attention.

That was just phase one of your multi-step plan to strip Dean Winchester of his self control where you were concerned.

“Mission accomplished.” You muttered under your breath with a giggle.

I’d really appreciate feedback, loves! Have a great day!

TAGLIST: @k-slla @hobby27

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #spn masterlist #dean winchester smut #dean x you #supernatural fanfiction

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lilasamaaa · 24 days

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Who says "I love you" first? Part Two | F1 grid x Reader

Click here to read the first part!

Genre | Fluff

Featuring | Oscar Piastri, Daniel Ricciardo, George Russell, Carlos Sainz, Yuki Tsunoda, Max Verstappen.

Word count | 1.8K

Warnings | None! Enjoy the ride!

Author's note | Coming up with original ideas for this was so painful lmao, I'm sorry it took so long!

Oscar Piastri

He says it first.

Today marks four months since you and Oscar have been together. The Australian texted you a few hours ago, telling you to wear a nice dress and meet him in front of your building at 8.

The two of you had met four months ago at a party hosted by a mutual friend. You had heard of love at first sight, but had never experienced it before him. Before your eyes met his. As you had moved to Australia a few weeks before meeting him, and with English not being your first language, it had taken a bit of time to get comfortable with each other and juggle between your respective languages, but today, you two were inseparable... To the point where you'd already canceled the plane ticket that was supposed to take you back home at the end of the year.

The restaurant where you're dining is splendid. The candles on your table cast a soft light on his face, the atmosphere is incredibly romantic, and the dishes are delicious. But above all, it's the looks Oscar has been giving you all evening that make your heart beat. A mixture of tenderness, passion, and admiration.

"I hope you don't mind, but I ordered dessert," your boyfriend announces, looking at you fondly.

As soon as the sentence is uttered, a waiter places a plate in front of you, and you let out a gasp of surprise as you discover the letters traced in chocolate. "I love you". In your native tongue. Your eyes start to water as you meet Oscar's gaze, visibly nervous. For a minute, you're speechless. Equally surprised by the kind attention than by the admission from the Australian.

"Please tell me they spelled it right," the driver says as you burst into laughter.

"They did," you reply, reaching for his hand. "And I don't have any dessert to prove it, but just so you know, I love you too."

Daniel Ricciardo

He says it first.

Daniel and you are lying on the couch in his living room, watching a replay of last weekend's race on TV. You love it when your boyfriend comments on every move, explains the strategies, and tells you about his feelings in the car. Even though you attended the race live in Singapore, it's definitely different to look back at the race with the insight of a real pilot. As Daniel explains to you the choice of his medium tires, the image from the replay suddenly changes from the track and zooms in on you, wearing a headset, in the garage.

"What?" you yelp, standing up on your elbows. "I didn't know they were filming me!"

Under your face, a small banner appears, and you feel your heart tighten. "Daniel Ricciardo's friend".

"Oh," you breathe, unable to tear your gaze away from the tv screen.

"Wow," Daniel says. "So they really have no idea that we're together."

The camera dives back onto the track, and Daniel starts commenting on every moment again, before realizing that you've been silent for a while.

"Hey," your boyfriend says, nudging your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just..." you start, feeling your throat tighten. "We've been dating for a few months now, and it's... It's weird to be called your friend. I don't know. It's making me feel insecure."

"Well, you shouldn't," the Australian says before capturing your lips in a soft kiss. "Because I love you. Way more than a friend."

George Russell

You say it first.

At work, George is methodical. Organized. At home, however, you've come to learn that your boyfriend is a real scatterbrain and forgets everything. All the time. To the point that since you started seeing each other more regularly and you began sleeping over at his place, you've gotten into the habit of leaving notes for him all over the apartment before going to work.

"Your brother is coming over tonight"

"DO NOT order food. There are leftovers in the fridge!"

"Your fave sweater is in the dryer"

Each note is always signed the same way. A double x (you two live in England, after all) and a smiley face. If you're the one writing the small notes, George is the one collecting them and throwing them away everyday. So tonight, as you close the door to his apartment behind you, you're surprised to find your boyfriend on the couch, holding one of the bright yellow squares in his hand.

"Hi babe," you say, coming closer to him. "What's this?"

"Your note," George replies, looking at you. "From this morning."

"What about it?" you ask, furrowing your brow as George hands it to you.

"Don't wait for me for dinner tonight, I'm going out with the girls. Love you."

Oh. You're still looking at the note with wide eyes when your boyfriend speaks again.

"Did you mean it?"

"I'm... kinda surprised I wrote it, but yes, of course, George. I mean it."

Your boyfriend gets up from the couch, coming towards you before planting his lips passionately on yours.

"Well, I love you too," George says, making your heart skip a beat. "And I'm keeping this one," your boyfriend laughs before pocketing the note.

Carlos Sainz

He says it first.

Carlos and you have made it a habit to call each other as much as possible when the driver is away. The distance is already hard enough to manage for the both of you as it is, so there's no need to torture yourselves even more with radio silence. Sitting in the hotel lobby, the only place where he managed to get enough network for a high-quality call, your boyfriend is telling you all about this morning's free practice session when the phone shakes, and you see his eyes hovering above the screen.

"Wait, hermosa, just a second."

The microphone cuts out, and you see your boyfriend's lips moving without sound. You furrow your brow, thinking that someone from the hotel staff might be scolding him for speaking aloud in a public area, when Charles appears in the corner of the screen, the sound coming back.

"Charles wants to say hi," Carlos says, playfully rolling his eyes. "Please find a girlfriend and stop annoying mine."

"How are you?" Charles asks, smiling at you, ignoring Carlos' whines.

"I'm doing great, thanks for asking!" you reply, smiling back at the driver.

"Now, move," Carlos says, "I'd rather talk to her than to you. You'll understand that when you're in love again."

A laughing Charles waves at you a final time before disappearing from your screen. Your attention shifts back to Carlos.

"So..." you say playfully. "You're in love?"

Realizing the slip-up, Carlos' eyes widen.

"I didn't mean to say it like that. Or over the phone. But yes, I am," your boyfriend says, smiling proudly.

"Good thing I am too, then," you reply winking.

Yuki Tsunoda

You say it first.

Yuki is naturally shy. You noticed it from your first meeting, and you've never been afraid to take the lead. You've been the initiator of all your firsts : first conversation, first date, first kiss. This dynamic works well for both of you. You suggest, and Yuki always happily follows.

However... there's something you've been afraid of initiating. It's been several months since you started seeing each other, and you're truly on cloud nine. Everything is going well between you, the chemistry is perfect, and the slightest glance from the Japanese makes you absolutely melt. You know the signs. You're in love. But how do you tell him without scaring him off?

The answer comes naturally as you watch your boyfriend exchange words with his Team Principal in the Racing Bulls garage, his helmet in his hands. As Yuki finishes zipping up his suit, his back to you, you kindly offer to hold his helmet and take the opportunity to pull out a marker from your pocket, discreetly scribbling on the plastic shell before handing the object to your boyfriend.

The race goes incredibly well, and Yuki finishes in the points, creating euphoria in the garage. When your boyfriend gets out of the car, his first instinct is to take off his helmet and steal a kiss from you as you laugh.

"What's making you laugh?" Yuki asks, looking at you fondly.

"I put a little encouragement on your helmet, and it looks like it worked," you whisper, pointing to the three hastily written words. I love you.

Yuki is naturally shy, yes. Yet, the kiss he gives you after your revelation is the only confirmation you needed.

Max Verstappen

He says it first.

It's been ten days since Max flew several hours away from you for his next race, suggesting you stay at his place until his return. The initial idea was for you to look after his cats, but the driver would never admit that what he wanted above all else was for you to put your intoxicating scent all over his sheets... Creating a sense of domesticity that he wasn't so sure you were ready for yet.

Keys turn in the lock, and Max appears at the end of the hallway, suitcase in hand. It's safe to say that he didn't expect to find you curled up on the couch, asleep, his two cats nestled in your arms.

The sight is enough to make him want to call your landlord and tell them you' won't be needing your apartment anymore. To give you the keys to his place, and never take them back. But for now, abandoning his suitcase in the hallway, Max sits on the couch gently, making sure not to wake you before softly stroking your hair. You whine softly in your sleep, opening an eye.

"You're back," you mumble weakly.

"I am, and it looks like nobody missed me that much," Max says, pretending to be hurt.

"What?" you say, sitting up. "I missed you! Every day!"

"And yet, you wasted no time replacing me," your boyfriend laughs, petting his sleepy cats.

"I had to adapt," you reply with a smirk. "They confessed before you. There was nothing I could do."

"Do you want me to confess?" Max says, bending over to press a soft kiss to your lips, making your heart flutter. "You have my love. All of it."

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lovekt · 7 months

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⋆ ｡˚ ⋆｡ SLEEPY NIGHTS IN NOVEMBER ⋆ ｡˚ ⋆｡

pairing; lando norris x girlfriend!fem!reader

word count; 1.5k

blurb; where practice goes on for a little longer than expected, and you’re extremely jetlagged. (based off of the las vegas gp fp2)

author’s note; this is my first completed fic ahhh! cant believe i actually finished something for once in my life this is a miracle

<< the library , ln4 masterist >>

LAS VEGAS WAS A BRIGHT CITY. So bright, and yet you were still battling with all-consuming darkness.

You’d arrived more than twelve hours ago. Cameras flashed, questions asked, your mind had been buzzing with excitement for the ever-anticipated Grand Prix at the new track. Hundreds of people; reporters, fans, drivers, bustled about. Drones and tripods followed your every move, microphones bursting your personal bubble, screaming people begging for their caps, shirts and babies to be signed. It crossed your mind more than once that you weren’t a driver, yet the cheers of sheer joy echoed when you walked by.

It was exhilarating, truly. You’d never imagined your life would turn out this way, your face being plastered onto live television, a banner across the bottom presenting you as Lando Norris’ girlfriend.

You’d arrived just in time for Free Practice 2, not getting a chance to find the man in orange before he was off and onto the track for the second time two hours later than scheduled. However, you were soon supplied with a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and a chair to get comfortable with.

It was colder than usual. Your eyes were permanently fixated on the screen above you. No matter how many times you’d watched your boyfriend race, in person or in the comfort of your shared home, it was never any less terrifying. The noises of pure acceleration, the sparks that would occasionally burst from the back of the car, the knowledge of what could happen and what’s already happened several times before. All of it was enough to keep you on your toes, wide awake, and alert every time.

Every single time, except this one.

The low hum of the engine through your headphones did nothing to help you stay focused, time finally beginning to creep its way back up to you. Your boyfriend’s voice calmly updating his engineers, the muffled chatter of the garage, all of it caused your mind to numb and breathing to begin evening out. It was so late. So, so late, and cold.

Your head suddenly lulled to the side causing your eyes to snap open, saving yourself before you slipped off the plastic foldable chair. God, you hoped the live broadcasting cameras were not allowing thousands of eyes to see you right now.

There were some eyes, though, that had seen you. The engineers dressed in orange pottering around were chuckling, they themselves trying to stay awake by toying with tools and fidgeting with other mechanical things that you didn’t understand. Most of them you were quite friendly with by now as you were a frequent member of the McLaren garage, and they all knew you were the one to go to whenever Lando needed a break. They were grateful to have you. An angry Lando is never a fun time.

Which is exactly why they decided to make an executive decision to save you from the concrete floor below. It was only a matter of time before you ended up hurting yourself.

The screen above you began blurring once more, eyes drooping against your will when a hand placed itself onto your shoulder. One of the engineers that Lando was particularly close with was smiling down at you, softly nudging you forward and guiding you to stand up. You looked at him, eyes glossy and brows furrowed, confused.

He sighed amusedly, “I think it’s time for bed.”

Slight slurred protests began to slip out of your lips but were stopped when you wobbled and had to grip onto the top of the chair for balance. The engineer’s hold on your arm tightened and your exhaustion was too heavy to resist as he began leading you towards the driver’s rooms.

You glanced back at the screen showing your boyfriend’s perspective of the car, not wanting to leave but knowing that it’s probably for the best. There wasn’t any action going on, every driver was tired, nobody was pulling any dangerous moves. It was safe enough to walk away, just for a little bit, just this once.

The door to Lando’s driver’s room was opened and you settled onto the small sofa in the corner, wrapping yourself in a papaya-coloured blanket. Darkness enveloped the room as the engineer flipped the switch, shutting the door quietly behind him and leaving you to your thoughts for all of two seconds before a soft voice filled your ears. You’d forgotten to take the headphones off.

Lando spoke to his team, his voice calm and soothing, almost as if he knew you were falling into the depths of unconsciousness in that moment. He was safe. You felt safe.

The second he’d hauled himself out of the car, helmet removed, and interviews finished up, he was on the search for you. Often, you would wander off as soon as the car had been parked, for a bathroom break or to have a quick snack, refusing to do it during the race.

He walked back to his room as fast as possible, weaving between hundreds of people who he didn’t bother giving the time of day. Usually, he would’ve stopped and had a little chat, but it was so, so late and his whole body felt like it was about to crumble. All he wanted was to find you, get changed and make the small trek back to your shared hotel room.

The door was unlocked when he arrived, a sure sign that you were inside and waiting. But when he opened the door ready to be greeted with a sweet kiss, all he was met with was complete darkness. Weird.

His hand reached for the switch and light flooded the room. Sure enough, there you were, cuddled up in his bright orange blanket and sound asleep. Your face was half covered and smushed into the arm rest, knees curled into yourself and a set of headphones askew on top of your mussed hair.

The smile that had etched itself onto his face grew when he noticed the headphones. You’d fallen asleep whilst listening to him talk, even when he wasn’t with you. Even when you were jetlagged, cold, and exhausted, you still made sure he was okay. His chest warmed at the thought.

Lando placed the bottle of water he was holding down onto the table beside him, trying his best to be as quiet as possible as he changed from his suit to a hoodie. You didn’t move a muscle, only light breaths filling the silent space.

You looked so peaceful, lashes fluttering every so often. The urge to try and squeeze himself onto the sofa with you was strong, but the more logical side of him told him that it was finally time to head back to the hotel, and if you stayed in that position much longer then your neck would be unbearably stiff by tomorrow morning. He loved you more than anything in the world, so he knew you well enough to know that you would be moaning to him about it once you’d woken up, and not the moaning that he enjoyed hearing.

Carefully, he brushed the tips of his fingers across your cheek, moving a few stray strands of hair. Your cheeks were warm, a contrast to Lando’s cool touch that caused you to pull your face away and tuck it further into the safety of his blanket. His lips twitched slightly. You would hate him for this now, but thank him later, he thought, as he swiftly curled his fingers around the edge of the blanket and pulled it down.

Your skin, exposed to the night air, broke out into goosebumps as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. Lando slowly rubbed his palm up and down your arm, bringing his lips to your forehead and kissing you softly.

Your eyelids fluttered open, pupils narrowing to the bright light of the room as an almost silent groan escaped you.

Your eyes darted around for a moment before landing on your boyfriend, crouched down beside you with his hand stroking your hair. He was smiling at you lovingly, eyes squinted and laced with a tinge of mischief. “G’morning, baby.”

You didn’t reply, instead choosing to open your mouth in a yawn directed straight at his face. He chuckled quietly.

“I think it’s time we get you to bed, hm?”

You rested your head back against the armrest, closing your eyes once more, “I’m already in bed.”

“I’m sure you are.” He said, before rising back up to his full height and slipping one hand underneath your neck, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and the other around the back of your knees. Your hand instinctively curled around his bicep as you were lifted into the air, taking note in the back of your mind at how effortlessly he seemed to manoeuvre you.

As Lando began to carefully place you onto your feet, a wave of adoration filled you to the core. He’d just been working for hours straight, and yet here he was taking care of you. The love you had for this boy was absolutely unmatched.

And what better way to show him this than by using the little energy you had restored during your nap to rise onto your tiptoes and press a sweet kiss against his awaiting lips.

@lovekt

#— lovekt’s works.#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #ln4 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 #formula one x reader #lando norris imagine #fluff #lando norris fluff

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roosterforme · 8 months

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How You Play the Game Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley wins a box seat ticket for the first game of the World Series final, he doesn't think his day could get any better. But when he's given a seat in the press box by mistake, he meets a gorgeous sports writer from New York. And he has one of the best nights of his life.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, and smut (18+)

Length: 6300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley was half asleep, sipping on his coffee while he drove to North Island from his house in the soft pre dawn light. He really hated these early training days that started at six o'clock and didn't end until after dinnertime. He'd be in the air all day, and then he'd probably be too tired to stay awake to watch game one of the World Series.

Everyone on base was excited that the Padres were playing the Angels. A Southern California showdown for the ages. Tickets to game one in San Diego were selling for almost a thousand dollars per seat, but the sports radio host Bradley was listening to was giving them away.

Bradley yawned as the host asked, "Who was the first major league baseball player to pitch a ball over 100 miles per hour?"

"That's easy," Bradley mumbled. "Nolan Ryan." And then he realized that it was 5:30 in the morning and perhaps nobody else who was listening knew that fact. "Huh," he grunted, reaching for his phone at a red light. He dialed the number and was shocked when he got through to the host.

"Good morning, caller! What's your name? Where are you from?"

"I'm Bradley. From Coronado."

"Do you have an answer for me, Bradley? Which major league player was the first to pitch over 100 miles per hour?"

"That would be Nolan Ryan."

"You sound confident in your baseball knowledge," the host replied. "Double or nothing? I'll upgrade your ticket to a seat in a box suite if you can tell me which team Ryan was pitching against."

Bradley smiled to himself as he pictured the boxes of his dad's old baseball cards that he still had in his garage. "He was pitching against the Chicago White Sox."

And just like that, Bradley was the proud owner of a suite ticket for game one of the World Series at Petco Park later that night.

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

Your flight from New York to San Diego had been delayed so many times, you were a little surprised you managed to get to your hotel in your rental car and then make it to the game on time. At least you'd been able to start writing your article on the flight. Unless the game went into extra innings, you should be able to finish by your midnight deadline. Because if there was one thing the New York Times didn't mess around with, it was the hard cutoff for your submissions.

As you made your way to the media entrance at Petco Park, you pulled out your lanyard with your credentials and looped it around your neck. As soon as someone learned that you were a sports writer for the most prestigious newspaper in the country, they were either impressed or they did a double take. You were a freshly thirty year old female with a ten year career in sports journalism, and you didn't take shit from any guys about it.

In fact, you loved it when men tried to one up you. Because they never could. You knew more than they did about sports, you were an amazing writer, and you found pleasure in shutting them down. Preferably in front of their friends. And then they would inevitably try to ask you out. And you would shut that down, too. It was a game that you were very good at now.

As you were scanned into the ballpark by a security officer, you quickly made your way up to your assigned press box. You expected the heavy hitters to be there. And of course you'd be the youngest, and probably one of just a few women in attendance. As you climbed the narrow stairs and swiped your badge one last time, you opened the door and strolled past a table filled with food and drinks. And then you saw them: Carl from ESPN, Jack from The Chicago Tribune, Harold from the Los Angeles Times, and Quincy from the Philadelphia Inquirer. You would keep your guard up, because it was just a matter of time before one of them made some sort of comment about your ability to do your job.

The room was already filling up as you claimed a spot on one of the narrow counters where you could set up your computer and get to work. You removed your lanyard and tossed it next to your stuff, and then you waved to Raya from MSN Sports, the only other female in the room. When you turned to grab a drink and some food, you noticed the flash of a handsome face and a mustache. And then you stifled a scream as you saw and felt a plastic cup of cold beer meet your chest before soaking the front of you completely.

"Oh, fuck!" came the deep, raspy voice of the most handsome man you could remember seeing in recent history as he stared at your chest. You supposed it was a fair trade, because you couldn't look away from his face no matter what you did. He was hot; all tan skin, brown eyes, and wavy, brown hair. And the blush that crept in and colored his cheeks made him look boyish as he glanced up to meet your eyes. "I'm so sorry!"

When he swallowed hard, and his eyes drifted down to your chest again, you looked down as well. Great. Your light blue lace bra was plainly visible through your white blouse, and the beer was even dripping onto your jeans and your new, white Chucks.

You just shook your head and shrugged. "It's okay. Shit happens. But why did you bring a beer in here?" you asked. But he still looked so embarrassed and flustered, you decided to mess with him. "Who do you write for? I'll send them my laundry bill."

"Write?" he asked, and yep, that was confirmation that he had the sexiest voice you had ever heard.

"Yeah," you said, feeling a little flustered yourself as you reached for some napkins to dab your shirt dry. "Tampa Bay Times? Boston Globe? Oh Lord, don't tell me you're from Barstool Sports. I don't recognize you, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember you." That was a lie; you would definitely have remembered him.

"No," he said, watching your every move. "I don't write."

You laughed as his gaze flicked up from your chest to your eyes when you looked up at him. "That explains the alcohol, then. But why are you in the press box? Did you get lost up here?"

He smirked at that. "No. I won a radio contest and got a seat in a box suite. But somehow my ticket got mixed up, and they sent me a media pass instead."

"Really?" you asked, eyeing him up and down now. "I had to pay for a four year journalism degree for my media pass, and you're going to tell me I could have just listened to the radio?"

His laugh was infectious and his smile made you a little giddy as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bradley. I don't think I could manage to write an article about sports, even if I was getting paid to do it. You must be very talented." You preened a bit at his words as you shook his hand. "And I'm really sorry about the beer," he added, gesturing to your shirt. "I'd offer to get you a drink or dinner, but the food in here is free, and you're actually working. So, I'll just stand here like an idiot and keep shaking your hand and apologizing until you tell me your name and tell me to stop. I'm really sorry about your shirt." He was still shaking your hand, and now you couldn't stop smiling.

You told him your first name and then you said, "You can stop shaking my hand now, Bradley."

"Let me grab you some water?" he asked, and when you nodded, he turned toward the bar in the far corner. And you took in his tall frame, broad shoulders and massive biceps which were highlighted by his Padres shirt.

"Oh no," you whispered to yourself, still mindlessly dabbing your wet blouse with some napkins.

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

Bradley turned toward you with two water bottles, and thankfully this time he managed to keep the drinks in his hands. You were so fucking cute, and your wet shirt was doing crazy things to him. He couldn't stop smiling, and when you looked up at him and cautiously accepted your drink, you were smiling too.

"Thanks for not drenching me again," you said, tapping your drink to his. And then Bradley heard an older guy call your name, and you turned in his direction.

"Nice shirt," he shouted so everyone was suddenly looking your way. "That how you plan on getting an exclusive with one of the players? Sex sells now? I thought this was about the game."

Bradley was appalled that another journalist was talking to you like that, but before he could say that your wet shirt was actually his fault, you were shouting back at the guy.

"Harold, you couldn't even drag your sorry, old ass down to the field fast enough to get an exclusive with the mascot. I don't know how you're not retired or dead yet. Didn't you cover the 1922 World Series?"

Bradley watched Harold purse his lips at you before he turned away and took a seat. And when Bradley glanced down at you as you sipped your water, you looked completely unfazed. And he was ridiculously turned on.

"Damn, nobody should be messing with you," he said, thoroughly impressed. "You're an Ace."

You just rolled your eyes, but you looked very pleased by his words. He already knew he wanted to talk to you all night, but now you were setting your drink down next to your computer and opening it as you sat. "This is a boys club. Just a dick measuring contest. I can't let up for a second or I'll get steamrolled."

Bradley let his eyes dip down to your damp shirt as he asked, "I don't want to commit another beer related crime. You seem to know how this press box stuff works. Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all," you told him as you licked your lips. "As long as you don't spill anything else on me."

Bradley eased himself down on the stool next to yours, and his knee brushed your thigh. He watched you filling out a baseball stat sheet while you opened up a document on your computer.

"So what was the trivia question?" you asked as you sipped your water again.

"Trivia question?" he murmured, watching your lips wrap around the rim of the bottle before you took a drink.

"Yeah, isn't that how you won the pass? For the box seat? Even though you're slumming it with the journalists now?"

"I wouldn't call this slumming it," he said, eyeing your pretty face. "But yeah, they asked who was the first pitcher to throw a ball over 100 miles per hour."

"Oh. Nolan Ryan. Angels versus the White Sox. Nice," you said as you smiled at him. Fuck. You liked sports. You wrote about sports. You were gorgeous, and you knew more about sports than he did. Bradley let his mind drift to peeling off your damp, white shirt and licking the taste of beer off your chest while you moaned baseball stats and ran your fingers through his hair. He could definitely get into that. He briefly wondered if you were going to be at the next game here on Sunday.

And then you were keeping the game stats in your notebook at the same time you typed up notes, and Bradley realized he had missed the first few pitches. "Oof, that was a sloppy curveball," you muttered as you peered down at the field before checking the overhead screen. "He's supposed to be their Ace."

"Nah, you're the Ace," Bradley said, and you turned to grin at him as your fingers brushed against his. There was not a lot of room at this little countertop, and when you tried to nudge his arm out of the way, he wrapped it around the back of your stool.

"How am I supposed to keep my stats with you taking up so much space?" you asked, but your tone sounded playful, and you leaned a little closer to him. "You're massive."

Those words spoken in your voice had his cock stirring. "Yeah well, not a lot I can do about that, Ace."

That grin was back as you tapped the end of your pencil against your lips, and his gaze followed the motion. "So what do you do, Bradley? I'm going to guess you're not a waiter since you can't walk without spilling drinks. And you're definitely not a writer."

"I'm a pilot. A naval aviator," he told you softly, running his thumb along your back and watching you bite your lip.

"Fascinating," you told him before returning your attention back to the game and scribbling down the pitch count. And that's when Bradley's gaze landed on your badge which was sitting next to your computer.

He recognized your full name immediately. "Holy shit. You write for the New York Times."

"Yeah," you replied, turning to look at him before pulling your lip between your teeth again.

"Ace. I recognize your name. You're the best sports writer in the country."

Bradley was blushing, he knew he must be, but your bright smile was focused on him, and he couldn't keep his fingertips from drawing lazy shapes along your back where his hand rested.

"You know me?"

He nodded and raised an eyebrow at you. "You're famous. I read your articles all the time. I downloaded the New Your Times app solely for you."

When you laughed and gently bit the eraser end of your pencil, Bradley groaned. "You're funny," you told him.

"You're gorgeous." The words were out his mouth before he could stop himself. He thought about apologizing, but then you leaned in a little closer and ran your pencil eraser up his thigh along his jeans.

"Stop distracting me," you whispered, kissing his cheek before returning your attention to your computer. Your lips had brushed the end of his mustache, and he could still feel the soft sensation there as you gazed at him from the corner of your eyes. This was going to be a long night for Bradley.

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

Bradley had called you gorgeous. He was playful, and he kept a smile on your lips. When he made a comment about the Angels' catcher, you told him, "You're completely right. I'm adding that to my piece." And he blushed that deep shade of pink again.

"Damn, Ace. I'll be thinking about your voice when I read your article tomorrow morning."

"Mm," you hummed, marking down another strikeout. "It would be fun to read it to you. I think you'd blush. The whole time."

His lips were parted, and he looked a little surprised. "It would be the filthiest of dirty talk," he muttered, and when you giggled, he grinned.

You had to bite your lip against the desire to kiss his cheek again. "World Series articles and pitching stats? That's what's gonna do it for you, Bradley?"

"Shit, how dirty can you make those pitching stats?" he whispered, thumb still skimming along the back of your shirt.

"You'd be surprised," you told him, shooting him an innocent look as he nodded at you.

"I'm sure I would."

The more you scribbled down in your notebook as the game progressed, the closer Bradley got to you. His big palm was warm on your back and you found yourself leaning into him more and more. By the eighth inning, his leg was pressed up against yours and he just kept getting closer.

"Ace, you're killing me," he murmured, taking your pencil and erasing the sloppy note you had written about the Padres relief pitcher. "Let me help."

You laughed as he rewrote your note very neatly followed by what you assumed was his phone number. Oh, he was a bold one. Very handsome, very funny and very bold.

Without a word, he handed your pencil back to you. "What am I supposed to do with that?" you asked, tapping his phone number with the pencil.

His breath was warm on your cheek as he said, "Save it in your phone. Call it. Text it. Let it know when you're in San Diego. I don't know, Ace. I just like you."

Your lips parted right as the Padres catcher hit a home run, and as everyone else in the ballpark erupted in cheers or groans, Bradley pressed his lips softly to yours. And then you tossed your pencil aside and ran your hand up along his neck. His lips were soft, but damn, his mustache was rough and you liked it.

You pulled back a few inches. "And if I text you, you're going to write back?" you asked.

"Immediately," he promised.

"Well then maybe I'll save your number."

He groaned softly as you marked down the home run. "Are you covering game two on Sunday?" he asked as the ninth inning started.

"I'm covering every game," you told him, letting your hand rest on his thigh. The soft noise he made had you scraping your fingernails softly along his jeans as he watched your hand instead of the game. "I'll be back and forth between San Diego and Los Angeles for the next two weeks or so, if they go to seven games. Which, in my professional opinion, they will."

After your fingers grazed his zipper, you watched his head tip back, the veins in his neck working as he swallowed. You were pretty turned on now, too. And the way he was responding to you was making things worse by the minute.

"I'm gonna have to drop a grand on a ticket to see you back here on Sunday, aren't I?" he asked as you shrugged and ran your finger along his belt loop. Then you released him and turned back to type a few sentences for your article.

"Listen," you told him without looking at him. "There's no guarantee I'm even going to let you have my number, so I wouldn't worry about that just yet."

He was quiet for a beat as you typed away, and then he said, "How about you let me buy you a drink for real? Right after the game tonight?"

"I have a deadline to meet," you told him, and he looked disappointed as he nodded. "But my article is almost done. And my hotel is right across the street. We could go to the bar there?"

"Absolutely," he murmured, his fingers still at your back. "Anywhere you want."

As soon as the game ended with a Padres victory, you tossed your computer and notebook into your bag, and you were on your feet next to Bradley. "Let's get out of here."

You took his big hand in yours, glancing up at him occasionally as you tried to beat most of the crowd to the exit. And each time, he was looking back at you, smiling. You led him across the parking lot, and your hotel was in sight when you pushed him up against the brick wall outside of the ballpark. Bradley welcomed your body against his, and he looked at you like he couldn't believe this was happening just before you kissed him.

It was dark over here, even the streetlights were dim. His hands were on your back as your fingers tangled in his hair, and you were rubbing yourself gently against him.

"Ace," he grunted against your lips. "You gotta let me buy you that drink."

You could feel him growing harder for you as you kissed him and tasted his tongue. Suddenly the hotel bar was the farthest thing from your mind. It had been replaced by thoughts of your hotel room bed instead.

"Come on, Bradley," you whispered, linking your fingers with his and leading him further down the sidewalk. He went with you willingly, leaning down to kiss your cheek and your neck as you waited in a crowd of people for the light to change at the crosswalk.

"You smell good. Like the beer I spilled on you," he groaned, holding you close. The movement of his lips had his mustache prickling your neck. You wanted to feel it on all your sensitive skin. You wanted to see if you could make him blush in bed.

You and he stumbled across the street and into the hotel lobby where you eyed the bar as he wrapped his big hand around your waist. You looked up at him and asked, "Wanna skip the bar and go up to my room? Find out if I taste good like the beer, too?"

The sound of Bradley's groan as his hand slid down to your butt had you pressing yourself against his thigh. "Lead the way, Ace."

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

The elevator ride to the top floor was filled with the sound of kissing as well as the little gasping noises you made. Your hands were at the fly of his jeans as he pushed you back against the wall and devoured your mouth. Bradley was so hard and ready for you, he was honestly surprised. He just met you. This was not a usual occurrence for him.

"Bradley," you moaned, unbuttoning his jeans as the elevator jolted to a stop. You abandoned his jeans for his hand and pulled him down the hallway, running toward your room and laughing. You stopped in front of one of the doors and started to dig in your bag.

He stood behind you and ran his lips along your neck as you gasped for him. You were so responsive, stroking something deep down inside of Bradley every time you reacted to him. He wrapped his hands around to the front of your jeans and started to play with your button as well. When his fingers met the soft skin of your belly, your head tipped back against him.

"I can't find my room key," you moaned as he ran his hands up inside your shirt. He watched as you gripped the bag with both hands and let your eyes drift closed.

"You're not really trying very hard, Baby," he said with a smirk. He couldn't believe you right now. So pretty and so lost to his touch. He was throbbing and aching for you, too.

"Because you're teasing me!" you complained with a laugh. But then you turned in his arms, and suddenly Bradley's hands were on your bare back. Your eyes were wide, bag clutched between your body and his. "This is... not something that I usually do. Especially not when I'm on the job." Your voice was soft, and as you nervously bit your lip, Bradley leaned down to kiss your cheek.

"Same, Ace," he promised with a smirk. "In fact, I've never had a woman seduce me this quickly before. You're irresistible."

Your laughter was the best thing he had ever heard. "I thought I was the one being seduced here?"

"No," he said, reaching into your bag and plucking out the key. "You're in charge." He handed it to you, and you wrapped your fingers around the back of his neck and kissed him hard before you turned and unlocked the door with your other hand. You pulled Bradley with you as you stumbled backwards into the dark room.

As you searched blindly for the light switch, you pushed Bradley against the wall. You had your fingers in the hair at the back of his head and your tongue was in his mouth as you located the switch.

"That's better," you mumbled breathlessly as you turned on the light, and Bradley pulled away from you a few inches.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he whispered as he tightened his right arm around your waist. He wasn't being shy about how hard he was for you, and you weren't being shy either. You whimpered as you rubbed yourself gently against him, and he ran his thumb along your cheek and down to your lips. "I haven't been this turned on in so long."

Then Bradley watched you reach down and pull off your white shirt in one smooth motion, leaving you in that sinful looking blue bra before him. You were stroking him through his jeans with your right hand when you whispered, "I thought you were going to taste me, Bradley." Your eyes were wide and innocent looking as you challenged him.

He nodded slowly. "I wanna taste you everywhere." Then he scooped you up as you laughed, and he carried you to the king sized bed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You gonna let me do that?"

"Yes," you whispered right next to his ear, and Bradley eased you down onto the bed with his body weight on top of you. As you started tugging on his Padres shirt, he managed to remove his shoes before reaching down both of your calves and yanking yours off. He tossed them blindly behind himself, wincing as he hit the wall with both of them.

But you just laughed and pulled his tee shirt up, leaving him in his white tank. You were holding his shirt in your hand as he pressed his lips to yours. "You taste so good here," he whispered, running his tongue along your bottom lip as you wrapped your leg around his hip. Then he kissed your chest before licking a stripe across the top of your lace bra as you bucked your core against him. "Fuck," he groaned. He licked and sucked on the top of your right tit. "Your skin tastes like that spilled beer. I love it on you."

"Well then, you better clean me up with your tongue, since it's your fault in the first place." You tipped your head back, and arched your back off the bed, and Bradley followed your lead, letting his big hands find the clasp of your bra. You moaned softly as he unhooked it and moved his fingers around to ease the fabric away from your body.

"God damn," he groaned before taking your nipple between his lips. Your fingers were tight in his hair as he sucked on you, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb against your other breast.

"Bradley!" you cried out when he rubbed his mustache across your nipple. He was dying to fuck you, but you were letting him tease the hell out of you, and he was loving this.

"You like that?" he asked, enjoying all the cues you were giving him. He couldn't stop grinning as you whimpered a soft little yes before pulling his undershirt off.

When you ran your fingers through his chest hair and down his abs, Bradley swallowed hard. Because you didn't stop there. You reached right for his unbuttoned jeans and eased his zipper down. He held himself over you, looking down into your needy eyes as you ran your fingers along the elastic of his underwear before delving inside. You licked your pouty lips before you wrapped your hand around his cock, and then you closed the distance up to his lips with the softest, sweetest kiss. You stroked him slowly while barely brushing your lips against his, and it was driving him absolutely insane.

"Ace," he grunted, and you squeezed your hand around his cock and giggled while he moaned for you. Then you gasped and let go of him. "What's wrong?" he asked, immediately pulling himself away from you while he panted.

Your eyes looked concerned, so he put a little more distance between your bodies. "I don't have any condoms," you whispered as you eased your hand away from him.

Bradley pressed his lips to your forehead. "I think I have one in my wallet. It's new."

"Oh," you gasped. "Should have known," you told him. "You're pretty gorgeous, too."

Bradley wanted to ease your mind, let you know that he didn't hook up with a lot of women anymore. He wanted to tell you that the condom was there for just a special occasion like this one. He wanted to explain to you that the last few he'd had in his wallet had been sacrificed to Jake when he'd been in a pinch at the bar.

But you were easing him onto his back, and he supposed it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. It wasn't like you were going to want more from him than just tonight. Besides, he hadn't had anything that wasn't casual in a very long time.

You were on top of him now, straddling his waist in your unbuttoned jeans, and you were reaching for both of his hands. And when you had your fingers laced with his and pinned his hands over his head, Bradley closed his eyes and enjoyed your touch. Your lips were soft on his face and your thumbs were stroking along his palms in a way that was not only turning him on more, but also providing him with some comfort.

When you whispered his name, he opened his eyes and he felt surprised by the realization that he only met you tonight.

"Maybe you should get that condom ready?" you asked softly, rolling your hips against Bradley's torso.

"Yeah," he grunted. And then you were easing down his body, taking his jeans and underwear with you. Bradley propped himself up on one elbow as his cock sprang free. You made eye contact with him, lips parted on a soft whimper.

"Bradley," you sighed, tugging his jeans, underwear and socks completely off.

Before you tossed everything aside, he mumbled, "Grab my wallet, Baby." Your eyes met his with so much need before you focused on taking the leather out of the pocket of his jeans, it had him reaching for you.

You shoved it into his hand before you scrambled back up his body and brushed your fingers through his hair, kissing his lips like he was every goddamn thing you wanted.

Bradley removed the condom and tossed his wallet onto the floor. Then he had you underneath him again. You still smelled like the spilled beer as he kissed his way along your chest, and you were trying to wriggle out of your jeans. "I can take care of that," he whispered, pressing the condom into your hand. Then he had every scrap of fabric removed from your body, and he didn't know if he could handle how perfect you really were. "Ace," he groaned when you eased your feet up his biceps and let your ankles rest on his shoulders.

Bradley's lips found the inside of your right thigh as if he was drawn to you like a magnet. Your eyes were half lidded, and you had one hand in his hair and one on your tits. How was he going to recover from this?

"Let me taste you," he begged, and when you nodded, his lips were on your pussy immediately. He groaned, already addicted to the way you tasted here too. He kissed along your slit and buried his nose against your clit.

"Oh!" you gasped, tightening your grip on his hair and spreading your legs wider for him. Bradley's cock was throbbing against the bedding as he slid his tongue up through your soaking wet pussy until his lips were wrapped around your clit.

"Yesss," you hissed, gently riding his face as you whispered his name. And with each stroke of his tongue, you got a little louder, your fingers pulled his hair a little more. Oh, he was so fucking turned on for you, he wasn't sure he'd last more than a minute once he had that condom on.

"Bradley!" you gasped, pressing your heel into his back while he sucked on your clit. "Put the condom on."

It took him a little bit to get his lips away from your pussy, because he really wanted to get you off with his mouth. But then he rationalized that you wanted him to get you off with his dick instead, and that sounded perfect, too.

"Okay," he panted, brushing his wet mustache against your belly as you opened the condom for him. He rolled it on and kissed your lips as he pressed himself to your core. Now you were holding him in place by his hair as you returned his kisses, softly moaning into his mouth as he pressed his tip into you. You felt warm and tight and perfect, and as you took every inch of him, he stroked his thumb along your cheek.

"Oh god," you whimpered, frantically kissing him and licking his mustache. Your voice was coming in little gasps, and he loved the sound of it.

Bradley withdrew and thrust back inside you, and you rolled your hips with his. "You gotta tell me what you like, Ace. I want to make you feel good."

He watched your eyes go a little wider before you reached for his hand. When you took his index and middle fingers between your lips and started sucking on him while he fucked you, he groaned. "Baby. God that feels fucking great. But don't make me cum yet."

With a soft whimper, you swirled your tongue along his fingers before popping them out of your mouth and guiding his hand down between your bodies to your clit. Bradley had to suck in a deep breath and think about one of his superior officers leading a boring lecture to keep himself in check. He never felt close to the edge this fast, but as he ran his wet fingers along your clit and fucked you into the bed, he knew he could cum if he let himself.

"Bradley," you whispered, and he buried his face against your neck. "Harder."

He bit his lip and fucked you harder while you whined his name, and he kept his fingers on your clit, trying to work you up. He needed to get you off. He absolutely needed to do this. Because he was hoping you'd call him or text him. He wanted you to save his number and use it. He was already dying for more.

"Ace," he groaned, pressing his lips to your neck as your fingers drifted down his shoulders to his back.

You moaned, "I like it when you call me that," so Bradley pressed the nickname against your lips with his until you were gasping and clenching around him. When you came for him, you took his fingers from your clit and laced your hand with his as his movements grew more erratic.

He was saying something as he came inside you, but he wasn't exactly sure what. And you were looking up at him with a soft, fucked out smile and pushing his hair away from his forehead with your warm hand. And then you let him collapse on top of you while he was still buried inside you, and you ran your fingers back through his hair.

Bradley settled his cheek against your chest and let himself enjoy the feel of your breathing evening out after your orgasm. You were still making soft sounds as you rubbed your calf along his leg. He could have stayed just like this all night. You felt that good.

Just as he looked up at you, about to ask if there was any way you'd want to see him again this weekend, you laughed softly.

"Wow. That was fun."

Fun. He wanted to be more than a fun time. "And good, I hope?" he asked softly.

"More than good," you whispered, laughing again. "Amazing."

Bradley smiled at you, and he knew he was blushing. "Yeah. Amazing is the right word for it."

And you were smiling so much, Bradley laughed as you tried to hide behind your hand. He leaned in and kissed your wrist. "Ace, I-"

Bradley jerked away from you as an alarm went off somewhere in the room. When you sat up, he gently eased himself out of you with a grunt.

"That's my thirty minute warning," you told him, scrambling out of bed. "I need to finish my article and submit it."

"Oh," he said, watching you bend to locate your phone. "Right."

You looked at him and licked your lips nervously as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. And then you bent to start retrieving your clothing, and Bradley's heart sank as he stood as well. Wordlessly, he went into the bathroom to take care of the condom and wash his hands, and when he came back out, you were dressed in your underwear and the white shirt he had messed up.

"I guess," he whispered, pulling on his own underwear, "I should go then."

You pressed your lips together and nodded slightly. "I guess so."

"Okay," he said, quickly getting himself dressed in everything except his Padres tee. He just held that while he looked at you. "You have my number."

"I do," you whispered.

"You can use it," he told you with a smile, and you leaned in to kiss his cheek. And then your lips were on his. And then your fingers were in his hair again.

You moaned and then pulled away from him, and Bradley forced himself to walk backwards to the door, not wanting to take his eyes off you.

"Bye, Bradley."

He didn't want to say goodbye to you, so he said, "See ya, Ace," and then he was out in the hallway with the door closing behind him.

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

Oh, Bradley! I love Ace, and I hope you do, too! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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dilemmaontwolegs · 6 months

Text

Not A Verstappen: A New World {8}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: It's you first ever first anniversary and you hope you got it right. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fluff, angst WC: 2.4k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine

Round Fourteen - Dutch GP 2023

It was the 1-2 finish you should have had a year ago and thankfully Max didn’t crash into you this time. Standing beside him on the podium as the home crowd cheered almost brought tears to your eyes. It wasn’t your ‘home’ race like it was for Max but the people had adopted you under their flags and banners anyway.

“What’s your plans tonight, zusje?”

“It’s date night,” you said with a grin before handing over the jeroboam bottle of bubbly to your team. They deserved a piece of the celebration for their hard work on the car and you didn’t want to get drunk before the night began. “Charles is heading to Maranello tomorrow for testing so we are going to celebrate our first anniversary tonight.”

Max’s mouth parted in shock and he brushed a hand through his damp hair. “It has been a year already? Did anyone remind Lando?”

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics. “He’s not that bad at remembering dates.”

“Not that bad,” he echoed with a mocking tone. “He would be screwed without you and Charles to remind him.”

“Then it’s a good thing he has us,” you said as you waved to the crowd one last time before heading off the platform and back to the garage. You parted ways from Max as you went to the Aston Martin hospitality and he diverted to the Red Bull one. He was going to visit Jos while he was in the country, and you were glad he didn’t ask you to come, it saved you both from the awkwardness of the situation.

Lance looked defeated as he sat alone in a booth, everyone giving him a wide berth. Steering away from the path to your room, you took a seat opposite him.

“Tough race,” you commented softly.

His shoulders bounced with a laugh that held no humour. “Not for you, you got points.” His hands fidgeted with a napkin and he tore it to little shreds as he glared at the engineers walking into the motorhome.

“You looked like you had a good break, did you do any sim work while you were on holiday?”

His lips twisted into a sneer and he shoved the rubbish across the table, the paper drifting onto your lap like snowflakes. “I can have a break and still keep up with my training.”

You rolled your eyes as he pushed off from the table. “That’s not what I meant, Lance. I practised with the new upgrades last week and it really changed the drivability. I was just making conversation.”

“Sure you were,” he huffed as he grabbed his bag from under the table and left.

Cleaning the napkin off your suit, you stood up and felt your stomach grumble at the smell coming from the kitchen. One more stop on the way to your room, you thought as you headed to the chefs.

“You have hardly touched your food,” Charles said with a frown as he saw your plate still full while his and Lando’s were empty. “Do you not like it?”

You clutched your stomach and pushed the plate away. “I ate too much before we left, damn chef’s were making waffles in hospitality.”

Lando chuckled at your weakness but happily took your plate and stabbed his fork into the schnitzel. “So I guess you won’t want dessert then, pretty sure I saw stroopwafels on the menu.”

You perked up even with your stomach bloating and protesting the thought of any more food. “I might find room to fit one or two more.”

“I thought so,” he chuckled before reaching under the table for his bag and producing a gift box. “I know we said no presents but I’m terrible at listening and got one anyway.”

“Me too,” you said as you reached into your handbag.

Charles shook his head, and you almost believed he had followed the rule he had set, but his lips tipped up. “My present is already hanging in our bedroom for when you get home tomorrow.”

“Is it a nude?” Lando asked with a nod. “Please tell me it's nude. Blink twice if it’s a nude.”

“It’s not a nude, mon cher,” Charles clarified with a laugh.

“Dammit.” He sent Charles a smile to show he wasn’t actually as disappointed as he made it seem and Charles reached across the table to hold his hand.

“Here, you two can open this,” you said as you slid the box towards their hands. “I’ve never had a first anniversary so I didn’t really know what to get but I saw this and thought it was kind of fitting…” You fell silent as Charles untied the bow and Lando lifted the lid. “But if you don’t like it I can get something else…”

Lando reached for one of the items first, lifting the chain up so he could see the pendant that hung on it, identical to the other two necklaces. Charles picked his one up next and examined the detail that had been masterfully engraved into the white gold.

“It’s a trinity knot,” you said as you pulled a card out from under the last necklace, yours. “There’s a whole lot of symbolism in it like the past, present and future, but I like that it's just like us, you know, three connected. It’s stupid, isn’t it, I’ll take them back.” You felt like an idiot as you reached for them but they both pulled away before you could swipe it from their grasp.

“Hey, this is mine,” Lando huffed as he clutched it to his chest. “Get your own.”

“We love it,” Charles assured you as he took your hand and kissed your knuckles. “I think we were both stunned, in a good way, mon amour.”

“Not me, I just liked hearing her ramble,” Lando chuckled and you sent him a dirty look. “It’s adorable, love.”

“You suck,” you groaned as your cheeks heated.

“I do, asked Charles.”

“Will you help me put it on?” Charles asked as he held his up, ignoring Lando’s cheeky comment.

You rose from your seat and walked behind Charles, unclasping the necklace before draping it around his neck. The chains had been made longer since both of your boyfriends had thick necks from their training and when you let it go the trinity knot settled over the centre of his chest. Dipping your head down, you kissed him sweetly and whispered, “Happy anniversary, baby.”

While you were up, you took Lando’s and did the same before he grabbed the last necklace and patted his lap. You were grateful the restaurant had been hired out for the night so you could have the privacy to share the intimate moment as you sat down. His fingers were warm against your skin and you smiled as the cold chain balanced out the heat. It wasn’t enough to quell the fire that started when he kissed your nape where the clasp locked together.

“I love you,” he whispered as his hands started to drift up your thighs. “How about we skip dessert and head back to the hotel?”

“What about your gift?” Charles asked, rattling the box in his ear to try to guess what it was.

“Bring it,” Lando winked. “I’ll come in handy for what I have planned.”

Round Fifteen - Monza GP

You had felt off since FP1. There wasn’t anything wrong, you just didn’t feel right. Your mother pressed the back of her hand to your forehead as you curled up on your couch and napped between the practices, but you didn’t have a fever.

“I’m just tired,” you mumbled as you pulled your cap down over your face to block out the lights. “I’ll be fine after a little sleep.”

She had disappeared after refilling your drink bottle and went to visit Charles since it was his team’s home race. He was feeling more nervous than usual with the added pressure of the tifosi out in force and he wanted to make them proud, make Ferrari proud.

“Hey, love, wake up,” Lando coaxed you awake, a frown on his face at how long it had taken. You were like Charles, who, unless completely drunk, was a light sleeper. “It’s time for practice.”

“Shit,” you groaned as you saw the time, still a little lethargic and drowsy. “I haven’t even warmed up. Why didn’t anyone wake me earlier?”

“Kristian tried, but he came and found me. I think you would have killed him if he found an air horn to wake you. Are you feeling okay?”

You nodded as you sat up and stretched your back. Accepting his hands to pull you up, you used the momentum to crash into his chest and snake your arms around his waist. “I’m fine, but if you want to piggyback me so I can sleep on the walk then I will love you forever.”

“You are already going to love me forever,” he smirked confidently before it faded away and he pouted his lips, his brows softening above his smouldering eyes. “Could you ever hate this face?”

“I hate it when you do that,” you groaned as you felt your body awaking in response. “Goddammit, now I’m horny.”

“Good, at least that means you are wide awake now, come on, time to go.”

You would like to say the weekend improved after that but the car really struggled and you weren’t much better. You still bested Lance with your 9th place finish and another two points to the tally. It wasn’t much but it was enough to strain the already tense relationship with your teammate.

“I lost Charles,” you commented from your spot on Lando’s lap, having to talk right into his ear as the music was so loud. The nightclub was packed with Ferrari supporters and the two of you hidden in the VIP lounge were definitely the odd ones out.

“He’s over there,” Lando pointed out, spotting the head of dark hair making his way through the crowd back to you.

A round of boo’s started to grow towards the entrance and it drowned out the music as Max walked into the club. Even from across the floor you could see Max roll his eyes at the sound he was growing used to, but you rose from your comfortable seat as it grated it on your nerves. Dressed in a white shirt and jeans, you were grateful your brother didn’t arrive in Red Bull merch and antagonise the crowd further.

You shoved your way through the crowd and Charles changed his direction as he spotted you heading to the exit, intercepting you as you finally reached Max. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating your win?” you asked, elbowing a particularly annoying drunkard who was shouting at Max in Italian.

“They aren’t the same without you there.” His eyes widened and he caught your shoulder, tugging you into his side as the crowd swelled closer, the anger growing by the second as Charles stood in front and Lando covered your back. You could hardly breathe as you were surrounded by the three of them and Charles shouted back in Italian, but they weren’t listening to the man they had idolised only minutes earlier.

“We should get out of here,” Lando shouted to the group, the charged atmosphere bringing security inside. You were escorted out of the club and Max was quiet as he slid into the back of the SUV with you while Charles rode shotgun beside Lando. Worried eyes searched for yours in the rearview but you were frowning at your brother.

“Well, that was fun,” Charles broke the silence, twisting in his seat to look at Max too. “Are you alright?”

“I didn’t mean to spoil your evening,” he answered quietly, staring out at the street while Lando drove back to the hotel.

“It’s fine, we were going to head back soon,” Charles said with a shrug.

“I was getting tired anyway,” you added as you dropped your head on his shoulder and yawned. “I just want to have a break for a few days, but I can’t even have that.”

“Why not?” Max asked, since the next race was just under two weeks away in Singapore. Everyone was having a short break before the long cross-continental trip but given the wince he saw on Charles' face before he turned forwards in his seat, you weren’t one of them.

“Kristian,” you huffed resentfully.

“He still has you on that bullshit training programme? Tell him to fuck off.” Max shifted so your head could rest more comfortably. “Are you flying with me to Singapore?”

You shook your head and yawned again. “Charles has to fly with Vista for a promo.”

“And let me guess, you can’t really can’t go a few hours without him? What happened to bros before hoes.”

“Hey,” Charles feigned indignance and scowled at Max. “I can’t help it, I am so irresistible.”

Max gagged and reached for the car door. “Lando, let me out. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Fortunately for him the hotel was in sight and Lando pulled into the turn, trying to park in the valet area while struggling with laughter. He hadn’t even put the SUV into park before Max’s door was opened and your pillow was gone with him.

Your stomach rumbled as you headed into the quiet hotel and you blamed Max for mentioning food as you entered your suite. “Where’s the menu for room service?”

“I don’t think anything here is Kristian approved,” Lando commented as he read over the options but you pulled it from his grasp and reached for the phone.

“Fuck Kristian and fuck his diet, I’m hungry.”

Lando held his hands up in surrender before walking off with a laugh to Charles. “And you say I have attitude.”

Click here for the next part.

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader

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hookhausenschips · 16 days

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Let Death Be Kinder Than Man

500 Follower Special!!!

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Summary: Y/N is the new driver for Redbull and is fighting for the championship in 2024. One fateful lap in Imola changes her destiny forever.

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Warnings: Character death, graphic scenes, funeral, sad themes, life flashes, depiction of heaven, sights of deceased people from the past

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The morning sun cast a golden glow over the Imola circuit as Y/N made her way through the paddock, her footsteps echoing against the asphalt. She felt a sense of reverence as she approached the Ayrton Senna memorial statue, a towering tribute to the legendary driver whose life had been tragically cut short at this very track. Ronald Ratzenberger's memorial stood nearby, a poignant reminder of the dangers that loomed over the world of motorsport.

Y/N paused before the statue, her eyes tracing the contours of Senna's face, his expression frozen in eternal determination. She had always felt a deep connection to the Brazilian driver, his passion for the sport mirroring her own. She bowed her head in silent tribute, a gesture of respect for the man who had inspired generations of racers.

As she made her way back to the Red Bull Racing garage, Y/N's mind was consumed with thoughts of the championship battle that loomed ahead. She had worked tirelessly to reach this moment, each race a testament to her skill and determination. The championship title was within her grasp, but she knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges.

In the quiet moments before the race, Y/N's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. She ran through her pre-race rituals, each one a comforting routine that helped calm her nerves. She checked her gear with meticulous care, ensuring that every piece was in its rightful place. Her helmet, adorned with tributes to Senna and Ratzenberger, was a constant reminder of the sacrifices made in the pursuit of greatness.

The atmosphere at Imola was electric, the air buzzing with anticipation. Fans from all over the world had gathered to witness the spectacle of F1 racing, their cheers and chants filling the air. The stands were a riot of color, with flags and banners waving in the breeze. Y/N felt a surge of pride as she looked out at the sea of faces, each one a testament to the passion and dedication of the fans.

In the garage, Y/N shared a moment with her car, a sleek and powerful machine that had carried her to victory countless times before. She ran her hand lovingly over the curves of the chassis, feeling a deep bond with the engineering marvel. The Red Bull Racing team bustled around her, their energy infectious as they made final adjustments to the car. They were more than just colleagues; they were a family united by a common goal.

As she prepared to take to the track, Y/N's mind was focused on the task ahead. The championship battle weighed heavily on her shoulders, but she refused to let the pressure get to her. She had trained her whole life for this moment, and she was determined to seize it with both hands. With a final glance at the Senna memorial, Y/N climbed into her car, her heart racing with anticipation for the race that lay ahead.

The anticipation before the start of the Italy E Del'Emilia-Romagna Grand Prix was palpable, the air thick with excitement and tension. Y/N stood on the grid, her Red Bull Racing car gleaming under the bright Italian sun. The roar of the engines reverberated through her body, a symphony of power and adrenaline. She felt a surge of energy course through her veins as the lights went out, signaling the start of the race.

The first few laps were a blur of motion and noise as the cars jostled for position. Y/N's focus was unwavering as she navigated the twists and turns of the circuit, her eyes fixed on the cars ahead. The pack was tightly bunched, with rivals jockeying for position at every corner. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she pushed her car to the limit, her instincts honed from years of racing guiding her every move.

As the race settled into a rhythm, Y/N found herself locked in a fierce battle for the lead. Her rival, a seasoned competitor from a rival team, was determined to thwart her every move. The two drivers traded blows, each refusing to give an inch. The tension on the track was palpable, the spectators holding their breath as they watched the duel unfold.

Y/N's thoughts were a whirlwind of strategy and determination. She analyzed her rival's weaknesses, searching for an opportunity to make her move. The radio crackled with updates from her team, their voices calm and reassuring amidst the chaos of the race. Y/N listened intently, their words a lifeline as she fought for every inch of track.

The camaraderie among the drivers was evident, even in the heat of battle. Rivals acknowledged each other's skills with respectful nods, knowing that their battles pushed them to their limits. Y/N felt a sense of unity with her fellow competitors, each of them bound by a shared love for the sport and a desire to prove themselves on the world stage.

As the laps ticked by, Y/N's determination grew stronger. She could taste victory on the horizon, her dream of becoming champion within reach. But she knew that the road ahead would not be easy. The Imola circuit was unforgiving, its twists and turns testing her skills to the limit. She gritted her teeth and pushed on, her focus unwavering as she chased her ultimate goal.

The intensity of the race was relentless, each corner a test of skill and nerve. Y/N's heart raced as she pushed her car to its limits, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She could feel the eyes of the world upon her, their hopes and dreams riding on her shoulders. But she refused to let the pressure get to her, drawing strength from the support of her team and the love of her fans.

On the fateful lap, Y/N's determination was unwavering. She was in a fierce battle for the lead, her car responding to her every command. As she approached the notorious Tamburello corner, her mind was a blend of focus and instinct. The moment before impact stretched into eternity. A slight miscalculation, a split-second too late on the brakes, and her car veered off the racing line.

Y/N felt the car twitch beneath her as she lost grip on the track. The rear end stepped out, and in an instant, she was off the racing line, headed towards the barriers at an unforgiving speed. The initial impact was jarring, the front of her car smashing into the concrete wall with a force that sent shockwaves through her body. Her helmet snapped forward, the straps straining to keep it in place. The barrier crumpled but held, absorbing some of the energy but not enough to prevent the severe consequences.

In the cockpit, Y/N's world became a blur of movement and noise. The car ricocheted off the barrier, spinning across the gravel trap in a cloud of dust and debris. Her body was thrown against the restraints, the violent motion bruising her ribs and straining her neck. The second impact, as the car came to a rest against a tire wall, was less forceful but equally jarring, leaving her dazed and struggling to catch her breath.

The safety cell had done its job, but the sheer force of the crash had taken its toll. Y/N's vision blurred, and a sharp pain shot through her chest. She fought to stay conscious, aware that every second counted. Her team’s voices crackled over the radio, desperate calls for her to respond. She could hear them, but forming words felt impossible. The world outside the cockpit seemed distant, the roar of engines and the cheers of the crowd fading into a muffled background.

The medical team arrived swiftly, their faces a mix of concern and professionalism. They worked urgently to stabilize her, their voices a distant echo in her fading consciousness. Y/N's vision blurred, the world around her dissolving into a surreal haze. She was aware of the chaos, the frantic efforts to save her, but her mind began to drift, slipping into a dreamlike state.

Inside the car, the paramedics worked with practiced efficiency. They immobilized her neck and carefully extracted her from the mangled wreckage, placing her onto a stretcher. Y/N felt a mixture of pain and numbness, her body struggling to respond to the trauma it had endured. Her surroundings grew more abstract, and the faces of the medics became indistinct shapes as her vision dimmed.

The sounds around her began to fade, replaced by a profound silence. She was dimly aware of being loaded into the medical vehicle, the urgency in the medics' movements clear. Y/N's thoughts drifted to her family, her team, and the fans who had cheered her on. She hoped they knew she had fought with everything she had, that she had given her all for the sport she loved.

As the medical vehicle sped towards the hospital, Y/N's consciousness continued to wane. She felt herself slipping into a different state, a place where the pain and chaos of the crash seemed far away. In this in-between world, she found herself surrounded by images from the poem that had always resonated with her. The deer, the moths, the mice—each appeared before her, symbols of peace and transition.

The vivid imagery of the crash, the sounds, the sensations—all began to meld into this dreamlike tapestry. Y/N felt a sense of calm wash over her, a quiet acceptance of whatever lay ahead. She knew that she had pushed herself to the limit, and in that moment, she found peace.

Y/N's consciousness flickered in and out, her mind a tapestry of memories and visions. The pain in her body was a distant echo as she found herself in a tranquil meadow, the soft grass beneath her feet a stark contrast to the harsh asphalt of the track. The air was warm, filled with the sweet scent of flowers, and a gentle breeze brushed against her skin. This dreamscape blended with the poem’s imagery, each line coming to life around her. She saw deer grazing peacefully, their eyes reflecting a serene acceptance. They moved gracefully, embodying the calm and freedom she had always sought in her racing.

As she walked through the meadow, she noticed a group of moths fluttering around her, their wings shimmering in the light of a thousand suns. Each sun seemed to taste like sugar, and as the moths danced and played, they were swallowed whole, disappearing into the light with a sense of joyous surrender. This imagery reminded her of the countless nights she had spent under the glaring lights of the racetrack, each race a moment of pure, fleeting beauty.

Her career flashed before her eyes, a montage of victories and defeats, of the camaraderie and rivalries that defined her journey. She saw herself on the podium, the champagne spray mixing with her tears of joy. She heard the roar of the crowd, felt the weight of the trophy in her hands. Y/N remembered the late-night strategy sessions, the laughter shared with her team, and the quiet moments of doubt she had overcome. Each memory was vivid, a testament to the life she had lived with passion and purpose.

Y/N's thoughts drifted to the mice in the poem, creatures often overlooked and trapped in oil and glue. She imagined them in a warm, safe place with dry fur and full bellies, their struggles behind them. This vision resonated deeply with her, symbolizing the struggles and sacrifices she and her fellow drivers faced on and off the track. She felt a profound peace wash over her, an acceptance of whatever lay ahead. She knew she had given everything to the sport she loved, and that was enough.

On the grid, the reaction to her crash was one of horror and disbelief. Fellow drivers and team members watched in stunned silence as the medics worked. The race continued, but the spirit of competition was overshadowed by concern for Y/N. The camaraderie that bound the grid was now a shared grief, a collective holding of breath as they awaited news. The commentators spoke in hushed tones, their usual excitement replaced by solemnity.

In the medical center, Y/N's condition was critical. Doctors and nurses worked tirelessly to stabilize her, their faces etched with concentration. The team back in the paddock waited anxiously for updates, their hope mingled with fear. The fans, who had cheered her every lap, now held their breath, united in a collective prayer for her recovery. Social media was flooded with messages of support, a testament to the impact Y/N had on the world of F1.

As her consciousness continued to wane, Y/N found herself in a new vision. She was no longer in the meadow but on a racetrack in the sky. The track was lined with ethereal figures, all the legends she had admired, their faces welcoming and full of encouragement. Ayrton Senna and Ronald Ratzenberger stood at the front, their presence a comforting reminder that she was not alone. She felt the weight of her injuries lift, replaced by a sense of lightness and freedom.

Y/N's car was there, pristine and ready, its engine purring with a familiar warmth. She climbed into the cockpit, her hands steady on the wheel. The track ahead was endless, a ribbon of light stretching into eternity. She knew this was her place, where she belonged. As she accelerated, the roar of the engine filled her ears, a symphony of power and grace. The pain and fear of her final moments on the track were gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated joy.

As Y/N's spirit soared, she felt a deep sense of peace. She knew that she had left an indelible mark on the world of F1, that her memory would live on in the hearts of those who loved her. The racetrack in the sky was her new home, a place of endless possibility and eternal speed. She was free, at last, to race without limits, her spirit forever entwined with the sport she had given her life to.

The announcement from the hospital came as a devastating blow: Y/N had succumbed to her injuries. The world of F1 was plunged into mourning. Her team, her fans, and her fellow drivers were united in their sorrow. Tributes poured in from every corner of the globe, each one a testament to Y/N's impact on the sport and those who loved her.

In the real world, the grid stood united in their grief. The news broke as the race resumed, a somber tone enveloping the track. The Red Bull Racing team was visibly shaken, their faces etched with grief. Mechanics and engineers who had worked tirelessly to give Y/N the best car possible stood together, their heads bowed in sorrow. Christian Horner, the team principal, fought back tears as he addressed the media, his voice heavy with emotion. "Y/N was not just a remarkable driver but an incredible person. Her spirit and dedication will be sorely missed."

Red Bull Racing honored her spirit with a moving tribute. Her car, draped in black, was pushed to the front of the garage, surrounded by flowers and messages from fans. A moment of silence was observed before the race restarted, the grid standing together in a poignant tribute to their fallen comrade. The fans, who had cheered her every lap, now gathered in silence, their banners and flags a sea of tears. The atmosphere was one of reverence and respect, a community united in grief.

Fellow drivers shared their memories of Y/N, recounting tales of her bravery, her kindness, and her unwavering passion for racing. Lewis Hamilton, a long-time friend and rival, spoke of her tenacity on the track and her warmth off it. "Y/N was a fierce competitor but always had a smile and a kind word for everyone. She brought a unique spirit to the paddock, and her legacy will live on in all of us." Sebastian Vettel echoed these sentiments, recalling the times they had spent discussing their love for the sport. "She had a heart of gold and a passion that was unmatched. The track will never be the same without her."

Y/N's family and friends gathered in the paddock, their faces a mix of sorrow and pride. They knew that she had lived her dream, that she had pushed the boundaries of what was possible. Her legacy was secure, her place in the annals of F1 history assured. The fans, too, mourned her loss, their grief a testament to the connection they felt with her. She had been more than just a driver; she had been an inspiration, a beacon of hope and determination.

Social media was flooded with tributes from fans, celebrities, and fellow athletes. Hashtags like #RIPYN and #ForeverInOurHearts trended worldwide. Videos of her greatest moments, from her breathtaking overtakes to her joyful celebrations on the podium, were shared millions of times. Her impact on the sport was evident, not just in her achievements but in the way she had touched the lives of so many.

Y/N's metaphoric transition to her 'heaven' was a vision of a racetrack in the skies. She found herself behind the wheel once more, the engine's roar a familiar and comforting sound. The track was lined with all those she had admired and competed against, their smiles welcoming her to this eternal race. Ayrton Senna stood at the forefront, his presence a comforting reminder that she was not alone. He nodded at her, a silent acknowledgment of their shared destiny. It was a place of peace, of sweet reunion, where the spirit of competition lived on in harmony.

Her funeral procession was a poignant farewell, a celebration of her life and legacy. The world watched as her family, friends, and fans came together to honor her memory. The streets were lined with mourners, holding candles and waving flags in Red Bull's colors. The procession moved slowly through the city, her car leading the way, now a symbol of her indomitable spirit. The outpouring of love and respect was overwhelming, a fitting tribute to a driver who had touched so many lives.

At the funeral service, her family spoke of her unyielding determination and her love for life. Her father, voice breaking, shared stories of her childhood, her early fascination with speed, and the relentless drive that had propelled her to the pinnacle of motorsport. "She lived her life with passion and courage. She chased her dreams fearlessly, and we are incredibly proud of all she achieved." Her teammates and close friends shared their memories, painting a picture of a woman who was as compassionate as she was competitive.

The service ended with a final lap of honor, a parade of F1 cars following her hearse. The roar of the engines was a fitting tribute, a final salute to a beloved driver who had left an indelible mark on the sport. As the cars completed their lap, the crowd erupted into applause, a spontaneous and heartfelt farewell.

From the afterlife, Y/N watched over the sport she loved, her spirit soaring high above the circuits she had once conquered. She observed the teams bustling in the paddock, the drivers preparing for their next races, and the fans filling the stands, their excitement palpable. Each race weekend was a bittersweet symphony, a blend of the past she cherished and the future that was being shaped by those she had left behind.

She saw the future races, the new champions rising, and the spirit of competition thriving. Young drivers, inspired by her legacy, pushed themselves to the limit, their determination mirroring her own. She felt a sense of pride as she watched them, knowing that her influence had paved the way for a new generation of racers. These new champions carried a piece of her with them, their successes a continuation of the journey she had started.

Her presence was felt in every corner of the track, a guiding force for those who followed in her footsteps. During qualifying sessions, moments of intense concentration, and the crucial decisions in the heat of the race, drivers often spoke of feeling a calming presence, a sense of reassurance that seemed to come from nowhere. They would later attribute these moments to Y/N, believing that she was watching over them, guiding them through their toughest challenges.

She was a guardian of the sport, her spirit living on in the hearts of fans and drivers alike. The paddock, once filled with her laughter and fierce determination, now held an aura of reverence for her memory. Photos of her iconic moments adorned the walls of the Red Bull Racing garage, a constant reminder of her contributions to the team. Engineers and mechanics often found themselves drawing strength from her legacy, pushing themselves to achieve excellence in her honor.

The beauty of F1, with its blend of danger and exhilaration, was a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Y/N's story was a reminder of the sacrifices made in pursuit of greatness, and the indomitable will that drove her and others like her. Her name became synonymous with bravery and dedication, her career a shining example of what it meant to pursue one’s dreams relentlessly.

Her legacy was not just in her victories, but in the way she lived her life, with passion, courage, and a love for the sport that transcended the boundaries of life and death. Tributes continued to pour in, from fans who had never met her but felt a deep connection to her journey, to fellow drivers who had been inspired by her tenacity. Every social media post, every tribute video, every tearful fan at the track was a testament to the profound impact she had made.

In the end, Y/N found peace in knowing that she had lived her dream, and that her spirit would continue to inspire those who dared to chase theirs. The world of F1 would never forget her, and in every race, her memory would fuel the hearts of those who raced towards the horizon, chasing the thrill of speed and the glory of victory. She was there in every tight corner, every daring overtake, every triumph and heartbreak on the track. Her spirit was the whisper in the wind as the cars roared past, the flicker of light in the eyes of every driver who looked up to the skies for guidance.

The final races of the season saw many tributes in her honor. A special commemorative logo featuring her initials and a stylized angelic wing was added to the cars and helmets of many drivers. Fans held candlelight vigils, creating a sea of light and warmth in her memory. The FIA introduced an annual award in her name, celebrating the driver who best embodied the sportsmanship, courage, and dedication that Y/N had exemplified.

In the quiet moments before dawn at the circuits, when the world was still and the air was thick with anticipation, some claimed they could almost see her—an ethereal figure standing at the edge of the track, her eyes filled with a calm, knowing light. She watched over the sport she had loved so deeply, a silent guardian ensuring that the spirit of racing remained as vibrant and passionate as ever.

Y/N's story became a legend, a tale told to aspiring drivers and fans alike. It was a story of passion, sacrifice, and the unbreakable bond between a racer and their machine. Her life, though tragically cut short, had been a testament to the human spirit’s capacity for greatness. And as the engines roared and the cars sped by, Y/N's legacy lived on, forever racing towards the horizon, where dreams and reality met in a blur of speed and glory.

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F1 Taglist: @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @evie-119, @dhanihamidi, @leclercdior

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scoonsalicious · 2 months

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Unwanted: Chapter 21, Unacceptable - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 947

Previously On...: Bucky confronted Steve when he thought you two slept together. It got... ugly.

A/N: Last part of Chapter 21! We're off to Atlantic City, baby!

I am probably going to start going back to 1/day updates tomorrow, at least until I make more progress on With Friends Like These.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

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“That was pure evil,” Sam said as you both buckled your seatbelts in the convertible you’d be using for the mission. “I knew you were a genius, Baby Girl, but damn! Didn’t realize it was evil genius! Remind me never to get on your bad side!”

You smiled and shrugged, adjusting your hair in the visor mirror and putting on a pair of sunglasses. “Serves them right, acting like I’m a fucking piece of property either one of them can claim ownership of. I hope they break each other’s noses.”

Sam laughed as he pulled the car out of the Tower’s underground parking garage and onto the city street. “We got about a two and a half hour drive,” he said. “What do you feel like listening to?”

You were prevented from answering by the sound of Cherry Pie by Warrant filling the car. You both looked around for a moment before you realized it was coming from your phone. You picked it up, staring at the screen in confusion when you saw Tony’s name flash across the screen.

“You asshole, did you hack my phone?” you asked, putting him on speaker, “Because this was certainly not your ringtone.”

“Can you blame an old man for feeling nostalgic?” Tony asked, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “Did Cap give you my message?”

“Yes,” you said, eying Sam, “and Sam was very hurt when you called him ‘birdbrain.’” Sam did his best to stifle his laugh.

You could practically hear Tony roll his eyes. “Yeah, well Rogers needs to learn not to repeat everything word for word. Listen, kiddo, I meant what I said about visiting, though. You need anything, anything at all while you’re gone, you call me, okay? I can be there before you even hang up the phone.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Jesus, Tony. I’m not a child, and Sam’ll have my back. I know I’m not a mighty Avenger like the rest of you, but I’m not incompetent. I’ve been trained–”

“Whoa, whoa,” Tony interrupted you, “that’s not why I’m worried. Not at all. I know you can more than handle yourself. Hell, I’d send you on this mission solo– that’s how much faith I have in your abilities.” You smiled unexpectedly at that. “I’m concerned about how this mission’s going to affect you mentally and emotionally, given your–”

You immediately took him off speaker and held the phone to your ear as he continued “--history. We’re dealing with missing women who are likely being trafficked for sex. If that’s not gonna be a potential trigger for you, I don’t know what is.”

“I’m not fragile, Boss,” you said, your voice softer now. In all the turmoil you’d gone through since finding out about Bucky and Carthage, you honestly hadn’t given much consideration to what the mission might mean to you on a psychological level. “I never said you were, kiddo. I know you’re strong. But, this is a lot. You’ve just been dealt a major blow because of Barnes and I’m putting you back in a position that’s a lot closer to your old life than you’ve been living in a long, long time. You’ve come so far, and, well, I guess I’m concerned that I’m doing you more harm than good by sending you backwards.”

“Thanks, Tony,” you murmured, touched that he was still looking out for you, even from a distance. “That means a lot.”

“Just promise me– if it gets to be too much, if at any point you're struggling, you’ll tell me. I’ll pull you out, mission be damned.”

“But Boss,” you interjected, “these women need our help! We can’t just–”

“I know that, Pocket,” he countered, “and we will help them. But I’m not going to risk your mental wellbeing to do it. If it gets to be too much, we’ll pull you out, and we’ll find another way. Trust me.”

Your trust was running in short supply these days, but if there was one person who had never failed you, had never let you down, and was deserving of all the trust you had to offer, it was Tony Stark. “Yeah, okay,” you eventually agreed. “I promise. If it gets to be too much for me, I’ll let you know.”

“Good,” said Tony, and you knew he’d probably expected more of a fight from you, but you were too mentally exhausted to put one up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Pepper I’d do a stopover in Havana on my way home from Belize and pick up this massage oil she absolutely loves. See, it warms up when you–”

“Good bye, Tony,” you laughed, ending the call before he could go into further nauseating detail. You shook your head, smiling to yourself. You noticed Sam glancing over at you. “What?” you asked him.

“Nothin’” he said, eyes back on the road. “Just think it’s sweet how much Tony cares about you, that’s all. I knew you two were close, like brother and sister, but I never saw it in action before. It’s nice.”

“Oh,” you said, surprised he hadn’t jumped to the typical conclusions people came to when they considered your relationship. “Yeah, he’s really been the best.”

“So, how did you two meet, anyway?” Sam asked as the two of you pulled onto the highway. “I know Tony said the strip club, but I figure there’s got to be more to it than that. If you don’t mind sharing, that is. I mean, we still have two hours of driving left to do.”

You chuckled. “Nah, it’s alright– I don’t mind telling you. It’s actually kind of a funny story…”

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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heathmattingly81 · 1 year

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pickingupmymercedes · 1 month

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Your future was Ferrari - Part 2/?

Part 1 here

summary: She was finally making her dreams come true, but as the old saying goes "when it rains, it pours" and maybe the nudge Charles gave her might get her somewhere she would never find on her own.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Ferrari!Reader!

warnings: alusion to mature content.

wordcount: +2K

a/n: Bit of a more internal debate chapter here, but it kind had to be done. Also, would you guys mind if I put explicit description of mature content on this fic? I skipped it on the first one but was thinking that it may be needed for the next ones

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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The crisp January air of Maranello was a welcome change from the desert heat of Abu Dhabi. Three whirlwind months had passed since that unforgettable night, and now, amidst the intricate tapestry of Ferrari's world, everything was beginning to feel like home—the rhythmic pulse of machinery, fervent debates over car performance, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed espresso.

One tempestuous afternoon, while engrossed in finalizing a critical report, a summons arrived from Fred’s secretary. Your heart thudded against your ribs like a frantic drumbeat as you made your way to his office. Upon entering, you were greeted not only by Fred's imposing presence but also by Charles, whose eyes sparkled with an enigmatic glint.

"Ah, y/n! Glad you could join us," boomed Fred, gesturing to the empty chair opposite him. Charles flashed you a friendly grin.

As you settled into the plush leather chair, a tidal wave of nerves began to recede. The meeting commenced with a comprehensive review of your contributions and insights into Ferrari’s new car. Then, Fred dropped a bombshell that sent shockwaves through your core.

"We've been impressed with your work, y/n" he began, his voice serious. "I already knew of your great technical understanding and a quick-thinking, and Charles here, has been particularly vocal about his…" he paused, glancing at Charles with a smile, "enthusiasm for your skills."

A blush crept up your neck. Charles cleared his throat.

A blush surged across your cheeks, painting them a vivid shade of crimson. Charles, leaning in with a playful smirk, chimed in, "As you know, we’re an engineer short at trackside. The demands are intense—the relentless travel, the grueling 24-race season—but the experience is unparalleled. We believe you'd be the perfect addition to my side of the garage."

Your mind whirred at breakneck speed. The prospect of working trackside with Charles, under the revered banner of Ferrari, was intoxicating. You couldn’t deny the thrill of being closer to the action, the adrenaline rush of race weekends. Yet, a nagging voice of caution whispered reminders of the relentless schedule and unyielding scrutiny.

"It's a lot to consider," you admitted, looking between the two men.

Charles leaned back, a playful smile on his lips. "Think of it, y/n! You’ve always wanted that, even back at Alpha. Although, you would have to face the brunt of Fred's coffee breath during briefings" he joked, earning a chuckle from Fred.

"Alright," you announced, a grin splitting your face, "I'm in!"

The joy in Charles' eyes mirrored your own. He bumped your fist with a whoop. But as you left Fred's office, Charles stopped you in the hallway, his smile fading slightly.

"Hey," he began hesitantly, "about Abu Dhabi… I got a little carried away that night. What happened between you and Lewis? I never saw you after…"

The question sent a jolt through you. Your stomach lurched. How could you tell him the truth? Shame burned in your throat as you fumbled with your thoughts. "Oh, you know" you resorted to lies, forcing a casual smile "Fan stuff. Autographs and all that."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Charles' face. "Ah, right" he mumbled. "Well, see you in Bahrain then, it’ll be nice to have you in the pit wall!"

You plastered another smile on your face. Packing for Bahrain. Excitement bubbled beneath the guilt gnawing at your conscience. You were going trackside.

The shrill ring of your phone pierced the quiet of the dawn. It was an unusual wake-up call at 6:00 AM, especially on a Wednesday mid-winter break. Squinting at the screen, you saw your dad's name and answered with a groggy, "Hello?"

The familiar booming voice filled your ear. "Y/n! Did you hear the news? Lewis to Ferrari! Can you believe it?"

You forced a laugh. "Dad, there have been rumors about Lewis to Ferrari for years. Remember that time they photoshopped him in a red suit?"

"This feels different, though! There are articles everywhere, even F1 is buzzing about it." Your dad's excitement was palpable through the phone as a wave of nausea washed over you.

You mumbled an agreement, hanging up before he could pick up on the tremor in your voice. The news hung heavy in the air, a dark cloud amidst the usual pre-season jitters.

As you went about your day, the rumors intensified. Mentions on social media turned into breaking news alerts. By lunchtime, a tense hush had fallen over everyone at Maranello. An unexpected staff meeting announcement sent a jolt through everyone.

As you walked towards the assembly hall, a colleague whispered, "Did you hear? Brackley's having a meeting too."

Dread gnawed at your insides. You knew what this meant.

The hall was packed, a sea of expectant faces illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights. Fred stood at the center; his face uncharacteristically serious. The silence in the room was deafening.

"Everyone," he began, his voice carrying an air of gravitas, "as you may be aware, there have been a lot of speculations circulating today. Speculations that have become… well, reality."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. You could hear the collective intake of breath from the crowd.

“Lewis Hamilton is joining Scuderia Ferrari for the 2025 season.” A triumphant glint briefly played in his eyes, but before anyone could respond the team principle continued “But, that’s not for another year. In 2024 we have Charles here and Carlos, who have given us amazing years”

The hall erupted in a cacophony of comments and stunned silence. You felt the floor tilt beneath your feet. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drum solo threatening to burst out of your chest. Lewis Hamilton at Ferrari. Your secret, your shame, was about to collide spectacularly with your professional life. You were frozen, a lone island of stillness amidst the storm.

The conversations faded into a distant hum. You gripped the edge of a chair, trying to anchor yourself amidst the emotional turmoil. You had hidden that night from everyone, from yourself even. And now you would have to possibly work alongside him.

The desert sun beat down on the Losail International Circuit in Qatar, baking the asphalt and testing the limits of both man and machine. For you, it was the third day of your first official trackside deployment with Ferrari, and a whirlwind of emotions churned within you. The initial media frenzy surrounding Lewis' arrival had subsided, replaced by the usual pre-season buzz: championship predictions, car evaluations, and the ever-present debate about the second-fastest team.

You'd managed to navigate the past two days with a semblance of normalcy. Charles appreciated your input during pit stops and strategy discussions, and Fred's reassuring pat on the back after a successful test session confirmed he hadn't made the wrong choice in calling you in. Yet, a constant undercurrent of tension ran beneath the surface. The ghost of Abu Dhabi loomed large every time you passed the Mercedes garage.

On the morning of the third day, an urge for a pre-dawn run propelled you out of bed and straight to the hotel gym. As you hopped onto a treadmill, lost in the rhythm of your steps, a familiar voice jolted you back to reality.

"Well. Look who it is." There he was, Lewis Hamilton, a smirk playing on his lips. He looked effortlessly cool in a sleek tracksuit, his dark braids damp from a workout. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

"Uh, hi." you stammered, desperately trying to appear nonchalant. You cranked up the treadmill's speed, hoping to appear absorbed in your workout.

Lewis chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes. Briefly, he lingered by the treadmill before heading out, leaving you feeling exposed and flustered.

The rest of the day unfolded in a blur of data analysis and strategy meetings. By the time everyone else had left, you found yourself volunteering to stay back and finalize some reports. The solitude, however, was short-lived. As you gathered your belongings, a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness of the paddock.

"Still here, I see?" Lewis' voice sent shivers down your spine.

He motioned towards a secluded corner of the pitlane, and you hesitantly followed.

"Glad to see you're part of Ferrari. You failed to mention that" he began, his tone casual.

Feigning ignorance, you played along. "I don't think we've met." A single eyebrow of his arched up in a silent challenge.

"Babe," he drawled, his voice laced with amusement, "I've kissed every inch of your skin that night. We've been introduced alright."

Your cheeks burned crimson. His laughter did little to ease your mortification.

"You left pretty early the next morning," he continued, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "Didn't even leave a message. Quite the enigma" He reached into his pocket; his phone poised. "How about we change that?"

Panic surged through you as his intentions became clear. Just as you were about to stammer a response, he intervened with a disarming smile

“Relax” he reassured, his tone softening. “What happened between us was a one-off thing, if you want it to be just that. But, since we’re gonna work together next year we could find ways, I get you’d want discretion though. I won’t deny it, I had fun that night”

Just as you looked at him deciding if you bought into his sudden innocence, a voice cut through the tension.

"Y/n? Are you still here?" It was Marco, a data analyst from your department, Lewis’ face etched with confusion. Seizing the opportunity, you called out, "Yeah! Just finishing up here! Coming!"

With a fleeting glance at Lewis, who seemed momentarily taken aback, you practically sprinted towards your colleague, your heart pounding a frantic escape rhythm.

You couldn't allow yourself to be alone with Lewis, not after that. Not when the truth could come spilling out like a dam bursting. Not when he was offering you something you didn’t even know could be within your reach, something you had never even thought of being a possibility.

With each step away from the empty paddock, you faced a choice: to embrace the unknown allure Lewis offered or to just forget that anything had ever happened. The impending collision of your professional and personal worlds loomed large, leaving you to wonder: would Lewis Hamilton be worth having your world come crashing down?

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#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #f1 imagine

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msnanu · 6 months

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Libertine 04 | JJK

Libertines put value on physical pleasures, meaning those experienced through the senses.

❧ Series Masterlist ❧

⏤summary ❧ He has a reputation for being the most promiscuous man on campus, and you, well, you are basically him in women’s pants. It will be the very first time that Jungkook is faced with someone who is gonna make him question his feelings and actions.

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ❧ f*boy jungkook x f*girl female reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 ❧ some fluff, smut, mild angst, teasing and lots of sexual tension.

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ❧ mature language, NSFW🔞

❧ banner by: @dojakoo ❧

Jungkook clutched the car key in his hand as he stomped to the ground.

He didn't want to be feeling that way, especially about a girl he hadn't even kissed. The rage was flowing through his veins, he was so close to get you.

Having a friend steal "his prey" wasn't something he was used to. Usually they always chose him, he never had to go through that kind of situation.

On the way home, he was sure he'd been fined several times. Speed was high and traffic lights just didn't exist for him. Alone in his car he could feel his hands stiffening on the steering wheel and his deep breath taking over the atmosphere.

He just wanted to get home. He wanted this day to end soon so he could talk to Jimin the next day.

Jungkook knew he looked pathetic, but he was going to face a friend over a damn girl he didn't even fuck. He refused to see that feeling as jealousy.

He was laughing to himself in the car, thinking how a guy like Park Jimin was considered better than him. His ego was screaming.

What the fuck were you doing too? His head was racing. Why had you gotten involved with that idiot. You seemed to have gotten along well at the bar, what had he missed?

As soon as Jungkook got home, he went straight to his room. Pulling off only the jacket he was wearing, he laid down immediately before he could do anything silly.

His friends had arranged to meet on the football field right before lunch. In a few hours he would solve his problem. He just didn't know if it would be on the basis of conversation.

Without needing to hear the sound of his alarm clock, Jungkook got up at nine in the morning. Jin and Taehyung would probably go to the field early, which would give him little time to sort out the situation with Jimin.

He hurried over and took a crappy shower.

The path to that little bastard's house was easy, and Jungkook was driven by the force of hatred. He parked in Jimin’s garage, and before getting out he waited a few seconds for his breathing to stabilize.

He went to the door and ignored the bell, banging firmly on the door. Jungkook wasn't a big fan of frequenting the Park house. Everything looked a little dirty to him, even for a man. Honestly, he always thought it looked like a pigsty.

The silence indicated that Jimin was still sleeping. So Jungkook knocked harder on the door.

A not-so-low curse came from inside the house, and Jungkook couldn't care less about it.

As soon as the door opened, Jungkook could see his friend in sweatpants and no shirt. He rubbed his eyes as if trying to get used to the light. It took a few seconds for Jimin to recognize him.

“What the fuck, Jungkook? It’s not even noon yet.”

Jungkook didn't understand if he was playing dumb or if he really was a clueless idiot.

“Can I come in?” Jungkook said huffing without a shred of patience.

“I don’t… I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Jimin tried to take the space by the door, but Jungkook pushed him inside effortlessly.

“Bullshit.” He said as he walked into his friend's house. “You and I need to-”

His words were brutally cut short as his eyes flicked to the sofa in the corner of the living room. At that moment Jungkook felt that all the air that existed inside his body had left him. He stuttered, trying to finish the sentence but failed miserably.

In the corner of the room, amid the gray sheets, you were lying on your stomach, your bare back completely exposed. He didn't know if you were completely naked, but your silhouette didn't show the opposite. You most probably were.

Your face was turned towards the entrance to the living room, which allowed Jungkook to contemplate the enviable serenity with which you slept.

His jaw was locked, and he felt like he might collapse at any moment.

Jimin stared at him sideways, swallowing hard.

Jungkook gave a weak laugh, wetting his lips, “We can talk later.”

His words didn't come out as firm as he wanted but they were enough to get him to get moving and get out of there as quickly as possible.

He felt like vomiting. Jungkook knew he had no right to demand anything from you, after all, he's been with Seulgi this whole time. However, seeing you sleep with Jimin made him question your judgment.

How it didn't cross your mind that maybe you would be too much for his “friend”. Jungkook couldn't understand.

He decided to go to the field, there was no point coming home now. Maybe there his real friends would make him forget everything related to this damn woman. He was always good at sports; it was the opportunity he needed to de-stress.

Parking around the field, Jungkook saw the figure of Taehyung alone.

“Always the first to arrive.” Jungkook said as he approached.

“Why is it my fault that I have a commitment to schedules?”

"Come on, you know we're always going to be late. That's already become a universal observation.”

The two laughed and Taehyung looked at him suspiciously.

“That makes me think, you are always the last to arrive. What happened?” Taehyung asked as he stretched his neck.

Jungkook chuckled to himself at how well his friend knew him.

“You saw me with Y/N last night, didn't you?”

Taehyung stuttered as he tried to formulate a convincing answer. “Ah, yeah, I mean-”

“You don't have to pretend you don't.”

“All right, I saw you approaching her at the bar.” He said defeated.

“Do you have any idea who she left with last night?”

Jungkook felt a little stupid as he recounted the events in a series of questions.

“Wasn't it with you?”

“She left with Jimin.” He said, looking at Taehyung to see his reaction.

Taehyung frowned. “What the fuck? What an asshole. He saw you two together before he left.”

Jungkook laughed at his friend's reaction and sighed in agreement. Of course, you could be with whoever you wanted, but the fact that Jimin had interrupted him yesterday so he could get close to you was unacceptable to Jungkook.

“Asides he’s an absolute jackass, I don't understand why you've become obsessed with Y/N all of a sudden,” Taehyung cut his thoughts. “I mean, she's gorgeous and all, but she's just like you Jungkook, everyone talks about it. It’s not news.”

At that moment Jungkook preferred not to argue, Taehyung was trying to help him. However, this talk about you being like him didn't go into his head.

What was that supposed to mean? That you enjoyed the pleasures of life just as much as he did? That wasn't the point, it was his friend's asshole attitude that bothered him. At least that's what he preferred to believe.

“Jungkook I've seen you like this before; you're seeing her as a challenge. This is not healthy; you already know that.”

“What if I am? That's my problem.” He said, losing patience. “The thing is, she just stopped being all that they say.”

He would never admit to anything else, that he enjoyed your company yesterday, that he enjoyed seeing you smile.

"What about Seulgi?"

“What about her?”

Taehyung laughed out loud at his friend's attempt to fake detachment.

“Come on, Jungkook, who do you want to fool? Yesterday you two were kissing in public.”

Jungkook glared at his friend, trying to intimidate him with a serious face, but Taehyung couldn't care less.

As Jungkook was getting ready to let out some acid response to Taehyung, he could see his friend's face turn into a straight face. He kept his eyes on the field entrance as he swallowed hard.

“Okay. This is gonna be weird.”

Jungkook turned quickly to see what it was. His eyes saw three people walking towards them.

Jin, Jimin and you.

“You gotta be kidding me.” He said as he walked away from his friend.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

“Fuck, anywhere else”

When he was finally within a good distance of the now all-assembled group, Jungkook began stretching for the game. From that distance he could see that Yoongi was coming along with four other guys. At least with more people he wouldn't have to interact as much with Jimin.

He already hated him for interrupting his moment with you, now he hated him even more for bringing you there as some kind of trophy.

After a few minutes, the game finally started. In the beginning the situation was under control, everyone was playing for themselves and doing their part, but as the heat of the game rose, that field turned into a battle arena.

From afar, it was possible to hear the screams and curses exchanged between Jungkook and Jimin. Each was on a separate team, but it felt like they were always together. The situation only got worse when the two of them started to push each other, causing the other to fight back even harder.

At one point, Jimin had fallen to the ground and Jungkook was standing in front of him teasing him. Taehyung was feeling that things were going to get out of hand at any moment.

"Hey, Jungkook! Out! Now! Go get some water." Taehyung screamed.

Jungkook looked at him displeased.

As Taehyung approached him, he heard his friend whisper. “Come on, help me out here. You know you are better than he is.”

Jungkook felt sorry for his friend and left the field somewhat reluctantly.

He walked toward the benches positioned outside the field. The closer he got to the outside of the field, the more his eyes fought a battle not to look directly at you.

It was inevitable.

With a sideway glance, Jungkook could see that you were wearing the same shorts as last night, but the top blouse was baggy, twice your size. It didn't take him long to assimilate that you were wearing one of Jimin's blouses.

Again, he felt uncomfortable. It should be his shirt instead.

He brought a bottle of water to his mouth, feeling his hands tighten around it. Jungkook was doing his best to stay silent and be the asshole he'd always been, but the words were slipping out of his mouth. He felt he would die if he didn't talk to you.

“Really. What were you thinking?” Jungkook let it slip.

He didn't turn to you, but he could feel you looking at him. It was like his back was burning.

“What?”

Your voice was so serene, Jungkook felt an overwhelming urge to start an argument. He hated feeling like he was the most affected in a conversation.

“When you decided to sleep with that half-brain idiot.” He emphasized.

You already knew that he was going to bring that up, Jimin told you earlier that Jungkook had come to his house and left when he saw you there. You imagined he might be angry but as always, you don’t owe anyone an explanation. He was at the pub with his little girlfriend and then proceeded to flirt with you, just to leave you horny as fuck and Jimin stepped in.

You had your fun with him, he took your stress away and you just got up today and got invited by him to watch a football match with his friends and since today you had no plans, you said yes and that’s all. It was just sex. Like it always is.

So, for you, it was too amusing to see how worked up Jungkook was in front of you right now, sulking like a five-year-old because you slept with his friend.

A faint laugh echoed in Jungkook’s ears, and he could see you lower your head slightly. You remained silent for about three minutes. Which was enough for Jungkook to tease you again.

“He’s not the guy for you.”

“How could you know?” This time your voice sounded more emphatic, as if you were enjoying the conversation.

Jungkook felt the blood rush through his veins. At this point he didn't know if it was the adrenaline of the game, or the way you were so excited defending Jimin – funny thing, you weren’t defending him, you just liked to see Jungkook worked up, it even made him look hotter.

And if Jungkook could measure his heartbeats right now, they would be fucking high.

“He can't handle a woman like you. You know that very well."

The complement of the phrase came along with a smug look on Jungkook's face. There was no longer any effort on his part to pretend that the sex between you and Jimin had been nothing more than a woman doing charity to a guy.

Jimin was his friend, or at least he used to be, but he'd never been around girls like you, and Jungkook knew the reason for that was because he just didn't know how to deal with them.

In a matter of seconds, you shot back, “And you can?”

He held back his laughter. He should have seen that coming. He didn't understand how you could change the tone of a conversation so quickly. It was as if you never lost during an argument.

Jungkook stopped sipping his water and finally faced you. You had a wicked smile at the corner of your mouth as you glared at him over your brow.

The sun was directly on your skin, making you shimmer. Jungkook took a deep breath as he tried to focus on anything but your exposed parts. Your legs were crossed, and your hands braced on the bench, your entire posture poised to intimidate him. As hard as it was for Jungkook to admit, that conversation alone had him turned on by you again.

He felt that his breathing was audible to you and decided to return to the field immediately. It was not in his interest to show any kind of emotion for you, much less let you notice his discomfort.

He had hoped to return to the game more relaxed, but that conversation only overthrew him more. During the game Jungkook felt absorbed, as if he wasn't really there. The pub scenes replayed in his mind, and he found himself inches from you again, about to kiss you, feeling your skin, stroking your hair, touching your lips.

In the back of his head, he could hear his friends complaining about his wrong pass or crooked kick.

The more he remembered that he had come close to finally being with you, the more his irritation rose.

When the game was finally over, the boys gathered around one of the benches and started to decide where to have lunch.

“Come on, it's Jin's turn to offer us something.” Taehyung said in an attempt to convince Jin to offer the meal at his house.

“Don't even try to escape, Jin. Last week it was on me, nothing could be more fair.” Yoongi provoked.

All eyes in the circle turned to Jin, who in return gave a defeated sigh.

After a little more talk, the group finally came to an agreement, and everyone started heading to their cars. Jungkook was already resigned to not going to lunch, it was better to be alone at home.

However, he didn't count on Jimin taking you with him to Jin's house. He should take you home, shouldn't he?

He narrowed his eyes as he tried to hear the conversation between the two of you walking behind him. Jimin was saying something about having lunch at Jin's and then taking you home.

As a child easily bribed with sweets, Jungkook decided to eat with his friends.

When Jungkook arrived at Jin's house, he could immediately see you and Jimin talking at the entrance to the gate, while Taehyung shouted in the background. He took a deep breath; he knew it was going to be a long lunch.

When approaching the "couple", he could again hear the conversation between the two of you.

“I can take you home if you want to.” Jimin said in his most concerned tone.

Before you even started to speak, Taehyung interrupted you.

“Don't worry about it, Jiminie. I'll take her later. Relax.”

Jungkook turned his attention to Taehyung who kept an affectionate smile on his face. He wanted to understand what was going on.

As soon as he got to the door, Jungkook saw his friend go down some steps and offer you his arm, so you could follow him.

Before accepting Taehyung's help, you turned back to Jimin and touched his face pulling him in for a kiss. It was indeed an intense kiss for a Saturday morning.

Jungkook chewed the inside of his cheek as he stared at the scene with the purest feeling of disgust.

When they were finally inside, and you were further in, Jungkook questioned his friend.

"Why isn't Jimin with us?"

“Oh, I don't really know how to explain, it looks like he had some family problem,” Taehyung said dismissively. “Why do you care? Y/N is here and alone, make some effort.”

Jungkook laughed at his friend's complicity. Indeed, it was an opportunity to take advantage of.

At the lunch table, Jungkook's friends began discussing events from the game. It was possible to hear all sorts of cursing as they each tried to prove their point: whether such a move had been a penalty, whether Yoongi should have been expelled when he pushed Jin, among others.

It was a masculine table, in its purest conception.

You remained silent as you answered trivial questions from Taehyung, who was trying to introduce you to the conversation.

Jungkook found himself watching you more shamelessly than he intended. He watched how your hands gestured to explain something to his friend, how your low laugh was nice to hear, and especially how your face turned into something amazing when you smiled at Taehyung's jokes.

Trapped in that vision, Jungkook didn't notice the moment the conversation between the two was over. Only minutes later he was startled by your gaze on him.

You didn't seem bothered by Jungkook's look on you, on the contrary, you looked at him as if daring him to get close to you. This provocation was the one that Jungkook could never win. You knew he desired you, and that was why you would always have the upper hand.

Despite having been willing to kiss him yesterday, Jungkook couldn't be sure what you really wanted. Much less after seeing you with one of his friends. You really were a master of confusion to him.

Jungkook broke eye contact when he heard Taehyung's voice close to his ear.

“Do you two need a room?”

It had been low just for him to hear, but that didn't stop Jungkook from laughing and telling him to fuck off.

It was strange for him to be getting support from one of his friends. At first Jungkook wasn't comfortable with Taehyung having noticed his interest in you, but now he recognized his friend's commitment to helping him.

As the boys began to disperse, you got up from the table looking impatient.

Needing no encouragement, Jungkook followed in your footsteps to the outside of the house. He found you with your arms braced on the porch as you felt the breeze touch your hair.

He couldn't tell if it was too presumptuous of him to imagine that you wanted him to follow you.

His thoughts were cut off by your calm voice. “Do you plan on staying there a long time?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, letting out a laugh.

“How did you know I was here; you barely saw me.”

“I didn't, but I heard you,” you turned your face back slightly, enough so that Jungkook could see your expression as you spoke the next sentence. “And I felt your perfume too.”

Jungkook tried to formulate some answer, but no sound came out of his mouth. Awestruck, he watched you turn forward with a haughty smile. You knew exactly how to mess up with him.

Aware that he'd already lost in today's "teasing" score, Jungkook swallowed his astonishment and approached you.

“Do you want a ride home?” He asked, trying hard to sound trustworthy.

You lifted your body from the porch and gave him a cocky look.

“I thought you would never ask.”

He frowned, confused by you being gentle and soft. Weren’t you supposed to deny it and say he wasn't the type of guy you'd hang out with? Instead, you took the lead and walked smugly in front of him.

As difficult as this was for Jungkook, he had to admit to himself that he was fascinated. When his friends told him you were just like him, he didn't expect that even self-confidence would be the same.

Inside the car, Jungkook walked an uncertain path for a few minutes, expecting you to guide him at any moment.

“Do you know where I live?”

“Should I?” His answer made you laugh.

“I don't know,” you stared at him, biting your lip. “You could be one of those stalkers.”

Jungkook's eyes widened, and he looked at you. “That's how you perceive me?”

You let the silence settle in for a few moments just to tease him.

“No, but that doesn't mean you're not.”

“If you had listened to your parents' advice, you wouldn't get in a potential stalker's car.” Jungkook said, trying to piss you off.

For the second time he was shocked by your talent in making him feel at ease. Yesterday at the pub he went from sullen and silent to flirtatious and excited. That drive home was already better than his entire morning.

“FYI, I didn't grow up with them.” You replied instantly.

Jungkook swallowed, regretting his joke.

"Oh, no. I mean, not like that." You said looking at his frightened face. "They insisted that I stay with my aunt in South Korea because of the universities. My aunt at that time had been already living here for a while and also attended college in Seoul so, I moved in with her."

“Oh, fuck you. I thought your parents had died.”

You let out a loud laugh that infected him. It was two young idiots laughing as they drove nowhere.

“I really should have let you believe that, I wanted to see how you would apologize.” you said, looking at him curiously.

A new moment of silence settled in the car. This time it wasn't your intention. Jungkook drummed up in his mind how to continue the conversation. It was more of a new thing for him, talking to the girl he wanted to have sex with. There was usually no conversation.

“You should take Seongsan Avenue, it's easier to get to my house from there.”

Jungkook blinked a few times. It took a while for him to assimilate that he wasn't following any path.

“I think you might know where it is. It's one of the bright green buildings around the corner from the college.”

As much as he wanted to admit that he knew where it was, after all he had already had sex with dozens of girls there, he thought it best to omit that information. So, he just nodded.

“Have you always liked Classical Literature?” He asked, instantly regretting his words.

Mentally Jungkook started cursing himself. There was no reason for him to want to know more about you, know details of your life. To him that kind of curiosity hinted that he was actually more interested in you than usual.

And he wasn't, couldn't be. It was just sex. He was convinced of it.

Too late to back off, he forced a smile as he waited for your answer.

You didn’t even think about the fact that he was actually trying to make a conversation with you. You loved talking about your choice of career, it was what you loved the most. So, you just started rambling without even thinking about it.

“Oh, wow. Yes! There's something about getting involved with the Classics that always takes you to a new story. I mean, it's a huge stream of references.” you said getting ready in the car seat. “If you stop to think, all the stories in the world derive from them, it's amazing.”

Jungkook had to suppress his laughter as he watched your enthusiasm as you spoke.

“It's like the myth of Orpheus. Nowadays you see several adaptations like Rilke's 'Sonnets to Orpheus' or Bausch's opera 'Orpheus und Eurydike'. Everything is interconnected.”

Jungkook frowned, trying to disguise his ignorance. He had no idea what you were talking about, and it somehow annoyed him. Maybe because he'd never dated a smart girl, he'd never had to struggle to understand a conversation.

Still, he was enjoying watching you talk about something you loved.

You stopped for a moment to take a breath and looked at him laughing. Then you realized that you got overexcited talking about your career.

“Sorry, I think I said too much.” You lowered her head.

“It's okay, I just can't keep up with you.” He said seeing a smile of complicity appear on your face.

“And you, have you always liked math and numbers?”

For a moment, you wanted to curse yourself, why the hell are you too making a conversation with Jungkook? You just want to fuck him. That’s it. You shouldn’t be interested in knowing him. Less you know, less chances of someone ending up getting hurt in the future.

As you were overthinking why you asked him about his career choice, Jungkook turned his eyes to the street. He honestly didn't have a decent answer to that question.

Did he like what he was doing? Would he do anything else if he could? Seeing you so excited about what you were studying made him a little depressed, as he had never been this happy in economics. The only time he felt some kind of joy was when he drew or paint a picture.

“‘Like’ is a very strong word, I had affection for numbers,” He took a deep breath, carefully thinking about his next words. “The rest went with my father.”

That caught your attention.

“What do you mean?”

He felt like he was going to explode at any moment. Why did you care? – he thought.

Why do I care? You were asking yourself too for a moment.

“Let's say he always wanted me to study economics.”

There was no point in spoiling that entire conversation with details about his terrible adolescence with his father.

“I see.” You said, placing your hand on Jungkook's thigh.

In other situations, he would take this moment as an invitation, but you looked at him as if he were a broken toy.

As hard as it is to understand, you were actually the kind of person that easily empathizes with others when it comes to this kind of issues, and you couldn’t even think if you weren’t able to choose to do what you love. You would be devastated. So, you felt sorry for him. You were human after all.

He hated that feeling. He didn't want anyone's sympathy.

“Is it here?” He asked slowing down as he pointed to the green building to his left.

“Yeah. Thanks” You paused. “For the ride.”

A wild thought went through your dirty mind. He looked so hot, and you couldn’t stop thinking about that freaking sleave of tattoos on his arm. What a sight to see.

Before he could say anything, even a “you're welcome”, you leaned over and stole him a kiss. Jungkook blinked, trying to understand what was happening. It didn't take long for him to know what to do.

Feeling your soft lips brush his, Jungkook brought his hands to your face, intensifying your contact. One of his hands was cupping your face, the other was roaming the back of your neck. He felt that your hand that was on his thigh had gone up a little. You were practically caressing the inside of his thighs.

Jungkook could only really believe he was finally kissing you when he noticed your tongues touching.

In the middle of the kiss, he could hear you moan between his lips, making the volume in his pants start to draw attention. He hadn't even offered a ride with that intention, but he would never complain.

When his hands slid to your neck, nearing the strap of your blouse, Jungkook leaned more ferociously towards you. He was willing to go ahead right there in front of your building. However, as soon as Jungkook advanced, you walked away, leaving him gaping.

You had an extremely victorious smile on your face as you saw him panting and desiring more in front of you. It wasn't supposed to be a reaction that had escaped, you were simply admiring it.

Jungkook began to slowly recover his breath as he watched the girl in front of him. It was impossible for him to contain his own smile when he saw you like that.

He stood for a few seconds staring at your lips as if he expected you to lean in again.

You opened the car door and unceremoniously left him there. Outside, you waved at him smugly, while carrying that damn self-confident smile.

“The pleasure was all mine.” He said low to himself.

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⏤ author's note❧ aaaaaaaaaah, i'm so loving this story so far (sorry, i know i'm the writer and i should be humble but i can't help it, i love it lol 😂) - hope you guys love it as much as i do, please give it a lot of love if you like it, reblog, leave your thoughts, send me asks. it will be all very much welcomed 🥰

⏤ tag list❧ @chimsworldsstuff @erica2283

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kwanisms · 1 year

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Kinkuary 14 Jun — body worship // bath/shower sex

➥ idol boyfriend!Jun × noj idol!Reader summary: After a particularly stressful day at work, Y/N comes home to find her boyfriend has drawn her a relaxing bath and is pleasantly surprised when he reveals he intends to join her in the bath. wc: 3.8k warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, alcohol consumption (a glass of wine or two), established relationship, sexual content (minors dni!): Junhui just wants to pamper the reader knowing she's had a hard time, massaging, fingering, biting, hair pulling, bath sex, unprotected sex (use protection pls!), body worship, praise, use of pet names (bao bei, angel, beautiful, etc), the reader calls Jun lǎo gōng (husband) and it makes him all 🥴🥰, let me know if I missed anything!! Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon @dilfjohnny Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @drunk-on-dk @violagoth @mixling-blog Seventeen taglist: @aikisbbq @95cheols @niktwazny303 @indigo35 @moonlightsora @witherednotes @cixrosie @kirooz Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED AND BLACKLISTED. Join the taglist!

a/n: Junhui doesn't seem to have a lot of content on here but here's some! I haven't written for him in a while so hopefully I do him justice! I hope you like this. Thank you for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

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‘Seriously? Fuck Valentine’s Day,’ you thought as your office door closed.

This was the worst day you’d experienced of the year and it was only the second month.

You sighed and leaned forward, resting your head on your arms on top of your desk. ‘I can’t take much more of this,’ you told yourself. A knock at your door brought you out of your stupor, sitting up and calling out for the person to come in.

“You look stressed,” your supervisor said as she walked in. You forced a smile. “Stressed is putting it lightly,” you replied before taking a deep breath. “How can I be of assistance?” You asked. Your supervisor shook her head.

“I’m sure this isn’t the best time, but we’re over in hours,” she replied. “Normally I wouldn’t dream of asking you this, but seeing as you seemed rather stressed, would you like to leave early?” You couldn’t believe your ears. ‘Leave early?’

“Uh,” you replied. “Are you sure?”

Your supervisor nodded. “I’ll make sure the difference shows up on your next paycheck so you don’t lose pay,” she added. “I just need to send people home.”

You didn’t need telling twice. Shutting down your computer and turning off your desk lamp, you opened your desk drawer and grabbed your purse, slipping your phone into it and getting to your feet.

“Try to enjoy the rest of your day,” she said as she gave you a smile and left your office.

The drive home was frustrating, people swerving in and out of traffic, cutting you and other drivers off, forcing you to stomp on the break more than once.

‘Could this day get any worse?’

As if cued by your damning thoughts, the sky opened up, a downpour covering the city as you drove the rest of the way home to your apartment, pulling into the covered garage and into your parking space.

You noticed that Jun’s car was in the second numbered space for your apartment and wondered when he got home. It wasn’t like him to be home this early.

The ride up to your floor was uneventful as a storm started to rage outside, pelting the windows and walls with hard rain, wind whipping around the high rise you called home as you approached your door.

Soft music could be heard inside your apartment you shared with your boyfriend and you wondered what he was up to.

Unlocking the door, you let yourself in where a delicious smell wafted towards you as you stepped into the living area and shut the door behind you. You set your purse aside, slipping off your shoes and jacket and sliding into your house slippers.

You rounded the corner where your boyfriend was working behind the counter, wearing your pink gingham print apron with a heart top and ruffles. You took in the sight as he bustled about, checking various cookware on the stove.

He finally turned and a wide smile spread across his face. “You’re home!” He said with a cheerful tone, crossing the distance to press a kiss to your cheek.

“What is all this?” You asked, looking behind him at the stove. “It’s not ready yet,” he said, turning you towards the hall that led to the bedroom. “I’m sure you want to get changed so go do that, bao bei. Let me handle this.”

He gave you a gentle push and turned to head back to the kitchen before whipping back around quickly. “Just stay out of the bathroom!”

You gave him a peculiar look before conceding and heading to the bedroom to change out of your work clothes, pulling on a sweatshirt and shorts before returning to the kitchen to watch your boyfriend cook.

“I didn’t expect you so soon,” he admitted as he worked, glancing over his shoulder as you sat at the kitchen island. “My supervisor said we were over in hours so I got to leave early,” you answered.

“Which reminds me,” you said as you got up and headed over to your purse.

You pulled out a small gift box and snuck back to the kitchen where your boyfriend was facing away. “I got something for you,” you called out to him. He turned to look at you and set down the spoon in his hand, walking over to where you stood.

You whipped out the box and held it up. “Ta-dah!” You said excitedly. “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to make them myself but work has been so busy and stressful lately and I—” Jun, who had taken the box from you, looking at it silently quickly pressed a kiss to your lips, cutting you off.

“I don’t care if you made them or bought them,” he said softly. “Thank you, beautiful.” Your cheeks flushed as he kissed your forehead and set the box on the island and moved back to the stove.

“I’ll get this done and then we can eat,” he said over his shoulder as you returned to your seat. “Do you want some wine?”

Dinner was finished soon after and you sat down at the small table with Jun, trying not to blush furiously as he set the table quickly with a vase full of roses. “Juuuun,” you whined as he finished lighting two candles. “You didn’t have to do this!”

He gave you a cheeky smile as he sat down. “Actually, I did,” he answered.

Your eyes narrowed. “Why? Did you do something?” You asked, suddenly suspicious as he took a sip of his wine. “No!” He said indignantly. “Then what’s going on in the bathroom?” You asked as he started to eat. “Nothing! Well, not nothing. You’ll see. Eat your dinner,” he said pointing at you with his chopsticks.

You decided to drop the subject in favor of eating because you actually were starving, having skipped lunch due to the volume of work you had and the lack of time between meetings.

While you ate, Jun asked you about your day, listening to your struggles and stresses of office based work. You asked him about his day and he admitted he had a very short day in comparison at the PLEDIS building. They didn’t have any schedules so most of their time was spent just messing around the practice rooms.

“Cheol said he didn’t need us to stay longer than necessary and since I’m one of the few members with a significant other, he let me go early.”

You were grateful Seungcheol was so understanding of his members’ lives outside of Seventeen and that he knew how important time with your boyfriend was not just to you but to Jun as well.

“Are you finished?” Jun asked, drawing your attention out of your thoughts. You nodded, thanking him as he got up and took your empty plate. “Thank you, babe, it was delicious.” You saw how the tips of his ears turned red when you complimented him, just another one of those Jun things you loved so much.

You got to your feet, following him to the kitchen as he set your plates in the dishwasher and started cleaning up. “Let me help,” you said, moving to grab the storage containers you kept in the far cabinet.

The two of you silently packed up the leftovers and while you put them in the fridge, Jun put the used cookware in the dishwasher. You were closing the door when you felt Jun’s arms wrap around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Thank you for helping me clean up,” he said softly.

You turned in his grip, moving your arms to rest on his shoulders. “Thank you for all this, lǎo gōng,” you murmured, leaning in to press your lips to his. You knew he couldn’t control himself when you called him that but for some reason, he simply blushed and kissed you back softly.

“I have something else for you,” he muttered in between kisses. “What’s that?” You wondered, smiling against his lips.

“Let me show you,” he whispered, lips moving across your cheek to your ear. “I think you’re gonna like it.”

Chills went up your spine as his breath tickled your skin but suddenly there was a loud crack of thunder and the room was plunged into darkness. You cried out in shock, feeling Jun’s grip on you tighten.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he said softly, moving in the dark. You heard the sound of the drawer open and suddenly a beam of light appeared. “This is why we have flashlights,” he said with a smirk.

Keeping his hand on your lower back, he guided you through the dark apartment to your bedroom where he took your hand and placed it on his waist. You grabbed the material of his shirt as he walked carefully over to the door leading to your bathroom and opened it.

Inside was like some sort of scene from a romantic movie.

There were candles on the bathroom counter, a couple on the back edge of the bathtub and rose petals spread across the floor and floating in the water.

“I might need to get more candles,” Jun murmured as he looked around the room. “I’ll be right back,” he added, disappearing from the room as you stepped further in, taking in the sight.

You had no idea Jun was such a hard romantic as he’d never done anything even remotely like this. Normally your Valentine’s were spent at a fancy restaurant and maybe he’d book a hotel for the night or you’d come back home but this?

This was beyond anything he’d done for you before.

Your boyfriend returned moments later with more candles and you helped set them up and watched as he lit them, filling the room with more warm flickering light.

“I know work has been stressful for you the last couple weeks,” he started, moving to take your waist in his hands. “And I wanted to do something nice for you. So I asked some of the others what their partners like and they all mentioned a nice relaxing bath.”

You wound your arms around his neck and pulled him close, kissing him. “Thank you lǎo gōng,” you replied with a smile. “That’s not all,” he admitted. “Joshua said something about a massage.”

You watched as he slipped from your grip and walked over to the counter, pulling open a drawer and pulling out a bottle of massage oil. Your cheeks burned in the dim glow of the candle light. “A massage?”

Jun nodded. “I can imagine you’re probably very tense, so I thought I could help you relax. A shy smile formed on your face at his admission. “You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“Of course,” he answered. “Now, hurry up and get in the bath,” he added.

You hesitated but you weren’t sure why. Jun had seen you naked plenty of times and you’d even showered together a multitude of times so why were you suddenly nervous?

Jun turned to face you, a sly smile appearing. “Are you being shy right now?” He asked, crossing to stand in front of you. “No,” you lied, shaking your head.

“If you needed my help, you could have just asked,” he said, one hand moving to your back and pulling you flush against him while the other moved up to the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek gently.

“Do you want me to help?” He asked softly. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you but you nodded in response, cheeks burning as he chuckled, both hands moving to the hem of your sweatshirt.

“Lift your arms for me,” he instructed, saying nothing more as you did and pulling your sweatshirt off, leaving your chest exposed to him. “God,” he breathed, eyes roaming over your body. “You are so gorgeous.”

Your cheeks burned under his gaze and his praise. It was no secret that Jun loved your body. Every inch of it and he made a point almost daily to remind you how much he loved you and how beautiful you were to him.

Noticing your flushed cheeks, he chose not to comment on them, instead continuing to undress you. “Do you want me to keep going?” Jun asked, his hands toying with the waistband of your shorts.

“Or do you want to do it yourself?”

You shook your head, not wanting to lose the feeling of his hands on your body even if they were about to be all over you in a moment. “Then turn around for me,” he whispered, waiting for you to do so.

Once your back was to him, you felt his fingers slip under the elastic of your shorts, pulling them down along with your panties until they fell to your feet. “I’ll take care of these,” he said, grabbing your discarded clothes. “You get in the tub.”

Jun disappeared into the bedroom while you walked over to the tub.

One thing that drew you to this apartment when you and Jun first started looking was the bathroom, particularly this bathtub. It was a large, deep tub with jets but the best feature and probably what sold you on the apartment in the end, was the temperature control and timer.

The tub allowed you to set a time, fill level, and had a temperature control function to keep the water hot for hours. Jun clearly had filled the tub much earlier and kept the temperature control on while he cooked and the two of you ate because as you stepped into the water, the heat was as if he’d just run it.

You lowered yourself down, leaning against the white tub pillow and sighed in relief as the hot water instantly started to soothe and relax you.

Jun returned a moment later and moved to sit on the edge of the tub, dipping a hand into the water briefly. “That temperature control feature is really something,” he said with a chuckle as he stood up and crossed to the counter, grabbing the oil and returning to sit on the side of the tub.

“Can you sit up for me?” He asked, popping open the top and pouring a small amount onto his palm. You sat up as he set the bottle aside and warmed up the oil in his hands before his hands moved to your shoulders, starting to knead and work out the knots in your muscles.

You hadn’t realized how tense you’d been but as Jun slowly worked on your shoulders and neck, it became apparent you’d gone too long without a massage.

“You are unbelievably tense,” he noted as his hands started to work down your shoulder blades, kneading your back muscles with his knuckles and smoothing them with the palms of his hands.

The pain had subsided at this point and now you were left with just a pleasurable feeling of his hands on your body. When he was done working on what he could reach on your back, his hands moved back up to your shoulder. One hand massaged along your shoulder and neck while the other moved down your arm.

You gasped when his hand zipped down your body, darting between your thighs while the other continued to massage your neck. “Jun!” You admonished but your words fell short when you felt his fingers against your sex, finding your clit and starting to draw slow circles.

“Shh,” he whispered. “I’m not done with your massage,” he added as his fingers moved quicker, the hand on your shoulder stopping as he focused his attention between your thighs.

You let out a soft moan as his fingers dipped lower, finding your slit and slipped inside, forcing a louder moan past your lips. “Jun—” you tried to speak but his hand dipped lower, pushing more of his fingers inside you, curling them and making your back arch. “Just let me take care of you,” he murmured.

“You always do so much for me, it’s my turn to do something for you.”

You let out a whimper as his fingers continued to move, dragging against your walls as he pumped them slowly, the water hindering his movements slightly.

“Your shirt is getting wet,” you commented, noticing how the bath water started to soak his sleeve while his hand was dipped far below the surface. “I don’t really care,” he chuckled, his thumb dragging over your clit as his fingers continued to move.

“You could always join me,” you gasped, biting your bottom lip to hold back a moan. “If I do,” Jun started slowly. “Will you stop holding back those beautiful sounds you make?” You nodded in response, anything to get him in the tub with you.

Jun pulled his hand free and stripped himself to his shirt, tossing it to the floor before pushing his pants and underwear down together and discarding them on the floor.

He stepped into the hot water, lowering himself between your spread thighs and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours as one hand steadied himself on the edge of the bathtub, the other disappearing under the water and between your thighs again.

You moaned against his lips as he resumed his motions from before, thumb working against your clit as his fingers disappeared inside your warm cunt. “Is it bad that I kind of want to fuck you in the bath?” He asked, pulling back just enough to watch your brow furrow from the pleasure he was giving you.

“Please,” you whispered. “I want you so bad, Jun,” you moaned as his fingers curled against your walls, pushing you closer to the edge.

“How can I deny you when you say it like that?” He asked, pulling his fingers from your pussy. “Do you want to ride me? Or do you want me to take you from behind?” He asked softly. Without a word, you moved, the water around you sloshing in the tub as you straddled his lap, your sex brushing against his hard cock.

“So eager,” he mused as you wasted no time in lining the head of his cock with your entrance and sank down on him, hands resting on his shoulders. One of his hands moved to your back, the other to the back of your head as your forehead fell against his shoulder.

“That’s it,” he groaned as your walls clenched around him. “Take your time, baby.”

You felt his hands moved, sliding down to your hips, squeezing before moving to your ass and gripping it tightly. “God I love this ass,” he rasped out, making your cheeks burn for what felt like the hundredth time.

“I could play with it for hours,” he added, kneading and massaging the flesh. “So soft,” he whispered. “Jun, stop, you’re making me hot,” you whined when he chuckled. “That’s the idea, bao bei,” he murmured.

You ignored his comments and instead focused on the feeling of his cock buried inside you but even then he couldn’t let you have that.

Though your body needed time to adjust to the intrusion, your brain said no and you started rolling your hips, your clit grinding against him as his cock barely moved against your walls.

“You feel so good around me,” he whispered, his hands moving up your back, water dripping from his skin and hitting the surface with soft plops. “It’s like you were made for me.” Your face flushed as your heart swelled with his words.

“You’re being awfully affectionate,” you noted. Jun merely smiled, kissing along your jaw. “What can I say?” He asked quietly. “I love my beautiful girlfriend and I love reminding her of how beautiful she is.”

“Fuck, I won’t last if you keep doing that,” Jun gasped as you squeezed your cunt around his length, lifting your hips at the same time. “You’re gonna kill me, Y/N.”

The water moved around both of your bodies as you set a slow but steady rhythm, your movement hindered by the water. “Keep going,” Jun encouraged, fingers tangling in your hair as you rode him. He tugged gently, tilting your head back so he could kiss and nip softly at your skin. “Don’t hold back those pretty sounds.”

You let out a moan as you felt his teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder. He was very much into biting and marking you when you had sex. You always came out of it covered in love bites and hickeys while you couldn’t do the same to him.

At least, not in places that would be seen. His neck, chest, and shoulders were off limits but his thighs and hips were fair game and you’d left your share of marks on him in those places.

“Jun,” you whined. “‘M so tired,” you groaned, your thighs starting to burn. Sex was a workout on its own, but trying to do what you usually did in bed in a tub full of water made it much more cumbersome.

“I know, angel,” he murmured. “Let me.”

You whimpered as he guided you off him and turned you to face the edge of the tub. Without another word, he slipped back inside you from behind and took over, pushing your chest against the edge of the tub as he thrust into you.

It was an unconventional position but he made it work, ignoring the water that spilled over the edge of the tub onto the tiled floor. He’d clean it up later. Right now your orgasm was more important to him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You cried out as your climax washed over you, Jun following quickly as he released into you, his sticky seed painting your walls white as you rode out your highs together.

He stilled inside you, hips pressed flush against your ass as his teeth grazed your skin, leaving as many love bites and hickeys on your skin as he could.

“There’s so much water on the floor,” you complained. Jun mumbled in response, kissing the bite marks he’d left behind as he came down from his climax. “S’okay. I’ll clean it up later.”

“Later?” You asked as he pulled out of you. “It’s still Valentine’s Day,” he said simply as he got up, pulled the plug on the tub and stepped carefully out of the tub onto the floor.

He offered his hand which you took and allowed him to help you out of the tub.

Once you were on common ground, his hands were on your waist, lips descending on yours in a rushed and desperate kiss, his tongue finding yours and one hand moving to cup the back of your neck, deepening the kiss before finally pulling away to breathe. He gave you a devilish grin.

“And I’m not done with you yet.”

#svthub #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #junhui scenarios #junhui imagines #junhui smut #junhui x reader #kwanisms kinkuary #kinkuary 2023

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roosterforme · 7 months

Text

Always Ever Only You Part 17 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When you manage to keep your spirits high through a rough patch, Bradley is as supportive of your needs as ever. He's working hard to take care of you in every way, and when he comes home with some unexpected paperwork, it's your turn to be supportive of him.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, mentions of smut, pregnancy discussion

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

"It's funny to me that you think you're being coy right now," Bradley told Jake in the locker room. He was avoiding answering questions about his dates with Cat. Bradley knew for a fact that they went on at least two, because that's what you had told him. And he assumed that Jake or Cat had given you that information directly.

"Some things are sacred, Bradshaw," he said as he applied his deodorant while Bradley dried his hair with his towel and started to get dressed.

But you had also informed Bradley that the two of them had agreed to take it a little slow now, especially since Cat and Jeremiah were living with her Uncle Bernie. So as Bradley pulled on his underwear, he knew just what to say to bait Jake. "You fuck her yet?" he asked casually, barely able to keep a straight face.

Jake rounded on him immediately, green eyes furious. "What the hell kind of question is that?" he hissed. "First of all, it's none of your business, but no. Second, you don't have to be so fucking crude about it, man. And third, I never asked you that when you were following Angel around the Hard Deck and all over base like a lost puppy."

Bradley erupted in laughter as he reached into his locker for his undershirt. "Chill, Hangman. I just wanted to see how serious you are. And furthermore, this is the first time you haven't been crude in your life. And further furthermore, you absolutely did ask me if I nailed my wife way back then, because you were mad she turned you down."

Jake stared off into space with his brow creased. "Huh. Well I am serious about Cat. And Jeremiah. But Hondo still gets a little riled up whenever he sees me. Been avoiding him on the tarmac like my life depends on it. And if I ever asked you for any sort of details about Angel, I deeply regret doing so now. Please, keep that shit to yourself."

"Happily," Bradley replied, thinking about your ass in your khaki pants and smiling. When he headed out to the parking garage, Jake walked with him. And when he got to his Bronco, he realized Jake had parked near him. And Cat was waiting for Jake, leaning against the passenger side door, looking at her phone.

When she glanced up, she smiled and said, "Jake," with longing in her voice. And then she realized Bradley was there, too and straightened her posture like she was standing at attention. "Hi, Bradley."

Oh, they were both making it way too easy to fuck with them. Bradley grinned as he abandoned his Bronco for Jake's car instead. "How's it going? How's my little buddy, Jeremiah?"

She smiled a little cautiously. "He's great. Obsessed with dogs now from playing at your house."

"Yeah, well he's welcome any time," Bradley said, leaning against Jake's car. "Tramp loves licking crumbs off him. Actually Jake was just telling me all about your dates."

"Was he?" she asked quietly, and Bradley thought she looked pleased. Jake was glowering at him from the other side of the car, and Bradley caught sight of a car seat in the back.

"Oh yeah," Bradley said with a nod. "Jake only looks like an ass, but he's actually okay." Cat snorted, and Jake glowered harder. "Are you guys going to go pick Jeremiah up now?"

"Yeah," Jake said loudly. "Better get a move on."

But Cat just looked up at Bradley and said, "I'm trying to get him in the daycare program on base here, but I'm on a wait list. And the facility he's in now is across town, and it's really not that great. But it's affordable," she said with a bit of a shrug.

Bradley nodded, giving up his original plan to mess with the two of them. He was pretty sure Jake would pay for a better daycare for her son if they were dating seriously. You'd told him a bit about Cat's ex husband and how she was in financial ruin.

"Well, you have free babysitters," he told her softly. "Really good ones, too."

She laughed softly and leaned in a little closer. "Thanks. Yeah, top notch babysitters. Especially Tramp."

Bradley laughed, too, and then Jake cleared his throat loudly. "If the two of you are finished over there..."

"Later," Bradley told Cat with a grin. And when he walked around toward the Bronco, he winked at Jake and said, "Nice car seat, man."

Jake flipped him off rather discreetly, but he looked happy. When Bradley pulled his Bronco out of his parking spot, he noticed that Jake had walked around to the passenger side of his car. He and Cat were kissing, and Jake was once again holding his middle finger up behind his back for Bradley.

When he got home, your car was already there. "Sweetheart," he called out as he walked inside. "I am on the cutting edge of the Jake gossip today." You were on the couch wrapped up in his undershirt and a blanket even though it was May, and you were eating a pack of cookies. "You okay?" he asked softly, but he already knew.

You nodded and met his eyes. "I got my period today." Your voice was bland and emotionless, but at least you weren't crying. You just looked exhausted and defeated.

Bradley made a beeline to the couch and bent to kiss your forehead. "I love you," he promised as you looked up at him, the faintest smile on your lips. "I'll get your heating pad and some Advil? You want a glass of wine?"

"Yeah," you whispered. He didn't even take the time to remove his boots, and Tramp followed him from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen in search of supplies.

"I'll walk you in a bit. Relax," Bradley coaxed, tossing a treat that the dog caught in midair. "Mommy needs a cuddle first." And it was like the animal listened to him, because a minute later, you were snuggled up on Bradley's lap along with Tramp and the heating pad.

"How was your day?" you asked softly with your eyes closed. Bradley wasn't sure what he should or shouldn't mention right now. He wanted to make sure you were doing okay, but he didn't want to upset you over your period. He wasn't upset about it at all.

"My day was fine. Do you... want to talk about anything?"

You sighed. "If you're referring to my period? No, not really. I'm okay, I promise. Just a little disappointed, but I think that's mainly because it came a day late, and I was getting just the tiniest bit hopeful, you know?"

Truthfully, Bradley hadn't been keeping up with your cycle, but now that he did the math, you were most likely ovulating right when he got home from deployment. "That makes sense," he whispered, kissing your hair. But he had been too happy since he returned home to let this ruin his day. "But you still got me."

You snuggled in a little closer and kissed his neck. "What's your hot Jake gossip?"

"Well...." It was his time to shine. He always found out everything late or after the fact, and you always liked to pick on him for it. "He and Cat went to pick Jeremiah up from daycare. Together."

You yawned and mumbled, "Yeah, they've been doing that for the past week or so."

"Oh," he said, slightly annoyed that this wasn't news to you. "Well, he also told me he hasn't even slept with her yet," he added.

"I know. I think he's secretly afraid of Hondo kicking his ass."

"Oh. Well, Jake has a car seat for Jeremiah now. But I'm assuming you already know that."

"Of course I do. But this was a really solid effort on your part, Roo. I'm so proud of you."

He just grunted and helped you readjust your heating pad. "I'm supposed to play golf in the morning, unless you'd rather I stay here and make you breakfast?"

"No, thank you. I feel bad enough already. But after you and Jake play golf, we're going out to dinner with him."

"We are? When did this happen? I just saw him."

You grinned up at him and said, "I was just texting Cat. Jake found a kid friendly restaurant that he thought would be great for Jeremiah. I said you'd probably really like it too. There is apparently a playground inside."

Bradley was quiet for a moment as you ran your fingers up along his neck. "Okay... that does sound really fun. Are there swings? I could push Jeremiah on the swings."

"I think there might be."

"I'm in."

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

You managed to get up and make Bradley breakfast even though you felt awful. But he spent Friday night cleaning the house after he got you in bed for the night with the heating pad, so you figured some scrambled eggs and a toasted bagel was the least you could do.

"Jesus, Baby Girl," he moaned, as if you had made him a gourmet breakfast. "So fucking good."

"Thanks for cleaning and doing the laundry," you said before you yawned. But Bradley collected you in his arms and held you.

"Thanks for being the best person in the world," he replied, scooping you up and carrying you back to the bedroom while you giggled. "Now get back in bed and get some rest. We've got dinner and the Hard Deck later."

Then he spun his cap backwards and climbed gently on top of you with a grin. "What are you doing?" you asked, but he cut off your words with his lips.

"Loving my wife for a minute," he muttered, kissing you hard and parting your lips with his. You tasted his tongue as you moaned, and your fingers found their way to the short hair at the back of his neck. His mustache was really doing it for you, but as soon as you ran your tongue along it, Bradley was pulling away from you.

"Roo," you whined as he rolled off of you and adjusted his pants.

"I'll be back after lunchtime," he whispered, and just the sight of his hand on his cock through the fabric of his white golf pants had you pouting. "I love you."

You begrudgingly said, "I love you, too. Even though you're leaving me high and dry." Then you rolled over as he chuckled and left. And you thought about his hands gripping his golf club in those soft, sexy gloves until you were able to fall asleep again.

When you woke up hours later, you were starving and decided to eat a sandwich while you lounged on the back patio. You tossed pieces of crust to Tramp and then you wandered back inside, running your finger along the piano keys as you went. The house was too quiet, and it gave you that melancholy feeling that you got when Bradley was deployed.

For the briefest moment, you imagined a baby in your arms. Someone to keep you company while he was away. A little one to grow up knowing what it felt like to miss their dad and then be reunited with him over and over again. Someone else for Bradley to dote on. You swallowed down the miserable feeling before it could take over. A baby was not more important than your marriage. A baby did not need to happen at this moment. A child would be welcomed at any time, not just right now.

You drew a bath, and you were barely in there for more than five minutes when Tramp jumped up from the bath mat and ran for the front door.

"Sweetheart?"

"In the bathroom," you called, and a second later Bradley was in the room with you. "How were the guys?"

"The usual," he grunted as he knelt on the mat and dipped his fingers in the water. "How was your morning?" he asked, keeping a totally innocent expression on his face as he stroked your breast just under the water's surface.

"Missed you. Got myself a little sad, because it felt like a day when you were deployed."

Bradley tossed his cap on the floor and said, "I'm right here. I'm yours for the rest of the day. The rest of the weekend. Until we have to go to work on Monday."

"I know," you said, your voice sounding so small as you squeezed your eyes shut. "Will you go see Dr. Genevieve with me next week?"

He answered immediately as his hand found yours. "Of course. I haven't been to therapy in years. It'll be good."

You gaped at him. "You've seen a therapist before?"

"Yeah," he replied with his brow scrunched. "College was a very rough time for me without my mom. And Mav pulled my papers. And I didn't feel like I really belonged anywhere. I never told you that?"

You were just in awe of this man and his notebooks and his open honesty right now and the fact that you were always learning more about him. "No. But I'm really proud of you."

He smiled softly and blushed. "We can go see Dr. Genevieve together. We can do everything together. But you're not allowed to make fun of me if I have more fun at the restaurant tonight than the one year old."

You shook your head and said, "It would come as a surprise to literally nobody."

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

"I don't know why he's fussing so much. He's usually a good eater," Cat said, cutting up some food into tiny pieces while Jeremiah remained on the verge of tears in the high chair. Bradley noticed that Jake was looking a little stressed out, presumably because Jeremiah wasn't enjoying the restaurant as much as he had hoped. Jake had spent all morning at the golf course talking about how excited he was.

"Let me see here," Bradley murmured, picking up the rainbow colored fork and tickling Jeremiah with his fingers while he held out a bite of food. In an instant he was laughing, and then he had a mouthful of food. "You love it here, right kiddo? We played on the swings. We drew on the walls. Your mom let you eat dessert first, and Jake won you a porcupine in the claw machine. Now eat up."

"You're incredible," Cat whispered. "No wonder he likes going to your house so much."

"Nah," Bradley said as Jeremiah took hold of the fork for himself. "It's all her and the way she can read a board book like it was written by a Pulitzer Prize winner." He leaned in and kissed you as you beamed at him. Bradley had spent the better part of an hour after your bath rubbing your back while reading some of his notebook entries to you. It always really seemed to make an impact where sometimes his verbal skills escaped him. But when he wrote his feelings out on a piece of paper, it made all the difference in the world.

"Are you coming to the Hard Deck after this?" you asked, turning to look at Jeremiah as he ate. "Well, not you, little man."

"Nope," Jake said with a cocky grin on his face and his arm draped across the back of Cat's chair. "We're going to watch the newest Scooby Doo movie back at my place and enjoy some of the chocolate chip cookies that I definitely made myself and did not buy at the store."

Cat laughed, and Bradley watched as she leaned in to whisper something to Jake as she brushed his hair back from the scar on his forehead. "They look happy," you muttered, taking Bradley's hand in yours underneath the table.

"Yeah," he agreed, carefully wiping Jeremiah's face as Cat kissed Jake like they were completely alone. "I'll roast him later for this. He always tells me we're disgusting."

"We are a little bit disgusting, Roo."

"Never said we weren't."

When you and he left the three of them a little while later and headed to the Hard Deck, Bradley was in an absolutely disgusting, soppy mood. You were singing along so badly to his favorite playlist while his hand rested on your thigh, and he was just so fucking proud of you for not letting your period take over your mood. Especially when all he wanted was to make you happy, and he knew it would have crushed him if you were being hard on yourself while he doted on you.

When he pulled into the parking lot and put the Bronco in park, he said, "I don't understand how you can sing so badly when you make the prettiest sounds I've ever heard in bed."

"Hey!" you complained with a laugh as you crawled across the seat and onto his lap. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

"I only have the nicest things to say about you and your singing voice," he promised with an obnoxious smile as you pushed his head back against the headrest and started to gently nibble on his neck. Soon you were sucking a little harder as your hand trailed up and down his bicep. "Oh shit. That feels great. Let's go home."

You moaned softly and licked a trail up to his ear before whispering, "Nope. You tease me, I'm going to tease you right back." Then you rubbed yourself against his cock, and Bradley tried to get his arm around you, but you were already jumping down from his lap to the parking lot.

"Hey!" he called out with a laugh as you ran ahead of him while he tried to lock the Bronco doors. When he jogged inside, you were already at the bar chatting with Penny. He made eye contact with you, and you smirked.

Bradley strolled up behind you and pressed himself against your butt, kissing the back of your neck. "Whenever you decide you want to behave, I'll be at the pool table," he whispered.

You just laughed and said, "You know that's not going to happen."

"Well, come say hi to Nat anyway," he added, laughing softly against your neck. Penny was looking at the two of you together with the softest expression, and Bradley figured that was how he usually looked at you, too. "You know, I can remember the early days before the two of you were together," Penny said over the buzz of conversation. "All the longing glances and sneaking off together." Bradley set his hand on your hip and said, "Hey, we thought we were being pretty discreet." "Nice try," Penny said with a laugh as she slid two beer bottles across the bar. "Were we not discreet?" Bradley whispered as you and he walked toward Nat. You beamed up at him. "I guess not." He watched you walk into his best friend's open arms for a hug. And now he was thinking about every way he could be less than discreet with you tonight. You kept touching him, just some fleeting brushes of your hand to his abs or arm while you chatted with the others, but you were relentless. When the beers were empty, you took his bottle and said, "I'll take these back up to the bar, and then I'm running to the ladies' room." Bradley just grunted as you squeezed his bicep. As soon as you disappeared down the hallway, he dug his phone out of his pocket and sent you a quick text. Meet me outside at our special spot? He waited and waited but got no response. However, when you reemerged from the hallway, you caught his eye and then continued toward the exit. Bradley was in the middle of conversation with Javy about golfing when he suddenly said, "Hey, man, excuse me for a minute."

Bradley pushed his way through the crowd, and once he was back outside in the cool, dark night, he turned and ran toward the steps at the far end of the deck. As soon as his shoes hit the sand, you were reaching out for him.

"Been a while since we did this," you told him, your voice filled with laughter as he backed you up against the deck post.

"Too long," he agreed, letting his lips meet yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck. It was amazing how kissing you and just touching you made him feel so good inside. The feel of your kisses was a comfort that he knew by heart, and every curve of your body fit his hands perfectly. His fingers were inside your shirt, his thumbs gliding along your ribs and up to your bra.

You moaned into his mouth, pressing up on your toes and pulling him closer. When he broke the kiss to breathe, you whispered, "I have my period though."

"I know. Just wanted to make out with my fucking hot ass wife. Penny made me nostalgic."

His rough hands were on your lower back, and your head was tipped against the post. Bradley worked his lips along your neck, collar bones and cleavage as you said, "This feels just as good as the first time. Maybe better."

"Definitely better," he murmured. "You're in love with me now."

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

You had no shame. Your outfit was a wrinkled mess, and your lips were puffy when you returned to the pool table some thirty minutes later. Bradley's hair looked like he'd been outside during a natural disaster, and Penny smirked at him when he got two more beers.

But it didn't matter, because you were so happy. So you let the guys pick on Bradley while you laughed into your beer bottle. And when you got home, you let him lure you into the shower to have sex at one in the morning where he made you cum so hard, your echoing voice scared Tramp. And maybe the sex was better when you weren't trying so hard to get pregnant. And maybe listening to him read his notebook to you every night was doing more than you originally thought.

When you got to work on Monday morning, Bickel was waiting for your help with his most time sensitive projects. "Your ideas are always so refreshing, Lieutenant Commander."

And when you sat in the lab all afternoon, Cat came over at one point and simply said, "You were right about Jake."

And then Bradley met you for thirty minutes where he got to meet Dr. Genevieve. You told her that you were having a good day even though you got your period, and the three of you just chatted a little bit.

But you should have known that by the end of the week, you'd be feeling a little different. You were at home on Friday, already lounging on the couch and looking at vacation destinations for your first anniversary in November when Bradley walked in holding two envelopes.

"We need to talk."

You popped up on the couch and eyed him carefully. "About what?"

"Two things." He struggled out of his boots at the front door as he said, "Admiral Dean's court-martial has a date scheduled. And there's also an upcoming special detachment."

The court appearance for Dean and Slayer was something you figured would be happening soon. But a special detachment? You weren't sure if you were ready to hear about it. "Just tell me."

Bradley dropped down on the couch next to you and gave you a quick kiss. "June 9th," he said, handing you the first envelope. You scanned along, reading the dates and times, and sure enough, Bradley would have to appear in full dress uniform in court that day.

"Okay," you murmured, "now tell me about the detachment."

He kissed you again and then again, and you realized he seemed a lot more antsy about this bit of information. "Here." He placed the second envelope in your hand, but the paperwork had almost no information on it. And you were surprised to see that it had a classification code above what you were currently privy to.

"This tells me nothing, Roo."

"I realize that," he replied, running his hands through his hair. "It's something top secret. I wouldn't get any of the details unless I'm selected." He turned to look at you with his elbows propped on his knees and his forehead cupped in one hand. "But, Baby Girl... I really want to do this. I think I kind of need to."

And you understood exactly what he meant without him elaborating further. He still thought he needed to prove himself after being named the spare by Admiral Dean, and this was probably the kind of mission that would get his head on straight again and bring back his confidence. But this was also the kind of mission that would leave you at home, alone and worried. Because if he wasn't one hundred percent in the right head space, it could spell disaster. 'Top secret' meant highly dangerous. But it also meant only the most skilled pilots and weapons systems officers would be chosen to participate.

You swallowed down your fear and nudged his bicep until he leaned back and welcomed you onto his lap. "If you want to do it, then I hope you get chosen." You hated that your voice shook and tears filled your eyes, because you wanted to be encouraging for him.

"Come here," he whispered gently, and you sobbed quietly as he held you in his arms. "It'll be okay. I might not even get selected. But if I do, it'll still be okay."

"I know," you said, sucking in a deep breath. You hated that his confidence had been shaken in this way, but he was among the best, and you were already sure he'd be going. You could feel it in your bones.

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

I'm hoping Dean and Slayer get what they deserve. And also up next, Roo and BG visit a new bar they've never been to before with an agenda they've never indulged in before. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 18

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callsign-dexter · 5 months

Text

"I got you, Baby Girl."

Request: Hmmm this is so hard to pick, all of them are so angst!! How about…. “hey – stay with me.” For Baby Bradford Universe…

❤️love you!!

Starter- Hey-stay with me.

Pairings: Tim Bradford x Daughter!Reader, Lucy Chen x Daughter!Reader, Tim Bradford x Lucy Chen

Warnings: angst, guns, gunshot wound

Masterlist

Baby Bradford: A Little Fighter

miscellaneous angst starters.

A/N: Thank you @maverick-wingman for this angst request you really do know how to wreck me......

Banner done by @callsigns-haze

Tim always knew that his little girl, himself, and Lucy would be in danger due to their job especially when the people got out that they put away wanted revenge. That is why he kept his private life and his work separate but only let the people he worked with know about his little girl, Y/N, because he knew they would protect her with their lives. He didn’t like when she had to be left alone, he always wanted someone with her at all times and for her to have her location on and of course Y/N got irritated about it but she understood and didn’t put up too much of a fight, she loved her dad.

It was a Friday evening and he and Lucy just gotten off, Saturday was meant for them to be off until Monday with Y/N but they had gotten news that they needed to go in to work that day, they weren’t happy about but did as they did what they were told. Now they just had to break the news to Y/N which wasn’t going to be easy because the 15-year-old cherished her time with her dad and, now, mom, on their off days. Both of them had just picked up their kid and were heading home, they decided to tell her over supper. She had just hopped into the car after putting her backpack in smiling at her parents. “Hey, Mom and Dad!” She exclaimed as she buckled herself in and once, she was Tim started to drive off.

“Hey, Baby Girl.” Tim said smiling at her through the review mirror and then quickly putting his eyes back on the road.

“Hey, Buttercup.” Lucy said actually being able to turn around and look at her. She had given the girl the nickname because she loved the movie The Princess Bride and Buttercup was one of her favorites and she also like Reese Peanut Buttercups.

“How was your day?” Tim asked still focusing on the road and she shrugged.

“It was ok. One of the seniors got arrested because he was caught harassing a teacher and was high.” She said and they were surprised.

“Wonder why we didn’t hear about it.” Lucy said having turned back around.

“School security arrested him.” She said like it was nothing and to her it probably was nothing due to her parents being cops. After a few minutes of driving and nothing more was talked about the topic of food came up.

“What do you want for supper?” Tim asked and she looked at him and thought about it.

“I’ve been wanting BBQ.” She spoke

“Make it or buy it?” He asked her.

“Make it. You make the best BBQ.” She said and Lucy nodded in agreement and he smirked.

“You got it. What do you want with it?” He asked

“Mac and cheese.” Lucy and Y/N said at the same time and Tim smirked it was a good thing that Lucy and his daughter had similar tastes. The were home and no time and they were getting out of the vehicle which was now parked in the garage and heading inside. Once they were in, they took off shoes and as Y/N was sitting her backpack down and was about to head upstairs her father stopped her.

“Do your homework so you’re not waiting until last minute.” He said knowing she had a habit of doing so.

“Fine.” She sighed in frustration and sat down to begin her homework which could be done in no time since she excelled in mostly all subjects. By the time dinner was ready her homework was done and they could eat. As they got their plates of homemade BBQ and homemade mac and cheese along with their drink choices they began eating and it was mostly quiet until Tim started to speak up.

“Lucy and I got called in to work tomorrow.” Tim said he and Lucy watched their daughter’s face go through so many emotions while he took a drink of his water.

“What?” She finally asked once it hit her.

“Oh, Buttercup. It’s only for Saturday and then you have us all day Sunday.” Lucy said and Y/N was not satisfied with that answer and they could tell by the quietness that she went into.

“Nolan is going to be with you.” Tim said and she nodded as if saying ‘ok’. They hated telling her bad news because she always seemed to get down but they had to tell her eventually. Tim and Lucy looked at each other but they continued on with dinner and when they tried to make small talk all they got were one worded or short answers. The only thing that made it better was that Nolan was going to be with her while they were working, she absolutely that man and maybe because it was that he was gentle and patient with her. When dinner was over, they put their plates in the dishwasher and then headed into the living where they always had a movie night after dinner, it had become a tradition, after changing into their pajamas. Y/N had fallen asleep with her head in her dad’s lap. When the movie was over Tim had picked her up and headed into her room and tucked her in and then giving her a kiss to her head “I love you, Baby Girl.” He said and then headed back out into the living room where he and Lucy watched an episode of a show they had started and then they were headed to bed.

Saturday rolled around and Tim and Lucy were up early preparing to go into work. After they both had showered and packed the doorbell rang and they knew it was Nolan and Tim went to answer it, as Lucy began to get their coffee ready. She was making Tim’s first because it would take longer because he wanted the coffee pot and her’s wouldn’t take long because it was in a Keurig, he swore he would never use one of those ever. “Hey, Nolan.” Tim greeted him and let him.

“Good morning, Tim.” He said and just about that time Y/N walked into the kitchen and smiled at everyone and greeted everyone. “Good morning, Lucy and Y/N.” He added.

“Good morning, Mom, Dad, and Uncle Nolan.” She said and hugged them all.

“Alright, we’re about to head out soon. You be good for him and Nolan,” Tim said turning towards him “don’t let her drag you into anything or let her trick you.” He said knowing that Nolan had a weak spot for the young girl and he nodded.

“Noted.” Nolan said

“There are leftovers in the fridge or feel free to go out.” Lucy said and Nolan and Y/N nodded. “Alright, Tim we got to go.” Lucy said looking at her watch and then hugging her daughter and kissing the side of her head as Tim nodded and did the same thing.

“We love you.” Tim said

“Love you too.” She said and they headed out after saying bye to Nolan. Once they were gone, they turned to each other.

“Movie day and then out for lunch?” Y/N asked him knowing the answer because that became their tradition as well.

“Absolutely.” He said and she smiled and they went into the living room and began their day. It was only 8 AM so they had some time before lunch. Breakfast consisted of junk food and some movies that had some bad acting especially the cop movies, which everyone liked to nick pick.

12 PM rolled around and Y/N and Nolan were headed to their favorite café that they liked to visit when they are together and well everyone’s favorite. As they pulled up, they were laughing and having a good time but something just didn’t feel right when they walked in but they decided to ignore it and continue on. They ordered and waited for their food and when it was ready, they went and sat outside wanting to enjoy the sunny day. The feeling of something bad happening slowly ebbed away as they talked and made jokes. It was nearing the end of lunch for them and both Nolan and Y/N were done and she had decided to take the trash up and then maybe she could get him to agree to get some ice cream and everyone’s favorite place. Just as Y/N had thrown away her garbage she heard her last name being shouted. “Yo, Bradford.” The voice shouted and she turned around smiling expecting to find one of her friends but it quickly went away when she didn’t recognize the person and gun was pointing at her “This is for my dad.” He said and before she could answer he pulled the trigger and everyone started shouting and then he took off running. Pain was what hit her first after the initial shock wore off and she made a face as her hands went towards her abdomen and she fell to her knees.

Nolan heard the shout and looked up from his phone and saw the scene and paled and then jumped into action and as he was heading towards them the distinct sound of a gunshot going off was heard and at first, he ducked but then kicked himself into gear. He pulled out his gun and was about to pull the trigger but he was already too far ahead and around other people. “Call 911.” Nolan said to someone and they nodded and then he was off to Y/N. “Hey, Y/N/N. You’re going to be ok.” He said and while covering her hands with his hands but she was losing blood fast and she wasn’t saying anything just staring at him and gasping for air. He was about to say something when he heard sirens and then footsteps behind him and he looked back behind him and saw Tim and Lucy coming over.

“Y/N?” Tim asked and knelt down next to them “What happened?” He asked Nolan as he took over pressure and that made his daughter cry out.

“She went to throw away the trash and I was answering some emails and texts when I heard a shout and looked up. The guy had a gun pointed at her and I jumped into the action but couldn’t get a shot off because he was already too far away.” Nolan explained but Tim didn’t say a word too worried about his daughter, he wasn’t mad at Nolan.

“Angela and Jackson are going after him now.” Lucy said and then Y/N started to cough and blood was starting to come out of her mouth and flow down her chin.

“Hey-stay with me.” Tim said when he noticed her eyes start to shut and breathing started to become irregular. There wasn’t an exit wound and that worried him. “I’ve got you, Baby Girl.” Tim started trying to keep it together but his voice was slowly cracking “Dad and mom are here.” He said knowing she would find comfort in that Lucy was there too. The ambulance rolled up and were quick to load her up and head to the hospital with everyone behind them.

When they got to the hospital Y/N was immediately rushed into surgery and now Tim, Lucy, and Nolan had to wait. Grey had heard and was immediately there as well along with Talia, even though she had moved to a different department Lucy was quick to let her know, Harper, who was quick to grow close to the girl because she reminded her of her child and would protect her at all cost and Nolan let her know, Angela, and Jackson. Wesley Evers even showed up after hearing the news from Angela since she was on the phone with him and he had to admit he cared for Y/N Bradford and she had grown close to him. “We caught the man. He was the son of someone that Tim had put away a few months ago and he somehow figured out she was your daughter. He wanted revenge. He’s going away for attempted murder.” Grey said and they nodded.

Grey had immediately let Tim and Lucy have the rest of the day off since it was their child in the hospital. Everyone else besides Nolan, Harper, and Wesley had to go back to work. Nobody talked while they waited Tim was just staring at his hands, his hands that were stained with his daughter’s blood something that he wished would never happen. He had tried to wash them off but it had worked only a little bit and the same went for Nolan.

4 hrs is how long they waited until a doctor was coming out. Wesley and Harper had gone to grab everything Tim, Lucy, Nolan, and Y/N needed from home. They tried to get Nolan to go home and rest but he refused to leave his niece behind. Grace Sawyer had been her doctor and her heart dropped when she saw it was Y/N that she was going to be working on, even though she had met the teenager a few times the two grew close, Grace saw them and walked over to the small group.

“Grace.” Tim said “How is she?” He asked and Grace smiled but it was a small one.

“It was touch and go and we almost lost her because of blood loss but she’s a little fighter.” She said and everyone nodded agreeing “The bullet entered her abdomen and then traveled and hit one of her lungs and collapsed it which was why her breathing was labored. We got all of the bullet out and fixed her lung. She’s in recovery and everyone can go an see her now Gino will be here nurse.” She said and they nodded. Gino and her had also become close after the short interactions they also became close but then again that was just how she was and nobody could resist her. “I’ll show you to her room.” She said and they followed her “She’ll be out of it for a while just so she’s not in as much pain and it was a pretty major surgery.” She added when they got there Gino was making sure everything was set to go and smiled and greeted everyone when they got there but was quick to leave so that they could have some time with her.

Everyone took a seat and they waited. Tim was sat the closest to holding her hand being careful of the IV. While Lucy beside him and Nolan on the other side. Nobody spoke and they only sound was the steady heartbeat coming from the heart monitor. They knew that she was going to be ok because she’s a Bradford and Bradford’s don’t let anything take them down even if it is a gunshot wound. She also had the best doctor and the best nurse on her side.

Tag List:

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@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

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