#has to be said. i think i deserve this one after thursday when i had to KP and expo AT THE SAME TIME

[tkwrites]

He's Got It Bad - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif by 40ep

Title: He’s got it bad

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (OFC) 

Warnings: Swearing, lots of teasing & chirping, mild spoilers if you've never seen the original Jurassic Park.

Summary: When Sarah meets the team at Conor's birthday party, not only does she get to know Quinns teammates and their partners, she enters a world she never expected. At practice the next day, the guys congratulate and tease Quinn mercilessly.

Word Count: 2,600

Comments: I’m sorry this one took me so long, Daisy! I started it two or three months ago, but couldn’t find the right way to finish it. And then earlier this week, as I was falling asleep, it just snapped into place. I hope you enjoy it! 

As before, the research described here is dubious at best, so please take it with a big grain of salt.

If you did enjoy this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

dasiysthings asked: If you’re taking requests/suggestions for Quinn and Sarah au doing a Sarah meeting the team for the first time has been on my mind lately. What would they think of her? Sure Quinn’s mentioned her and they saw sarah in the stands her first game but maybe she attends a team function like birthday party or team family meal. Something low key and not public maybe? Also how much do they tease Quinn after?🫣🤭

He’s got it bad

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“Are you free on Thursday?” 

It was a rare night off, and he’d requested they order food and watch a movie. Currently, they were lounging in a giant bean bag in the gaming room. Quinn was partially on top of Sarah, his head resting on her chest as the first Jurassic Park played on the large screen.

“I think so. Why?”

“Garly’s having a party that night for his birthday. I hoped you might want to come with me.” 

“Who?”

“Garly,” he repeated before correcting himself, “Conor. Garland. From the team.”

Quinn had mentioned Conor before, and she knew he was one of the trio of guys he was really close to.  

“Sure,” she said, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt. “Who will be there?”

“Most of the guys and their partners if they have them.”

“Is it going to be wild?” she asked, winding one of his curls around her finger. She needed to prepare herself if it was going to be a night full of drinking. 

“Nah, Conor’s pretty chill, and we have a game the next day.”

“Okay,” she agreed again, splaying her fingers through his dark waves, letting them slip and slide over her skin. For someone who washed it so often, he had remarkably soft hair. 

 Nuzzling into her chest a little more, he sighed. He loved when she played with his hair.

Sarah jumped when the Dilophosaurus appeared on screen, tilting its head at Nedry. 

Quinn laughed. She hadn’t even flinched when the T-Rex had tried to attack the kids through one of the park cars. “You okay?”

“I hate this one,” she said, turning her head to the side. 

He glanced at the TV in time to see the dinosaur hiss and pop its frill. “You hate this more than the T-Rex?” 

“At least the T-Rex is just a big predator. This one stalks and tortures first, and I hate it,” she said, face still turned away. 

“But Nedry deserved it.” 

“Maybe so, but I still don’t like to think about it.” 

He chuckled.

Only after the yells faded away did she turn back to the movie and continue tracing her fingers through his hair. 

By the time Thursday came around, Quinn realized just how nervous Sarah was. She texted him about the dress code three hours before he was supposed to pick her up.

It’s a party, he’d written back, unsure of what she meant. 

Yeah, but is it like a heels and cocktails party? Or a backyard barbecue party?

Well, it’s been raining all week, so I’m pretty sure we’ll be indoors.

Don’t be a smartass. 

Just casual. Food and drinks. 

She’d called him then, and he’d answered, confused. “Hey?” 

“I just…” she began, “this is the first time I’m meeting most of your teammates and their girlfriends and I don’t want to be the only one in jeans when everyone else is in dresses. I want to make a good impression.” 

“You’ll make a good impression no matter what you’re wearing.”

A breath blew out of her nose, whistling by the phone speaker, “you don’t get it.” 

“Don’t I?” 

“Quinn, you wear the same thing all the time.” 

“First of all, I do not.”

He continued before she could get out her retort that Brady could back her up on this fact. “And secondly, everything I’ve seen you wear would be fine for this. You always look nice.”

And he meant it. Even in her aquarium uniform, which consisted of a blue t-shirt or polo with the aquarium logo and whatever pants she happened to be wearing that day, she always looked put together.

She made some noise in her throat like she thought he was telling tales. 

“Look, you might get some looks if you showed up in a trash bag or something.” 

Laughter barked out of her mouth. “Why would I ever wear a trash bag?” 

“I don’t know. I’m just saying that barring an unhinged trash bag outfit, you’ll be fine. People are just excited to meet you.” 

“You told them I’m coming?” she asked, feeling sudden nerves attack her stomach. 

“Yeah. Conor suggested I invite you. The guys want to meet you.” Plus, ever since she'd met Brady, he'd wanted her to meet everyone in his life.

“Oh,” she said quietly. 

“Just wear what you feel comfortable in, and I’ll pick you up at six, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Sarah said, feeling even more anxious than before she’d called him.

She couldn’t even wear her go-to outfit for when she was nervous. St. Patricks day was the next weekend, and she’d asked Quinn to come to her uncles and needed the green dress for that. Plus, it was freezing and sleety outside. A dress was not the way to go. 

Jane walked by, and Sarah called her in. 

“What happened here?” Jane asked, taking in the clothing spread all over Sarah’s usually tidy room, and Sarah herself standing in her underwear. 

The only thing she could decide on was the blue bra, which always made her feel confident and sexy. She’d paired it with a matching pair of underwear.

“I’m going to a party with some of Quinn’s teammates tonight,” she said. 

Janes eyes widened with what Sarah thought was the appropriate amount of concern. 

“So I’m trying to figure out what to wear. The dress is out,” she said, gesturing to where it was hanging in the closet. 

Jane bit her lip, surveying the chaos. “My vote is for those boyfriend jeans that make your thighs look killer,” she said. 

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have someone express a definitive opinion. She’d put those same jeans on earlier but stripped them right back off, worried all the other women would be in fancier dress. “You don’t think they’ll be too casual?” 

“What kind of a party is it?” 

“Birthday.”

Jane looked her over, “you’ll be fine. Killer jeans, nice top. Quinn won’t know what hit him.” 

She pulled the jeans on, hopping as she tugged them over her hips, “thanks. I’m just so nervous.” 

Jane sat on her bed and began putting shirts back on their discarded hangers, “I don’t think you need to be.” 

“No?”

She shook her head, “from the way he was looking at you when he stayed for dinner that night you guys made up, I’m not sure anything could put him off you.”

Sarah felt her cheeks flush. 

“Anyway,” Jane said, pulling a purple blouse out from underneath her, “I think you should wear this. It looks good with your eyes.”

“Thanks, Jane,” she said, gathering the other woman into a hug, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

Sarah was already in the lobby when Quinn pulled up to her building. She wore medium wash jeans a dark raincoat. He appreciated that she was wearing flat boots instead of some fussy heel. She threw the hood up to block the rain before running out to his car. 

When they got to the house, he opened the door without knocking before leading her inside. There was a coat rack already brimming with wet jackets, and Sarah stripped hers off to hang up with the others. 

Quinn stopped in his tracks halfway through unzipping his own jacket. 

He thought he’d seen all of Sarah’s clothes. Which was a stupid notion now that he thought about it — they hadn’t been dating for that long — but she tended to wear a kind of uniform.

Today, though, her jeans fit her like a glove — clinging to the curves of her thighs and hips. He was certain she’d never worn them before. He would have remembered. Seeing her in them now, he wished she’d given him some kind of warning.

When he didn’t follow her, Sarah turned, which was worse. The purple blouse she wore skimmed over her breasts and a pattern was embroidered around the collar.  The color somehow made her eyes brighter and lips more pink. He had no idea that could happen.

He felt like he needed to catch his breath as a surge of attraction reared in his stomach.

Not only were the guys going to tease him mercilessly for being with someone new, he was going to have to watch her in those jeans all night. The mental exertion it was going to take to not pop a boner was already making him tired. 

Before his mind could truly go to war about the pros and cons of just turning to go back to his place, Conor called out, “Huggy? Is that you?” 

Too late to turn back now. “Yeah,” he said, not taking his eyes off Sarah. 

“Huggy?” she repeated.

“It’s a long story.”

The thrill of touching her reared to life again as he took her hand to guide her into the house. He made his mind focus on math equations for the walk into the kitchen and hoped it would be enough. 

“Hey!” Conor greeted, immediately grasping Quinn in a hug when they walked into the kitchen.  “You must be the elusive Sarah Huggy won’t stop telling us about,” he said as they broke apart.

“Good things, I hope,” Sarah joked as they shook hands.

“Well, he certainly didn’t lie about how pretty your eyes are,” a woman said, coming up to stand next to Conor, running her hand along his forearm before entwining their fingers.

The color that pinked her cheeks made Quinn’s knees want to buckle. God, he was in deep.

The strange thing was that he wasn’t scared about it. That had to mean something good.

“I’m Meghan, and this is Conor,” she said with a bright, friendly smile. 

More introductions were made, and Sarah tried to keep track of everyone, but there were at least 40 people there, and she felt instantly overwhelmed. She should have known. She knew how many people were on a hockey team, but it was still a little shocking to meet everyone all at once. 

They were absorbed into one of the small groups of people, and Sarah sipped from her seltzer only to find it was lemon flavored, not pineapple like she'd expected. She frowned at the can. 

“Do you want something different?” Quinn asked, noticing the disappointed look on her face.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Conor and JT glance at each other. 

“No, it’s okay. I was just expecting pineapple, so the lemon was a bit of a shock.”

“There’s pineapple in there,” Meghan said, gesturing with her own can. 

“I’ll get you one,” he said, turning to the fridge. 

She caught his arm and he turned back, “it’s fine, Quinn. This one’s already open. It’s not a big deal. Most seltzer tastes the same anyway.” 

“I’m glad someone can finally admit that,” Brock said, lifting his beer to his lips.

His pretty blonde girlfriend smacked him on the arm, “just because you can’t tell the difference doesn’t mean no one else can.”

Sarah smiled at them. They were cute together - like a model midwestern couple. 

“So, Sarah,” JT said, pulling her focus, “Quinn tells us you work at the aquarium.” 

She went through her usual explanation of her schooling and research.

“Tell them about Tuesday,” Quinn prompted. 

Everyone in the group looked between them expectantly. JT and Conor shared another glance. 

“What happened Tuesday?” Natalie asked, taking the bait right away. 

“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of experiments with Walter to see if he can taste my mood.”

“What?” 

“Octopus have tastebuds and nerve endings in every suction cup that far surpass our own, so I’ve been wondering if he can taste the hormones on my skin. Anyway, I sprayed some Cortisol, which is the hormone that releases when you’re stressed, on my hands to see how he’d react, and he went from seemingly happy to see me to very subdued almost immediately.” 

“Whoa,” Brock said. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, eyes brightening. “It was really amazing. With some more experiments, I think I could probably use this as the basis research for my thesis.” 

“Exactly how did this guy convince you to date him?” JT asked, pointing at Quinn.

Natalie smacked his arm. 

“No, I’m serious. You’re really smart. You know Huggy didn’t even finish college, right?” 

What the hell was this nickname? 

“I did finish college,” Quinn interrupted, “I graduated last year.” 

“Whatever,” JT said with a dismissive hand as if that detail didn’t matter. “Does he have you under some sort of mind control?” 

Sarah laughed out loud, and Quinn’s eyes darted to her, catching her wide open smile. 

“Cause she couldn’t just like me,” he defended, sarcastically

“A girl like this? This pretty and this smart?” JT asked, “it’s hard to believe, Huggy.” 

Even though she could see the glint of humor in his eyes and knew he was only teasing, Sarah still stepped in, “Nope. No mind control.” She emphasized the statement by reaching for his hand, “You know as well, probably better than I do that Quinn has really great qualities. He's a really good guy.” 

JT leaned back on the counter, a jokingly suspicious look still on his face as he glanced between them. 

Quinn could feel himself blushing. He didn’t mean for Sarah to come to his defense like that. He didn’t mean to put her in that position. All the same, he was a little glad for it. JT had a way of teasing a persons insecurities right out of them, and to know Sarah didn’t feel the same way eased something in him. 

“Our daughter loves the aquarium,” Natalie cut in fluidly as if she was used to smoothing over her husbands’ aggressive teasing.

“Let me know the next time you come by,” Sarah said without missing a beat, “I’ll give you a personal tour.”

“Oh, she’d love that. We’ll have to get a group of us together.” 

JT gave her a genuine smile, and Sarah let a little breath go in her chest. 

At the next mornings practice, Quinn ran through drills and exercises, ears pricked for the inevitable teasing he knew would be coming his way. 

To his surprise, it didn’t come until the end, after he’d showered and was dressing in his stall.

“Dude, you've got it bad,” Joshua teased as he walked by, “I’ve never seen you look at someone like that,” he said, adopting a sappy, lovestruck expression. 

“I don’t know if you can top the way he was about to chuck that can of seltzer away from her because she didn’t like it,” JT said.

“Right?” Conor agreed, laughing, “‘Do you want something different? Let me get you a new can.’” He mimed rushing around searching. 

“Don’t forget the first time he told us about her,” Brock cut in, “he was like fucking Aladdin, ‘she’s got these eyes.’” 

Joining in the laughter, Quinn tossed his towel in their direction. 

Conor caught it easily. “Our little Huggy’s in love,” he teased, elongating the last word into several syllables. 

“So you’ve been keeping track,” Brock surmised, glancing around with a knowing expression. 

“Guys,” he said, leveling them with a look he hoped would shut the conversation down. “We’ve only known each other 9 weeks.” 

Guess he may as well get comfortable in this hole he dug for himself.

He’d dished out this same chirping when Brock had brought Bella around for the first time and knew it was best to just let it lie, and eventually, it would become old news. 

When he didn’t deny it, the boys around him all whooped and hollered enough that everyone else in the room looked over.

“Seriously though,” JT went on, “I have no idea how you landed her, but she’s a great girl."

"And,” he continued with a smirk, “if you ever get bored of her, I'm sure Kuzy’ll take her off your hands. He wouldn’t stop looking at her all night.” 

Quinn glared, more offended at the insinuation he would get bored of Sarah. 

JT laughed, raucous and loud, “Oh, he’s got it bad, alright.”

He couldn’t stop the flush that rushed into his cheeks. 

“Don't worry, Huggy. No one's gonna steal your girl.” 

Shaking his head, Quinn shoved his sneakers on.  

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[familyabolisher]

me noting down which of my colleagues didn't heart react the message the restaurant GM put in the group chat shouting me out for all my hard work this week

[claypgeon]

two people that matched each others freak | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x teammate!reader

summary: max verstappen and y/n l/n love to match each others freak.

notes: took a small break to enjoy my summer break start!! but i’m back, request are open !!

liked by, carlossainz, maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 692,028 others!

yourusername: what an unfortunate series of events. first crash kinda nervous 🥰🥰@/carlossainz kill yourself for what you did to me.

view comments below!

user1: LMAO THE CASUAL SELFIE AFTER THAT BIG ASS CRASH ??

user2: carlos deserves way more then a 5 place penalty after that…

user3: no literally ??? y/n is literally BLEEDING !!

maxverstappen1: yeah @/carlossainz. KILL YOURSELF.

user4: you tell ‘em max 🗣️🗣️

user5: queens first crash and it’s not even her fault 😞😞

user6: queens first crash and she almost DIES

user7: carlos hate club reunite !!!

user8: oh let’s not…

user9: to quote y/n: “accidents happen. i know carlos didn’t get into his car with the intention of hurting me. there’s no hard feelings whatsoever.”

carlossainz: IM SO SORRY Y/N.

yourusername: i only take apologies in cash and gift cards xx.

maxverstappen: i only take apologies in cash.

carlossainz: why would i apologize to you?

maxverstappen1: because you almost killed my bestfriend.

carlossainz: do you accept venmo?

user8: max still calling y/n his bestfriend even tho they’ve been dating for two years now is so ??

user9: they were bestfriends for 6 years before that so..

charles_leclerc: give us a big scare there l/n 😬 happy you’re okay!

yourusername: thank you charles ❤️ but because you are carlos teammate, i feel like i am also owed compensation from you as well.

maxverstappen1: yeah leclerc! pay up!!

charles_leclerc: text me the amount 😞

user10: i love how max just goes along with everything y/n says ???

user11: we love a man who matches his gfs freak ❤️❤️

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz, redbullracing, and 720,629 others!

maxverstappen1: thank you to @/charles_leclerc and @/carlossainz for funding our date night 💙

view comments below!

user12: NO WAY

user13: CARLOS AND CHARLES ACTUALLY SENT THEM THE MONEY ???

user14: this is so cute 🥹

user15: yns so pretty 🙁

maxverstappen1: the prettiest 💙💙

user16: i just looked at my bf and sighed

charles_leclerc: ofc!! cute couple 🥰🥰

user17: charles definitely has a favorite couple

user18: y/n, my favorite nerd

user19: max, my favorite nerd lover

user20: perfect couple

user21: i have a theory that y/n and max are so happy together because they genuinely compliment each other so well

user21: they literally clicked as soon as they met, and they have said that “they feel at home” with each other, they can be their true selves when they’re together

user21: conclusion; i’m lonely and i wish i had a relationship like this

carlossainz: you’re welcome ig. am i forgiven now?

yourusername: we’ll see!

liked by 284,029 others!

f1gossip: throwback thursday!!! throwback to when max and y/n broke the internet, by announcing they were both no longer virgins..through cake.

view comments below!

user22: oh yes the good old days

user23: been matching each others freak since DAY ONE

user24: back when ynstappen was still not OFFICIALLY confirmed

user25: you should throwback to when max refused to resign with red bull until they gave y/n a multi-year contract ☺️☺️

user26: this was a CRAZY day for f1

user27: this connected the dots for all the ynstappen shippers because they basically confirmed they lost their virginity to EACHOTHER!!

user28: did we ever find out who’s idea this was?

user29: a couple months ago it was brought up and max spoke: “i know lots of people think it was yns idea..but it was actually mine. i guess i was just tired to hiding our relationship, so i brought it up, and y/n thought it was hilarious.”

user30: my parents ☝️☝️

user31: from teammates, to friends, to bestfriends, to lovers. living my dream.

user32: them.

user33: if they breakup i will genuinely never believe in love ever again.

user34: them becoming bestfriends was so unexpected, but made so much sense.

user35: if it weren’t for the ice cream shop they never would have happened ☹️

user36: pls explain?

user35: this is when y/n and max had just started the season as teammates, max hadnt performed his best at one of the races, coming in at 6th with y/n behind in 7th

user35: after the race, y/n had unexpectedly asked max to go get ice cream with her at a ice cream shop nearby

user35: max, feeling like he didn’t deserve to celebrate in anyway, declined. but y/n persisted, basically pulling him into that ice cream shop

user35: that’s when max said he truly had the time of his life, he felt happy, even though his race went horrible, he said that he has so much fun with yn and that he has never laughed so hard; the start of ynstappen ☹️

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, landonorris, and 729,624 others!

yourusername: siri, play nasty by tinahe.

view comments below!

maxverstappen1: listening to it right now!

maxverstappen1: oh wow

maxverstappen1: i like this liefde!! 💙💙

maxverstappen1: come to the room so we can listen together!!

yourusername: coming !!!!! 💙💙

landonorris: you are aware you can text privately right?

user36: THE ICE CREAM SHOP PICTURE

user37: he looks so happy 😭😭😭😭

user38: sobs

user39: y/n healing maxs inner child is something i KNEW i needed.

user40: power couple !!!

danielricciardo: i been a nasty girl, i been a nasty girl

user41: i need someone to love me like max loves y/n

landonorris: whos gonna match my freak 😣

user58: ME I WILL PLS LANDO I WILL

user42: the first picture ?? 😭😭

user43: omg the second picture. i’m going to throw up with joy. i love you guys.

user44: ynstappen ships used to PRAY for days like these.

liked by, yourusername, redbullracing, danielricciardo, and 829,924 others!

maxverstappen1: i’ll match her freak!!! i will !!!

view comments below!

user45: yes max, we know

user46: i just looked at my boyfriend and sighed

user47: the shirt ???

maxverstappen1: @/danielricciardo thank you for the shirt :D i love it 💙

user48: i’m totally ready for max to wear that shirt on race day…

yourusername: the perfect photographer 🥰

maxverstappen1: it’s easy when my muse is perfect ☺️☺️

user49: that SHOULD BE ME.

user50: con🥹gra🥹tula🥹tions

user51: no one will ever understand how much i love this couple

user52: we love a man who matches his gfs energy ❗️❗️❗️

user53: so happy for you guys! haha. ha. ha. so happy.

charles_leclerc: beautiful shirt mate!

user54: the way charles and max still don’t follow each other but this is charles every time max post:

user55: oh! such a cute shirt! haha, ha, i’m so lonely.

user56: max could do better

maxverstappen1: kill yourself you worthless piece of garbage

user57: y’all saying you miss mad max but he makes an appearance every time someone says something negative about y/n 😭

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone (Part 19) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 4.1k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY.

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Military Inaccuracies; Medical Inaccuracies; Crying; Deployments; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: Life goes on, even though Jake is still deployed.

Series Master List

Master List

Standing in the bathroom, you applied the final touches to your makeup and hair. Sarah had been kind enough to host your baby shower and you were currently trying to think of gifts to get her, Penny, Emma, and Phoenix to thank them for the party. 

You put on a pair of earrings that used to belong to your mom. You were getting more and more sentimental and found yourself wearing your mom’s jewelry around more. Heading out to the kitchen, you greeted Mav, who was supposed to drive you.  

“You’re not hiding the fact that you know?” Maverick asked, gesturing to your pink dress. 

“No, what’s the point?” you replied with a shrug, walking over to your shoes. Sliding on a pair of flats, you added, “Jake knows and that’s all I care about.”

“Well, let’s get going. I’m pretty sure that Penny will have my head if you’re late.”

After a short drive, Maverick pulled into the Kazansky’s driveway. You slowly slid out of the car despite Maverick’s offer to help you and walked into the house. Heading down the hall into the main space, you paused at the entrance. 

The room had pink ribbons draped all around. Balloons decorated the corners and streamers framed the windows. They set up tables along the wall and there were already trays of pink cupcakes and other desserts on one of them. Emma and Phoenix were unboxing the catering in the kitchen and Sarah and Penny were finishing up some of the decorations.

“There she is,” Penny called, straightening up. “Happy Baby Shower!” She walked over and pulled you into a hug that you happily returned. “Are you excited?”

“I’m hoping that something interesting happens,” you replied with a small smile. “Thanks for doing all of this for me. And thank you Sarah for hosting.”

“Oh, please, I used to host the most ridiculous naval events here. At least this is a party I’ll actually enjoy,” Sarah mused, accepting your hug with a bright smile. “How’s Baby Girl doing?”

“She’s been pretty quiet today. So, she’ll decide to kick me when I’m least in the mood for it.”

“Are you hungry?” Phoenix asked, walking over and holding out a plate of food to you. “Everything is safe for you to have. Except for the booze, of course.”

“Thanks,” you mused, picking up an hors devour from the plate.

You ate quietly as they walked you through the whole set up. And you quietly kept grabbing little snacks along the way. Staring around at the whole set up, you turned to your family.

“You guys didn’t have to do all of this stuff for me.”

“Don’t start that. You deserve a nice baby shower and you’re getting a nice baby shower,” Phoenix stated firmly, causing you to nod and smile. 

“Do you guys need help with anything?”

“No, grab a drink and go relax. People should start getting here in about twenty minutes.”

It wasn’t a huge baby shower, at least compared to some that you had been to before, but you saw so many faces that you hadn’t seen in years. Emma really went through your whole list of contacts. But speaking of Emma, you hadn’t seen much of her. 

“Where’s Emma?” you asked Bradley, walking over to where he was standing.

“She ran out to grab something.”

“Is she alright?” you asked worriedly.

“Yeah, she just hasn’t been feeling well lately,” Bradley explained, a note of worry in his tone. “I told her to stay home, but she insisted on coming.”

“Did she go to a doctor?”

“She has an appointment for next week,” Bradley explained quietly. “Thursday. I told her just to go to urgent care or the hospital even if she feels that sick, but she said she wanted to wait. And I don’t want to upset her.”

“I’ll talk to her when she gets back.”

“She’ll just tell you to focus on your party,” Bradley reminded you, but you simply smiled. 

“Exactly. It’ll just be part of your gift to me.”

“You couldn’t have told me that before I spent three hours in a baby store for you?”

“Did I mention how I appreciate how supportive you are?” you remarked sarcastically, patting your brother on the shoulder before moving on. 

Making your way through the crowd of people to head back inside to be in the air conditioning and to grab some more food, you looked up to see Maverick talking with a group of familiar aviators in the corner of the yard. You turned a bit and made your way over to greet them. 

“Well, here’s the woman of the hour,” Maverick announced, causing all of them to turn to you. 

“Hi, everyone,” you stated, waving to them. “I wasn’t expecting any of you to make it.” Turning to the man closest to you, you offered him a hug. “How’d you get the time off of work, Uncle Slider? I would have thought you would be flying now.” 

“I timed my flights and got an extended layover in San Diego,” Slider replied, returning your hug. 

With the exception of Maverick and Iceman, Slider was the aviator who spent the most time with your family. Especially because he retired earlier than either Mav or Ice had. He didn’t have the stories about your dad that Maverick did nor did he provide the same sort of stability that Ice did with Sarah and his family, but he was a pillar in your childhood. 

“I thought you said you would stay away from naval aviators,” he joked, gesturing to your bump.

“I know,” you laughed, resting a hand on your back. “But we all make exceptions for the right people.” 

“And is it true that you got married already?” 

“Right before he left,” you agreed, showing your rings. “It was both a shotgun and a pre-deployment wedding all in one.” 

“Well, you know if he ever wants to fly commercially, I can get him in no problem,” Slider offered, causing you to smile.

“Thanks, but I think Jake’s the type to be forced to retire from the Navy.” 

“He’s been spending too much time around Mav then?” Slider guessed, nudging Maverick in the side jokingly. “I still can’t believe that you’re actually retired now.”

“Well, I’m needed here now,” Maverick replied, glancing over at you. “And I’d like to enjoy the rest of my time with the kids and Penny.”

As Maverick and Slider continued to talk, you moved around the group. Thanking Hollywood and Wolfman for driving down, you turned to Viper and his wife, who still lived locally despite Viper’s retirement over two decades now. 

“It’s been so long,” you remarked, pulling Viper’s wife Linda in for a hug. “How are you?”

“Oh, don’t worry about us. Look at you! You’re so big now,” Linda called, causing Slider to snort. “And pink! You’re having a girl then?”

“Yeah, we’re having a little girl,” you confirmed with a proud smile. 

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you.” Turning to Viper, you moved to give him a hug. “And how are we, Admiral?”

“Still strong,” Viper reported, offering you a smile. “And we’re very glad to hear that Jake finally took his responsibilities seriously.”

“Oh?” you asked, confused.

“Marrying you, dear,” Linda explained with a smile.

“Taking responsibility for his actions,” Viper stated bluntly, causing your eyes to widen.

“Right,” you trailed off, nodding with a polite smile.

“Why don’t we see if we can find Bradley then?” Maverick suggested, stepping up beside you. “He’s separating from the Navy, you know.”

“After the hissy fit that he threw about getting in, he’s just leaving like that?” Viper barked out, causing his wife to admonish him.

You shared an amused look with Slider before you headed inside. Chatting with Phoenix and Coyote, you paused when you saw a stressed-looking Emma walk into the kitchen with a few bags. You walked into the kitchen as well, cautiously approaching your obviously skittish sister-in-law.

"Emma?" you called, causing her to whip around.

"Hey, did you need something?" she asked, unpacking a bag.

"No, but did you?" you offered, moving to stand beside her. "You look a little stressed and I don't want you to worry about the party anymore. It's amazing."

"I'm not stressed about the party. I'm just . . . stressed," Emma sighed, avoiding eye contact.

"Is it something with the house?"

"No, it's all fine."

"Is it my stupid brother?"

"No," Emma replied quietly. "Where is he anyway?"

"Getting a lecture from Viper, I think," you stated, glancing out the window. Turning back to Emma, you offered, "You know, I'm here for you. And forget the fact that this is my party. I'm honestly just trying to stay busy so that I can ignore the fact that Jake isn't here."

Emma gave you a sympathetic look and sighed. Looking around, she slowly turned back to you.

"I don't want to ruin your party."

"The Navy ruined my party. What's bothering you?"

"I'm . . . late."

"Late for what?"

Emma shot you a look.

"Oh, sorry. Wait, how late? Like a day?"

"More like . . . sixteen," Emma replied, causing your eyes to widen.

"Have you taken a test?"

"Not yet."

"Go get one."

"I have one. I bought it at the store a month ago and it's been sitting in my glove compartment ever since. But it's your party. Today isn't about me, it's about you and your baby," Emma reminded you quietly. "I'm not going to take the test."

"Even if I tell you that you should," you stated, causing Emma to sigh. "Or at least do it when you get home." After a moment, you asked, "Why have you been avoiding it for this long? You bought the test a month ago and you still haven't taken it?"

"Because then it becomes real," Emma replied, not meeting your gaze. "And we had our plan. We were going to start trying after Bradley separated from the Navy and settled into his new job. And a lot can go wrong in the first few weeks . . . I'm just trying to process it some more."

"Have you told him yet?" Emma shook her head slowly and you offered her a supportive smile in return. "Look, whatever happens, Bradley loves you and I love you and we’ll all be here to support you. And, hey, at least your dad already got the whole threatening phase out of his system. It's smooth sailing in that department."

Emma managed a soft chuckle at the memories, closing her eyes for a moment. The two of you turned when you heard footsteps. Bradley stepped into the kitchen with his sights set on you.

“Penny said it’s time to open presents.” 

“Alright, I'll go out there."

You shared a glance with Emma, who nodded quietly, before moving to move past your brother. But before you could make it too far, Bradley gave you a lightly annoyed look.

“And please don't send anyone else to give me a lecture today. Because I barely survived the last one.” 

“Viper found you then?” you asked, amused. 

“And then talked my ear off with the most disappointed dad look I’ve seen in years.” 

“Well, it was either you or me, and it's my party, so it had to be you.” 

Glancing between Bradley and Emma, who was already staring at her husband, you headed outside to open your presents. They were all lined up for you by the time that you arrived, and Penny was there to hand you your presents.

Penny and Maverick bought you a beautiful crib. Sarah got you a bassinet and told you that her kids loved it for their own kids. Javy and Nat bought what seemed to be an industrial stroller—Javy insisted that it was going to be necessary given your child’s genes. And you got piles of baby clothes of various sizes, diapers, and some formula.

“And this one seems to be from Emma and Bradley,” Penny stated, handing you a card. “But I don’t know where they are.” 

“I think they’re setting up the cake,” you lied, opening the card. Inside was a picture of a rocking chair and an order slip with a promise to have it delivered to your new house. “They got me a rocking chair.”

You were folding a set of baby onesies when Javy walked over with another box for you. You were a little confused but took the present from him anyways.

“You already gave me a gift, Javy. What’s this?”

“See who it’s from,” he replied, before moving to take his seat next to Phoenix. 

You flipped the box over and when you read Jake’s name, albeit in Javy’s handwriting, you looked up suddenly. Locking eyes with Javy, who motioned for you to open it, you quickly tore through the wrapping paper. Pulling out a box, you opened it and gently set the cover aside when you saw a photo album inside. 

You ran your finger down the leather spine before slow opening the cover. The inside cover was plain, but it had a printed-out email from Jake laid over the top. Picking it up, you smiled to yourself as you read through his short message. 

To My Beautiful Wife,

I know that the best gift that I could give you would be being by your side today and every other day, but this is the next best thing that I could think of. Admittedly, this wasn’t actually my idea, though I’m still going to take credit for it, but here’s a collection of memories over the last year. But there’s still plenty of space for the years to come and new memories that we have yet to make together. 

I miss you and I love you so much. And tell Baby Girl that I’ll be home soon to feel her kick. 

Love,

Your Smoking Hot Husband

“Well,” you croaked out, placing the paper down. “I think I’ll open it later because I don’t want to start sobbing right now.” 

“Who wants cake?” Maverick suggested loudly.

You smiled as you wiped a tear away, trying to stay positive. Phoenix walked inside the house to go and grab the cake as Maverick squeezed you into his side.

~~~~~

Jake sat out on the deck of the carrier, staring down at a photo of you and your bump. 

It had been about two months since he left you behind and he was counting down the days until he could be there with you and your baby again. There was some talk of a few aviators in his program returning back to the States soon and Jake was doing everything that he could to make sure that he was on that list. 

The sun was starting to set below the waves, casting an orange glow over the ship. The steady sea breeze dried the tears on his cheeks, but Jake didn’t move from his spot. Your due date was in three weeks and even though he read that first children were typically born later; he knew that your daughter was a stubborn one and moved to the beat of her own drum. 

She would come when she wanted. Not when it was convenient.

“Do you think you can wait just a little longer?” Jake asked the photo of your bump softly. “You know, we still haven’t picked a name for you yet, so if you want a normal name, you should give us a little more time to decide, alright?” 

Leaning back against the wall, Jake stared out in the direction of California. He always made sure to know what direction home was. After a moment, Jake pursed his lips together and took a breath. 

“I’m coming home. I promise.” 

~~~~~

“And just sign there on the bottom line,” your realtor instructed you, handing over a pen. 

You slowly signed your name to officially buy your first home. It was also the first time that you fully wrote out your surname as ‘Bradshaw-Seresin,’ but that just left an even more bitter taste in your mouth. It was supposed to be a happy moment, a triumph, a celebration to buy your first family home.

But without Jake here, it just felt like a hollow victory. 

“Congratulations, you’re officially a homeowner,” your realtor replied with a kind smile. 

“Thank you.” 

Your realtor walked off, leaving you standing alone in the middle of your new home. And when the door shut and the sound echoed around the empty space, you instinctively held your new keys to your chest. Bradley and Maverick were coordinating everything to get your apartment officially packed up and brought over. You would have to return to the apartment to return the keys and everything, but you weren't in a rush.

Walking through the house, you silently took in the moment. You ran your hand along the wall as you headed to the front of the house. Slowly stepping up onto the bottom stairs, you rested your hands on your bump.

“Welcome home, Baby Girl,” you murmured, pressing your hand to where she was kicking. 

You texted Bradley that everything was signed, and it was time to bring the truck over. You would have moved to unpack the baby stuff that Maverick shoved into your car earlier that morning, but you knew that you would have given Maverick a heart attack if you did, so you simply waited for everyone to arrive.

A knock at the door made you turn to see Emma waving to you through the glass. You slowly waddled over to the door to let her into your home. 

“Morning,” she greeted, pulling you in for a hug. She straightened up and offered you a bag. “I brought you breakfast.”

The two of you sat on the lawn furniture that the sellers left for you as part of the sale. You kicked your swollen feet up and balanced your breakfast on your bump, leaning heavily on the couch. Bradley and Maverick, with some help from the other Daggers and other friends, were currently moving your boxes into the house.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to supervise that at all?" Emma asked you, a bit worriedly.

"It's fine," you murmured, dismissing her concerns. "There's no point in fully unpacking. Minus our bedroom, the kitchen, and the baby stuff. We still have to paint and buy new furniture."

“Alright,” Emma replied, not trying to push you. 

The topic of your clear mood shift was becoming an increasingly common conversation among your friends and family. Your due date was growing closer, and you were making more and more comments that concerned them. Or tasks that you refused to do without Jake there beside you.

And everyone was quietly worried about what would happen if you went into labor and Jake wasn't home yet. If it was time for your daughter to come out, it was time for her to come out.

“Has she been moving around a lot?” Emma asked conversationally.

“Yes,” you sighed, sounding exhausted. “She kicked my ribs yesterday and knocked the wind out of me.” Offering a small smile to Emma, you added, “Things for you to look forward to.”

“I’m trying to survive the first trimester,” Emma chuckled nervously. 

“I hope you have a girl too,” you spoke softly with a smile, resting your hands on your bump. “They’re only going to be about six or seven months apart.”

“I know. But I think we’re going to wait until they're born to find out. My sisters did and my parents were always so excited to find out at the hospital, so I want to do that with our baby.”

“Have you told any of them that you’re expecting?”

“No, not yet. We’re going to take a trip up to see them after you have your baby and we’ll tell them then. I wanted to do it in person.”

You smiled and nodded, finishing up your breakfast. After chatting for a little bit more, you headed inside the house for the cooler air. You were temporarily living in the first-floor guest bedroom and that room was your main priority.

“Did you want all of it in the nursery or down here?” Phoenix asked, setting down the last box of baby stuff. 

“Down here is fine for now.”

“Did you want us to set up anything for you?” Javy asked, standing beside his wife. 

“No, I’m alright. We already got the car seat installed and that’s the most important thing right now. We can put together the rest of it when Jake gets home.” Slowly standing up again, you sent Javy and Phoenix a small smile. “Thanks for your help.”

As you waddled off to the kitchen to help Penny and Maverick, Phoenix and Coyote shared a concerned look. 

“She’s not herself,” Coyote told his wife quietly.

"She's in her last trimester and her first few months of marriage. And her husband isn't here." Phoenix sighed, watching you with concern. "And everyone has their breaking point."

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

We moved into the house today. Maverick is sleeping on the sofa to keep an eye on me. I think that he thinks that I’m going to go into labor soon. Which I’m not. Baby Girl is snug and comfortable, and I have a feeling that she’s going to take her time coming out. Bradley and I were both late babies, so I’m sure that she’ll follow the trend.

I had them leave all of the baby stuff on the first floor for now. We can set up the nursery when you’re home with us. It didn’t feel right setting it up without you here.

Baby Girl is keeping me up again. She’s been kicking and now she’s even ignoring your warnings to go to bed. I have a feeling that she’s going to be payback for all of the crap that I put my mom and Mav through. Isn’t that what they say anyways?

I miss you. Come home soon and safely. 

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

At nearly thirty-nine weeks pregnant, there was no other way to describe your existence beside ‘uncomfortable.’ You were pretty sure that you resembled a penguin or a seal lion with the stupid way that your bump made you walk. And your stomach had ballooned out to make you look all the more ridiculous as you went through the last few days of your pregnancy.

And fucking hell, your back was killing you.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Maverick suggested as you wiped down the countertops. “You’ve been walking around all morning.”

“I'm fine, Mav.”

“Did you sleep well last night?”

“No,” you muttered, tossing the paper towel into the trash. “I couldn’t get comfortable.”

“Maybe you should try taking a nap.”

“I’m fine, Mav,” you repeated as the laundry machine went off. Waddling over despite Maverick's call that he could fold the laundry, you rested a hand on your back. “I'm just a little restless.”

“I’ll fold all of that. You should eat.”

Sending Maverick an annoyed look, you handed off the laundry and made you way over to the couch. While Maverick was focused on the laundry, you let out a quiet moan of pain, leaning having on the couch. Resting your hand on your back, you took a few deep breaths before sitting down. You kicked your feet up just as Penny walked through the door.

“How are you feeling today, Mama?” Penny asked, walking over to you with a container of food. 

“Pregnant. Very pregnant.”

“You’re in the final stretch now," Penny assured you, offering a maternal smile. "And I brought you some food. It shouldn’t get your heartburn to act up.”

“Thanks.”

Slowly getting up from the couch, you made your way over to the table. Maverick walked over and held the chair for you as you sat down. He had turned into a bit of a helicopter parent over the last week or so and you were too tired to fight him on it. You managed a few bites, before you got up.

"You don't want anymore?"

"I'll be back," you replied, waddling away. "Just need to . . ."

You froze when a gush of liquid suddenly soaked your shorts and pooled on the floor below you. Clutching your bump in fear, you gave Penny and Mav a deer in the headlights look that caused them to jump up and spring into action. Mav steadied you carefully as Penny slowly assessed the situation. 

“Okay, it looks like your water just broke. We need to get you to the hospital. The baby’s coming.”

And you couldn’t help but immediately burst out into tears.  

A.N. And the baby's coming! But just wanted to give everyone a heads up that this story does not end once the baby is born. There's still more to come. Thanks, and I hope you'll stick around for more!

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[goatisbetheres]

Lots of big things happened Wednesday in the Pittsburgh Penguins’ 7-0 romp over the New York Islanders. There were records and milestones, especially for core players Kris Letang and Evgeni Malkin. But not Sidney Crosby.

Amazingly, Crosby had no points in the game. But don’t think he felt anything but thrilled, especially for his longtime teammates. The relationship between Crosby, Malkin and Letang is as strong as ever.

“I don’t know. It feels like it did before Christmas,” Crosby cracked Thursday after practice at the UPMC Lemieux Sports Complex.

Yeah, they can joke like that. The three are in their mid-30s and in their 18th season together, a North American sports record for a trio of teammates with the same team. They passed the New York Yankees’ Derek Jeter, Jorge Posada and Mariano Rivera, who spent 17 consecutive seasons together.

There have been times when it looked as if the Penguins’ three core players might be broken up, but Letang and Malkin re-signed after the 2021-22 season. Crosby has this and one more season left on his contract.

“It feels like it’s pretty good after this long,” Crosby said of the relationship among the three. “If it can get stronger, great, but I feel like it’s been pretty good. We’ve spent a lot of time together over the years, been through a lot, and it’s pretty strong at this point for what we’ve gone though.”

They have won three Stanley Cups together — the highs — and have had first-round playoff flameouts and, last season, a seat outside the playoffs – the lows. They have been there for each other during injury and medical challenges. They have been there for each other for major individual accomplishments.

All three got misty the night the Penguins held a pregame ceremony for Crosby’s 1,000th game.

Wednesday, Letang became the first defenseman in NHL history to record five assists in one period and tied a record for defensemen with six assists overall. Malkin scored twice to pass his childhood idol, Sergei Fedorov, for second place all-time in the league among Russian-born players with 484 goals.

Crosby was happy simply to be a part of the game and witness those things.

“It’s just cool,” he said of Letang’s record. “Whether you’ve played with someone for a long time or just to witness that … There’s a lot of years that have gone into the NHL, over 100. For that never to have been done and be part of that is cool.”

And on Malkin: “He probably doesn’t get the credit that he deserves for what he’s done over his career. Just to be able to be in that company now, and to pass Fedorov, someone he idolized growing up and we all loved watching, but especially being a Russian-born player … He’s a competitive guy. He’s shown that year after year. Happy to see him move up the list.”

Valtteri Puustinen also scored his first NHL goal Thursday. Crosby has always had a soft spot for those moments among his many teammates over the years. Plus Malkin and Letang’s moments that night. Crosby loves those.

“A game like that. A game where (goaltender Tristan Jarry last month) scores. Things like that are pretty cool,” he said.

There are bound to be more moments for Crosby, Malkin and Letang to celebrate together. And moments where they simply share a laugh. All those moments add up.

“We like to keep it pretty light and probably give each other a harder time, and we do more of that than we do compliments,” Crosby said. “That seems to be the way it works out, but obviously we care a lot about each other and like to see each other have success.

“Whether it’s Tanger having a big night like that or Geno moving up the list, you’re always proud to see your teammates accomplish those things like that, and especially guys that you’ve seen do things like that over the years.”

i love my core 🥹

[wrongplacerighttime]

agent!harry x agent!fmc

the one where grace wants to forget and harry doesn’t. then she disappears. // little bunny part 5

well. here we are 🥺 the last part 🥺 brb i’m actually gonna cry about it.

little bunny masterlist

wc: 6.8k

tw: kidnapping, talks of murder, hurt/comfort trope, size kink, breeding kink (think that’s all) (as always let me know if i missed any)

bitter winds

It’s been the loneliest week of Grace’s life, she thinks. She’s been avoiding Harry like the plague, and he hasn’t necessarily been trying to see her, either. She knows she messed up, knows she broke the unspoken rule they seemed to have about not expressing feelings. It was supposed to be just sex.

They got back from Florida a few days ago, thankfully it was on Thursday and Aaron gave them Friday to rest. The weekend didn’t bring any new cases, so they didn’t speak. Didn’t have to be around each other

Harry had hovered over her name on his screen a time or two over the weekend (more like seven), and he just couldn’t bring himself to message or call. He stared at her name until the letters blurred together and it became illegible. He wanted to talk to her, but he couldn’t bring himself to take the plunge. He was afraid of his feelings, afraid of losing her because he didn’t know how to love her the way she deserved. She deserved someone good for her, and that wasn’t him…didn’t think it could ever be him. And he feels guilty—guilty that he’s taking something from her that he thinks he could never return.

Grace just doesn’t check her phone anyway, she hides under the covers and wishes it away. The feelings, the words she’d spoken…all of it. She replays his confusion on the other end of the phone, the way he said her name hesitantly, like he was warning her, at the words she had let slip. Words that were never intended to be spoken aloud. This humiliation feels like she’s stabbed herself in the chest, and his response was the twist of the knife.

——

Monday comes and Grace has to quite literally drag herself out of bed when her alarm blares through the tranquility of her room. She was half tempted to just not show up, but that wasn’t an option because she went AWOL during the last case after she confessed her love to Harry. She was angry at herself…at him. She knew it was misplaced. She had no reason to be in a sour mood, but she couldn’t help but just feel done. Her heart feels heavy in her chest, like it was full of concrete.

At the office, they keep their distance. She felt the pang in her heart when she heard his familiar footsteps walking through the door, and it took every fiber of effort to not look at him. She typed away on her keyboard, his eyes flitting to her once. When she didn’t so much as glance his way, he kept walking.

The tension was sharp, heavy. Their coworkers whispered to each other when they thought no one was listening, betting on which one would break first, sharing theories about what happened. As far as they were concerned the pair were innately opposite, but their banter kept the office light and airy. The cloud cover outside mirrored what it felt like in the office now. Cold and bitter and gloomy. Aarons door opening causes them all to look up. He looks around, raising a brow but choosing to ignore the uneasiness in the atmosphere.

“We have a case.”

——

Grace had a feeling of dread settled in her stomach the moment they landed in Caddo County, Oklahoma. It was January, it wasn’t terribly hot yet and it wasn’t tornado season, but something just felt off. She chalked it up to it being because of the case, just nervous. They made a home in the small police station, working with them to set up an area in the conference room and get to work. There have been a couple of murders in the small village of Fort Seminole. Small was an understatement. The population was less than 600 and the citizens were terrified that something like this was happening to their community. They thought it was the same person but called in the help of the FBI because they found a body dumped just three hours outside of Oklahoma in an even smaller town in Texas…and if it crossed state lines, it was a federal case anyway.

Aaron had made sure Grace and Harry were inevitably stuck working the geographical profile together, which means they would have to speak eventually. Somehow he had known that they had something they needed to work out, and he was hoping this would give them an excuse to do it.

The only sound in the conference room was the rustling of papers, cardstock and push pins. Grace had her back turned to Harry, shaking the box of pins, thinking to herself as she labeled the map. Red pins are for crime scenes and green are for the victims’ residence. She could feel his eyes on her, her heart felt like it was going a mile a minute and would beat out of her chest any second.

“Grace.” Her name coming from his lips is quiet, almost a whisper, and he’s tiptoeing around eggshells. She speaks before he can add anything else.

“Harry, listen. We don’t have to talk about it. We can just…go back to how things were before. Forget any of it ever happened, okay?” Her voice shakes, and he’s taken off guard by her statement.

“I don’t want to forget it, Grace.” His voice is soft, a gentleness she’s not used to hearing from him. It takes her by surprise. She bites the inside of her cheek, willing the stinging in the corners of her eyes to go away before she makes a fool of herself again.

“I think it’s better if we do.” She manages to say, swallowing the lump in her throat before turning back to the map so he can’t see her blinking the tears away. And he doesn’t know where this is coming from, because he meant what he said—he didn’t want to forget. He hears a sniffle coming from across the room and he watches her reach up to swipe a finger under the corner of her eye. All he wants to do is go to her, kiss her and tell her it’ll all be okay. That he feels the same.

He stays where he’s at, because if she wants to forget, he’ll try his best to forget, too.

——

Two days pass with no other incidents. They believe the suspect has likely caught wind of them being in town and has decided to lay low. They have alerts set up to send them any info on any case that is remotely similar to theirs within a 75 mile radius. Nothing, or anywhere, could be ruled out at this point. The radio never comes on, they never get any calls.

Grace chews on the end of her pen while reading over a report of the last victim. It just didn’t seem right. It felt like they were missing something. He was a single white male with no family in the area. His home had been left abandoned, frozen in time in the wake of his murder. The crime scene has long been cleaned but she believes she could still find something. She looks around, everyone else busy with their respective tasks and she decides she’ll just go alone.

“I’m going to the Jefferson house. See if we missed anything,” She mumbles to Aaron and he hums nodding once without looking up from the paper in front of him. She looks around, spotting Harry deep in conversation with a deputy and a pang stabs her heart. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, turning and walking out the double doors into the Oklahoman sunset.

The drive to the house was quick, easy to find. It was well put together, no mess or signs of a struggle inside due to the clean up crew already having gotten the place back in order. Dust rings rest on furniture, the only thing left of broken decor. The only indication a crime had happened here was the remnants of the bright yellow tape wound around the pillars of the front porch. Grace walks around, looking at the signs of someone’s livelihood, a life taken before it ever really got to begin, and she feels a twinge of guilt, grief for someone she didn’t even know. There were photos hung on the wall—pictures of the victim and their friends, pictures of their relatives with smiles so wide it was almost contagious. She shakes her head once, trying to shake away the thoughts and clear her mind.

She walks through, searching for anything that might stick out. She knew it would be almost impossible, but she was just hoping, praying, for something to catch her eye. She makes her way into the bathroom, taking in her surroundings and she spots a single drop of red on the white tile. When she bends down, she catches a glimpse of a blood soaked t-shirt in the bottom of the dirty laundry basket.

She stands, but before she can take another step, she feels a prick on her neck.

Then she blacks out.

——

When Grace comes to, her vision is blurry and her head is pounding. Her mouth feels drier than the Sahara and she tries to stand, but her legs are tied to the chair she’s sitting on, pulling on her hands she finds them bound behind her back. Her heart begins to race and her breathing becomes erratic.

“Pause. Breathe. In. Out.” She tells herself, blinking to clear the cloudiness from her dry eyes. She assesses the situation once her brain has calmed down enough to form a coherent thought. The room is dimly lit with one singular light bulb hanging over her head, the chair she’s sitting in is wooden and uncomfortable, rubbing the bare skin of her arms raw. Her hands feel like they’re bound with rope and she tries to pinpoint the nearest exit.

She can’t.

She turns the chair as much as she can without making herself topple over and she sees a set of stairs.

“Okay. I’m in a basement.” She says to herself, looking for anything she can maybe rub the rope against to loosen it or cut it. Then she hears a door opening followed by footsteps. She tries to calm her breathing and slow her heart rate. “Breathe. You’re trained for situations like this.”

A tall, burly man comes to stand in front of her. Her eyes flare with malice as he looks down at her, a scruffy beard hiding most of his lower half and a Stetson perched on the top of his head. His hair is long and greasy underneath, looking like it hadn’t been washed in days or even weeks.

He doesn’t say a word, just looks her over once from under the brim that hiding his features from her before snapping a singular picture of her with the polaroid camera she didn’t notice he’d carried in with him. The flash is blinding and leaves her vision spotty, forcing her eyes to squeeze shut. Without another word, he walks around her, back up the stairs and the door slams shut. She hears a lock twist and she’s alone again.

——

The next morning, Harry sits up in the uncomfortable motel bed, feeling like he slept on a plank of wood, and stretches his arms above his head. He’s already decided he’s going to try to talk to Grace today and apologize for being so distant. He wants to make it work, truly. He doesn’t want her to be afraid of loving him. She had left the police station around 6 PM yesterday and he didn’t see her before she came back to the motel so he decided to just leave her be when he rolled into the parking lot around 10:00. The light was off, as far as he could tell and he assumed she had been in bed already. She was always tired when they traveled outside of their own city, he had learned. She gave the excuse that it was due to not being in her own bed but he knew she was always overthinking and anxious about the cases they worked, getting too close to the families or friends of the victims and making her heart ache for them. That’s what made her a good agent, her heart was really in it to solve the case. It also sometimes got her in trouble.

He dresses for the day, brushing his teeth and looking in the mirror once before walking out the door of his room. He walks down the sidewalk of the dingy little motel, down to room 5, the one Grace would be in. He takes a deep breath, and he knocks. He waits.

Nothing.

He knocks again, “maybe she didn’t hear me?” He thinks. He waits and listens, no rustling behind the door. No footsteps drawing closer. He peeks through the window and he can just barely make out the shape of the bed that was still made through the crack in the curtains, and he thought it was unusual. Grace wasn’t the “make your bed every morning” type.

He makes his way to the station, looking around the room for her. He sees everyone except her. He starts to panic, and the room feels small and he can’t breathe.

“Styles. What’s wrong?” Aaron asks, watching Harry’s head swivel erratic like he was looking for something.

“Where’s Grace?” His words run together, tongue feeling thick in his mouth and dread forming a pit in his stomach.

“She’s probably still at the motel, I tried to call her but she didn’t answer.”

“She’s not there. The bed’s still made like she never even went in the room.” He runs a hand through his hair, heart pounding in his chest so hard he can hear it in his ears. “She’s not here and she’s not there. She’s gone. She’s missing.”

“Styles I’m sure there’s a logical explanation, let’s not jump to conclusions just yet.” Aaron tried to assure but he can’t help but feel a little scared also. He tries to call Grace again but it goes straight to voicemail. Before he can say anything, a deputy walks up to them holding an envelope. He hands it to Harry without a word, and Harry doesn’t look twice at the person handing it to him. He snatches it, flipping it over. Agent Styles is scrawled across the front. He slides his finger through the seal to open it, finding the back of a polaroid facing outwards. The same signature of the person they’re looking for. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before flipping it over.

It’s Grace.

Tied to a chair and peering up at the person taking the photo of her. She looks physically unharmed, and seeing her in this position breaks his fucking heart. He turns it around, shoving it in Aaron’s face.

“This logical enough for you?” He sneers before throwing it at him in a fit of rage, he doesn’t stay to watch it flutter to the floor as he turns towards the door, storming out to the sidewalk.

“Fuck!” He yells over and over, slapping his hands against the brick of the building. He leans his head against the rough wall, feeling angry and scared tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

And the only thing running through his brain is that he should’ve told her he loved her, too.

——

After a brief walk around the block to calm his brain, he walks back into the station where the energy is buzzing and nervous. He doesn’t know where to even start, like his mind has short circuited and all the knowledge he possesses about being an agent is just gone. Lost. He sees her photo up on the board labeled “missing” underneath and he almost crumbles then. He didn’t want her to be chalked up as just another person. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that the rest of the team wouldn’t allow it to be that way, he was just so fucking nervous. He spots Aaron leaned over the table looking at a map of the area and he makes a beeline for him, dodging around busy bodies in the room.

“Aaron, we have to find her. We have to.” His voice is shaky and he feels like a small puppy standing under its owner at the gaze of his boss. Aaron’s expression softens and he gives Harry an apologetic look.

“We will, Harry.” Harry nods. “I need your head clear. Are you able to work the case? If you’re not, I need you to stand down. I need your word.”

“Yes. My head is clear. I just want her back.” He nods, his voice sounding so small in the chatter around them. Aaron gives him a knowing look, nodding once back to him.

“She told me yesterday she was going to the Jefferson house. She wanted to see if they missed anything after the scene got cleaned up. She thought something was missing from the case.” He pauses, looking at Harry who’s staring blankly at the map in front of them. “I sent Jenna and Kelly to the house while you were out. They should be arriving any moment now.”

The waiting was the worst part.

Finally, the phone rang and they confirmed that the Jefferson house is where Grace was last seen. The car she took was left in the driveway unlocked with her phone on the driver's seat, along with her badge and gun. They couldn’t track her, and whoever it was knew that was the first thing they would try to do.

Back to square one.

——

Grace doesn’t know how long she’s been down here. Her mouth is still dry from whatever drug was injected into her and she could feel the numbness tingling in her fingertips from the position of her arms. The rope had rubbed her wrists raw and if she shifted it stung, making her wince in pain. She knows the man who took her is obviously wanting her to die of “natural” causes, or else he would’ve fed her something by now.

She thinks about the team. Have they figured out she’s been taken and not just disappeared on her own accord? She’s had time to sit with her thoughts, thoughts of Harry fill her mind. Will she see him again? Before long she’ll be dehydrated. She hasn’t had anything to drink, and all he’s done is take a picture of her and leave. He hasn’t been down here again. Even then he didn’t say anything. She’s pretty sure he just wants to leave her here to rot.

She tries to think of how to get herself out. She thinks of the face she saw and what features she could make out in the low lighting and she feels like it almost looks familiar to her. The eyes peeking under the black Stetson play over and over in her head, and then she hears the door opening again for the first time since he took the photo of her. She hears his footsteps moving closer to her. No Stetson, in uniform. And when he steps in front of her, she knows then.

“It’s you.” She sneers.

——

At the station, they all read over every single thread of evidence they have, but nothing is standing out. Grace always knew what to look for, able to connect the dots faster than any of them. Kelly had fallen asleep at the desk she had made a home in, refusing to leave until something had stuck out to her. Aaron was still staring at the map, and Harry was pacing, file in hand. Grace had said it felt like they were missing something before she left and he was determined to figure it out. It was her life on the line now.

He was reading a sentence when it stuck out to him.

The woman was never physically harmed, and the man was stabbed multiple times after being tortured, cuts on his back like he was beaten with a belt. Both had a polaroid picture on their back when they died, the man left in his home with one and the woman whose body was dumped across state lines had one too. They knew this, they thought it was some kind of twisted signature.

They didn’t account for both of them having a finger cut off.

Which makes this case very similar to one they worked in Arkansas a few years ago, but they never caught the guy. They profiled the man to have been missing a finger himself, the product of very traumatic abuse in childhood. They found both parents dead, his father with belt marks on his back and beaten and stabbed. The mom was left physically unharmed.

And they found his sister tied to a chair in the basement, body still warm. Harry had pulled her restraints off and performed life saving measures. They got her back, her heart had stopped just before they found her. Once she was well in the hospital they questioned her. She told them it was her brother Jack Henderson, and they searched everywhere for him. It seemed as though he had gone on the lam, probably crossing the border and the case had been left open until they did. He was on the most wanted list.

And he had been here.

In this station.

“Aaron. It’s Jack Henderson.” Harry says without looking up, staring at the file with wide eyes. Aaron looks at him quizzically. “We just thought this guy took the fingers as souvenirs and left the polaroids as some twisted game, right? It’s him. Same MO, brutally murdered the male, female was essentially physically unharmed. Didn’t we take a polaroid from his house as evidence? We found a bunch of pictures of his tortured father, and one of his sister strapped to that chair in their basement. He’s doing this to get our attention. Trying to prove that he will get away a second time.”

“He didn’t cut off the same fingers as his though? How can you be sure?”

“He’s the one who handed me the envelope with Grace’s picture. It didn’t stick out to me until I read that the woman’s first finger had been cut off and had disappeared. He’s trying to lead us off his trail because he’s not doing it exactly the same, he’s doing just enough to get our attention.” He pauses. “When the deputy brought me the envelope, it was addressed as Agent Styles. Not Mr., not Harry. Agent. No one in this town that we’ve talked to has addressed me as agent, how would the unsub know my name unless he already knew me.” Aaron nods, taking in his theory and thinking that this is the closest thing they have to making sense.

“Aaron. He’s doing this to get back at me, for saving his sister. His sister is in WITSEC. He can’t find her to finish the job…he’s going to take Grace from me.” His voice broke on the last part, and he almost fell to the floor, his knees growing weak. He knows how long a person can last without food or water, her organs will start to shut down after three days, that’s the average. It’s been almost that.

They waste no time pulling up the file on Jack Henderson. The show his picture to every deputy before someone recognizes him. He goes by an alias, Greg Price and he doesn’t look like the same guy he used to. The only reason one had recognized him was because he had seen an old picture in Greg’s house of him and his mother. No one batted an eye when he walked in the building dressed as a deputy because they were all paying attention to their own things, and the profilers expected this to be the last place he would’ve been.

Jack was new(ish) to town. In a village of not even 600 people, people who’d grown and lived their entire lives here, he’d never not be the new guy. He showed up with a moving truck and bought a house just outside of town. He’d faked his identity, his qualifications, and ended up being hired as a deputy not long after he moved here. They’d had his address, jumping into vehicles as the sheriff escorted them down the winding roads with lights and sirens.

They whipped into the yard, Harry not wasting any time by throwing the door open and jumping out before the car was even shifted into park. He draws his weapon, kicking open the door left cracked. The house is eerily quiet as he moves through the rooms, taking the role of point and clearing them with Aaron following his direction. They come to a door that’s locked with a chain lock and deadbolt.

Harry quickly turns the lock, undoing the chain and hesitantly makes his way down the stairs. He looks right, then left and there she is. Grace. All thoughts clear his brain besides any that have to do with her. He runs the short distance, dropping to his knees and taking her face between his hands, lifting her head as it lulls to the side.

“Grace. Wake up, baby.” He lightly taps her cheek and her eyes flutter behind her closed lids. He reaches behind her, untying the knot keeping her hands bound and they fall to her side. She’s weak, having passed out a short time before they got there. He checks her pulse, slow but steady enough to not cause concern and he blows out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in.

He unties her legs with one hand, taking her and carrying her up the stairs and to the medic on the scene. He stays with her as they hook her to an IV, poking her several times before they are able to find a vein not affected by the dehydration. They informed him where they were taking her but he insisted on riding with her, wanting to be there if she woke up and didn’t know where she was. He holds her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles and willing her to open her eyes and just look at him so he could talk to her. He runs his fingers over the angry red marks left on her wrists and he curses himself for not being there sooner.

Things pass in a blur after that, the adrenaline of the past few wearing off and exhaustion taking over his body. He stays with her until they clear her to leave, and she doesn’t talk. Doesn’t say a word, not for a few hours at least.

“I’m sorry.” He hears her whisper finally, looking out the window. “I should’ve taken someone with me.”

“It’s not your fault. Please don’t blame yourself.” He reassures her, and she nods once, and that’s all she says.

The morning hours creep into the sky, Aaron comes to get them, taking them back to the motel. Harry walks Grace to her room, unlocking and opening the door for her.

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks, brushing her hair behind her ear and she shakes her head as she leans into his touch. He wanted to say the words, seeing the sadness and pain in her eyes all he wanted to do was say them. He swallows them down.

“No. I’ll be okay. I just need a shower, and sleep. Still tired.” He nods, hesitating to leave her, not wanting to take his eyes off her ever again. But he lets her be alone, trudging back to his own room and collapsing into the bed.

She sits in the shower after scrubbing her entire body raw, hugging her knees to her chest and letting the water run over her until it’s freezing and she���s shivering and she forced herself to get up. She dresses, going to the bed and pulling the covers up to her chin, daylight filtering through the window.

She doesn’t sleep.

——

Later that night, when they’re back in D.C, Harry takes her hand and leads her into her apartment. It’s the first time he’s been here and it’s just so…her. She hasn’t said much, and he doesn’t expect her to. Her mind is still reeling from the traumatic events of the past few days.

“Do you want to eat or anything?” He asks, his voice quiet and timid. She shakes her head, having no appetite. She swore to Aaron on the jet that she would never step foot in the state of Oklahoma ever again, and he told her she wouldn’t have to. He would make sure of it. They ended up finding Jack heading West out of the state, likely back towards Mexico. She’s not looking forward to the trial she’ll inevitably have to sit through and recount the experience.

“Okay.” He nods, looking around, shoving his hands in his pockets as he faces her. One arm crossed over her chest and she looks at the floor, tears brimming her lashline and she tried to blink them away, feeling like her emotions are a rollercoaster she can’t get off of.

“Just wanna go to bed, I think.” She mumbles. He nods, moving to walk around her and leave but she stops him.

“Wait.” She grabs his arm, looking up at him with pain in her eyes and he almost crumbles right then. “Don’t go. Please. I don’t want to be alone right now. Will you stay?” And he would, a million times over just for her. He’d do anything for her.

“Yes, baby. Of course. Just didn’t know if you’d want me here.”

“Always want you with me.” She looks towards the floor again, her voice sounding so small and he moves closer, placing his hands on either side of her face and forcing her to look up at him.

“I know, sweet girl. Always want you with me, too. Never gonna let you out of my sight again, okay?” He looks at her, his eyes flitting between hers and she nods, her bottom lip quivering as he pulls her into his chest and wraps his arms around her. She fists his shirt and he kisses the top of her head ever so gently, the sweet smell of her hair filling his senses and she’s all he knows. All he ever wants to know. “Let’s go to bed.”

She leads him down the small hallway to her room, but he leads her to her bed and makes her sit on the edge. He goes into her closet and picks out something for her to wear to bed, something comfortable and he kneels in front of her, untying the laces of her boots and pulling them off of her. Taking her hands in his, he brings her wrists to his mouth and kisses over the marks left on them, gently so as to not irritate them further. He runs his hands from her calves up to her thighs, flicking the button undone and she shifts her hips as he pulls the denim from her legs. Leaning in, he peppers small kisses right above her knees and savors the feeling of her skin against his lips. She watches him below her, a heat swirling just below her navel and she forces her mind away from those thoughts. He reaches up, lifting the hem of her shirt as she raises her arms, discarding the t-shirt on the floor with her jeans. He swallows when he notices her chest is bare, her nipples hardening when the cool air hits her skin and she sucks in a breath. His hands run up her thighs and grip her hips, pulling her body closer to him. Grace tangles her hands in his hair at the nape of his neck like she knows he likes,dipping down and brushing her nose against his. He smiles, looking over her features with admiration in his eyes. Her freckles spanning over her cheeks, the pink of her lips that he loves to kiss, her eyes so blue he could swim in them. She nudges him again, finally touching her lips to his.

He kisses her gently, not wanting to lead her into anything she might not want to do. She pushes her lips against his, and he sucks in a breath through his nose as she arches her back. Her chest presses against him and his hands sprawl across her back, holding her as close as he can get her. He sighs against her lips, moving to crawl over top of her and slotting his knee between her thighs without breaking their kiss. She lays back, his arms caging around her head as his muscles flex and extend to bear his weight. Their tongues dance together now, and she whines into his mouth causing him to pull away just enough to look at her.

“Grace.” He says her name breathlessly, his brows furrowing together slightly. “I don’t wanna hurt you, baby. Just got you back. We don’t have to do this.” She shakes her head, her chin jutting upwards and pushing her body into his again.

“You won’t. Promise. Just need you. Missed you so much, Harry.” She whispers, but she can still see the uncertainty in his eyes. “Please. Help me forget, just want to forget about it for a while.” Her voice wavers slightly and he nods once. She grinds against his leg and her eyes flutter closed as a jolt of pleasure runs down her spine, and how can he resist when she just looks so pretty underneath him like this? He shifts his weight to one arm, his fingers dancing down her skin so delicately. He feels the way her stomach flexes under his fingertips, sensitive and wanting to push against him more. He grips her hip, fingertips dimpling the skin underneath and she wraps her legs around his waist. He grinds against her, creating friction between them as she moans into his mouth.

“Fuck, Grace. You get me so worked up. Wanna fuck you, but just wanna take care of you.”

“Please, Har. Please. Fuck me.” She begs and he smirks at her eagerness, dropping his head to her shoulder and sinking his teeth into the skin of her collarbone. Her hips rut against him and she cries out, the sensation taking her off guard before he soothes with his tongue and kisses so gently. He pushes himself up onto his knees, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. Grace watches him through hazy eyes and she takes her bottom lip between her teeth.

“So pretty.” He mumbles from above her, pulling the belt from the loops and she wants to squeeze her thighs together but his body between them blocks her from doing so. He pushes the both his jeans and briefs down in one go, kicking them from his legs as he wraps his own hand around the base of his hard cock and tugging a few times before he leans back over her. She can feel the tip of him nudging at her hole through the material of her underwear and she reaches between their bodies. She wraps her own hand around him, his head dropping to her chest and he swears under his breath.

“Please.” She whines, begging him for anything he’ll give her. Truthfully, he’s just so caught up in having her back that he wants to just savor the moment, take his time with her. Something he doesn't get to do often. He moves the material of her underwear to the side, dragging a finger through her arousal and collecting it there. He brings it up, taking it into his mouth and wrapping his lips around it, tasting her.

“Taste so sweet, bunny. Sweetest I’ve ever had.” He whispers in her ear and she swears she can feel herself melting into the mattress. Unable to wait any longer, he pushes her panties down her thighs and she kicks them off. Harry drags the tip of his cock through her folds once before pushing against her weepy hole. He’s so used to just pounding into her, and he likes the change of pace. Likes watching her squirm while she waits, trying to buck into him and get more of him inside her.

“Let me go slow, Grace. Just got you back. Let me take my time with you.” She nods slowly and he smiles down at her. “That’s my girl.” He feels her clenching around almost nothing and he throws his head back, eyes fluttering closed as he pushes ever so slowly into her. So tight he’s seeing stars. Her jaw goes slack and all she can do is take it, insatiable for the feeling of him stretching her and filling her.

“So fucking tight, bunny. Gonna squeeze the life out of me.” He grumbles. He grabs her hips again, squeezing and he lifts her so slightly to adjust the angle. He pushes all the way in, dropping his gaze and watching the way he disappears inside her. He could almost cum right then.

“Fuck, barely fits doesn’t it? Taking me so fucking good, sweet girl. Look at you.” He croons, his words pushing through the pleasure buzzing around her brain and she wiggles her hips, bucking up into him before he forces them back down. He pulls out at a torturous pace, her arousal coating him and sending his brain haywire.

“Kiss me.” She breathes out, and he does. He pushes back into her, leaning over her and forcefully pressing his lips to hers. They’re a mix of pants and moans as he sets his pace, comfortable and slow, allowing her to feel every inch of him. The stretch feels like a delicious mix of pain and pleasure, and every time his hips meet hers she can feel him so fucking deep inside her she could cry. “So deep Har, feels so fucking good.” Her back arches off the bed and he kisses the valley between her breasts as she fists the sheets beneath them.

“Yeah? Feel me all the way in your belly?” He feels a haze settling over his mind and he takes her hand, bringing it between their bodies and resting her palm just below her navel with his hand over hers. He presses her hand down slightly, and as he drives into her again and again she feels tears brimming her lash line at the sensation, a smirk painted on his face. “Feel that? Know you do. Only I can do this, right bunny? I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.” He mumbles into her ear and she nods wordlessly, unable to form a coherent sentence. “There you go, baby. Feel so fucking good around my cock.”

“More.” She gasps and he obliges, picking up his pace slightly and he hits just the right spot every time. She knows it’s coming, dangling by fingertips on the edge of that blissful feeling as she feels the spool begin to unravel.

“Gonna get you all full of me, sweet girl. Let me give you my babies, yeah? Give you everything, be such a good mama.” He grits out through his teeth clenched together and she feels dizzy, his words penetrating a spot in her brain she didn’t know existed until him.

“Fuck, Harry.” She whines and he smiles against the curve of her neck, knowing she loves when he talks to her like this.

“Yeah? Like the thought of that? Look so fucking cute with your belly all swollen ‘cause of me. Know you would.” He mumbles and he’s picturing it, picturing it all in his brain and trying to hold onto his release as long as he can. His hips rock into her and she’s still got her hand on her belly and he dips down, attaching his lips around one of her hardened peaks on her breast and her body jolts, her pussy squeezing around him. He knows she’s close. He rolls her nipple between his teeth, flicking with his tongue and he feels her fluttering around him.

“Please Har. Need it so bad. Please cum in me, please.” Her words are jumbled and falling from her lips with ease.

“Never wanna be without you, sweet girl. Love you so fucking much.” He’s a mess of moans and whispering sweet nothings in her ear, determined to never let her question his intentions ever again, and it sends her over, eyes squeezing together so tightly she sees stars. The thread unravels and she throws her arms around his neck, holding him close to her. Her legs wrap around his hips and he thrusts into her one more time before he’s filling her to the hilt, spilling his warmth into her. And it’s so warm, making her head feel fuzzy.

They lay there, legs still wrapped around his hips, sweaty skin sticking together. He pulls back and a lazy grin spreads across her face when his eyes meet hers. She brings her hand up, poking a finger to his nose and he smiles wide at her, a sparkle dancing in his eye and just being in awe of her beauty…her flushed cheeks, her wet lashes, her swollen lips from kisses, her little baby hairs sticking to her temple with sweat. And they stay there, holding each other, saying I love you through light touches and longing gazes, without using any words.

But they don’t need to.

They just know.

taglist: @indierockgirrl @hermionelove @storyschanging @hannah9921

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[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 12 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bob asks you to go out for drinks at the Hard Deck as a thank you for helping out all week, and there's a special someone waiting for you when you get there. After meeting some of Bradley's other friends, the bubble you had been living in bursts, and you're left questioning everything. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3300 words

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

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

You managed to bumble your way through practice with Bob on Monday, mostly running around in your suit and taking care of whatever he needed. Your phone conversation with Bradley the night before had left you with just a few functioning brain cells, so it was a good thing you didn't need to take charge.

In fact, if you were left to your own thoughts for too long, you started thinking about how wet his voice made you. And you kept picturing the photo of his hard cock that you had shamelessly saved to your phone in a locked folder with personal items such as your tax return.

You felt flustered all week, and to make matters more interesting, Molly surprised you at practice on Thursday. 

"I had the day off!" she told Everett, scooping him into a hug when he climbed out of the car. The absence of the Bronco made you frown a bit as you circled your car to where your sister was tickling Everett. 

You kissed her cheek. "We had no idea you'd be here!"

She grinned at you as she sent Everett ahead toward the bleachers. "I have a date tonight," she sang in an obnoxious voice. "With Coach Cute Glasses."

"You do?" you gasped, happy Bob had taken the initiative. 

"Yep. We're going on a little stroll through the park after practice and then grabbing a late dinner."

"Molly!" you squealed, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her. "Bob is so sweet. Do not ruin him."

She turned to look at him out on the ballfield, and a soft smile touched her lips. "I make no guarantees." You and she started walking, and she held your high heels for you as you changed out of them. "Oh, and actually, Bob has something he wants to ask you, too."

"Me? What?" You had no idea what your sister was talking about, but as soon as you got to the bleachers, Bob came over to the three of you as you changed Everett's shoes.

"Hi, Molly," he said softly, and you watched your sister do the unthinkable. She planted one hand firmly on his chest like it belonged there, and she kissed him on the cheek. You watched him turn bright red, and all of the other moms looked like they were about to reach for their pitchforks. 

"Hey, Coach Cute Glasses," Molly said with a laugh that had Bob fiddling with his whistle. "I'm excited for our plans tonight."

Sandra and Tara appeared about ready to rage, looking between you and your sister like the two of you had stolen the most priceless of treasures. But you supposed you kind of had.

When Bob finally recovered, he asked you, "Team Mom? Can I take you out for a drink tomorrow evening as a thank you? I wouldn't have made it through the game last Saturday or the practices this week without your help."

"I'll stay with Ev for you," Molly added, nodding her head. "You deserve it."

"Oh, that's not necessary, Bob," you protested, but then Molly was glaring at you. "Okay, sure," you said, sending Everett out to start warming up. 

"Great," Bob said, and you followed him out to home plate as Molly sat down on the bleachers. "There's a Navy officer hangout called the Hard Deck. You want to meet me there after work?"

"Sounds good. Thanks, Bob."

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

Bradley felt a little dirty every time he pulled up the photos you sent him, but he really enjoyed scrolling through the progression of seeing you in your bra to seeing you bare for him. You were something else. So sexy. So funny. So smart.

It was Friday morning, and he had one more flight simulation to go. And if he skipped lunch, he could probably get home by dinnertime. Bob had mentioned that he was taking you to the Hard Deck for drinks tonight, and Bradley desperately wanted to get back in time for that. He couldn't wait to see the look on Nat's face when she met you.

Bob had also told him about his date with Molly. He gushed about how much he liked her for fourteen messages in the text thread, and Bradley didn't know how Bob managed to pull this one off.

Bradley hit the road for the long drive back to San Diego, deciding to skip changing out of his uniform. His khakis weren't the most comfortable thing in the world, but at least he'd get back sooner. He wound along the coastal roads, passing some ballfields on the way. He was pretty sure Everett would be able to make a real pitch team by next spring, but Bradley was definitely going to have to work on some things with him before then. It was okay, they had almost a year to get him there.

Bradley had also been thinking about what he could tell the kids in Everett's class about aviation during his career day speech. The fact that Bradley was looking forward to that still kind of shocked him.

The sun was setting when Bradley pulled into the Hard Deck parking lot, and he spotted your car right away. Then he spotted you, heading for the entrance in your tight, black skirt and heels.

"Kitten!" he called out the open window, and you spun around to face him with a smile on your face. He quickly found an empty parking space and barely had the Bronco in park before you were there. "I missed you," he said, climbing down and closing his door. 

Your arms were instantly around his neck, and you were kissing him so sweetly. "I didn't know you would be here," you whispered against his lips. Your hand trailed down his chest to play with his pins while you nibbled on his lips. 

"I drove straight through to get back to you sooner, Kitten." That seemed to do something to you as you parted your lips and tasted his tongue.

He turned and pinned you against the Bronco, licking and kissing his way up your neck. "You look hot in your uniform," you moaned. 

"You wore my favorite skirt," he mumbled, and you gasped as he ran his palm down the front of it. You were rubbing yourself against him with your fingers tangled up in his hair, and Bradley was hard as a rock for you. 

"Bradley," you whimpered as he nuzzled his nose down the front of your blouse. He kissed and tasted the tops of your breasts while you scraped your nails along his scalp. You were so sweet. His mind was flooded with thoughts of getting you in his bed with your tight skirt bunched up around your waist and your pussy overflowing with his cum.

He kissed you hard, making the back of your head tap the side window. "Can I take you home, Kitten? Skip the bar?"

You eyed his face in the dim, dusk light. "Yes, but I need to have one drink first," you promised him, running your fingers along his mustache. "I told Bob I'd meet him."

Bradley groaned and kissed your fingertips and then your palm and the inside of your wrist. "Just one drink. Then I get some alone time with you."

When Bradley wrapped his arm around your waist, you snuggled in next to him, kissing his bicep just below his uniform sleeve. "I can't believe you wear this out in public," you muttered, running your fingers along his pins again. "I think I changed my mind. Let's leave now."

Bradley chuckled and held the door open for you, guiding you inside the noisy bar with his hand at your lower back. "One drink," he reminded you. "Then you're mine, Kitten."

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

You felt warm and flushed all over as Bradley guided you through the crowded bar. There were people in uniforms and some in civilian clothes, and you spotted Bob near the pool table as he waved to you. 

"Team Mom!" he announced as you and Bradley neared him. "And Rooster, you made it back," he added, fist bumping Bradley. You had never heard anyone use his call sign before, and it made you laugh. 

"I forgot your name was Rooster," you said, smiling up at his face as he lazily rubbed your back. "What's yours, Bob?"

You watched his cheeks flush in embarrassment. "It's actually just Bob."

"Oh," you said, thoroughly confused as you were immediately introduced to a beautiful woman who went by Phoenix.

"So, she's the Team Mom," she said with a devilish grin in Bradley's direction. "I think that would be your aviator call sign. Team Mom. Also, I'm still pissd you don't have another sister." Phoenix sighed and shook her head at you.

You laughed as she offered to buy you a drink, but then Bob stepped in. "No, it's on me! It's the least I can do since you gave up so much of your time this week to fill in for Bradley. What do you like?"

Bradley leaned down and kissed your temple and murmured, "Expensive champagne." He was making your tummy feel warm, the way he was being so affectionate in front of his friends and colleagues. You turned to look at him and he kissed you softly. 

You pulled away, suddenly feeling shy; five more minutes in the parking lot with him and you'd have been fucking on his backseat, but apparently this was too much.

"I'll have a beer. Thanks, Bob," you managed, cuddling up next to Bradley's side as Bob headed to the bar. 

"Hey, Rooster. You playing us a song tonight?" drawled a handsome blond man who was smirking at you. 

Bradley glanced down at you. "You like Great Balls of Fire?" he asked.

You gave him a strange look. "As long as you're talking about the song and not some sort of medical condition, then yes, I do."

Bradley started laughing with his head tipped back, and you grinned as the handsome blond laughed, too. "You're funny. My name's Jake," he said, shaking your hand as Bradley meandered a few feet away to sit down at the piano. 

You introduced yourself to Jake and listened to the tinkling sound of the keys as Bradley warmed up. You had no idea he was musically gifted, but you were excited to hear him play. He was probably one of those severely annoying people who was good at everything. He started playing the song, and even his singing voice was good. 

"So, how do you know Rooster and Bob?" Jake drawled, drawing your attention back to him just as Bob handed you a pint of beer. 

You thanked him and took a sip. "My son is on their tee ball team."

"How old's your kid?" Jake asked, smiling at you in a way that had you a little flustered. 

"He's almost seven." You were still distracted by Bradley, and now he was looking at you as he played. He winked only at you, even though he was starting to draw a crowd.

"I love kids," Jake informed you. "Hey, when you're done that beer, let me buy you another one."

"Oh, okay," you agreed, and then Bob called over to Jake.

"Come on, Hangman. Leave our Team Mom alone!"

Jake looked at you with renewed interest as you drank your beer. "Oh shit. So you're the Team Mom. I've heard a lot about you."

You were really surprised. "You have?" you asked as Bradley finished playing the song. You clapped for him along with everyone else, and then he was making his way back over.

"Yeah," Jake replied with a laugh. "You're the hot mom that Bradley is never going to date, because moms aren't his thing."

Your smile immediately vanished from your face. "What?"

Jake waved his hand in the air while he sipped his drink, as if you were supposed to know exactly what he was talking about. As if you weren't immediately on high alert and having a difficult time breathing. "You know...too much baggage. Complicated. Not worth the aggravation. That sort of shit."

You were frozen in place, barely able to speak. "He said that?" Your voice sounded tiny and your throat was tight. You ran your fingers along your neck, trying to make sense of this.

"Yeah, he went on and on the one night we were all hanging out."

Bradley had told his friends he would never date you. He had said you were too complicated. He told them you weren't worth his time. And now he was walking your way, smiling at you like you were still expected to go back to his place after this and let him fuck you. That had been his plan the entire time.

"But listen," Jake added. "I don't feel that way at all. If you're interested, I'd love to take you out to dinner." You thought maybe Jake was a little drunk, because he couldn't stop talking and then he reached out and stroked your cheek with his knuckles.

You gently grabbed his hand and guided it back to his side, just as Bradley rushed over with an irate expression. 

"The fuck?" he asked Jake.

"Hey, it's cool, man. I get it," Jake replied. "She's so hot, I can't believe you won't date her just because she has a kid. But good for you for getting her to agree to come out tonight. No reason you can't enjoy her."

You gasped and took a step away, knowing you needed to escape now with your dignity intact, but Bradley was immediately focused solely on you.

"Kitten."

You handed your pint glass to a random person, and then you were stumbling over your own feet, trying to get to the door as quickly as you could. Time seemed frozen, and you felt like you were going to throw up as you rushed past people who were happy and laughing. You could vaguely hear Bradley's voice behind you as you tried to get away. 

Once you were outside, you sucked in a deep breath of the salty air and fumbled in your pocket for your car key as you started running.

"Kitten!" he yelled, and you could hear the crunch of his boots on the gravel, and you knew that you would never be able to outrun him. So you skidded to a halt and rounded on him instead. A lot of things in your life were scary, like paying your bills, and making sure Everett had everything he deserved. But you would not be too afraid to stand up for yourself. You would not let another arrogant asshole determine your behavior for you.

As Bradley stopped abruptly in front of you, his face was illuminated by a street light, and you hated him for being so handsome. "Kitten. I can explain," he promised, holding up his hands in surrender. His brown eyes were wide as he searched your face.

"Did you tell your friends I'm too complicated to date?" you asked, voice steady as you stepped into his personal space.

"Yes, but-"

You stomped your foot, effectively silencing him. "Did you refer to my son as baggage?"

"Yes, but Kitten, I can explain."

You slapped him hard across the cheek, but his gaze never wavered. 

"I don't need you to fucking explain anything to me!"

"Please." He was pleading, his chest rising and falling as his expression was filled with panic. "Kitten."

"Stop calling me that. I can't believe you were just leading me on for fun."

"I wasn't," he insisted. "I wouldn't do that."

You just scoffed at him and shoved his chest. He grabbed gently for your hands, but you yanked them away and took a step back as tears filled your eyes. "I can deal with getting played, but not Everett! His dad already bailed on him, and I won't let him feel unwanted by anyone ever again! We come as a fucking package deal!"

Bradley was running his hands through his hair in dismay. "I care about both of you." His voice sounded choked up, and you wanted to believe him, but now you knew better.

You jabbed him in the chest with your index finger. "You're a liar," you told him as your tears finally spilled over. "Stay away from us outside of tee ball practice."

"Kitten." He tried reaching for you again, but you backed away, bumping into a parked car which made you cry harder.

"I need to figure out how to deal with Ev," you sobbed. "And don't you dare ever speak to me again." 

You ran for your car as you tried to take gulps of air into your burning lungs, swiping away the tears that were obscuring your vision. It took you a few tries to get the key in the ignition with your shaking fingers, but when you did you cranked the engine and pulled away. You could see Bradley in your rearview mirror as he dropped down into a squat in the dark parking lot with his head in his hands. 

The short drive back to your house was filled with the sound of you sobbing, and you stumbled out of the car and up to your front porch. You leaned against the railing and tried to compose yourself. But this was where you and Bradley had been making out less than two weeks ago after you had one of the best orgasms of your life. So you paced the length of your porch instead, wiping your tears and making sure your breathing was even. Because even though it was late enough now that Everett was surely in bed, you were going to have to contend with Molly.

"Hi," your sister said as you walked inside. She was snuggled up on the couch reading a book, but when she got a good look at you, she jumped up. "What happened? I thought maybe you'd be staying out later? Or all night since Bradley is back."

You pressed your lips together to try to prevent them from shaking, but Molly knew you too well. She was across the room collecting you in her arms immediately. When you started crying again, she didn't stop you, rather she just let you get it out of your system.

Finally, you were able to whisper, "Bradley told all of his friends that he'd never date me, because I have baggage."

Your sister's loud gasp was vindication to your soul, but you didn't like the price it came with. "That fucking prick. Does Bob know about this?"

"Probably," you said softly against her shoulder. "He must."

"I'll call him right now," Molly said, but you grabbed her tighter. 

"No, please don't. You had an immaculate first solo date with him last night which ended in a hot makeout session. I don't want the three ring circus that is my life to start messing up yours."

Molly kissed your cheek and promised, "Your life is not a three ring circus. And Everett is not baggage. And Bradley isn't worth your time if that's what he thinks. Now let me help you get changed for bed."

Molly helped you out of your black skirt, something you had hoped Bradley would be doing just a few short hours ago. And then you washed your face and brushed your teeth while shaking your head at your puffy eyes in the bathroom mirror.

You ended up climbing into bed in your bathrobe while Molly plugged your phone in. "You have thirty missed calls and seventeen text messages from Bradley."

"Ignore him," you whispered, pulling your covers up to your chin. "What am I supposed to do about Ev, Molly? He's so attached. Oh my god, I can't believe I did this. I knew better!"

"Shh," she replied, climbing into bed next to you. "I'll sleep over and take him to the game in the morning. And I'll deal with everything."

Eventually your exhaustion took over, and you fell asleep next to your sister, holding her hand in yours. Your last waking thought was a feeling of thankfulness that you had only mostly fallen in love with Bradley. 

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

Wow, Jake. I mean, he's not wrong, but still. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 13

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[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter five

summary: you and luca finally talk about what happened the night of the ballet -- and finally have a chance to clear the air.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 3k

a/n: let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part four | masterlist | part six

You’ve been avoiding his calls all day. 

After Luca bid you goodnight on Thursday, you’d practically sprinted upstairs and into your apartment, slamming the door behind you while wondering what the hell was wrong with you?

You’re too stubborn for your own good, you think to yourself, recalling the moment – the one where you could’ve kissed him but you didn’t – between you and Luca. You stood there, too paralyzed to make a move, yet unable and unwilling to walk away from him. 

Luca had given you space most of yesterday, save for a text later in the evening, but the fact that today is Saturday, the day he almost always comes into the restaurant, is not lost on you. Instead of dealing with it, you’ve been hyper focused all day, choosing to bury your head in work as you run lunch service with Mathilde, more than grateful that business has run at a steady pace today. 

It’s not until you hit a stop, forced to pause after a few hours in between the lunch and dinner rush, reaches a lull. Your brain is suddenly inundated with too many thoughts: was this it? Had you scared him away forever? Did he think you were a total freak considering you’d practically run away from him after he’d said goodnight?

“So are we going to talk about it?” Mathilde presses you, ripping you out of your thoughts with the sound of her voice. You look her way, noticing that her lips pursed in sheer annoyance at your avoidance mechanisms. 

Your face falls, unable to carry this solo for much longer, letting out a sigh of resignation because you know she’s right. 

You can’t run from this – from your feelings, from Luca – forever. 

“Yeah,” you give in. “Yeah, okay.”

“What the hell happened?” Mathilde hisses as she approaches you. “I mean, he’s gorgeous, he’s cultured… he took you out to the ballet, and you like him!”

“I don’t know,” you huff, disappointedly. “I just-, I think I got too caught up in my head. It’s like one minute I was really jazzed at the idea of being on a date, let alone a date with Luca, and the next I’m just… I don’t know… totally psyching myself out and pushing him away.”

“Merde,” she swears in French this time. 

“Fuck,” you sigh, at least releasing a little of the pent up pressure you’ve been holding onto all day. 

“Babe, I know that holding all of this,” she begins, gesturing wildly towards you, “gives you a certain edge in the kitchen… but I can’t imagine it’s good for you.”

You send her another look – one that says ‘fuck off because I know you’re right’ this time. 

“I don’t know what to do, Mathilde,” you confess, your eyes pleading with her for some advice. 

She turns to you, this time with a much more serious expression as she says, “Luca seems like a really great guy. Maybe you should just tell him all of this.” 

You nod slowly as you process. It’s not that you haven’t thought about it – it’s not like it’s a new concept to you – you were married once, after all. But the idea of being vulnerable like that, showing someone new your whole hand feels really scary. You know it’s the thing you need to do; it’s the kindest, most honest option that you have – and you know that Luca deserves just that: kindness, transparency, the truth. 

As you continue to think it over, the only words that come to you are:

“I told him that I wasn’t in love with him anymore – with Joe. When he asked.”

“Luca?”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t a lie. Was it?” Mathilde questions you carefully. 

You share your head, growing more and more certain in your answer. 

“No, of course not. It’s not that. My hesitation has never been about Joe. It’s-, it’s about me…” you explain, finding the right words in the moment. “... about my heart.”

Mathilde places a gentle hand on your shoulder as you share a knowing look as she listens.

“What if I do this? I mean, what if I jump… and it’s a horrible mess… and I ruin a good thing with a really great guy because I’m not ready?” you ask, shining a light on your biggest fears. 

She takes a beat, thinking it over, before crossing her arms over her chest, as the two of you stand side by side, leaning up against a stainless steel prep station. 

“Then you do,” she answers, as if it were that simple. “And you figure out the rest. You’re only human after all.” 

You chuckle, playfully rolling your eyes at Mathilde’s not-so-friendly reminder. 

“Here’s an idea,” she starts back up again, catching your attention as you glance sideways to look at her. “What if you jump? And it’s the best thing you’ve ever done? What if it’s worth it?” 

You take a deep breath, letting her words sink in, letting yourself feel the possibility that this could also be the best thing you’ve ever done too. But before you can say anything in response, Jesper comes back into the kitchen, calling for you. 

“Hate to break up the slumber party, ladies, but can I borrow you for a moment, Chef?” he asks, making it clear that he’s talking to you. You and Mathilde exchange glances as Jesper nods through the open kitchen to where Luca waits for you in the dining room. You open your mouth to say something, but instead, you just nod, murmuring a ‘yeah, of course,’ quick to follow Jesper out of the kitchen. 

It’s impeccable timing, really, you think to yourself, that you were just contemplating the possibility that this could be something you could do. 

You could jump, you remind yourself, if you really wanted to. 

“Hi,” you say, barely above a whisper as soon as you see Luca. 

“Hi,” he smiles warmly in return, causing Jesper to look from you to Luca, then back to you again. 

“I’m just gonna-,” he starts, searching for an excuse. 

Only, he doesn’t have one, so Jesper simply excuses himself before disappearing into the kitchen to find a place where he and Mathilde both can pretend to do something when really eavesdropping. 

Jesper’s abrupt and clumsy exit seems some of the palpable tension, earring a laugh from both you and Luca. 

“I thought-,” he begins as you simultaneously say, “I’ve been meaning to call-.”

“Sorry,” he says with an apologetic half smile. 

“No I’m-. You go first,” you encourage, blushing on a little as the two of you clumsily dance around each other. 

Luca takes a breath, reminding himself that it wouldn’t be this weird if there wasn’t something between the two of you – that he hasn’t been imagining this – not even a little bit. 

“I hope that it’s okay. That I’m here,” he finally says, his voice steady and even. 

“I-, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” you ask him, suddenly insecure about the fact that he felt he needed to ask in the first place. 

“I just-, well I thought ehm, maybe you’d need some space. I didn’t want to ehm, you know… show up here if-, even though it’s Saturday because it is your place and I wouldn’t want-,” Luca tries to explain, stopping and starting again and again. 

“Luca, no I-,” you say, before pausing, swearing to yourself under your breath as you mutter. “Shit. Fuck, I-. Goddamn, you really are fucking perfect.”

“What was that?” Luca asks, only catching the swearing part at the beginning and the ‘fucking perfect’ part at the end. 

“Um…” you trail off, looking around you. 

As you catch Jesper and Mathilde ducking behind a shelf out of the corner of your eye, and a few of your waitstaff hurrying to make it look like they’re busy and not listening in, you realize that you and Luca have managed to earn the attention of some very curious onlookers. 

“Do you want to step outside for a moment?” you ask, gesturing towards the front door. 

“Sure,” he nods, letting you lead him to a spot outside.

You make sure that you're both as out of sight as possible, staying far away from the broad windows that line the front of your restaurant. 

“Hi,” you say again on an exhale.

“Hi,” he says back, simply. 

“I’m glad you came. I know I-... I should’ve called, or- or texted you… after Thursday,” you begin, nervously, eager to own up to the very big part you’ve played in the lack of communication.

“Yes. You should’ve,” he repeats, his eyes catching yours as you nod in confirmation. 

It’s good – that he’s not going to let you off the hook – and while you like it, you like that he has boundaries, you’re disappointed in yourself as you say:

“I’m sorry.”

Luca sighs, shaking his head as he immediately counters with:

“No, I’m sorry. I mean, yes, you should’ve called. Or at least texted. But I should’ve been clear in the first place that Thursday…” he trails off, almost as if he’s mustering up the courage to say what he needs to say. 

“... that Thursday was more to me than our regular excursions. That it was a date. To me at least.”

“Luca-.”

“I wish I would’ve told you – made it clear in the first place – so you knew what you were getting into,” Luca finishes, carefully watching for your reaction. There’s something so honest in the way he goes about this conversation, and you sure as hell feel like you could take the proverbial jump right fucking now. 

“I appreciate that. Really, I do…” you start, before trailing off again. “But I-. This isn’t on you, Luca.”

“How do you mean?” he asks you, his expressive brows knitted together, as if you’d just spoken in tongues. 

Here goes nothing, you think to yourself.

“I-. This has been great. I mean… I really like spending time with you,” you start, anxiously, instantly realizing that it sounds like you’re breaking up with him. “Fuck, I-.” 

You let out a frustrated groan as it seems you’re having an impossible time getting out what you need to get out. You take a breath. And a beat, before continuing. 

“And I’ve really liked this… hanging out, getting to know you… borrowing your books. I-, I just… we’ve got such a good thing going and I really don’t want to fuck this up, you know?”

He sighs your name this time, looking down for a moment as you add:

“I’m-, I’m afraid that… I’m going to fuck this up.”

“Yeah. I know,” he answers, heavily. “I-, I am too.”

“And then Thursday night, things were so, so good, and I-, I panicked and I feel terrible because… you don’t deserve that. You don’t.”

Luca takes a beat as he listens. He’s not sure what exactly that means, but he reminds himself to stay on track, stay the course and make sure that he says what he came here to say to you. 

“It’s alright,” he reassures you, softly, taking a step towards you. “I don’t want you to feel like… like you have to feel a certain way just because I-.”

“No, that’s not it! That’s not-, that’s really not the problem,” you interject as you struggle to explain yourself, unsure of where to even begin. You take a step towards him this time too, your voice softening as you continue. “Luca, I don’t feel obligated to feel… any kind of way just because you-.”

“Because I?” he questions you.

The silence his questions leaves goes on a few beats longer than you expected, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to fill in the blank. 

“Well, I don’t know,” you pause, a shocked look on your face as one of you waits for the other.

“You didn’t-, I never let you finish your sentence so,” you ramble aimlessly, immediately bursting out into a fit of laughter as you realize that neither of you are getting anywhere. 

Luca laughs too, joining in on the much needed reprieve. 

The two of you exchange glances, and one more shared laugh, before settling in once again. 

With a crooked smile spread across his lips, Luca can take a hint, realizing that he may need to take the lead on this one.

The way your name sounds on his lips is so heavenly, so divine, so soft that you know you’ve got it bad, as you scramble for a way to tell him everything that you’ve been feeling. 

“May I?” he asks, in reference to taking the lead. 

“Please.”

“I just came here to tell you… I want to tell you…” he corrects himself, taking a step towards you. 

“... that I really like you. I really like spending time with you. I like that you get me out of the kitchen in search of something different. And I think that your mind, even though incredibly neurotic, is absolutely brilliant. And if what you need is for us to be friends right now, I want that. We can… slow all of this down. All you’ve got to do is talk to me.”

It feels like time fucking stops, and the world goes black and white for a moment, then full color all at once as you hear the words coming out of his mouth. Your revelation comes rushing in, clear as day – that this man cares so deeply for you and that maybe, your heart could be safe with him. Unsure of how to deal with the grace and compassion Luca is showing you, you’re only left with one question, as it falls from your lips like a boulder. 

“How?”

“What?”

“How do you always have the right thing to say…” you ask him, your voice caught in your throat as you finish your question.  “... when I only have the wrong things to say?”

Luca opens his mouth to say something you’ll never hear, as you choose to completely throw caution to the wind. 

Perhaps the question was rhetorical anyways. 

You’re not sure what’s coms over you, but instead of words, you only have actions left, and the only thing that will remedy the situation is to do the thing that you’ve been panicking over doing since Luca showed you into the pastry room at AOC. You charge forward, reaching out for him, and he’s right there with you, meeting you halfway as you eagerly press your lips to his. 

You can feel all the blood in your body rush through you as your lips connect. Your heart flutters. Your head spins. It’s the kind of kiss that people write sonnets about – write love songs about. It’s almost three months of simmering tension, finally allowed to reach its boiling point. You pull away, just for a moment, uttering out a breathless:

“Holy shit.”

Luca laughs with a shake of his head as he agrees with a, “Yeah.”

You exchange a look, and a laugh, before kissing him again. 

And this time the kiss is a hello, it’s a new beginning, it’s a ‘thank god I met you.’

This time, Luca pulls away, reluctantly releasing you as he does. 

“It’s not that I don’t like this,” he begins, using all of his restraint to put this on pause. “I really, really do, but… I’m kind of getting mixed signals here.”

“No, no, I know,” you apologize, turning as you hear your name called, swearing under your breath again as soon as you see Mathilde peeking her head out of the front door. 

“Oh… my God! I am so sorry, I’ll just-, except for we need you to-, she calls after you, stumbling over her words as soon as she realizes what’s going on between you and Luca. 

“Nevermind it can wait!” Jesper exclaims, poking his head out of the front door as well, before dragging Mathilde back into the restaurant.

You and Luca exchange another laugh. 

“They’re… something,” you chuckle, with a shake of your head. 

“Good wingmen,” Luca adds, mirroring your previous exchange with his coworker. 

Returning his focus to you, Luca shakes his head incredulously, considering this is not the way he thought this conversation would go. He grins as he takes you in, but knows that this is time limited. He’d noticed the curious staff of your restaurant that he’s come to know and love doing their best to pretend they weren’t listening in on your conversation earlier. They know exactly what’s going on here, so if they felt the need to interrupt, Luca knows that you’re most likely needed back in the kitchen. 

He shifts his weight in between both of his feet, taking a small step back as he states:

“We’re gonna have to talk about this.”

“Yes,” you agree, your declaration certain.

“But right now you have to go,” Luca continues. 

“Right now I have to go,” you echo as confirmation. “Later. I promise. We’ll talk. Tonight?”

“Yeah ehm. Not to be… presumptuous. But my place is closeby. We could… perhaps talk. Tonight. There?” Luca suggests, trying to downplay the fact that it sounds like he’s asking you to come over for a booty call. 

It’s certainly not his intention, considering he’d just offered to slow things down, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. 

“Yeah. I’ll text you,” you agree, suddenly nervous again. “When I’m done here. If you’re still up.”

“It’s a date,” Luca agrees, deciding to move in towards you again.

You nod, taking another step towards him so that you can kiss him again. 

“Oh, and Luca?”

He hums in response, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips because he really can’t wait to kiss you again either. . 

“I should be-. I want to be clear,” you begin, deciding to be brave in this moment. 

He raises an eyebrow. 

“I really like you too,” you say, before standing tall on your tiptoes, and pulling him down to you for, this time, a see-you-later kiss. 

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

a/n: ummm hi how are we doing is everyone doing ok?!

[ciaonicole85]

Waiting on my AO3 invite. Here's a one shot Sydcarmy story. Canon compliant. Post season 2. Please excuse the grammar/spelling mistakes. I need season 3 to get here quickly!

Title: Won't You Be My Neighbor

It was her break and for the 89th time in the last three days Sydney reassessed the apartments within 15 minutes walking distance from The Bear. As CDC she no longer wanted to depend on the train should there be some kind of accident, strike, or weather event. There were three that she could afford on her own and many more options if she were willing to become a roommate. She wasn't. If inspiration for a recipe struck her at 2am she wanted to get up and cook if she wanted. She loved the freedom of walking around naked after a shower, picking out her clothes or getting a snack. Most of all she missed turning up her music and dancing like an inflatable tube man in private.

She had sent a message to each leasing office to schedule an appointment next Monday and two of the three had confirmed a 10a and 11a showing. It had been more than 48 hours since she messaged the third so she called. The leasing agent informed her that the specific unit she wanted was no longer available, but they had a gorgeous 2 bedroom for $3800 a month if she was interested. "Okay, now that's just two options" Sydney muttered after getting off the phone.

"Hey mija, what you looking at?" Tina asked sitting down to eat lunch.

"Just apartments. I finally have the funds to move" Sydney answered with a sigh.

"What's wrong? Aren't you happy to be getting out on your own?"

"Oh, yeah for sure. It's just I'm really picky"

"Well, it doesn't have to be forever. Just make sure to read the reviews. You don't want roaches or bed bugs".

"Oh, I can't stand bugs! My dad still has to kill them for me, but I better get a fly swatter and spray now that I'll be on my own soon."

Break was over and Sydney stood up to resume her duties. First she needed to talk to Natalie about the upcoming private party. A celebrity had reserved the entire restaurant next Thursday evening. The names of all staff members on duty that night had to be submitted ahead of time with signed NDAs. It was all happening so fast and The Bear's debt was likely to be paid less than a year after opening. First there had been a Grio article about her being a rising black chef. That led to Keith Lee, the TikTok restaurant reviewer, raving about his to-go order that included the T-Bone and the Michael cannoli. It went viral and suddenly, they were booked for the next three months with a waiting list. She was working harder than ever, getting paid pretty well, and she deserved a place of her own.

After talking to Natalie, she found Carmy working on her prep.

"Hey, thanks! I can take over that now if you want"

"Actually….it's done. I wanted to take you somewhere for like 30 minutes" he said finishing up and cleaning the station.

Sydney folded her arms, her eyebrows raised high.

"Okay, where are we going?"

"I know you've been looking for a place and I think know the perfect apartment for you. Just a 10 minute walk from here. The landlord gave me the key so I could show you today" Carmy said trying to sound casual, but a deep pink flush rose in his cheeks.

"Why is he being weird?" Sydney thought but simply said "Okay, that's dope."

The Chicago air was soft and warm, the clean sunlight making everything look new. Summer afternoons like this made you forgive the brutal winters here. Carmy directed Sydney when to turn left and right, but refused to tell her where exactly they were going. Soon they were standing in front of his building.

The reason for his weirdness was now perfectly clear to Sydney and she felt so flattered that she had to avoid looking at Carmy when she said "So, there's an open unit in your building?"

"Uh, yeah. The people who lived just above me moved and I, uh, thought you might want to see it".

The apartment was on the fourth floor. Carmy unlocked the door and let Sydney go in first. The walls were freshly painted in "Cloud White" and the oak hardwood floors creaked comfortably under their feet. The layout was the same as Carmy's apartment with plenty of windows to let in natural light and a shockingly large kitchen for a 1 bedroom place in Chicago. As Sydney inspected the appliances and bathroom, she decided that if the rent was going to eat up even half of her check it was worth it. She had always admired Carmy's spacious apartment and with her sense of style she could make hers, a cozy bohemian oasis filled with plants, wall art, and actual furniture (eventually).

Carmy had let her roam around in silence for a few minutes, muttering and emitting tiny sounds of joy to herself. When she met him in the living room again, he said trying not to grin too widely, "If you like it, it's already yours."

"How? I know places like this are snatched up fast" Sydney said her eyes finally able to meet his again.

"The landlords, they're a couple, and their 20th wedding anniversary is coming up. They want reservations at The Bear." Carmy explained, desperately hoping to sound nonchalant about it.

"Oh, that's nice work, Carmy."

Then Sydney squealed and cried "This is just what I wanted!!" and she flung her arms around his shoulders in a wild hug. Carmy commanded his body not to shudder as he hugged her back. She was just wearing a t-shirt and without her usual layers of clothing he felt her delicate frame, her slim shoulder blades imprinting on his fingers.

In a moment Sydney pulled back shly and let her arms fall to her sides, her face burning. She made a mental note: Hugging Carmy. Not a safe activity for those who want to cook along side him using sharp objects or sleep peacefully at night dreaming innocent thoughts.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!" Sydney said taking another step back and making another turn around the room.

Carmy nodded and concentrated on not melting into the floorboards.

"You're okay with this? We already spend 60+ hours together at the restaurant every week and now I'd be in your building! And literally living on top of you."

"Yeah, well, I want you to. You deserve everything you want, Syd."

"Then I'll take it! Just a warning though. If you hear someone belting out Kpop and an occasional thud, that's just my weekly one woman concert, which will be over no later than 10pm. I'm not being murdered."

Carm was no longer unable to contain the width of his smile. This girl is so cute, his body physically ached. How would he get through service tonight?

With a happy shake of his head, he replied, "Thank you, for the heads up!"

With that Sydney marched towards the door and exclaimed "Take me to your landlord!"

Carmy floated behind her.

Cue: Maxwell's "Whenever, Wherever, Whatever"

[sirdindjarin]

Hell of a View - Rooster x Reader (Nickname Ginger)

This fic is the result of being unbelievably down bad for Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw.

DISCLAIMER: This is only my second finished fanfic, and the first one I've ever published.

Title inspired by Hell of a View - Eric Church and credit goes to @patheticallydimwiiitted for the song rec/bonkin'-in-the-Bronco suggestion.

Don't copy my shit, plz. Not that it's amazing but like, honor code, guys.

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT (more like sweet smut though), fluff, sexual harrassment/assault references, blood, Rooster punches a douchebag.

WORD COUNT: 5,750

Your skirt flares as you turn to grab the dirty glasses from the bar. As you spin, you feel the breeze from the front door opening. A tall, dark-haired man is walking in toward the bar. 

“What can I get you?” You ask, immediately regretting having spoken as you recognize the man.

“Well, hello, Ginger. Look at you still serving us boys- I figured you’d have been snapped up by now.” He taunts, a hungry look in his eyes at his recognition of you. You’re incensed to hear your favorite nickname come from that mouth once more. It had been given to you by some regular bar patrons after a particularly unfortunate box dye incident, and this man did not deserve to speak it.

Your heart stutters for a second, and anxiety rises in your throat. After three years, the man who harassed you has returned from deployment. You hate confrontation, especially at work. It’s not the best character flaw to have when you work in a Navy bar, but it’s you. 

“You were banned, Jekyll. You’ve been banned for a while now.” It’s said quietly, but you hope it’s forceful enough. In your peripheral vision you see a man’s head turn sharply at your words. He’s behind Jekyll to the left, seated at the piano, yet no longer tinkling random keys. The bar was relatively empty for a Thursday night and the same few songs kept being selected by one blonde man playing pool with a few buddies. Some 70s rock song was whining from the jukebox.

“That’s the thing - it has been a while. I’m not the same,” he insists. “Anyway, someone told me this place lifts bans after a year.” 

“Listen, I don’t know who told you that but they were wrong.” 

The brunette man steps closer to the bar. “I’m sure Penny wouldn’t mind me being here for just one visit. I don’t think you truly mind, either.” His smile is leering. He’s trying to unnerve you. Unfortunately, it’s working. Your mind tumbles back to the feel of his rough hands grabbing your ass like he was trying to leave bruises, his gin-scented words whispered in your face as he pressed you into the wall behind the bar that night. He had taken and dropped the trash bag you’d been holding (“This is no job for a pretty girl”) and held your hands above your head. Once your mind had unfrozen, you managed to knee him and dash inside. He had been after you for weeks at that point. Penny banned him immediately. For good.

“I do mind. You need to go.” You say a little firmer. The glass in your hand is shaking from the memory. The left window behind Jekyll darkens as the silhouette of a man rises. 

“C’mon, swee-” Jekyll starts to say. A hand lands on his right shoulder.

“She said get out, man,” the auburn-haired pianist states. He briefly scratches the corner of his mustache with his other hand - as if he couldn’t be more relaxed. 

Jekyll spins. “What the fuck? Lieutenant Bradshaw?” He laughs, seemingly genuinely pleased to see the man, “Hey, man, how ya doin’?” Then his tone shifts to one a little more antagonizing, “You ain’t been in town for years- you really think you have a say in this, ol’ Rooster boy?”

“Nope. She does, though.” Rooster is so calm, it starts to soothe you, too. You recognize the man who always thanked you after every drink with a “ma’am” despite telling him multiple times to call you ‘Ginger.’ Sometimes when you’d hand him his drink your fingers would touch. He was always warm. Always laughing, singing with anyone. You’d had a serious crush on him since you first saw him. Now, the scars on his neck and chin are illuminated by the sun’s reflection on the bar. His eyes are hard.

“You’re leaving.” You affirm to the other man with the most confidence you’ve felt yet. You set the glass down and begin to walk around the bar. 

“You’re being ridiculous. You’re kicking me out because, what, I fuckin’ complimented you years ago?” He scoffs.

Your steps falter for a second at his callous disregard of his own actions, but you reach the front door and throw it open. Rooster’s eyes look up from your feet and you make eye contact - he had noticed. For a second, you feel self-conscious under his gaze.

Jekyll snaps you out of it. “You’re not even giving me a chance. What a bitch. Stuck up cun-” He doesn’t get to finish the vitriol as his jaw is snapped sideways by the punch. Teeth clack together and a grunt issues forth. Rooster shakes his right hand out once. His lip is curled in a snarl; his eyes flash at the other pilot. You feel your mouth drop open in shock.

Jekyll stumbles - away from Rooster and, unfortunately, toward you - and nearly falls before righting himself. He’s far too close now. 

“What the fuck, man!” He shouts. The entire bar is silent. “I said, what the fuck, Bradshaw?” 

No one says anything. You’re frozen once again as Jekyll looms a couple feet from you. At least you had the benefit of the bar before. Nothing separates you from the anger of the man who now towers over you. His head jerks to you. You’re the easier target.

“This is your fault,” he snatches at your arm, but Rooster is there. He shoves the angry man out the door.

“You know the rules,” Lieutenant Bradshaw laughs roughly, “‘No disrespecting a lady.' C’mon, let’s go, dickhead.” He isn’t suggesting Jekyll go outside alone; it’s a challenge. Rooster stalks out the door after the man into golden-hour light. Your mind spins as you can only watch. The image of Rooster Bradshaw, Hawaiian shirt askew, his knuckles bloody, his hair aflame with the sun, stuns you briefly - and it's a hell of a view.

“You can’t just fucking grab her, and you won’t touch her again. You won’t come back,” Lieutenant Bradshaw orders. “Are you clear on that, Jekyll? I can make it clearer.”

“You’re a fuckin’ pussy. You’re gonna take her side? You’ve known me since A School, man. All this over a four?” Jekyll shouts, insulting you again. 

Rooster takes three powerful strides until he’s in Jekyll’s face but he says nothing. Jekyll’s jaw visibly clenches as if deciding something. 

He makes the decision. 

His left fist slams into Rooster’s stomach; but Rooster was prepared for a low blow, so he hardly bends forward at the pain. However, Jekyll’s right fist lands on the side of Lieutenant Bradshaw’s face, and Rooster staggers sideways two steps. Both men are six-foot-nothing and well-built, but Bradshaw has a stronger emotion than anger on his side. His left hand grabs Jekyll’s shoulder and his right slams into the center of the smaller man’s face once, twice. Jekyll stumbles away again, falling this time to his knees, but he staggers to his feet quicker than you like. His eyes are livid, his mouth and nose full of blood.

Rooster stares him down, a drop of his own blood on the left side of his mouth. His hands are balled and he breathes heavily in anger, facing the sunset. 

“I do not understand your problem here, man,” the banned pilot shouts.

“You don’t need to,” Rooster answers. “You just need to fucking leave.” Rooster straightens his tall frame, and repositions himself so that he’s blocking the entrance to the bar. 

“Know when you're beat, man,” he warns as Jekyll starts toward him, but then a man pushes brushes past you, then another, then a third. The other Hard Deck patrons have seen enough and two of them pull Jekyll away. One man stands in front of the Lieutenant, defusing. Rooster nods once, then deadpans: “Hilarious coming from you, Hangman.” He then turns around to face the building - and you. 

His eyes meet yours, and you’re sure you look terrified. Fights aren’t totally uncommon at the Hard Deck, but fights in which you’re the topic of debate certainly are. Could you lose your job for not stopping the fight? No, surely not. Would Lieutenant Bradshaw get in trouble? Probably, the Navy didn’t appreciate fights between servicemen. It was nice of Rooster to kick Jekyll out, but to continue the fight? How could he have taken that so personally? 

“I’m sorry about that,” you apologize as he nears you, though you did nothing wrong. “I- I never expected him to come back here.”

“‘s’not your fault he’s a fuckin’ dick.” He smirks, his mustache quirking up at the corner. He works his jaw around, testing to see if it was truly damaged. His sweat glistens on his forehead, across the small bit of chest visible in the brilliant light; the veins in his neck are pulsing. You notice his Hawaiian shirt is skill askew and the white undershirt has taken a drop of blood from his mouth. 

“Let me help,” you hear yourself say; your stomach knots. The adrenaline is wearing off and you’re worried about what to say to the intimidatingly beautiful man who just took two punches - For me? You wonder. You start walking into the rear of the Hard Deck. His slow, sure footsteps echo behind you as you step into the cleaning closet and grab a first aid kit. Then into the kitchen for some ice. When you reutrn, he’s seated at a table in the corner. He’s facing you and he looks oddly satisfied, you think. A strangled giggle leaves your mouth at the absurdity of the situation. 

“What?” He asks. “You alright?” When you don’t reply, he continues, “That bastard owes the whole bar a round, but I think he owes you a lot more, honey.”  

You smile softly at the concern, but your heart thuds with his use of the pet name. “Yeah, no, I’m fine.” You debate telling him why Jekyll upset you so easily. You want to open up to him, to explain why you were so shaken when that asshole walked into the Hard Deck. Plus, why should you be ashamed of what Jekyll did all those years ago? That was on him, not you. So, you tell him the short version. 

“A few years ago, he tried to- well, he grabbed- he kind of- touched me.” You finish lamely, partially second-guessing your decision to tell him such an uncomfortable thing.

He’s silent for a moment, his jaw clenching. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters. The veins in his tanned neck are visible again and your mouth is dry. “If I’d known that I’d’ve kept goin’,” he snorts. 

“No, I’m really grateful for your help, but I’m glad you weren’t more seriously hurt,” you say, staring at the small cut on his cheekbone. It ran parallel to one of his other scars. How had he gotten those? The one on his neck looked downright inviting. You shamelessly let your eyes drink him in.

“Mmm, you don’t think I could’ve taken him?” He teases, examining his hand.

“Oh,” you breathe, “I think you could take just about anything.” You weren’t just thinking about fighting anymore, and it resonated in your voice. You bite your lip to prevent further embarrassment spilling from you.

Rooster hears the want in your voice. He's been waiting to hear it. His hooded eyes look up at you through dark lashes and he challenges, “You think you could take anything?” His voice is husky, suggestive.

He lifts up his right hand and you wildly think for a moment he’s going to grab your waist, but then you realize it’s for the bandage you’re holding. You take his hand in your own and carefully wrap the bloodied knuckles with gauze, remembering the times you’d accidentally touched his fingers. You had been right, he was warm. Being close enough to touch him, you smell the sea salt and sweat on him. It shouldn’t be as pleasing as it is. You can feel his eyes on your face, though you keep your own on the gauze. You’re working slowly because you don’t want the moment to end, and you’re afraid of what happens when it does. Your hands tremble, but his are steady. Then, inevitably, you tie the gauze. Your eyes flick up to meet his.

His pupils are blown, the deep honey color of his irises ringing the space you’re falling into. Your stomach drops, leaving you feeling untethered. His mouth opens, his tongue flicking across his lips to wet them absentmindedly. The movement brushes his mustache briefly and you want to do the very same.

“How long is your shift?” he asks, breaking the silence. His dark eyes commanding your attention.

“I close,” you breathe out ruefully, frowning.

“Aw, well that’s a shame, sweetheart.” He drawls, waiting for another answer.

“I’m off tomorrow?” You’re unsure why you phrase it as a question.

His face cracks into a smile that would break your heart if it didn’t send you soaring instead. “How do you feel about flying?”

“Flying?” You’re taken aback. You’ve not been on an airplane in years; the last trip had you kissing the ground upon arrival, but you’re not totally opposed to the idea - especially if your pilot was the best the Navy had to offer.

“Sure,” he answers, “Mav’s got this two-seater we’ve been working on. I think it’s ready for a go.”

You only know who “Mav” is because Penny’s been flirting with him at the bar for the past month or two. Though you had noticed him watching Rooster play and sing, the connection between the two hadn’t been obvious. 

Not wanting to give in too easily, you tease him, “Hmm, could be fun. But I think it depends.”

His eyebrow quirks, “Depends on what?” The chair creaks under his weight as he sits up straight, ready for your stipulations. He’s so tall that even while sitting he’s eye-level with you. 

“On who will be piloting.”

His jaw drops, his hand goes to his chest in mock-offense. “Wow. Just cut me to my core, huh?” His smirk returns, “Alright, fine, offer revoked.” Your mouth drops open to backpedal but he continues to tease, “How ‘bout a drive then? That safe enough for you, ma’am?”

Though truthfully you absolutely trusted him as a pilot, the image of him in his baby-blue Bronco speeding down PCH, the Hawaiian shirt he’d undoubtedly wear blowing in the breeze, was too appealing. You tilt your chin up and answer in a voice you hope sounds seductive, “I think that’d be acceptable, Lieutenant.”  

What neither of you were expecting was his body’s reaction to your use of his title. His eyebrows shoot upward in surprise, his back stiffens. He attempts to subtly shift his hips in an attempt to adjust himself, but he knows you saw. That godforsaken, smug smile, crowned by that retro mustache, returns as he murmurs, “Looks like you better save that for later, darlin’.” He then stands and you’re nearly touching his chest. He slowly steps around you and asks, “Ginger, be here tomorrow for me?” 

____________________________________________________

Since Rooster never specified a time, you show up at the Hard Deck the next day at opening. It’s mid-day and the sun is baking down. You’d take the dry Californian heat over the humidity of the South you grew up in any day. There was a breeze from the ocean which pushed at the bottom of your blue sundress. Sitting down at one of the outside tables, you pull a book from your bag. And if he decided not to come, this wasn’t far from how you’d spend a day off, anyway. 

An hour later, the sun had conquered the shade in which you’d been sitting, so you head inside. Penny is at the bar with Maverick. They smile at you and Penny asks, “So where you guys headed today?”

“I actually have no idea. I don’t even know if he’ll be here for sure.”

“Oh, he’s comin’.” Maverick laughs, smiling fondly.

Smiling in response, you ask, “What makes you so sure, sir?” 

The older man takes a sip of his whiskey and says, “You haven’t noticed? Kid doesn’t take his eyes off you. Most of those piano performances are to get your attention.” He laughs again, shaking his head. “He got that from his daddy.” There’s tenderness in his voice, but you’re unsure why. 

Penny looks at you with a knowing smile on her face - you’d confessed your own crush to her a week ago. It had been a literal confession; she’d caught you paying for his drink without his knowledge. She opens her mouth to say something teasing, but the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside fills the quiet seaside air. Worrying about the teasing the two of you would get if he came inside right now, you smile a goodbye at the couple and rush out the door.

Closing his Bronco door is exactly what you’d pictured the day before: Bradley Bradshaw in a tan Hawaiian shirt and board shorts that show off his long, muscled legs. You’re standing there, hands clasped out of anxiety, as he sees you. His eyes meet yours, but they shamelessly trail down your chest and over your dress. He leans sideways against his truck.  

“Blue’s my favorite color, y’know,” he grins. 

Suddenly you realize you match his truck, and you laugh, “I hope you don’t think I chose the color of my outfit to impress you.” You step a little closer.

“The color is not what’s impressing me,” he blurts, then tries to gloss over it: “You’re ready to go?”

“Yes, sir, I am.” 

It wasn’t an attempt to fluster him, that word was part of your daily vocabulary, but again his cheeks blush and his right hand moves to his waistband, adjusting his bottoms. He clears his throat. You’re confused at his reaction; doesn’t he call you “ma’am” just about every day? He gives you a look you don’t quite get, and he walks around to the passenger door. 

Opening the door for you with his right, he holds out his left forearm for you to grab while you climb up into the car. “Ma’am,” he instructs, proving you were right to be confused. 

Deciding that touching him right now would be in detriment to your own self-control, you grab the handle and hop up in the seat before he can assist. 

He shakes his head and teases, “Independent, huh?” 

“Maybe,” you retort. The door shuts and you watch him as he goes around the hood to his own door. He’s so mesmerizing even just walking. His shoulders roll; he struts. It’s the kind of quiet confidence that strikes you in your core; you’re a little embarrassed as your body responds to something so small. He hasn’t even touched me, you chastise yourself, stop it.

He doesn’t need to jump into the car, his long legs equipped for the job. He turns to you, taking in the sight of you in his passenger seat finally. His mouth quirks into that breathtakingly smug half-smile and you flush with heat. He pops on his dad’s Ray Bans and says, “Alright, baby, let’s go.” 

____________________________________________________

“So, where are we going?” You query. The windows are partially down as Rooster rushes along the Pacific Coast Highway. His speed surprises you; you’re not worried about your safety, but you were thinking it would be a lazy drive and it’s clear he’s distracted.

“There’s a hidden spit of beach less than an hour from town - rock piles on both sides. Not a lot of people know about it, and it’s one of my favorite places to think, to breathe.” He answers, glancing at your reaction to the openness of that statement. 

Since he seems willing, you ask him, “What do you go there to think about?” Your head tilts a little, a lock of your long, brown curls rolling into your face. He notices, debating whether or not that kind of touch is too soon. You move the hair away before he decides, so he answers your question instead, his eyes on the road. 

“Whatever is happening,” he chuckles. “There’s always something.” Then he adds, “We’re nearly there.”

Okay, so maybe not that open. You wait for a moment to see if he’ll say more, but he doesn’t. 

You tease, “Ah, well, that’s fascinating. You’re taking me out here to think with you? It’s hard to use that brain without a little help, huh?” 

His head tilts back as he laughs. “Corny. C’mon, you can do better than that.”

“It made you laugh. That was its job.” 

He glances over at you again, this time with a mischievous look. 

“My brain works just fine, thanks. Can’t say much for yours,” he jokes. “Coming out here with a man you barely know? Not very smart, darlin’.” 

You’re torn for a second - obviously, you trust this man with your life, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting in his truck, but you can’t help but briefly question: was he making fun of your naivety? Your experience with Jekyll? It doesn’t occur to you that he doesn’t know the details enough to poke fun at you. Your brow furrows for a second, unsure how to process the joke. Your silence makes him uncomfortable. The Bronco slows as he turns onto a sandy side road then stops a few hundred yards from the main road. 

His seat squeaks as he turns toward you; Rooster backpedals, “Hey, you can trust me,” his eyes bore into yours, begging. “Shitty joke.” 

His eyes are alight with concern, his eyebrows knit together. Rooster mentally berated himself. He’d been incredibly turned on by your outfit, your teasing - more than he expected to be. The entire drive he had spent vacillating between kissing you or waiting, not wanting to screw this up. He’d meant to come across as flirty, but he’d stuck his foot in his mouth instead. 

“Oh. No, you’re fine,” you realize the simple miscommunication. “I just misconstrued that.” 

“No, I’m sorry. Really shitty joke. That won’t happen again.” He promises, knowing he’ll keep it. He reaches for your hand, truly apologetic. Your core sparks up as his calloused hand takes yours. You watch, stunned by the feeling of him twining and untwining your fingers with his own. Still trying to read your expressions, he waits. 

You look up and the light in your core ignites into a fireball as you recognize the look in his eyes. Instead of speaking your forgiveness aloud, you place your free hand on his cheek, your thumb caressing his scars. His eyes close blissfully; his mustache tickling your palm as he tilts his head into your hand. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen a man. 

You both let the moment deepen, and his eyes open slowly, pure desire written in them. He leans in further, and you’re frozen in your seat, hand still holding his cheek. His free hand smooths across your cheek and into your hair. He’s so close you can feel his breath, and your lips part to breathe him in. Your other hand fulfills a wish you’ve had for weeks: you touch the side of his neck, and it’s a dangerous move. His pulse is racing, skin heated like the sand outside. Your thumb brushes over his Adam’s apple and he swallows.

Involuntarily, you moan, “Oh,” and he’s done. 

He nearly crushes his pouting lips to yours, parting your lips further, and you let his wide tongue dip into your mouth. It feels so good to let him in; you want nothing more than the feeling of him everywhere. The warmth sparks down into your thighs, your stomach. The hand in your hair pulls you in further, deeper. His kiss becomes desperate. Your left hand cups his jaw while the other drops weakly into your lap. When your lips gap in between kisses, a low sound escapes him, sending another wave of electricity through you. His left hand moves to your throat, feeling the soft skin, and he drinks in the soft moan you make.  

He breaks the kiss and looks down with lidded-eyes, about to ask you if you’re okay, when you smile up at him. His eyes glance down at your lips again and you can’t take it anymore: you push out of your seat and climb onto him. 

Rooster smiles so widely, you almost cry. You kiss him again, deeper, still deeper, as he continues to make those noises that only he could. His mustache tickles and burns in a way you’d never thought you'd love so much. Your thighs enjoy the feeling of his hands, his thick arms holding you up. God, you’re glad you wore a dress. He’s holding you off of his lap, though, he won’t let you feel him, yet. Your hands work to slip his unbuttoned shirt off, but he’d have to drop his hold to do so. The noises you make probably sound desperate but you don’t care. His biceps flex as he breaks the kiss again, this time to see your face as he lowers you onto his tented shorts. 

The sound that leaves your lips is a cry of relief at the friction, unstoppable. His dick is already hard as steel, and though the shorts prevent any further study, you cry out at the feeling against your swollen self. Without any thought, you grind your hips against him slowly. 

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, lips against your cheek. His mustache sends a tingling sensation across your face and neck. Enjoying the feeling of your body as his fingers stroke your exposed thighs, he tilts his head back, which gives you access to his neck. You can’t stop yourself from dropping to lick and kiss him there, biting gently. He goes nearly weak beneath you. You remember your task of removing his shirt, and you all-but rip it off him. His white undershirt, though covering his chest, leaves none of the muscles in his arms to the imagination. You trail your fingers down his shoulder and bicep, momentarily stunned by them. 

He laughs, “You alright, sweetheart?” 

“You’re kinda hotter than me,” you let slip. 

His face falls; he looks hurt. “Are you being serious?” Unsure how to answer that, and upset you might’ve ruined the moment, you grimace. “Holy shit,” he argues, “This isn’t the most intellectual thing I could say because most of the blood is not in my brain right now, but I’m in the Hard Deck almost every day. I love that place, but I don’t need to see it everyday. You, however, I do. I’ve had to - you know - take care of myself more than once after leaving your bar,” he admits. “And shit, that sounds creepy, but I promise, I-” 

You cut him off with a kiss, apologetic that you let that intrusive thought out. Then your hand moves to his shorts. Under your lips, a hitched moan echoes as you unfasten them and slip your hand inside. Your lips part and you look up into his eyes as you feel the sheer size of him. Slowly, your hand strokes along him. His eyes close in pleasure and he mutters, “Fuck.” That word sends your body into a frenzy: you need him. 

“Please,” you whimper. His grip on your hips tightens. Then, remembering, you beg, “Please, Lieutenant.”

His eyes shoot open, utterly black in his lust. His hips swell upward in response.

Again you push him, “Please, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” and you’re rewarded by the feeling of his dick twitching, straining in your hand still inside his shorts.

He takes you into his arms again, lifting you off his lap. You cry out in protest, but he throws open his door. With your legs wrapped around him, and his arms holding your ass, he gets out and walks to the back of his truck. He sets you carefully on the tailgate, stepping back, and you laugh as you realize the truck bed is filled with blankets. 

“This wasn’t exactly my plan, I promise.” His boyish grin devastates your heart. 

“You had a plan?” You ask playfully. You reach for his hand and pull him back to you, unable to stop touching him. His arm snakes around your back and he lays you down slowly, his hot mouth on yours.

Though you can’t see it, somewhere nearby is the shoreline, you hear the crash of the waves and the call of seagulls. The sun beats down, but the breeze from the ocean chases away most of the heat. You’re warmed now by the golden body of the man above you. Rooster’s thigh splits your legs open, his knee edging your legs even further apart. You giggle, and he grins once more. You pull his white tank top over his head, and your heart stops for a moment as the planes of his hard chest, his abdominal muscles are revealed to you. You had no idea he was this ripped.

He laughs at your reaction and whispers, “Your turn, baby.” His hand skates underneath your dress, up your thigh, savoring your expressions at the feeling. Then he reaches your hip, and his eyes go wide as his hand finds no cloth to remove. 

“I had a plan,” you tease. As you speak, your hands push his waistband down. “One I’ve been thinking of every single day since you walked into the bar. I wanted you so badly, Lieutenant.”

His shorts now below his ass, you start to take him into your hands again but he thrusts against you. His biceps frame your head as he ruts along you, and the cry you make dies with the breeze. His moaning mouth goes to your neck, leaving marks from both lips and teeth. He’s almost feral with want. He sloppily kisses the hollow of your throat, then down across to the neckline of your dress. 

“Need this gone,” he orders.

“Yes, sir,” you start to obey, but before you can even touch the material, his arms flex as he tears your thin dress in two.

You gasp in pleasure as his tongue makes its way through the valley between your breasts, his mustache sweeping. The two of you are totally bare to each other, and you’d have it no other way. He thrusts against you again, leaving you gasping. His tongue enters your mouth with an aggressiveness you can’t help but wilt beneath. The feeling is sensational combined with the contact of his skin on your own; like you’re opening every part of yourself to him. But you know that’s not fully true yet, so you hook your calves around his thighs. Your arms cling around his neck, and you hear yourself moan, “Bradley, please.” 

“I’ll give it to you, sweetheart.” He tilts his head back to look into your eyes. “I need you to look at me, okay?” You see the admiration and the lust filling them as you feel him push into you. The moans from both of you mingle in the salty air. The feeling of him inside you is nearly unbearable.

“Oh, my god,” you cry out. He fills you so well. You’re gasping again, “You’re-” 

He silences you with another deep kiss. His thrusts come hard, but slowly at first. But he’s starving and the sound of his hips slapping your thighs turns both of you on even more. He’s hitting you in a place you weren’t sure existed, building the tension in your body with every push. He leans into your ear, keeping his rhythm, and murmurs, “You drive me crazy. Always. Those low-cut tank tops, your tight shorts,” he sounds like he’s losing control. “You know what you’re doing.” He licks your throat and continues, “You’re mine, darlin’. You’re done for now.” 

His words undo the knot in your core, and your body shudders around him. He smiles and says, “That’s my girl.” But he doesn’t lessen his pace. He thrusts faster, needing to claim you fully. 

Your body still shaking, you gather the presence of mind to breathe in his ear, “I want to be yours.”

And he comes apart, his hips stutter, the powerful feeling of release shocking through him. He buries one final push as he lets go, and he leans his head on your shoulder, panting. 

___________________________________________________

The deepening blue, Southern California sky expands above you. Twilight is approaching and the late hour casts its honeyed light. The breeze whistles softly as Bradley twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers. You lay next to him, head on a pillow, your right arm across his bare body. Your fingers trail the lines of his muscular chest until he disappears under the blanket he’d brought. You briefly wonder what you'll wear home now that your dress is mangled; you smile as you decide to steal his Hawaiian shirt.

“I really did not intend for that to happen. I wanted to do it right with you.” He eventually says, his eyes following a cloud.

“Oh.” You wonder if he’s regretting having moved so quickly. “I’m sorry.”

He shifts to look at you. “No, I just wanted you to know I wasn’t- I didn’t want to just-” He raises his hands in suggestion and makes a face like you know what I mean. He explains, “I mean that I wanted this to be real. A real date. Not a one-time-thing.” He pauses, searching your face, “If you feel the same.” 

Reassured, you tease him, wanting him to say it outright, “If I feel the same as what, sir?” You look up at him innocently.

He huffs a laugh, now knowing your game but playing along anyway. His voice starts dangerously low, intentionally sexy, “The same as how you make me feel, honey. Like the world doesn’t matter as long as you’re nearby.” His voice changes slightly into a confessional, “I feel home when I see you, and yeah, maybe that’s crazy -” He trails off, his eyes dance between yours, trying to read you, wondering if he said too much too soon. 

“I would say that’s crazy - if it were anyone else. But with you…” You reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheeks, his chin. You pull him down for a kiss, pure sweetness in it, willing him to feel your emotions. “With you, Lieutenant Bradshaw, I’ll never have enough of you.”

“Holy shit, you’re it for me.” He beams, pulling you on top of him.  

[twopoppies]

This...is craaaazy. 35 weeks behind schedule and they still tried to open 😳

https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-68954947

What a fucking disaster.

People working behind the scenes at the troubled Co-op Live arena in Manchester have spoken of what they say were "chaotic" events leading up to the bungled opening of the venue.

Workers involved with the project spoke on condition of anonymity as they did not have permission to speak out. They told the BBC:

Parts of the £365m venue were in a state of disarray less than 24 hours before the arena was supposed to open earlier this week

Staff were left in tears after they were forced to call off American rapper A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie's gig at the last minute due to safety fears

Naming rights partner Co-op Group has flagged a "critical" risk of reputational damage to the wider Co-op brand

Construction staff at the venue warned others back in February that works were as much as 35 weeks behind schedule

Co-op Live was heralded as a "world-class arena" that "Manchester deserves" by Tim Leiweke, the American businessman leading the project, in an interview with the BBC last month.

But "the perfect building" Mr Leiweke promised soon suffered fundamental setbacks, with a series of high-profile acts - including Take That and Olivia Rodrigo - having their shows cancelled or postponed at the last minute to the bewilderment and frustration of performers, ticket-holders and staff.

Mr Leiweke has since apologised, and a Co-op Live spokesperson told the BBC events had been paused "to ensure the safety and security of fans and artists visiting the venue".

One staff member, hired as a "premium host" in the venue's VIP rooms, told the BBC she was in the building on Tuesday evening - fewer than 24 hours before the venue's debut performance by A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie was due to begin.

She said: "I think we were very sceptical: that was my first time in the arena and it did not look ready at all... They're doing everything with crossed fingers: it's a bit chaotic."

'Wires hanging down'

The VIP rooms were still "full of cardboard boxes", the woman said.

"They weren't done - there's loads of final bits [unfinished]. It was filled with workmen who were all still so busy doing random checks here and there, average safety checks... there were loads of wires hanging down."

She said some stairways also seemed incomplete. "There were wires everywhere and exposed lighting on the floor. It looked very messy. There were gaps in the stairs... it looked like a work in progress."

The woman, who has been employed on a casual contract, said staff members are still paid part of their wage if their shift is cancelled at short notice. Staff who are on site when a shift is cancelled are paid in full, a spokesperson for the venue said.

Meanwhile, another member of staff, this time working in an operations role at the venue, said: "The root cause of all the problems is coming from the building, not the operations. From an outside perspective, people presume it's being run badly."

"In reality we have a building that isn't ready, and we're being told it is ready - then things happen out of the blue that cause cancellations", they said.

[…]

The staff member said most public-facing areas of the building are complete - although the offices on the top floor and some premium areas of the building remain "unfinished".

As of Thursday evening, the dining area in the exclusive Amp Club has "no fixtures, no fittings, no tables there - it's just a shell," they said.

[…]

"People don't know that OVG [the Oak View Group] own the venue - they just see the Co-op brand," a staff member at the Co-op Group said.

On a site visit in February, the Co-op Group employee said they were told by construction workers the project was running 35 weeks behind schedule, in part due to delays with crane equipment.

"The Co-op's really disappointed with OVG's constant delays," the employee said.

Full article here

[feelbokkie]

Love Risk | Chapter 5

pairing: Hyunjin x fem reader; Changbin x fem reader

genre: smau, dating because of a bet, crack, angst, fluff, university au

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: swearing, alcohol (drink responsibly besties), suggestive making out (not smut but close but there is a thin line so maybe minors dni?)

summary: Hyunjin and Changbin make a bet to see who can make the reader fall in love with them first. Will one of them be able to succeed or will it all crash and burn before they do?

word count: 1,724

screenshot count: 32

©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

previous | masterlist | next

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

After a week of literal hell, you and your friends decided to go out for drinks and bbq. You managed to finish choreographing “Hellhound” Tuesday night and all three of you spent Wednesday perfecting it before recording and filming the music video on Thursday. The fact that you managed to get all that done while teaching dance classes is a mystery. This night out is well deserved.

“To a successful week of showcases!” Chan shouts, signally for everyone to put their cups up for cheers.

“And an art gallery,” you say quietly. Hyunjin, having heard you, clinked his cup with yours before drinking.

The gallery opened Tuesday and has been open all week so everyone stopped by to see Hyunjin’s work when they had free time. You were just the only one he invited to the opening night event.

Hyunjin, who was sitting on your right, draped his arm around your shoulder while Changbin, who was sitting on your left, had his hand low on your thigh. Both of them wanted to sit next to you and the best compromise was to let them sit on either side, forcing Felix, who normally sat with you during these things, to sit across from you.

“Y/n, I don’t know how you did it this week. Jun told us how he gave you and Cha the song files this weekend. Don’t you teach dance classes too? And you had to prepare for the other two showcases!” Chan said from the head of the table. Ae-Cha and Jeongin were sitting next to him.

“Yeah, she had work Monday, Wednesday, and today. And she teaches two classes when she works too! My poor baby has been coming home exhausted everyday.” Cha interjects, pausing her conversations with Innie who sits across from her.

“And she choreographed most, if not all of the song on her own. Cerberus’ miraculous little maknae, you should just be leader. The way you got our shit together this week was boss bitch behavior.” Min-Jun shouts from the end of the table. He, Seungmin, and Minho were huddled together talking to a waiter. Nothing good ever happens if 3Min are in a room together.

“Or you could just not send us songs the week we’re supposed to perform and debut them. And not make me center.” You say before taking another sip.

“Oh she’s still mad,” Jun mutters before going back to whatever 3Min was plotting.

“So, what do you 4th years have planned this year?” Innie asks. Minho, Chan, and Changbin all quickly turn to the youngest like he just reminded them that they are graduating this year.

“Well, we were talking and we were going to bring it up later, but we all want to keep Stray Kids going even after we graduate so we were planning on sticking around until the rest of you graduate.” Chan answers after finishing his drink.

“Yeah and we were going to look for jobs near here so we wouldn’t have to leave.” Minho adds.

“Plus, since our apartments aren’t apart of university housing, we wouldn’t have to move out.” Changbin also adds.

The rest of the members of SKZ start buzzing in excitement thinking about what the future hold for their group. You, Jun, and Cha remain quiet, not having discuss the future of your group. They knew you were already being scouted by companies and talent agencies but even that wasn’t decided. The waiter comes back with a round of shots you know you didn't order. This must be part of the mischief 3Min has planned.

***

When the food arrived, everyone was already drunk, having played a few quick drinking games while waiting. You were the worst at most of the games and kept losing, making you the drunkest. Changbin had taken it upon himself to make sure you were eating, always giving you the best cuts of meat. Hyunjin, taking advantage of your drunken state, would sneak his eggplant onto your plate.

"Jinnie, stop! Eat your fucking eggplant." You shout when you finally noticed the vegetable piling up on right side of your plate. You pout at his red face, which stood shocked as he was caught mid transfer. His face was red, but you thought it was just because of the alcohol. You didn't realize that, that was the first time you called him Jinnie.

"But I don't like it! You can't make me eat what I don't like." He whines, sticking his lower lip out. Cute.

"Eggplants are good for your heart and...thinking part...fuck, what's the word? Channie oppa, what is the Korean word for the thinking part of your brain? Like the part in charge of thinking.” You ask, completely blanking on the word. The drunker you got, the more you defaulted to your native tongue. Everyone’s been patient with both you and Felix, who was in the same predicament. Chan had been translating for the two of you or feeding you the right words.

"Cute, she gets formal when she's drunk..." Someone, you're not entirely sure who, says quietly. When you first started hanging out with the boys you would address them formally, but you guys quickly dropped formalities.

"Cognitive function?" Chan questions, not sure what you could positively be talking about where you need to mention the cognitive function of the brain.

"Cognitive function! Thank you! Jinnie, it's good for your cognitive function. That's why you're in baboracha." You say as a matter of fact.

"You know, I'm technically older than you, you should call me oppa too." Hyunjin says, leaning his elbow on the table, resting is chin in his hand.

"Hyunjinnie oppa? Hmm... doesn't feel right." You say just as Changbin pulls gently pulls your chin towards him and shoves a piece of meat in your mouth.

"You're not eating enough. Eat," He complains.

"Okay, Changbinnie oppa." You say with a smile. He clears his throat and rubs the back of his head before facing you.

"Hey, go somewhere with me when this is all over?" He whispers in your ear, pulling you away from Hyunjin.

"It'll be late,"

"Yeah, but you promised that you'd hang out with me after the showcases were over."

"Yeah, but it's late. What can we do."

"Do you trust me?"

"That's a dangerous thing to do with the amount alcohol we drank this late at night."

"I'll be a perfect gentleman. I just want to go on a walk, I promise."

"Okay,"

***

"Thanks for buying me dinner. And cheese dogs. And for giving me your drink. And your jacket." You hum while swinging, still holding the drink that you two were sharing.

You two had eventually separated from the group a little early and took a stroll in the city. The cool air sobered you up a bit as you walked and eventually you got hungry again so you and Changbin stopped for some street food, cheese dogs. Your walk got longer and you both needed a drink so he bought a glass bottle of some alcoholic beverage and you two shared it, sharing indirect kisses until he eventually just gave you the rest of it. On your walk you found an abandoned park and decided to take a break on the swing set.

"You don't have to thank me. We're friends," He responded.

"Hmm... are we?" You mumbled.

"Of course we are!" He belted.

"Oh really? Because I never kissed my other friends."

"Not even Felix?"

"Especially not Felix." You were quickly becoming drunk again. Or maybe you never actually sobered up in the first place and you were just now becoming aware of the warm buzz coursing through your veins.

"Really?"

"Really. Do you want to know what else I haven't done with Felix?"

"What?" He smirks. The is alcohol making you more bold than you actually are. You place the now empty bottle and hop off the swing and walk in front of Changbin before climbing into his lap and straddle his him. You feel his legs shift under both of you, stabilizing the two of you on the swing. His hands find your waist to keep you from falling.

"Hi," Being close enough to Changbin's face so you could breathe him in made you giggle.

"Hi," He giggles back.

The truth is, ever since Changbin kissed you the other night, you wanted to do it again. You're not sure why. Maybe it's the fact that you haven't kissed anyone in a while. Or maybe it was the fact that his lips were so soft, but you needed to feel them again.

Your hand cup his face as you slowly close the gap between the two of you before pressing your lips into his. You relax your body into his. His lips are warm and soft. His tongue swipes your bottom lip, begging to be let in. You slowly part your lips, allowing his tongue to slip inside. His hands slides a little further down your hips, using the angle to pull you closer, completely closing the gap between you. You could feel his heart beating against your chest. Despite the cold air nipping between your bodies, you were getting warmer.

Changbin swiftly detaches himself from your mouth and immediately starts attacking your neck, repeatedly sucking down on your sensitive skin and using his teeth. One of his hand find their way under your shirt, resting on the small of your back, not daring to move an inch.

Bang!

The sound of someone bumping into something startles you back into reality, making you see where you where you were and what you were doing. What you were about to do. The noise didn't stop Changbin from kissing you neck, slowly going lower.

"Bin...Changbin, we should stop," You say, moving you hands on his shoulders and tapping on them. He immediately stops and completely pulls away, removing his hand from under your shirt.

"You okay?" He asks, looking at your face. His brown eyes were soft and full of concern.

"Y-yeah, is just, someone could see and--" You stammer trying to climb off of him.

"I get it. Don't worry, let's get you home okay?" He helps you off his lap and stands up, adjusting his pants. He picks up the empty bottle and tosses it in a recycling bin as you two leave the park.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Tag list:

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you

@marcillfll @https-skzology @minhoesss @tattywood @everglowdaisies @blinkjunhui @lukeys-giggle @hyunightt @kpopsstuffs @thisisnotjacinta @anaelunassecretbox @jaydebow

[espinosaurusrexex]

Talk

Neighbor!SteveRogers x female!reader

summary: You like Steve. And, actually, Steve likes you too. But for some reason, you are convinced that he doesn’t. So after you come home one night, drunk off your ass might I add, and freshly stood up by one asshat of a Tinder date, Steve can’t help but confront you about it. And just to make sure you understand his intentions, he has to show you how he really feels.

a/n: So I finally did it, I tried something new... 🫢 I really don’t know what to think about it and I would GREATLY appreciate feedback on this one.

This is basically how I imagine America's golden boy having sex. Say what you want, but he's a softie.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: alcohol consumption, slight angst, swearwords, fluff, smut (you can just read until the second “—“ and the story will still make perfect sense if you don’t wanna read that sort of thing) !MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

"Fuck." You bumped against the door as your keys fell to your feet. There was no way you were going to open your apartment with all these freaking keys on your keychain. Why were there so many? What the fuck did you need so many keys for?

"Shhhhh," you whispered to the items that would hopefully unlock your comfortable bed when you heard your neighbor rattling behind his door. 

Apartment 25A. You didn't need him to see you like this now. He'd probably be worried by all the noise you made at one in the morning. And then you’d have to tell him what happened.

Aaaaand you were right:

"Are you okay?" A deep voice hushed through the hallway as you bent down to retrieve the keys from the floor. When you stood up again, there was a handsome blonde leaning on his doorway, his face partly hidden by the wooden frame. 

"I'm fine, Steve,” you hiccuped, “go back to bed.”

"Are you sure?”

“Yes."

Maybe going out on a Thursday night had not been the greatest idea, but really it seemed like the only solution to your problem about 4 hours ago. And about 2 hours ago, you were convinced that this was, in fact, the best plan you’d ever had as you told the whole nightclub while sweatily dancing your breath away on the run-down dance floor. 

*clunk* you missed the hole again, scratching the door slightly. 

“Fucking hell...” You muttered under your breath as you leaned your head against the wood to be able to use both hands for the key.

Yep, definitely not that great of a plan if it would end with your having to sleep out in the hall. Well, at least you had a great time for about 1 hour. You’d have to remind yourself of that when you would wake up with a pounding headache tomorrow.

“Here,” Steve said as he approached you. Oh, that's right, he was still here. 

He took the chain from your hand gently and looped his arm around your waist to hold you steady. It took him a while to find the right key, but when he finally opened the door with his left hand, you had almost fallen asleep standing up, with your head on his shoulder. Why did he have to smell so good? That was just unfair.

“I don’t need your help.” You mumbled as the both of you tumbled over the threshold.

“Sure you don’t.”

He watched as you desperately tried to unzip your dress. But the zippy thing was too tiny. Why did they make those so tiny? This was impossible. Nobody would be able to open that. Why did you even choose it? That asshole who had stood you up didn’t even deserve to see you in that skin-tight number, and now you even had the trouble.

“Stop looking.” You fell over your shoes with your hands behind your back.

“I’m not looking.” His arms crossed before his chest, Steve frowned.

“Then stop scolding me.”

“I’m not.” He totally was. He was judging you for being drunk. You didn’t like it. Especially because this was all his fault. If he just weren’t so perfect, all of this could have been avoided. But, no. Mr. Golden boy had to go and mess it all up. 

“I can do this on my own.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he scoffed.

Of course, deep down you knew that this was probably a really unreasonable approach to the situation but that didn’t change the fact that you were still hurt. And, well, Steve was here and he was partly a reason for this hurt - so he had to take the blame for tonight.

“Why don’t you just let me help you?” You didn’t need his perfect stupid hands on your body. And you certainly didn’t need his hot breath on your skin while he unzipped that damn dress, either.

“Because I don’t need you!” Your hands fell to the side, your eyes focused on Steve as you struggled to ignore the burning in your eyes.

“I don’t need you...” You whispered.

“You said that already.” What was that? A fast glimmer swooshed through his stare. Almost unnoticeable if you hadn’t already looked at him. 

“Well, good.” There it was again. Was that... hurt?

His shoulders slumped. “I’m gonna go then.”

You didn’t reply, just turned away and headed to the bedroom before you could hear the door close. Silently, of course, Steve didn’t want to wake the neighbors.

—

It was 6pm. 6pm and you still hadn’t knocked at his door. You had come home by now - walked by his door twice. You walked past twice and you didn’t check in. He had left the mail purposely but you didn’t check in. What had happened last night? Steve couldn’t deny that your encounter had pulled on his heart. Something must have happened. He’d seen it in your eyes last night. The hurt, the hopelessness, the acceptance of pain. They were slightly dull when you had looked at him through the haze. And even though your eyelids had covered most of that beautiful y/e/c, Steve felt the emotions settled within a hundred times more intense. 

Steve looked at the clock again: 6:02pm. His leg bounced nervously while his hands clawed into the armrest. 

He had to know. He had to ask even if it was the stupidest thing he’d ever done. You obviously didn’t want to see him, but he had to at least know why.

So, sure enough, about one minute later, Steve was standing in front of your door, hand knocking on the wood like a maniac.

Muffled rumbling pushed through the barrier. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” 

And when the door finally opened, Steve was met with your annoyed face that vastly turned into a hard stare once you recognized him.

Before you could say anything he brushed past you, settling in the same spot he had the night before. “Why would you say that?”

“What do you mean?” Frustration laced the air as you stared at him from the doorway, your hand still clutched on the knob.

“Why are you so...” His hands flailed in the air. “One day you ask me to hang out and the next I get the cold shoulder. One day I get spare cookies and the next I'm not allowed to help you open your door. What... what?”

“Why do you even care, Steve?” You closed the door.

“Why do I care? Are you serious?” This was a joke, right? After all, it was Steve who would cut out the articles of the papers he thought interested you and pushed them under your door after you had canceled your subscription. It was Steve who knocked on your door after every exciting event to tell you everything about it first. It was Steve that had been waiting behind his door after every night out, to listen to your footsteps telling him that you had gotten home safely. It was Steve who, despite your constant stubbornness, cared and worried for you. It was also him that had racked his mind about the meaning of your behavior towards him for the better part of today just to be met with that coldness again. Who would do that if they weren’t harboring a big fat crush?

“Well, yes! Because for all I know I’m just the stupid neighbor that will never be good enough for you!”

His heart dropped as he watched the tears brim in your eyes. His features softened, his shoulders slumped, and his fists unclenched. “Why would you think that?”

It was silent for a good moment. Nobody moved, and about twelve eternities later, you finally looked up at him.

“I’ve just never been enough for anybody. Why should you be an exception?”

It was gone. All the rage, the confusion, the hurt - deceased, swept away by a wave of realization and pulled into the deep ends of his mind.

“Y/N.” His voice was stern, seriousness laced within but his eyes were soft. There was a hinge of disappointment hidden between the letters of your name. Whether it was of him or you, Steve couldn’t tell.

“No, I don’t need a lecture from you,” you answered harshly, almost as of you were trying to interrupt him. But Steve had not intended to add any more words. He had hoped it was enough, the way he had said your name - the expression he had fought to uphold while being ripped apart by sadness. Obviously, it wasn’t.

“Yes, you do,” he decided quickly and moved closer. Your eyes switched between his. “Because for all I know, you’re the most amazing person there is. You’re kind and lovely. You say good morning to the grumpy old man next door every time you see him even though he has not replied once. You care so much. You climbed over the fire escape to water my plant when I was out for a week. You always check if I’m ok when I don’t get my mail before you go to work. Why don’t you let other people do the same for you?“ His Hand reached out toward you, laying gently on your cheek. “Because a bunch of douchebags have failed to tell you how amazing you are?” Steve’s chest was heaving, his heart hammering to his ribs.

Your stare was solid, fighting with comprehension. And then, within about three heartbeats, there it was. A settlement. A decision. Confidence. Steve could see it wash over you gradually. And he loved it. 

In the next moment, you leaped forward, your arms slung around his neck and your lips pressed to his eagerly, desperate. And Steve did everything in his power to put all the feeling into his response. Greedy hands clammed to his shirt as your hot breath fanned over his cheek. His hands held you tight, as they pressed you to his body, protective and scared to lose this - to lose you in this moment of heat and passion.

—

The floorboards creaked as Steve ushered you to the Sofa, his hands already working on your shirt, slipping beneath and finally making contact with your skin. A low grunt escaped his throat as the heat of your skin seeped through him through his fingertips. They traveled down on your body, slipping past the elastic of your joggers and resting on your ass. You pulled away merely, holding his face in your hands and admiring the dazed look in his eyes. 

There was so much to unpack still, and you would have loved to hear him tell you about how much he liked you for another hour, but with the way his touch felt on your skin - hot and needy - you were just as eager to have him show you. 

He nudged you backward with a tender smile, laying you down on the cushions as your hands began to work on the hem of his shirt.

“This needs to go.” You moaned as his lips reattached to your throat, hot tingles shooting to your core with the weight of his body on yours and the pressure of his growing budge prominent on your thigh.

His shirt was off in no time and as your hands finally roamed his bare and muscular back, the realness of the moment hit you. This was him. This was Steve as he wanted you to see him and that sparked a warmth in your chest you’d never felt before. 

Steve worked his way down your body, over the valley of your breasts, and further down to your belly button. He tugged on the flimsy t-shirt, mirroring your prior action and silently telling you to take it off as well. He helped you pull the shirt over your head and as soon as it landed on the floor his lips went back to caressing every inch of your skin. A calloused thumb brushed over your nipple and you clenched the nothingness between your legs. Another moan with the flick of his tongue on the other. 

Your hands buried themselves into his har, tousling and pulling on its end to earn yourself a deep groan that only sent more vibrations through your spine. Nobody had ever made you feel so wanted, so shamefully prized and-

“My God, you’re beautiful, Y/N.” Oh, God. This man had pressure building up in your stomach without even touching you where you needed him most. His hands were still roaming your torso, his lips addicted to the soft flesh of your breasts, boldly wailing as you pulled him up to your lips again. 

Steve was eager to see all off you, feel every inch of your body beneath his plush lips, but at the same time, he needed to take it slow. He forced himself to savor the moment, drag it out as long as possible, to make sure he’d never forget the taste of your skin. 

“Steve,” you whimpered as his fingertips wandered back down to your ass, “I need you.” 

His lips left a trail of warm soft butterfly kisses to the top of your pants. “I know, sweetheart. I know.” The rumble of his voice on your belly sent another gush of wetness to your underwear. 

Did this man know how fucking sexy he was? He was alluring when he wasn’t even trying, so really, you didn’t know why you expected anything less when he actually did. But this, this was better than every annoying detail you had frustratedly pictured during lonely nights.

Steve pulled off your joggers with ease and panted at the sight of the wet patch on the lacy material between your legs. His cock twitched, telling him just how ready he was to finally taste you, feel you, be with you. Hell, he could come right there just looking at you squirm under the unbearable absence of his touch during the pause he had to take to admire you. But he reminded himself that this was a moment to appreciate. Because, as hurtful as it was, Steve didn’t know just how much you needed him. He didn’t know if this was a heat-of-the-moment thing or the start of something beautiful. He didn’t know if he’d ever get to love you like that again.

“Steeeeeve,” you whined. His eyes found yours in an innocent puppy stare from between your legs and the audacity he had to act so virtuous in this very position made you squirm once more. 

“Please.”

This right here was ecstasy for Steve. The mere whisper of your voice, your hands in his hair, tugging, pulling, and the desperate need for him to be the one to help. “Say no more.”

Steve pressed an open mouth kiss on your clothed core, warm breath making your insides tingle, and a second later the lace was gone, replaced by a cold puff of air he blew over your heated center. Your breath hitched as he unexpectedly attached his mouth to your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue in just the right way. Every stroke sent shivers up your spine and back, making you grip the edge of the sofa in an attempt to keep steady. “Sweeter than honey,” he grumbled to your skin.

Steve had one hand pressed on your abdomen, holding you in place, and the other gripping your thigh in a firm but careful grasp. He had to rut against the sofa to relieve some tension from his already pulsing dick - this was you time, he’d get to be rewarded later. Every moan he ripped from your throat drove him on further, motivating him to make you feel good.

Another gasp sprung from your lips when you felt your muscles tighten, a familiar tingle already building up beneath his hand and you eagerly tried to lift your hips against his face. Steve knew you were close, he could hear it by the way every breath out was accompanied by a sound so vulgar it had him on the edge as well. 

He took the hand looped around your leg, gathered some slick with his finger, and slowly pushed it into your pussy, finding the spot that had you screaming in pleasure. The action made him moan against your core, a sensation so intense it had you unravel before his eyes. Steve could feel your walls gripping his finger tightly, your hips lifting from the cushions in anguish. Another flick of his tongue and the knot of white, hot pleasure exploded in your gut.

The intensity of your orgasm had you choking on air, prolonged by Steve’s steady drag of his finger. He pulled his face back, as he watched you ride out your orgasm, eyes rolled back and your jaw hanging slack as you finally caught your breath again when the pressure subsided. A content smile was sneaking on his face when he saw your chest rising and falling evenly again. 

“That was-” You were out of breath. “Do it again.”

The room was hot, the smell of sex in the air when your hands reached for Steve’s neck to pull him to your lips once more. “With pleasure,” he mumbled against your mouth with a smirk, the taste of yourself still evident on his tongue and starting up the excitement in your core once again. 

Steve thrusted forward, the hard-on beneath his jeans now painfully desperate to spring free, as was your need to finally feel all of him inside of you. What you had already experienced was amazing as it was, but you knew - something told you - that it was just a fraction of the things he could show you.

Your hands fumbled on the button of his jeans, drawing grounds from Steve every time they brushed his bulge. But he let you work and settled on watching your dark eyes with every step you came closer to fully undressing him. He reveled in the anticipation they held for him. The beautiful color of your orbs was almost fully overtaken by lust and mischief, and it turned him on beyond belief. 

You sighed as his pants finally opened and pushed them off his legs along with his boxers. His cock sprung free and slapped against his abs. Your eyes switched to his face for the fraction of a second and your mouth began to water at the sight of his leaking tip. He was painfully hard, and as you reached down to stroke him, Steve stropped your wrist. 

“But Steve-“

“Please, Y/N. I need to be inside of you.” His eyes were pleading, and you swore they were a little glassy from the despair laced within his tone. 

You just nodded in anticipation, scooting back a little and watching him as he chuckled and shook his head. You were so fucking cute, all ambitious and greedy for him. He couldn’t believe that this was really happening. That he got to be so lucky. And that was after he had already had his tongue on your pussy.

He fished his wallet from the pants on the floor and retrieved a condom at record speed. It was rolled on before you could even offer to do it, but that was okay, because the next second, Steve’s body was pressed against yours again, his weight comfortably pushing you into the sofa. His cock poked your thigh, earning a breathy moan from you. 

His eyes held your stare for a solid second. There were more words hidden in his gaze than he could have ever said in years. You could see it all: thankfulness, devotion, need, dedication, and was that... love? Steve kissed the corner of your mouth before he grabbed his dick and gathered some slick with his tip, stopping right at your entrance. He sent another look your way. This one was a question, a confirmation that this was in fact what you wanted, maybe even needed. He knew he’d stop right here if you just said the word. He’d wait forever if it meant that you were comfortable - felt safe in his presence.

“Steve just- please just do it,” you whined and moved your hand to his ass to push him into you. You didn’t need to say that twice. He slowly thrusted forwards, letting you adjust to his size with every inch he gave you, watching and carefully analyzing your facial expressions.

The stretch was heavenly. And the slight burn his cock produced just drove you on further as your hands fell back to his head. Steve had his forehead pressed to yours as he finally bottomed out, remaining still for a couple breaths to adjust to you as well.

“You’re heaven.” He breathed against your skin, feeling every inch of his dick engulfed by your velvety walls. You couldn’t respond. It was all so much, so good. This suddenly felt real. You didn’t know, why now, but this - him, so close to you - for you, it was like a proper explanation. A final answer to your never asked questions. 

You had your eyes closed for another second, and when you opened them again, piercing blue engulfed you with all its beauty. You kissed him again, pushing the air from his lunges. When you lifted your hips, he started moving slowly. 

Every drag of his cock sent a wave of pleasure through your body, the friction unbelievably rewarding. Steve bit his tongue with every moan he earned, hopelessly trying to suppress the need to burst right then and there. He couldn’t do it just yet, not until he had pushed you over the edge once more. 

His thrusts grew faster with this determination in mind. He propped his elbow next to your head, his other hand found yours and laced his fingers with yours as he pushed your hands onto the pillow above your head. Your legs wrapped around his hips, giving him a deeper angle to push into you. His tip brushed right on that spot with this new position, every thrust sending perfectly small electric shocks to your limbs.

Your free hand dragged painfully slow indents to the skin on his back, making him moan out in pleasure. He lost his control for a second there, thrusting forward with force and in turn pushing you closer to release.

“Fuck, right there.” Heavy pants filled the small living room. Hot skin on skin, a thin layer of sweat coating your bodies with every wave of pleasure pulsing through you.

You could feel him twitching inside of you, the steady sensual rhythm occasionally losing pace. But Steve wouldn’t let up until you gave him one more orgasm, just one more to finally have him let go as well. His thrusts grew faster with every kiss he placed beneath your ear, the knot in your stomach gradually building until it seemed impossible to hold on. Steve felt your walls gripping him tighter. He was ready, you were ready, you just had to-

“Let go,” he whispered to your sweet spot. And with one final hard thrust, he sent you crashing down. His name rang through the room in a high pitch as your muscles clenched so hard around his cock that he wasn’t able to move anymore. The sensation was so intense, so unbelievably long, and euphoric that you felt like you were floating. Your head felt empty like all the thoughts were blown from your mind, leaving nothing but feeling for this very moment. When your walls began to pulse, he started moving again, chasing his high that had been impending for far too long. 

His hand clenched around yours as every thrust bottomed out entirely. Steve tried everything to hold himself up, but his arm gave out with the pleasure shooting through his veins. Your hips met his in free motions, riding off the other’s orgasms until all the strength was drained from your bodies. 

Steve buried his head in the crook of your neck as your bodies stilled. Your fingers still intertwined, greedily holding onto something tangible, something that felt real other than the impulses your nervous system fired through your entire being.

Minutes passed of you just lying there, comprehending the situation. A smile snuck its way on your face as the realization settled and the post-orgasm bliss consumed you fully. Steve’s chest pushed into yours with every deep breath he took on top of you. The hand on his back found its way up to his hair. You pressed your lips to his head as your nose took in the smell of his shampoo. Steve enjoyed the warmth of your skin on his cheeks. He felt like he belonged right here: tugged into you - fully inside of you. 

He smiled too, lifting his head slightly to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Next time you wanna drink yourself stupid, do it with me. At least then I’ll know that you are safe.”

You just chuckled in response. Your nails scratched his scalp lovingly, your eyes closing as you hugged him closer to you... if that was even possible.

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[springbreezes-and-peonies]

Thursday

Three years, seven months, four weeks and two days. That is how long it has been since the Queen of Floralia, glorious, beautiful, and—at one time—immensely kind Queen Sectonia, passed away. That is how long Taranza, now king of Floralia, has been widowed. And indeed, that is how long he has thought about her. How long he has tried to undo the damage the latter half of her reign did to the kingdom, indeed with his assistance…

Day by day, the kingdom heals under his patient, caring hands…He sees it blossom slowly again, growing back to being in harmony with nature as it is meant to be. Day by day he feels his subjects trust him and yes, even love him more and more. They were, many of them, very unsure of him at first. He was Queen Sectonia’s husband and advisor and in her darker years, the closest person to her. He completely understood the mistrust. He never pressured for it to leave. Never forced it to be a hushed, unspoken secret. Never fought any accusations or ugly talk thrown at him. ‘I deserve this. I have earned this.’ were often his thoughts, and he muddled through it all for the sake of the kingdom, a kingdom that he loved, his dearest home, no matter what was said about him in private or in person. Through all this he has, over time, cultivated a loving, loyal, and close bond with his people. Once spoken of as “Queen Sectonia’s Puppet”, “Queen Sectonia’s Stand-In” by the people, he is now regarded as “The Gardener King” and while he is not one to let compliments or pretty words go to his head and inflate his ego, he cannot help but feel a small sense of pride in his work when he hears this title after all the pain and all the strife, he does occasionally find himself smiling at the thought of such a name for him.

However he has heard another, perhaps less commonly spoken title for himself: “The Heartbroken King”. This is a name that cuts deep. This is a name that hits as a heavy pang in his heart for he knows it cannot be denied. It is perhaps a more true honorific than “Gardener King” and it leaves him weary and sorrowful whenever it reaches his ears. It is true. Very true. The grief he feels over his Queen, his wife’s death is…indescribable, unimaginable, even after all this time, all these three years, seven months, four weeks, and two days it is a near impossible feeling for him to even begin to navigate. For a time he didn’t. For a time…he instead tried to bring her back. He tried every manner of things he could think of to bring her back to life. He traveled to dark dimensions, lonely reflections of worlds, empty valleys of the Lower World teeming with magic, indeed he searched every edge of every corner of every star in the endless shadow of space to find something, some way, to bring her back to life, only to come back to the castle and to his people empty handed and alone, with his heart in pieces in his chest. And he could only do this so many times. Twenty. Fifty. One hundred. It was enough. And so, he reluctantly agreed with himself to stop. To not try again. To not break his own heart again in failing to do the impossible. To accept her death, and to move on. And well…he hasn’t tried again.

Now it is a Thursday, a day he considers to be extremely unlucky, and a day on his calendar where he has it marked that he is to check an island on the outskirts of the sky kingdom’s archipelago, for well…anything. He had been reading and studying in the castle library up on the kingdom’s history and on a very old map he saw a tiny island far on the outskirts of the kingdom that was at one point, accounted for in Floralia’s records. Yet he has never once heard from anyone who might live there, he has seen every island in the archipelago in person but not this one, he has never even been aware of its existence and this concerns him greatly. He worries something dark may be being covered up, something concealed during his queen’s reign, or that he has subjects there being neglected, in need of assistance. He vowed to himself he would not risk one of his people. He would travel to the island himself, and indeed he means to. A bag is packed for him by one of his servants, which he gathers up, smiling politely to them.

“I have left word with King Dedede of the Lower World of my endeavors to travel to the unmarked isle. He shall be in correspondence with the guardians here at the castle to ensure all is well and that I return home safely.” Taranza relays to the servant kindly.

“Be careful majesty.” The servant replies, patting the pack at Taranza’s back gently. “There are dark things out there in the world, as you well know. Your people do not wish for you to go alone…You should be bringing guards with you, but I understand you don’t want to endanger any of us……” He shakes his head, looking to Taranza, concerned.

“I will be fine. I have my magic, and I can look after myself.” He smiles good-naturedly. “My people are not to suffer the burdens of the crown. This is my responsibility as king, and as king, I will take care of it. Come what may.” He sighs, and takes a deep breath. He reassures his servants and his subjects for awhile longer as they make sure he is thoroughly packed up, before he leaves the safety and lofty heights of the castle, floating down the Royal Road and out into the unknown…

He feels an odd levity about the entire business of journeying to this strange and unknown place. For a moment at least, he’ll be away from things. Away from the castle, away from the people. Away. ‘Away from the halls we walked…the balconies we kissed on…the gardens we tended together when things were right and peaceful and good. Away from that castle where I’ve experienced everything good I ever will…and everything painful I ever have…’. He sighs heavily as he thinks to himself, as he often does when he’s alone, and as he often does, he reaches into his emerald green cloak, thinks his soft, warm thoughts of love and sorrow, and materializes his dream blossom, all he has left of his Queen. He holds the flower close to his heart, carefully caressing its delicate, pink, petals, gazing at it as he takes in its fragrance. So much like her. It is so much like her. He shakes his head, keeping the blossom close to his chest as he continues on, finding some small comfort in its presence in his grasp.

They were fated, he and her. At least that is what he thought at the time. He grew up in the castle walls alongside her, her dearest friend, her confidant, her sometimes terrified tag-along. Any trouble she got in, he was there with her, either to take the fall or lessen the burden for her. As they grew, his closeness with her did as well, and he never stopped trailing just behind her in everything they did…and everyone took notice. They were fated…yes indeed…or perhaps…they were star-crossed…

He sighs sorrowfully, a wave of melancholy washing over him again. He shrugs, and slowly shakes it off, continuing his drifting through the clouds, searching for this far island that lies at the outskirts of his kingdom…He tucks his dream blossom back into his cloak…

Several hours pass as he continues on in contemplative thought, his mind working through many things. Heavy feelings, the burdens of his reign, how he will progress for his people and most prominently: what will he find on this island? And then, after all these hours float slowly by, he sees it at last.

There amongst the clouds, a small, emerald island, blooming with plant life, absolutely covered in flowers and trees and vines. Taranza looks the island over from where he floats in the sky, and sees little to no signs of civilization or architecture or any life outside of the vegetation…He tilts his head curiously, thinking a moment, and decides to continue his descent.

After approaching for a few more minutes, he makes a safe landing and gathers himself, taking a sharp, focused look at his surroundings. He is cautious, and very aware as he disembarks this strange, new, place, but so far he does not see any signs of anything threatening. Indeed, he does not see any signs of anything at all, outside of the plant life.

Taranza walks on curiously for a time, looking all around him at the beautiful but lonely island. Wildflowers of every color imaginable carpet the ground, and once he is clear of the tree line and out in the open fields, he can see well-kept flower beds growing peacefully along old, neglected pathways…Wait. Well-kept flower beds.

The curious king stops suddenly, a look of surprise forming on his face. He approaches one of the flowerbeds, a bed of strictly peonies, all in creamy pink…He bends down and looks at them closely, brushing his fingers lightly over their petals. They are weeded, healthy, well-tended…’For these flowers to be growing this way…someone is actively tending them. Recently. Someone is here, living on this island. But who…? And where? This place…it’s beautiful but lonely…Who would I ever find living out here…?’ He thinks, his mind whirring with possibilities, and he looks all around him again for more signs of civilization or even just for people. But for now, he sees nothing but the healthy flowerbeds. He hesitates a moment, and decides to venture on. ‘If I do indeed have subjects here, they may be in need of me. I wonder how they’d be doing here…? Maybe they fled during Sectonia’s reign…’ His thoughts race as he continues his journey, traversing the island, scanning it with his eight eyes as best he can.

A couple more hours pass, and it is now late afternoon, and he has seen nothing more interesting at all, until he comes upon what looks like a stone ruins…He approaches, and touches at its dusty, rocky, exterior…It looks like an old cathedral or something of equal importance, completely caved in on itself. He walks around the old, ruined, vine covered structure and can see bits of broken stained glass on the ground beside it, around it…He fishes a piece carefully out of the grass, brushes the soft dirt from it and can see…what looks like a knight with a barn-owl shaped helm…Taranza raises an eyebrow in curiosity and surprise. He’s never seen the image of this person before, not in any of Floralia’s history or art books. Certainly not in the royal library. He retrieves his pack from his back, gathers a piece of cloth from it, and after wrapping the piece of stained-glass up in the cloth, he puts it into his pack and continues on. An odd sense of dis-ease grips at him, like tiny hands grasping at his back the longer he stays by this ruins, and so he decides to swiftly leave it behind. He will investigate it later, more thoroughly, with others with him.

More time passes with no more signs of anything pointing to anyone else being here. ‘But all these flowerbeds…And that ruins. Someone must live here. With those flowerbeds like that, someone is living here NOW surely…’ He is lost, deep in thought, and as he walks he stumbles a little suddenly, catching himself. He takes a deep breath, having startled himself and he sees he’s come to the edge of the sky island. He sighs, and decides to sit down and rest a moment, gazing out at the empty, endless sky, stretching out before him. A subtle sense of frustration is hitting him. A feeling as if he’s missing something, something important, something obvious. Something. ‘How can there be no one here? How have I not caught anyone here at all tending the flowers or going about their day or even accidentally running into me?? Are they just by chance CONSTANTLY where I am not or where I’ve only just been? Am I constantly in their shadow and they in mine? It makes no sense! I’m an excellent scout! I used to be the only one she’d trust to…to…’ his thoughts become rushed, irrational, upsetting, and as he feels himself getting more and more frustrated with himself, he suddenly hears a loud crash of thunder as a heavy downpour of rain falls from the sky upon him. In all his contemplations, he did not even notice the silvering of the clouds following him all day.

Taranza feels the rain dropping down on him hard, in buckets. His cloak is quickly soaked through, his red-knit scarf drenched, his silver hair plastered to his face from the rain. Anger bubbles up inside him and his fangs click in all his rage and upset as he feels a hard, agitated, cry bellow out from him, loud and heavy into the air around him. ‘It’s just one more thing! It’s always just one more thing!’ He tears at the grass with his six hands in his disgruntled state, tossing it around him before shaking his head and curling himself up to sit once more, defeated. ‘This weather, I should’ve just left hours ago. There’s nothing even here, and I…I can’t fly home in this! I’ll be zapped all to bits!’

“AGH!!” He cries out again, aggrieved and disappointed. He sits still, letting the rain fall on him, not feeling the drive to move or seek shelter, knowing he probably won’t find any, anyway…

“Excuse me? Are you…alright?”

Taranza gasps hard in shock at the sound of the soft, friendly voice speaking to him, and his head spins quickly to look up from where he sits. As he turns his gaze in the direction of the voice, he can see its source is a Floralian like himself, a woman with a moth-like appearance. Her petal-pink skin dotted with a constellation of sun-gold freckles and her head is crowned with cotton-candy pink hair in which rests two, saffron, fuzzy, moth antennae. She wears a tiered, flowy, pink and yellow dress and seems unbothered by the heavy rain now pouring around them, a curious expression is obvious in her countenance as she gazes at Taranza with two, sparkling, sunset pink eyes.

Taranza feels his mind freeze a moment seeing her. All day, he’s seen no one here, no one on this lonely island but himself, and now…this strange, warm-voiced, beautiful woman appears. He doesn’t know what to say. He just stares. And he feels his heart shake in his chest as she speaks again.

“Hello??? I said are you okay??” She asks, her voice and countenance still curious but also, oddly warm and kind. She brings her face close to his, VERY close, tilting her head, looking him over curiously. She brushes some of his wet, silver hair from his face to clear his vision and continues looking him over, concerned.

A warmth floods his cheeks as he feels her face so close to his, feels her hands touch his hair and move it from his face. He shakes his head and clears his throat, speaking at last.

“I…I-I…I…” He stammers at first, clumsily, then he shakes his head again, fixing his wet scarf nervously, gathering his nerve. “I am…alright.” He nods, furrowing his brow. “Just wet.” He adds, gazing at her, taking in her appearance, her face still so very close to his own. He’s never had a stranger bring themselves so close to him so casually. He can feel the pink blossoming on his cheeks more. ‘If she doesn’t back up soon, my face is going to match hers…’

The moth-girl’s lips curl into a friendly smile as he speaks at last, and she nods her head happily to him. “Oh I’m glad! I heard you screaming a ways off, I was scared, but I decided to check on you anyway to be sure you weren’t hurt. Are you hurt???” She asks, and she speaks so casually, so quickly, as if she’s known him for years now and they’ve not only just met moments ago. She takes three of his hands in three of hers, turning them over, inspecting them carefully, and she flits and circles round him, looking him all over for any scrapes and bruises, ensuring he isn’t actually hurt.

Taranza can feel the blood rushing to his face, as she flits so closely all around him and touches and turns him over as if it were the most natural and normal thing in the world. He covers his cheeks with two of his hands and scoots slowly from her radius.

“I-I’m quite alright! Not hurt at all miss!” He speaks, his voice a little higher than he’d like it to be in all his shyness and bluster.

“Peony!” She says, smiling warmly, sitting down beside him in the rain.

“Peony??? Yes, I did see some peonies earlier today.” Taranza responds, confused by her outburst, and at his words, the moth-girl giggles playfully, shaking her head, her pink curls bouncing as she does.

“No! Me! I’m Peony. It’s my name.” She explains, laughing a little more. Her laughter is so sunny, so clear…like the most tender spring breeze…Taranza can’t help but to smile a little too, despite himself, at the sound of her laugh.

“O-oh. I…I’m Taranza.” He says, a little more calm in her presence now. She seems so friendly, so warm to be around.

“Taranza??? KING Taranza???” Peony gasps, a little stunned by this revelation.

Taranza feels the warmth rushing to his cheeks again at her surprised reaction. He scratches the back of his head, smiling a little awkwardly. He knows his reputation somewhat precedes him, and it’s not always good. He nods and speaks a little shakily.

“Y-yeah…that’s me. The very same…”

Peony gasps again at this, rising to her feet and curtsying formally to him, raindrops spilling from the ruffles on her dress.

“Oh majesty! Forgive me for any rudeness! I…It’s quite an honor to make your acquaintance sire!” She curtsies quickly again, her voice still warm and polite, if a little frantic now.

Taranza shakes his head, rising to his feet as well. “Oh no Miss Peony, I…there’s no need for all that. Honest! I know I’m…I’m…King…” He pauses, saying this was still rather difficult for him to do. He continues. “But I’m still just a person like anyone else! You don’t have to show me any extra grace.” He smiles awkwardly again, gesturing with his six hands insistently.

Peony smiles sweetly, looking him over, she then frowns at the sight of him drenched in rain, with more and more pouring down.

“Majesty? Will you wait here a moment? I’ll be right back, I’m going to get something to help with the rain.” She smiles, her smile is so soft and sweet, but Taranza can see it belies something more…something wild, untouchable, and free. He nods his head, finding himself a little speechless again, and he watches as at her back two, effervescent, shimmering, pink and gold moth wings materialize…They sparkle a moment, light passing through them in their translucence, their magical nature evident. His white primary eyes widen and glow as he watches her flutter off quick as can be on her wings to fetch him ‘something to help with the rain…’

He waits patiently, and he finds himself really hoping for her return. Not to keep the rain from him, but for her presence. Something about her feels…comforting…? Maybe it is her friendly nature, maybe it is that she is so very different from all he’s ever known, he cannot say, but his eyes trace the horizon line in search of her pink form, and his heart beats a little faster as he sees her finally appear, flitting back to him once more.

“Here!” She says, that same warm smile blooming on her pretty pink face. She holds out a very large, sturdy leaf over the two of them, sheltering them both from the rain. Taranza looks up at the leaf in surprise, standing close beside her underneath its sheltering canopy.

“Oh…Thank you Miss Peony. You’re very kind to be so hospitable to me…” he smiles faintly, still not entirely sure what to think of her while also feeling a sense of captivation in her company.

Peony giggles again, smiling so playfully to him. “You’re my king! I’d never leave anyone out in the pouring rain, much less my king.” She replies. “Majesty, if you’d like, I could take you to my home! Then you can sit and rest out of this storm all you need.” She continues, such a sweet, inviting manner to her speech.

“Oh but I…I wouldn’t want to intrude…” Taranza stammers shyly, he can feel his cheeks flowering with blush once again. Peony merely shakes her head in response to this.

“It’s not intrusive. I’d love to have some company…” She says, her voice uncharacteristically soft, her fingers lightly playing with the satin, pink, bow she wears round her neck, and as he looks at her face…is it…pinker than usual? He shakes his head.

“Well, if it’s no trouble I…I suppose. Lead the way then dear lady.” He smiles, and before they begin walking he feels two of Peony’s six hands slip tenderly to his own, holding them so gently…their fingers interlace. His eyes open wide again, and his cheeks feel as if they are burning but he makes no remark. Something in him…it doesn’t want her hands to leave his.

“So you don’t get lost…” She says in explanation…her voice so soft…like listening to…well, to soft rain dropping onto flower petals…He nods his head in agreement, clearing his throat. “Not that I couldn’t find you.” She adds, a little playfully. “But I’d hate you to be all alone in the storm…”

Taranza blushes even more at this…her saying she could find him…her warm, inviting personality, but his mind lingers on her last remark, and he can’t help but wonder gently. “…But…weren’t you all alone in the storm???” He asks, slightly perplexed.

Peony nods, her smile appearing a little sorrowful now, she speaks plainly, quietly.

“I was.”

Taranza is quiet at this, feeling something like a mutual understanding washing over them both. A sense of empathy. A connection. He continues on with her quietly. After several moments in silence, he feels her two hands holding his squeeze them very tenderly…affectionately. A small smile grows on his face in response, reaching all the way to every one of his eight eyes.

‘Thursday.’ He sighs, deep in thought. ‘Perhaps Thursday is not so unlucky after all.’

[fromchaostocosmos]

Footage has emerged of Khymani James, a student at Columbia University and a leading figure in the ongoing "Gaza Solidarity Encampment" at the college, making incendiary statements—including "Zionists don't deserve to live"—during a video he appeared to have recorded in January. The video was unearthed by the Daily Wire, a conservative-leaning media outlet, after which James posted a statement on X, saying: "What I said was wrong. Every member of our community deserves to feel safe without qualification." On social media, James' resurfaced remarks have sparked a backlash from users, with one writing: "The internet lives forever. We know your true feelings. You are a clear and present danger to all people."

On April 17, students at Columbia University established a protest camp, dubbed the "Gaza Solidarity Encampment," to demonstrate against ongoing Israeli military operations in Gaza. Newsweek has contacted Khymani James and the Columbia University press office by X direct message and email, respectively, outside normal working hours. Thursday, the Daily Wire published a video of James making controversial remarks both during and after a virtual meeting with two Columbia University employees who expressed concern about earlier remarks he had made and indicated the matter could go to a disciplinary hearing.

In the statement James published after the footage went viral online, he said he regretted his remarks. He added: "I also want people to have more context for my words, which I regret. Far right agitators went through months of my social media feed until they found a clip that they edited without context. "When I recorded it, I had been feeling unusually upset after an online mob targeted me because I am visibly queer and Black."

Responding to James' statement, an X user wrote: "The clip is so egregious, you can't qualify it by saying 'well I felt bad and bad things were said to me.' Your statement also fails to say the word 'sorry.'" Another user commented: "What's up with pro Palestinians and their desire to kill? This is Khymani James, a leader of Columbia University's anti-Israel Gaza Solidarity Encampment. Just sick?" Earlier this week James organized a human chain to block a group of what he said were Zionists from entering the protest camp, urging protesters to take "one step forward" in unison and "push them out of the camp."

I'm very much do not like the Daily Wire and do not support their politics, philosophy, or views.

I do think, however, it is worthwhile to share the video they have of Khymani James statements. If there was another source that could provide this video I would use that instead of the Daily Wire, but unfortunately that is not the case.

Warning for antisemitism, Holocaust Inversion, and more.

Edit: (if anyone knows how to post it so the video plays directly in tumblr please either let me know or reblog this with that addition because ppl are more likely to watch it on tumblr then click the link, thank you)

[aprilias]

i need to hear your thoughts on today PLEASE

HAHAHA THANK YOU ADORA!!!

Firstly, I am still very very confused about what has happened and I’m also a bit ill so that’s not helping. I had fully accepted that Martin was going to Ducati, Marc was going to Pramac/staying with Gresini and that Enea was going to somewhere, most likely Aprilia, going into Mugello and now it’s just not happening? Like what?

About Jorge not going to Ducati: I prefer Marc and Enea to Jorge, I want to make that clear. However, I just cannot understand how and why they would go back on their word (again) to a rider who has consistently performed for them. I read the italian rumour about him arguing with Gigi, and I can honestly see that being true because Martin doesn’t know how to shut up when it’s good for him, and I think the team was looking for any excuse to not give him the ride. They’ve now lost a rider, and probably two, but it’s fine because I suppose they’re getting the biggest asset on the grid right?

About Marc to Ducati: Honestly do not know what to say. Happy for him, he deserves a bike to be fighting for the championship again after everything that’s happened to him in the last 4 years but I’m not gonna pretend that I’m overjoyed about it. Maybe it’s because I feel a bit blindsided rn and it’ll come round but it’s so confusing. It makes sense after his comments about Pramac on Thursday, but to have this quick a turnaround is crazy. However, I hope if he is confirmed for 2024, then he wins the championship with ease next year to show everyone how it *should* be done on that dominant a bike.

About Martin to Aprilia: As an aprilia fan, I gotta say I had a feeling about Martin coming to the team since the start of the year and I’m conflicted. As a rider, he is obviously fantastic and I have no doubts about him delivering results for the team, but we all know how he is as a person and I’m sorry but I just personally cannot look past it until there is clear proof of change. It kind of makes me sad, as I’ve been supporting this team since I started watching in 2020 and idk, if Maverick goes then I may have to abandon my entire blog’s personality (rip) but if not then idk maybe I’ll act like 1/2 the team exists like I do with Ducati rn. That being said, if he brings the number one plate to Aprilia I will be laughing into next year, but I don’t think it will happen now.

Also side note on this solely for the announcement video: I have to say I cackled when watching the video and saw Aleix holding the door open for Martin, it looked more like Aleix forced him in as a hostage rather than by choice but whatever. I’d convinced myself the aprilia announcement was a maverick extension and aprilia were being opportunists but I literally screamed when I saw Jorge like the announcement post and watched the video 😭

About the Enea rumours: genuinely what the fuck. I want him to stay in the Ducati family, idk where or on what bike but it just feels right. KTM would be a good option though, and of course unless Maverick signs between now and Assen, there’s still space at Aprilia so who knows? Also cause I didn’t read, are the rumours Enea to GasGas or the factory, because if its the factory then we have to do all this again with Brad so… honestly idk but he should get a good seat somewhere. I love Enea and it’s a shame factory ducati hasn’t worked for him but sometimes that’s unfortunately how it goes and hopefully he’ll shine somewhere else.

That’s all I guess, it’s been a fucking crazy monday and I hope silly season doesn’t get even worse (not sure how it could unless pecco pulls a rosberg suddenly retires at the end of the year or some random shit). But yeah, I tried to order these as best I can because my mind is literally just open drawers and disorganised files rn so thank you for reading that post and asking 😭

Also to everyone, feel free to disagree, this is just my opinion as always.