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drabbles-mc · 1 year

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A Bet's A Bet

Rick Flag x F!Reader

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo Square: lost a bet

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, pining

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: I love him, what else can I say? 😂 I love to see a gruff, grumpy man squirm a little bit lmao.

Suicide Squad Taglist: @garbinge @beardburnsupersoldiers @words-and-seeds @artemiseamoon (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

“This is ridiculous,” Rick muttered as he picked the shot glass up from the surface of the bar.

You laughed as you watched him drink it, his head tilted back for a moment. He hardly even cringed. “I mean, you sort of set yourself up for it.” The offended look on his face was impossible to miss and it only made you laugh harder. “What? He’s literally so good at shooting people that they let him back out of prison to do it. Did you really think that you were going to beat him?”

“You don’t think I could?”

You shook your head before taking a sip of your beer. “I think that remains to be seen.” You flagged down the bartender and asked them to bring Rick another shot. You saw the look he gave you and laughed. “What? The bet was two shots and one—”

“I know, I know,” he grumbled, begrudgingly downing the second shot before looking back over at you again, “Just didn’t think that you would sell me out like that.”

You hummed in amusement even though you knew that he most likely couldn’t hear you over the noise of the bar. “I’m here to keep you honest, Flag.”

The shot glass made a loud clattering sound as he practically tossed it back onto the bar. “I think I might be the only honest one here.” He heard the dramatic gasp you let out at his statement and he laughed before looking over at you. “Yea. Including you.”

Your offended façade only lasted a moment longer before you started laughing again. “Fuck off. If you didn’t want me here, I wouldn’t be.”

“You know I don’t pick—”

“You don’t get to pick anyone from the roster in Belle Reve,” you pointed at him with the beer bottle in your hand, “but you do get to pick who’s gonna be on your team if they’re not behind bars.” His silence spoke volumes and you laughed in triumph. “And here I am yet again!”

“Shut up and drink your beer,” he said, shaking his head like you couldn’t spot the way the ends of his mouth were beginning to curl into a smile.

“Alright,” you took another swig, “but when I’m done, you gotta—”

“I know what I gotta,” he cut you off as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the edge of the bar.

“You make it sound so unbearable.” You couldn’t help but to laugh at his dramatics.

He turned around so that he was facing the dance floor. Leaning, he rested back against the bar. He spoke to you even though his eyes were scanning the rest of the bar and the dancefloor to keep an eye on the rest of your team.

“How long you known me?” he asked, still not looking at you.

You laughed as you maneuvered to copy his position. “Too fuckin’ long at this point, I think,” you joked.

“Right,” he agreed with a nod before finally looking over at you. “And in all that time, when the hell have you ever seen me dance?”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but then you snapped it shut again when you realized that you really hadn’t ever seen it. Not even way back when you were all deployed together and had downtime to fuck around between ops. Things got crazy when the whole squad had too much time on their hands, but no matter the volume of the music or the number of drinks that were passed around, Rick never danced. He got up to plenty of other ridiculous and irresponsible things, but not that.

“Holy shit,” you finally said with a laugh.

His lips flattened into a thin line and he have a single nod. “Yea.”

“Wait a second,” you shut your eyes tight for one moment as your brain started putting all of the puzzle pieces together, creating more of the insane picture that was Colonel Rick Flag, “you’re telling me that we’ve been out here, doing all of this insane shit, and you’ve never—”

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked.

“Because I can’t believe it.” You shook your head. “Out here ready to be murdered by an alien or something when you’ve never even danced.”

“Tell me how those two things are related?”

“Alright,” you said as you shook your head. Bringing your beer bottle to your lips, you downed the rest of it in one go before setting it back on the bar and looking over at Rick. “Let’s go. Come on.”

You started to walk away from the bar and towards the dancefloor. You only got a step and a half away before you noticed that Rick wasn’t following you. You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. Turning back around, you reached and grabbed onto his hand.

“Let’s go!” you said with a laugh.

Rick huffed, but he let you pull him along. If he really wanted nothing to do with it, he would’ve just planted his feet and been done with it. He dragged his feet a little bit but he still went. You felt it the moment it went from you just grabbing onto his hand to pull him along to him grasping your hand back. His fingers hooked around yours, the callouses of his palm rough but still warm against yours. You were glad that your back was mostly to him and that he couldn’t see the stupid little grin on your face over it.

“This is so fuckin’ stupid,” he muttered when the two of you got to the middle of the dancefloor.

You laughed, knowing that it was loud enough that no one else probably heard him, but you certainly did. “And yet,” you stepped in so you were pressed close to him, “you’re still out here.”

He scoffed. “A bet’s a bet.”

You were giddy. “Very honorable of you, Colonel.” There were a few beats where neither of you said anything, neither of you moved, and you couldn’t help but to laugh. Resting your hands flat against his chest, you leaned in so that he’d hear you without having to yell. “I think the bet was more than just you getting out here, Flag.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m aware.”

“It’s not that bad. Promise.”

He looked at everyone around the two of you. It was like no one even noticed that he was there, which he would be eternally grateful for after he survived this. He scanned the place, and realized that the only person watching him besides you, was DuBois, the person who had sent him out onto the dancefloor in the first place. Before he watched long enough to see the rest of the team crumble into fits of laughter at his expense, his eyes were back on you. You seemed as unfazed about this as you were about everything else.

“I don’t think you were part of the bet, by the way,” he mentioned as you danced.

You laughed. “Yea, ‘cause you were gonna come out here alone. Sure.” You could see the way he was shaking his head and even though you couldn’t hear him with all the noise in the bar, you were sure that he was mumbling and cursing under his breath. Bringing your hands from his chest to his sides, you forced him to start swaying, trying not to laugh at the confused and disgruntled look on his face. “God you are the stiffest man alive.”

He tried to relax, but now he felt even more on-edge than before. Something about the warmth of your palms soaking through his shirt, noticeable even with how heavy the air already was with the bodies packed onto the dancefloor.

“Liked it better when I was getting shot at,” he finally said.

You laughed, shaking your head before stepping in close enough for your forehead to drop against him, resting just below his shoulder for a moment as you laughed. Peeling yourself away, you left your hands on his sides as you said, “Maybe we should’ve gotten you a third shot.”

“You’re enjoyin’ this way too much.”

“Watching you squirm?” you asked. When he nodded, you could only nod right back. “Just a little, yea.”

It took longer than it should’ve for him to ease into it. And even when he did, he was still awkward, still stiff. Which really as about what you’d expected. You couldn’t deny that it was funny watching Rick Flag trying to force himself to loosen up and have a good time. It’d apparently been too long since he’d really tried to do anything of the sort.

You kept yourself pinned close to him. You knew that he wouldn’t on his own, so you took the initiative and placed his hands on your waist, letting yours come to rest on his shoulders in return. It was amusing to you to see how hesitant he was about it. The same man who had dragged you when you were bloodied and beaten, the same man who you had to cram into the world’s smallest, most uncomfortable spaces with to keep yourselves alive, was suddenly skittish when your closeness had background music to go with it.

Rick was only on the hook for one dance. That was the bet. Mostly because no one thought that he would actually get out there and follow through on it. You couldn’t say that you blamed them, but Rick had never been the kind to back down from a challenge or an order. Or a bet, apparently.

When the song changed, one flowing easily into the next, you thought that he was immediately going to turn tail and run. You’d understand it—you could still feel the slightly anxious and awkward energy coming off of him. Something completely foreign given the source, the same person who didn’t flinch running into a firefight beside you. But despite the small, lingering traces of discomfort, he stayed. Because even though his muscles were still a bit tense, even though he still hadn’t quite figured out what he was like to have a sense of rhythm, he liked the way it felt to have his hands on the small of your back. He liked the way the tips of your fingers reached just past where the collar of his t-shirt stopped.

He hadn’t even felt those thoughts creeping up on him until it was too late. It felt like one second he was looking around to make sure the two of you hadn’t lost anyone, and the next second he was looking back to you and the wind got sucked clean out of his lungs. And you were so unbothered, so unaware. He hoped that it would stay that way.

Not that you’d been very far away from him to begin with, but suddenly you felt so much closer. He could feel the press of your entire body against his, the way that your legs somehow ended up slotted together. His hips were pinned to yours, his arms wrapped tight enough around you so that he was almost completely on-beat with you. At that point, though, he didn’t even care about the rest of it. The racing thoughts in his head were outrun only by the rapid beat of his heart. For the first time all night there was only one thing pulling his focus, and it was you as you stared back at him. You looked just about ready to completely melt into him and his entire mind blanked out one that thought entered his head.

You saw the shift in his eyes, but it was a look that you weren’t familiar with, one that you couldn’t place. Your hand that had been resting in the space where his neck met his shoulder slid up, palm on the side of his throat, fingertips grazing along his jaw. You tilted your head slightly, eyebrows raising to ask the question that you didn’t want to yell loudly in the midst of the club. His response was an equally wordless smile and small nod. You felt your breath get caught in your throat as you looked at him. It was impossible not to feel the way that the two of you were each leaning in closer to the other.

If it hadn’t been so loud on the dancefloor, you were sure that Rick would’ve been able to hear the pounding of your heart inside your chest. In all of the years that the two of you had known each other, all the late nights, long talks, and close quarters, this was the first time that you felt like things were about to cross a line into territory that you wouldn’t be able to backpedal from. You were shocked at how much you didn’t mind the thought of it.

He was close enough to you that you could feel his breath against your skin. Your heart was about to burst clean out of your chest and your lips were just about to touch his. You almost couldn’t believe that it was about to happen.

And then, before it could, you heard the tell-tale sounds of a fight breaking out on the other side of the bar. You didn’t even have to turn around and look to know that it was your team. Some of the most lethal metahumans in the world finally got to have a night out and they just couldn’t fucking handle it.

Rick’s attention snapped over to the noise immediately, the dazed look on his face was quickly replaced with annoyance. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he practically groaned. His arms dropped back to his sides, hands leaving he small of your back leaving an emptiness that neither of you liked or wanted to think too deeply on.

You turned and followed his stride, both of you weaving through the tightly paced groups of people the best that you could. You had no idea what someone said to Peacemaker to get him to swing, but you really didn’t care at that point either. It was bad enough when one team member went rogue, it was worse when it turned into one of the few moments that everyone decided to be on the same side about something and everyone else got involved. You expected this kind of stuff from Peacemaker, but seeing Harley about to smash a beer bottle over someone’s head definitely made you a little extra concerned.

“Alright! Alright!” Rick wasn’t even attempting to hide his annoyance as he started pulling people apart. “Overstayin’ our welcome. Let’s get outta here.”

You caught out of the corner of your eye that DuBois was about to grab his gun and you quickly put your hand on his arm to stop him. He looked at you, peeved at the entire thing. You shook your head. “Not in here.”

He shook his head but he still followed your lead. He wasn’t that dedicated to picking a fight. Once you had him agreeing with you, it became much easier to round everyone up and get them out of the bar. Rick was practically dragging people by their collars but it worked nonetheless. You all had about seven hours before you would get in the chopper and brought back home. With the way things had unfolded so far, some of you might at least be able to use a couple of those to sleep.

Everyone’s rooms were all grouped together. It was a crappy little motel off the beaten path, but it was better than nothing. You were surprised that Waller got you all set up with anything at all, honestly. You’d take what you could get. You and Rick opted to share a room, the foot separating your two queen beds seemed odd now in a way that it never would have before.

“Everyone all locked up in their rooms?” you asked, half-joking, half-serious when Rick came into your room.

He chuckled, nodding. “Yea. All of ‘em are in time-out till we get back to Belle Reve.”

“Yea,” you rolled your eyes as you plopped down and sat on the edge of your bed, “because it’s not like prison is a time-out for them or anything.” You paused, watching as Rick flopped onto the bed that you weren’t sitting on, dragging his hands down his face. “They tell you what happened?”

“No,” he mumbled through his fingers, “but I didn’t fuckin’ ask, either.”

You laughed. “Didn’t wanna know the drama?”

His reply came with no hesitation. “Nope.”

You were shaking your head, helpless to do anything besides stare over at him. You waited, wondering if he was going to say anything about what had happened at the bar with the two of you. With the chaos dealt with and everyone safely stowed away in their rooms, you figured that this was going to be the closest thing that the two of you got to privacy for a while.

There must’ve been a graceful way to bring it up, a way that wouldn’t be awkward or jarring. You just didn’t know what it was. You kept your mouth shut, twisting your fingers into the blanket that rested on top of your bed.

Rick’s eyes were still closed, he was still laying on his bed with his legs dangling off the very end of it because he hadn’t scooted up enough before collapsing onto it. Even with all of that, he still felt you staring at him.

“What?” he asked, not turning to look at you as he did.

You shook his head like he could see you, because it felt like he could. Clearing your throat, you forced out, “Nothing.”

The end of his mouth lifted into a smirk. “Liar.”

It eased some of the tension you were feeling, the laughter that came out of you making you feel a little better about it all. “Shut up.”

Opening his eyes, he turned and looked over at you. “What is it?”

You shook your head. “Nothing, really. Just,” you sighed, “wild night.”

“I mean,” he chuckled, propping himself up on his elbows, “thinkin’ about everything else we’ve been through? Really not…you know…”

You let out a soft laugh, one that was quieter than you wanted it to be. “That’s true.”

“Look—”

“About the bar—”

You both started talking at the same time, both of you stopping when you heard the other. There were a few seconds of awkward silence before you both started laughing. You nodded for him to continue, beating him to the punch.

“Look,” he started again with a laugh, “I was just gonna say…” he trailed off, “I don’t really know what I was gonna fuckin’ say,” he admitted with a laugh.

“I think,” you said, a joking lilt already in your tone, “that considering you’ve never attempted to have any rhythm in your life, you really didn’t do that bad.”

He laughed, shaking his head at you. “Shut up.”

“I mean there’s room for improvement, for sure,” you nettled him just to get another laugh out of him, “but I thought it was going to go much worse.”

“Wow,” he sat up the rest of the way, hands braced on the edge of the bed so he was nearly mirroring the position that you were in, “thanks for the endorsement.”

“It’s an honest one, at least.”

He shook his head but he was still smiling. “Always is with you.”

You figured while you were in the vein of being honest, you might as well go for broke. “I also thought you were gonna kiss me,” the words tumbled out, rushed but clear enough. You chuckled nervously. “You know, before Peacemaker banged some guy’s face off the table.”

Rick’s eyes were still widened from the first part of your statement. He knew that it was his turn to say something, but he couldn’t find the right words. “I thought I was too.”

Warmth spread across your chest at his words, a smile instantly breaking out across your face. Your nerves didn’t dissipate completely, but there was a sense of security in it all that you hadn’t felt before. He could see it, too, the way that your body eased. He was up on his feet again before he could think to stop himself. It only took a couple strides for him to wind up next to you, the mattress sinking slightly beneath his weight as he sat down. He was close enough for the outside of your thigh to be pressed up against his.

“Rick—”

You didn’t get the rest of your sentence out as he leaned in and brought his lips to yours. Nothing you could’ve said would have had any shot in hell at being better than the feeling of him kissing you. You could still taste the faintest hint of liquor off of him from the bar, could feel his stubble beneath the pads of your fingers as they pressed against his jaw. He grabbed onto your waist, his grip firm, like he was determined not to let you or this moment slip away from him a second time.

When the two of you finally came back up for air, you didn’t pull away very far. His forehead was still pressed against yours, chests flush as he continued to hold onto your hip. You smiled, thumb grazing over his cheek as you tried to soak in the moment for all that it was worth.

“You’re better at kissing than you are at dancing, you know,” you finally said, whispering without quite meaning to, like what the two of you were sharing was a secret just for the both of you to know about.

He laughed quietly. “Thank god for that, huh?”

You smiled wider, shaking your head before pulling his lips back to yours. “C’mere.”

#the suicide squad #suicide squad #suicide squad fanfic #the suicide squad fanfic #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #x reader #x reader fic #navy and roos sleepover #navy and roo's sleepover #slumber party bingo #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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avastrasposts · 3 months

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Big Sky Country - ch. 8

There's a lot of things that need to be talked about for Frankie and Ashling in this chapter, but we also finally get to see Frankie in full cowboy mood!

Summery: Cowboy Frankie returns to New York to work things out with his 'maybe girlfriend' Eva. But he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.

Series Master List

Warnings for the whole series can be found here

Frankie woke up a bit confused as to why he was on his couch the next morning, then the previous day came back to him while his lower back protested about sleeping on the couch; Aisling turning up, asleep now, only feet away, in his bed. He rolled over onto his side and peered over the edge of the couch to his bedroom door, it was slightly ajar. Pushing himself off the couch, he quietly made his way over to it and peered inside, finding the bed empty. He was a fairly light sleeper, Aisling must’ve been very quiet if she’d snuck out without him waking up. He turned and realized the quilt on the couch was gone and he looked out through the window, spotting Aisling on the porch swing, wrapped in the quilt, watching the morning light over the prairie.

“Morning,” he said, opening the front door, “You like the view?”

“Morning, Frankie,” she said, turning and giving him a bright smile, “it��s gorgeous, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s pretty spectacular, and just wait until you see the sunset.” He thumbed towards the kitchen behind him, “I’m gonna make some coffee, how do you take it?”

“Just milk, thanks, ‘Fish’.”

He chuckled, “Coming right up, Ash.”

He came back a few minutes later with two mugs and handed her one, joining her on the swing with his own. Aisling had pulled up her legs so Frankie gently rocked the swing with his bare foot on the porch.

“This is how I imagined it,” she said, wrapping her hands around the mug, “when you showed me the photos of this place. You sitting on the swing, watching the view and rocking back and forth.”

“It has been known to happen,” Frankie replied, pausing before he continued in a lower voice, “You know I need the silence, and this is as silent as it gets.”

Aisling looked over at him, he was staring out at the prairie, his eyebrows pulled together as if he was working something over in his mind. Then he lifted his hand and rubbed the strong curve of his nose, and sighed.

“Do you wanna know what happened in New York?” he asked, still looking at the prairie.

“Yeah, I think we need to start there,” Aisling replied and he looked over at her, “I won’t walk into something with you again without understanding what happened, Frankie.”

He nodded, “I agree, you should understand. And then…” he paused, glancing down at his hands, something vulnerable shifting in his face before he looked up again, “and then, maybe…you need to decide if you want to stay or not.”

It was Aisling’s turn to nod while Frankie seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment, taking a sip of his coffee and Aisling did the same, looking out over the prairie as he started talking.

“I think you need to know what happened before New York though,” he began, “And I’m not making excuses for anything, just telling you how I ended up where I was.”

“Ok.”

He drew a deep breath and rubbed his nose again, trying to ground himself before he began.

“You know I was in the army, as a pilot. I was in special ops, which means I was in a team of five guys that went on some highly classified missions. I’ve killed people, as a soldier, and many of the things we did, I’m not proud of.”

He paused and glanced over at Aisling to see how she'd react, but she was still looking out over the prairie with the coffee mug resting on her knee.

He took another sip of his coffee, considering how to phrase the next part before deciding to just say it, hoping she’d understand that he’d left it behind now.

“Going back to civilian life wasn’t easy, and I didn’t handle it very well. I started using drugs to numb myself from all the shit in my head. Eventually I got addicted. To cocaine,” he looked over at her again and she was looking back at him this time. “I’ve been clean for almost two years, and I don’t do any other drugs.”

Aisling nodded in response, “The army stuff, is that what’s in your head? That makes you crave silence?”

“Yeah, it’s like my brain can’t sort through the distractions of a busy place and decide what’s an actual potential danger, and what’s just background noise. It forces me to be vigilant for any potential threat, check the exits, check the people around me, make sure I’ve got my friend’s backs covered all the time, like I’m on a never ending mission.”

“Sounds exhausting,” Aisling said, “And explains why New York stressed you out so much.”

Frankie nodded and scratched his beard, “It never fucking shuts up in that city, the only time my head was quiet while I was there was with-”

He cut himself off and glanced over at Aisling who was still looking at him.

“You said I was the only one who made your mind quiet.”

Frankie nodded again, unable to keep looking at her, instead he looked down at his bare feet for a moment before he looked out at the prairie that was slowly filling with sunlight.

“When I was with you in New York, I could focus only on you, the rest faded into the background.”

“Is that why you kept coming back to the bar, even though you had a girlfriend?”

Frankie winced under the directness of her question, but he nodded in response, focusing on the prairie.

“The rest of the story,” he said, “is this; I met Eva when I was addicted, in Florida. It’s where I lived after the army. I’d made some really terrible choices, the worst one left one of my friends dead after we went on a mission we never should’ve touched. I was numbing the pain and the noise with coke every day, and she helped me get clean. She was what I needed then, I suppose, but in reality, she probably should’ve been just a friend, not my girlfriend. I wasn’t in the right place for a serious relationship. But I talked her into moving out here when I realized I needed this kind of space, this kind of life, to get my head straight again. Herb, who runs the ranch, is my NA sponsor, he got me out here.”

Frankie paused and looked over at Aisling again, she was looking at him and when their eyes met, she smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, you haven’t said anything to scare me off yet, just tell me what happened.”

Frankie felt relief flood his chest, a weight lifting, and he nodded as he continued; “I don’t know if Eva hated it out here from the start, but I know she hated it pretty soon after we moved here. She hated how lonely it was, so far from any kind of city, bars, clubs, all the stuff she loved doing. So after a few months, she left me, moved to New York for a job. I went after her, tried living there for about two months, and failed, miserably. I almost started using again. So I came back here.”

Frankie sighed, bracing himself for the most recent part of the story and Aisling noticed he was picking at his cuticles, his fingers restless. Putting down her coffee mug she took one of his large hands in her own and held it still. He gave her a weak smile and inhaled before he continued.

“It was over then, when I came back, we thought we’d try a long distance thing but we didn’t even stay in touch, it was just over. But then she called me a few weeks later and told me she was pregnant, that it was mine, and I went back to New York.”

Frankie looked over at Aisling who was still holding his hand, absentmindedly rubbing her thumb over his small tattoo. If the pregnancy had surprised her, she wasn’t showing it, she just kept her eyes on him as he told her the rest, nodding to keep him going.

“That’s why I was in Brooklyn when I met you, I was waiting for her to get home from work so that we could talk about what we were going to do. I thought maybe the baby would make her want to move back to Montana and we could get a place closer to Big Sky, or even Bozeman. But that wasn’t what she wanted,” Frankie shook his head and rubbed his hand over his face, sighing deeply. “That third time I came back to the bar, when we went back to your place, she’d had an abortion without telling me about it.”

Aisling felt her heart twist, with both anger and with relief, for a few seconds she’d thought Frankie was going to tell her Eva was still pregnant, that he’d be a dad in a few months. Anger filled her heart when she saw Frankie’s eyes shift into grief.

“I know Eva and me having a baby was probably the worst idea in the world,” he said, his voice low as he looked down at his feet again, “I can’t live in New York and she hated living here. And I know she has every right to make the decision on her own, but…” he trailed off, shaking his head and Aisling felt him grip her hand tighter, “She didn’t even let me go to the clinic with her, she wouldn’t even let me help her or tell me what was going on. She told me it was fucking food poisoning...and then the next morning there was blood in the toilet and she told me it was over, just like that.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie,” Aisling murmured, “that was a horrible thing to do.”

“And then you were there, all soft and warm, and I could just lose myself in you,” Frankie said, turning his head to look at Aisling, remembering how good she’d made him feel when he needed it the most that night in Greenpoint. “You made my head go quiet at a time when it was driving me insane. And it was such a fucked up thing to do, I shouldn’t have used you like that and I felt so fucking guilty afterwards.”

“That’s why you went all weird after we had sex,” Aisling said, remembering how he’d almost shut down in her bed, “You were feeling guilty.”

Frankie nodded, and his eyebrows were so tightly knitted together when he looked at her that she had to scoot closer to him on the porch swing and wrap her arms around his wide shoulders. He gratefully hugged her back, holding her tight as he mumbled in her ear.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve stopped myself, it wasn’t fair on you, Aisling. And then I had to leave, I couldn’t drag you into my mess, it just would’ve made it worse and I didn’t want to put that on you.”

“But why did you go back to Eva?” Aisling asked, sitting back so that she could see Frankie properly, “You were with her when we met at Smorgasbord.”

Frankie swallowed and gave a small shake of his head, Aisling had removed her arms from around him and he already missed her touch. But this was the hardest part to explain, he dropped his head and rubbed at his thumb.

“It’s like I was being pulled in two directions, I knew, rationally I fucking knew, staying with her wasn’t a good choice. But the other part of me was saying it was the right thing to do, that it had been good once, and that she’d helped me through so much shit. She put up with me and helped me get clean when everyone else bailed. And when I got back to her apartment that night, she was crying, begging me to stay, saying she needed me and she only realized when she thought I’d left. So I did what I thought was the right thing, and stayed.”

He sighed deeply, “And I know I should’ve told you, but I was just too much of a coward,” he looked up and met Aisling’s eyes, he could see some of the hurt he’d caused her as she was reminded of what he’d done, and it killed him inside. He wanted to make that go away, but he knew he could only hope she would understand on some level, and maybe forgive him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to pull you into my mess, I should’ve stopped things after we first kissed,” he shook his head again, exhaling and looking out over the prairie.

“If you’d told me, I probably would’ve yelled at you anyway,” Aisling said and gave him a crooked smile, “but I would’ve preferred if you’d told me, instead of finding out at Smorgasbord.”

Frankie nodded, “I know, and I have no excuse. I was a coward, I should’ve been honest with you. And I deserved everything you said, I fucked up.”

Aisling wasn’t about to disagree on the deserving thing, he should’ve told her, but she was starting to understand what kind of demons he’d been fighting.

“And after that, you stayed with Eva? She forgave you for having sex with me?” she asked, still sitting close to him, close enough so that she could see the way his eyes seemed to be looking at something else than the prairie. His fingers were picking at his cuticles again, and his foot had started tapping on the porch floor.

“I stayed, but I don’t think she forgave me. She said she did, but then she’d hold it over me when she wanted me to do something. The whole thing sat between us the whole last month and it just got worse. So we had one last fight and broke up, and I left the same night.”

“When you came to see me after closing?” Aisling asked but Frankie ignored her question, he seemed to have lost himself in the spiral of thoughts the memories brought on.

“I always seem to fuck everything up,” he said, not answering her question, “I made so many bad choices, both back in Florida and then in New York…I messed up things for Eva, I hurt you and got you pulled into my fucking mess of a life, I shouldn’ve just stayed away from you, my shitty choices caused you pain and I know I caused Eva so much pain. I just…” he trailed off, sighing deeply as Aisling threaded her fingers through his, stopping him from ripping apart his nails.

“You fucked up, that’s human, Frankie, but at least you’ve realized it and you’re owning it,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “I was so fucking mad at you, I’m not going to deny that. I wanted to punch you so badly.”

“I would’ve let you, I had it coming,” Frankie said with a shrug, but Aisling shook her head and Frankie missed the small smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“I got over my anger for you pretty fast. That thing you said, about needing silence? I had a feeling there was a lot more behind that then just ‘can’t stand the noise of the city’,” she rubbed her fingertips over his hand, circling around his bull’s eye tattoo, her touch soothing him as he looked down at the way her fingers moved over his skin, “But then I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And it’s not like you’re the first guy to ghost me, I usually forget them pretty fast.”

Frankie raised his eyebrows in surprise as he looked up at her and Aisling couldn’t help laughing, “Please, you’re not that special, ‘Fish’. But you’re the first one who’s apologized for it and then refused to leave my head,” her eyes went soft, still holding his hand, “but I understand why you did it, and where your head was at. I just needed to hear you explain it because you felt special. To me.”

Frankie kept looking at her, her face was serious and she meant what she said, and he believed her.

“What made you come out here?” he asked, “After three months and no word from me?”

“Female intuition,” she said, her mouth quirking up in a quick smile, “That, and a really, really shitty shift at the bar.”

“Female intuition about what?” Frankie questioned, but Aisling just smiled at him.

“Give me breakfast and that tour of the ranch and I might tell you, we’ll do one fucked up story at a time. But I forgive you, Frankie. Thank you for telling me all that. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

He shook his head, “It’s been on my mind since last night, but I needed to tell you, both for myself and for you.”

“How do you feel now?”

Frankie closed his eyes and took a deep breath, listening to the inside of his mind. It was quiet, light, and he smiled.

“I feel good,” he said, “I told you everything, the worst is over now.”

Aisling smiled at him and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his scruffy cheek.

“The worst is over, Frankie. Now give me breakfast.”

Frankie watched her for a second as she got up and went into the cabin again, while he remained on the porch swing. He really felt lighter, he hadn’t realized how much he’d been holding on to that whole story, and how nervous he’d been about telling her. Now he felt like he could start over, like they could start over, with everything out in the open. His face cracked into a relieved grin and he pushed himself off the swing, following her into the cabin.

“I can’t offer that much for breakfast,” he said, she was pouring herself a second cup of coffee from the pot when he came in, “Eggs and toast, some hot sauce, that’s about it.”

“Sounds good, point me in the right direction and I’ll be a bit more helpful than last night,” she said, folding the throw blanket and leaning down to lay it neatly on the couch where she’d found it. When she turned around Frankie was standing at the counter with an odd expression on his face.

“You ok, Frankie?” she asked and he blinked a couple of times.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I-I’m fine,” it took him a beat too long to respond and Aisling noticed the red blush flaring up on his neck as he abruptly turned back to the counter. “Eggs, toast, I’ll get us sorted.”

She glanced down at the t-shirt she’d slept in, one of Frankie’s, and smiled. She’d taken it from the chair in his bedroom last night, it had smelled clean, and she’d been too tired to ask about it. The sight of her in his t-shirt seemed to have stirred something in him, and she grinned behind his back.

“If you’re sure, I’ll just go get changed. But I’ll sort the dishes,” she said, pushing back her giggles and leaving him nodding at the counter.

Frankie was gripping the edge of it, trying to contain the hard on that had sprung into life when he’d turned and seen Aisling, the hem of his old gym shirt rising up over her soft legs. It had been an effort to contain the groan that threatened to escape his throat, he remembered all too well what those legs felt like. And now they were here, disappearing underneath his fucking t-shirt.

“C’mon, pendejo, I know it’s been a while but get a fucking grip,” he muttered to himself as Aisling disappeared. Willing his body to behave and going through the pre-flight checklist for his favorite helicopter model, he grabbed the eggs from the fridge, forcing his hard on to calm down.

Aisling returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, back in her own clothes to his relief, and laid the table.

“So what can I expect to see on this ranch tour?” she asked as they sat down with plates of eggs and toast.

“Herb staring, probably,” Frankie chuckled, “I think he’s been expecting me to become a monk since I got back from New York. And horses, lots of horses. Do you know how to ride?”

“Yeah, sure, we had a pony club between the bodega and Johnson’s Laundromat. Me and my trusty steed Silver would ride out every Saturday, taking in the views over Manhattan from the WNYC Transmitter Park.” She made a sweeping gesture as if she was showing off her expansive land and Frankie rolled his eyes at her sass.

“Smartass,” he growled as she winked at him, “Ok, so then there might be some riding lessons too.”

“Really?” Aisling dropped her smirk as her eyes widened, “You can teach me?”

“Yeah, of course, we’ve got two really calm horses for our inexperienced riders, I’ll let you ride one of them,” Frankie pushed back his chair and picked up the plates as Aisling chewed her lip nervously.

“On my own?”

“No, well, not at first anyway,” Frankie reassured her, “I’ll be leading her while you get used to it and figure it out. I won’t let you fall, don’t worry.”

“Ok…slightly more nervous about the tour now, but also excited, thanks, Frankie,” she said, taking the dishcloth from his hand and shooing him away with her other hand, “Get dressed, I’ll sort this.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Frankie smiled and left her to deal with the dishes.

It was further down to the ranch than Aisling had first thought. Frankie had told her the land it sat on was bigger than all of Greenpoint, and she easily believed him as she saw the prairie spread out around them. He pointed out some of his favorite spots as the truck rumbled down the dirt road, passing in and out of dips in the nearly treeless land. Not until they came closer to the foothills did small thickets of trees appear, framing the ranch that nestled in a small valley next to a river coming down from the Rockies.

Frankie parked the truck next to an almost identical one by the main building and Aisling stepped down. They were greeted by two dogs running at full tilt across the yard, their tails wagging madly as they started twirling around Frankie, only stopping to sniff Aisling for a second, before going back to jumping around his legs.

“Alright, alright, calm down you crazy mutts,” Frankie laughed, “I was here yesterday.”

He managed to grab the collar of the black and white one, giving it an affectionate scratch, “This is Whiskey, he’s the old man even though you’d never believe it. That over energetic golden,” he pointed to the golden retriever who was now spinning in circles around Aisling’s legs, clearly very excited about a new person, “is Benny. Named him after an old friend of mine, they have the same energy.”

Benny the golden did a few more laps and accepted a scratchie from Aisling before he and Whiskey took off, someone calling for them in the distance.

“Cute dogs,” Aisling laughed, trying to wipe Benny’s drool off her hands until Frankie handed her rag from the back of the truck.

“Cute and bat shit crazy, but great company on the trails. The guests love them and spoil them rotten.” He stuffed the rag into his back pocket and grabbed a few apples from a crate in the back before holding out his hand for her, “C’mon, let me introduce you to Herb before he yells at me too.”

Aisling took his hand, it felt so natural, and it wrapped around hers like it was meant to always be there. She wondered if Frankie had even reflected over the gesture, he seemed so at ease here, and he made her feel like she belonged here with him too. With a smile he tugged her along, leading her across the yard and towards what looked like a reception building.

“This is Herb’s office but he lives upstairs in the main building behind us, and the ground floor is for the guests who don’t stay in the cabins. During the busiest season the place is packed with guests and we hire some of the locals to help us out. It’s quiet now in the off-season though.”

Herb turned out to be an older version of Frankie, gray curls sprouting around his Stetson, large hands, warm smile and the same quiet demeanor. Aisling could see why the older man would’ve been able to connect with Frankie and help him towards sobriety.

Frankie introduced her just as ‘Aisling’ and she didn’t miss the quirk of an eyebrow in Frankie’s direction just before Herb shook her hand. Clearly Herb had been told about what happened in New York. After some small talk about the ranch, Frankie told Herb he was showing Aisling the stables, and Herb invited them over for dinner later in the week.

“Miranda, my partner, will be very happy to have someone else to talk to for a change,” he said with another warm smile before waving them off towards the stables.

“Nice guy,” Aisling said as Frankie held open the door to the large barn, the smell of hay and horses hitting her nose.

“He’s been a life saver,” Frankie said, “he knows what to say to get me away from the itch of using, he’s been there himself and he always cuts through all the bullshit. It was what I needed.”

“I guessed, from the way you talk about it, you still feel that itch?” Aisling asked, pausing as Frankie closed the door behind them.

“Not all the time, not anymore, but yeah, sometimes. I think I’ll always feel it on some level,” he’d stopped in front of her, his eyes suddenly worried. “Does it bother you? That I was addicted?”

Aisling shrugged and something flashed over her face, “Before yeah, maybe I would’ve had my doubts,” Frankie saw her frown at a memory as she looked up at him, “I have some history with addicts and I know how it fucks up lives. An ex, years ago, he promised he was clean and then he faked a break in to our apartment. I believed we really had been robbed until the police caught him trying to sell my phone on a street corner, high out of his fucking mind. And there was other shit too, the drugs always took precedent in his life. It took me a while to get away from him and I’ve been kinda weary since. So maybe, if you’d told me before, I would’ve cut my losses.”

“I’m sorry,” Frankie said, “that probably makes you feel differently about me-”

“I know your story now, Frankie, and it’s different,” she cut him off, “I’ve also seen how easily it happens and how hard it is to get out of,” she took his hand again, smoothing out his twitching fingers, he hadn’t even realized he was doing it again, “And I understand why you got addicted. What you did in the army, it must be difficult to just leave that behind when you were suddenly back to civilian life.”

“It was, and I’ve seen people deal with it in different ways, I think mine was one of the worst ways though,” he rubbed his thumb over the top of her hand, looking down at their fingers intertwining.

“At least you’re still here, Frankie,” Aisling said, dipping her head so that she could catch his eyes under the peak of his cap, “I’m glad you’re still here. And the addiction doesn’t make me feel differently about you.”

A soft neighing from further inside interrupted their conversation, a buckskin colored head sticking out from one of the stalls with a curious look at the two of them. Further down the stable other horses poked their heads out, looking at the visitors.

Frankie glanced over at the buckskin horse who was giving him an almost exhortative look, as if to tell him to get a move on.

“Thanks, Ash,” he said, turning back to her and she saw his worried look soften, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, “Now come meet the locals.”

She was still holding on to his hand and now he wrapped his fingers around it and led her towards the horse who gave another impatient whicker. When they got close to the stall, it dipped its head and nudged Frankie’s free hand, looking for treats.

“This is Dolly, she’s my girl,” Frankie said, smiling as the horse nipped at his pockets, “always wanting treats, I may have spoiled her a little bit.”

She’d found the apples he’d stuffed in his pockets and was trying to get at it and Frankie pulled one out and handed it to Aisling.

“Have you ever fed a horse before?”

“Never been this close to a horse before,” she admitted, “I’ve only ever seen the ones that pull the carriages around Central Park.”

“Ok, so hold your hand out flat, like this,” Frankie said and flattened her palm, placing the apple on top, “she won’t bite, but she will slobber a bit on you.”

“That’s alright, it’s already covered in dog drool,” Aisling laughed.

Frankie guided her hand within reach of Dolly’s searching muzzle and Aisling felt the soft lips brush over her palm as she gently took the apple. It crunched in the horse's mouth and frothy, apple scented, drool dripped onto her hand.

“At the risk of sounding like a squeamish city girl, but ‘ewww’,” Aisling giggled, holding her hand as far away from herself as possible as Frankie laughed. He pulled the rag from his back pocket and handed it over.

“We have washing facilities in the stable, luckily, but let's meet the rest of the crew, they’ll expect apples too.”

Giving Dolly a scratch on her golden head, adding promises of coming back soon, Frankie led Aisling down to the next stall where a chestnut horse was waiting for them.

“This is Clover, she’s going to teach you how to ride,” Frankie said and reached up, scratching the red horse behind one of her ears, making her whicker softly and bump up against his arm.

“She’s pretty big…” Aisling said, looking at the rest of the horse’s body and Frankie heard the nerves in her voice.

“Clover is our grand ol’ dame, she will stand stock still until you’re comfortable on her back, and she’ll help you stay on, she has the smoothest gait.”

He gave her hand a small squeeze, “And you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you want to try, you’ll never find a teacher as good as her.”

Aisling nodded, holding out her hand for Clover to smell. The large horse gently nudged her hand and she marveled at how soft the touch was.

“Give her an apple and some scratchies, you’ll see what a sweetheart she is,” Frankie said, handing Aisling another apple from his pocket. Clover didn’t move, even as her nostrils flared when she smelled the apple. It was as if she could sense Aisling’s nerves and was staying extra calm. Aisling held her palm flat and offered the apple to Clover who carefully took it between her lips, pulling back a little before she crunched down on it. Unlike Dolly, she didn’t drool at all, the very picture of a refined lady, gently munching on her treat.

“Reach up and rub her forehead, scratch hair between her ears, that’s her favorite spot for scratchies,” Frankie said, patting Clover’s neck affectionately. Aisling did as he said and ran her fingers through the coarse hair, scratching at the roots. Clover whickered softly and dropped her head, her big eyes half closed as she enjoyed the sensation.

“She likes it,” Aisling smiled, as Clover moved her head closer so that Aisling could reach further up between her ears.

“Yeah, she’s enjoying herself for sure,” Frankie replied, giving Clover a pat on the neck.

He loved seeing Aisling in the stable, on the ranch, and he felt his need to make her visit as unforgettable as possible so that she’d come back.

To stay for good.

The thought flashed across his mind as he watched Aisling chat to Clover, telling her what a nice lady she was. It sent a jolt through him, and he suddenly felt panic at the idea of her leaving. They barely knew each other, it was crazy to think of her staying for good so soon. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted her to stay, watching her leave would be the hardest thing he’d ever done, he could already feel the desperation in his bones. He thought he’d lost her, only for her to turn up out of the blue, and he knew he’d been delusional when he thought he could put her in his past. Now that she was here, without the complication of Eva, he desperately wanted her to stay. He needed her.

“Frankie?”

“Huh?”

“I said, I think she wants another apple,” Aisling said, looking at him while Clover nudged his pocket, “You kinda zoned out there for a second.”

“Yeah, sorry, I was miles away,” he said, pulling out a second apple and feeding it to the horse.

“You ok?” she asked, her hand on his arm, warm through the flannel shirt.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about some things,” he replied, smiling at her and coming back to the moment, “Let’s get a saddle on her and we’ll have your first riding lesson, if you’re up for it?”

Aisling stroked Clover’s soft nose and smiled up at the big, gentle horse, “Yeah, I’m up for it. You’re right about Clover, she’s going to take care of me.”

Leaving Clover behind, Frankie showed Aisling the tack room, and they picked up a saddle and a bridle. He walked her through how to saddle Clover and then led her out into the paddock behind the stable. There was a step ladder set up at one end and Frankie led Clover to it while Aisling followed.

“So, we’ll use the step ladder for now, it’s easier until you’re used to the saddle,” he said, taking Aisling’s hand as she stood next to Clover. “Stand on the top step, gather the reins in one hand and hold on to the pommel with the other, put your front leg in the stirrup and swing your back leg over her rump and sit down in the saddle.”

Aisling took a deep breath and climbed to the top of the short ladder, giving Frankie a nervous look as he stood next to Clover, smiling up at her.

“If you feel unsteady, just squeeze your legs around her middle and pull yourself straight with the pommel,” he said, stroking the horse's neck. Clover whickered softly but didn’t move a muscle as Aisling carefully put her leg over the saddle and sank down.

“Oh shit…this is high up,” she muttered, her hands holding the pommel in a death grip.

“Try to relax and sit really heavy in the saddle, like, sink down onto your butt properly and grip her sides with your legs.” Frankie gently put his hand on Aisling’s calf and pushed it towards Clover’s flank.

Aisling nodded nervously and sank down a bit further into the saddle and Frankie felt her leg flex under his hand.

“You’re doing great, and you haven’t fallen off yet,” he grinned up at her and she quickly stuck his tongue out at him.

“You promised I wouldn’t fall,” she reminded him and he chuckled.

“You won’t, you’re doing great. Just hold on to the pommel, keep your legs tight around her and we’ll go for a little walk.”

“Ok,” she nodded, adjusting her grip on the saddle and Frankie saw her clench her jaw, squaring up.

“Relax, hermosa,” he gently reminded her, stroking her leg, “breathe.”

Aisling nodded, but his warm hand sent sparks through her bloodstream and she felt herself clench for other reasons. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she forced herself to relax, but still hold on with her legs around Clover’s round middle.

“Are you ready?” Frankie asked her, squeezing her leg again before he moved to hold Clover’s reins. Aisling nodded and Frankie clicked his tongue, making Clover move forwards. The big horse swayed gently under her and Aisling gasped, gripping the pommel even tighter, as she tried to sit heavy in the saddle. Frankie watched her over his shoulder as he led Clover in a big, slow, circle around the paddock. The horse walked carefully, treading gently as if she was balancing Aisling on her back as much as Aisling was trying to balance herself.

After a full circle, Frankie saw Aisling’s white knuckle grip on the pommel loosen a bit, and she lifted her head, daring to look at the surroundings.

“You’re doing great,” he told her, and she smiled back at him. He kept leading Clover at a slow, steady walk and Aisling felt herself relax properly. The horse was swaying under her in a smooth motion, and it got easier to move her hips in the rhythm of the gait, following along with the motions. She let herself look around the ranch, the wellkept buildings, a few groves of trees and then the mountains climbing up behind the main house. As they circled the paddock, she saw the prairie in the other direction, open and endless, just a few rolling hills in the distance. Somewhere above them a bird screeched and she saw Frankie look up.

“An eagle,” he said, pointing to a tiny black speck high up in the sky, “a bald one, I think. They’re pretty common here.”

“Wow, really? I don’t think I’ve ever seen an eagle,” Aisling replied, squinting up at the bright blue sky, the tiny bird circling high above them. She felt her balance shift and she quickly looked back down, gripping onto the pommel. Frankie was still looking at the bird, his head tilted back as he led Clover, and she took a moment to watch him. He looked so comfortable, the reins loosely in one hand, the other shielding his eyes under the peak of his cap and he was matching Clover’s slow pace. It was hard equating the man she saw here with the story he’d told her about his background, a soldier who’d killed enemies, his addiction and how he’d ended up here. It was even hard to see the man she’d met in Brooklyn in him. He’d been so watchful and troubled there, here, he was clearly calm and comfortable. If she didn’t know better, nothing could’ve convinced her that he wasn’t born and raised on this ranch, always a cowboy.

“You really look like you belong here, Frankie,” she said, “I can see why it means so much for you to be in Montana.”

Frankie looked over her shoulder at her and gave her a crooked smile.

“I feel at home here, and it means a lot to hear you say it,” he turned his head and looked forward again, “Eva never understood it or saw it, I think that was a big part of our problems.”

“Do you think you’d still be together if she’d stayed in Montana?”

From behind she saw Frankie shake his head, “No, I don’t think so. We should’ve been just friends from the start. And even though it was good in the beginning, and I think we were happy, at least I was, it wasn’t right in the long run.”

Aislin chewed on her lip while Clover continued to walk slowly around the paddock, not asking anything more and Frankie noticed, glancing back at her over his shoulder. When he caught sight of her face he turned and started walking backwards.

“Whatever it is, you can ask me,” he said, “You’ve earned the right to any answer you want from me.”

Aisling sucked in her lips for a second, meeting his open gaze, before she sighed.

“I wonder about us… I wouldn’t have come all the way out here if I didn’t feel something special about you and…” Aisling trailed off and Frankie stopped, making Clover come to a halt as he stepped closer to Aisling’s leg, putting his hand on it.

“You’re special to me too, Ash,” he said, “I thought I’d blown it, and I’m over the fucking moon that you’re here.”

“But are you ready for a relationship? You’ve been through some heavy shit, I don’t want to be a distraction for the healing you need to do.”

Frankie let go of the reins and put his hands up towards Aisling, “Take your feet out of the stirrups and swing your leg over her back, I’ve got you.”

He motioned for her to trust him and she did as he said, clumsily sliding off Clover’s back into his hands on her waist. Frankie turned her around as she got her feet on the ground and didn’t let go, his large palms warm on her sides as he held her close.

“I’m going to be healing for the rest of my life, I’ll always be dealing with the shit in my head,” he said, his voice low as he moved his hands up to cup her cheeks. “But I know it’ll be easier to handle if you’re my distraction, if you want to be with me too.”

Aisling looked up at those warm, brown eyes, his eyebrows pulled up in his worried little frown under the cap. He was waiting for her answer while his thumbs slid across her cheeks, soft and gentle.

“I really want to be with you, Frankie,” she answered, “But only if you think you’re ready for another relationship.”

“With you? Absolutely,” he said, without hesitation, “I thought I’d lost you, and I was prepared to never find someone like you again because no one has made me feel as calm as you do, and you don’t even try. Just being with you does something to my brain. And now that I have a second chance at that? No way am I letting you walk away without telling you exactly how much I need you, how much you mean to me.”

He leaned his head forward, the bill of his cap pushing up so that he could rest his forehead against hers, “I’m ready, I want this, with you, Ash.”

“I want this too, Frankie,” she whispered, biting back the tears that threatened to push up as he made her feel like the center of his universe, only him and her, standing close together in the warm paddock.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low and soft as his eyes drifted down to her lips, and she gave him a small nod, closing the last short distance between them.

Feeling his lips on hers again was even better that she remembered. Without hurry he gently kissed her, cradling her face in his palms, the cool tip of his nose brushing against her skin. As his plush bottom lip slipped between hers, he opened his mouth, and his familiar taste flooded her brain. It had been four months since the night they spent together, but it was as if no time had passed at all. His touch, his smell, his taste, it was all so familiar to her as she wrapped her arms around his middle and pulled him closer.

Minutes passed, and Clover waited patiently next to them, shifting her weight as Frankie and Aisling made up for lost time. Eventually she turned her big head and looked back at the two humans wrapped around each other, and gently nudged Frankie’s hip. With a low chuckle, Frankie reluctantly pulled himself away from Aisling’s lips and looked at Clover.

“Are we boring you, ma’am?”

The horse neighed softly and nudged him again and Aisling smiled, resting her head against Frankie’s chest as she watched him scratch Clover. His other arm was wrapped around her shoulders and she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head.

“One lap around the paddock on your own, and then we go back to the cabin,” he said and she looked up at him.

“On my own?”

“You’re ready for it, Clover will take care of you,” he smiled, seeing her frown, “C’mon, I’ll teach you how to get up without the step ladder too.”

“If I fall, I’m blaming you, and not Clover,” Aisling threatened him and he chuckled.

“I’ll accept that, now turn around.”

Aisling quirked her eyebrow at him, “What do you have in mind?”

Frankie’s face split in a grin as he caught the double meaning of what he’d just said, “Many things, but not right now, hermosa, just turn around.”

The wink he gave her made heat rise in her cheeks and he leaned in and gave her another kiss, letting it linger as his tongue nudged her lips apart again. With soft hands on her waist, he turned her around and placed another kiss on the side of her neck.

“Lift this leg,” he murmured, tapping the outside of her right thigh, “and put it in the stirrup.”

He straightened up and she did as he said while he moved her hands to take hold of the saddle.

“Now, pull yourself up until you can swing your left leg over her back and sit back up in the saddle, I’ll help you.”

Her legs felt a bit jelly-like, the mark of his lips on her neck burning hot through her system, and she took a deep breath to stabilize, holding onto the saddle.

“One, two, three and up,” Frankie counted and she pulled herself up, his hands gripping her waist and giving her a boost.

Settling in the saddle was a little bit easier this time and Aisling tightened her legs around Clover’s middle, finding her balance. Frankie watched from the ground and then reached up and adjusted her hold on the reins.

“Hold them like this in your left hand, and you guide her by moving the reins and your hips, she’ll feel it,” he gave her hand a squeeze, “You ready?”

“Yeah, I guess, now or never?” Aisling gave him a nervous laugh and he smiled up at her.

“You’ll do great, you’re already sitting really well in the saddle. Just roll your hips forward and click your tongue, she’ll start walking.”

Aisling gave an experimental click of her tongue and Clover’s ears peaked up, moving back and forth as she started walking. Frankie backed away to the center of the paddock, watching Clover slowly walk as Aisling tentatively raised her hand and moved the reins.

“Breathe, hermosa,” he chuckled, “Relax, just like before, she’s got you.”

“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” Aisling giggled, sinking down deeper in the saddle as Clover moved into a steady walk, making Aisling’s hips sway with the motion.

“When you get to the gate, put a bit of pressure on the left side of her neck with the reins and let her know you want to turn to the center of the paddock,” Frankie said, “and increase the pressure of your left leg too.”

“Ok,” Aisling replied and Frankie smiled as he saw her mentally preparing as they neared the gate. Clover was a smart horse and as soon as Aisling shifted in the saddle she knew what was expected of her and turned left.

“Oh…” Aisling huffed out, surprised, “It worked!”

“Of course it worked, you’re a natural at this,” Frankie smiled, “Try it again, turn her in another direction.”

Aisling guided Clover to the right, back towards the fence and then again towards the gate, her grin widening each time the big horse understood her commands.

“I can’t believe I’m actually riding!” she exclaimed, giggling as Clover turned again, “You’re such a good teacher!”

“Thanks,” Frankie grinned and Aisling smirked, winking at him.

“I was talking to Clover, actually.”

“Oh, oh! I see how it is,” Frankie laughed, “Well, then cowgirl, why don’t you just go ahead and ride on down towards the stable and let Clover show you how to clean her up once you’ve climbed down from up there?”

Aisling stuck her tongue out at him as Clover whickered, as if she’d understood the joke and was laughing along with them. Frankie came up alongside them and patted Clover on the neck, smiling up at Aisling.

“I’ll get the gate behind you, just ride to the stable, and I’ll help you down.”

“Ok,” she replied and moved the reins again, and Clover adjusted her direction.

Frankie waited until they were clear of the gate, then he pulled it close and latched it.

“Frankie!” Aisling called from behind him and he turned around, hurrying to catch up, “How do I stop her? Where’s the brake?”

He chuckled, “She’ll stop when she gets to the stable, don’t worry. But to halt a horse, you pull back gently on the reins and say ‘Whoa….’.”

Clover stopped as they reached the space in front of the stable, turning her head and looking up at Aisling as if to say ‘Here we are, all done.’. Aising patted her neck, and scratched the mane.

“Thank you for not letting me fall, Clover,” she said and the horse whickered and boobed her head up and down a few times as Frankie caught up to them.

“Need a hand down, or do you want to try by yourself?” he asked, coming up to Clover’s side.

“I’ll try, but can you stand there in case I slip?”

“Sure, I’m on stand-by,” he replied, smiling up at her and Aisling felt like she couldn’t get off Clover fast enough so that she could get close to him again. Pulling her feet out of the stirrups she awkwardly swung herself out of the saddle and slid down Clover’s side. Frankie’s hands found her waist and he held her steady as she turned to him.

“You’re a natural,” he smiled, the dimple deep in his cheek, as he pulled her closer.

“Not my first time as a cowgirl,” she winked at him and Frankie raised his eyebrows, his grin widening.

“Really? What other things have you been riding, cowgirl?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teased and he chuckled, bending his head to hers, the bill of his cap knocking against her head.

“As I remember, you did an excellent job riding me last time,” he said, his voice amused and promising, rumbling in his chest as he gave her a smirk. Aisling wrapped her fingers around his curls and pulled him closer, smiling up at him as he glanced between her eyes and mouth, the pink tip of his tongue coming out to wet his lips.

“Are you offering more lessons?”

“Hermosa, you don’t need ‘em, you’re fucking perfect, all I’ve been thinking about since that night.” His eyes had gone dark and lust blown and Aisling could feel the growing hard length of him firm against her hip. She knew her eyes were just as needy as his and it was a great effort to let go of his soft curls and nod her head at Clover behind her.

“Wanna show me how to clean her up and then take us back to the cabin?”

Frankie pressed his lips against hers, a quick, firm kiss, promising more, and then nodded.

“Yeah, let’s get this lady a rub down and then we’ll head back.”

He grabbed Clover’s reins and handed them to Aisling, “You lead her, I’ll talk you through what needs to be done.”

With Frankie guiding her, Aisling got the tack off Clover and rubbed her down, cleaning her hooves, and led her back to her stall. The grand old lady patiently waited while Aisling fiddled with the straps and struggled to pick up the large hooves, scraping them clean from dirt and any rocks.

Frankie watched her from the sidelines, smiling as Aisling chatted to Clover, and Clover whickered back, fondly nipping at Aisling’s arm as she passed around her head. Clover’s calm demeanor had made Aisling go from nervous and jumpy around the big horse, to calm and comfortable, moving around her as if she’d tended to horses her whole life. Frankie had seen it many times before, all the inexperienced guests who came to the ranch were won over by Clover’s ‘teachings’.”

“We’ll go out on the trail tomorrow, take Dolly and Clover up to the creek and go for a swim,” he said as Aisling slid the bolt closed on Clover’s stall and he came up behind her, putting his hand into hers. “Would you like that?”

“You think I’m ready for that?” Aisling asked, feeding Clover the last apple from Frankie’s pocket and rubbing her nose.

“Yeah, absolutely, we’ll go slow, and Clover will take care of you, just like she did today.”

“Ok, yeah, I’d like that, it sounds really nice,” Aisling replied and Frankie smiled, rubbing Clover’s head a final time before they started walking back towards the exit of the stable.

“You’re lucky, I never take guests to this creek, it’s my special place.”

“Am I getting preferential treatment?”

Frankie slid his arm around her waist as they walked across the yard, “Absolutely, I want you to have the best possible experience here so that you want to come back, Clover was the first trick, the creek is the second one, I think you’ll love it.”

“Hmm….” Aisling said, wrinkling her brow and Frankie glanced over at her.

“What?” he asked and Aisling gave an embarrassed shrug.

“When I left New York, I didn’t actually think any further than getting to Montana, I don’t even have the money for a return ticket….” she confessed, “I was thinking I could find a job in a bar in Big Sky or something.”

Frankie’s heart soared, and Aisling saw the grin that split his face, “You were gonna stay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’d like to, if you want me to? And I don’t mean that I’m gonna move in with you just out of the blue, but maybe I could find something in Big Sky, a small place, a job. And then we’d be closer together than two thousand miles.”

“I’d love that,” Frankie said, squeezing her side, “I’d fucking love that, please stay, Ash. And you can stay with me for as long as you want, we can figure everything else out later.”

“You really want me to stay? It’s not weird as fuck that I just turn up and move in next door?” Aisling was smiling at him, his bright grin was all the answer she needed but she wanted to hear him say it too, to confirm that it was really real, squash that last bit of nagging insecurity.

“Yes, I really want you to stay, the thought of you leaving and going back to New York makes me miserable. Having you here? I’m the happiest man in the world.” He pulled open the door of the truck and held out his hand for her to climb in and she settled in the seat before bending down to press a quick kiss to his smiling lips.

“Thank you, for making this so easy, Frankie.” Happiness was settling in her stomach like a little warm ball, the anxiety finally disappearing as he closed the door and jogged around the truck. He slid into his seat and started up the truck, his hand finding hers as soon as he’d put them on the road back to the cabin.

The ride back was mostly silent, Aisling was looking at the landscape in the afternoon sun with new eyes, looking at it as a place that might be home, memorizing landmarks, a warped tree, the curve of the road and how it dipped just before it started climbing up towards Frankie’s cabin. The silence was peaceful, there was no need to fill it with anything, it just wrapped around them comfortably like the soft breeze through the open windows. Frankie’s hand was warm around hers, she could see how he glanced at her from time to time, one hand on the steering wheel, the other caressing her skin.

“I feel so good about this,” he said as the truck pulled up in front of the cabin, turning to look at Aisling with a smile as he turned the engine off, “Is this even real?”

Aisling chuckled, “I spent two horrible days on a bus and then you took me stargazing on the prairie, let me crash in your bed in the cutest cowboy cabin I’ve ever seen, and I’ve just spent the afternoon learning how to ride. I’m not wholly convinced I’m not still just daydreaming in Greenpoint.”

Frankie tightened his grip on her hand and gently tugged her towards him across the bench seat.

“Come here,” he smiled, pulling her onto his lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was a tight fit with the steering wheel, but his warm body was pressed up against hers, and the smile he gave her made up for the gearshift jabbing into her thigh.

“You’re so fucking perfect, Ash,” he said, “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Buy very expensive beer,” she said with a cheeky grin that he mirrored, his hand cupping her cheek and pulling her down to his lips.

“Pay me back with kisses then,” he chuckled, brushing his mustache over her lips as he felt her breath against his mouth.

“You’re a cheap date, Fish,” she smiled and he caught her bottom lip between his, pulling her closer as she hummed into the kiss.

Chapter 9

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @amyispxnk @thewiigers @lady-bess @missladym1981 @peppermintfury @typewriter83 @anoverwhelmingdin @vabeachazn

#frankie morales #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier

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avocadorablepirate · 5 months

Text

What Do We Call This? - 05

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Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: On a quest to find what you've been looking for, you acquire the help of the Straw Hat pirates, who've agreed to let you temporarily join them. There are however many challenges that come along with your temporary recruitment - an alliance with a certain Trafalgar Law being one of them.

Word Count: 2.06K

Warnings: fluff, angst, kinda slow burn, swearing, mentions of alcohol as well as its consumption, the occasional OP spoiler.

A/N: I've proof read this like who knows how many times and I can still tell that the grammar tenses are all over the place, probably used every tense possible :⁠-⁠P. Anyway, this is my attempt to add some fluff to this series, although I've come to realise that maybe that's not my forte, but I still hope you enjoy it!

—⁠☆✿☆—⁠

You stand in a corner of the ship, a small smile on your face as you watch the Straw Hats raise their glasses in a toast to the newly founded Straw Hat Grand Fleet. The atmosphere was one of camaraderie and joy, a drastic shift from a few hours ago when you were all desperately trying to get away from the Marines in Dressrosa.

"(Y/N), you ready?"

The party springs to life, but your attention is drawn away from the crowd when you hear Zoro call out to you. He holds two mugs in his hand as he strides towards you, a knowing grin playing on his lips when he finishes taking a swig from his already half empty mug.

To Zoro you were someone who enjoyed the taste of alcohol as much as him, and although that were true, the temporary numbing effects it had on your injuries were an added bonus. So, with a playful smirk, you accepted the drink, clashing glasses with Zoro in cheers before you took a swig of your own.

It had started out as a drinking game between the both of you, which was quickly put to an end when you realised you were no match for Zoro - although your claim was that you were drinking the heavy stuff and he wasn't (the two of you were drinking from the same bottle). However, that was not enough to put a complete stop to your drinking. The two of you soon fell into a rhythm of casual drinking and laughter; refilling the others glass the minute the last drop was finished.

As the night progressed, the effects of the alcohol began to take hold. With each drink, the pain in your body dulled, and was replaced by a warm, fuzzy sensation that left you feeling lighter than air - you were tipsy to say the least.

From where you were you could see Law sat alone at a corner nursing his drink, uninterested in the celebrations around him. With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you looked at Zoro, and as if reading your mind, he immediately got up to drag Law to where the two of you were sat.

"Stop it," Law tries to resist, squirming to get out of Zoro's grip, but his protests are nothing to the swordsman who continues to pull him along.

"Law~" you sing his name, taking another sip before continuing, "you need to let loose, you've defeated Doflamingo."

"No, Straw Hat-ya defeated him," he corrects with a slight scowl, still annoyed that he had been dragged by Zoro into your drinking session.

"Well, you helped," you say with a shrug, stretching over him to grab the bottle of sake, so that you could refill everyone's mug.

"Haven't you had enough?" Law asks, although it's more of a statement. He had been keeping his eye on you since you boarded the ship. You had wandered away from him once you were reunited with the Straw Hats. But, despite the familiar company, Law still felt wary, and unbeknownst to you, made sure that you wouldn't push yourself too far. So, when he had seen you and Zoro indulge in drink after drink, a part of him had wanted to intervene, but the other knew that you would only get annoyed at his interference. Yet, now with the way you so casually balance yourself with your hand resting on his thigh as you lean across him to grab the bottle, a few strands of your hair brushing against his face, he knew he would eventually have to step in. If not for the fact that you were already inebriated, then for the shiver that ran down his spine at your touch (which he had pushed aside as him feeling cold).

"We haven't had a single drink together. I've definitely not had enough," you insist, your words slurred by the effects of the alcohol. Then giving all your attention to the three empty mugs, you pour a drink for the two men and yourself before gleefully knocking glasses with them, the force of your action causing Law to nearly spill all over himself. But despite nearly drenching himself, he can't help the subtle fondness that grows for you as he watches you double over with laughter at your own antics.

It's only after your fourth round with the duo that Law decides to cut you off, his concern gnawing at his conscience when you tumble into him. You had yet again tried to reach for the bottle that sat between him and Zoro, your blurry vision and the spinning room clouding your senses, and in an attempt to grab at something to steady yourself, you fell onto Law.

"You need to sleep." Law sighs, his hands gently grasping at your sides as he balances you. You give a weak whine in protest, but his soft voice and the warmth that radiates from his body only makes you drowsy, and you nuzzle into his embrace.

Law freezes as your head falls to rest against his chest, though he's quick to snap out of it, scooping you up in his arms as he stands up with ease. He hides the concern that is etched on his face with his usual stoic facade as he approaches Bartolomeo, asking him where you could sleep for the night. On Bartolomeo's directions, Law walks down the corridor to the room that was mentioned. His eyes dart towards you at the slightest sound you make, but all you say are a mix of words that are incomprehensible to him.

When he finds the room, he presses his back against the door and opens it, gently closing it behind him so that he wouldn't startle you.

It's a small room with a bunkbed pushed into one of its corners, a table in another. As Law carefully places you down onto the lower bunk, he finds himself examining your features, and his breath hitches when he notices the purplish bruises peaking out from under the bandages on your shoulder.

When he had brought you to the little house in Dressrosa Law had tried his best to mend all your wounds, his way of repaying you for what you had done for him. Still, his powers couldn't completely heal you like yours had done for him - and you were still left with bruises and scars. Law brushes aside the guilt and straightens up, but with a sudden burst of energy you pull him down by the collar of his coat. He steadies his fall by placing his hands on either side of your head, but his face is only inches away from yours, and you give him a lopsided smile that pulls at his heartstrings. God, he doesn't know why you suddenly have this effect on him.

You pull him down a little more, your lips brushing against his ear. "Alcohol has magical healing powers like me," you whisper with a giggle and then slightly push him away to meet his gaze. Law's still surprised by the position he's in, although he frowns at your words. However, you don't notice; the faint pink that still dusts his cheeks catching your attention instead. You move your hands from his collar to his face, squishing his cheeks between your palms, which only deepens his frown. Another giggle escapes from your lips, as you give him a fond smile, "Cora-san said you're cute when you're angry, but I think you're cuter when you're surprised."

Silence.

"Oye Trafalgar what do you think you're doing!?"

Your words and the sudden entry of Bartolomeo startle Law, and he bumps his head against the top bunk as he quickly pulls away from you to stand up. His soft expression changes to a scowl as he turns to face Bartolomeo, ready to berate the man for yelling, but he doesn't get the chance.

"I came looking for you cause I thought you didn't find the room, but here I find you, trying to do something to (Y/L/N) while she's asleep!" Bartolomeo yells at him, and Law hopes that you'll come to his defense. But when he turns to look at you, you're already passed out, hugging the blanket close to your person, blissfully unaware of the awkward situation you had put him in.

He lets out a low, tsk, before he pushes past Bartolomeo, and goes to find a room for himself, ignoring the voice that continues to yell at him.

_______________________________________________

You awake with the harsh light that breaks through the window, the groan you let out partly due to the sunlight and partly due to the throbbing headache that makes you feel like your head could explode any minute. The memories of last night then dawn on you, although they're a hazy recollection of the events that transpired the night before - the last one being Zoro dragging Law to join the two of you for a drink. You couldn't recall what happened after that, and you didn't want to at the moment; now, adding to the headache, was the soreness of your body, the effects of the alcohol having completely worn off.

Nevertheless you groggily get out of bed and make your way to the deck to find the Straw Hats, Law and Bartolomeo already awake. Luffy's boisterous greeting prompts you to groan in annoyance as you take the seat beside Law, unintentionally causing him to jump when your shoulder brushes against his, which goes unnoticed by you.

The group continues to talk animatedly as you try to get used to the sun that blazes down and the loud chatter that surrounds you. You try your best to focus on one thing at a time.

"Seems like our bounties have gone up."

Zoro's words are what finally catch your attention. Though you were not a pirate, you had always found it interesting how even the smallest action could lead to the Government branding people as 'Wanted' - not that what you had witnessed the Straw Hats do was any small feat. So, you were intrigued to see by how much each one's bounty had gone up.

"Really!?" Luffy yells, and you flinch again.

Bartolomeo is quick to get in on the excitement, his entire crew joining in as well as they make a path to their captain's room. The gesture amuses you, and you decide to join the crew just to get a quick glance at the bounties that were surely displayed in a grand manner. However, before he can lead the way, Bartolomeo steps towards Law to say something, and you stop to listen.

"Trafalgar I threw out yours, but your bounty has gone up to five hundred million," he says with a hint of detest, and you can't help but snort at his tone, Law's glare shifting from Bartolomeo to you when he finds you trying to hold back your laughter.

"(Y/N)-senpai!" Bartolomeo calls out to you then with a grin, and you quirk your brow at his change in demeanor. Till now he had always addressed you by your last name, and it was never with such excitement. He generally spoke to you the same way he spoke to Law, yet now, he was speaking to you with the same enthusiasm he had reserved for the Straw Hats.

"If I had known earlier that you were a part of Luffy-senpai's crew I would have kept your poster. Anyway, you now have a bounty of fifty million."

Your stomach drops. That couldn't be right, "bu-but I'm not a pirate," you sputter out, as if admitting it out loud would make the bounty disappear," and even if I was, I just started. Fifty million is too much."

"Looks like you've made quite the impression," Zoro remarks with a chuckle, thoroughly amused by your reaction. The rest of the Straw Hats respond in a similar fashion although some responses are more genuine than others.

" Suuper impressed."

"Good for you (Y/N)! Getting your first bounty must feel great!" Luffy cheers, not at all aware that this was not what you wanted. He gives you a congratulatory tap on the back before he and the rest of the crew follow behind Bartolomeo to see their new bounties, completely brushing off your shock.

You blink in surprise, still struggling to process the news through the haze of your hangover. Beside you, Law chuckles to himself, finding amusement in your bewildered reaction, and it's your turn to glare at him.

_______________________________________________

A/N: literally just listened to Daylight by Taylor Swift on repeat when I wrote this, so it's kinda all over the place ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

taglist: @trafalgardaria

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #law fanfic #law x you #trafalgar law fanfiction #trafalgar law x y/n

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daisies-daydreams · 1 year

Note

HELLO HONEY !!

i’d like to request a ghost x reader fic where he’s a college athlete and the reader is the coach’s daughter. he attracts a lot of attention (i wonder why) and is used to getting who he wants and is pleasantly surprised when the readers uninterested at first :)

Try (CollegeAU!Simon Riley x F!Reader)

Pairing: Simon Riley x F!Reader Category: Fluff & Angst Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Themes, Drinking, Smoking, Attempted Drugging, Referenced Assault, Violence Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: Hello! Thank you for your request! I apologize: I tried my best to understand rugby, but it's not really popular where I'm from. It's just a sport that I thought would fit Simon the best. I hope you enjoy!

(Minor spoiler: Simon is not the one who drugs your drink).

Image Source: Pexels

-> Ch. 2

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Simon rubbed the red mark on his cheek, his eyes lingering on the woman who was pulling her clothes back over her bare body.

“I just can't believe you, Simon,” she spat. Simon remained silent as he watched her grab her purse and stomp out of his dorm without another word. The door slammed with a loud thud as he remained clutching the blanket with one hand and cradling his cheek with the other. The welt stung, sending small ripples of pain through his face.

Simon grumbled as he rubbed the sore spot a few more times before planting his feet on the floor. He pulled out his phone and earbuds. Rugby practice was starting soon, and he couldn’t waste his time ruminating about a short fling.

Music blasted through his ears as he grabbed his duffel bag and walked towards the field. It was a blazing summer day, the sun beating down against his rugged body. He passed by a group of female students. They giggled and whispered as he nodded and waved towards them.

Getting a woman wasn't easy for Simon. Actually keeping them was the difficult part. All of the players eyed Simon as he walked into the locker rooms.

“What happened to you?” a foreign exchange student, nicknamed "König", gawked as Simon strode up to his locker. Simon patted his cheek, the welt still slightly swollen.

“Just a mishap,” he replied in a flat tone as he changed into his Jersey and shorts. Johnny, his roommate and teammate, peeked from beside the lockers.

“You sure it wasn’t a parting gift from that hen you’ve been seein?” he asked with a raised brow. Simon tensed at his words and harshly pulled out his boots. König and Johnny exchanged a knowing glance.

Simon sighed as he slipped his large footwear on. He tied his boots just as he heard the faint sound of a whistle blowing.

“C’mon. Practice is starting soon,” König said. Johnny followed after him, then Simon.

Despite him having incredible sex just before he came to practice, there was a tiny seed growing in his chest. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it felt cold and made his heart feel like it was filling with lead. Simon tilted his head side to side as if shaking his own thoughts out. He scanned the field and the sharp sting in his chest quickly faded when he saw a young woman sitting in the stands.

Your hair was pulled up in a messy bun, your clothes not too revealing but not too modest. You nibbled on the end of your pen as you stared down at your notebook, a textbook resting on your lap. You glanced up and locked eyes with him. Simon’s chest exploded with warmth, his pupils dilatating ever so slightly. He couldn’t help but swallow when he saw your lips part slightly.

The sound of a whistle screeched and broke his attention.

“Riley! Let’s focus!” Coach Price’s voice boomed. Simon huffed as he ripped his gaze from you and jogged towards the players doing warm ups. Everyone agreed that the new coach was something of a hard ass. Rumors have spread that he used to be a black op in the SAS. Simon wasn’t really one for gossip, so he shrugged it off.

Simon would peek over at you every so often, your beauty only making him sink further into desire. Johnny noticed this fairly quickly. He nudged Simon’s shoulder as they were doing a few warm-ups.

“I wouldn’t go after her if I were you,” Johnny said, his eyes full of worry. Simon laughed.

“What? She your bird or somethin'?” he asked. Before Johnny could reply, Coach Price blew the whistle again.

“Everybody line up in formation!” he bellowed. Simon bit the inside of his cheek as he stole another glance at you. You were still nose-deep in your homework. You yawned and stretched your arms above your head.

Another whistle blow.

“Riley!” Price barked. You looked up again, this time your lips forming into a small smile as he met your gaze. Simon felt even more determined when he played now, checking over his shoulder every now and then. Of course, this came with consequences, including several remarks from Price.

"In case you forgot your position: you're the fullback, Riley! Watch for your team!" the coach yelled at the top of his lungs. Simon saw you giggling before turning back to your book.

By the end of the training, he was worn out and covered in sweat, his tattooed arms flexing as he stretched himself on the bench.

“Hit your head too many times?” Johnny teased. Simon huffed as his eyes wandered back up to the stands where you still remained. Your hair was slightly frizzy from the late summer heat. You tucked a strand behind your ear before taking a drink of water. Judging from the expression you made, it was empty. You rose from your seat and started walking to the nearest water fountain. Simon took a huge swig of water before wiping his mouth.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. Johnny’s mouth opened to call for him but he was already making his way up the metal steps. Simon actually felt his heart race as he approached you. You were filling up your water bottle as he pressed his hand against the wall.

“Scuse me,” he said. You turned around and blinked. A forced smile stretched across your face as he strolled up to you, his jersey clinging to his rugged, sweaty skin. Your beauty almost made him forget just why he came up there.

“Just wanted to introduce myself. The name’s Simon,” he said as he held his hand out. Your smile fell as you shook it, your palms soft compared to his.

“I thought it was Riley,” you quipped. He laughed.

"That's my last name. Just call me Simon," he grinned. You gave him a short nod before making your way back to the stands. Simon scrambled towards you.

“I haven’t seen you around practice before,” he commented as you two walked. You nodded, your face tight.

“I’ll probably just be around for this week,” you said with a slight edge to your voice. Simon tilted his head. There seemed to be something familiar about you. Maybe you were one of his classmates?

“Yeah? Why’s that?” he asked. Your lips pursed as you squeezed your bottle.

“My car’s the shop,” you explained, your nostrils flaring. Simon grunted, his eyes looking you up and down as both of you turned the corner.

“Sorry if this is sudden, but has anyone ever told you how gorgeous your smile is?” he drawled, his voice dropping a few octaves. You blinked and sighed.

“Listen, you seem like a somewhat decent guy, but I need to get back to my homework,” you stated matter-of-factly. Simon nearly choked on his spit. This is the first time in what felt like an eternity that a girl’s turned him down. His heart began to race as he watched you slip away.

“Bye,” you quickly said with a wave as you returned to your seat. Simon’s jaw clicked as he felt a bitter taste envelope his tongue. Eventually, he stopped staring at you and made his way back down to the field. Johnny’s face looked somewhat pale as he strode up towards him.

“What?” Simon snapped. Johnny pointed towards the stands. Simon’s eyes followed him. His throat grew tight as he saw you talking to Coach Price. The man’s arms were crossed as he nodded along to your words. It felt like lightning struck through him when Price’s head snapped towards him, his eyes narrowing and face turning bright red.

“Good luck, mate,” Johnny said as he roughly patted his shoulder. Simon scoffed as his roommate stepped back while Price approached them. Everyone watched, the entire field seeming to freeze. The coach came uncomfortably close to Simon as he snarled in a strained voice:

“My office. Now”.

+++

The next several minutes were filled with Price casting death glares at Simon as he ranted at him.

“Listen here, boy. I may be new, but I already know of your reputation here on campus," he began. Simon's face remained as neutral as possible as spit flew out of the man's mouth. "I’m not about to let my daughter become another one of your brazen hussies,” he growled as he shook his index finger at him. Simon felt his chest turn to stone as he watched the coach scowl.

“You are not to touch, speak, or even look at (Y/N),” Price ordered. Simon nodded quickly, his chest tightening as the man stared him down. The coach leaned forward, his palms pressed to the cold wood of the desk as he scowled.

“Mark my words, Riley. If I find out you’ve stuck your knob inside my daughter, I’ll cut it off and feed it to my fucking dogs,” he roared. Simon swallowed a lump in his throat as he nodded.

“Same goes for the rest of you!” Price shouted as his head snapped towards his door. Whispers followed by several shuffling feet were heard outside the door. Simon’s blood ran cold as his shoulders tightened.

“Yes, sir. I understand,” he muttered. Price’s nostrils flared as he pointed out of his office.

“Good. Now, get out of my sight. And don't get distracted next time...or else,” he spat. Simon nodded before turning on his heel, quickly making his way down the hall. The locker room was silent when he stepped inside. Several eyes were locked on him as he walked towards the showers. Simon closed his eyes and sighed as the cold water rushed down his sweaty, rippling back. Thankfully, the locker room was nearly empty by the time he stepped out.

Johnny stood scrolling through his phone before looking up. He offered Simon a careful smile as they walked out of the building.

“Want to get some takeaway?” he asked. Simon remained silent, simply looking forwards as the world blurred around him.

Not only did you reject him, but the man who was your father happened to be one of the most terrifying people he’d ever met. A lump formed in his throat as he glanced down at his crotch, then back up at the sidewalk.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was the coach’s daughter?” Simon grumbled. Johnny shrugged.

“I tried to, but we had to start practice,” he explained. Simon ran a hand down his face. Frustration built inside him like boiling lava inside a volcano. He whipped out his phone, texting a girl he met a few weeks ago.

“Which one are you texting this time?” Johnny asked bluntly. Simon ignored him, instead sending her a message about a party this weekend. A friend of theirs, Kyle, was in a fraternity who was notorious for throwing massive raging keggers.

“Surprised you actually texted a girl back this time, Ghost,” Johnny quipped as he nudged his shoulder. Simon rolled his eyes.

“When the hell are you all goin' to drop that annoyin' nickname?” he grumbled. Johnny chuckled as they stepped through the doors to their dorm building. Simon happened to glance over to see you passing by in a black truck. Your eyes locked again briefly before you looked away. Price was in the driver’s seat, his eyes set on the road as he pulled away.

“Come on. I think a couple of pints is in order for the both of us,” Johnny said. Simon raised a brow.

“You no longer with Gabby?” he asked. Johnny’s bright smile seemed to falter.

“I dinnae ken. She said she ‘needs a break’,” the Scotsman said as he flexed his fingers with air quotes. Simon grunted.

“Alright-but you’re buyin’,” he stated. He didn't even try to hide his wry grin as Johnny scoffed and rambled at him.

+++

The next few practice's were brutal, to say the least. Every time he looked at you, Price demanded everyone to do one-hundred push ups. Simon was beginning to believe the rumor's about the coach's past.

“For fuck’s sake, man-just keep your eyes off of her!" one of the players gaped after a tiring practice. Simon ignored him as he changed into a fresh pair of clothes. His shorts hugged his muscular thighs nicely while his tank too stretched over his rugged upper body. Johnny came up beside him.

“You still goin’ to Kyle’s party tonight?” he asked. Simon nodded.

“Yeah, Tracy ditched me at the last second though,” he shrugged. Johnny patted his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s a lovely lass who’ll gladly get into your pants…that is, if she hasn't already,” Johnny smirked. Simon punched his arm, causing the Scotsman to chuckle.

“What about you, big guy? You wanna come?” he asked as he turned towards König. Simon had absolutely no idea how this guy was human. He had to duck every time he walked through the door for crying out loud. König sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Nein, it’s not really my scene,” he shrugged.

“Fair enough-just know the invitation is always open,” Johnny grinned. König nodded before slipping towards the showers. A 'thunk' sound reverberated across the room as König swore in German and rubbed his head.

Simon closed his locker door before padding out of the building. His eyes lit up when he saw you climbing into a black truck. He frowned when Coach Price’s cold, heavy gaze trailed over towards him. He glared at him before climbing into his vehicle and driving away. Simon sighed before making his way back to the dorm.

+++

Loud music thumped against the walls. Smoke hung in the air as several students bumped and grinded against each other. The lighting was dim inside the frat house as chaos erupted at every waking second. Simon sipped at his beer while Kyle rambled on and on about how obnoxious some of the new frat members were.

"And Graves-Christ, don't even get me started. He never stops talking about his precious Porsche back in the States. His old man got it for him as a present for his sixteenth birthday. Can you fuckin" believe that?!" he scoffed as he waved his hands wildly. The song changed during the one-sided conversation and that’s when Simon felt it: the cold, dark pit opening up inside his chest.

The feeling made his beer grow stale, music dull and the air thick and heavy. He brushed past Kyle as he made his way towards the back deck, ignoring his several questions. The people in the room seemed to slow down as he barraged his way through. He barely caught a glimpse of König.

"Bastard actually showed up," Simon thought. A blonde girl was sitting next to the Austrian, batting her lashes as she whispered something into his ear. His cheeks turned a bright red as he pulled his hoodie over his head.

Simon swung the door open and slammed it closed. He took a deep breath of the chilled night air. Crickets chirped as the muffled music inside swelled into a crescendo.

“Needed a break too, huh?” a familiar voice asked. Simon’s eyes flew open and landed on you. You were wearing ripped jeans and a black crop top, your body decorated with minimal amounts of jewelry. Even in the dim lighting, you looked ethereal.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. You turned your body towards him, the light from inside highlighting your features.

“Got any smokes?” you asked. Simon raised a brow and nodded.

“Yeah, but I forgot my lighter,” he said as he rummaged through his pocket. You snatched something from your jeans, pulling out a small, silver box. Simon grinned as he walked over, offering you a cig. You flicked the lighter on before taking it from his fingers. You turned as you sucked in a long drag, puffing out the smoke into the night. Your eyes lingered on his shocked face.

“What? I’m the daughter of a coach, not a pastor,” you retorted before taking another drag. The corners of Simon’s eyes crinkled as he remained near you. He slid his hands together as both of you stood silently, watching the water of the lake catching the light of the full moon.

“I’m sorry if I was being too forward the first time we met,” he sighed. You gave him an unreadable look before exhaling out a long trail of smoke.

“You’re fine,” you said. Simon turned towards you.

“No, really. I should've just-” he said as his eyes wandered around. You nudged his shoulder.

“I said it’s fine, Riley,” you huffed. His lips curled up as you both went back to staring at the lake.

“Did my dad tell you that he’d cut off your dick?” you asked bluntly. Simon nearly choked on his spit. You cocked a brow, already getting your answer just from his pale face. You shook your head and sighed. “Sorry, he can get a little intense,” a small pink blush made its way across your face. Simon nodded.

“A little?” he muttered and rolled his eyes. You snorted, a genuine, small grin etching across your face. You were soon laughing, your bubbly chuckles falling across the landscape and drowning out the music. Simon found himself chuckling along with you, his face hurting from how much he was smiling.

Despite all the women he's been with, this had to be the first where he felt something genuine stir inside his chest. It wasn’t the drunk feelings he got whenever he’d lie in the afterglow-it felt deeper, pouring and coursing through his entire body.

And he realized something as the smoke from your lips wafted towards him: he wanted to feel that genuine warmth every second of his waking life.

You put out the cigarette on the deck before wiping an amused tear from your eye.

“Thanks, Riley. I really needed that,” you smiled. Simon beamed.

“No problem. Just come to me if you need a laugh. I've gotta funny face, anyway,” he commented. You snorted and lightly punched his arm.

"Not that funny looking," you smirked. Simon pretended to be offended before both of you laughed again. His face grew hot as you looked up at him. Your face looked so serene as you parted your lips. Simon tilted his head when the words came out as a garbled mess.

“You feelin’ alright, kid?” he asked with knitted brows. Your eyelids began to droop as you nodded.

“Just…dizzy…” you slurred as you wobbled around. Simon’s eyes widened as your legs suddenly crumpled beneath you. He was quick to snatch you in his burly arms.

"(Y/N)?" he asked. You rolled your head around, your eyes glazed over as you continued to slur. His eyes flicked over to a red solo cup resting on the ledge of the deck. Heat rose inside his chest as he gritted his teeth. He laid your head down on the deck, keeping his hand beneath it.

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” he asked, his heart sinking into his stomach. You gurgled weakly, eyes hazy and unfocused. “Fuck,” he hissed as he frantically looked around. A man seemed to be watching both of you from inside. He quickly ducked behind a group of women. Simon looked back down at you. His thumb stroked a tear that rolled down your cheek.

"Simon...'m scared," you sobbed quietly as your pupils became constricted.

"I know, hun. Just let me-" he remembered König sitting on the couch right next to the door. He looked back down at you.

“I’m going to get help. I’ll be at the door and I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?” he mumbled. You parted your lips, your head lolling to the side. Simon sprinted to his feet and wrenched the door open. König sputtered as Simon grabbed him from his chair, the woman shooting daggers at him. He led the giant man outside. König gasped when he saw your unconscious body.

“What happened?” he asked. Simon gripped his shoulders.

“I think (Y/N)‘s drink has been spiked,” he seethed. König’s face lost its color as you slurred out incoherently. Simon slid his car keys into König’s hand. “I need you to take her to the ER for me,” he said as he gripped his shoulders.

“What are you going to do?” König asked as he began to gently pick you up. Simon tightened his fist as he strode back into the crowd.

“I need to take care of something real quick,” he hissed. His head throbbed as he stomped and shoved his way through several people. Simon narrowed his eyes when he saw the familiar man rushing towards the side door. He gritted his teeth as he ran towards him. The man yelped as Simon landed a punch square across his cheek. Several women gasped and scattered as Simon pulled the man to his feet.

“Tell me what you put in (Y/N)‘s drink,” Simon growled as he shook the man’s collar. The dark-haired man spat in his face, blood and spit spraying across it.

“What drink, you arsehole?” he snarled back, though a small, knowing grin crept across his face.

“If you’re going to fight, then take it outside,” a frat member yelled towards him. Simon curled his fists in the man’s polo shirt.

“Gladly,” he said while tilting his head.

He dragged the man through the side door, punching him again across his other cheek. He watched in satisfaction as he fell to the ground, groaning while he cradled his face in his hands. Simon drove his large fist into the man’s chest, causing him to wheeze. He came down onto one knee, his voice sharp and acidic.

“Tell me what you put in her drink,” he said as he grabbed the man by his shaggy hair. The man winced. Simon gripped at it even harder. "I won't ask again," he warned. The man spat out another string of spit and blood.

"Fentanyl," he muttered. Simon's fists shook as he readied another blow.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Kyle gasped. Simon leaned his head towards him. Kyle stood with his mouth agape. Several people crowded and watched from behind. Simon glanced back down at the man. His face was covered in blood, his cheeks already swelling with bruises. The polo he grabbed him by was similar to the one Kyle wore.

“Ky-you gotta get this twat off of me! He's fuckin' delusional!” the man sputtered. Simon released his grip on the man. He fell back to the ground with a yelp. Kyle ran up to him.

“You alright, VP?” he asked. Simon frowned as he watched the man get picked up.

“I’ll be fine,” he glared at Simon. His eyes trailed down to see a piece of a plastic bag poking out of his back pocket.

“Wait,” Simon called as Kyle was escorting the man back into the house. Kyle scowled at him.

“I’m not waiting for anything, Riley. You nearly beat the shit out of our VP,” he spat. Simon stepped forward, causing the man to flinch.

“Check his back pocket, but don't touch anything if you find it” he ordered. Kyle twisted his lips while the Vice President released a laugh.

“Don't listen to this git, Garrick. He-“ Kyle's nostrils flared as he spun the man around and grabbed at his pocket. His eyes bulged when a bag filled with white, dusty powder slipped out. The Vice President’s face fell.

“That’s-That’s just for...personal use," he explained, his voice weak and shaky. Kyle’s brows furrowed as he threw the Vice President onto the lawn, his beaten and bruised body landing on top of the bag. The man hissed as he rose to his hands and knees.

Simon pulled out his phone and quickly texted König what you had consumed. Just as Simon put away his phone, the VP stood on his feet and swung his fist into his ribs. Simon groaned as he clutched his side, a dull ache reverberating across his skin.

“He’s getting away!” one of the women inside screamed. Simon grabbed his ribs, trying his best to run towards him. The Vice President was surprisingly quick, though. He looked back and smirked at Simon before suddenly running into a rough wall. He huffed as he fell back to the ground. Johnny stood with his hands on his hips, cocking a brow. The Vice President's bottom lips quivered.

"Please, you have to help me! These men are trying to frame me!" he begged as he clawed at Johnny's ankles. Johnny's shoulders bounced as he released a hearty laugh.

"Yeah? Then why are you running away?" he asked. The man's face grew pale as he was surrounded by the two men. Simon cracked his knuckles while Johnny leaned down. "Ever been to a rugby match?" Johnny grinned. The man whimpered.

+++

You blinked slowly, your eyes still somewhat unfocused. Price’s eyes became misty as he rose from his chair.

“Dad?” you asked with a hoarse voice.

“Pumpkin, thank God you’re alright,” the coach choked as he instantly rushed to your side. Your eyes were wide as he hugged you tightly.

“Dad, I-I’m so sorry. I tried to be careful like you taught me, but-“

“Hush, now. I’m so happy you’re safe,” he sniffed. Your eyelids fell as you silently cried, your father holding and rocking you gently. Simon watched from the doorway, his arms crossed.

After they taught the VP a lesson, they called the police. They promptly took the man into custody (though not without questioning his broken nose and several bruises). Simon had to ask to borrow Kyle’s car once they took the man away. He reluctantly agreed and yelled at Simon as he sped out of the parking lot. Relief washed over him when when the nurse said you'd be okay. König remained until he knew you were alright, trading Simon's keys for Kyle's. It was around one in the morning when Price showed up-his hair messy and face completely pale.

“Where’s my little girl?” he asked with a strained voice, his eyes weary and solemn. The men directed him to the front desk and a woman escorted all of them back.

Simon’s attention was snapped back to the present when someone clears their throat behind him. He turned. A woman wearing a police uniform cocked a brow at him.

“I’m detective Jones. Is this where Y/N is staying?” She asked. Simon nodded and let the man through. “Thanks,” Jones said in passing. Price pulled back, his hands squeezing your shoulders as the detective stepped into the room.

“Good afternoon, I’m detective Natalie Jones,” she said as she held out her hand. Price’s face grew stern as he shook Jone’s hand.

“John Price,” he said. Jones nodded.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask (Y/N) a few questions,” she said as she flipped open a dark notebook. Price squeezed your hand as his face hardened even more. “I understand your concerns of leaving her alone, sir, but I promise it won’t take more than fifteen minutes,” she explained. Price looked over at you.

“It’s okay, Dad,” you assured him weakly. He squeezed your hand again and sighed.

"I'll be right out in the hall if you need me," he said. You gave him a tired smile as he rose from his seat. Price nodded at the officer before walking into the hall.

Simon noticed the bags under his eyes. Jone's shut the door behind her as Price stood mere feet away from the young player. The sounds of doctors and patients, as well as various beeps, echoed in the stark hallways. The coach cleared his throat.

“Thank you for...helping (Y/N),” he said. Simon rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sure,” he replied. The two men shuffled awkwardly.

"Listen, I'm sorry I was kind of hard on you before," Price huffed. Simon raised a brow.

"Kind of?" he thought. Price bit the inside of his cheek as he placed his hands on his hips.

"It's just...(Y/N)'s all I have left. She's still my little girl to me, and I don't know if I'm ready to accept that she's become a woman," he sighed. Simon remained silent. Price leaned on the wall, staring into the closed door. "There's just so much out there that could hurt her, and I won't always be there to protect her," the coach's voice cracked as tears welled in his eyes.

Simon craned his neck and looked down at his feet. He slowly moved forward and hesitantly placed a hand on Price's shoulder. The coach flinched at the sudden contact, his eyes slightly red as he glanced over.

"Someone will always be there to protect her. She knows the entire bloody rugby team for Christ's sake," Simon said. Price's lips cracked into a miniscule smile.

"Right," the man sighed. Simon slid his hand from Price's tense shoulder. The door creaked open, followed by detective Jone's stepping out. Despite her composure, Simon could see the mist in her eyes.

"Mr. Riley, if it's alright I'd like to ask you a few questions as well," she said. Simon nodded.

"Alright," he said. She motioned for him to follow her. As he passed by your room, both of you exchanged glances. You gave him a bright, warm smile. He grinned back. Simon is a fullback-it's his job, after all.

Someone will always be there to protect her.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Tag list:

@notthatfanfictionwriter

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miscreantroses · 1 year

Text

Drinking game (OP Live Action Zoro x Reader)

A/N: There might be inaccuracies because I haven't watched the live adaptation. (I'm sorry but being a corp slave is draining me haha.) I've watched the first few episodes and there was one scene that I liked. (Rereads the request again... oh they asked for a romantic one. Huh... Guess I might do another one.)

genre: fluff

Night falls and you, Zoro, Nami and Usopp are at the Baratie's bar having a drink. Luffy was made to be a choreboy because he can't pay the meal that you guys had.

You stared at your wine glass and see Usopp drinking a cocktail at a fast pace.

"This doesn't taste like it has alcohol." He smiled.

"Last time I said that I woke up face down under the table." Zoro warned him as Usopp continued to down his drink.

"He'll be having a major headache by tomorrow." You chuckled as you take another sip from your wine.

Nami and Zoro started to have a drinking game. Believing that Zoro might know a thing or two about Nami. Unluckily, Nami made him to drink since he doesn't know a thing or two about her. Nami walks away to have go grab another drink at the bar. Zoro looks at me and pours me a drink.

"Zoro, I already have mine." You smiled and showed your glass of wine still half full.

"You and me, drinking game." He smiled at you. "If I get it right, you drink. I can't, I drink." You smiled and put down your drink and faced him.

"Looks like you want to get to know me more." You chuckled. "You're on."

Zoro smirked and started. "Well, I bet you're from a village."

I smiled and told him to drink. "Nope, actually I'm more of a city girl." Zoro cursed in his breath and took another shot. "My turn, you didn't have a family growing up. And yes, swords does not count as family."

"Well, I didn't really know who my parents are." He grabs another drink. "Speaking of family, you grew up in a loving home."

I shook my head. "No, I barely knew my parents. I was practically living alone majority of my life." I handed him another drink. "Drink up."

He smirked. "You agreed because you wanted to know me better." He asks which caught me off-guard.

"Sounded like a statement rather than a question." I chuckled. "But..." I grabbed the drink and only took half of a sip.

"I got it right. Finish the whole thing." He stared at me, giving half of the glass.

"Well, it is true. But you didn't got the whole thing." I smirked. "Drink up." It was true you wanted to get to know him more because you liked him for a while. It has only had been days when you met him but you can't seem to get Zoro out of your mind. He's been in your thoughts constantly as wanted to strike up a conversation with him.

You smirked decided to ask a very risky question. "Well.. Do you happen to like someone?" Which caught him completely off-guard. "I ran out of questions to ask. Just answer it."

"Well, to be honest." He stared at you and cursed under his breath. "Who am I kidding." He grabs the drink and took another shot.

You laughed as Zoro pours another shot. "Same question, do you happen to like someone?" You snickered and grabbed the shot glass and drank it.

"Now, this is interesting." He smiled but aa he poured for another shot. The bottle was empty.

"Seems like we have to end our little game here." You smirked.

Hours had passed and only Zoro and you were the only ones left at the bar. You stared out to the sea.

"I'm really curious on that little crush of yours." You turned your head to Zoro who was staring at his glass.

"What? Jealous?" I joked it off and he just shrugged.

"Why would I?" He laughed and stared at the starry night. "As if -" As he tries to finish his sentence you cut him off.

"You." Those were the only words that you said outloud. "I like you, Zoro." You stared at him while he was in complete shock. You stared back to the sea. "I've been having a crush on you for quiet sometime."

After your little confession. Everything turned silent. You continued to look out to the sea. Not expecting for him to like you back. You were pirates afterall, and having crushes or be in a relationship was not in a list of priorities. You heared Zoro sighed and you looked back to him and you saw him smile.

"Guess that makes us even." He replied. "I like you too, Y/N."

#fanfic #fluff #one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #onepiece live action

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cebwrites · 7 months

Note

since you wanted some uncommon character requests; could i request some sfw and nsfw relationship headcanons for penguin x reader and shachi x reader? If they're not too out of the way for you (～￣▽￣)～ I rarely see those two requested for, so I'd love to see you're take on them! [I'd ask off anon but i can't ask from a non-primary blog - I'll be reblogging to @remisloves if you wanted an identity (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)b ]

a/n: surprisingly they aren't around these parts, I've gotten quite a few requests for the boys lol - but since you asked nicely, sure <3 [thank you so much for including your blog too, it feels nice to actually put usernames to people （；´д｀）ゞ]

Relationship Headcanons (Penguin, Shachi)

gn reader, trans penguin, nsfw under the cut self-indulgence unrelated to pen and shach at the end cw; blood, funky OP-verse sex toys word count: 1.1k

Penguin

Penguin was the oldest of the original Heart Pirates quartet, he's always been the oldest even when it was just him and Shachi, before and after the tsunami that left them with Shachi's horrible, horrible relatives

It's made him protective over the people he holds dear, incredibly worrisome even if he tries to hide it, but also surprisingly nurturing for someone who seemingly goofs off as much as his counterpart does

He makes snacks, he checks up on the crew, and has a bad habit of taking too much onto himself, although not nearly as badly as the notorious Heart captain, Penguin still struggles with that "eldest sibling" mentality even if most of the crew is quite a bit older than him; he vehemently denies any teasing you or the crew give him about passing on those traits to Law

When it comes to you, Pen likes to keep a close eye on you even when things are calm and everyone's having fun, not that he doesn't trust you to take care of yourself, but he'd just like to make sure no one's getting hurt or too carried away when his crew mates' usual brand of shenanigans kick into high gear

There's a cute kind of shyness when he opens up to you for the first time; yeah agreeing to being in a relationship is one thing but it's another to actually know the person you love and with Penguin, it's tentative, almost scared, but genuine

He's hesitant to let you come too close at first, become too physical, an insecurity that you do your best to quell but it isn't easy, Pen's become used to protecting himself and his own so much that vulnerability is alien

Being topless with the guys on the Tang's deck, whacking each other on the ass with freshly laundered towels is one thing, but being intimate with his partner in a private room is another entirely

Still, you're patient with him, you don't react poorly when he gets overwhelmed at the protective layers of clothes hitting the floor, you allow him space, and eventually, maybe even agonizingly slowly, he lets you in - starting with a held pinky while Penguin catches his breath with his shirt off, his nerves getting the best of him after getting a little more handsy than usual that day

When the dam finally breaks, when he's comfortable showing himself to you in his entirety, you're surprised at how ravenous Penguin actually is - he's insatiable, betraying the composure he carries himself with throughout the day

In the bedroom, against the wall, in the communal bathroom and over the Tang's railing when everyone's asleep, hell, even in an alleyway once when the both of you had time to kill on a random island while everyone else was getting wasted, he can't keep his hands off you

Penguin loves watching you eat him out, one hand in your hair while the other shakily props himself up, but what he loves more is the view he gets when you're sucking him off

The Grand Line is.... an anomaly, neither you or Pen are here to dispute that - weird as it is, however, it's often resourceful once you can get past the initial recoil; all that to say—Penguin got his hands on seeds that, once "planted" between his vulva, allowed him to temporarily grow a fully functioning phallus

By god, Pen loves the way you look bouncing on it

He digs his nails into your waist, laps up the sweat on your skin, his grip is hard enough to bruise but you're no better, egging him on to take you after you've done such good work prepping his cock, prepping yourself for him

And really how could he say no after all that

Shachi

The MOST live in your hoodies mf to ever; he's clingy, he's affectionate, he mock-whines if you've been apart from him for too long like a pup with separation anxiety

To some degree you both know it's an act he puts on to vie for your attention, but there's also a real part of him that worries if he lets his hold on you slip a little too much, you'll disappear

I like to think Shachi's part fishman too, so there's a quiet part of him that worries his partner would leave if they found out, or couldn't handle the treatment you'd get by proxy of being so close to a fishman, even if he wasn't full-blooded - yet every day you find ways to reassure him that'll never happen

In return, he'll climb to the top of the Tang's mast to yell about how much he loves you and how perfect you are, he's a little obnoxious in the Maes Hughes "look at my adorable family" kind of way but you can forgive the mild embarrassment when he flashes his award-winning smile full of razor-sharp chompers

Shachi takes incredible pride in being the one who takes care of the Heart Pirates' hair, his little summer job on Swallow Island for the few years that he spent as a stylist really did turn into a passion for him, even if his occupation on paper is "pirate", but hey, who's keeping track anyways?

Despite his enthusiasm about most everything else, he's incredibly delicate with you initially, constantly checking in to see if you're alright, making sure boundaries aren't crossed, confirming that you are, in fact, enjoying yourself like the big shell-conchus dweeb he is, Shachi just wants to make sure you're alright

Not that he doesn't still check up on you now, he absolutely does, but now with a decent amount of shared time between you two, he's a lot less jumpy about things, more confident in his stride - or rather stroke, I should say

He's loud, peppers you in kisses all over, hell if other people can hear, Shachi needs you to know that he adores every part of you - it does result in an addition of both of your chores (takes two to tango), so whenever the sub drops anchor the both of you try to sneak off to a love hotel given the option of free roam at least once if possible

Shachi answers to you completely, he marks you up at your command and eases whenever you show the slightest discomfort; still, when you do manage to convince him to let loose, he definitely takes the phrase leaving his mark literally - with those exact teeth

He laps at the wounds he leaves as he makes love to you, smearing crimson and words of praise against your body like hymns of devotion, pulling you impossibly close and sharing your taste when you pull him in for a kiss, still trying to hold back that animal desire

The aftercare is just as tender, just as sweet, but maybe a little awkward the first time around when he has to explain to Law why he's sneaking medical supplies away while you sit in the middle of blood stained sheets like you're the victim of a murder

And a bonus for me since writing this had me thinking about it-

I know Law goes down on their man like a champ; inexperienced initially? Yes, but they learn quickly and spite from being teased is a good motivator as any, plus, pleasing their partner, of course

Kirin's got his dick out? Not a problem, they're making him beg for it, the E, As, and T on their fingers might not see the light for hours, not until they're satisfied with edging Kirin until he cries

The only one who beats them at that is Zoro but realistically, no one's topping the King of Cock, not unless Zoro finds it in his heart to not power-bottom Sanji for the night

#cebafterdark #one piece #penguin x reader #penguin one piece #one piece penguin #penguin x y/n #shachi #shachi x reader #one piece shachi #shachi one piece #lawrin #minor zosan mention #one piece smut

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writeforfandoms · 11 months

Text

Armor ch 3

Find my Rodolfo masterlist

Okay here we are!! Finally!! The end of this fic! It's been a fun ride, and I've loved getting a glimpse at the wider shifter 'verse. I hope you have too.

You have to go up to Canada for an op... but what you do after that is up to you and Rodolfo.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of the forced shift drug, Logan is a Menace, shifter courting behavior, look these two are way too cute.

Rodolfo Parra x f!reader

Word count: 2.9k

“You have shockingly bad timing,” Alejandro said, eyes narrowing at you.

You threw your hands up, annoyed. “It’s not my choice! Laswell’s reassigning me!” You were trying not to be annoyed. You were also failing.

As much as you wanted to blame the lack of sleep, you knew it had more to do with the fact that you were being pulled away from Rodolfo, just as you were getting attached.

Alejandro rubbed a hand across his jaw, eyes narrowing at you. “If she’s reassigning you, there’s nothing I can do,” he admitted finally.

“I know.” You deflated a little, pinching the bridge of your nose to try to stave off the headache. “I know that, I just…” You hesitated, but Alejandro was patient, waiting you out. “Hoped you could break it to Rodolfo. Since I don’t think I’ll see him before I have to go.”

Alejandro shook his head. “If you don’t see him, I’ll tell him,” he agreed. “Here.” He reached behind him to his desk, grabbing a spare piece of paper and a pen. A few moments of scribbling later, he shoved the paper at you.

Rodolfo’s phone number. You lifted one slow, judgemental eyebrow at the alpha.

“He’d want you to have it,” was all he said before he shooed you out of his office.

You puffed out your cheeks but headed back to your temporary room to pack. Pain throbbed at your temples, distracting but not terrible. The lack of sleep was going to bite you, but maybe you’d be able to sleep on the way up to Canada.

Fuck. Canada was going to be cold. You weren’t packed for cold.

You rubbed your face with one hand, groaning softly to yourself. You’d just have to pick something up in Canada, you’d be fine.

Fortunately it didn’t take long to throw your things back in your bag, giving the room a quick once-over to make sure you hadn’t missed anything.

You made it to the car with a bit of time to spare, tossing your bag in the back. Then you stood for a moment, looking at the base. You’d liked this place.

Maybe if you got lucky you’d be able to come back sometime.

Your driver for the trip to the airstrip was just approaching the car when you spotted Rodolfo. He still looked a little disheveled, fully dressed but hair still mussed. He paused for a moment when he saw you before he started walking, long strides eating up the distance between you quickly.

He stopped close, closer to you than normal, close enough you could see he hadn’t had a chance to shave yet.

“Here,” he offered softly, holding out a jacket to you. One of his, by the scent clinging to the fabric.

You blinked, startled, fingers closing over his over the jacket. “Are you sure?” you asked in return, leaning closer to him. This wasn’t quite a courting gift… but it was close. It was certainly a gift with intention.

“I’m sure.” He smiled, small but sincere, free hand lifting to cover yours. “Keep it.”

“Thank you.” You pulled the jacket closer, just barely resisting the temptation to bring it up to your nose. This would keep you warm, in more ways than one.

“Alejandro gave you my number?”

“Yes.” You smiled, unable to stop yourself.

“Good. Let me know when you’re back on the ground?”

“I will.” You watched him for a moment before you leaned in that little bit closer, rubbing your cheek against his. You gave yourself a moment to appreciate his stunned expression before you smirked and got in the car.

Of course, you didn’t wait until you got to Canada to text him. You texted him as soon as you were at the airstrip.

Going to try to take a nap on the flight up. The jacket should make a good pillow.

Okay, so that was a teeny bit mean, in a teasing way. But you couldn’t resist. Especially after the run last night.

You definitely wanted to run with him again.

You had to turn your phone off for the flight, but you did indeed use his jacket as a pillow. The best part was the scent - it smelled like him, sunk deep into every centimeter of fabric. Clearly he’d had this for a while, or it was a favorite.

Which just made it so much better, for you.

Of course, you were extra glad for it as soon as you got off the plane in Canada. It was fucking cold. You pulled the jacket on, making a brief face at the temperature.

“Laswell owes me,” you mumbled to yourself. You could have still been enjoying the weather and the views in Mexico, dammit!

Oh well. You’d just do whatever needed to be done up here and leave as fast as you possibly could.

But Laswell hadn’t arranged just any ride for you. Oh, no. Of course not.

Fucking Logan stood at the exit, arms crossed over his chest, fingers tapping against his bicep. He met your gaze easily, raising one eyebrow at you. You had no trouble holding his gaze, partially because you were both loners and so had no need to try to assert dominance. And partially because he just didn’t care.

“Ready?” he asked as you approached, though he eyed the jacket with an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Got a place for us already?”

“Yup.” He turned, leading the way outside and to the car. He drove, of course, and you didn’t object. You had napped on the flight up, fortunately, so you were awake for the drive to the hotel.

“So, what are we doing?” You got out once he parked, taking a moment to stretch your arms up over your head, stiff after so long sitting still. Rodolfo’s jacket brushed against your cheek, and you hid your smile.

“Spy shit,” Logan drawled, leading you up to a room. He handed you a key, an actual old-fashioned key, and nodded to the next door down. “Meet you at mine in ten.”

Fine by you. You stepped into your room to put your things down and change into clean clothes that didn’t smell of airplane. Except the jacket. You kept the jacket on.

On the ground, met my contact. I’ll keep you updated. Hoping I won’t be here long. You sent the text to Rodolfo quickly. The only thing better at this point would be calling him, but that just wasn’t feasible on your timetable.

But maybe later… hm. Something to consider.

“We’re doing some tracking,” Logan told you without preamble, once he’d let you into his room and shut the door. “On four feet.”

You nodded. Well, at least your fur would help protect you from the colder temperatures. “When and where?”

“Tonight. A house outside town. They’re running something through the house, just don’t know what yet.”

You nodded. Simple enough. “And you need me here because…?”

Logan looked a little disgruntled. “Because my kid is paranoid about the force shift drug.”

You made a face. “Well, to be fair, that shit isn’t fun.”

He blinked at you once. “You got hit with it?”

“Just once,” you admitted with a little shrug. “Had no idea what was going on until too late.”

He whistled lowly. “Guess you’ll recognize it, then.”

You shrugged. “Probably. My memories are fuzzy.”

He nodded once and pulled out a map. An actual physical map. Because the man was a dinosaur. The two of you went over the routes you’d each take, where you’d rendezvous at the end, all of it.

He drove the two of you into town to get food before the op. Always a good idea to eat first.

“New jacket?” He smirked at you over his plate, clearly amused.

“Shut up.” But you smiled a little. Just a little. You weren’t ready to talk about Rodolfo yet, not until you’d had a conversation with him.

Logan snorted but dropped it, focusing on his food. The rest of the meal was quiet. You, at least, were focused on the upcoming op. It shouldn’t be hard.

As long as they weren’t running the shifter drug.

By silent agreement, Logan paid and you followed him back out to the car. It was too risky to shift at the hotel, so he’d found an out of the way spot to leave the car and shift.

You popped your door open and set the jacket carefully on your seat. The rest of your clothes you just dumped in the car, uncaring.

Especially when the fucking cold air got at your bare skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted under your breath, damn well throwing your shoes back in the car, hopping on one foot.

Logan laughed at you. Laughed! The absolute bastard.

You shifted, shaking out your fur with a displeased little growl. This was better, definitely. Less cold.

A wolverine ambled around the car to you, and you hunkered down to be closer to his height. He huffed at you, amused, and turned to lead the way.

It wasn’t too far to where the two of you would split up, and the wolverine snorted at you one last time before ambling on his way. You turned and loped off on your own, keeping close track of how far you’d gone.

The house, when you spotted it, was dark. As expected. You still put your nose down, sniffing the area thoroughly. Traces of gunpowder around the house, but so far nothing that smelled wrong.

Moving more cautiously, you approached the house. Whatever they’d been transporting through here, they hadn’t spilled much. Or sampled for themselves. Your upper lip curled.

You’d have to get into the house.

Of course there was a knob, rather than a lever-style door. Of course. You growled softly, more annoyed at the prospect of shifting back in this fucking cold than anything else.

Logan stopped next to you, looking from you to the door and tipping his head in clear question. You bobbed your head in the closest approximation of a nod you could get. He growled, short and annoyed. But shifted back. You stepped back to give him clear access to the door, flexing your claws against the ground.

Logan stepped out of your way, and you padded into the house. There were layers of overlapping scents, different people, alcohol, more gunpowder. You sneezed, just once.

“Helpful,” Logan drawled from behind you.

You flicked your tail at him, not quite willing to vocalize your annoyance. Instead you focused on finding anything workable, anything actionable.

You paused at an interior wall, upper lip curling. You could smell people here, where they’d touched the wall, and a sharper scent under it that you recognized. You growled softly at the wall.

“Got it?” Logan crouched next to you, although he didn’t reach for the wall. “Drugs?”

You chuffed an affirmative, tail swishing back and forth.

“Good.” Logan tipped his head, looking down at the spot. “Clever. Hiding it in the walls.”

You growled softly again when he started to reach for it, one paw swatting at his hand, claws retracted. You didn’t want to hurt him, just get his attention.

“Something still in there?” Logan raised one bushy eyebrow at you. At your nod, he hummed softly, considering. “Right. We’ll leave it for now. Don’t need either of us goin’ batshit.”

You chuffed and backed off after he did. A thorough sniff of the rest of the house revealed two more hiding places, both empty when Logan checked.

But even finding the one was a start. Logan shooed you out first and closed the door after the two of you. Standing there waiting on him, you shivered, fur standing on end. You were cold just looking at him.

He shifted back, and the two of you separated again to make sure no traces had been left behind. Not hard work, even if you did sometimes miss opposable thumbs.

The two of you met back up at the car, and you dove into your clothes as fast as possible while Logan laughed. Crazy Canadian bastard. No wonder his kid worried about him.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked, once again fully clothed and warming up as he drove back to the hotel.

He was quiet for a few moments, jaw clenching under his muttonchops. “Surveillance,” he decided. “Might need to keep you a few days.”

You couldn’t help the way your heart clenched. You wanted to go back to Rodolfo… but work came first. “Right.”

He slanted a look at you but didn’t say a word. Thankfully.

The two of you parted ways to go back to your rooms for the night, the rest of the hotel silent by now. It was probably too late to call Rodolfo - he needed sleep, especially since the two of you had been out quite late running just the night previous.

But you did send him a text letting him know you were back.

Your phone rang moments later.

“You should be asleep,” you scolded gently, trying to fight back your smile.

“As should you,” Rodolfo responded, amused.

“Can’t sleep yet,” you admitted, sitting down on the bed. “I was thinking of reading for a bit.”

“Would you be much opposed to talking instead?”

You snorted softly. “Not at all,” you murmured, leaning back. “For a bit. You need sleep.”

He snorted, clearly amused. “I see how it is,” he teased gently. “You fuss.”

You huffed. He wasn’t quite wrong, actually. “Only with certain people.”

This silence was heavier and lasted a few moments, just long enough for you to wonder if you’d made a mistake. “An honor I do not take lightly,” Rodolfo murmured, lower with just a hint of a purr to his words. “When do you think you’ll be coming back?”

Your heart melted, just a little, at the question, and the hint of longing in his voice. You were an absolute goner. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours yet. “Sounds like it’ll be a few days, unfortunately. Still have some things to finish up here.”

“You’ll keep me updated?”

“As much as I can.” You smiled, settling back and getting comfortable. “Your jacket’s been a great help, by the way.”

There was very definite pleasure when he murmured, “I’m glad. It’s yours whenever you’d like.”

You hesitated for just a moment before you steeled yourself. Might as well be bold. “I’d rather have you.”

Rodolfo sucked in a sharp breath on the other end, and you bit your lip. “Hopefully soon,” he murmured, finally, almost hoarse. “That would be my preference as well.”

You smiled. “Yeah? You volunteering?”

“For anything you want.”

Your turn to suck in a sharp breath, heart hammering away in your chest. Honestly, you weren’t sure if this was easier because of the distance… or harder because you couldn’t immediately kiss him the way you wanted to. “I’d like that,” you admitted quietly. “Very much.”

He hummed softly, acknowledgement and desire rolled into one. “When you get back.”

“Don’t tempt me or I’ll ditch Logan and catch the next flight down,” you half-joked. You wouldn’t abandon Logan on this job.

…Probably.

Rodolfo chuckled, warm and smooth. “Then we will table this for now,” he murmured. “Until you’re done with this job.”

You blew out a breath. You didn’t want to stop… but it was the right call for now. “Agreed. I’ll let you know when I’ve got an end in sight.”

“Good. Sleep well tonight.”

“You too.” You smiled as you hung up, trying (and failing) not to feel too giddy.

It took three days of surveillance, all told. Three days of freezing cold and ignoring Logan snickering at you as you hunkered into Rodolfo’s jacket.

But the two of you gathered enough information to move forward with a proper op, and Logan told you to get the hell back down to Mexico.

You didn’t tell Rodolfo, figuring you’d surprise him. It would be fun. He wouldn’t mind, and Vargas certainly wouldn’t mind.

Naturally, you got through customs and made it as far as getting outside to call a ride when you spotted Rodolfo.

You had about two seconds to gape at him before he grabbed you in a tight hug, holding you tightly to him.

“How did you know?” Your arms wrapped around him in turn, even through your bewilderment.

“Logan,” came the very simple answer.

“Is there anyone that bastard doesn’t know?” you asked, only a little grumpy. “You know what? Nevermind. I don’t care.” You pulled back a little to smile up at Rodolfo, probably looking like a besotted idiot. (Which, to be fair, was how you felt.)

Rodolfo laughed, soft and warm and beautiful. “You have your things?”

“I do.”

“Alejandro gave me a couple days off.” Rodolfo smiled, a little bashful and a lot hopeful. “I was hoping to show you more of my home?”

You absolutely melted internally at this ridiculously sweet wolf. “Anything you want.” You meant more than just about his home.

By the blinding intensity of his smile, he knew exactly what you meant.

#shifter au #rodolfo parra x reader #rodolfo parra x you #f!reader

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raayllum · 1 year

Text

insp by @jelzorz’s HC of ezran having a network of little spy animals in katolis and well, this drabble bunny of how it got started wouldn’t leave me alone

His brother has always been clever, able to look at things from a variety of angles, and while Callum’s ideas can sometimes be extreme or exasperating, they are almost always worth considering. But this...

“An animal spy network?” Ezran says, arching a brow. “Really?”

“You can never be too safe,” Rayla adds from her new seat on the council.

“And it would save the crownguard time on patrol,” Callum says, standing in front of his more familiar chair. “Our guards are good, but they’re not infallible.”

“His Highness has a point, Your Majesty,” Marcos says quietly, shuffling uncertainly. He’s here at Callum’s request, but he’s always a little nervous when he’s around—“The castle would’ve never known of the oncoming attack if Princess—” Rayla clears her throat. “Lady Rayla hadn’t let me go.”

“The animals of the kingdom already know you and love you,” Callum says pointedly. “We might as well use it.”

Ezran scowls. “And how exactly will they know how to identify ‘threats’? “Anyone whose an elf? Anyone who looks out of place or different?”

“Anyone travelling through the Dark Grove behind the castle at night with weapons,” Callum says flatly. “You’re making it more than it is, Ez.”

“And you’re being paranoid and wasting my time—”

Opeli slides in, voice soft. “King Ezran, with all due respect, you are being a tad unfair to Prince Callum. I understand that you are hesitant and worried about the possibility of using the animals in some manner, but all rulers must consider the benefits of espionage and security, no matter how underhanded it feels.”

The truth lurks underneath — that everyone is still scared from the latest assassination attempt a month ago, an extremist from Del Bar that had made it as far as the castle before getting apprehended thanks to the enchantments Callum had wrapped around their home. Callum had wanted the man executed, in his fury.

Ezran had pointed out who he’d married, who he’d set free from coins despite Ezran’s misgivings years ago, and sent the man back to Del Bar begrudgingly in chains.

“Yes well, Callum’s very good at being that,” he mutters.

Hurt flashes across his high mage’s face for a second, but Ezran doesn’t let it deter him. Callum says jerkface things all the time. Ezran can let something slip just once.

(Later, Rayla cajoles them into talking, and Callum admits he’s scared, and Ezran agrees they can consider a network for the animals intelligent and willing enough to participate.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” Callum says.

Ezran looks at his brother, and their portrait next to their father and Viren, lined up side by side. Sometimes, he wonders if Soren sees the shadow of his father in Callum’s face — in his posture, in his ways — too, or if it’s only Ezran’s imagined ghost. Only his tangible fear, too.

Realistically, he knows that he needs this counter balance.

Someone has to be like Opeli, and consider the angles that Ezran cannot or doesn’t want to. Someone has to keep him and Rayla from constantly throwing themselves into the latest crisis. Someone has to watch their backs, keep a skeptic eye on the lookout, talk around double meanings, know what magic to use and when.

Callum is a much better man than Viren, in every way imaginable — except for one — I will do anything to protect the king; I hope you will understand — and worst of all, Ezran doesn’t even think Callum knows it.

Ezran hugs his brother. “I don’t want to lose you, either.”)

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justinspoliticalcorner · 3 months

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Jess Piper at The View from Rural Missouri:

This is personal. I am an outspoken rural organizer. Every elected Missouri Republican knows exactly who I am, and thanks to two Missouri Representatives on Twitter, most also know where I live. I was doxxed on two separate occasions on Twitter. One State Representative, Josh Hurlbert, who also works for the Herzog Foundation, specifically tweeted out my daughter's school district on two separate occasions while responding to me. He won't stop… I've tried. I called him an "insufferable asshole" for telling people where my daughter attends school — he made my comment his Twitter banner. He thinks putting my child in danger is funny. He is emboldened to do whatever he can to silence me. I was speaking at an event a year ago in Kansas and was about to go onstage when I saw my phone light up with a call. I didn't recognize the number, so I let it go to voicemail. After the event, while walking back to my hotel, I listened to the voicemail — it was a Republican Missouri State Senator. He called me live from his radio show "to debate me." He told his audience I had agreed to a debate then and backed out.

Ummm…I was speaking at an event with over a hundred Kansas Democrats. I would not have agreed to a debate at that time, and by the way, how did he get my cell phone number? Why did he think he could intrude on my personal life and call me out to his radio audience? I may be loud, but I am still a private citizen. I owe nothing to Senator Nick Schroer or his rabid MAGA audience. Schroer knows he will face no consequence for sending violent minions into my comments, mentions, and inboxes. That's why I was disgusted when I watched the video of the President of the Heritage Foundation, the architect of Project 2025, making a threat to every organizer, outspoken critic, and left-leaning citizen in America. He threatened our lives. Here is the video.

"The Second American Revolution will remain bloodless if the Left allows it to be," the Heritage post said. "Unfortunately, they have a well-established record of instigating the opposite." ~Kevin Roberts, President, Heritage Foundation

[...] In more than 900 pages, Project 2025 calls for firing thousands of civil servants, expanding the power of the president (ope, the Supreme Court just did that), dismantling the Department of Education and other federal agencies, and sweeping tax cuts for the wealthy. They are determined to push through an agenda that will harm our country and are threatening those who stand in their way. Who do you think is going to be targeted on the "left" if Trump is elected and the Heritage Foundation is able to start implementing Project 2025?

[...] I will not be silent as you come for my children. I will not step aside as you attack my neighbors and my community. I will not be quiet in the face of fascism and oligarchy. Ever. When billionaires use their money to fund an organization that explicitly calls for violence against organizers, I hope you pay attention. I hope you understand that they mean to silence folks in your community. I hope you close ranks around us. We have been on the front line, and will continue to be, but we need you behind us. We need you to tell everyone you know about the threats to organizers and the threat to American democracy. Tell everyone about Project 2025. Tell on them. This is personal. ~Jess

Jess Piper’s latest Substack piece is spot-on: The Heritage Foundation’s 900+-page radical right-wing Project 2025 is a threat to our nation’s democracy and must be vigorously opposed.

#Jess Piper #The Heritage Foundation #Project 2025 #Herzog Foundation #Josh Hurlbert #Missouri #Nick Schroer #Kevin Roberts

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imrowanartist · 7 months

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A silly little thing, based on a thought I had that Price looks a lot younger without his boonie XD

Set in the Rosie AU

Tags: Established PriceGaz, humor, fluff

It’s almost noon by the time John picks up Kyle from the base at Credenhill. His partner is later than usual, due to some unforeseen bureaucracy after the training exercises they just finished over several days, but it doesn’t matter. After three days of his absence, John is simply happy to see him again.

Kyle throws his duffel bag in the boot of the car and John smiles at his rearview mirror as Rosie starts wriggling around in her car seat in the back as soon as she realizes that her dad has returned.

John watches as Kyle pulls open the side door first, greeting a laughing Rosie with a kiss on her cheek. After three years, it still manages to ignite a warm feeling in John’s gut whenever he sees Kyle so affectionate with their daughter.

“You’re back!” Rosie proudly states, and Kyle grins at her.

“Hello, Rosie-Bee, did you miss me?”

Rosie spreads her arms as wide as possible and John melts a little on the inside as she proclaims, “Thisss much!”

She’s been getting better with Kyle’s absences. The first time was a struggle for all of them, as both John and Kyle had trouble adjusting to the reversal of their roles after almost three years, and Rosie did not understand why her da was now home all the time and dad suddenly left. The tantrums she threw about missing Kyle were not fun for either of them or her.

They’ve begun to adjust to it, though. And John is starting to understand why Kyle often sounded just as exhausted as he would after a long op. Full-time caring for a toddler is no walk in the park, he has found.

John wouldn’t trade it for the world, though.

Kyle closes the side door again, and slides into the passenger seat next to John, greeting him with a soft brush of his hand to his thigh. They’re still in the base’s parking lot, and public displays of affection have never been their strong suit.

“Was she good?” Kyle asks, and John hums.

“She was,” he says, then turns around to look at their daughter, “weren’t you, Poppet?”

“I was good!” Rosie confirms with a nod, and they both laugh at the way her eyebrows draw together in a serious expression.

The drive home to Gloucester is uneventful. Kyle tells John about the training exercises and how he feels he might be ready to deploy with the 141 again soon. It’s still something that puts John’s stomach in a knot sometimes, but after six months of retirement, he is slowly getting used to the idea of not being in charge of the task force anymore. Soap makes a fine captain, John made damn sure of that before he left. Kyle will be in good hands.

“Can we go to the park?” Rosie suddenly pipes up from the back of the car, once they’re getting close to their apartment. She’s clearly tired of their adult conversation, and John looks at her in his mirror before glancing at Kyle.

They don’t have much more planned for today, and they’ve both talked about trying to spend as much time together as they can, whenever they’re both home.

John knows Rosie has picked up on this too, the clever girl. She knows she’s much more likely to get what she wants when one of her dads has just returned home.

“I need to pick up some packages at the post office,” Kyle says after a beat, “So we might as well?”

“Sure,” John agrees, and can’t help the fond smile as Rosie claps her hands together in excitement.

There’s a playground near their apartment, and the weather is nice enough. Rosie refuses to let go of Kyle’s hand as they walk there, but when she sees some of the familiar neighborhood kids, she raises her eyes to both of them to ask for their permission to go play along.

“Go ahead, Poppet,” John nods, and after some initial hesitance, Rosie skips over to the other kids. Though she’s gotten more comfortable interacting with them, John has noticed she still always makes sure that she can see either him or Kyle.

“You heading across the street?” he asks Kyle,

“Yeah, won’t be long. Soap said he sent some souvenirs from their last op.”

John frowns dubiously at him. “It better not be more bloody socks, we’ve got enough of those already.”

“Well, the way you keep losing Rosie’s-“ Kyle snorts and John grumbles something under his breath before adding, “Not my fault the fucking laundry machine keeps eating them,”

“Yeah, yeah, blame the machine, sir.” Kyle pats his arm, “I’ll be right back.”

John straightens his hat and makes his way to one of the empty benches scattered around the playground. He sinks down on it, nodding politely at some of the other parents around.

Rosie seems to have gotten wrapped up in some imaginary game with rules lost on John, but she’s having fun at least. It does him good to see her interacting with the other kids. He watches her play for a while, content to do so, and almost doesn’t notice it when someone else joins him on the bench.

When he looks up, he sees it’s an older woman, who gives him a kind smile. Pushing down his ingrained distrust of strangers, John opens his mouth to greet her, when he promptly gets interrupted by Rosie scampering her way back over to him.

“I found a rock,” she tells him excitedly, pulling at his hand to open it, “it’s for you!”

John lets her drop the completely ordinary rock in the palm of his hand, then smiles at her. “It’s beautiful, love.”

Rosie giggles at him, very happy with herself, and John caresses her curls for a moment as he thanks her. He tucks the rock in a pocket as she turns around and hops back to the sandbox.

“Your granddaughter is lovely,” the lady next to him speaks up, and John is about to express his gratitude for the compliment when her words register with him.

Of course it’s also the exact moment when Kyle re-appears, dropping some packages on the bench and John swears he has learned to apparate from Ghost. Clearly, he has overheard the old lady too, because as John starts sputtering, Kyle gives his most shit-eating grin before bursting into laughter.

It’s gotta be the fucking hat. Kyle has been telling him for ages that it makes him look older, but he didn’t want to believe it until now.

He drags the boonie off his head, not caring about how his hair looks underneath, and turns to the old lady with what he hopes is a polite expression.

“It’s my daughter, but thank you.” He tells her between clenched teeth.

Rosie has spotted Kyle’s return too, because she happily squeals “Dad!” then scrambles towards him and launches herself into his arms.

The old lady’s eyes flit between John, Kyle, and Rosie in confusion, as she’s now visibly trying to figure out the relationship between them.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dearie,” She laughs, though it’s obviously uncomfortable. Whether it’s because of her error in judgment regarding his age or something else is unclear to John. “You just looked…”

She trails off and John huffs, fiddling with his hat between his hands.

“Well, I wish you all a lovely day,” she says eventually, before getting up and making her tactical retreat toward another bench. John looks at the boonie again, then after a beat carefully folds it and puts it in his pocket.

“Not a word.” he hisses to Kyle, who innocently readjusts Rosie on his hip, still wearing that stupid grin on his face.

“Alright, Grandpa,” he chuckles, and John gives him a flat look that hopefully conveys how much this whole situation displeases him.

“Where’s Grandpa?” Rosie asks, craning her head as she’s confused as to what they’re referring to. John gets up and reaches for her, pleased as she lets herself be transferred from Kyle’s arms to his without complaint.

“Sorry, Poppet,” he tells her, kissing her cheek, “Grandpa isn’t here right now. He’s back in London, with grandma. Your dad is just being silly.” He gives Kyle a look that dares him to argue with it.

“Okay.” Rosie chirps, her attention already having shifted to the packages on the bench. “For me?” She asks.

“Maybe,” Kyle muses, swiping a finger across her cheek, “I’m sure Uncle Soap will have snuck something in for you again.”

“Can’t wait to see what he’s deemed appropriate for her this time,” John grumbles, setting down Rosie again so she can go back to playing. Soap doesn’t have the best track record of getting age-appropriate gifts, something that’s almost become a running joke between them.

Kyle hums thoughtfully. “I think I was wrong. Clearly, it’s not just the hat that makes you old. I think Rosie just drags it out of you too.”

“You better watch yourself, sergeant,” John jokes back, no longer able to keep up his grumpy demeanor, “I might not be your captain anymore, but I can still put you down any time.”

“Yeah?” Kyle asks, stepping closer as he lowers his voice, “Better show me that later then, old man.”

John glances over Kyle’s shoulder, to where Rosie has gone back to happily playing with the other children, then looks back at his partner with a grin of his own pulling on his lips. They may have a kid together, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t missed moments like these.

“Challenge accepted,” he says, then remembers something else very important.

He levels Kyle with his most serious glare, even though he knows it doesn’t work on him anymore. “You better not bloody tell anyone about this.”

“I swear,” Kyle promises, but by the twinkle in his eyes John can tell it’s a filthy lie.

He already knows he’s never going to live this down.

#kyle gaz garrick #captain price #gazprice #pricegaz #call of duty #modern warfare #Rosie garrick price #ro writes

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nalyra-dreaming · 6 months

Note

This is again ab ep6 so I understand if you don’t post this!

Re the prev posts, the arguments don’t really make a lot of sense. Do you think it’s Louis that is making them float? If it’s Lestat, then them floating doesn’t necessarily mean Louis is enjoying it as well. Like the significance of floaty sex in my mind anyway is that it’s showing that Lestat can get carried away with his powers sometimes, he might not be intentionally doing it but having sex with Louis is just so good it makes him float you know? But Louis in ep6 is checked out, not just in that moment while talking to Claudia, but in general. And what he’s saying goes with what is shown, he’s a shell of himself. He says it’s due to realizing Lestat was probably not going to change and he was probably not going to fight him on it anymore, and also seeing himself becoming like Lestat in due time. Also, not saying that he doesn’t love Lestat, he obviously still loves him, that’s what makes it tragic. Him loving Lestat doesn’t mean he’s always going to want sex with Lestat though, if that makes sense, so that’s another argument that doesn’t really hold imo.

I actually clicked on the link you provided having talked ab this exact ep 6 and agree more with op tbh, idk if you’ve changed ur mind since but that’s basically what I’m trying to convey in this post. And like J says, it doesn’t have to be a good relationship portrayed all the time, so it makes sense that this rocky part of their relationship is portrayed in this way in ep 6.

The thing is, and sincerely, with all due respect:

what it boils down to is you saying that Louis would spread his legs for Lestat if Lestat wanted sex, even if Louis did not want it. He‘s “checked out“, not there, poor Louis………..!!!

That is what Claudia insinuates and what you underline, and what all this discussion boils down to.

Poor Louis, unable to refuse. (sarcasm)

And sincerely: which Louis have you been watching? You really think this Louis, especially the show’s Louis is going to just roll over and take it?

Louis, refusing to play the game Lestat wants him to? Refusing to eat despite it being detrimental to his health? Refusing to bend to the rules of the law makers? Refusing to let Lestat come back for 6 years? Refusing to leave when Claudia wanted him to? That Louis?

If he has sex then because he wants to. And yes, people can want sex despite being in rocky parts of the relationship.

Louis never stops loving Lestat.

And I find it really interesting that his agency is (still!) dismissed like that.

If you really want to nitpick the floaty sex then start thinking about why they included that and not who made who fly 🙄

This is the last I‘ll say on this.

#anonymous #asks #ask nalyra #this is the last I‘ll say on this #the show will show more of louis next season #jfc seriously though #as if Louis had no agency in any of his own tale #just claudia and lestat #interview with the vampire #iwtv #amc iwtv #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #amc interview with the vampire #iwtv amc #floaty sex #episode 6

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cetaitlaverite · 20 days

Text

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - Bucky Egan x OC

sorry for the delay but we're baaaack!! hope you love <3 masterlist is here

12. A Bad Answer

“Fucking Freddie Leroy,” Alice grumbled as she stomped across the grass to where Stella was sitting.

Glancing up at her, Stella quirked an eyebrow. “What did she do?”

Alice paid Stella’s question no attention as she focused on ensuring no beer slopped out of either of the pint glasses in her hands, but when she handed one off to Stella and then sat down in the grass with her, she took one long sip and said once more, “Fucking Freddie Leroy,” with a rueful twist to her mouth and a shake of her head.

Again, Stella asked, “What did she do?”

“Rosie’s in there making eyes at her,” Alice replied, frowning into her beer. “She’s back from leave for all of a day and she’s got all the other wireless ops calling her a war hero and Rosie Rosenthal buying her pissing lemonade and making eyes at her. Do you know how hard I worked to get Rosie to make eyes at me?”

“He’s a tough nut to crack,” Stella agreed solemnly. She’d witnessed Alice’s attempts at flirting with Rosenthal on several occasions by now and he had always simply smiled politely and nodded along to whatever she was saying. As far as Stella knew they’d danced together only once and it was kept strictly friendly - other than that, Alice had made no progress whatsoever.

“Not for Princess Freddie in there,” Alice huffed in reply, tipping her head back and downing half of her pint of beer in one go. “I want to hate her so much but she didn’t even have to try. I know because I was talking to Rosie when she walked in with her pals. The wireless ops came into the club making all this noise, their arms slung around darling Miss Leroy, and Rosie looked over because everyone looked over and I swear to you his eyes turned into hearts. He didn’t look away from her for the next five minutes. Then she kept complaining that her friends wanted to buy her beer and she wanted to drink lemonade, so he bought her a lemonade and then I had to stand there and watch him fall in love while she talked about her pissing dogs. Fucking Freddie Leroy.”

Stella was laughing softly by the end of Alice’s story. “Maybe they’ll be good together,” she offered, even knowing it was the opposite of what Alice wanted to hear. “Freddie’s a sweetie and I get the impression Rosie kind of is, too. And there’s something about her which makes me think she needs protecting. Rosie’ll protect her.”

“The entire time she’s worked here she has rejected every single man who has ever tried it on with her, but the one man she gives the time of day has to be my man. Mine! He was mine first, Fin!”

“He wasn’t yours, Alice,” Stella said, laughing. “Let Freddie have him. If he was really right for you his head wouldn’t have been turned.”

“You’re just sweet on Freddie,” Alice accused with narrowed eyes.

Stella laughed once more. “I’m sweet on no one. I just think there are better men for you.”

Alice stared at her silently. Still, her eyes were narrowed. The sunset was vivid, lighting the both of them up in a warm array of colours, and as such there was nowhere for Stella to hide her blush when Alice mimicked her, “‘I’m sweet on no one.’ Major Egan would disagree.”

Startled, Stella sputtered a cough. “No he wouldn’t. And I’m not sweet on him. He’s just my friend, same as you’re my friend.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “You and I are not friends the way you and Egan are friends, Fin.” That said, she took a final long sip of her beer until it was all gone. “Next round?” she asked.

Stella raised both eyebrows at her. “I’ve only just started this one.”

“Drink up, then!” Alice ordered, setting her empty glass down in the grass and clapping her hands together as though to speed up the process. “I’m not spending the rest of the night sober and single.”

Stella laughed but did as she said and then, before she knew it, Alice was reemerging from the club with two more beers and two shots along with them. Before Stella could ask, Alice explained, “Atley said the shots are on the house.”

Stella smiled smugly. “If anyone’s sweet on anyone, Atley’s sweet on you.”

Alice only shrugged and tipped back her shot and then gulped her beer right after.

The two of them kept drinking at a much faster rate than they normally would have until everything was funny and the world tilted dramatically around them whenever they moved their heads. They joked about things which had happened years before, made stupid puns, and fantasised about what they’d be doing right now if the war had never happened.

By the time the two of them pushed back into the officers’ club, Stella to use the bathroom and Alice to get them another refill, everything was fuzzy and warm and blurry. Stella didn’t make a habit of getting this drunk - really, she couldn’t remember the last time she had - but as she was washing her hands in the bathroom she realised she really should do this more often. She felt like she had so many worries all the time and right now she couldn’t remember what any of them were.

As such, she forgot entirely why she’d been avoiding going into the main room of the club and pranced in quite readily like she’d never even left. It was still packed, late into the night though it was, and still loud. She picked her way gracelessly over to the bar and leaned on it heavily, smiling dopily to herself about nothing in particular as she nodded along to the beat of the music.

Her eyes scanned the rest of the bar and the patrons leaning up against it - she spied Rosie but no Freddie, which made her furrow her brows. Then Stella took to scanning the room for Freddie and found her sitting underneath a table with her best friend Millie Harlow and the dog one of the Americans had brought here with him. Meatball, Stella thought he was called.

Scattered across the room were other people Stella knew - some of the other ATA pilots were huddled in a group in the corner, many of the American airmen had commandeered dance partners and were filling the dance floor - but her eyes lit up when they landed on John and Buck, leaning against the far wall of the club.

“John!” Stella exclaimed, even though she was outside of his range of hearing. She pushed herself up resolutely from the bar and began to make her way over to him.

John and Buck looked like they were discussing something serious, something sombre - their heads were ducked together, their eyebrows bowed low over their eyes, their voices clearly kept low and private - but she paid this no mind. “John!” Stella went on exclaiming as she stumbled across the room to him. “John!”

When John heard her, his head whipped in her direction immediately, his mouth still open and words still tumbling out as she caught him mid-sentence. “Stels?” he asked when he spotted her.

She was grinning and all but skipping over by now, delighted to have finally caught his attention. “John!” she cheered one final time, ambling to a stop before him and Buck. “Hi! Buck! Hi!”

“Hi,” John greeted back. A slow grin was starting to spread across his face. “You alright?”

Stella shrugged. “Been drinking.”

Buck hid his smile behind a sip from his drink.

John let his wide grin show freely on his face. “I see that,” he acknowledged.

“Getting drunk is more fun than I remember,” Stella said next. “I feel like everything is just happy. When does the world ever feel like this apart from when you’re drunk?”

“Beats me,” John said, raising his glass to her before taking a long sip. “Where’s Alice?”

“Getting more drinks,” Stella said. “She was sad earlier because Lieutenant Rosenthal likes Freddie Leroy.”

John waved this away. “Freddie left Rosie at the bar to go and sit with Meatball, tell Alice not to worry.”

“But don’t you think Freddie Leroy is just so pretty?” Stella gushed by way of reply. “I don’t think Rosie will be deterred, to tell you the truth. Besides, I think we should set Alice up with someone else. I think Atley the barman kind of fancies her but she won’t listen to me when I tell her so. Have you ever fancied her, John? She’s not looking for commitment so maybe you two would be good together. But I think that would make me sad.”

John’s eyebrows were furrowed. “What would make you sad?”

“If you and Alice got together,” Stella replied simply, as though this should have been obvious.

Stella didn’t notice, but Buck gave John a pat on the shoulder and slipped away, heading over to chat to some of the men hanging around the bar.

John noticed, naturally, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even pay Buck a glance. His eyes were set firmly, resolutely, unwaveringly on Stella. “Why would that make you sad, Stels?” he asked softly.

Stella shrugged, turning her eyes on her shoes and watching as she toed at the floor. “Just would.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I don’t want to be left behind.” She kept watching her feet for a moment and then she looked back up, all traces of vulnerability gone from her face, a goofy smile plastered across her lips instead. “Would you like to dance with me?”

John didn’t smile back at her, not just yet. “I’m not gonna leave you behind, Stels,” was all he said, staring at her hard. Then, wordlessly, he held out his hand for her to take and, once she had, led her over to the dance floor. He placed gentle hands in all the appropriate places and maintained a respectable distance, letting her decide how close they got.

Stella wanted to get close. When they started to dance to the slow song on the gramophone, she took a step closer and rested her cheek on his chest, shutting her eyes and humming along to the music. “I love this song,” she said idly, as though she didn’t really mind whether or not he heard her. Then she moved her hands out of their requisite dancing positions in favour of wrapping her arms around John’s waist, leaning her weight into him and sighing happily before resuming her humming.

John was looking down at the top of her head, startled, unsure what to make of all this. But he wrapped his arms around her all the same, helping to keep her close, and let only the tiniest of smiles tug at the corner of his lips.

He let them stay that way, swaying more than dancing and pressed together like lovers, for only a little while before he realised he was only going to end up getting hurt. So he dropped his arms to drape around her waist instead and started to sway more enthusiastically, a playful attempt at making her laugh. When she giggled and stood up straight, peering up into his face, he grinned down at her, victorious.

With a bright smile on her face, Stella extracted one of John’s hands from her waist and held it aloft, indicating that she wanted him to spin under their arms. When he did, even though he crouched, she laughed loudly as she had to jump to give him enough room to fit.

“Your turn,” he informed her when he was back facing her. He held their entwined hands up and Stella spun beneath them easily, still laughing all the while, then grasped his other hand and wrapped it back around her waist. She was gazing up into his face, smiling wildly, and he was smiling right back down at her. The way the warm lighting was spilling over him made his eyes shine, bright blue and endless. His smile seemed so much wider from up this close. She liked the way his eyes crinkled so much they almost closed, liked the way there always seemed to be humour in the creases in his cheeks even when he wasn’t laughing.

Everyone around them was dancing slowly, appropriately, to the delicate love song, but Stella and John didn’t notice. Wrapped up in their own little world, they grinned at each other and laughed at each other, tugged each other into the positions they wanted and danced like they were alone and the music was far jollier than it was.

When the song ended, Stella was breathing heavily and smiling wide.

John was smiling back at her, watching her closely, and as such he noticed the exact moment an idea hit her.

“Come,” she said, tugging on his hands and starting to walk backwards.

John was chuckling to himself. “Come where?”

“Got something to show you,” she said simply.

“Finally gonna get me alone to strangle me?” he teased as he started to follow her.

She turned but kept hold of his hand, leading him out of the club. “I would never strangle you,” she said over her shoulder, her smile audible in her voice. “I’d suffocate you, obviously. Strangling would take too long. Have you seen how big your neck is?”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Not a compliment, really,” Stella replied breezily, brushing him aside. “But that’s okay. Your neck is three times wider than the standard person’s and mine is three times longer, so I suppose we match.”

Behind her, John was all but cackling.

“What?” Stella asked.

“Nothing,” John dismissed her. “Nothing at all, Stels. Nothing at all.”

“I’m just being honest,” she defended herself.

“No, you are,” he assured her. “And I love that about you. You’re perfect, don’t worry about it.”

Stella hummed her acceptance of this and kept on towing him behind her, ducking behind buildings and along the alleyways between them, until she presented a locked door to him. “Do you think you’re sober enough to drive?” she wondered curiously, wide-eyed and innocent as she gazed up into his face, like she was asking whether or not he would make her hot chocolate and wrap her in a blanket.

“No,” John said.

Stella frowned. “That’s a bad answer,” she said. “That is not the answer I was hoping for.”

“Okay, then yes,” John amended.

Stella scowled. “Don’t lie!”

“I was just trying to -”

“I know what you were trying to do! Stop it! I don’t like liars.”

John turned away so she wouldn’t catch him laughing, rubbing a hand over his mouth to hide his grin even as he turned it into the night sky.

“Do you think you can cycle?” Stella asked next.

“Maybe,” John said. “Why? Where we goin’ that we can’t just walk?”

“The airfield,” Stella answered easily. “I brought you here to get the keys to a jeep.”

Turning back to her, John raised his eyebrows. “I hate to break it to you, Stels, but I’ve seen the airfield.”

Stella stared at him blankly. “Ha-ha,” she replied in a deadpan. “Maybe I won’t show you after all.”

“Hey, no, I’m sorry, I was just kidding,” John hurried to reassure her. “But, hey, let’s just walk, alright? I don’t wanna be responsible if we crash and you get hurt.”

Stella shrugged. “I don’t care about that. I trust you.”

John was grinning. “Why don’t you wanna walk?”

“Tired.”

“I can carry you.”

“Piss off.”

John laughed. “Right.”

“Give me a piggyback,” Stella decided after a moment of silence. Her eyes were all lit up, her smile defiant. “I will accept a piggyback.”

“Piggyback it is,” John declared, turning and crouching down for her.

Stella studied the back of him for a moment, deciding what would be the most effective course of action, before she took a small run up and all but launched herself onto his back.

“Fucking christ, Stels!” John cried as he stumbled a few steps forward, hurrying to right himself. He wrapped both hands around her thighs, keeping her steady as he found his balance, and Stella couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re tall!” she exclaimed. “I had to jump high.”

“Felt like you were trying to body slam me.” He was still hunched over, still stumbling just a little bit. “Fuck.”

Stella laughed, loud and bright, into the stars above her. “Maybe I was,” she said, still giggling. “Maybe I didn’t take you out here to strangle you or to suffocate you but to batter you to death instead.”

“Hate to tell you that it didn’t work,” John replied, smiling as he started in the direction of the airfield.

Stella hummed. “Oh well. The best laid plans and all that.” She moved her hands from where she’d been holding onto his shoulders to clasp them together in front of his chest, her thumbs occasionally brushing up against him with the rise and fall of his footsteps.

“Which direction am I going once we get to the airfield?” John asked idly once they got close.

“You’ll know,” Stella told him airily. “If you know me, you’ll know.”

He did know. And he grinned when he realised that he knew. Because parked in one of the bays on the hardstand, amidst the rows of B-17s, was a Hawker Hurricane.

“Ta-dah,” Stella sing-songed quietly, right into his ear, because she knew he knew. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

John smiled to himself. “Gorgeous,” he agreed.

“I’ve flown B-17s but you’ve never flown a Hurricane,” Stella said as John approached it. “So I thought you should see what all the fuss is about.”

John sputtered a scoff. “Stels, I ain’t gonna fly it -”

“Of course you’re not going to fly it!” Stella replied, laughing. “I’m just going to show it to you. It’s pretty inside, too.”

So, when they got there, John helped Stella down from his back and she opened the Hurricane’s glass canopy up for him, gesturing him in.

And it was… a plane. Just a fighter plane. It was claustrophobic, really, this single-seater fighter. After flying for so long in the school bus that was the Boeing B-17, the walls of the Hurricane felt too close. He was used to space, multiple bodies in one plane but not all of them in the same space, everyone with enough room to spread out. He was most certainly not used to having the walls on either side of him so close that he brushed against them with every movement, the canopy so low his hair brushed against it when he turned his head.

There was a lot of machinery around his feet, like treacherous weeds stopping him from wading too far into a pond, and so many dials shoved into one small control panel it was dizzying, and they weren’t even operational at the moment.

It was an ugly little thing, the inside of the Hawker Hurricane. But Stella Finley grinning at him from her perch on the wing was a beautiful thing, a stunning thing, a breathtaking thing, so John gave her a smile not half as pretty as hers and said, “It’s great, Stels.”

“Just great?” she teased, leaning towards him. “It’s spectacular! First time I flew one of these I felt like I’d found my purpose. The things I could do in this plane if they let me fly combat.” She gave a dreamy sigh. “If I have one true friend in this life, the Hawker Hurricane is it.”

John scoffed. “You’ve got multiple true friends, Stels.”

Stella’s smile turned sly. “You, you mean?”

“For one.”

She rolled her eyes jovially. “I’m gonna tell Buck that I’ve replaced him.”

“He’ll never believe you.”

Stella laughed. “He’d be silly if he did,” she acknowledged, “and Buck is not a silly man.” She turned her eyes back on the control panel and her smile turned wistful once more. “I love this plane,” she declared. “Love it. I can’t believe I ever went about my life not knowing what it was like to fly a Hurricane. Sometimes I think I don’t even want the war to end because I’d be so sad not to fly Hurricanes anymore.”

She stared hard at the dials, at the yoke, at the gear stick.

John watched in profile as her smile faded.

“Stupid thing to say,” she berated herself quietly after a moment’s silence. “People are dying in this war. People are losing everything to the Germans.”

John knew, then, without having to ask, that she’d lost something dear to her to the Germans. And he knew, suddenly, that the way she’d reacted after Curt had gone down was not solely about Curt.

“Who?” he asked softly, gently, watching the way the moonlight danced in the blue pools of her eyes even when they weren’t looking at him. “Who’d you lose, Stels?”

She didn’t say anything, but her bottom lip wobbled.

John had a good idea of who she’d lost.

“One of your brothers?” he asked gently.

She swallowed hard.

“Your favourite brother?” he asked next. His voice was so soft and earnest that if it had been a physical thing it would have been a worn out, well-loved childhood blanket, slept with every night since infancy. “Harry?”

Stella didn’t look at him but John saw the change in her all the same. Her jaw hardened and all of the emotion left her eyes in an instant. Her posture turned sharp.

She didn’t spare John a single glance as she hopped down from the wing of the plane and started off into the darkness. Her footsteps were rapid and stomping, loud even when he couldn’t see her anymore.

There was nothing for John to do but let her go. She’d closed herself off to him enough times by now that he knew there was no coming back from it tonight.

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