#one way turnstile

[tripodturnstile]

tripod turnstile barrier from RS Security Co., Ltd(www.szrssecurity.com) Ideal for all kinds of public places that require organized passage of pedestrians, such as picturesque spots, exhibition halls, cinemas, docks, train stations, bus stations and other locations that need ticket verification; locations that need authorized entry such as factory participation, canteen usage, golf courses, regular monthly card leisure centers, etc; anti-static control locations of electronic factories, systems that require rigorous security measures such as face recognition and finger print acknowledgment. RS Security Co., Ltd primarily produces, develops and offers gain access to control products, such as three rollers turnstile barrier, train flap turnstile gate, dc brushless swing turnstiles door, translation gates door, one arm gates gate, full high turnstiles door, half height turnstile gate, fastlane turnstile gate and other channel gates barrier items, and parking barrier, recognition camera, hydraulic bollards, roadway bocker three arms turnstile barrier Integrated electronic tickets, access control and attendance, club consumption/catering, anti-static, finger print, palm print, face recognition, iris recognition Integrated application of other series of products; complete stainless-steel frame structure, Taibang motor, independently developed and produced movement; one-way/two-way gates door/ swipe to release the lever button and the upper lever is optional, with Counting function can realize RS485 direct communication with the computer system; waist height turnstile door prompts and instructions and alarm triggers; automatic fall of the pole when power is off and manual fall The pole is optional, and it receives the switch signal to open turnstile gate; it can be equipped with a card reading control part, and multiple systems can be connected to the network; it can be geared up with magnetic card and distance card combination approaches; it can be purchased according to different practical requirements. Do. A totally rainproof box made of alloy aluminum or stainless-steel, compared to the subway flap turnstile barrier dc brushless swing turnstile gate and other pedestrian passage devices, waist height turnstile gate are more economical. It has an individualized setup interface (such as card reader, indicator light setup, etc) to guarantee that the system integrator's control turnstile gate equipment is easy and convenient to set up. The movement of the three-stick turnstile gate maker has an immediately changed hydraulic shock absorber. When using the three-stick gates door operation, the sound is extremely little and quiet. Impact, gates barrier bar immediately decelerates back to center. The surface of the movement is plated with yellow dichromate. Can be set with turnstile barrier maker control, a couple of direction control (set by user). The base is repaired with expansion bolts.

[szrssecurityswingturnstile]

servo motor speed turnstile gate likewise called security wing barrier door, which belongs to the gain access to control system, is among the essential components of modern entrance and exit control. The door wings are driven by the control system and open and close immediately. The operating mode can be chosen through shows settings: As soon as it is confirmed that the person getting in is authorized, the door wings open automatically. It closes after a delay, and the delay time is adjustable. Typical dc brushless glass turnstiles barriers are divided into scissor doors (metro flap barrier gates) and swing doors. (1) Scissor doors are frequently utilized in rail transit, and typical scissor doors are primarily used in subways and other places. The door wings extend from the within package, which can successfully seal the passage and play the role of access control. In addition, an infrared noticing gadget is set up inside the door body, which can realize the purpose of "someone, one card" for people to travel through. (2) The swing door appeared later than the scissor door and belongs to the second generation dc brushless glass turnstile gate. Such dc brushless speedlane The quality of turnstiles gates is that the door wings run in the front and back instructions. The operation procedure is within the human body's line of vision, which is much safer. In addition, because the door wings do not need to be withdrawed into the box, The styles of swing doors are more varied. Due to the above attributes, swing doors are normally utilized in banks, corporate structures, high-end office buildings, etc. Anti-trailing function: There is an overall infrared light band detection location in the channel. The switch state can be adjusted by software according to the consumer's precision requirements. The application of the light band to adjust to different requirements avoids the imperfections of point-type infrared detectors that are easily infected and impacts the dependability of judgment, and can effectively evaluate the future. Tag reader who checks out the card. When the system determines that tailgating has actually taken place, the system will react based upon the place of the valid cardholder returned by the infrared detector. After the door opening signal is sent, there are still some irregular uses that will trigger an alarm.

[apuff]

no one wants to talk about the themes character arcs and symbolism ijn the black parade they only want to talk about how HOT AND SEXY gerard way is . like uhm were you paying an y attention to the Parallels??

[clownwritesfanfic]

So Come One, Come All - Five Hargreeves X GN! Reader

Summary: After you find out that your husband of 40 years cheated on you with his own brother’s wife, you give up on figuring out how to fix the apocalypse and run off. That’s when you’re lead to a suspicious deli full of the exact face you never wanted to see again.

Word count: 1647

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Cheating, Heartbreak, Happy Ending, rushed writing, not beta read we die like men

Disclaimer: Five is canonically in the body of an 18 year old in this season. Not to mention he aged like 7 more years with Lila. Also, obvious Season 4 spoilers. This season was awful and Five was done so dirty and he’s still ooc in this fic (or at least a version of him is)

———————————————————————

You had no idea how long you had been walking for. All you knew was that you were tired.

Tired of everything. Of the constant apocalypses, the fighting, the stress, …the lying, the heartache. Everything.

You had to get away from that place. You couldn’t stand to be around anyone from that family anymore. Around…him.

You and Five have been married for forty years. You both met in the first apocalypse as teens. You weren’t special like him or his siblings but you were both grateful to have someone else around.

You slowly fell in love over the years as you grew older together. You had a makeshift marriage with a ring Five had made for you out of random bits of metal he had found.

You had both been recruited into the Commission together and quickly became the most badass couple in the entire organization. You were always put on missions together for your efficiency and speed.

You had followed Five back in time to see his family, consequently getting stuck in your younger body as well. You followed him everywhere. You would’ve given your life for him.

So, how could he do this to you?

Forty years, thrown away all because he supposedly got stuck for seven fucking years in a stupid timeline traveling subway station with another woman.

You wanted to kill him. He knew that you didn’t like how comfortable Lila was with him since the beginning and he had assured you he wasn’t interested in her at all and that you were all he wanted. What a load of bullshit that was.

You had left after their explanation. You saw the way he looked at her. The exact same way he used to look at you. For him at had been years since he last saw you. For you, it had only been a few hours since he last looked at you like you were the world.

You had slipped off the wedding ring and threw it at his face before leaving. You could hear him trying to get you to stay and try to follow you but he was stopped by Diego.

You were so lost in thought before you found yourself in front of the entrance to a subway station. This must be the one they were talking about. You looked behind you, making sure no one had followed you but also as a way to look back on this life.

If they were telling the truth about the timelines…then you weren’t going to be coming back to this one. Maybe there is a timeline where you’re happy. One where you and Five don’t meet. Or maybe one where none of this happens. Where you’re both a normal married couple.

You took a deep breath as you gazed down the steps. Once you took your first step down, you knew there was no going back.

As you descended the steps, the eerie silence unnerved you. You could hear only your footsteps on the ground and the squeaking of the turnstile as you pushed through it.

You were startled by the sound of the speakers playing some sort of announcement. It was impossible to understand considering it was all backwards.

Soon, the subway entered the station and came to a halt. The doors opened and you stood still, you were still a little creeped out. Five always made you feel more comfortable in situations like this…but he wasn’t here anymore.

You swallowed your unease and entered the subway car. You slowly took a seat and looked around before the doors closed and the subway started moving. You looked out the window as flashes of colour went by.

You were there for a couple minutes before you stopped. The doors opened but you didn’t get up. You weren’t sure if you wanted to get off yet. You wanted to be sure you were as far from the timeline you were just in as possible.

You felt something pull inside of you though. Something wanted you to get off and explore. So you did.

You let yourself be guided by this feeling deep inside. It was like your heart was pulling you somewhere.

It isn’t long until you end up in front of a building of some kind. Could you even call it that? You never left the station and it’s the only other place in here. Is it more of a building in a building? You didn’t want to think about it too much.

The words “Max’s Delicatessen” were shining brightly in your face. You were a little amused. Maybe you were hungry and it was actually your stomach bringing you here rather than your heart.

You sighed and decided to check it out.

But when you entered, you were horrified at what you saw.

The entire deli was full of copies of your (now ex) husband. This was the last thing you wanted to see and you internally cursed at your conscious for bringing you here.

You could feel your heartbeat pick up and your breathing become heavy as tears pricked at your eyes.

Finally, one of the Five’s had looked up and noticed you stuck in place at the door.

“Darling!” He shot up out of his seat, audibly hitting his knee on the table but he didn’t flinch.

Suddenly, every single Five in the place had his eyes on you, each with various emotions displayed on their face.

The Five that spotted you quickly made his way over to you. He lifted his shaking hands and held them over your cheeks, too scared to make contact in case you fade away.

You could see the disbelief and love in his eyes. This snapped you out of your confusion and slapped his hands away from you and backed yourself up into the door.

The Five in front of you looked confused and hurt before sighing and lowering his hands.

“Sorry…I forgot that you’re not the same one.” He apologized.

“What the FUCK is going on?” You exclaimed as you looked around to be met with all the Five’s still staring at you. “How did you get here? Why are there multiples of you? Why can’t you just leave me alone!”

“Woah, woah, slow down. Breathe. You’re okay. Everything’s fine.” The Five in front of you tried to calm you down. “You took the subway right? This is a different timeline. We’re all the same person from different timelines. Usually the only new people that enter here are a version of me…or…us I guess. You’re the only…well…you, that has shown up here.” He explained.

“What?” You looked at him like he was crazy.

“They should sit down.” Another Five had said.

“Come on, hun. Come sit down and we can talk.” He had reached out towards you, careful not to touch you while he guided you towards the opposite end of the booth he was previously at.

You sat down, still in shock. It felt weird being surrounded by so many Five’s. Especially when you were trying to get away from him.

“I guess I’ll start.” Five had sat down across from you and sighed.

“In my timeline, you and I had been together for years. We met at the Commission. At first we hated each other but we were always put on missions together. Over time…I had fallen for you, and luckily for me, you reciprocated those feelings. We were together romantically for years. We were on our last mission before our contract with the Commission ended. We were planning on getting married after and retiring somewhere nice. But…it went wrong…and I lost you. You died in my arms.” He looked off to the side and tried to play off wiping away his tears.

“I haven’t seen you in years. You’re just as beautiful as the day I lost you.” He reached a hand across the table and gently placed it on yours.

You teared up as you saw the pure love in his eyes. Your Five used to look at you like that and it still hurt knowing he no longer felt that way.

“If you’re here…then something must’ve happened to the Five in your timeline.” He rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand.

You stilled and took your hand back, making the Five in front of you frown.

You hugged your torso for comfort and curled in on yourself slightly as you looked down at the table.

“We were married for forty years…but he got stuck in the subway with Lila and…I guess forty years didn’t mean anything because in seven years he threw it all away for…her.” You hiccuped as you tried to hold back your tears.

There were multiple grumbles and scoffs around the deli.

The Five across from you reached across the table and held your shoulder gaining your attention.

“Everyone here had a version of you in their timeline. We all lost you in one way or another. I think I speak for all of us when I say…having you here is the best thing to happen to us, and he’s a complete idiot for throwing you away like that.” He smiled as he lightly caressed your cheek.

You smiled slightly at his words.

“Aww there’s that beautiful smile.” Five said as he lightly pinched your cheek.

You giggled and batted his hand away and wiped your tears away.

A sandwich and drink was placed in front of you and you looked up to another Five holding a now empty tray.

“Your favourite, just the way you like it.” He said as he gently grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on the back of it with a wink.

You blushed at the action and thanked him.

Even though you got on that train in order to get away from him…you don’t think you’ll be getting back on any time soon.

[szrssecurity]

Swing Barrier Turnstile is typically called a slap door in the rail transit industry. Its barrier body (gate pendulum) remains in the form of a plane with a specific area, perpendicular to the ground, and swings through rotation Implement obstructing and release. The products of the obstructing body are typically stainless-steel, organic glass, and tempered glass. Some also utilize metal plates covered with unique flexible products (to minimize the damage triggered by striking pedestrians). Bridge Smart Swing Gate Gate The more popular name has actually been inherited from the initial bridge-shaped structure. It consists of a primary chassis and two movable swing bars. The swing bars can swing 180 ° or 90 ° to achieve the function of dissuading or launching. Column Swing Door Turnstile The appearance of the main devices is in the type of a column, which can perform the same functions as the bridge type Swing Turnstile. It is defined by lower cost and less area. RS Security Co., Ltd Main Products: door, flap gate, full height gate, swing turnstile, hydraulic bollard, road blocker, access control, face acknowledgment, barrier gate and so on. Application of Swing Barrier Gate It is primarily utilized for passage entrance and exit management. Typically, just individuals are permitted to pass through, or people dragging travel luggage, and disabled people. Thinking about that Swing Gate Turnstile can attain larger channel qualities than wing gates. A lot of Swing Door Turnstile passages can be mixed with pedestrians, bicycles, mopeds, handicapped cars and other non-motorized vehicles. component Swing Barrier Gate structural structure: Swing Door Gate includes chassis, movement, swing arm, control system, infrared sensing unit, It includes control devices and other parts. High-end brake Swing Barrier Turnstile consists of: chassis, brake motion, control system, infrared sensing unit, control devices and other parts (high-end brake Swing Door Turnstile is that it can stop rapidly and efficiently, there is no shaking, no mechanical stuck structure, and the swing arm automatically opens after power failure. It completely complies with fire security requirements).

[cbab-00]

the way that "you're not in this alone" (from skylines and turnstiles) is the first ever lyric gerard wrote for mcr is revolutionary. a phrase that's caring and full of love. a phrase he wrote right after witnessing the devastation that was the 9/11 twin towers collapsing. the birth of this band was made from a love and fondness for the people around you. I'm sick I'm ill no one talk to me ever again

[theemporium]

[5k] luke hughes swore he would never tell another soul and take his confession to the grave. that ends as an epic fail as he tells a really pretty girl his most embarrassing secret. luckily for him, she seems pretty eager to help him out.

series masterlist

.

It shouldn’t be embarrassing, but it was. It really fucking was.

It wasn’t always a big deal. When he was in high school, everybody was just like him. Or at least, most people were. HIs friend group were. And they would always talk about how fun college would be, how everything would change, how everyone grew up and just did it. 

And then he went to college and nothing really changed. It was a bit embarrassing, it made his cheeks burn bright red whenever he spoke about it. But it also wasn’t the most unbelievable thing. Between keeping his GPA up, his training regime and the countless games during the season, it wasn’t shocking to anyone that he didn’t have as much free time as movies liked to make it seem like. 

But then he moved up. He went from being a kid with a dream to actually living that dream and beyond. A joke from his childhood became a reality when he found himself on the ice with his older brother, wearing the same jersey as his older brother. Suddenly, it was all real and intense and he was in it properly. 

But, fuck, it was embarrassing that he was in the National Hockey League and he was a fucking virgin.

In theory, he knew it wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t change the way he played or his performance on the ice. It didn’t affect his professional life in any way, shape or form. But it still made him want to curl up in a corner and shrivel his existence away whenever he thought about it too long.

And it wasn’t like it was obvious. He wasn’t announcing it to the world and rambling on about it in interviews. But the amount of jokes people made about women throwing themselves at his feet or having a turnstile of people in his bed felt like he might as well be. 

The awkward laughs and strained smiles would only take him so far before someone caught on. 

And that might have been the worst part—the fact that nobody knew. Not his friends in high school nor the ones he made in college. None of his teammates. Not even his brothers (though, the idea of him even telling them whether or not he was a virgin was an experience he would like to avoid all together). 

Nobody in the fucking world knew Luke Hughes was a virgin except him and, in a weird way, it was kind of fucking lonely.

Or at least, nobody else knew until he met you.

…

The night he met you had been a few days after the Devils had been kicked out of the playoffs. 

Despite the loss, Nico wanted one last team celebration to sign off a good season. Because yes, it fucking sucked that they were knocked out and it sucked they wouldn’t be the ones to lift the Stanley Cup this year. But they still played well, they deserved to appreciate that, to appreciate each other. 

And, on a more personal level, it was a chance to celebrate with the NHL team he could now call his home.

He was in the big leagues now. He was in the NHL and he was a professional hockey player and, by the power of some fucking superior being he did not know, he was lucky enough to share a team with at least one of his brothers. 

It still felt like a dream.

And with that dream came the joys and perks of being a New Jersey Devil—like not being ID’d in the bar the team commonly visited. 

“Takin’ it all in?” 

He tore his eyes away from the surrounding bar to look at his brother, perched on the edge of the pool table Nathan and Kevin were currently competing on. He had been happy to just watch, observe—for lack of better terms—take it all in, like Jack assumed. 

Instead, he just retorted with, “it’s a bar. Not much to take in that I haven’t seen before.”

“Okay, college boy,” Jack snorted, his cheeks flushed the same shade of red as the vodka cranberries he had been drinking all night. “I meant the big leagues.”

Luke resisted the urge to snort. “Ask me again in a year when it’s actually sunk in.”

Something in Jack’s face softened. “I’m glad you’re here, Moose.”

His throat felt a little tight but he still smiled. “Me too.”

He had assumed that was the end of the conversation, but that was Luke’s first mistake. He hadn’t paid much attention to the way Jack’s eyes roamed around the bar, narrowed like he was looking for something or, in this case, someone.

“What do ya think about her?”

Luke blinked, looking at his brother with a confused glance before he followed his line of vision to some blonde settled against the wall on the other side of the bar. 

“What about her?”

Jack shot him a look. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

Luke hesitated, almost as though it was a trick question. “Yes?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t sound convinced,” he commented. “So, blonde isn’t your type. What is then? Brunettes? Redheads? Miscellaneous?”

“No, I—” Luke frowned. “I’m surprised you even know what miscellaneous means.”

Jack punched his arm in response. 

“Why are you asking about my type?” Luke questioned, something that felt a lot like uncertainty bubbling in his stomach.

Jack let out a deep sigh, prolonging it to properly encapture his annoyance. “I’m trying to help you get laid, bud.”

Luke froze. 

There was no way Jack could know. He knew that. He did. Logically, it was impossible for his brother to know he was a virgin when Luke had genuinely never admitted as much beyond the age of seventeen. But here he is, seemingly trying to find him someone to sleep with. There was no way he could know, there was no way Jack knew—

“I mean, you’re in the fucking league now, bud. Milk it a little, have some fun!” Jack continued, lost in his own rambles to even notice the way Luke’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I’m sure college was fun and all, but this is better!” 

Luke tried to let out a laugh. “I think I’m alright for tonight.” 

Jack huffed out in annoyance. “Don’t be a bore! Luke, you’re in the NHL. You just fucking played in the playoffs! Enjoy yourself, man.” 

“I am enjoying myself,” Luke countered. 

“You’ve been drinking the same beer since we got here,” Jack snapped back with a knowing look. “And I know it tastes like shit because I did the exact same thing when I first ordered a drink here. I’m trying to be your guru, help you avoid the mistakes I made.”

“My guru,” Luke repeated with a snort. “More like an unwanted Cupid.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “C’mon—”

“Focus on yourself.”

“It’s my duty as a brother—”

“I am not staying to listen to this,” Luke grumbled, batting away his brother’s hands as he began to make his way to the bar. As much as he hated to admit it, Jack was right—this beer tasted horrible and not even the tiny sips he had been taking were going to save it. 

He settled himself on a free spot at the bar, his elbows placed on the slightly sticky countertop as he peered over to try find a bartender. He saw a few on the other side of the bar finishing off a few drinks and accepted the small wait, a little lost in his own thoughts and whether he wanted to try another drink instead of just settling for something non-alcoholic when a hand settled on his back. 

“There you are, babe!”

Luke frowned, turning around to find you staring right back at him with a grin on your face. Honestly, he was expecting to turn around and let the person realise they had made a mistake. But your smile remained on your face, though the wide eyes staring back at him were a little distressing. 

“Uh, I think you—” But he was cut off by another voice, a much deeper one this time.

“This is your boyfriend?” 

The man was average height and fairly built, but that was all he had going for him. His shirt was definitely a size too small to make him look bigger and the chunky chain looked nothing short of tacky. And Luke may have been in his presence for less than thirty seconds, but the body spray was overwhelming and pungent and made him want to plug his nose. 

Now, Luke may be a little slow but he isn’t dumb.

He may be deeply confused by the sudden promotion to boyfriend from a stranger but it didn’t take long for Luke to realise the wide, distressing eyes were a cry for help and the walking embodiment of Axe body spray in a tight shirt was the reason. 

“Uh, yeah!” Luke cleared his throat a little, his arm moving to wrap around your shoulders in the least awkward way he could possibly achieve. “She’s my girl! Uh, girlfriend! She’s my—” His cheeks burned but he couldn’t stop his mouth from moving. “She’s my babe!” 

The man glanced between you and Luke for a few moments before rolling his eyes, muttering something under his breath about wasting his time before he disappeared into the throng of people crowded by the bar. 

“What a dick,” you murmured and it almost made Luke jump when he remembered you were still beside him, that his arm was still around your shoulders. You turned around to look at him once you knew the other guy was gone, and your smile seemed softer now. “Thank you for that, really. You’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s no biggie,” Luke replied, cringing a little before he quickly continued. “Thanks for giving me the honour of being your fake boyfriend.”

You snorted. “Yeah, well, you have a friendly face. You looked like you would go along with it.”

His cheeks burned warmer. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” you grinned before turning to settle in the spot next to him, fingers tapping on the bar counter. “Let me buy you a drink to thank you for your services?” 

Luke began shaking his head. “That really isn’t necessary—”

“Please,” you insisted, a softer expression on your face. “It would make me feel better for dragging you into my scheme.”

“I—” He cleared his throat, hoping to some superior being that his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “O-Okay.”

Your grin widened. “Brilliant. What do you want?” 

“A Coke.”

“Really?”

“Yes?”

“Okay, no judgement, just surprised,” you said, leaning over the bar to place your drink order along with his before you turned back to the boy. “So, do I at least get to know my fake boyfriend’s name?”

HIs lips twitched upwards. “Luke.”

“Luke,” you repeated before telling him your name, something gleaming in your eyes when you did. “So, Luke, what brings you to a bar on a Monday night to drink Coke?” 

“I’m here with some work friends,” he lied easily, not really one to play the professional hockey player card (despite Trevor’s insistence that it was expected to be used for this reason exactly). “Just enjoying the night before we all head off for the summer.”

“Hm, here with your work buddies but staying sober and standing alone at a bar,” you mused. “You’re quite intriguing, Luke.”

“I think that’s a compliment,” he murmured with a frown. 

“It is,” you assured him with a smile.

Luke opened his mouth to say something before the familiar voice of his brother reached him. 

“LUKEY BOY IS GETTING SOME!”

He shut his eyes, muttering a list of curses under his breath before he finally looked at you with a sheepish expression. “I’m so sorry about him. Just ignore him, he’s a little drunk and—”

“Hey, it’s fine,” you assured him with a laugh. “Work buddy?”

“Mhm,” Luke confirmed with a nod. “And my older brother.”

“That sounds like an intense work environment,” you commented.

“Tell me about it,” he grumbled, but there was still a smile on his face. “I wouldn’t blame you for making a run for it now while you have the chance. Jack will only get worse.”

You waved him off, smiling. “Your brother isn’t scaring me off,” you assured him. “Plus, I said I was intrigued and I’m enjoying talking to you. Makes it seem a lot more believable that you’re my boyfriend if that other dude is lingering around.” 

“Yeah, totally,” Luke agreed, something warm bursting in his stomach at the fact you wanted to keep talking to him. 

And despite what Jack and the others assume, nothing more happened between the two of you than just talking. It was bittersweet, in a way. Because Luke really enjoyed talking to you that night, even if he knew he would probably never see you again. 

But it was nice and it replayed in his head a lot more than he cared to admit that summer.

…

He assumed it was guaranteed that he would never see you again. 

So, it was pretty shocking when he did, in fact, see you again at a house party held by one of the boys of all fucking places in the pre-season.

As the new season approached and the overwhelming realisation that he was about to enter his rookie season of the NHL hit him, Luke didn’t even hesitate to accept the invitation for the ‘small get together’ with the boys. These were his teammates, these were the people he was going to have to trust and navigate on the ice with. It seemed like a nice idea to have a few chilled hangouts whilst training dragged everyone back to New Jersey.

What Jack and everyone else had failed to mention was the fact a ‘small get together’ did not just mean the team like he assumed. It meant a house full of people that Luke certainly didn’t know or recognise, but seemed to know exactly who he was. 

He was only slightly ashamed to admit that he clung onto Jack’s side as long as he could. But his brother was a social butterfly who liked to jump between different crowds and it was too much for Luke. Instead, he had settled near a couch where John and Kevin had been rambling away to each other when Jack suddenly appeared—out of thin air—with a huge grin on his face. 

“Hey, Rusty, is that not your girl from the bar?”

Luke’s brows furrowed together in confusion. “Huh?”

But Jack didn’t say much, just nudging his little brother to look over his shoulder. His lips parted again, prepared to tell Jack that he was drunker than he expected him to be after a few beers, only to find the words stuck in the back of his throat when he turned around and saw you.

He had thought about you more than he cared to admit over the summer. Just random little flashes of the conversations you shared. It was stupid, and a little pathetic, but you just felt…different—in the least cliche way possible.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly his cheeks just heated at the sight of you. 

No, correction: it was really fucking embarrassing. 

“Aw, did Lukey invite his lil’ crush?” Jack teased, reaching out to mockingly pinch his cheeks but Luke batted his hand away just in time.

“Shut up,” he grumbled before clearing his throat, turning to faze his brother again. “I didn’t. I–I don’t even know why she is here.”

Jack shot him a look. “Go on, then.”

Luke frowned. “What?”

“You are actually clueless,” Jack grumbled under his breath before giving him a hearty shove. “Go talk to her!”

His eyes widened. “What?!”

“Go talk to her,” Jack repeated, not understanding the panic in his younger brother. “You guys were hitting it off at the bar, what’s the big deal? Maybe you can hook up with her again.”

“I—” He started before realising this was not the time to delve into the same argument they had had since the night at the bar. “It’s fine, she probably doesn’t even remember me.”

His brother scoffed. “You’re shitting me, right?”

Luke blinked. “No?” 

“Dude, she was all over you!” Jack insisted, giving him another shove that had him stumbling slightly. “Go!”

Luke could feel his cheeks heating up. “Jack—”

“It’s my big brother duty to help you!”

Shove.

“Jack, fuck off. It’s not gonna happen.”

Shove.

“Yes, it will. Stop being a coward.”

Shove.

“Can you stop? I am not—”

Shove.

“Go talk to her!”

Shove.

“No—”

Except, the little shoves and lack of balance with the drinks he had been nursing through the night seemed to catch up on Luke. He stumbled back, his footing gone and his free hand reaching out to grasp Jack or something to stop him from falling. But it was too late. He was stumbling and his drink was sloshing and it went all over—

You. 

It went all over you because now you were right there, right in front of him, having just walked across the room to come and see him.

“Oh shit,” Jack muttered from behind him.

You looked down at your shirt—your very white shirt that now had some atrocious red stain splattered across the front from the cocktail John had made him—and stared in shock. 

Luke felt his whole body curl in on itself, his face burning and his chest feeling oddly tight. “I am so sorry—”

But, to his fucking shock (because you seemed to shock him a lot, if he was honest), you looked up at him and laughed. 

“Unlucky timing, huh?” You joked but Luke didn’t feel like laughing. 

“I can—” But he paused, not even sure what he was going to say. 

“Liking the colour red a little too much there, Cherry!” A voice from somewhere in the crowd—Luke genuinely wasn’t sure where—called out and your face brightened. 

“It’s a good thing I can pull it off!” You retorted, unfazed by the name. 

Cherry. 

Usually, Luke would chalk it up to his memory being fairly shit and the months that had passed since that night in the bar making him confuse your name for something else. Except, the boy had practically relived that night in his head on a constant loop. Every word. Every sentence. Every second of it. 

Pathetic? Yes.

Helpful? Probably not in any way, shape or fucking form except for the fact he was certain your name was not Cherry. He was more than certain. At least, he was certain that wasn’t the name you had told him. 

There were so many logical and simple reasons, he knew that deep down. But right now, Luke was embarrassed and flustered and he had this horrible inkling that you told him a fake name in case you thought he was a creep at the bar like the guy he saved you from and—

Yeah, Luke really didn’t like the idea of that. He didn’t like the idea of being paired in a category with that man. And he certainly didn’t like the idea that he made you uncomfortable enough to give him a fake name, even if he had given you no real reason to do otherwise. 

Someone pushed through the crowd as Luke continued to spiral in his own thoughts, unable to even get a coherent sentence out when Nico glanced between you and him. He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he offered you an apology before he turned to Luke.

“You can show her where the bathroom is, right?” 

And, fuck, he really thought this was the closest he could reach to ever feeling something close to hatred towards his captain.

Luke nodded his head, unable to get a word out and nodded towards the stairs. 

You seemed to catch his hint well enough as you turned to head towards the stairs. Until your hand was reaching back, taking his in your grasp and intertwining your fingers together and Luke’s brain short circuited all over again.

“Get it, Moose!”

Jack was pretty high on that almost-hate list too.

Luke felt like his body was on autopilot as he moved towards the stairs, letting you lead him up with your hands still connected until you reached the top. You looked at him expectantly and he led you towards the bathroom—one of the larger ones because he thought he would die if he was trapped in a small, enclosed space with you after he just spilled his drink all over you.

He opened the door, flicking the light on before stepping aside and letting you head inside. Except, the world seemed to have something against him, you dragged him into the bathroom behind you, your hands still connected, and grinned at him.

“Help a girl out?” 

Luke cleared his throat but nodded. 

He tried not to think too hard when you eventually dropped his hand. He tried not to think too hard when you locked the bathroom door. He tried not to think too hard as you glanced at him through the mirror. 

And he was doing well until you went and pulled your shirt over your head. 

His eyes widened, a spluttered noise of surprise leaving his lips as his eyes instantly snapped to the ceiling. But it was useless, he could already feel his blush crawling down his neck and burning hot.

“Relax,” you laughed. “I’m not giving you the full show. Just need to get this stain out.” 

“Mhm,” he hummed but his eyes remained on the ceiling. 

“Luke?”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

“Uh huh.”

You let out a hum, like you didn’t quite believe him but you didn’t seem to push further. Instead, he heard the tap turn on and the water started running and suddenly, the bigger bathroom didn’t feel big enough.

“I’m not a creep!” He blurted out.

You paused. “Is that why you are staring at the ceiling? To prove you aren’t a creep?”

“No, well—” He cut himself off and let out a deep breath. “No, I just…your friend called you Cherry down there. You gave me a different name. I just…didn’t want you to think you had to give me a fake name because I was a creep. Granted, you don’t owe me anything but I just wanted to assure you—”

“Luke?”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah?” 

“I don’t think you’re a creep. And I didn’t lie about my name either,” you said, your voice a little softer this time. “People just call me Cherry.” 

And for a boy who ate, lived and breathed a sport that classically gave stupid nicknames to everyone and everything, he had never felt quite this dumb.

“Oh.” 

“Are you going to look at me now?” 

He waited for a moment. And then another. And then, before he chickened out of it, he lowered his gaze until he met yours—and didn’t let his eyes wander any further. 

“You’re an interesting boy,” you mused, tilting your head to the side.

His brows furrowed together. “Thank you?”

You grinned at his response before you turned back to the sink, seamlessly continuing to scrub your shirt under the running tap. 

Luke watched you for a few moments, trying to just stew in the silence and let you do your work. But the seconds kept ticking by and the silence was becoming more stifling and there was only so much he could handle before he wanted to rip his eyes out. 

“I’m sorry about my brother, by the way,” he said when he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “He’s a lil’ enthusiastic but he means no harm.” 

“He seems quite desperate to get you laid,” you noted, your eyes briefly finding him in the mirror again. “A lot of your friends do.”

His cheeks burned again. “They do that with everyone. They just like to be wingmen, you know?” 

Your eyes narrowed slightly on him. “But it makes you uncomfortable.” 

You say it like a fact, not a question. 

Luke choked a little. “Well—”

“Why not just tell them to back off?” You questioned and Luke welcomed the fresh, bitter twinge of embarrassment that washed over him.

“Because they would ask questions,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s just easier to let them mess about.” 

You looked intrigued now. “Why?”

Luke shifted under the intensity of your gaze. “Because then they would ask why I didn’t want to hook up with anyone.” 

You raised your brows. “Not a one-night stand kind of man?”

And honestly, he should have just cut the conversation there. He should have deflected the topic onto something else or gave some vague answer. Hell, even telling you to mind your own business was a better answer. But the alcohol made him feel buzzed, your presence was overwhelming and—for the first time in his life—Luke found himself blurting out the words he swore he would take to the grave.

“Because I’m a virgin.” 

You blinked. And he fucking waited for it. 

He waited for you to laugh. He waited for you to laugh and howl and cackle at his pathetic admission. To mock him, to tease him, to make him feel worse than he already felt. He waited and waited and waited. 

And it never came.

“And you can’t tell them that?” You questioned.

“I, uh,” Luke shook his head, his stomach somersaulting inside him in the worst ways possible. “No, it’s a little…taboo in my line of work.” 

You turned to actually look at him instead of gazing at him in the mirror. “Are you a sex worker?”

Luke spluttered, shaking his head. “What? No! No, I…I’m a hockey player.” 

You frowned a little. “Hockey players can’t be virgins?” 

“Well, it’s not like a set rule but like,” he paused, waving his hands around like that explained everything. But you still looked confused and Luke knew he had to keep talking. “Everyone just kinda expects hockey players to be some kind of…sex god. Or something. I don’t know. All I know is that it’s not really common to be a virgin in the league.” 

“Okay,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest—where you still stood in only a bra covering yourself. “So, like, are you a virgin…by choice?”

“Oh my god,” Luke groaned, bringing his hands to cover his face before it got even more red.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way!” You assured him. “I was just curious.”

“Nobody was supposed to know,” Luke grumbled into his hands, but you seemed to understand him well enough.

“I won’t tell a soul,” you promised.

But the damage was done and Luke wanted nothing more than for the floor to open up and drag him into the depths of the Earth.

He needed to get out of this bathroom. He needed to get out and go downstairs, rush through a flurry of goodbyes to the team before he quickly escaped and headed home where he could hide his embarrassment in a large tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream that certainly wasn’t in his meal plan. 

He just needed to turn around, unlock the door and slip out before you had the chance to—

“What if I helped you?”

Yeah, that was not what he expected.

His hands dropped from his face as he stared at you, his expression almost blank except for the confusion shining in his eyes. “Huh?”

“What if I helped you?” You repeated.

“Helped me with what?” 

“Being a virgin,” you said with a shrug. “It seems like it’s really important to you, or something. And I think you are bigging it up in your head a little more than necessary. Maybe you just need someone to give you a helping hand, you know? Guide you through it, help you learn. No pressure, yeah?”

He blinked. “And…you would do that?”

“Yeah, why not,” you answered honestly with a shrug of your shoulders. “You intrigue me, Luke.”

“I intrigue you,” he repeated slowly, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“It’s not a bad thing to be intriguing.”

“It is when you make it sound like I’m some kind of experiment.”

You flashed him a softer smile and something in his chest eased a little. “You don’t have to say yes, it was just a suggestion. Just…a new friend helping her new friend out.”

New friend. 

Luke swallowed. “And…what would you gain from this?”

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders again. “Honestly? I’ve had my fair share of disappointing experiences in bed by guys who think they are sex gods. Call it a gift to womankind if I help at least one guy be competent and capable in bed.” 

He blinked. “Right. Gift to womankind. That’s me.’

You snorted. “Just think about it, yeah? Obviously, you can go about with whatever you are doing. Just a suggestion to make a casual thing out of it, to help take the stress away. It’s your choice, Luke.” 

It was his choice. 

He knew it was his choice and, despite knowing little about you, some stupid part of him trusted that you were being genuine. You were odd but you were sincere, and he knew your offer was sincere too. If he took you up on it, you would help him out. If he declined, you wouldn’t push the matter any further and just move on in your life. 

No more words were exchanged after that, the offer lingering and the tap still running as the red stain showed no signs of budging under the soap and cold water. He knew he didn’t have to give you an answer there and then. 

But the worst part was that Luke was pretty fucking sure he knew what his answer was the first time the offer left your lips.

And he pretty sure the remaining stain on your shirt was some sort of bad omen from the universe that already liked to tease him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He was fucking done being a twenty year old virgin and you were his solution to the problem.

.

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Two

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, blood and injury, nurse!reader, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, feelings of fear, anxiety. Panic attack. Implied past abuse. Implied stalking. Deep breath.

There is blood in Johnny's eyes.

He comes to with a start, Price’s voice barking out an order, pressure and flame and blood all washing over him, pain erupting across every receptor in his brain like he’s being shredded alive. 

“Bloody hell, hold him steady.” 

It’s still Price, roaring over the chop-chop-chop of the helicopter blades, bloodied hands trying to keep pressure on the hole in his stomach, his side. 

It burns. Everything burns, his body feels like it’s on fire, bones turning to ash inside his skin, chest being torn apart by some invisible force. He can’t get enough air. There is something shoved inside his ribs, something heavy that’s weighing his lungs down, keeping him underwater, cinderblocks tied to his feet.

He tries to move, but he can’t. 

Gaz is strapping him down to a stretcher, he thinks, and when he ratchets a strap across his legs, Johnny screams in agony. 

“’m sorry mate, I’m sorry.” 

Where is Simon? There are faces here, but none of them are the one he needs. His LT. “W-where is Si?” He slurs, and Price frowns, leaning back over his face, calling his name. 

“Johnny, Johnny. Hold still. You’re on a medevac. We’re lifting you to base.” 

“Si-“ 

“Simon isn’t here, remember? Johnny, oi. Keep your eyes open, Sergeant.” Remember? Does he remember? He tries. Tries to place his partner’s face amongst the rubble, the blast, the screaming. 

Where is Simon?

Your coffee maker sputters to life in the silence of your apartment, churning out the dark, thick, life-giving liquid, and you can’t beat back the glare that fixes your face upwards towards your neighbors, the ones who are running a marathon in their apartment at three in the afternoon.

Seriously. Is there a herd of elephants up there? 

You can’t be too disappointed in them, you know. It is normal working hours. Normal daytime hours. You don’t expect your neighbors to accommodate or understand your schedule. Still, it would be nice if they were just a bit more considerate. 

It’s not the end of the world, regardless. You're up now, already started your day, crawled out of bed and opened the blackout curtains to stand in the afternoon sunlight that streams through your studio apartment. You flick open your laptop as sip your morning coffee, logging into your banking app with quick efficiency, eyes roving over lists of numbers, figures adding and subtracting in your head. You’re so close to being able to move forward with the plan, the light at the end of the tunnel growing stronger and stronger, glowing bright with hope, something that once felt so impossible, so far away. You're going to make it. 

It’s a hike to the train.

You’re fortunate that you only have to take one, no longer having to change once, or twice, in the middle of your commute like you used to, but now you’re walking at least twelve blocks to get there, each way.

It makes you feel very exposed.

You keep your headphones in, hood of your jacket over your head, and move within throngs of people during the trek, keeping your eyes focused on the sidewalk ahead, posture tilted just enough that you can watch the ground but still see in your peripheral. You don’t relax until you make it onto the platform, and even then, your head is on a swivel as you wait for the train to arrive, and you can melt into the mix of others. Seen, but not noticed. 

Old habits die hard. 

You swipe your card to proceed through the turnstile, cool metal sliding against your hands when you push forward onto the platform, settling against a pylon as you wait, flicking through the news with half interest.

The hair on the back of your neck rises.

Someone is watching you. 

Your skin goes cold, ice beneath your jacket, and your lungs stutter with short breaths. Logically, you know you’re wrong. The faces that wait alongside you are not focused on anything but themselves, too busy staring at their own devices, tablets, readers, phones. A woman fidgets with a stroller, a man wearing headphones spits some corporate nonsense out loud, obnoxiously. You’ve already looked them over, too many times. He’s not here.

You lean against the tile, rocking your back into the grimy wall, fingers clutching against the edge of your phone. He’s not here. You’re safe. The dark of the tunnel mocks you, laughs with his voice, its circular opening growing teeth like his, ready to devour you, drag you back to hell, swallow you whole and keep you there.

He's not here. You’re safe. He doesn’t know where you are. Deep breath. 

You breathe the words deep, counting the time of your inhales and exhales until the brakes of the train are squeaking and squealing to a stop, doors opening with a hiss. Everyone moves in tandem, an amoeba inching towards the same goal, get off, get on, and you go with it, pressing inside and shuffling towards the back, angling your body outwards, molded into a corner so tight your shoulders touch the walls of the train.

Deep breath. 

“Hey, you’re early!” The nurse you’re relieving smiles brightly at you, blonde hair pulled high in a scrunchie, stickers all over her badge and ID.

“Yeah, wanted to get caught up on some admin stuff but I’ve got it, if you want to…” you motion with your head, the universal signal of ‘if you want to leave’ without saying it out loud, lest you jinx it, and the place goes to chaos in the next five minutes. She nods eagerly, launching into a run-down of your beds, who’s stable, who’s sedated, who’s still on a vent. “-and two sixty-eight is about to come down from the PACU.” Your stomach clenches with anxiety, and you check your watch.

“They took him when I left this morning…”

“Yeah, I guess there was a complication. Had to re-open his chest, put in a new tube. Poor guy, he’s battered all to shit. Did you see the scans of his femur? It’s literally in pieces.” She sighs. “His partner is in the surgical waiting room, told him the next shift nurse would come find him when he could come back to the room.” Your anxiety heightens, and an alarm bell goes off in the back of your mind as you think about Simon, pacing back and forth upstairs, and Johnny, alone in the PACU, probably coming out sedation, terrified. What is wrong with you? 

“I hear those guys are like black ops or something.” Nia, the nurse who’s worked the last three rotations with you, comments over your shoulder as she drops her bag in the pit. You raise an eyebrow skeptically. Black ops? You shiver. “They air-lifted him from a military base that’s doesn’t even exist on a map. Cass and I checked.”

“Really?” The dayshifter perks up, interested, and you hold your hands out in caution.

“Okay, okay. Let’s not speculate.” You tap your number into the tablet, reading through charts and noting updates. A little green circle with an arrow through it blinks next to Johnny’s, signifying that he’s about to be moved. “Besides, he’s been through hell. Clearly. Let’s have a little, ya know. Respect?” They all cluck, rolling their eyes and groaning, but they shut up, and Nia gives you a little grin. You might not be the charge nurse, but you were the perma-night shifter on this floor, and the one with the most seniority in this moment. 

“Alright, well. You got this?” Dayshift asks, and you wave her off.

“Goodnight.”

“You’re the best. Bye ladies!”

Simon is easy to find. He’s wearing the exact same clothes from yesterday, black cloth mask still covering half his face, hoodie pulled up over his head. He looks less exhausted, but no less anxious, dark circles still present under his eyes, body language tense. He looks… scared.

He spots you just as easily, shooting to his feet when he sees you coming, hands clenched together in anticipation, and you motion to the chair, placing yourself next to him, turning slightly to ensure you’re giving him your undivided attention.

He shifts in the seat, legs spreading out against the stiff frame, and his knee bumps yours, warmth radiating beneath denim bleeding into your scrubs. If he notices or cares about the contact, he doesn't say anything, only blinks at you in anticipation. His head tilts before you start speaking, and your skin heats when you realize he’s looking you over, eyes tracing you from head to toe before pinning you in place with a focused scrutiny.

“Has anyone come to speak with you?” You ask, silently hoping that the surgeon actually did the last part of his job, and didn’t neglect the family member in waiting room, the one who’s holding their breath as every second ticks by.

Simon nods. “They said there was a complication with his lungs?”

“They had to plate his ribs. It will give the bleed in his chest a better chance at healing, help keep him stable. They also replaced his chest tube.” His brow furrows, and you pause. Maybe visualization will help. “Do you want to see?” You tap on the tablet, bringing up Johnny’s last imaging, scrolling through the pictures to show Simon what it looks like, pointing out the before and after CT of his chest, explaining the white vs grey spaces on the image. Simon studies it, taking the tablet in his hand, fingers tracing over the screen reverently, carefully, like he's touching Johnny himself. An ocean’s worth of emotions reflects in his gaze, despair, sadness, grief- all sitting just on the edge, nearly ready to spill over. Your heart skips a beat.

“Can I see him?”

“He’s coming down from the post-surgery unit now. I’ll have to get him resettled in his room, but I promise as soon as I can, I’ll come get you.” He twitches in the chair, rubbing the back of his neck before he huffs out something that sounds like ‘okay’, and you give him one more small smile with your ‘see you soon’.

Johnny is conscious when he comes up from the PACU, barely. His vitals look good, temperature, blood pressure, heart rate all in target ranges, and he’s due for another round of pain medication.

"Hey, Johnny." You smile down at him, sliding the lock on his bed in place and reattaching his leads carefully, gentle enough so you don't jostle him too much. 

"Hi, pretty girl." He slurs, and you chuckle, instinctively rolling your eyes before patting his good hand. 

“Came out of sedation fine, but he’s been a bit emotional.” The PACU nurse warns you, eyes soft with sympathy when she glances at him in the bed. “He’s asking for his partner, I think. Simon?”

“Yeah. I’ll take care of it.” You scan the post op notes, hitting all the important things, logging his last vitals check so you can administer his meds. The incision in his chest has been reopened, and then closed, and his lower body is completely immobilized in the bed, his hip pinned, femur delicately pieced back together with a plethora of plates and screws, so many you think it’s probably more metal than bone now. “How are you feeling?" You ask, heart tugging a bit at the hopelessness in his eyes. “Ready to get some more sleep?” He groans a response, words jumbled together and cracking into a sob that has tears trickling down his cheeks.

“Si..”

“He’s not back yet.” You try to explain gently, grabbing an extra blanket to put over the scaffolding around his leg. “Once I get you settled, we’ll bring him up, okay?”

“H-hurts.” He cries, vibrant blue eyes finding yours, scared, and desperate. “It h-hurts.” He’s openly crying now, shoulders starting to shake, and the monitor chimes at you, registering an increase in heart rate and blood pressure.

“I know. I know it does.” You clean his port, tracking the uptick in numbers on the screen. “Hey, hey. Shhh, it’s okay.” You try to calm him as you flush the line, pushing the saline from the side of the bed. “You’re alright. We’re almost,” You administer the medication easily, counting in your head, replacing it with another saline before reattaching his fluids line, all of the motions so second nature that it allows you keep your focus on him. “there.”

You expect him to calm down. Most patients do, but his heart rate continues to tick upwards, and his respirations don’t decrease, lungs heaving against the fresh sutures in his chest. His hand, the good one, skates across your elbow and down your forearm to grab a hold of you, fingers gripped onto yours tightly, like he’s afraid you might let go.

“It’s alright, Johnny. You’re okay.” His eyes don’t leave your face, his own jaw slack, pain meds coursing through his system. He's frightened, big blue eyes wide and anxious, and you squeeze his hand, stroking your thumb across his knuckles. “Deep breath.” You see patients upset, in pain, all the time. It’s an everyday part of your job. Even the hand holding is a necessary, frequent part of your profession.

But with Johnny, something feels different.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, just try to relax. Take some long breaths- good. That’s good.” You soothe him, rubbing soft touches into his skin. His head is turned to where you’re standing next to the bed, chest still heaving, and he winces with each exhale. “It’s just the last of the sedation, it can make you a little out of sorts. The pain meds are going to kick in real soon.” You reach over, and press the call button, twice. You can feel the pressure, the burn of his attention, his unwillingness to look away from you, and you hum out the softest words you can find, encouraging him to take calm, deep breaths. 

When Nia appears, she frowns. “Everything alright?”

“Hey, yes. Could you do us a favor and go up to the surgical waiting room? Johnny’s partner Simon, is waiting to be told he can come down.” She looks from you to him, reading the situation just as you would if the roles were reversed.

“Got it.” She makes her exit, fast, and Johnny gulps, still staring up at you with bright, wet, blue eyes.

“See? She’s going to get him. Everything’s alright.” He nods, barely, starting to succumb to the medication, and you exhale, letting out some of the tension from the last few minutes.

Simon comes through the door in a whirlwind, and you immediately raise your free hand, palm out, to slow his hurried panic.

“He’s okay.” You point to where Johnny is still clutching onto you. “He was still in a fair amount of pain when he came down, and coming out of sedation can be disorientating. I think he panicked a little when he realized you weren’t here.” He nods silently, taking his place bedside, towering over both you and Johnny, leaning past you to brush his lips against Johnny's forehead in a sweet, smooth kiss. 

"I'm here, sweet boy." He murmurs, voice so low you barely catch it. You step back, pulling your grasp from Johnny's, but he tightens his fingers, grip stronger than you anticipated, and you stop mid step, glancing to his partner. “I got him.” Simon reaches for where the two of you are connected, sliding his own hand overtop yours, replacing the contact before holding Johnny's hand whole. He’s so careful, lowering himself into the chair, carefully holding onto Johnny until he’s seated, bringing his palm to his mask covered lips. “I’ve got you.”

“Si.”

“I’m here Johnny. Rest.”

“Ye weren’t there.” He croaks, and Simon’s eyes shutter with a long inhale.

“I know.”

“Ah needed-“ He loses the words, dazed in a swirl of semi-consciousness. “was scared.” Simon strokes some of the hair that’s in disarray away from his forehead, smoothing his thumb back and forth above his eyebrow.

“Shhh, everything’s alright now. I’m here.”

The chair in supply closet 2b knows you well. It’s an old thing, something pulled from a patient room once it was deemed too squeaky, and too uncomfortable, shoved in here to be discarded at some point in the future.

That was months ago.

Now, it sits in a dark little corner, plastic packages of disposable PPE and gowns littered on top of it in a heap, excess supply with no place to live. Everyone takes turns in it, shifting whatever it happens to be holding that day onto the ground and settling in for what some could call a break, brief moments that could last seconds or minutes, quick opportunities to get off your feet and most importantly, not have to speak or be spoken to, for an indeterminate amount of time.

This is usually where you hide when you need a second. When there’s a lull, and the pit is full of nurses, techs, students or whoever else may have downtime, talking and laughing together, building relationships, getting to know one another. Making friends. It's a small luxury at work, to have that time, those friendships. 

Luxuries someone who wants to be seen, but not noticed, not known, does not have.

You close your eyes, head tipped back against the chair.

It’s okay to be alone. You can do this. Deep breath. 

Your mind floats to two sixty-eight, to Simon and Johnny. What is it like, to be loved like that? To be so fiercely cared for? Johnny’s teary, blue eyes and Simon’s soft, loving regard for him makes your stomach flip. You didn’t even know love like that was real. The only taste of love you’ve ever had left ash in your mouth, poison in your veins, and deep, deep scars across your body and soul that you’ll never be free of.

Deep breath. 

Your work phone and the tablet both start to beep, a shrill noise that makes you wince, muscle memory of what it indicates making you leap from the chair.

The screen shows a red flashing symbol next to room two sixty-eight.

Johnny.

“He’s tachycardic.” You tell the tech who’s fumbling with the phone, firing off a rapid text message to the on-call for this floor. You hold Johnny’s forehead still with the heel of your hand, using a finger to flick open his eyelids one by one, flashing the pen light across his pupils. “Pupils are dilated, BP is elevated- no call him- call him right now. Do what I said, I don’t care what he told you.” You bark, glancing up at where Simon is frozen across the bed from you, grip so tight against the rail that you think it might break.

“Simon-“ He cuts you off, but you’re half paying attention to him, too busy checking the site of Johnny’s chest tube, and then moving onto the dressing on his lower abdomen, ensuring it doesn’t feel scalding to the touch.

“He was fine. He was just… sleepin' and then-“ You move around the bed, pulling the oxygen tube longer, replacing the cannula with a mask.  

“Simon, I need you to step out.” You press two buttons on the machine, ensuring it’s on high flow, door sliding open with Nia’s arrival.

“No.” His refusal is steadfast.

“Simon, hey.” He lurches closer to Johnny, and on instinct, you reach out and grab his forearm, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes are wild, bleak with anguish, and his chest heaves heavily, panic radiating from his massive form. “Listen to me, listen. I’m here. I’ve got him, alright? But there are about to be five other people in this room, and we can’t work if you’re in the way.” You speak firmly, clearly, trying to get your point across as the door opens again, and the on-call attending is standing on the other side. Simon glances from him, back to you, and you nod reassuringly, swallowing the lump in your throat that forms when he latches onto your own arm, squeezing it tight. “He’s in good hands.” You tell him, nodding to the tech that’s waiting to usher him towards the hallway. 

He keeps his eyes trained on Johnny, before they flick over to where you’re lowering the bed completely flat, free hand on his bicep, thumb rubbing a small semi-circle into his skin, just like you watched Simon do last night, and earlier today. He swallows, endless depths of desperation welling in his eyes, and you take a deep breath, imbuing your voice with all the strength you have.

“I’ve got him. I promise.”

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 19 - All Hail Prince Charles

As a Charles fan, the day he wins the Monaco Grand Prix will be the happiest day of my life (I will probably cry). also, weird that I legit forgot until now - is that I have not been doing fastest lap...and I completely forgot about sprint races. So, in this reality, there were no sprints or fastest points until now because I wanted Charles to have a grand slam!

So, please enjoy this fun chapter! much love to all!

like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciate!

TAG LIST IS CLOED

You stood next to the entrance to the paddock, phone out rapidly texting someone. With each sound of the turnstile, you thought it was the two brothers who you were waiting for. Well, them, their mother, and Max. 

Apparently, you had gotten the time wrong of when you needed to get to the paddock, and showed up almost two hours early. And, in pure introvert form (whenever you were around people you weren’t comfortable with), you just kept to yourself and waited right by the entrance. 

It was pretty busy in the paddock today. The color that stood out the most was the iconic red of the Tifosi, dressed to impress their favorite Monegasque driver. Even people who weren’t very fond of the sport came to support him. 

Charles was basically royalty. Which had you questioning if you and Max were “royalty” too, since you lived there. But, it didn’t extend as much as it does for Charles and his family. People practically kissed the ground he walked on. And maybe practically was an understatement as you had seen a guy do it one time. 

Your face was still buried in your phone, when someone suddenly bumped into you. You went to apologize before your eyes were set on your favorite pair of dimples. 

“Bonjour mon beau garcon,” you said softly, not to alert anyone in the surround area. You were still keeping the relationship on the down low, even if it had been almost two months. 

Arthur quickly hugged you, trying to make it not seem like a “romantic hug.” Besides, people had seen much hugs much more intimate than the ones you were now doing. Maybe you were toning it down a little too much. 

“Bonjour mon ange,” he whispered in your ear, making a blush cross your cheeks. Laughter was heard behind him and you peeked over his shoulder. 

Along with Max, Charles, and Pascale giving you smug looks, a certain German driver was also in the group. 

Not wasting anytime, you shoved your poor boyfriend to the side (completely missing his “kicked puppy dog eyes”), and jumped into the German’s arms. 

“Seb!” 

Now that got a lot of people’s attention. Suddenly camera clicks were heard from everywhere. You frantically pulled away. 

Oops. 

Sebastian looked a little shy in the limelight, or maybe it was just your imagination. But you were determined to get the cameras off of him. Your eyes darted to the red and white clad driver and suddenly you had an idea. The cameras weren’t focused on him, so it was perfect. 

You ran to the back of Charles and lightly put your hands of his back to push him out to the open. He gave you a questioning look. 

“Just do what you normally do Charlie.” 

Your eyes focused on an announcer with a megaphone. 

Perfect.

You raced over, said a few words to him, and came back to the group with megaphone in hand. 

“Kid, what are you doing?” Max asked, hands gripping his backpack. You ignored your older teammate and turned the thing on. 

With it almost kissing your lips, you started to yell hand outstretched in Charles’s direction. 

“All hail, Prince Charles Marc Herve, uh…” 

Arthur leaned over and whispered with a shit-eating grin on his face, “Perceval.” 

“Perceval – dude, how many middle names do you have – Leclerc!” 

Thankfully, your plan worked and now Charles was surrounded by multiple journalists and photographers. 

You ran back over to give the announcer the megaphone back. 

Looking back at Max, who was secretly recording Charles looking so lost in the crowd, you made your way to the group. 

“Shall we go Maximillian?” 

The Dutchman rolled his eyes. “That is not my name.” 

“Well if Charles has a lord-esque name, you can have one too! Thur, are you in our garage today or Ferrari?” 

He shot you a sad-ish smile. “I’m with Ferrari today. Seb and I are doing the thing.”

A look of clarity shone on your face. “Oooohhhh. Well then, you go do your thing. Wait, but you aren’t doing it with…” 

“Oui, but Sebastian is the guest and he wants me to be with him.” 

Your eyes playfully glared at the German, who held his hands up in mock-surrender. 

“I will return him in one piece kinde,” he promised. 

“Fine. Let’s go Maximilian.” 

“Geitje, once again, not my name.” 

“Then stop calling me a small goat. Well, I mean, I am a GOAT, in a sense.” 

“It’s cute!” 

Arthur watched as the two of you bickered, before going over to save his brother. It definitely didn’t help that Charles was on pole today, at his home race. Everyone was sweating and praying that this would be the year that he took his home race. Arthur was surprised that Max was in a playful mood, since he was starting a whopping P5 today and you were ahead of him at P4. 

He had wanted to ask you about it, but didn’t want to push for information that you might not have been comfortable to share.  

Starting Grid 

Charles Leclerc 

Carlos Sainz 

Lando Norris 

Y/n L/n 

Max Verstappen 

George Russell 

Lewis Hamilton 

Oscar Piastri 

Alex Albon

Logan Sargeant

Lance Stroll 

Yuki Tsunoda 

Fernando Alonso 

Pierre Gasly 

Daniel Ricciardo 

Valtteri Bottas 

Zhou Guanyu 

Esteban Ocon 

Kevin Magnussen 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Christian had asked you and Max to meet him quickly in one of the back rooms. You and Max were squished on one of the couches while your team principal comfortably sat on the opposite sofa. This felt like you and Max had been called to the principal’s office and you were about to get in trouble. 

Christian leaned forward. “Now, Max, we know that for some reason your tyres aren’t doing well in Monaco this year.” 

Max nodded, seeming to know where this was going. 

“But we wanted to ask you first if you’d be all right letting Y/n have the priority for this race. You are comfortably leading the championship as of right now. We would have liked to extend it by more points, but we can’t figure out what is wrong with the tyres this race.” 

Max sat for a moment and you winced. You knew he didn’t want to give up the giant gap that he had, especially since Charles won the last race as well. 

“It’s fine.” 

Your eyebrows raised as you looked at him. He met your eyes and gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his. You knew he was mentally giving you the ok to go ahead, but it didn’t mean that you had to like it. Already knowing the race, Red Bull did not have the upper hand in Monaco. This race was for Ferrari and McLaren. 

The “meeting” didn’t go much longer, but the three of you did talk about new strategies so that the two of you could get the maximum points out of it. You both would be trying for fastest lap and as many positions gained as possible. 

Back in the garage, you whined as you were trying to clip the strap under your helmet. Normally, Arthur would be there to help, but no, he had to be in the enemy’s garage. You were silently cursing his and Seb’s management. 

Mitch thankfully saw your annoyance and came to help. 

“No help today?” she asked as she clipped the strap and then helped finagle your helmet to where it was supposed to go. 

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p,’ “he’s in enemy territory today.” 

“Ah.” 

You looked at her through the empty eye space. “Goodluck kiss?” You tried your best puppy eyes. 

The older woman rolled her eyes, but gave your helmet a kiss none-the-less. You grinned as you stepped into the car. 

It was definitely a sunny day in Monaco, that’s for sure. One of your mechanics held a small umbrella as you waited for the signal. 

“Radio check please Y/n.” 

“So Liam is in town, I saw him earlier. And we both know that this is thee Lightning McQueen circuit. Charles just keeps rolling his eyes. Also, Liam and his girlfriend invited me and Arthur for a double date to go to California for the summer break so that we can go see the Radiator Springs set up at Disneyland. Also!” 

“Ok, radio is working.” 

“Boooooo. You just don’t want to hear about my amazing plans. You could come too if you’d like!” 

“Kid, they gave the signal almost 5 seconds ago.” 

“Oh.” 

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the 2024 Monaco Grand Prix. Charles Leclerc has made a lightning start on his teammate. Did he switch out his car for another? Carlos Sainz is overtaken by Lando Norris on turn 1. Max Verstappen has made a position and is now in P5 ahead of his teammate. Now, Verstappen has complained about his tyre degradation all weekend long. We just need to see how long he can stay ahead of Y/n L/n as her tyres seem to last a bit longer than his.” 

“Mitch, I thought I was supposed to be ahead.” 

“Checking.”

What was Max doing? He had said that it was fine for you to have the priority, but was being kind of an ass right now. 

“This was not the strategy that we went over. He���s being an asshole right now.” 

“Seems like the Bulls are fighting as Y/n L/n is voicing her irritation. I do wonder what they went over prior to the race.”  

Arthur watched as your tried to get around your teammate. His heart sunk a bit as you were pushed off the track, but got right back on. Pascale stood right next to him and put a hand on his shoulder for comfort. He wished he could be in your garage right now, because this was the last race until Austria that he’d be able to attend.

Mitch was finally able to give you an answer. “Ok, you are going to box now.” 

You entered the pit lane and were fitted with mediums since you started on softs. This race was going to be a one-stop-wonder. 

Right as you were coming out of the pit lane, you saw two cars collide right with each other. 

“THE TWO MERCEDES ARE OUT! L/N IS OUT OF THE PITS AND IS IN THE MIDDLE OF IT! THE SMOKE IS THICK, DID SHE JOIN THE DEBRIS?” 

It was all in slow motion for you. One minute, you were in clear skies, the next you were covered in smoke. You had seen George try to go a bit wide, but you guessed he didn’t see Lewis. You frantically tried to remember where they seemed to stop as you continued through the smoke. 

Arthur had watched your car disappear behind the curtain of smoke. His heart sank even more than it had a few laps ago. He quickly stood up to look at the small tv a bit closer. He was joined by Sebastian and his mom. 

“Tu as dit que tu ferais attention,” he whispered. 

GP came over Max’s radio. “Red flag at the pit entrance, Max. Come in so they can clear the debris.” 

“The pits? Was it Y/n? I see smoke.” 

“It was the Mercedes.” 

“But she was right there?” 

Max quickly pulled in and all but jumped out of the car. 

Thankfully, you had expertly dodged the debris and flew out of the smoke. 

“Woo, that was a bit smoky. I’m guessing red flag?” you asked Mitch. 

“Yep, do your lap and then come in.” 

It took you a bit longer to get back, since you had just pitted, but you finally made it. What you weren’t expecting was a giant hug from Max who kept apologizing. 

“I’m sorry for the first move, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

You bumped him a bit. “No biggie. Just please don’t do that again. We don’t need a Brocedes 2.0. Time for a juice box.” 

The two of you thankfully found some juice boxes before you had to get back into the car. It would be another grid start, with how everyone was when they were out of the track. So you would have come out second, still behind Charles but in front of Lando. Max would be behind Carlos in P5. 

At the start, Charles still had a great get away, pulling way in front of you like Max had been able to do in 2023. You were able to keep your P2 ahead of Lando while Max gained Carlos’s position. 

Thankfully, the rest of the race was smooth going. Max had not been able to keep up with Lando and fell behind Carlos and ended the race in a pitiful P5.  

However, the crowds were roaring as Charles finally brought home the Monaco Grand Prix. 

“I can practically hear the celebrations starting. As he did in 2019, Charles Leclerc has won back-to-back races. And for the first time in 93 years, a Monegasque has crossed the checkered flag in P1. Charles Leclerc has done it and wins the 2024 Monaco Grand Prix. It is also a Grand Slam for the Ferrari driver as he had pole, P1, and fastest lap. 

“He is followed by Red Bull’s Y/n L/n and McLaren’s Lando Norris. Carlos Sainz finishes fourth with Max Verstappen finishing fifth.” 

Race Results 

Charles Leclerc + fastest lap – 26 points 

Y/n L/n – 18 points 

Lando Norris – 15 points 

Carlos Sainz – 12 points 

Max Verstappen – 11 points 

Oscar Piastri – 8 points 

Yuki Tsunoda – 6 points 

Logan Sargeant – 4 points 

Pierre Gasly – 2 points 

Daniel Ricciardo – 1 point  

Alex Albon

Lance Stroll 

Fernando Alonso 

Kevin Magnussen 

Zhou Guanyu 

Valtteri Bottas 

Esteban Ocon 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Lewis Hamilton – DNF 

George Russell – DNF 

Champions Standings 

Max Verstappen – 179 points 

Charles Leclerc – 146 points 

Y/n L/n – 98 points 

Lando Norris – 88 points 

Oscar Piastri – 61 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 60 points 

Carlos Sainz – 46 points 

George Russell – 35 points 

Alex Albon – 26 points 

Fernando Alonso – 23 points

Logan Sargeant – 23 points  

Daniel Ricciardo – 22 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 2 points 

Pierre Gasly – 1 point 

Lance Stroll 

Zhou Guanyu 

Kevin Magnussen 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Valtteri Bottas 

Esteban Ocon 

Constructors Standings  

Red Bull – 277 points 

Ferrari – 192 points 

McLaren – 149 points 

Mercedes – 95 points 

Williams – 49 points 

Racing Bulls – 24 points 

Aston Martin – 23 points 

Alpine – 1 point 

Haas 

Alpha Romeo 

It felt nice, to be up with Charles and Lando on the podium. It would be your first without Max. Thinking back to the last weekend in Imola, you felt proud. You honestly didn’t care if your parents were watching or not. You being on the podium without the three-time world champ felt like the biggest middle finger plus an extra “fuck them” for good measure. 

You looked down at the crowd and saw Arthur standing with Pascale, Max, Christian, and Sebastian. You tried to spray them to the best of your ability after having almost dumped everything on Charles, who may or may not have cried during the national anthem (it’s ok though because you were crying right along with him). 

You knew how much it meant for him, especially after Jules and his dad. 

And it was great to see Lando, since he hasn’t podiumed all season long. Thankfully, he didn’t break Charles’s trophy (because you think the Ferrari driver would have cried again). 

To celebrate, the Leclercs picked a nice restaurant to go to, instead of a night club. Max, who was also invited, brought Kelly and P as well. 

“So Charles, now that you won the Monaco Grand Prix, do you feel even more like Lightning McQueen now?” 

y/n.89 has posted

y.n89 if you told me that I would have podiumed with lightning mcqueen himself at his home race (and kind of mine as well), I would have laughed in your face. Sad my teammate couldn't join me, but this is for the people who thought I wasn't good enough. look at me now! kachow ⚡️⚡️

and I got to see my pretty boy as well!

tagged: charles_leclerc

liked by redbullracing, y/n_updates, liamlawson, and 67,204 others

y/n_on_top she cracks me up with each post, she did not tag Charles on lightning's picture

y/nxarthur hmmmm boyfriend maybe lives in Monaco, Arthur lives in Monaco, therefore - Arthur is the boyfriend

y/nxollie keep dreaming

charles_leclerc did you seriously post a picture of a cartoon character instead of me??

y/n.89 yes, because I asked you for pictures and you never responded 🤔 charles_leclerc we were at dinner?? maxverstappen1 and???? y/n.89 yeah, and?????????????

olliebearman MOM ON PODIUM

y/n_lives_inmyhead_rentfree see this is for the people literally shipping a mom and son y/n&co a single mom who works two jobs...

arthur_leclerc so so happy for you!

y/n'ssecretbf I feel bad for her boyfriend because her dad is literally Christian Horner, big brothers are Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc, and her best friend is Arthur Leclerc (no one is safe from the dimples)

liamlawson lightning mcqueen is the goat

maxverstappen1 no I am lewishamilton you're wrong there y/n.89 you are both wrong, who has 5 piston cups and who doesn't landonorris preach! 🙌🙌

y/n.nation that whole podium was chaos, glad lando didn't break the trophy

chachanation glad I wasn't the only one crying

rascalflatts guess we have to accept the invite to play at COTA

y/n.89 HELLO?????? BIG FAN liamlawson ME TOO maxverstappen1 oh no

charles_leclerc has posted

charles_leclerc I never would have thought that I'd win a race in 2024 or even back to back races. Thank you to the team. This is for everyone who thought I was done with...I hope I have proved you wrong. For Papa and Jules, I'm home! Forza Ferrari ❤️🏎️

liked by arthur_leclerc, pascale_leclerc, suderiaferrari, and 1,294,028 others

cha16 OUR BOY RIGHT THERE

leclerc_on_top YEAAHHHHHHHHHH

chuck_leclerck I was crying so much. was worried about the restart but he pushed through!

y/n.89 so so proud of you Charlie! Max will let you become WDC next year

maxverstappen1 when did I EVER agree to that?? y/n.89 just now :)

lestappenlove oh my gosh, first Monegasque in almost 100 years to win their home race! history maker right here!

max&Charlie sad that max wasn't there to celebrate with him :(

leclercbros apparently some people saw Max at dinner with the Leclerc family

y/n_best_rookie was y/n there as well? leclercbros yes she was! along with kelly and P

tifosi4ever now Carlos just needs to win the Spanish Grand Prix and then one of them needs to win Monza!

porsche.motorsport with arthur_leclerc and sebastianvettel has posted

porsche.motorsport we are happy to announce the signing of Arthur Leclerc and Sebastian Vettel to our team. They will be preparing for future endurance racing and will be brand ambassadors until then as well. Welcome to the team Arthur and Seb!

liked by y/n.89, leclercbros, endurancexf1, and 9,204 others

endur4nce I was not expecting this today....but I'm not complaining

thurthur I did not see this coming, even after seb was in the garage with Arthur in Monaco

leclercbros oh yeah, I saw that but didn't even suspect anything

y/n.89 and what do we say?? ☺️☺️

arthur_leclerc thank you y/n for setting this amazing opportunity up (not like I got signed because I was incompetent) sebastianvettel just the pretty face for us arthur_leclerc w o w

arthur-leclerc4ferrari I guess I need to change my user

arthur-leclerc4porsche that's better

y/nxarthur this is sad because I looked at the calendar and Arthur will miss the next two races along with the Vegas race

porsche welcome to the family!

y/n.89 when will I get added? I have my two Porsches and haven't bought any other cars porsche.motorsports just sign with us?? redbullracing stay back from our rookie 🤺 maxverstappen1 yeah 🤺 🤺

Vettel-with-leclerc the lineup I didn't know I needed

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19

[peterparkouryo]

fell from the sky into my lap | ⍣ ೋ

⍣ ೋ

prompt; You encounter a very charming boy on the train.

warning: fluff, fluff, and did i mention fluff?

word count: 1.5k

a/n: meet cute!! i missed writing <3 (also ignore the fact that i used this gif once b4, feel free to send me tom gifs for future fics 😭)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist

You step out of Midtown High, the warm afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement. You had decided to stay after school, opting to have a small study session with a few of your friends for an upcoming test for the gruesome mathematics class, also known as calculus. The weight of your backpack pulls slightly at your shoulders as you make your way down the stairs of the school building, balmy wind blusters against your skin. Descending down the stairs finally, you keep your head down and walk across the football field, creating a safe distance between you and the ongoing practice taking place. 

What seemed forever, but in reality was maybe a good two to three minute walk off the school grounds, you head toward the train station. The familiar hum of chatter and the rhythmic clack of shoes on the sidewalk fill the air, blending into a comforting soundtrack of the end of the school day.

As you approach the station, the distant sound of a train horn echoes, signalling its arrival. Just in time, you thought to yourself. You quicken your pace, the excitement of heading home, mixed with the anticipation of the journey itself, propelling you forward. The station is a bustling hub of activity, with students, commuters, and travelers weaving in and out of the crowd.

You swipe your transit card at the turnstile, the beep granting you passage onto the platform. The cool, metallic scent of the train station mingles with the faint aroma of fresh coffee from the nearby café. You glance up at the electronic display board, noting the arrival time of your train. It's right on schedule.

The train glides into the station with a soft hiss of brakes and a rush of wind. The doors slide open, inviting you inside. You step onto the train, the cool air conditioning a welcome relief from the warmth outside. You find a seat by the window and settle in, reaching into your backpack and digging through to find your wired headphones, despite begging your parents for regular ones.

You open your phone, clicking the green app for music, scrolling through many playlists you've obsessively created for various different scenarios. Picking a playlist you don't remember creating, you let out a tired yawn and sit back, wandering your eyes to the left, and daydreaming  about your bed. 

The train ride was relatively quiet, aside from a crying baby (not that you could hear it, but breaking your daydream to observe your surroundings, you could see a crying baby), and the loud music blasting in your ears. 

For the next six minutes, the music from your headphones consumed your ears, guaranteed to worsen your hearing in the next twenty years or so. You were at an unusual ease you normally don't feel when you're alone on a train by yourself. It could do with the fact that there was maybe five or six people onboard, you weren't too sure.

You lay your head back against the seat and stare out the window, the passing buildings rapidly leaving your vision. A bored sigh leaves your lips, the spotify ad only adding onto the exhaustion you felt. 

The train stops, indicating people were either leaving or stepping on the train, and you tear your gaze away from the window out of curiosity, watching a couple people swipe their transit cards. You notice the last person, a boy with hair as brown as a bear, swipe his card more than once, and you can only assume something was wrong.

The more you watch the boy struggle, the more you feel bad because not only was the operator getting impatient, the passengers moan and groan as well. Slowly you dig into your pocket for your card, standing up and swiftly walking to the front of the train. Showing the boy a friendly smile, you glance at the operator, who's eyebrows were furrowed and a permanent frown carved onto his face.

"Um, he can use my card." You say unsurely, not entirely positive thats even how transit cards work.

The man narrows his eyes and stares between you and the boy for a good while before he exhales a huff.

"Go ahead, you're holding up my line." He mumbles and you furrow your eyebrows and glance behind you, seeing that it was only the boy and no one else, but you decide not to say anything about it.

You swipe the transit card, watching the red dot change to green, and the boy sighs in relief.

"Thank you." He says, watching your every move as you put your card back into your pocket.

You nod and your eyes drift to his face, studying him carefully, because boy, he was gorgeous. The boy had eyes just as brown as his hair, maybe even a little lighter with the golden specks straggling within them. If anyone was lucky (such as yourself) to stand so close to him, one might be able to see the small barely visible, but undeniably delightful freckles scattered across his nose.

Your eyes trail down to his lips, but not in a weird way, the small smile etched on his face captivated you and deep in your stomach, you swore you felt butterflies erupt. The smile was warm and inviting, and one of his most endearing features, capable of lighting up his entire face. It gave him a friendly, yet approachable demeanour. 

He was the kind of person who had the-boy-next-door kind of vibe, and you can't help but gaze longer than intended, making him uncomfortable in a way you had no intentions of doing.

So, you clear your throat, and quickly look at your shoes. 

"Its no problem." You mutter.

There's a standstill silence between the two of you, the murmur of passengers, the rustling of bags and the occasional ring of a phone not helping the awkwardness you felt whatsoever.

Eventually, the boy shows you yet another charming smile, walking past you to sit in a nearby seat. You return to yours and try your hardest not to stare at the boy diagonally across from you.

There's a standstill silence between the two of you, the murmur of passengers, the rustling of bags and the occasional ring of a phone not helping the awkwardness you felt whatsoever.

Eventually, the boy shows you yet another charming smile, walking past you to sit in a nearby seat. You return to yours and try your hardest not to stare at the boy diagonally across from you.

That challenge, however quickly crashes when you glance at him only to see him gazing back, in a way that wasn't entirely creepy, but cumbersome for the both of you. You do your best to show him a smile, cringing slightly when you realize its more of a nervous grimace than what you intended.

Though, he shows no signs of being weirded out by your so called "smile", he waves as you wave back. A rush of warmth and pleasantry overtakes you when he looks away. You'd think this is the first time any boy has ever showed you this much attention, no matter how little it might have been.

Minutes pass in a blur as the train carries you forward, each moment seamlessly blending into the next. Ultimately, you reach your stop and you gather your things, albeit a bit reluctantly. As you leave, you bite your lower lip and share a scrutiny when you walk past him, making your exit off the train.

While you step off the train, and make it your mission to ascend up the stairs, a hand purchases on your shoulder causing you to flinch fearfully, many thoughts running through your head as you make the stupid decision to turn around to face the culprit.

 All fears subside once you meet the familiar chestnut brown eyes of the boy from the train.

He realizes your initial fear and holds up your tangled headphones. "You left these on the train." He blinks.

"Thank you." You obligate, retrieving the headphones from his hand.

The boy nods and buries his hands in his pocket, unwieldy looking around.

You tilt your head as a thought comes about.

"Is this your stop?" You wonder.

He breaks his train of thought and stares right at you before laughing awkwardly. "Um, no my stop was actually three more blocks away." He informs and guilt fills you at that information.

"Oh, I'm sorry," You apologize, frowning.

He shakes his head quickly. 

"No, its fine I was just going to stop at Delmar's anyway." He reassures and smiles, holding out his hand.

"Also, I'm Peter by the way, Peter Parker." 

You return the smile and shake Peter's hand at his dorky introduction, speaking your name in greeting.

"I know, we share a gym class." Peter says.

You blink at the revelation, having no idea he even went to Midtown. Small world, you think.

"Anyway, is it okay if I walk you up the stairs, in a non weird way that seems creepy." Peter offers shyly, interrupting the barely there silence. There was something about his adorably dunce proposal that made you appreciate him despite only knowing the boy for ten minutes at most.

"Sure." You agree all too eagerly.

With new found courage, you and Peter make your way up the stairs of the train station and you're greeted with the bustling New York city, of what you can only describe as chaotic, honking cars and fellow civilians either on their arguing or arguing on their phones.

You felt excited to be walking next to Peter, no matter how small your interactions have been or how little you two new each other, you were grateful for his presence.

Grateful that you decided to take the train. Had you would've walked, only god knows what could've happened, the foreign feeling of butterflies in your stomach would not had been, that's for certain.

taglist: @victoriousskylar @imawhoreforu @myfangirlinessononeblog

shoutout to the divider account: @saradika-graphics

[tripodturnstile]

three arms turnstile door from RS Security Co., Ltd(www.szrssecurity.com) Appropriate for all types of public locations that need orderly passage of pedestrians, such as picturesque spots, exhibition halls, cinemas, docks, train stations, bus stations and other locations that require ticket verification; locations that require authorized entry such as factory attendance, canteen usage, golf courses, regular monthly card leisure centers, and so on; anti-static control locations of electronic factories, systems that need strict security measures such as face acknowledgment and fingerprint acknowledgment. RS Security Co., Ltd generally produces, develops and offers access control items, such as three rollers turnstiles door, city flap turnstiles barrier, servo motor swing turnstile door, translation turnstile door, optical turnstile door, full high turnstile barrier, half height turnstile gate, speed turnstile barrier and other channel turnstile door products, and boom barrier, facialface acknowledgment video camera, hydraulic bollards, road bocker three rollers turnstile gate Integrated electronic tickets, gain access to control and presence, club consumption/catering, anti-static, fingerprint, palm print, face recognition, iris acknowledgment Integrated application of other series of products; complete stainless steel frame structure, Taibang motor, individually established and produced movement; one-way/two-way turnstile door/ swipe to release the lever button and the upper lever is optional, with Counting function can recognize RS485 direct communication with the computer system; tripod turnstiles barrier triggers and instructions and alarm triggers; automatic fall of the pole when power is off and manual fall The pole is optional, and it receives the switch signal to open turnstile gate; it can be geared up with a card reading control part, and several units can be connected to the network; it can be geared up with magnetic card and distance card combination methods; it can be bought according to various practical requirements. Do. A totally rainproof box made of alloy aluminum or stainless steel, compared to the city flap turnstile gate servo motor swing turnstile gate and other pedestrian passage equipment, waist height turnstile barrier are more affordable. It has a customized setup user interface (such as card reader, sign light setup, and so on) to ensure that the system integrator's control turnstiles gate devices is easy and practical to set up. The movement of the three-stick turnstile door maker has actually an automatically adjusted hydraulic shock absorber. When using the three-stick turnstiles gate operation, the noise is really small and quiet. Impact, turnstile gate bar instantly decelerates back to center. The surface of the motion is plated with yellow dichromate. Can be programmed with turnstile barrier device control, a couple of direction control (set by user). The base is fixed with expansion bolts.

[szrssecurityswingturnstile]

dc brushless speedlane turnstile gate also called access swing turnstile door, which belongs to the gain access to control system, is among the important elements of modern entryway and exit control. The door wings are driven by the control system and open and close automatically. The operating mode can be picked through programs settings: As quickly as it is validated that the person going into is licensed, the door wings open instantly. It closes after a delay, and the delay time is adjustable. Typical servo motor speed turnstiles barriers are divided into scissor doors (metro flap gates gate) and swing doors. (1) Scissor doors are frequently used in rail transit, and common scissor doors are mainly utilized in subways and other locations. The door wings extend from the within package, which can effectively seal the passage and play the role of access control. In addition, an infrared noticing device is installed inside the door body, which can understand the purpose of "a single person, one card" for individuals to travel through. (2) The swing door appeared behind the scissor door and comes from the 2nd generation dc brushless glass turnstile gates. Such dc brushless glass turnstile barrier is that the door wings run in the front and back direction. The operation process is within the body's view, which is much safer. In addition, since the door wings do not need to be pulled back into package, The designs of swing doors are more varied. Due to the above qualities, swing doors are typically used in banks, business structures, high-end office complex, and so on. Anti-trailing function: There is a total infrared light band detection area in the channel. The switch state can be changed by software application according to the consumer's precision requirements. The application of the light band to adapt to various needs prevents the imperfections of point-type infrared detectors that are quickly infected and affects the dependability of judgment, and can effectively judge the future. Tag reader who reads the card. When the system determines that tailgating has actually occurred, the system will respond based upon the location of the valid cardholder returned by the infrared detector. After the door opening signal is sent out, there are still some unusual uses that will set off an alarm.

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 15 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: A perfect day isn't enough to solve all your problems, but a Bradley who shows you how much he wants you and Everett might just do the trick. 

Warnings: Fluff and swearing

Length: 3200 words

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

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

As Bradley pulled into the lot at Petco Park, he flashed a VIP parking pass at the guard. You still weren't sure why you needed to get to the game so early, but honestly, you didn't mind spending some extra time around Bradley today. He made Everett happy, and you were really considering giving him a second chance. Because he made you happy, too. 

Bradley and Everett were singing a song about the Phillie Phanatic, and now you were singing along too. He held your hand tight while he parked the Bronco next to the ballpark, and when he grinned and pulled you out through his door with him, you couldn't help but smile. 

"I'm so happy you came," he whispered, looking down at you with a crooked smile that had your heart melting. "I planned a lot of stuff to surprise Ev, but if you and he aren't having fun, then we can always just get some food or leave early."

You shook your head at him, amazed that he didn't get it yet. "There's nothing that kid wants more than to spend the day with you, watching the Phillies."

"That's what I want, too," he replied, opening the back door and lifting Everett down. "Ready, kiddo? I have something cool to show you."

You walked a few steps behind them as they made their way to the turnstile hand in hand. "What's faster, a slider or a changeup? And how does the catcher know when to get the pitcher to throw a curveball?" Everett rambled. They looked adorable in their matching backwards caps.

"They practice together a lot. Just the two of them. And they get really good at knowing how to communicate."

"That's cool. I wanna be a pitcher and a power hitter."

"Kid, if you can manage to combine those two, you'll hit the majors for sure," Bradley told him, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were there. With a smile, he handed three tickets to the guy in the booth, and next thing you knew, you were all being ushered through an underground tunnel. 

"Where are we going exactly?" you asked Bradley, losing the battle to slip your hand into his free one. The three of you were being led down a long ramp by a tour guide named John who had given each of you VIP badges to wear. 

"On a locker room tour," he replied, and then Everett really got excited. 

"I get to go in the locker room?" he asked, skipping ahead and making John chuckle. 

"I told them you wanted to see the visitors' locker room," Bradley told Everett. "Maybe some of the Phillies uniforms will be hanging up."

And they were. You stood in the middle of the visitor's suite that looked more like a luxury hotel than a men's locker room while Everett ran around with your phone taking pictures. "Mom! Take a picture of us in front of the bats!" 

You snapped a few photos of Bradley and Everett standing near the equipment, and then you tucked your phone away. "This is so cool," you whispered to Bradley while the tour guide showed Everett the snack bar that was reserved for the players. "Thank you."

Bradley sighed. "Jake hooked it up. He begged the groundskeeper. I think he felt bad for what he said to you at the bar."

You nodded and met his eyes. "He told me he likes moms." You watched his eyes narrow just a fraction as he licked his lips. 

"Yeah, well I love moms, actually. I was just overcompensating for my insecurities before. You and Ev are intimidating."

You scoffed. "Intimidating?"

Bradley nodded, his brown eyes sincere. "I told you, Kitten, you two are perfect. And I got in my own head."

"I'm eating the snacks that the players eat!" Everett announced, holding up a bag of peanuts. The tour guide let him take a few as he led all three of you into one of the press boxes. 

Your hand ended up in Bradley's and he kept pulling you closer, but once he saw who was in the press box, his grip on your hand tightened until it was almost painful. 

"Ev, you asked who the starting pitchers were?" Bradley said in awe. "Well, here they are."

"Hey, are you Everett?" asked the Phillies starting pitcher, and you were afraid your son and Bradley were both going to faint. 

"Yeah?" your son asked, and John led him closer to the table where two men were sitting. 

"Wait, are you really a Phillies fan? I heard you're from San Diego!" said the Padres pitcher with a laugh. 

"I like you, too!" Everett said hurriedly. "The Padres are my second favorite team, I swear!" You laughed and both pitchers smiled at you. 

"How about we both sign a shirt for you?" asked the Phillies pitcher. "I don't think anyone else has a shirt signed by rival pitchers."

"Holy shit," Bradley muttered as he watched them each sign an MLB all-stars shirt and hand it to Everett. 

"Why don't you get in there with him for a photo, Coach?" you asked. Bradley let go of your hand so fast to scramble behind the table with Everett, and you snapped a few pictures of the four of them. Then the pitchers stood and shook hands with Bradley, and it amazed you to see that he was built exactly like the professionals were. Tall, broad and strong. 

"Have fun with your parents, Everett," the Padres pitcher told him, knocking his Phillies cap crooked and smiling. "Enjoy the game."

"We will!" Everett and Bradley said in unison, and you stood frozen in place. Maybe they had been too excited to process the word parents, but you'd heard it loud and clear. 

They both looked dazed as John led them back through the tunnel. "Are you both okay?" you asked with a laugh as Bradley's hand found yours again. 

"That was awesome," Bradley said, tossing Ev's new shirt over his shoulder as they emptied out of the tunnel and onto the ballfield. It was a perfect, clear day, and you heard John tell Everett he could run around anywhere except on the outfield. You watched your son take off like a rocket and run around the bases while you cheered for him. He looked so small out on a real infield. 

"Oh, fuck it," Bradley said, and he took off running the bases too while you laughed and cheerer for both of them. Bradley caught up to Everett near home plate where you were standing, and after they both crossed the bag, he scooped Everett up into his arms. 

They were both out of breath as Bradley said, "You'll have to get used to running that far if you're a power hitter."

"I can do it," Everett told him, and they had gigantic, matching smiles on their faces. 

You snapped a few more photos, and then John asked, "Want to throw some pitches?" He handed Bradley a few pristine baseballs, and he and Everett took off toward the pitcher's mound. You stood off to the side as Bradley got Everett set up and in position with one of the balls. Then your son threw a pitch that didn't quite have enough force behind it to make it all the way to home plate, but it was thrown so accurately, you watched it roll to where the batters normally stood. 

"Wow! Great job, Ev! Very accurate!" you shouted, thoroughly impressed. He threw a second pitch, and it was just as good as the first one. Then you watched Bradley trade places with him and wind up to throw what you thought was a slider. It sailed beautifully past home plate and bounced off the advertisement signs. He threw a second one that looked like a fastball. 

"Hey! You're good!" said John as Bradley and Everett ran from the mound to home plate. "Did you play?"

"Just in college," Bradley replied, collecting the balls so John didn't have to. "A long time ago."

"He's a tee ball coach!" Everett announced. "He coaches my team!"

You didn't know if you could remember a time Everett looked this happy, and you felt like you were going to cry. This wasn't a one off. You needed this kind of day to happen again. Maybe not on the grand scale of gallivanting around Petco Park like VIPs, but you needed more days in the park getting ice cream. You needed more pizza nights. You need to have Bradley touching you at the batting cages and making love in his Bronco. 

"Come here, Kitten," he called, waving you over. "I want a picture of the three of us on home plate."

You closed the distance to them, and Bradley tucked you against his side with Everett in front of both of you. John took some pictures with Bradley's phone, and you let your head rest on his shoulder. "Thank you for doing this," you whispered, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "He's in heaven."

"So am I," Bradley replied softly before kissing your lips. "I didn't do anything though. All I did was mess up, Kitten." He was being sincere, and you knew it. You thought you'd have to be an idiot to not forgive him. When John handed his phone back to him, you wrapped your arms around Bradley's waist. 

"Cute family photos," John remarked, and Everett turned to see you in Bradley's arms. 

"Thanks," Bradley replied as he rubbed your back. "Hey, Ev, why don't you run the bases one last time, kiddo?"

"I'll time you," John told him, setting the stopwatch on his phone and telling Ev when to start.

You looked up at Bradley and whispered, "I forgive you." He squeezed you tighter and let out a deep sigh of relief that made you smile. "And not just because today is perfect, but also because Everett and I are both attached to you, so you better not mess this up."

His lips were on yours in the sweetest kiss that had you reaching for more as he pulled away. He kissed you a little harder and whispered, "I'll be so good to you. Both of you," against your lips. You knew he was telling the truth.

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

Bradley was trying to stay calm, but it was nearly impossible. You were sitting two seats away from him, eating some nachos and smiling at Everett. Whenever your eyes met his, Bradley sighed in relief. He would ask you to be his girlfriend later tonight after the game. He was completely ready for that. Ready to be around for you and Everett. 

"Thanks, Bradley," Ev told him, and Bradley managed to get a napkin under Everett's hot dog before it could drip ketchup on his jersey. "This is probably the best day I've ever had."

It was only the bottom of the first inning, but the Phillies were already leading by one run. The day had been perfect up to this point, but Bradley desperately wanted them to win for Everett. "Probably the best day I've ever had, too, kiddo."

The smile that touched your lips before you bit into a chip had Bradley grinning too. And as the innings wore on and the sun started to set, the stadium lights glowed to life. Everett was sitting on the edge of the seat when the Padres had the bases loaded, and it was all up to the pitcher that had autographed his shirt to save it for the Phillies. Without a word, Everett scrambled onto Bradley's lap to get a better view, and they both held their breath as the pitch count reached three balls and two strikes. 

"Come on," Bradley muttered, wrapping his arm around Everett's middle. When the pitcher struck out the batter, Bradley jumped to his feet with Everett, and they cheered with the few other Phillies fans sitting in the section. "Still have the lead!"

You were sitting in Everett's vacant seat when Bradley settled down with Ev on his lap again, and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "You boys having fun?" you asked.

"Yep!" Everett said, clapping as the Phillies shortstop walked up to bat. 

Bradley leaned in and kissed your cheek, his mustache tickling your ear. "We should do this all the time. At least until he gets to see every team play the Padres."

"And what if he decides he likes a different team better than the Phillies after he sees them all?" you asked, and Bradley scoffed.

"Do we look like fair weather fans?" he asked, gesturing to himself and Everett. "No. That's not going to happen, Kitten."

You laughed and leaned in to kiss him. "You're right. What was I thinking?"

"If the Phillies make it to the playoffs, we'll go to Philadelphia and watch them play and eat cheesesteaks and meet the Phanatic in person," he told you with conviction. 

"Yeah, mom," Everett agreed, never taking his eyes off the game. "Because the Phanatic only goes to home games."

"Yeah, Kitten," Bradley echoed. "The Phanatic only goes to home games."

"You're both ridiculous," you said, but your smile was wide as you let your head rest on his shoulder. 

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

You felt a tinge of disappointment as the Padres managed to tie the game in the eight inning. Everett was squirming a bit on Bradley's lap in anticipation, and Bradley had his fingers laced with yours. 

"Do you want to switch laps, Ev?" you asked, and both Bradley and Everett replied with a firm No.

But Everett hopped off of Bradley's lap when the inning ended, and it didn't escape your attention that his gaze settled on your joined hands on the armrest. "I'll only be a little bit sad if the Phillies lose, okay? Because I'm having a lot of fun." Then he climbed back on Bradley's lap as you chuckled. 

"Me too, kiddo, but wouldn't it be great if the Phillies hit a homerun to win the game?" he asked, straightening out Everett's cap.

"That would be so cool," Everett agreed as a new batter came up to the plate for the Phillies. 

You pulled Bradley closer, and he gave you his undivided attention. You kissed his lips softly and said, "I think you're right. I want to do this all the time, too." Bradley's lips curled into a smile as he nodded, so you continued with a smile of your own. "The Padres play the Pirates here on Ev's birthday next month. So maybe we can do this again? I know it would be a late game, since it's during the week, but we could see if Molly and Bob want to come too. It could be really fun. What do you think?"

Bradley let go of your hand and wrapped his warm fingers around your neck, pulling you closer until your hand found his cheek while he kissed you. You moaned softly against his lips, you'd missed him this way so much. Then his nose bumped yours as he released your lips but kept you close to him. "Kitten, I think I love you."

"Look!" Everett shouted, and both you and Bradley turned to see what was going on. The echo of the solidly hit ball was still in the air as Bradley dumped Everett onto your lap and stood. You managed to stumble to your feet with Everett as Bradley jumped and caught the Phillies home run ball with his bare hand while the player rounded the bases to the sound of everyone in your section cheering. Then you watched as Bradley toppled over the armrest and into the aisle with a look of elation mixed with terror on his face.

"He caught it!" Everett cheered, launching himself onto Bradley who was trying to sit up awkwardly on the stairs. But he smiled and hugged Everett, handing him the ball while he clenched and unclenched his hand. 

"Are you okay?" you asked, laughing as Bradley stood with Everett hanging onto him.

"Yeah, Kitten," he grunted, kissing your lips while everyone cheered. "Just gonna be a little sore. Damn, my hand hurts," he said, shaking it out again. The three of you were being featured on the big screen as they showed a replay of Bradley jumping up over and over again. 

"Dad of the year!" the guy across the aisle shouted to Bradley, and you couldn't stop smiling.

"Thanks, man," Bradley replied with a laugh as he sat down. Everett had Bradley in a headlock as he examined his souvenir baseball with wide eyes. 

"Wow," Everett said over and over again. "You're good at catching too, Coach."

"I'll teach you everything I know, kiddo." 

"That was insane," you whispered, and Bradley laughed. 

"I had to catch it. That was a once in a lifetime ball."

Everett was distracted by the end of the game as you leaned in close and pressed your lips to Bradley's. "I think I love you too, Coach."

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

Bradley hadn't stopped touching you for a single moment. He was a little sore from landing on his ass in the aisle, but he honestly couldn't remember a better day in recent memory. When the game ended in a victory for the Phillies, Everett hugged him tight, but Bradley kept his hand wrapped around yours. 

When Everett scrambled onto your lap for a hug, you asked him, "Do you want to come back for your birthday? We haven't seen the Pirates play yet."

"Yeah!" Everett cheered, clearly running on a Phillies high. But by the time the three of you were exiting the ballpark, Bradley scopped Everett up and carried him. All of the excitement of the day seemed to have the kid running on empty all of a sudden. When the three of you finally empied out into the parking lot with the rest of the crowd, Everett was mostly asleep in his arms. 

"He's wiped out," Bradley told you with a laugh. You had your hand wrapped around his waist, your fingers rubbing his side, and Bradley couldn't stop grinning. 

"All the excitement caught up to him." You took the keys from Bradley's pocket and went ahead to unlock the Bronco and open the back door. Bradley carefully deposited Everett into the booster seat and buckled him in as his eyes opened briefly. 

"I'm tired," Everett mumbled, and Bradley laughed as he kissed his forehead. "I know, kiddo. Love you." Then he closed the door and you were reaching for him in the shadows of the parking lot, pressing your body to his and kissing him just like he had become accustomed to. He had missed you so much.

He pushed you up against the back door of the Bronco, and you gasped as he sucked on your neck. Your body felt warm against the chill of the night air, and Bradley's hands found their way up inside your shirt. "Kitten," he moaned below your ear. You had one hand wrapped around his neck, and the other was pressing against the fly of his jeans. You could make him go insane. "Kitten, baby, I can't get enough of you."

"Take us home," you demanded. "And stay with me."

"God, yes," he agreed, and then you were climbing in the driver's door and crawling across the seat.

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

Best day ever! Good job, Coach! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 16

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[monstrifex-art]

Howls in the Heights

Art and story by me, for the TF anthology Shifts from the Shelves.

Story:

Smoke hung in the air like an unanswered question. Between the blotchy wallpaper and the liquor-stained floorboards, the poker room couldn’t accurately be described as “nice.” But Donovan owed me a favor, so for the time being this space in the back of his bar was mine. The faint music of a jazz combo leaked under the door, distant and a little sad. I stretched, twine running through my fingers as I looped it around the tack pinning a balding man’s mug-shot to the wall.

“That one’s kind of handsome,” Rita mused from behind me.

I scoffed and shot a glance over my shoulder. Rita stood close enough that I could smell her perfume. She was watching me map my thoughts on the wall with casual amusement, her dark eyes skimming lightly over the collection of newspaper clippings and photographs.

“Maybe he was. But he’s not looking so good anymore.” I uncapped a pen and drew a large red X over his face. “Handyman Wharton was a real piece of work. But no one deserves to die like that. These murders… in all my years of investigating, I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Mmm, sounds to me like he had it coming,” she breathed as she leaned her chin on my shoulder. Rita was beautiful in a way that made it hard to think straight. She had wavy hair that fell like a black curtain on one side of her face, eyelids and lips done up in a matching smoky coal. Tonight she wore a cocktail dress that poured smoothly down her curves. The thin fabric left very little to the imagination.

Rita and I had crossed paths in a couple chance encounters over the last couple weeks. She had a habit of turning up just as things were getting interesting, and making just about everything a little more complicated. For some reason she seemed to take a shine to me. We’d started spending nights together, and she proved as enthusiastic between the sheets as she was on the dance floor. Maybe more so.

“I’m getting close,” I murmured softly. “All these bodies—there’s a pattern here. Crime barons, crooked cops… someone is making a power play for this city’s underworld. Whoever they are, they can’t hide from the truth.”

Rita slid off my back and glided over to the card table where she’d left her lighter. She sat, one leg crossed over the other, and took a long drag from the mouthpiece of her cigarette holder.

“I like watching you think, Detective. It’s like watching an old car struggle up a steep road.”

“This car still has some miles left in it,” I chuckled. “See here—Wharton was a regular at the Glass Eye. You remember, where we met at the craps table. And here, if my sources are right, Wharton was smuggling ammo for the Pinstripe gang. They’re based out of Turnstile, where you took me to see that boxing match. Hell, if I didn’t know any better Rita I’d say…”

Something cold ran down my spine. Old instincts flared to life, telling me I’d just stumbled into something big. My eyes flitted from headline to headshot, arcs of twine adding up in an intricate equation. My thoughts clicked like a typewriter, checking hunch against evidence, step-by-step. It was impossible but… the data points aligned. How could…

“Ahhh… starting to put the pieces together, are we, darling?” Rita’s voice found me from far away, as if I was at the bottom of a well. I turned to face her, limbs numb.

“You…”

She smiled, white teeth flashing in the smoky gloom. “Of course it was me, dear. It was all me. All along.”

“But… the bodies. They were torn apart. How did you…”

She laughed in that pitying little way she did when she knew something I didn’t. The melodic sound of it almost made me want to laugh with her.

“Mhmhmm aww, you still look so confused! Don’t worry sweet thing, this one is above your pay grade.” She stood with a little flourish, like a magician’s assistant. “Here. Perhaps a demonstration will make you understand.”

A part of my mind, not sure which, suddenly sounded alarm bells. An instinct to run pumped through me, made my heart beat fast and my perception sharpen. Rita was just standing there, but some awareness deep in my hindbrain was screaming danger. Predator. Flee.

I gritted my teeth. Not yet. Not when I was so close to the answer.

A shiver ran across Rita’s pale skin, starting at her back and working out to her limbs. I could see her hair stand on end. She stretched, luxuriating in the movement. Her lips parted, and a long sigh streamed from her throat like a release of pressurized air. “Hahhhh… You’re about to see who I really am, dearest.”

A quiet snapping noise, then another. Dozens of meaty clicks inside her like the sound of dislocating joints. Rita pitched forward, bending double in a violent motion that knocked the card table behind her slamming to the floor. She gasped, lurching upright with an ecstatic grin on her face. Her eyes! They had changed, darker around the edges and brighter in the middle. Her pupils reflected light like burning headlights. I couldn’t look away.

“All the rest, it’s an… affectation. Like a favorite dress that I wear around town.”

Her elbow-length gloves were starting to tear. I could see dark fur through the rips, black claws cutting neatly through the satin fingertips. She groaned, and I could hear the timbre of her voice roughening. Something cracked in her legs. Her feet shifted, pushing her taller inch by inch as they extended into long sinewy paws.

Her dress clung tightly to her curves as her frame broadened. The cloth strained, her collar line deepening as the flesh of her shoulders and chest rippled with new bulk. I could see her nipples pressing through the black cloth, erect with sensation.

She gestured to the dress, to her glittering necklace and sheer stockings. “This, all these pretty things. It used to be me… Gruuhh.” Her voice faltered as an involuntary growl rattled through her. She smiled sweetly, regaining her composure. “But not anymore.”

The fabric gave with a loud tearing noise as a large tail, black and shaggy, thrust out behind her. She took a few balancing steps forward, then reached up to brush the hair out of her face with one clawed hand. Her breathing was coming deep and heavy now, hot fog mingling with smoke in curls around her smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, darling. I do love our little song-and-dances. Being the stunning vision on your arm is a treat! But the real me can’t dazzle a cocktail party in quite the same way.”

She grimaced, and I could see her teeth lengthening into interlocking fangs. Fur crept down her face, pressing in at the edges of her cheeks and trailing down her nose.

She blinked and stared deep into me with those burning eyes. “I clean up pretty nice, wouldn’t you say? I certainly had you fooled!” She cackled with a wild abandon that approached madness.

Her shaking laughter choked off into gasps as she convulsed with another surge of growth. The wet sounds of her bones rearranging were almost drowned out by the noise of her widening hips and shoulders finally tearing her dress to ribbons. I could just see her face masked in shadow, distorting and stretching as her mouth extended into a snout full of pointed lupine teeth. Rivulets of saliva dripped from her black lips.

I stumbled away instinctively, felt the pins of my map wall dig into my back. Stray clues drifted to the floor like leaves. I could feel my cheeks burning hot as I tried to look away, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from her nakedness as it was torn free before me.

Between gasping breaths, she laughed violently. “YOUR FACE!” she snarled, muzzle curling into a feral grin. “You weren’t this SHY when we MADE LOVE LAST NIGHT!”

She was right, of course. I had seen every inch of her in our evenings together. But there was something about seeing her this way—it was rawer, deeper, more intimate and carnal. I was enraptured with a fascination that had never possessed me during our previous dalliances. I couldn’t understand it. I was hopelessly lost in the rhythm of her shifting flesh. Why? The scene before me was horrific, so why was I feeling this way?

“You’re… I just… I…” I stammered, struggling to put words in order.

“You still WANT me, DON’T YOU?” She was shouting now. “I can smell your desire… What is it you always say? YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM THE TRUTH, DETECTIVE!”

That was it. I was more attracted to her now than I ever had been before. What was wrong with me? Why did my heart feel like it was about to pound its way out of my chest? I shut my eyes, turning away with a strangled cry.

“I don’t understand! Please… I can’t, I don’t…”

“LOOK AT ME, DARLING.”

I blinked toward her, seeing only blurred glimpses. I saw the fur bristling from muscle-laden thighs, the tattered sweat-soaked remnants of her dress stretched over her rippling abdominals. God, parts of her were still so human. She wasn’t an animal or a person - she was something monstrous in-between. She was a terrifying beast, but she was still recognizably… her.

“LOOK AT ME!” she roared, and the room shook. I cried out, and opened my eyes to behold her entirely.

She was beautiful.

She was so beautiful it hurt.

I stepped toward her, and fell into her arms as she embraced me. We fell together to a gasping heap on the floor. We began anew, pressing ourselves into one another with bestial fervor.

The case would have to go on a little while longer.