#second person fluff

[omaano]

Rex has a new workout buddy

Silly little companion (in spirit, if not in writing - but a man can dream) to The Art of Losing (Is Hard to Master) by the amazing @insertmeaningfulusername, the second chapter of which has just gone up this week! the little fluffball finally has a name!! :3

[ladyymiisa]

RISE AND SHINE!

summary: mornings with shouta might be a challenge, but you still love him unconditionally, even when he's being a total pain.

tags: aizawa shouta x fem!reader, fluff, shouta is an insufferable little shit in this so i’m sorry if it seems a bit ooc

author’s note: misa writing about someone who’s not hawks? absolutely crazy. anyway, eat up my children!! (i wish he would eat me instead)

mornings with shouta can go one of two ways:

1. you wake up first, only to be sweetly persuaded into remaining in bed with him for another hour or so. this usually happens on the weekends.

2. you wake up first and are confronted with the formidable task of ensuring that your boyfriend gets out of bed on time to attend to his responsibilities as both a pro hero and a teacher.

today happens to be the second scenario.

“come on, shouta,” you urge, attempting to pull the blanket from his body, only to succeed in moving it a mere millimeter from his grasp. even freshly awake, his grip remains unyielding—a trait whose logic you’ll never quite comprehend.

with a sigh of frustration, you give the blanket another tug, this time applying more force. “your alarm has rung three times already. how much longer do you intend to lounge around?” you ask, your annoyance evident.

shouta remains silent and you find yourself sighing once again.

this won’t do. he should have been out the door by now, and you’re pretty sure nezu will give him another reprimand for being late once again. there’s only so much he’ll let slide.

with your lips pressed together, you silently watch shouta. you observe the steady rise and fall of his chest as he dozes off peacefully, without a care in the world. a few unruly strands of hair have fallen across his eyes, partially obscuring his face from view. perfect.

it's time to resort to plan b.

with your plan set in motion, you roll your shoulders, savoring the satisfying pops of your joints, then position yourself, ready for action. without an ounce of hesitation, you allow your body to collapse onto his like a ragdoll, face landing straight against his bare chest. this action finally elicits a response from shouta.

he grunts in disapproval, partly due to the unexpected impact of your body landing atop his own without warning, but makes no effort to push you away. instead, he remains there, defeated and motionless.

"get off." he grumbles, voice thick with sleep.

"only if you get up." you retort.

you feel the low rumble in his chest as he grumbles once more. a few seconds of silence pass, and just as you begin to think you might have won, his arms unexpectedly wrap around you, securing you in place.

this prompts you to gasp in offence and struggle against his grip, but your efforts are in vain. shouta has no intention of letting you go so easily, not when the warmth of your body nearly lulls him back into slumber. you let out a whine, lifting your head slightly to look at him.

the fucking bastard is smirking triumphantly.

with a resigned sigh, you allow your head to fall against his chest once more. something tells you that shouta won’t be the only one getting an earful from nezu today.

[aethes-bookshelf]

let me be your shelter || astarion/gn!tav

This is the result of an especially hectic exam season. I started writing this fic instead of having a meltdown lol Now that I have more time again, I decided to finish it :) I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: hurt/comfort (mostly comfort), gn!Tav (can be read as a self-insert), Tav/Reader is the one being comforted

Pairing: Astarion/Tav, Astarion/Reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Summary: You’d always tried to be the strong, reliable one — a leader through and through, a shoulder to cry on for everyone else. Even after everything you'd been through, you put on a brave face. All the way up until you couldn't.

Luckily, Astarion's always there to pick up the pieces.

ao3 link

The sun was setting outside when you finally closed the front door of your house behind you, cloaking the entrance corridor in darkness. The straps of your pack were digging quite painfully into your shoulder, no doubt leaving angry marks on your skin. You threw it to the floor with a huff and closed your eyes for a moment,

The day's exhaustion rolled off of you in waves; hours worth of dust and grime stuck to your clothes and skin. Rebuilding the city after the Battle of Baldur’s Gate was a noble cause. It being noble, however, didn’t make it any less exhausting.

You tried running your fingers through your hair, but your hand almost got stuck in it instead. The firm tug against your scalp made your eyes water. Your back was on fire, your legs were on fire, your face was tacky with drying sweat. It was all so much, too much.

Curling up in a corner and staying there until the sun fell out of the sky seemed worryingly appealing. I still have to go back out there tomorrow, though, you thought. The ugly, choking pressure in your throat got tighter and tighter. Your eyes, still clenched shut, brimmed with tears.

‘Darling?’ called a familiar voice from somewhere on the other side of the corridor. ‘Why are you just standing there? At least light a candle or something. It’s not like you can see like this,’ the voice continued, getting closer.

There was the hiss of a match being lit; one, two, three candles lit up the darkness.

‘Well, not that you can see much with your eyes closed, anyway,’ said Astarion. All snark left his voice when he saw the first tears roll down your cheeks. ‘Oh, I wasn’t that mean, was I? Why are you crying, love?’

‘I-I’m sorry.’ Your voice broke. ‘I don’t- don’t know why, I’m just- just so…’ you trailed off as the first sobs tore out of your chest.

Just a few months ago, Astarion would be looking like a deer in headlights right about now. He still remembered the very first time you broke down after the whole Absolute-tadpole nonsense was over. After everyone else went their separate ways and you chose to stay to help rebuild the city and he chose to stay with you. Naturally.

The breakdown happened soon after. The second night the two of you slept in your brand new bed in your brand new house, the dam inside you just broke, shattered into pieces; and you were swept up in the current of the build-up grief and fear.

Astarion, as much as he loathed to admit it, panicked. He had no idea how to comfort people; after all, it wasn’t a skill necessary for survival for most of his life, so he never really bothered to learn it. He still hadn’t even after whatever the two of you shared at first turned more serious. You’d always tried to be the strong, reliable one — a leader through and through, a shoulder to cry on for everyone else. The stable one. The stable one never gets to cry, so you didn’t.

As ashamed as Astarion was when he realized it, he hadn’t even thought you could cry. It just never really crossed his mind.

Luckily for the both of you, he loved you far too much not to learn from his mistakes after that very first night of the rest of your life. He’d like to think he got comforting you down to a science.

‘Would you like a hug, my sweet?’ Step one was almost always physical contact. And not just because holding you became one of his favorite pastimes; rather, it was grounding for you to have something to hold onto when you got like this. Astarion would gladly volunteer to be that something whenever he could.

You didn’t trust your voice enough to answer, so you just nodded instead. You were starting to tremble; rarely a good sign. Whatever stress-induced breakdown was happening would probably be a big one.

Astarion knew better than to try to wrestle you from the spot you were standing in. It would do nothing except agitate you further, so he simply walked up to you and gathered you into his arms.

The moment you were close enough to hide your face in the crook of his neck, the sobs that had been building up inside you this entire time wrecked your body. You were wailing loudly; so loudly you’d be embarrassed if you had enough energy left in you to care.

Astarion winced slightly at first — you were close enough to his ear for it to hurt. Still, he held you closer, firmer. Just enough pressure to help you calm down.

Eventually, your wailing died down to sobbing, and sobbing turned into soft sniffling. He tried to run a hand through your hair; his fingers nearly got stuck in it, just like yours before.

‘Would you say no to a bath, darling?’ he said, voice soft and quiet. ‘I got some new scented oils a few days ago. I even paid for them this time.’

That got a small chuckle out of you. Your throat was raw and your face was even more sticky now; a bath sounded wonderful.

‘I’d rather like a bath, I think.’ Your voice was all scratchy. You’d probably have one hell of a time trying to speak tomorrow.

‘Come on, then.’ Astarion kissed the top of your head and gently pried you away from his neck.

Usually you were the one leading him everywhere; he supposed in moments like these it was his turn to lead you instead. He walked you to the bathroom, holding your hand. And he didn’t even comment on the snot you left on his shirt, which was a great show of understanding on his part — as far as he was concerned — although he did take it off and throw it in the laundry basket as soon as the two of you entered the bathroom. All his love for you didn’t mean he’d be okay running about in a snotted-up shirt.

He sat you down on the floor near the bathtub and filled it with water. He smelled each of the new scented oils with great consideration. The last thing you probably wanted at the moment was having to pick which oil to put in your bath, so he wanted to make the choice for you — and to make the right one.

After the bath was all prepared, Astarion helped you out of your clothes and walked you to the corner of the bathroom, where he washed most of the dirt off your skin. Making sure you could properly relax also meant making sure you wouldn’t be soaking in dirty water, after all.

Soon enough, you were sitting in the bathtub with your eyes closed. Right after helping you inside the bath, Astarion ran off to grab your favorite hairbrush. And now, he busied himself with detangling the mess your hair had become over the course of your day. He talked and talked all the while — about his day, about this awful thief he managed to thwart the other night, about the shopping trip he went on the day before — about everything and nothing, just to keep talking. Just to fill the silence with noise that would drown out your screaming, tired mind. He didn’t expect you to answer; it was enough that you listened.

After your hair was brushed, washed and conditioned, Astarion dried you off and brought you a freshly washed set of pajamas.

‘You need to sleep, darling,’ he said, handing you the clothes. He knew you were far too tired to argue with him on that. As endearing as your usual desire to stay up with him for as long as possible was, you needed rest — badly.

‘Will you stay with me?’ you said. You felt much better now that all the grime was off of you, but the thought of laying in bed alone made you want to cry all over again.

‘As if I’d ever leave,’ scoffed Astarion as he took your hand again, leading you out of the bathroom.

The coldness of his bare chest was a much needed comfort. You nuzzled closer to him as he threw a thick blanket over the two of you. He reached over to his bedside table.

‘I could read for you, if you’d like.’

You mumbled out a ‘yes’. Your eyelids were so very heavy, but the idea of hearing Astarion’s voice rumble in his chest right against your cheek sounded lovely.

He chuckled to himself. ‘You’re adorable when you’re tired.’

He started reading. You weren’t really paying attention to what he was reading, rather to the sound of his voice itself. The individual words and sentences blurred into one, continuous rumble. Listening to him speak felt like falling deeper and deeper into a pile of the softest pillows.

You were out before Astarion could finish the first fifteen pages of the book. He noticed by the end of page twenty. When he did, he gently put away the book and held you tighter against him. And he may or may not have left a few kisses on your forehead, but that’s neither here nor there.

Astarion got comforting you down to a science. And he was damn proud that he was the one you trusted to comfort you in the first place.

[leighsartworks216]

For A Cuddle?

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Wrote this this morning bc the brainrot is real

Warnings: mentions of dried blood, referenced blood drinking and hunting

Word Count: 535

Masterlist

AO3

You're so tired. Your eyelids droop, almost fluttering shut, before you blink them open once more. It's late at night. You haven't slept at all. You certainly could, if you allowed yourself to give in to the warm embrace of dreams. But you didn't.

Astarion went out to hunt a while ago, and hasn't come back yet. This was completely normal. Sometimes he'd be out all night and only come back in the wee hours of the morning. Other times he was gone for just a few hours. You don't recall when exactly he left - so you can't really tell if it's been a couple hours or several. All you know is you feel wrong laying in your bedroll without him. There is an emptiness that could only be filled by him.

You were so tired - you didn't need him to be there to sleep. You could sleep now. And tomorrow you could ask him to lay with you until you fell asleep, before he goes hunting. But tomorrow was so far away. You wanted him beside you now.

"Still awake, darling?" Had you been more lucid, his voice would have startled you. He'd have laughed and remarked on your lackluster performance as a lookout. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

You hummed noncommittally, rolling over toward the sound of his voice. He was kneeling by your bedroll. It was extremely reminiscent of the time he tried to sneak a bite. Now you freely allowed him a drink whenever he wanted it. "S'waiting for you," you murmur. He almost can't make out the words.

"Why is that?" he asks softly. His voice is so nice... His hand brushes through your hair. "Why did you stay up, my dear?"

"Lay with me?" It's almost a whimper. A plea.

He huffs a laugh. "You stayed up for a cuddle?"

You nod, leaning into his fingers as they gently detangle knots and massage your scalp. "Please?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment. He watches you force your eyes open repeatedly, trying to keep them trained on his face even as exhaustion blurred his features into a pale blob. Every time he runs his fingers from the crown of your head to the nape of your neck, they fall shut just a little longer. When he's quiet for too long, lost in studying your face, you make a sort of whining noise and reach clumsily for him. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

"Calm down, love, I'll stay."

You watch as best you can as he shuffles to lay down beside you. Before he can get fully comfortable, you're pressing your face into his neck and wrapping your arms around him. You don't complain when he continues to shift and get settled in. Once he does, however, he can feel your body fall slack in his arms. Your breath evens out against his neck; your heart slows to a steady thrum.

He presses a kiss to your head. Your hair is greasy, with flecks of dried blood scattered throughout, and you didn't smell too pleasant either. But you were soft and warm, and he couldn't find it in himself to care otherwise.

"Sweet dreams, my love."

[moonstruckme]

hi! could you be able to please write a one shot with James Potter where he lets everyone know that he has a girlfriend and he's taken but nobody knows who is his girlfriend. And after he falls off his broom during a quidditch match turns out that his girlfriend its the slytherin captain, who is like the complete opposite of James lol

Hi lovely, thanks for your request! I hope you like it <3

Cw: mention of injury, no details/description

James Potter x slytherin!reader ♡ 740 words

James Potter is well aware that, considering his usual tendency to showboat, it's suspicious that his dating life has suddenly become the best-kept secret at Hogwarts. It's obvious he is dating someone. He hasn't exactly been inconspicuous with the notes he sends flying down the halls several times a day (though it's a small miracle no one has been able to chase them all the way to the recipient) and when he wouldn't tell Sirius who it was, his friend let slip to half of Gryffindor house that he'd caught James sneaking out of their dorm room three times in the past week. Soon, it seemed like all James' classmates did was buzz with speculation about his mysterious partner.

James is trying to ignore that speculation now, the chatter in the crowded stands somehow reaching him even far above the quidditch pitch, distracting him from looking out for the snitch.

"Hardly at the top of our game today, are we, Potter?" A snide voice calls, a blur of green blazing past him to lob the quaffle towards the center goalpost.

James perks up, brought back to the game by the familiarity of a good bickering. "Wishful thinking," he calls back, just as the Gryffindor keeper blocks your attempt at a goal. James meets your fierce stare with his most winning smile. "Maybe if I wasn't, you'd have a half-decent chance of beating us for the first time in three years."

Three years, he wants to add, since both of you had been made captain of your respective teams. James certainly isn't going to lose that winning streak because of any gossip. He redoubles his focus, waiting for a telling glint of light or the light buzzing of wings, and keeping an eye on the Slytherin seeker to make sure she hasn't spotted it either.

There's a flicker of movement to his right, and James is off, the ruckus of the crowd drowned out by the wind rushing past his ears as he races towards the snitch. His vision seems to narrow as it grows closer, all his attention on the tiny golden ball, and he can almost touch it when pain shoots through his side.

James tries to grab at his broom, but he's too slow, his hand wrapping around only air. He's on solid ground before he knows what's happened, splayed on his back with a view of the other players high above him, almost all shock-still. Almost, except for the Slytherin chaser in a dangerously fast nose-dive towards him. You hardly take the time to level out your broom before you're hopping off and crouching beside him.

"Potter—shit, Potter, are you okay?" Your hands tremble as they run over his arms, his torso, as if wanting to make sure he's still whole but afraid he'll shatter at anything more than your gentlest touch.

"I think so." James groans, sitting up. "A couple broken ribs, maybe."

"Shit," you pant, your hands moving to his face. "Are you sure?"

"Well, I'm a bit rattled at the moment," he says, beginning to snark, but he softens when he sees you're blinking back tears. "It's not bad, sweetheart. I'm alright."

You shake your head, somewhere between frustrated and fond, and press your lips to James' abruptly. He's so shocked it takes him a second to kiss you back, doing his best to soothe the desperation he can feel in your touch.

You pull back just as quickly, leaving James so dazed he's caught entirely off guard by the light smack you deliver to the back of his head.

"You idiot. You should have seen that bludger coming from a mile away."

James searches for a witty rebuttal, but comes up empty. He can't decide whether to be offended or charmed by you right now, and it's stolen the gall from him. It's also possible that he's concussed. "Yeah," he says dumbly.

You huff, but still squeeze his shoulder as you stand, letting Madam Hooch move in to take your place. "Idiot," you mumble again, stalking towards your broom. "Come see me later."

James watches you go with something akin to awe. Only after you've rejoined your teammates does he notice the hush that's fallen over the crowd, and Sirius, standing well within hearing distance and looking like he's been stupefied, his eyes wide with horror.

But even if James looks as whipped as he feels, he doesn't really care.

[light-yaers]

tangerine. | part two [carmen berzatto x reader]

Fic Masterpost | AO3

Carmen shows up at your diner after five years, and everything comes flooding back like it was only yesterday.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mature themes [discussions about drugs, workplace abuse, family problems]

Word count: 6k+

PART TWO

You lit your cigarette before the back door even fully shut. You leaned against the wall as you inhaled, and exhaled slowly when you could feel the smoke in your lungs expand. It was a nasty habit, you knew, but it was the only time where you got an ounce of peace at the diner. Two minutes to yourself, not in the cold walk-in, but outside where no one could yell for you, or grab at you, or need you. When you were out here, the chefs and staff alike knew not to bother you. It was just for you. 

Carmen knew that rule well, but that didn’t stop him from following you out the door. He burst through the back door like he was an employee under the diner roof, and found you immediately. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, not wanting anything to start today. 

You inhaled again, and let out the smoke quickly. “You know you’re not allowed back here–”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he boomed. Sydney’s words from before had completely dissipated in his mind.

You turned back to him, eyes wide, utterly gobsmacked. “With me? Are you fucking joking?”

“What, it’s been five years and not even a fucking hello or a how you doing?–”

“Oh, sorry, Carm,” you said sarcastically. You stepped towards him in anger. “I was under the impression you never wanted to fucking see me again, huh? Isn’t that what you said last time at USC, or did I just make that shit up or something?”

Carmen shut his mouth. You both breathed heavily as the silence descended over you, only broken up by him pulling a pack of cigs from his pocket and plucking a stick from the foil. He slotted the cigarette between his lips, and lit it without a word. As he inhaled, he leaned against the wall next to you. You smoked together, not making a sound, as smoke coiled around your heads and disappeared into the air without a trace. 

You flicked ash on the floor. “What are you doing here, Carm?” you asked. 

He sighed, trying to calm himself down. “Getting ideas.”

“Ideas for what?” you asked, and glanced at the side of his face for just a second. He still looked the same, just a bit older. He had more tattoos on his arms, and a stronger jaw, but he was definitely the same Carmen you’d known once. 

“A restaurant. In Chicago.” 

You finally met his eyes, awestruck. He looked down at you to his left, and all the years came flooding back. Behind your eyes, behind the pain and the shit he’d said last time, was someone who still cared about his endeavours. It was almost too much to bear. 

“You found a place?” you asked. 

Carmen nodded. “The Beef. My brother’s old place,” he said, and scratched his head almost painfully. “He, uh… died, and left it to me. We’re doing it up.”

“We?”

“Me and Syd,” he said, and pointed back at the door. Sydney was still inside, at the table alone. “And, uh, Nat and Richie.”

You exhaled a shaking breath, smoke free. Your fingers started to buzz. You were torn between wanting to congratulate him, and wanting to walk away. This was immense for him, and something you knew he’d been wanting from the very beginning. He’d done it, was doing it, but despite all the time you couldn’t help but think– 

Weren’t we supposed to do this together? 

It didn’t matter now. It had been too long and you’d missed each other, passed by, lost the opportunity. Even so, after all this time, would you even want to go back?

You swallowed away all the words that wanted to pour from your mouth. “Wow,” you said, and it sounded stale. “That’s… that’s big.”

“Yeah,” Carm said.

“When do you open?” you asked. You tried to keep things light. 

“Couple of months. We need to open fast. Faster than we wanted to, so, yeah. It’s a lot.” 

As his words fizzled away, you looked at the ground. The air between you felt thick, heavy, with all of the words that you both wanted to say to the other, but couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Now wasn’t the time to think about what could have been. Maybe, if what happened at USC hadn’t happened, things would have been different. You’d still be friends, have any semblance of a relationship, compared to being almost strangers. 

In fact, you’d pick being strangers with Carm over this. Inside, you still harboured the hurt from those years previous. He’d been so horrible. He’d been so cruel. You wondered if he still remembered all he’d said, or if he had no memory of the way he’d cut you to your core. 

It’d been too long. It didn’t matter. Nothing would change from this. 

“Well.” You sucked in a final pull from your cig, before you flicked it on the ground. You looked him in the eyes as you stood up straight. “Good luck with it all,” you said, before you started towards the door. 

Carm shot up from the wall. “You should come to the opening, in July.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You grabbed the door handle, and Carmen tensed immediately. 

“We’re looking for a front of house manager,” he blurted out. You froze. All the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you clamped your eyes shut. “I don’t know– if you wanted a change, or something new.”

Your fingers hurt from how hard you held onto the door handle. Your knuckles had turned white. Quickly, you inhaled a sharp breath, turning back to him. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Carm realised his mistake as soon as you spoke. “Fuck– I just–”

“No, Carm. Think about it. You think that you can come back here after five fucking years, and offer me this like it’s nothing?” You were seething, you were upset. It only cemented that he didn’t realise how bad he’d hurt you, and if he did, then that was even worse. 

He looked around the back of the building, anywhere but at you, trying to find the right words. “I was shitty, I get that.”

“Do you?” You stepped forward once. “Tell me how shitty you were, Carmen.”

“I was– fuck– I shouldn’t have–” he stumbled over his words. 

“You shouldn’t have treated someone– who only fucking cared about you– like that, is that what you were gonna say?” you said over him, and the look on his face told you everything. You knew Carmen well, and you thought that was why he struggled. You could see right through him, especially back then. “You have a habit of pushing away people that give a shit about you.”

He frowned at you in understanding. “Yeah,” he whispered. 

“I hope you grow out of it one day, and realise your worth,” you said, and felt the familiar sting of tears welling in your eyes. 

“That’s what I’m trying to fucking do,” he said, finding his voice. He took a strong step forward, taking you by surprise. “Come and work at the restaurant. You need to give yourself a fucking chance too, not just other people.”

You scoffed at his change of character. “You’re really flipping it this way?”

“Yeah, I am,” he said plainly. “You’ve been here, what, seven years? You know you’re qualified to work in places ten times the level of the diner–”

“God– fuck you!” you burst, ignoring the way your cheeks warmed and your chest stuttered. “You can’t just come back here after all this time and tell me that you give a shit, that you’re living your dream and you finally want me to be a fucking part of it–”

Carmen cut over you. “So only you’re allowed to say I need to know my fucking worth, huh? I can’t say it back to you?”

“I know my worth!” you exclaimed. Carmen sucked in a breath and shut his mouth after, holding his breath. “I’ve known my worth all along, and sure, maybe I’m too good for this fucking place, but it’s my home.” Carmen’s face softened as the words tipped from your mouth. “What worth would I have if I went back to someone who treated me like shit?”

Carmen placed his hands on his hips and looked at the floor. His shoulders were tense as he hung his head in subtle shame. You knew Carmen. You knew he wasn’t like this, not always, which is what made it even harder to say no. 

“This was our dream,” he said gently. 

“It was your dream, Carm,” you said. He caught your eye strongly.

“You were always part of it.” The breath hitched in your throat. “It was always gonna be you and me–”

“Until it wasn’t,” you said over him. There was a finality to your words that Carmen understood wholeheartedly. He’d been too late, left it too long, for you to drop everything and come back now. 

He inhaled deeply, and let his breath out slowly, surely. “I’m sorry,” he said, hitting your eye. “For all of it. The way I acted. Cutting you all out of my life. I’m trying… not to do that anymore.”

You nodded gently, softening your expression. “I’m happy for you,” you said, and you meant it. “I just can’t do it.”

“Okay,” Carmen said. “Okay,” he repeated, trying to get it all to stick.  

You placed your hand on the door handle, and tugged it open. “It was good to see you,” you said. Maybe it was a lie, or maybe it had been nice to see his face after all these years. You just didn’t know yet. 

Carmen nodded. “You too,” he said. You shut the door behind you as you went inside, leaving him out the back with his half smoked cigarette. 

Sydney was amongst the last customers in the restaurant after lunch, and you sighed as you saw her alone. You strolled towards her table, and started picking up empty plates when you approached. “Nice meal?” you asked. 

“Amazing,” Sydney perked up awkwardly. “You were right. Those tangerines are good.”

You smiled. “They’re my favourite, too,” you revealed. 

Sydney rang her hands on the table. “Um, where’s Carmen?”

You kept your face flat, not wanting to show just how erratically your heart was beating after the entire ordeal. “Having a smoke, out the back. You can head out that way, I’ll clear this all up,” you suggested. 

Sydney got up and nodded. “Thank you. It was really nice to meet you,” she said. When you looked at her face, you could tell she was being genuine. “Carmen knows a lot of people in this industry, and most of the places and people aren’t like this, or, uh– like you. It’s a refreshing change.” She smiled. 

You felt bashful at her words, but ignored the warmth that spread to your cheeks. In that moment, you knew that Carmen had found himself a great partner. You just hoped he wouldn’t fuck it all up for her sake. 

Sydney quickly shuffled in her bag, and brought out her wallet. “How much do we owe you?”

“Oh,” you stuttered, before you shook your head. “On the house. How do they say it? No checks.” 

“Oh, no, I insist–”

“So do I. Didn’t you hear Paulie?” you said, stacking a final plate on your arm, as you balanced the rest with ease. “I’m the big boss around here.” 

Sydney smiled marvellously. Her eyes shone when she did. “Okay, okay,” she said, backing off. “Whatever the big boss says, goes, right?”

“Too right,” you said, as you stood up straight and looked at her face-on. “I… I hope everything with the restaurant goes great.”

Sydney nodded, understanding that Carmen must have told you about it outside. “Yeah, me too. You should come by.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her no, so you simply nodded. You stepped back and headed towards the kitchen, but stopped halfway there. “Good luck, Sydney. You’re gonna need it with him,” you said, gesturing towards the back door. Carmen. 

Sydney scoffed, amused. The way her face dropped softly, and her eyes widened gently, made you feel properly seen. Like you were sharing words through looks alone, and absolutely knew what position the other was in, or had been in. “Uh, if you’re ever in Chicago– don’t be a stranger,” she added awkwardly, but you found it incredibly endearing.

You smiled, before you continued to the kitchen. As you did, you hoped it wouldn’t be like what happened to you, for her. 

It was always like this with Carmen. He somehow always found himself next to people like you and Sydney, strong-willed, capable, caring, but almost always fucked it up in some capacity. He’d done it before with you, and others, and neither you–nor Sydney– wanted it to happen again. Not when their restaurant would be on the line.

You dropped off the plates at the sink, and found yourself looking around the empty kitchen. The chefs were out the back, taking their after-lunch break. Sydney had already left through the door at the back of the restaurant, so they’d no doubt all bump into each other before Carmen fully left. 

Gently, you opened the walk-in and pulled the door closed behind you. You ducked down to the lower shelves, at the back, until you found what you were looking for– tangerines. There was a crate of them, some of them fresher than others, but you liked the ones that were almost over-ripe. You grabbed a couple and held them in your hands, before you headed back to the kitchen. 

Grabbing Paulie’s knife, you sliced them into quarters. The insides were the most neon of oranges. Unlike the peels on big oranges, tangerine peels were thinner. You liked it when the colour of the juice was so vibrant that it got stuck behind your eyelids for a moment. You liked it when you picked up a quarter and it almost fell apart. 

You were reminded of a memory then, of the last time you’d seen Carmen before today. Five years ago, when your reservation at Union Square Cafe had finally arrived, Carmen was in the kitchen just like you’d known he would be. 

You arrived on time, dressed in something fancy and upper-class, just to fit in. It’d been ten months since you’d seen him, since he’d left Lucky Strike Diner, and he’d been far too busy to come by. You didn’t blame him. He was finally doing what he’d meant to, and, just as before, you’d been absolutely right– within five months at USC, Carmen Berzatto won the James Beard award. 

You weren’t at the restaurant to tell him I told you so, but you couldn’t deny that you felt powerful about it. You knew Carmen better than he knew himself. But maybe that was more of a curse, than a blessing. 

The hostess sat you down at your table for one, as the restaurant emitted a gentle lull of mutters and chatter. You’d booked a later reservation, nearer to the end of dinner service, and everything was serene as you perused the menu and chose a wine. A few moments later, a waitress brought over your glass, and you sipped at it gently.

This was nice. You could get used to this. Fine dining, putting on a show of excellence. This was so far removed from the world of the diner that you almost felt like a different person. Someone elegant, someone important. Not that you didn’t feel loved or supported at Lucky Strike, but you knew that standards in a place like Union Square Cafe were above and beyond. That’s how they got their stars, and kept them. 

In the kitchen, Carmen worked on an order. He positioned micro basil and other delicate ingredients on the plates, working with immense precision alongside the rest of the kitchen. When he was done, he let out a strong “Hands!” and within moments all the plates had been picked up and whisked from the kitchen. 

He made his way to the expo, banked a few more tickets, before his eye caught something. He stopped– froze, almost– as his gaze fell over your name on the reservations list. 

“Chef,” he said, turning to his front of house manager, who was responsible for calling out orders, and ensuring everything ran smoothly. “This booking, table thirty two– has she ordered yet?” 

“No, Chef. She was still looking the last time a server went to her table.”

Carmen had a thought, and he was going to put it into motion. “Take her menu away. I’ll be cooking for her tonight. Chef’s pick.”

“Yes, Chef,” the manager said, before she quickly fled the kitchen. 

Carmen took in a breath. “I need two veal, four salmon and one beef!”

“Yes, Chef!” the crew boomed in unison. 

You thought you’d decided. The salmon looked appealing, and as soon as you’d picked it was as if a server came over from being summoned. You turned to her, and smiled. “I’m ready to order,” you said. 

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am,” she said softly, as she gently plucked the menu from your hands. “Chef Berzatto is taking care of it for you.”

Chef Berzatto. 

Hearing Carmy’s name in such a way had you downright giddy. You wondered how he’d known, or if he’d been told, or whatever. You knew that top restaurants had a habit of being attentive to the max, so maybe they’d background checked you. Either way, you were excited. 

“Looking forward to it,” you said, accepting the fate of your meal as being in Carmen’s hands. You simply sat back, swilled your wine, and felt at peace. 

As you waited, you peered around the restaurant. Everything was laid out perfectly, had a system that worked, and every couple and group and business party looked catered for. It was an utterly different vibe than the diner. This was a place for another species, not like the locals you knew by name. You’d always assumed that intense and fanciful restaurants like this lacked character, in a way. They chose excellence over warmth, or stars over honest food, but you’d been wrong. 

Already, despite being on your own, you felt like you belonged. Carmen knew you were here, his servers knew you were here, and you knew why you were here. For him. 

A few parties finished up as you waited for your meal. All the while, you were generously topped up on wine from the servers, and positioned right by the kitchen. You could hear the methodical way they spoke to each other, sometimes, and the whoosh of the door every time someone stepped from within back into the restaurant, and vice versa. 

In the kitchen, Carmen finished up preparing your dish. He’d been transported away as he worked, reminded of you with every garnish that he placed and ru that he drizzled. Whenever he saw the colour orange, he thought of you. It was impossible not to, when he’d cut up an uncountable number of tangerines for you during his time at the diner. As he placed the final piece of your dish, he readied himself to yell for hands, but stopped himself.

Instead, he grabbed your plate and approached his front of house manager. “How are we for time?”

“Fine, Chef. We’re in the after dinner lull, only desserts are left. Table thirty-two is the final main of the evening.”

Carmen nodded. “Right.”

“Do you want to take it to her?” she asked knowingly, and Carmen swallowed. “You know her, don’t you? An old friend?”

“Something like that,” he said, not knowing how to even begin to explain you. An ex-work colleague just sounded wrong, but an old friend sounded wrong, too. You’d been so much more than either of those, and still were. You supported his endeavours, and cared beyond belief. 

The kitchen at USC was vastly different from the atmosphere at Lucky Strike. It was robotic, and static, and everyone had their purpose and place. Carmen’s purpose was that of importance, being chef de cuisine, but his superior– the head chef– was not like Paulie used to be. 

Not in the slightest. 

“I’ll take it,” Carmen finally replied. He placed your plate down and straightened out his chef whites. “How do I look?” he asked her. 

She smiled. “Smart,” she said. That was enough. 

As you sipped the last of your glass of red, you tensed when the door to the kitchen burst open. You turned your gaze towards it, and your heart stuttered in your chest. Walking towards you with the speed of a freight train, chef whites donned and clean, hair slicked back, was Carmy. He powered through the restaurant and gained glances of respect from other guests, triggering a small hubbub of chatter from other tables. 

You relaxed even further into your chair, knowing that you didn’t need to perform. You didn’t need to sit up straight, or lean in, or do anything other than smile at him with as much warmth as you could possibly muster. He’d made it, and this was exactly what you’d wanted to witness– you just hadn’t expected him to leave the seclusion of the kitchen just for you. 

Carmen reached your table, and set down your surprise meal. He gently drifted the plate towards you, and leaned down intimately. 

“Your meal this evening is our classic fillet of salmon, with a twist,” he said. You had to stop yourself from laughing. You felt overwhelmed in the best way. 

“A twist, Chef?” you asked. 

“I took the liberty of adding fresh tangerine juice to the jus.” 

Your eyes sparkled as he revealed all. It was very easy to feel special when you were alone with Carm at the diner before, to understand the gravity of his actions when he got past his shyness and opened up more, but this hit it out of the park. Your chest compressed as your heart lurched. Your lungs spluttered as you sucked in a shaking breath. 

The sides of Carmen’s mouth curled almost imperceptibly, but you knew that look from a mile away. That small smile, that warmth, that affection, that he reserved solely for those people that he knew deserved it. That fact you were here, and everything else from before, was reason enough for you to deserve it. Innately, he felt good when he looked at you this way. It made everything clear, wiped the slate clean, made his crumbling chest settle just that tiny bit more. 

Carmen stood up straight, hands behind his back. “I wanted to mention that there’ll be no checks tonight.”

You finally sat up straight, and immediately went to protest. “I–”

“We insist. I insist,” Carm cut you off softly. 

You looked at the perfectly cooked salmon on the table, the bright orange jus, the drops of red wine on the sides of your glass. “Okay,” you said, peering back up at him. 

“Okay,” he repeated, and his smile grew. 

The cogs whirred in his brain, as he became hyper-aware of the other guests around him. He still had dessert orders to fill, and an entire kitchen to break down and clean. As much as he wanted to stay, to sit opposite you, to throw a kitchen towel at your face when you looked at him so deeply and warmly and lovingly, he simply couldn’t. 

He leaned in once more, so much that your hairs stood on edge as he whispered. “I finish just before midnight,” he whispered gently, before pulling away. “Stay.” He swallowed. “Please.” 

“Okay,” you whispered.

You stayed until the restaurant was empty. The hostess at the front folded napkins in the dim light of the deserted bar, but stopped ever so often to fill up your wine glass. She smiled at you every time she did. 

It was a comfortable silence in the empty restaurant, a silence that you knew very well from being at the diner after hours. Inside the kitchen, you knew Carm would be breaking down after service. Cleaning every single surface in sight, scrubbing the floors until they shined, labelling produce with tape that was cut; not ripped. 

Close to midnight, the kitchen door slammed open once more. Carm had stripped off his chef whites, opting for jeans and an old tee. He spotted you from across the restaurant and smiled smally. “Wanna see?” he asked. 

He held the door open for you as you stepped into the kitchen. The sleekness of it all practically took your breath away. Every surface shone, every plate and bowl and mug glimmered. This was such a step up from the diner, one that you’d been expecting, but seeing it in person was far more incredible.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered under your breath. 

Carmen huffed in amusement. “I know.”

“This is… this is insane.” 

He nodded slowly, coming up to stand beside you as the door swayed on its hinges, before settling shut. “It feels like a dream, somedays,” he said, admiring the workspace with you. “And some days, it doesn’t.” 

“I’m so proud of you, Carm.” You smiled. He smiled back, and for just a moment it was as if no time had passed. It was like you were back in the diner, talking about your dreams together. A place to call your own, and all that jazz. Perhaps, those dreams were still there somewhere.

“I’m not sure I deserve that,” he replied, but not quite jokingly enough for your liking.

You sent him a side-eyed stare and caught the look on his face– fear, or perhaps, damage. When he hit your eyes a second later, that look melted away. All you saw then was warmth. Carmen didn’t often show much on his face, but you could see it all. The years you’d spent alongside him had taught you more than how to run a restaurant; you were one of a handful of people that could seamlessly read Carmen like a book. 

That’s why your gut coiled innately. That look wasn’t one that you’d take lightly. 

“How’s it all going?” you asked. 

He let out another huff and shrugged his shoulders, before opting to move away and roam the clean kitchen. “I can’t complain.” He swiped his hand across the stainless steel workbench. 

“And that chef, David or whatever his name is, how is he?”

Carmen froze for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make your hairs stand on end. His arms tensed, until you saw the strength within his veins rise to the surface. He looked up at you sternly, clenching his jaw. “He’s an excellent chef.” 

“Okay,” you said. “That’s great. What about how he manages this place, manages you?”

“What is this, twenty fucking questions?” Carmen let out defensively.

It only cemented that you knew something was wrong. 

“Okay– I’ll pretend you didn’t just snap at me for being interested,” you let out belligerently. “What the hell is it, Carm?”

“Drop it,” he said sternly, moving away from you and over to the enormous shelves of shimmering white plates. “I got a James Beard award, didn’t I? I got everything I fucking wanted here, so just drop it.”

“Listen,” you started, fast walking your way around the central island and closer to him. “I get it, I’m not part of this world– your world– anymore. But I still know a thing or two about chefs and their giant fucking egos. What’s going on?”

Carmen closed his eyes and let out a subtly shaking breath. You were taken aback by this whole conversation, the drastic shift in his mood as soon you’d started asking questions. 

“Carm,” you said softly, dialling things down a little. “Just look at me for a second.” 

His shoulders relaxed, dipping into more of a tired hunch than his previous disposition of a deer in headlights. When his eyes hit yours, your heart lurched in your chest. Those eyes, god– the blue was etched in the corners of your brain. Like a clear sky in summer, or a glittering pool, or a calm ocean. Carmen was many things, but clear, glittering and calm were not traits that most people would pin onto him. 

Not you, though. This was the Carm that dreamt with you. This was the Carm that cut up tangerines into quarters for you whenever you asked, or even when you didn’t. Blue and orange, swirling together like the patterns on peppermint hard-candy or gingham squares on the Lucky Strike tablecloths. Ingrained. Permanent. 

“He’s taught me a lot,” Carmen whispered. 

You knew it wasn’t your place, but red flags popped up in your mind and billowed in the breeze immediately. He looked stripped back, a shell of himself, just for those fleeting seconds, and you fucking hated it. 

“You’ve been here for almost a year,” you said, swallowing away the butterflies that had started crawling up your throat. “Maybe now is a good shot to find something else.” 

Carm’s eyes widened brightly, and you saw all his plans from before; his restaurant, his staff, his food and the like. And then, as if a gust of wind uprooted the largest tree within his mind, that was gone. Replaced by something seething, something angry and not at all kind, Carmen rose. 

“You’re telling me to quit?” 

You took a small step back. “Of course, I’m not–”

“No, no, you fucking are.” He bit down on his tongue, you heard it. “You think being here for a few hours and one meal is enough for you to tell me what the fuck to do?”

“Carmen, what are you talking ab–”

“Fuck!” His shoulders squared off, and suddenly he was a corrugated iron board before you. Immovable, stuck in place. “You came here to tell me I’m strong enough, right? What, you want me to go back to the diner with Paulie and everyone else who’s never had a real fucking goal in their lives?”

“Wow,” you breathed out, laughing a little as a lack of what else to respond. 

You stood your ground, as much as you wanted to scream and yell like a petulant child. The look on his face, the brick wall he’d built so high around himself, was something you’d seen before– self-sabotage, tugging away from everything and everyone that was there to help. A level of acceptance and denial alike was testament alongside situations such as this; abusive situations. 

This Chef David was abusing the shit out of him. And Carmen was deep, way down to the core of it, just trying to get through his days, shift by shift, in any way possible. Even if that meant cutting off those dreams, cutting off people from his past– you. 

“You really think I’d do that?” you said bluntly. “You really think I booked this solo reservation a fucking year ago because I wanted to come and drag you back to the diner?”

Carm’s eyes brightened momentarily. “A year ago?”

You took another step back, careful not to immediately fall into him from the childish bewilderment on his face. It was like he’d never had someone care, but you knew that wasn’t true. He just didn’t know how to spot when someone did, misconstrued it as someone trying to harm him, hurt him, ruin him. 

“I booked to come here a year ago, Carmen,” you started. “I fucking knew you’d make it here. I knew that when I came today, you’d be the one cooking my damn meal. I was fucking right.”

It was his turn to take a step back now, just a little. Perhaps he was overwhelmed because he wasn’t expecting this. Wasn’t expecting you to still stay supporting him after he left, or didn’t even want to think about what the guys at the diner might be saying about him after he’d gone. Little did he know, everyone still talked about him with smiles and bright eyes. 

Carmen Berzatto was the only motherfucker out there that didn’t know people supported him wholeheartedly. 

“I’m not telling you to leave, or quit, or whatever else you fucking think I was about to say,” you began again. Carm swallowed nervously. “You can think what the hell you want to think about us at Lucky Strike, but we’re still the same people we’ve always been. I guess that can’t be said about you now, huh?”

Carmen’s anxiety turned to anger in a heartbeat. “What, ‘cause I actually made a name for myself instead of you all staying in the fucking box you planted yourselves in years ago? If that’s why I’ve changed, then I’m fucking glad about it.”

“Fuck– there you go again!” you exclaimed. “You’re talking down to us like we’re pieces of fucking shit on your brand-spanking new shoes!” 

“And you’re looking at me with those fucking baby-eyes like I’m gonna crumble any fucking second!” Carmen screamed. “I can’t fucking stand it.”

You placed your hands on your hips and held your ground again. “He really got to you, didn’t he?” 

Carmen saw red immediately. “If you bring up Chef David one more fucking time, then I’m done.”

“You’re done? Huh, what the hell does that mean?”

“Done with you.” 

Your eyes widened. Bile started to crawl up your oesophagus. In that moment, you’d never felt more like your mother. You knew if you were to talk, you’d adopt her stern accent instantly. You popped your hip out and bent your knee, tired of fucking standing. 

“So, you made it to the big leagues, and now you’re throwing out all your trash. Is that what it is, huh?” You stepped forward once. Carmen stayed where he was. “Look at me right here, Carm.” You pointed to your eyes, not wavering once. “Look at me right here and tell me that you hate me. Do it right now. If you do it right now then I’ll know you fucking mean it. If you do it right now then me, and Paulie, and everyone from the fucking diner will call it quits with you like that.” You snapped your fingers on that. It cemented that you meant it. 

Carmen raised his chin, so close that your noses almost touched. In any other circumstance, maybe you’d have kissed him by now. Maybe you’d have realised that you both liked each other as more, loved each other once, still fucking did. 

But, that wasn’t this reality. 

When he didn’t say anything, you knew you’d won. He stayed as still as he could as adrenaline rushed through his blood. His fingers shook at the end of his arms. His chest thumped incessantly as oxygen tried to tear through his lungs. 

“No?” you asked, almost as a final warning. 

Carm breathed in. “I hate what you represent.”

“And what exactly is it that I represent?” you whispered. 

Suddenly, Carmen dropped his forehead on yours. His hands deposited themselves on either side of your neck warmly, gently. His fingertips set your skin alight. “The one thing I can never fucking have.” 

As much as you wanted tell him to get the fuck off, to stop touching you, your heart melted as soon as your skin felt his. You clamped your eyes shut, leaning into him. Carm let out a pent up breath. His breath was warm as it skimmed your skin. 

“Carmen.” You swallowed. “Please.” You paused. “I– love you,” you stuttered. 

“I know,” he replied. “I know you do.” 

For just a second, you thought he was going to kiss you. It’d be easy to drop his lips onto yours, you were right in front of him. Heads touching, breath mingling, sharing each other’s air like it was the most normal fucking thing to do. 

You wanted him back, it was true. But not like this. Not broken, or bruised, or damaged beyond repair. It wasn’t his fault, you knew that. He’d been moulded this way. But, it was his responsibility to do good for himself. One deep dive into this entire conversation and you knew that it was impossible for him to do that, at least right now. Carmen Berzatto was stuck, and you didn’t want to get yourself stuck in the process of trying to free him. 

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Leave,” was all he said. 

You shook your head slowly, tears welling behind your eyes. “Don’t push me away.”

“Leave,” he repeated, as his hands dropped from your neck to your shoulders. Gently, he started physically pushing you off him. 

“Carmen,” you spluttered. Your eyes opened to see him in pain. God, you fucking hated it. “I won’t come back if you do this. I really fucking won’t.”

He stepped back once, twice, three times. Eyes glued on yours, blue and glassy like a glacier, his heart as cold as one, too. “Good,” he said softly, headed for the door to the kitchen.

“You don’t mean that.” You urged him to stay. 

He only nodded. “I never want to fucking see you again.” 

Carmen left unceremoniously, without another word or glance or care. The kitchen door swung shut, bobbing on its hinges. The only sound you could hear was the buzzing of the refrigerators, and the breaking of your heart strings. 

PART THREE

[ruporas]

honeymoon phase! (ID in alt)

[mamsieur]

Don't mess with the Storm | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary : Sometimes, Cyclone could live up to his call sign. Especially when it concerned you, his youngest daughter, his little Storm.

TW : slight violence, mention of alcohol, family/domestic fluff

Length : 6753 words

AN : You can't make me believe that Beau Simpson isn't a family man with lots of kids. That's what he radiates.

posted on AO3 August 21, 2023

Your mom always said you took after your dad, but if he was a Cyclone, you were a Storm ; smaller and less destructive. Storm has always been your nickname. 

It described you quite well as much in your way of doing things than in your personality. You were passionate about everything you did and you often left a mess after you.

Being a Vice Admiral, Beau managed to control himself for his work but when it came to you and your well being, he could literally destroy everything on his way. Not that your father was in any way abusive or violent, but he sometimes could over react.

You were your parents’ precious little baby.

You were the youngest of four children; you had three older brothers, all in the military. Two of them, Nathan and Jamie, were naval aviators, like your father, and one, Aaron, was a Marine Officer. 

Needless to say, you were well taken care of ; you liked to think that you had a small ‘army’ for yourself.

But as much as they thought of you as their little princess, they never treated you like one, and you never wanted to be. You were tough and very capable of defending yourself. Your father always encouraged you in whatever you wanted to do. 

You wanted to join the soccer team? Let's go. Switch to boxing lessons? Done. A new passion for karting? He had your back. An interest in mechanics ? He bought you your first tool box.

As long as you put your heart and soul into whatever you did, your family would support you.

So when you told them you wanted to work for the Navy after your engineering degree, they were as supportive as they could be.

You were a genius engineer - your mom’s word, not yours - and you loved working on jets, inspecting them, gathering as much data as possible to make them as efficient as they can be. Working at Top Gun was heaven. Since the pilots were supposed to be the best, you loved pushing them and their machines to be better and better.

Of course, the fact that you were working on the same base as your father had raised some eyebrows. But neither of you cared, and he got you no special treatment.

After the uranium mission, you were assigned to check the status of the Dagger Squad's F-18s. Everything seemed to be in good shape, and while your computer analyzed the flight data, you inspected the engines. You liked to work alone when you could, it helped you stay in your bubble of concentration.

The sun was slowly setting as you finished diagnosing the last jet. Being alone in the hangar, you took the opportunity to put on some music. You hummed and swayed a little while you waited for the analysis to finish on your screen and inspected the engine.

Your head was - quite literally - in it when you heard footsteps behind you. They stopped a few feet away from you to let you finish what you were doing.

"I'll just be two minutes," you muttered and then shrugged, getting no response. You finished inspecting the seemingly defective part and stood up. Your face was covered in dust and motor oil, and your hair was starting to fall out of your ponytail.

You sighed and turned to your mysterious guest.

"Oh! Good evening Lieutenant Bradshaw. May I help you?" you smiled a little and wiped your forehead with the back of your hand.

"Good evening Second Lieutenant Simpson, to tell you the truth, yes, you may..." he grinned charmingly, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the plane, "I was wondering if you'd forgotten our date? It's 7:20, and we agreed to meet at 6:30 ?” 

You stopped smiling and looked at the clock. Crap! You hadn't seen the time.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I was servicing the jets and didn't realize what time it was! I should have set an alarm, I'm sorry. Jesus, how could I be so stupid?"

You were starting to mumble excuses as you gathered your things when you felt his hand on your wrist.

"It's okay, I know how you get when you're focused on something. We’ll find another day for that. I'll wait for you at the bar, okay?" he reassured you with a grin.

"Uh yeah, yeah okay! I'll be quick!" you nodded and smiled back at him. He tucked a strand of your wild hair behind your ear, a few inches from you, making you blush slightly. His thumb stroked your cheek. He had that cheeky smile he always had when something was on his mind. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles, his beautiful brown eyes never leaving yours.

" Or , I can also wait for you in the changing-"

" Lieutenant Bradshaw, Second Lieutenant Simpson, what are you two still doing here? "

Your father's stern voice echoed through the hangar, taking you by surprise. Bradley took a quick step back and straightened his posture to greet him.

"I, uh-"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw forgot his keys, sir, he was out. I got carried away with the diagnostics, I'm almost finished here," you replied quickly as Cyclone’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Bradley then at you.

"Hm. You better hurry then, Second Lieutenant, overtime is not allowed. You're free to go Lieutenant Bradshaw."

"Yes sir!" you said in unison and Bradley left as quickly as he could, flashing one last smile in your direction before disappearing down the corridors.

As you started to clean up the mess you'd made, you heard an amused sigh.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. You're still living up to your nickname."

"Ha ha, very funny Dad," you rolled your eyes and closed your toolbox, "Don't wait for me, I'm going out tonight."

"Mmh. Is Bradshaw involved?" he asked as he helped you carry your stuff to the storage room.

"Yes? I mean the whole Dagger team is, I need to get to know them to understand how they work."

That was only half a lie. You knew they most likely were all at the Hard Deck, you'd met them there a few times. You got along well with them, especially Natasha, Bob and Mickey. And of course, Bradley... But it was different with him.

You'd known him for years and your very first assignment had been with him. Your friendship had evolved over the years into a kind of friends-with-benefits/fuck-buddies relationship until a few weeks ago. Since the uranium mission, he wanted more than that, and so did you. You two tried to keep your relationship secret because you suspected it could jeopardize either of your careers, and mostly because you knew your father would not approve.

He always thought the guys you dated were not good enough for you. And as annoying as it was, he was always right. He scared away some of them and when you thought back about it, it's a good thing he did.

Truth be told, you have been in love with Bradley for so long that sometimes it hurted. 

You had tried to tell him so many times in the past, but you were afraid of losing what little intimacy you had with him. So when he asked you out, first thing after the uranium mission, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. The hope that your feelings would be reciprocated had invaded your heart and mind, and you felt like it was the first time you were in love. It wasn’t of course, but you were all giddy about it.

You didn’t like to lie to your dad, he knew you too much to know everything in just one look. 

But it was worth it, wasn’t it ?

You hoped it was.

After a well-deserved shower, you changed into clean, comfortable clothes that actually suited you. You put on your helmet and rode to the bar with your motorbike. Your mother hated when you used that ‘death machine’ and your father wasn't really fond of it either. It reminded him of Maverick. He wasn’t fond of Maverick. It always made you laugh watching your dad trying to remain calm in front of the Captain. You’ve never seen a man getting on his nerves that much.

The Hard Deck was already busy when you parked ; a totally normal Friday night , you thought. Looking around, you spotted Natasha’s, Javy’s and Bradley’s cars.

Penny nodded at you with a smile as you entered. The Daggers were in their usual places and Bradley seemed to be winning the pool game against Jake. In a desperate attempt to break his concentration, Jake chuckled, "Your girlfriend's here, Bradshaw”.

The whole team had discovered your relationship, of course, but swore to keep it a secret. You were grateful to them, but Jake being himself, he couldn't resist taking a dig at you. 

You rolled your eyes and took a seat next to Bob, watching the two eternal rivals finish their game. You caught up with Mickey and theorized with him on the last episodes of Kenobi then made your way towards Penny at the bar to buy your round of beers. As you waited for your drinks at the counter, you felt two hands around your waist.

"You're late, Second Lieutenant ."

"Had to fix your teammates’ jets, Lieutenant , tell them to be more careful," you grinned, leaning your back against your boyfriend's torso. You heard him chuckle softly as he whispered that you were an ‘idiot' and kissed the top of your head.

"Sorry about our date, I'll make it up to you."

"You bet your sweet ass you will," Bradley snickered at the squeal you let out as he spanked you a little, “But right now, you owe me a dance to celebrate my victory against Hangman.”

He took your hand as you rolled your eyes but followed him. Your whole body pressed against his, arms around his neck, the room faded away. All you could feel and see was him; one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on your hip, guiding you. The warmth of his body was like a spell that kept you close, not wanting to let go.His hands roamed down your back making you shiver. It felt like you belonged there.

You couldn’t let go of his eyes, hypnotized. He had such beautiful eyes ; those hazel brown orbs were magnetic, so infuriatingly charming. 

One of your hands gently stroked his scarred cheek and he leaned into your touch, smiling like an idiot and humming the song you were slow dancing to. His smile always sent butterflies to your stomach and heat to your cheeks. It was almost annoying how easily you fell for his charms.

The two of you danced until the song ended and you pulled him by the collar to kiss him. You felt his hands slip into the back pockets of your jeans, shamelessly squeezing your ass, and his proud grin against your lips. You bit his as you pulled away from the kiss.

"Okay, lovebirds , get a room," Jake complained and you flipped him off, still in Bradley's arms.

"Don't be jealous Jakey, your time will come," you teased, making your partner chuckle.

"She's right Seresin, just wait till you're a big boy."

The evening continued quietly, with one beer after another, a few games of darts and pool, and a few songs on the piano for Bradley. 

You watched him from the bar, mesmerized, an affectionate smile on your face. You still wondered how you'd managed to get his attention; this man could have anyone he wanted with his smile combined with a little song, the sweetness with which he spoke, his sarcasms, his eyes so soft and intense at the same time, his stupid, stupid, cocky grin... God, you were definitely and undoubtedly under his spell, mind and heart.

Your eyes never left his form for more than five seconds. You looked at him as if you wanted to learn every aspect of his physique; but to be honest, you already knew him by heart. 

You could locate every beauty mark, every scar - and tell its story - and where his birthmark was. You could describe every shade of brown in his eyes, depending on the light or his emotions. You knew every expression on his face; when he was angry, frustrated, sad, or playful. You knew exactly where and how to touch him to make him putty in your hands, every positively sensitive area and those to avoid.

And yet, every time you looked at him, behind the piano, laughing with his friends, you discovered a new detail that made you love him even more.

The way he cared for all of them - even Jake, his "archenemy" - and knew just what to do to make them feel better and laugh. How he always listened to what they had to share, good or bad, and offered to help. How he'd always protect them as if they were his siblings, his rather hazardous family.

Speaking of hazardous family, it always made you laugh how Bradley could be so like Pete and like your dad. It was sometimes a mixture of arrogance and calm, defiance and seriousness. Part of you was sure that if they tried, your dad and Bradley would get along. But were they willing to ?

As you were lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice a man, a little younger than you, sitting next to your stool. He started talking, trying to flirt, but you didn’t really pay attention, still absorbed by your boyfriend’s silliness, until he clicked his fingers in front of your face.

“Hey, ‘m talking to you doll. You should really pay attention when someone is talking to you, got it ?”

You sipped your beer and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He continued his flirtatious attempts, bragging that he was one of the best in his class at Top Gun. He kept trying to get your attention by snapping his fingers or grabbing your arm. His breath was clearly too close to your face and stinked a mixture of beer and chips. 

It really started to annoy you, so it was your turn to snap your fingers in his face.

"I'm not interested,” you snapped your fingers again, “If a girl ignores you, it's because she doesn't want to talk to you, got it ?"

You got off your stool, ready to join the Daggers by the piano. But a hand gripped your wrist and the man pulled you close to him. You could see a hint of anger and annoyance in his eyes, but it didn’t scare you. You were used to guys like him, thinking they own every woman they see. 

“Listen doll, I was nice until now. Give me your number and I’ll forgive you,” he grinned, his buddies sneering behind him, as if they were proud of him. You couldn’t help but giggle at the scene. What kind of bad joke was that ?

In one swift motion, you released your wrist and pinned his arm behind his back. You bent him violently over the bar and locked him in that position, pressing down just enough to hurt and immobilize him. 

"One false move and I will dislocate your arm," you threatened in his ear as a few glances turned in your direction. "Now listen to me carefully. This is the last time you'll talk to me or any woman like that. Understood?"

He grunted and struggled a little. You pressed harder and repeated, "Understood?"

"Okay! Okay, I understand! Get off me!"

The man growled again and you finally let go. Penny gave you a look that you understood as a warning and you smiled innocently to her. The man and his group walked away with a grunt, giving you one last murderous look. You smiled broadly and made a mocking curtsy. 

Bradley raised an eyebrow as they passed him, muttering that you were a "crazy bitch". You joined him with two beers, one for him and one for you.

"What happened?"

"Nothing to worry about, just some big macho guy. He didn't like that I wasn't paying attention to him. I just put him in his place."

You shrugged with a smile and Bradley shook his head, laughing a little, knowing exactly what you meant. He put his arm around your waist and kissed your temple. 

"I know you can defend yourself, but don't get yourself in trouble, Stormy."

"Don't worry, if I get in trouble, my knight in shining armor will come and rescue me, won't he?" you teased. He chuckled but nodded before taking you on his lap at the piano. He started a new song that had the remaining customers singing and dancing.

***

The end of the evening was a bit hazy.

You'd had too much to drink to get back on your bike, so it was Bradley who drove you home. You pulled your boyfriend into your small house - he offered no resistance - and kissed him as if your life depended on it, as if that simple contact made your heart beat. His hands roamed your body with hunger, and yours tore his Hawaiian shirt from his back. You thought of nothing but Bradley, his soft lips devouring your jaw and neck, leaving a few marks where he passed, his hands so warm on your skin, his breath making you shiver. 

You wandered back to your room, kicking off your shoes, and your clothes ended up in a pile at the end of your bed. 

You loved doing it with Bradley. He gave you everything you wanted and so much more. You'd never been as fulfilled as you were with him. It was as if he knew everything about how your body worked, that it held no secrets for him. 

Your nightly activities have drained you both of what little energy you had left, and you fell asleep hugging each other, as if afraid the other will evaporate.

The next morning, it was not your massive headache that woke you, but the sound of several cars and children laughing outside your house. What day was it? Was it Saturday? It was Saturday!

You jumped to your feet as Bradley mumbled something unintelligible.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" You shook your boyfriend and wrapped yourself in a blanket as you heard the sound of a key turning in the front door lock.

"Bradley, get up!"

"Mmh, five minutes..." he mumbled, burying his face in the pillow. You heard the door open and small footsteps running toward your room. You panicked and shook him harder.

"We don't have five minutes! Get your ass up!" 

You grabbed the first thing you could get your hands on: panties and Bradley's tank top. You stumbled to your bedroom door to get out before one of your nephews’ innocent eyes discovered their aunt and a man they didn't know naked as worms in her bed. You tried to look as natural as possible as you quickly closed the door behind you. Standing in front of you was Jack, your three-year-old nephew. He was Nathan’s, your oldest brother, son. He laughed as he threw himself on your legs to give you a hug.

"Oh my God, hi sweetie! You're early!"

"Dada said we'd surprise you, Auntie! And Pop-Pop is here too!" the little boy laughed.

"What a nice thought!" you tried not to sound too ironic as you picked him up to give him a kiss and rearrange his wild blond hair. "Auntie needs to get dressed, okay? Go wait with your dad in the living room!"

You gave him one last kiss and made sure he ran to the living room before storming back to your bedroom. How could you forget that your brothers were visiting today? You were so screwed! A million thoughts went through your head and one thing made you snap out of it; Bradley yawning and taking his sweet time getting up. You grumbled and attacked him with a pillow.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"We're in deep shit Bradley! My whole family is here! They weren't supposed to be up this early!"

"What?" he blinked and narrowed his eyes, trying to process what you'd just told him. You started to rattle on about how your brothers got their permission for your mom's birthday, but your brothers were here super early with their wifes, their kids, and your mom and dad. Bradley had trouble following what you were saying because you were talking really fast. 

“Babe,” he tried to interrupt you, but you kept mumbling and pacing next to the bed, “Y/N, baby, calm down!” 

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you to sit in front of him. His free hand cupped your cheek tenderly as he guided you into breathing to calm yourself down.

“Okay… mind explaining slower what is happening here ?”

You sighed and nodded before re-explaining the whole situation to him. “But they weren’t supposed to come here this early ! The surprise lunch for my mom was supposed to be at home, not in my flat ! And my dad is here. My dad ! What are we going to say ?”

You cursed again, rubbing your temples. Bradley took your hands in his to make you look at him and stole a kiss from you. You sighed against his lips, your tension going away slightly. He then pressed his forehead to yours, stroking your cheeks to soothe you.

“How about we get dressed and just… join them in the living room ?”

“You really want to face my dad ?” you raised one eyebrow, surprised but really relieved that he didn’t propose to just sneak out.

“Yeah ? I mean, the man already has doubts, you’ve said it yourself… and it’s your mother’s birthday, your whole army of men won’t be able to kill me. Not today at least.”

You chuckled at his joking tone and at the silly smile he has on his face. You pecked his lips with a grin. “Okay then Lieutenant , let’s get dressed.”

“Yes ma’am!” 

He gave you one last tender kiss, and when the two of you went to get up, a little giggle made you both freeze.

“Auntie who that ? And why he nakey ?”

Your nephew’s voice asked. He was standing by the door, a playful smile on his chubby face, and his little finger pointing at your embarrassed boyfriend. Bradley quickly covered himself more, lifting the sheet at his chin, and you ran to get little Jack in your arms.

“How did he get here ??” Bradley scream-whispered at you, hiding himself while trying to get dressed.

“I don’t know !” you scream-whispered back before turning your attention back to the toddler who was babbling in your arms, “Jack, honey, why aren’t you with your dad and pop-pop ?”

Before he could answer, your sister in law was by your bedroom, apologizing. She didn’t notice Bradley right away, but when she did, a small cheeky smile curled on her lip.

“Hi there, sorry to have him interrupted you two.”

“Annie, it’s not what it looks like-” you blushed when you understood what she implied but Bradley interrupted you by presenting himself and shaking her hand with a wide smile. They chat while you put on a pair of jeans, keeping on Bradley’s tank top. Never in your life had you been this embarrassed.

Little Jack looked at your boyfriend with wide-eyed wonder. He loved meeting new people, and Bradley seemed fascinating to his young eyes. It was no wonder when every time Annie spoke to you, Bradley would make faces at the little boy and make him giggle. 

Bradley already had him in his pocket, so that was a good thing. Annie seemed to like him too, at least you thought so from the mischievous looks she gave you. 

As you crossed the hallway to join the rest of your family, a wave of nervousness ran through you. You grabbed Bradley by the sleeve of his Hawaiian shirt and turned him toward you. You pulled him into a hug to relax and to give yourself courage.

"Promise you won't hate me?"

"Why would I hate you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They'll probably try to impress you, my brothers I mean... and my dad... you know how he can be..."

"Oh honey... It takes more than that to scare me. I'll be fine."

He kissed your forehead and you walked into the living room.

You greeted everyone, your father not immediately aware of Bradley's presence. You introduced him to your brothers first, Nathan, Aaron and Jamie, and they didn't do anything strange at first; they were probably waiting for you to introduce him to your father to see what sauce to cook him in.

Beau and Vivian, your mother, were too busy admiring your niece, five-month-old Juliet, to notice Bradley's presence. She was fast asleep in the arms of Jamie's fiancée, Alice. She greeted you with a smile when you waved.

"Awake at last, Stormy?" your father asked before freezing and losing his smile at the sight of your boyfriend, " Lieutenant Bradshaw. ".

His cold, hard tone made you sigh a little as the two men shook hands in greeting. 

“Good morning Vice Admiral Simpson.” 

They were way too formal, it was ridiculous. Your mother had the same reaction as you and introduced herself to Bradley with a warm smile and a hug.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Simpson."

"Oh, please, just call me Viv!" she laughed a little, waving her hand. Then she turned to you, discreetly gave you both thumbs up and winked at you. 

Good. Bradley seemed to have charmed your mother with just a smile.

Still, you could feel your father tense up behind you as Bradley got to know everyone. He remained very polite and smiled, even letting Jack, Oliver and Tommy - Aaron's twin sons - pull him out to play in the little garden. Your father grabbed your arm. "Kitchen. Now. We need to talk." He seemed a little upset, and you could understand; you'd lied to him.

"Care to explain yourself?" He crossed his arms on his chest, a stern look on his face. 

You didn't like that look. He used to have it when he scolded you when you were a teenager, when you would sneak out of the house to go to a party or to meet up with your then-boyfriend. For a moment, you were 16 again, caught in the act.

You sighed at his insistent and questioning look.

"I uh... He’s... we’re... we've been seeing each other for… a few weeks..."

"A few weeks? So you've been lying to me for weeks?"

"I haven't lied! At least not completely..." you mumbled, biting your fingernail.

"Y/N. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Seriously Dad? You've made it pretty clear that you don't really like him, I mean outside of work."

"I never said that."

You widened your eyes, shocked at his bad faith. 

"Are you kidding me? You've made it clear that you don't want me around him because he's too much like Maverick! Every time I mentioned him, you made your… disapproving face. The same one you made every time I mentioned my old boyfriends, or when I wanted to get a motorcycle, or when the boys tried to bleach their hair in high school !"

"I don't have a disapproving face," he grumbled, "and it's not because he’s like Maverick that I don't want you around him, it's because he can be called back on a mission at any time. I don't want that to break your heart."

"Oh ! But it's okay for Nathan, Aaron, and Jamie to break the hearts of their partners? Of their children? It was okay for you to risk breaking Mom's heart and ours? What kind of cardboard argument is that, Dad?" You raised your arms in disbelief as you started to walk out of the kitchen, but you stopped and turned back to face him. "I know you want to protect me, but... you can't do that about things like that. I know you know better than anyone the risks of this job, the sacrifices it requires. But Bradley knows them as well, if not better, than you do. And as much as it scares me, as much as it scares us... we want to try… And even if you don't like it, we'll give it a try. Because I almost lost him once without really being able to be with him..."

Your father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. From the kitchen window you could see Bradley playing with your nephews, under your mother's and in laws’ amused and tender eyes. A small smile crept across your lips as the little ones called you over to help hold Bradley down. You hurried to join them, and your mother joined your father.

"Our boys and the little ones seem to like this Lieutenant…”

“Seems like it…”  

“He reminds me a little of you when we first met..." Vivian chuckled to Beau as she hugged him. 

"Really?" the man wondered, "and how?"

"Well, he has that same sparkle in his eyes... the one that calls for adventure, that gentle and loving look when his eyes land on our Storm... and he's also very good with children," she laughed at his slightly embarrassed expression, "You should give him a chance... our princess looks so relaxed with him... look at her… look at her smile…"

He lifted his head and watched the two of you having fun with the three little boys and sighed. His wife was right. You looked so happy in Bradley's arms, waltzing and laughing with the kids. He'd never seen you look so radiant, as cliché as it sounded. Your brothers also seemed to have accepted the newcomer without too much fuss. So Beau seemed to be the only one who was uncomfortable with the whole situation.

He nodded and kissed his wife on the forehead. "Okay, I'll try... but I'm not promising anything."

Vivian rolled her eyes with a smile on her face. She knew for a fact that your father would quickly accept Bradley as well.

Lunch went off without a hitch, Beau swallowing his pride not to be as awkward with Bradley as possible, although he did draw a few murderous looks from your father when he put his hand a little too high on your thigh or lower back. After dessert, he helped your brothers put the kids down for a nap and let them share the convertible bed in your little study. Your sisters-in-law and your brother-in-law, Evan - Aaron's husband - helped you with the dishes. They gently teased you that Bradley was a very handsome young man and that you had chosen well. 

"I know I did. Look at you all, we Simpsons always have good taste," you sniped back with a wink and a teasing smile, making them laugh.

"Wait, wait, wait... So he was your regular booty call after your first assignment?" Evan seemed to realize. You shushed him and made sure that your parents didn't hear him say that. Annie laughed a little and grabbed your shoulder, making you look into her eyes. 

"I can see why you qualified him as the best sex of your life after the upper body I saw this morning," she teased you again, making your face completely flush. You practically begged her to stop talking about your sex life, very embarrassed. But the three of them could be little bullies and they loved to tease you sometimes.

"Guys, please stop. If my father hears you-"

"Hear what, Stormy?"

You turned and paled a little under your father's cold gaze and tight smile. Your sister-in-law and brother-in-law took the opportunity to run off like teenagers, and of course Bradley arrived just then, smiling carelessly. 

"The three cataclysms are finally asleep. Is everything okay in here?" he asked as he joined you in front of your father. He immediately wiped the smile off his face when he saw the look on Beau's face.

"You're lucky it's my wife's birthday, Bradshaw," he growled, his eyes staring straight into your souls, "but if I hear one more detail about your... nocturnal activities, I'm going to make sure that the two of you are as far away from each other as possible, even if it means sending one of you to Japan or Korea. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Bradley replied promptly, "Clear as day.”

"For God's sake, Dad, aren't you being a little extreme? I'm a responsible adult-"

"I'm warning you, I don't want another grandchild too soon. Keep it in your pants."

"Dad!!"

Just when you thought you couldn't get any more embarrassed, your dad had the right words. He left the two of you in the kitchen, muttering that he was getting too old for this. 

"Oh my God..." You cursed as you hid your face in your hands and turned towards the sink. Of all the weird things that could happen, you'd really hoped no one would mention your sex life. You felt a little angry, but more than that, you were extremely embarrassed. You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the counter as you lowered your head. You felt the warmth of Bradley's body enveloping you as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his front against your back and his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I'm so sorry..."

"Why are you apologizing, babe? I told you it would take more than that to scare me off... Maybe your dad hasn't fallen for the Bradshaw charm yet, but I'm working on it..." he tried to cheer you up, "And now I have an army of kids who love me, I can order them to defend me."

You smiled, amused at his silliness. "You're really good with kids, but I think it's them who will command you..."

"Maybe you're right," he laughed a little and kissed the hollow of your neck, his mustache tickling you, "but your mother has already adopted me. I'm protected."

You laughed with him, your embarrassment and anger disappearing. You leaned against him, enjoying the hug he offered you. These simple gestures were so comforting that it was almost frightening how quickly he could soothe you. You closed your eyes as he hummed and softly danced with you in the kitchen. It was so cliché, right out of a rom-com, but you couldn’t care less.

After a few minutes, you regained enough courage to join the rest of your family in the living room. Your in-laws gave you apologetic looks, and your brothers were a little lost, but didn't dare ask. 

For the rest of the afternoon, Bradley learned every little anecdote your mother had to share; whether it was about your brothers, you, or even your father, she was more than happy to share with him. Jamie and Alice had fallen asleep in the garden, making your mother smile in awe. Nathan laughed a little with Aaron. "We warned them that a newborn was exhausting, but they insisted on coming here their own way...". 

You laughed a little too, it was true they looked exhausted. But little Juliet was so cute that they forgot how tired they were. 

Speaking of her, the baby phone warned everyone that she was waking up. You volunteered to warm her bottle and Bradley went to get her. Alice had put the travel crib in your room so the other three children would not be disturbed if Juliet woke up. 

When the milk was at the right temperature, you joined Bradley in your room. Your cheeks flushed and you felt butterflies in your stomach when you saw him holding the little one. He rocked her gently, stroking her cheek with his index finger. He seemed so natural that it made you fall even more in love with him. 

You shook your head, your father's voice echoing in your head: "No more grandchildren for now.”

You joined him and let him gently place the baby in your arms. You smiled and fed the hungry five-month-old in your arms. Bradley leaned against the doorframe and watched you with a soft smile. You, too, were a natural with children. Juliet seemed so comfortable in your arms and you seemed so relaxed. He found himself daydreaming about the two of you having children together. He blushed as he imagined you pregnant with his baby... and Nathan giggled behind him. "Calm your horses Bradshaw, you're not putting a baby in my sister anytime soon."

Bradley's face turned as bright red as yours. "Nathan, shut up!" you yelled-whispered at him, careful not to disturb the eating baby in your arms.

“What? You heard our old man, "No more grandchildren for now!”” Nathan grinned and put his arm around Bradley's shoulders.

"I can't promise that..." Bradley mumbled softly, mesmerized by the sight of you holding Juliet against you as you burped her after she had finished her bottle. Nathan's eyes widened and he tried his best not to burst out laughing. "What did you say, Brad’ ? I think I misheard you?"

You blushed as you realized what your boyfriend had just said.

"I... Nothing!" Bradley defended himself weakly, very embarrassed. Nathan teased him until your mother told him to stop, threatening him with no cake after dinner. He immediately stopped and went to get his son after whispering to Bradley that he wouldn't forget what he had just said. You decided not to talk about it, feeling a little embarrassed as well.

It wasn't long before dinnertime arrived, and your father was relaxed and talking with Bradley. You even caught them laughing together. This interaction was reassuring for the rest of the evening.

As usual, your mother had cooked for a regiment, and your refrigerator was full of leftovers. She made Bradley promise to stop by the family home and look at the family albums and your childhood bedroom. He laughed a little but agreed. 

You walked everyone back to their cars, helped them with the kids' stuff, and your dad gave you one last hug and said good night. He said goodbye to Bradley with a slight smile and a quick hug. 

When everyone was gone, you collapsed on your sofa, drained of all energy. Bradley joined you with a smile and pulled you right into his arms.

"That didn't go so badly after all..."

You nodded, yawned and put your arms around him. You thought back to the day that had just passed, to that roller coaster of emotions, and laughed a little.

"So... eager to put a baby inside me Lieutenant?"

"Oh my God Y/N!!" Bradley blushed, hiding his face behind his fists in total embarrassment. You laughed and teased him about it. You preferred to take it as a joke because neither of you were anywhere near ready to have children of your own, you both agreed on that. Or did you?

He turned to you, a serious expression on his face.

"And what if I am? Would you... would you be on board to have kids with me? Not right now, of course, but... I... I can't imagine a future without you in it, and I'd like to have kids with you. I know we haven't really been together that long, but we've known each other for a long time... and oh my God, I'm rumbling," he groaned, rubbing his face before looking back at you. "What I mean is that I love you and I don't want to live without you. Maybe it's rushed, maybe you-"

You interrupted him, pulled him by the collar and kissed him. You didn’t know what came over you; maybe it was the fact that he had just admitted his feelings, or the fact that he was already planning a life with you. Maybe both. Certainly both.

"I love you too," you whispered between two kisses, "and I don't want to be without you either... and I would love to start a family with you someday, Lieutenant Bradshaw..."

You smiled, your forehead pressed against his, and he chuckled in relief.

"Today was really like you... a storm..." he sighed, smiling and stroking your cheeks.

"I know... are you sure you can keep up with my family?" you teased, "Now that you've messed with the storm, the cyclone will never be far away."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Stormy."

[sirjaketkiszka]

Silver Springs: Chapter Two

Early20s!Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I know I could have loved you but you would not let me…

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You bring a date to the end-of-the-school-year bonfire at the Kiszka house.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Word Count: 5,092

Warnings: 18+!!, underage drinking, cursing, slight jealousy, kissing, and extremely poor writing.

Disclaimer: apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

Silver Springs Masterpost

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The highly irritating blare of your alarm jolts you awake from your deep sleep, your eyes blinking rapidly as you shut it off. The warm spring sun melts on your features through the gaps of your closed blinds, causing your eyes to squeeze shut at the intrusion.

Despite him dropping out of the next year, Josh did extremely well on his finals, and you– well, you passed with flying colors, of course. However, the incessant nagging at the back of your mind acted as a dreadful reminder that Josh would no longer be attending the same school as you. You’d be navigating the remainder of college life without him, and it was a thought that weighed heavily on you.

Begrudgingly getting out of bed, you figure staying in it will only make matters worse. Sitting up, you groan when the stiff ache of your bones disappears with a thorough stretch, your legs and arms shooting outright to undo your previous curled sleeping position.

With Summer Break in full swing, Josh has asked you to help set up for the end-of-the-school-year bonfire at the Kiszka house. You’re not entirely sure what needs to be set up since it’s usually just a small group of people, but you agreed anyway. In no time, your morning routine was a distant memory and you were parked in front of Josh’s house under your favorite tree.

Walking up to the front door, the split and worn porch boards creak beneath you, and your closed fist knocks your whitened knuckles against the sturdy wood. There’s a moment of silence, and the consuming sound of leaves brushing against each other and birds calling out to each other is all you can hear. That is until you hear stumbling behind the door and what sounds like a few trips and tumbles on the way to it. The front door swings open, and you’re met with a huffing Josh.

“Oh, hey!” He acts surprised in between heavy breaths, “You’re here early!”

“Am I here early, or am I here on time?” You tease, earning an eye roll from him, knowing that he’s never been on time a day in his life. Punctuality is none of the Kiszkas’ strong suit. Eventually, you get used to it. “Why are you out of breath?” You ask, noticing the way his chest is heaving with his hands firmly planted on his hips.

“Turns out,” He huffs out a laugh, “putting decorations up by yourself is not easy.”

“Decorations?” Your brows furrow, mirroring your confusion, “Decorations for what?” Never once have you guys decorated for a bonfire. The get-together is extremely casual; a variety of drinks, snacks, and a small group of people huddled around a burning fire enjoying each other’s company.

“As you know, Sam and Danny graduated from high school this week,” He explains, and you nod along, “Sam asked if he could invite a few friends over for the bonfire– turns out, Sam knows almost his entire class and now we’re throwing a party.” He smiles nervously, knowing you don’t enjoy events with large groups of people.

“That’s… great,” You lie, your jaw clenching as you attempt to smile, “So, again, why the decorations?” You doubt the decorations are Sam’s idea; he’ll probably think they’re childish in all honesty.

“It’s just a ‘Congratulations’ banner… For now,” He waves his hand in a “no big deal” kind of way, “Come in and take a look.” He urges, stepping to the side and allowing you to come into the house. Sure enough, above the fireplace, is a mounted and extremely crooked “Congratulations!” banner. Your steps come to a halt to fully examine it, and your head tilts trying to imagine how it’d look upright.

“He’s going to hate it,” You simply state.

“What? No, he’s not,” Josh sounds defensive as he shuts the door and stands beside you, examining his work. His head tilts as well, and his hands are back on his hips, his breathing steady now.

“You know how Sam is,” You gently argue back, “He’s going to want the party to be as laid back as possible.”

“You’re right, I do know how Sam is,” Josh lifts his chin in pride, “He’ll love it.”

“He really won’t.” You shoot back.

After going back and forth about whether to keep the banner up, the sound of heavy footsteps descends down the stairs. You and Josh pause your bickering, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand, knowing whose presence is about to appear. In your peripheral, his dark figure stops at the bottom of the steps, assessing the situation. You keep your eyes on the banner while Josh warmly welcomes his twin.

“Jake, you’ll decide!” Josh declares, turning away from you and facing his twin.

“Decide what?” Jake’s voice is husky, like he’d just woken up, and it begs your attention. Finally looking at him, his hair is slightly tussled, eyes blinking slowly and hooded, and he’s wearing what you assume is his sleeping attire; a fitted plain black tee shirt and grey sweats you’ve never seen him in. Your face heats at the observation.

“She doesn’t think the banner is a good idea,” Josh glances over at you and back to Jake, “But I don’t think Sam will care.”

Jake looks at you, back to Josh, and to the crooked banner. His lips purse while he puts some thought into the problem like he’s actually considering an answer. His eyes linger on the banner, his head tilting like yours did moments before, and he looks back at Josh. “It’s not a good idea.” He states, shrugging and finally stepping off the final step of the staircase.

“See! Thank you!” You absentmindedly express your gratitude, and Jake’s eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment as he walks past you and Josh, disappearing into the kitchen.

“Traitor!” Josh yells after him, a faux angry expression pulling at his features, “Fine, let’s take it down.” He grumbles reluctantly, stepping forward to grab one end of the banner.

“I told you-”

“Don’t!” Josh cuts you off, making you clamp your mouth shut as you grab the other end, holding back a laugh, “I guess I shouldn’t put those up then?” He nods his head in the direction of the couch, where a pile of more decorations resides, the colors representing Sam and Danny’s high school.

“My God, no,” You can’t help but laugh this time, making Josh burst out laughing as well. The both of you rip the banner off of the wall through choked laughter, stumbling back when the large decoration falls at your feet.

Sighing from his residual laugh, Josh bunches the banner up in sloppy folds and tosses it onto the rest of the decorations, “Well,” He begins, straightening his back and putting his hands on his hips again, “I guess you didn’t need to be here so early.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

“What about the food and drink situation?” You ask, peeling your eyes away from the crumpled-up banner on the couch, and looking at Josh, whose eyebrows are furrowed in thought.

“We do need more alcohol,” He considers, and you give him a questioning look, “He’s going to drink either way– might as well do it here, with us.” He answers as if he read your mind.

“Alright,” You nod slowly, “and your parents?”

“Hanging out with friends, but they know.”

“Fine by me,” You shrug, “Let’s go,” Turning around, you head for the front door with Josh following closely behind. The moment you open the door, the climbing temperature encompasses your face, causing a sheen layer of sweat to rise on your now-damp skin. You rush to your car, wanting to be the one to drive due to Josh’s lack of air conditioning in his.

“I’ll drive!” Josh calls out as he closes and locks the door behind you.

“Too late!” You yell back, already rounding your car and stopping at the driver’s side. Opening the door, you fold into the driver’s seat, the soft cushion deflating beneath your weight. Josh opens the passenger door as you buckle yourself in and he playfully glares at you before plopping into the passenger seat.

“What do you have against my car?” He asks defensively, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Nothing,” You lie, putting your key in the ignition and turning it, making the engine rumble out of its short slumber, “Put your seatbelt on.” You instruct him while releasing the emergency brake and putting the car in drive. He uncrosses his arms and puts his seatbelt on, but returns to his defensive position. “You’re dramatic, you know that?” You laugh, pulling away from the curb and driving in the direction of the nearest liquor store.

“I may have been told that once, or twice,” He unfolds his arms, resting an elbow on the center console and the other propped against the door. You keep your focus on the road, muscle memory guiding you to turn on the car’s air conditioning. Warm air flows for a few seconds before being replaced by a crisp breeze, making the hairs framing your face gently curl back. “Any plans for the summer?” Josh asks after a brief moment of silence.

“This,” You say, glancing over at him for a second, “Being with you.”

“Good,” You can see him smile in your peripheral, “I have big plans.”

“That sounds terrifying,” You chuckle, side-eyeing him as you pass by clusters of small businesses, “Like what?”

“Lake days, camping, the fair,” He lists the usual summer activities, “you know, stuff like that.”

“Sounds good to me,” You say, pulling into the parking lot of the small liquor store, where only a few other cars are parked. Parking into the nearest parking spot, you put the car in park, pull the parking brake, and unlock the doors. You and Josh exit at the same time, allowing you to lock the doors as soon as he’s out of the car, “ So, are we getting anything specific?” You ask as you both walk toward the entrance.

“Nothing in particular,” He admits, opening the door for you and allowing you to step in first. You both nod a “hello” to the owner, “Maybe a keg?” He suggests, patting a large keg set next to the entrance.

“Can we even carry that to the car?” You question, inspecting the stainless steel object.

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Josh shrugs, “But let’s grab everything else first.”

Nodding, you grab bottles of different alcohols; vodka, tequila, and hard cider. You place the bottles in a nearby basket, giving Josh a questioning look when he adds a bottle of rum.

“For Jake,” He clarifies, and you nod. Rum guy, huh?

We bring our impressive and concerning collection of alcohol to the register. The owner smirks and chuckles, “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“And the keg,” Josh says simultaneously with your answer, nudging his head in the direction of the beer keg. You look at him, your mouth open to object, but you can’t find a reason why it’s a bad idea.

“And the keg,” You agree, and the owner nods, scanning the bottles and manually typing in the total of the keg. The price is hefty, but Josh offers to put it on his card. “Big shot,” You mumble, making him huff out a quiet laugh.

With the help of the owner, he and Josh carry the heavy keg to your car, lugging it into the backseat, making the car bounce slightly from its weight. Carrying the bags of alcohol bottles, you set them in the backseat behind the driver’s side, and climb into your seat when everything is secured.

“Ready?” You ask Josh, who sits back in the passenger seat after thanking the owner and waving him off.

“Yep,” He huffs out in a breath, the heavy lifting taking a toll on him, “I have no idea how we’re getting that in the house.” He admits, leaning his head back against the headrest.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” You sigh, shaking your head lightheartedly, and turning the car back on. Pulling out of the small parking lot, you begin your short journey back to Josh’s house, passing by various family-owned businesses, tall trees along the side of the road, and the occasional pedestrian.

Shortly, you park in front of the Kiszka house, reclaiming your previous spot before the street fills with eager, party-hungry teens and their cars. As soon as you’re both out of the car, Josh rushes to your side, grabbing the bags of alcohol, “I’ll be right back, stay here,” He instructs you and walks toward the house.

“Okay…” You mumble to yourself, going around to the passenger side and opening the door to the backseat, “fuck.” You curse at the sight of the massive keg, glance at the uphill driveway, and back at the damn keg. “How the fuck–”

“Josh said you needed help,” Jake’s voice comes from behind you, startling you and causing you to whip yourself around. His expression is blank and unreadable, like it always is, and like always, it unsettles you. His clothes have changed as well, his once pajamas are now a pair of black jeans and a striped shirt unbuttoned halfway. Your eyes linger on his exposed chest before blinking out of the unwelcome trance.

“Um, yeah,” You step aside, revealing the beer keg sitting snugly in the backseat, “If you can get it out, I’ll help carry it up the driveway,” You explain, though you’re not entirely sure if you’d even be able to help him carry it.

Without even a single nod or acknowledgment, he steps forward and grabs hold of the keg’s handles. Pulling on it, a low grunt catches in his throat as he drags it out of the backseat, his breath held as he lifts it and sets it down carefully on the sidewalk. His breathing resumes when he steps back from it, “So, whose idea?” His attempt at small talk surprises you.

“Who do you think?” You respond, looking at him as he looks down at the keg.

“Shouldn’t have asked,” He mumbles, bending over to grab hold of one of the handles, “Grab the other one.”

Rolling your eyes at his lack of asking nicely, you bend over as well, gripping the handle opposite to his. He quietly counts down from three, and the both of you lift the keg. Immediately, the weight takes you by surprise and nearly makes you heel over. The two of you quietly shuffle up the driveway, the early afternoon sun blistering on your bare shoulders, causing beads of sweat to form on your temples.

Making it halfway up the driveway, Josh reappears from the house, lightly jogging to you and Jake, “I’ll take it from here,” He offers, standing beside you and replacing your hands with his own, making the keg lighter for Jake, you’re sure. It’s not that you couldn’t hold your own, but you thought it was entertaining to watch Jake do most of the work.

You follow the twins up the rest of the driveway and listen intently to their quiet conversation.

“You think this is enough?” Josh asks, looking down at the keg and back to Jake.

“More than enough,” Jake huffs, climbing up the few steps onto the porch. The front door is already propped open, and the twins wobble inside carefully, being cautious when crossing the threshold.

Making it into the kitchen, they set the keg down with a thump on the tile floor next to the refrigerator. Stepping back from the keg, the twins set their hands on their hips, and their chests heave from exerting themselves. You stifle back a laugh from their unintentional mirrored pose.

“Thanks, Jake,” Josh says, bringing a hand up and patting Jake on the shoulder, “Really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” Jake vaguely states, silently excusing himself when he realizes his efforts are no longer needed. Your eyes involuntarily watch Jake exit, your gaze fixed on his broad back and the way the ends of his hair sway with each coordinated step.

“So,” Josh’s words pull you back to him, “we should probably order the pizza.”

“It’s still a little early,” You check the clock on the microwave hanging above the stove, it reads 12:23 pm, “What time are people supposed to show up?” You ask, knowing that these types of gatherings don’t start until later.

“Around four, but we need a lot of pizza,” He explains while grabbing the home phone, “So, it’ll probably take them a few hours to cook and deliver them anyway.”

“Good thinking,” You declare, taking a seat at the kitchen table while Josh makes the call. From what you hear, he orders eight large cheese pizzas, probably to keep it as simple as possible, and multiple liters of different sodas. When he ends the call, he joins you at the table, sitting across from you and propping his chin onto a closed fist.

“So, you have a date tonight,” He raises his eyebrows and smiles, making you jokingly and dramatically roll your eyes.

“It’s not really a date,” You reason, “Just a casual hangout since I was too busy with assignments before.”

“Uh-huh, right.”

“I’m serious,” You chuckle despite your statement, “I don’t even know how I feel about him.” And you didn’t. After yet another week of talking to this man, the more distance you felt was growing between you two. The constant back and forth bored you, yet you still promised a date– no, a hangout– by the end of the week. Who knows, maybe seeing him in person, outside of school, and in a more relaxed environment would change your mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house rumbled from the sound of classic rock and the shuffling of feet from an entire graduating class. Sam really did know everyone in his class. The overlapping voices and overstimulating hum of their harmonization jumbled your thoughts, pulling you away from the person in front of you. Your eyes took in the large group of teenagers; some stayed glued to the wall observing much like yourself, while others danced and yelled over the pounding speakers.

“So, how’d you do?” Your “date,” Chris, yells over the noise, causing your attention to focus back on him.

“I’m sorry?” Your voice is raised as well.

“How’d you do on your finals?” He repeats his earlier question; one that you assumably tuned out from your previous zoning out.

“Oh! Really well, I think,” You knew, but you were humble, “and yourself?” You ask back out of politeness.

“Aced every single one!” He says confidently, his chest puffing out unintentionally, you hope.

“That’s awesome,” Your voice grows quiet, and silence, if you could call it that, falls in the space between you. It’s awkward. It’s not the comfortable silence you’re so fond of with Josh, or any other person you tolerate. You’re silently beating yourself up from your disinterest, frustrated that this is yet another failed talking stage.

“Do you want to step outside?” He asks, looking around at the partygoers and noticing your discomfort.

“Please,” You sigh, pushing yourself off of the wall you were just leaning on, leading him to the backdoor in the kitchen. Opening the glass sliding door, you’re immediately met with that comforting silence you love so much. The evening air is beginning to cool, signaling a chilly night by the bonfire tonight. As the sun sets, brush strokes of gentle pink and burning orange cross the clear skies, with freckles of faint stars emerging from their daily slumber.

Chris follows you down the back porch steps, closing the sliding door behind the two of you. The muffled noises of the party grow distant as you approach the unlit bonfire pit where Josh and Jake are sitting. Josh smiles when he notices you, his eyes glancing at Chris, who he’d already met.

“Hey, guys,” You address the twins; Josh is still smiling, happy that you brought a “date,” and Jake is blankly staring, his eyes jumping between you and the man behind you. Turning to him, you address Chris, “You already met Josh, but that’s his twin, Jake.” You offer a closed-mouth smile, looking between the two men, who could not be any more different.

“Nice to meet you,” Chris waves to Jake, who holds a hand up for a millisecond as a half-assed wave. You refrain from rolling your eyes, a motion you find yourself doing a lot in the presence of Jake.

You take a seat in the wooden chair directly across from Jake, and Chris scoots the nearest chair right next to yours, making the arm rests nudge against each other. You allow the slight intrusion of your personal space, not wanting to make apparent your growing dislike for him.

“How’d you two meet?” Josh asks, knowing the story, but asking anyway.

“We are,” Chris starts, and you’re silently grateful for it because it is not a story you find interesting enough to tell yourself, “Well, we were, in the same Photography class and we just got to talking.” Yep, that’s the whole story.

“Fantastic,” Josh’s voice is much too optimistic for your liking.

“Isn’t it?” Chris asks while his hand closest to yours on the armrest inches closer, making you pull yours away slowly. Oh god.

Clearing your throat, you keep your hand on the edge of the armrest, “Yeah, we’ve been talking for a little bit now,” You add, although you’re not sure why.

For whatever reason, Jake is actively listening to you talk, his gaze fixed on you rather than Chris. Again, his eyes are unreadable, and the soft purple skin below them is accentuated by the setting sun. His eyes bore into yours, his deep brown irises being overtaken by the crashing waves of his pupils, which double in size like a drop of rain splattered on concrete.

Once again, you feel small under his piercing stare, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat. The voices of Chris and Josh become muffled as the two men carry a conversation about whatever it is they’re talking about. You don’t seem to care.

Your eyes shoot to different places, feeling adamant about avoiding eye contact with Jake. Still, his eyes study you; your body language, the way your hand keeps dodging Chris’s every attempt at holding it, and how you become restless under his observance.

Having noticed this silent battle between you and Jake, Chris puts his hand over yours, enveloping your hand in his large one. Looking over at Chris, his eyes are now fixed on Jake, who is finally looking back at him. However, Jake’s eyes shoot down to Chris’s hand engulfing yours, and his chest visibly rises with a deep breath.

“Take the hint,” Jake mumbles under his breath, leaning back in his chair, and taking a swig from a red solo cup that was previously sat on the ground next to him.

“I’m sorry?” Chris asks, but the three of you all know what he heard. Josh stops his persistent rambling, now sensing the sudden building tension in the group. His eyes bounce between Jake and Chris.

“She doesn’t want to hold your hand, man,” Jake explains with a bitter chuckle, his tone reflective of ignorance and annoyance. Chris frowns, removing his hand from yours, and the cool air makes a point to emphasize its much-appreciated absence.

“Jake–” Both you and Josh say his name. Is he drunk? You ask yourself, confused as to why he’s acting this way. Never once has Jake stood up for you, except for this morning with the banner, so his sudden change in demeanor disorients you.

“I think…” Chris peels his eyes away from Jake, now looking at you with an overtly angry expression, “I’m going to go.” He states, standing from his seat too aggressively, making the chair scoot back a couple of feet.

“Chris, wait–” You stand from your seat as well, following him as he walks around the outside of the house to the front. Glancing back, Josh is giving you a sympathetic look, which turns into a frown when he looks at his twin. Eventually, you catch up to Chris when he gets to his car, “Please, wait.”

“Is there something going on between you and that guy?” Chris asks with sharpness on his tongue.

“What?” You stumble back slightly at his accusation and anger erupts in your chest, “God, no, Jake’s just an asshole.”

“Right,” His chuckle is just as sharp as his tone, “Whatever this is,” He motions between the two of you, “Isn’t going to work with him around.” Bummer.

“I mean, was it ever going to?” You ask, laughing. That pisses him off.

“Fuck you,” His words are laced with hatred and venom, and a part of you is glad he showed his true character before going further. Not that it would’ve gone further, but now you didn’t feel so bad.

Without exchanging any other words, you watch with a blank expression as he gets in his car and peels out of the neighborhood with a loud screech. While you were planning to cut things off, you would’ve done it in a much cleaner manner, which only fueled your anger for Jake even more.

Stomping around the house and returning to the firepit, Jake is nowhere to be found, but Josh stays seated, waiting for you. When he sees you, he stands, “What happened?” He asks, concerned.

“He broke it off,” You admit, although you don’t sound sad about it.

“Are you okay?” He reaches out and rests his hands on your shoulders.

“More than okay,” You chuckle, watching the concern dissipate from his face, “But thank you for checking on me.” You express your gratitude sincerely.

“Of course,” His smile is still sympathetic, knowing how frustrating this is for you.

“Where’d Jake go?” You wave off his pitiful look, “I have some words for him.”

“He stormed off when I asked what his problem was,” He says, looking in the direction of the house, “He went inside to get another drink, I believe.”

“Got it,” You step away from Josh, already barging up the stairs of the back porch, creating loud thuds with every forceful step. As soon as you open the sliding door, the humid air of the house hits you, blanketing your tense features and adding to your frustration. The stagnant air is thick, and it reeks of alcohol and room-temperature pizza.

You see Danny fixing himself a drink at the kitchen counter, and you approach him with false calmness, “Hey, did you see where Jake went?” You ask, taking notice that he’s not in the kitchen fixing himself another drink.

“Oh, hey,” His words are slightly slurred, “Um, he went to the garage, I think.”

“Okay, thank you,” You rush out the words while storming toward the garage door, “And congratulations!” You make a mental note to properly congratulate him for graduating when he’s sober.

Without hesitation, you swing the garage door open and slam it shut behind you, being met with the warm garage and dim lighting. Jake is rummaging through the garage refrigerator, but his head lifts when he notices your presence, “What the fuck was that about?” You get straight to the point.

“I don’t know what you mean,” He mutters into the open fridge, his eyes fixed on the shelves.

“Right, play stupid,” You snicker, “I had that handled, dipshit.”

“You didn’t,” He finally closes the fridge, no drink in his hand.

“I didn’t need your help,” You scoff.

“You were going to cut him off anyway,” He shrugs nonchalantly, “I just sped up the process.”

“That is not a decision for you to make, Jake.” You step closer, your voice growing louder.

“You should be thanking me,” He turns to you fully, the two of you only two feet apart.

“Thanking you?” You laugh in disbelief with your hand coming up to squeeze your temples from your growing headache. “God, Jake, you really are unbelievable. Just when I think ‘he can’t possibly get worse,’ you prove me wrong! You sure can get worse! And to think I’m going to thank you for creating yet another problem in my life? You are so full of yourself!”

Jake stands still, consuming your resentful words with a stoic expression on his features.

“For once, I am truly speechless,” Your laugh is humorless.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Jake speaks again, and your laugh disappears.

“Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?” You step back, the building anger in your chest close to erupting once more. His silence speaks volumes and you stare at him for a second longer before having enough, “You know, I can’t take this anymore, Jake, I hate–”

Interrupting your stepping back, and your hateful words, Jake takes two large strides in your direction, grabbing a hold of your right bicep. Before you can speak your final word, his lips crash onto yours in a swift motion, shutting you up.

The initial shock doesn’t last when the tension in your body melts, and your wide eyes flutter close, welcoming him. His shaky hands snake around your waist, pulling you deeper into him from your lower back, prompting your arms to wrap around his neck.

Your lips move fluidly against his, and a relieving groan rises from deep within his throat. One of his hands slowly traces up your spine, leaving chills in its wake as it grips the back of your neck. Heavy breaths are exchanged through your noses, your lips never breaking apart as the kiss grows lust-filled and hungry.

Parting your lips, Jake swipes his tongue along yours, and your quiet moan is swallowed whole by his eagerness. While tasting the faintness of rum, your hands search for the roots of his hair, gripping tightly, but not enough to cause him discomfort.

Finally, you pull away, in need of air. You rest your forehead against his, the both of you panting soft breaths, “Jake–” You whisper, leaning back in.

“No,” He quickly backs away, realizing what he’s done.

“What?” Your chest still heaves from the lack of air.

“That was–” He brings his fingers to his lips, tracing the plump flesh, “This was a mistake, I’m sorry.” His words are rushed, and so are his movements as he exits the garage, slamming the door shut and leaving you there. Dumbfounded, you remain still, lips still parted in shock and eyes zoning out as you feel the ghost of him on your lips.

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I’m really sorry for how rushed this is, and I appreciate your patience! I am incredibly sleep deprived right now, so chances are I’ll be coming back and doing small edits. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed chapter two of Silver Springs.

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Tag list:

@aflame4goinghome @peaceloveunitygvf @dilflover-4ever @hollyco @dayumclarizzel @jakesbeloved @fleetingjake

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Tags:

[waterdeepweave]

his velvet nightshirt (18+) - gale x reader

Turns out Gale just doesn't really like to get naked. He's very here for sex. Just... not naked. (prompt)

Tags: gale x gender neutral tav (no explicit genital description), second person pov, clothed sex, dry humping, hand jobs (male receiving), communicative sex, constant checking ins, fluff and smut

read here on ao3, or under the cut:

As much as the two of you vowed to find more time alone, the adventuring road left little room for more things than short, quiet moments. Even the nights crept up on the two of you in equal measure, desire washed away by the heaviness of sleep, spent in each other’s arms. 

It wasn’t until the road led to Balder’s Gate that you found yourself in the presence of a reprieve – and, mercifully, a private room at the Elfsong Tavern. 

You spend the first part of the night in polite company with each other, an unspoken agreement to let the anticipation build. Or perhaps to warm yourselves up, acclimate to the mood of indulgence – something neither of you had entertained since long before the nautiloid. Gale sits on a padded sofa by the fireplace, nose-deep in a book, and you curl up beside him, feet on his lap, reading from the same book once in a while. But for the most part, you admire him – his features lit in the glow of the fire, a flickering orange fleck in the endlessness of his brown eyes, deep pools of warm chocolate. The way his fingers glide over the page before he turns it – a flick so gentle you can almost feel it on your own skin. 

His chuckle rumbles against your face, and you sit a little straighter, reading from over his shoulder. You frown, confused as to what could possibly be so amusing about the ethics of necromancy. The words swim before you, melting into the glow of the fire, and you find another warmth growing in the core of your belly. You crane your head and press a kiss into the crook of Gale’s neck. 

“Hmm? Mmm.” Gale lets out something between a query and a sigh of contentment, his right arm leaving the book to wrap around your waist, nudging you closer to him. His left hand – and his attention – remain on the book.

Not for long, though. Not if you had your way. 

You nuzzle his neck, your face rubbing between the soft velvet of his tunic and the warmth of his skin. Your cheek grazes against his beard and you nudge deeper, alternating between kisses and nuzzles. Your hand travels across the expanse of his shirt, plush fabric beneath your touch, his heartbeat pulsing strong underneath. Your hand rests on a pec and you give it a gentle squeeze. 

That catches his attention – his heartbeat quickens underneath you, and shadows flutter in the periphery of your vision as he sets down the book, clearing his throat.

“Well. What do we have here?” His voice is sticky with growing lust as he shuffles you so that you are straddling his lap, kneeling on the seat. “There we go. Hello, my love.” Gale leans forward to greet you with a kiss, but you keep your face aloof, ever so slightly out of reach. You feel his grip on your waist tighten with frustration, and you grin, diving into his neck to lavish it with more kisses. You run your tongue along his jawline, fascinated by the texture of his beard. A soft moan escapes his lips, even as he turns his head instinctively, inviting you to taste him, to mark him all over. His hands begin to slide up and down your back, nails ghosting down your skin through the fabric, and your thighs bear down on his as you arch your back against his touch. 

“Mm - ah, fuck,” Gale manages as you grab a fistful of his hair, greasy with the lack of wash and whatever product he slicks into it to keep it back. It feels luscious in your hands, as does the rest of him when you tug gently, sending him rising into you. “Please,” he groans, a hand rising to catch your cheek, bringing your face to his. His eyes were dark, oozing pools of desire, pleading, adoring, all at once. “Kiss me.” 

He would make fun of you, after the fact, for how easily you folded at once, melted into his touch, letting him pull your lips to his, letting him capture you, taste you, have you. With a grunt, and a hand on each side of your ass, he pulls you toward him as your lips stay interlocked. You gasp a little in his mouth as you feel his growing bulge pressed right against you, so close to where you want it, and your hip jerks, desperate for the friction, desperate for his warmth. He chuckles at your wanton display and presses his hips upward into you, even as he holds you down with either hand.

It’s growing too much for you to bear.

Your hand slips under his shirt and you gather the hem in a fist, preparing to hoist the whole thing over him. Gale stops in his tracks, and a hand flies to catch yours. Your gaze flickers to his, and you unclasp his shirt. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know how to say this,” he begins. From the way he trips over his words, you can tell he is nervous. You slip off his lap and sit next to him, a tentative hand resting on his thigh. He reaches for it immediately, interlacing it in his own.

“You do recall the last time we shared a night. It was… well, it transcended the body. So to speak.” You nod, remembering the feeling of sailing across stars, of being caught in his arms, and then another pair of arms, and then another. Weightless. Glowing, but not warm. A breath of cold air, so refreshing, but almost… clean. 

“Such was the way I’d laid with another for many years in my life. Mystra, as you know. Then you. I realise now I had led you to it without asking for your preference, and for that I apologise. I was… eager to perform, and the familiarity gave me my best chance.

“My point is, it’s been quite a while since I’ve slept with someone on the… well, mortal plane, shall we say. Body to body. And that’s not saying I don’t want to – you, my love, are exquisite. However –” He clears his throat, somewhat in shame. “For the first time in a long time, of sorts, I’m suddenly finding myself rather… well, shy.” 

“Gale, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You know I am equally satisfied to simply share space with you,” you say quickly, searching his gaze. 

“Oh, no, it’s not quite that. I do want to have sex. Rather badly, if… well, if this is to be believed.” He gestures to his erection straining against his trousers, moisture weeping through the outline of his head. Your lips part at the sight, your breath catching in your throat, and it takes all of your concentration to focus on him, and what he has to say. 

“What I’m saying is… for tonight, at least, I would prefer to leave my clothes on. If that’s alright with you. And before you take it personally, I would have you know I make Tara leave the room before I undress, back in Waterdeep.” 

“Of course.” You reach up to kiss him on the cheek as you squeeze his hand. 

“And for whatever it’s worth, you are more than welcome to take your clothes off. I think I would rather enjoy the sight, actually.” 

“Is that so?” You flutter your eyelids at him, a look you know he cannot resist. “I may need some help with that.” 

“Come here,” he growls, a dark glint of mischief in his eye as he pulls you onto his lap once more. His fingers tangle eagerly into your shirt and he slides it off hungrily, your undergarments joining it on the floor with due haste. His thumb flicks over your nipple, hard and sensitive, and as you arch into his touch you find his thumb quickly replaced with his tongue. You moan, your hands curling around his face as his hand moves to pinch your other nipple. The sensation shoots from your chest across your body like sparks of lightning, and your hands glide down his neck. 

But then you find yourself faltering, pausing at his collarbones, half-obscured by his shirt. Gale notices you hesitate and resurfaces, his eyes meeting yours. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I’m… I’m not sure how to proceed,” you admit, a finger tracing the embroidery along the collar of his tunic. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“I see.” Gale takes your hand. 

“First of all, thank you. For this. For being so endlessly patient. I cannot overstate how much that means to me.” He presses a long kiss into your hand. “Shall I?” You nod.

“Guide me, Gale.” 

With a soft moan, he guides your hand to his waist and slides it under his shirt, leading your palm up his torso, over the soft fold of his belly, and onto his chest. His shirt rides up as he does, exposing his skin to the air, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He drags your hand across his chest, gasping softly as your skin grazes against his pert nipples, and back again, the friction so delicious. 

Understanding, you match his rhythm on your own, your fingers awakening to massage his pec, your thumb ghosting over his sensitive nipple. He rises against you, so responsive to your touch. Sandwiched between his tunic and his warm body, you press your forehead against his, letting your other hand slide under his shirt, toying with both his nipples at once. He groans at the sensation, throwing his head back.

“Fuck, I may come from this alone,” he rasps, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck. “You drive me insane, love.” 

You dip your head with a smirk, deciding to nibble his chest through the fabric of his shirt. As your velvet-lined lips graze a particularly sensitive area he groans again, his hips thrusting up into you, his desire meeting yours. His heartbeat pulses through the fabric, and down where you are wet and wanting, swollen and sensitive, you feel it all the more. 

“Fuck.” You grind down against him, holding onto his chest, the canvas of your trousers offering some form of friction – new to you, but somehow equally enjoyable, if not more. You rock your hips harder, chasing the feeling. “Fuck, Gale.” 

“Fuck, say that again.” Gale slips a hand between your legs and begins to palm his bulge through his trousers. His body – and yours on his – sink even deeper into the sofa. “Say my name. Show me how much you want me.” 

“Gale.” You gasp as you rock against his hand, feeling yourself grow closer with every motion.

“Gods above. Come here.” Gale grasps your hand and shakily brings you into his breeches, past his undergarments. “Please,” he whispers, and it is all you need to hear. Your fingers curl around his shaft, and as soon as it does he moans, his grip on you tightening. You stroke down his length and back up, your thumb swirling around his throbbing head, smearing precum all over. His hand reaches for your chest again, and you welcome his touch with a sigh. 

“Gods, you are magnificent,” he groans as you continue to stroke his cock, slowing your pace and squeezing just a little tighter every time you reach the tip, and releasing it with a languid motion down his shaft once more. “And incredibly frustrating,” he adds with a half-mustered frown, even as the rest of him quivers at your touch. 

You move your hand faster, and with a groan he thrusts up into your grip, shifting his trousers lower. He repeats the motion again, and again, until he finally nudges his cock free of his breeches, leaving it at the mercy of your touch alone. Encouraged, you quicken your pace, panting into the crook of his neck as your hand worked, feeling his chest rise and fall in quick succession as he thrust unevenly under you, too lost in ecstasy to keep time or tempo. 

“I’m close,” he gasps, catching your hand over his cock. “Fuck, come here, grind against me.” He guides you over his bare cock, and you drag yourself against him, experimentally at first. 

“Gods, your breeches… they feel wonderful. And damp.” He rubs two fingers down between your legs, and you flush at the knowing gaze he gives you, smug and heavy with lust. “Is that how I make you feel, my love?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, rocking into his beckoning fingers. Gale removes his hand, relishing your whine, and replaces you over his cock. “Show me,” he growls into your neck as you wrap your arms around his’. 

With a strangled moan, you bear down upon him, thrusting with abandon, chasing the friction of fabric sandwiched between throbbing, sensitive flesh. He groans at the sensation, drawing you closer, his hips twitching wildly underneath yours. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, fuck, I’m going to -”

Your own pleasure builds as you move even faster, clenching fistfuls of his shirt for leverage, your forehead pressed against his. 

“Do it,” you gasp, a finger tracing down his jawline. 

“Come for me, Gale.” 

With a cry and a final thrust, he spills all over his shirt, crying your name as he does. Pearlescent streaks litter his purple shirt as he rides out the waves of his pleasure, his hips jerking wildly. 

His desperate rocking against you is too much to bear, and you find yourself unravelling not long after, his name spilling from your lips as you come, wrapped firmly in his embrace, muffling your moans in his chest as you sink into him, gasping for breath, utterly spent.

“Oh, gods. Gods.” He chuckles softly, one hand holding onto you, the other tugging at his shirt, examining the sticky streaks on top of it. “I suppose I’ll have to give it a wash.” You laugh softly, nuzzling deeper into his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. He nudges you off gently. 

“One moment, love. Don’t want to get your face all sticky.” He pulls the shirt over his chest and lets it flutter to the floor before dragging you back on top of him. “There we go. Much better.” You hum in agreement – his chest made for an excellent pillow, and you weren’t one to complain for the warmth of his bare skin. Your hand curls into a fist in the centre of his orb tattoo, and he places a hand over yours. 

“Did you enjoy yourself, love?” His free hand strokes your hair, and you nod, sleepy and sated, growing more so by the minute. 

“I wanted to thank you again,” he murmurs. “For your understanding. And your patience. I felt utterly safe with you. Something I haven’t felt in a long time.”

“Funny you should say that,” you mumble against his skin. “I feel utterly safe, wrapped up in your arms right now.” 

“An equal exchange, then.” 

Gale wraps both arms around you, holding you closer to him. You have a feeling he would never let go. 

He doesn’t, until the dawn comes.

[pockets-full-of-roses]

Care to Be My Valentine?

brief summary: cedric diggory wants you to be his valentine, do you accept?

[cedric diggory x reader; limited use to no use of (y/n)]

divider credits here !! (love them!!)

Cedric Amos Diggory was a gentlemen. No doubt about that. He’d open doors for people, greet strangers in the halls, and have that friendly smile on his lips.

He had everyone wrapped around his finger without them even knowing. He was so sweet. He couldn’t hurt a fly unless it did something horrible to his friends and family.

You and many others knew him. He was the star of Hogwarts. When you thought of Hufflepuff, who would come to mind? For those students, it was Cedric Diggory.

You knew him from first year, when his name had been called. You loved him ever since, jumping to talk to him whenever you could. Of course, those were limited times of bravery. You never talked to him unless he talked first.

Cedric knew you, to say the least. He knew you from your laugh, so distinct in its sound. He knew you by your smile, how bright it was. He knew you by your small group of friends, bringing joyous sound to wherever you set foot. He knew you, but he didn’t.

He didn’t know that you hated the feeling of your sleeve getting wet. He didn’t know that you loved stargazing. He didn’t know what type of books you read or what your favorite movie was.

That was his sole mission. Fortunately, the upcoming holiday helped him. Cedric Diggory wanted to know what you liked, and you being his valentine would solve his dilemma.

It was the day before Valentine’s Day. Cedric had been procrastinating asking. He didn’t know how to bring it up or get you alone. You were always with someone, or someone would come and whisk him away.

Finally, he got the chance when you stayed behind to ask a question. You had forced your small group of friends to go without you, since you believed it would take a rather long time.

Cedric lingered in the back of the classroom, then by the door. Hearing you bid the professor goodbye, he took his chance. You left through the door as he tapped your shoulder.

“Mm?”

Your small hum of confusion did wonders to his curious heart. He was breathless in an instant.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay, Diggory?” you asked, a worried tone in your voice.

“Never been better,” he replied with his famous smile. “Can I walk you to your next class? I wanted to ask you something.”

You looked at him for a moment, suspicious. Then you realized, what would the sweetest gentlemen on Earth do to you? You nodded, motioning for him to follow. Cedric happily did so, beginning his rant,

“So.. How are you doing with Ancient Runes? To me it’s a pretty hard class.”

As Cedric knew, you began to rant back. He loved the smile on your face when you did so. Gently, he pulled you aside from a bustling crowd as you spoke. You just couldn’t focus on your surroundings. He’d have to change that.

“That makes more sense now.. Thank you,” he smiled at you when you stopped your rant.

“Of course! Just let me know if you need any help.”

Cedric saw your classroom. He had to do it now.

“Erm.. One last thing, if that’s alright?”

“Sure? Go ahead.”

He took in a sharp breath, pulling his gaze away from you for the first time in the conversation.

“Would it be alright with you if.. if you were my valentine tomorrow?”

At the sight of your widened eyes, he quickly began to ramble.

“Of course, you don’t have to! I was just thinking since I didn’t know you that well, you could be my valentine? And I was thinking irrationally so I’m so sorry! Please forgive me! I won’t talk to you again if it inconveniences yo-”

“Cedric!” you exclaimed, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He looked at you, panicked.

“I would love to be your valentine.”

His anxious state quickly changed into a happy one. He pulled you into a hug, smiling brighter than ever.

“Great.”

You laughed, hugging him back. Tomorrow was going to be fun.

super rushed so sorry! wanted at least two valentine’s day themed ones! (happy valentine’s day y’all! i’m all alone but it’s okay. i got my writing to comfort me)

all writing by pockets full of roses. please do not repost without permission. likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[sspextkr]

🍒 sweet as sugar - coryo/gn!reader

a domestic afternoon with your husband in your shared bakery.

➼ word count: 421

➼ trigger warnings: none! pure fluff.

a/n: little au where instead of becoming president of panem and a horrible person, coryo settles down with you and opens a bakery :] no hunger games nonsense, we're being cute today!

a sweet and comforting smell filled your cozy little bakery on this fine afternoon, only broken by the occasional ringing of the bell by the front door to signal that a customer had entered– for only being open for a few months, you were getting a lot of attention, which was a delight.

maybe around two years ago, coriolanus had won the plinth prize, and fulfilled his promise of helping you open a bakery with the prize money– he helped you secure the property, order ingredients, hire staff, and even became your personal taste tester for new recipes when he had the time. university kept him busy, but the idea of a quiet life with you became appealing, with coriolanus spending less and less time studying, and more time in your kitchen.

it wasn't a busy day, only a few orders in– which you were currently working on. with your sleeves rolled up to your elbows and apron secured tightly around your waist, you went to work on making the best damn cherry pie you could. clemmie's birthday was right around the corner, and you wanted to perfect the recipe for her special day. it was her favorite.

working carefully, you distributed the cherries evenly into the pan, sprinkling in the tiniest bit of cinnamon for some kick. a pair of warm arms found themselves around your waist, pulling you out from your state of concentration, and up against a sturdy chest.

"hard at work, i see.." coriolanus hummed against your ear, kissing your cheek.

"you ass! you scared me half to death." you laughed.

“my apologies, love. how can i make it up to you?” he asked in the same teasing tone.

you spun around to face him, cupping his cheeks with floury hands. he was dressed in one of the aprons as well, stained with a bit of flour. “hm.. let me think.. i might have to put you to work..”

“oh, how awful, to have to spend the day in your kitchen.” coriolanus chuckled before leaning in and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. you reciprocated happily, tasting something faintly sweet as you did.

“did you sneak another few of the brownies?” you asked when you pulled away.

coriolanus glanced off to the side. “so you caught me. it’s not my fault they're so good.”

you shook your head with a dramatic sigh. "what am i going to do with you, mr. snow?"

".. you could always kiss me some more."

"oh-" you laughed. "get back to work.."

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

more laughingstock pleaseee? 💙 💚

Yes Yes Yes i have this very small soft scribble to offer <3

[berryless]

OK, Mr Grim Stalker

Grim Reaper | Casper x Custom Female Main Character (PWP, NC-17 || 5k words || smut, fluff, dirty talk, consensual voyeurism, masturbation on camera)

Summary:

Casper was caught in 4K during call, and MC lives for it. They banter lots, tease each other, Casper's barking and begging.

!Warning!

Not Enterely Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Slight Canon Adjustments, Alternative Timeline, Canon Typical Angst and Mentions of Death/dying/etc (but nothing bad really happens, I promise) (at least not in this fic) (this is pure smut with just a sprinkle of warnings)

Read this work on Archive of Our Own.

"You're blushing, Casper," Caha smiled, her head tilted as she watched him sputtering on the other side of the screen. Somehow the certainty of being seen made his usually perfectly coordinated limbs stiff and awkward. 

"…What are you wearing?" he managed in a strangled voice, habitually avoiding answering unwelcome statements.

"Oh, this?" Caha tugged on one of the straps of her top, and her breasts jiggled right in front of camera. Casper wanted to look away, but couldn't, eyes glued to the display. "Laundry day clothes. Be thankful I bothered to put on anything at all."

Did it mean she could've potentially been sitting there naked..? He tried really hard not to think about it, but failed miserably. A stupid thing, really. Not that he never reaped someone during the intercourse, or never saw other bodies naked—both things happened to him plenty of times. The problem was, those things happened with strangers he had no feelings for whatsoever, and so was able to stay perfectly calm and composed the entire time.

And Caha, as much as it pained Casper to admit it, wasn't such a stranger. She was a nuisance and a sole failure in his outstanding career, and, fuck, why was she leaning closer..?

Casper straightened up, squeezing himself into the back of his armchair, watching Caha's chest practically pressing against the camera as she fished for something. He never knew she had a mole there, right in between. Perfect spot for kissing.

"Lyusha says hiiii," Caha hugged the cat to her stomach and waved Lyusha's paw.

"Hi, Lyusha," Casper answered weakly, casually waving back. 

No, he wasn't at all disappointed with the creature's appearance. Or the fact that she was now babied to pieces, taking all of Caha's attention.

In fact he could stand not being watched for a minute or two.

Losing a glove in process, his right hand slid under the desk, brushing against the throbbing tent of his pants. Hells. It was infuriating how little Caha needed to rile him up.

Casper watched her scratching Lyusha's belly, breasts jiggling with each movement of her arms.

Caha had plenty of moles on her face, but he never knew… Right in between, huh..?

He propped his chin, leaning on his left against the table while his right hand was quietly pulling down the zipper. Unlike certain someone, he was dressed properly for the call. And now regretted it a little: sweatpants would've been easier to get around. Still, he managed. Without the constraints of tight clothes, his erection freely stretched the boxers.

Casper took a quick look at the screen, but Caha was still preoccupied with petting purring Lyusha sprawled on her lap with the most annoying baby voice accompaniment possible. 'Oh, who's the cutest sweetest little thing in the whole wide world' and 'yes, my darling baby angel, you guessed right, it's you' were spilling from her like they cost nothing, flowing right into his ears together with the endless kissy noises, like she was saying that to him.

She wasn't, though, and Casper couldn't help but look at Caha, voicelessly begging her to spare at least a crumb of that attention and affection to him.

She didn't notice, of course.

She never did.

Casper hid the lower part of his face under his left hand and took a first tentative stroke, still through clothes, lips tightly pursed to not let out the slightest sound, eyes on the screen, on that fucking mole, thinking only about how it would feel on his lips. Caha was so warm that one time he touched her. So soft. Even through his gloves, Casper felt that.

His lips would probably melt off on spot if he were to kiss her. Run his palms along her curves. Squeeze her chest, fingers sinking into soft flesh. Bite her collarbone, then neck, taking in the pulse of her life beating against his lips.

Now he could only bite on his glove and swallow down the swears as he slowly stroked himself. Quiet. He needed to keep quiet.

Caha paused, then smiled, eyes sparkling. 

"I was expecting a pretty please, but that's better."

She slipped out of straps of her top and then yanked it down, breasts bouncing free of fabric. Casper watched her, breath caught in his throat, mouth suddenly dry. Caha scooped them into her palms, fondling herself carelessly, fingers digging into flesh. That mole was there again, deep brown in jarring contrast against Caha's pale skin. 

"Well, how about it?" she asked, looking at him with a smile. "How do you like your bones, Grimmy? Are they up to your distinguished taste?" 

He tugged his left glove away with his teeth and ruffled his hair, shaking his head that felt two sizes too big all of the sudden. 

"You really want to see me barking at you like a dog, don't you?" Casper sighed helplessly. 

"Maybe. Is that the only thing you want to do with me?" 

 "…Hardly. If anything, I want so much, I can barely think human thoughts." 

Caha let out a satisfied laugh as she plopped back into the pillows. 

"Not a very good boy, are you now, Grimmy?" she teased, finger circling around her nipple. "With many, many naughty thoughts in that fluffy white head of yours, tsk, tsk, tsk."

"And who's at fault for that?" He couldn't help but glare at her, grating his teeth. 

"Yours, of course," Caha scoffed in a matter of factly manner, her chin raised high. "You could've been fucking me like an animal all you wanted, no thoughts, head empty, brain smooth and unwrinkled, but instead you chose this. Now suffer in the bed you've made. Or rather, in a chair. Touch yourself with those beautiful cold hands of yours, thinking about how mine would've felt. Warm. And soft. Very, very soft. No calluses, no rough spots. Wrapping around all of your length, one atop another, stroking, caressing and rubbing you all over."

"Hah… hngh…" 

Casper choked on his suddenly thickened spit. With Caha voice in his ears, saying stuff like that as she played with her tits, watching him masturbating, his body tingled all over, nipples tender and taut, hips thrusting into his hand by themselves. 

"Please… Talk more, Sunshine… Please… I want…I want to hear more…" 

She sighed in a way that made him tremble, then her right hand slid down again.

"It's not just my hands that are warm, you know? It should be much hotter inside my mouth. I'm not sure if I'd swallow you whole, you're kinda…a handful, in more ways than one, but the tip? I would've circled it with my tongue and taken it in. You know those ridges at the roof of the mouth? Right behind the front teeth? Bet they'd feel good against the skin, won't they?"

"…Yes, yes they would."

Hot sweet mouth. That sharp tongue of hers gliding all over him. She would definitely be all teethy about it, just to make him quiver in anticipation of a bite.

Hands on him, warm touch of them. Handling him with that tender carelessness of hers.  Soft, then firm, then soft again. Light scratches. 

Her face, her eyes, looking at him from the bottom up with that mischievous glint to remind him that she may be on her knees now, but it's him who's getting played. Defenseless and at her mercy. Getting the desired relief only with her permission.

"You're so pretty, Casper. So, so pretty." Caha whispered, words round and sticky inside her mouth, r's rolling from her tongue right into his head like pebbles, disturbing his already unstable mind. 

"Can't…take your eyes away…can you?" he scoffed weakly, trying to shake the picture away before he'd start begging out loud. 

"Can't."

"Knew…it. Ha. Good…you're finally admitting it. Told you…I'm charming…and irresistible…for your kind. Hah. Hngh. Fuck…"

He bit on his lip, squirming in his chair, close, so close… 

"I'm trying, believe me. You know…there is another hot and wet place beside my mouth I can put you in? One that'll take you whole. It's practically dripping now, I'll have to squeeze my shorts after this call, really, what are you doing with me… Better then, what you're not doing with me. When you could've. Honestly. You. Ugh."

He knew what she was talking about. Of course he knew. 

"Caha…" 

"It's hard to do it dry handed, isn't it? You're so sensitive, Casper. Bet it's grating to you without any lube, huh? I could've helped with that. Maybe. Depends on your attitude."

"Please…" 

"No. More."

"Woof..?" 

"Still no. More."

"Sunshine…please…"

"Please what? Use words."

"Please…help me. Please… I…I want…" 

"Yes?" 

"I want…this. You. I want…you…so much, I'm going…crazy. You're fucking up… my life…and my head…and my job…and I still… I… I… Caha… Sunshine… Please."

"…You're telling all this, but still aren't coming. Even though I have perfectly toasty dripping pussy to put you in. Swallow you whole and squeeze the life out of you. Or death. Or soul. Or something. I'm sitting here, wet heaving, frothing at my privates, begging to be stuffed. Begging, Casper. Contracting on nothing but air. Achingly empty inside. All those nice wet folds and pulsing muscles left unused when they could've been wrapped around your stupid pretty pink cock. Hot and tight, so, so, sooooo tight. Milking every last drop out of you. Wouldn't that be nice?"

That was the only thing in his head as Caha spoke, words and images blending together, all the fantasies about her he played on repeat swarming in at once, flickering under his eyelids in sporadic fragmented flashes: Caha with her legs spread wide, demanding to fill her; her again, palm pressed against his chest as she straddled him with that annoying cute irresistible smirk on her lips, her wet folds sliding against his cock, covering him in her juices; her again, hands on his shoulders, palm cradling the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin as he thrust inside her; her again, pushing his head between her thighs, fingers raking through his hair before grabbing a fistful of it right at the roots, the tug just the right amount of painful to feel pleasure; her again, eyes closed, teething on her lower lip, all her soft flesh and curves trembling while he mindlessly beat into her like an animal in heat; her again, riding his face, trembling and moaning, his fingers digging into her thighs to keep her in place; her again, his teeth on her neck, biting and licking and biting again, leaving possessive marks in his wake, mine, mine, mine. Her body, her soul, her heart, everything, all of her, only his.

Nothing but her on his mind. 

Just like she wanted. 

Casper came and choked, gasping on air, dizzy and breathless, lost between fantasies and reality, not sure which was what. 

Caha looked at him from the screen, head tilted, pouting, her cheeks bulged. 

"Congratulations. Good for you. I still think I would've done a better job. Made much less of a mess. And you could've cuddled with me afterwards, and I would've kept you warm. Humph."

She turned her face away, but soon looked back at him from the corner of her eye, then turned even further, chin raised high, harrumphing again. 

How could someone be simultaneously so stinking cute and so fuckable? It was still a mystery to him. 

Casper leaned onto the back of his chair and closed his eyes for a moment, evening his breathing and heartbeat. 

Caha was so incredibly wrong about that one thing: she was the one who made all this mess in the first place. Unceremoniously squeezing into his life, into his head, carelessly breaking and destroying all the rules he upheld, all the things he thought were right, all the plans he had for the future, and triumphantly taking the main place among the rubble of his disorderly mind, crowning herself as she took all the space inside it, leaving no room for other thoughts. 

And a week later he was supposed to claim his rightful rewards for winning the bet and ferry her soul to the afterlife, never see her again, and turn back to the life he had before he ever knew her. 

Yeah. 

She couldn't have made a bigger mess if she tried. 

[leighsartworks216]

All The Gentle Things

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

This will have more parts, I just needed to get this out of my system first

Warnings: referenced blood sucking, touch-starved Astarion

Word Count: 355

Masterlist

AO3

It was your new goal to show Astarion all the gentle ways of love - consent and kindness and giving with no mal intent. He deserved it, even if he didn't think so.

It was slow-going at first. Late at night, sitting by the dying fire, you asked to hold his hand. He'd raised his eyebrow and made some snarky comment, but he still held his hand out for you. You pretended you didn't hear the way his breath hitched when you lightly traced his veins and knuckles. You didn't even really hold his hand; you supported your hand underneath his and felt along his skin with the other, but he was still so entranced.

The next day, while stumbling through rough undergrowth, he grabbed your hand. To keep you from falling flat on your face, he'd said. But once you were steady on your feet, he didn't let go. You didn't press the issue. You simply gave his hand a squeeze and continued on the path together.

Kissing was even harder to soften. It felt like too heavy a subject to bring up in any conversation. So you began once more at his hands.

Late at night, laying together after he drank from you, delightfully lightheaded and tired, you brought his hand to your lips. You didn't even think about it beforehand. All you knew was you wanted to share your appreciation with him, tell him how grateful you were to have his trust like this. You wished you'd been present enough to watch as his eyes stared in awe at your lips as they trailed kisses along his palm to his wrist. You'd even moved his hand so his palm cradled your cheek and leaned into it, before sleep lured you away. Astarion wished he could have stayed there all night, holding your cheek and watching as your eyes shifted beneath your lids, but all too soon the time came for him to leave and find more filling prey.

And while kissing was still too hard to talk about, no extra attention was brought to the way you'd both kiss the other's palms and wrists.

[blackholelynn]

I DO NOT KNOW IF YOU TAKE REQUEST BUT I SAW UR WRITING FOR TWILIGHT AND IM BEGGING YOU, CAN YOU DO LIKE THE READER GETS DRUNK N EDWARD HAS TO TAKE CARE OF THEM OR SOMETHING !! I LOVEE YOUR WRITING BTW

Princess Carriage

Summary: You have a few too many drinks while out with Angela and Jessica, leaving Edward to be the one to take care of you while you sober up.

Pairings: Edward Cullen x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drinking

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I ended up getting caught up in some stuff irl which meant I couldn't finish the Twilight Appreciation Week event that I was hoping to keep doing, but I will take any excuse to write more for Twilight! And I am finding myself loving writing for Edward!! So I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 🥰

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Bass boomed around you, filling your chest with a dull thrum at every beat. The lights above you pulsated with different colors. Your arms felt sticky with a mix of sweat and whatever had spilled on the bar earlier in the night. The small glass pinched between your fingers held a pink liquid that you didn’t remember the name of, but it tasted like sweet berries and nothing like alcohol. That might have been why you had drunk three or four in the last hour without a second thought.

The sound of garbled speech hit your ears, and you turned in bewilderment to Jessica, standing beside you with a large grin. “What?!” You had to scream to be heard over the music.

“I said!” she started, grabbing your glass out of your hand. “I think you’ve had enough.”

A childish pout formed on your lips as you reached for the glass, but no matter how many times you thought you had grabbed it, you must have missed it by an inch. “Please! I paid for that!”

“Actually, a guy paid for it before getting shot down so hard I thought he might cry.”

“I’m taken, but that doesn’t mean I won’t accept a free drink.”

Jessica tried to stifle her giggle to remain stern but failed. “Okay, I’m just as guilty. But seriously.” She regained her disciplined facade as she put the drink back down on the bar and hooked her arm with yours. “I think it’s time to get some bad food and call it a night.”

You hadn’t realized how drunk you were until the mention of food made your stomach do a backflip, and you shook your head adamantly. “Maybe we just go home.”

“Yeah, I think that’s for the best. Let’s go get Ange and blow this place.”

You followed closely on Jessica’s very high heels, making sure to keep a hold of her. The staggering amount of people you had to walk through hadn’t fazed you before, but now that your head was spinning, it felt like walking through a fun house.

When you reached Angela, your head was swimming so much that you couldn’t concentrate on what your two friends were saying to each other. You only registered Angela’s relief at the prospect of leaving, and then you were all bee-lining it to the exit.

Once you got outside, the cool air quelled the nausea that started crawling up your throat. Angela and Jessica helped you into the passenger seat, and it was obvious to them how awful you were feeling. Jessica got in the back seat behind you and put her hands on your shoulders.

When Angela started the car, she quickly glanced in your direction. “Are you feeling alright?”

You silently shook your head, groaning a bit when the motion caused your nausea to come back. A rustling noise came from the backseat before Jessica handed you a plastic bag.

“Always prepared,” Angela quipped with a sheepish smile.

You leaned your head back against the headrest as the car started moving. “Thank god for that.”

Angela dropped Jessica off first, considering her house was the closest of the two. However, when she started turning around in the driveway, you realized that you shouldn’t go back to your house like this. You were sure that your house would be in an uproar if you arrived home close to being blackout drunk, and in the spur of the moment, you made an alternative decision.

“Ange,” you started, still hesitant about the choice. “Do you mind driving me to Edward’s place?”

She stopped mid-turn, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you sure? I don’t know…”

“I don’t want to go home like this.” Seeing she was still not convinced, you added, “And I know he wouldn’t do anything. I’ll even call him to make sure it’s alright.”

She took some time to contemplate before she relented and nodded. You pulled out your phone and called Edward, already having him on your speed dial. It only rang once before he picked up.

“Is something wrong?” His voice seemed erratic, and you could only imagine what was running through his head. You had never once called him at this hour of the night.

“No,” you assured him, “I just wanted to know if it was alright if Ange drove me to your house. We were…out. I don’t want to go home.”

The silence signaled that he had the whole situation figured out. It wouldn’t be hard, considering your slurred speech. His lack of response started to create dread within you. Was he upset? How could he be upset with you for having fun?

“Do you need me to get anything for you? How are you feeling?” But he wasn’t upset. His voice was tender and soft as he asked.

You let out a small sigh of relief. “No, you don’t need to get anything. I’ll feel better when I see you. Ange is driving me there now.”

“I’ll meet you both at the end of the driveway and drive you the rest of the way.”

“That’s probably for the best.” You were about to hang up before you tacked on, “Thank you for this. I love you.”

He let out a light-hearted chuckle on the other end. “Anytime. I love you too.”

Your head felt airy when you hung up your phone, holding it to your chest with a dopey grin. The car started moving again, slowly inching towards the road.

Finally, Angela spoke up. “I’m taking it I can drive you over there?”

“Yeah, he’ll meet us at the end of the driveway. Oh, take a left here.”

Angela heeded your directions, and you couldn’t miss the smile on her face. “I’m glad you have him. You practically light up just by talking to him on the phone.”

You sheepishly put your hands up to obscure your face. You were sure you still looked like someone in an ad for a dating app with how wide your grin was. It wasn’t anything that could be helped, though. Edward always had that effect on you.

You continued to give directions (the best you could, considering how drunk you were), and after only a few wrong turns, you managed to pull up to the Cullens’ driveway, where Edward’s silver Volvo sat waiting for you like a carriage. He wasted no time coming to your door and helping you out into the cold night, thanking Angela profusely.

“Just make sure she’s sober enough for our brunch tomorrow, or Jessica will kill me,” Angela pleaded through her open window.

You gave her a weak thumbs up with the arm that wasn’t clutching Edward’s middle for dear life. With that, she seemed assured enough to drive back onto the road and into the night.

Lowering yourself into the Volvo, you looked at Edward with a smile, “You’re my knight in shining armor.”

“I would give that honor to Angela since she got you here safely, but I’ll settle for being your prince,” he answered cheekily. He kissed the tip of your nose as he leaned over to buckle your seatbelt.

You snorted and swatted him on the shoulder. “Don’t get too far ahead of yourself. You’re making me want to take back all the nice things I was going to say about you.”

“I could drive you home inste–”

“No! Nope, you’re absolutely the best anyone could ask for. Just get in here and drive so I can sleep.”

He laughed and got into the driver’s side of the car. The short ride back up to the Cullens’ house was long enough that you started to nod off, so when the car stopped, you didn’t even want to get up.

Edward opened the door for you, and he effortlessly scooped you into his arms when he saw your drowsiness. “You’re acting like a cranky child. You know that, right?”

“Mmm,” you muttered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Don’t care.”

“I don’t even want to imagine your headache tomorrow morning.”

At this point, his amused words fell on mostly deaf ears as you fell deeper asleep in his arms. You didn’t even register how fast he had you into bed, with mere seconds passing before you were safely tucked away under the covers.

He was just about to leave to get you a glass of water when you clutched his shirt sleeve. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t be long. I promise.”

“You better,” you mumbled, reluctantly letting go. It was always interesting that he would let you hold him still, and he didn’t just break free from your grasp. He could do it easily enough no matter how hard you held on, but nevertheless, he would always stay until you let go.

Edward was only gone for the time it took you to blink, and he was back in the room, setting down the glass of water and a bottle of over-the-counter pain medication on the nightstand beside you. “I always keep my promises.”

“Yeah, just shut up and cuddle.” You pulled your arms out from under the comforter to make grabby hands at him. You were sure you looked ridiculous, but you couldn’t be bothered at that moment. Honestly, it was a miracle you were still awake and coherent.

He didn’t protest or say anything else, aside from laughing a bit, and crawled into the bed beside you. He made sure to lay above the comforter in the hopes that it would keep him from making you too cold throughout the night. You draped your arm over his middle and latched onto him before immediately falling asleep.

And he was right. Your headache the following day was truly awful. It had to have been the headache from hell because you could hear everything as soon as you woke up. And all that noise hurt worse than anything you’d felt in a long time.

He noticed as soon as you stirred in your sleep, noting the scrunched up expression on your face. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Headache,” you rasped out. You didn’t realize how dry your mouth was until you tried to talk. Before you could ask, Edward handed you the glass of water he had prepared the night before. The cool liquid soothed your throat instantly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And here, take some of these.” He gently laid two pills into your hand. “Those should help with the headache.”

You quickly took them, grimacing once they were down. “I don’t think I want to get out of bed at all.” You reached across him to set the glass back on the nightstand before deciding that you’d like to stay like that, so you laid across him lazily. “Everything hurts.”

“Too much alcohol will do that,” he teased, rubbing your temples with his cold fingers. The relief was instant, and he had a self-satisfied smirk on his face after your hum of approval. “You do remember that you have brunch with Angela and Jessica?”

You groaned and turned over onto your back, turning your face towards him. “I don’t want to go. Jessica’s the one that dragged me out last night.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to blame her for how drunk you got.”

You frowned but conceded, “No…it’s not. But I still don’t want to go.”

“Angela was adamant about me getting you to that brunch.” When he still hadn’t convinced you, he added, “I can drive you there.”

“In the Volvo?”

“Yes, in the Volvo.”

You playfully pretended to think about it. “Hmm…so you’re telling me I get to spend extra time with you and show up in an expensive car? I don’t know…”

“Come on,” he chuckled, picking you up as he escaped from the warm confines of the bed. You giggled as his cold hands held your waist, and he set you down in front of the dresser that had some of your clothes in it. “Get dressed, so I don’t have those two angry with me.”

You laughed even harder at that statement. “You’re afraid of Angela and Jessica? You?”

“Yes,” he answered with finality. “They’re intimidating.”

You both were now laughing before Edward finally calmed down enough to leave the room, allowing you to change. You opened a drawer of the dresser, your drawer, and picked out the outfit you wanted to wear for the day. Your whole body still felt like you’d gotten hit by a truck, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. Even when you overdid it, Edward was always right there by your side. Through thick or thin, he was there. How had you gotten so lucky?

The honk of the Volvo’s honk snapped you out of your daze, and you looked out the window to see Edward leaning against the car. When he saw you through the window, he motioned towards the car as though it were a carriage. You rolled your eyes and made your way downstairs, endlessly happy. Edward truly was your prince, although getting you to admit it to him would take a bit more work.