#and later on having a decent conversation with him while he worked on my back

[simon-sehs]

due (18+) pt 3

tags / cw: f!reader, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, sexually repressed!reader, smut, pining, flirting, inappropriate conduct, seduction, mind games, theft, insults, sexual tension, possessive!simon, jealous!simon, manipulative!reader, injury mention, dirty talk, virginity kink, grinding, dry humping, come marking, oral sex, pussy eating, fingering, vaginal sex, creampie

His name was Carter.

The two of you talked once or twice, struck up a decent conversation here and there, but didn’t really see each other much outside of the mess hall during meals. You at first thought of calling up your ex, Billy, but that was too obvious, and also: Fuck. That.

No, Carter would do nicely.

He was pretty: black hair, green eyes, a sweet, warm smile.

Part of you knew you should feel bad for using him to get back at Ghost, but you took solace in the fact that he was only one part of your plan. After all, it was your gracious Lieutenant who taught you not to put all your eggs in one basket when it came to strategies.

You found yourself back in the mess hall, only a couple hours later. Your sleep had been small and futile, but you found yourself refreshed regardless. Whether it was from the excitement of your budding plan, or the action you had received last night, you weren’t sure. It didn’t matter.

You stood near the door, and glanced around, your eyes settling on a familiar figure. Bingo. You began walking over to him, not bothering to look for Ghost. You couldn’t, you had to be subtle, or this entire operation would crumble before it even left the ground.

Carter glanced up as you sat down across from him with a warm smile. “Hi. Mind if I join you?”

He raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Yeah, help yourself, Sergeant.”

You sat down with your cup of coffee, your eyes glancing at his tray of food briefly before meeting his gaze. “Been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Ah, I’m fine. Nothing really worth talking about. Dislocated my knee a week ago. You?”

Time to put on a show.

You let your face fall slightly. “I, uh… I’ve been better. Just… stressed, about stuff.”

Carter nodded sympathetically. “Understandable. I’m here to talk if needed, my husband says I’m great at listening and giving advice.”

You paused. Husband? Oh.

You quickly composed yourself. “Really? How long have you two been together? If you… don’t mind sharing…”

Carter’s face lit up. “Ah, six years, now. High school sweethearts, actually. Married for three. What about you?”

This threw a slight wrench in your plans, but this could work.

“Uhh, well… it’s… complicated…”

“Mm, well, I hope it gets un-complicated for you.”

Meanwhile, across the room…

Ghost watched the two of you have a conversation. A fascinating conversation, by the looks of it. To say he was jealous was an understatement. Hell, you hadn’t even looked at him once this whole morning. Did you even know he was there? Or was this some sort of petty revenge for what he said last night?

He took a sip of his tea, wondering if he should risk getting closer to listen to the two of you. He ultimately decided against it, content with watching…

For now.

You smiled at Carter. “Thanks, I appreciate that.” You took a drink of coffee. “I… have a weird request, actually. Feel free to say no.”

“Weird, eh? Now I got to hear it, Sarge.”

“I, uh, could really use a hug…”

Carter’s eyebrows raised. “Hmm, well, I wasn’t really expecting that, but I don’t see why not.” He paused. “You’re, uh… not going to slap a note on my back that says ‘kick me’ or anything, right?”

You let out a laugh. A good, genuine laugh that reached Ghost’s ears.

“No, no… I promise. Just a hug.”

Carter nodded and stood from his seat. Then, so did you. The both of you met halfway around the table, and embraced each other. Ghost set his mug down on his table with a little more force than intended, gaze burning a hole through the both of you.

You pulled back with a smile, and lightly squeezed Carter’s shoulder.

Ghost grit his teeth.

“Thank you, Carter. I feel a lot better, already…” You said.

“No problem.”

The both of you sat back down, and talked a bit more. You eventually excused yourself after finishing your cup of coffee.

It was time for the next order of business.

You entered an empty training room and got everything set up. When it came to throwing knives, you were alright. You could use a bit of polishing when it came to that skill, and you were thankful that that would come into play, today. Now, you just had to wait for him to show up.

There was no way in hell Ghost wouldn’t follow you in after your performance with Carter…

You picked up one of the knives and twirled it in your fingers. To get this to work, you’d have to appear just a little more incompetent than usual. You got into an… adequate stance and lazily threw the knife at the wall target. It missed the entire thing.

Alright, let’s not appear that incompetent…

You picked up another knife as you heard the door open behind you. You didn’t bother to turn and look… you didn’t need to. You adjusted your wrist and threw. Outermost circle.

“Want some help?”

You tensed slightly as Ghost’s breath hit your neck. “No, I’m good.”

He chuckled. “You sure?”

You watched as he slowly picked up three knives, pretending to examine them in his hands. He turned towards the target, and threw one. Bullseye. Another. Bullseye. Then the last. Bullseye.

You glanced away, trying to mentally beat your growing arousal to a pulp. Focus.

He turned to face you once more, eyes crinkling as he smirked beneath the mask.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, you obviously don’t need the practice, and I don’t need your help. You can go, now.” You said, knowing fully well that he wasn’t going to leave.

“Nah. Think I’ll stick around, evaluate your progress.”

Excellent…

You sighed and got into position once more. The incorrect stance. You knew better, of course, but he didn’t know that. His scrutinizing gaze along your form burned into your skin, but you proceeded to throw the knife. Outermost circle.

You picked up another, ignoring Ghost all the while. Stance. Throw… Outermost circle. You were surprised how quickly it took for him to fold.

“Your stance is wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

He huffed. “You daft? The way you’re standing, you’ll never hit the center if your stance is fucked.”

He got closer to you, putting his hands on your hips and adjusting you. His feet kicked at yours, prodding them into a different position. You bit your cheeks in an effort to not grin. Time for the next part.

Your movements were subtle, so agonizingly minuscule, as he focused on fixing your form. You slowly leaned into his touch, your back melting into his chest, and he was none the wiser.

“There. Now throw.”

You did, the knife hitting a ring closer to the center. You carefully fidgeted in his grasp, undoing his work.

Ghost groaned. “What are you doin’? You just undid your stance.”

His movements were a bit rougher as he manhandled you back into place. The perfect excuse to… accidentally… bump back against his groin. He froze, and you could hear his breath hitch. But only for a second, and then he continued his task as if nothing happened.

He jostled you forward a bit, making you ‘lose’ your balance slightly and bump back against him once more.

“Dammit, stop that.” He hissed.

“Me? You’re the one throwing me around!”

“Don’t be dramatic and stay still like a good girl.”

“Why, so you can keep ‘accidentally rubbing’ up against me?” You say, turning it around on him.

He scoffed and leaned forward, his breath hot on your ear. “You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you? Having me rutt against you like a damn dog...”

“You are a damn dog.”

“Mmm, is that so?” He lowered his head and started kissing your neck, pulling you flush against him. “Then you won’t mind if I do…”

You let out a shaky breath, trying not to smile with giddy glee. “There’s a camera in here, too.”

“No shit.” He grabbed your hips and started circling them along his—now prominent—bulge.

He then braced one of his arms along your ribs, under your breasts, to keep you locked against him, while his lips continued leaving wet kisses on your throat.

You let him grind against you for a bit, his fingers tightening around your skin as he got closer to his peak, his grunts and groans increasing. You suppressed an evil grin before sighing. “Alright, I’m getting bored.”

He huffed and puffed. “Sh-shut up, I’m getting close…”

“That’s too bad…” You pulled away, and out of his tight grip.

For a second, the intensity of his glare had you internally sweating, and wondering if he was going to attempt to continue, but he just clenched his jaw.

And stared, of course.

“Fuckin’ tease…”

“Getting déjà vu, Lieutenant? I know I am…” You walked over to the wall targets and began pulling the knives out.

“Don’t pull that, with me. I made you see stars twice last night.”

You ignored him and proceeded to put the knives away. Ghost kept glaring, sulking over his lost orgasm.

You sighed and faced him. “Well, if you want to make yourself useful, I guess we could spar.”

Ghost rolled his eyes. “I’m still recovering from your fuckup.”

“Hm, but you seemed fine manhandling me last night…”

He stared at you, weighing the options in his head. “Fine. I only need one good arm to beat your ass, anyway. But if you deliberately harm my shoulder, you will regret it.”

“Give it a rest, LT, I’m not going to hit your precious shoulder…” You crossed your arms and watched as he unzipped his jacket, and threw it at you.

You barely caught it in time and narrowed your eyes at him, trying to ignore the sight of his beefy arms in the—wow, black again, what a surprise—t-shirt he wore. You noticed the bandage on his lower forearm was now gone. You sighed and walked towards the nearest bench.

You were not expecting him to just hand you his jacket outright, but you didn’t care. If anything, he just saved you a step. How kind of him…

Your hand deftly slipped into the left pocket. The security camera wouldn’t catch this angle. Even if it did, it would be too late for Ghost to even think to check the footage later. No, by then, things would have played out as hoped. They had to.

Your fingers curled around the lighter, and you slowly pulled it out, switching it to a pocket on your leggings; the ones you specifically picked out for today. Why? Pockets with zippers. Can’t risk his precious lighter falling out during the sparring session, after all…

And then you tossed his jacket onto the bench, before joining him on the mat.

His arms were crossed. “You didn’t have to go on a damn journey to set it down, the floor would have been fine.”

“Then why throw it at me?” You raised an eyebrow.

He smirked. “Because it’s funny.”

“Right…”

“Ready to get your ass kicked?”

You sighed inwardly. You really weren’t, to be honest, but the proposition to spar was only an excuse to get him out of his damn jacket.

“Don’t get cocky, now. You’re at a disadvantage, remember?”

But it didn’t matter, he was right…

He only needed one good arm.

•••

Ding!

Your gaze left the page of your book and landed on the lit-up screen beside your thigh. You set the book in your lap and picked up the phone. One new message from ‘Ghostie’.

You opened it.

Ghostie: Hey. Have you seen my lighter?

You smirked to yourself. Damn, already? You weren’t expecting him to reach out to you about his missing lighter so soon. If anything, you thought he wouldn’t catch on to your possible involvement until one or two more days after.

You: found a lighter in the hallway earlier. what color is it?

Ghostie: Hey that’s mine. Bring it to my office ASAP.

You: tell me the color! i’m not giving anything until you confirm.

Ghostie: Red.

You: fine you can have it back

You: but in the morning

You: i’m in jamas and busy reading.

Ghostie: Bloody hell. Fine, I’ll stop by.

You chuckled to yourself and set the phone down, returning to your book. But the words blurred together as you excitedly waited for him to stop by. There was no guarantee that things would escalate tonight, but all the buildup, the planning… it would at least be another stepping stone.

A minute later, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” You called out.

The door opened, and there he was. He shut the door behind him and walked over to you.

“Alright, give.” He said holding out his hand.

You rolled your eyes. “Hello to you, too, Lieutenant.”

You leaned over the bed, grabbing your leggings off of the floor and unzipping the pocket, pulling the lighter out and handing it to him. “You should keep better track of your stuff, LT.”

“Quiet.” He pocketed the lighter, watching as you dropped your pants to the floor and laid back down on your bed, book still in your lap.

Then it dawned on him, just how intimate this situation… felt. Standing in the sanctity of your room, you dressed in your pajama shirt and shorts, the lamp lighting low and warm, and the candle on the nightstand filling the room with the sweet scent of vanilla.

His gaze lingered on your bare legs, up your body, to your midriff. Your shirt was slightly hiked up your stomach, but you didn’t seem to mind.

You cleared your throat. “Did you need something else?”

Was that a trick question? He needed you. Needed to rip those stupid little shorts off, stuff your virgin hole and make you come over, and over, and—

“No. What are you reading?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “A book.”

He huffed and looked away. “Not leaving until you tell me.”

“…Fine… It’s a romance novel: ‘Reverie’ by Stephanie Fenderson.”

“Yeah? What’s it about?” He found himself intrigued.

“Two nobles from rival houses start a forbidden love affair. Think… ‘Romeo and Juliet’, but raunchier… and with actual adults, of course.”

“Hmm. How raunchy?”

Perfect.

You fake a scoff. “I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll find out eventually. Rather hear it from your pretty lips.”

You meet his gaze. “Well… there’s this… one scene… They’re at the same fancy ball, and sneak off to a room to… have fun.”

You sit up on the bed, crossing your legs as you set the book on your nightstand. Ghost can’t help but notice the small opening of the shorts along your inner thigh, and his teeth clenched. It was just the tiniest of peeks, but there was no mistaking the sight of black, lacy panties. He felt his cock twitch.

“Specifics.” He says.

“Hmph. Sure. So, they’re getting busy, having a great time. Pretty standard, vanilla. But then they almost get caught. The man, Fredrick, hides underneath the woman, Constance’s, gown. It’s one of those… hoop skirt dresses, or whatever…”

You scratch your chin. “The guy who interrupted them is this important dude who wants to marry her. Fredrick gets jealous of the guy’s attempts to court her, so… he starts eating her out while she tries to be polite to her suitor, and he’s none the wiser.”

Despite the fact that the two of were intimate the night before, you still found yourself blushing as you recounted the smutty novel.

He carefully walked over to your bed and sat beside you, laying his elbows on his thighs in an effort to conceal his growing boner. “Interesting… maybe I’ll have to borrow it from you, sometime.”

“Mm, I don’t think so. Your big hands would likely ruin the spine.”

He leaned in closer. “These big hands took good care of your pussy last night. Or did you forget?”

Heat pooled in your abdomen. “I didn’t. But it doesn’t matter in the long run, I have plans beyond you…”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

You looked at him incredulously. “Huh. It sounds like you’re the one forgetting about last night. Do you not remember what I said about finding someone else?”

His blood ran cold, and his jaw clenched. “You… you wouldn’t. I told you, your virginity is mi—“

You tilted your head. “You also said to forget about the favor. That you forgive me.”

He breathed deeply. “I was being sarcastic. I didn’t expect you to be that dense…”

“Oh, well. I guess you’ll be getting sloppy seconds, Mr. ‘I’m a Patient Man’.”

The seconds ticked by in silence. You watched in his brown eyes as he went through a journey of emotions. It was so, so, satisfying. But this wasn’t even the end, or the best part, for that matter.

“Now, are you going to leave, Lieutenant? I really should get some sleep…”

You watched in real time as the last of his resolve snapped, and he seemed to come to terms with something. “…No.”

Yes…

You leaned in. “No?”

“You want a dick that badly? Fine, you greedy girl, I’ll give you one…” He seethed.

And there it is… I win.

He continued. “You’re not going to anyone else. I’m gonna fuck the very notion of that out of your daft head.”

You shook your head. “You’re not thinking clearly. You shouldn’t feel pressured into this—“

“Oh, shut up. You? Pressure me?” He laughed bitterly. “I’ve wanted this for months, and I’m not letting some stupid motherfucker get his hands on you first.”

Time for the pièce de résistance…

You gingerly placed a hand on his warm, toned thigh. “Simon…” You say softly, so sweetly. “Are you sure?”

You gasped as he pushed you back onto your bed, your head hitting the pillow.

He crawled on top of you, his breathing heavy and labored. He stared down at you, his gaze making you feel like you were trapped beneath a predator ready to make their kill. You waited for something, anything, but then realized…

He was calming himself down.

It would be easy—so easy—to just take you without mercy, without care, but he knew better. As much as you were getting on his fucking nerves, he was adamant on making sure your first time was great. No, more than great. Indescribable.

He finally chuckled, lifting his balaclava to reveal his mouth and nose.

“What’s so funny?” You asked.

“Have you ever been kissed? That sleazebag, Billy, did he ever kiss you?”

You sighed. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

“A shame. But I’m here now, we can pretend I’m your first kiss…”

“That’s not how it—mmh!”

His lips smothered yours, and you started blushing; the realization that this man had ate you out the night before, but never even gave you a proper kiss, washing over you. You probably would have laughed, if your mouth wasn’t busy.

He was a good kisser, his lips rough but plump. You felt disappointment, realizing that all the times you kissed Billy, it was nothing like this. That boy had no idea what he was doing.

Not like Ghost, and you felt yourself getting soaked.

He moaned before pulling away to gaze into your eyes. “Now, are you sure you want this?”

“Ah, now you’re being considerate?”

“Of course I am, love. Want to hear you say it, out loud.”

“You know how I feel, but fine. I want you, Simon, I need you…” You grabbed his hand and slipped it through the leg of your shorts, his fingers grazing along your wet folds, making him moan.

You made a silent prayer, hoping that your lack of experience wouldn’t shine through too much as you prepped yourself for the ultimate challenge: dirty talk.

“Feel that?” You whispered. “All for you…”

So simple, so small. But you knew it would resonate with his infatuation towards you, and the jealousy you had carefully built up from that morning. You watched him breathe deeply.

“Yes… all mine…” He continued staring into your eyes, his dark and heavy. “No one can get you wet like me… not Billy. Not that dickhead in the mess hall. Not those filthy little books you read… Me.”

“Are you getting jealous over my reading materi—ah!”

He swiped his fingers around your entrance, gathering your wetness. “You ever taste yourself, love?”

You could feel a blush forming. “I, uh… sometimes…”

He chuckled. “No need to be embarrassed…”

He pulled his fingers out of your shorts, his other hand delicately moving your chin to part your lips. Then, his wet fingers entered your mouth, and you instinctively wrapped your lips around them, letting your tongue lick and taste them.

Like before—during your experimenting—the taste was pleasant, but not overwhelming. Nothing in particular came to mind when trying to compare it to other… flavors, other than… sweet? Maybe?

You snapped out of your daze as his fingers started moving, in and out of your mouth. They were now clean of you, but it seemed he wasn’t ready to take them out just yet. So, you continued to lick, to suck.

The look in his eyes confirmed your suspicions, he was imagining something better than fingers in your warm mouth. He groaned and then took them out with a soft pop, his hands now moving to undo his jeans.

Oh, finally. Yes…

He took them off with ease, revealing basic white boxers. His shirt? Well…

Ghost must have forgotten about the state of his shoulder amidst his horniness, a hiss leaving his mouth as he attempted to lift the hem with his bad arm. You immediately sat up. “Let me…”

You expected him to push you back down, allow his stubbornness to take over…

But he didn’t.

He let you carefully begin to take the shirt off, being mindful of the bandage still present on his shoulder. You lifted it past his head, fingers clutching onto the warm fabric as you oggled his bare muscles. He grabbed the shirt from your hands and tossed it onto the floor.

“Like what you see?”

You ignored him, eye-fucking him without a sliver of shame. You grinned.

He laughed softly, gently lowering you back down, and crawling back up your body to look over you. “Oh, yeah. You do…”

You palmed him through his boxer shorts, earning a hiss and then a groan. You had wanted this since last night, knowing he had been touching himself while pleasuring you…

“Ahh, what are you doing, love?”

“Want to… uh… help you…”

He gingerly took your wrist in his hand. “Mm, next time. Yeah, next time, I’ll teach ya how to please a man properly. Me, I mean. It’s not like you’ll be sleepin’ with other men after this…”

“Is that so?” You smirked, your expression waning as he made you moan by grinding against your clothed pussy.

He ignored your bait. “Nnf, damn… I’m gonna treat you so well, sweetheart. That way, I’ll be able to punish you after for ruining my fun earlier.”

Excitement bubbled up inside you. “Heh, yeah? How?”

“Mmm… oh yeah… I think I’ll continue what I was doing earlier. Hump you like a toy, all over… You won’t be allowed to come at all.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“You heard me. Maybe I’ll let you finish after I’m spent, but that depends on how good you are, hmm?” He leaned in. “All the meanwhile, I’ll paint allll of you pretty in white…”

Holy shit. “Simon…” You whine.

“So needy, so fuckin’ desperate. I give you two orgasms last night and you’re already addicted. Be a good girl, and you’ll get what you want.”

You whimper and nod.

He grasped your hips and grinded you up and down his clothed bulge. “Fuck… yeah… feels better than before… soak through those shorts and my boxers, love, ruin them…”

“Unnnhh…” You lazily rutted against him, the friction feeling lovely but not enough. “Simon… I need more…”

“Poor girl, you achin’ down there?”

“Mhmm…”

He put a hand on your face, his large fingers caressing your cheek bones. “I’ll take good care of you, love. I promise.” He said softly, the weight of his words making your heart ache as well.

He slowly pulled back to take your shorts off, his grin widening as he got a proper look at your underwear. Pretty black lace, almost too small to properly cover your leaking cunt. He couldn’t help himself, gripping your hips and grinding against you once more.

He shivered. Your underwear had completely soaked through.

“Simon.” You whined once more.

He grunted in response, tentatively pulling back again to remove the lace. However, you didn’t crook your knees in time to help, making him rip the underwear in half.

“Shit, sorry, love. My bad...” He said sheepishly, and then held them up, raising an eyebrow at you. “But… seems like you won’t need them anymore. A good ‘lil keepsake for me…”

You huffed.

He didn’t spare a glance at your bare sex. Not yet. He dropped the ruined underwear. His fingers curled into your shirt and he started lifting it, his nails softly scratching along your skin. Then, he paused.

“Mm. No bra?”

“Not tonight, no. They can be uncomfortable to sleep in.” You said nonchalantly.

“Uncomfortable… hm… but you’ll wear panties that barely cover your cunt…”

Uhh…

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to care or look more into it. He shook his head and continued taking the shirt off. “Not like I’m complaining, mind you. But I do want to see the matching bra, sometime. There’s no way you don’t have one.”

You smirked. “Alright, noted.”

He threw the shirt aside and leaned back to admire your naked form. “How lovely… better than I imagined…”

His hands grasped your breasts, three of his fingers still slightly cold and moist from being in your mouth. You shivered with a moan. “So pretty, so soft… can’t wait to deflower you.”

“Technically, after last night—“

“Oh, don’t go there. I don’t care about the technicalities of last night. You’ve never been dicked down, and that’s what I’m referring to. Now, be a good girl and shush…”

Ghost leaned back again, and finally pulled his boxers off. You couldn’t hold back the moan that left your mouth at the sight of his dick, leaking with pre-come. He leaned forward again, resting his member on your clit.

“See that, pretty girl?” He slowly stroked himself against your folds. “That’s what a cock looks like.”

You had to resist the urge to face palm yourself. “Jesus, Simon, I know what a dick looks like.”

“No, you don’t know what mine looks like. Get well acquainted, you’re gonna be seeing it a lot.” He paused and peered down once more. “Aha, damn, you’re soaking your bed, love. Pretty pussy is working so hard, preparing itself just for me…”

He pulled his lower body away and inserted a finger. You moaned, he groaned. He began pumping it in and out, making your pussy sing with your slickness.

“Shit, I think… think you’re wetter than last night. Good…”

You smirked at him. “Yeah, the book I was reading is pretty spicy…”

“Shut up, or I’m burnin’ the damn thing.” He took his finger out, and you began to regret your teasing.

Before you could beg and plead your case for more, he stuffed his face against your pussy and started lapping at it.

“Gahh, Simon, not again, I want you inside—“

“Quiet,” he growled, “I know what I’m doing. Ya need to be ready for me…”

You pouted but didn’t say anything more, only opening your mouth to moan softly as he licked and sucked. But then, his finger entered you once more, and he proceeded to stimulate you with both his hand and mouth.

Oh, this is new.

You clutched the bed sheets, trying to keep still and let him do his thing, lest he chastise you again like last night.

“Tell me when you’re close…” He breathed out, inserting another finger.

“O-okay… god, Simon, ohhh…”

“Mhmm…” He mumbled, still licking and fingering you.

You noticed his whole body moving in junction with his head and fingers, and you peered downward. You saw him dragging his weeping cock along your bedsheets, the sight making you whimper and clench around his fingers.

“Simon… I’m gonna come…”

“Mm, good girl. Thank you for telling me.” He stopped all movements and pulled away.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

“What you did to me, earlier. Sucks, doesn’t it? But don’t worry, you’ll get to come…” He leaned in and started kissing your neck. “You smell so good… you always smell good… drives me fuckin’ crazy…”

“God, Simon, please, I want to come…”

Ghost licked along your neck. “Don’t worry, love, you will. I’ll let you come around my dick, how’s that?”

“Please…”

“Good girl… such a good girl…” He cooed.

He leaned back and adjusted his position, lining himself up at your weeping sex.

“Now, I want you to hold onto me. This might hurt, sweetheart…”

You did as he requested, and that’s when he started entering you.

You winced and bit your lip, the stretch feeling a bit more painful than you anticipated. Suck it up, you’ve taken bullets...

He slowly eased his way in, your hole trying to push him out, despite it having done so much prep beforehand to welcome him with open arms. He leaned in closer and caressed a cheek.

“Relax, love. Loosen those muscles, breathe deeply… I got you.” He whispered.

His words helped alone, making you sigh with relief as you steered focus towards the new wave of arousal washing over your body. Something about the way he spoke softly just never failed to do wonders for you.

But then you realized he wasn’t moving anymore. You looked down in confusion and saw him already all the way in, to the hilt. Oh.

He also glanced down, admiring the joining of your bodies as he held your legs up, placing your ankles on his shoulders. “Fuck, look at that… what a pretty sight. Feels even better inside…”

Then, he started moving. His thrusts were slow and gentle, caring. But the sensation was still deliciously overwhelming; you could feel his cock rubbing against your soft, virgin walls, tight and pulsing around him.

“God, you don’t… understand how hard it is… to hold myself back… right now…” He grit out.

“D-don’t hold back, Simon…”

He grunted. “Don’t be saying shit like that. You’ll get it in the future, but for now, I’m keeping it simple, sweetheart.”

He held onto your thighs and squeezed hard, grounding himself as he maintained a sweet and slow pace, one that gradually increased in speed, if only by a minuscule difference. His eyes raked up and down your body, soaking in every reaction to his ministrations.

“Talk to me, lovie. Tell me how it feels…”

“Uuuuhhhn, feels… good…” You croaked out.

“Good? Just good?”

You groaned. “It feels amazing, don’t stop…”

“That right? Tell me, you still think you would have done well with someone else for your first time?”

“Uffff, mmm…”

He chuckled. “Can’t even think properly, can you? So cock-drunk…”

Then he stopped and pulled out.

“Sim—“

“On your stomach.”

You blushed, but rushed to do as he said, the side of your face hitting the pillow. He grabbed your hips and tilted them upwards, his knee pushing one of your legs open aside. “There we go…” You couldn’t see much from this angle, but the excitement in his voice was palpable.

He slowly lowered himself on top of you, his chest connecting with your back. He wasn’t squishing you, not completely, but enough to make his presence felt. Then, he entered you once more, stuffing his face into your neck.

“Mmmh… make you feel all of me… every inch of my skin… make sure you memorize it. It’s okay if you forget, though, I’ll happily remind you…” He started moving, his pace still casual and languid.

“Can’t… can’t wait to ruin you… turn you into a fuckin’ degenerate… heh, unless… you already are, and we just don’t know it, yet…”

He adjusted one of his legs, the angle of his hips making him reach deeper, and you whimper. “Ohh, god, oh…”

Ghost then sped up, reaching a faster rhythm that would satisfy you, but wouldn’t be too much.

You whimpered. “G-gonna…”

“Gonna come, baby? Good… milk my cock, wanna feel that cunt thank me for taking your virginity…”

“Jesus…” You groaned loudly, your orgasm hitting you hard; your walls clamping around him like a vice, pulsating like a heartbeat.

“Fuuuuck…” He snarled into your ear, his fist digging into your pillow, beside your head. “Want me to fill you up?”

“Y-yes, please, yes…”

“‘Attagirl. Need to make sure this pussy learns who it belongs to…”

His movements slowed but got harder, and then eventually, halted, as he reached his climax. He groaned into your neck, filling you up with his seed. “Good… girl… take it… all…”

He stayed on top of you for a minute, your muscles starting to ache. “Simon… you’re squishing me…”

“Ah. Sorry…” He rolled off of you, laying beside you and pulling you into his arms. “You alright, love?”

You started blushing, still trying to catch your breath. “I-I’m fine. It was good… really good…” You smiled.

You expected a snarky, arrogant comment like usual, but he just smiled in response. “Good. I’m glad.”

He used a hand to caress your body, slowly trailing down to your pussy. His fingers delved into your hole, coating them in his come before pulling them out and rubbing it along your slit. “Yeah… this is all mine…”

He then licked his fingers and pulled you closer with a content grunt. “Mm. You should have listened to me. I always get what I want, and I told you this would happen.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “Oh, Simon… you think this was all a coincidence? Did you really think… you’re the only one who can fight dirty?” You cooed.

He stared at you, eyes wide, the realization that, perhaps—he had been thinking with his dick too much—dawning on him. You weren’t sure how he’d react, but mentally prepared for the possibility that he’d be pissed for getting beaten at his own game.

But instead… he grinned.

“You… That’s my fuckin’ girl… all mine...”

[part one] [part two] [part three]

taglist: @corvusmorte @oceanicexolorer @icouldntthinkofanythingclever

#simon riley #call of duty #cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #my writing

[velocesainz]

Hey lovely, F1 idea with either Lando or Charles for you. Them coming home after being away a while and going to the fridge for a snack, only to find things you normally hate in there. Because you’re pregnant but you haven’t told anyone yet 🫠

A/n: Hope you enjoy, I’m sorry if this was a little short for your liking

F1 masterlist | main masterlist

Cravings

(LN04)

Summary: Lando doesn’t know you’re pregnant and comes home from f1 to find the most random foods in the fridge. What is his reaction? This is kinda short don’t mind

Warnings: none, super fluffy, very slight angst

Pairing: Lando x pregnant!fem!reader

Y/n pov:

I came home with a bunch of groceries, most of them my pregnancy cravings and started putting the foods away.

Lando doesn’t know that I’m pregnant and I’m kinda scared to tell him. How will he react?

We never had a conversation about having kids before so I don’t even know if he wants kids or not.

Lando should be home in another few days so I better make a plan fast.

I put a hand on my barely visible baby bump. “It’ll all be ok baby, don’t worry”

A few days later:

Lando pov:

Finally I’m home! This season was fun but the break is going to be even better!

I can spend my time with y/n and maybe I can tell her about wanting to have kids

I’m at a decent level in my career and we are old enough to have kids, also I had baby fever from looking at Carlos’s niece and can’t stop imagining how y/n would look pregnant.

She would look really hot.

I came home and dropped my bag on the table walking into the house.

I called out to y/n but didn’t hear a response, she’s probably not home.

I felt really hungry so I opened the fudge but the contents inside really surprised me.

Pickles, peanut butter, cheesecake…

These are all foods that y/n hates with an absolute passion. Why is it in the fridge then? Was somebody over when I wasn’t around?

That can’t be possible! Y/n would tell me if someone came over, plus with how much she works there is no way she would even allow a visitor because she would fear that she wouldn’t be a good host.

Just then I heard the front door open and heard y/ns sweet voice that I’ve been dying to hear for the past 2 weeks. “Lando are you home? I’m back!”

I closed the fridge and ran to hug her tight.

“I missed you so much baby. I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the last few races.” She told me.

“I missed you more than you can imagine love. Also don’t worry about not coming to my races, just knowing you are watching me is enough motivation to do well in my races” I said to her causing her to blush, why is she so goddamn cute?

“I have one question, why are there pickles and cheesecake in the fridge? Me and you both don’t like them” I asked her. Her eyes widened in fear.

“Uh I uh…” she stuttered.

“It’s ok love, you can tell me no matter what it is” I said to try and ease her nerves.

“Ok…but just know that I understand if you want to leave me after what I tell you” she said with her down.

What? Did she cheat on me or something?

“I uhm..I’m pregnant” she said and backed away.

I was going to be a father. WAIT WHAT? IM GOING TO BE A FATHER!!

I immediately hugged her right and I felt a wet patch on my hoodie.

“You’re not mad?” She asked me with her big doe eyes staring straight into mine.

“Of course not love! I’ve always wanted to be a father, I’m sorry if I never told you before” I told her and watched as she breathed a huge sigh of relief and hugged me tighter.

“I’ll make sure that this baby has the best and most safe love with my favourite lady in the world” I said as we hugged each other tightly and stayed there for a while.

The next few months are sure going to be eventful.

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #f1 angst

[risriswrites]

Just Roommates

summary: a series of moments between bradley bradshaw and his roommate that prove they're a little more than "just roommates"

pairing: roommate x bradley bradshaw, fem reader

warnings: none, just some mild language and lots of fluff

author's note: this is my second fic and i just wanted to say thank you all for the love on the first one! it made my heart happy :) likes, comments, and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated!

word count: 9.1k

“Okay but hear me out. What if we painted the living room wall a pale green?” you question, gesturing to the beige wall directly across from you with a spoon, that was once being used for your bowl of cereal; which had been discarded five minutes prior in favor of the sudden inspiration to revamp the living room.

Tilting your head to the side you allow your eyes to wander the length of the wall before adding, “Not like a pastel green but more like a sage green. I think it’d compliment the couch…and the wood floors.”

Bradley was leaning in the doorframe of the hallway that led to your separate bedrooms, arms crossed over themselves and letting his eyes trail over the way you’ve perched yourself onto the granite kitchen island, one leg crossed over the other.

It was a Saturday morning, so it didn’t surprise him that you’d foregone pants and settled on an oversized t-shirt, really short shorts, and fuzzy socks. You always complained about how you couldn’t sleep if it was too hot, so he made sure to keep the thermostat at a comfortable 70 degrees, but as soon as you woke up, you’d be freezing and needed socks to keep your feet warm. He’d never understand it.

Dragging his eyes away from you he lazily glanced at the wall of the living room. Honestly, he was fine with the way it was, but he wasn’t an interior decorator, so his opinion didn’t really count for anything in the name of “design”.

“I don’t think it really matters” he shrugs, letting his eyes wander back over to you. Your hair was still a little messy from sleeping, but in way he found oddly, cute.

A huff slips past your lips as you slide off the counter and move to wash the bowl you’d been using, “Bradley, the apartment could use a little bit of color. It’s kind of bland in here,” you grimace, sparing him a quick glance before resuming your assault on the navy-blue bowl.

Sighing, Bradley pushes himself off the doorframe in favor of moving to the granite island you’d been sitting on a few moments ago, “Well, you pay for half of the apartment, so whatever you think will make the place look decent that’s up to you.”

“That’s not how decisions work between roommates, Bradley. We have to both agree with it,” you mutter.

Shaking your head you force a breath out, “Look, we can talk about it later if you want, it’s not a big deal. We can always meet in the middle and bring in a plant or something instead? You keep the neutrality of the apartment, and I can have some greenery to look at.” you negotiate, all while wiping your hands on the hand towel hanging across the bar of the oven, shooting him an awkward smile, doing your best to not glance at his naked chest.

He forces his own smile back at you and nods his head the tiniest bit to let you know he’d think about it.

With that conversation ending you decide to leave Bradley to his thoughts in favor of snuggling into the couch for some warmth and an excuse to binge watch “The Witcher”.

You and Bradley had been living together for a little over a month, having been introduced to each other through your friend Jamie.

Jamie was a landing signal officer for the navy that you had met while you were in college. He was just getting his associates degree to pass the time while he worked on achieving all of the necessary credentials to start training in the navy, and once he graduated, was stationed out in Miramar. He had worked alongside Bradley during a few different missions and had kept in contact with him over the past few years. The two were close enough that Bradley valued Jamie’s feedback and opinion, so when Bradley came to him with his roommate dilemma, he knew the perfect person to recommend.

Based on your first meeting alone you liked Bradley. He was well mannered, reserved, and yet, still had a certain rugged charm to him. And now you were here, laying on the gray couch you had convinced Bradley would look perfect in the small living space, snuggled under a knitted blanket from your grandma, as Bradley fixed himself a cup of coffee.

“I’m going to go out for a run in ten minutes, do you need anything while I’m out?” Bradley called out to you.

You tilted your head back to look at him from the throw pillow you were currently laying on, “No thanks I’m good,” you smiled, quickly turning back to your show, successfully avoiding gawking at your roommate as he maneuvered around your shared kitchen.

Ten minutes came and went, and you never heard Bradley leave the house. Crinkling your eyebrows, you sit up from your spot on the couch and peer back into the kitchen to check if Bradley had snuck out without you noticing. Only to see him sat on a barstool at the kitchen island, one arm leaning on the long piece of granite and the other holding his coffee mug in his hand, casually sipping at the hot beverage while his eyes were glued to the tv screen.

A smirk grows on your lips, “Going for a run, huh?”

Bradley’s gaze breaks from the tv screen and snaps to you, his eyebrows pinching together as he shoots you a playful glare, mumbling into his mug, “I’m about to leave.”

“Sure, you are” you snort.

Silence ensues as you continue to smirk at him and he glares at you, before finally he breaks.

“Alright fine,” he huffs, “One episode, and then I’m going for a run.”

You turn back to the tv with a knowing smile on your face before getting comfortable under your blanket again.

Bradley stays put at the kitchen island for the next episode, but once you’ve started the second, he’s gravitated to sitting on the arm of the couch.

You glance over at him every now and then, smirk growing larger with every minute he continues to sit and not leave to go for his run, too enraptured in the show currently playing on your shared tv screen.

Grasping the remote in your hand you pause the show, turning you head and quirking an eyebrow at him, “Soo…still going for that run?”

Bradley huffs and throws his head back groaning, “I need to.”

You stay in your position allowing yourself to let your gaze roll over the scars that litter his neck and along his cheek. Seeing the war waging on in his brain you decide to make it easy for him, “How about you go on that run, and I’ll just pause it until you get back? It’s on Netflix so it’s not going anywhere anytime soon.” You smile.

Bradley turns to face you, moving his arms behind him to rest on the couch, further exposing his naked chest, “You sure? I don’t wanna make you wait to finish the episode.”

You push aside any thoughts about how hot he looks right now and instead focus on his honey brown eyes, letting your smile turn into an easy smirk, “I’ll be okay Bradshaw, I’m a big girl I can wait one hour for you to finish your run.”

Bradley raises an eyebrow while leaning towards you a little bit, letting his tongue poke out to swipe across his lips before he fixes you with a sarcastic smile of his own, “Sweetheart, it’s cute you think that it’s gonna take me that longto go on a three-mile run.”

And with that statement being put out in the air, he’s moving off the couch and heading towards the door, passing the water bottle he set out earlier.

Momentarily dazed from his proximity, you regain your train of thought and call after him, “Have fun show off!”

“Don’t start that episode until I get back sweetheart!” he yells, pointing a finger back in your direction, letting the door swing closed behind him.

A snort escapes you as you take to scrolling through your phone, waiting for Bradley to come back.

And exactly twenty minutes after you last saw him; not that you were counting, Bradley strolls back inside, a sheen of sweet glistening from his chest and abs as he strides towards the water sitting on the island.

Having looked up at his arrival, you quickly force yourself to look back down, cursing under your breath at how heaven sent he looks right now.

As Bradley is unscrewing the cap from his water bottle, he glances towards you propped up on the couch scrolling through the many apps you have on your phone before he slides his gaze to the tv, smiling to himself when he sees that you’ve kept your promise in keeping the show paused.

Allowing himself a few gulps of water, he sets the bottle back on the island and turns his attention back to you, “You mind keeping it paused for a little longer? I need a shower.”

You keep your eyes glued to your phone screen, “Don’t need to ask Bradshaw, I’d rather not have you tainting our clean couch with your sweat.” You snicker, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

He just shakes his head and smiles as he sets off towards the bathroom.

Another ten short minutes had passed before Bradley saunters back into your shared living space freshly showered and wearing a pair of gray sweatpants.

You stare for all of five seconds before becoming conscious of what you’re doing and move to grab the remote that’s been lying dormant on the side table for the past thirty-five minutes, eager to distract yourself from allowing him to take up any further space in your mind.

Bradley, however, has other plans and is picking your legs up off the couch and maneuvering himself under them in order to sit, bringing them back down and settling them in his lap, unknowingly regaining your attention.

Said attention being specifically on his right hand that is currently resting on top of your left leg, allowing a warmth to settle where his hand is, and traveling up through the rest of your body, a flush no doubt currently on your cheeks. Giving your head a small shake, you press play on the remote before forcing yourself to relax into the throw pillow and focus on Geralt arguing with Jaskier.

He's your roommate.

You’re very attractive roommate, but your roommate, nevertheless. And reminding yourself of that fact helps you stay focused on the show before the two of you part ways a few hours later.

He’s your roommate. Nothing’s going to happen.

~

“Pretty sure this is the kinda injury you go to the hospital for, Bradshaw. Not your very unqualified roommate and a first aid kit” You grimace.

Bradley was currently sitting on the toilet seat of your shared bathroom; after what you can imagine was another interesting night at the hard deck, in his typical white tank and Hawaiian button-down combo while you stood in between his jean clad legs, attempting to control the bleeding above his eyebrow.

“I’m serious you might need stitches,” you grunt, grabbing some more gauze and pushing it against the laceration.

Bradley snorts, “I wouldn’t say you’re completely unqualified if you’re gonna stand there and say I need stitches.”

You roll your eyes at the statement and resist the urge to smack him, “Anyone with half a brain can deduce that you need stitches, doesn’t take someone with a degree to know that.”

“So, you’re saying you’re perfect for the job, since you don’t need a degree? That’s perfect, thanks sweetheart,” comes the reply of a grinning Bradley.

A huff escapes past your lips as you mutter out, “You’re impossible”.

Your eyes examine the items from the first-aid kit that are currently scattered across the countertop, landing on a small box that says, “butterfly wound closures”. You light up at your luck before ordering Bradley to keep pressure on the gauze you’ve been holding as you move to get the much-needed bandages.

Once you’ve grabbed two or three bandages from the box, you push Bradley’s hand off the gauze and slowly peel it back to check on the bleeding. Luckily, it’s stopped now, and you can focus on closing the wound.

Grabbing a square packet with the words, “alcohol pad” on it, you rip open the packaging and take out the small piece of moist fabric, before sucking in a breath. Just knowing how much this could burn against Bradley’s wound has you wincing and hesitating to clean the area around it. “This might sting a little if I get to close, so try to stay still” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady as you start wiping around the wound. “How’d this happen anyway?” you question, attempting to distract him from any pain he might be feeling.

Bradley watches your face as you begin to wipe away at the dried blood above his eyebrow, nose scrunched, eyebrows pinched, and eyes focused on his wound. It’s endearing, how seriously you’re taking this.

“Some guy kept bothering Phoenix, she can usually handle guys like that on her own, but this one just wouldn’t take no for an answer. I stepped in to help escort him out of the hard deck with Hangman when the guy swung on me. It’s not a big deal.” He sighed.

You forced out a chuckle at his response, “I wouldn’t say that. Not when you’re coming home with blood rushing down your face”.

Bradley clocked the skip in his heart at the word “home” coming from your lips.

Ignoring that thought he rasped out, “Yeah well, better me than Phoenix. Plus, he definitely looks worse than me, I can guarantee you that, sweetheart.”

And just when you were about to retort back, you made the mistake of brushing the alcohol pad too close to his open wound.

Bradley’s eyes instantly force themselves shut, reaching out to grip your legs as he inhales sharply.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry Bradley” you apologize, moving your hands to hold his head in place. And before you even register what you’re doing you’re blowing air on his wound, applying the same knowledge you have with the reaction between small cuts and hand sanitizer to this scenario.

Bradley slowly let out the breath he’d been holding, muttering out an, “It’s fine sweets,” allowing his body to relax again.

Discarding the alcohol wipe, you quickly grab the bandages you set out, unwrapping them at a swift pace before moving to place them one by one over Bradley’s cut. Gingerly, you smooth your thumb over the last bandage, securing it in place on Bradley’s sun-kissed skin.

“Okay” you let out a breath, “You’re all set to be a hero again” you smile softly. “Don’t get into the habit of getting into fights with drunk men.” You warned, moving your right hand to squeeze his shoulder.

Bradley’s eyes flutter open meeting your soft gaze, and he can’t help but to let one side of his mouth quirk up into a smirk, “I make no promises sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes at his confession you take a step back from him, forcing his hands to drop from your thighs, “You think you can manage putting everything back in the first-aid kit, show off? Or do you need my help with that too?” you smirk.

Bradley scoffs, pushing himself off the toilet to tower above you, “I got it,” he jests, light blue Hawaiian shirt swaying at the speed he moved from the toilet.

With the smirk still playing on your lips you back out of the bathroom, rounding the corner completely before calling out to him, “good to know you’re not completely helpless, Bradshaw!”

~

It’s been almost a year since you and Bradley started living together and somehow, he’s managed to supply endless excuses as to why dagger squad wasn’t able to meet his roommate. No one was more frustrated about the lack of an introduction than Phoenix, as Bradley’s closest friend she was a little pissed and mildly offended at the realization.

So, after some choice words between Phoenix and Bradley and the occasional nagging from Hangman, Bradley folded and told the duo that he’d talk to you about inviting them over for dinner.

Dragging his feet, Bradley opened the door to your shared apartment, taking in the smell of the lavender essential oil you had diffusing in the entryway.

Bradley faintly remembers you educating him on the effectiveness of essential oils when it comes to mental and physical health, and how lavender was best for promoting sleep and relaxation. Something you learned from your “stress management” class in college. It’s funny how that knowledge has him instantly relaxing once he’s stepped into the apartment; or maybe it was just knowing you occupied the same space as him.

“Honey I’m home!” Bradley calls out, tone light and playful.

He rounds the corner to see you propped up on the couch, book in your lap as you glance up at his loud and flashy entrance.

Quirking a brow at the flight suit currently tied around his waist, you watch him move one arm above his head to lean against the doorway, black fitted tee straining as he makes himself comfortable. You shoot him a playful smile, “Have a good day, sweetheart?”

Bradley lets a smirk grace his lips as he watches you, “I’ve had better.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention downwards towards the book in your lap, “Well there’s always tomorrow” you reasoned.

Bradley allows himself to take in your appearance, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he watches a strand of hair fall in your face. He decides then and there that the matching green sports bra and spandex shorts set is his new favorite outfit that you own and there’s definitely gotta be some rule about inappropriate thoughts about your roommate that he’s ninety-nine percent sure he’s breaking.

Breaking his gaze from you he moves to the kitchen, focusing on fixing himself a glass of water when he remembers Phoenix’s words from earlier.

Meandering around the kitchen for a few more seconds he decides to just throw it out there.

“Hey sweetheart, are you okay with a few members from my squad coming by the apartment?”

Hearing his voice echoing through the kitchen into the living room, you allow his words to sit for a second, letting them mull over in your head until you decide to answer him with a, “why not? The more the merrier,” and glance back down to continue reading the murder mystery you’d been attempting to finish for the past few days.

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding; Bradley smiles softly at your focused expression before grabbing his phone and shooting a group text to Phoenix and Hangman to let them know they could swing by later this week.

Only putting his phone down when he got a thumbs up from Hangman, and an enthused text from Nat telling him to send the details when he can, allowing himself to refocus back onto the girl currently sat on the gray couch, with an impressive number of throw pillows surrounding her, and a book he’s never heard of before in her hands.

Smiling quietly to himself, he runs a hand through his curls and decides to head to the bathroom to shower, already hearing you in his mind telling him how you don’t want the smell of jet fuel on the couch.

Once he’s finished, he throws on an old Navy tee and gray sweatpants, heading back into the living room to try and persuade you to put down your book and watch a few episodes of “The Witcher” with him instead.

Maneuvering himself around the coffee table and onto the couch, he quickly grabs your legs and props them onto his lap and shoots you a wide smile.

Peering over the top of your book you fix your gaze on his honey-brown irises and quirk an eyebrow at his disruptive actions.

Bradley nods his head to the tv in a silent question, and you hide the growing smile on your face behind the book you’ve had your nose in for the better part of the last few hours. “Bradshaw, can’t you see I’m reading?” you challenged, quirking an eyebrow up at the man sitting in front of you, puppy-dog eyes on full display.

He nods, “I see that, and I raise you with a much more interesting proposition.”

Lowering your book just a tad, you tilt your head to the side and scoff, “Oh really, and what might that be?”

Bradley bites his bottom lip before shooting you a dazzling smile, “You, me, and at least three episodes of ‘The Witcher’, accompanied by pizza and wings, if you’re into that kinda thing?”

You hum at his idea and look up in thought, biting the bottom of your own lip in the process, “I don’t know Bradshaw, this book is really starting to get good, and I’ve been wanting to finish it for like, a week now” you exaggerate.

He gives you ten seconds, and then he’s reaching across the couch to swipe the book from your hands tossing it behind him, earning a surprised shriek from you.

“What book?” he smiles again, beaming from ear to ear.

Not able to contain your own smile, you let out a soft laugh, “Go order the pizza, show off.”

Bradley stands, sending you a mock salute as he makes his way to his phone.

“Oh! And I want a Hawaiian pizza Bradshaw!” you call out.

Bradley scrunches his face in disgust at the thought of pineapple on pizza, turning back to you phone now up to his ear as he waits for the line to connect, “Still can’t believe you like pineapple on pizza, it’s a crime.”

“It’s really not!”

Pushing yourself up onto the arm of the couch, you bring your knees to sit underneath you, using your hands for emphasis as you argue the point of how perfect the sweetness of the pineapple compliments the saltiness of the pizza, and all Bradley can do is roll his eyes and smile at how enthusiastic you are. And despite him not agreeing with you, he orders the pizza for you anyway. Moving back to his spot on the couch once he’s placed the order and grabs ahold of your left leg, massaging it as you continue to rant about the different universally accepted sweet and salty combinations.

Once the pizza has been delivered, the two of you spread the small feast across the coffee table, as you start the second season of “The Witcher”.

Every now and then Bradley will make a small comment that makes you laugh, distracting you long enough that you’d have to rewind the show every few minutes to make sure you caught everything. And Bradley would just smile in return, taking pleasure in knowing that he’s the one making you laugh.

Once the pair of you have gotten through the third episode, you exit out of the Netflix app and turn the tv off, and before you can make a move from the couch, Bradley brings up the topic of his friends again and you tell him Friday at six should be good for you.

Sending him a small smile you slide your legs out of his grip and stand from the couch, bringing the leftover pizza with you and placing it in the fridge, Bradley close behind you with the wings. Once everything is put away, the two of you exchange “goodnights” and part ways to your separate rooms, lingering looks, and fond smiles left in the shadows of the dark.

Two Days Later

Friday comes quickly, work having been overwhelming and taking up most of your limited time. The time you normally are reading or hanging out with Bradley is almost nonexistent.

Once you’ve made it back to the apartment you make a beeline for the bathroom to wash off the day. Letting yourself linger under the hot water long after you completed your routine, forcing yourself to turn the water off, step out of the shower, and dry off.

Remembering that Bradley invited his friends to come by tonight, you curse under your breath, wrapping the towel around your body and swinging the bathroom door open, stepping out into the hallway, only to crash into a hard chest.

“Shit” you mumble, scrambling backwards towards the bathroom.

Looking up you make eye contact with Bradley, who’s sporting his black tee and flight suit attire from his day working at the naval base. Gulping you tighten the towel around your body, squeaking out a “sorry” as you try to look past his eyes towards your bedroom door.

Bradley ignores the urge to look down past your eyes, willing himself to think of anything other than your naked body, and shuffles back a few steps to let you past.

You take that as your opportunity to scurry to your room in an attempt at avoiding any more awkward moments for the night. Deciding to throw your thoughts into what outfit you’re going to wear instead of the recent interaction between you and Bradley. Coming up with jean shorts, a white t-shirt, and white socks, you give yourself a onceover in your floor-length mirror and nod at your reflection, leaving the safe space of your room to wander around the kitchen.

Since you and Bradley had ordered pizza earlier on this week, you take it upon yourself to order takeout from the local Chinese restaurant. Not having been able to go out and grab groceries to prepare for tonight’s dinner, ordering Chinese seemed better than ordering pizza for a second time.

The bathroom door opening signals to you that Bradley’s finished showering, almost like a warning of his inevitable presence.

Busying yourself with tidying up the living room, you don’t notice him walk out of the hallway, too focused on how to lay your grandma’s knitted throw blanket over the couch.

Bradley lets out a breath, closing his eyes and wills himself to forget about your moment in the hallway, instead choosing to put his shoes in a more orderly fashion by the front door, and switching the diffuser on as he passes it, the smell of lavender quickly flooding his senses and bringing him back to thoughts that all involve you in nothing but a towel.

Shaking his head, he forces the image of your wide eyes, wet hair, and glowing skin from his mind and moves back to the kitchen to unload the dishwasher.

You finally take notice of him and send him a shy smile. He sends you one back and breaks the silence by asking about your day at work.

Thankful for the distraction, the awkward tension dissipates and the two of you fall into easy conversation until three sharp knocks come from the door.

Looking to Bradley he sends a reassuring smile your way before going to answer the door. The sound of two voices arguing back and forth hit your ears and you instantly smile and let out a small laugh at the loud, “Bagman I swear, if you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to sew it shut with the next toothpick I can find.”

Composing yourself quickly, you tuck a stray hair behind your ear while you sit at the kitchen island, only standing when a woman with shoulder-length black hair and chocolate brown eyes, moves around the corner.

Once Phoenix makes eye contact with you, she’s instantly grinning and coming closer to give you a polite hug, introducing herself with her callsign and then her name, telling you to call her by whichever, and settles in on the barstool next to yours.

A blond with perfectly styled hair and a smug smirk follows shortly after Phoenix and quickly scans you from head to toe, smirk deepening (if that’s even possible), Bradley right behind him with a sheepish smile on his face as he looks towards you.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” the blond drawls, he’s a little short compared to Bradley and you take note of his southern drawl, Texan maybe?

Eyes flitting from Bradley back to the blond, you let a sarcastic smile settle on your lips and hum, leaning your arm onto the counter, hand forming a fist as you rest your chin, batting your eyelashes at him, “Bagman, isn’t it?”

Nat snuffs out a laugh, hiding her smile behind her hand as she looks at you.

“Hangman, actually.”

“That’s not what I heard,” you retort back, smile staying stationary on your lips, challenging him.

“Oh, I like you,” Nat grins. “I like her” she states, turning to give Bradley a pointed look.

Hangman breaks the stare down choosing to look towards Bradley instead, “I like her too.”

Rolling your eyes at the statement you also turn to Bradley, tongue coming out to swipe across your bottom lip as you point a finger towards Hangman, “I can learn to tolerate him.”

Bradley lets out a chuckle moving to grab a set of beers from the fridge huffing out an, “We all do that, Sweets” the room erupting into laughter at the expense of Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

Somehow over the course of the night you and Nat had made your way over to the couch, her sipping on a Heineken and you on a coke, leaving the boys to their own devices in the kitchen.

“So, how long did you say you’ve been roommates again?” Hangman questioned, nodding over to you, toying with the perspiration sweating off his beer bottle.

Bradley brings his beer up to his lips slowly, “About a year now, were good friends” taking a sip after he answers.

Jake hums, “And how long have you been lying to yourself about that second part?”

Bradley whips his head towards Jake, eyebrows pinching at his suggestion, “What?”

Huffing Jake turns his attention from the couch where both you and Natasha have started gossiping about some picture on your phone, back to Bradley, “Bradshaw, when’s the last time you went on a date with a girl, or even hooked up with one?”

Jake is met with silence from the naval aviator, and takes a sip from his beer, “That’s my point. You like her man.”

Bradley leans on the countertop, eyes focusing on the way your eyes light up at something Phoenix says, your giggles filling the space of your shared apartment and making him suppress a fond smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, we’re just roommates, Bagman.”

Jake watches Bradley watching you, a knowing smile breaking his smug façade, then he moves to sip at his beer, glancing back over to you and Nat, “Whatever you say Bradshaw.”

~

From the way the wind and rain were whipping against the windows of your apartment, you’d think you were dealing with a stage three hurricane, but according to the weatherman it was just a bad storm. Maybe someone should double check his certification.

Every few minutes thunder would rumble, ricocheting off your apartment complex, shaking the building, and sending you into another gathering frenzy. Moving around the apartment in a flurry, you grab the collection of candles you’ve been hoarding and any lighters you can find.

In your rush, you don’t hear Bradley enter the apartment, too busy with collecting all of the necessary items.

Bradley smiles as you pass by him, oversized tee flowing behind you, socks making you skid on the hardwood floors of your apartment as you spread the abundance of candles throughout the living space.

“What are you doing?”

A shriek escapes your lips, narrowly avoiding dropping three candles as you recompose yourself, straightening your back you let out an exasperated breath. Placing the remaining candles down onto the side table you huff, “What does it look like I’m doing?” You turn to face Bradley, who looks like he’s soaked from head to toe; he must’ve left his flight suit at the base today since he’s sporting just a black tee and his workout shorts, “I’m preparing for our inevitable demise.” You exaggerate.

Bradley chuckles at your dramatic opinion of the weather, “I don’t think fifty candles are gonna help us sweetheart.”

You give him a reprimanding look, groaning as you say, “No but they’ll help with our vision whenever the power goes out. And some of us, are afraid of the dark.”

Bradley’s smile softens at your admission and angles himself toward the foyer table, reaching into one of the drawers and pulling out the flashlight you’d been looking for. Turning to you and giving it a little wave in an effort to make you feel better.

You smile at his thoughtfulness, “I’ve been looking for that everywhere.”

Giving the flashlight a light toss, Bradley chuckles, “And looking in all the wrong spots apparently.”

Another round of thunder rattles the apartment, making you jump, eyes flashing with fear for a moment. Bradley raises his eyebrows at your reaction and sets the flashlight on the kitchen island.

“You okay?”

You turn to him, giving a small nod, “Yeah, I’m fine. Storms don’t normally bother me but this one just feels like it’s closer to a hurricane than a regular storm.”

Bradley nods at your statement, “You gonna be okay if I take a quick shower?”

Throwing your hand up nonchalantly, you wave him off, “I’ll be fine, probably gonna light a few candles and start a new book.”

His eyes wander the expansion of your face, looking for any cracks in your calm and collected façade you’re putting up. Not finding any, he rationalizes that he’ll only be gone for ten minutes tops, and can coax you into cozying up on the couch to watch another episode of “The Witcher” once he’s finished.

Shooting a reassuring smile your way he side steps out of your way to head to the shower, “I’ll be out shortly sweetheart!”

Shaking your head, you force yourself to move again throughout the apartment, huffing as you grab a case of water and set it on the island.

Standing at the entryway to your home you play with a strand of hair nervously, studying the progress you’ve made throughout the space, giving a decisive nod of approval, before heading off to your room to pick a book and grab a few extra blankets to set on the couch.

The wind has picked up even more now, making the patter of rain on the window hit with a force you thought for sure resembled hail. Shivering at the thought, you clutch your collection of blankets closer to your body and make your way back out to the living room, throwing yourself down on the couch and cuddling into your favorite throw pillow, snuggling under the blankets.

Another loud boom of thunder rattles your building, making you let out a soft whimper in response, snuggling further into the couch for comfort. In an effort to calm yourself down you reach across the cushions to grab the pink book peeking out from the collection of blankets, totally abandoned in your haste to hide from the thunder.

You thumb through the first few pages until you see the intricate curvature of the words “Chapter One” typed at the top of the page and immediately immerse yourself into another world of fiction. And within five minutes, you’ve completely forgotten about the raging storm outside, the sharp beating of the rain on the window turning into a dull thumping as your eyes scan the pages in front of you.

Bradley curses to himself at the amount of time he’s spent in the shower, quickly stepping out and drying himself off, throwing on a white tee and his favorite gray sweatpants. Hanging his towel back on his hook, he swiftly opens the door and takes long strides to the living room, reaching his hand around the hallway entrance and poking his head out to see where you’ve scurried off to.

Momentarily panicking when he doesn’t pinpoint your exact location, until his eyes zone in on your blanketed figure on the couch. A grin splits his lips, and he bites the bottom one to contain his chuckle, you’re reading that new book you were talking about, but the way you’ve huddled into the blankets reminds him of the alien from E.T. all wrapped up with only your head being visible.

Sidling up to the frame of the hallway he folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head as he calls out your name. Actually, letting out a chuckle this time when you don’t acknowledge him.

“You good over there, sweetheart?” he tries again.

This time you do look up, and his heart clenches at the sight of your wide eyes, “Shit! I’m sorry Bradley, how long have you been trying to get my attention?”

“Not long sweets, don’t worry about it.” He juts his chin towards the tv, “What do you think about a few episodes of ‘The Witcher’?”

Glancing down at your book you think about it for a second, it was starting to get interesting but you could never say no to Bradley or “Geralt of Rivia”. So you smile and push the blanket off of your head, “You know,” you clicked your tongue, “I’m starting to think you like this show way more than I do.”

Bradley scoffs, “Definitely not, I’m only suggesting it because there’s nothing else worthy of watching on that godforsaken streaming service.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “just admit it Bradshaw.”

And just as Bradley opens his mouth to give you some smart retort back, a loud crack echoes throughout the room, and the power flickers off. You suppress a scream and instead resort to a quiet whimper.

“Shit sweetheart, are you okay?” Bradley calls.

You bite down on your lower lip and close your eyes to avoid looking into the void of darkness that’s encompassed your apartment, “Not really,” you breathe out.

Bradley goes quiet for a second, trying to make the moment lighthearted in an attempt to make you feel better, “All those candles and you didn’t light any of them huh?”

An offended scoff that closely resembles a whine leaves your lips, “Seriously Bradley.”

“Hey, I’m just pointing out the obvious, sweets” Bradley teases.

“At least I thought about this happening and got us prepared,” you sputter out. “Some of us were too busy washing their mustache to care” you sneer, eyes still screwed tightly shut.

Bradley pinches his eyebrows, “Hey now, no hating on the stache.”

“Bradley I can’t see anything and it’s really loud so I’m sorry, but the feelings of your mustache are not on my list of priorities right now” You huff.

“Okay well then how about we try to find the lighter so we can actually see in here?”

“Fantastic idea Bradshaw, best one you’ve had all night,” your tone exaggerated, moving your hands to aid in pushing yourself up from the couch.

Letting out a puff of air, Bradley ignores your comment and starts using his hand to navigate through the living room, hoping he’s getting close to the couch, bumping his knee into what he thinks is the side table, letting out a low groan.

“You okay over there, showoff?” you call out, taking a few tentative steps forward.

“Yeah,” he grunts, “I’m fine.”

You nod your head in understanding and mumble out a quiet, “Okay, good.”

Bradley moves forward again, maneuvering around what he thinks is the coffee table. He can hear your shaky breaths so he’s almost a hundred percent sure he’s a few steps away from the couch.

Growing a little bolder you take two steps forward, which proves fatal as you end up tripping over what felt like a shoe, forcing you to stumble forward in an attempt to catch your footing, throwing your hands out to avoid crashing into anything, only for them to land on Bradley’s warm and hard chest.

Not quite balanced yet, you stumble forward a bit more, Bradley grabbing your wrist in hopes to help steady you, pulling you closer to him in the process.

You haven’t been able to see since the power went out, but having him this close allows you to see the outline of his face and the sparkle of his eyes, your breath hitches in your throat at your proximity and it all becomes overwhelmingly intimate.

Looking away from his profile into the darkness, you momentarily forget about the fear of the storm and instead are distracted by the very muscular, very attractive man; that is your roommate, currently holding you.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” Bradley whispers.

Closing your eyes, you turn your head and force a shaky breath out from your lips, “Yeah, just tripped over a shoe or something.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He mumbles, voice a little raspier than normal.

 Shit.

Your eyes shoot open, your head tilting back to face him, “If you’re referring to the fact that it’s darker than a black hole in here right now, then no, I’m not okay, I would really appreciate at least one of those candles being lit right about now.”

Another roll of thunder crashes into your living room, echoing along the walls and through your chest, making you press further into Bradley’s firm hold.

Closing your eyes again you huff, “I’m sorry.”

Bradley moves the hand that doesn’t have a grip on your wrist around your back, tugging you into his warm embrace, “You have nothing to be sorry for sweetheart,” he reassures, resting his chin on top of your head as he speaks.

You sigh, allowing yourself just for a moment, to enjoy how close he is right now. Just roommates you remind yourself.

“I swear I’m not usually this bad with them,” you mumble against his chest, referring to the raging storm outside.

Bradley’s chuckle rumbles through his chest, nodding his head in understanding, “Where do you think that lighter is right about now?”

“I have no idea, maybe on the island? That’s where I put the majority of stuff.” You mumble, placing your hands flat against him to aid in inching yourself away from his chest.

Bradley hums, keeping a firm grip on your wrist as he steps back slowly towards the kitchen, pulling you with him. “Okay,” he nods, “Lets focus on getting the flashlight and then the lighter. That sound okay with you?”

Feeling the way his thumb is rubbing small circles into your skin, you whisper out a “Yeah,” gulping down your nerves that are so frazzled you’re not sure if it’s from the storm, or from how tender he’s being.

Taking a few more short steps; with Bradley leading the way, the two of you eventually make it to the kitchen island. Bradley letting your hand go in favor of roaming his over the countertop, blindly searching for the flashlight while you focus on finding the lighter. After what seems like hours, Bradley announces his accomplishment and flicks the button on the metal piece of the flashlight, a beam of light hitting your pupils making you flinch and close your eyes. Bradley cursed under his breath in apology, moving the light down towards the countertop in search of the lighter, allowing you to reopen your eyes and get accustomed to the new source of light.

Eyes scanning over your pile of necessities, you spot the lighter peeking out from behind one of the candles.

“Found it,” you sigh in relief.

Bradley’s eyes pan over to you from where he’s standing, watching as you reach past an emerald, green candle that has a picture of the woods wrapped around it; the words “sandalwood” in some typewriter font scribbled at the top, and pull the lighter out of the dark and into the beam of light coming from the flashlight.

Meeting Bradley’s eyes you shoot him a soft smile, giving the lighter a little wave, “Lets light these candles.”

A soft chuckle rumbles through Bradley’s chest while he shakes his head in amusement, “Leave it to you to make a ‘The Boys’ reference.”

You smile, turning away from him as you grab the same emerald, green candle that he was just looking at, clicking the lighter on and pushing it against the wick, “It’s not my fault okay, there’s some great one-liners in there. I just so happen to be capable of altering it to fit our scenario.”

The sky rumbles shortly after your statement and has you kicking into gear, setting the newly lit candle back down onto the island and moving swiftly throughout the apartment, lighting as many candles as you can to brighten up the room, but also not enough to be a fire hazard.

Lighting the last cream-colored candle by the couch, you straighten up and turn towards the room to look at your handiwork, Bradley standing next to you doing the same as he clicks the flashlight off. A soft yellow glow has settled in different areas of the living room and kitchen, the areas surrounding it darker, the further away you get from the candles. “I think that’s good enough.” You murmur, arms crossing over themselves while you scan the space.

Bradley hums in approval, moving an arm around your shoulder and tugging you closer to him.

“What do you wanna do now sweetheart?” Bradley’s voice is soft as he asks his question, allowing his thumb to rub small circles onto your deltoid. It’s comforting.

Allowing your guard to slip, you lean further into his body, turning your head up to look at him, whispering, “Can you sit with me on the couch while I read?” Eyes flickering towards the darkness of your room before returning to his gaze, “I just don’t want to be by myself right now.” You mumble.

And for what feels like the millionth time in the past year, Bradley’s heart skips at your confession, his mouth wanting to grin at just how cute you are and pull you into his chest. Instead, however, he settles for a soft smile and a, “Anything for you sweetheart.”

Gripping your shoulder tighter, he pulls you back towards the comfort of the couch making himself comfortable as he settles into the cushions, allowing you to leave his embrace to grab your book. But once you try to sit back at the opposite end of the couch, Bradley immediately grips your wrist and tugs you back to him.

“You’re gonna end up here anyway, sweetheart, just sit with me.” He rasps out, his warm breath hitting your ear, making you shiver.

Not trusting your words, you hum in response, letting him guide you back into his chest, propping your knees up to rest your book on them as you open it, conveniently landing on the page you had last read.

Somewhere in your brain a little voice was screaming at you that this isn’t what normal roommates do, getting a little louder once Bradley hooked his left arm around your waist, but an even louder voice was telling you just to enjoy it while you could. And in the end, what did it matter anyway? You were going to read and the two of you would part ways once the power came back on to your respective beds and everything would go back to normal. So, what’s the harm in lying here with him now?

The thunder was still rolling outside along with the sharp gusts of wind, but now that you were reading in Bradley’s arms you honestly couldn’t hear it anymore. And what felt like a few short minutes, turned into three hours, your eyes growing heavy, almost dropping the book on your face once you started to nod off.

Becoming mildly alert, you shift your body upwards to set your book on the coffee table, turning to tell Bradley you were going to bed, only to see him peacefully sleeping with his head tilted back onto the throw pillow, right arm flexed behind to support his head as he slept.

Smiling softly to yourself you shake your head and move to get up to go sleep in your bed, only to be anchored down by Bradley’s arm.

Frowning, you grab his hand with yours and begin to try and peel it away from you, Bradley’s grip only growing tighter and successfully pulling you back against him, your hand promptly landing on his chest to avoid faceplanting into it.

Just when you were about to make a second attempt Bradley’s raspy voice rings loud in your ears, “Stop trying to leave me.” He grumbles. Eyes still closed he brings his second arm around your back and pulls you tight against his chest, “Just stay.”

Biting your bottom lip at his drowsy statement, you try to pull your body away from him again, his arms only squeezing tighter around you. “Bradshaw, I need to go to bed,” you huff. Bradley pushes his body further down the couch, keeping you in place as he makes himself comfortable, “Sleep here” he mumbles.

Jesus Christ he’s gonna put you in an early grave.

You allow your eyes to examine his face, the way that his eyelashes touch the tops of his cheeks, sweeping over the tiny freckles littering his face, and stopping at the curve of his lips. Goddamnit. Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes shut, you can’t do this.

“Bradley” you whisper, voice shaky as you break your gaze from his face and focus on the flickering candlelight, “I really can’t sleep here.”

This pulls him from his drowsy state almost instantaneously and has him fluttering his eyes open, blinking a few times to bring his gaze into focus.

His thumb has a mind of its own it seems, since you feel it push under the fabric of your t-shirt and rub your skin in small circular motions, biting your bottom lip to refrain from doing anything rash, a small “Bradley,” slips past your lips, tone warning.

He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he brings his other hand up to your face and forces your gaze back to him. It’s quiet as the two of you stare at each other, blood rushing in your ears over the silence that’s only broken by the distant roar of thunder.

 Sighing, you start to move your body backwards to put some distance between the two of you, “Bradley, I need to go to- “, your sentence is cut off by Bradley, who’s pulled you down and collided his lips with your own. Your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of his lips on yours, a moment passing before you understand what’s happening and push your lips against his.

The hand that Bradley has resting against your cheek pulls you further against him, fingers curling around the nape of your neck to keep you close, as you melt into the kiss, his lips caressing yours, mustache tickling your upper lip as they slot together over and over again, until you pull away to catch your breath.

Your eyes flutter open, reconnecting with Bradley’s. His honey-brown eyes have a certain glow behind them as he takes you in, leaning forward to recapture your lips with his own, “Stay.”

Closing your eyes again, you push your lips against his, letting them linger there for a moment before you lean back, and whisper out a breathy, “Okay.”

A soft, adoring smile pulls at Bradley’s lips, giving his head a short nod as he leans the two of you back, settling himself into the couch cushions while you pull your grandma’s knitted blanket off the back of the couch and over the two of you. Nuzzling yourself into his neck, placing a few chaste kisses along the scars that have made homage there. Slipping your hand under his white t-shirt while you mutter, “Just so you know,” another kiss, “I will be milking the fuck out of this.”

Bradley lets out a chuckle, kissing the top of your head briefly before closing his eyes, “Wouldn’t have it any other way, sweetheart.”

Two Weeks Later

Nat and Jake had come over again for another dinner night. This time, you chose to make dinner, a simple “lasagna roll-up” recipe you found on pinterest that has never failed you when it came to impressing guests.

Bradley and Jake were sitting at the kitchen island, mulling over the salad Bradley had just finished tossing while Jake gave him “pointers”, occasionally stealing glances at the two women sitting on the couch, deep in gossip.

Every now and then you’d look over and send Bradley a soft smile, until Natasha grabbed your attention with another story of the shenanigans that had taken place earlier on base. Jake watching the love-sick expression on Bradley’s face, and stewing in the knowledge that Bradley Bradshaw had it bad for you; just like Jake had told him he was several weeks ago.

“Took you long enough Bradshaw,” Jake poked, bringing the beer he’d been holding up to his lips and taking a sip, smirk prominent on his face.

Bradley spared Jake a glance before returning his attention back to you, clicking his tongue, “When are you gonna tell Phoenix how you feel, Seresin?”

Jake’s eyes flicked to Nat’s figure currently relaxing on the gray couch, not giving anything away, keeping his expression in his traditional cocky smirk, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Rooster.” Taking another sip of his beer, Jake moves his body off the stool and towards the living room, sitting himself down ungracefully next to Nat, her throwing an irritated look at him.

Rooster suppresses a chuckle at his teammates and shakes his head before moving himself to sit next to you, easing his arm around your shoulder, you relaxing into his embrace immediately.

Jake leans onto the arm of couch, permanent smirk etched onto his lips, “Okay I gotta know. What got you hooked on our very own ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw?”

Nat smacks Jake’s wrist and immediately reprimands him with an annoyed “and this is why we only tolerate you, Bagman” while you sit there, a blushing mess, as Bradley rubbed small circles into your shoulder.

You mull it over in your head for a second while Nat continues to reprimand Jake before you speak up, “Honestly?”

Everyone goes quiet at your consideration of Jake’s question, apart from Jake who lets his famous smirk return to his face, “I’d love to hear the honest answer.”

You look up at the ceiling briefly, cheeks flushing as you mumble, “Definitely the mustache.”

The room immediately erupts into laughter, Jake and Nat rushing out questions at a million miles a second, while you cover your face in embarrassment.

 Bradley just chuckles to himself and pulls your face into his side, kissing the top of your head, emphasizing the rub of his mustache against your forehead, making you burrow further into his side.

“Just Roommates my ass!”

#bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #topgun maverick #topgun fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagines

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - One Shot #4

One Shot #4: The Artist Formerly Known As Joel Miller

Plot: Joel gets another little piece of himself back in the form of music.

Word Count: 700+

Warnings: none (for once lol)

A/N: A little bit of well deserved fluff. I feel like I haven’t written anything for TYL that isn’t tainted with sadness but this is a rare dose of pure serotonin for y’all. Hope you like it!

—————

It was a truth long denied; Joel Miller needed music.

His long held dream of singing and strumming for a living was put to rest when Sarah was a blip on an ultrasound. There was no way to support a family on bar gigs. He hadn’t minded all that much, knowing the million to one odds he’d make it. Still, Joel wasn’t 100% Joel without a song.

In the three months that he’d been settled in Jackson, there’d been shockingly little rest. First there was fixing up the house. Nothing major, adjusting the furniture to his and Y/n’s liking and general cleaning. Then there were the emotional adjustments. Ellie and Y/n took a long while to ease out of the fear Silver Lake had left them with. Not to mention the new life the three of them had been given and how wildly different it was from the one they were used to. Joel and Y/n got set up with the work rotation of the town and Ellie started to (with great hesitation) socialize with the other kids.

It wasn’t until three months in that Joel allowed himself to think about the little things.

He’d been in conversation with a neighbor on patrol one day. An older guy who’d miraculously managed to live into his 70s in a post-Cordyceps world. They were talking about something and somehow it came up that Joel used to play guitar. The man mentioned that there was an old Taylor sitting in his spare bedroom. He’d never been any good and was too old to get any better so it was up for grabs.

Joel immediately accepted.

He beamed as he strode back home with the instrument clutched in one hand. Sailing through the front door, he let go of it only long enough to leave his snow coated boots at the door and remove his gloves.

“Rose,” he called out.

“Kitchen,” his wife called back. He could hear the sink running.

Joel moved through the house to where Y/n stood at the counter doing dishes. Sensing his presence before she even heard him, she looked over her shoulder and her face lit up. First upon seeing her husband, then at what he was carrying.

“Oh my gosh.”

Joel didn’t even try to temper his joy. “I know,” he smiled.

Y/n flicked the faucet off, her attention fully focused somewhere else. “Where?”

“Bud down the street,” Joel nodded in the general direction of their neighbor, “Said I could have it since no one was using it.”

There were only two things Y/n wanted for their patch-worked family: happiness and health. Music was directly correlated to a percentage of Joel’s happiness, making the guitar a gift from God himself.

She threw her hands out expectantly, “Well?”

Joel left the doorway and headed towards the living room, Y/n grabbing a towel to dry her hands and following suit. They perched themselves on opposite ends of the couch.

Joel adjusted the guitar on his knee before pausing, “It’s been so long.”

“It’s musical bike riding,” Y/n washed away his hesitation, “Play me something, cowboy.”

He chuckled under his breath, waiting just another few seconds before pressing down on the strings and forming a cord. The callouses needed weren’t a problem due to years of manual labor. Y/n and him both grimaced in anticipation of what twenty year old strings might sound like. Surprisingly, they were decent as Joel strummed once.

“Not bad,” he commented, “Little out of tune.”

But Y/n didn’t hear the imperfection. Nothing touched her. She was too struck by the sight in front of her. Joel, back in his element, plucking the strings. The way his hunched frame hanging over the guitar’s body was relaxed as ever. How his fingers found their way as naturally across the fretboard as if they’d touched the wood every day since Texas.

Joel was transported with each note. Back to some spiritual space where he had no fears and no worries. Nothing could break through his front door and destroy his life. No one could hurt him. The world didn’t cease to exist, it reframed itself. For every strum, every pick, every change of chord, the world held itself together without his help. He could just be.

However many minutes passed, neither one of them were sure. Y/n pulled herself back to reality enough to remember she had to finish cleaning before grabbing dinner from the mess hall. She swiped the tears beginning to form and got off the couch. Joel didn’t move, still transfixed.

Smiling, she leaned over her husband and kissed the top of his head. The guitar’s song sang sweetly for the rest of their evening.

——————

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest @burninggracesandbridges @star-wars-lover @lucyhotchner @cococola-cocaine @witheringhqarts @fall-writes @alwaysdjarin @xxmoonn @emilia-the-artist @wand-erer5 @boneyarrd @lizard-zombie @themultifandomofmadness @cassidylea123 @paleepeaches @mxltifxnd0m @kettlekatie @ultimate-cinephile @gloryekaterina @caramelkatsukis-bitch @whovianayesha @memeorydotcom @deadunicorn159 @get0ut0fmyr00m @siriuslymooned @emmyeed @superbreadsoul @hellu-people1 @ourautumn86 @inas-thing @noraapple05 @givemylovetoall @luvwanda (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine #twenty years later

[russellsppttemplates]

Making do (George Russell)

George moving to Monaco has a bigger impact than you anticipated

Note: english is not my first language. This is my attempt at getting back into writing, I hope this is half decent at least.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: long distance relationship

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Did you have a big day today?", your friend, "Actually, let me rephrase that. How big was your day today?", she chuckled. "I finally handed in the last paperwork so HR can process my transfer from departments, so hopefully in a week or so everything will be sorted, like accesses and all that", you explained, "but it's been good, you know? I've worked a lot towards this and to finally get it, it means a lot", you said, hearing your phone beep with a notification from your boyfriend, "is it your man?", your friend asked, smiling knowingly.

"Yes, George wants to go and have dinner to celebrate", you blushed, "he just texted me the details of the reservation so I can get ready on time", you said, setting your phone down after quickly replying to him that you would be ready by the time he would pick you up back at home.

"Whenever you need to go, let me know, but for now, I have this gossip I want to tell you, you'll never believe it", she smiled, warming her hands in her cup of coffee as she told you a out the latest rumours she heard in her office.

When the time came, you both said goodbye as you made your way to your and George's shared apartment, leaving your shoes and coat on the hallway closet and heading straight to the shared bedroom, taking your clothes off so you could shower. While the dinner wasn't a fancy occasion, you still wanted to dress nice and look good since it was a celebration still. Picking the dress from your wardrobe, you fastened the delicate zipper and tied the belt, looking at your self in the mirror as you soothed out the wrinkles.

It didn't take long before you heard George arrive, the clicking of the lock on the door catching your attention as you walked to the hallway, "hey, darling", George greeted, grabbing your hand and making you do a little spin, whistling after kissing your lips, "you look gorgeous", he complimented, "are you ready to go?".

"I'll just freshen up in the bedroom and then we can get going then", George said, quickly styling his hair and spraying on some extra cologne, "even though I don't think we need this, I want to say thank you for doing this", you mumbled against his hand laced in yours, kissing his knuckles as you walked out, "you deserve to be celebrated everyday, Y/N".

.

The monegasque sun was shinning despite the cold breeze caressing your skin. You and George had gone out for a run before you both had work meetings, deciding to stop in a little café to have breakfast out of the house for a change.

"It's still a nice day today, maybe later tonight we can plan something, hm?", your boyfriend suggested while you sipped your juice, "That's a good idea, yes", you smiled, looking at the crescent buzz, the city becoming alive as more people got up and headed on with their days.

"You have something on your mind, I can tell", you held your hand out on the table, his fingers finding yours and playing with them, "I do, actually", George cleared his throat, "I've been thinking a lot about this recently, and with the meetings I had last week, it became a bit more obvious to me where I am standing on this. I've been waiting to tell you once I had a more set opinion and I knew how things would play out, and I obviously care about your thoughts, too. I've been thinking about moving here", he stated, his eyes looking for your immediate reaction, "and I'd like you to move here with me, too".

It had always been a conversation the minute things started getting more serious, so it wasn't a shock per se. Most of his colleagues either lived in Monaco or spent a good part of the year there. The question wether you'd be sble to join him, however, was not such a sure topic.

"Obviously, I don't want to rush your decision, even though I'd love to have you here with me, and there are a lot of hoops to go through, but it's something to think about", George added, squeezing your hand in his, "yes, something to think about definitely".

.

"I can't go". That's what George heard from you as you sat at the dinner table. On his way from the factory and after he had sorted a few errands down on the new apartment in the principality, your boyfriend picked up your favourite take-away, and now you had dropped your decision. "I just got a work promotion, my friends are here, my family is here, too. I can't just leave, at least for now", you explained. "And I love you, so much, George, but I can't go, I can't leave here", you gulped, finally looking up to meet his eyes.

"That's okay, darling. We'll make this work, right?", he nudged. He didn't want to lose you, not at this expense, not ever, but right now, this seemed to have triggered a new fear.

"We'll do our best", you tried, "it's either making this work or breaking up, right?". The sentence left your mouth in the most innocent and naive way possible, but the words resonated with you and George.

"Can you promise me something?", George asked and you nodded, "you'll always talk to me the minute anything feels off, and I'll do the same with you", he stated, getting up and making you get up too, pulling you flush against his chest, kissing the top of your head.

"Deal", you smiled, resting your chin on his chest, "but you'll have to let me help decorate".

.

"The apartment feels lonely, I have to admit", George said over FaceTime as you both had dinner, him in Monaco and you in London. It had become the only time in the schedule where you were able to speak to eachother that wasn't in text form.

"It's the same here", you admitted, "feels way too big without you here, but we're making do, right?", you smiled, rolling the spaghetti on your fork.

.

You were making do until you weren't, that's what you thought as you drove to the airport to pick your boyfriend up. He was flying in today for the first time in a month, and the butterflies in your stomach weren't all just anticipation to finally see him. You had promised eachother that you would tell the other when it wasn't working and when you felt like things needed a change, and tonight would be exactly that. To prove yourself that it was just the distance and not something else entirely.

George walked through the terminal with his small carry-on bag, the buzz of the families gathering their children in one place and people collecting their bags behind him as he walked as fast as he could without running into anyone. He missed you loads, and part of him wishes you missed him like that, too, despite not liking the idea that, like him, you had spent nights up thinking about your relationship or that your work meetings were also interrupted by nagging thoughts and doubts about how you were doing the long distance relationship.

It didn't take him long to see you amongst the crowd. The later flight meant a lot less people in the airport when you compared to other situations where you picked him up, making it easy for him to reach you, "hey, darling", he hugged you, "I've missed you so much", he whispered into your hair.

Inhaling his scent brought you to a calmer state of mind. George was home and his presence alone would always make you feel at home no matter what, and maybe that was hard to admit, but equally necessary, "I missed you too, handsome. How was your flight?", you asked, hugging his waist as you walked to the carpark, "it was good, not too bumpy".

The ride to the apartment was filled with comfortable conversatiom, George's hand on your thigh as you drove while you chatted about what you heard on the radio, parking the car in the garage and heading up.

"I didn't know if you had eaten enough on the plane, so in case you were hungry, I made some extra food for dinner", you announced, "it's in the fridge if you'd like", while you stored your coat away in the hallway closet.

"I'm good, thanks. I've been thinking about some cuddles though", he mumbled, kissing your forehead and circling your waist, "to the sofa?", he wondered, guiding you both to sit against the soft pillows.

The feeling of being in your boyfriend's embrace after such a long time must've triggered your emotions, soon enough bringing tears to your eyes, "darling, what's the matter? Is something hurting you?", George asked, his thumbs coming up to wipe your tears.

"I know we promised to tell eachother right away, but I also wanted to give it time", you hiccuped, "and it wasn't the best idea, because I feel like this", your lip trembled.

George rubbed your back now, hoping to get you to breathe a little slower and calmer, "what have you been wanting to tell me?", he asked.

"We said we would be honest, so this is me being honest. I don't know about you, but I'm not enjoying being away from you. I knew it wouldn't be good, but I didn't think it would be this bad. And it's not fair to ask you to move back here, nor it is fair for me to have to go to you, so this is a big big whole mess", you explained, looking at George's somewhat stunned expression.

"I have to admit that I don't like it either, but it's like you say, it's not fair to ask either of us to move, not like this anyway", he tiptoed around the subject. He wanted you to be with him so badly he has most likely considered all of the possibilities to solve this situation, and very few of them actually seemed doable.

"So what do we do?", you asked, afraid of the answer you'd get, remembering the small joke you made about breaking up a few weeks ago, "darling, I love you so much, but we need to sort this out", you yelped.

Shuffling in his seat, George looked at the situation clearly, "I want you to feel comfortable, Y/N, and if this situation isn't doing that for you, then it needs sorting out. If there is anything we can do to make it better, I'm in. Darling, I'm all in of it helps us", he pleaded.

"I need to think about all of these things, all of these situations", you said, getting up, "I'm sleeping in the spare bedroom, okay?", you checked with George, "I love you and I need to figure this out on my own", you tried, hoping he would understand.

Nodding, your boyfriend noted his understanding, "of course, whatever it is to help us, I meant it", he got up, his hand brushing your hair behind your ear, "I love you, Y/N".

Walking to the spare bedroom didn't feel as lonely as you thought it would, most likely because you had grown accustomed to sleeping on your own, but knowing George was on the other side of the wall helped. He had been understanding and supportive, and to know that he was giving you time to think this through without any judgement or pressure.

It was weird for some people, but making a list of pros and cons for situations like this helped you decide. The written words and the way you weighed them in according to the different criteria allowed you to think about it. You saw your future with George in it, that was a no brainer, so there had to be wiggle room. Because you had a good relationship with your boss, the later hours on the clock didn't keep you from sending her an e-mail, her answer being one of the confirmations you needed.

Grabbing your phone, you checked the last time your parents had been online, pressing dial when you saw they were still awake, "hey guys, I have something to ask you", you began, "how bad would it be if I spent a little less time here?".

.

George woke up alone like he had fallen asleep. After getting ready, he headed to the kitchen, hearing a small noise from the spare bedroom as he thought you were just getting up, almost recognising which step you were in your routine by the noises.

"Good morning", you said, catching your boyfriend's attention as he buttered some toast, "hey, darling, did you have a good sleep?", he asked. He wanted to know if you had made a decision or reached a conclusion, but asking upfront wasn't the smoothest idea, he thought.

"I did okay", you fumbled with your feet, not knowing how to approach the situation, "I got an email from Anna", you said, seeing George's puzzled expression, "I asked her if I could work remotely, pop to the office every now and again, but mostly remote, and she said yes", you explained further, seeing his smile.

"I'm not doing this out of obligation, I'm doing this for me and for you too in a way, but because I want us to be okay, I want us to be good", you grabbed his hands, "and I'll still spend some time here, but it will be sporadic".

"This is great, you have no idea how much this means to me", George hugged you, "you're incredible, Y/N Y/L/N, and I'll never stop saying that".

"Only one thing, though", you tapped his nose, "my parents demanded that, since we're moving, that they can visit and whenever we're back home, mum wants to have dinner", you shrugged your shoulders as your boyfriend laughed, "Oh, what a bother to have to eat your mum's delicious cooking and your father's cheesecake"

#george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

[1989luvr]

could you please write something where Mike becomes more comfortable and confident in his relationship with the reader? I think he might be worried and nervous at first but then become more relaxed when he’s with the reader, feeling comfortable enough to talk freely about how much he admires them and wants to get married one day

you’re like my fav fluff Mike writer on here so thanks!!

comfortable.

a/n: oh my god that's so sweet thank you so much i'm crying 🥹 i really hope you enjoy this! i'm so sorry this took so long, i kinda went a little off but i still hope that you enjoy this!! 🩷🩷🩷

Getting Mike comfortable in your relationship was hard, he was always very hesitant, and you didn't mind. You knew he's had a very hard life and that he might not be ready for anything yet. You stood in the kitchen making Abby's lunch before you went to work, when you felt a pair of arms go around your waist and a head on your left shoulder. Out of the corner of your eye you see Mike, ever so relaxed and content, this was new but you didn't mind. "Hey, baby" you lean your head against his. He mumbles a small 'Hi' into the fabric of your crewneck.

"You alright?" you look at him, his eyes glistening in the sunset that was leaking through the half opened blinds. "You look pretty as usual, wanted to make sure my brain wasn't fucking with me." Mike mumbles again. You smile and you feel your face grow hot. "I assure you, 'm real." you turn your head and press a kiss to his cheek. He was never really affectionate but, maybe he finally trusted you more than he already did and is finally realizing how much you love and care about him and that brought a huge smile to your face like you're a teenager again. You plated Abby's lunch and Mike's grip on your waist got tighter, you laughed confused. "Mike, cmon I gotta go give Abs her food." you softly say. "One second, please?" Mike pleads. You sigh as you give in. 5 minutes later he lets go, "Y/n, after you get back from work, can we talk?" Mike questions, following you to the table. "Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?" you ask as you set the plate on the table. "Yeah, yeah. We just haven't been able to like, uh be alone in awhile." Mike shyly plays with the strings of his hoodie while making eye contact with you.

"Yeah, I agree. I'll be back here around 7." you smile at him and gently take his hand and squeeze it. Abby comes into the room and sees that you made her lunch, "Thank you, Y/n!!" she wraps her arms around your hips and gives you a huge hug before sitting down. "Of course, sweet girl." you rub her head and that small interaction makes Mike's heart swell. "I gotta get to work, i'll see you two later." You kiss Abby's head and go to Mike and kiss the corner of his mouth and exit the house and go to your car.

"When are you going to marry her?" Abby asks once the front door is closed. "Abby!" Mike exclaims, slightly embarrassed, and locks the front door. "Oh come on, Mike! It's been like a million years!!!" Abby sighs dramatically. "It's been like six months, Abs. Haven't even told her I loved her or have had our first real kiss yet." He mumbles the last part out of Abby's ear shot. After a beat, he sits down at the table and makes conversation with her while she eats.

Later that night, you arrive back at Mike's house at seven, just like you said you would. He gave you a spare key a few weeks ago so you used that and gave a small knock before opening the door, "Mike?" you softly call out. Mike was in the bathroom, making sure his curls looked just right, he comes around the corner smiling. "How was work?" he sat on the couch, looking at you twiddling his thumbs. "Pretty decent. Didn't get yelled at too bad but old ladies, so its win in my book" you kick of your shoes neatly by the door then hang your coat up on the coat hanger and make your way to the couch and sit down.

"What did you want to talk about?" You question, facing him. "Uhm, I uh, just wanted to say thank you, for a lot of things, like putting up with me these past six months. I appreciate you and I love you so much. I know I've never said it but, after every interaction I want to say it but a big part of me is saying that it will scare you off. I love you." Mike gushes. You smiled widely scooting closer to him. "I love you too, Mike. I am more than grateful to be in your life. I know that you've gone through tough times and I'm always here for you, I'm not going anywhere." You grab his hand. "I want to be with you forever, I am committed to this, to you. I want to marry you one day, I don't know if i'm moving to fast in this, I just have felt the need to get it off my chest and-" He looks at you, but before he continues to speak you feel like you're about to burst, you swiftly cup his face and pull him in for a proper kiss.

His shaky hands meet your middle and you both melt into the kiss. In the next moment you are both pulling away for air. "Sorry, your reaction was cute. I'm just as committed to you Mike as I am to Abby. I love you guys. I love you, Mike Schmidt. To the Moon and to Saturn." You smile.

"The Moon and to Saturn?" Mike gains a bit more confidence in himself, with a boyish grin painted on his face as he pulls you closer.

"Definitely." you smile before he pulls you in for a kiss.

a/n: oh my god i'm so sorry this took so long and i'm also so sorry if some parts don't make sense i lowkey went crazy this weekend #lol but I really hope you enjoyed <333

#1989luvr #1989luvr updates #mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson #five nights at freddy's #1989luvr talks #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt marry me plz plz plz

[missmeinyourbones]

KARMA IS MY BOYFRIEND

cw: jealous reader, flirty atsumu, karma is my boyfriend!!!!!!! karma is the guy on the screen... coming straight home to me!!!!!! ;p karma is atsumu

The public restroom of today’s arena is surprisingly clean.

As MSBY tackles another opponent, you manage to excuse yourself for a moment amid the chaos. Atsumu is still shining on the court, but with his focus on the game and your stealthy escape skills, you know he doesn't notice—let alone mind—your brief absence.

In the tiny confines of the bathroom stall, you can’t help yourself from listening in to the intriguing conversation going on outside.

At first, it’s harmless. If anything, it reminds you of yourself a few years ago. Two girls (you imagine) giggling in front of the bathroom mirror, fixing their hair and retouching their makeup. They have a childlike excitement, one that overflows with the innocence of a fleeting crush. It’s comforting, listening to them blush and swoon over whoever has caught their eye. 

“The things I’d do to that man,” one voice dreamily sighs. 

Another is quick to chime in, “The things I wish he’d do to me.”

It’s refreshing in a way, listening to them yearn and sigh with one another’s encouragement. It reminds you of your own early stages with Atsumu—the ranting to your friends, the not knowing, the butterflies eating you alive from the inside out. You were once those girls, you get it. 

You just can’t help but wonder which player has caught their eye. Bokuto seems to be a fan favorite these days—his contagious energy overflowing throughout every stadium. Sakusa’s decently popular with the ladies too, despite his brooding facade. And Hinata oozes with charisma every time he’s on the screen, so—

“Did you see his last serve? I could think of a few other things he could do with his hands,” the second voice perks up again with a sultry tone. 

Your eyebrows furrow at the mention of the recent play and your suspicions are deemed correct when you bring yourself to exit the stall. 

You see them—two younger girls, decked out head to toe in MSBY merch and proudly sporting none other than your boyfriend's number on their backs. 

They pay no attention to you as you join them by the sink, not knowing who you are, let alone the relationship you hold with the man of their dreams.

“I swear he looked at me the last set,” one of them fans herself in dramatics. 

“You think we can meet him if we linger around the stadium for a bit after his match?”

The latter nods, taking one last once over of her appearance before the two of them make their way back through the door and out to the stands. 

“Tabloids say he’s a huge flirt, so I’m sure he’ll be looking for something—or someone—to do later.”  

The door swings shut and while you’re now alone in the squeaky clean bathroom, you can’t help the dirty jealousy that wrings your aching core. It’s silly. You know it’s silly to be feeling this way, this insecure over something as foolish as locker room talk from someone who doesn't even know Atsumu. 

But that insecurity eats you alive, it festers inside of you like an invasive species. Growing as it feasts on your lingering anxiety—it’s easy to work yourself up over such a nonsensical conversation.

Washing your hands and returning to the court, you can only try so hard to swallow back that ugly feeling and put on your bravest face. 

When you return, the next set is just coming to an end. You watch Atsumu converse with his teammates, nodding in approval before directing his attention to the sidelines. 

He immediately smirks when he catches your eye. Trotting over to the bench, he grabs his water bottle to take a few hefty swigs. With a mouth full of water, he eagerly makes his way over to you. 

“Hey, baby,” he coos, still slightly out of breath, “where’d you run off to?”

You can’t help but smile at the question before responding, “Bathroom.”

Atsumu nods as he cautiously takes in your expression. “Havin’ fun so far?” he beams.

Your cheeks flush a bit at his charm, but you bite your tongue in fear of egging on his already giant ego. You soak in his genuine curiosity before muttering a tiny praise of “You’re killing it out there.”

His tongue skims the point of his canine when he laughs smugly at the compliment.

“Keep being nice t’me and m’gonna start thinking you have a crush on me.”

Your boyfriend’s tease has your kissing your teeth. “Never,” you sarcastically scoff. 

He uses his jersey to wipe the small beads of sweat forming above his lip, exposing the toned muscles of his abdomen and the way it flexes at the simple action. And you swear it’s not your imagination when you hear two surprised gasps echo from behind you. It burns your chests like a lit match.

On the other hand, Atsumu couldn't care less, eyes never leaving yours as he still catches his breath. 

He takes another swig from his water bottle, “What’re we havin’ for dinner tonight?”

Though it’s silly, you’re grateful for his random question. It's genuine, it carries a kind of raw domesticity that those women in the bathroom could never take away from you. 

You roll your eyes at the question, before nodding to the court. 

“Focus on the game, and then we’ll talk,” you hum in amusement. 

Your hand rises to fix the stray hairs damp with sweat spread on his forehead. Atsumu’s eyes flicker closed at your soft touch, one that’s gone far sooner than he’d like, before you're pulling your hand back to your side. 

But he catches your wrist before you can fully retreat. Maintaining eye contact, Atsumu places a gentle kiss to your wrist before mumbling against the skin. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he assures, sucking a bit on where his lips dance along the bone, “I’m only concerned about what’s for dessert, anyways.”

With a swatting hand and blushing cheeks, you fluster as Atsumu returns to the court with a proud smirk and a special glimmer in his eye. 

And it’s in this moment that you realize—people can say whatever they want, because, at the end of the day, Atsumu is always going home with you.

#miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x you #atsumu x you #miya atsumu fic #atsumu fic #miya atsumu fluff #atsumu fluff #atsumu haikyuu #atsumu hq

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

Olá, adoro suas histórias, meu escritor favorito, queria solicitar alguns proxies×leitores quando ficarem com ciúmes, tipo sfw e nsfw, se não for incômodo, desculpe

TRANSLATION: “Hello, I love your stories, my favorite writer, I wanted to request some proxies×readers when they get jealous, like sfw and nsfw, if it's not bothersome, sorry”

Ola amor! I don’t speak Portuguese unfortunately so I hope google translate did its job correctly! I’m so glad you like my work and requests aren’t bothersome at all! 🖤

THE PROXIES WHEN THEY’RE JEALOUS

TIM:

Tim gets more insecure when he’s jealous rather than Masky

He’d probably put his hand on your waist protectively when he feels like someone is showing off a little too much or their words are getting risky

Just small acts of protectiveness from him and quick glances to you to make sure you’re alright and they’re not bothering you

If you’re uncomfortable by someone else’s advances he won’t hesitate to step in and tell them to fuck off

He walks a fine line between himself and Masky when he has to step in

But as soon as he gets a punch in it’s like a light switch that flipped. Immediately having Masky front. It’s something about violence that makes it flip

But if you look like you’re enjoying their advances he’ll be absolutely heartbroken. He’d stay by your side until you got back home then immediately hole up in his room or go for a long walk

Either way you won’t be seeing him for a while. It’ll be until you confront him about his odd behavior that he avoids you

BRIAN:

Silent upset. You can see it on his face that he’s irritated with their attempts to flirt with you. His eyebrows furrowed and fire beginning to burn in his eyes

He won’t let anyone take you and he knows if you tried to leave he’ll only bring you back. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get irritated when they try to flirt with you when they see you’re obviously taken

Another protective hand on the waist kind of guy

If he truly feels like they’ve gone too far he might step up to them, not to the level that Hoodie would but still rather agressive

Unlike Tim, Brian can get a few punches in and still stay in control of himself but he doesn’t like to get violent when he’s not working

Will absolutely find the person flirting with you later and beat them to a slow painful death with his pipe. Or if he’s feeling generous he’ll shoot them quick

Gives you the silent treatment for a while if he could see you were enjoying the advances made by the other person

He’ll have a serious talk with you when he’s finished being silent. Even then he’s not much of a talker when it comes to the conversation

MASKY:

Loses his shit. Immediately lunges at the person and throws them to the ground.

In an instant he’s on top of them choking them out, probably slamming their head against the ground while he’s at it

They’d be lucky to be alive when he’s done with them

When they’re taken care of he’ll pick you up and take you home

(NSFW) When y’all get home he’s fucking you so you know you’re all he cares about

Possessive as fuuuuck

HOODIE:

Will stand behind you as they try to start flirting with you and he’ll silently pull up his hoodie to show the gun in his waistband.

Hopefully they get the hint and fuck off

But if they don’t he’d gently take your hand and bring you outside while he goes back in and takes care of the person

He doesn’t like you to see him get so violent 🫠

“TICCI” TOBY:

Feral. There’s two routes this man will take and it completely depends on how he’s feeling that day

First route is if its been a rough day he’ll absolutely lose it when it’s almost warranted. Screaming shouting and making a scene

He’d probably punch them if they touched you at all

Will absolutely find them and kill them later too

But if it’s been a decent day he’ll grab your wrist (harder than he thought) and drag you home

You’ll ask him why he freaked out and he’ll be completely honest, telling you exactly why.

He was worried you’d want someone more normal than him, he wanted to show you he loved you and he can protect you

#creepypasta #marble hornets #creepypasta requests #creepypasta headcannons #creepypasta hcs #marble hornets headcanons #masky marble hornets #hoodie marble hornets #brian thomas #tim wright #ticci toby #toby rodgers #creepypasta proxies #headcannons #anon ask #asks open

[dulltoned]

I know I mostly just ask random thoughts about brozone and how unbelievably angsty they are but

What about any headcannons about brozone? Individually or as brozone as a whole?

-🦦

(Also happy holidays!!)

Oh, that's a fun question. I genuinely haven't put too much conscious thought into it but I have a few that I can share off the top of my head.

There's at least one headcanon involving Branch in there for all of them but I might follow up with more headcanon posts somewhere down the line. (Excuse the funny little doodles, I wanted to see if I could make decent headers and I did... okay.)

-> He doesn't like being alone. He didn't spend the twenty-some years after BroZone broke up just on his own in the Neverglades but instead hopping around from place to place looking for new experiences and new people to meet. He'd always go back to the Neverglade Trail, though. Just in case someone needed him.

-> It was still really lonely but he never thought too much about his brothers or the Troll Tree. He's an expert at denial and avoidance.

-> He's pushy with Branch because he wants to try and help Branch be more open and direct with him but he doesn't really know how to sit down and have a serious conversation about it.

-> He's not stupid. He can be unobservant and a bit full of himself but he has a good head on his shoulders.

-> He and Branch bond over survivalist tips.

-> He was worried he was going to be a bad father. He still had a lot of stuff he was working on when he and Brandy had their first kid and he was old enough that he really didn't remember his dad. He certainly didn't want to emulate John Dory. He knew they'd be okay the second he saw his son in Brandy's arms for the first time.

-> Brandy helped him get over the toxic mindset BroZone gave him and while he can still struggle sometimes he's never been happier.

-> Amazing cook. His food is amazing. Cooking, baking, it's all divine.

-> He cooks for Branch a lot when he visits. At first it's because he couldn't get the image of his baby brother out of his head but then it was because Branch had confessed that no one really cooked for him before and he just couldn't have that.

-> Clay chose the admin building as his room back when he was still desperate to be anything other than the fun boy. He regrets it.

-> He and Viva have bonded a lot about their family traumas, especially over how much they missed their siblings. He never wanted to stay away as long as he had but after they found refuge in the Golf Course he never got the courage to leave Viva behind to go find his brothers.

-> Clay's hair just naturally changed color with age. It wasn't stress-induced or anything, it just happened. Like how some blonds change to brunette when they get older.

-> He really likes crossword puzzles and sudoku. It has nothing to do with his desire to distance himself from his fun persona. He's just a nerd.

-> He really enjoys Branch's input. Branch is an incredibly handy, if not a bit paranoid, realist who isn't afraid to share his opinions. It's really helpful when it comes to safety measures or even trying to avoid complicated emotions.

-> Floyd may be alive but he doesn't recover fast. The effects of the diamond vacuum (exhaustion, weakness in the limbs, a chill in his bones, dizziness, etc.) linger with him for years afterward and he finds it incredibly frustrating.

-> Floyd is such a smug little shit. He will give you shit and tease you to hell and back and then give you the most innocent smile immediately after.

-> He moves into Pop Village after he's rescued. It reminds him a lot of the Troll Tree when he was a kid and it's bittersweet.

-> He finds out about Branch's puzzle tradition and the two of them start doing daily puzzles together.

-> Floyd's pod is in the clearing where Branch's bunker is.

Surprisingly I don't really know what to put for Branch here but I think I'll reblog this later with additions for Branch and Poppy.

I hope you enjoy the holidays, thanks for the fun question.

#{ the sensitive one } #{ the leader } #{ the fun boy } #{ the heartthrob } #| branch answers | #| branch rambles | #( 🦦 ) #dreamworks trolls #trolls floyd #trolls john dory #trolls bruce #trolls clay #trolls brozone #| Clue Board |

[r-is-typing]

best kept secret | s.r

summary: in which a secret gets outed, with some twists

requested?: yes! requested by anon

request: Hi i saw that you asked for request! Can you pls write something where an nonbau!reader and spencer are in the beginning stages of their relationship like nothing is official or anything but they hang out and spencer visit her at her job ect. And garcia knows something is up so she and Derek (maybe more) find her social media to figure out more about her! This has been my go to daydream for an while 😅 HAVE AN GREAT REST OF VACATION

pairing: spencer reid x reader

category: fluff

content warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, alludes to sexual content

word count: 1.4k

The smell of coffee awakened Spencer’s senses as he stepped into the coffee shop on a snowy Saturday morning. Finally, week after week of nonstop chasing down serial killers, the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit got a day off. 

“Hi, Spencer. She’ll be with you in a second.”

Spencer sat down at a table in a corner of the coffee shop. He looked outside the window, watching as people dressed in multiple layers walked by, flecks of snow sticking to their clothing, hair, and anything else the white particles could attach themselves to. Spencer rubbed his hands together quickly, trying to create some friction and warmth on the cold December morning. 

“Alright, here’s your cup of sugar with a little coffee.”

His brown eyes looked up to meet the girl’s figure. “Hey.” Y/N smiled at him, placing napkins next to the scolding cup of coffee. “Hey, you. Having a nice day off?” She knew just as well as Spencer did that these off days were once in a blue moon. He nodded, cursing under his breath as the coffee burnt his tongue. 

“It’s been alright. I cleaned up around my apartment, and read some books.”

Y/N smiled at the use of the plural. Only Spencer Reid would read multiple books on his day off and enjoy it. She watched as Spencer took another drink of his coffee, this time the warm liquid going down better than the last. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Ever since they began to see each other, they decided they would have dinner every Saturday night, so long as Spencer was in town. Of course, working a job as unpredictable as the FBI, there were bound to be nights where Saturday dinners turned into Wednesday dinners or Monday breakfasts, but that’s what made their relationship special, the unpredictability of it all. 

The two found it exciting. 

They weren’t completely official yet, so these dinner dates were super important to them, as a way to improve their relationship before making it official. With a job as dangerous and unpredictable as Spencer’s, he was scared of taking that final step toward making it official.

Especially after seeing how many members of his team had lost someone important to them. 

He couldn’t risk losing her over them jumping the gun, so, they decided to take it slow until they both felt the time was right. “Yeah, of course. I’ll pick you up at 7:30?” Y/N nodded, writing down something on her notepad. “Perfect. I’ve got to get back to work, but I’ll see you tonight, Spencer.” 

Later that night, Spencer stood in his apartment, getting ready for the night he had coming. He looked in the mirror, tightening his tie and making sure his hair looked decent. A buzzing sound alerted him to his phone. Spencer pressed the button on the side of the device, the screen lighting up. 

Penelope Garcia: Boy Wonder! Are you going to join us tonight? We’re on our way to get Em, so we can pick you up!

Spencer groaned, his mind registering the fact that the team was planning on going out on their one night off and going to their favorite bar. He knew he had to say no, and he knew that he couldn’t lie to the Penelope Garcia cause she’d see right through him. Spencer had told the team about Y/N in casual conversation a few times, but never talked about her the way he knew he’d have to right now. 

Spencer Reid: Sorry, Garcia. Can’t make it. Have a date tonight. Maybe next time.

The tall man stared at his phone for a while before sending the message and grabbing his jacket before heading out of the apartment. Spencer walked down the snowy streets of DC, the particles of snow sticking to his dusty brown hair. 

About ten minutes north of Spencer, Y/N sat in front of her vanity in the apartment she and her sister shared, curling her hair and humming along to whatever pop song was playing through her iPod. The doorbell rang but Y/N didn’t move, as she knew her sister was going out with some friends from her work. 

She heard various voices enter the apartment as she applied her mascara. The voices that were once loud were now hushed whispers which confused Y/N, but she shrugged it off nonetheless. Y/N cursed her sister in her head, wondering why she and her friends hadn’t left the apartment yet, knowing Spencer would get there any moment.

“I just know something is going on! There has to be! Why would he be hiding something this important to him from us? I mean, I tried finding a social media for her, but nothing! And, of course, he doesn’t have one so that doesn’t make it any easier.” 

Y/N stood to her feet, giving herself another look over before putting her shoes on. She had decided to wear a baby blue sweater and a pair of black jeans, along with a pair of black and white combat boots. Spencer had told her to dress casually but comfortably as they were going to go to their usual spot and get Mexican food. 

The doorbell rang once more and Y/N ran as quick as she could to the door before her sister, but she was too late. The door swung open and Y/N’s sister looked at Spencer with just as much shock as he looked at her. 

“Emily?” “Reid?!”

Emily’s head whipped back to look at her sister. “Oh my god… How did I not connect the two?!” Y/N smiled sheepishly. “Well, I do have a pretty common name, so…” The girl shrugged at her sister, waving Spencer into the apartment. 

Y/N stood beside Spencer. “Hold on a minute… Why didn’t you tell us that there was this connection?” 

The girl stood between Spencer and her sister, rolling her eyes. “You both wanted me safe, kept under wraps. Both of you wanted me to be a secret from the same people!” 

Spencer chuckled softly. Only he would get along with a girl well, happy that there was no work connection, and then it end up being one of his coworker’s family members.��

“Are you ready to go? I need tacos, now.” Y/N took a hold of Spencer’s arm, dragging him towards the door. “Alright, we’ll be back later. Have fun, and don’t drink too much, because I’m not babysitting you.” She looks pointedly toward Emily who just rolls her eyes. 

“Wait, so I don’t get it…” 

Spencer spoke up after a while of them walking in silence. “Your last name isn’t Prentiss.” Y/N laughed, nodding her head. “Yeah, Em and I’s parents are my birth parents, but they gave me up for adoption when I was about five, I think?” Spencer listened intently to what she was saying. “So, I took their last name instead of Prentiss, and I just haven’t felt like changing it. Em’s always going to be my sister, but I just don’t feel like a Prentiss.” 

Spencer nodded. 

“That doesn’t change anything, right?” Y/N stopped, making Spencer halt his movement too. “Huh?” Y/N looked up, blinking away tears. “Me being Emily’s sister. That doesn’t change any of this, does it?” Spencer’s brown eyes widened as he shook his head. 

“No, of course not!” 

Y/N stared at him for a while before beginning to speak again. “You know how we were talking about how we would tell each other when we got that feeling?” Spencer nodded, rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand. “I’ve got the feeling, Spencer.”

“I just… I really like you, Spencer, and I don’t think I can go another minute pretending I don’t care or that I’m fine with us just being unlabeled when all I keep thinking about is how I want this every day. I want you every day, Spencer.”

Spencer smiled, kissing Y/N’s forehead softly as he brought her into an embrace. 

“Finally you said something. I was worried you didn’t feel the same!”

The two shared a laugh and continued their walk in the streets of DC. The dim lamposts light their way through the city. People stared as they walked by, laughing loudly at inside jokes that no one else understood, but they didn’t care. 

They were happy and that’s all that mattered.

r is typing...

hi, anon! thanks so much for the request! i hope you enjoy! <3

r is signing off...

join the taglist here!

taglist: @elsiebishh @liltimmyst @psychosociogentleman @louderfortheback

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #request #reqs open #requests open #rhyanwritesstuff #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom

[boo8008]

Three Months - Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Fem!Reader Chapter 02: Mince

Prologue | Chapter 01: Quadriller | Chapter 02: Mince

Series Summery: Its been one year since The Bear's soft open, and with everything running smoothly, Carmen's lost in his thoughts, until the final table of the night is seated.

Warnings: angst | fluff | ghosting mention | mentions of suicide | language | mental health | pining | unrequited love????? | substances (alc & weed) | yelling | grief | descriptions of panic attacks | eventual smut | mention of covid | self doubt | no proofreading just sleep deprivation & back pain running this show | awkwardness & cringe of a new friendship/relationship/situationship

Chapter Summery: After the minor introduction of you and Carmy, your about to prepare the first dinner post Covid and before Stevie and Michelle leave, one Carmen is also coming to. Only cooking dinner is not going as smoothly as you'd hoped.

Mince (v.) - to finely divide food into uniform pieces smaller than diced or chopped foods, prepared using a chef's knife or food processor

Word Count: ~3,865

My Notes bb: Hey….. How yall doin? Sorry this took so long to get out, work and life suddenly got busy and I didn't have time to write. I hurt my back though so it kinda forced me to write and crank this out. Hopefully its not as bad I as I still feel like it is but yea. Again sorry this took so long to get out. Hope you enjoy! (ps my therapist thinks this is a decent outlet though lol thanks Sandra)

2021 (December)

Carmen hardly ever came to dinner after those first few weeks, and Michelle said something about him working at Eleven Madison Park. While you were happy he head ended up at the high end restaurant, you knew he was working under one hell of an asshole. He seemed to be doing fine enough though. Granted, you would only catch small glimpses of him on nights when you stayed later than intended and he walked only into his room to sleep, with just a small mumbled ‘hi’ thrown your way. Eventually he managed to move out on his own and only came to dinner about once every two months when Michelle would insist on it.

Once covid hit though, you'd basically lost contact with him. Michelle even rarely managed to drag him into group facetime calls with you. They were mainly her or Stevie recounting their last two weeks of quarantine in a dramatic fashion and you and Carmen would be  listening half heartedly. If Carmen was there, he seemed to just sit out on a fire escape in his building and smoke, thinking about other things. Everytime you picked up though, missing being around the two people you actually liked. You would use it as a little reprieve from writing yet another ‘easy recipes for quarantine’ article, or to have company while you organized and re-organised random spots throughout your apartment. 

Mostly though you would use it to get away from the depressive thoughts of ‘what am I doing with my life?’ or ‘if something happened to me, only Michelle and Stevie would really know.’ you didn't realize how much you missed being around people until you couldn't anymore, just stuck with yourself and your cat in your apartment. You missed the mindless chatter from coworkers at your office and in person interviews with cranky chefs because they gave you more to think about than yourself. All you began to think about was how bad the piece you were working on was, even if your editor said it was great. You felt tired and tired of being tired. All you wanted was to have a nice dinner with Stevie and Michelle, and fuck even hearing from Carmen would be amazing even if it was another awkward conversation with someone you just barely knew.

In short covid sucked ass and made your already anxious brain even worse. Not to mentioned your sense of time became fucked and all of your normally scheduled daily things also hard to keep track of. While quarantine had somewhat ended, you all found yourselves too busy trying to get back into the groove of ‘normalcy’ and offices to have dinner again, canceling for meetings or being too tired. Leading to today, when after months of planning and rescheduling you had completely forgotten that dinner was not only being held at you place, but you were also cooking because Michelle and Stevie had nothing in their kitchen because they were leaving two weeks early to isolate before Christmas in Chicago, and to top it all off, Carmen was (for once) coming to dinner. You remembered only when Stevie sent you a text asking what time worked best to come over, and not wanting to cancel for the tenth time, you told them 7:00. So you left work early to run for the subway, then run to the grocers to get real food, and then ran home to start cooking. 

Only cooking was not going as planned. 

It was 6:30 and dinner was nowhere near done. It was like you had forgotten everything you knew about actually cooking, and you’re a food journalist for Christ's sake! This should have been something you could do fairly easy! You write about things like this all the time! Yet here you are, chicken suddenly burning in the oven from when you stepped away to check your recipe to make sure everything was going okay and you that were good to start the pasta. You quickly removed the now pucks from the oven and turned it off. You resolved to just sitting on the floor across from your oven and crying, thinking about where it all went wrong-not the dinner but everything. Quiet sobs racked your body as you sad down on your kitchen floor, forgetting about your phone and the fact your last text said “doors unlocked when you get here”.

Carmen didn’t want to go to dinner but knew he wouldn't hear the end of it from Michelle if he didn’t show up. And to be frank he wanted her to stop calling him a hermit too. So he grabbed his jacket after lunch service and headed home to shower and change, doing his best to not think of his shitty boss saying he was worthless for taking one evening off. He hadn't done that even during covid, constantly asking what the plan was or if the kitchen was open. He decided to head out early to your place sending a quick text and leaving. As he approached your door he could definitely smell burning, very unlike the pre-covid dinners you made. While not Michelin level, what you made were perfect home cooked and leftover meals to him. A nice change from his go to PB&Js with Doritos and a Coke. He checked his phone again making sure the apartment number was right and reread your last text again. He still knocked on the door before he opened it, out of habit. 

“Yo its me,” Carmen called out, peeling off his jacket as he looked around the entryway of your small apartment. You jumped at the knock and stood up as the door opened, and as Carmen called out, you turned to face the sink in your kitchen.

“In here!” your voice was wobbly but you preyed he wouldn't notice. Carmen followed the sound and walked into the kitchen, seeing the blackened chicken on the stove and the mess of the rest of the kitchen. 

“Jesus, the fuck did you try to cook?” he said it without thinking, and immediately you broke again. Crumbling in on yourself and to tired to try and hide it. Tears raining down your face and carmen short circuited, watching as you again sunk to the floor in a puddle. 

“Shit fuck I-I’m sorry. Fuck! Wh-what can I do? What do you want me to do? Fuck sorry I-I’m bad at this.” he panics as he looks down at you crying. “Wh-want me to go? I-I can go- I should go. Shit, Sorry again.” 

“S-s-stay?” 

“What?” Carmen's pretty sure he heard wrong, after all he just caused you to meltdown from his social awkwardness. 

“S-stay?” you say more clearly. You don't know why you ask it, let alone how it crawls out of your crying, shaking self. Its been so long sense you've been near someone else even a little close to you so maybe that's it. He stops for a minute looking down at you as you look up at him still crying. “Please?”

“... O-okay.” 

He isn't sure why he stays, or why he sits down next to you while you cry, but he does. The apartment is quiet outside of you sniffles and the occasional sob but carmen stays put. Neither of you realize how much you've started leaning towards each other until your head  is lightly lying on his shoulder. You’ve mostly stopped crying now but your face is still wet and your eyes are puffy. 

He isn't sure what to say, with his mom asking if you were okay was off limits. It made everything worse. It lead to screaming and yelling and throwing things. He thinks about what someone normal, someone like Stevie, or Pete, or Natalie, what they would ask someone they hardly know if they saw them having a panic attack and decides to just do it, praying you’d be somewhat normal compared to his mother.

“You-you okay?” you'd almost forgot he was there, even if you were leaning on him, and sat up straighter, wiping your face.

“Yea, I’m-I’m sorry dinners ruined and for getting like that,” you say. Tears of embarrassment springing up at knowing that this (basically) stranger saw you cry. 

“No no your fine-your cool,” he can feel panic rising again at making you cry again. “No no no offense but I-I was kinda in the mood for pizza anyways.” He's only partly lying, he wanted a home cooked meal but the pizza place he passed on his way here smelled greasy and amazing on his empty stomach. 

“Are you sure? I still have the kitchen to clean and I just don't want you all to think that I don't care o-or anything that i-its our last dinner before you guys go back to Chicago for Christmas and I just-” 

“Yea, your fine , its fine if we have pizza, I’ll text Michelle to grab it on their way over, they wont mind.”

“Okay…” you mumble, caving in on the choice of pizza and leaning your head back on the cabinet behind you. Carmens already pulling his phone out of his pocket when he spots the new texts from Stevie and Michelle on his lock screen. 

Stevie: ‘Sorry gang, we dont think we can make it tonight, we still have a lot to pack 😕’

Michelle: ‘Yea I’m sorry i know its so close to dinner but maybe you two can get along without us????’ 

Michelle: ‘Sorry again lovelies xoxo 😘’

Michelle: ‘Dont be a dick carm 💛😘’

“Well fuck,” Carmen mumbled. He was now on his own to make conversation. “Looks like its just us for dinner. ‘Said they still have packing to do.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say. Of course the universe would have the only two people you could actually converse with busy on the one night you were meant to see them. 

“Yea…” Carmen wasn't sure how to proceed. Does he leave cause the only bridge between you both isn't showing? Does he stay because he already committed to dinner? God he feels so awkward.

“Well we could still get pizza?” you ask. “I mean you came all this way so it kinda feels like a waste.”

“You sure?”

“Yea, I mean I still gotta clean the kitchen but theres a place around the corner thats amazing after crying,” you say with a bit of a laugh to help bring up the awkward mood.

“Let me help you and we can go?” he suggests, already rising to his feet and offering you a hand.

“Are you sure? I mean the chicken I think is welded on there at this point,” you say. As your taking his hand and he pulls you to stand from your floor, you see his forearms flex and your mind short circuits as you look probably a second longer than you need to at the muscles and veins there. Luckily he doesn't notice because he's already turning and grabbing the now cool baking sheet with the chicken on it. 

“Yea it’ll go faster, I think I can get this off too,”  Carmen quickly took charge of washing the bowls, cutting boards, and other kitchen utensils you had pulled out in your frenzy to cook dinner on time. 

In nearly no time at all the kitchen was clean and the two of you had left for the pizza parlor a block away. While yes the cleaning was a little awkward, the noise of the city on the walk made making any conversation difficult, meaning neither of you had to talk or struggle to make conversation. 

“Pepperoni good?” Carmen asked as the two of you stood awkwardly next to each other, both of your jackets zipped all the way up thanks to the near unbearable cold outside.

“Y-yea, they make bomb garlic knots too if you want some,” you responded, skimming over the menu even though you already knew what the plan was. 

“C-cool, um,” Carmen looked around the small shop, there was just the counter and a cooler for drinks, no seating. The place reminded him of the beef, dingy, and not that healthy, but god damn was this about to be the best food he could ever get. “Did you want to go back to your place? Cause… cause there's no tables and stuff…” Carmen cringed at the awkward way the words came out. 

“Yea if that's good with you?” you said taking a step forward, the two of you would look at each other before looking away, as if the tiled flooring was so interesting. You decided to take a page out of Stevie’s book, he was better with people than you were so you prayed the attempted joke would land. “I mean we could eat out in the cold if your more comfortable?” A smile pressed its way onto Carmen’s face and you considered that a victory. 

“Yea no, I love eating outside when its about to snow,” he snickered. “Reminds me of home.” You both shifted closer as the people in front of you pushed pass you both to leave with their pizzas. As you both stepped up to the counter Carmen was faster than you in not only placing the order, a large peperoni with a side of garlic knots, but also whipping out his wallet and paying, you on the other hand had barely stumbled out a hello and barely started shifting your bag to get out your own wallet by the time he was done.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you mumbled as you both stepped off to the side to wait.

“Yea well, its cool I got the money,” Carmen added. You only partly doubted it, he worked at the highest rated restaurant in the world but also lived in New York so it kinda balanced out. You both distracted yourselves for a few minuets looking at your phones, you taking to a word search game and Carmen playing the fun game of ‘who is this and why do I have their number?’ with his contacts. It felt a little more relaxing compared to earlier, more like the same air you both got when Stevie and Michelle would leave the room at your normal dinners, not pressured to talk but liking the fact another person was next to you.

“Order 447!” you and carmen both jumped as the number was yelled through the small shop. Carmen stepped forward and took the box and bag from the worker, turning to you, where you grabbed the bag and began to head out before he got up the words to protest that he's got it. 

Luckily the only awkward part of the walk back to your apartment was the elevator ride up. As you both stepped into your apartment you were both greeted by the loud yelling of your cat as she rounded the corner to yell at you for leaving for a whole 30 minuets.

“Yea yea your fine baby,” you told her as you took the pizza from Carmen. “You good with just sitting on the couch? I don't want to do anymore kitchen cleaning.”

“Heard,” Carmen carmen said as he took off his jacket. He was looking down at the feline weaving between his legs and bent down to let her sniff him so he could pet her, instead she smelt him and abruptly ran back deeper in the apartment and he smiled a little at the cat, following it with his eyes to you coming out of the kitchen with two cans of coke, paper plates, and paper towels. Something in him stirred at the mundane and domestic sight but he waved it off as more anxiety.

“Wait-shit-your not allergic to cats are you?” you asked panicked.

“N-no,” Carmen's voice broke a little as he said it and he cleared his throat. “No… My, um, my mom never let us have one when I was a kid, something about the furniture. I always wanted one though.” Why’d his voice break like that? Why’d he bring up his mom? Fuck now he's gonna have to explain everything.

“Cool-cool,” you were turning to head deeper into the apartment again and Carmen followed, getting a better look at the place now that he wasn't rushing to the kitchen. “That's Mince, cause when I got her she was tiny and I wasn't thinking ahead.” He took in the living room, a nice, small sectional couch with a blanket over the back was against one wall, and a tv with bookcases full of nick-nacks and heavy looking books with holiday lights around it. The center of the room had a buttery carpet and the coffee table with the pizza and garlic knots on it. 

“Make yourself at home,” you added. You’d never felt more aware of your actions than now, as Carmen looked at more of your space with posters and pictures around it and you were just trying to tell yourself to act normal. He took in the dining table with four perfectly mismatched chairs that was tucked into a corner on the other side of the wall from the kitchen. Mince catches his attention from the couch, batting at his hand from her spot on the arm rest. He again goes to pet her only for her to skip off and run to the opposite end where you are. Carmen finally takes a seat on the couch, the two of you as far as you could be. You both dig into the pizza and Carmen can’t help but think about how good it is. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. It definitely compensates for the shitty morning he had and the rollercoaster of emotions he felt around you.

“Right?” you said through a smile. You were turning on the tv and poking around for something to watch. 

“‘S so fucking good,” he said through another bite. “Chicago is still better though.” he mumbled.

“Fuck off,” you finally settled on Bobs Burgers that you left off on. You both ate in a mostly comfortable silence, focusing on the show and avoiding looking at each other. Once you felt you were full you settled back into the couch, and glanced at carmen sitting in your space, he had made himself more comfortable, and he looked nice there, leaned up against the arm of the couch with one arm draped over the back of the couch fiddling with a part of the blanket and his legs spread wide. You shifted your focus back to the television not wanting to make it more weird. 

“So… did you finish packing already?” you settled on conversation to distract you from the thought of crawling into his lap. “For Chicago I mean.”

“Oh um,” Carmen was a little startled by the sudden conversation, but fuck it you already cried in front of him today, it was his turn to share. “N-no I’m just staying here, rather not watch my mom drive the car through a wall and my brother fight my uncle again.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry,” Steve had told you some of what happened that Christmas, mainly summarized as a big blowout of a fight between Michelle’s cousin Mikey and her kinda-uncle Lee, and her aunt Donna driving her car through the living room. God why'd you bring this up? He probably didn't want to talk about it. “Did you have any plans then?” Please let this be a decent change of topic you think.

“Just work, go home, smoke and eat, sleep, just like the last two years,” he says with a sigh. “Wh-What about you?”

“No, I was just gonna stay in and watch some movies.” Carmen answers with an affirming ‘hm’, not wanting to overstep and ask more questions. Even with the both of you wanting to talk more, neither of you know how to go from here. You turn you attention back to the television as Carmen turns his head a little to quietly observe you. 

Curled up in the corner of the couch in a cozy, old, and ratty sweatshirt with some leggings and fuzzy holiday grippy socks, hair down, and face still a little puffy from the winter air and your tears, but still beautiful in the darkening light of your apartment, mundanely so. Not a supermodel ripped from the cover of vogue, or an unobtainable influencer with hair and makeup perfectly placed for pictures. You look like you belong there. You look real. Cozy and warm on your couch with the lights from the streets down below hitting you just so. Home he thinks, before quickly turning his attention back to the tv. Its not like he’d ever have a shot with you anyways, he’s always too busy, or too angry, or too much of an asshole in general. Where’d all of those thoughts even come from? He hardly ever felt at home with anyone, especially outside of the kitchen. 

As the show plays on the two of you get lost in it and enjoying the act of being alone together, occasionally steeling glances at each other. You find yourself kind of liking being with him, not necessarily talking or interacting but the feeling of another person in the same room as you feels nice. Carmen won't say it but he's enjoying himself too. The show and coziness of your apartment make him feel relaxed more than his barren dingy apartment ever could, and the abundance of stuff artfully placed helps give him something to look at and think on rather than get lost in his anxiety and self doubt. Why does she have a Halloween decoration out its December…right? He thinks. Your both trying to think on how to ask for what you want but you beat him too it. Probably because you grew up with Steve and his weird ball of encouragement always on your side.

“Did you want to hang out? On Christmas I mean,” you finally get the courage to ask. Phew, not that bad.

“I mean I-I don't want to intrude,” Carmen starts. “Plus I have work the next day.”

“You could sleepover? If-if you want,” you prepose. “We can still smoke, eat, and sleep if you want. All the traditions you enjoy, a-and I don’t think I’m far from the line you need?” 

You definitely aren't. In fact your apartment is somehow on a faster route to work than his own. The only reason you know is because of the Bake It Nice pop up bakery Eleven Madison Park does once a month that you always try to make time for. Carmen thinks on it for a second, and your sure he's looking for a way to let you down nicely.

“You sure your okay with me leaving at 5:00 in the morning?” he asks. 

“Absolutely,” you say with a smile, and something in Carmen stirs. “Plus I can pass the fuck out again when you leave anyways.” he smiles at that, still unsure what feeling he's having right now, but he likes it.

“Okay,” he says and you both return you attention back to the show smiling like children. Your legs a little more outstretched towards carmen and his body begging to sink further into your couch. Relaxing to the feeling of you.

#carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fic #the bear hulu #the bear fx #carmy x you #carmy x fem!reader #jeremy allen white

[cameronspecial]

Thorn In My Side, Rose In My Hand (Part 5)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Under Age Drinking, Swearing and Making Out

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.4K

Summary: Y/N’s confusion causes her to ignore Rafe after their midnight McDonald’s run. Midsummer brings about some upsetting conversation and sights.

Masterlist

Y/N lies in bed looking up at the ceiling after getting changed into pyjamas. She and Rafe have just gotten back from McDonald’s. She goes over the day’s events in her head, trying to figure out why she feels the way she does. Her date with Wilson was boring, but the time she spent with him was decent. He didn’t seem to really understand her. However, Rafe took her to the most mundane place in the world and she had an absolute blast with him. He could read her body language and understood what she needed. How could she be feeling this way about Rafe when Wilson is the one she is dating?

She shouldn’t feel this way towards Rafe. It must be a fluke, so she should ignore him until this feeling goes away. She should focus on her relationship with Wilson because it is the one with the potential to turn into something more. He is the one Y/N needs to be with. With the decisions made, she turns to her side and goes to sleep in hopes that she will stop thinking about him. 

———

Y/N wakes up to a silent house, which is unusual when both Mason and Rafe are home. If it’s not music blasting from somewhere in the house because of them, then it is the shouts from whoever is losing at the game they are playing. She lazily strolls her way into the kitchen to see her mother at the kitchen island untying a take-out bag.  It’s no surprise Cassie bought something to eat; she is just as much of a disaster in the kitchen as her daughter. “I ordered us some breakfast. Since your brother, Rafe and your dad are going for a morning surf and then to the country club for breakfast and golf, I thought you and I can have a girls’ day. I got some eggs benedict and after, maybe we can get our Midsummer dresses?” Cassie suggests while giving the food to her daughter. Y/N nods in agreement, “I love that idea! Could I invite Lace to come dress shopping with us?”  

“Of course! She’s practically my other daughter. So… I saw you come home last night with your date and then a few minutes later, I see you leave the house again with Rafe for like an hour. What’s up with that?”

“Ummm, I was going to make a grilled cheese. Rafe suggested we go to McDonald’s and we went. End of story.”

“It can’t be. I saw the way he looked at you, Y/N/N. Before we left for Bali, you never wanted to be alone with him and now, you are going out with only him at midnight. Something has changed between you two.”

“It can’t be different. Nothing can happen between Rafe and I, I’m dating Wilson.” 

“Whatever you say, sweetie. Are you going to ask Wilson to Midsummer?”

“Yeah, I can’t wait for you to meet him. He is a big fan of your earlier works.” 

———

Y/N stands in front of the mirror looking at the dress she is wearing. Her mother picked this dress and Y/N is not exactly feeling this colour. It is a green asymmetric ruffled silk-satin maxi dress; the colour reminds her of puke and the ruffles made Y/N feel like she is a flower girl for someone’s wedding. Lacey, Y/N and Cassie come out of their respective changing rooms to show off the dresses they found. It looks like Lacey and her mom have both found the perfect dresses for them. Lacey is wearing a jaffa orange asymmetrical open-back midi dress and Cassie is wearing a light blue chiffon dress with a ruched waist, shoulder-wide straps, and a flowy skirt. When the other two look at Y/N’s dress, they both realize how wrong the dress is for the girl. Seeing their faces, Y/N immediately goes back inside to change into the dress Lacey chose. 

The dress Lacey picked out is a pastel yellow halter-neck open-back dress. It is a pretty dress, but it is a little plain for Y/N.  She goes out to show her other shopping companions. “No, it looks a little boring for you,” Lacey confirms Y/N’s suspicion. “Agreed. I don’t have any other dresses to try on though.” At that moment, Cassie returns with a blush dress in hand, “Here, try this on sweetie.” Y/N thanks her mother and goes back into the changing room to put it on. She looks at the blush cover dress on her. It is a blush chiffon lace midi skater dress, so it reaches just below her knees. Her straps are flower lace and the top is pleated a little so it forms a little v-shaped valley on her chest. It is simple, but the pleated and lace elements add the much-needed oomph to the dress. 

She walks out of the changing room with a little twirl to show off her dress. This is the one. The smile on Lacey’s and Cassie’s shows their agreement with her thoughts. “Sweetie, it’s perfect. The colour complements you so much,” Cassie praises. Lacey nods her head, “You look so hot. Like damn girl. And we can make a flower crown with pink flowers to match with purple flowers to add some variety.” “Oooh, I love that idea. You can make an orange and blue flower crown. It would be so cute!” Y/N continues. Cassie’s mom beams at the excitement of the two girls, “We can go to the florist next, but right now, I need you both to change so we can pay for the dresses. 

———

After finishing off a day of outdoor activities, Rafe decides it is finally time to go back to Tannyhill. Rafe wanted to go back to the Y/L/N’s house with Marvin and Mason, but he is running out of clothes and he knows he has to face his father eventually. The particular reason why he has been avoiding Ward Cameron this time is that Rafe had finally told his dad that he wasn’t considering being on the swim team when he is in university. Rafe wants to focus on school and intern for his dad during the semesters, so he thought that not joining the university swim team would help him find a good balance between the other two commitments he wants to prioritize. 

Rafe enters the house as quietly as possible in hopes of not alerting his father to his arrival. However, he failed at doing so as he hear his father’s heavy footsteps come towards him. “Look who finally came back home. I was beginning to think you ran away from home,” Ward says harshly. “I just came back for more clothes,” Rafe grumbles, trying to get past his father. Ward stands in his son’s way in front of the stairs, “No, you aren’t going back there. We are your family, so you need to live here. Plus, we need to finish our conversation because you are going to join the swim team and intern for me at university.” 

“You don’t treat me like family. You are too busy treating Sarah like a princess to even remember Wheezie and I exist. The only time you pay attention to me is when I fuck up. As for the swim team thing, I’ve already explained everything I needed to. I want to focus more on my studies and work. I can’t prioritize those things if I have to worry about getting to swim practice.” 

“Don’t talk back to me! Sarah would be able to balance school, work and the swim team; you’re older, so you should be able to do the same! I worked my ass off to get to where I am now; I expect you to do the same too.” 

“I’m sorry I’m not perfect Sarah but you have to stop comparing Wheezie and me to Sarah. I know how stressed I get with trying to balance the swim team and school work in high school. I’m trying to look out for my mental health and set my boundaries. Why can’t you just accept that I’m trying to be better mentally? Because a lot of people older than me would never try to do what I’m doing even though they need it way more than I do.” 

Ward grew frustrated at his son as he realizes Rafe is actually making valid points, “Enough! I don’t want to talk about this anymore! Go to your room! You aren’t going back to the Y/L/N house any time soon.” “You’re the one who wanted to talk about his,” Rafe grumbles, shoving past his father to go up to his room. 

———

Y/N and Wilson are sitting in her theatre room watching The Civil War: The Postage Adventure by Timothy Satonis. As one may guess, it is a documentary about the postage system during the Civil War. Y/N could not be bothered to really pay attention to what the boring narrator is saying because his voice is so dull and she could not care less about the postage during the Civil War. Wilson chose the film. Y/N tries cuddling herself into Wilson’s side because of how cold she is, but Wilson would not let her so she resorts to using a blanket and holding his hand. 

Y/N speaks up to try to add some excitement to the movie, “So… Midsummer is coming up soon. And I was wondering if you would be my date?” “Yes, but can we finish watching the movie please?” Wilson answers. She listens to what he requests and scrolls on her phone while the movie plays. Once the movie is finished, Wilson and Y//N go upstairs to make something to eat. Y/N starts making grilled cheese for both of them. “I already picked out my dress. Mine is a blush colour, I can send you a picture if you want to match with me,” Y/N tells Wilson, buttering the bread and adding the cheese before putting it in the pan. 

 “No, I prefer to go for a plain black suit and tie with a gray handkerchief. It looks cleaner like that.” 

“Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“So where is your mother? I have not had the chance to introduce myself to her yet.”

“She’s on the main island for a work meeting. You should be able to meet her at Midsummer.”

Wilson nods in understanding at the girl. The conversation can’t continue because Rafe and Mason enter the kitchen too. “Y/N/N, can you make me one too, please,” Mason asks as he sits beside Wilson on the island stool. “Yo, Y/L/N can you make me one too, please?” Rafe chimes. “Of course, Mace,” Y/N responds to Mason while ignoring Rafe. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe so he tries asking again, “Y/L/N, can you make one for me, please?” She ignores the boy again and continues to make the grilled cheese for the other two boys. She finishes up cooking and hands it over to everyone, but Rafe. After realizing she isn’t going to give him one, Rafe leaves the kitchen and goes up to Mason’s room. Mason could see the upset on Rafe’s 

Mason eats his grilled cheese without engaging in conversation with the other two and goes upstairs to check on Rafe. “Why is she ignoring me?” Rafe complains with sadness in his voice. “I don’t know, dude. When did she start ignoring you?” Mason inquires. Rafe looks at him with an almost puppy-dog look in his eyes, “I’m not sure, I haven’t seen her since last week because my dad has been forcing me to sleep at home. But I know she was talking to me then because I took her to McDonald’s.” “Maybe she just had a bad day and she reset to before you started trying to befriend her. She just needs time,” Mason reasons. Rafe mumbles a sad maybe as he hopes what Mason says is true. 

———

Midsummer. The excuse the elite use to display their wealth through clothes and to come together to brag about themselves. It is where young lovers will announce their courtship to the rest of the Kooks just to make other people jealous. Y/N is helping her mother get ready for the event by helping her with her hair and makeup. “My love, have you seen my tie?” Her dad inquires as he walks into his bedroom with a misbuttoned shirt and suit jacket on. Cassie looks up at her husband through the mirror and laughs at his dishevelled state, “Vin, it’s right here. With my dress, remember?” She gets up from her vanity and grabs the tie that matches her dress. Cassie rebuttons Marvin's shirt and then ties his tie for him. “You are the smartest person I know, Vin. But I swear, if I wasn’t here to screw you head on every morning, you’d forget where it is.” She finishes up the tie and gives him a kiss on the cheek before going back to her daughter. 

As Y/N watches the domestic scene before her, she can’t help but wonder if she’d ever have moments like this with Wilson. She can’t imagine he is the type of person to ask for help if he needed it. Rafe would though, at least from her he would. Even if he didn't need it, he would still ask because he knows it makes her feel needed and happy. But Y/N and Rafe would never get moments like this. She shouldn’t want to have them with him. “Sweetie, did you hear me?” Cassie says, breaking Y/N out of her thoughts. 

“No, can you say that again, please?” Y/N mumbles while focusing on her mom’s hair again. 

“Are you driving with us or Wilson?”

“Wilson, he’s picking me up in 30 minutes”

———

Y/N answers the door when Wilson knocks. He is wearing exactly what he said he would, “You look beautiful, Y/N. Where are your parents? I should say hello before we go. ” “Thanks. And they are already on their way to the club with Mace,” she gives him a tight-lipped smile, making her way to his car. “Oh, I guess I will meet them there.” 

During the ride to the country club, it is mostly silent until Y/N breaks the silence with an idea she had. “I was thinking of starting a YA book club at the country club. Would you like to join?” Wilson glances at her with a funny look on his face, “Do not be ridiculous. You know I do not read those silly books.” Y/N’s shy smile turns into a frown and she slowly slumps in her seat, turning towards the window. “All you had to say was no. You don’t have to be so rude about this.” Wilson sighs at this, “I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you. I just do not understand what you find so entertaining about those books.” “It’s fine, I get it,” she brushes it off curtly. 

After a silent car ride, they finally make it to the club. They find Mason and Rafe near the bar upon entering. “Hey, Mace. How has everything been going on here so far?” It doesn’t go unnoticed by the boys that she is still ignoring Rafe. He wants to speak up but is afraid of being turned down by her and being embarrassed. He quickly looks away to not make her uncomfortable. “Hello, Y/N/N. Wilson. And it’s been okay. Hey, look you and Rafe are matching,” Mason points out after Wilson says his hello. At this, Rafe’s head turns to see what she is wearing. It’s true, she is wearing a blush dress that perfectly matches his blush suit jacket, which he definitely didn’t pick because it reminded him of her. She looked incredible in the dress. The way it kissed the bottom of her knees. The way the lace on the shoulders teased at the skin below. The way the pleats draw attention to her breast.  The way the bright colours of her flower crown match the joy on her face. This may be his new favourite dress. 

“Come on, I see my parents over there,” Y/N announces, ignoring Mason’s observation, as she drags Wilson over to Cassie and Marvin, leaving her brother and his best friend behind. “Mom, come meet Wilson.” The younger couple approaches the older one quite quickly.

Rafe stands near the bar with Mason, watching the scene with jealousy. Even though he’s known Cassie and Marvin for around 12 years now, he wants to be the one being introduced to them as Y/N’s boyfriend. Mason pats Rafe’s back in a comforting and sad manner. “Let’s go see if we can find that bartender that doesn’t check for id,” Mason suggests in hopes of cheering his friend up. 

Meanwhile, Y/N is introducing Wilson to her mom. “Dad, you’ve already met Wilson. So mom, this is Wilson. We’ve been seeing each other. Wilson, this is my mom, who you might’ve noticed is Cassie Y/L/N.” Wilson eagerly reaches his hand out for Cassie to check, “It is lovely to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N. I love your early works. Your daughter is also great.” Cassie finds it odd that Wilson would mention her books before her daughter but says nothing about it. “Thank you. I’m very proud of both, but especially my Y/N/N.” At that moment, Y/N’s favourite song started to play. “Wilson, will you come dance with me?” He shakes his head, which again causes a frown on Y/N’s face, “I am sorry. I only dance to jazz or classical music. I will request one of my favourites so we can dance to that later.” “Oh okay, I’ll just go dance with Lacey,” Y/N reasons as she goes to find her best friend, while Wilson is talking to Cassie about her writing. 

Rafe had been drinking to forget. Forget that all the progress he made with befriending Y/N had gone away for some unknown reason. All he wanted to do was forget about her and what a cliche way he decided to do it. He decides to hook up with Elizabeth Huntington to make his troubles go away. In hindsight, that is a worse idea because of who he decided to try to hook up with. Elizabeth is Y/N’s classic rival. Both girls are vying for the spot of valedictorian this year. Even though Y/N is much more introverted than Elizabeth, she couldn’t help but be a little jealous of Elizabeth’s life of the party personality. Rafe and Elizabeth are in a supply closet heavily making out and trying to rid each other of clothes. Elizabeth’s hands shoot to tangle in his hair. She gently tugs on it which causes him to groan out a name, just the wrong one. “Y/N.” Elizabeth immediately stops her assault. “Seriously? You’re just using me to forget about her,” she grumbles. She readjusted her dress before leaving the closet. Rafe groans again and runs his fingers through his hair. He leaves after fixing himself up, not realizing that Y/N is watching while she dances with Wilson. 

Elizabeth leaving with a huff is what first caught Y/N’s eyes. She was curious about who Elizabeth was in the closet with. However, when Y/N sees Rafe exit the same closet as Elizabeth, her heart sinks. Rafe knows how she feels about Elizabeth and she thought he felt the same way every time they had a moment together. But she now sees she is wrong because if he did feel the same way, then he wouldn’t be hooking up with the person that makes her feel so insecure. 

Rafe spots Y/N dancing with Wilson and he feels a pang shoot through his heart. Guilt about what he was about to do immediately washes over him. If Y/N had seen him, it could’ve been the end of anything they could’ve been. He knew she felt the same way as he did during their moments; if he ruined that, he’d never forgive himself. Little did he know it was already too late. 

Taglist: @itsalexwin @sublimepenguinpeach-blog  @gillybear17​  @terraeluce

#thorn in my side rose in my hand #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron series #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for retroactively cheating on my partner?

Look, I know the title sounds kinda dumb, but it was kind of the best way I could sum it up. This also might get a little long. I'm just trying to give the context it needs that I feel sorta led me to the decisions I made.

I (22M) went on my first vacation with my partner (25F) last summer. Our vacation was to a relatively local spot not too far out of the city that's decently popular. We'd been dating at that point for around 18 months, though a lot of our dating had been done online cuz of the whole global pandemic thing. When the restrictions started loosening she started getting pushy about me moving in. This caused some tension between us, but it always kind of fizzled out. I still lived with my dad at that point. I'd never moved in with her, since I always wanna be really absolutely sure about these things beforehand, and I'll admit to viewing our week long vacation as sort of a trial run for maybe, one day, taking that step. All of this is just context for the fact that I was really serious about her. It was also the first real adult relationship that I'd been in.

If it was meant to be a trial for moving in, the vacation probably brought to the surface all the issues that I'd had with her. It was seriously a disaster. Our first day was great, but she spent a lot of the next two days taking calls from work and having some "alone time". I was really pissed off on the third day, waking up to ask if she wanted to go swimming, and having her tell me she was up for hours, and if I wanted to go I should've talked to her earlier. I suggested things we could do together, and we did eat lunch together and go to the pool, but she wasn't at all interested in doing anything else with me. After lunch, she sort of disappeared, so I went to the bar myself and considered texting her to join me. I got distracted talking to a guy, and soon enough we were super invested in the conversation together.

For context, I'm probably somewhere on the bi/pan end of things, but I grew up and continued living in a close minded small town. Especially last year, I was very much not out, not comfortable with people seeing me as in any way lgbtq adjacent, and still holding onto a lot more internalised stuff than I was willing to admit to.

This guy (who I'll call R) and I hit it off. We had lots in common, and he was fun to hang around with, and a good listener. I won't lie, I did find him pretty physically attractive, but naturally, it wasn't a huge issue. I've never had a problem being faithful, it's something I value over anything else in a relationship. When I spoke to my girlfriend about him later, she make some teasing remarks towards me about him being my "boyfriend". I was extremely sensitive about this, and snapped at her, to which she called me oversensitive and complained I never understand her jokes. I, being more mean than I should've been, told her she should try being funny, and she just called me misogynistic, which I resented, so I walked out, and came back later when I was sure she was asleep.

The next day, she shut me off completely, which I understood. I apologised, but I appreciated that she needed some space. I ended up meeting R at the pool again. We went for a hike, which took longer than expected, and made it home at dinner, which we got together. He insisted on paying in full, and we had a fun time, walking back to the hotel together. He told me he was leaving that evening, and I offered to help him pack. We got into his room, I helped him pack, we talked, traded socials, and, eventually, just out of the blue, I kissed him. I don't really know why, but it was nothing more than a chaste kiss, and I panicked and left.

The rest of the trip with my girlfriend was mostly us keeping to ourselves, and while we made up, there was definitely an atmosphere. The atmosphere just stayed. We broke up in October, for reasons unrelated directly to the vacation.

However, my issue is that from the vacation to when my gf and I broke up, R and I were dming each other. Objectively,it wasn't anything romantic or sexual, no nudes, nothing like that. We would just talk like we always did. We decided to try out dating in February of this year, and so far, its been great - he's genuinely a brilliant partner, we have far less conflicts, we sort things out quicker, and we generally seem to mesh much better than I did with my ex. But being with him has sort of taught me that what I valued him for when we were just talking is also what I mostly value him for now that we're dating - his good listening, his great sense of humour, the fact he just seems to get me. I could be overthinking things, but I can't shake this weird feeling that while I was with my ex I was somehow having all the trappings of another relationship whilst not indulging in the traditional markers of one. It just doesn't feel right to me. Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[theforbidfruit]

Random Things They Do

It’s a headcanon about La Squadra x Platonic Reader. I made the reader GN This is the first time in forever since I wrote any fanfics and headcanons so I hope it’s decent at least.

{warning:cursing and teasing with a hint of bullying}

It’s been a year since you joined La Squadra and things have been good for you and your new family Of course it’s a tough job to kill people for the boss, who doesn’t appreciate you all, but y’all made it work.

Now…. It’s the shit they pulled that sometimes gets on your nerves. Of course you and the guys know when it’s the right time to be fooling around and be serious.

You joined in a year after Pesci Joined which means you are counted as ‘newbie’, ‘kid’, and ‘little sis/bro’ depends on which assassin you’re teamed up with. Or having a conversation with. Even if you did a big job by yourself, they are still calling you kid’ because of your age and starting date. Until someone new joins in.

But that’s too rare these days.

This plays a role of the teasing you have been receiving by each of the members.

Formaggio likes to shrink you in your sleep and put you in a dollhouse that he owns. Tucking you in a makeshift bed with cotton balls as pillows. He would put you in a headlock to mess up your hair. Loves to snack on your favorite chips when you’re gone on a mission then feels bad. Goes to the store to buy you a new bag of chips.

Illuso, when he’s bored, goes to the mirror realm and waits for you to come home to scare you. Beware if you do makeup, doing eyeliner is overwhelming as it is. He gets enjoyment out of scaring you. Feels bad if you cry and leaves you a sorry fog in your mirror.

Prosciutto is like a brother but he breaks down your confidence without even realizing it. Same treatment as he does with Pesci except he gets a bit too old school for your liking. Instead of apologizing for making you upset, he gives you a pep talk, a drink or his pack of cigarettes. He does love to say ‘my dumb kid’ to you alone.

Pesci is top notch the best boy! He tried to tease you like the others but fall back right away. But he has a different type of teasing. He would be the type of brother that would bust into your room while you’re chilling in bed, and stands there till you get annoyed with him not saying anything. He comes in to stand and stare at you before leaving without a word.

Melone being Melone would sneak into your room and trash the place. Clothes and your bedsheets are scattered all over your room. Why? Because he was looking to borrow your lilac top and nail polish. Surprisingly he gives you boundaries if you’re Afab. He wants to know if you’re fertile but cuts it out when he sees that it made you uncomfortable. Likes to sip coffee and talk shit with you

Ghiaccio yells at you for one reason or another. Coming down the stairs loudly? STOP THAT! humming a song? GO HUM SOMEWHERE ELSE! trips while chasing your target? YOU CLUMSY FUCK! But he gives you a piggyback ride while chasing after the target. Is actually sweet when you two are alone. Don’t say anything, he likes to heal you after a hard mission.

Now I don’t who started it but Sorbet and Gelato like to throw air punches at you. And it’s sooooo annoying and scary at the same time. Gelato tends to punch too close and his punches leaves you with dark bruises. Sorbet like to do it when you are focusing on something or watching tv. Get to the point where they would follow you to your room and double air punches you till you snapped at them. Later would come in with extra blankets wanting to have a sleepover.

Risotto is a serious man. He’s a go to for whenever you need to get away from the guys. You would go into his office and say that you can help with organizing papers. He takes it as the guys are bothering you and let’s you be. One thing that he does and it’s rare,is when he comes to your room to brief you with something. before he leaves the room, he would knock off this beanie baby doll off the shelf and leaves without a word. And it’s the same beanie baby doll that he would always knock over no matter where you put it.

#la squadra #la squadra x reader #prosciutto x reader #ghiaccio x reader #sorlato x reader #la squadra di esecuzione #risotto x reader #melone x reader #formaggio x reader #illuso x reader #pesci x reader #jjba x reader #jjba part 5 #vento aureo

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Early Morning’s

Tags - Fem reader, fluff, newleywed Kyojuro. 

Early Mornings in the Rengoku household were always the best part of the day for the newlyweds. The smell of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air paired with the Melancholy noise of sizzling fish was a staple of every good morning. “Hello, my love” stepping into the kitchen through the side door leading to the back gardens Kyojuro leaned into his wife, placing a quick kiss on her temple so as to not distract her from the fish she was grilling. “Good morning, how are you? How was your sparring session with Giyu?” Kyojuro chuckled, leaning over your shoulder to steal a piece of dried seaweed you had already plated. “He continues to challenge me; Water is supposed to be a formidable opponent for fire.” You nodded along with what he was saying, the familiar crunch of the seaweed filled the sudden silence making you turn your head towards the noise. “Kyojuro! I’m almost done with this! Go take the plates to the table, please! Quit it!” He chuckled as he shoved another piece of seaweed in his mouth. He smiled, cheeks full of dried seaweed as he took the bowls of rice from the counter and walked back to the table. “I would like you to come to one of our sessions. Mitsuri will be joining our next one, the fluidity of water and love of breathing work well together and they would like to attack at the same time, I would love for you to be there.” Coming back into the kitchen for the last few plates Kyojuro smiled, stopping next to you to look at you. “I would love for my beautiful wife to spend time with my friends” You smiled up at him, matching his own grin before turning back to the plate you were trying to transfer the fish too. “I’m sure I can come to the next one, when will you be sparing next?” He hummed, taking the plate from your hands as you slid the last piece on it. He left the room, letting you trail behind with the pot of tea you swiped from the stovetop. “Mitsuri just left for a mission and giyu is visiting his mentor later today. Depending on if I get a mission or not we shall have our next sparing session in 2 days!” that was a good amount of time to shop for a meal big enough to feed the four of you. Sparring sessions were usually held at your home or Giyu’s residence, Mitsuri’s was currently under repair after a small house fire caused by one of her cats getting ahold of the outdoor lantern. “Wonderful, I will send a message to the two of them, we shall have it here!” Setting down the plate of fish before taking the teapot from you kyojuro hummed to himself as he helped you into your seat. This was a typical morning. Kyojuro was often energized the second he stepped through the gates of his home. It was easy to feel instantly relaxed at the prospect of seeing your recently wed wife and the beautiful little home you had together. There were still knick nacks in crates, carefully wrapped and waiting to be unpacked and used to decorate the empty space on shelves, but that was for later, right now it was time for breakfast. “How was your night?” you asked, carefully scooping a larger portion of fish onto your husband's plate. He smiled, moving around you to gift you pieces of seaweed and vegetables. “It was a decent night, there seems to be more movement closer to the western part of my territory, I worry it may grow to something more. I expect a longer mission soon. Within a week is my guess. Besides that and training, it was rather good” You deflated at that, pausing your chopsticks to meet his gaze. He gave a half-smile already knowing how the rest of this conversation will go. “That soon?” you sighed “I guess it was a lot to expect to keep you to myself for a while longer.” It had been exactly two weeks since your wedding. Master Ubuyashiki was kind enough to give Kyojuro a few days off for the two of you to settle into your new home and your marriage. Since then he’s been going to slay demons at night and you would spend the very early mornings together before he went to rest and you continued on trying to decorate the house and start a garden. It was a routine you had become fond of, one Kyojuro found himself excited to start. “I’m sorry. I would like to stay here and come home to you. But things are getting worse and we need more help.” He let out a sigh of his own, digging back into his food. Breakfast passed in silence after that, just the clinking of utensils and the porcelain you ate out of. Kyojuro stood first, collecting the empty plates as you sat with your tea, savoring the mint flavor and the warmth it brought you. You stood as Kyojuro came back in to collect the second round of dishes, helping him gather the rest and wipe the table off. Stopping in front of the sink Kyojuro placed the dishes down before turning to you. “Come lay with me, I would like to spend more time than the morning with you before I am sent away for who knows how long” His fingers crawled around your waist, pulling you closer to him and into the warmth he naturally provided. “I have to clean all of this and I still have to water the-“ He stopped you with a quick kiss, smiling against your lips before standing up straight again. “That all can wait, plus it will rain later. Please, come with me?” You couldn’t say no to the pout he had on his lips, and droopy eyelids that begged to go lay down and rest. He looked so soft and you couldn’t resist. “Alright my love, we can rest.” You chuckled at the way he lit up, quickly taking your hand and dragging you to the bedroom, the futon already set up and ready for you.

#kyo #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro fluff #kyojuro x y/n #kyojuro x you #rengoku kyoujurou #kimetsu rengoku #kny rengoku #rengoku #rengoku x reader #rengoku x you #rengoku x y/n #rengoku headcanons #kny #kny x you #kny x reader #kny x y/n #kny fluff #kny headcanons

[pocketramblr]

If your still accepting asks for the au game, au where Manual is Inko's little brother

I am, and oh very fun

1- Inko's telekinesis is limited to small objects, while Masaki's is limited to water. They are twelve years apart, but Inko was expected to help some in raising her brother after their parents got a divorce. (The marriage was partially a quirk one, but a lot of things just didn't work, and they divorced before Masaki's first birthday)

2- When Masaki gets into hero school (Ketsubetsu), Izuku is two years old. He is his uncle's biggest fan, and Inko takes him to the school for festivals. (Ketsubetsu doesn't televise its events, but it still has them for friends and family to attend.) His final year there, they know Izuku is quirkless. When they leave, Izuku asks if he can be a hero without a quirk. Masaki doesn't say that Ketsubetsu doesn't allow for quirkless students to attend, and several other schools do too. Instead, he says that he doesn't know. He isn't quirkless, and he's not sure he can be one. But if there's a way, Izuku will figure it out, and have to tell him.

3- Masaki waits until he's safely graduated before he starts speaking about those admission rules and gets word moving around that it's just unfair to have quirks involved in the process at all, and it'll also lead to discrimination about heteromorph types and just isn't a good time. Manual is not a flashy hero, he's normal. He's easy to get along with, sensible. When he says it, it isn't a platform or a gimmick or starting an uncomfortable conversation. He's just a decent guy chatting and you know what, he does have a point. Word spreads, slowly. Some schools change rules, and are more fair about mutation quirks. UA changes it's rules, and one of them allows quirkless students. Izuku calls his uncle in tears that day to tell him the news, and Masaki genuinely does not have any idea he had even the slightest connection to that, but is happy.

4- Izuku told his uncle very seriously when he was ten years old that he was sorry, but All Might really was his favorite hero, and Masaki only second, even though he's said the reverse for years. Masaki cried tears of relief because "oh good, I cannot tell you how much pressure that was." Also there's a reason Masaki is so good at using his quirk near the eyes: he practices on tears a lot, the whole family is always crying. At least it's an easy source of water, for him!

5- Masaki sent an offer letter to Izuku and Iida, not expecting either to choose it. But since that was Izuku's only offer... Izuku calls him later the next day, and before he can say that he's so sorry, but there was another late offer after all and it's an All Might connection, Masaki cheerfully starts with "Hey, you're friends with Iida Tenya, right? He accepted my offer too, I can't believe I get both of you, it'll be a fun week. :)"

Izuku: .... Iida accepted it?

Masaki: aaaaand your tone of voice tells me that he is indeed planning murder, great. Ok. We'll figure that out.

Izuku, texting All Might: hey sorry can't back out of the internship with manual rn do you think gran torino will be available for later internships?

Izuku, out loud: we'll figure it out... Maybe my bone breaking will be distracting enough he doesn't have time to try murder?

(Izuku turns out to be half right. Gran Torino wanders into Manual's office and demands to train Izuku as well, and traumatizes Tenya on the side)

#Masaki does return Izuku's favor to watch the SF in person though. Inko is constantly texting him to check on Izuku between rounds #which. is very fair. considering how much bone breaking happens. #pocket talks to people #anon #ask game