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girasollake · 7 months

Note

Hello

Would you be able to write for Theodore Nott with the trope fake dating and the prompt 50?

Thank youu <3

✧ theodore nott x fem!reader x fake dating x "my love language is bullying people." "you bully me. a lot." "..."✧

( this request is a part of my writing event, here is the link to the masterlist of the fics i'll be publishing from said event:) )

❁ i hope this turned out well, happy reading:)

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Pacing around your dorm and chewing on your thumb, you tried to figure out how to get out of the situation you got yourself into. You didn’t mean to answer the question with his name, it just happened. It’s like you weren’t even thinking and your mind made that quick decision for you.

For the last month your ex boyfriend had been harrasing you to get back together. You dumped him after catching him in the act with a girl from a year below yours. You felt anger, sadness and loath, not because of the relationship he decided to end, but because it hurt to see someone you started to trust - pick someone over you.

Over the time he was stalking you and trying various ways to get back, you had found yourself being more and more drawn towards your best friend’s mate.

“ ‘We’re done Patrick! I don’t know what I have to say for it to get through your fucking skull.’ You hissed at your ex.

‘We’re not done.’ He took a step closer. ‘Do you really think someone else will want you besides me?’ A chuckle escaped his lips.

You stood there frozen, the insult burning itself into your mind.

‘My boyfriend.’ You finally replied after a moment of silence.

‘You don’t have one, love.’ He placed his finger under your chin and made you look up at him. ‘But you can have me again.’

‘No.’ You spat and took a step back. ‘I am seeing someone else.’

That’s the moment where you should have stopped talking.

‘Oh, really?’ He cocked his brow, a mocking expression on his face. ‘Who?’

Don’t say it.

‘Theo Nott.’ “

You sat down on your bed, the finger slightly covered in your blood from the biting. You had only two options, either admit to your ex that you lied to him and still get harrassed by him, or ask Nott out.

You rubbed your temples slowly, sighed and decided to go to the library to clear your mind, hoping that Patrick won’t be able to talk to Theo until tomorrow.

At this time of the day there was barely anyone inside the library. You were slowly walking between the shelfes, looking at each book and reading the title. After a few minutes of strolling you reached the Romance Novels section, very few books there, but it lured you in. Especially one of them, which you have read a long time ago.

‘Of course.’ You chuckled, holding the book in your hands and tracing the cover with your fingers.

The story was about a woman who was a spy and had to make a deal with a member of an organisation they were infiltrating. She promised to get him the safety he needed to escape his boss and he promised her to give her all the information she needed. They started fake dating.

You should’ve thought of this idea earlier, but you were too stressed to even sit in one spot, let alone think of this good of a plan. You put the book back in it’s place and rushed out of the library. While you were running through the halls, you spotted a familiar figure talking with her friends.

‘Hi, can I borrow Pansy for a moment? Thanks!’

You snatched her by the arm and led her to an empty classroom.

‘This better be an emergency.’ She playfully rolled her eyes.

‘Long story short - Patrick thinks I’m dating Theo and I have to prove him that I am.’

She looked at you dumbfounded and then a loud laugh escaped her lips.

‘Is this a joke?’ She asked, laughter still present in her voice.

It slowly faded as she realised how stoic and serious was the expression on your face.

‘Shut up!’ She exclaimed. ‘Merlin, what have you done?’

She put her palm on her forehead and exhaled all the air she had.

‘You know Theo does NOT date.’

‘I know! I don’t even know why I said his name! It just… It just came out, okay?’ You sighed and closed your eyes while throwing your head back. “But I do have an idea…’ you mumbled and slowly opened your eyes to look at Pansy.

‘Good Lord.. I don’t know if I even want to hear it.’ She sighed. ‘Go on.’ She showed a motion with her hand to tell you to proceed.

‘Fake dating.’

She bursted out in laughter.

‘What?’ She finally managed to get out. ‘How on earth do you want to persuade him into that?’

‘I’ll just… I’ll offer him something if he says no.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know yet, whatever he says he’d like.’

‘So like, you’d give him a b-‘

‘Bloody hell Pans!’ You whisper-yelled. ‘I’ll do anything that does not involve sexual exchange.’

‘Alright, just askin’’ She raised her hands in defence.

‘Where can I find him?’

It was Saturday, so you couldn’t catch him in class. Pansy looked at her watch and made a thinking face.

‘Ummm… If I’m correct…’ She sighed. ‘They should finish their quidditch practice in a few minutes.’

You jumped up and gave her a quick hug before running out.

‘Thanks P, you’re the best!’ You shouted just before disappearing behind the door.

‘Course I am.’ She whispered and smirked to herself.

She looked around the room where she was now alone and shook her head.

‘Fingers crossed’ She muttered and headed outside.

You on the other hand, had reached the quidditch pitch in the right moment. Standing outside the boys locker room, you couldn’t help but listen to their faint voices. Unfortunately it was too quiet for you to make out any words. The door swung open unexpectedly and your head shot up to meet Draco’s eyes.

‘Can I talk to Nott?’ You asked and lifted up your chin higher.

Draco looked you up and down and then turned his head towards the boys.

‘Nott, come and say hi to one of your girls.’ He said and everyone started snickering at Theo.

‘Shut up, Malfoy.’ He glared at him and then your eyes met his.

He came over to you and you almost forgot about why you came here because, well, he was shirtless and his bottom was wrapped in a towel, leaving very little to your imagination. You gulped and quickly straightened up to not get caught checking him out.

‘I really need your help with something. Can we talk after you…’ You motioned towards his outfit, or better - the lack of it.

He cleared his throat and nodded, ‘Wait for me on the pitch?’

‘Sure.’ You gave him a soft smile and headed outside.

Thankfully there was a few benches on the sides of the pitch, they were there during practice, but hidden when there was a match. You sat down and buried your face in your hands.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ You mumbled.

You started playing with your rings and thinking about what to say when you felt him sit down next to you.

‘So, what do you need?’ He asked while lighting up his cigarette.

‘Just don’t laugh at me, ‘kay?’ You said while closing your eyes.

He furrowed his brows in confusion, ‘Okay?’ He replied.

‘I need you to be my fake boyfriend.’ You quickly stated.

He looked at you dumbfounded and then proceeded to laugh.

‘You said you wouldn’t laugh, you bastard!’ You exclaimed and playfully hit his arm.

‘ ‘M sorry’ He met your eyes. ‘That punch hurt’ he held the place where you hit him.

‘Good.’ You replied. ‘So, will you help me or not?’

‘Why? Is it to make your ex jealous?’ He exhaled the smoke. ‘Never liked him, if I’m bein’ honest.’

‘Actually, the opposite.’ You took the cigarrete from him, took a drag and then placed it between his lips again. ‘He cheated on me and now he keeps stalking me to get back together. I’m so sick of him and I just don’t know what to do.. I just want him to fuck off.’ You looked at Theo for a response.

‘Fine.’

‘Wait, really?’ You asked excitedly.

‘Yeah, fuck that guy.’ He finished his cigarette and threw it on the ground. ‘We need some rules though.’

‘Alright.’ You paused to think about some. ‘How about we often hold hands, you kiss me on the cheek sometimes for the effect, and we can sometimes hang out in each others rooms, so no one would get suspicious. Of course we’d like study or some shit, but..’ You started rambling. ‘You get the idea.’ You added quietly.

‘You forgot about the most important one.’ He stated. ‘Don’t fall in love with me.’

‘Yeah, I think that’ll be easy considering your stupid face.’ You chuckled, but inside of you something twisted.

Don’t fall in love with me? Does he mean that, he knows he would never love you? Maybe that’s why he agreed? Cause he knows he won’t fall for you?

Am I this unlovable?

The next morning you were slowly making your way to the Great Hall for breakfast. On the outside you looked calm, but the inside was burning. With questions you couldn’t answer, with plans for what to do, with your hopes for finding someone good to love you back, with your growing attraction to Theo. You knew it was a bad idea, you knew you had a crush on him, but you’d rather hide that somewhere deep than admit it to yourself. You knew you were going to fall for him doing this, but if that’s what it takes for Patrick to leave you alone - then so be it. You can take the pain of Theo not reciprocating your feelings.

‘Hello, love.’ The voice from your nightmares spoke up next to you.

‘Fuck off, Patrick.’ You replied without even looking at the boy.

‘Oh, come on, can you finally stop playing this game and-‘

‘She told you to fuck off.’ You heard Theo’s voice on your other side and then his hand grabbed your waist to pull you closer.

Patrick’s face in that moment was going to be in your memory forever, he was so shocked, so defeated, so small. He looked between the two of you and scoffed.

‘We’ll see about that.’ He mumbled and walked away.

‘Thank you’ You looked up at Theo.

‘For what? I think that’s what boyfriend’s are supposed to do’ He winked at you and intertwined your hands.

‘You read a book or something to prepare for that role? Didn’t think of you as an academic type.’ You snickered.

‘I beg you pardon?’ He chuckled. ‘Am I that stupid to you?’

You waved your head from side to side and smirked at him.

‘Mm, yeah.’ You whispered to which he shook his head with a smile.

‘Come on, darlin’, we’re gon’ be late for breakfast.’

Darling.

For the next month you and Theo had gotten closer than you anticipated, but he was still too far for your liking. You wanted him closer, you wanted this to be a real relationship, but he wouldn’t want that.

“Theo does NOT date.”

Pansy’s words echoed in your ears every time you caught yourself staring at his messy hair. Or thinking about the way his fingers caressed the pages of a book, or the way his beauty spots were perfectly placed on his face, or the way he always knew what to say to you, or the way he cheerfully reacted to your insults and playful smacks on his arms.

‘When do you want to end this?’ He asked one night when you were studying for potions in his dorm.

The question caught you off guard and the air got stuck in your throat for a second.

‘I actually didn’t think about that part yet.’ You admitted, not taking your eyes off of your notes. ‘There is only a month of school left until holidays, so maybe until then? I’ll have those months for myself without Patrick bothering me and next year we’ll make up some excuse why it didn’t work out between us. Sounds good?’ The lack of emotion in your voice was weird for him.

‘Yeah.’ He whispered, his eyes lingering on your form. ‘Sounds good.’

He didn’t want to admit to himself that he started falling for you either. That’s why he asked about this, he didn’t think he could hold himself back much longer. Hold his feelings back.

‘Earth to Nott!!’ You smacked his arm with your notebook. ‘Do the bloody homework or I’ll feed you to my cat.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

There were moments where you thought he might feel the same. Like when he held your hand tighter than usual, when Patrick was passing by. Or when he kissed your forehead to calm you down when you were stressed before classes. Or the subtle smirks and glances between the two of you, when you weren’t next to each other. At first you thought no one would believe in your ‘relationship’, but surprisingly everyone didn’t have a clue it was fake. Were you both this good at pretending or did they just think you look nice together?

‘Probably the first one.’ You thought.

Soon there was only a week of school left and you didn’t want to think about what the end brings. You felt sadness, but you couldn’t show him that, you knew he didn’t feel the same. This was just temporary, he did what you asked for and now you owe him a favor. So now you had to let him go.

You met up near the Black Lake the day before going home. You were playing with your rings again and he was smoking a cigarette, just like in the beggining.

‘We’re still going to be friends?’ You asked.

‘If that’s what you want, darlin’ ‘ He replied, but deep inside he wanted to say no, to protect himself from whatever it was he felt towards you, it was too strong now.

‘Hmm.. No, not really.’ You muttered and then added, ‘I can’t stand looking at your hideous face much longer, but other than that, you’re fine to be around.’

He chuckled at your response.

‘Why are you always like this?’

‘What do you mean?’ You raised one of your eyebrows.

‘You know exactly what I mean.’

You chuckled to yourself, ‘My love language is bullying people.’

He processed your answer carefully and saw the way you stiffened. You didn’t realise you said that out loud.

‘Well…’ He took a deep breath. ‘You bully me. A lot.’

You didn’t want to meet his eyes so you shrugged and turned away, ‘Yeah, I guess I do.’ You whispered.

You heard Theo toss the cigarette on the ground and press his shoe on top of it. But what he did next, even Professor Trelawney couldn’t predict.

He turned you around and pressed his lips into yours, the taste of smoke and blueberry gum made its way into your mouth. His hands were holding your face on both sides, he didn’t want to take them off, scared you’d disappear if he did.

‘I thought you don’t date.’ You whispered with a smirk when you broke the kiss and pressed your foreheads together.

‘I don’t.’ He smiled. ‘I’m already taken.’

He pressed his lips to yours again and you felt like this moment could last forever.

‘By the way, you broke the rule.’ He mumbled.

‘Fuck your rule and fuck you, Nott.’ You replied making him smile to himself.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

#🤍 - girasollake writing event ☾ ⋆*#theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #imagine #x reader #harry potter imagine #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x you #fake dating

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mars-ipan · 2 years

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tumblr removed one of my posts for harrassment but i can’t tell which one it is because. they removed it

#like… chances are it’s a mistake but i cannot tell because i don’t know which post it is #i’ve never intentionally encouraged harrassment or harrassed anyone on this site tho???? so chances are it’s an error????#i could contest it and explain that i don’t know which post it is but i’m not someone who does this #or i could just. let it go bc i have a whole bunch of posts #and. ya

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slugass · 2 months

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*calls out ableist language*

*uses “you cretin” as an insult in the exact same sentence*

quality activism

#sarcasm #ableism #seriously google where the term “cretin” comes from please.#bigotry has NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING to do with intelligence.#please fix your language.#there’s other ableist terms besides the r-slur #ableist language cw #c-slur #stop using disabilites as insults #why is using disabilites as insults “ok” when it’s targeted at a bad person???#disabled people are not your weapons to use against bad and/or bigoted people.#they are human beings.#they get enough shit as is.#you are not helping.#hypocrisy #don’t harrass anyone.

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sublimetragedychopshop · 1 year

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TW: self-deprecating??, harrassment, stalker, yandere struggles, (I think that’s it?)

I can’t imagine the hell that it would be of having a yandere that is 100x out of your league. Like just imagine being a normal ass joe, nothing going on in life, no big group of friends, no exciting qualities, nothing to offer ANYONE. And here comes this god like figure- waltzing or barging into your shameful life and going “I am entranced by you, so deeply and utterly enraptured that you haunt every aspect of my existence. I have killed and maimed for you… allowing me to be yours is the only thing I wish for. The only thing I desire. Please, please just allow me to bask in your presence for the rest of my life..”

I’m getting mad just thinking about it, like how would someone even respond to that!? They let themselves into your shitty apartment (with a spare key they finessed from your landlord) they have the GALL to sit on your bed after being caught shamelessly snuggling under the covers, all model like?? Telling them that you’ll call the cops so that they leave but knowing in your heart that the police would arrest YOU before they accuse someone as godly as THEM! of course this doesn’t faze them. Though the sadness on their face is evident. Somehow you get them to leave and think that will be it for forever…

Until now you can see them clearly, everywhere you go. If you go to a coffee shop they’ll arrive 2 minutes after you and just sit across from you as long as your there. Your best bet is ignoring them because if you tell a worker of this person “harassing” you then you’ll just get a “really bitch??” Look and told to not disturb THEM! They even walk right next to you on the sidewalk, other people simply stopping to stare at their beauty and aura while you just grit your teeth and try to walk faster. Some brave ones stop them to ask for their number or if their single, only for them to wrap an arm around your own and tell them that their dating you. They are OBVIOUSLY with YOU. So why the FUCK is this trash asking dumb questions?? It gives you second hand embarrassment and your self esteem goes in the shitter when others just give that disbelief look and reluctantly leave it at that. If you try and buy anything they will just whip out their black card and pay for it instead nor matter your protests. If you say something like “hey don’t spend money! I can buy my own things!” They look you straight in the face with zero hesitation and just go “I know you can, but I want to spend money on you. All my money is YOURS. You are still using YOUR money.” Bro at this point I’ll make them take me to the Gucci store or sum.

Someone that is the EPITOME of peak human desire. An irresistible face and body, black cards in their pockets, mansions, sports cars, high paying job and famous people for “friends”. They are what hustle culture people DREAM to be, so why would they be interested in you? Why do they act like you’re the one doing THEM a favor by just existing? Why do they look at you so lovingly when masses stare at them with the same look? Why get so jealous and overprotective when you show basic human decency to others? As if you were some Hot shot movie star!

And the worst part is, when they do creepy gross stalker shit it doesn’t even seem like they are the one being weird. If you bother entertaining them at a cafe and leave for the bathroom, you’ll most likely come back to them with your used spoon in they mouth.

———————————————————

Btw no one is how I portray reader in this lil scenario. EVERYONE is exceptional and wonderful and beautiful In their own way! Just cuz u can’t see doesn’t mean others don’t either. This was more of something I wrote when I was going through it.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere shitpost #yandere imagine #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere ramblings #yandere scenarios #yandere x willing reader #yande.re #should I start leaving TW’s for my writing BS??#this is more of a lil Drabble?

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finelinevogue · 1 year

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tears of love

summary - a whole bunch of tears and a whole bunch of love for the album of the year grammy winner

warnings: swearing, tears, shyness?!, slight media hate mention

word count: +3.6k

pairing: new-boyfriend!harry x reader

The night before the Grammys, Harry had never been more stressed.

He had tried everything to get himself to sleep, but no amount of lavender spray or chamomile tea could get his eyes to close.

He knew he needed a good night's sleep if he wanted to survive the next day, but not even a soothing bubble bath helped him settle down. So he resorted to the one person he knew would help him fall asleep, but he had been too shy to contact at first.

His phone rang as he waited for you to pick up, his bitten nails a clear sign that he was stressed with both not being able to sleep and calling you.

“Hi lovie. I’m not keeping you from anything am I?” He asked, not wanting to ruin your nighttime routine.

“No, no. Not at all. Wouldn’t even matter if you were anyways.”

Harry smiled and laid back on his bed, running a hand over his forehead and back through his hair. He pictured you in a similar position, laying in your own bed across the city. He wished you could be laying beside him instead, but your relationship was only recently new and it was too soon to be sleeping over.

There had been too many people coming and going in Harry’s life that it took him a little longer than most people to become comfortable, and safe, around the people he was dating. He was beginning to think you may be the exception though. There weren't many nights he wasn’t thinking of having you next to him always. He craved the intimacy of falling asleep with you and then waking up in the morning with you still wrapped around him.

For now, he would have to deal with the fact you were across town and would see you in a matter of hours to get ready for the Grammys.

“Thank you.” Harry said quietly, more for himself than you.

“I forgot to tell you earlier, but my mum says have fun tomorrow.” You said.

“I wish she could be there with us all. I wish my own mum could be there, y’know?” Harry sadly chuckled, wishing more than anything he could spend more time with his loved ones and ones who love him.

“I have no doubt she has subscribed to Paramount plus especially to watch the Grammys, lovie.” That much you knew. Harry chuckled and nodded because he knew you were right. His mum was his biggest supporter, as any mum should be, and he was lucky to have a mum like her.

“I know.”

“She’s so proud of you, H.” You made sure he was reminded.

“I’m more proud of her.”

“Give yourself a little credit. You’ve not always had it easy either. The way the media harrasses you, I would have given up years ago.”

“I wouldn’t have let you give up, just like you don’t let me.”

“You didn’t know me way back when, H.” You chuckled over the phone and Harry’s heart beamed like sunshine at the sound. There was no better sound for him now. Not even awards calling his name.

“I wish I did. I wish I could have met you sooner.” He replied honestly, moving one hand onto his chest and over his heart where it stopped. If he pressed hard enough he could feel you there, where his heart was beating a little extra rapidly for you. No one had ever made him or his heart feel the way you do and his biggest regret in life was not having found you and that feeling years ago. Now you existed in his life, it made all the other moments seem insignificant to the ones you were now creating together.

“Don’t think about it like we’ve wasted time, lovie. Think about it like we needed to break and fix our own hearts, to become stronger, before we could find the strength to begin again with each other. I think my heart is stronger for you than anyone else because of all the heartbreak it took to find you.”

Late night conversations with you were not a rarity, but it wasn’t common for you both to be so ‘heart-on-sleeve’ with each other. You were only 3 months into your relationship, having spoken for a couple months before that too, but both of you clearly felt something more than just a simple attraction for one another. Harry didn’t want to call it love, because he knew the consequences of falling in love too quickly, but he was scared that’s just what his feeling for you was. Little did he know you felt exactly the same way.

“I…” Harry had to stop himself short, “I think my heart is stronger for you too.”

Harry looked up at his white ceiling, running a hand over his stubble beard that he would have to shave in the morning. Then he looked over to the other side of the bed. The neat side of the bed, where the sheet was still tucked into the mattress. He ran his hand over the expanse of the vacant bed and swallowed back a tearful lump at the back of this throat.

“I miss you.” Harry said softly.

What he really meant to say was; I need you here. I love you.

You were quiet for a moment, making Harry think he said the wrong thing, but it was only because you were trying not to cry. Your heart hurt over the thought of it taking so much courage for Harry to be so open with his words. His feelings had often been so vulnerable to the crazed media and ex-partners, but with you he had never felt so safe. His feelings had never felt more protected and accepted. You knew what his words really meant and he could tell what you meant when you whispered the words back too. “I miss you too.”

I love you too.

•••••••••

Harry had gotten a good seven hours of sleep.

You had gotten a few more, since Harry had stayed on the phone to tell you stories of his life to lull you to sleep. Something about knowing you were peacefully sleeping made Harry fall asleep so easily. He knew you would be able to help, even if you didn’t realise it.

It was now only an hour before Harry had to head off to the Grammy red carpet venue. It was so hectic in his house, where he was hosting pre-drinks and the getting ready antics. Harry Lambert was busy ironing all of Harry’s outfits for the 15th time and Anthony would not stop taking photos. Jeff was busy social networking with Harry’s friends and family, whilst Harry was busy checking his phone for text messages off you.

Y/N: I’m here xx

Harry smiled, leaving his phone on top of his kitchen counter before jogging to his front door in excitement. He was dressed in a rainbow patterned jumpsuit and white boots, his hair styled so perfectly. He looked so fun and young, representing the younger generation of artists this evening.

He opened his front door and smiled so brightly when he saw you standing at the front door looking so pretty. Your hands were cradling a box of cupcakes, a bunch of flowers and a heart-shaped balloon. All of the gifts were lovely, but nothing could put a bigger smile on his face than you.

“Baby…” He pouted when he saw you, cupping his hands over his cheeks as his mouth gaped in shock.

“Surprise! Happy Grammy day!” You giggled excitedly, laughing at his initial shock and love-heart eyes on you.

“You didn’t have to do any of this.” He put his hands over his heart, itching to just have you in his arms now.

He moved forward to take the cakes and flowers off of you, placing his other hand on your waist to tug you closer to him. He softly laughed as he desperately pulled you closer and titled his head down to kiss you. He didn’t wait a single second to kiss you senseless, giving you more than just a sweet peck. Your hand not holding the balloon snaked up to around his neck and held him close, making his lips crush over yours again and again.

He tasted like a winner already with your cherry soaked lips on his.

You pulled away flustered, cheeks blushing and lips wanting so much more. You licked your lips to conceal Harry’s taste with you and Harry’s beady eyes watched every movement like he would be tested on it later.

“Y’look amazing.” Harry spoke quietly, just wanting his words to be heard by your ears.

“Thank you.” You blushed, not knowing how else to respond. “Did you forget a t-shirt?” You joked, snaking your hand down from around his neck and over his chest. His skin reacted by giving him a chill of goosebumps and a sense of pride rushed over you for being able to make him react in such a way.

“Just thought I’d get my tits out for you, baby.” He joked in return.

“And your millions of fans.” You patted his chest right over his heart he had been touching before.

“No. Just for you.” Harry reiterated, needing you to understand, like most things, he did this for you. He knew how much you loved it when he embraced his own masculinity and showcased who he truly was with his clothing, so when it came to choosing outfits for events he always kept you in mind and what you thought might be a good option. It seemed he had chosen well with the way your eyes had dilated upon taking him all in.

Harry couldn’t help but lean in to kiss you one more time, turning into two, three and four. You smiled into the end two, making it harder for Harry to kiss your soft lips but he made do anyway. He couldn’t get enough of you, not even caring that he now had lipstick on and around his own lips.

“Are you coming in?” Harry asked, always making sure you were comfortable with everything before making you actually do it.

“I need the loo, so yes please.” You nodded. Harry took your spare hand in his and he walked you through the front door, shutting it with his foot behind him.

He could tell you were nervous by the slight tremor in the hand he was holding, but he gave you a soft squeeze to let you know you were alright. He realised it was daunting to be in a room with a group of people you barely knew, apart from Harry Lambert and Jeff, so he made sure to stick close by.

All Harry ever talked about to his friends was his undying adoration for you, but the majority of them had yet to meet you because Harry enjoyed keeping you just his for as long as possible. Your relationship wasn’t public, but even if it was your social media were private so the fans wouldn’t get a hold of anything anyways. Harry’s friends knew he had someone romantic in his life, because his smile hadn’t been so bright in years.

They were all excited to meet the person responsible for the rebirth of Harry’s happiness.

“Y/N!” Harry Lambert shouted across the room, putting down his iron and walking over to you with open arms. You would’ve done the same, but Harry kept a grounding hold on your hand, which you were very thankful for, and so you let Harry Lambert reach you before hugging him the best you could.

“Hi!” You laughed as Harry Lambert hugged you.

“Oh you look incredible, darling!” He gasped as your outfit, similar to the way your Harry had.

“Thank you.” You, once again, blushed.

“Harry is very lucky.”

“I know.” Your Harry spoke up, pulling you back into his side with a tug of your hand. You smiled as he kissed the top of your head, feeling the butterflies all over. Your nerves were already calming just by having him close by like this.

“I need pictures of you two later, okay?” Harry Lambert warned you, knowing that you would both try and get out of it.

Once he had walked away, Harry walked you into the kitchen some more and dumped the cakes and flowers on the obscenely large kitchen counter. A chorus of hellos sounded as you both walked in the room and made yourselves present.

Harry took his time introducing you to every person, getting you to hug them as you did so. Everyone was so kind and lovely, complimenting you on your beauty and your outfit and your ability to bring out the best in Harry. You began to feel a little tearful towards the end of greeting people and after you were done you told Harry you were going to the toilet.

He didn’t think twice about it, until you still hadn’t come back after ten minutes. Yes, women stereotypically take longer than men in the toilet but ten minutes was quite long for you. So he went in search of you, seeing as you had to leave in five minutes anyways.

He went straight upstairs to his bedroom, knowing you would’ve chosen his bathroom rather than the downstairs one out of familiarity. He knocked on the door softly before opening it slowly. When he made it inside, he softly shut the door behind him to notice you weren’t in the bedroom. He rounded the corner to the bathroom and that’s when he saw you standing at the bathroom mirror with a tissue, drying away the tears that had clearly been running stray.

“Baby… What happened?” Harry cooed, walking in the room and urging you to face him by cupping your cheeks delicately.

You looked to the ceiling, trying to keep the next round of tears at bay, before shrugging your shoulders at Harry with a sad chuckle. “I don’t know what came over me! Just feeling a lot of emotions right now. Proud of you but then just feeling so loved and accepted by your friends.. It’s.. I.. Just, it’s a lot!” You laughed at how silly it sounded now you were trying to explain how you felt.

“Oh you emotional softie. You’re going to be a right water fountain today, aren’t you?” He rhetorically asked, but you nodded with a laugh regardless.

“I can’t control it!” You exclaimed, your eyes watering over again. Harry chuckled at you, eyes crinkling and dimples showing from smiling so hard. “I’m not even sad. If anything I’m too happy!”

“Well that’s a good thing, hmm?”

“Yes, it is. Sorry!” You apologised for crying, feeling silly. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Cry all you want, baby. It’s your day as much as it is mine. Any wins are yours to celebrate too.”

“Oh fuck off, you’re making me cry again…” You whined and Harry laughed along with your tears, before helping you reset your makeup in time to leave.

•••••••••

You were backstage at the Grammys, in a room large enough to house all of Harry’s friends and family he had brought with him.

Since you two weren’t publicly official, you decided it best if you stayed in the back room whilst Jeff, Kid and Tyler sat at the table with Harry.

You had cried so much already from Harry winning best pop vocal album and his performance was just absolutely perfect. Someone had even had to bring another box of tissues for you, since you’d finished the first one you had been given.

Anthony Pham had been taking photos of all the backstage fun and reactions, since Harry had asked to be kept updated on everything. Especially all of your reactions and enthusiasm. You had recorded yourself dancing and singing to his performance, ready to show him later.

“Oh my god, it’s the album of the year category.” Someone screamed and you pulled yourself away from the conversation you were having with Sarah to watch the screen.

You were already sitting on the sofa, but the next few moments of your life would be grateful for that.

The fans of the artists lined up on the stage, ready to give their respective artists the Grammy. Harry’s fan was an older woman and you aspired to be her when you were older. You couldn’t wait for the day you were 70 years old and still attending a Harry Styles concert with a feather boa. The woman was so cute and she reminded you of your grandma. Harry loved interacting with old people, so you were sure he would find her and hug her no matter the outcome of the award.

Trevor Noah stood centre stage and held the card in his hand. Everyone was on the edge of their seats waiting to hear the reveal for the biggest and most prestigious category the Grammys offered.

“And the Grammy for album of the year goes to…” Trevor said.

He opened the envelope and paused for dramatic effect.

You sat on the edge of the sofa, your leg bouncing anxiously. You clasped your hands together and stared at the screen so you didn’t miss a single moment.

You were confused when Trevor didn’t announce the winner and instead moved over the fan of Harry. People in the room around you started to gasp lightly, catching on to what might be. Then the woman shakily held onto Trevor as she said the name.

“H-Harry Styles.” She said before screaming in congratulations.

Your head fell into your hands as you sobbed. You had never cried so hard before, but this was an emotion worthy moment. Your sobs were heavy and loud, but they were silenced by the roar of cheers and laughter in the room. You were too buried in your hands to see, but everyone was up and screaming for Harry, running around the room. Sarah and Mitch had collapsed on one another in happiness.

Someone came and hugged you from where you were hunched over. “He did it, Y/N, he did it!” They screamed excitedly and you couldn’t help but just cry and cry. You had never felt pride like this.

Your emotions were so strong for someone who you’d only gotten to know for a mere five months. You were overwhelmed by how you felt for Harry in that moment, feeling nothing but… love.

Taking your face out of your hands you sat up and watched him with blurry eyes on the screen with his award. He himself looked really tearful and shaky with adrenaline. You just couldn’t put into words how you felt in that moment.

The next five minutes were a complete blur. From Harry accepting the award from the woman, to Harry’s speech with Tyler and Kid. After they walked offstage you started crying all over again the minute someone said; “Harry is a three time Grammy winner!”

You had no idea what you were going to say to him when you saw him, even if you saw him again tonight. No doubt he would be swept up in interviews, photos and parties. No matter, because you would have the rest of forever to express how proud you were of him.

Anthony was busy snapping photos and you reminded yourself to have a look at them later, when you could actually see past your blurry eyes.

As you started blowing your nose on a new tissue the uproar in the room started again and you shot your head around to see what was going on, only to see your boyfriend walk into the room with his Grammy held high. He cheered as his eyes watered, people patting him and ruffling his hair. Sarah gave him a tight hug and he kept on thanking her, no doubt because she had much of a part in the album as Harry did.

You kept back, wanting Harry to get treated with the love from his closest friends and family first. You kept crying, picking out new tissues from the box every twenty seconds from how quickly you were using them. You definitely knew you looked a state, shoulders shaking from crying and clapping your hands in cheer.

Harry’s eyes kept on you as he hugged the last few people, not turning his head away for one moment. You shook your head as you warned him not to come close, because he would only make the crying worse. You held out your hand to keep him at bay, walking backwards as he walked forwards. Harry was quicker than you, though, and used the arm not holding his Grammy to pick you up at the waist and give you a twirl. He spun you around, before safely landing you back down.

You laughed out a sob when you finally got to look up at him close. A strand of his hair had fallen down over his forehead, but you made no effort to move it back into place.

Cupping his cheeks with your shaky hands you licked your lips to wipe away the salty tears. His own tears were now silently falling, his eyes intensely focusing on you. His thumb was stroking soothing lines into your back and all you could think about was how he made you feel.

“Harry… I..” You started, hiccuping in between words.

Harry nodded encouragingly, “It’s okay. You can say it.” His eyebrows frowned as he anticipated what you’d say next.

“I.. I love you.” You said with a smile.

Harry smiled nodding. He knew that’s what you wanted to say, because luckily he felt exactly the same way about you.

“I fucking love you, Y/N L/N.” And his lips were on yours for the rest of the night. And the rest of forever.

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transforming · 5 months

Text

For those requesting to see my stories from my previous tumblr account as reference for commissions, I'll be posting them here now!

To start off, here's one of my favorite stories of mine, which I wrote for Thanksgiving three years ago...

The House on Oak Street

There’s been some rumors spreading about the old grey house at the end of Oak Street. Built in the Victorian style of architecture, it’s been left in ruins for, say, 50 years? The deed to the house was never given up by the family who used to live in there, though the house has been for sale for some time. Apparently, it couldn’t be sold to anyone after what had happened to their friends, relatives, even the robbers or strangers that ever set foot inside…

Finn was tired. He’s at his breaking point. University is stressful enough, but add jocks and frats into it made it even worse. He was just walking home from class with his friends Peter and Ned, the three of them happen sharing an apartment far from campus since they couldn’t afford to stay in the dorms.They all shared the same interests - their studies, D&D, and architecture, all of them studying in the field.

The trio of friends were trying to avoid the Pi Kappa Alpha house, which was on the route they frequently took, when they passed by Oak Street that fateful day. As they passed by the line of houses, Finn stopped at one - an abandoned Victorian.

“Guys, look!” Finn said, pointing towards the empty house, intrigued.

“Finneas, it’s just an abandoned house,” Peter responded painfully, looking down at his shiny black school shoes.

“Not just any abandoned house Peter, it’s the Creepy Vic of Oak Street,” Ned added as he adjusted his thick glasses.

The three eighteen-year-olds looked at each other. According to urban legend, this very house on Oak Street had a reputation of endless trespassers, all of whom never reappeared once they entered the front door, some say having been pulled into another dimension or being eaten alive by a monster.

“But those are just silly rumors, right? Does anyone actually believe that?” Finn asked as he took a step towards the porch.

“I do, Finneas. Do you want to disappear? And it’s just basic morals to never trespass someone else’s property,” Ned asked concerned.

Finneas nodded, and followed his friends, but something caught his eye, something he didn’t notice there before. A FOR SALE sign posted at the front of the yard. Finneas felt a connection with the house, but he couldn’t place a finger on it, so he quickly took a picture of the sign, making sure to get the realtor’s number, and sped towards Ned and Pete.

From the corner of the street, the trio could hear the speeding vroom of a sports car.

“Yo, ‘Lex, Chad! it’s the poor faggy nerd trio!” Leo jeered from the driver’s seat.

“Park the car, dude!” Alex said grinning, getting off and standing toe-to-toe with Finn.

“What do you want, Alex?” Ned replied angrily.

Chad pushed him to the ground. “No one talks to us like that that, lil’ pussy ass dweeb. Why’re you here, anyway? Didn’t wanna get your asses kicked?”

Peter helped Ned up and pulled Finn close to them.

“Leave us alone, don’t you guys have trainings to go to?” Peter retorted.

The jocks chuckled as they harrassed the three students, punching their faces and breaking Peter’s glasses.

“I’m bored, bro, let’s just go, they got nothing today,” Leo chuckled. The three frat jocks jumped into the Maserati and sped away, while the three nerds trudged home. They dropped their bags and headed for the kitchen, starving. Ned took out a box of corn flakes and poured milk into a bowl first.

“Milk first, Ned?” Peter asked, shocked.

“What? I’m hungry,” he replied frustrated.

“I know, but that’s just weird!”

As they argued over how to eat cereal, Finn opened his phone and stared at the picture of the sign. A weird feeling of need came over him and he felt like the house was calling to him, though obviously a house has no such power. He typed up the number of the realtor, and pressed call.

“Mike Philipps for Century 21, how may I help?”

“Uh– hi, I… I wanted to inquire about the house for sale on Oak Street?”

“1324 Oak Street, the old Victorian?” Mike asked.

“Y-yes… it says it’s for sale?”

“Well, yes… but the family hasn’t been cooperative with our previous interested buyers.”

“How come?”

“Some weird rumors spreading about it, nothing of substance, really. How would you like to arrange an appointment to see the place?”

“Sure, sir! H-how’s…” Finn fumbled as he checked his calendar and schedule. “How’s tomorrow, Mr. Philipps?”

“Perfect. I’ll inform Mr. Thomas of your interest in the place.”

——–

After a few weeks of negotiating, and talking it out with Ned and Pete, the three friends somehow managed to buy the place at a real low price. Mr. Thomas was an odd man, for sure, and seemed interested in the boys. As the boys headed out of the tour, Alex, Leo and Chad harrassed them again, and Mr. Thomas watched silently. He may not have wanted what happened to the people in this house, but these three kids needed it.

Ned’s dad and his brother Colin came over to help renovate the place. New walls needed to be installed, new windows, new pipes (which Pete took care of with his uncle’s plumbing company), new roofing, all being supervised by Finn, who among the three was the best architect. The three painted the house and about a few months later, they moved in.

“Can’t believe we got this place cheap,” Ned laughed as he carried his stash of comic books in.

“Mind you, this being the Creepy Old Vic, it’s not so creepy now!” Pete added, starting the fire.

“Yeah, guys. We have a place now,” Finn said.

Outside, the three douchebag jocks peered into the window. They’ve made some messes before, but this was gonna be the biggest prank they’ve pulled. Alex ran and switched off the house’s power. All the lights went out. The TV died. Silence and darkness, save the fire.

“Finn, what happened? I thought the electrical stuff was dealt with,” Peter shouted.

“They were-”

“Yo nerds! Need help?” shouted a voice, the sound of smug laughter coming from outside the front door.

“FUCK, it was them!” Ned whispered.

Finn cautiously unlocked and opened the door. Alex pushed him to the ground.

“’Sup, nerd?” Alex grinned, “We wanna play!”

Ned and Pete hid, but they were pulled by the back of their t-shirts, their skinny frames revealed.

“LET US GO!” Peter screamed, trying to break free from Chad.

“What have WE ever done to YOU?” Ned squirmed in Leo’s arms.

“Oh, nothing,” Alex snapped, “Just being nerds is enough.”

As the trio of athletes tied and gagged the three trapped friends, the front door banged shut and locked itself.

“The fuck?” Chad said, running over and trying to open the door.

“We can go through the back bro,” Leo replied. He walked through the kitchen and tried to open the door as well, but it was bolted.

“Bolted here as well?” he asked, as the curtains suddenly moved and closed. Pete spat out the cloth in his mouth.

“It’s the Creepy Old Vic. What did I tell you, Finn?!” he cried.

Finn’s eyes welled up, frightened. Ned was still moving about restlessly. As the three realized they could lose their lives, the fire died out, keeping them all in darkness. Suddenly, Chad felt a punch to the face as he fell to the floor, suddenly getting absorbed into the hardwood as if it were deep water. Leo heard Chad’s fall and ran towards the door, his phone’s torch on.

“Chad? Bro, where you…” his voice trailed off as he saw Chad’s hand sinking into the floor. Alex gasped in horror.

“Chad?”

“Alex–” Leo replied, but he was cut off. He felt the wall grab him, pulling him in, hands gagging his mouth as they dragged him in. The four college students could only stare as Chad’s eyes drowned in the blue concrete. Alex ran and pulled out a knife from the kitchen.

“I’m not afraid of this house!” he shouted as he walked towards the living room, only to find the nerds he tied up missing, the rope and gags strewn around the room.

Alex looked up and saw two green eyes. He was petrified.

“NO!” he screamed as the eyes formed a mouth and swallowed him whole, the three jocks never to be seen again.

——–

The next morning, Ned woke up lying on the floor, in front of the front door. His body ached.

Meanwhile, Peter was in the attic experiencing the same as Ned. Muscles everywhere.

“Woah,” he chuckled, pinching himself as if he was dreaming, but nothing. The muscle didn’t fade.

“I’m a handsome muscular guy?” he mumbled in his… super sexy voice. He stepped out of the tub and admired himself in the mirror. He looked so different, as if he was mixed with Leo. He certainly felt different, and was surprised when he looked down and saw his new, way heftier package.

He grinned.

The bathroom door opened, and two other handsome, well-built guys stood, hands on their hips.

“N-Ned? Peter?”

“Dude, what happened to us?” Pete flexed his arms, smirking and posing the handsome devil he was.

“I dunno, bro, Ned?” Finn replied, and realized he just said bro as if he always said it.

“I told ya it’s the house!” Ned’s voice boomed. “Didn’t you guys see when Chad and Leo were just… absorbed by the house?”

The lights turned back on. The three boys, well, men now, felt a sharp pain in their heads as knowledge of sports, fitness, working out and eating healthily, along with some knowledge of sex and a boost of confidence, filled into their minds, not completely altering who they were, but adapting them to their new physiques.

As they looked at each other, grinning with their new confidence, screams came from the basement. Pete ran down to check what was going on, when he saw a hooded figure surrounding three skinny boys, who were crying for help until the hood transformed into a blanket and covered the trio, the blanket absorbing them into the ground below.

Chad and Finn watched from behind Pete, as he closed the door.

——–

a few days later…

“What now?” Pete asked

“We’re still the same… somewhat. Inside, at least,” Ned responed as he made his pecs dance.

“And our families and classmates?” Pete added.

Ned had an idea. “We need to change names.”

“True,” Pete replied, smiling. “I’m… now Alex.”

“And I’m guessing Ned’s now Chad?” Finn asked, smirking.

Ned nodded.

“Cool, bro, then I’m Leo now,” Finn chuckled.

It felt weird, but it also felt right. Like this was their destiny. Finn’s connection to the house finally made sense, but he had another idea come into his mind too.

“Why don’t we… start our own frat?” Leo beamed.

“A frat?” the two studs looked surprised.

“I mean, why not? We’re hot now, and plus, the house helped us become this,” he smiled as he demonstrated with their bodies. “We could help others just like us.”

Alex nodded, “You’ve got a point, but what would we be called?”

Chad pondered for a moment, thinking through the Greek alphabet. “How about Delta Beta Alpha?”

“Delta Beta Alpha,” Leo repeated. “The change of betas, like who we were, into Alpha men, like who we are now?”

Chad smirked and nodded.

Leo and Alex grinned as well. The house was gonna make some more changes to others like them.

Mr Thomas would be pleased if he ever knew.

#male tf #haunted house tf #nerd to jock #archive #leos-tf-stories

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bowandcurtsey · 1 year

Note

Hello could I ask for headcanons of kuroo, sakusa and suna with an absolutely drop dead gorgeous s/o ?

Absolutely love Haikyuu requests (≧◡≦) The boys are all so cute and dorky ♡

Characters: Kuroo | Sakusa | Suna x f! reader TW: unchecked works

Kuroo Tetsuro

He calls you all the pretty names in the dictionary and beyond.

"Hello stunning flower of the galaxy”

Stares at you so much and smiles to himself wondering how is he so lucky.

When someone else stares at you, he’ll pull an arm around you and smirk at whoever’s staring, expression telling them I know, but she’s mine.

When you dress up and look extra pretty for him on date nights, he gets excited and tells you, “can’t wait to come home already~”

Also tells you he cant wait to have pretty babies with you. “Ahh I hope our kids take all your genes, cause you’re perfect”

He upkeeps himself well for you to, making sure he stays in shape and takes care of his skin.

Sometimes you laugh a little at him doing his brows. Once in awhile you’ll whine for him to accompany you awhile more and skip the gym.

“Baby, not everyone is effortlessly perfect like you” he pecks you on the lips.

Feels slightly in secure at random times. Especially when he’s stressed with other things.

But you remind him that “beauty is just something that is on the outside, it’s what inside that matters, Tetsu”

Stroke his hair, he’ll be ok in no time.

Sometimes YOU get insecure too, cause “what happens when I get old and I’m not longer pretty?”

Kuroo always has a brow lifted at you whenever you ask that question, “thank god, then I won’t have that much competitors anymore”

Sakusa Kiyoomi

He didnt like you because you were pretty in the first place. I feel like Sakusa would be the type of person that’s immune to looks.

He thinks you’re gorgeous because he’s madly in love with you.

It was only until he realise men staring at you or men asking for your number whenever you’re out, that he started to feel annoyed.

He’ll walk up to you and pull you flush to his body, giving the death stare to them.

“Don’t want any germs and viruses on you babe.”

If you’re there watching his games, and he catches people staring, he’ll be more annoyed. His spikes are harder and deadlier.

But he feels better when he hears you shout and cheer for him. He feels proud knowing that the most beautiful girl in the room only has eyes for him.

Likes it when you wear his jersey or anything shirt that shows his name to his game and he’ll try to get you vip seats so that you don’t have to squeeze with the crowd.

Well, this man doesn’t really care about what anyone else thinks so comments like “beauty and the beast” or “she is better off with” don’t really affect him. He wouldn’t have dated you if you were the type that only cared about looks.

Whether you were all dolled up or in your pjs he always found you drop dead gorgeous anyway.

Once in awhile he’ll say things like “not sure why do you bother to doll up when you’re already beautiful.”

He’s just a sweetheart.

Suna Rintaro

Can’t deny that the first time he saw you he was shocked. You really caught his attention with your beauty.

But as time went by he realised that you were not only pretty on the outside but even more beautiful on the inside.

He never really believed that you would fall for him since he felt he wasn’t really that good looking compared to others on his team but it seems that he had you falling head over heels for him.

He wasn’t bothered by people staring at you because he takes pride in watching those people’s faces when they realise this pretty girl belongs to him.

He loooooves it when you show him physical affection in public like holding onto his arms, hugging him, running towards him. He doesn’t show it on his face but the thrill he gets when he looks at other people’s face gets him on.

Of course when he sees that you’re being harrassed by other guys for like a picture or your number, he’ll just stroll up to you and pull you away.

He’s lazy to start an argument with dumb people but if really necessary you can expect the most sarcastic remarks from him.

Likes it when you wear a hoodie so he can pull the hood over your head so that “you don’t attract so much attention from those flies.” Gives you eskimo kisses when you’re in your hood hehe.

When you dress up for an occasion he blushes a little at how fucking beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have you.

Takes random photos of you and posts them with no caption.

You can never feel insecure about “what if I grow old and wrinkly and am no longer pretty” when you’re with Suna.

“Good lord I dont have to protect you from those pesky dudes anymore.”

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dindjiarin · 2 years

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

WORD COUNT: 5,750

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He makes the decision.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“On who will be piloting.”

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

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

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

____________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir, I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

____________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs, “You alright, sweetheart?”

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

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

You cut him off with a kiss, apologetic that you let that intrusive thought out. Then your hand moves to his shorts. Under your lips, a hitched moan echoes as you unfasten them and slip your hand inside. Your lips part and you look up into his eyes as you feel the sheer size of him. Slowly, your hand strokes along him. His eyes close in pleasure and he mutters, “Fuck.” That word sends your body into a frenzy: you need him.

“Please,” you whimper. His grip on your hips tightens. Then, remembering, you beg, “Please, Lieutenant.”

His eyes shoot open, utterly black in his lust. His hips swell upward in response.

Again you push him, “Please, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” and you’re rewarded by the feeling of his dick twitching, straining in your hand still inside his shorts.

He takes you into his arms again, lifting you off his lap. You cry out in protest, but he throws open his door. With your legs wrapped around him, and his arms holding your ass, he gets out and walks to the back of his truck. He sets you carefully on the tailgate, stepping back, and you laugh as you realize the truck bed is filled with blankets.

“This wasn’t exactly my plan, I promise.” His boyish grin devastates your heart.

“You had a plan?” You ask playfully. You reach for his hand and pull him back to you, unable to stop touching him. His arm snakes around your back and he lays you down slowly, his hot mouth on yours.

Though you can’t see it, somewhere nearby is the shoreline, you hear the crash of the waves and the call of seagulls. The sun beats down, but the breeze from the ocean chases away most of the heat. You’re warmed now by the golden body of the man above you. Rooster’s thigh splits your legs open, his knee edging your legs even further apart. You giggle, and he grins once more. You pull his white tank top over his head, and your heart stops for a moment as the planes of his hard chest, his abdominal muscles are revealed to you. You had no idea he was this ripped.

He laughs at your reaction and whispers, “Your turn, baby.” His hand skates underneath your dress, up your thigh, savoring your expressions at the feeling. Then he reaches your hip, and his eyes go wide as his hand finds no cloth to remove.

“I had a plan,” you tease. As you speak, your hands push his waistband down. “One I’ve been thinking of every single day since you walked into the bar. I wanted you so badly, Lieutenant.”

His shorts now below his ass, you start to take him into your hands again but he thrusts against you. His biceps frame your head as he ruts along you, and the cry you make dies with the breeze. His moaning mouth goes to your neck, leaving marks from both lips and teeth. He’s almost feral with want. He sloppily kisses the hollow of your throat, then down across to the neckline of your dress.

“Need this gone,” he orders.

“Yes, sir,” you start to obey, but before you can even touch the material, his arms flex as he tears your thin dress in two.

You gasp in pleasure as his tongue makes its way through the valley between your breasts, his mustache sweeping. The two of you are totally bare to each other, and you’d have it no other way. He thrusts against you again, leaving you gasping. His tongue enters your mouth with an aggressiveness you can’t help but wilt beneath. The feeling is sensational combined with the contact of his skin on your own; like you’re opening every part of yourself to him. But you know that’s not fully true yet, so you hook your calves around his thighs. Your arms cling around his neck, and you hear yourself moan, “Bradley, please.”

“I’ll give it to you, sweetheart.” He tilts his head back to look into your eyes. “I need you to look at me, okay?” You see the admiration and the lust filling them as you feel him push into you. The moans from both of you mingle in the salty air. The feeling of him inside you is nearly unbearable.

“Oh, my god,” you cry out. He fills you so well. You’re gasping again, “You’re-”

He silences you with another deep kiss. His thrusts come hard, but slowly at first. But he’s starving and the sound of his hips slapping your thighs turns both of you on even more. He’s hitting you in a place you weren’t sure existed, building the tension in your body with every push. He leans into your ear, keeping his rhythm, and murmurs, “You drive me crazy. Always. Those low-cut tank tops, your tight shorts,” he sounds like he’s losing control. “You know what you’re doing.” He licks your throat and continues, “You’re mine, darlin’. You’re done for now.”

His words undo the knot in your core, and your body shudders around him. He smiles and says, “That’s my girl.” But he doesn’t lessen his pace. He thrusts faster, needing to claim you fully.

Your body still shaking, you gather the presence of mind to breathe in his ear, “I want to be yours.”

And he comes apart, his hips stutter, the powerful feeling of release shocking through him. He buries one final push as he lets go, and he leans his head on your shoulder, panting.

___________________________________________________

The deepening blue, Southern California sky expands above you. Twilight is approaching and the late hour casts its honeyed light. The breeze whistles softly as Bradley twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers. You lay next to him, head on a pillow, your right arm across his bare body. Your fingers trail the lines of his muscular chest until he disappears under the blanket he’d brought. You briefly wonder what you'll wear home now that your dress is mangled; you smile as you decide to steal his Hawaiian shirt.

“I really did not intend for that to happen. I wanted to do it right with you.” He eventually says, his eyes following a cloud.

“Oh.” You wonder if he’s regretting having moved so quickly. “I’m sorry.”

He shifts to look at you. “No, I just wanted you to know I wasn’t- I didn’t want to just-” He raises his hands in suggestion and makes a face like you know what I mean. He explains, “I mean that I wanted this to be real. A real date. Not a one-time-thing.” He pauses, searching your face, “If you feel the same.”

Reassured, you tease him, wanting him to say it outright, “If I feel the same as what, sir?” You look up at him innocently.

He huffs a laugh, now knowing your game but playing along anyway. His voice starts dangerously low, intentionally sexy, “The same as how you make me feel, honey. Like the world doesn’t matter as long as you’re nearby.” His voice changes slightly into a confessional, “I feel home when I see you, and yeah, maybe that’s crazy -” He trails off, his eyes dance between yours, trying to read you, wondering if he said too much too soon.

“I would say that’s crazy - if it were anyone else. But with you…” You reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheeks, his chin. You pull him down for a kiss, pure sweetness in it, willing him to feel your emotions. “With you, Lieutenant Bradshaw, I’ll never have enough of you.”

“Holy shit, you’re it for me.” He beams, pulling you on top of him.

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