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roosterforme · 6 months

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How You Play the Game Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley doesn't hear from you after the first game, he thinks that's it. But you got his heart pounding and made him smile, and he wants to see you again. The realization that maybe something that perfect should be left as a one night stand hits him hard, but he wants to know if there could be more.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst and smut (18+)

Length: 5600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley was laying in bed on Saturday morning with the New York times app open on his phone, scrolling to find your article. When his eyes settled on your name below the title, he tapped on it. The app took him to your full biography and a picture of you in front of Wrigley Field.

You even looked beautiful in your stock photo image. He was tempted to save it to his photo gallery, but instead he skimmed your bio. You'd lived all over the country and played every sport imaginable as a child. You had graduated first in your class from Syracuse University, and you were undefeated at sports trivia.

The smile on his lips grew as he read the article that you must have submitted before your deadline last night. Your writing style was fun and entertaining, and you had even mentioned the comment he made about the catcher for the Angels. Bradley groaned and tossed his phone aside. He wanted to see you again.

But as he got out of bed and headed for his bathroom, he reminded himself that last night had one night stand written all over it. You were in California for work. You both said that hooking up like that wasn't something you normally did. He was sure you just did it for a bit of fun. Bradley was an idiot for catching feelings after a few hours with you, but it felt like he already knew you. Talking to you in person felt like reading your articles, because your writing matched your personality so well. Witty, intelligent, funny and charming.

"Chill the fuck out," Bradley told himself in the bathroom mirror. "It's done."

Then he spent the day trying to think about anything that wasn't sports related. He even took a ten mile run up along the beach to kill some time. And when Nat asked him if he was going to the Hard Deck, he decided that would help.

But everyone there was wearing Padres gear and talking about that game one victory. And Bradley swallowed hard when he saw that Shannon was working behind the bar. He hadn't thought about her much recently, and she definitely hadn't crossed his mind at all when he'd been with you. But nevertheless, Bradley smiled when she greeted him.

"Hey, Rooster," she said with that grin that he was so used to. And she poured him a beer before he even asked for one. "You think you'll stick around for last call?"

He watched her hand as she slid the beer across the bartop. "I'll let you know?" he asked, barely able to meet her eyes.

"Sounds good. I'll start a tab for you."

He just nodded and turned to find the other aviators. Sleeping with Shannon tonight might help Bradley get you off his mind. But did he want to? He kind of liked the way warm thoughts of your voice and your smile kept bubbling to the surface. He could hear you asking him if he'd write back to a text from you. Honestly, he had been low key hoping you'd contact him today, and then he could have proven that he'd write back immediately, just like he promised.

But he'd heard nothing. No text. No call. You hadn't done anything with his phone number.

"What's your problem?" Nat asked, pinching his arm until he snapped out of it. "I asked you three times if you wanted to play pool with me."

"I'm not in the mood," he groaned, rubbing his arm as the TV screen caught his attention. They were playing World Series highlights and talking about tomorrow night's game.

"Why are you pouting?"

He rolled his eyes. "Nat, I'm not pouting."

"You are. Is this because Bagman is flirting with Shannon?"

Bradley glanced over his shoulder and saw that Nat was correct. Jake was leaning on the bar, trying his hardest to get Shannon to smile. "Nah. I told you, that's just casual. Doesn't mean anything." He sipped his beer.

"Well whatever is bothering you, either tell me about it or get over it, because I want to beat Javy and Reuben at pool for once."

Bradley closed his eyes and told her, "I met someone at the game last night."

"No!" she gasped. "Tell me everything."

After he hesitated for a beat, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped on your name in the NYT app before handing it to her. He watched Nat as she skimmed the screen and examined your photo.

"Oh! You met her? Oh, shit....you hooked up with her!"

"Yeah," he grunted, glad that his best friend didn't need much help to figure out exactly what was going on with him. She never did.

"You like her! Why can I so easily picture you happily married to a sports writer? You could have six kids, and each one would play a different sport. One would play softball, one would be a kickass hockey player, one would play soccer, you'd probably have a ballerina-"

"Nat," he said, cutting her off with a laugh. "I'm not going to see her again. I gave her my number, but I haven't heard from her." He turned back to the bar to find that Shannon was alone again. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if he stayed until last call.

"Bradley. She's probably covering game two! You could go back to Petco Park tomorrow."

"Yeah," he grunted. "She's definitely covering game two. She told me she was. Right after I gave her my number which she hasn't used. It was just a hookup, Nat."

"I'll buy you a ticket," she said, fishing out her own phone. "An early Christmas present."

"Don't you dare. The resale price is up to almost a thousand bucks for the nosebleed seats."

She sighed and said, "Fine. But you should still think about going."

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

After you spent most of your weekend in your hotel room doing research and writing, you decided to take a few hours off on Sunday afternoon. And it was during this time, when you went for a walk through Balboa Park, that you let yourself accept the fact that you'd been working like a maniac all weekend to try to keep your mind off of Bradley.

Your hotel room smelled like his cologne or aftershave or maybe his laundry detergent. It was nice. Kind of comforting. You wanted to lay in bed with him until you smelled like it, too. But on Saturday morning, when you had thrown away the rogue condom wrapper, you decided it was better to throw away his phone number, too. You tried to rip that sheet out of your notebook since you no longer needed those stats, but you couldn't do it. Instead it was tucked away with your other work items, and you hoped you wouldn't cave and contact him.

After you took a shower, you grabbed your bag and your media pass and headed out early so you would have time to get some food when you got there. You liked that the ballparks usually served up local treats, and you'd get there in time to actually enjoy some fish tacos or a poke bowl tonight. You even thought about grabbing a local beer and drinking it on the main concourse before heading up to the box. You decided to go up and set down your computer and then find the beer cart.

But when you approached the narrow stairs that would take you up to the press box, you froze.

"Ace."

He was standing there, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, an earnest look on his handsome face.

"Bradley," you gasped as your heart thudded with excitement. "What are you doing here? Did you win another contest?"

"No," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I bought a ticket."

You knew the tickets were reselling at a premium price, and as he pushed away from the wall and dropped his arms to his sides, you asked, "Really? You're that much of a Padres fan?"

He shrugged and kind of shook his head, but your breath caught in your throat when he said, "You never texted me, Ace. I haven't stopped thinking about you for a single second, but you didn't text or call me."

He was close enough now that you could smell him, and you almost whimpered as your eyes fluttered closed. "You really wanted me to use your number?" you asked, meeting his eyes once again.

"Of course. That's why I wrote it down," he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Shit, I shouldn't have come here to see you." He was blushing profusely and looking at the floor. "You wanted that to be a one time thing, didn't you?" he asked, glancing up at your eyes with a slight grimace on his face.

Well now you weren't so sure. You thought he had just written his number down as a tactic. It wouldn't have been the first time you had a guy see how far he could get you to go while making you feel like you had some sort of safety net. Making you think he was really into you. But maybe Bradley actually was?

"Bradley, I-"

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "In an effort to not completely ruin the perfection of Friday night in my mind, I'm gonna go."

You watched him turn, and he made it about ten steps before you ran to him, reaching for his bicep. "Bradley, wait." When he stopped, you bumped into him, but he steadied you. You swallowed hard. He was so attractive, and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about him all weekend. Inviting him back to your hotel room again had been a fun fantasy you'd indulged in since late Friday night. "Do you want to sit with me again? In the box?"

He looked surprised now. "Yeah."

"Okay." You linked your fingers with his and led him back to the stairs. He still looked a little tentative as you added, "Let's go."

When you used your card to open the door, you made it halfway up the stairs before you paused and turned to look at him. He was one step below you, and your height just about matched up with his. He still looked a little surprised, but there was a soft smile on his lips now, and you wrapped your fingers a little tighter around his.

"To be clear, did you buy a one thousand dollar ticket so you could stand at the bottom of these stairs and try to see me again tonight?"

"Yes," he said clearly and without hesitation. You shook your fingers free from his and wrapped both of your hands around the back of his neck before leaning in to kiss him. Your nose brushed along the side of his as you felt the prickle of his mustache against your skin. And then his hands were on your waist as he welcomed you into his arms. He parted his lips for you as you dragged your fingers up into his hair. Then he broke the kiss long enough to rasp, "I like you, Ace."

You kissed his lips once more before running your lips along his mustache. He squeezed your waist a little tighter as the door opened behind him. When you saw that it was Raya, another sports writer, you took Bradley by the hand again and led him all the way into the box.

"Don't get into any trouble today," you whispered, pushing him down into the same stool he had occupied on Friday night. "I got you in with my pass."

"I'll be so good," he promised, looking up at you with eyes far too innocent for the rest of his smirking face. And somehow you doubted it.

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Bradley couldn't keep his hands off you as you worked. He kept finding ways to trace little circles along your back. The pace of game two seemed to be a lot faster as the Angels got into a better groove against the Padres, and you were frantically keeping your stats as you typed away.

"You want something else to eat?" he asked you between innings as you scribbled out some notes that he supposed must have made sense to you.

"Yes, please," you said, turning to smile at him. You watched Bradley stand, and he headed to the table lined with food. You seemed surprised that he had been sincere when he said he wanted you to text him. Yeah, he'd been joking around a little bit when he wrote his number down in your notebook, but he was kind of crushed when he hadn't heard from you.

When Bradley turned to take the food back to that little spot you and he were sharing in the last row, he saw the reporter in front of you turn around and start giving you a hard time.

"You gonna bring your boyfriend to each game, New York?"

Bradley wanted to punch this asshole in the face, because who even made comments like that? But instead he watched you sigh dramatically and say, "At least I can get laid, Quincy. You're such a hater. Now turn around, I'm busy."

But Bradley did shoot Quincy a glare for good measure, and he didn't take his eyes off him until he had turned around. "More food," Bradley told you, setting the plate down where you could reach it without it being in your way. Then he settled onto his stool and draped his arm across the back of yours while you picked at the food.

You kissed his cheek and whispered, "Thanks," just as the Padres hit a home run. Bradley desperately wanted to cheer, but nobody cheered in the press box, apparently. So he sat quietly while you updated your stat sheet and ate a taco.

"Which team do you cheer for, Ace?" he asked, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. "You know, when you're not working and allowed to cheer."

Your lips parted in silence before you pressed them together, and then you said, "I never tell anyone my favorite teams."

Bradley examined your face for a beat. "You want to tell me, don't you?"

"Oh my god," you moaned, head tipped back. "Yeah, I actually do."

As Bradley shook from the laughter he was trying to hold in, you leaned in close to him. "You can tell me," he said, grinning. "I'll keep your secret."

You let your palm come to rest on his abs before sliding it along to his waist as you pressed your lips to his ear. "You can't tell anyone. Ever."

The feel of your lips on him, about to divulge something so important to your career had him pulling you closer. You laughed softly as your lips bumped his ear, and Bradley stifled a moan.

"I won't say a word about it," he promised.

"My favorite team is the Toronto Blue Jays."

That was about to become Bradley's favorite team, too. Maybe he could go to a game with you when you were allowed to cheer.

"Do you know what their mascot is named?" you asked as you eased yourself back into your seat. When he shook his head, you picked up your pencil and wrote in the margin of your stat sheet.

Ace.

Bradley laughed again. You had him smiling or laughing nonstop right now, and he couldn't believe it was already the eighth inning. It was getting late in the game now, but you were still writing.

Do you want to come back to my hotel with me again?

And then he realized that this was the first time he'd thought about fucking you all day.

Bradley leaned in close and kissed your neck a few times before he said, "Only if you save my number in your phone." Because as much as he'd been thinking yesterday about how good it felt to have sex with you, he wanted to hear from you when it wasn't a game day. He wanted to keep talking to you.

During the break at the end of the inning, you pulled your phone out and made a show of flipping to the previous page in your notebook and entering his phone number into your contacts list. Then you turned your phone screen away from him and typed something out, and he just waited to feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. When he did, he looked at his messages and saw that you had sent him a photo of you with the Toronto Blue Jays mascot. And you captioned it with: Be honest, which Ace do you think is cuter?

He typed out to you, I'm not sure if you knew this, but I'm wildly attracted to blue feathers.

When you looked at your phone again, your laughter was loud enough to have Quincy turning around and earning another glare from Bradley. And just as the ninth inning started, you texted Bradley one more time. I hope you replaced your wallet condom, Boy Scout Bradley.

Truthfully, he had not. Getting lucky hadn't been his primary thought when he was just wanting to see you again. He muttered, "We're gonna need more than one, Ace."

And as your hand came to rest on his thigh, you tapped your lips with your pencil eraser. "I saw them for sale in the hotel lobby."

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

You couldn't remember feeling this way ever before. At least not with someone you barely knew. Bradley had your bag on his shoulder and he was practically carrying you across the parking lot as you laughed. You liked him a lot. He came back to see you again today. He was so funny and sweet, and you should have texted him on Saturday.

"You seem very eager," you whispered against his cheek as you kissed him at the crosswalk. You were running your hands all over his shoulders and dipping your hands inside his Padres jersey.

He picked you up to carry you across the street with the crowd of other pedestrians. "I'm hoping you'll show me your blue feathers tonight," he rasped, making you laugh even more.

"I knew you liked the other Ace better!"

He kissed your neck, and once he had you inside the hotel lobby, he said, "No, you're my favorite."

"Condoms," you whispered, pointing toward the small convenience shop next to the front desk. Bradley set you down and grabbed up all ten double packs of condoms and dumped them in front of the young guy who was working at the front desk.

"Is that all you needed, sir?"

Bradley pulled out his credit card and handed it to him, looking at you while he said, "Well no, that's not all I need." His gaze was openly needy as he looked at your face, lingering on your lips. You felt warm all over, and when Bradley had all twenty condoms in his hands again, you hooked your fingers though the belt loop of his jeans and pulled him toward the elevators.

"Let's go, Boy Scout."

Bradley groaned as the elevator door opened and you pulled him inside. He stood before you with your computer bag, so many packs of condoms and an erection that you could plainly see behind his zipper. You giggled and ran your thumbnail up and down his zipper as you said, "You're adorable."

He swallowed hard as you led him out on the top floor and down the corridor toward your room. "Ace? Baby?"

"Yeah?" you asked, unlocking the door as he stood behind you and let you feel him pressed to your lower back.

"Maybe you should finish writing your article first? I don't want you to get too close to your deadline again."

You opened the door and backed into the room, pulling him in with you. "No," you whispered before you kissed him hard. "I want you right now."

You grabbed one of the double packs of condoms from his hands, and he let the rest of them fall to the floor. The smile that you and he shared had your tummy doing somersaults as he gently set down your computer bag. You continued to back up slowly to the bed as he followed you. When you toed off your shoes, you watched him pause to pull his off as well. And then you were holding up the condoms and walking backwards across the bed on your knees until you reached the middle.

Bradley was frozen, just staring at you with a crooked smile on his face and his hands on his zipper. "I'm waiting," you whispered. And then you weren't waiting anymore at all, because Bradley was on top of you, wrapping his arms around you as his weight pushed you down into the bedding.

You moaned into his kisses as you ran your fingers through his hair. He already felt, smelled and sounded familiar to you. He tugged on your shirt until he was kissing you through your bra.

"You don't taste like beer today," he murmured against your skin, teasing you with his mustache.

"No, you managed not to spill," you replied, pulling your own shirt off as he unhooked your bra. His mouth was all over your breasts once he tossed your bra on the floor, and you were arching your back up against him. "You feel good."

He groaned into your skin while you felt him grind against your core through way too much fabric. "Ace." His hands were cupping your breasts as he let his lips drift down your belly until he was kissing along the top of your jeans. You unbuttoned and unzipped your pants and let him pull them down your legs. And then he was still fully clothed, giving you head just like two nights ago.

He was good at it, too. But when you started to touch your own breasts, he got distracted, lips grazing your clit as he watched you. When he lazily brought the pad of his thumb up along your slit and started teasing you, the sounds you made were so needy. You thought he could probably get you off like this if you wanted him to.

But you sat up and made quick work of his jersey buttons while he slipped his index finger inside you. "Bradley," you moaned softly as he kissed your neck and finger fucked you. He just seemed to want to make you feel good, and your hands stalled as you pushed his jersey down off both of his shoulders. Your palms came to rest on his warm biceps, and you could feel his arm muscles working as he fingered you.

"Tell me what you want, Ace," he grunted, stroking your clit with his thumb. He'd said that on Friday as well.

"I want you naked and inside me."

He let you undress him then, and you took his cock in both of your hands. You watched him roll onto his back as you teased him with your fingers, running your nails down along his thighs. The veins in his neck were strained, and his cheeks were flushed as his eyes darted from your face down to your hands and back up. He was glorious. Huge everywhere. Tan and muscular and perfect. So hard and eager to please.

When you straddled his hips and planted your hands on his shoulders, he pulled you to him, kissing your lips until you were laying flat on him. His length was gliding through your soaked pussy, and you moaned at the feel of him rubbing slowly against your clit. You mumbled his name, but he just kissed your lips harder, wrapping those big hands around your hips.

With each little movement of your hips grinding against him, you were closer to fucking him, so you gasped, "Condom."

"Mmhmm," he hummed, one big hand at the middle of your back while he reached blindly around the bedding in search of the small package. His lips were still soft and perfect on yours, unhurried as he handed you the condoms. You pressed your forehead to his as you fumbled trying to open one of them, and then you were sitting up between his legs, rolling it down his length, ready to go.

You guided yourself down around his cock, and he felt incredible, just like before. "Oh god," you whined softly, taking every inch of him while he grasped your thighs hard.

"So pretty," he whispered, watching you fucking him. Soon you were riding him fast and rough, bracing your hands on his abs. You couldn't even talk or formulate words as you whimpered, because he was hitting that sweet spot inside you. With every movement you were getting closer, and Bradley looked like he was struggling to keep it together.

You took his right hand, and brought it up to your mouth, sucking on his index and middle fingers to get them wet. "Baby, it feels too good," he groaned, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. Then you guided his hand down to your clit, and you started cumming almost instantly. You held onto his wrist, rubbing your clit against his fingers with each stroke of your pussy along his cock.

Loud, incoherent noises filled the room as you came, riding him without finesse, head tipped back. And then Bradley was sitting up, right arm wrapped around your waist while he braced himself with his left palm on the bed. He whispered praise against your skin, pausing to kiss you as he thrust his hips up to fuck you as you came down from your high. "You're so hot. So good."

He sucked on your neck before his movements became jerky, and then he was chanting Ace! as he came too. He collapsed back against the bed with you held tightly to his chest, and you ran your fingers along his sweaty neck and up to stroke his jaw.

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Bradley had nearly fallen asleep with your warm body draped over his and his soft cock still buried inside you. And then your phone alarm went off, and you were instantly scrambling to find your jeans amongst the pile of clothing on the floor.

"Shit," you muttered, glancing at him as you silenced your phone and checked the time. "I need to finish writing and submit my piece."

Bradley nodded and rolled onto his side and reached for a tissue to take care of the used condom. The last thing he wanted to do was go home now, but you had work to do, and he needed to be on base in the morning. He stood as you scooped his jersey up off the floor, but instead of handing it to him, you slipped it on. It fit you like a cute, little dress.

"My article is almost done," you murmured, retrieving your bag from near the door where he had set it down earlier. He smiled as you stepped around all the other packs of condoms. "I just need to add in my stats and proofread everything."

"Okay," he whispered, unwilling to break the spell that he felt like he was under when he was in your presence. "I can head out." He started to reach for his undershirt and boxer briefs, figuring you could just keep his jersey if you wanted to wear it.

But Bradley found himself wanting to ask if he could see you again. You saved his phone number this time, and while you were going up to Los Angeles for game three, he was hoping you'd be back in San Diego again. He was almost pissed now that the Padres were up two games to none in the World Series, because the more games that these two teams played, the longer you'd be in California. And LA was a hell of a lot closer to San Diego than New York City was.

As he held his clothes in his hand, you bit your lip and looked at him while your computer booted up. "You can stay. If you want?"

He froze, trying to process what you meant. "Stay?"

"Yeah," you whispered, taking him by the hand. "While I write."

He instantly dropped everything back to the floor as you pulled him to the desk chair. He sat down and then you sat on his naked thigh, entering your impressively long password and pulling up your mostly completed article. You flipped through your notebook to your stats sheet, and Bradley let his hand come to rest on your leg.

"You wanna help me?" you asked, typing away. "Tell me when Soto was on third."

Bradley skimmed the sheet and found the information. "Bottom of the sixth inning. Right before Grisham hit a double." He leaned in and kissed your neck as you murmured thanks.

"And when did Hill replace Darvish?"

Bradley read your sloppy notes and smiled. "Halfway through the seventh inning."

"Perfect," you whispered, and Bradley held you quietly as you scrolled to the top of your article and read it out loud. Your voice was captivating, and you somehow made the game he had seen in person even more interesting. He chuckled at the part where you mentioned how the Angels' coach had tripped coming out of the bullpen, and you smiled at him over your shoulder before you finished reading.

"Damn, Ace," he muttered as you saved it one last time and logged in to submit the article. "That was brilliant." Bradley was getting hard again. Some sort of combination of what you said and how you said it turned him on.

You closed your computer and laughed softly, nudging his erection with your knee as you turned in his arms. You glanced down at his cock, standing at attention for you, and Bradley could feel himself blushing. "Oh," you gasped, running your fingernails along his length as you grinned. "Eager again."

Bradley groaned and let his head tip back as you kissed his neck. "I think I'm always going to be eager for you. Talking about sports and wearing my Padres jersey are certainly helping."

Your laughter was his undoing as your lips met his warm cheek, and then Bradley watched your face as your pussy cradled his cock so that he was gently throbbing against your clit. "How many more condoms do we have?" you asked, fingers in his chest hair.

"Nineteen," he replied, voice deep and raspy with need.

"I'll be right back," you promised, kissing his lips before you stood and grabbed the unused condom from the bed. His jersey was open, offering him a peek here and there of your tits and belly as you moved. Then you were rolling this condom into place and straddling his hips on the chair.

Bradley pulled the jersey open wider so he could watch you sink around his cock. You felt like perfection, and the way your body looked as you took him was making him dizzy.

"You know," you sighed as he bottomed out inside you, "if the Angels start a different pitcher for game three, it could really throw off the Padres plans."

"Yeah?" he asked, stroking the soft skin of your waist as you rolled your hips. "Tell me more."

"Mmm, well, they've been following the same plan the whole season, right?" you asked, your lips grazing his as you spoke.

"Yeah, they have," Bradley agreed, already ridiculously close as you fed him this brand of dirty talk.

"I think they should try something new and start Hermans instead," you whined, kissing him hard as you rode him.

"Are you trying to turn me on right now, Ace?"

"Yeah," you gasped as you fucked him harder. "Is it working?"

"You know it is, Baby," he groaned, grinding his hips up to meet yours. "Fuck, you already know how to make me wild."

Then you were gasping out pitching stats, your voice breaking as you rode him so well. Bradley was barely keeping it together, and then your fingers were in his hair, tugging at the roots. He knew what to do now; he licked his fingers and brought them to your tight clit, and your eyes went wide.

"Yes!" you gasped, seemingly surprised that he had you cumming almost instantly. And the sight of your tits bouncing in his face was the last thing he saw before he sucked on your nipples and came hard.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck as his breathing evened out. He was trying to focus on your words, because they sounded very important. "If the Padres sweep the Angels, then I won't be back in San Diego. But if they go to a game six scenario, maybe we can see each other again?"

Yes, your words were very, very important. He wanted you to come back to San Diego, but he was determined to see you even if you didn't. "I could come up to LA. Get a ticket for game three. If you want."

You pulled away from him, and then Bradley was looking up into your surprised eyes. "Yeah?" you asked softly.

"Sure, Ace," he mumbled, running his knuckles along the soft valley between your breasts. "I'd love to. But it's up to you."

Your voice was soft. "Okay."

Then Bradley kissed your lips and said what was on his mind. "We should keep doing this. Me and you. Until the World Series ends. Until you have to leave California."

He could feel your pussy squeeze his soft cock as you started kissing him and running your fingers through his hair. And a few minutes later, he had you in your hotel room bed, snuggling up with your back pressed to the front of his body as you both fell asleep.

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Bradley is out there dropping a cool grand just to try to verify if that was actually a one night stand or not. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 3

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xfancyfranart · 1 month

Text

Time for my @deancaspinefest collab!! 😍 For this one, I got paired with the awesome @samanddean76 whose summary caught my eye in the claims gallery right away and gave me chills.

Their fic has everything: Dean being stuck in hell and caught in a horrible dream that has that classic, not quite right, looming feeling of dread where you're only dimly aware of not being awake; among many others, an encounter with Pizza Man Cas; BAMF!Cas saving Dean from hell and cradling his soul; Dean finally being allowed to CRY a lot of real tears ffs - and so much more. It provided so many prompts I've always wanted to draw anyway, so I did.

Crying Dean, my beloved. If you know me or even have worked with me before, you know that I'm both strong and horrible at my deadline game. (Many apologies go out to @samanddean76 for cutting it so close multiple times, thanks for being patient with me through this whole thing!! 😂) But I actually painted this Dean just a few hours ago and I'm so, so happy with him - I feel like I haven't captured his essence in ages, but now I'm finally close again... 🥺

Without further ado though, please give Well, I Never Been To Heaven a read!

Summary:

Dean Winchester is living a plain, ordinary, and boring life. Until one day a new student shows up in the little town of Spain, SD. It’s love at first sight, but then an unimaginable tragedy happens, and Dean is left alone in his misery. Or is he a student attending Oxford University on a full athletic scholarship who finds a familiar face in his coxswain? Or is he hiking in the desert and attempting to save a known stranger? Or is he a traveler who stops for the night at a cheap motel and finds the pizza man of his dreams? Or is he none of those things? Just an unwitting victim of fate and destiny? Castiel had led the assault on hell, in order to save the righteous man and prevent the first seal of the apocalypse from being broken, lest hell should be allowed to reign on earth. In the aftermath of his disastrous mission, he is being held captive by Alastair, and his image is being used in a final, determined attempt to break Dean. But the profound bond that Castiel feels towards the pure soul won’t allow him to go down without a fight, and he makes a desperate prayer to his very old friend to set in motion a chain of events that might save him and his beloved mortal, or possibly, doom them for all eternity.

P.S. Here's an alternative banner. BYE! :D

#deancas pinefest #destiel #deancas #destiel fanart #deancas fanart #destiel fanfic #deancas art #destiel art #spn fanart #xfancyfranart #samanddean76 #bamf!castiel #bamf cas #pizza man cas #crying dean #castiel

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shegxox · 1 year

Text

unsaid | lookism

getting used to being alone until you met your newfound friends at J high.

notes: hella long, unedited e.e fluff, vasco moments bc i love him, friendship moments, and some '👀' moments as well towards the end.

wc:

a.n: decided to turn this into a series with a scattered plot as well, meaning the timeline wouldn't flow in proper order,

previous : next

SOMETHING was off.

It was oddly peaceful today.

Your hand stopped sketching on your canvas, squinting your eyes in suspicion from the sudden realization. Ever since you got here in J high– specifically after meeting your friends here– there was rarely a normal day.

Rare mostly because of Vasco.

There's no such thing as a quiet day when you're friends with that guy.

He usually bursts through the doors of your classroom every morning just to greet you, or whenever lunchtime draws near he'd suddenly pop out of nowhere and invite you to eat with him together with a bunch of burn knuckles members faithfully trailing behind him.

That's just the fifty percent, the other half goes to the guys at the fashion department.

But today, it seemed like world peace has come and touched today's date for a moment.

No loud greetings from the morning nor lunch invites, you didn't even see Daniel, Mira, Zack– or even Jay with his striking blond hair.

It was definitely odd, you thought to yourself.

Perhaps today is a specially busy day? Exams are drawing near too, so that could be the reason. Then again you barely came out of your classroom today as well. You used your lunchtime to cram your deadlines and have barely eaten much, honestly whenever you start working you just go on and on until someone calls you to pause.

Yeah, that's right.

It really must be a busy day today.

Shrugging to yourself with your formed conclusion, you continued on with your sketch.

"Um, [Name]?" You felt a light tap on your shoulder.

"Hm?"

"This handsome guy from outside wanted me to give this to you. . ."

Handsome?

You finally turned to look at the person talking to you and found them with their hand out and holding a piece of paper.

Was it Daniel? You looked over at your classmate and to the door, but there was no one there. It's either him or Vasco that often visits your classroom

You flashed your classmate a kind smile, taking the paper.

"Thank you, Yeji."

With that, they left your side and went on with their respective work.

Unfolding the paper, your quirked an eyebrow from the message.

It was merely an address of some location and a time specified– 6:00 p.m

It looked shady, but your trust in the message was validated as soon as you recognized Daniel's handwriting and signature at the bottom.

"Ya," you called out to your seatmate, "Do you know what place this is?"

Your classmate turned to you as you showed the paper, subtly covering Daniel's sign with your thumb.

"Ah, that place." They nodded in familiarity. "That's actually a pretty sweet karaoke place."

Question marks immediately formed on top of your head.

"Karaoke?"

"Oh–! if you ever go there they also serve some steaks as well. You have to try the–"

Your classmate's words faded through the background as you started to question yourself.

'Why would they want me to go there?' You wondered as you finish up on your sketch before pulling out your painting materials. 'A special occasion perhaps?'

Sighing, you tried to put the thought at the back of your mind, shifting your focus once again on your project. Though you have to admit, it perfectly played around with your curiosity a tad bit, catching yourself wondering about it every now and then.

"Alright, that's it for today." Your teacher announced. "You are all dismissed– cleaners for today, you know what to do."

"Bye, miss!"

"Thank you, miss!"

You checked the time, there's still an hour and a half before the designated time of the note, what should you do for now?

"I'll stay a bit behind," You told your friend– who was the assigned cleaner for today. "You guys go, I'll clean up after."

"Ah, [Name], you're an angel!" Your friend exclaimed, giving you a quick hug and a playful smooch on the side of your head making you laugh.

"Ya!"

"I owe you one!"

With that, they were out of the room as you continued with your painting. You thought it'd be better to finish it now so you wouldn't have to do much tomorrow since it's the weekend.

"I'll go at 5:30," you uttered to yourself, "Takes 30 minutes to go there anyway. . ."

It was a good plan, except you forgot one thing.

You suck at directions.

And here's one more–

The street where the Karaoke place is?

You've never been there before.

"Fuck." Your eyebrows scrunched together as you look at the GPS on your phone, you're supposed to be facing some shop right now but instead you're facing a dark alleyway.

Timecheck, it's already 5:55. If you don't figure out where you're at right now, you're definitely gonna be late for. . .whatever this is.

"Dammit," You clicked your tongue in annoyance. "How hard is it to find a Karaoke hub with literal neon lights flashing at the front???"

You scratched your head aggressively in irritation, "Where the fuck am I??"

Looking around, the street looked like some scary setting for a horror movie, even worse– it's already getting dark.

You sighed, prompting to call Daniel about your whereabouts. What's the best thing to do when you're lost? Inform your friends, they'll definitely come and find you. . .hopefully.

As you punched in Daniel's number and place the phone on your ear, you just so happen to look up to the skies. Your left eyebrow quirks up from the uncommon sight that you see: balloons.

To be precise, a couple of pink ballons tied together at the end floating away in space.

'Man,' you thought pitifully. 'Whoever kid that let that slip must be crying right now.'

Just as those thoughts came to your mind, you suddenly heard distant cries coming up behind you

"NO! THE BALLOONS!"

"YA! DON'T CHASE THEM, THEY'RE SO FAR UP ALREADY!"

Two voices– the first one sounded so distraught while the other sounded more panicked. They're probably the owners of the balloons that you just saw floating away.

But. . . why do they sound like grown men–

"I CAN'T!" Their voice were getting nearer, they must be right behind you. "THOSE WERE FOR [NAME]!"

Instantly, your eyebrows shot upwards and eyes widened upon hearing your name.

'[Name]?'

Now that you think about it, their voices sound familiar. . .

You whipped your head in their direction, only to be caught in surprise.

"Vasco??"

He was running in your direction as you ended the call on your phone.

"[Name]??" The person behind Vasco cried out your name in surprise.

"Jace??"

"Balloons!" Vasco yelled tearfully as he stretched out his hand–as if doing so would make him able to reach them. Jace finally grabs a hold of his friend's tanktop, making him stop.

"Vasco, [Name]'s here!" He hissed in a hushed tone. "Stop it!"

"But–" Vasco turned to you with a tearful look, pointing at the distant balloons flying higher and higher. "The balloons. . ."

You raised an eyebrow as you placed your hands on his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down.

"Hey, hey– it's just balloons," You assured, soothing his arms with your thumbs. "It's okay. . ?"

"[N-Name], what are you doing here??" Jace intervened. "You're supposed to be at the Ka–"

"But the balloons are for you." Vasco suddenly revealed, tears falling down his face, "And I let them slip away–"

By now, Jace's mouth fell and his eyes turned white from Vasco's words.

"What?" You huffed a laugh, "For me? Why?"

"Cause–"

"AHAHAHA–" Jace slapped a hand over his friend's mouth harshly. "Oh, Vasco! You know him, he has a little crush on you and wanted to get you some!"

You gave Jace a look, ". . .Really? You could do better than that. . ."

"It was supposed to be a surprise." Vasco sulked. "I remembered you saying you wanted them. . ."

Ah.

Your lips parted as realization slowly started to dawn on you.

Surprise. . .

Balloons as something you wanted. . .

But that's for–

You hastily checked your phone and felt your heart pound heavily against your chest.

"You. . ." You uttered under your breath as you gaze at Vasco with wide eyes.

"My birthday. . ."

Jace facepalmed at the background.

Vasco's eyebrows furrowed as he stood up straight, taking your hands with his.

"I'm sorry, [Name]." He says sincerely. "I'll get you more balloons later."

You were still in disbelief from what was happening, "What– When did you–"

"We were supposed to surprise you." Jace sighed, finally deciding to reveal everything. "You said that you never celebrated your birthday so we came up with this."

"Why. . ?"

Why would they ever do this to you? Is your relationship with them even qualified for something like this–

"Why? Cause you're our friend!" Jace said, scoffing a laugh.

A friend.

They consider you as. . . their friend.

Huh.

Your heart throbbed painfully against your chest.

All those years of being alone and being treated like some product instead of a normal human being– they're suddenly flashing in a fast forward motion in your head.

Why now?

Vasco released your hands before taking out something from his pocket.

"Here, these are for you–" Vasco held out a couple of hibiscus in his palms. "The flowers at the store were expensive, so I uh– I just picked these off the street. . ."

Jace sweatdropped, "Vasco. . ."

Weakly lifting your hands in a cupping position, Vasco then placed the flowers on your palm. Most of their petals looked squished–probably because he stored them in his pockets, nevertheless, still beautiful.

You could feel a lump in your throat starting to form, suddenly finding it hard to swallow.

Is it proper to feel like this?

Are you allowed to?

You looked up to Vasco, eyebrows furrowed.

"Vasco. . ."

The man's eyes widened.

"H-Hey, [Name], are you okay?" He asked worriedly, noticing how your eyes suddenly turned glassy. "Do you not. . .like them?"

Jace looked at you as well, concern wrapping his expression.

"[Name]?"

Vasco started to panic, his hands hovering over your form, not knowing what to do.

"S-Sorry! If you dont like them I could just–"

The man's words were cut off as soon as you suddenly threw yourself to him. Wrapping your arms around him, engulfing him in your embrace. You stood on your tiptoes with your face buried on his chest.

For the first time in your life. . .

Are you allowed to feel this happy?

"Thank you." You uttered, before pulling away to look at him once again.

"[Name], you're–"

"This is my first time receiving a gift." You smiled brightly. "The first gift I ever had."

Vasco's eyes soften as he gazed at you, tears flowing down your cheeks.

"So this is what it feels like," You laughed. "I feel so happy."

The two men shared a look before mirroring your smile.

"I'm glad you're happy," Vasco said, placing his big hand on your head, patting it gently.

"I love your gift." You added, holding the flowers close to your chest. "I will treasure it forever."

After all that event, Jace gave Daniel a call and updated him of what happened. Shame that the surprise party was kind of ruined, but even so, it continued.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, [NAME]!" Your friends screamed happily as soon as the door to the karaoke room opened.

Almost everyone was there, giving you bright smiles and genuine expressions on their faces, you could feel butterflies fluttering around your stomach.

"You guys. . ." Your lips curved into a downturned smile, feeling like crying again.

Is this what it really feels like to have others care for you?

You cry either way like before but this time, they were tears of joy.

"Awe, [Name]." Mira approached you with open arms. "Come here."

"Oh, let me join in!" Joy chimed bouncing on her heels before aproaching the two of you.

Daniel stepped forward as well.

"Everyone deserves to be celebrated every once in a while." He smiled. "Thank you for being here, [Name]."

Your lips quivered at his words.

"Ah–" Zoe playfully hit Daniel. "You made her cry!"

"E-Eh???"

"Oh cut the emotional shit!" Zack cried out, standing up on his sit with a mic in hand, smirking.

"Let's get this party started!"

To say that you're happy with today would be an understatement. You're way happier than happy. If you were to describe what you were feeling, it would probably be a mix of all the synonyms of the words happy to form one great word.

You were over the moon.

You felt like you're the sun itself.

It felt too good to be true.

This happiness you feel is something you will hold on to for a long time.

To be surrounded by people who actually care about you makes your heart swell. You've never felt this way before.

"Don't mess this up, you got this." Zack coached you from the side

Jace started to hover his hands on his ears, "Oh god, it's coming."

"Sing from your stomach!" Daniel advised with an excited grin.

"You can do this, [Name]!"

You readied your voice as you held onto the mic tighter.

One, Two–

"–I'M IN MY DREAAAM!"

"WOOO!!"

"LET'S GOOO!"

Chorus of laughter and cheers filled the room, even Jay was dramatically clapping along with the group.

"IU WHO?"

"That was amazing!" Vasco excitedly exclaimed before repeatedly pointing at the songbook. "Let's duet this next!"

"Huh??" Zack made a face. "You can't take that, Mira and I will sing that!"

"Eh? Then just chose another song?"

"No, I can't just do that, it has to be that!"

"Zack. . ."

"Mira, that's our song, right??"

The door to the room suddenly opened and revealed Jay.

"Oh, Jay–" Daniel greeted with an endearing smile. "You're back!"

Jay had stepped out for a moment earlier and has finally returned. The blond gave a small smile and a nod.

He then turned to you, grabbing your attention.

"What is it, Jay."

Suddenly taking something from his side that was out of view, he then held out something and revealed–

"OH MY GOSH!"

You exclaimed, your mouth dropping as you fanned yourself slightly before eagerly making your way to Jay.

"Is this for me??"

The blond nodded.

In his hands, he held a big Alpaca plushie dressed in Gucci that was literally half your size.

"Thank you so much, Jay!" Wrapping your arms around him, you gave him a big hug with the plushie in between the two of you.

"That's so adorable!" Zoe commented, coming in as you pulled away and Jay handed you your gift.

Joy had a look of realization in her face, "So that's what you've been making calls for last night."

"Is this custom-made?" Daniel asked and Jay nodded in reply.

"Ugh, it's so soft!" You exclaimed, hugging the plushie tight.

"Since you're not singing, Mira and I will sing our song!" Zack announced, snatching the mic from Vasco.

"YA!"

The night went on for a few more hours and you're just in complete bliss. Your first birthday celebration is definitely something to remember.

You didn't want it to end, but, alas– some good things come to an end.

As soon as the party was over, half of the people were already drunk–of course, you're one of them.

You didn't know exactly how you even managed to get into your apartment when everything went like a blur to you, you just woke up in your room bedroom and. . .

"What the hell. . ." You murmured to yourself, eyes squinting from the sunlight that was seeping through the window. The hangover– you expected, but your room to be filled with pink balloons floating on your ceiling? You had to check if you were still drunk or dreaming.

Did they do this?

Definitely not, no one can acces your apartment but you.

They can't just decorate your room so suddenly like this?

". . ."

There's only one person you could think of.

As you looked to your side, a large bouquet of roses sat neatly on your nightstand with a black card sticking out in the midst of reds.

Suddenly, you heard a noise just outside your room, and it sounded like someone. . . cooking?

Your eyes widened, hastily getting up from your bed– stumbling on the floor as you did so, you went for the door and almost ripped the hinges from opening it so aggressively.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as soon as you saw the person in your kitchen.

"I see you're awake." They said aloud through the sizzling noises of the pan, not even bothering to look up from their work.

"Did you like the balloons? I remember you liking them like an idiot as a kid."

Your face fell blank. He just had to find you after your birthday huh?

"The roses weren't as fresh as they were yesterday, but they should still be good."

Ah. . .

Since yesterday, huh?

If you your friend's hadn't planned out your party then. . .

"What are you doing here, Gun."

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starry-nights-garden · 9 months

Text

✧ Ateez Hongjoong x gn!reader ✧ words: ~700 ✧ genre: fluff ✧ warnings: none ✧ prompt: kisses to shut them up

You’re in the middle of writing an important paper. Hongjoong knows that, and he knows you need your surroundings to be as quiet as possible for it, so you won’t get sidetracked and have to read your sources multiple times because you forgot what the text was saying in the middle of the page. Your boyfriend knows all that, and you feel sorry for not being able to spend much time with him until the deadline, so you thought if you at least let him stay over at your place for a day or two he would be satisfied.

However, you couldn’t have been more wrong. You’ve never seen him sulk this much, and though the pout that’s on his lips 24/7 is indeed very cute, it’s also very distracting.

“Say… can you get me a coffee or something? I feel like I’m losing all my concentration…” you ask, without taking your eyes off of the computer screen in front of you.

“Of course. I’ll be right back,” Hongjoong responds and then he gets up from the chair next to you to walk to the kitchen. As soon as he has left the room, you take a deep breath and you lean back as far as you can to stretch your back thoroughly. You rub your eyes and then you go back to comparing the two sources in front of you. I don’t even need coffee, you catch yourself thinking, It’s enough when he’s out of the room…

You too have been missing him badly, and only now that it’s too late do you realize what a mistake it was to let him come over before finishing your paper.

Hongjoong returns with a cup of hot coffee in his hand, including just the amount of sugar and milk that you like, and he puts it down on the desk next to your keyboard.

“Thanks,” you say and you shoot him a tired smile.

“I think you should take a little break.” He sits down with those words and he puts one hand on your arm. There is proof that he cares a lot about you behind the look in his deep brown eyes.

“Hongjoong, the deadline is in three days, if I take a break now I won’t be able to finish!” you argue, but your boyfriend shakes his head.

“It doesn’t have to be a long break. But I think you should just take an hour or two to recharge, so you can focus again!” he answers. “You can’t tell me you can still process any of that.” He gestures towards the screen while shooting you a sceptical expression.

“Wait- a full hour?!” you retort. “Do you know how much work I could get done in an hour?? If I take an hour break now I will have to cut into my sleep, and then I certainly won’t be able to focus. I have to-” Before you can continue your upset rambles, Hongjoong leans in and brushes his lips against yours. He kisses you, calmly and without a rush, and you can’t bring yourself to pull back in order to keep yelling at him about why you need to return to your work as soon as possible. And somehow his careful touches take some of the stress away, which has been resting heavy on your shoulders for the past weeks, piling up some more day by day.

“Just for a little while,” he whispers when he breaks the kiss, and gives you a meaningful look in hopes of conveying to you how important it is to get away from your paper for some time. “It doesn’t have to be an hour if you’re afraid that that will take too much time away from you. But trust me, you will be able to work faster again with a free mind.” You sigh.

“Fine. But only for 30 minutes,” you give in somewhat reluctantly, but the bright grin that appears on Hongjoong’s face upon you complying leaves you unable to be mad at him. He takes you by the hand and jumps up.

“Then let’s go for a walk together, okay? We can get some fresh air, and maybe buy some snacks on the way to give you back your energy!” he suggests, already dragging you towards the front door.

#ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong fluff #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #fluff

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written-with-blue-ink · 7 months

Text

Hypocrite

Kaveh X Reader Feat: fluff, pining, kaveh being a sweatheart, overworking, etc

Summary: Both you and Kaveh have a tendency to overwork yourselves. So, one night while you're busy at work, he approaches you...

(Sorry I've been gone so long, school and work have been kicking my ass, i havent even gotten to play 4.1 yet)

It was nights like this you were glad the Academia’s library was open all night and day. Papers and scrolls were spread over one of the tables of the back as you scribbled down notes, concepts and theories. It must’ve been hours since you moved, except for the occasional retrieval of another book to add on to your bibliography.

Your hair was a mess and the bags under your eyes made it seem like you hadn’t slept in weeks but this assignment was one of the most important in your career. Your critical eyes focused on the pages but your stomach felt hollow, making it harder and harder to anchor yourself to the words.

The sound of the doors opening could be heard all the way from the back but you paid it no mind, one of the other people here decided to turn in for the night. That was until the familiar silhouette of a blonde loomed over your notes and cleared his throat. “Yes, Kaveh,” you spoke coldly, no warmth left after the ridiculously long hours you had already spent in this tomb of knowledge.

“I know you have a deadline but you should get some rest, (Y/N),” he spoke adamently, the pose of his shadow shifting to put a hand on his hip.

“Funny,” you sarcastically spout, looking up to him with a sly smile and your chin on your hand, “I didn’t know you came from a place to judge.”

The man timidly looked away, stammering, “no, no I am not. That’s why I brought you this.” Lifting his other arm, he showed a small bag that smelled of curry. You smiled, moving stuff out of the way before opening the bag and pulling out one of the two small containers.

“Chai or coffee,” he asked, pointing in the direction of the small drink bar the students recommended the Academia add when Azar was dethroned from Grand Sage and Nahida took back her power.

“Chai,” you smile, watching the man walk over and fill two mugs and bringing them back over. Looking at the cups and containers of curry, you raised a brow as Kaveh pulled a chair close, “you’re staying?”

The young man nodded. “I know better than to try and pull you away from your work,” he relented, pulling out several sketches and drafting supplies as he sat opposite of you. Your eyes sat on them for a brief second; Kaveh’s detailed notes and several eraser marks were caught in your careful eye.

Gingerly setting them aside as to not stain the pristine pages of parchment, your attention was brought back to the man in front of you. Opening the containers caused the brilliant smell of Kaveh’s cooking to hit your nose and make your stomach growl like a starving tiger coming in for the kill.

Sliding the cup into your hand, fingers gently grazing and making both of you turn slightly pink. Clearing his throat, he stutters, “Besides, if you can’t beat them-”

“Join them,” you finish with a soft smile on your face. Lifting your mug, Kaveh follows suit as the two cups tap in a satisfying ‘Klink’.

#genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh fluff #kaveh x you #kaveh imagines #genshin impact kaveh #kaveh writing #genshin writing

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 4 days

Note

19. “I want you. I need you.” Agatha Harkness

Overworked

Agatha Harkness x Big Boss!Fem!Reader

Summary: Agatha always brings you breakfast, and you want to reward her for being so good.

Word Count: 958

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, strap sucking (A sucks R's strap), R is overworking herself

A/N: Idk guys the last half of this I wrote while I was high~

Agatha had always been someone who always knew what she wanted. If she wanted someone's attention she took it and if she wanted someone's love she had it. With you though it had been different.

You were young, smart, rich; Agatha was immediately smitten by you and she tried to make it obvious, but all of her advances went ignored. Sure you were nice enough to her, you took the coffees she gave you and the bagels every morning like clock work.

You'd always be here before her and she wondered if you ever slept or left the office for that matter. You were the first one in and Agatha was sure you were the last one out. It's no surprise you had made team manager in less than a year and by the next year director of the floor.

One morning Agatha came in like always and made her way to your office. Before the door opened one hand was up ready to take the cup. Agatha smiled at you. You looked like you hadn't slept which was probably true with the deadlines coming up.

You absolutely needed the coffee. You'd been holding off taking a break knowing Agatha would show up. As you finish up your thought for an email to send out, taking the first sip and tasting your favorite blend with a smile.

“Thank you Aggie. You have no idea how much I need this.” You felt the ache in your back as you tried to stretch. You'd been hunched over your desk and laptop for hours now. An empty coffee cup and energy drink forgotten on the other side of your desk.

Agatha set down the bagel next to you with a smile as she tidied up your desk. Unwrapping the bagel, stuffed with cream cheese; you take a bite. Your stomach is thankful to have something other than caffeine and sugar.

“You don't have to do that sweetie. You aren't my assistant.” You say through a mouthful.

“Didn't your assistant quit last week?” Agatha raised an eyebrow, making you look away. You had a reputation for making your assistants quit. It wasn't your fault they couldn't keep up. “Besides I don't mind helping dear. I want to help you.” Agatha was the only one you allowed to give you a pet name. If anyone else did they'd be lectured about it.

“I appreciate it sweetie. I appreciate you coming in with breakfast every morning. I appreciate your attentiveness to everything about this job.” You caught Agatha off guard as she just stared for a moment before coming over to you.

You looked up from your seated position until she dropped to her knees, startling you momentarily until she looked up at you. Your heart fluttered and your stomach flipped. She looked perfect beneath you. Without thinking in your sleep deprived state you reached out, running your fingers through her hair. Your hand ran through her dark locks before swiping back so you cupped her cheek.

“You're always such a good girl sweetie. You know good girls deserve rewards.” You spoke, your voice dropping into a sultry tone. You felt Agatha shiver under your touch and words.

“I want you. I need you. All I've ever wanted is to be good enough for you.” Agatha admitted, a plea in her voice as her hands tightened on your pants.

“You should have said something sooner.” You brush your thumb over her soft skins, admiring the feeling.

“I tried dropping hints…” She tried to look away but you pulled her back.

“I'm not good with hints. I'm a very direct person sweetie you should know this by now.” Agatha nodded in understanding.

“I promise I'll be more direct from now on.” You smiled at her, the eagerness to please you.

“You're going to be a good girl for me aren't you?” she nodded eagerly. You unbutton your pants, pulling out your strap you wore almost all of the time. “I know you want to suck me off. Go on darling.” You helped guide her onto your faux cock which her lips wrapped around perfectly.

You watched her head bobbed magnificently, her movements shifting the strap perfectly against your clit. A low moan coming out of your mouth.

“Just like that darling. Keep going gonna make me cum sweet thing.” At the mention of cumming her movements speeding up. You threw your head back as she took you over the edge. “Fuck…Aggie…” You rolled your hips and she easily kept taking you down her throat until you fell back. Her lips popping off your cock. Her eyes sparkling up at you. “Did such a good job.”

She brushed up against your thigh before getting up as you tucked yourself back in. Getting yourself ready to get back to work.

“What are you doing?” Agatha asked.

“Getting back to work?” You looked up at her.

“It's Saturday dear.” She told you, your face scrunching up.

“No, it's Friday.”

“Dear…look at your phone.” You did and your face dropped.

“Oh so it is.” You looked back up at her. “So, wanna come back to my place?” You raised an eyebrow as you stood up, turning off your laptop.

“I would love to.” She smiled, grabbing your bag and coat, the two of you heading out together. You reached out, grabbing her hand and interlocked your fingers together as you headed down to the parking garage.

Agatha sighed, your body on hers as you breathed in and out evenly. Her fingers running through your hair.

“You know I didn't have this in mind, but this is what you needed dear.” Agatha whispered, kissing your forehead, making you smile in your sleep. This was exactly what both of you needed.

#ley writes #ley writes requests #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness

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fuck-customers · 1 month

Note

Holy shit, today was wild.

So after our previous general manager left, O came in as a temporary replacement. I’m not sure if he’s staying on as permanent at this point or what; idk if anyone knows. For some reason, not all of his managerial privileges (idk if that’s the right word) are working in the system. So like he can’t make schedules and whatever other stuff it is that managers do (I’m just a cashier I have no clue). S, the highest up assistant manager (idk if that’s actually a thing but there’s always been one at our store), decides to do O a favor and make the schedules until things get sorted out. O’s been here around two months, with S still doing the schedule and other duties that O should be doing all the while—with O being paid the general manager’s wages and S getting paid his regular wages—and like at this point idk if O just has decided he’s fine with having S do the heavy lifting or if our company is just having some wild issue that can’t get this system error with his account fixed.

Our last person who worked print on weekends left, leaving us scrambling on the weekends. Finally, we get a new guy who’s gonna take the weekends. Store opens, and the guy doesn’t show up (apparently he misremembered/misread his schedule and ended up coming in an hour or two late). So I’m at the register, assistant manager K is at shipping, and S is at print. All S and K know how to do with print is give people stuff they’ve already ordered, and I know jack and shit about print so I’m staying over in my corner. A woman comes in, and she got her order yesterday, but it’s the wrong size. She’s upset and is on a deadline and needs the right size ASAP. S says he can give her a refund and transfer her order to a nearby store, and we’re all apologizing coz yeah that’s definitely a rough situation.

Idk exactly what happens next, but more customers start coming in and going towards print after a while, with that first woman still there. S is getting overwhelmed, so he calls O and asks for his advice. O tells him that this is all his fault, and that it’s his responsibility to make the schedules and make sure that there is someone at every station. So S just leaves the print station, tells us he’s done for the day, and goes into the manager’s office (which is basically his office at this point because—as we’ve established—he’s doing everything O should be doing), leaving K and I kinda freaking out as we try to figure out what to do. At one point K even goes into the office and starts arguing and yelling at S (K’s super chill and I’ve never heard him yell before).

Eventually S cools off. Between O and that first customer (who I heard another customer refer to as “the devil” on her way out when talking to her husband), he just couldn’t put up with all that shit. S is a very calm and nice guy. When I found out there’d been an error on my part that meant I’d been getting paid for my lunch breaks for a YEAR (this was between the previous GM leaving and O arriving), S told me that it was okay because I’m worth it and now I know what happened I can make sure it won’t happen again.

I’m good friends with another assistant manager, and she received a text from O that we think was meant for S saying that he’s a leader and needs to learn to take responsibility and own up and whatnot. To top it all off, my friend also shows me a text O sent in the manager group chat:

“To be an effective leader, you have to be a really good listener and not to what's being said, but to what's not being said. You have to be really observant. That was a big transition for me.” — Kobe Bryant

S is still working here, but any GM duties are now O’s problem. He’s done with doing him favors.

Posted by admin Rodney.

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paradoxolotl · 10 months

Note

OH PARA MY DARLING!!! :))))

For the writer ask can I beg to see a snippet of Neil being banned from another coffee shop (Andrew's maybe 👀) or what led to him being banned from half the coffee shops?? (From Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage)

My beloved PAS ♥️

Unusual Asks for Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage

“Sir.”

Neil took a slow sip of his coffee. Only his third cup of the day. Or hour. He couldn’t remember anymore. The beauty of a deadline he had pretended to prepare for rearing it’s ten hours until due highlight covered head? Kevin’s “inhuman level of coffee consumption” ban was lifted.

Not that Neil followed it all that closely anyways. What did Kevin know.

“Sir.”

He flicked his eyes up and to the left, hand still blindly typing away at his keyboard. He had a word count to hit after all. The familiar death glare of a service employee not paid enough to give a proper fuck but forced to anyways waited for him. Usually, Neil continued silence turned most people away, or at least made them uncomfortable enough to spit out whatever they decided was worth interrupting him over. But this one only glowered harder, jaw setting.

“Ma’am.” It turned up at the end like a question, but Neil’s voice held too much faux pleasantry to be recognized as such.

Nostrils flared on her inhale. “Sir-” and honestly the amount of complete disdain and over your bullshit she packed into that single word even impressed him- “you need to leave. Now.”

Oh boy, this was almost worth pausing an essay for. Neil finished his sentence. “I’m actually pretty busy at the moment,” he said, turning back to his work. Was a Freudian mention too much? He tapped the space key twice, not quite hard enough to move his cursor. Probably not.

“Sir.”

“Jesus,” Neil muttered. He needed more coffee. Matching her glare with one of his own, Neil shook his cup, the pitiful remains just enough to splash against the sides. “I’m a paying customer. You can’t just kick me out for no reason.”

“You taped crime scene photos to our windows!” she snapped. And well. Okay yes, that was true. He didn’t need to spare a glance to see the expanse of carnage he had set up.

“It’s for research,” he said.

She jabbed a finger at the cup in his hand. “And that isn’t even from here.”

Neil glanced down. The cup sported the bright orange colours of Fox & Nip Cafe. He looked up to the hat the employee was wearing. It was purple, with The Drip stitched in white across the front. Slowly, he raised the cup to his mouth, tipping the last of it into his mouth.

“I’ve told you guys before. I don’t see what the problem is,” he said. “Your coffee is shit. You know that right? I could order a triple shot and it wouldn’t even hit me. It’s an art, how you’ve taken something so easy and weakened it to the point of threatening extinction.”

Turning in his chair, Neil pointed to the man not even pretending not to be watching. “Your coffee is shit!” he said, making the man jump. He turned back to the employee. “This is literally the worst coffee is town. You have two things going for you: the tables are big enough to work at and your muffins aren’t sweet like fucking cakes. If I have to provide my own passable coffee, I should be allowed to use the space provided to finish my work.”

If looks could kill. “Get the fuck out,” she said.

Neil had three rules he lived by. Number two: when a retail employee drops the word fuck as a promised threat, it’s time to go.

Tossing her a quick salute, Neil shoved his laptop back into his bag and left everything else behind. He didn’t really need the photos anyways.

Two blocks down, he pulled out a small notebook from a side pocket. With a sigh, he crossed out The Drip from his list.

#Neil is a nightmare customer #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #neil josten #para’s fics #ask para

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feverishly-kpop · 8 months

Text

Changbin & Stray Kids - Pushing Through

It was just a fever. No big deal.

Changbin didn’t get sick often, but when he did it never seemed to happen at a convenient time and this time was no different. With 3RACHA approaching the deadline for their upcoming mixtape, he didn’t have time to be sick.

Chan, Changbin, and Jisung had all been feeling more than a little stressed for the last few weeks. They had decided to scrap a couple of songs and replace them with something new against their better judgement and had been playing catch up in order to finish on time.

He had worked through worse. They all had. This time would be no different.

*~*~*~*~*~

“I have a fucking headache” Chan muttered, leaning back in his chair. He had been looking at the screen for hours at this point without a break.

Jisung had dozed off in his chair about an hour ago and Chan and Changbin decided just to let him be considering it was well after midnight.

“Maybe we should call it a night? You need some sleep” Changbin responded. “And so does he…” he added, gesturing to Jisung.

“I could say the same to you” Chan said, turning his chair to face Changbin. He clearly had more to say and now seemed like a good time to address it. “You’ve seemed sluggish all day and…”

Changbin immediately cut him off. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

Chan quickly shook his head, holding up a hand to silence Changbin. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m just concerned. Are you okay?”

Changbin internally cringed. Clearly he hadn’t done a good enough job hiding his discomfort. His mind drifted back to the time that Hyunjin pushed through an exhausting dance practice without anybody knowing that he was feeling sick, only to throw up all over the floor as soon as their choreographer stepped out of the room. And the time that Seungmin sang his heart out at a concert before calmly approaching Chan as they left the stage advising that his throat was bothering him. Chan took him to the clinic the next morning out of an abundance of caution only for him to be diagnosed with a severe case of strep throat. If his members could keep it together while being that sick then he needed to be able to do the same, especially considering he wasn’t all that unwell anyhow. A little fever was nothing he couldn’t handle.

“No, I’m fine! Maybe just a little tired?” Changbin’s response seemed to satisfy Chan who nodded before turning back to his computer and turning off the monitor.

“Yeah, I can relate” Chan said with a chuckle as he turned to Jisung, gently shaking him awake. “Time to go home, Jisungie. Let’s get you home and to bed”

Changbin grabbed his jacket, zipping it up all the way in an attempt to ward off the chill that had been nagging him all day.

*~*~*~*~*~

By the time they got home Hyunjin, as expected, fast asleep. Chan helped Jisung get ready for bed first since Jisung seemed dead on his feet at that point before cleaning himself up. Changbin waited patiently on the couch until it was his turn.

The moment he heard Chan close his bedroom door, Changbin dragged himself to the washroom. He immediately pulled the thermometer from the drawer where he had put it that morning and stuck it under his tongue.

Changbin almost missed the beep as his mind wandered, only realizing half a minute later that he could take it out of his mouth. He knew that his temperature hadn’t gone down but he also hadn’t expected to be up over a full degree. His “slight fever” was now at 38.9°. He popped a few ibuprofen tablets before getting himself ready for bed, hoping that he’d be feeling better in the morning.

*~*~*~*~*~

Of course Changbin didn’t feel better the following morning. He was woken by the sound of Hyunjin bustling around the apartment, getting ready to go to the dance studio. Even after he heard the front door open and close and the apartment returned to silence Changbin couldn’t seem to get any more sleep, instead opting to get up before Chan and Jisung to attempt to pull himself together before they woke up.

With his temperature up to 39.4° he took some more tablets and a cool shower, hoping to get it down enough to where he could have a coherent thought.

*~*~*~*~*~

The day passed much the same as the day prior, except Chan had noticed how sleepy his dongsaengs seemed as it approached 9:00 PM and called it a day early. Changbin was relieved to make it another day without attracting too much suspicion regarding his condition.

Chan received a text from Minho shortly after they arrived home that the dancers were on the way back and that Hyunjin had overdone it a bit so his back was bothering him. Chan tried to hurry Jisung and Changbin in and out of the washroom so that Hyunjin could get ready for bed as soon as he got home. Changbin volunteered to go last, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to move as quickly as the other two.

“I’m sorry to have to rush you, but Minho’s bringing Hyunjin up…” Chan called into Changbin from outside the door.

“I’ll be right out, sorry” Changbin mumbled, running the tap in order to obscure the sound of the beeping thermometer.

39.5°.

Really? How is it not going down?

He quickly tossed the thermometer back in the drawer and ran his towel through his hair again, wanting to make sure it was dry. He stepped out just in time to greet Minho and Hyunjin at the door. Hyunjin was holding his back and wincing as Minho helped him inside.

“Can you grab a heating pad for him, Bin?” Minho asked, but Changbin didn’t hear him, his mind set on getting to sleep as soon as possible.

“I got it, hyung” Jisung said as he sprung from the couch. He had noticed how tired Changbin had seemed all day but he was still surprised to see how out of it Changbin seemed now.

*~*~*~*~*~

Chan, Hyunjin, and Jisung were surprised to find Changbin asleep when Chan cracked his door to invite him to dinner.

“He’s seemed tired for the last few days” Chan said with a shrug. “But it’s understandable. We’ve been working long hours. I don’t know why we scrapped those songs…”

Chan’s thoughts were interrupted by a whine coming from Changbin’s room, followed by another.

Chan instantly stood up from the table, lightly knocking on Changbin’s door. “Hey, Binnie, you okay?”

He didn’t get a response. Just another pained whine from within, so he knocked a little louder. Still no response.

“I’m coming in” Chan announced, wasting no time opening Changbin’s door, finding his dongsaeng in a fitful sleep, all of his blankets kicked to the end of the bed and the floor.

“No…please…” Changbin muttered under his breath, clutching to his pillow.

Chan sat down cautiously at the edge of Changbin’s bed and placed a hand on his hip, trying to wake him gently without frightening him any more than he already clearly was.

“Wake up, Binnie. It’s just a nightmare” he whispered, trying to rouse Changbin.

Changbin quickly woke up but was still beyond disoriented. Sweat continued to drip from his brow as Chan attempted to ground him.

“You’re okay. Just take a few deep breaths” Chan cooed, realizing how off Changbin was looking. Luckily Jisung had followed him from the table and was lurking in the doorway. Chan turned to him and quietly asked for him to grab a glass of water.

Once Changbin’s breathing had evened out Jisung handed him the glass. He took a few sips before handing the glass back and leaning his head against Chan’s shoulder. Chan immediately felt the unnatural heat coming from Changbin and let out a sigh.

“Not feeling well?” Chan asked, running a hand along Changbin’s back.

“I’m fine” Changbin responded. “Just tired. Had a nightmare.”

Despite knowing that Chan had busted him, he still tried to downplay it.

“You’re burning, Binnie. How long have you been sick?” Chan persisted, and Changbin was frankly too exhausted and weak to argue.

“A few days. It’s not a big deal though. I’m fine…” Changbin muttered. “Just need to sleep it off.”

Chan shook his head, helping Changbin lie back down. “You’ll have plenty of time to sleep it off. You’re not to step foot back in the studio, let alone outside of this apartment, until you’re feeling better.”

“But the mixtape…” Changbin started before being cut off.

“Will be there when you’re well” Chan interjected. “Do you need anything?”

Changbin paused before nodding. “Will you stay with me?”

Chan smiled sadly at that, letting out a small chuckle. “Of course. But anything else before I lay down? Because I’m exhausted and am definitely going to fall asleep.”

Changbin just shook his head, relieved to have his hyung with him as he dozed off again.

#kpop sickfic #kpop fluff #sickfic #straykids sickfic #SKZ sickfic #straykids fluff #SKZ fluff #Changbin sickfic #Changbin fluff #sick Changbin

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moonsunpenguin · 3 months

Text

DFF Episode 7 Thoughts and Analysis (sort of)

Trigger warnings: DFF episode 7 (this episode should be a trigger warning itself), bullying, coercion, unconsented recording, SA, (if I forgot to add some please let me know).

It’s been a bit more than 72 hours since I watched episode 7. I can’t believe it actually took me 3 days to collect my thoughts and write them. But before I begin, I would just like to first say: WHAT THE F*CK EP7!

Sorry, I just have to get that off my chest. -_-

The whole episode was a LOT. Non was still bullied by the group, creepy Mr. Keng happened, the whole money problem… but we were given the glimpse of Phee and Non being in love and happy and just be cute (just a glimpse coz 5 minutes is so short a montage, we need more happy Non!).

Phee and Non Their getting together was such a cute thing to watch. They were happy and in love with couple bracelets to prove it.

It was like how coming of age stories are portrayed- with the color temperature (filter?) on the warm side (will tackle this more later) and everything looking vibrant. Until Non opened up about the whole horse accounts to Phee. The color temperature changed drastically back to the show’s usual cool color temp, that could be the show’s way of showing that this is NOT a sweet coming of age story.

Phee’s hero complex We are also shown a glimpse of Phee’s possible hero complex when he told Non that there’s no problem he won’t solve for Non. And that’s right after he lied to his Dad to save Non. We see how uncomfortable (guilty?) Non got after he learned about it. Because, yes, Phee helped solve one of Non’s problems (not going to jail) but the action made him feel that he was burdening and endangering Phee with his problems. This fear/guilt made him want to keep the rest of his problems to himself. Phee was his safe haven and he wanted to keep Phee safe too but he won’t be able to do that if he tells him his problems as Phee would definitely try and solve it for him. And at 16/17, there’s really not much he can do. Definitely not produce 300K in a snap of a finger.

Keng From his introduction in ep5, the audience were given the hint that he’s sleazy and the praises and faux concern he showed in ep6 just added to that. I was really hoping that they wouldn't go there in ep7 but they did. Non was a victim! He was vulnerable, on a tight deadline from Tee’s uncle and nobody to ask for help from. He couldn’t ask his parents (they’re barely getting by and still need to send money to New), he couldn’t as Phee, and he couldn’t ask his “friends” as they’re the reason he’s in this mess in the first place, so when someone (an adult) told him he can give him the money he took the offer. And Non’s a smart kid, he knew nothing was ever given free in this world. He knew jerk Keng wanted something in return.

Tee I really don’t get Tee. Like what exactly was his problem? Non had already given him the money. Where Non got it from should be none of his business. Though, yeah, it makes sense that he may want to know just in case Non was actually working with the police as that’s what he was concerned about when Non got acquitted of all charges for the horse accounts but still tho… If Tee could’ve just left it alone and not asked Top to spy for him.

Non Non just didn’t get a second to breathe this episode (not including the montage in the beginning as I feel like those were flashbacks within the flashback). He realized his boyfriend lied to his Dad (the police) for him. He realized Phee was willing to go any lengths for him. And with the small snippets of his family life we’re shown, we see how he only sees himself as a burden, only bringing problems. And I feel like this is one of the reasons he didn’t tell Phee all his problems, he’s afraid Phee would then see how he’s just a burden. So, he tried to solve it on his own, sadly Keng sniffed his vulnerability and took advantage of it. The way he hugged Phee and reassured him that everything was alright and to just trust him, was so heart-wrenching. It felt like he was so close to breaking but he would not want to be a burden. We were also shown that despite how horrible Tee treated him, he was still trying to look out for him. Even to the point of trying to steer Keng away when he saw him looking at Tee’s page. When Keng said he wanted to help Tee too, you could just see Non was scared. He knew what Keng’s “help” could mean.

Jin What Jin did this episode was not cool: convincing Non to stay until the film was done, recording without consent and thinking of posting it online. I still feel like he could maybe have done something worse than what has been shown this episode. In the present timeline he was saying he was a coward. Was it because he cowardly hid behind the anonymity the internet offers after posting the video? Did he even post the video? Or did he run away from something worse that he was a part of 3 years ago?

Color Temperature, Saturation and Vibrance The only time they used warm color temp was during the PheeNon sweet dates montage they also bumped the vibrance for those scenes. It could be that they want to indicate that it’s all flashback within the flashback or it could be that the show wanted to convey that those were happy memories for Non, that Phee added the colors into his life. The show also slowly lost it's saturation and the vibrance decreased as the episode progressed until everything just looked dull at the end. Non lost his safe haven, the only person helping him hold on.

Other thoughts Phee’s “just get lost and die” to Non this episode tho, I don’t think those were his last words to him. I think episode 6’s last scene with him saving Non and apologizing was after that (I’d like to believe that he got to apologize for what he said and they talk it out and ran off into the sunset, happy).

I hope the next episode wouldn’t be as heavy as this one but from the preview, I think it would be even worse. 😔

#dead friend forever #dff the series #dff #dff episode 7

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space-helen · 2 years

Text

Overworked

Words: 572

Pairing: Spock (tos) x Reader

A/N: I think I’ve slightly forgotten how to write Spock but I hope this is ok!!

Request: How would Tos Spock react to you being overworked?? - Anon

______________________

It was odd. Spock was always the one to finish his shift after you, he never knew a time where you'd finish after him. He, as a higher ranking officer, had longer shifts than you. He also inevitably got called into more work after the official end of his shifts.

That was up until recently. The past couple of days he'd been finishing before you. Getting back to you shared quarters to not find you there at all. The first night he came to find you. You were sat at your desk still, working away through reports.

The next two nights he left you to it, 3 hours later than you should have been, you were wandering back into your quarters.

Tonight he'd waited two hours, but he'd had enough. Moving to leave your quarters he bumped into you on his way out. "Y/N, finally."

You followed the man back inside, "I'm sorry"

"There is no need to apologise." He insisted as the door closed behind you.

You moved straight for your bed and began to get changed. The man handed you pyjamas as you undressed and grabbed you some food and drink as you went to the bathroom.

Sitting on the edge of the bed he handed you the drink. "You've been overworking yourself. What is this all for?"

"No I haven't." You took a sip of water

"I believe you have"

"I've only done what you would do in this situation." You continued to drink until all the water was gone.

"And what is the situation?" Spock took the glass from you

"I have to finish up all the reports Ensign Kylers has been ignoring. He's recently taken leave and you know what the reporting deadline is like."

"You cannot be expected to pick up after everyone."

"I know." You said defeated.

"I shall speak to the Captain-"

"No." You dropped the snack he'd handed you but quickly picked it up. "I don't want to bother anyone. It's nearly done. A couple more hours left tomorrow morning and then it's over and I'm never letting him fall behind again"

He contemplated what you said "I suppose that is logical. I would be a hypocrite to push this any further. I apologise."

You reached over to the man and placed your hand on his shoulder "thank you Spock. It really does mean a lot"

"I have done nothing to aid you, other than scold you. I have missed your presence the past couple of days"

"It's the small things that you don't realise you're doing, like bringing me a drink or handing me a change of clothes. I've missed you too"

He looked at you again and could see the exhaustion immediately. Taking the sheets he covered your legs as he collected up the items you no longer needed. "It's the minimum I could do. You should sleep."

You nodded as you settled into the sheets as Spock walked away to discard the items. But he was soon back in the room changing before settling into bed beside you.

Turning toward the man you rested your head in his chest and your arms around him as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Thank you for looking out for me" you muttered, sleep slowly taking over as the tension lifted from all of your muscles. No matter what he could always melt the tension away from you.

"It's my honour"

#spock x reader #star trek x reader #star trek tos x reader

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the-ace-with-spades · 8 months

Text

Dunno if I'm going to ever finish it (written in bits and pieces at the moment, about 2 out 9 chapters done + dialogues for the rest) but I might as well post it here. It was supposed to be part 1 of a series (the cure series) but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

'cause boys don't cry AU after Eddie leaves 118. When Eddie says a few words too much during an argument, Buck decides to leave LA but still stays in contact with everyone and still acts like Chris' second parent despite being miles away. It takes him two years hopping around the country to realize that his family will still be there without their workplace holding them together. It takes Eddie less to realize he misses him like a lung. Buck-centric, character study, slow burn, mutual pinning, getting together

Any kind of holiday cheer has left Buck and by the time he and Taylor are back in his loft, all he wants to do is sleep and forget the whole day happened.

Taylor takes it in stride. Buck has long suspected that she knows a bit too much about the feelings he has regarding Eddie—the feelings that are also too much. She’s been patient with him, like no one else has ever been, to the point that Buck felt guilt about how she was giving him more than he was giving her.

She lets Buck fester in his own mind while she keeps herself busy with unpacking the leftovers and tupperware Bobby handed them on their way out. She puts it all in the fridge which Buck will have to rearrange later and switch some of the stuff into the freezer. He has his own system and she doesn't know it, even after almost a year of dating. It’s fine.

"I know we promised not to talk about it until after New Year," Taylor says when she closes the fridge, voice soft and soothing in the silence of the loft, "but maybe it's a sign."

"Maybe," he agrees.

A few days before Christmas, Taylor got a job offer. In New York. They promised to talk about that first thing first, in January. They haven't talked about it beyond the offer that Buck could be a firefighter in New York. It was Taylor's offer, a compromise that would keep their both careers intact; an offer that seemed perfect on paper.

One thing is clear—Taylor is going, with or without Buck.

And the thing is, Buck would never hold her back, would never ask her to stay in LA with him and that was probably saying more about their relationship than he'd like to admit. But up until this point, he'd been thinking about a way they should go about their split up—because Buck couldn't do a long-distance relationship again—and not whether he actually could be a firefighter in New York. The wait has, so far, been unexpectedly good for them—maybe a deadline to judge how true their I love yous and I miss yous were and deciding whether the last year really proved they were better as a couple than as friends, maybe it was a good thing. Maybe the certainty that by January, they will know what the rest of their year will look like was something they both needed.

"Let me write some emails before going to bed," he tells her.

She smiles back at him, in a way that's almost calming. Not quite, but maybe in a couple of years…

Three hours later, Buck is tired. He's researched how external transfer could work—and it's manageable even if barely—and he's sent seven different emails with his firefighter CV and certs to various chiefs, admins and HR people.

Maybe it's impulsive. Maybe he should wait a bit and cool down. But maybe this is how he should do things—with his heart as the only guide. And his heart is hurt enough that he would do anything to leave LA as fast as he can.

Taylor brings him a mug of cinnamon tea and he gives her a kiss and the only thing his brain wants to acknowledge right at the moment is that Eddie hates cinnamon.

The next day, they are at work—having the Christmas Day off means going to work before or after it, or both, in Buck's case—and Buck is tying his shoes on the bench in the locker room.

Everyone is quiet. There's no Eddie. The only familiar faces are Hen and Ravi but the rest of the crew is also avoiding Buck's eyes, like they know he can break at the right look.

"You alright, Buck?" Hen asks, in the end, because someone has to and Bobby is already in his office.

"Peachy."

There's nothing else to say. Eddie was right—he has no right to be angry, about anything, or sad or disappointed or—It's not Buck's place to feel anything regarding Eddie or Christopher and he might have forgotten about it but now that he remembers, he's fine. He is.

Everyone leaves the locker room without a word. It's still ten minutes before the shift begins.

Buck keeps on trying and trying but he can't tie his shoes correctly, his hands shaking enough that both ends tangle together before he can make a proper knot.

Hen steps closer, because she won't leave him alone like this. But that's the thing—she will. Three years and she will be doing rounds in a hospital with other med students. And maybe she gave them a lot of heads up to get used to the idea and maybe, definitely, she will be a brilliant doctor, but it's all the same.

Hen stops his hands from tugging on the shoelaces. Her fingers wrap around his palms, embracing the tense muscles until he loosens the grip. She guides them away, closer to her waist.

"Buck," she says. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm fine, Hen."

There's no other truth. He has no right to any other truth.

"I know you're mad, Buck, and I know you don't want Eddie to leave but—"

"I'm not mad, Hen," he interrupts and it's not a lie. He's not mad—he's hurt and he feels stupid that he forgot his place and that he let himself get comfortable and hopeful again. Things with Eddie hadn't been great ever since the shooting and only spiraled downhill once Buck moved out of Eddie's house after he recovered enough to take care of himself and Christopher on his own—he should have known that it was Eddie's choice, that he was recreating boundaries for Buck so he wouldn't cross into a territory he shouldn't.

But it was too late for that.

Buck has already crossed every boundary anyone from the One-Eighteen had set for him. It wasn't intentional—he just thought his boundaries were in the same spots as everyone else's, that they weren't playing house, that they were living it, the same way he did.

"I think Eddie is making the right decision," Buck tells her because that's also the truth and he doesn't like lying.

If Eddie had talked to him about it, Buck would have told him that too—he would have been supportive, would have helped him with shortlisting potential jobs, would have helped him with talking about it with Christopher, would have set a budget and time-off plan, would have put some order into the chaos the decision was. Eddie was doing what was best for Christopher and that—that's something Buck would never deny him. But Eddie hadn't talked to him about it.

And that hurt. That hurt because one of the things Buck has always thought he would have, no matter what his feelings for Eddie were—platonic, romantic or too messed up to name—was that little place in Eddie's family.

And it was like Maddie all over again, too. Because he thought he had that little place in Maddie and Chim's family, that he would be part of the struggle and the decisions and he would be part of the help. It wasn’t about Maddie not being there for him, it was about Maddie not allowing him to be there for her. It's never been about being left behind—it's always been about being part of someone else, having a place with someone.

And if Buck's not part of any of the two, then who exactly is he? Who is Evan Buckley? Maybe it's time to figure it out, on his own. Maybe it's just part of being a human, leaving others behind, never really settling down with anyone, and maybe Buck needs to do exactly that.

He clenches his jaw and slides his hands out of Hen's grip.

He gives her a small smile and uses the same shaking hands to finally tie his boots. He can't look her in the eyes, at least not for more than a millisecond.

"I'm fine, Hen. Really."

Eddie doesn't show up to the shift, or the rest of his shifts, before his two weeks notice runs out—Bobby said he used up the leftover PTO he had, to focus on finding a new job and adjusting to a new life.

Buck picks up Christopher on both Wednesdays and they have a little trip to the cinema and to the new interactive science exhibition for kids they opened just after New Year's. Buck worked on New Year's Eve and on New Year's Day. He takes Chris back home but never walks him past the porch, just watches Eddie open the door for Chris, like he was waiting at the entrance since he heard Buck's Jeep park on his driveway.

He texts Eddie for the first time in two weeks, still sitting in his car in Eddie's driveway, seeing the light turning on in the kitchen of Eddie's house. His engine is on, waiting for Buck to make the escape, to be chased or to be chased out.

To Eddie: Ill pick him up from school for a sleepover next fri

Then, he adds, because he realizes he should be asking for permission;

To Eddie: If its alright with you

A text comes in a minute later.

From Eddie: I have a taster day on sat To Eddie: Ill take him to your abuela b4 my shift then

He puts the Jeep in reverse. He drives to the loft and once he is in the underground parking lot of his apartment complex, he texts Taylor.

To Taylor: Lets do it

There's no signal underground so the text doesn't go through until he's in the elevator. He could unsent it in the next three minutes it takes him to go across the parking lot, if he wanted.

He doesn't unsent it.

He cooks dinner—too much because he never really stopped being used to cooking for two grown men and a growing pre-teen, but Taylor can always take some to work for lunch the next day. It’s a compromise.

Taylor doesn't text him but when she finally comes back from work, she has a soft smile on her face.

She takes a look at Buck, sitting on his couch with an open laptop and filled-out application forms and drafted reply emails to both the chief and the HR admin from FDNY, and she looks at him and steps closer and guides Buck's head onto her chest.

Buck sighs when she brushes her fingers through the short hair on the back of his neck.

It's not quite what he wants but it's something he can grasp now and something that a new place, maybe, can shape into something he wants.

On Thursday, Buck goes to work early. Or earlier than he usually would. He goes through the motions—puts on freshly washed and dried uniform, button after button, even getting done the collar one today, slips his boots on and folds his civvies into a neat pile, packs it all back into the sports bag. He goes through the locker too, packs the athletic wear he has to wash between a small towel and gets rid of the little notes, photos and trinkets he has pinned to the inside of the door. It all lands in the trash can, except for the drawing he has from Christopher, of Buck in turnout gear, now years old, and a little origami flower he got from a kid he had rescued from a pile-up his first year on the job.

His name tag is still missing on his chest and as he looks into the mirror on the wall, checking if he's pinning it down straight and while staring at the Buckley written on the silver plate, he realizes he will have to give back his uniform on his last day.

FDNY doesn't have name tags. Their surnames are embroidered onto the uniform in a bright red thread, permanent in a way that Buck would have loved not so long ago.

"Buck," is what shakes him out of his head.

He looks up in the mirror and Bobby's face is already catching his eyes in the reflection.

"You're early," Bobby continues, in that level-headed, monotone voice he uses when he isn't sure what's going on but has a feeling about it. "There's over half an hour left before the shift starts."

Buck doesn't know what to say to that so he asks, "Can we talk? In private?"

Bobby takes him upstairs, to his office. They are quiet on the way there and Bobby's hand is warm on the small of his back when he closes the door behind them. He doesn't sit down, instead, he leans on his desk and looks at Buck. His arms are open like he's preparing for a hug—Buck expected them to be crossed over his chest.

"Cap—" he says and then he corrects himself. "Bobby, I didn't want you to hear from anyone else but I already submitted a copy to the chief."

He hands him the manila folder he snatched from his locker before following him out of the changing area. Bobby opens the elastic in a second and reads the papers inside.

“I think it’s time,” Buck adds when Bobby doesn't say anything.

This stirs something. Bobby looks almost angry—it's a look Buck's never seen on him. Disappointed, disapproving, defeated? Buck's seen that, not this.

“Time for what? I thought this is what you wanted, what you fought for. Buck, you can’t just—”

“It’s an external transfer, Cap, not a resignation letter," he interrupts. Bobby could, probably, talk him out of this and he knows it.

He needs him not to talk him out of this.

“I need a minute to myself, find a place in—with someone. I got too attached to this,” he admits, without really admitting what this means. “To the station, to the crew, to… We might act like it sometimes, but it isn't a family, isn’t that what you told me? I think I took it too far and—it's not—”

Healthy. It's not healthy for him.

Bobby flinches at the words, maybe because he hasn’t remembered them until now or maybe because he hasn’t thought that Buck would remember them. And he hadn't, not until a few days ago when his heart started breaking after sustaining too many cracks in the last months. It’s been five years and Buck still remembers. This is not a family.

And that's Buck's main point here—it's been five years and Buck is in the same place as he started, maybe there's less stolen trucks and meaningless hookups but emotionally, he's stuck. Desperate for a family. Loving with his whole heart without being loved back the same amount. With no clue who he is, except that he is a firefighter, and although this, somehow, might give him a lifeline to grasp, it's not enough anymore. He doesn't want to just survive, he wants to thrive.

“We are a family, Buck. This crew, we all love you, we will always be your family—”

Buck wants to believe it—

“On shift, maybe.” —he knows better now though. “But after the shift, you all will have your real families. You’ve got Athena, and May, and Harry, and Micheal, Hen has Karen and Denny and her fosters, and—and Chim will have Maddie and Jee and I—I just have an empty apartment and way too many feelings. I hate it, Bobby, I hate how this makes me feel so angry and so desperate and so empty, and I need to be less attached. I need to know who I am again without questioning how much of this is real and how much I imagined.”

He can't look Bobby in the eyes—he knows what he would see if he does. Defeat. Sadness. Maybe even a bit of a heartbreak.

“Taylor got a job offer in New York, I checked with the command and they would need me to recertify there if I wanted to be a fully trained firefighter on the crew or squad but they will gladly let me be a floater in the meantime, I don't even have to redo the full training, just pass the ones reciprocity can't be reached on. I’ll technically belong to Station Two-Fifty-Two but I’ll be bouncing around to whichever house will need me at the time. It’ll be good for me, not getting too involved, you know? Just doing what I love with no strings attached.”

No boundaries to cross or to overstretch. Just Buck, in his purest form. Just Buck, not the imagined version he created in his own mind. No Buck 1.0, no Buck 2.0, no Buck 3.0, no Buck 4.0. Just Buck.

Just Evan.

"It'll be good, I promise," he says and it almost sounds like he's saying, I'll be good.

Bobby stands there, his arms falling down his sides. And then he opens them again, this time wider, this time leaning into Buck's space from afar.

Buck lets him hug him. Lets him hold his nape in his palm and lets him guide Buck's face into his shoulder. Lets him sway Buck from side to side until Bobby's breathing, shallow and rapid, is back to normal. Lets himself have this for the last time.

"Please don't tell anyone about it, Bobby," he pleads into his shoulder. "I have two weeks left. I want them to be normal."

Bobby squeezes his shoulders tighter.

On Friday, he picks up Chris from school.

First thing in the morning, while, he knows, Eddie is driving Chris to school, he parks on the driveway and uses the spare key to get in. He tries not to look around—at the dirty dishes in the sink, at the thrown over the couch blankets, at Eddie's unused work shoes, sitting near the entrance.

It's not his place, to look at them.

Instead, he packs an overnight bag for Chris—his favorite PJs, two in case something gets spilled, clothes for the next day, his weekend workbook, his space-themed notebook, his comfort blanket, the one he had since he was a baby, and Chris's meds for two days.

He hesitates before going back out to his car. Turns around back to the kitchen and takes a sticky note from the fridge and writes down what he doesn't want to say.

Packed stuff for Chris for the weekend. Don't freak out if anything is missing.

The key is under the mat

– Buck

He leaves the sticky note on the fridge and leaves the spare key under the mat. He's flying out in two days, on an overnight flight on Sunday, it's not like he's going to use it again.

Chris is happy to see him. Just like Buck suspected, Eddie hasn't told him the plan for the day. Buck clenches his jaw before saying something along the lines, Glad you liked the surprise, buddy.

The day is good. They start up by making dough for a homemade pizza and the loft looks like a warzone afterwards but Buck doesn't care. While the dough is left to grow, he helps Chris with his homework and then, they finish up the pizza, making a monstrosity of various toppings that probably shouldn't go together. It’s something they’d done multiple times over the years, even if Eddie is usually there with them.

Chris is amazing the whole day like he always is. They play a mix of video games and board games and even play some modified Uno. Chris rambles about his school day throughout the whole ordeal and runs down possible ideas for his upcoming projects by Buck and they discuss the idea of making a giant soda volcano, just to spite Eddie when it inevitably erupts in their living room—Buck makes him promise he will take a picture of Eddie's face when it happens.

They finish up with a healthy snack—veggies and hummus—and Chris and he brush their teeth before they go to bed for their half an hour of before-bed quiet reading time, each with their own book. When Chris's eyes get tired, Buck finishes up the chapter for him, reading out loud, until Chris curls into his chest on the brink of sleep.

Buck tucks them both in. Chris falls asleep as soon as he kisses his forehead.

He remembers the first time like this, back when Eddie was dating Ana and Chris came for a sleepover in the loft while his dad was breaking Buck's heart, laughing in a restaurant with a woman that wasn't Buck. He had been anxious the whole evening and trying desperately not to think why Eddie wanted Chris to sleep at Buck's and not Buck at their house. But as soon as Chris was under Buck's covers, the only thing he could think about was just how scared he was to sleep with Chris in the same bed.

Because no matter how big it was, Chris was so small and Buck was not and Buck was a kicker—and a snorer, according to Chris and Eddie—and the thought of hurting Chris, even by accident, or even putting him in any form of discomfort, made him want to grab a spare blanket and sleep on the floor next to the bed.

He stayed awake for about an hour after Chris fell asleep with his head on his chest, contemplating just not going to sleep, when he felt Chris's own legs kicking his thigh with a single, abrupt movement. And then, somehow, he knew Chris would be fine.

And he holds Chris, for an hour, without falling asleep, just like back then, and he knows Chris will be fine with him leaving. He will be fine because he will make sure of that. It's not going to be like his dad leaving for the army or like his mom leaving for LA after breaking down.

It’s a normal day. The upcoming days will also be normal, even if different.

They are eating breakfast in Buck’s kitchen the next morning, Taylor comes in, says hi to Chris and leaves within minutes with her laptop. Before she goes, she stops in the doorframe, looking at Chris’s back, at how unsuspecting he is, and gives Buck a smile that feels like a squeeze of a hand. He nods back at her and smiles, his cheeks protesting at the motion.

Chris is still half-awake but he finishes his choco-chip pancakes without problems. It’s slow, and quiet, and sunny and Buck hates it.

"There's something we should talk about," he starts when Chris is scrapping off the whipped cream off the side of his plate. Buck hasn’t even tried to eat. "Something I have to tell you."

#buddie #buck my beloved (deregatory)#evan buck buckley #911 fox #op #charlie writes #q

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