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reveluving · 29 days

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heartburn ; the ghoul x reader

summary: kindness gets people killed in the wasteland, and yet, cooper can't help it when it's you.

warnings: s~mut obv (minors DNI!), pre-war performer/entertainer!reader (for your creativity!); now an immortal ‘smoothskin’, soft as hell but our lovely ghoul is still a loud mouth, age gap but not really (think of him in his 40s & you in your 20s/30s but both in 200-ish years old), typical fallout violence & explicit language, loads of banter & fluff!

a/n: it’s here! based on this because the brain rot was (and is) so real. decided to call this the ‘la rouge series’, just to make it easier for tagging and when any lil’ pieces/asks come in. hope you guys enjoy & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» curious about my writing? come & check out my main m.list!

» smut includes: possessive soft & slightly mean dom!cooper, ‘pretty girl’ & baby as pet names, dirty talk i.e. + about exhibitionism (it doesn’t happen tho!), body appreciation, nipple play, spanking, fingering, a bit of edging/teasing, unprotected s~ex (p in v), bits of aftercare but overall, coop likes it nasty.

'It was worth holding back a witty remark during moments like these if it meant seeing you light up each time.' ;

It should’ve been uncomfortable; the sheen of perspiration building up along your body, despite the cooler night, albeit marginally as opposed to the day. Had it not been for the ceiling fan, no matter how slow it gets once in a while, you were indebted to its existence.

Especially at this exact moment, throwing your head and watching the contraption spin above you as Cooper bucked up into you.

Lucy had dozed off, you checked an hour prior, finding her asleep in the old guestroom when you stopped by. Maximus, too, snoring away on the wingback chair next to her. Whether it was because you entered with light steps or the duo were bone-tired, you had successfully spread the thin sheets over their figures before turning the table lamp off—all of which Cooper watched behind the door, feeling an overwhelming emotion brewing in him.

You barely knew them, hell, he was there when you shot Lucy a chilling look, realizing she was the daddy’s girl, but beyond that, you also saw two souls who were… lost. A set of strangers who wanted nothing more than to do the good thing, even if you didn't agree with their beliefs. And yet, the old caring nature in you couldn’t help but offer at least some form of appreciation for their humanity.

You held yourself back when Lucy babbled, even if—when you wanted nothing more than to cuss her father out. You didn’t lash out when she asked about your time in the shelters way before her mother was around. You acknowledged Maximus’s good intentions, even if they were a little gullible.

Cooper noticed it all, and fuck, if your unmoveable kindness wasn’t disgustingly the sweetest and sexiest thing he had ever seen.

It all felt like a typical romance movie after that, when you crossed paths in the living room, with you on your way to the kitchen when he stopped you. Delicately (and uncharacteristically, you might add) holding your wrist and tugging you to his chest to stare into your dreamy eyes. How a smile naturally bloomed on your face as you reached for his jaw. He indulged in your cutesy behaviour, as he always does, angling his head to kiss your palm while your eyes remained locked. It was worth holding back a witty remark during moments like these if it meant seeing you light up each time.

Not that you couldn’t handle them, if anything, putting him in his place wasn’t unheard of—you knew how to shut him up with that aura of yours from time to time.

But make no mistake; he knew how to get you tongue-tied, too.

He dipped his head, and the kiss that came was nasty. Swallowing your little gasp when he took hold of your jaw.

“Here?” You whispered incredulously between giggles when he led you to the couch. All he gave you was a grunt, falling back into the seat and pulling you with him. Your legs snugged around his as he encouraged you to sit, not hover him. The soft tune that played in the kitchen reminded you of a scene out of a cheesy porno from your old days, and when he hummed along, you knew he had the same thoughts, too.

“It's our house,” He grinned, “Means our rules.”

“Uh-huh,” You humoured, amused as you shook your head, but the use of ‘our’ did send butterflies to your stomach, “Mind elaborating, handsome?”

He explained all-too-happily, “It means y'got every right throw y'guests t’the doghouse if they start yappin’ ‘bout indecency.”

You say that now, but you knew he would shoot one in between their eyes for ogling you clothed, let alone in your glory. He has done it before.

Countless times.

But you’d kick him to the doghouse if he ever got blood on your floors. And just to piss him off further, you’d allow Dogmeat to sleep on the bed with you.

“You'd like to do that, wouldn't you?” I snorted.

His eyes lit up, taking your words as a green light, “Y'offerin’?”

You smacked his chest. “I know your games, cowboy. Room’s not far, y’know?”

“Aww, c'mon,” Calloused fingertips traced up your legs before slipping under the skirt, alternating between kneading and smacking your ass repeatedly to hear your squeaks, “When's the last time y'and I messed ‘round in the livin’ room?”

“Just last week.” You huffed, partially from the way his hips rolled against yours.

With any lack of action and the undeniably warmer weather throughout the day, you thought it was time to enjoy the night breeze with a slit skirt. The hems were slightly burnt off from past confrontations, involving a near-fatal experience with a Molotov cocktail, but besides that, it was relatively intact.

And just like you, it was Cooper’s favourite piece, too.

“Mm,” He acknowledged with a grunt, “Far too long t’me.”

He leaned back, arms spread across the backrest while looking at you expectantly

“Y’gon’ take it off f’me or…?” He asked. You rolled your eyes—as if you could ever refuse him.

But you couldn’t just give it to him, right?

You sat back, poised and coy, toying with him when you gazed up at him through your lashes. In the mood to give him a little show as it seemed like your guests were going to stay out cold for a while.

You were definitely teasing him when you popped the buttons of your shirt, only to let it droop around your elbows, just enough to get a glimpse of your cleavage and pesky black bra.

Reaching over, you dragged your index finger from his Adam’s apple, down to the collar. His overcoat long gone for your convenience, uncovering his chest without problems.

He was always intrigued, and if he was being honest, in disbelief by your fascination—by your need to have him unclothed in some form of way, despite his condition. The wariness grew over time, and he had not only relished it in but encouraged you for it, too.

Bunching up and pushing your skirt to the side, his fingers rubbed your pussy through your panties. He sighed, feeling the patch of wetness that soaked through the fabric. He was excited as you were, eager to feel you against him as he shifted under you.

He raised his fingers to his lips, sucking on his middle finger sloppily and groaning at your taste before dipping them under your panties. He straightened, pulling you forward by the back of your head as he prodded a finger into you. The position had you arching, chest to chest as he forced you to moan in his ear.

At your mewls, he was more than content to give you another, sinking his ring finger in bit by bit to feel you clench desperately.

He revelled in the warmth, the tightening of your warm walls as if fearing he'd pull out. The more you felt him curl inside you, the more useless it was to muffle your cries. The embarrassing squelch didn’t help either, but how couldn’t you, with that romantic stunt he pulled moments ago?

He tapped on your hips, silently requesting you to hold yourself up for a moment while he shoved his pants down. His cock stood with pride, twitching at the cool air and the anticipation to feel what his digits were feeling.

Pushing your panties to the side, he lined up the head of his cock to your pussy. He was practically dreaming of feeling you sink onto him at once, already bucking his hips to fill you to the hilt. Instead, you took him in ever so slowly, bit by bit before raising your hips till there was nothing more than the tip of him in you. Taking him in little by little as he teased you with his fingers.

“Y'tryin’ t’kill me?” He gritted out.

“You can handle it.” You cooed back, already losing composure as you felt up his chest.

He groaned, eyeing you dangerously only to shudder when your thighs slammed against his. You felt full, hell, you were full, needing a moment as your fingernails dug into his skin.

“Fuuuck,” He groaned, tipping his head back though forcing himself not to close his eyes to watch your tits bounce as you moved faster, “Look at y'go. Yeah, ride m’cock, pretty girl. Juuust like that.”

His praises had you pulsing around him, but so did his desperation. Slowing down once again to feel him buck under you.

But there was also something else about tonight.

Familiarity was putting his feelings lightly, unable to tear his eyes off as images of the same smile, maybe just a tad more innocent about the world, flashed before his eyes. Remembering his lucky encounters with you when you were both stars. When the two of you had dreams. When your worries at the time were nothing more than bringing joy to the people who watched you perform like you had hung the moon.

He could never forget admiring you and your artistry, similar to how you marvelled at his productions in awe, even after when they were nothing more than a man on a horseback before it all went to hell.

And to have him before you once more, albeit a bigger menace than you thought was possible, he was still your Cooper Howard.

Your cheekiness was wiped off when his hand dropped to your ass with a sharp smack, the slap drowning out the radio for a split second.

“‘Y'had your fun.” He growled. His hands held onto you so desperately, similar to the way you grappled onto his shoulders for support.

Your button-up was sticking to your skin just below your breasts, and as much as Cooper loved the little striptease, he wanted more.

He pulled the article further down by your sleeves, where you shuddered at the feeling of Cooper’s lips latching onto your skin. The sensation rough as he nipped at your rib. He surged forward, salivating as he sucked and tugged on your nipple. He let out a heady groan, tasting a hint of salt while rigorously bouncing you up and down his cock.

You were what pin-ups couldn’t emulate, what poets or authors couldn’t convey with mere words.

Anyone, surface dwellers and vaulties alike wished they could have you.

He crept one hand in between you, rubbing tight circles on your clit. He didn’t relent when you trembled, when you tightened as you came hard. Not even when you spasm, overstimulated when he continued to thrust in and out of you.

He held you down longer than you would've liked, too obsessed with the way your walls fluttered around him. Begging for some form of friction as you clamped him like a vice. The mewls that followed were music to his ears, frustrated in the cutest way when he did nothing more than flash you an infuriating smile.

A tight one, you noticed. Unable to hide his own need for long as your juices dripped down to his thighs. He was… a little sick in the head—who would’ve thought—abstaining himself from chasing the high for just a moment, just to amp up the pleasure and feel his desperation sated as if he finally deserved the ‘treat’.

“Coop…” You mewled, nearly choking on your spit as his iron-clad grip forced you to feel each and every ridge of him up to the brim, “Coop–! Please! Please move, please—fuck.”

Oh, how cruel of him to deny you. Especially when you sang for him so sweetly.

You raised your head, lips parted as his eyes bored into your teary ones. Even when you became lost in your lustful haze, only able to churn out nothing but his name as hushed moans, he couldn’t miss the small dazed smile flickering across your face.

He couldn’t resist, reaching up to brush across the pads of your plush lips. And as hooked as you were over the proximity, you placed your hand over his, keeping it on your cheek.

Your eyes screamed for him to go faster, to put you out of your misery. He pitied you to some degree when he rolled his hips.

“That too much? No, y'can take it. M'pretty girl can take what I give.”

“Gonna fuckin’ come in’ya, y’hear me?”

“Oh, you’re tearin’ up, feels really good, doesn’t it, baby?”

He slammed you down as soon as he came, thighs sticky and flushed. His grinds slowed down, chest heaving till he had his last spurts of cum in you. He traced his hands along the bruising spots he had left on your hips, then up your sides, tickling you.

The corner of his lips twitched at your tired giggle, catching your breath with your face pressed against his shoulder.

“Y’liked that?” He matched your amusement, reaching over the dry towel conveniently draped on the arm of the couch and wiping off the sweat dripping down your back.

“Mmm.” You hummed into his skin, already comfortable against him.

“Y’really liked it,” He reiterated, finding your playful eye-roll worth it, casually dragging the cloth under your chin and the area between your breasts before tossing it to the side. He let one arm outstretched on the backrest, “Y’need some water or somethin’?” You thought for a moment; you’d need a sip or two after all that, but you could hold it off for a few minutes.

“In a bit,” You returned to snuggling in his arms, much to his satisfaction, “Can't you just carry me to bed?”

“I would, but…” He trailed off. You followed his line of sight when it fell to his lap, not only reminding you of the mess but also if he stood up, well, you might as well fall with him if his pants dropped to his ankles. You knew he could clean you up and buckle his pants before carrying you to your room with no problem, he just didn’t feel like it.

And, well, you understood him.

“Fine,” You sighed, feigning resignation even though a little smile was playing on your lips. You knew each other too well, “But if I hear rushed footsteps or that girl yapping about ‘my eyes’, I blame you.”

“Not the first time you’ve ever blamed me for anythin’—m’poor ol’ heart,” He pretended to weep, placing a hand on his chest, only to catch yours when you tried to smack him for it, “See? Unloved, by m’own girl.”

You shared a laugh, and when he pulled his rest on your waist once more, you knew none of you were going anywhere.

In minutes, you were finally able to take in your surroundings, recognizing the chorus playing in the background, a classic of Dean Martin’s, one that even Cooper couldn’t help but hum to. It was soft, no more than within your hearing range, even bobbing his head to the beat. You followed, too, and to your surprise, the two of you coincidentally sang a particular line together.

♫ Your love made it well worth waiting ♫

♫ For someone like you ♫

You turned your head to head to the side before he could look at you after spotting the knowing smile he was sporting. And as the song came to an end, eyes droopy as he instinctively rubbed your back, his hat tipped down.

You couldn’t help it, craning your neck and planting one final kiss, to which he eagerly returned before your bodies melded into each other once more. Relaxed and protected from the dangers outside your safe haven, even for just a moment. So long as both of you were still breathing, you’d take the bull by its rotting horns in stride.

♫ Everybody loves somebody sometime ♫

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

a/n: fun fact! ignoring the fact that the concept of the game is inspired by the 50s and burlesques would no longer be as famous then, one of the many entertainer options I imagine for the reader (depending on the fic) is burlesque (?) dancer, which very much inspired this piece! not necessarily as her job in the old days but someone who knows a thing or two about it! but again, as the reader, you have the right to imagine whoever you or your mc however you’d like! ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

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sunflower-lilac42 · 7 days

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𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘆 | 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 ♔

➪ summary: when a youtuber comes and asks y/n and her friend which one of their siblings would send them more money, she realizes she's never been so grateful to have rich brothers

➪ warnings: luke not sending reader money :(

➪ word count: 0.9k

➪ file type: blurb

➪ sunny's notes: this is the result of me scrolling on youtube shorts too much :)

nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

⟹ Version One | The One Where They Are All Together

She was walking through campus with her friend, talking about what had just happened in the past day that they had seen each other. As they got closer to their destination a man approached them. He was around their age, maybe a year or two older, he had a microphone in one hand as a camera guy trailed behind him, “Do you guys have any siblings?”

The two nodded, a little skeptical, “I’ll give 20 dollars to whoever can convince their sibling to send them more money than the other.”

Her friend whined, “No, her brothers are rich, this is so easy for her, it isn’t fair.”

“Oh, they’re actually all together right now so that works! Wait, why am I making them send me money? I’ll think of something.”

Y/n pulled out her phone and face-timed Jack, hoping that out of the three of them, he’d pick up, “Hey y/n/n!”

Quinn and Luke joined the frame soon after, “Uh hey, can I ask you guys a huge favor?”

All three raised an eyebrow, but Luke was the one who answered, “What is it?”

“Can you guys send me some money? I need to buy a new textbook but my paycheck hasn’t come-“

“How much?”

“Like a 100? I’ll pay you back, I kind of need it soon.”

Quinn, being the big brother he loved to be, answered right away, “Yeah, of course. no need to pay me back too.”

“I promise I will.”

“Nope, I make like millions a year, I think I can spare my baby sister 100 bucks.”

“Thanks, Quinny. good luck tomorrow you guys, don’t hit each other. Love you.”

“Love you too.” The three chorused back right before she hung up.

Quinn was quick to send her the money, yet instead of the 100 she asked for, he sent her 200. Attached was a note saying that they missed her and to go buy some food for her and her friend.

“Hah, have fun beating that.”

Her friend called her sister, getting a mere $30 from her. She frowned and rolled her eyes, telling y/n that she owed her for lunch now. And after the guy left, she sent all $200 back plus the extra 20 she had just got saying it was just for a video and that she loved him. Jack and Luke whined about losing 20 dollars after that.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

⟹ Version Two | The One Where She Asks All Of Them Separately

She and her friend had been walking back from class, talking about the new project that they were doing. They were on their way to grab something to eat as it had been slowly approaching lunchtime. There was a guy in the courtyard, with a microphone and his own camera guy. It was a little weird and they became a little skeptical when he asked them if the two had any siblings.

While her friend shook her head no, she replied, “Yeah, three.”

So while they couldn’t see whose sibling would send them the most money, they could see which ones out of hers would, “Okay we haven’t done this one before but I’ll give whatever sibling of yours who sends you more money 20 bucks.”

“Deal!”

She called Quinn first, figuring that out of the three of them, he would be the one not doing anything at this time of day. He answered instantaneously, a soft hi coming from his side of the phone.

“Hey Quinny, I have a favor to ask you.”

“What’s up?”

“Can you send me some money? I have-“

“Yeah, how much?”

“You didn’t even let me finish my question.”

“You’re my sister, I’m going to send you money no matter what. I mean unless you’re buying drugs, are you buying drugs?”

“No just my-“

“Yeah okay. How much?”

“Like 50?”

“Okay, I’ll send you the money. I have to go, but I’ll call you later, okay? I love you.”

“Love you too.”

She looked back at her phone and smiled when she realized he sent her 75 instead of 50. She looked back up as she moved to call Jack, “Alright, let’s see what Jack will do.”

Jack answered his phone within the first three rings, “Y/n.”

“Jackson.”

“What’s up sasquatch?”

“I got a favor to ask you.”

“Should I be scared?”

“I don’t know, do you have a reason for the Devils to stop paying you?”

“No?” His voice was more confused than worried at this point.

“Okay cool, can I borrow some money? Just like 50 bucks.”

“For what reason?”

“I need some new books for class.”

Jack raised an eyebrow from the other side, “Positive?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay fine. 50 you said?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll send it when we hang up.”

“Thank you, Jack. I love you.”

“Love you, you dork.”

And when the phone hung up and she got a notification, she realized Jack had sent her the exact amount she was looking for, “Cheapskate. Just kidding, I’m sending this back anyway after this video. Alright, I highly doubt Luke will send me any money, but we can try at least.”

“Luke!”

“Hey y/n/n.”

“Listen I got this huge favor I need to ask you.”

“Whatever it is, no.”

“Not even for your favorite sister?”

“Not even for my “favorite” sister. What is it anyway?”

“I was just wondering if you could send me some money for my-“

“Yeah, no.”

“What do you mean no? You didn’t even let me finish?”

“I’m broke.”

“You’re literally a professional hockey player.”

“So? Get your own money.”

She scoffed, “Rude. And this is why you aren’t my favorite.”

“Oh well.”

“Bye Luke.” She hung up before he could say anything else.

“And just for that, I’m sending Quinn and Jack like an extra 20 each.”

⬂ 𝗛𝘂𝗴𝗵𝗲𝘀 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲��𝘀 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ⬂

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dollwrites · 8 months

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𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, noncon and then dubcon, suggested age gap ( reader is early 20s, yujiro is late 30s ), light degradation, impact play, clit torture, reader cries, name calling ( whore ), face slapping, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day eight [ yujiro hanma + impact ]

it takes two fingers to make you cry.

two of Yujiro’s massive, powerful digits to make you tremble and beg for mercy.

“Shameful,” he mutters, an air of disdain to his rumbly baritone. as if he’s disappointed in how quickly you turn to blubbering. “I’ve hardly touched you.” but the wicked grin he wore told the truth— that he knew how much pressure he’d applied with those two fingers, and he expected nothing less than to make you sob. “And I can’t tell from those whiny noises if you’re really needy or fucking pathetic.”

you were both.

the length of his fingers rub between your sticky folds, their thickness forcing your netherlips to slot around them, and you squirm and pant, but it’s when he taps against your swollen clit that you really lose it. unlike any other man, when the rough pads make contact with your button, you don’t feel the sting on the exposed and vulnerable exterior nerves as if you’ve been spanked, but the raw power he could channel through his fingers. it surges through your core, seeping deep into you, reaching spongy, hidden clusters of sensitivity that should be impossible. as if he’d aimed right for them, he focuses each assault. your clit throbs, but it’s the iceberg’s submerged nerves that take the brunt of the impact.

“Y—Yujiro!” you cry out, as you twitch and writhe beneath him.

you didn’t know how this was possible.

how he could do this.

it shouldn’t have been possible.

and yet, when he did it again, battering your body’s defenses with a drumming of his two fingers against your clit, and you feel as though he’s struck you with a high voltage cattle prod, your back arches, desperate to push him off. your heels push against the mattress, eager to try and scramble away from the sensation.

“That—!” that hurts like hell. it’s too much. what are you doing? these all came to mind, but you couldn’t voice a single one. his fingertips drum against you, a barrage of rapid fire, superhuman pressure targeting your most sensitive depths, and you threw your head back, tears pricking against the corners of your eyes. it hurt, but there was more to it than just pain. as if he’d stuck the world’s most powerful vibrator directly against your hyper-sensitive interior nerves, a rush of flustered euphoria rushes to your stomach, knotting it up. “S-s—top—“

you weren’t sure if you really wanted him to, though. your body screamed and writhed, convulsing as he attacks your sex, but at the same time, your toes curl tight, and your breath turns into furious, warm puffs. your hips winding like a snake, trying to hump up against his large, rough hand.

“I-I’m— gonna—!”

“Cum from the abuse?” Yujiro’s voice is low, his mouth twisted in a hungry smile that could be misread as a grin. “Your little legs are starting to tremble; you’re sobbing but you can’t stop riding my hand, begging for me to keep hurting you. Do you know what that makes you?”

you look away, smearing your tear-stained cheek into the pillow as you pant and mumble, hoping for a mercy that you knew he’d never give you. “Yujiro… p-please…”

“Go ahead and say it.” tap. tap. tap. you gurgle and grunt, hips bucking as you smother your own whimpers. “What does that make you?”

you knew what he wanted to hear. the word he’s drilled into your head since day one. the word that he’s called you over and over. but you couldn’t say it. not without a little more persuasion, which he was more than willing to give you.

your face is tiny and delicate as he snatches it up by your chin, dragging it back and pushing the back of your head into the pillow. “Look at me,” his massive chest rises and falls, he snorts every, heavy breath through flared nostrils. you flinch, bathed in the heat of his ragged breathing, smushed into the mattress, forced on your back. you hear the smack of his palm making contact with your supple cheek before you feel the certain pain to follow, and it rocks your face to the side. in the moment that follows, fire floods your face and you see stars, and blink rapidly to maintain your eyesight. “One more time. Look here.” he says, his mighty thumb pressing against your chin as he pulls your face back into place. you’re staring at him in shock, his second mind numbing slap coming down hard on the same spot. to him, it was the mildest swat, but to you? your head was swimming, as if he’d slapped your brains loose, and you’re vaguely aware of the thickness of two, massive digits between your thighs pushing into your clenching hole.

“F—fuck—!”

“You’re covered in my marks, the shape of my hand will be a bruise on your face for a week, maybe longer.” he seems to chuckle at that, angling your face back to him. you worry he might hit you again. you prepare for impact, but it doesn’t come. he just holds your face there. you’ve no choice but to comply, peeking up at him with sparkling eyes and parted lips. “But you’re still fucking wet. Your cunt is still squeezing my fingers, and you’re still going to cum. What does that make you.”

“A…. Whore….” your voice is soft, and you choke on the word, almost not wanting to say it, but when you do, a wide, demonic grin stretches across his face, turning his muscles into elastic.

“Not good enough. Whose?”

“Y—Your… whore.”

#yujiro hanma #yujiro x reader #yujiro x you #yujiro smut #yujiro hanma x reader #yujiro hanma x you #yujiro hanma smut #Baki #baki hanma #baki hanma x reader #baki hanma x you #baki hanma smut

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 2 months

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Sugar Mama Chapter 1

And another one! New story involving #sugarbabybucky Summary: Bucky is overworked and struggling to get by. The bills are piling up and he’s consistently in the red with no end in sight. Y/N is a billionaire’s daughter, entrepreneur and philanthropist having a hard time finding true friends or love. She has a proposition for him.

bucky barnes x curvy!reader

Warnings: eventual smut, sexual assault (not from Bucky)

Bucky was exhausted. He had been working three jobs for four years now just trying to get by, and this was his sixth sixteen hour day in a row. Student loans and credit card debt was eating him out of house and home, in the most literal sense. Even living in a rent controlled building wasn’t helping with the bills piling up. He had gone to college for architecture and interior design, which he was doing now working as an assistant during normal working hours for one of the many local interior designers. Then he would go straight to his second job as a waiter in a high end restaurant in downtown Manhattan, then at the end of the night go home and do a few more hours of online tutoring. He had ended his 20s and entered his 30s feeling like an old man, with no end in sight of ever getting a break or being able to break even with his debt. Forget about dating or having a family someday. That all seemed like a ridiculous pipe dream now.

“Heeeeyyyy Buckaroo?” Steve sidled up to him as he was cleaning off wine glasses.

“No,” Bucky cut him off.

“But it’s just–”

“Steve, it’s Friday night, I’d really like to go home and get in bed at a normal time tonight,” Bucky interrupted him, the dark circles under his eyes that he tried to ignore looking more prominent by the day.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. But Peggy has been hounding me about going to that new burlesque club that just opened and I told her I was working but we haven’t had a date night in a long time–”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m not sharing tips,” Bucky sighed, rubbing his face as he pulled a 5 Hour Energy out of his apron pocket and quickly downed it like a shot.

“Those are bad for you, Buck,” Steve gave his friend a worried look.

“Well maybe a heart attack in my 30s will put me out of my misery,” Bucky half-joked. Steve was silent. Bucky turned to him and scoffed. “It’s a joke. Go, I’ll take the closing shift. Say hi to Peg for me.”

“I’ll take your next closing, I promise. Thanks punk,” Steve gave him a quick hug.

“Yeah whatever, jerk,” Bucky laughed. As Steve went to the back to change, Bucky went to the host stand and figured out who was his next table.

“Whatcha got for me, witchy woman?” he leaned against the stand. Wanda gave him a quick glance.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” she sighed, looking back down at the list.

“It’s not my fault you got witch eyes. And I never said that was a bad thing,” Bucky said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah whatever,” she rolled her amber eyes. “You’re gonna love this one. A Wall Street investment heiress, with some famous friends,” she gave him an unimpressed look.

“An heiress, huh? Well maybe she’ll be my next sugar mama,” he joked, giving her a wink as he adjusted his apron.

“You wouldn’t know how to be a sugar baby even if you tried,” she sassed back at him. “Table 42. She’s all yours.”

“Thanks babes,” he sing-songed at her before heading towards his section. As he approached table 42 he tried to see who the heiress was, but she was unfortunately facing away from him. Her friends, though, he easily recognized from some of the most recent films that had just hit theaters: Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov. Jackpot, he thought with a wry smile.

“Good evening, folks, welcome to Marea. My name is Bucky and I’ll be your server tonight. Could I get you started with some drinks? Or a review of our wine list?” He gave them all a friendly smile as he looked each of them in the eye at least once. The actors gave him quick smiles and glances before ordering generic wines and waters, then the heiress caught his eye. He almost did a double take once he realized who she was. Y/N Y/L/N, the daughter of Wall Street Tycoon Gerald Y/L/N. She was set for life and beyond. Her father was the investment king, knowing just when to buy in or sell out. She had taken on his legacy by doing the same but instead of investing in huge corporations she was investing in smaller businesses and projects, being the key investor until the business could truly thrive, giving her investment a return and getting a chance to grow in an area like New York City. She was the reason the new burlesque club opened that Steve was going to with Peggy. Not only was she wealthy, she was beautiful. Short in stature and plus size, she was an anomaly surrounded by her tall and slim friends, but she embraced her size and used it as a way to both literally and figuratively take up space in the industry and bring attention to the issues of body image, fatphobia, and investing in plus size companies and designers who she exclusively worked with for clothing her for events.

Bucky tried not to ogle and quickly gave her his best flirtatious smile. “And for you?” he asked her.

Y/N gave him an appreciative smile and her bright Y/C/E eyes seemed to really look at him rather than a passing glance like her friends. “I’d like to hear the wine menu, please.”

“Wonderful, we have a…” As he listed off the wines Y/N watched him intently, her eyes searching his face. He felt like he was the one being ogled and yet he persevered, trying not to sound nervous while serving some of the most influential and popular people in the world.

“It all sounds delicious, but I’m a creature of habit, so I think I’ll stick with my favorite Rose, the Billecart-Salmon. And I’ll also have water on the side.”

“Excellent choice, ma’am. Give me a moment and I’ll get those drinks out to you all,” he glanced at them all again before slipping away to the bar for the drinks.

Y/N watched him leave, a small smile on her face, before turning back to her friends. They eyed her ruefully with mischievous smiles. “What?” she asked.

“He’s cute,” Natasha commented, one eyebrow raised at her.

“Very cute. One could even say hot,” Clint added, watching Bucky walk back to the bar. “He’s got a great ass. Too bad he’s working here. He’d look divine in a Prada campaign.”

“You two stop it,” Y/N whispered, giving them a wide eyed glare. “Yes he’s cute.”

“You gonna go for it?” Natasha asked, her grin twisting into something conspiratorial.

“Oh do it! If you won’t, I’ll try my luck,” Clint shifted in his seat as he continued watching Bucky. “See if he goes both ways.”

Bucky was walking back with the drinks on a tray. Y/N narrowed her eyes and made the gesture for them to zip it.

“Alright, here are your drinks! Your waters, and the Sauvignon blanc for you,” he set it in front of Clint, “the Stella Artois for you,” he set it in front of Natasha, “and the Billecart-Salmon Rose for you.” He delicately set it in front of Y/N giving her another warm smile. She reciprocated it as she reached for her wine. She took a quick sip and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Perfect, thank you Bucky,” she said as she licked her lips.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly before he caught himself. “Well, would you like to start with any appetizers? Or jump right into the good stuff?” he huffed a laugh.

“I’d like the lobster with the salad,” Clint ordered. “And could you make sure that the lobster is really big and thick. I like them meaty.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at him and his not-so-subtle innuendo. Bucky knew what he was doing and just let it slide, nodding in agreement. “I’ll put in a good word with the chef.”

Natasha next to him giggled before ordering. “I’ll just take the scallops and shrimp.”

Bucky nodded before turning to Y/N. “I’ll have the crab cakes and risotto, please.” He nodded again and gave her a smirk.

“My favorite,” he gave her a wink, making her blush. “I’ll get those in and come back to check on you all in a little bit,” he swept the table with a smile before walking back to the kitchen.

“Stop it, don’t embarrass him,” Y/N chastised Clint. “I’m sure he and the other servers get enough grief from creepy patrons all the time.”

“Oh it was just a little fun. Besides, he’s all eyes for you, honey, he barely even looked at me,” he shot back at her as he sipped his wine.

“It’s true,” Natasha said, then gave her an exaggerated wink. Y/N rolled her eyes. “I think you should ask him out. Or maybe he can be your next sugar baby.”

“Oh don’t bring that up again,” Y/N groaned. “It was a one time thing and ended badly. I just wanted to try it.”

“It ended badly because he was an ass, not because of anything you did. You gave him charity and he gave you an attitude. This guy seems sweet, nothing can hurt from just asking,” Natasha chided her, reaching out and pinching Y/N’s arm lightly.

Y/N considered her words. She had wanted to try out the lifestyle of being a sugar mama to a sugar baby. She had a lot of events to go to throughout the year, and as much as she enjoyed spending time with her friends and networking with people, she was getting really tired of these high-class, ridiculous men who thought that just by being famous or wealthy that she would throw herself at them. They wanted to use her for her name and connections. They never really cared about her. So she had tried being a sugar mama to a man who wasn’t famous, down on his luck, and just trying to get a leg up in life to escort her to these functions and give her companionship. But once he’d gotten his debts paid off by her and a taste of luxury he quickly became influenced by the rich douchebags around him and started treating Y/N disrespectfully, so much so that he’d made front page news of some tabloids and embarrassed her. She kicked him out after that and blacklisted him from any upcoming events. If there was one thing that she would never condone it was when others tried, directly or indirectly, to humiliate or embarrass her.

Bucky did seem nice, and very tired. The dark circles under his eyes and his shirt not being as ironed as some of the other servers were small giveaways that he was struggling. She didn’t want to embarrass him either by asking to be her sugar baby and assuming that he was struggling financially.

“He is very handsome,” she conceded, a larger smile spreading across her face.

Natasha squealed, clapping her hands joyfully. “Do it!”

The night dragged on as they ate their delicious meals and ordered more glasses of wine. Other patrons were clearing out as it got later and closer to closing time. As tired as Bucky was, doing his nightly closing duties quietly and discreetly so his table couldn’t see, he was banking on their tips. High end restaurants meant high end clients meant high end tips, and he had rent coming due next week. He packed on the compliments to Y/N and her friends, gave them warm and flirty smiles, offered complimentary items, and gave all his attention to them exclusively. Y/N had asked to compliment the chef and when he came out and talked to her table she whispered something to him that he quickly agreed to and jogged back to the kitchen. Bucky gave him a questioning glance but the chef waved him off.

Bucky watched carefully until he saw Y/N’s hand raise and her eyes searched for him. His cue for the check, which he quickly grabbed and brought it over to her. As he glanced at the insane price he noticed an extra meal that wasn’t supposed to be on there as he got to the table.

“Oh, I’m sorry Miss Y/L/N, there seems to be a mistake on the bill, I apologize, let me go–”

“No mistake, Bucky,” Y/N reassured him just as the chef came back out with a doggy box. He handed it to her and thanked her for coming. Y/N shook his hand and slipped something into it before he disappeared back to the kitchen wearing a rare smile. “Thank you,” she reached for the bill and slid her black American Express into the folder.

“Oh, alright, I’ll be right back then,” Bucky composed himself after the mini heart attack he just had from thinking the bill was wrong as he walked back to the stand to take her payment. Once everything was paid he brought back the folder, this time seeing her friends standing and putting on their coats while she stayed seated.

“Thank you, Bucky,” Natasha said his name seductively as she passed him. Clint gave him a little wave and a smirk as he left with her.

“Have a good night!” He called after them. He approached the table as Y/N was opening her wallet. “Here’s the receipt Miss Y/L/N. Thank you for coming in tonight.”

“No thank you for such excellent service, Bucky,” she complimented him as she took the folder again. “Will you sit with me for a moment?”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised and he glanced back at the bar. The manager, Pietro, and Wanda motioned to him to do as she asked. “Yes, of course,” Bucky accepted and sat himself in the chair across from her where Clint sat previously.

Her gaze flicked over him as she opened the folder, took the pen provided and filled out the parts of the receipt meant for her. She closed it and slid it over to Bucky who thanked her and placed it in front of himself.

“I have a proposition for you, Bucky. And please understand when I ask this that you are under no obligation to accept it and I don’t mean to embarrass you,” she started, looking a little nervous.

“Okay,” Bucky stated lamely as he watched her.

Y/N cleared her throat and put her fidgeting hands down in her lap. “I would like to offer you a type of job. As an escort, a sugar baby, to me.” Bucky’s eyes widened comically as he processed what she said. “I know it’s a strange request. But it’s something that I enjoy trying and it helps others…sometimes. I don’t want to assume anything of you, but I can tell when someone is struggling, and you look like life has not always been the easiest or kindest to you. I mean no offense.”

“None taken,” he replied automatically. “I…yes,” he looked down as he confessed to her. “It’s been, uh, rough, to say the least.”

“Hm,” Y/N hummed. She reached a finger out and pointed to the closed folder. She gestured for him to open it. He did and took a look over the receipt, nearly choking when he saw the amount on the tip line.

“No, no Miss Y/L/N, this is too much,” Bucky protested as he stared at the number.

“That’s what your service was worth. You are worth every cent, and more,” Y/N praised him. “You don’t have to decide tonight, Bucky, but in the meantime, here’s my card,” she slipped a business card over to him. “Think about it,” she said as she stood up. Bucky quickly stood up with her. Y/N stepped closer to him and reached for his hand. They shook hands and she leaned in and whispered to him, “By the way, you’re very handsome.” Bucky’s eyes bulged and he swallowed hard as she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek then turned and left. Bucky realized as he watched her leave that she had slipped something into his hand. He opened his hand to find a small folded wad of one hundred dollar bills in his palm. “Oh and that’s for you!” She called out and motioned towards the doggy box still sitting on the table. “Your favorite. Dinner’s on me,” she said and gave him a wink then twirled back around and out the door.

After she was out of the restaurant and beyond hearing Wanda and Pietro ran up to him. “How much did she give you?” Wanda squealed as she looked at the bills in his hand. He quickly counted it.

“$1000,” he whispered as he gawked at the money.

“Give me that,” Pietro demanded as he took the folder from Bucky. He opened it and gasped. “She gave you a $2500 card tip?? What did you do, Barnes, give her and everybody at her table a blow job?”

“Wow…I don’t know if I want to be her or be on her,” Wanda said wistfully as she looked back out the glass door where Y/N had already gotten into her car and drove off.

Bucky felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he stared at the bills, the $2500 floating around in his mind. He was not comprehending just how much she had given him. He looked at her business card again and knew he had to at least meet with her and find out what she was offering. But to become an actual sugar baby? To have a sugar mama? To have his debt disappear? To be taken care of? He smiled as his fingers touched where her lips had been.

**this picture has me SALIVATING. This is what I imagine sugar baby!Bucky to look like in this. Hope y'all like it!**

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #sugarbaby!bucky barnes #sugarbaby #sugar mama #sugarmama!reader #chapter 1 #curvy reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader

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poughkeepsies · 3 months

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You asked so let me lay out the mental gymnastics I have done to reach buddie roomates

1. Not a single bts of that loft. I feel like we were getting loft bts all the time last year (also there were like so many loft scenes last year too so that might be why)

2. Built the biggest most expensive rolling stage thing of all time. I believe either they have to build new sets this year or rent the sets from fox = bucks loft didnt make the cut (pure spec on my part watch oliver post bts of the loft today on his ig takeover)

3. “Giving the fans what theyre asking for” in terms of buddie what the fans have been asking for (at least that I see the most and think the writers would be aware of) is buddie canon, trapped dads (which was mostly just finale spec but I do think could happen in cruise disaster), buck breakdown/therapy, buckley diaz fam content, death to bucks loft/buddie roommates. And buddie roommates not only captures 2 of those but is also my fav of them so my mind went there

4. Buck and eddie closer than ever / knowing each other on a deeper level than before (Im paraphrasing bc I cant remember all 20 devastating ryan quotes rn): from personal experience, you can be very close with someone, but living with them is a whole new experience and you learn things about people you never knew before. One of the most intimate ways to get to know someone imo

5. Kind of like a said with a newish audience, 10 ep season that includes 2ep big emergency and madney wedding, and also the fact I feel the show has never explicitly hinted at buddie (I dont count the s2 stuff tim has said was fan service and 601/612 felt like it but thats it) I dont think full buddie canon is on the table this season. But a great way to explicitly hint that buddie canon is happening at some point would be roommates storyline

In conclusion: there will probably be 30 loft scenes this season and Im dumb but one can dream

everybody take a look at this ask and learn. this is the exact kind of deranged unserious reaching that we've been missing in this fandom lately. I love you and I applaud you anon 🫵

#we'll get that buddie roommates you and me #we wont stop until its in our grasp

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whineandcheese24 · 2 months

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how old is tommy

everybody's been confused about tommy's age, so I thought I'd put out my theory.

lou is 39 years old so it would make sense for tommy to be around that age. if tommy had joined the lafd right out of high school he could have been there for two years by the time chim joined in 2005 and he'd be 39.

but then we come to the problem of him being in the army. even if he had joined right out of high school, pilots have to complete a year of training, and are then required to serve for 10 years, meaning if he had completed his service, he would have to be 29 by the time he joined the lafd. assuming he wasn't a probie at the same time as chim, and he would have had to be 30 in 2005, making him almost 50 now, which doesn't feel quite right

but the key phrase in that last part is "if he completed his service". though we don't know his exact orientation, we do know tommy isn't straight, and he would have been serving in the army during dadt. if someone found out about his sexuality, he could have been discharged before his mandated service was completed.

there are a lot of assumptions and non-exact amounts here, so I haven't really cleared anything up, but personally, I like to think he's 42. he joined the army right out of high school, did his one year of training and 2 years of service before getting discharged, took a year to get his bearings/join the fire academy, and was at the 118 for about a year when chim joined, making him 23 in 2005, and 42 now. why? I'll explain

even though you legally become an adult at 18, you're still not really a fully formed person yet. if tommy was 18 when he joined the army, even if he already knew he was queer, his time in the army would have been instrumental to how he views himself and his identity, just in terms of growing up and being an adult. if he was already out and proud, the army would have broken his confidence down, and if he never accepted himself, they would have just reinforced whatever self-loathing he had. plus if he didn't even know, finding out you're gay when it could lose you your job is traumatizing. having tommy join the army fresh out of high school, and then get discharged 3 years later gives him enough time to have the training necessary to still be a pilot 20 years later, and enough time to really have been broken down by the system, while still not being too old when he joins the lafd

i don't know what the policy is for telling people why you got discharged, but if tommy could have kept it a secret at the lafd, he probs would have. obviously the writers probably weren't planning this when they introduced him, but having him not only be closeted queer, but also have him be fired for being queer adds a really interesting layer to his character and his interactions with chim and hen in the begins episodes.

and as for why have him be 42 instead of say, 41 or 43? because Abby was 42. someone pointed out that tommy and abby parallel each other in how they're both people who have helped/are helping buck better understand who he is and what he wants for himself in terms of a romantic relationship. having him be 42 makes that connection

#plus any older feels a little too old #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tevan #bucktommy #911 abc #911 season 7

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trivialbob · 5 months

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Last night Sheila and I went to a seafood place. For a cheeseburger.

Coastal Seafoods in Minneapolis is a fresh seafood market. It's a neat little place. When @littlerunnergurl visited us years ago she and I shopped there for ingredients of a seafood stew LRG made for us.

There's a small counter for hot food in back. Two four-tops and a small row of bars stools next to a cold window is the complete dining room. A Facebook page devoted to smashburgers had mentioned this place's burger recently. That's what got us over there.

We ordered one Coastal Burger. "Two 4oz Wagyu Beef Patties, Caramalized Onion Jam, Pickles, American Cheese, & Dijon Mayo on Toasted Brioche!" (images from the Coastal Foods website)

I also ordered the wonderful looking Connecticut Style Lobster Roll. "Warm Lobster & Seasoned Butter on a Toasted Tom Cat Bakery Roll"

The cook cut them in half so Sheila and I could try some of each. Both were fantastic. We didn't order French fries or any sides. The older I get the wiser I am about not ordering too much food. For sure if there had been a serving of fries in front of me I wouldn't have left until the plate was clean. As it was, we walked out feeling satisfied yet not needing to adjust the car seats back so we could fit in the Subaru.

I'd been wanting to see some dive bars. A block away is the Fraternal Order of Eagles #34. It's an appropriately dimly lit place where most of the customers seemed to know each other. We didn't order food, but I almost did just to purchase a cheeseburger for under ten bucks, a rare thing these days.

The bartender was friendly. She knew what to pour for people a few times without asking. I chuckled when she asked us if we'd be okay for a bit unattended when she went outside for a quick smoke.

It's located at the intersection of two similarly named streets. When I was a kid it was mind-blowing when I saw Minneapolis street signs with the same numbers. Sure, the Av and St make a difference, but it still seemed like division by zero to someone not yet accustomed to how cities named numbered east/west and north/south roads. Similarly, I was amazed when my dad pointed out the named streets in some places were in freaking alphabetical order.

After a bottle of beer (and a sunset) we drove south a short distance through the cold and dark night to the Schooner Tavern. It too is at an intersection of numbered streets.

It was a bit louder, but no less dimly lit, than the previous place. The two bartenders were very friendly. Sheila and I again sat at the bar for one beer.

We listened to conversations around us. It was only 5:30 PM but some folks appeared to have started the evening early. A frazzled looking guy (who was probably 15 years younger than he actually appeared) must have gotten the happy hour special on "fucks" which seem to have been a 20-for-1 deal. Whew, I got tired of hearing that word used as noun, verb, adjective, preposition, pronoun, article, and adverb.

The bottles behind the bar appeared to glow. If the bar had been quieter maybe I would have heard them hum.

Sometimes I want of those tiny Red Bull refrigerators with the glass door (as seen in the left side of this picture I took). Sheila doesn't think it would look appropriate on our coffee table no matter how well it fit. People would probably trip over the power cord she also claims. I still want one though.

We still enjoyed the atmosphere while we had one beer. After that we headed to the brewery by our house. It's at the intersection of one named and one numbered street, more to the sensibilities of my suburban mind.

We met up with one couple we know and another couple who were on a second date. The guy is a regular, the woman is new to that crowd. At first she seemed like she wanted to move to a private table. Soon though she warmed up to us, and the six of us had a great conversation.

I'm going to start looking up some more dive bars for another weekend.

#dive bars #numbered streets

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disastertrash · 7 months

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Ham radio license 101

*Please see safety note added to the end of this post.

The Cost:

Exam is $14. If passed, the license fee is $35. Optional classes and study materials vary in cost.

(How much are Ham Radios? You can get a basic handheld model for $50. Start with one of those before deciding whether to spend big bucks on anything.)

License Levels:

There are 3 licensure levels for amateur radio operators. (There used to be more.) In the order: Technician, General, and Amateur Extra.

Study Time:

Average is 10-14 hours of study time to pass the exam.

The exam itself is 36 multichoice questions, randomly selected from a pool of 411 questions.

Is There Math??

Yes. But only a little at the Technician Class level. (Edit: you can use a calculator too!) I encountered long division with decimal points and multiplication. This was only required by a couple of questions on the test.

If you have a math disability, I hope it reassures you to learn that folks allowed to miss up to 9 questions on the test.

The more licenses, the more priviledges. But you can start using a ham radio with just the Technician Class license.

Morse Code?

No longer required for the exam.

Study Materials:

I didn't attend a class. Instead, I used these two resources:

1. Godon West's book "2022-2026 Technician Class: FCC Element 2 Amateur Radio License Preparation". (Options: paperback or audiobook.)

2. HamStudy (it's a free phone app).

How I Studied:

I started by reading the book. When I reached the questions and answers section, I focused on reading the questions, followed by their correct answers only. I purposefully avoided reading the wrong answer options. This helped heaps during the test. The right answer stood out as the familiar pair with the question.

I studied for Q&A portion for 30 minutes at a time, then took a break. When I returned from break, I would go back through the previous section's questions and try to recall the answers.

Taking a break, then attempting recall, helps develop memory retention.

After finishing the book, I used the free, HamStudy phone app. I adjusted settings to focus on 1 section at a time until I could get 100%. Once I had covered each section like this, I changed the settings to include and randomize the entire, 411 question pool.

Scheduling The Exam:

You will need to sign up to get an FRN number from the FCC, before scheduling your exam. (It's like an FCC social security number.) I got the instruction for how to do it from the Gordon West book. But they are posted various places online as well.

You can find both on and offline testing teams (VEC's) here:

I chose to test online with W5YI-VEC for 3 reasons: Their header pun. ("Promoting ☢️Radio-Activity☢️ Nationwide with Friendly, Untimed Exams!"). Their profile page emphasizes accessibility accomodations. And they let me text their phone number to schedule a more convenient date and time.

Taking The Exam:

I took the exam online. A panel of 6 people from the W5YI-VEC team observed through my webcam. The exam layout was reminiscent of the HamStudy app, which I appreciated. On average, people complete the test in about 20 minutes. I completed it in under 10. Some people take an hour. We dont all get the same 36 questions. So some tests will take longer than others. You've made it this far. Give yourself enough time in your day to not rush, no matter how confident you are.

My advice: this is where you want to carefully read every answer option. Don't just quick scan for key words between the questions and the answers. You'll make unnecessary mistakes that way.

After The Exam:

My VEC team gave me my results right after I submitted the test. Then they emailed me a certificate. (This certificate is not your license.)

That evening, I got an email from the FCC with instructions for how to pay the $35 license fee. (My least favorite part of the entire process. For being the FCC, their instructions and website both suck.)

IMPORTANT: Dont try to pay your fee using your phone! That whole process is not mobile friendly. Trying can cause a bit of a glitch in their system. You could add more than a month to your wait time for a license. Just use a desktop computer for this part.

Your License:

The FCC no longer issues a physical license. Instead, they post a record of your license to their "FCC ULS" database. You do not have a license until it is posted there.

IMPORTANT: Be sure to keep a current email on file with the FCC. If the FCC emails go to an address you're no longer using, or get lost in your spam box, the FCC can yank your license. No fun.

Callsigns & Vanity Callsigns:

You are automatically issued a callsign with your license. If you want to choose your own callsign (aka, getting a "vanity callsign") you must wait until after you have your license and the original call sign that goes with it. Your pool of vanity call signs are limited by your level of license.

I'll exand on the Technician Class vanity callsign options, once I get the Gordon West book back. (It's on loan to a friend until December.)

Your First Radio:

The Gordon West book has things to say about this too. (I'm waiting on my license before I get my first radio.)

What I'm personally looking forward to:

(Aside from gaining a skill for disaster response.) As a backpacker, I want to learn how to make a homebrew Garmin InReach. Amateur radio can do cool things with gps, send text messages, etc. I'm not tech savvy. And I'm not sure if I'll need a higher license class to do whatever that requires. So, I imagine that project could be much further down the road from where I am at present. It's an exciting thing to look forward to though.

Safety Note:

Whichever address you get your radio license under will become public record, forever. My advice? For safety, use a PO Box from the very start. If you have a stalker, look into getting a forwarding PO Box in a different city if it's legal. Ask if you can use initials or shortened versions of your name before submitting any information to the FCC. Be consistent. Name on your exam and the name on your FCC account must match.

#ham radio #disaster preparedness #cert #portlandnet #community prepper #disaster response #backpacking #camping #disaster preparation

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years

Text

Trouble In Paradise | 0.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Part | Next Part

Synopsis: After the most painful break-up of his life, Rooster is stationed in Hawaii for the next six months. Alone, away from home and hurting, he finds comfort in the arms of a stranger.

Warnings: no use of y/n, age gap (rooster is in his mid-30s, reader is in her early 20s), smut, p-in-v, protected sex, oral (f receiving and allusions to m receiving), face sitting, eventual angst but not rlly in this chapter

…

Rooster has forgotten about the text less than ten minutes after he’s received it. It’s hard to remember much about anything, when the first thing you do upon waking up is nudge back his jaw and leave sweet, open-mouthed kisses along his neck.

His fingers stroke your hair back off of your shoulders, eyes closing. You hum softly against his collarbone, sliding your hand — which had been innocently resting against his navel — under the covers.

He groans softly and shifts as you wrap your hand around him. You stroke him gently, feeling him begin to harden in your hand. He feels you smile against his neck before you press another kiss to his jaw.

You push yourself up, kissing along each toned inch of his chest, nudging the sheets down out of your way.

Rooster watches you through hooded eyes as you settle between his legs and wrap your lips around him. No, he doesn’t think of Amy once.

Not while your mouth works around him, while your fingertips trail his thigh, while your eyes blink up at him. Not while his hand rests on the nape of your neck as he guides you down on him, or when you let him buck his hips softly into your mouth.

Especially not when fifteen minutes later you’re straddling his hips, bracing yourself on his chest as you roll your hips down onto him. No. When you’re resting your fingers on his jaw, your eyes locked on his as you bounce on his cock, Rooster barely remembers her name.

In fact, he’s still thinking of you even after he’s back in his room on base later that morning. He’s just out of the shower, standing at his dresser with a towel around his waist when his phone rings again.

He curses as Amy’s face appears on the screen. She had text him hours ago. He lifts the phone to his ear and pins it between his shoulder, digging through his top drawer for a shirt that doesn’t look like uniform.

“Hello?”

He realises he’s forgotten to say anything, “Hey... Hey, what’s up?” He stumbles, grabbing a graphic t-shirt from the bottom of the drawer. He sets his phone down on the side and hits speaker.

“Are you okay? - You sound tired.”

Rooster is tired. But he’s gotten good at just giving her the highlights while he’s away on deployment, keeping things light so she doesn’t worry about him.

“Yeah, the guys on base just went for some drinks to get to know each other last night. Got in late.” It’s a half-truth. No more than what she needs to hear. After all, he’s not going to tell her about you.

“So you’re getting on okay with the guys out there? - Mav told me you weren’t going to know anyone this time around. I was worried.”

Rooster stands in his T-shirt and white boxers. He furrows his eyebrows, “Wait, you were talking to Mav? — why were you talking to Mav?”

“Because I’m worried about you, Bradley,” he hears her sigh on the other end of the line. “You’re out there all on your own, and you’re dealing with whatever’s going on with us right now — I just wanted to know you’re gonna be alright.”

Bradley steps into a pair of shorts, “‘Whatever’s going on with us’? — You left, Amy. We broke up.”

“You know I still love you,” He closes his eyes. When he opens them again he notices the hickey on his collarbone and sighs softly. “I just… I think we needed time to figure things out.”

What is it with girls and figuring things out? Bradley asks himself. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Amy waits through the silence, willing him to say something. Anything.

“So what have you figured out?” Bradley asks finally, his tone dry and unamused. She winces at his tone of voice.

“Bradley,” She sighs softly. “I don’t want to throw it all away like this. I love you. You love me too, right?”

He thinks about it for a moment. Of course he does. He isn’t the one who left. He’s the one who proposed, isn’t he? — The one got down on one knee and promised to love her for the rest of his life?

“Of course I do.” Bradley mutters begrudgingly. He lies down on the twin-sized, navy-issued bed. He’s moved it so that it’s by the window. He’s gotten lucky with the room allocation this time around. He’s got a view out over the ocean. On the opposite side, the guys have a view of the tarmac.

“I just don’t think I can go six months without hearing your voice right now.”

He tucks an arm behind his head and looks out of the window, “What are you trying to say, Amy?”

“I just want us to stay in contact while you’re away. Nothing major, just maybe a call a week, a couple of texts. I want us to talk once you’re back.”

His jaw clenches and unclenches. Amy waits for him to answer her. She’s sitting on their shared bed, wearing one of his t-shirts, flicking through a photo album.

“Please, baby,” He closes his eyes as she pleads with him. She knows exactly what she’s doing when she talks to him like that. He falls for it more often than not. “You know I miss you when you’re away.”

He wonders if she has fucked anyone else. Her boss, maybe. He doesn't like the thought. His tongue presses to his cheek as he thinks it over. This girl broke his heart two weeks ago, and here she is, offering to piece it back together over the next six months - maybe to just break it again once he's home.

But, he doesn't want her slimeball boss anywhere near her and he knows that if there's one thing Amy is, it's loyal. So, if she still loves him, he figures that holding onto her until he's home isn't the worst idea.

“Yeah,” He breathes out, “Yeah. We can talk.”

In the moment, he doesn’t think that he’s making much of a commitment. Only, when he’s answering the phone every evening after twelve hour work days, he realises that he’s made more of a commitment than he realises.

You're having a different morning. After dropping him back to base, you find your roommate in the kitchen. Ella is a waitress and you've known her for a long time. She's sitting on the counter, smiling at you smugly with a cup of coffee in her hand.

"So, where's the lucky guy?" She grins at you, wiggling her eyebrows.

You cover your face with your hands and groan dramatically as you pull out a stool to join her, "I wish you saw him. Seriously."

"Out of 10?"

"10." You answer. You fall forwards and rest your chin on your palm, smiling at her, "He was so fucking hot, you wouldn't believe."

"Oh I believe," She laughs as she pushes herself down from the counter and straightens out her uniform. "I believed you last night and I believed again at the crack of dawn this morning."

Your cheeks heat up at the realisation. It isn't like you've never heard the guys she brings home. The place is small and your rooms aren't very far apart. If anything, it just provides room for the two of you to bond over how shitty the guys you've brought home are. Not this time.

"Are you seeing him again?" She crosses the kitchen to fill up her water bottle in the sink. You purse your lips and sigh longingly before you shake your head.

"Probably not. I brought him back from Abi's."

"Navy?" Ella's eyes widen slightly as she turns to look at you. Abi's bar is crawling with sailors, pilots and everyone in between most days of the week. Ella knows of your flirting, but she also knows of your fear of closing the deal. You can't tell whether she's impressed or shocked. Perhaps both.

"I don't think you're comprehending how hot he really was." You explain.

Your week goes the same way it does most weeks. You work Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday - this week you have Friday and Saturday off. You spend your afternoons and evenings flirting and listening to classified information from lonely men. You spend your early mornings with Ella or with other friends.

It's as you're headed into work on Thursday that there's a difference.

Bradley has been bored. Deployment always gets monotonous quickly. Especially when he only gets one day off per week. Even more so when he still doesn't really talk to any of his colleagues after almost two weeks on base.

Amy's on a different time zone. She's six hours ahead of him. With her complicated shift pattern and Bradley's long work days, it's 2am when Bradley talks to her. It's as he's rubbing at his eyes and willing himself to stay awake whilst she tells him about her sister's upcoming wedding that he finds himself thinking of you again.

He’s in that shitty twin-sized bed by the window in a pair of shorts, looking out over the bay. She's talking about centrepieces and color schemes.

He's thinking about your head lulled back, lips parted, morning-sun leaving a golden cast on your skin as you rode him that morning.

"Bradley? - Can you hear me?"

He presses a hand to his lips and closes his eyes. Fuck. He holds the phone away from his ear to let out a breath before he confirms, "Yeah. Sorry, honey. I'm here."

When you show up on Thursday at 4pm for the night shift, Bradley has already been and gone. You're informed by one of the other girls that someone came in asking for you that morning. You let her describe the mystery man to you - just so you can hear how hot she thinks he is - even though you know she's talking about him from the beginning.

By Friday, word has gotten out amongst your friends that you have finally 'closed the deal' with a hot, mysterious pilot.

There's a place known as the Strip in Honolulu, which is where your bar is. Your bar is at the quieter end. Tonight, you're at the other end in a much busier bar. You're giggling with your friends as you finish up some drinks.

This bar is loud and packed. You're only here to pregame before you head to one of the clubs further up the strip. In fact, this bar is so busy on this particular Friday that you don't notice the group of servicemen hanging out near the bar.

Bradley tagged along in the hopes that he would run into you. He had been disappointed when he'd walked by Abi's and seen another girl standing behind the bar.

He's been nursing the same beer for an hour, just thinking of which excuses he hasn't used yet that can get him out of this. It isn't that there's anything wrong with this crew in particular, it's just that Bradley doesn't have the energy to forge new relationships.

He wishes for a moment that Phoenix was here. She always called him out on his self-destructive bullshit. Plus, she loved the beach. She was somewhere on deployment too currently, but he had no idea where.

"How could you not get his number?" You laugh and sit back in the booth as you're chastised by eight girls at once. They're happy for you, but chewing you out currently for not securing yourself a way of seeing this 'too-good-to-be-true' man again.

"If it's meant to be, it'll be." Ella decides as she pulls you into her arms and kisses the top of your head. “Props to her for leaving it up to fate.”

"We're talking about sex, E, not marriage!" Rooster hears that line. He turns his head towards the group of girls in the booth in the corner. They hold his attention for maybe three seconds before he's pretending to listen to the guy in front of him again. They’re just a group of college girls being loud and giggly in the corner.

Berlin's going on about the mission in front of him. He’s leaning on the bar and he reeks of cologne. He's just going over things that are already settled and confirmed, and Bradley would prefer it if they just left work at work. Maybe Bradley’s just being harsh because he’s grumpy.

The group of girls catch his attention once more as they leave, purely because one of the girls is laughing too hard to watch where she's going and bumps Berlin's elbow. They lose his attention as quickly as they gained it, until he finds familiar features in the crowd.

You don't see him at all. You're laughing at the friend who had just tripped. Bradley watches as she catches up to you and drapes herself around you, shaking her head in embarrassment.

Rooster furrows his eyebrows. The lighting isn't good and you're moving further away, people are stepping between you and blocking his view. He isn't sure that it's you. Then, someone steps out of his way and Rooster has a clear view of your side profile. His feet are moving before he even makes the conscious decision to go after you.

“Bradshaw, where ya goin’?” Berlin calls out as he clocks that Bradley is straying from the group. Bradley’s broken from his blind conquest for just a moment as he glances back toward his new ‘friends’.

He’s barely listening. He shakes his head and waves Berlin off casually, “I’ll be right back.” They both know he has no intention of returning.

Rooster weaves through the crowd and steps outside onto the strip. Yep, there you are.

You’re in hysterics, doubled over laughing. You’re with friends, one of them has her arms around your waist and she’s laughing so hard that there are tears on her cheeks.

You’re just about straightening back up when you spot him. He watches your face light up. He’s down the street, stopped just outside of the door and watching you with a smile on his face.

“I’ll catch you guys up.” You tell your friends, giggling as you untangle yourself from one and begin towards him. They begin to whisper excitedly behind you. It's clear to him that they've heard of him by now.

“Is that the guy from the navy?” One whispers.

You walk over to him, smiling. He pushes his hands into his pockets, watching your friends as they giggle and stare from down the street.

“Bradley Bradshaw!” You greet him. He’s impressed that you remember his name, lips quirking as you reach him.

“I like your dress.” He speaks softly, not loud enough for your friends to listen in. His eyes rake over you and take in the garment. It’s pretty, and you just make it look even better. But it’s short enough that he could turn you around and fuck you without hardly having to lift it out of the way.

The look in his eye excites you. Is that… jealousy? Your grin widens as you do a turn for him, letting him see it from every angle, “I wore it for you.” You tease.

“Oh really?” He hums, a smirk toying at his features and he raises his eyebrows at you. “You knew you were gonna run into me, huh?”

“A girl can dream.” You let out a longing sigh, then you’re giggling before him. He grins back at you. You catch him looking past your shoulder again and turn, eyes widening as you realise your friends are suspended in anticipation. They’re right where you left them, watching excitedly.

You turn back to him, scrunching your nose slightly as you try not to admit that they’re embarrassing you in front of him.

“Sorry about them, they think you’re hot.” You explain. He looks you over and takes his lip between his teeth. They’re the last thing on his mind right now. The way he watches you has you pressing your thighs together excitedly.

“Do you, um…” You wonder for a moment how to best phrase this. Please fuck me again doesn’t seem like the best choice, but it’s the only thing your mind will generate.

“Yeah.” Rooster breathes, nodding his head. He’s already on the same page.

“Wait here one second.” You turn back and rush over to your friends. He glances back towards the guys still inside, glad they haven’t really noticed his absence.

“Please give me your keys.” Two of your friends drove tonight. They live together, they don’t need two cars. You hold your hands out expectantly. She laughs as he drops them into your hands, then points a finger toward you,

“Do not fuck this guy in my car.”

You wink just to raise her blood pressure a little, then you’re headed back toward Rooster. Bradley pretends not to hear that last part.

You hit his chest, sliding your hand down into his, not slowing down at all as you pass him and head toward the parking lot at the other end of the strip.

Rooster’s fingers slip between yours, he squeezes your hand as he lets you lead him.

“Heard you were looking for me this week.” You tease him, shooting him a look over your shoulder. Once you’re out of the sight of your friends, he pulls you against him and wraps his arms around you.

“Can you blame me?” His hands skim down the sides of your dress. His long strides interrupt the pattern of your walk, causing you to trip and stumble. His arms steady you against him, keeping you firmly against his chest.

You’re giggling as he uses this newfound power to nudge his jaw against the crook of your jaw and nip at your earlobe. Your poor father would lose it if he could see you now.

You press the button on the keys and the lights of one of the cars parked up front flash. You giggle again as you’re pressed against it, turned to face him and kissed on the lips. Maybe this says something about who he is as a person, but Rooster finds himself turned on about how happy you are to see him.

He presses you between him and the car and slips his tongue into your mouth. He’s always been an affectionate guy, but he’s also a private one. He wouldn’t have dared show off like this back home.

“So you missed me?” You ask sweetly as you pull back and look at him. He brings his hand up to cup your cheek, stroking his thumb delicately across your cheekbone, nodding his head. That’s as much of an answer as he’s willing to give, but you know he means it.

There’s no point in trying to convince himself he hasn’t jerked off to the memory of last weekend every single morning this week. Having your pretty face right in front of him again just reinforces the thoughts he’s been having all week.

“Come on,” He takes the keys from your hand, pressing his lips to yours once more, “Been waiting all week to see you.”

Your heart flutters. You feel special to know that you've been on his mind.

He crosses around to the driver’s seat. You move into the passenger seat. He drives you back to your place without need for directions. You watch him drive, shifting in your seat to kick your feet over his lap. He rests one hand on your ankle, skims up to your knee and then back down again.

Downtown is alive and busy tonight. It’s almost the beginning of the rainy season so tourists have been making the most of the time they have left before November hits.

You watch them out of the window as Bradley strokes your legs delicately. You glance back at him and he isn’t paying attention to any of them.

You wonder what it’s like to see him fly. He’s calm now, leaning back in his seat, knees parted. His lip is between his teeth.

“Should I be worried that you remembered the way here?” You joke as he pulls into the driveway behind your bronco. He chuckles as he turns the ignition off, “Kinda part of my job to be good with directions.”

Rooster's hands are on you before you've reached your front porch. He slides his hands around your waist, lowering his mouth to nip gently at your neck. You push your ass back against him as you pause to get the front door open.

His hand slides around your shoulder, cupping your jaw and pulling you back against him, exposing your neck to his lips.

"I have neighbours, you know." He can hear how excited you are even when you're trying to scold him. The thought has him smiling softly against your earlobe.

"Best get that door open then, or they're gonna have one hell of a show." His breath against your ear makes you shiver, excitement pooling between your legs as your body remembers exactly what it's in for. You kick the bottom of the door, twisting the key and sighing in relief as it opens first time around.

Rooster kicks the door shut behind you. You turn quickly and press his back to the front door, pressing your palm to his cock over his jeans. Rooster’s eyes flicker down, then he’s looking at you again.

He brings his hands up to hold your face in his hands. You may have brought this man back here with the sole intention of fucking like rabbits, but it’s now that he’s being so gentle and staring into deep your eyes that he has you blushing.

He strokes his thumbs over your cheeks, lifting your jaw so that you have no choice but to look at him. He’s more sunkissed than the last time you saw him, there’s a slight pink to his cheeks from being up in the air all day. The hardness of his brown eyes in the dark makes you shiver. You close your eyes, palming him over his jeans.

“Feeling shy?” Rooster teases. He trails his thumb over your bottom lip. You don’t respond, but that in itself gives him all the answer that he needs.

It’s stupid. You weren’t shy last time. But now you know how good he is, and how handsome he is, and how nice his cock is — it’s enough to make a girl blush. Your eyes are still closed as you lean forward and rest your head against his chest.

He nudges you back, his eyes studying your features. He brushes his thumb against your mouth, parting your lips. Your lips wrap around the digit obediently.

“Look at me.” He tells you. Your thighs press together. You swallow softly as you open your eyes to look at him. “So fucking pretty, baby.” Your lips quirk softly as you try to reset the power balance here by giving his cock a gentle squeeze through his jeans.

He groans softly and ruts his hips forward against your hand.

It's only midnight and you know for a fact that Ella won't be back for at least 3 hours, but you also know that she would not appreciate you getting railed in one of your communal spaces.

Luckily, Rooster seems to be on the same page. He's entering from a different side of the house this time but he doesn't have any trouble finding your room. You're already unbuttoning his shirt, ditching that before he's gotten you inside of your room.

Rooster takes his lip between his teeth, hands skimming up the sides of your dress as you nip at his chest, fingers working at his belt. It takes minimal effort for his hands to just slip under the hem of it and squeeze your ass.

He thinks of you in that club. All the eyes that would've been on you. All the men who would've wanted to be exactly where he is now. It lights a fire in him. He's filled with the need to prove himself to you. To let you know that he's the only one on this entire island that is worth your time.

You gasp as he skims his hands under the material and pushes it up around your waist, letting you fall back onto the bed with a bounce. It’s the grin on your face as you look up at him, eyes wide and excited, that makes him groan as he parts your legs and kneels between them.

Bradley uses the time that you two have alone tonight effectively to demonstrate exactly how much of a tease he can be.

You whine as he noses at your pubic bone. He presses soft kisses to the insides of your thighs, your hips, brushes his tongue over the fabric of your underwear.

He guides your leg over his shoulder, sucking a soft purple mark into the top of your thigh, groaning softly as he does.

“Rooster.” You complain. He revels in the desperation in your voice.

“Yeah, baby?” He teases from between your legs, kissing over your underwear. You can’t pretend you aren’t enjoying this, enjoying the confident glint in his eye when he glances up at you. He gives in eventually, after a few minutes of letting you beg him.

The sound you make when he finally presses his tongue to your soaking core makes it worth it. The way you curl your fingers in his hair and push against his grip on your hips is an added bonus.

He holds you still, coaxing you toward your orgasm with his mouth alone. It’s only after he’s made you cum the first time that he graces you with his fingers.

But not before he gets you fully out of that dress. You’re naked in his lap, he’s in his boxers and those dog tags that make your mouth water. He’s watching each move you make, each rise and fall of your chest as you whine and moan for him. He’s fucking his fingers in and out of you, kissing your neck, your chest, your tits.

“F-Fuck, Rooster.”

He groans as he curls his fingers inside of you, feeling your fingers tighten around his bicep. He grazes his teeth lightly against your nipple, just enough to make you shiver before he wraps his lips around it and flicks his tongue over the sensitive skin.

You whine desperately at you rock your hips down onto his fingers. You need more. He knows it, you know it. But he still has more to prove.

Your eyes widen when he asks you to sit on his face. But, with as good as he makes you feel, you’d do anything he’d ask. You brace yourself against the headboard, moans spilling past your lips as his mouth works against you. His hands squeeze at your thighs and your hips as he encourages you to rock your hips gently against his mouth.

He groans against your core, earning a soft whimper. Your knuckles whiten as you rest your forehead against the wall. Rooster can’t even pretend that he isn’t pleased with himself after he’s made you cum for a second time.

He brushes your hair back off of your face delicately and just admires that comedown glow.

“God, you’re so fucking sweet.” He murmurs, sitting back on his knees. “Look so pretty.”

You groan softly and sling your arm over your face, hiding against the crook of your elbow, “Stop being such a sweetheart.” You lift your leg and kick his chest playfully, gasping as he catches your ankle and holds it out of his way.

He grinds his hips forward against yours. The only thing keeping you apart is the thin fabric of his boxers, which excites you enough for you to prop yourself up on your elbows and glare at him defiantly.

“How do you want me to be?” He rocks his hips gently forward against you, the friction of his cock against the cotton making him shiver.

Your lip quirks up. Rooster stays there, perched back on his knees, watching you smirk up at him. You adore the fact that you don’t need to say anything. The look in your eye is explanation enough.

Rooster leans behind him and grabs a condom from your top drawer. He pretends not to notice the birth control packet in there, deciding that’s a conversation for another - more pressing - time. He glances up at you as he rolls it down onto his length, stepping out of his boxers and moving between your legs once more.

You part your legs further for him, eyes trained on his as you trail your middle finger along your sternum and between your legs. He watches as you stroke it along your core, gathering excitement on the digit and then stroking it teasingly across your clit.

You then raise it to his lips, watching delightedly as he happily tastes you once more.

“Dirty girl.” He murmurs. He makes the most of the way you’ve parted your legs for him, catching his hands behind your knees and keeping them spread for him. He fucks into you in short thrusts, driving himself deeper each time.

The stretch takes a second to get used to, but you don’t let him know that. He praises you softly, grabbing a hold of your hips as he decides that you’ve had long enough to adjust.

It all goes burning white from there.

He's cradling your head against him, his hand firm on the nape of your neck. It's the only thing keeping you from smacking your head against the trendy but lethal exposed brick wall that your bed is pushed up against. He’s pounding into you relentlessly, a stark contrast to how gentle he’s being with you at the same time.

You're folded into the mattress, moaning desperately against his neck. Rooster groans against your earlobe as you press your fingernails into the nape of his neck. The sound alone makes you clench around him.

“Ohmyfuckinggod.” Rooster grunts out, pressing his lips to your jaw. He fills you over and over until you think you might cry if he ever dares to stop. He has to close his eyes, leaning his head back toward the ceiling. If he takes one more look at your fucked out face, he’s going to bust.

You’re trembling already, but Rooster refuses to give in until you’re too out of breath to even moan his name anymore. Your words are getting caught in your throat, all that you can make yourself do is whimper.

Rooster’s lips are all over your throat. His hips stutter slightly at the sound you make when he leaves an open-mouthed, tactfully placed hickey below your ear. He grunts gently, tucking both arms around you and cradling your body against his as he drives impossibly deep into you. He ruts his hips forward in a few more, short, deep thrusts before he’s spilling into the condom.

He discards it before he lets himself settle with you.

Rooster holds you against his chest, brushing down your hair slightly. It’s messed up from being pressed into a mattress, but Rooster smooths it out sweetly until it’s a little less obvious that you just got fucked.

He kisses the top of your head and then trails his fingertips along the length of your bare spine, stopping at the curve of your ass and trailing back up again. The action makes you shiver. You hum tiredly as you lay against him.

“I have to be on base early tomorrow,” He informs you regretfully. You push yourself up, propping yourself up on his chest and turning to give him your best puppy-dog eyes. You bat your lashes at him. He doesn’t have time to hide the soft smile this makes him reveal. “C’mon, don’t look at me like that.”

“No, I see how it is…” you tease him, rolling off of his chest and retreating to the other side of the bed. You’re smiling, just testing what kind of reaction you can draw.

Rooster snakes an arm across your body, grabbing your jaw between his index and thumb, turning your head to look at him.

“How about you give me your number so I don’t have to chase you out of a bar next time?” He moves forward and kisses you. It’s phrased as a question but you both know you’re going to give it to him.

He already has your address, what more is a phone number?

He hands you his phone and watches as you type your number in. His lips quirk slightly as you end your contact name with a ;). Just in case there’s any confusion as to why he’ll be contacting you.

“I’ll get a cab back to base.” Rooster decides. “Leave you to rest up.”

You offer to drive him back but he insists. His car only takes a while to arrive. You walk him to the front door at 3am.

It’s as you’re crossing the hall toward the front door ahead of him that you clock the sound of hushed giggles coming from your living room. You glance back at him over you shoulder and he smiles.

Your friends all fall silent as you walk past the doorway. They’re scattered around the living room, drunk and eating pizza, laughing about the various mishaps of the night. They fall silent as you pass, but their eyes go wide as Rooster passes.

He has picked up his shirt that had been dropped in the hallway and is buttoning it. The top half of his toned chest is visible for all of maybe three seconds. “Ladies.” He greets softly, pressing his tongue to his cheek to keep from laughing at the stunned looks on their faces.

He gives them a polite nod before you tug him outside to wait for his car on the porch. Rooster kisses you and tells you he’ll call you.

Rooster notices the missed call from Amy at 2am only when he’s halfway back to base. He knows that she wanted to discuss the pianist for her sister’s wedding this morning. But, when he thinks back to what he was doing an hour ago when that call was blocked by his do not disturb feature — he doesn’t regret his actions one bit.

At least, he doesn’t regret them right then.

...

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #miles teller #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #trouble in paradise

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sevensoulmates · 3 months

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what do you think these interviews confirm for buddie, does this confirm buddie is coming?

I'll say what I said earlier to some friends:

Right now is Schrodinger's Buddie.

Which in layman's terms means: Right now in the two days before the season airs, two truths exist at once. That being: canon buddie and non-canon buddie. And we won't know the real truth until the show airs.

So, anon, my opinion is that I want and hope this spells good things for future canon romantic buddie. I think all of this is a step in a positive direction. ((I never put too much stock in articles or press or what the actors say, but I digress)) This is the most hope about canon buddie I've had in a while. I think it appears as if ABC and Tim & Co are trying really hard to get and KEEP (being the key word here) a new audience. I know a lot of people like to say that we (fandom) aren't their core audience, that the general public is, but I've seen this argument time and time again in the BTS fandom that disproves this strategy. So I will say it now:

A dedicated, long-lasting, ride-or-die, loyal fandom will ALWAYS be more important than the approval of the general audience.

The general audience will watch the episode once, form their opinion on it, and then go watch something else regardless. They *might* rewatch a couple episodes when a new season airs. They are not the ones out here streaming each episode over and over meticulously during off seasons earning the show and the networks all their money when the show isn't actively airing. They're not the ones supporting every little side-launch, or keeping the name trending, or keeping conversation relevant, the ones willing to buy merch, the ones willing to spread the word, the ones actively converting other people into die-hard fans. The general audience will not be the people in 10, 20, 30 years rewatching all the episodes for the love it, or keeping a dedicated fanbase active and alive and creating works decades later. Fandoms do. And what does this fandom want?

Overwhelmingly, the fandom wants buddie. In my opinion, going through with romantic buddie is the best thing ABC could do to get and keep a brand new audience and secure the forever-loyalty of their returning audience.

The network wants a return on their investment, but the truth of it, is that they won't get that return on investment unless they actually prove to their audience that they're not just investing in giving the show cooler effects, or larger emergencies, or nicer sets, or more expensive production, or flashy advertisement. The real investment needs to be in the characters. In getting these characters where they need to go. The only way to satisfy your audience and to get them to keep coming back for more is to satisfy the character arcs they've set up over the last six years, and create new arcs that will keep audiences invested for years to come (like ABC so obviously wants).

I've also heard the argument that most people only come to the show for the flashy emergencies. And I get it, but at the same time, any show could create fun/crazy/bombastic emergencies. The thrill-seekers will always chase the craziness that can be replicated in any other random show and for them it's easy to drop 911 and move on if they want thrills.

What keeps people so heavily invested in this show, in 911 in particular, is the characters and their relationships with each other. Character will always ALWAYS be the most important thing to any piece of fictional media. Not the plot, not the emergencies, not the setting, not the effects, etc. Characters are how we as humans create connection. If they lose that connection, that will reflect in viewership, numbers, money, etc.

In my humble opinion, and the opinion of a lot of people who watch this show (even the silent general audience or people who don't ship buddie romantically, or the people who like buddie but think it will never happen so they just shit on it) the person who Eddie and Buck belong with (in whatever way you define it) is with each other.

This isn't something the fandom came up with, this isn't built on the back of fanon. All of this stems 100% from the show itself, so why wouldn't they want to execute to the fullest the story they've so clearly been telling the whole time?

This is just a long-winded way of saying, I, a humble tumblr user with zero connection to the show or its decision makers, don't know if this means buddie canon or not. But I will always remain hopeful until the show airs its last episode, because buddie makes sense on literally every level.

#911 abc #speculation #analysis #buddie #ask #this would've been true for fox too #but they're fox aka the home of maga lovers so they were never gonna let us have this #but abc?#totally different story

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hide-in-imagination · 2 months

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"Roads That Cross... with a Phone Call"

You can read the previous chapters here: (1),(2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9), (10), (11), (12), (13), (14), (15), (16), (17), (18), (19), (20), (21), (22), (23), (24), (25), (26), (27), (28), (29), (30)

I only needed a solar eclipse to update! Yay!

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The next day, Simón left two more marks on Ámbar’s chest.

It was during lunchtime, which was rare because, usually, after a night like that, they didn’t need to satiate any more urges so soon after. But the pause in activity had been felt by both of them, and now that they could do it again, they didn’t seem to want to wait at all.

“I can’t stop thinking about last night,” Ámbar breathed between kisses and hurried hands, yanking off his clothes with the same urgency as her tone of voice. “I can’t concentrate on anything.”

Simón groaned and held her against his body, and then he gave her what she wanted and fucked her into the mattress.

There was something so satisfying about reducing such a strong force of nature like Ámbar into a gasping, whining mess with just a few bucks of his hips. She always had a witty comeback at the ready, an ironic comment aimed at whoever talked to her, but when she was like this, with him, she felt so much that Simón could leave her speaking in tongues.

It filled him with pride. It incited him to give more.

After, when they were dressing back up to grab something to eat (Simón shouldn’t have unraveled her for as long as he did, now they’d have to eat fast if they didn’t want to go over their lunch hour, but he’d missed this) Ámbar saw the new hickeys on her breasts and laughed, saying she didn’t know he had this side of him.

Honestly, Simón didn’t know either. It took seeing Ámbar wearing nothing but his shirt for him to realize just how much he liked it, and he couldn’t deny the surge of primal satisfaction upon seeing the marks on Ámbar’s breasts and neck. It looked sexy. She looked his.

Luckily, Ámbar said she didn’t mind, as long as they were few and nowhere visible, and as long as he allowed her to mark him too. Simón had no issue with that. In fact, part of him wanted her to leave the most obvious love bite on his neck and then have her show her own ones too just so he could flaunt them in front of Benicio like— See? We’re very happy together, stop being a pest.

But that would be petty of him, and he would feel bad using Ámbar like that, as if she were an object he wanted to show off. He felt a little disgusting just for thinking about it, so Simón pushed the urge down, down, down, until he could barely feel it at all. Besides, his imagination-self was way more shameless than he actually was. If Simón really walked around with a hickey on his neck, he’d die of embarrassment.

There was nothing to prove anyway. Benicio could’ve been bluffing when he spoke about that spot on Ámbar’s neck—A lucky guess. But even if he wasn’t, it didn’t matter. Ámbar chose Simón. Perhaps they’d been seeing each other less than usual the past few days, but every morning without fail they had breakfast together, and when the time came for Simón to leave, instead of saying goodbye, they always said: ‘I love you.’

“Have a nice day, I love you.”

“See you later, I love you.”

“I’m running late, gotta go, love you.”

I love you, I love you, I love you. That was the one thing important.

Throughout the next few days, they saw each other a little more actually, which came as a pleasant surprise to Simón. A couple of official, Manager things required Ámbar’s presence in the Roller, starting with the arrival of the new hires Ámbar had been requesting from Vidia for a while. They were three part-timers who would be taking over the weekends from now on so that Pedro, Eric, and Simón himself, could rest: two girls who would be in charge of the cafeteria, Cata (or Cat for short) and Rae, and one guy who would be the rink assistant and in charge of the lockers, called Alex.

Ámbar introduced them all personally on their first day of training. She told the girls and Alex that Eric, Pedro, and Simón would be in charge of showing them the ropes around the Roller, while she also managed to, somehow, slip into conversation, twice, that both Simón and Pedro were in a committed relationship. Very much taken. Not single.

She said it all with a smile and it was very smooth, but Simón still had a hard time refraining from laughing. Personally, he didn’t think it was necessary to point that out considering they would only be training the girls for a couple of days and then they’d never see them again unless they visited the Roller in their free time, but Ámbar apparently still felt the need to draw that line in the sand.

To be honest, it made Simón feel pretty good. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one with a bit of a territorial streak in the relationship.

The second reason Ámbar started visiting the Roller more was to personally supervise the last few arrangements for the Day of the Dead party. There were some led light signs that needed to be installed on the walls, spotlights for the ceiling and stuff like that, so Ámbar had to be there to give directions to the handymen responsible for it. Some decorations had to be done by hand too, and while Ámbar could make some of them at home, oftentimes it was more practical to just do them at the Roller.

Simón was happy to see Ámbar more, no matter how briefly. When she first started working on the decorations, he offered to help, but she told him to just worry about his own work, that she got it covered. Simón still helped her bring a table to the rink, one wide enough for her to put all of the materials on top of it and work on her crafts comfortably, and also carried any bags she needed to move from one place to another— There was no way he’d let her do all of that herself when he had a good pair of arms.

On a good day, they walked back home after work together like they used to, Ámbar’s hand in his, her snuggling up to his side to fend off the cold.

“How do you think the new guys have been adapting to the Roller?” Ámbar asked him conversationally, turning to look at him. “I mean, I asked them, obviously, they said they were fine, but with me being the manager maybe they don’t feel as comfortable talking to me as they do with you.”

Simón smiled. People could say whatever they wanted about Ámbar, but she was actually thoughtful, and ever since she’d become manager of the Roller, she’d been doing a great job at it. He would already put her leaguesover La Generala.

“They’ve been doing great,” he replied. “Alex is amazing at rollerskating, which is very lucky because that was the only thing Eric couldn’t teach him.” The two laughed at that. “The rest, he’d been picking it up nicely. Same thing with the girls. They both had experience working at places like this before, so it’s been easy for them to get the hand of making the beverages and working the register…”

“Oh that’s right, didn’t they both work at a coffee shop before this?” It must have been on their resumes, or maybe Ámbar talked about it with them when they met, before she introduced them to everyone. “Not like the same coffee shop but, you know.”

“Yeah.” Rae and Cat had told him that too. “Actually, I think they bonded over that and they’re starting to become friends.”

“That’s good.” Ámbar smiled. She looked to the side. “As long as they don’t get too distracted and do their job, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Simón laughed. Yeah, the boss position fit her well. Maybe she wouldn’t work at the Roller forever, but he could totally see her leading, with good ideas and consideration. “You know, I actually worked at a coffee shop too,” he mentioned.

Her eyes focused on him with a curious glint. “Really?”

“Yeah, back when I was sixteen. Then I started at Foodger Wheels when I turned 17. Then when Luna turned 16, she joined me at Foodger Wheels, and, well, you know the rest of the story.”

Ámbar leaned her head back a little, looking at him with slightly wide eyes. “Wow, I didn’t know you worked at Foodger Wheels too,” she said with disbelief. “So, that means that day it could’ve been you delivering my food instead of Luna?”

“Oh.�� It was Simón’s turn to be surprised. “I had never thought of that— You’re right.” He huffed out a laugh. “How crazy.” He looked to the city in front of him, imagining how that could’ve been. “Do you think anything would’ve turned out different if it had been me instead of Luna?” He asked Ámbar.

“Well, maybe it would’ve helped to get me into your good graces if you hadn’t first known me as the girl who threw your best friend into the pool,” she said.

Simón burst out a laugh. “Oh my god, I had forgotten about that.” It seemed like a lifetime ago.

His gaze centered on Ámbar and his heart melted at how far they’d come since then. He brought their joined hands over her head and wrapped his arm around her in a fluid movement they had done dozens of times.

“Maybe I would’ve fallen irrevocably in love with you at first sight and never even questioned my friendship with Luna,” he told her, smiling down at her.

Ámbar’s lips ticked in that way that meant she was holding back from smiling. “I mean, I am that pretty,” she agreed, making him laugh and place a kiss on her temple. Ámbar’s giggle finally broke free after that. “But I think just knowing I had a boyfriend you would’ve forgotten about me,” she said. “Too much of a mess. I can’t see you wanting to get in the middle of that.”

Right, back then Ámbar and Matteo had been dating for a while. They were the ‘it couple’ of the Roller. If Simón had fallen for Ámbar back then, he surely would’ve had a very bad time, kind of like Luna did when she was falling for Matteo.

It certainly wasn’t a position he would’ve liked to be in. But Ámbar was wrong in thinking he could’ve just forgotten about her so easily. Simón hadn’t been able to do that ever since last year, ever since he first started falling in love with her. He couldn’t imagine how he’d manage to do so.

“Honestly, I’m glad you didn’t fall for me back then,” Ámbar said, looking to the front. “I would have not treated you right.”

She tried to make it sound funny but he could catch the self-deprecating edge in her voice. Her gaze lowered to her feet. “Well.” Her voice turned shyer. “Even now I’m not sure if I’m doing so great.”

Gently, Simón brought them to a stop. “Hey.” He squeezed her softly against his side, and when she turned to face him, he smiled at her lovingly. “You make me very happy. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Ámbar looked between his eyes and then her mouth curled into a smile, just as loving. “I love you.”

Simón gave her a short kiss. “I love you too.”

That was the one thing that mattered.

*********************

Another day, another 300 decorations Ámbar had to do.

She left the house that morning with Simón, choosing to work in the Roller that day. She had a box of unfinished flower garlands in her room, but she had many masks and posters at the Roller that she had started to paint and she wanted to finish those first, before anything happened to them and the paint smeared and she had to do them all over again.

If anyone had told her a year ago that she’d be doing all this craftmanship, ever, Ámbar would have either laughed very loudly or asked what millionaire sum they were paying her because there was no way she would do that otherwise.

As it turned out, some people were worth more than any sum of money, and Ámbar would personally paint hundreds of skull decorations if it meant making Simón happy. In fact, it wasn’t so bad. The artistry was rather relaxing if she just focused on the task at hand and didn’t think about how many other little trinkets she had to finish before the big day.

Maybe she would have to ask for help after all. Especially considering these were all decorations for a tradition she had never celebrated, meaning she wasn’t even sure if she was doing them correctly.

In a moment of distraction, she accidentally bumped one of the paint bottles with her arm, tipping it over and causing its contents to start dripping over the table.

“Shit.”

Ámbar hurried to pick up the bottle and place it straight on the table again. She reached for her purse and pulled out the pack of tissues she always carried with her to wipe off the damage. Thankfully, she was quick enough that the paint didn’t spread too much, so the decorations were safe and she didn’t stain the rink either. The same thing couldn’t be said about her fingers though. She hadn’t really thought about that in her hurry to protect all her precious hours of work.

The tissues helped with most of it but she couldn’t get all of the paint off her skin. Ámbar didn’t want to risk staining the decorations with her fingers, so she left the rink and walked toward the dressing room. A make-up remover wipe would definitely do the trick.

It didn’t occur to her to knock because she didn’t expect anyone to be there when she pulled the door open.

She certainly wasn’t expecting to find Delfi and Pedro making out when she did.

The couple sprung apart instantly when they heard her come in and whirled around to find Ámbar at the door. They stood there frozen, their backs to the mirrors and their wide eyes fixed on her as growing embarrassment flooded their features.

Ámbar maintained a poker face, staring back in complete silence.

Her eyes centered on Pedro.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he blabbered hastily.

She arched a brow.

“I mean, it is, but it’s not— I’m— I only took a short break, all the tables already have their food, I’m waiting— Please don’t fire me.”

Pedro, as it seemed, gave up on trying to salvage the situation and just begged.

Ámbar kept her voice and gaze even. “Pedro.”

“Yes.”

“Get back to work.”

The boy nodded energetically. “Yes. Of course, Ámbar. Right away.”

With his head down, Pedro sped out of the room as if his life depended on it. The door closed behind his back and Ámbar and Delfi were left alone. Their eyes found each other, and they kept each other’s gaze for a long second.

Ámbar couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing.

Delfi still looked embarrassed but she started laughing too, catching it from Ámbar, and just like that, all the previous tension totally vanished.

“Oh my god, you should’ve seen your faces—I should’ve taken a picture!” Ámbar rejoiced. It had been priceless. “I see you two totally made up from your fight,” she said to Delfi, giving her a teasing smirk. “As a person, I love it, but as the manager of this place, I need to make sure that kissing is the only thing you two have done in here.”

Delfi blushed furiously. “Of course! Are you insane? I would never do more right here in public!”

Ámbar laughed at her flustered state and raised her hands placatingly. “Okay, okay, it was just a question.” She let her hands drop. Her smile turned more genuine. “Good for you though. You both seem happy.”

Delfi smiled with that distinctive softness pertaining to being in love. “We are. Very much.” Then, either for the sake of being polite or maybe to draw attention elsewhere, she brought the topic around to Ámbar. “How about you? How are things going with Simón?”

Well, we don’t secretly make out at the Roller, but we do much worse at the mansion when no one’s around. Or should I say better?

“Mmm, you know how couples sometimes watch TV shows together?” Ámbar said instead of that— Too much information. Delfi nodded. “Well, my boyfriend is making me watch all Marvel movies in chronological order,” she shared flatly. There truly was a lot of time for leisure when one got their period— Who would’ve thought?

“Hey, at least those are entertaining,” Delfi said. “My cinema teachers at my university make us watch 3-hour-long, black-and-white films in which nothing happens— And they swoon like it’s the best thing ever!” She complained with disbelief.

Ámbar grimaced. “That sounds awful.”

“It is. How I wish I could be staring at Chris Evans’ back instead.”

“Oh yeah, nice view,” Ámbar had to agree. “He’s not my favorite though— Too goody-goody.”

“Says the girl that’s dating Simón.”

Ámbar gave her a dry look.

“Is it Thor then?” Delfi asked curiously. “Chris Hemsworth is hot too. Or Antman. He’s dorky; maybe it reminds you of Simón.”

“Why does it have to be like Simón?” Ámbar protested, and kept talking before Delfi could make another joke at her expense. “For your information, my favorite’s Iron Man. He gets so much shit for being— What? Proud? He’s the smartest man alive and a multimillionaire— He has reasons to be proud. If I were him, I wouldn’t even help those idiots; fend for yourselves.”

“It’s cute the mentor-like relationship he has with Spiderman though,” Delfi said, and immediately started breaking down. “Oh my god, when I watched Infinity War, you have no idea how much I—”

“Ssshh! Don’t tell me, we haven’t gotten to that one yet,” Ámbar stopped her, raising her hands.

Delfi’s brows ticked up. A teasing smile formed on her lips. “Ah, so you do like them.”

Ámbar shrugged and focused her attention on pulling some nonexistent lint out from her sweater. “I like that Simón likes them.”

When she looked up, Delfi’s smile had grown into a shit-eating grin.

Feeling a surge of embarrassment, Ámbar straightened her back and hid it behind a scoff.

“Why am I still talking to you?” She moved toward the mirrors. “I came here to do something much more important, and I have plenty more important things to do. If you’ll excuse me.”

Ámbar sat in front of one of the mirrors and rummaged through the drawers until she found a package of makeup remover wipes.

As she pulled one out, she caught Delfi’s reflection on her peripheral vision, staring at her. “You know, you really are different now,” she commented.

Ámbar glanced at her through the mirror before refocusing on wiping her hands. “Is that bad?”

“No,” Delfi said light-heartedly. “I like this Ámbar better. Less bossy and easier to tease.”

Ámbar sent her a look, but the small curl to her lips betrayed she wasn’t entirely mad at this playful dynamic. It felt nice to just have some unserious conversation with someone once in a while— other than her boyfriend, obviously.

She had just finished cleaning her fingers when Delfi spoke once more.

“Jazmín told me you apologized to her the other day.”

Ámbar tried not to show her disappointment at losing the levity of the conversation so quickly. Peaceful moments never lasted very long for her. It seemed like something always had to remind her of her old transgressions (or her current ones, which she refused to think about.)

She dropped the used wipe into the trashcan next to her and replied with tranquility. “It was the right thing to do.”

She could’ve left it at that, but given the opportunity, Ámbar turned around in the chair to look at Delfi directly. “But I’m not expecting you two to go back to being my minions or anything, don’t worry,” she clarified. “I’m just slowly, little by little, tying up loose ends.” It was all she could do.

She couldn’t go back in time and change the things she did. All she could do was apologize, and be better in the future. Before, her concept of ‘better’ only meant succeeding in all aspects of her life, no matter the cost. Now, she understood all the damage she had inflicted, onto others and herself, for thinking that way.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t like to be your minion again,” Delfi said, with clear disdain forthat idea. No one would want to be in that position, Ámbar thought with some guilt.

A playful expression showed up on Delfi’s face. “But maaaybe I could be your friend.”

Ámbar had to do a double-take. She stared at Delfi, trying to discern if she was only making a joke, but she looked sincere. Something warm and bright fluttered weakly in Ámbar’s chest— Hope.

“Really?”

Delfi showed her a small smile. “I think you’ve really changed. And, if we ignore all the awful things, we did have some very good moments throughout all those years of friendship. Plus,” she added with that playful lilt again, “I’ve noticed that the only people you talk to lately are either Simón, Ramiro, or the rest of the guys that live at your house— I think you’re in desperate need of a girl view.”

The fluttering was no longer a tentative thing but the mighty upward flight of a bird through the sky. A smile grew on Ámbar’s lips and she rose from her chair, hesitating only for a moment before going for a hug, and to her utter relief, Delfi hugged her back, just like in the old days, but better.

“Thank you,” Ámbar told her over her shoulder, eyes closed to capture this moment, this proof that not all her bridges were burned.

She could hear Delfi’s smile in her voice as she answered. “You’re welcome, girl.”

****************

The raucous of many voices talking and laughing all at the same time permeated the locker room as the Roller Team tied up their rollerskates for another training session.

There weren’t enough benches in the place, so everyone took turns to put their skates on. Simón had been the first one to enter the lockers, so he gave his spot over to Jim and was then the first to slide out.

He was excited about rollerskating, of course, but the truth was that his main motivation to arrive before everyone else was the dazzling blonde standing on one corner of the rink, surrounded by an assortment of flowers and skull decorations in different colors, almost as vibrant as her, but not quite.

Ámbar heard him roll near, so she spun on her feet, and a smile blossomed on her lips when she saw it was him. Simón felt his heart do a happy dance and thought of how lucky he was to have her, not for the first time. Having the person you love love you back had to be the most magical thing anyone could ever experience. Having said person also throw a party for you just to gift you a little piece of home had to be a bonus not many received, and one Simón was incredibly grateful for.

Sure, their relationship wasn’t perfect— not by a long shot. There were a lot of things that worried him. Things he wished that could be better. But in the quiet moments, Simón was simply in awe of just how in love he was with this girl.

“You’re kidding,” Ámbar said with a happy sparkle in her eyes. “I was just about to call you, how did you know?”

If he hadn’t been already, that would’ve made Simón smile. “I don’t know, I guess we’re connected.” At least I’d like to think we are.

He pointed down to his skates. “Also, it’s time for our training session.”

Ámbar’s eyes widened. “Oh, is it that time already?” She checked her phone and, upon confirming this, pocketed it quickly. “Sorry, time flew by. Before I go, real quick— I changed my mind.” She looked at him with a slightly chagrined expression. “Could you help me with all of this? I’m sure you know a hell lot more than I do and—” The rest of the guys started filling the rink right that second. Ámbar looked behind Simón and called out to them. “Please stay clear of this corner!” She gestured to her table. “I’m working on all this stuff and I wouldn’t want them to tear or anything.”

His friends made different sounds of agreement. Simón turned to face Ámbar again. “Sure, I’ll help you with the decorations, no problem.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m just kinda lost with all these skeletons and things.”

“Well, you don’t have to fret anymore because the bestMexican boyfriend in the world has at least a million ideas for you,” Simón declared playfully.

Ámbar’s brows ticked up with interest. “Really? A million ideas? Well, I sure have to find him now and get him to help me. You know where I can find him?”

Simón placed one hand on the table behind her and leaned in closer, answering her little smirk with one of his own. “Well…”

Juliana clapped her hands loudly from the middle of the rink. “Alright, alright! Time for practice!”

“Yeah, let each other breathe for a moment, you guys!” Matteo yelled at them.

Simón pulled away from Ámbar and looked at the other boy. “Envy is bad for you, Matteo!”

The rest of his friends started to tease Matteo. Simón turned back to his girlfriend with a smile. “See you at the mansion?”

Ámbar nodded. Simón gave her one quick peck before skating away to join his team with the initial warmups. He watched from afar as Ámbar walked away from the rink.

Simón wished she didn’t have to. He missed having Ámbar as his skating partner, the days when she was on the team and they were all friends. He knew that a lot had happened, and Ámbar had only stopped being a Red Shark some time ago, so it wasn’t as easy as just inviting her back, but he wished he could. He didn’t know how everyone would react if he did though. He’d like to believe they wouldn’t be completely opposed to it, but that wasn’t the same as liking the idea, and Simón would hate himself if he put Ámbar through an uncomfortable situation like that. He didn’t want there to be a them with her just existingon the sidelines. (Although he understood that it was her who first created that divide.)

In summary, he just had to be patient, as with all things Ámbar-related.

That was fine by him. After all, he was convinced that she was worth it.

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

Hours later, after everyone had already had dinner and the oldest went to sleep, Simón found himself with the guys in the storage room. They’d been showing Matteo some new songs they had created for the Roller Band, and he even helped them finish some of them, coming up with some brilliant ideas that made Simón and Pedro’s eyes sparkle and their hands play the instruments more enthusiastically.

(Simón refrained, once again, from just asking him if he wanted to be part of the band. While he would love that, Matteo had his solo career dreams, and that was totally okay— Simón wouldn’t want him to accept just out of a sense of comradery for them, or pity, and then regret it later.)

Now, after all of that, it had gotten late (and Simón had some arms to return to), so Pedro had risen from his seat behind the drums, and Matteo and Simón were putting their guitars away, disconnecting cables, and all that stuff.

It was just the usual until Matteo made a joke about how “If you wanted to, you guys could be a Christian Rock duo and call yourselves ‘The Apostles’, what with those names you’ve got” and Simón rolled his eyes.

He was about to point out how ‘Matteo’ was also an apostle’s name when Pedro jolted suddenly and grabbed Matteo’s shoulder.

“There! Did you see that? I told you!” Pedro exclaimed, amused, and pointing at Simón for some reason.

Matteo let out a laugh, joining Pedro’s amusement. “Oh my god, you were right!”

Simón looked at them a little self-consciously. “What? What is it?”

Pedro looked at him with a teasing smile. “Ámbar’s rubbing off on you, man. You roll your eyes just like her now.”

Simón wrinkled his brows, bemused.

“Doesn’t everyone roll their eyes sometimes?”

“Not like that they don’t,” Matteo countered. He pointed at him. “That is a registered trademark of Ámbar Smith.”

Even though they were making fun of him, the notion made Simón feel all warm inside.

A little laugh escaped his lips. “Well, maybe. I mean, we spend a lot of time together.”

“We know,” Pedro said dryly.

“Yeah, you smell like flowers now, dude,” Matteo said, “I think everyone knows.”

“Actually, I’m surprised Luna’s dad hasn’t told you anything yet,” Pedro said.

“I think he’s pretending not to notice for the sake of his mental health,” Matteo theorized.

Simón frowned a little. He knew he was bound to smell a little like Ámbar when they started sharing bathroom products, but he didn’t think it was that noticeable— He still used his own deodorant and wore cologne some days. He tried bringing his arm up to his nose to see if he could catch a whiff of ‘flowers’, as his friends said, on his skin, but of course, it being his own body, he couldn’t really smell anything because his nose was used to it.

“Maybe I should start using my own products,” Simón thought out loud. He liked knowing he smelled a little like Ámbar (it felt like they were married, which was silly and insane, of course, therefore that thought only lived in the most profound level of his subconscious) but maybe parading around that they shared the same shower when he was supposed to have his own room wasn’t the best idea.

“I mean, considering whatever Ámbar uses is probably more expensive than what you earn in a whole week, yeah, maybe,” Matteo said.

Oh. He… hadn’t thought about that.

“Anyway, we were talking about your new music career,” Matteo continued. “Should I help you two replace all mentions of ‘girls’ in your songs with ‘Jesus’?”

Simón and Pedro laughed out loud.

“Absolutely not.”

*************************

Ámbar was about to change into her pajamas and get into bed when she realized she couldn’t find her Scotch tape anywhere.

It wasn’t like it was a terrible thing. She could easily buy another one. But she liked to be organized, so she decided to go downstairs and check the living room in case she’d dropped it when she was working on the decorations earlier. If it wasn’t there, then she’d consider it lost and buy another one, because she was sure she still had it at the Roller.

Ámbar walked through the hallways and down the stairs trying to make as little noise as possible in case someone was already sleeping. The lights were off in the living room, but there was enough light coming from the garden lighting outside that it wasn’t hard to see. It wasn’t enough to find a tiny clear tape on the carpet though, so Ámbar turned on a table lamp, and when that wasn’t enough, pulled out her phone and used its flashlight as well.

Finally, she found the little roll of tape underneath the sofa. She must have kicked it under there by mistake earlier. She put it in her pants pocket, and she had just turned off the flashlight on her phone when the device started ringing, startling her a little.

It was the loud sound against the otherwise silent house, the lightning panic of ‘shoot, I’m going to wake up someone’ that reflectively crossed her mind. She would’ve gotten over it as quickly as it happened if it had been any other number calling her on the phone. But as she read the caller’s ID, Ámbar’s nervousness didn’t settle down— It was heightened.

‘Vanessa’

Maybe it was the suddenness of it— That she took her by surprise. Maybe it was her brain urging her to quiet the noise as soon as possible. Maybe it was the mix of curiosity and worry at having her godmother call her at this hour. Maybe, under different circumstances, Ámbar would’ve thought about it twice before answering the call.

But the fact of the matter was, she did.

“Hello?”

“Ámbar.” Sharon’s voice came through with its usual mix of impassiveness and undercurrent firmness. “I hope you’ve gotten over your little tantrum because I need your help. It’s important.”

The ball of anxiety grew in Ámbar’s chest, along with confusion. “My help? With what?”

“I need to get inside the mansion,” Sharon said without preamble. “I can take care of the guards at the entrance, but I need you to make sure that no one crosses my path while I go in and out of my room. I’ll go at night, when it’s less likely someone will see me.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Get inside the mansion— Are you insane?” Her voice almost rose for a moment and Ámbar had to remind herself to keep speaking quietly. If anyone heard her, it would be incredibly bad— But what her godmother was saying was even worse. “Wasn’t it enough with last time?” She demanded with outrage. “I thought you had understood that it’s not a good idea— You’re going to get caught.”

“Not if I have a good lookout, which is why I need you. You’re the only one I can trust, Ámbar.”

Ámbar shook her head. That was always Sharon’s technique— Try and pull at Ámbar’s heartstrings when she needed something from her. But Ámbar had done this dance too many times. She knew how it ended.

“No,” she replied, firmly. “I am not going to help you. Why are you even asking me? Ask Rey or Maggie—they are your little toy soldiers, don’t pull me into your crazy ideas.” I have too much to lose.

The mild softness in Sharon’s voice vanished as fast as it had appeared. “Rey got me the key for the chest four days ago, but since then, he’s been reluctant to cooperate with me and I can’t enter the house without help from the inside, it’s too risky,” she explained with evident frustration. “It must be Maggie’s influence, no doubt. That woman only causes trouble.”

Good job, Maggie, Ámbar thought with some relief.

“Or maybe Rey doesn’t want to help you because he knows as well as I do that this is a bad idea,” she emphasized. “What even is in that chest that you want it so much?”

“That’s none of your business,” Sharon retorted immediately. “Just help me get inside to retrieve what’s mine and I promise that I won’t step on that house again. Not until I have gotten rid of those pests who took it from me in the first place, of course,” she added.

Ámbar closed her eyes. How could she not see? No one took anything from her— She was the one who alienated herself from her family for trying to hide the truth. Was accepting the reality that Luna was the heir to the Benson fortune so impossible for her that she was willing to destroy everything in order to avoid it? Destroy herself?

“You need to stop this, godmother.” Ámbar tried to infuse strength into her words but her emotions filtered in, making it sound like begging. “What you’re doing is wrong. Not only is it wrong, it’s dangerous— I’m worried that something might happen to you. Please stop this before it’s too late.”

“If it really worried you that much, you would help me,” Sharon said. “The sooner I get what I want, the sooner all of this will be over— You know that, Ámbar.”

“The Valente don’t deserve this,” Ámbar said. “They’re good people. And if you don’t want to think about them, think about Grandpa— He is your father. He almost had a heart attack the last time something happened, imagine if something terrible happened to him— Would you really be able to live with that?”

“My father made his own decisions, including siding with those newcomers who took everything from us, so whatever happens to him will be exclusively his responsibility.”

Ámbar shook her head in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.” Was she really that far gone? Did she not care about anything?

Am I wasting my time? Ámbar thought with sudden, terrifying despair. Is there no way to fix this?

“I’m very serious,” Sharon declared. “So think very carefully if you want to keep siding with that family.”

Ámbar swallowed a groan of frustration. “You don’t understand, it’s not about sides. I just want—”

The sound of footsteps coming from behind her made Ámbar’s heart jump to her throat.

Rapidly, she hung up and turned around, trying to not seem too suspicious.

The fist in her chest tightened when she saw it was Simón who had come in through the kitchen door— out of all possible people— and, judging by the curious look he was casting her way, he had definitely caught her talking on the phone.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

“I thought you’d be in bed,” he said. “Why did you hang up so fast? Who was it?”

Ámbar tried to think through the buzz of panic in her head. “Yeah, um, I forgot something down here so I came to find it,” she said. Her mouth felt dry. “I did, so, it’s all good.”

Simón made a noise of understanding but the wrinkle between his brows remained. “And the call?”

“No one,” Ámbar responded instinctively. Fuck, she was so stupid— of course it couldn’t be no one! “I mean, no one as in nothing important, don’t mind it,” she tried to dismiss it.

Simón let out a laugh. “If you really told me you were talking to no one, I would be worried that you’ve been stuck inside this house so long it has started to affect you and you hear voices now,” he joked.

Ámbar forced a weak laugh out of her in response. “Yeah, no, it was… Emilia,” she came up with. “She was just calling to annoy me, so I cut her off. But it was nothing, really.”

The amusement left Simón’s expression and he became serious. “Do you want me to talk to her?” He offered. “I’ll talk to her,” he decided before she could speak. “It’s not fair that she’s harassing you after they kicked you off the team. What does she think she’s doing?”

Ámbar’s eyes widened slightly. “Nonono, leave it, really, I can handle her,” she assured him, trying to seem as unbothered as possible while fear gripped her senses. “It’s not like it bothers me anyway, it’s her time she’s wasting, not mine.”

“You sure?”

Ámbar nodded immediately, eager to put the topic to rest. Simón, too good to just let it go, walked toward her with a slightly saddened expression and held her hands in his. “We shouldn’t have even invited her to sing with us at the Roller Jam,” he said with some bite. “I know why you suggested it, but if she’s still bothering you even after you tried to do something nice for her, then she’s not worth it.”

He was so aggrieved for her sake and it only made Ámbar feel worse. He only wanted her to be treated fairly, kindly— He wanted to defend her from what could bring her harm. And in the meantime, what was she doing? Sinking in a sea of lies and drowning others with her in order to maintain them.

I’m the harm and he doesn’t know it.

“I just thought it was fair. And who knows? Maybe she just needs time,” she attempted to defend Emilia in order to salvage her conscience. “But whatever— I don’t have time to think about Emilia or anything of the sort, it really doesn’t matter,” she said fast and dismissively. She squeezed his hands and smiled. “Let’s just go upstairs, okay?”

Ámbar turned off the lamp and they went up to her room hand in hand. The darkness gave her an excuse to not look him in the face.

The warmth of Simón’s hand felt suffocating against her own, as if it burned her skin— holy water on the worst sinner. Ámbar felt disgusting. She didn’t deserve this hand.

But she was not going to let it go. She held it tighter. She held him tighter.

She was not letting Simón go.

Ever.

******************

The next morning, Ámbar woke up before him, as she usually did, but Simón convinced her to stay in bed and sleep some more. They’d had a long night last night (Ámbar had been inspired, running her hands and mouth all over his body, and he had no desire to say no) but more than that, she’d been visibly tired lately with all the preparations for the Roller Jam, and she deserved the rest.

“It won’t kill you to sleep in one day; take the morning off.”

His stubborn girl was still propping herself up and rubbing at her eyes, trying to wake up even though she was clearly exhausted. “I can’t do that, I’m supposed to be working.”

“I won’t tell Vidia if you won’t.”

Ámbar gave him a disapproving look and pouted, and she looked absolutely adorable with her disheveled hair and sleepy eyes.

Simón kissed her pout. “Seriously, just sleep two more hours, it’ll be okay.”

Ámbar closed her eyes and let her head fall back on the pillow. “Mmm, but I like having breakfast with you,” she murmured.

Simón smiled and tucked some hair away from her face. “Me too. So, sleep so that we can do that tomorrow.”

Ámbar hummed again and snuggled under the covers. There might have been an ‘okay’ there somewhere but it was too muffled and sleepy to tell.

Simón leaned down to drop a kiss on the top of her head before getting up. “I love you.”

“Luv u,” Ámbar mumbled, and by the time Simón walked out of the room, she was out like a light.

The rest of Simón’s morning went on as normal, with him walking to the Roller with Pedro, starting his workday, and supervising the new part-timers while they learned the ropes in the cafeteria.

The first few days of this last activity had felt like double work for Simón and Pedro because they had to train the new girls in addition to keeping up with all their usual duties, so it was a lot. Alex, the new rink assistant, had been easier: He already had rollerskating experience, so all they had to do was show him how the rental system in the lockers worked and teach him about safety precautions in the rink and what to do in case of any accidents— stuff like that. Eric, being the full-time rink assistant, took over most of his training, so Simón and Pedro only had to worry about the cafeteria.

‘Only’ was an understatement, of course— It was the hardest part. But by now, Cata and Rae had gotten a pretty good hang of things— Simón hadn’t lied when he said to Ámbar that they learned things quickly— so he felt way more at ease. Actually, he hadn’t felt this relaxed while working since the days when Nico was still with them. Four people worked better than two, after all. He would miss the girls once they started working on their own on the weekends, and he was sure Pedro shared the sentiment, but in exchange for that, they’d finally get to have their weekends free like the rest of the world, so really, they couldn’t complain.

He brought two hamburgers over to table 4 and then there was a small lull in activity as all the customers enjoyed their food and joyful conversation. Simón took the opportunity to go to the lockers and see how Eric and Alex were doing. Just as a friendly visit, mostly, but if he was being honest, he did have another agenda.

He’d been thinking for the past few days how great it’d be if Alex happened to play an instrument and wanted to join the Roller Band. Simón didn’t want to get his hopes up, but they could finally be a band again! Alex seemed like a very nice guy from the interactions Simón’d had with him until now, and Eric felt comfortable around him, which said a lot because he was usually nervous around new people, so really, what was there to lose in asking?

Unfortunately, when the three of them got talking and Simón subtly brought the topic up, he came to find out that, while Alex loved music, he had absolutely no ability for it.

Simón hid the disappointment he felt. Of course finding a new member wasn’t going to be that easy. Looking at it objectively, it would have been an unbelievable stroke of luck if Alex turned out to be the solution to all their problems. Not because Simón got to the Roller and was a perfect fit for the band meant that everyone who arrived would be as well.

Maybe Eric could join if he weren’t so shy, Simón thought.He’d been great at Nico’s farewell party. But Simón wasn’t going to force him out of his shell just for his own gain.

The idea of the Christian Rock duo was starting to sound appealing.

They were still talking when someone else walked into the room. There was a minimal pause, almost imperceptible, as the three of them glanced to the side to check if it was someone in need of assistance, but it was just Emilia, who walked toward her locker without even looking at them.

Eric and Alex continued talking, but Simón didn’t. He stayed staring at Emilia, feeling a spark of anger flare inside of him as he remembered last night.

He simply couldn’t understand it. Ámbar was breaking her back organizing an event that everyone could enjoy, that she invited Emilia to participate in as an olive branch, and Emilia repaid that good faith by calling Ámbar just to mess with her? How could anyone be so ungrateful?

Simón couldn’t even be sure this was the first time something like this had happened. Ámbar had a tendency of wanting to deal with everything herself— The prime example of that being that she told Simón not to worry about it, that she could handle Emilia— So who knew how long this had been going on.

Emilia put her skates away and walked out of the lockers as quietly as she had come. Simón tightened his fists. Yes, Ámbar could deal with Emilia— Simón had no doubt that she could handle almost anything if she put her mind to it. But it wasn’t fair that this was happening, and Ámbar didn’t have todeal with everything alone— She had him now. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to allow something like this to keep happening without doing anything about it.

Simón said a quick bye to the guys and walked out right after her.

In the hallway, he threw a quick look around in search for Benicio, because wherever Emilia was, Benicio was always close by. Simón found him still at the rink, rollerskating by himself. Good. That way he wouldn’t have to deal with both at the same time.

Emilia was already crossing the front door by the time he brought his gaze back to her. Simón hurried after her, walked out of the Roller too, and stood in her path, causing her to stop.

“I need to speak with you.”

Emilia blinked, both in surprise and confusion. “With me? What, is there another event you want me to sing at?” She joked. “I’m very sorry but you’ll have to tell me all about it tomorrow—I gotta get to work.”

She tried to pass by him but Simón blocked her way.

“No, it’s not about that. And you know what? If we had known this is what your response would be, we never would’ve invited you,” he spat her way. “I mean, Ámbar wanted to invite you as a kind gesture, she was trying to put an ending to all the fighting so you could be a part of something nice for once, and this is how you repay her? Calling her up just to annoy her? It isn’t enough for you to be so unfriendly to everyone in their presence, you had to bother her during her free time too?”

Emilia wrinkled her face. “What are you talking about?”

“Last night, when you called Ámbar on her cellphone to harass her,” Simón stated in no uncertain terms.

Emilia’s eyes narrowed in a glare. “I haven’t called your little girlfriend since she sucked face with you. She became a loser by association.”

“Don’t lie, Emilia. Ámbar told me.”

“I’m not lying,” Emilia protested. “Here, you wanna see?” She pulled out her phone and offered it to him. “Check my phone’s call history. You won’t find Ámbar’s name anywhere.”

Simón hesitated for a moment. Something inside him rose in alarm, not allowing him to move. He took the phone and tried to quiet it. Emilia was just pretending to be offended, that was all.

She unlocked the phone right in front of his eyes, which again unnerved him due to the confidence of the gesture, but he carried on. He just had to prove she was lying. He tapped out of Instagram, the last app she’d been using, apparently, and went to the home page to find the Phone app. He went to the call history and started scrolling down.

He checked the names, the dates on the list, checked again.

Nothing. Ámbar’s name was nowhere to be found.

It must have shown on his face, the way his stomach started coiling into knots, because he heard Emilia’s annoyed vindication. “See? I told you. I don’t even remember when was the last time I called Ámbar. It should show up there somewhere. Has it been a month maybe?”

She was just thinking out loud, unpreoccupied now that she’d been proven right. Meanwhile, Simón was struggling to keep his nervous system under control.

It can’t be.

“You could’ve deleted it,” he told her, looking up from the treacherous list on that stupid device.

Emilia, arms crossed in front of her chest, seemed unamused by the accusation. “Yeah, because I see the future and I knew you were going to want to see it,” she said ironically. She rolled her eyes. “Please, Simón, don’t fool yourself. Ámbar lied to you. And, I mean, why are you even surprised? It’s Ámbar. Lying is what she does best.”

No.

It can’t be.

“Look,” Emilia deflated, uncrossing her arms and looking at him with something akin to pity, “from one Mexican to another, I think you should stay away from her. You’re too goody-goody, and Ámbar… well, there’s a reason why we used to be friends.”

A slight tremor was taking over Simón’s limbs. He couldn’t even look at Emilia. He couldn’t look at anyone.

“Now if you excuse me,” she took her phone from his hands, “I’m gonna go.” Emilia took a couple steps before stopping. “And tell your girlfriend that if she wants to do right by me or whatever then she shouldn’t go around sullying my name with false accusations.” She walked away. “See ya, Simón.”

Even after she was long gone, Simón remained unmoving. His heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his ears.

Ámbar lied to me.

He tried to slow down his breathing, swallow the pulse in his throat, but the pain in his chest didn’t go away.

This couldn’t be. There had to be some explanation. There had to be.

Calm down. He could hardly hear his thoughts through the blaring of his heartbeat. It’s just a phone call. It’s not a big deal. This isn’t like last year. It isn’t—

But if it’s not a big deal, then why did she—?

Simón breathed in and out, hard.

All around him, his world started crumbling down.

…

#simbar #simbar fic #simbar fanfic #soy luna fanfiction #soy luna #My Writing #roads that cross #at long last

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