#Neon Beer Hug | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bayjaruchel · 6 months

Text

Whammy Kiss Me (Whammy Hug)

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Pairing: Clapton Davis/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven isn't a pointless party game, after all. (3.9k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

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It's not until the closet door shuts that you realize the gravity of your current situation.

You've been at the party for at least a couple of hours; you've grown used to the general noise. The slight haziness of the air. You're not quite hammered yet, but you've got one or two drinks in your system. Just enough that you can enjoy the feeling without worrying about the hangover tomorrow. Judging by the way that a couple of people had been giggling and swaying, not everyone who was sitting around the circle shared your sense of self-conservation.

Although it hadn't been the brightest outside— it was dim, but also somewhat illuminated at the same time with the neon lighting— the single lightbulb hanging above your heads doesn't do much against the darkness.

Yeah. Heads, plural.

Luckily, there's only one person in the cramped space besides yourself.

Unluckily, that person is one Clapton Davis.

It's not that you don't like him. Actually, you feel the exact opposite towards him, but that's not the point. It's just that— you know, you could spend seven minutes just sitting in silence, doing absolutely nothing— but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the way your knees are brushing. The way there's something in the air. Maybe you're just imagining it, but there's something … restless. Something like—

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when he speaks.

"So," he says, casually. As if you're not within necking distance in a cramped space. "You enjoying the party?" There's that same easy grin on his face. He's completely at ease, apparently. You're not sure if that's because of his ever-present (and sometimes misguided) confidence, or because he's used to stupid little party games like this. It's probably a combination of both.

"Yeah." You find yourself replying, almost on autopilot. "The punch isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

Clapton honest-to-god giggles at that. "It's still pretty shitty, though."

"I wouldn't say shitty."

"Awful, then." He raises his eyebrows. "Let's just say that it's an … acquired taste."

You can't help but smile. "Fair." He's right— you're pretty sure that the only people who actually enjoy it are the people who regularly attend these parties. Said people usually just come to get drunk, anyway, and the punch works wonders. Magically malicious.

"It's either that or cheap beer," he muses. "Or wine busted from mommy and daddy's fridge in the basement."

"Expensive wine?"

"Could be." Clapton shrugs, pulling his knees closer to his chest. You try in vain not to focus on his arms as he wraps them around his legs. Was it really necessary to wear the tank top? "Maybe," he says. "But I doubt that anyone here would wanna drink it."

You unconsciously mirror his posture. "Why's that?"

He snorts. "Too classy."

It sort of makes sense. You can't really see Josh from Calculus sipping a glass of pinot noir, much less enjoying it. Maybe one has to start from the bottom of the hypothetical alcohol pyramid and work their way up. The bottom, meaning Bud Light. Or Coors Light. All of the Lights.

"Cheap beer it is, then."

Clapton's grin is back.

"Unfortunately."

You're starting to relax, even if you can still feel your heart pounding whenever his eyes meet yours. Even if your eyes are lingering. When he reaches up to idly run his fingers through his hair, you can't stop yourself from wondering: is it as soft as it looks?

"How much time d'you think we have left?" He asks, just as you're attempting to reel yourself back in.

"Uh," you start. Nice. "I don't know— maybe, like, four minutes or so?" Spending a couple of minutes talking about drinks wasn't exactly the plan, but you're not exactly complaining. It's still better than awkward silence. You wonder— again— about how many times he's done this before. How long does it usually take before people give in?

The muffled music from outside has been reduced to just the thumping of the bass, and the rhythm matches your pulse.

"Four minutes," he echoes.

You can't hold his gaze, glancing down at your knees instead.

"Yeah."

You can tell when Clapton adjusts himself where he's sitting, but you have a feeling that he hasn't looked away. Not yet.

"What do you wanna do now?" He asks, innocently. "Four minutes is a long time."

When you look up, you're proven right. The faint glow of the light doesn't hide anything. It just makes everything feel vaguely dreamlike. And, okay. This is pretty cliche. But you've watched too many movies, seen too many shows— you know what that look is. That look doesn't mean that he wants to play rock-paper-scissors for the remainder of your time left.

"I don't know," you manage. "What do you want to do?"

His eyes dip briefly before flicking back up.

"I was asking you," he teases softly. "We've already had a pointless conversation." He mimes checking a box midair with his pointer finger. "Check. And we've already sat in silence for a couple of seconds." He repeats the motion on another imaginary box. "Check."

"Oh, ouch. Talking about alcohol is pointless?" You're a little amused. "So, what's left on the list?"

Clapton raises his eyebrows again.

There's a shift in the air.

"C'mon, don't tell me that you actually don't know." His tone's dropped to little more than a whisper, but due to your closeness, you can hear him loud and clear. Your brief bit of confidence wanes— your face warms, and you pause. Sure, you're well aware of what he's implying— but you're not sure if he's just joking around or not. When has Clapton Davis ever been serious, besides that one time he competed in a skateboarding competition in the sixth grade?

The lighthearted lilt in his voice is almost gone, though.

"I know what you're trying to say," you finally reply, matching his volume. And you do want to kiss him. You really, really do.

"Okay," he murmurs in return. "Well, that's good." He dares to smile, though you know you're weak to it.

"I don't have to ask you out loud, right?"

He definitely already knows the answer to that question.

"Yeah, you don't."

You've tuned out the outside world, muffled as it already was. The music and noise fade to a quiet hum. You can hear the quiet buzz of the lightbulb— the barely audible clattering as your back moves against the uncomfortable storage shelves— the sound of his sneakers scuffing against the hardwood floor—

"But if I did ask," he says, uncharacteristically hesitant, "you'd say yes?"

Your heartbeat thrums in your throat.

The seconds tick by— you know you can't wait. It's been at least a minute and a half—

"Just do it," you breathe.

And he does.

The first thing you register is how soft his lips are. Then, his hands— cupping your face— your own hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, tugging him closer. His hair is as soft as it looks. There's no slow build-up because there's no time for that. All you can think about is him— the little sounds he lets out as you kiss, the way he can't wait when you part, his breath briefly coming in soft pants before he leans in to capture your lips again. He tastes vaguely like beer, and maybe that would have bothered you if it were any other guy— but with him, you don't really care at all. His nose presses a little awkwardly against yours a couple of times, but he makes up for it with how eager he is. You know he's not a bad kisser; he's just impatient.

You lose yourself for a little while. It feels like forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, reluctantly dropping your grip on his hair. His hands start to stray, one anchoring itself behind your neck and the other traveling lower. And lower—

There's a loud series of knocks at the door.

Clapton's slower to react, and you're the one to pull back first. When you do, he leans forward to chase your lips— but stops upon noticing your expression. In direct comparison to you, he just looks giddy. Almost dazed. His hair's a little disheveled from earlier, and he hasn't let go of you yet.

"Huh," he says, before the door is yanked open.

You're immediately greeted by exactly what you had expected. Whistles. Catcalls. General hooting. Some "called it!"s and "you owe me five bucks, man!"s.

Clapton just grins, reveling in it all. Because of course he would. But, before you can get too embarrassed, he's getting to his feet, pulling you along with him as you both exit the closet— exiting what had previously been your own little world. Instead of just rejoining the circle, like part of you expects him to do, he pauses to lean over to you and whisper:

"Wanna go upstairs?"

You blink at him. He's still smiling— he almost looks star-struck. You feel that familiar swoop in your stomach. Maybe it's a stupid decision that you'll regret later, but—

"Okay," you agree.

The whistling doesn't stop as he grabs your wrist, making a beeline for the stairs. The son of a bitch takes them two at a time, and you do your best to keep up. Upstairs, it's quieter than it is on the ground floor, since there are fewer people up here; still, though, you can hear the music echoing through the hallway. A girl's laughter rings out, followed by a string of giggles.

It's not very hard to find an empty bedroom. You gingerly shut the door behind you, taking a moment to look around. There are one or two posters here and there, and a few photos placed on the dresser. Other than that, it's kind of bare-bones. A guest room, maybe? You sure hope so. While you're distracted, Clapton leisurely sits down on the bed, bouncing a couple of times.

"Cozy," he remarks, and you turn to look at him.

"You think?"

He grins. "Sure do."

You sit next to him on the mattress. It's not bad. For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking you in.

But he doesn't hesitate much longer, and leans in. Automatically, you angle your head just so. Unlike before, he kisses you in small pecks at first. One of his hands finds your cheek. However, as the minutes draw by, your kisses grow longer. More languid. He hums into your mouth, and you move closer. Closer, until your thighs are brushing his, and you're nearly off-balance, but it's still not close enough.

He draws back. This close to him, you can pick out his freckles. His eyelashes are long, framing half-lidded eyes. His lips are still parted.

"Should I lay back?" He asks, hushed. "Or do you wanna—"

"Go ahead," you interrupt.

Clapton flops backward onto the pillows, wiggling around to make himself more comfortable. When you think he's got himself in a good position, you crawl over him. The way he looks up at you— it makes you a little lightheaded, but in the best way possible. His hands find your waist. You can do little but settle against him, pressing your lips to his for the nth time.

Enthusiastically, he responds, and it's not long before your kisses grow messier. Needier. His hands wander, moving down to rest on your hips, and then lower— you let out a gasp when he squeezes your ass, and he uses the opportunity to pull you harder against him. You're no stranger to how strong his arms are, but, yeah, being on top of him like this is an entirely new experience. He's soft and firm in equal measures, his chest sturdy where it's pressed against yours. His hands are warm when he moves them under your shirt, up your back, making you shiver.

Bracing your hands on his torso, you sit up. For a second, he's confused, but that quickly fades away as you reach down to pull up your shirt.

"Holy shit," he murmurs. He scrambles to discard his tank top too, yanking it over his head. You were right— he's toned, but there's still a fair bit of softness there. Of course his chest doesn't have any hair, but at least he kept the trail. You lay back on top of him, the feeling of his skin against yours like this causing you to shudder again. Clapton's hands start to explore once more— square palms, strong fingers. It must be a little bit of an uncomfortable stretch for him, but his thumbs find your nipples, tracing soft circles.

You briefly enjoy the sensation. Then, your breath stutters when he gently urges you forward and then leans up so he can take them into his mouth. It must be self-indulgent for him, too, because he spends more time than necessary— sucking, flicking his tongue— but it's not like you're complaining.

When he finally stops, he presses a kiss to the middle of your chest before laying back on the pillows. You move back down, and can't resist the urge to kiss him in return. His jaw— his cheek, which makes him smile. He's already started hooking his fingers in your waistband, and your mild surprise must show on your face, because he abruptly stops.

"Sorry," he grimaces, "am I going too fast? I - Is that too much?"

Hastily, you shake your head. "Oh, no. Not at all. It's fine. Just— it just caught me off-guard."

"Okay." The worry vanishes in an instant. "Okay, I'm gonna."

You let him slide down your bottoms, and then take them off the rest of the way yourself. His shorts quickly join the rest of the clothing on the floor. Now, you're more or less sitting in his lap— he props himself up on the headboard, his breath heavy as you shift on top of him. With only a few layers between you, you're aware of the shape of him through his boxers.

You grind your hips with purpose, and he swears under his breath. When you do it again, he muffles himself by kissing you. The friction— you know it's not going to be enough— makes you more desperate, and it must be having the same effect on him, judging by the way he's slightly squirming underneath you. He's not quite thrusting up against you, but it's obvious that if he were in a better position, he would be. When your cunt brushes against him, catching at that angle, he moans openly into your mouth. You draw back only for air. If you could, you'd keep kissing him forever.

"You gonna let me— mmh — fuck you?" He pants, "ohmygod, 'cause if you don't, you— you are one sick bastard—"

You smile, although you want him just as badly as he wants you. You're doing a slightly better job at keeping yourself composed, after all. "I don't know," you murmur, "isn't this nice?"

Clapton bites his lip when you grind down harder this time. "I — well," his hands scramble on your waist, your hips, "it is pretty nice, but, like — I just wanna take the logical— shitfuck — next step, right?" He's looking up at you with wide eyes, "and you are gonna let me, right?"

"Right," you repeat, your breath catching when you roll your hips at just the right angle, "I am gonna let you, don't worry."

He's flushed a pretty pink, pupils blown wide, obscuring hazel eyes; you drink him in. "Thought so," he grins. Before you can ask, he's already answering. "And, uh. There's a condom in the pocket of my shorts, if you're worried about that."

You're in mild disbelief, abruptly halting your movements.

"In your—?"

Clapton looks a little bashful, though he's still grinning. "Could you just get it?"

You're already awkwardly dismounting his lap. "Sure, sure." True to his word, there's a condom in the left pocket of his shorts, and you fish it out without a problem. You glance back at him for a moment, and he doesn't even try and pretend that he wasn't staring. Oh, well. A little clumsily, you get back onto the bed, and move to straddle him again— but he gently stops you.

"Hey," he says, "can we switch places?"

You don't need much time to consider it. "Alright."

Now, he's hovering between your legs, and you're the one lying back. His gaze lingers, but he can't wait for much longer. You lift your hips, and he slides your last remaining piece of fabric off.

"Fuck," he breathes, just before he gets to work. With the pad of one of his fingers, he collects the wetness that had been gathering, then smoothly slides the digit into your cunt. Swiftly, he adds another, the sensation odd at first, but you know you'll quickly get used to it. When he begins to lightly trace your clit, it only makes it easier for you to loosen up— both figuratively and literally. And he's still adding another. Maybe three fingers aren't strictly necessary, but he crooks them, finding the spot that makes an almost embarrassing noise tumble from your lips.

You spread your thighs wider. You could definitely cum like this if you let him continue for a while. Glancing up at his face— oh, he definitely would if you wanted him to. He's torn between looking at how his fingers disappear into you and your face. How you're reacting to his touch. It's a little flattering. But as much as part of you wants to see what he's willing to do —

"I'm — " You feel yourself tense, and you barely stifle an involuntary moan when he thumbs your nub again. "I'm ready. You can —"

He doesn't even wait until you finish the sentence. He's already pulling out his fingers, tugging off his boxers. Your eyes are immediately drawn downward. Again, you're not surprised that he's shaved. Length-wise, he's probably around average, but girth-wise he's nice and thick. There's a bead of precum at the tip— if he wasn't already tearing open the condom with his teeth in a move that he's probably practiced before, you would've offered to blow him or something. Maybe some other time.

Your idle thoughts dissipate when he lines himself up and, with an amount of care that nearly belies his previous neediness, presses in. You both moan in unison— he sounds infinitely more strained. He takes a moment to catch his breath, but—

He starts moving. Little thrusts, at first. Then, pulling out more, pushing back in. His mouth falls open, and you can't resist throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down. He groans, and you take it in, taking it with his increasing pace. It's good— his thumb finds your sensitive apex again, and that makes you jolt, but you know he's trying to give you a smooth progression between slow and fast. That's not what you want, though. Especially not now. Inches from his lips, you mutter:

"Don't hold back."

And that's all it takes. You can vaguely hear the bed creaking when he snaps his hips up to meet yours, roughly fucking into you with almost reckless abandon. Your kisses are sloppy, uncoordinated. But you wouldn't prefer it any other way. You know he probably wouldn't be making those noises if he didn't know they were muffled against you. Some are high-pitched— ragged gasps, moans, and at least one whimper. You also know you don't sound much different. He can't reach down to rub your throbbing clit anymore, due to how he's positioned, but the way that he's angled is more than satisfying in that regard.

You lose track of time, only aware of his hips colliding against yours— his lips, his hands — the way he's starting to babble. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he confesses in a rush, "god, your eyes. I could just — I could just look at you like this forever. If you could see yourself — nnh — you would know." A sharp intake of breath, a few kisses, and then, "Ohfuck. Shit. You're gonna ruin this forever for me. I can't — "

His rhythm is starting to falter. You can feel the heat pooling low in your gut, the tension that comes before the inevitable release. You tighten around him. His hands braced near your shoulders tremble, and you can see his biceps flexing with the effort of holding himself up like this.

"Please," Clapton chokes out, and he doesn't specify as to what he wants, but you have a pretty good idea. "I'm gonna— "

"Do it," you manage, despite your own climbing pitch, "c'mon, give it to me—"

"Fuck— " You feel him pulse. For a split second, you wonder how it would feel if he didn't have on the condom— but your thoughts are quickly overtaken, as you're not too far behind. You twitch, spasming around his cock as your mouth falls open. The tension peaks, the heat spikes—

He fucks you, gently, as you float back down, riding out your orgasm. Your eyelids flutter shut, and your breath slows, but your pulse is still a fast-paced staccato.

He gingerly lays on top of you, catching his breath. It's hot against your throat. The world ceases spinning, and you let out a long sigh.

He mimics it, and you glance down at him.

You're reluctant to say it, but seriously, this is someone else's house. Guest room or not.

"We should get cleaned up or something."

He blinks once, lazily. Seemingly, he's content to lay on your chest. Of course, he's the type to get sleepy after sex. But at least he makes an effort to respond. "Ugh," he says. And then: "Jus' gimme a minute or something."

You give him a look, and he surrenders. "Okay, fine."

He slips out with a wet noise, and you only miss the fullness for a moment. Getting off the mattress, he throws out the condom, then accepts the wad of tissues you hand him. It's not the best, but it'll have to do for now. You manage to get most of the evidence of your arousal off before pulling back on your clothes. There's a mirror, thankfully, so you go to try and make yourself look less … fucked. Not that it would really matter. There are definitely people in worse states.

Clapton stands next to you, but doesn't even try to fix his hair. On him, it looks fashionably disheveled, anyway.

It's silent, before he interjects:

"Is this … gonna be just a one-time thing?"

The strange apprehensiveness is back, and you chance a glance at him. He's not meeting your eyes, but you're sure he's looking at you in the mirror's reflection.

"I don't know," is all you can think to say, "do you want it to be?" A beat. "We could totally go back to being just sort of friends, if that's what you want."

Clapton visibly swallows. "I … "

You wait, patiently. He takes another few seconds.

"I liked that," he mutters, "a lot. And I— I meant all that stuff. About you."

He's still not meeting your eyes. It makes you pause.

"I liked it too," you reply, softly.

The look he gives you next says it all. You know he's not big on old-school romance. He's not big on flowery words— his English grades can certainly attest to that. He's more of an action-oriented guy. Even if you don't get a verbal confession just yet— and you know you will, just not now— you suddenly understand what he's trying to convey. So, you pull yourself together and throw caution to the wind.

"You wanna get out of here?"

He beams.

#clapton davis x reader #clapton davis x you #clapton davis imagines #clapton davis smut #josh hutcherson x reader

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badgerbl00d · 7 months

Note

hey I've fallen down a rabbit hole of reading your fics and it's 3am here but they're so good!!! I'm in love ✨✨✨💕💕 i was wondering if I could request a story with Zoro but the reader's ex is there and she doesn't miss him but she runs into him for the first time and she's hurt after he disappeared on her, maybe he's with a bunch of his friends. Zoro comforts her, maybe even embarrasses the ex while they fight off some enemies and stuff. Sorry i know I'm rambling on, but ahhhh i would love to see this come to life! thanks again! :)

hands off

☆ characters: roronoa zoro

☆ up next: captain's girl; shanks x reader

☆ summary: you have an unexpected run-in with your no good ex boyfriend but unfortunately for him, you have zoro with you

☆ a/n: lovedddd writing this! i love writing protective zo :3 thank u for this ask! requests are still open

☆ key: e/n = ex's name

It was a busier night than you and the crew had seen in a while. You were all desperate for a day off of chores and the open ocean so Nami suggested a brief stop at the closest island.

You’d broken off in groups to spend some time on land and you Zoro and Robin had made your way to a dive bar in town.

It was a welcome stop– the ship only had sake on it. Franky and Brook had finished the gin during a card game and Sanji had finished off the bourbon in a recipe.

The three of you found a seat and you took a moment to sink into the torn leather cushion, breathing in the smell of old cigarettes in ashtrays and beer. The neon lights washed you in a warm hue and Zoro couldn’t help but stare at how the blinking lights shifted on your face, changing the shadows of your eyelashes danced on your cheeks.

He got up, realizing Robin had taken note of his staring and made his way to the bar ordering a drink for himself.

You and Robin were talking, he could hear your giggling and tried to drown the warmth that erupted in his tummy by downing the drink.

You walked up behind him and hugged him from behind, “Zo-ro!”

He loved the way you said his name, stretching out the first syllable and emphasizing the second. Zou– ro!

“Hey, Y/n,” he said, biting back a smile.

“What’d you order?”

“Sake.”

“Shocking! Gimme a sip.”

He handed you the small bowl, his heart beating faster when your fingers touched.

He watched you sip it and wince as it went down.

“Still gross.”

It was too much to be around you, you were intoxicating and he knew if he spent too much time around you after having had a few drinks he’d most likely say something stupid and embarrass himself.

He started getting up, awkwardly trying to get you off of his shoulders.

You let go and took his seat.

“Here,” he dug around in his pockets and handed you a few bills and several coins.

You shot him a puzzled look.

“Get yourself a drink, since you didn’t like mine.”

“With…” you paused and counted the money, “Three berries and sixty-four.. no, sixty-five cents?”

He shot you a look and snatched the money up, grumbling as he went back to the table.

A man in the bar quickly took Zoro’s place once he’d walked away and started up a conversation with you, much to Zoro’s irritation. He went and sat with Robin, sipping his drink and playing a game of checkers with her.

An hour or so had passed and you, sociable as ever, had talked to almost everyone in the bar.

Robin playfully nudged Zoro in your direction, who was absorbed almost entirely in his sixth cup of sake of the night.

You were sitting alone at the bar now, ordering yourself a drink.

Zoro furrowed his brow and took another big sip of his drink, pretending not to understand what Robin was hinting at.

“Hmph,” he muttered, still not wanting to admit to Robin that his crush had been found out.

A sudden impulse to go to you and declare his feelings bubbled up in his chest and against his better judgment, he stood up trying to gather the courage to go up and sit with you. It’s not like it would have been weird–he was closer with you than the rest of the crew and he knew you better than anyone (at least that’s what he let himself believe). But tonight, for some reason, he had been feeling nervous around you. He told himself that maybe it was your new perfume, floral and saccharine, and dizzying every time he caught your intoxicating scent or the dress you were wearing that hugged your body in all his favorite places, not that he looked, of course, or maybe it was your hair which was framing your face, now glowing in the soft light of the bar and pink with the warmth of alcohol that was driving him absolutely mad at the thought and sight of you.

“Better hurry,” she said, getting up to leave, “Looks like a few other people already want to take the open seat next to her.”

A group of younger boys in the corner pushed one of their group toward where you were sitting, sending flirty remarks your way.

“I’ll see you two back on the ship tonight.”

You ignored the boys behind you, rolling your eyes at their antics.

“Mint gimlet, miss,” the bartender said, handing you a drink, winking, “The gentleman over there sent it.”

“Oh? Well, thanks,” you said, looking to see who had guessed your favorite drink.

Your heartbeat picked up, thumping with a quick, erratic beat against your chest. You felt goosebumps cover your skin and your stomach churned.

Him.

It had been two, or was it three?, years. God knows you’d tried contacting him; dozens of letters, calls, messages, just wanting to know what happened. Had you done something? Was he in trouble? Did a year of your life mean nothing to him? All that time, all those kisses and conversations and messy beds and lazy mornings. All the petty arguments and fights and the tears you’d cried in front of him. You had told yourself that there was no way he’d have thrown it all away. But six months after you’d last seen him, leaving your bed in the early hours of the morning, kissing your forehead and promising you dinner that night, he’d responded to one of your letters.

It was some shitty, half-assed excuse—something about new opportunities and not wanting to tie you down, being your own person.

A lump in your throat began forming at just the thought of it.

You looked away from him, blinking back tears, but it was too late. He was headed your way.

Well, you thought, the least you could do was ignore him.

He sat one seat away from you, smiling at you like a schoolboy in love. You wanted to break your glass over his head.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, placing his hand over yours, “How are ya?”

He was halfway through a beer, a drink that you now associated with his memory.

You clenched your jaw and looked straight ahead, ignoring him entirely.

“At least taste the drink, I know they’re your favorite.”

Zoro, who had been closely watching this entire interaction noted how you tensed up the moment he sat down and placed a steady hand on the handle of his sword. He paused for a moment, closely observing the scene that was playing out before him. He watched you push the drink in front of you away and your soft smile fall into a frown.

“Leave me alone.”

The man reached over and placed his hand on your thigh and gently squeezed, eliciting visible disgust from you.

Pushing his hand off you repeated yourself, “Leave me a-lone.”

Zoro was already making his way toward you from the other side of the room, his blood starting to simmer at the sight of your unwanted visitor.

He stopped at a table about twenty feet away from you, deciding he would wait a bit more before taking any action– he was, after all, somewhat intrigued.

The man was laughing, but you had never looked so angry.

“I am sorry, sweetheart,” he heard him say, “Let me explain what happened, just hear me out.”

“I don’t care what happened, and I will not hear anything out so long as it’s you speaking,” you responded.

“Did ya miss me? At least answer me that.”

Your hands were balled up into shaky fists, “No.”

The man laughed again, grabbing your drink from in front of you and taking a sip, “Yes, you did. Look how worked up you are! Don’t know how to respond to the sight of me, huh? Am I as handsome as you remember?”

You suddenly felt a large hand on your shoulder and turned to look up and see Zoro, relief sweeping through your body.

“Hey, Zo,” you said, smiling at him.

“Mind getting me a beer?”

“Not sake?” you asked. He laughed, a lot more than normal, but insisted it was the beer he wanted.

Tension between you and your ex was already at an all-time high, and your apparent closeness with Zoro wasn’t helping.

The bartender placed the beer in front of you and you pushed it over to Zoro who grabbed it and sat in the empty seat between you and your ex.

“You know him?” Zoro asked, taking a generous sip of beer.

You didn’t respond for a second, but eventually nodded, “Yeah.”

“Want me to move?”

You could see E/n glaring at Zoro.

You bit the inside of your cheek and looked up at Zoro who had an unreadable sort of expression on his face, something between irritation and apathy. He looked straight ahead and didn’t look at either you or the man to his right.

Several moments passed without an answer and he turned to look at you, “Didn’t think so.”

“We were having a conversation,” your ex nudged Zoro’s arm.

You knew the look on Zoro’s face, it was that sort of glazy-eyed focus he fell into before fighting.

“E/n, we’re done talking.”

“Are you sure this guy isn’t bothering you, Y/n? I felt like we were close to… reconnecting.”

Ugh, go away.

“Well, we weren’t,” you said.

Zoro stayed silent, sipping his beer, but you could tell he was very aware of everything going on around him.

“Alright,” he said, getting up. He grabbed his coat and walked over to you, leaning over your shoulder, his chest to your back, and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You watched Zoro’s fist clench out of the side of your eye.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, “Get off.”

As much as you hated the man, you knew Zoro was very capable of escalating things very quickly and you wanted to avoid causing a scene.

You felt a small rush of wind on the back of your neck and the cool edge of a blade settle there.

Uh-oh.

So much for staying calm.

“Step away from her,” Zoro snarled, “Now.” His sword was extended behind your head and the point was resting on E/n’s chest.

He put his hands up and smirked at Zoro, “Let’s not get too confident here, buddy.”

He pushed his jacket to the side and rested his hand on the gun that sat on his hip. He drew it slowly and dragged his finger to rest on the trigger.

You remembered that stupid gun and the fight that had ensued when you’d accidentally touched it.

Zoro laughed, loud and bold.

“I’ll have your hands cut off and skinned before you can pull the trigger. Make this a lot easier for yourself and leave.”

Zoro didn’t look anywhere other than his face. His arm was steady and the sword didn’t waver even an inch. Confident and unwavering, he resembled a tiger before it kills.

Your ex placed the gun back in its holster and turned to shoot you a pathetic smile, “Are you sure you want me to leave? You won’t see me again.”

You won’t see me again.

For a moment, all that hurt resurfaced. The striking realization that this was it. Your relationship was done and would never be what it had been again. This moment, right now, was truly it. You prepared yourself to say something, anything. But there was a growing lump in your throat so you stopped yourself from answering. You’d never forgive yourself if your voice broke now.

Zoro moved in front of you, blocking you from his view, “You’re conversation with her is done. You can talk to me and lose your life in the process or you can leave.”

“Bitch,” he muttered under his breath, still looking at you and turning to leave.

Before he’d even finished saying the word you watched Zoro’s sword cut through the air quicker than you could process, leaving him standing over your ex-boyfriend who was now clutching his bleeding chest on the floor.

You shot up, suddenly nauseated by the exchange and the unnerving satisfaction you felt.

Blood was soaking through his shirt and puddling in his palm, his breathing heavy and ragged.

You grabbed Zoro’s arm and he turned to look at you. His complexion completely changed the moment he looked down at you, concern pouring from all of his features.

Are you okay? he asked, his eyes speaking for him.

“Let’s go, Zo,” you said, tugging on his arm, “There’re marines in town.”

He nodded, lowering his sword but he didn’t sheath it.

“Just give me one more second.”

Zoro crouched down and nudged him with the handle of his sword like a cat playing with its prey.

“I know you’re alive, so listen ‘cause I’m not gonna repeat myself,” he drew his sword and brought it up next to his ear. You watched silently as he visibly flinched. Zoro brought the blade down to rest on his shoulder, and slid it toward himself, wiping the blood off of the sword and onto his shirt.

“If I ever see you again. Any time, any place- I guarantee that I will be the last thing you see on Earth. Understood?”

Zoro didn’t move at all, not a muscle, not an inch. He stayed watching the man like a hawk, clutching his bleeding chest until he gave a slight nod. Had you blinked you would’ve missed it.

Zoro stood up, dusting off his knees and sheathing his sword.

He turned toward the door and grabbed your hand on his way out taking you with him.

The urge to turn around and look bubbled up inside you—to see him as devastated as you had been, to see him experience the pain you had felt.

And as though he had read your mind Zoro gave your hand a squeeze.

Keep walking, he told you.

You steeled yourself and walked out hand in hand with Zoro, whose hand was warm with speckled blood.

He led you around the side of the bar, stopping only when you were tucked away in the alley.

It was silent, neither of you saying anything.

You looked up at him, making eye contact finally. He seemed somewhat embarrassed, his cheeks were fairly pink.

You figured maybe he was regretting his rash actions but he was only really freaking out about having held your hand for so long.

“Zoro…”

“It’s nothing, really. He was a dick. Ex-boyfriend?” he said, trying badly to hide his jealousy.

It was funny– how he could go from quasi-murderer to shy schoolboy in minutes.

“Something like that,” you replied, looking away from his face, messing around with the hem of your shirt. Your eyes were starting to water again.

“Hey, hey,” he said, leaning down to take your face between his thumb and forefinger, “What did he do? I’ll go back and kill him.”

You laughed, sniffling in between, “He just… He left me with no explanation and showed up out of nowhere today. It was so long ago I shouldn’t care. I don’t! But seeing him all of a sudden was just-”

Zoro wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest where you let several more tears flow, staining his shirt.

He petted your head, holding you close to him with his free arm unsure of what to say.

“‘m sorry, Y/n,” he muttered, shuffling his feet, “I shouldn’t’ve asked.”

“It’s okay!” you insisted, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hand.

Zoro, who’d only known you for a few months, had defended you and your honor without a second thought. And though he’d probably been a little excessive your heart swelled at the thought of how he’d stood up for you.

““Sorry about your shirt,” you muttered, patting the stains on his chest where you’d soaked his shirt with tears,

He looked down and smiled, “It’s ok. It’s an old shirt anyway.”

You laughed, “Yeah and it’s not super clean either.”

His cheeks grew pink and he lightly punched your arm.

You suddenly grabbed his hands in yours, surprising him.

You squeezed his hands extra tight and looked up at him, “Thank you, Zoro. Seriously. I don’t know why I didn’t knock him out myself and I never shut down like that but I– Thank you.”

Zoro nodded, giving you a small squeeze back.

“I would do anything for you,” he admitted. More to himself than you.

Warmth crept up your neck and into your face.

“I mean– ‘Cause you’re my crewmate! I’d do anything for any of you guys, obviously. Maybe not Sanji but, well, yes him too just don’t tell him I said that.. But I meant, as in, like,” he rambled suddenly realizing what he’d said.

His hands still in yours you pulled him down, crashing your lips into his. The sudden addition of his full body weight on top of yours sent you both falling backward, stumbling until your back hit the brick wall behind you.

“Oh, shit– sorry! Sorry,” he said, pulling away from you.

“No, don’t be! I shouldn’t have….”

“Kissed me?”

“Pulled you so hard,” you responded, your hands still holding the other’s, “Thank you. I hope that shows I really mean it.”

His eyes were looking anywhere but yours and his cheeks were a furious shade of pink.

His hands were still in yours and he gently shook yours off.

“Zoro?”

He stayed silent, embarrassed and unbelievably happy, and wrapped his arms around you again. You were pulled into his chest and he stayed quiet, hugging you tight.

Ah, you understood, he didn’t want you seeing him so vulnerable.

“You know,” you said, your voice muffled by his chest, “I can’t kiss you again if you hold me down here.”

You felt him tense up and his arms stiffen around you.

“Fine with me,” he grumbled.

“You’re blushing, huh?”

“.........No.”

“Then let me out.”

“Will I get a kiss?”

“Thought you didn’t want one.”

He pushed you off his chest and started marching back in the general direction of the Thousand Sunny, grabbing his bandana and wrapping it around the lower half of his face, leaving you behind.

You laughed and ran behind him trying to grab the bandana away from his face which he was holding out of your reach.

You could see the ship in the distance and Zoro had started laughing too, getting more and more comfortable with the pink hue of his face.

Sanji and Nami were a little further down the way yelling at Luffy who’d ran off with a bag of groceries.

You paused for a moment, looking at all these people who loved you and, all of the sudden, the past wasn’t all that important.

Zoro turned, noticing your absence. Nami had spotted the two of you and was waving.

“Coming?”

#zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro fluff #zoro smut #zoro romance #zoro fanfic #roronoa zoro one piece #zoro roronoa #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro smut #roronoa zoro fluff #one piece

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bradshawssugarbaby · 27 days

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Girl, You're My Angel - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley Bradshaw's a down on his luck first baseman in the MLB, struggling to find his stride in the game he loves so much. A wedding invite from his ex-wife is enough to convince him to go for a drink, trying to forget about everything going on. He wasn't banking on meeting you though.

pairing: baseball!Bradley Bradshaw x reader (nicknamed Angel)

warnings/content: baseball au, mentions of divorce, smoking, alcohol, reference to drunk driving, bar fight, mentions of blood, Bradley having a dirty mind.

word count: 3k.

taglist (also tagging those who were interested in Take One For The Team since it's a similar vibe and explains the lack of updates lol): @avengersfan25, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @nouis-bum, @mamachasesmayhem, @floydsmuse, @kmc1989, @dckweed, @katfanfic, @nerdgirljen, @whatislovevavy, @mrsevans90, @averyhotchner, @yuckosworld, @tgmreader, @allepaula, @lourd-ita, @mariaenchanted

The booming bass drum of a classic rock song thumped in your head as you gripped the cocktail glass in your hand. The liquid sloshed around in the glass as you danced, swaying to and fro with your best friends, trying your best to enjoy yourself on your girls’ night out. Your finals had just wrapped up, and you were this much closer to earning your masters, the only thing standing between you and getting that embossed sheet of paper, was your grades. To unwind after the cram sessions you’d mustered your way through for the past month, your friends dragged you out to some new amusement bar in the Gaslamp Quarter.

Across the bar, on the other side of the room, stood Bradley Bradshaw, a once promising baseball star who now, had earned himself a reputation as the MLB’s resident asshole - unable to take criticism or a loss without lashing out at someone. His recent stunt involved hurling his baseball bat across the diamond when he struck out in practice, frustrated with his sudden lack of skill, a skill that once came so naturally to him when his mind wasn’t preoccupied.

The invitation had come in the mail two days before the bat throwing incident. His ex-wife, the one who left him two and a half years ago, was remarrying the fucking prick she cheated on Bradley with. The invite had come completely out of the blue, and when Bradley opened it, he felt all of the air leave his lungs as his fingers traced over the gold embossed lettering, donning her name and the name of her new fiancé. He’d never admit it to anyone, but that single piece of cardstock had been enough to reduce him to tears, slumping down the kitchen wall as he hugged his knees to his chest, crying loud enough that it made him thankful he had no neighbours near by.

Bradley had pulled himself together, lit a cigarette from the pack he’d been nursing for the last few months, reserved only for social events and times of pure stress, and got in his vintage Ford Bronco, his first purchase when he signed his first contract. Taking a drag from the cigarette, his brown eyes scanned over San Diego’s downtown core as he cruised past a few of the typical nightlife spots - each one a little too public for what he wanted. All other options exhausted, he pulled up outside of a newer bar that had opened the previous week, neon lights advertising an arcade on one side and drinks on the other.

He figured if nothing else, a couple of rounds of Pac-Man on an old video game after a handful of beers might do him good. He could leave the Bronco parked there and walk to the hotel around the corner, and forget about how his ex-wife’s wedding was coming up in six months, how she’d had the audacity to invite him to see her marrying the guy he’d walked in on her with.

He sidled up to the bar, nodding his head to the bartender in thanks as he ordered himself a beer. Standing across from him was a group of women, not much younger than him, gossiping and giggling together. He sized the group up, thinking to himself that maybe a one-night deal was what he needed to take his mind off his ex.

You were the tallest girl of the group, with bright eyes, and hair brushed back in a sleek, high ponytail, sporting a form-fitting cocktail dress that made Bradley’s heart race when he saw you. He pounded back the rest of his beer, trying to find his confidence in himself once again in the comfort of the drink.

Bradley set his empty bottle down on the bar top before walking his way around the circular counter. He rested his elbow on the bar, leaning in with a broad smile as you looked in his direction. He offered a polite wave of his hand, chuckling awkwardly as he felt his confidence wavering as he spoke to you.

“Hey, could I buy you a drink? He said simply, his Virginian accent dropping into a thicker drawl than usual.

“I’m good, thanks, still got one,” You held up your half-full glass and shook your head politely, not wanting to reject him too brutally.

Bradley nodded his head once at you, his smile faltering for a second. He quickly regained himself, smiling once again politely before grabbing himself another beer and heading over to the arcade, resolving that a couple of old-school video games might make his night a little better.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to rejection - he’d been turned down almost as often as he’d been accepted, but for some reason, your rejection stung just that little bit more. Maybe it was the wedding invitation still making things sour, or maybe it was the fact that the mere sight of a girl hadn’t been enough to make his heart accelerate like this in a long time. He shook his head once, trying to focus his train of thought once again on something, anything other than what was currently occupying it.

Baseball? Too stressful, his game was starting to slip up on him. Buying a puppy? No, it’d just be one more thing he could let down. Hitting the gym? He already went 6 days a week - if he went any more frequently, he’d have to consider moving his bed in there.

His mind raced as he pressed the buttons on the video game, moving the small yellow circle across the screen, collecting points between sips of beer. Behind him, he heard a couple of guys shouting at a tv screen, the sound of the latest sports highlights blaring out in the background.

“This Bradshaw asshole needs to get his shit together. Twenty-nine and he plays about as well as my ten year old. Drop him down to the minors or get rid of the bastard. He shouldn’t be missing plays like this.” One of the voices shouted at the tv, his friends nodding their heads in silent agreement with his rant.

Bradley felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention as the insults about his playing continued to spout from this guy’s mouth. He couldn’t have been much older than Bradley was, one of those armchair commentators who probably hadn’t swung a bat since Little League. As the criticism continued, each jab focused directly at Bradley’s game performance, missing one play that cost a game - one that he’d already been feeling pissed off about - it became harder to ignore.

“I bet that hot little piece of ass wife of his left him because she knew he was a dogshit baseball player.”

Bradley spun around on his heels so fast that he swore the room was spinning. He turned to face the group, crowded in a corner in front of the tv, faces all glued to the female commentator. Bradley could practically hear the derogatory thoughts they were having about her and it only fuelled his anger more.

“Hey, man, if you’ve got an issue with how I play the game, I’d like to see you get off your ass and go play nine innings against Boston. Keep my ex-wife’s name out of your mouth.” Bradley scoffed, narrowing his dark brown eyes at the trio.

“You got a problem, jackass?” The other man growled, raising an eyebrow at Bradley as he slammed his drink down on the table. “She probably left you for that rookie because even she knew you weren’t good for anything.”

“That so? Your wife would probably like to go a couple rounds with me though.” Bradley retorted, a devilish smirk forming on his face as he folded his muscular arms across his chest.

Before Bradley had time to blink, the man drew back his arm and landed a hard punch to Bradley’s jaw. Bradley quickly delivered a stronger hit to the man’s face, watching him stumble backwards for a second. Bradley turned around and walked outside, getting ready to light another cigarette as he ran his hand over his jaw, assessing if he had any damage to worry about.

The man returned, practically running outside after Bradley. More heated words were exchanged, insults flying between them both before the man delivered another hit, this time to Bradley’s nose. He shook his hand off and headed off down the street with his friends, disappearing off to the next bar. Bradley held his nose, blood dripping down from his nostrils and onto his hand.

You and your friends had heard the commotion when it unfolded inside, and decided to head out, having enough excitement for one night. As you stepped out, you saw the man who’d hit on you earlier, this time with his nose bleeding onto the pavement under him. You ran over to him, raising an eyebrow.

“What did you do, hit on a girl who had a boyfriend?” You asked playfully as you rooted through your purse for something to help clean his nose.

“Called a guy out for saying my ex-wife was a “hot piece of ass”, actually,” Bradley nodded once, gratefully taking the tissues from you and using them to clean his nose.

“Stick your hand out for a sec,” you instructed, squirting a dollop of scented hand sanitizer into his large palm before raising an eyebrow at him, “You don’t have anything I could catch from helping you without gloves?”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?” Bradley scoffed, trying to laugh but wincing instead, “And why the fuck does my hand smell like a flower?”

“Lavender hand sanitizer. It’s not as good as washing your hands, but it’ll do while we’re outside. And I’m going to hold the tissues in place while you rub it into your hands, but I don’t want to catch something. I’m just fresh out of latex gloves.”

“Good thing. I’m allergic,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to brave through the pain, “I’m clean. You’re fine. I get drug tested and physicals through work constantly.”

“What kind of a job provides those? Military?”

“Professional athlete.” He nodded as you pinched the tissues to his nose, applying pressure to help with the bleeding. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“Your nose is broken, it’s suppose to hurt.”

“What are you, a doctor?”

“No, just wrote my finals for a masters in nursing.”

“Close enough,” Bradley nodded slightly, cringing as you continued to apply pressure to his nose.

You rooted through your purse, laughing softly as you pulled a tampon out of your bag. Bradley raised an eyebrow at you, not quite registering what the item was until you pulled the plastic wrapping off of it, stuffing the garbage back into your purse.

“What the fuck do you plan on doing with that?”

“I need to stick it up your nose on the left side. It’s bleeding more than I’d like to see, and a broken nose should probably be set in a medical setting. This way, you won’t bleed all over my car.”

“Your car? You’ve been drinking.”

“Half a vodka-cran over the span of three hours? I think I’m probably not gonna blow over the limit.”

“You are not sticking that up my nose,” he replied stubbornly, arms folding over his chest like a petulant child.

“Look at your shirt,” you laughed, gesturing to the white floral print button down he was wearing, its collar now tinged with red and pink splotches.

“Fine,” he said with a reluctant sigh, “but if anyone finds out about this, I’m denying it.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you nodded as you offered him the plastic applicator.

Bradley rolled his eyes and reluctantly pressed the bottom of the applicator, pushing the tampon into the edge of his nose. He looked at you with another dramatic eyeroll and shook his head before walking down the street to a garbage can. He discarded the applicator before turning to face you, sighing.

“I can take myself to a hospital, you know.”

“I’m already here, I may as well come with you. Besides, I feel kinda bad about turning you down.”

“Oh, so you’re taking care of me out of pity?” He teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe. Even more so with a tampon hanging out of your nose.”

“It’s quite the fashion statement, isn’t it?” He laughed softly, unbuttoning his dress shirt. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, revealing a clean white t-shirt.

You unlocked your car, the familiar beep as the doors unlocked causing Bradley to stifle a laugh.

“What is that?!”

“My car,” you responded matter-of-factly, “What does it look like?”

“One of those cars for a Barbie doll that my goddaughter plays with,” he said as he flourished his hand, gesturing to your pink steering wheel cover and coordinating seat cover.

“Listen, I like pink. Now are you getting in, or do I have to make you?”

Bradley’s eyes widened for a moment, your playful threat of making him get into the car sending his mind into a frenzy again. He eyed you up and down again, and found himself shaking his head as he wondered what colour underwear you had on under your dress. He bet it was probably a coordinating pink set - the kind that Victoria’s Secret mannequins would model in the store window, with delicate little bows or lace or something adorning them.

Focus, Bradley. She doesn’t want to sleep with you. Stop thinking about her.

He sat down in the passenger’s seat, watching as you hopped into the driver’s side. As you pulled away from the curb, he raised an eyebrow at your choice in music as Taylor Swift started blaring from the speaker.

“You can change it if you want to,” you nodded. “You can put on whatever.”

“No, no, It’s fine. I actually like this song.”

“You said you’re a professional athlete? What sport do you play?”

“Baseball,” he said, slowly nodding his head, “my headshot’s on a flag outside of Petco Park.”

“I thought I recognized you, you’re that player everyone always talks about, right?”

“Unfortunately. It’s rarely good things.”

“How come?”

Bradley sighed, raising an eyebrow, “You know they talk about me but not why?”

“I don’t follow baseball, I've actually never even seen a game, live or on tv. I just know my friend does and she told me everyone talks about you. Bradshaw, right? Number 10?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Bradley Bradshaw. First baseman, used to have a promising career, then, you know, wife cheats on me with a rookie from a rival team, catch her in a hotel room that I paid for with him, and then, despite me stupidly telling her I forgave her and you know what, I was pissed, but I loved her anyway and I blamed myself for her cheating, she served me divorce papers. Said I was incapable of loving anything but baseball. Says the woman who refused to do anything with me when I tried to be loving and affectionate. My friends swear she only married me for the status and the paycheck. Her new fiancé just signed a multi-million dollar contract that’s being talked about as one of the highest in the league, so it sort of checks out.”

“Jeez,” you whistled, shaking your head, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was two and half years ago. I just, I haven’t found my stride again yet, I guess.”

“Is that why you got defensive about her?”

“They said she left me for this other guy because she knew I was a dogshit ball player. I mean, it’s probably not far off. But, I got an invite for her wedding in the mail today, and I was already on edge, so I sort of…snapped.”

“She invited you?!”

“Yeah, like that, huh? She probably thought I have someone new I’m seeing and that we could still be friends or some shit.”

“So you need a date?”

“I’m not going,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “I’m not going.”

“Why not? Free drinks for a night, you can wish her well while secretly hoping her husband’s ball career washes out on him in a year or two.”

Bradley chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he gestured his hand towards you, “I like your thinking actually, but I’m not going alone.”

“I’ll go with you,” you offered, shrugging your shoulders, “When is it?”

“In six months, you don’t need to come with me though. I’ll send her some cheap gift and call it a day.”

“No,” you insisted as you pulled into a parking space at the hospital’s urgent care clinic, “I’ll come with you. I love a good revenge story. Besides, it could be fun. I’ve never partied with a bunch of baseball players before.”

“You’re…you’re something else, you know that?”

“You mean, you don’t have dozens of women offering you a tampon to stop your nosebleed, driving you to the hospital and then offering to accompany you to your ex-wife’s wedding date?” you challenged.

“Can’t say that I do, no.”

“Well, I’m honoured to be your first.”

Bradley couldn’t help his ear to ear grin as he followed you into the hospital. Despite his bloodied, battered nose, which was hurting more than he cared to let on, and his fledging career, falling apart around him as he stood there, he felt genuinely excited. Excited to get to know you better. Excited to see where things went with you. He felt a promising sense in your words - like maybe, just maybe, he might be able to be done with one-night-stands and empty beds in the morning. He felt giddy, like a teenager going on a first date with his high school crush. He wasn’t sure if it was the pain from his nose or the alcohol talking, but he was almost convinced you were a guardian angel of sorts. Refusing to believe that someone like you could be anything but.

First things first though, he needed to bring you to a baseball game.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw au #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw au #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x y/n #top gun maverick au fic #baseball au

271 notes · View notes

cherrycola27 · 4 months

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daylight

Series Warnings: Mature Content 18+. Language, drinking, and allusions to smut. Eventuallyfull smut. Military inaccuracies. Minors DNI. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

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Chapter 2: Love as Cruel as the Cities I Lived In

You took a deep breath as you pulled into the sandy Hard Deck parking lot. The bright reddish orange of the neon sign was like a becon calling you home. You pulled into a space and scanned the lot, looking for a familiar shade of blue.

You didn't see it, but it was still early. You hoped he'd come later. You sat back in your driver's seat and flipped down your visor mirror. You checked your reflection and messed with your hair before applying a fresh coat of lip gloss before flipping the visor up.

Your fingers gripped the steering wheel in an effort to calm your nerves. You didn't think you should be nervous. It was Bradley for crying out loud, but five years, especially with no contact, is so long, and so much can change.

The setting sun caught the shiny metal of the linked bracelet that sat on your wrist. You twisted it around a few times until the one gold link amongst all the silver ones rested at the top. You smiled when you thought about the day Bradley gave it to you. It was your first anniversary as a couple. You loved it, and you especially loved it when he told you the reason he bought it.

He said that you two would always be connected to each other, even if you were deployed at different parts of the world. He told you that the silver of the bracelet represented the color of your squadron, and the gold was for his, so even if you weren't together, you'd always have a small part him with you.

You thought it was the sweetest thing ever, but what made it even sweeter was when he showed you the matching chain he has bought himself. "So we are always together." He whispered before kissing you.

The memory made you happy and helped you hold out hope that Bradley would welcome you back with open arms.

You took another deep breath and opened your car door, and stepped out. Before going in, you reached into your left pocket and ran your fingers over the metal disk that lived there.

It was the first challenge coin Bradley had ever earned from his squadron. The two of you would flip it to make date night decisions throughout your relationship. It was like your good luck charm. You always had it in the left pocket of your flight suit when you were up in the air—well— almost always.

You ran your fingers over the ridges of the metal one last time before putting your keys in your purse and walking in. You had just walked in the door when you heard a familiar voice call your name. "Birdie? Is that you? Oh my god, it is! Come here!" Phoenix practically squealed with delight as she pulled you in for a bone crushing hug. You winced in her grasp but didn't pull away.

"Oh my gosh girl, let me look at you." Natasha said as she held you at arms length and gave you a once over. "You look amazing. Your hair has gotten so long! Is it possible that you've gotten more beautiful since the last time I saw you?" Nat says. You chuckle and shake your head as she drags leads you by the elbow to more of the waiting Daggers.

"Look who I found, everyone!" She cheers as Hangman, Bob, Payback, Fanboy, and Coyote all greet you. Coyote instantly puts a beer in your hand, and for the next thirty minutes, you tell them what you can about your last deployment.

After a while, you break from the group to go get another drink. You aren't paying attention, and you run into someone else.

You close your eyes and try to reorient yourself as a pair of strong hands steady you. You don't have to look up to know exactly who it is. You would recognize those warm, calloused fingertips anywhere

"Sorry I—"

"Bradley!" You breathe out softly, cutting him off. You look up at him, with a wide smile and eyes bright. He's just as handsome as he was the day you left him.

You hold your breath as you wait for him to respond with the same excitement you have.

"Birdie?" He hesitates as he looks down at you. Your face starts to drop. "You're—you're back." Bradley stutters out with far less enthusiasm that you thought he would have. Your smile drops as you take a step back from him.

"Yeah. I'm back, Bradley. I'm so happy to see you. Aren't you happy to see me?" You ask him hopefully, rocking back on your heels.

"Birdie, I—"

"There you are, honey!" A woman exclaims as she slips herself under Bradley's arm before he can finish.

"Oh, hey." Bradley says as he pulls her to him, still shocked at your appearance.

"Oh, I'm sorry." The perky brunette with a sweet face and a soft smile says as you catch her eye. "I didn't realize Bradley was talking to you. Who's your friend babe?" She asks Bradley.

His eyes dart between the two of you. "Kat, this is Y/N, my uh—" He hesitates.

You swallow thickly. Your tongue feels like sandpaper in your mouth before you speak. "I'm Y/N Monroe, but most people call me Birdie. I'm Bradley's old wingman. We flew together about five years ago. I just got back from a deployment and came to catch up with some old friends." You say to her.

"Oh, wow! That's amazing. I think B has talked about you some. You went through the Top Gun program with him, right?" Kat asks you with genuine interest.

"Yeah." You reply flatly. Bradley clears his throat. "Yeah. So, Birdie, this is Kat, my girlfriend." Bradley breathes out, you can see the sweat on his brow.

"Finaceé, actually." Kat corrects him as she sticks out her and and you see the shiny diamond ring on it. You don't want to, but you shake it. "It's so new, Bradley just proposed last week." She beams.

"That's great. Congrats." You choke out, scanning the room, looking for a way out of this conversation.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Kat. I haven't had a chance to say hello to Penny and Jimmy, so I'm going to try and do that. I'll see you around, Rooster." You say as you try to walk away.

"Birdie, wait!" Bradley tries to get your attention, but it's too late. You've already slipped through his fingers and disappeared into the crowd.

Your heart was pounding, and your breath was shallow as you sped to your car, racing the tears that threatened to fall. You fumbled with your keys before unlocking your door and slamming it closed.

The moment you were in the safety of your vehicle, you let go, and the tears cascaded down your face as you pounded your hands on the steering wheel. It was your own fault, really, thinking that Bradley would wait on you this long without so much as a phone call to him. You hadn't even told him goodbye all those years ago, but it still hurt.

It hurt seeing him with someone else. It hurt how his face didn't light up with excitement upon seeing you like it once had.

You try to calm yourself down, forcing in some deep breaths, knowing that if you get yourself too worked up, you'll have a panicked attack and make yourself sick.

You run your hands over your face, wiping the mascara colored tears from your face. You swallow and force air into your lungs before jamming your keys into the ignition. You're just about to drive away when you catch sight of your letter box in the passenger's seat.

The knife in your chest plunges a little bit deeper as your as you pull it into your lap. You're silent for a moment as you try to decide what to do with it. You flip the latch and open it, running your fingers over three hundred or so letters that live there. The longer you stare at it, the more the anger builds inside you.

You slam the lid closed and scream. It's loud and agonizing and comes from deep within you as you slap your palms against the painted wood.

You're angry at Bradley, you're angry at the Navy, you're angry at the world, you're angry at yourself for believing you could pick up where you left off.

You sit there and scream and cry until your voice is hoarse. Then, you get out of your car, and in a haze of tears, you storm over to the dumpster behind the Hard Deck and chuck the box into it. Or at least you think you do.

In your fit of sadness, you don't realize that you miss and the box lands haphazardly to the side of the metal bin.

You get back in your car and drive straight home. Once you get inside, you kick off your shoes and flop onto the bed, not bothering to change clothes or take off your makeup. You bury your face in your pillow, ready to wallow in your pool of pity alone until Ziva, your golden lab service dog, curls up beside you in the bed. You wrap your arm around her as you try to calm down.

You sit up and grab your phone. You know it's late on the East Coast, but you need to call your dad. You tap the screen and pull up his contact information. It rings three times before you hear the sleepy and startled voice of your father on the line.

"Y/N, honey, why are you calling so late? Is everything okay?" Your father asks. "Dad." You choke out. "Honey, what's wrong?" Your father asks. You can't see him, but you hear the sound of him shifting to sir up in bed.

"Dad, I think I should come home. I think it was a mistake coming back here." You say tearfully. "Why honey? What's going on? What happened?" He asks you. "Its—I" you don't know what to say, so you blurt it out. "Bradley's engaged!"

"Oh." Your father says softly through the phone. "I know, it's stupid. Thinking that he would wait for me after everything, but I just thought—I don't know what I thought. I just know my heart is broken, and it really isn't his fault. It's mine. I did this to myself." You cry into your phone as Ziva puts her head in your lap.

"Trying to come back to San Diego was a mistake. I think I'm just going to come home and maybe stay with you and Maureen for a while." At the sound of her name, you can hear your stepmother wrestle the phone from your father. "Give me that, Phil." You hear her scold him.

"Y/N Alison Monroe!" Maureen says. "You are most certainly not coming back here. I mean, you're welcome anytime, sweetie, but that's not what I mean. Teaching at Top Gun, inspiring more female aviators, it's been your dream for years! I know that you still love Bradley, and even though I wasn't fortunate enough to know your mother, you and I both know that she wouldn't want you to give up your dream over a boy." Maureen tells you.

"I know, Maur, but Top Gun was a dream of mine before my last deployment. Before—" You trail off and shutter at the memory. "It's just not the same anymore. I mean, how much of a difference can I make if I can't even get in a plane?" You sigh.

"More than you think." Your stepmother says. "Now, I know it's hard, but you can't give up. And if you need me to, I can hop on a flight in the morning, and we can have wine and ice cream by tomorrow evening. I can use your father's points!" She chirps. You can't help but laugh.

"No, it's fine, Maur. Thank you for the pep talk. You're right. I'm sorry I called so late, I just needed to talk to you and dad. "Anytime, darling. Now, go wash your face, drink some water, and get some rest." She tells you. You want to ask her how she knows you still had your makeup on, but you think better of it.

"Okay. Goodnight, you two." You say to them before hanging up.

You do what Maureen tells you and change into some pj's before curling up with Ziva.

...............

That night at the Hard Deck, Bradley can't stop thinking about you. The look on your face when he didn't match your energy, when Kat introduced herself as he fiancée to you, is burned into his mind. You look so sad, so disappointed, so—betrayed.

He knows that you have no right to be angry with, really, the two of you broke up because you were going away on a risky deployment. It was neither of your faults. He thought that you would have moved on, but that look on your face tonight tells him that you didn't.

Honestly, he never thought he would either. But then he met Kat at the grocery store when she asked him to reach something on an upper shelf. She was pretty with soft brown hair and hazel eyes. She was sweet and laughed at his jokes. She was an art teacher at a high school.

She was pretty and smart and kind and didn't have a job that could take her halfway around the world at a moments notice. She was constant, steady. Maybe that's why Bradley had asked her out eight months ago. Maybe that's why he proposed to her last week. Because Kat was the kind of girl, he should be able to see himself marrying and settling down with. But she wasn't you. And maybe that's why even after after eight months of dating and an engagement ring later, they still didn't live together.

You were the last person Bradley had lived with. Hell, he still had a drawer of your things at his place that he couldn't get rid of. He felt like letting Kat move in would erase the last traces of you. But he knew it was coming.

He told himself every day that Kat was great. She'd make a good wife and a good mother someday. He told himself that he loved her.

Only, he didn't really think he was in love with her.

Not the way he was in love with you.

He tried to shake the thoughts from his head and have fun with everyone, but it was different. Just after you'd left the group, Natasha realized that none of them told you about Bradley and Kat. The Daggers stood idly by as they watched the heartbreaking scene unfold before them.

And Kat, poor sweet Kat, had been so nice to you. It's not her fault Bradley never told her the whole truth about you. The weight of the situation hung thick in the air between all of them.

It's no one's fault, really. Not yours, not Bradley's, and not Kat's. It's just a series of unfortunate events. A cruel Shakespearean tragedy of sorts.

..............

Much later that evening, after everyone had left, Maverick was helping Penny close up shop and went to take the trash out. After tossing the bag, he looked down and noticed something. He bent over and picked up a painted wooden box with Bradley's name on it.

He was puzzled by it, so he opened the lid. Inside was a photo of you and Bradley taped to the top. Maverick sighed. He knew it wasn't his place to meddle, but he grabbed the box and took it inside.

Much later, he drove to Bradley's house to give it to him.

"I found this outside the Hard Deck near the dumpster. I'm pretty sure it's something Birdie was going to give to you tonight. It's a bunch of letters it looks like. I didn't read them because that's none of my business. You don't have to do anything with it, but I just thought you should have it." Maverick tells him before handing the box over and walking away.

Bradley takes it up to his bedroom and sits it on his bed. The wood is decorated with flowers and shells and seagulls and different trinkets.

Just like Mav said, it's full of letters, hundreds of them, all addressed to him. Bradley wonders if he should open them and read them, but it's so late, and you probably hate him and didn't mean for him to see these now seeing as you tried to throw them away. So, he tucks the box away in the back corner of his closet, turns off the light, and goes to bed.

...............

The weekend passes quickly for you. As much as you don't want Monday to come. It does. Bright and early, you're showering and putting on your uniform and Ziva's harness. You double-check in your mirror that your pins are straight, your hair is neat, and that your brace that you now have to wear isn't visible through your uniform.

Uncle Beau offers to drive you to base, but you turn him down. You need the twenty minutes of silence to mentally prepare yourself. Ziva is by your side as you walk down the long hallway. You know she can sense your nerves.

You briefly catch the last of your uncle's speech to the Daggers about how you're going to be the new Junior Air Boss, training under him to one day take over his position and about how you'll also be instructing alongside them. Everyone seems excited to have you back. Well, almost everyone.

You can feel his eyes on you as you and Ziva walk to the front of the room. You take your place at the podium, and she heels at your feet, just to your left, ready if you need her, like she's been trained to do.

"Good morning." You greet the room. Rumbles of a greeting come back to you.

"For those of you who are new around here, my name is Commander Y/N Monroe. Call Sign: Birdie. And this is my K-9 Captain Ziva Monroe. Call Sign: Zee. We are excited to be working with all of you." You say as strongly as you can.

After introductions, Maverick addresses the group and dismisses everyone. Your uncle takes you down the hallway and shows you your office and tells you to spend the day getting settled in. You spend most of the morning unpacking the few boxes of personal things you have to make the office less drab. Then you sit to do some paperwork for as long as you can stand it before you flip the hinges on your desk to move it into a standing position.

You're typing away when you knock the file you're working on to the floor. You reach down to pick it up but are stopped by the pain that shoots through you.

You whistle for Ziva, who has been quietly lying in her bed under your window. She perks up and waits for your command. You give it to her, and she carefully walks over to the file and picks it up with her mouth before bringing it to you.

"Good girl, Zee." You praise her and give her a treat before she walks back to her bed, waiting to assist you again.

It's times like these that you're thankful for her. Even though you were hesitant to get her at first, but, you and Ziva have made a pretty great team so far.

You finish up your paperwork early, and you and Ziva decide to sneak out to the flight deck to watch some training. You make sure both of you are wearing your ear protection.

After watching for a while, the Daggers land and make their way towards both of you and saulte. You laugh at it, but hey, it's protocol.

All of you make your way inside chatting before they go to the locker room to shower and change. You go to your office and pack up.

It's later, by the time you get done and you and Ziva are walking back down the long hall. Only, you don't see that the floor in front of you is wet. You slip, and it sends you sprawling face first into the ground.

"Hey, are you okay?" You hear someone call down the hall, great, just what you needed. You struggle to get up, but it's useless.

"Oh, shit, let me help you, Birdie." Bradley says as he runs up to grab your arms and hoist you to your feet.

"Don't touch me! I can do it myself!" You snap at him and push his arms away. You try again to right yourself, but it hurts. You whistle for Ziva, and she begins the well practiced routine of helping you sit up, slide to the wall, and then supporting you as you make it to your feet.

"I didn't know Ziva was a service dog for you. I could have helped you, you know." Bradley says.

"I didn't need your help, Rooster. Have a good afternoon. And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll kill you." You grit out before limping down the hall and leaving Bradley with more questions than before.

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nsfwflint · 10 months

Text

Melody

A/N: So as you can tell from the boring non-pop punk style title, this is one of my oldest drafts that went unfinished for well over a year. I chose to finish this piece for my anniversary because out of all my drafts it had most of the framework finished. As you can tell by how short the smut scene is, I'm still very much retired. I just wanted to do something special for all of you for supporting me this long. Anyway, here's to my third anniversary and I hope you all enjoy the piece. Also this is largely unedited, so read at your own risk lol.

The soft neon glow from the sign in front of you washes over you as a shaky sigh of relief finds its way out of your lungs. After a long week at work, you’re always excited to stop by here on Friday nights. Habin’s Harmonies, a small, classy piano bar located in an alley near your apartment. Your home away from home, your secret oasis. The place you always come to unwind and release your stress. And after the week you’ve had, you definitely need to release some stress.

You take one more deep breath to settle your excitement before walking inside. Chestnut paneling lines the walls as maple tables are scattered around the room. In a stark contrast to the dark furniture, a white piano sits square in the middle of the barroom floor. As you approach the bar, the bartender gives you a friendly smile.

“The usual sir?”

“That will be great, thanks Mina.” You smile as she hands you a cold glass of beer.

Spotting an open seat right in front of the piano, you thank the stars and quickly slide onto the wooden chair. After a few sips of your beer, you set the glass down on the table in front of you and glance around the room. A slightly smaller crowd than usual, but you still spot most of the regulars sharing a drink they call loneliness. Quiet chatter fills the small room while everyone waits for the main event. Suddenly, the lights dim and a hush falls over the crowd. The main attraction finally takes the stage.

And attractive she definitely is. With a short black satin dress tightly hugging all the right places, tonight's pianist is the definition of sexuality. Her huge pillowy breasts are barely contained in the soft fabric, putting her bountiful cleavage on full display. The dress is so short that it barely covers her perfectly round ass, leaving her long heavenly legs in plain view. Every inch of her skin looks soft and smooth as silk. You just want to tear the fabric apart and ravage her right here and now. You also know that every guy and most of the women here are thinking the same thing.

A few whispers make their way out of the crowd as she slowly sits down on the bench in front of the piano. Suddenly, her hand shoots straight into the sky; her index finger pointing towards the heavens. The entire room falls completely silent, and it seems like even the generic city noise from outside disappears. With the most graceful composure you’ve ever witnessed, she slowly sets her fingers atop the ivory keys. A brief pause. In reality, a second, maybe two. But it feels like an eternity of anticipation. Finally, she begins to play and you can feel your soul transcend.

You can't help but stare in awe as her beautiful fingers gently dance around the keys. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen it, the sight of Habin playing the piano captivates you like nothing else. An emotional harmony eases your body as the enchanting song washes over you. The more you hear, the more her melody enraptures your soul. Every note is just as beautiful as she is and you're losing yourself to her by the second.

A series of interconnected notes dances in your ears, the effervescent flow of emotions melting throughout your body. As the impeccable melody of awe inspiring notes pours into your ears, the existence of the other customers fades from your mind; the crowd experiencing secondhand the serenade that feels like it's just for you. Hypnotized by the captivating harmony, you lose track of time as Habin drifts from one bewitching song to the next.

You’re finally returned to reality as her fingers play the last note of the night. Touched by the emotional ballads, you wipe a small tear from the corner of your eye as a smattering of applause erupts around you. You quickly join with your own applause. Habin stands, bowing repeatedly towards the different parts of the bar. For her final bow, she dips down right in front of you, giving you a peek into her delicious cleavage. On her way back up, she gives you a warm smile along with a flirty wink. Standing back up, she addresses the crowd.

“Thank you all so much for being here for my performance. I’m so glad you all could make it. Unfortunately, I have some personal matters to attend to tonight, so we’ll be closing early.” Habin says.

Grumbles and complaints make their way through the crowd.

“I know. I’m very sorry about this. To apologize, everyone gets a discount on their tab for tonight. Please settle up with Mrs. Kang over at the bar in the next twenty minutes.” She apologizes.

Over the next few minutes, the small crowd slowly trickles out of the building. After settling your bill, you make your way back to the center of the room and sit down on the piano bench. You notice a few men trying to stay until the very last minute in order to keep flirting with Habin. You chuckle as you watch her shoot them down one by one with a polite smile.

"Sorry, I'm not interested in dating any of my customers."

"What if I stop being a customer then?" One of the men asks.

"If you stop being a customer, what reason would I have to see you?"

You stifle a laugh as the stupidity of his question finally registers in his brain. Not that you can blame him for it. A woman as gorgeous as Habin definitely makes men dick dumb.

"Now gentlemen, I'm flattered, but if you wouldn't mind leaving now please. I have to finish up a few things and I'd hate to have to call the police because you kind souls wouldn't leave." She smiles.

The men nod and finish paying. You'll always be amazed at how she can make a threat feel like a compliment. After a few more minutes the bar is completely empty aside from Habin, Mina, and yourself. Habin walks over and slides onto the bench next to you. With a long sigh, she gently lays her head on your shoulder.

“Ugh, I always hate when they try to hit on me.” She groans.

“Unfortunately it’s always going to happen, especially when you’re as beautiful as you are.”

You gently kiss the top of her head as you put your arm around her shoulder.

“How was I tonight? I played a new song at the end, did I do okay?” She asks, staring up at you with her big eyes looking shining in anticipation.

“You did great honey. Even better than I imagined when I wrote it.” You smile.

Habin gives you a shy smile as she hugs your torso.

"You guys are so cute together." Mina chimes in from behind the bar.

"Haha, thanks." You say, chuckling as you scratch the back of your head.

"I can't believe you have your own exclusive songwriter unnie."

"Hehe." Habin giggles, looking up at you with pride.

"And they're always so beautiful. You're really talented sir." Mina says as she finishes counting the cash drawer.

"What can I say? I have an excellent muse."

You grin before leaning down and softly pressing your lips against Habin's. She gently pokes her tongue into your mouth before pulling it back out. Pulling you closer to her, she repeats the process over and over again; gentle kisses with her tongue darting in and out of your mouth intermittently.

"Gross unnie, get a room." Mina groans.

Habin pulls away from the kiss and your lips immediately miss their warmth. The two of you both turn towards the bar to see Mina pretend to vomit.

"I did. As the owner of the bar, I technically own this room." She fires back teasingly.

"You know what I mean unnie." Mina whines.

“Yes I do. I also know you have plans with your boyfriend, so you can leave now. I'll take care of whatever is left.” Habin smiles at the young barkeeper.

“Really? Thank you so much!” Mina gives you both a bright smile as she excitedly runs out of the bar.

You both wait several seconds to make sure Mina doesn't come back. Three, two, one. Turning back towards you, Habin wraps her arms around your neck.

“Where were we?” She says with a coy smile.

“I believe you were sticking your tongue in my mouth. Miss Habin.”

“Ah, right. Let’s get back to that.”

Not giving you any chance to respond, she presses her lips against yours again. Her tongue pries its way into your mouth far more lustfully than before. Habin swirls her tongue around yours, massaging and rubbing against it as the two of you indulge yourselves in the passionate kiss. Without breaking the kiss, she maneuvers herself so she’s straddling you. Her curvaceous body pressed against you, your cock throbs against her cunt. A small giggle escapes her lips as she pulls her lips away from yours.

“This hard already, babe?” Habin chuckles.

“I’ve been wanting to tear into you all night, I can’t help it.” You respond as you squeeze her waist.

“Good, I always get so wet when you watch me play.”

Habin sticks her tongue back into your mouth, lustfully entwining it with yours. You quickly sink into the depth of the kiss, rubbing and swirling your tongues together. A soft moan makes its way out of her as you gently suck her tongue. After a few seconds, you release it from your lips. As she stares into your eyes, you feel Habin guide your hands from her waist to her ass.

Wrapping her arms back around your neck, she once again attacks your tongue with her own. You begin to squeeze her ass instinctively, your fingertips bunching the black fabric as you dig into it. Even through the dress, you can feel how soft and supple her magnificent ass is as you fondle and knead it in your palms. Your tongue continues to duel against hers while you stare into her eyes as your tongues keep pushing and massaging each other.

As you swirl your tongue around her’s, Habin’s eyes glaze over with a cloud of lust. Which is fine, because you’re sure yours are the same way right now. After a few more minutes of wrestling with your tongue, she withdraws her tongue from your mouth. You don’t have time to miss her warmth, because her lips immediately reconnect with your own as she begins sucking on your bottom lip. She pulls and nibbles on your lip as your fingers forcefully squeeze her ass. As she pulls on your lip she slowly slides off your lap; making you bend over to stay connected to the kiss. Habin gives you a gaze of erotic seduction before finally releasing your lip and sinking between your knees. Looking down, you see a giant wet spot on the crotch of your pants.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about how wet you were.” You say in surprise.

“I never joke about how wet you make me.” Habin says without breaking her erotic eye contact.

Your body reacts to how hot her statement is before your brain does; your cock visually throbbing against your pants.

“Looks like someone wants to get out.” She teases.

With the same deftness that danced along the piano keys earlier, her slender fingers quickly undo your belt. As she pulls down your pants, your dick pops up and almost hits her in the face, no longer contained by the fabric of your boxers. She gives you a smug smirk as your tip twitches in anticipation. Habin always seems to get off on how hard she makes you.

“So, what do you want tonight?” She asks, notes of mischief hiding in her voice.

One of the things you love about Habin. When it came to foreplay, she always let you pick what you wanted. Staring down at her bountiful cleavage barely being contained by her satin dress, you gulp excitedly and decide that you weren’t in the mood for foreplay tonight.

“The only thing I want tonight is you.”

You pull her back on top of your lap, pushing her panties to the side as your eager tip brushes against the moist entrance of her cunt. Thankfully, Habin is just as hungry for your body as you are for hers and she quickly sinks herself onto your cock. The heat of her tight walls voraciously grips your shaft as her satiny skin crashes against you.

“Fuck, you’re so amazing.” You groan as your hands instinctively take their place on her shapely hips the way they have hundreds of times before.

“You’re the amazing one baby. You always reach so deep inside me.” Habin moans with a shaky breath.

She lifts herself up until only your tip remains inside her before slamming herself back down. It doesn’t take long for her to quickly establish her lustful rhythm as she frantically bounces on your cock. Her voluptuous body crashes against yours like waves upon the shore, her silky skin undulating like the rough seas. Illicit moans pour past her lips to make music to your ears as she bombards you with pleasure.

The contrast in Habin’s composure will never stop surprising you; her graceful elegance from before all but vanished as she lustfully bounces on your cock. You can’t help but stare at her face that’s now contorted into erotic mess. The hot walls of her cunt hungrily clamp on your shaft. Her massive breasts heaving wildly as she continues rapidly riding your dick.

Knowing exactly what you like, Habin gives you a teasing smirk before pulling her dress down and revealing her perfect tits.

“Come on baby, suck on my tits like you always do.” She moans as she places her hands on your shoulders.

Needing no further invitation, you dive in and attach your lips to her stiff nipple. Your hands quickly sink into the giant orbs of heavenly flesh, your fingers practically melting into her silky skin. The delectable taste of her breasts quickly coats your tongue as it swirls around the erect nub. Rapidly flicking your tongue up and down her nipple, you messily slurp on her delicious tits.

“God you’re always so good at that.” Habin gasps as she continues to lustfully bounce on your cock.

The more you tease and devour her chest, the tighter her moist chasm clamps around your shaft. Erotic heat pressures your dick as you begin thrusting into Habin, meeting her halfway from her slamming on you. Synchronized in this amorous motion, you lose yourself in the sexual experience that is Habin.

You roughly squeeze and knead her giant breasts, your fingers obsessively addicted to the sensation of her velvety flesh giving way in your palms. As you forcefully suck on her luscious tits, your hand moves to her free nipple and begins to lightly pinch the stiff nub. Melodious moans float endlessly past Habin’s lips as she grabs the back of your head and pushes your face even deeper into her chest.

Taking her fleshy nipple between your teeth, you chew on it gently as you continue teasing the other with your fingers. You push and pull on both of her erect nubs, losing yourself in the curvature of her fatal body. Her tight walls cling to your shaft, pulling lustfully on your cock as the two of you mindlessly thrust into each other like animals.

The sound of your bodies crashing against each other fills the room, only slightly overpowered by constant frantic moans that escape both you and Habin. The delectable taste of her skin dancing on your tongue fuses with the inescapable heat that hungrily grips your shaft to send you into sensory overload. Sex with Habin is always an assault on the senses that overwhelms until dawn does you part.

Your tongue constantly swirls and flicks the delicious stiff nipple in its continual desperate journey to commit the taste to memory. As you continue to feast and suck on her heavenly breasts, your hands travel down to Habin’s shapely voluptuous ass and squeeze as hard you can. The sensation of her silky skin rippling against you only fuels your hunger for her body.

Every thrust into her moist depths becomes harder and harder, an insatiable lust for the ecstasy of Habin’s body grows stronger with every second you spend inside her. You furiously pound away at her cunt, your tip slamming against the entrance to her womb over and over again. Velvety heat grips and pulls on your shaft as you mercilessly plunge your cock as deep as you can with reckless abandon.

“Fuck you’re so deep. Just like this baby. Ravage this tight little pussy. I’m almost there.” Habin cries out, her body so desperate for relief that her fingernails cut into your shoulders with how tight her grip is.

The two of you frantically slam against each other as violently as you can, both of you eager to reach an unrivaled ecstasy that nobody has ever felt. Your fingers sink into the satiny flesh of her curvaceous ass, the thick slabs of her ass jiggling against your palm with every animalistic thrust. You take the fleshy nipple between your teeth again, sucking and slurping her massive tits as they ripple endlessly against your lips.

Without warning, Habin lets out an ear-piercing shriek as her walls clench your dick with an overwhelming tightness.

“Oh fuck.” She screams.

A surge of sticky fluids rush down your shaft as Habin squirts an unbelievable amount of her sweet nectar over your cock. The tightness of her cunt only intensifies your thrusting as you intensely seek your own orgasm. Your bodies slam against each other hungrily, creating a giant mess as her squirt splashes around you.

Thankfully it only takes a few more thrusts before you reach your limit and you feel yourself tighten inside her depths. You regretfully peel your lips away from her delicious tits to announce you’re almost there.

“I’m gonna cum.” You grunt.

“Cum inside me. Fill my womb until it cries” Habin moans.

Before you can say anything else, Habin’s lips crash against yours and her tongue once again pries its way into your mouth. Your tongues erotically entwine, swirling and dancing around each other. You squeeze her ass as hard as you can, your rough grip turning her pale skin into a bright shade of red. With one final slam, your tip kisses the entrance of her womb and throbs violently.

You erupt inside of Habin, finally unleashing your pent up lust as you relentlessly pour every drop of your virile seed directly into her womb. What feels like an ending torrent of cum floods her moist cavern, rope after rope of hot semen filling Habin to the brink as her walls hungrily gobble up each drop. Her lustful assault on your tongue combined with her perfect pillowy breasts pushed against your chest intensifies your orgasm, drawing out as much of your cum as she possibly can.

After what feels like an eternity and all the sperm your body could ever produce, your orgasm finally slows down as one last blast of hot cum drowns Habin’s womb. Her tongue gradually stops swirling around yours before she finally pulls her lips away from yours and gives you a satisfied smile.

“That was fucking incredible.” She says contently before giving your forehead a gentle kiss.

“Yeah. I definitely think that breaks into our top 5.” You nod with a chuckle.

Habin’s bright laughter fills the room as she slowly lifts herself off of your cock. Standing up to get ready to leave, you notice the sizable puddle of cum that leaked from Habin’s pussy onto the piano bench. Despite wiping it up, a noticeable stain still remains. You worriedly glance at Habin as she gives you a carefree shrug.

“It’s fine, it’s white anyway. Who is really going to notice?” She says as she pulls her dress back into place.

“Fair enough. Let’s go home. You’ve given me inspiration for a new song and I want to write it down before I forget it.”

As the two of you turn towards the door to leave, both of you freeze in place upon seeing Mina standing in the doorway trying to adjust her own clothing. Your eyes are immediately drawn to a small puddle of her own creation at her feet.

“I, uh. Forgot my phone. And then I didn’t want to interrupt. But watching you guys go at it like that, I uh. I just. I couldn’t help it. Um. I just.” Mina stammers before bolting out the door like she’d seen a ghost. Or you know, her boss fucking.

You turn to Habin who simply shrugs again.

“Eh, she’ll be fine. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, after I make her clean up that mess. Let’s hurry up and get out of here. I want to hear this new song you’re going to write for me.” Habin says with an excited smile.

A/N2: Like I said. This one was pretty short. Honestly, not super happy with the smut for this one since I'm so fucking rusty and it's been so long since I've written anything. Hopefully that's just me being negative and you all enjoyed the piece though. Thank you all again for all the support, but I'll get more into that in a post on my actual anniversary. I love you guys <3

#kpop #kpop smut #pocket girls habin #habin #male reader x idol #reader x idol #reader insert #reader x habin

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jun-of-love · 1 year

Text

gorgeous - kim mingyu

summary: you were never the one to enjoy parties, until you came across the gorgeous Kim Mingyu.

genre: romance (?)

trigger warning: extremely handsome dude, alcohol consumption

words: 1.5k

pairing: mingyu × yn

a/n: reputation is taylor's best album.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧ .✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧

“I should’ve just bailed out last minute.”

You think as you look at the flashing neon lights coming from the flat. You wondered how much retinal damage the lights could cause. Plus, it was full of people, who were most probably sweaty and horny. Should you report it to the police for disrupting covid regulations? That way you wouldn’t have to attend the party for valid reasons. Unfortunately, covid regulations were far gone, and even if they hadn’t, you were not that mean……yet. Your heels were already painfully digging into your feet and you were genuinely thinking of turning back and ghosting Yeri, right then she comes up to you, dragging you inside with her. Its done, you’ll have to stay here at least for an hour before you could leave. Fine, let’s do it, how bad can it get?, is what you think.

It indeed got very bad. Specifically when Yeri introduced you to the guys who had organized the party, the owners of this humongous flat- Lee Dokyeom, Jeon Wonwoo and……..Kim Mingyu.

Your breath probably got stuck in your throat the moment your eyes landed on the man. Was it the lighting of the party, or was there a literal halo above his head? Kim Mingyu looked so perfect, everything about him was just right- his face, his body, his smile, his laugh, his aura, and the way he carried himself. God was in fact real, and he has made this being with his own holy hands.

You never considered yourself to be one with rizz, and your interaction with Kim Mingyu proved you right. You refused to look at him for more than three seconds, opting to talk to anyone but him. Your heart threatened to jump out of your throat, making you clutch on your cup for your life. You befriended Karina, Jennie, and Joy- all of them looked like literal goddesses. Was there anyone here who represented the general population? It was probably you, you realized.

The group decided on playing beer pong, which you opted out of, because a) you didn’t want to drink ao early on and b) you didn’t know how the game goes. You only told the first reason though, to which Mingyu replied that he will drink for you (!!!) You only laughed awkwardly and brushed him off, hoping that you were subtle with the panic he caused in you. Zero points in the flirting department for you.

The game was interesting, mainly because it was played by hot people. You maintained the 3 second rule of looking at Mingyu, settling on cheering for Wonwoo instead. He was cute too, in a nerdy way. He was the kind of guy you would usually go for. He was also very built, under the plain black tee he wore, because he kept flexing his biceps, every time he landed a ball in the cup. So was Mingyu, to your happiness and dismay. Happiness because well, he was a work of art, and made you drool, dismay because you could only look at him for three seconds, and he was too good to be true. Mingyu’s team won (obviously) and you hugged the girls of the team and Dokyeom and decided to give a small thumbs-up to Mingyu (it was either that, or completely ignoring him. You were proud of your choice.)

You could’ve left by now, but unfortunately you were having fun, enough to down two drinks and agreeing to play a drinking game. You sat besides Wonwoo and Yeri, and noticed that Mingyu would sit between Jennie and Dokyeom, the way they had left a space for him. It made you feel weird for some reason, but you wouldn’t blame him- Jennie was beautiful and charming, and if you could, you would like her too. Mingyu rushed towards the group with blankets in his hands, dropping one in each girl’s lap, and sat like it was nothing to him. It was nothing big, just a kind gesture- but it made you breathless in a way that you prayed that your nostrils don’t flare up as you make up for the loss of air in you. He was handsome as well as thoughtful, how unfortunate for you.

The game consisted of a stack of cards and everybody had to take turns picking up cards. It would either be a truth or a dare- classic high school dumbassery but slightly unique (?) It was quite fun, especially when Yeri called up her 9th grade Math teacher who she had a crush on (why did she have his number, you’d never know) or when Dokyeom put up a picture of his armpit on his story for an hour. It was Mingyu’s chance and his card asked if he was committed or single- and to do a stripper dance if the latter.

“please be dating please be dating please be dating please be dating please be dating please be dating” you muttered because all of this would become very easy for you if he was dating someone. You wouldn’t have to see him flex his body and worry about drool on your mouth. Also, you were a person with morals, you would never steal someone’s man- and the thought of someone being committed removes any and all attraction you have towards him. Kim Mingyu having a girlfriend was the best possible outcome.

“I guess I have to give a show then.” Mingyu smirked, removing his shirt with one hand in a go. The girls squealed, the guys hooted and all you could think of was how long the chorus of the song ‘Unholy’ was because you couldn’t physically handle it. You covered your eyes involuntarily and chose to look through the gaps between your fingers because you were not strong enough to miss the show either.

You winced as Mingyu ran his hands on his chiseled abs and grabbed his muscular, perfect thigh. His facial expressions were sultry, he was acting as if this was paying his rent. You were probably delusional, but it felt as if he looked at you too much during his performance. Maybe its because you were acting like Virgin Mary, but it still made you flustered.

Thankfully, the guys pulled him away as he was about the grind on the floor, god knows what would’ve happened to you then. In this commotion, Wonwoo ended up sitting next to Mingyu, and you next to Dokyeom. You were quite drunk by this time, and it was your chance to pick the card again.

“Kiss the most attractive man in the room.”

Your luck was in your favour or not, you couldn’t really decipher. The answer to the dare was obvious to you, probably to everyone else as well. You shifted in Mingyu’s direction, slowly because you were drunk enough to enjoy the attention on you, and the look of anticipation on Mingyu. Maybe you backed off, or maybe this was planned by you, your thought process was a little hazy, but you turned your head away from Mingyu and kissed Wonwoo instead. Your friends cheered, Yeri damn near losing her mind screaming. You held on his biceps, and he deepened the kiss, making a shiver go through your spine. You broke the kiss and smiled at him, returning to your seat. Jennie patted on your back, giggling cutely. You could see Mingyu completely flustered, and staring at you every now and then. Ha! You had avenged for all the awkwardness he had caused you this entire night. But if you had won, why couldn’t you stop wondering how much better a kiss with Mingyu would’ve been?

The screaming and hooting probably drained everyone’s energy, making people pass out like deflated balloons. You picked up Yeri, trying to wake her up enough to walk to the Uber. You held both of your purses and heels in one hand, and Yeri in the other. As you managed to put her in the cab and struggled to get inside, you heard a yell of your name. It was Mingyu?

“I thought you passed out.” You said, trying not to look at his shirtless form.

“I almost did, but I couldn’t just let you go.”

“Huh?”

“I thought we had something going on tonight.” He said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We did?” You asked incredulously. To you, it was just admiring his flawless form in a borderline creep, did he interpret it in a positive way?

“I hope you think so too, because I kind of fought off Wonwoo to ask you out.”

You would have thanked God if you weren’t an atheist. You were living your dream k-drama life with two incredibly hot men fighting over you. So, like every female lead ever, you choose the hotter man.

“Sure, Mingyu, I’ll go out with you. Text me the details later.”

For the first time tonight, Mingyu showed off his full smile, with his eyes scrunched up, showing off a little dimple near his nose.

Ah, you were so glad you didn't bail out.

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reincarnationoftheparty · 6 months

Text

A Slow Dance with a Stranger

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of depression.

*James always makes me cry when I read about his struggles with depression and loss, and all I wanna do is go back in time and give him the hug I know he needed. So I wrote this. This is also my first time posting something like this, so please bare with my rookie writing.*

A lone drop of water rolls down the cold glass, collecting condensation along the way. It grows heavier with accumulation, plummeting the rest of the way down to a small puddle gathered on wood, surrounding the base of the pint.

James sat reclined against the back of the leather barstool, arms crossed and glowering at the glass pint of beer. His hatred for the unwilling love he held for such a substance. It was powerful and complex, and quite frankly too intimidating to think about. So, he pushes the thought away, reaches for the handle and takes another swig.

The yeasty sweet liquid fizzes down his throat, to the pit of his stomach to join the familiar but nameless feeling that resided in his gut for as long as he could remember. Over the last year, it had gotten worse, what with Cliff’s unfortunate passing. He wasn’t too familiar with the idea of properly handling his emotions when it came to loss in his life. Although the thought of his friend’s life being cut too short tugged at his heart, it also conjured up anger. The constant reminder that the driver very well could have been lying with the patch of ice story, a cover up for careless, distracted, or intoxicated driving. Especially considering right after the bus accident occurred, James wandered out into the cold night in nothing but his boxers to find the patch of ice himself and found nothing.

The memory of that night echoed in his head like a broken record in a music hall. The crash, the panic, the cold biting his bare skin, the screams. Everyone’s screams. Cliffs silence.

There were many routes he could take these theories, and the more he plagued his mind with them, the angrier he got. The last time he let his fury flourish, he’d gotten himself and his buddies into trouble. So in attempt to abandon the thought process, he repeats the cycle, putting the pint back down on its water-ring, and watching the droplets race. He hoped the alcohol would kick in and serve the purpose he would constantly seek from it; to blur his judgement, deter himself from running his own mental investigations and stressing himself out. His heart couldn’t take much more.

He still delt with the burden of his childhood. All the conflicting emotions resided; the love and mourning for his mom, the betrayal and hatred for his dad. There wasn’t a single day that went by that he wondered when it would just go away, when he could be normal and just live his life without feeling the plethora of emotional baggage weighing down on his young yet weary shoulders. The only thing that lifted that weight temporarily was booze.

He scanned around the bar blankly. It was large, decorated in rustic driftwood and neon light aesthetic. The jukebox set to randomize, as A Picture of Me (Without You) by George Jones echoes off the walls and empty dance floor. An old drunk pair of men murmuring in soft conversation with each other on the opposite side of the bar.

It was the first sanctuary he could find after he’d stormed out of the studio, pissed off and annoyed trying to finish this new album. If he was completely honest, he was mostly agitated at the new bassist. He could lie and blame it on Jason’s constant need for direction, the way he played with a pick instead of his fingers, the list could go on if James tried hard enough. But the reality of his reasoning was, Jason wasn’t Cliff. It wasn’t a good reason, but anyone who’d lost their best friend would understand that pain. Cliff; a pure soul, the first to lend a helping hand, the last to serve judgement where it wasn’t needed. All of those qualities, gone.

Cliff, gone.

That persistent reminder poked and prodded at James’ brain and heart every time he played with the new guy, looked at the new guy, or even acknowledged the fact that the band had a new guy. He knew it wasn’t fair, he was aware it was fucked up. But he was drowning too deep in his own grief to mentally address that. Maybe one day he could apologize for his behavior, and genuinely mean it. But for now, he stuck to the only coping skills he’d picked up in life; music, drinking, and anger.

He downed the rest of his beer, signaling the bartender for a refill.

The old man drops his cloth, grabbing the empty glass and tilting it under the tap. James leans back in his chair again as he watches it refill, before shifting his gaze down the bar top, absentmindedly tapping his fingertips heavily against the wood.

The sound of the door opening interrupts the peace, as the daylight pours into the dark bar for a few seconds. He looks back and sees a girl saunter in. She looked close to his age, but her expression wielded an age much older, her eyes revealing her to be carrying a heavy burden. He turned back around, focusing on the now full pint that was slid toward him as he nodded to the bartender in thanks.

The young girl sits at the bar, a few stools adjacent from his. With his eyes hiding behind his hair, he was able to sneak a glance at her. She was slumped in her seat, bag discarded from her shoulder onto the dirty bar floor. He observed her as she adjusted the thin strap of her white sun dress and gathered her hair over to one side before propping her elbows on the bar and resting her chin between her hands.

As she dazed at the wood, similar to James a few moments ago, the old bartender walks up to where she sat.

“What can I get ya, darlin’?” He old man’s southern twang gruff, but welcoming.

When she spoke, her voice was soft and warm, like melted chocolate.

“Double shot of Jameson and a Seagrams, please.” She murmurs, sliding over a couple bills and her ID.

The old man glances down at the license and nods, wiping his hands with a towel before tossing it across his shoulder.

“You got it.” He gets to work on her order.

James averts his eyes back down, grabbing the full glass and raising it to his lips.

With the distraction of the girl across the bar, he was pulled from the twister in his conscience and into the calm after the storm, suddenly realizing how bored he truly was just slouching in the stool for nearly two hours. He tried to busy himself and fiddled with a small, wrinkled napkin — folding it, and creasing it.

In his peripheral, the bartender returns to her, sliding over the shot glass and a fruity wine cooler.

“Here ya go, if ya need an’thing, just holler.”

She thanks him silently. Without a second wasted, she grabs the small glass and downs the amber liquid, tilting her head back and swallowing with a mild cringe.

Subconsciously, he continues to watch as she pushes the tiny glass away and brings the bottle to her lips for a brief sip to chase away the awful burn. As she wipes the liquid from her top lip, her gaze flicks to his and he immediately blinks to look away, focusing back on the crinkled napkin.

He can feel her eyes burning a hole into his jam-packed skull.

The girl seemed to take instant interest in James from across the bar, hard to miss such a wild golden blonde head of hair. It was also hard to miss the energy that surrounded his space, like a heavy black cloud. His eyes told similar stories to her own; heavy baggage weighing down his eyelids, unless of course it could have been the alcohol. However, it was clear the guy was troubled, simply because she’d seen that look on many faces before. Witnessed it on the familiar face she’d seen in the mirror almost every day.

Before James could even see her move, she was settling on a stool a seat away from him, dropping her bag on the seat between them and her little pink wine cooler on the bar top.

He observed her, his brows knitted together as she settled nearly beside him, not acknowledging his presence. She took a gulp of her drink, putting it back down but holding it with both her hands.

Her voice smooth as fresh honey filled his ears.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

In ultimate shock and befuddlement, his head swiveled back to the young girl quickly, his face baring his reaction.

She looked at him almost like she knew him, like she’d seen him around before. There was a possibility she knew who he was, but judging by her outward appearance, he would never take her for a fan of Metallica. Or any metal for that matter.

Don’t judge a book by its cover, of course. But if he was a betting man, she’d most likely be jamming in her car to Peggy Lee, Bonnie Tyler, or maybe even Heart if she were to dabble in any rock genre.

He wondered how he’d even looked approachable. Most people said he’d had an intimidating demeanor, that’s also probably when he’d be around friends and had to put on that mask in order to hide his truest expression, the result of years of depression he never felt he could actually talk about. Maybe that’s the expression she was seeing?

James’ face softens and he shakes his head, grabbing his beer and muttering quietly.

“No thanks.” He takes a sip, looking ahead at nothing. Anything but her burrowing stare.

She hums in response, leaning back in her seat and holding the bottle close to her chest as she looks ahead with him. She remains silent for a few moments, before continuing.

“You know, psychology has proven bottled up emotions can only escalate before they disappear.”

She takes a sip of her drink.

James sighs. “Look, I’m not entirely in the mood to unload my baggage onto a stranger, much less talk at all. So please.”

He hates having to shut her down this way, but the thought of unraveling everything in his brain seemed too tedious to do. Especially with a stranger, somehow that just seemed even harder and made less sense.

She doesn’t back down though.

“See, but that’s just it. I’m a stranger. Who would I be to judge your issues, perhaps I’m just here to listen.”

She doesn’t seem to take a hint. James rubs his hand over his face and groans, but she doesn’t stop there.

“Look, I’m not saying you have to ‘unload your baggage’. Just the details that are bugging you, right now. Tell me what brought you here.”

She adds, taking a sip and looking at him with wide inquisitive eyes.

He rests his forearms on the edge of the bar and looks at her with bewilderment.

“Do you always just walk up to random people and push them to tell you their problems? It’s kinda rude.”

She shrugs, unfazed by his comment. “Only when they look like they really need it. Especially when they claim they don’t.”

He couldn’t comprehend the logic behind it, not completely. Maybe it was her boldness that he struggled to process. Normally the women he encountered were more reserved, only spoke to him when spoken to, waited their turn. This strange girl on the other hand not only initiated conversation, but quite literally jumped to the nitty-gritty. She was intriguing, but ultimately weird. In an inexplainable way, he was drawn to that. He felt anyone else probably would have been intimidated or freaked out, but in all honesty there was nothing inherently threatening about her.

He looks away from her again. “Well, I don’t. But thanks for the concern.” He concluded in attempts to end the conversation.

But of course, that wasn’t the end for her.

“Okay, okay…” She twirls the bottles bottom edge on the wood surface, for a few beats, the echo of a country song fills the silence.

“How about a dance?”

With his arms crossed his head twists to her, giving her a stunned grimace.

“A what?”

“A dance.” She repeats.

“With a complete stranger…?”

She only nods with an insistent smile on her face.

He shakes his head. “You aren’t right in the head lady.”

She snorts and mutters, “No need to remind me.”

He sighs, turning away from her again as she resumes the offer.

“One dance, what’s the worst that could happen?” She insists, taking a sip.

James scoffs, “I don’t know, you murder me?”

She nearly chokes on her wine cooler, wiping the spilled liquid from her face with her wrist.

“Do I honestly look like I’m capable of that? And if I was going to murder you, I’d at least make sure the bar was busier so it would be less obvious.”

He raises his eyebrows and nods, “You just confirmed you are more than capable.”

She rolls her eyes and props an elbow on the bar, “Oh, come on. I’m obviously not trying to murder you. I’m just in the mood for a little spontaneity and you look like you could use it too. You seem like a spur-of-the-moment kinda guy!”

“Spur-of-the-moment? Me?” He points his finger to his chest, baffled.

She nods again, “Mhm.” as she leans closer, her eyes plead, face resembling a kicked puppy as she resumes softly “Come on… one song. If you totally hate it, I’ll leave this bar, never to be seen again.”

Shaking his head, he huffs as he looks down in thought. She was incredibly persistent, but not aggressive. He’d be lying if he didn’t think she was cute, and as he’s mentally admitted, intriguing. Besides, sitting at the bar turned out to be incredibly uninteresting now that she was here. He also never realized how lonely he’d felt until she invaded his bubble of dwelling.

With a sigh of defeat, he reached for the pint and brought it to his lips, chugging down the rest of the brew in several gulps. He places the glass down with a thud, wipes his mouth with his sleeve and stands as he looks to her.

“One dance.” He finally agrees, as she stands with a smile and holds her hand out for him to take.

She guides him to the jukebox, slipping in a couple quarters and searches for a specific song.

James watches fixedly as she presses the arrow button, flipping through the guide with intent, almost as if she already had a song in mind.

“Ah! Here we go.” She presses in a number combination and turns to him. “Lead the way to the dance floor, good sir.” She says in a goofy English accent. He scoffs in amusement and takes her hand again, gently dragging her to the center of the floor. The opening instrumental of Take It to the Limit by the Eagles begins humming through the speakers surrounding the bar.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

All alone at the end of the evening,

And the bright lights have faded to blue,

I was thinkin’ ‘bout a woman

Who might have loved me

I never knew…

James takes her hand in his and hesitantly places his hand on her waist. She resists the urge to snicker at his stiffness and rests her free hand on his shoulder. They sway, the motion forced and awkward.

Stepping a little closer, she murmurs softly, “Just loosen up, pretend I’m someone you know…”

He sneers, “Pft, yeah, okay.”

A soft beguiled giggle escapes her as she smiles and adjusts her whole forearm on his upper back, shuffling a few inches little closer and laying her head against his shoulder.

You know I’ve always been a dreamer

spent my life runnin’ ‘round

And it’s so hard to change

Can’t seem to settle down

But the dreams I’ve seen lately

He struggled at the idea of her being able to feel his heart pounding in his chest, partially from bemusement, but also from the foreign feeling of physical contact so intimate. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d felt something similar to comfort like this. Her touch was almost angelic with how gentle she was. It was also hard to miss how heavenly she smelled with her head directly below his chin. He glanced down at her soft hair, brows knitted together in confusion at his predicament and how different he felt compared to what he’d expected. How does he process this feeling? It wasn’t feelings for her; no. It was ease, safe, warm.

Keep on burnin’ out and turnin’ out the same,

So put me on a highway,

And show me a sign,

And take it to the limit one more time

Slowly he begins to give in to the feeling; slackening his jaw and dropping his shoulders a little bit. She must have felt it, because she readjusted her head and arm slightly in response, seeming to get more comfortable against him. He teeters on the decision before carefully migrating his hand toward the middle of her lower back, lowering his face to hover over the top of her head, a sudden urge to be closer. He could feel his heart settle, slowing the thrums inside of him like turning off a running motor.

You can spend all your time making money

You can spend all your love making time

If it all fell to pieces tomorrow

Would you still be mine?

It was crazy wasn’t it? Who could he tell this to if he were to tell someone? The thought of explaining this story, accepting a dance with a complete stranger, it made him feel unhinged. He continuously wondered if this was just some dream. He may be buzzed, but his judgement of reality was better than to believe that. He could feel her; her smaller hand rested in his, the warm head leaned against his shoulder as her fingers wrapped onto it. To further convince himself it was all real, he’d decided to move his hand on her waist to feel the lacy fabric of her dress as it trailed to wrap his entire arm around her as he rested his cheek atop her hair to smell her sweet shampoo.

And when you’re looking for your freedom

Nobody seems to care

And you can’t find the door

Can’t find it anywhere

When there’s nothing to believe in

Now James could confirm he hadn’t felt this content in a while, at least not from a person. Music definitely helped, every time he performed with the guys was the only true moments he could free himself from the tribulations of his conscience. Her hold was like a hug he was too stubborn to ask for, but knew he’d genuinely needed. He would be too embarrassed to admit he needed any form of tender consolation to anyone who actually knew him; that’s just not what men do, they keep on keeping on until some type of saving grace comes along and makes it better. But with a stranger, apparently you don’t have to say anything.

Still you’re coming back

You’re running back

You’re coming back for more

So put me on a highway,

And show me a sign,

And take it to the limit one more time

As the songs continues to repeat the lyrics, he knows it’s coming to an end soon. So, he closes his eyes to savor the moment. Perhaps she was angel, heaven sent for him in his time of need. The only exception he’d make for believing in the higher power after his childhood.

He hadn’t the slightest clue if this was just a one-time thing, but just in case, he finally pushed his guard aside and let go of her hand, moving it to wrap his other arm around her upper back. It took her by surprise, feeling him melt in her hold, but she went with it and mirrored his actions and wrapped her arm around his torso. It had turned into a swaying hug between strangers, who genuinely needed it.

After a minute the song finally ended, fading out in reverse crescendo to silence. However, neither of them let go. Gently she lifts her head to peer up at him, causing him to return her relaxed gaze.

“Do you wanna stop?” She murmurs softly.

As another slow song plays through the speakers, he simply shakes his head, afraid that if he spoke, he’d choke up. She can see an emotion in his eyes, one he probably doesn’t understand, but he seemed content enough to continue holding her close.

She nods, smiling warmly at him. “Okay.” She whispers, gingerly placing her head back to his shoulder as they continue swaying to the music. The embrace between the two was sincere, a coziness they’d sought in each other’s presence.

After a few more songs, the girl needed to leave, bidding him goodbye with a few final words of wisdom. “All wars eventually end, but it won’t always be pretty. In the meantime, keep fighting, yet seek peace without hurting yourself.”

That night, James lay in his bed restless, thinking about the nameless girl who had made him feel okay for the first time in a while. Even if it was just for a few hours.

She had taken all the problems he never told her about and placed them on the back burner. Like it was nothing, like she just had to look into his eyes to see everything and understand.

It felt like finally taking a seat after running a marathon for most of his life. He eventually fell asleep to the lyrics playing on repeat in his head…

So put me on a highway

And show me a sign

And take it to the limit one more time.

#james hetfield #james hetfield x reader #kirk hammett #cliff burton #lars ulrich #metallica #metallica fanfiction #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield x you #kirk hammett x reader

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i9messi · 1 year

Text

Stay — Mason Mount

You and Mason are supposed to be just friends but you suddenly kiss each other while both of you are drunk.

Word count — 1k

Warnings — alcohol, being drunk

a/n: should i write a second part? let me know!

mason's masterlist

You and Mason were friends, at least, that’s what you were supposed to be. For the rest of the world things were a little obvious, they could notice the looks you had and the chemistry you had with each other. You were always present at Chelsea games, supporting him, and he was there for you whenever you needed him in your own activities. You knew you could count on each other, always.

You ended up at a party with your friend, where you barely knew any people. You had started drinking a little too much, while Mason stood next to you with a glass of beer.

"Are you sure you should be putting something that shade into your body?"

Mason seemed skeptical of the neon color of the drink and you laughed, already feeling the effects of the drinks you had before. You approached him and put your head on his shoulder.

"I’m okay, sir. You should have more fun, you can go with your other friends if you want. There is no need to babysit me." At that point you were dragging the words.

"I'm not babysitting you, I'm having fun here."

It didn’t take Mason long to follow your steps, after a while you both laughed at anything and found it hard to stay standing casually. He was drunk too. You loved him so much that it was hard to pretend that man didn’t make you feel anything.

"Is it the alcohol or are your eyes always this pretty? You’re so handsome, Mase."

Mason smiled and you knew there was no turning back, you were openly flirting with him.

"Y'know wha- I’ve alway thought you were the prettiest person around. You’re really stunning, beautiful and gorgewous."

Seeing Mason drunk was like seeing Mason acting like a baby, his eyes were brighter and he was yelling at you, thinking you couldn't hear him. Not forgetting to mention that he hadn’t been able to say gorgeous properly. By that time, everyone within a few feet of you had heard what he had told you. You laughed and you couldn’t stop, Mason just started laughing too and complained that his belly hurt as a result of it.

Knowing that Mason thought you were pretty was a lot more than you could handle, you were one shot away from telling him the whole truth. You wanted him to be yours, like more than a friend.

"You’re being mean." He complained when you told him he was a baby and left you a kiss on the cheek.

"And you’re acting dumb."

"But you still love me if I’m dumb?"

"Dumb and all, I love you, Mase."

A group of people came up to Mason to talk to him, and as he presented himself to the so-called Chelsea fans, you grabbed another drink and drank it like water. That gave you even more courage.

"Hey, do you wanna play a game?" a stranger asked you two and you agreed.

You started playing ping pong with those strangers and ended up winning, making you celebrate and run to hug your friend. You didn’t know how it happened and where the idea came from, but in your way of celebrating the victory you got close to Mason and you suddenly kissed him on the lips. Mason was stunned, watching you walk away from him and acting like you hadn’t kissed him moments before.

Well, you were a little embarrassed but happy at the same time.

It was the first kiss, the first time you had kissed each other and he liked it too much. Mason was so happy that you kissed him, that he started smiling and brought his hands to his cheeks, unable to contain the emotion and smiles. He was so in love with you that at any moment he was able to confess his feelings. He was a drunk whose best friend had kissed his lips.

"Did you just kiss me?" he asked, still smiling.

"I need to pee!"

As much as you felt more confident with liquid reinforcement, also called alcohol, a little voice in your head kept reminding you that you were best friends. However, Mason was already imagining the ways in which he could tell you that you were the love of his life. Maybe he was the drunkest and clingy of the two.

When you came back from the bathroom, of course, backed by the footballer like a bodyguard, Mason started hugging you and leaving kisses on your cheeks.

"I love you, I really love you."

"I didn’t know you were a clingy drunk." you admitted, feeling your heartbeat.

"I’m not." Mason fended off your accusation, stumbling at his own feet.

However, when you came home in an Uber, he pushed you in because he said it was too late for you to go home alone. According to your friend, the best thing was to stay in the same house and take care of each other while you were in that state. You walked him to bed, because he could barely stand and needed you. Mason lay down and closed his eyes, while you went to get water in the fridge and then lay down on the couch.

You weren’t even lying alone on the couch for two minutes, you felt someone approaching you. Mason tried to make room on the couch but as he was very tall, he didn’t fit too well. You looked at him with a smile and hugged him, reducing the distance between you two, a little because you were going to give him space in the coach and a little because you wanted to keep him close.

"I want to stay with you all my life, at least tonight." Mason told you.

"Fine, clingy."

"I’m not... well, just a bit. I’m clingy because I love you."

You took his statement as if it was just something friends said, not knowing that Mason loved you much more than as friend.

It was going to be fun when tomorrow morning both realized about the kiss.

#mason mount one shot #mason mount fluff #mason mount x reader #mason mount #mount #chelsea #mason mount smut #mason mount imagine #football imagines #football player fanfic #football players #england national football team

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coltrainbat · 1 year

Note

HI, could you write about frank adler being a single (again) uncle and meets a new female bartender, reader in his usual bar. Both of them hit it off and started dating for about two months. frank introduced her to his niece, mary

Put it on my Tab

Making his way into his usual, Fergs, on a quiet Thursday night, Frank didn’t expect anything different. Place still looked the same; dimly lit with neon bar signs covering the walls and the smell of old beer. It felt like a second home, predictable, familiar and warm (due to the fact that they haven’t gotten that goddamn AC fixed). He settled onto the counter, head lowered waiting for his usual to appear magically in front of him like always.

“What can I getcha?” The voice wasnt from the usual gritty bar manager. For one it was feminine, young and perky.

Frank couldn’t help his eyebrows raising at the sight of you. Sure they’ve hired pretty girls before but they usually didn’t last the week trying to keep up with demand while also hindering the advances of regulars. So how a beautiful <your hair colour> in a white tank top and denim short shorts was still here was a mystery to Frank.

“Umm yeah hi can I just get umm.. just a..” he stumbled on his words trying to avoid your questioning gaze.

“A beer?”

“Yeah that.” Frank gave a flat smile.

You undid the cap on the edge of the bar, Frank holding out his hand expectantly but you held the bottle away from him, holding it just above your shoulder. Raising an eyebrow expectantly.

“Please?” Frank said hesitantly.

“And…” You slowly inched it towards the bar top.

“Thank you.” It was becoming increasingly clear to him how you have survived here. You don’t put up with shit.

You placed the beer in front of him “Manners..” you trailed

“Maketh a man. William Horman.”

“Yes.” You smiled down at him from the bar.

“What are you doing here?” He said outwardly.

“Working.”

“Oh I see that. I meant what is someone like YOU doing HERE?"

“What is someone like me… exactly?” You placed your palms on the bar, leaning into him closer.

He took a long swig of his drink. Sighing in contentment at the taste.

“Too smart to be a bar maid, too classy for Coors beer and way too pretty for a place like this.”

You looked around at the empty bar with a few drunk stragglers. Taking the beer from his hands you took a long swing. “I am never too good for Coors beer.”

Frank let out a low whistle “That’s good to know.”

“I’m Frank by the way.” He held out his hand for you to shake.

“Y/N.” You shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you.” He smirked

“Likewise.” You bit your bottom lip.

“So when do you get off?” He smirked devilishy.

“So she’s not like other kids.” Frank looked over at you, peering over his sunglasses.

“What do you considered “other kids”…”

“She spends a lot of time with adults so she talks a bit differently.”

You shrug “I’m sure she’s fine, she’s got a good uncle.” He grabbed your hand, placing it under his as he moved the gear shift.

“She just takes a while to warm up to people so I just don’t want you to be discouraged.”

“Frank, she doesn’t bite.” You waved him off.

“No she grew out of that 2 years ago.” He joked with you.

He pulled into the driveway of their humble abode. Paint falling off the rackety old porch framed by the half dead grass from a hot blazing summer. You loved it. It was Frank, imperfect yet homey.

You got out of his truck and waited for him to lead towards the screen door with an obvious hole that had been scratched out by a cat desperate to decide when and where they go.

Hearing the sound of car doors being shut, Roberta made her way out. Taking one look at you, she stopped in her tracks, placing a

hand on her hip.

“Well my goodness you are prettier than he described.”

“Why thank you Miss Taylor.” You let her embrace you in warm tight hug.

Her chin resting on your shoulder, she raised her eyes in excitement at Frank behind you.

“Alright break it up you two.” He pulled you back into his side.

“Thanks for watching her.” He gave the woman a warm smile.

“Anytime, now I gotta go but it was lovely to meet you and hey don’t take what she says to heart… she takes a while to warm up.”

“I’ve been told! Hopefully this goes well and I’ll be seeing more of you.” She gave you and Frank both a quick kiss to the cheek.

“You ready?” He whispered in your ear as you both stood in front of the door separating you from your make or break meeting.

You readjusted your bag strap on your shoulder, taking a deep breath “Ready.” With that he pushed open the screen.

“Mary… I’m home. We’ve got company.”

You both walked into the living room where the young girl sat, mindlessly stacking lego blocks on the floor, ignoring the calls of her uncle.

“Hi Mary, I’m-“ You started to introduce yourself in your high pitched little kid voice.

“Did he pick you up at Fergs?” She said dryly.

“Close! I work at Fergs.” You gave a tense smile.

“That’s a stark change isn’t it Frank?”

“Mary!” He scolded.

You placed your hand on his shoulder mouthing it’s okay as you walked a little closer towards her.

“Frank said you’re pretty smart.”

“I’ve gotten “baby Einstein” once or twice.” She replied, not looking up from the floor.

“I was thinking more Hypatia.” She stopped her movements, looking up at you for the first time quizzically.

“Whose that?”

“Oh you don’t know who Hypatia was?” You said in faux shock.

She shook her head.

“Huh… well for one she was a girl…” You stalked towards her, plopping down on the mat beside her.

Pulling your legs up to your chest, hugging your knees. Her lack of running away was a good start so you went on…

“She was a mathematician in ancient Egypt back in a time were only men were allowed to do math.”

“Women can do math too!” She piped up, brows furrowed.

“Oh I agree! Well she figured out a way for ships to navigate and I think I have… oh here it is!” You reached into your bag, pulling out a thick book on the ancient academic that you had secretly brought for her.

It was brand new with a glossy cover and you threw it around your trailer a couple of times beforehand to make it look worn and read. You had read it of course but maths wasn’t really your thing, the history of women on the other hand… you were always down.

“Can I please see?” She looked up at you with doe eyes, biting her bottom lip, desperate to flick through the pages.

“Yeah you can have it. I already read it. I’m onto Beyond Good and Evil now.”

“By Friedrich Nietzsche?” She smiled at the common interest found.

You nodded, eyes widened at her.

She looked up at Frank; “I like this one.”

He leaned against the doorway, watching you two in amazement. No one got Mary besides him and Roberta but now he’s starting to think that no one had tried like you. No one bothered to listen when he’d tell them that talk of Barbies and pink nail polish didnt get her interested. That she was pulling thick academia books from the shelf at age 4, desperate to absorb the knowledge they held. How she wanted to be talked to like an equal or better yet be given the materials to have what she so desperately craved. Have someone listen, guide her, talk to her as she was and not try and dumb things down. And here you were, making her eyes light up and hanging on your every word.

“Good. I’ll leave you two to it then I guess.” He said simply tapping the frame before making his way into the kitchen to prepare his two girls a snack. Smiling like an idiot. Yeah you were a keeper.

#frank adler #frank adler x female!reader #chris evans fic #frank adler x reader #frank adler imagine #frank adler fluff #chris evans imagines #chris evans characters #chris evans character x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fandom #☘️'s field

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yacinthemorning · 1 month

Text

Birdsongs

Chapter 6

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Summary: The Life Pilgrimage is the biggest music festival of the century, set to take place all across the continent. Small-time rock band, GIST, and the up-and-coming alternative band, Empire, are both lucky to be among the hundreds set to make appearances, but there's just one problem. Neither can afford the travel expenses on their own. For better or worse, they're stuck with each other for the next five weeks as they try to make their dreams come true.

And, perhaps, among the chaos and music, two unsuspecting souls find one another...

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic), Jimmy & Scott (platonic)

Warnings: Alcohol, drugs, peer pressure, mild homophobia, bar fight, life crisis, anxiety, dancing

It was just after seven that they all walked down to The Mineshaft Pub, the favoured locale for dancing according to a woman in town. The decor was western, with the walls covered in historical pictures of the old miners that used to frequent it. Not the place to find anything fancier than a rum and coke.

It was surprisingly packed for a week night, though half the patrons were vaguely familiar. The second they entered the bar there was a shout in their direction, and Scott’s face lit up. A large woman pushed through the crowd, a lanky man on her tail, in neon everything like they expected a rave rather than Tim McGraw. “Scott, dear! You made it!”

“Cleo! Joe! I thought we were ahead of you.” He laughed, happily accepting a hug which quickly continued on to Pearl. Scott vaguely turned to the rest of them. “This is my band. Lizzie, Joel, Jimmy, this is Cleo and Joe from HHH.”

“And those are my guys,” Pearl threw her thumb over her shoulder to the rest, “Gem, Impulse, Skizz, and Tango.”

“A Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Joe bowed like he was in a medieval court, which contrasted greatly with his thick southern accent. Gem giggled. “I didn’t happen to catch your bands playing a the last venue, but I hope fate is kinder to us at the next.”

“I think I heard a bit of you guys!” Intruded Skizz, pushing past Scott in his excitement. “You guys have crazy range, real interesting mix of folk and disco you got going! Especially with your poetry.”

It sounded like a horrendous mash-up to Jimmy, not even able to picture how it came together in his mind. Until he heard it himself, he’d just have to trust the event organizers’ tastes. The three groups exchanged a few more pleasantries, Scott and Pearl slowly drifting to Cleo’s side. Then, both were being beckoned away with promise of free food and dancing. “Watch your drinking, Jim. You know how you get.” Scott called before they disappeared into the crowd.

Jimmy huffed. Well, that was two less people to pay for, at least. Fwhip shrugged, and waved down a waitress as they found a pair of tables, “We’ll see them later. For now, lets get some wings and beer.”

“I think I’ll just have a coke.” Jimmy murmured while he slipped his guitar onto the back of his chair. He read through the tiny menu, only for it to be snatched away from him. “Hey!”

“Nuh-uh. C’mon, Jim, you’re a big boy now. We ain’t smokin’, it’s just a drink.” His manager insisted, ordering full pitchers of whatever beer was on tap for the whole table immediately along with the wings platter. “Joel can be our good little sober boy today.”

The man’s head shot up off the table immediately, “Uh, excuse me? I need at least two mugs of pisswater before I’m touching that dance floor, and Lizzie isn’t gonna let me not dance.”

“It’s fine, Fwhip, really.” Jimmy tried to insist. Some of GIST were looking at their table with concern. Tango’s brow knit behind his bright red sunglasses. He could feel his ears get hot, shrinking in on himself. “I’d rather do it then risk no one.”

Fwhip wasn’t going to take no for an answer, though. Not tonight. “You’re only saying that cause you’re still embarrassed about how you acted at Sausage Fest after downing those seven mojitos.” He teased, and god were those memories Jimmy would rather forget.

A mug slammed down in front of him, and the biggest pitcher Jimmy had ever seen saddled up beside it, Fwhip’s shit-eating grin distorted through the ruddy liquid. Jimmy glared right back, but eventually he gave in. If only to stop a scene. “Just one glass.”

“Hell yeah!” Fwhip cheered, stealing the pitcher away to fill all their glasses before holding his own up in cheer. “Grown ups table only today, men- and lady,” He winked at Lizzie, who stuck her tongue out. “Here’s to that amazing performance, and all the amazing performances to come!” Their glasses clinked, separating for Joel and Fwhip to almost instantly chug half their glasses. Lizzie took a much more modest sip. Jimmy swirled the glass for a moment, bringing it to his lips when Fwhip and Joel put their glasses down. He’s not sure he got more than a taste of the foam, but he pulled the same sour face the rest of his band did.

“I didn’t mean literal pisswater, jeez.” Joel coughed, but took another swig anyways. It certainly smelled bad enough to be true. There was probably nothing fruity on the menu to mask the alcohol in a bar like this.

Skizz held up his glass, shouting over almost the whole bar, “That’s the taste of freedom, my friend!”

“From what? Regulation?” Tango snickered.

“From modernity! Civility! Authority!”

Gem rolled her eyes. “Sooo, yes.”

“Hey! This is a sacred place of debauchery and hedonism! Feast upon the grapes of whatever and dance till the sun rises upon us! Let us make our great father Dionysus proud!”

Both tables clapped, GIST shaking their head in amusement. Wings soon arrived, though, and they all dug in. Jimmy nursed his drink at a snail’s pace, hoping Fwhip would simply think he was hungrier than he was thirsty. It got a bit more difficult when Lizzie dragged Joel to the dance floor when a song she like came on, dinner be damned.

There was a few minutes when a man, another band’s manager apparently, passed by, and Fwhip spun around to chatter with the man. Someone tapped on his shoulder at that moment. Jimmy spun around to see Tango holding out his mug, near empty except the foam slowly sliding to pool at the bottom. It took him a moment before he realized what was happening, and grabbed his own mug. The transfer was far from smooth, slopping onto the floor a bit. When Jimmy’s mug was mostly empty Tango pulled it back with a mischievous grin and a wink before bringing the mug up to his own lips. Jimmy returned it with the same smile and turned back to his table. Behind him, he heard Tango wretch. He tried not to laugh.

It was a little over an hour into the night. Most tables were cleared of real food, replaced with glasses of various substances, and the air had become thick despite the no smoking signs. Tango was having a lovely time shouting with his friends when one song ended and a mic came on. Gem shrieked with glee, “Oh my god, guys! Come one, come on!” She dragged Impulse out of his chair, abandoning their table for the dance floor while one of the bar tenders tried to get the place pumped up for a line dance.

They nearly crashed into Scott and Pearl, who were already rosy-cheeked and giggling nonstop alongside Cleo. The three were linked hand-in-hand, pushing to the front of the group at Pearl’s insistence. It’d been a while since Tango had seen her let go and have fun. Not that she wasn’t always a joy, but... Well. Tango was still convinced waking up at five am to work for a band that had never once taken the gig seriously was crazy people actions.

He knew in the grand scheme of things it was for her career. GIST was her first foray into management and they weren’t going to be around much longer. Pearl was destined to move on to bigger and brighter bands, and he had all the confidence in the world she would with how brilliant and hard working she was. He just wished she took the chance to let loose while she still could. And the fact Scott and this Cleo person were able to get her to was enough to put them in Tango’s good books.

Joel and Lizzie were at the far end where they were previously dancing alone, and Fwhip dragged Jimmy into line right behind GIST despite his protests of leaving his guitar alone. The bar tender was up on a small stage, and began demonstrating the moves. Half of them hadn’t realized they were starting already, causing gem and Skizz to smack into the other two. Eventually after many bumps and giggles the whole crowd was on the same page doing the cupid shuffle. Skizz was the first to wrap his arms around Tango and Gem’s shoulders, until all four were linked, at least until they were asked to turn. It switched up to the cha cha slide, at which point Tango lost all coordination, much to his band’s amusement and their neighbour’s bemusement.

By the end they were all cheering and out of breath, Impulse being the first to retreat back to their table, Fwhip not far behind. Skizz swept Gem back over to the dance floor where Lizzie was happily dragging around Joel. Cleo, Pearl, and Scott tried to navigate into the crowd but nearly fell into a cackling heap with how drunk they’d gotten, and chose to bow out for the time being. Tango was in the middle of contemplating whether to do the same when a bright eyed face invaded his vision.

“You’re not throwing in the towel already are you?” He said with amusement.

It was almost wrong, to see Jimmy sans guitar on his back. His face was flush, not drunk on alcohol but some sort of adrenaline. His hair had fallen out of how he’d had it styled, sticking slightly to his forehead and up where a hand had been run through it. The sweetest smile stretched across his face, a hint of mischief in his dark eyes. There was a stain on his cream button up, presumably from the hot wings, which Tango desperately wanted to point out just to say something instead of staring like a brainless goldfish. Before he could have the chance to say anything he was being pulled over to the centre of the dance floor.

“You know how to dance without instructions, I hope.” Jimmy laughed as they came to a halt.

Tango crashed right into him. Taking a moment for his brain to restart he put on the cockiest grin he could muster and confidently informed the men, “Pssh, I’ll have you know I’m an expert.”

“Oh yeah?” They’d began to sway with the crowd, nothing specific.

“In fact I’ve take a whole half a dance class before.” He did an awkward exaggerated jig for emphasis, which got a laugh.

“Oh, please tell me it was-”

“The tango? How’d you know?”

Jimmy cackle-cheered so hard he had to stop dancing for a moment to recover. When he calmed he reached out for Tango’s hands and they turned with the rest of the crowd, finally adding a few little cowboy steps to their swaying.

In truth, the sum total of Tango’s former dance experience mostly involved swaying cross-legged in the mud high out of his mind, headbanging in in a pit, and the macarena at a wedding. That hardly mattered now, especially when Jimmy just as uncoordinated. Whatever dance they were doing involved at lease one person’s foot on the others with each step and a lot of giggling. Tango was beginning to wonder if Jimmy had slipped away to grab his own drink at some point or inhaled a bit too much of the smoke, but his eyes were too focused for that. No, he really was just absolutely delighted to be moving around in the crowd, singing suspiciously well alongside Shania Twain. It was absolutely...

Well, Tango tried not to think too hard about what it was. Especially not when his gaze momentarily slipped away to avoid going blind and instead landed on Lizzie, who was giving him a knowing look. He couldn’t tell what emotion it was on her face, only able to presume she was still mad at him. A suggestion was on the tip of his tongue as the last stomping beat of Any Man of Mine played. Out of guilt or nerves. But he felt Jimmy back away with another airy sort of sound and he was dragged back in. He beamed, “Wanna go sit and grab a drink?”

They wound up at the bar rather than with their friends, where Jimmy could order a coke in peace while Tango could grab a nice whisky instead of more Molson. Jimmy was still giddy, his heel bouncing on the stool as he smiled down into his drink. He glanced over, though, to Tango’s glass. “Can I try?”

Tango slid it over, “S’bout as good as reasonably priced whisky gets.”

Jimmy rolled it a bit, took a sniff, then a sip. His nose wrinkled a bit before he passed it back. “Yeah think I’ll stick with mine.”

“Not for everyone.” Tango concedes.

“I just don’t like the taste much, or the feeling.” He brushes his chest, chewing on his lip and side eyeing Tango. “Just not...”

Ah. He shrugged, trying to act as casual as possible. “You don’t have to explain yourself, partner.”

“No, I guess I don’t. Not to you.” Jimmy smiled, then took a sip of his coke.

“So, you like to dance?” Tango said, approximately as smooth as a cactus made of sandpaper covered in barnacles.

Jimmy by some miracle didn’t notice, and lit up once more as he went on a tale of childhood fairs and forced square dancing lessons and learning that dancing could actually be fun after years of spiteful refusal to ever perform again. It devolved into another story, and another. The bar tender was happy to slip yet another glass in front of Tango after each one.

Their chatter was only interrupted by Joel, who practically screeched across the bar from the stage, calling for his ‘babe’ which was apparently not Lizzie. Jimmy laughed and screeched back, back to full energy, and darted away back to his table to grab his guitar. They quickly took over the bar’s attention as they both began wailing away with the song, Jimmy strumming scratchy notes on his guitar. Some shouted, some cheered. Tango watched with great amusement, entirely missing when the seat next to him became reoccupied.

“Having fun?”

Tango’s head spun around. Lizzie was staring into Jimmy’s empty glass. He cleared his throat and swivelled back around. “Think so. You?”

“Of course.”

An awkward silence befell them, a not very silent one given the screaming and music and thudding and clinking. It all sounded like a distant whisper right now.

Lizzie huffed, and looked up, “Look, Tango. I’m not sorry about earlier.”

“Oookay.” He quirked an eyebrow. He hadn’t thought she was, but it seemed rude to come and say to his face.

“I’m not.” She insisted looking frustrated. “But I guess I can’t exactly tell you to not speak to my brother when he’s the one speaking to you. So, I’ve decided to call truce.”

“Thanks? I think.”

The silence was back. Lizzie chose to ignore it this time, flagging down the bar tender to get her own drink. Tango continued to sip his own.

He cleared his throat. “I liked your set.” Wow, way to go. Might as well call myself a climate-denyer with all this ice I’m not breaking.

That of all things got her undivided and startled attention. “Really?”

“I mean, yeah. You guys got some serious talent. I don’t think I saw anyone with as much range.”

“Well, I’m glad.” She said, stuck between wanting to be mad and soaking in the praise. “I’ve been working for this almost my whole life, you know. Since I was eight.”

Tango whistled, genuinely impressed. “Ain’t that the sorta dedication and ambition we all wished we had. Definitely shows. You’ll have to show me how you did that one bit in... What was it called? The one that was all-” He squinted in frustration, drawing shapes in the air to hopelessly illustrate his point.

Lizzie blinked, then clapped happily, “Oh! Destiny?” She beamed, and that was the first time Tango had been sure she and Jimmy were siblings. “Yes, well, it only really works with my keyboard specifically...” She descended into a rant, explaining what she had done with modes and foot pedals, completely forgetting to actually tell Tango what model she used in the first place. He could ask later. For now he nodded along, making mental notes. Now and then he asked questions, the conversation on the brink but never quite fully petering out to chase away the awkward silence. Tango wasn’t even sure it would still be there if it ended, but he much preferred happy Lizzie elaborating on how she played the keyboard over grumpy Lizzie ready to punch him in the throat.

Jimmy’s voice carried over the crowd, who roared to life as he started singing along with Dolly Parton. Tango took the briefest moment to watch, smiling to himself.

“Suppose...” Lizzie began, the words dying momentarily before she took in a new breath. “Suppose I was wrong.”

“About?” Tango tilted his head in confusion.

“Someone Jimmy met.” Her gaze was permanently fixed on her drink, obscuring whatever complicated emotions were passing over her face. “Suppose I was distracted with my own relationships and dreams. Suppose I was bias cause I knew them, and too young and stupid to notice it just wasn’t right for him until I had to forever hold my peace.” Fingers tightened around her glass. Tango worried it might shatter. “Suppose afterwards I had to help him unpack everything I helped him pack up before. Comforted him when he cried then go comfort the person who made him cry when they cried too, and couldn’t tell which was wrong, if either was. Suppose even after it was over it still wasn’t, and I couldn’t stop thinking it was for my sake it wasn’t.”

Her eyes were glossy when she timidly looked back up, threatening her perfectly done eyeliner. “Is there something wrong with trying to protect him from something like that happening again?”

And Tango couldn’t say no. He knew what it was like to be on both sides half a dozen times over. Maybe not the exact scenario she was alluding to, but ones similar enough. Hesitantly he reached out, and when she only shrugged he place his hands gently on her shoulder, giving her a comforting rub. “I think the only person who can answer that for you, is Jimmy.”

“And what am I supposed to do if he doesn’t want help?”

“I dunno, be there for him in other ways? You’re both adults, you’ll figure it out.” He snorted, his own bittersweet memories playing out in the back of his mind. Mostly of himself. “Some people just need to make their own mistakes to learn, even if you can tell them exactly what will happen if they do. It’s a lot better than feeling like you aren’t allowed to make mistakes at all, I can tell you that.”

“He’d make so many.” Her laugh was humourless. “And don’t think I don’t know what you stand to gain from this.”

Did he? Tango glanced over his shoulder to where Jimmy was, laughing and leaning over Joel as they belted along with the song. The guitarist paused, their eyes meeting, and an enormous grin stretched across his face as he waved to Tango. Tango waved back and turned away. He supposed he did. Was he just being biased? He hoped not. It was hard to think clearly through the buzz. “Well, you could always just beat the crap outta me. He can’t do much about that, can he?”

That got a real laugh, so he turned back to her. Her eyes were still wet, but there was determination there now. “Don’t think I won’t!”

“I ain’t gonna defend myself!” He threw up his hands in concession. “Seriously, though. Jimmy never has nothin’ but good things to say about you. I think he really admires you, y’know? Just my two cents. You should just talk to him yourself, can’t imagine he’ll be rude about it.”

“He wouldn’t.” She agreed, shaking her head. “It’s just hard to have some conversations with younger siblings. Hard to see them as grown up when it feels like they were shoving crayons up their nose just yesterday.”

That was where Tango’s expertise ended, as an only child, so he shrugged. “When I was a kid we just ate them.”

“Oh, that was Joel’s thing. I was the smart one, you see. The only one who knew to draw with them.” She turned up her nose, dramatically sweeping her bubblegum pink locks back.

“... Sooo, on the walls?”

“It was a big canvas!”

Their conversation was cut short by a crash and commotion in the crowd. It didn’t take much else than spotting the mop of teal poking a few inches above the rest of the crowd to send both racing over.

There was a shit-faced cowboy, oddly familiar but Tango wasn’t sure from where, in a soaked flannel, flanked by two similarly dressed friends. In front of him stood Scott stuck somewhere between ‘ready to fall over and puke’ and somehow still high and mighty sass. There was an upside down cup in his hand, barely held there by three fingers. Tango didn’t need to see the pool of ice on the floor to put the pieces together. Especially not with Pearl huddled behind him in Cleo’s arms as she too glared daggers into the strangers.

The rest of their group quickly showed up, Jimmy and Joel shoving their way through the opposite side of the forming circle while the rest appeared beside Tango and Lizzie. Gem’s eyes narrowed as she snarled, “It’s that creep!” It took all of them to hold her back from marching into the conflict.

A fist wrapped around the front of Scott’s shirt and dragged him down to eye level with the cowboy, “The fuck’s your problem?” He snapped. Behind him his buddies jeered.

It took Scott’s alcohol addled mind a visible moment to register what just happened. His nose wrinkled, turning his face away. “Not my fault you can’t take a hint. Or a shower.”

There was a chorus of laughs, mostly from his own bandmates and Gem. All except Lizzie, who was giving Jimmy and Joel a nervous frown. The two weren’t paying attention, looking far too amused by Scott’s antics. Joel whispered something into Jimmy’s ear and Tango could only guess it was another one of their bets.

The cowboy spluttered, entire face red at this point, and shoved Scott back. His glass crashed to the ground. “Ain’t none of your business sniffing me, fairy boy!”

Scott’s eyebrows went up. Behind him, Pearl tried to whisper something to him, but it went ignored. Then he laughed, throwing his hip dramatically and leaning in. “Flattery won’t get you on this dick, princess.”

Then his fist connected with the stranger’s jaw.

“Jesus Christ, Scott!” Pearl shrieked, her and Cleo dragging him back as the cowboy went down.

Completely chaos broke loose. Gem ran free with a battle cry and launched herself onto the back of one of the cowboys just before he swung for Scott, her brother not far behind. Others broke through the crowd, friends or just rowdy patrons. It took Scott only a moment to get back into the fight, Jimmy and Joel cheering the three on. Joe jumped up on the bar with the mic, attempting to implore the crowd to calm down, but someone snatched his ankle and he quickly went down. Skizz shouted, though it was so incoherent Tango wasn’t sure if it was for peace or war. A plate smashed against a post. Both Tango and Lizzie shrieked as they ducked behind Impulse.

“Oh- those-” Lizzie blabbered while the three backed out of the main conflict. Her eyes suddenly went wide. “Jimmy, Joel! No!”

Tango turned just in time to watch the blond slam his guitar case into a guy who’d latched onto Gem’s pigtails. It was swiftly retaliated with a kick to his gut. He dominoed into a small crowd, from which Joel slipped passed and decked the offending cowboy in Jimmy’s stead.

People began pouring out of the bar, some fleeing and others fighting. “You two grab your boys before they get their teeth knocked in.” Impulse directed. “I’ll find Pearl and we’ll grab the rest when it’s safe.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Tango cleared a path behind the main brawl, Lizzie close on his tail. By the time they reached Jimmy and Joel they sported matching dark bruises on their cheeks, and there was blood dripping from Jimmy’s nose. That’d been enough to get them to bow out, but not to back off as they egged on their bandmates. Lizzie wasn’t having any off it, grabbing the strap of Jimmy’s guitar and the scruff of Joel’s shirt. Tango squeaked as Jimmy was practically tossed into his arms. “Let’s go!” She shouted.

All four stumbled out into the cool night air. They didn’t stop moving, not until they were halfway down the street and wheezing. “Oh my gosh!” Jimmy gasped for his life while Joel doubled over beside him. There was still adrenaline pumping wildly through Tango’s whole body, giving him the shakes.

Lizzie took just a moment to lean against a stop sign before her face twisted with rage and marched over to the two, shoving her finger into each’s chest. “What’d the matter with you two?” She screeched. “You could have gotten killed or arrested or- or- Gyahh!”

“Never been to jail.” Jimmy mused, which was the wrong answer. Despite Lizzie berating, the two devolved into giggles and bolted on ahead towards the campsite.

Lizzie was absolutely furious, read to chase after them if not for Tango’s hand on her shoulder. “Let ‘em run it off, Jimmy’ll make sure they don’t get far.” He assured. Jimmy may be high on the excitement of it all, but he was still sober. Just as he thought so the man in question nearly face-planted into the gravel road, saved only by his guitar case hitting it first. Joel paused to laugh at him before dragging him back to his feet and running once more.

“you see what I deal with?” She said, shrill and throwing her hands out towards her husband and brother, before they flopped to her sides. Tango couldn’t hold back a small giggle. “Well at least they weren’t stupid enough to throw the first punch.”

They jumped at the sudden tone of Tango’s blackberry going off. It took the man a moment fiddling in his jeans’ pockets to find the thing, then nearly dropped it. A small reminder of his own numerous drinks that night. “Hello?” He answered. Lizzie leaned in.

“Tango! Are you guys okay?” Pearl’s frantic voice shouted over the sounds of a crowd. “We can’t see you, Impulse said-”

“We’re fine, Pearlie-pop, don’t worry.” Tango hastily assured, double checking that the other two hadn’t passed out on the road ahead or something. “Got out of there, heading back to the campsite right now.”

“Oh, thank god. Listen, everyone here’s mostly okay, but I think Scott, Joe, and Fwhip need a couple stitches. So Impulse is gonna bring Gem and Skizz back and steal the van from you to take us to the hospital.”

He nodded, smiling at Lizzie who visibly deflated with relief. “Roger dodger, boss-lady. We’ll get everyone tucked into bed, don’t you worry.”

The walk back was quiet, only a few bats and an owl filling the crisp night air. Tango had to pull out the flashlight on his keychain as they turned down the dirt path that took them directly to their end of the campsite. Despite their earlier stress they couldn’t help giggle as they found Joel passed out against the running kitchen sink, a sticky note stuck to his sleeping face telling them Jimmy went to see if the store was still open. Tango wished he stayed long enough for someone else to check out his nose, but he was ready to crash.

“Do you mind-?” Lizzie began, practically collapsing onto her bed after she dragged Joel over.

Tango smiled, “You go to sleep, I’ll wait for everyone.”

She nodded, that being all she needed to roll over and get comfy. There was a brief moment, in which Tango nearly left before she called out, “Tango?”

“Hm?” He leaned back inside.

There was a strained smile on her face, “I am sorry about earlier.”

He let out an airy noise, and waved her off. “Don’t be, I was an ass. Wish I had a big sister like you. He’s lucky.”

“I don’t think anyone would accuse Jimmy of being lucky. But thank you. It means a lot.”

“You just worry about getting some sleep for Hangover Road Trip Electric Boogaloo tomorrow.”

There was a groan of realization, which finally got her to nod and roll over.

Tango closed the door as quietly as possible, and sat down on the steps to wait. He hadn’t realized how out of it he was, not until there was some sort of strange sound that knocked him back into the world of the waking. When had he even nodded off in the first place? There was the sound once more, though. Tango stood up, eyebrow and flashlight raised. “Hello?”

There was a rustle from the other side of the trailer, and a screech. Jimmy’s head popped out from between the bushes they were pushed up against. He had leaves stuck in his hair, and the buse on his cheek had become yellow and purple. Another was forming on his chin along with a half dozen on his arms. But the blood from his nose was wiped away or dried and it didn’t seem to be broken. “Um, hi.”

“Jim? What are you doing?”

“Uh, nothing!” He squeaked, and stumbled out. The top of his case smacked against the back of his head, getting a wince from Tango. “Just got- got lost in the dark. The store was closed.”

“Closes at dinner time.” Tango pointed out.

Jimmy’s face went red, looking away. “Yeah... Sorry.” He eyed the trailer warily. “Is she mad?”

“Don’t think so.” Both moved to the picnic table. For once Tango thought he must look more tired than Jimmy. Something had torn open one of their chip bags while they were gone, the crumbs strewn about. Jimmy paused to wipe out towards the bushes, then plopped down with his arms slung over his guitar case.

“Do you wanna set up the tent?”

“Mmm, too much work now.” Tango would much prefer the air mattress to the table, but he was drunk and it was almost midnight.

There was a moment where Jimmy leaned back, puttering a three note beat against his case. “She yell at you? She said she was gonna go yell at you.”

A noise escaped Tango, too much of a reaction to deny it.

“Sorry for whatever she said. She likes playing big sister, all brave and smart. Forgets she fell from the same tree.”

“Nah, I ran my stupid mouth, I probably deserved it.” Tango shook his head, also leaning back.

There was a shift, and Tango felt the guitar bump his hand. “You know I was hanging out with Skizz today.”

“Yeah?”

“Made me think.” He hummed, not continuing until Tango nudged him back. “I know why we’re here. To make Lizzie and Scott famous. But... I don’t know why you guys are here.”

Tango blinked. He turned to look at the other man, who’s face darkened as he realized what he said. “Not like- I mean- Not that you don’t deserve it or anything-”

“No, I get what you mean.” He snorted, a bit lost in memories. Old ones from when they first met in college, new ones of Zed leaving and the girls joining. Promises they made to Pearl as they worked up professional contracts for the first time in their so-called career and sombre conversations between just him, Impulse and Skizz.

“You can’t say this to Gem.” Is all he asked, tone a bit desperate. Jimmy made a small noise, an agreement. Tango sighed. “Truth is, this is probably our last gig.”

Jimmy didn’t seem surprised.

“Dunno what we’re gonna do after this. Maybe we’ll make one last album, maybe we’ll leave how it is. Depends on how we feel I guess. Been living our whole lives doing this first and everything second. And not that I ain’t thankful for every minute of it, but, y’know. We ain’t rockstars. Got bills to pay and jobs to start taking seriously. Impy and Skizz do, at least. And if I can’t play with them I ain’t sure I wanna.”

He shifted his position, pulling his legs up to chest to rest his chin on them. “Honestly, we were thinking about it a few years back, after Zed left for his career. Then we met Gem, though, and- well, you met her. Shines like the sun. Something about her. She’s gonna be a star, we all knew it.” A smile sneaked onto his face, remembering the first time they heard her sing. “Never had big dreams like you guys, but we loved what we did and she loved playing with us. It was different, but it was like the good old days where it mattered. But life’s been catching up. I guess we just wanted to do one last big show together, something to remember. Y’know?”

It seemed like Jimmy did. At least, that’s what Tango hoped his sleepy smile meant.

Tango relaxed himself running a hand down his face to try and keep himself awake until their bandmates got back. “Told Pearl already, back when we signed her on. Don’t expect this too last too long. But we’re still trying to find a way to break it to Gem. Think she suspects it, but it’s still hard.”

“What about you?” Jimmy asked. Had he always been sitting that close, or had one of them scooched over in the breeze?

“Hm?”

“You said, Impulse and Skizz have plans. But what about you?”

There he was, a fish drowning in the sea. The question he’d not even realized he’d been avoiding. Imp and Skizz had full time jobs and family and homes, Gem and Pearl had their whole careers ahead of them, and he had- what? “That’s the question, ain’t it.” He murmured, suddenly feeling quite lost as he stared up at the night sky through the trees.

It wasn’t as though he’d taken their band any more serious than the rest of them, but somewhere along the way they’d all managed to build their own lives between the margins. Probably while he was passed out after playing roller coast tycoon all night or doing one of his other dozen going-nowhere hobbies.

A hesitant hand slipped onto his shoulder, massaging comfortingly. It brought Tango back down from wherever he was floating off to a lot easier than he’d ever like to admit. Jimmy didn’t bother to say anything. Not that he didn’t seem to want to. Nothing ever quite made it out until his mouth snapped back shut into a sympathetic smile. He didn’t have to. For once Tango thought he could understand. He really hoped it wouldn’t be the only time. It felt good.

Leaves ruffled and there was a loud, familiar whining. Both men stood up in time to watch Impulse drag Gem and Skizz under each arm into camp. “Almost there, guys.” He announced, shoulders falling as he spotted Tango and Jimmy.

They put the new pair to bed first against their whining and waved Impulse off. The little sleep demon in Tango’s mind screamed to finally get into bed. He heard Jimmy’s laugh when they both collapsed, creating a bounce back that shook the whole trailer and the pullout off the ground. “You’re makin’ breakfast, by the way.” Tango grumbled, already curling up against his cuddle buddy.

“Not fair!”

“Shh.”

Just as he drifted Tango heard a strange little whistle. Please birds, let me get at least a few hours of sleep, was his last thought as he drifted off.

#jimmy solidarity #tangotek #team rancher #rancher duo #solidaritek #trafficshipping #traffic series #hermitpires #mcyt #fanfiction #fanfic #modern au #hurt/comfort

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hecckyeah · 4 days

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two weeks of chenford 2024 day 10 - april 25th

prompt: rescue

type: one-shot ficlet

(warning: series-accurate depictions of injury to a child.)

For You, I'd Move Mountains

“Dad, Dad, watch me! Look, Dad!”

Tim glances up from his book and blinks, squinting into the blinding afternoon sunlight just as the small figure launches herself cannonball-style from the deck straight into the water. After a few seconds, her head resurfaces and she grabs the side of the pool again, grinning up at him with her gap-toothed smile.

He grins back and gives his daughter a proud thumbs-up. “Seeing lots of improvement there, A-team.”

Aster giggles and throws herself backwards, showing off with a reverse somersault followed by her little feet kicking wildly and proudly above the surface.

Tim chuckles and watches to make sure she resurfaces safely before returning to his book.

“Incoming!” shrieks another little voice from the porch doors, and Tim registers a neon-orange-clad, black-haired, child-sized streak barreling toward the pool to join her sister. Briar clasps her hands together and dives headfirst into the water like she’s been doing it all her life.

Which, coincidentally, she has.

On the twins’ first birthday, Lucy had enrolled them in infant swim classes after completing a truly impressive amount of research. He had been skeptical but trusted her judgment, and after only a few months of lessons he was watching his two girls as they were unceremoniously tossed one by one into a pool fully clothed, but quickly flipped themselves onto their backs, stuck their faces out of the water, and breathed normally until the instructor picked them up and handed them to their parents for hugs and praise.

And ever since then, Tim could breathe easier when the girls insisted on playing in the water, even though he never really understood the appeal. Truly, they are their mother’s children.

Speaking of . . .

“Aster!” Lucy calls, stepping out onto the deck. “Do you need to reapply?”

“No, Ma!” comes the answer.

“I got her,” Tim says, motioning to the bottle of sunblock on the table.

Lucy smiles a thanks and takes the seat to his left, kicking her feet up onto a nearby flower pot. She breathes a long sigh and leans her head back against the chair. Tim closes his book, crosses his arms, and takes in the sight of his wife next to him.

She looks stunning, as usual. Her face glows in the late summer sun, her cheeks are flushed from the heat and the bottle of beer she's sipping, and she’s wearing those jean shorts and yellow bikini top that he loves.

“I think I’ll take the girls to the beach tomorrow,” she considers. “Bri’s been begging to go.”

Tim raises his eyebrows. “If you want to swim in a glorified fish sewer tank, that’s your funeral.”

read the rest on ao3

#two weeks of chenford 2024 #chenford #the rookie #tim bradford #lucy chen #parenting #tw drowning #tw injury #angst #hurt/comfort #family feels #angela lopez #is a badass and a bff as usual

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randomveyn · 2 years

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ʙʟᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴍᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴄʟᴜʙ

featuring ⁞ grimmjow jaegerjacquez, kurosaki ichigo, madarame ikkaku, abarai renji, hisagi shuhei

warnings ⁞ fem!reader, suggestive themes, drinking, implied daddy kink, mentions of vaping, pet names (baby girl, kitten, princess)

𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙟𝙤𝙬 takes his time on his seat, chucking down beer while watching you sway your hips along the beat under the lights of neon pink and blue. send him winks, mouthed him a “come dance, baby” and he'd jump right in.

is arrancar naturally good at dancing? because he sure knows how to work those hips like a pro. he'd occasionally grind into your ass, pretending he got the tempo wrong but the bulge on his tight jeans said something else.

but he won't be satisfied with some feather-light touches. if anything, he gets greedy each time. can't keep those big hands from slithering along your curves. give him kisses and playful licks, make those breathy moans by his ears. and he'd have no qualms in snatching you away from the dance floor, dragging you to the nearest bathroom, trapping you between cold wall and his burning muscles. “time for some snacks, kitten.”

𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙤 and 𝙞𝙠𝙠𝙖𝙠𝙪 are the same type of guy. they don't go out chasing after girls. you'd find them lounging around the corner vip sofa, manspreading comfortably in their seats, maybe challenging each other who can take the most shots for the night.

you'd have to walk up to them with the guts of steel. ikkaku might spare you a glance but shoos you away immediately. no matter what you look like, he won't be interested until he sees a real challenge here. bring up the fact, or just lie through your teeth, about your black belt in judo and he'd whipped his head back to you fast. propose him a match and whether you win or not, you'd still find you both wrestling in bed tonight. “today's my lucky day, huh?”

ichigo is a simple man with a sprinkle of his closet daddy kink. he patted on his lap a few times, ushering you to take a seat. and then he'd feel you up with those biceps holding you close, squeeze you abit to have you squirming under him. he secretly enjoy the power he can exert on sweet girls like you, stroking his ego because he gets you all putty in his hand effortlessly like this.

he'd send a smug grin across the club, to a certain baby blue haired man and gets a middle finger back from the latter. “look at that loser. daddy needs no dance to get baby girl like you.”

𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙞 and 𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙝𝙚𝙞 would be hanging around outside of the club, clad in punk leather outfits and slouching on their bikes. they try to come off as 'too cool to be dancing in there' but everyone knows they're just weak against women.

renji pulls out his vape pen, casually sucking and puffing out clouds of pineapple flavours as he watches people waltzing in and out of the club. and then, he sees you, hastily tumbling your way out with a group of guys following close behind. he caught your agitated expression, visibly uncomfortable under their ogling eyes and slurs.

so he wasted no time in slinging his arm around you, pulling you away with a big grin. “sorry for the wait, baby.” you shouldn't feel safe around this man either, not with those deadly tattoos he had from head to toe but you wouldn't even think twice about snuggling up against his half-exposed chest.

shuhei would be the one to offer you a ride home, because he's the only one with an extra helmet. it was originally prepared for his drunk ass friend (kira or rangiku-san) but guess he wouldn't mind taking a couple of trips back and forth tonight. HE IS JUST THAT NICE. and so, enjoy your ride hugging him close, feeling those toned abs below. oh, and he'd definitely take off his jacket and let you wear them. “gotta keep you all nice and warm.”

blow him some goodbye kiss okay because let's be honest, his nose can't handle a real kiss on the cheek. he's also the type who'd wait for you walk into your apartment lobby, disappear into the elevator before leaving. BOYFRIEND MATERIAL. but don't be mistaken, this guy can be smooth. you'll soon find his business card in his jacket.

#grimmjow x reader #grimmjow x y/n #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #ichigo x reader #ichigo x y/n #ichigo kurosaki #kurosaki ichigo #ikkaku x reader #ikkaku madarame #renji x reader #abarai renji #renji abarai #shuhei x reader #shuhei hisagi #bleach fic #bleach scenarios #bleach fanfiction

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eth-edwards-73 · 10 months

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Break up, make up pt 2

luke hughes x reader warnings: none i think?

It had been at least six months since Luke last saw and heard of Y/N, he knew she was doing well because of the other guys on the hockey team but any attempt at reaching out to her himself was to no avail, she ignored every single try. The first months had been rough on her but she was slowly getting better and healthier again. After two months of skipping every game the hockey team had she started going again.

Today was also one of those days that she’d go, unbeknownst to her and the hockey team Luke decided to drop by to watch one of the games since he got injured and couldn’t play. He didn’t know that she started going to games again because no one told him and she blocked him on everything. So it came as a big shock when he saw her standing in the crowd waiting for the game to begin.

He was taken aback mostly because she looked even prettier than before, she had this glow around her and he could feel himself fall in love all over again. Y/N felt like her legs had been kicked from under her when she spotted the tall boy looking at her, anger flooded into her body though because she assumed the boys knew and just didn’t tell her. This was not the case which was confirmed by Ethan as she stormed into their locker room after confirming everyone was decent.

She made sure to stay as far away from the boy as possible, the game went by smoothly, the wolverines won and she was very happy for them. Normally she’d celebrate with them but the chance Luke was there was big so she told Ethan who she’d grown close with over the last six months she wouldn’t come but he begged her to come because it was important for him.

She sighed as she stood in front of the frat house, Ethan and Mark had let her pick out their outfits so they were all matching. The two boys wore black baggy jeans with a neon pink oversized t-shirt while she wore her neon pink dress that hugged her body perfectly. Mark met her there and took her under his arms pulling her towards the kitchen where Ethan and Luca were. Some sort of cocktail was immediately pushed into her hands by the younger boy as they laughed together about stuff while chugging all sorts of drinks out of cups.

The four were definitely tipsy when they joined the others, watching Nolan play beer pong with some other guys, Ethan’s arm was loosely hung around her waist, Mark’s arm still around her shoulders as they cheered Nolan on. It bugged Luke to see her so close to the two boys but he knew he couldn’t feel that way after all he had broken up with her.

He snapped when Mark leaned down and whispered something in her ear, which in return made her slap him on the chest and turn red while laughing. Luke walked away from Dylan mid conversation making his way towards the three other sophomores, Dylan was a little bewildered but saw who he was heading for and winced knowing it probably wouldn’t end well.

The tall boy grabbed onto her arm pulling her away from the two boys in neon pink shirts, she looked enraged while Ethan and Mark just stood there confused as Luke pulled her outside.

“What do you want Luke, I made it clear I didn't want to talk to you.” She sneered as she finally managed to pull her arms out of his grasp.

“Please Y/N, i just- i’m sorry.” He told her while running his hand through his curls: “I- i don’t know how to express how sorry i am please just, i just i don’t know.” He looked like he was close to crying and although she didn’t let it show it moved something in her.

“You wanted something new Luke, you can’t come back now that that didn’t work out for you.” She told him, her voice cold and laced with underlying anger making him flinch and shrink in his spot.

“I- that wasn’t the real reason, i didn’t want to overwhelm you with everything that would come with me playing in the nhl.” He confessed his eyes trained on the ground.

“That doesn’t fix things Luke, besides I promised you I'd always stay with you no matter what, even if that meant I'd be pulled into all the hate that would come with you playing in the nhl and getting more fame.” She borderline yelled at him, astounded by the way he was thinking. He sniffled as tears started falling although he desperately tried to wipe them away so that Y/N wouldn’t see them, with the movements of his arms his sweatshirt moved bringing the pearl necklace he was wearing into her sight. Her eyes widened as she took in what was hanging around his neck, memories flooding into her mind.

“Please Luke,” She whined, pulling onto his sleeve giving him puppy eyes to try and convince him: “if you also buy one we can be matching.” He hadn’t given in and just bought her a pearl necklace, she had complained about it for weeks on end.

A content smirk was planted onto her face as she secured the pearl necklace around his neck. Because he hadn’t bought one for himself she had come up with the proposition that he’d wear the necklace when they weren’t together, making him pinky promise that he’d always do that.

“I swear on my life and my mom’s that I will always wear the necklace when we aren’t together.” He had told her while holding out his pinky seeing her face light up at his pinky. Luke knew how much pinky promises meant to the girl so he decided this was the best way to promise it to her. It warmed his heart to see her so happy.

Her mouth hung open slightly, tears brimming in her eyes threatening to fall as she stared at the piece of jewelry. He had yet to notice what she was looking at and just stared at her as her bottom lip quivered slightly.

“You kept your promise.” She muttered, a tear rolling down her face. He understood what she was talking about and nodded, he couldn’t get himself to break it even when his teammates teased him about it. It wasn't necessarily the pearls they teased him about just the heart pendant, but even with all the teasing and mocking it came with he didn’t care, it was one of the few things he still had of her and he wasn’t going to throw that away.

She flew into his arms and sobbed into his shirt as he wrapped his arms around her tightly afraid she’d disappear when he let her go and they stood there for a few minutes just holding onto each other.

“I want to try again.” It was barely audible but Luke heard and he lit up entirely, a smile breaking onto his face as he pulled away to look Y/N in her face.

“Really?” He questioned just to be sure he wasn’t dreaming, she nodded and he put his bands at the sides of her face before crashing his lips into hers. She quickly melted into the kiss, it felt like heaven for the both of them to finally be able to kiss again but after a while they both pulled away and stared at each other with big smiles on their faces dreaming about what the future may hold for them.

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

i really enjoyed writing this one i'm glad that you guys wanted me to make a second part :)

#umich boys #umich wolverines #umich hockey #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke #nj devils #ethan edwards #mark estapa #hockey #nhl #nhl hockey #oneshot

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armywriter · 3 months

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» Cigarettes after Sex «

Warning: Smut !

It was casual late night meet up at Jungkook’s, Taehyung already announced his early arrival in our group chat. My apartment was a good drive away from his, so it took me a little longer. I rang his doorbell and Jungkook opened. „Y/n, what took you so long ?”, he said while giving me a hug. The neon lights were turned on and gave a chill atmosphere. I took a glance at my phone and it said 10:34 PM. He closed the door behind me and Tae said from the couch: „Right?! I’ve heard the engine of your sports car from a mile ago, aren’t you supposed to be fast with that?”. I made my way over the couch and we all sat down. „All you guys do is complaining. I stopped by a supermarket to buy the good stuff”, I said and put the bag on the couch table. I laid back exhausted and let the boys unbox it. Several whiskey bottles, beer, soju and cigarettes were spread over the table not long after that. I got myself a cigarette out of my baggy jeans and just as I was about to lighten it, Jungkook must have heard the click of my lighter, he grabbed the cigarette out of my mouth. “What the fuck Jungkook?!”, I said. “No smoking in here”, Jk said. I looked back at Taehyung, flabbergasted. “What the …”, I muttered confused. Taehyung let out a small laugh before taking a sip of whiskey out of his glass. “Did you quit smoking or are some green planet dumbass now?! Where are your balls Jungkook?!”, I half screamed at him, seemingly annoyed. “Whoa relax Y/n”, Jungkook said and gave me a side hug while trying to calm me down. He quickly grabbed into a small box underneath the couch table and pulled out a strawberry flavored elfbar. “The neighbors have been complaining a lot about the smoke, plus it already set off the fire alarm 2 times by now. I still smoke but just outside. For inside I use a vape, I got you this in your favorite flavor”, Jk said. I grabbed the vape out of his hands and said: “You should be happy I love you so much Jeon Jungkook”, he smiled in return. We each poured a drink and relaxed. Taehyung picked some music for us to listen to and we talked for a bit. It was getting later and later, I was down on my third bottle of strawberry soju and the overall 4-5 th bottle of whiskey. The mood was so comfortable and my head was laying in Jungkook’s lap by now. I inhaled the strawberry flavored smoke into my lungs and blew it right into Jungkook’s face. “That’s what you get for just taking my cigarette”, I said with a sly smile. “Come here”, Taehyung said while laying his phone to the side. I gave Jungkook a teasingly flying kiss, got up and straddled Tae’s lap. He nodded his head as I rested my arms on his shoulders. I sucked the smoke in and blew it into his pretty mouth. Not much later the smoke escaped into the air. Our eyes meet for a moment, the drunk haze making the surroundings blurry. That’s when I remembered something. I hopped off Taehyung’s lap and stood in front of the couch for the boys to see me perfectly. “Since y’all have been too busy with schedules lately, I wasn’t able to show you this yet”, I said and turned around. I slipped out of my oversized shirt and revealed my huge back tattoo. “So what do you think?”, I asked while wiggling with my butt. “Whoa that looks awesome”, Jk said while standing up to get a closer look. Tae also loved the artistic aspect of the tattoo and came closer to touch the scars.

I turned around in nothing but my bra to see their reactions. Smoke escaped Jk’s lips and into the air while Tae told me to turn around again, their eyes amazed and dark. I felt the clip of my bra getting undone in just one swift motion. Jungkook’s strong hand guided me to turn around and he took the bra off of me. Four hungry eyes meet the sight of my bare tits. While Jungkook started to masssage them, Taehyung started to undo my pants. Jk took one nipple after another in his mouth and sucked on them, while Tae undressed me fully. Jungkook moved away to undress himself, his cock being painfully trapped in his pants. I jumped up on Taehyung as we kissed lustfully. He carried me up to the couch, where jungkook was waiting for me. Completely bare, tattoos on display. I straddled his lap, lining up his length with my hole and slowly pushing down with a needy moan. His dick was so long and thick so it took some time to adjust. He inhaled some strawberry smoke and blew it into my mouth just like Tae and I did bevor. It helped me relax a bit so I started to bounce up and down after the smoke left my lungs. “Slow down Queen, we got a lot of time today”, Jungkook said. I let out pornographic moans as I came closer and closer. My orgasm washed over me quickly with Jungkook’s seconds later. I stopped my actions as a panting mess. Taehyung lifted me off of Jungkook and laid me flat. He started eating me out and I whined pathetically. I gripped onto his hair as my legs parted wide open for him. Suddenly a buzzing sound could be heard as he shoved a g spot and clit vibrator into me. I almost screamed and moaned like crazy. “Tae… please… faster…”, I moaned out as my eyes rolled back. Jungkook sat behind me and started kissing me passionately. “Look at how desperate you are you whore. Our perfect slut”, Taehyung said. Jungkook swallowed my moans and massages my tits. I felt like I was burning, my orgasm building up stronger than bevor. “Uhhh… I … cum…”, I managed to get out. “She is going dumb”, jk laughed out loud. My orgasm hit me like a truck, I could only see stars by now. But Taehyung kept the vibration inside me. My hips started to buck to somehow get rid of the strong vibrations but Jungkook kept me in place. It started to become too much, tears escaping my eyes. It suddenly all changed and turned into pure pleasure. I moaned and moaned and suddenly exploded. Taehyung got covered in my juices as I squirted. My body was shaking uncontrollably, as jungkook tried to comfort me. “Just one last time babe”, Jungkook said as he propped me up and kissed me. “You think you can take us both slut?”, Taehyung asked. “Y…es…. Please”, I whined for them. Both of their cocks were rock hard for me. I first sank down on Jungkook’s, later Tae entered my ass. “So tight…”, Jungkook moaned out. “You can move now Queen”, Tae said in a low tone. I moved up and sank down with full force. I felt so deliciously full, they hit all the perfect spots. After time, we all grew impatient and the boys started moving too. My high was approaching once again, the boys close behind. We all came as a moaning mess. After catching our breath, we parted and the boys let me go into a hot bath. Exhausted, Jungkook even let me smoke a cigarette in the tub. Cigarettes after sex are the best.

#bts #bts imagines #bts one shot #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts taehyung #bts jungkook

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beefrobeefcal · 9 months

Note

Imagine it’s like hot as hell, the guys are having a barbecue there’s a pool ect, ect. So Frankie has his shirt off and forgets that mouse scratched his back while they were getting a little wild in bed. Maybe Benny is like ‘damn, fish you get mauled by a bear?’ And Frankie is a little embarrassed and blushing.

A good prompt. A GREAT PROMPT!

I love a good pool party. And so does our fav chubby guy!

Beefro 👌🥩💜

--------<3----------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: Unrestrained Summer Fun

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader (Mouse!)

Summary: After a night on the couch, Frankie has some explaining to do poolside.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 1,625

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, oral (f receiving), p in the v - unwrapped (don't be silly, cover you willy, kids!), little bit of insecurity/self-esteem stuff, bikinis, sunscreen application, beer

Author's Notes: The Chubby!Frankie love is fabulous! It's shorter and was banged out in an hour and not proofed. Enjoy!

__________________________

“Frankie… oh fuck… baby… I-I can’t!!”, you cried out as he pounded into you.

Friday nights were usually reserved for cuddles on the couch with a good movie, but after a shit day at work and then being stuck in traffic on your commute home, you needed a release. Frankie, your sweet, gentle, soft, chubby guy, was now fucking that into you on the couch in your den.

“Come on, princess… give me another one… you can do it… come on, Mouse…”, he growled through gritted teeth.

He’d already pulled three orgasms from you, twice with his mouth and one on his cock while he fucked you from behind. He then changed positions; now you were under him, his weight pinning you down, as you gripped his shoulders while begging and pleading.

He continued his relentless pace as he leaned down, putting his full weight into every thrust, making you see stars. Circling your clit with his middle and index fingers, you arched your back, crying out as your nails clawed into his back, your fourth and final release ripping through you body.

“That’s it, princess… oh fuck… I got you, baby… so fucking good… so good… fuck… FUCK!”, Frankie moaned as he came into your tight, warm pussy.

He collapsed on top of you, both panting. You ran your hands up and down his back, feeling the raised marks you left from your nails.

*****

Will and Hannah were hosting a barbeque at their new house the next day. Given that it was going to be one of the hotter days on record, you were thankful that their new house had a pool, ready to be christened with a summer patio party. You had a cropped, loose t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts over your swim attire, and Frankie was in a white t-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and chest along with his chubby middle and his swim trunks sat low on his hips to accommodate his protruding belly and muffin top.

You and Hannah had gone shopping for new bathing suits last weekend; when you modeled the neon pink string bikini you’d gotten yourself for Frankie, he had expressed his appreciation for it in the best way possible – slowly untying it then devouring you. Hannah had chosen a baby blue one piece with cut outs, and she already told you that Will showed as much excitement as Will could when he saw it.

Arriving at Will and Hannah’s around noon, you were ready to enjoy the sun and the cool water with your friends and family.

��Fish! Mouse!”, Benny called out from the pool when he saw you. Benny was splashing around, trying to soak Santi while he sat pool side. “Come on in - the water’s fine!”

You walked to the poolside to dip your toe in the water, feeling the perfect temperature for a day with that kind of heat.

“I’ll get in if you do.”, Santi said, looking up with a grin, thumb then pointing at Benny. “And we can take turns dunking this stupid fuck.”

You laughed and walked back to Frankie, taking off your shirt and shorts. A wolf whistle came from poolside, and you heard Benny yell, “That’s my fucking cousin, Pope, you perv!” at Santi.

Frankie glared at him, then saw Benny yank Santi into the pool with a loud yelp and splash. He shook his head and saw you smiling.

“Look at those big hands. You wanna help me with my sunscreen, big guy?”, you crooned, poking his belly teasingly.

“Mouse…”, Frankie warned as he looked you up and down, a blush creeping up his face.

“What? You want me to burn?”, you whispered close to his face as you ghosted your mouth over his lips.

“Oh, baby girl… what am I gonna do with you?”, Frankie growled, pulling you to close the distance between your mouths and kissed you, his hands gripping your waist.

Will cleared his throat behind Frankie as he came out of the house, causing you to step back and place a chaste kiss to the end of Frankie’s nose.

“Hey Fish… how’re you doing?”, Will said, looking just as embarrassed as Frankie as he clapped him on the shoulder. Turning to you, he continued, “Hey Mouse, how- Jesus, that’s not much of a swimsuit!”

You rolled your eyes, “Hey Will. It covers what it needs to.”, you jibed back.

Shaking his head with his eyebrows raised, he sighed and waved a pointed finger at you. “Make sure you have sunscreen on, because… yeah.”

Frankie got the tube of sunblock, pulled you to sit on the lounger in front of him, and began rubbing it into your back. When he finished his application – and groping - of your body, he grabbed your waist, pulled your back into his chest, and chided you quietly. “You’re a bad girl, princess. Wearing that and teasing me in front of everyone. You sure you wanna play this game?”

You batted your eyelashes at him and stood up. Smiling at him over your shoulder, you walked to the pool.

After about 20 minutes of having your fun in the water with Benny & Santi, Frankie wandered poolside with a beer in hand.

You looked up at Frankie and hopped up to sit on the pool deck, legs dangling in the water. Hannah came out in to join you, sitting down with her own beverage.

He squatted down next to you, offering you a sip of his beer.

“You look fucking amazing, princess. You ready to go yet?”, Frankie whispered as he wiggled his eyes brows.

You shook your head smiled at him, as Santi started calling out.

“You comin’ in for a swim, Fish?”, Santi cackled, splashing at Frankie.

“FISH! DO A CANNON BALL!”, Benny screeched.

Santi and Benny both splashed and chanted CANNON BALL! CANNON BALL! at Frankie. He shook his head and laughed. “Fucking children, you two!”

He stood and walked back to his chair, then removed his shirt with his back turned to everyone. You heard Santi bark out a loud laugh and Benny hollered out, “Jesus, Fish! You get mauled by a bear or something?”

You head shot up and turned to look at Frankie. Mouth agape, you saw the deep red marks you left across his wide back and shoulders as Frankie railed you on the couch last night. Your face went beet red; Frankie whipped around and looked at you, his face the same shade.

While he was a little worried about any potential teasing he would get about his growing belly or how much he ate, he was not prepared for this. He would have preferred they poke fun at his increased weight than point out your claw marks.

“It’s always the quiet ones! Atta boy, Fish!”, Santi called out, fist pumping into the air.

Hannah gasped and with a wide grin, nudged you. “Mouse… oh my god! You’re a fucking animal!”, she laughed with her eyes wide.

Will walked up behind Frankie, eyeing his back in confusion. “Fish, what did you do to your back? It looks like-“, Will stopped, realization hit him and his eyes went wide, staring at you. You wanted the ground to swallow you up whole.

Regardless of his strong friendship with and his respect for Frankie, Will still regarded you as his little, young, innocent cousin that he needed to protect. Benny, on the other hand, was a free spirit with sex and was the first person you told when you lost your virginity - nothing was too sacred with him as long as you were happy. Will was glad that you found that happiness with someone he knew and trusted, but it didn’t make it any easier when there were blatant displays of your sexual escapades in front of him.

“Fucking hell… Mouse…”, Will finally huffed with a headshake as he walked over to the barbeque to start cooking hamburgers.

“Girl. Really? It’s that good?”, Hannah giggled, leaning into you.

Before you could answer, a huge wave of pool water washed over the two of you from Frankie’s cannonball, followed by hoots and cheers from Santi and Benny.

Frankie popped up from under the water and swam over to you, hands on your knees and looked up. “Hey princess. You good?”

You were still red with embarrassment and Hannah laughed next to you. “Frankie, please tell Will what ever you did for those marks of honor. I need that in my life.”

“Hannah!”, both you and Will yelped in unison.

Frankie groaned, sinking into the pool, leaving only his eyes and nose peeking above the water line.

Santi and Benny swam over to Frankie, shit eating grins on their faces.

“Mouse… what the hell did you do to our Fish?”, Benny teased.

“Yeah, what did he do to you to deserve this abuse?”, Santi barked in mock-seriousness.

“Guys, come on!”, you whined. “Drop it!”

The guys pulled Frankie back out into the water, splashing him, and demanding he answer their crude questions. Frankie laughed, but the blush on his face remained.

“Seriously, Mouse.”, Hannah whispered to make sure no one else heard. “He’s that good? Hands, mouth, dick? Tell me everything! How many times did he make you come?”

Frankie watched you and Hannah giggle as Benny and Santi continued their barrage of questions. While he didn’t know for sure what Hannah was asking, he did see you respond with four fingers up on your hand before you hopped back into the pool. He had an overwhelming sense of pride at the shocked look Hannah gave you as you bobbed in the water.

“Four times, boys!”, Frankie shouted as he flopped back into the water. Benny and Santi cheered.

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TAGLIST:

@harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @theywhowriteandknowthings

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