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janovavalen · 5 months

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✧in her comments || walker scobell x fem!reader

—small warning: the faces that are shows as ‘y/n’ are just for the aesthetic…—

in her comments p.2

yourinstagram

liked by dior.n.goodjohn, leahsavajeffries, yourmom others

yourinstagram finally in vancouver guys OMGG?🧍🏽‍♀️

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dior.n.goodjohn good now hurry up and get here im bored

→ yourinstagram omg hello? can i get a hi?

user22 OMG WAIT IS Y/N FILMING IN PERCY JACKSON!?🤨🤨🤨

→ user37 WAIT MAYBE??

user11 guys don’t be quick to assume she could just be seeing her friends who r filming percy jackson…

_xochitl.gomez NOOO COME BACK I MISS YOU ALREADY😭😭😭

→ yourinstagram I MISS YOU TOO BABY I WAS LITERALLY GONNA CRY ON THE PLANE

→ user77 xochitl and y/n are so adorable 😭

jennaortega miss you already, have fun!

→ user44 dude jenna and y/n being friends is insane when did that even happen

yourinstagram

liked by jennaortega, dior.n.goodjohn, yourmom, and others

yourinstagram at the hotel!

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user222 y/n listening to sade is honestly a vibe, she’s literally wife material

→ yourinstagram yall flatter me sm🤭

user11 the messy get ready aesthetic is so real😭

→ yourinstagram i really be making messes like they get on the floor too

dior.n.goodjohn girl ik ur not making a mess in that hotel room already…

→ yourinstagram …i’m getting ready.

yourmom make sure you clean that up, AND BE SAFE!

→ yourinstagram i will‼️

user0 y/n’s mom caring for her over insta comments is adorable omg I WISH MY MOM DID THIS

user33 literally jealous☹️

dior.n.goodjohn

liked by yourinstagram, iamcharliebushnell, leahavajeffries and others

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iamcharliebushnell those are my shoes?🦼

→ dior.n.goodjohn you can share

→ yourinstagram sharing is caring🤲🏽

→ iamcharliebushnell OHH so when i asked for your food you threw paper at me..riiiight😒

user77 DID Y/N, CHARLIE AND DIOR JUST COMMENT ALL TOGETHER??

user2 nah guys i think y/n is filming in percy jackson…idc what yall say this is official

user66 nah bc ik something was going on when y/n posted she was flying to vancouver 😗🤲🏽

used82 THIS is insane and i’m so here for it all

leahavajeffries so beautifullll

→ dior.n.goodjohn AWH TYY<3

user01 throwing paper is so real when it comes to food‼️

yourinstagram

liked by walker.scobell, dior.n.goodjohn, leahavajeffries and others

yourinstagram these yellow pants are probably my fav by far, thanks walker for letting me hold your dog<3

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walker.scobell your welcome😭

user81 IF Y/N IS HOLDING WALKERS DOG AND WALKER JUST LIKED THE POST THEY DEFINITELY MET!!!

user11 i can practically smell the shipping edits through my phone right now

user68 guysss let two opposite genders be just friends they don’t have to be dating 😭

jennaortega is thought you said you’ll never come in a three mile radius of a chihuahua

→ yourinstagram just spill all my secrets it’s okay

dior.n.goodjohn my beautiful girll 💛

→ yourinstagram KISSES KISSES KISSES!

user19 their friendship is something i live for

iamcharliebushnell you wanted my sandwich so bad you took a pic

→ yourinstagram i meannnn…you can make one for me if you want i don’t mind at all🤲🏽🤭

walker.scobell

liked by iamcharliebushnell, leahavajeffries, aryansimhadri, yourinstagram and others

walker.scobell y/n recommended i wear blue striped shirts to embody percy what do you guys think?

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yourinstagram if you guys disagree with the blue shirts BURN IN HELL—IM JOKING OMG IM JOKING

→ walker.scobell Y/N YOU CANT SAY THAT ON HERE YOUR GONNA GET US IN TROUBLE

→ yourinstagram IM SORRY IM SORRY OMGGG😭😭😭

user22 y/n forgetting she’s like thirty million famous on insta and on nonstop movies is so comforting

user110 literally living for the walker and y/n duo hello?

user60 love them sm, LOVE THE BLUE SHIRT WLAKER KEEP IT ON KEEP IT ON

leahavajeffries guys walker listens to y/n regardless

→ walker.scobell leah it’s okay…you don’t have to act like annabeth anymore we’re off set

→ leahavajeffries this is me on a daily 😭!?

→aryansimhardi it’s true

→ yourinstagram literally rolling in the deep

→ argansimhardi STOP

user45 THEY KNOW GUYS THEY KNOW

user71 THATS INSANE Y/N OMGGGG😭😭

user51 GTFO OF HEREEEE AHAHAHAH

leahavajeffries

liked by yourinstagram, walker.scobell, dior.n.goodjohn, aryansamhardi and others

leahavajeffries y/n let me try her ice cream it was mid

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yourinstagram that’ll be the last time you take anything from me…food wise

→ leahavajeffries IM SORRY BUT WHAT? U ADDED TWO SEPARATE THINGS ON TOP OF ONE ANOTHER LIKE NO

→ yourinstagram last time.

walker.scobell i thought it was good?

→ yourinstagram thank you walker<3

→ iamcharliebushnell simp bro..

user17 THEY’RE SO CUTE?

user210 walker backing up that y/n’s ice cream combination to say it’s good was so cute to me idk why😭?!

dior.n.goodjohn see? i’m not the only one saying you guys are cute?!

→ walker.scobell i mean🤷🏼

→ user710 DIOR ALREADY SHIPS, ITS OFFICIAL AND WALKER NOT DENYING IS OMGGGGGGG

user619 WALKER DIDN’T DENY IT GUYS I REPORT HE DIDN’T DENY IT

user373 EVERY ONE STAY CALM

jennaortega y/n you’ve got some explaining to do🤨

→ yourinstagram WHAT?😭😭😭

yourinstagram

liked by walker.scobell, jennaortega, leahavajeffries, iamcharliebushnell , yourmom and others

yourinstagram walker wanted to be posted soo @ walker.scobell are you happy now? also thanks for dinner<3

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walker.scobell so happy 🤭

→ yourinstagram bro😭😭

dior.n.goodjohn THATS WHY YOU DITCHED ME AT THE HOTEL? u went to dinner with walker instead of me☹️!?

→ yourinstagram IM SORRY I THOUGHT YOU KNEW? — conrad fisher

→ dior.n.goodjohn not the time to be REFERENCING TSITP

iamcharliebushnell the ship is almost sailing guys 🏂

leahavajeffries they’re literally always taking pics of each other

mckennagraceful WHATTTTT

aryansimhadri guys literally help they are with me rn and they’re laughing so loud at a cat vid.

_xochitl.gomez Y/N AND WALKER WHAT? BRO BRO BRO BRO

user623 WHAT DID WE SAYYYY WHAT DID WE SAYYYYYY WERE RIGHT WE WERE RIGHTTT

user80 walker reminds me of a clingy pet the way he’s slapping y/n’s face like that😭

user100 HELP Y/N SHES BEING SLAPPED BY WALKER😭😭😭

user103 THEYRE SO CUTE I KNEW IT

user71 MAKING EDITS RN

dior.n.goodjohn

liked by walker.scobell, yourinstagram, leahavajeffries, iamcharliebushnell and others

dior.n.goodjohn i cannot express how much i love taking 05’s of everyone

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yourinstagram i’m glad u didn’t post the one of me sleeping bro.

→ dior.n.goodjohn never do u dirt like that<3

iamcharliebushnell she never can take mine bc i slap her phone she knows better — luke c.

→ dior.n.goodjohn CORNY AHHHHH

→ yourinstagram charlie that wasn’t it im sorry to have to inform you that your plate has been stolen.

walker.scobell bro send the one of y/n 🤲🏻

user148 WALKER WANTING Y/N’S PICS AWH

User189 yall get handed a snack and turn it into a meal😭

user1047 lowkey living for walker and y/n and the percy jackson family<3

_xochitl.gomez they’re all too cute im ngl

→yourinstagram YOUR CUTER

yourinstagram

liked by walker.scobell, leahavajeffries, yourmom, iamcharliebushnell and others

yourinstagram literally filming and i fell in dirt. walker gave me his jacket tho to it’s okay

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dior.n.goodjohn she fell so hard that her shoe half broke guys…

→ yourinstagram ALRIGHT ALRIGHT CALM DOWN

walker.scobell it’s okay y/n we can get more shoes tmr

→yourinstagram u better wake up too

user391 them going to the mall where i live while im at school is killing me

user616 they’re too cute, (shipname) for life

iamcharliebushnell I WANA GO?

→ aryansimhadri ME TOO!?!?

→ leahavajeffries SAME HERE

→ walker.scobell 🧍🏼…

user637 them tagging along when walker wanted to be alone with y/n is hilarious

yourinstagram

liked by walker.scobell, aryansimhadri, leahavajeffries and others

yourinstagram they took my phone SHOUT OUT TO ARYAN’S DAD BRUH😭

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leahavajeffries i wish i was there omg 😭

→ yourinstagram I WISH YOU WERE HERE TOO!

aryansimhadri my dad scared me so bad

walker.scobell who are these handsome men in your phone!?

user637 they’re too cute ALL OF THEM

user111 aryan turning around so fast is literally me

user7191 jealous ashhhh

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy pjo #grover underwood #percy series #walker scobell #aryansimhardi #leahavajeffries #dior goodjohn #charlie bushnell #jenna ortega #xochitl gomez #mckenna grace #social media #social media au

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choccy-milky · 8 days

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clora with @lamieboo's dahlia💛🩵 i had to draw them together as soon as i saw dahlia was yellow and blue, bc their colour schemes are kinda the same, just inverted (and u all know how i love my opposites LMAO)

#i sketched this as soon as her design dropped i just havent been able to get around to finishing it😩 love it sm #ive also been wanting to draw clora with a headband for a while so this gave me the excuse #dahlia helping clora ✨accessorize✨#cue 90s tropey movie moment where the nerdy shy girl gets a makeover from the girly girl LMAO #i wanted them to have matching pigtails at first but clora looks sooooo cursed with pigtails dont ask me why idk #hogwarts legacy mc #dahlia pot #clora clemons #hogwarts legacy oc #choccyart #the 'like yknow...nyah' thing is an existing meme and it reminded me of dahlia LMAO it came to me as i was drawing her ariana grande sleeve #i also redrew that same meme for my last fandom/on my main non HL art acc.....i just love it so much

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wileys-russo · 8 months

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personally i’m in such a katie mood and all i can think ab is her gf painting her nails for her, bc she normally has like a clear coat or a nude pink and nothing else, but if her girl asks she’d do all the color of the rainbow

nail artist II k.mccabe

"-baby but we're playing in the away kit. it'll match perfectly!" you protested, waving around the bright baby blue nail polish as your girlfriend groaned.

"and so would this one." katie held up her choice, a nice nude pink colour which she normally preferred, not wanting anything too flashy. "boring!" you knocked it out of her hand as it fell to the bed. "you're lucky that was closed." the irishwoman warned with a shake of her head.

"is the great goal scoring, yellow card winning, irish warrior katie mccabe, scared of a little bottle of nail polish?" you pouted mockingly, patting her cheeks as her eyes narrowed.

"no!" the girl defended with a huff. "then let me paint them, or you chicken?" you teased, making your arms into wings and dancing around the room. "if this is supposed to be convincin me i have to say you're doin a shit job darlin." katie grinned, more enjoying your flailing around then feeling the pressure to give in to your asks.

"well if you want it that way. blue nails or no kisses, you choose!" you shrugged with a smile as katies own was wiped off her face. "you wouldn't dare!" the older girl challenged, leaning back on her hands and staring you down.

"we both know i would, and we both know your nails will be blue within the hour because lets face it baby, you can't say no to me even if you wanted to." you grinned, standing in between her legs.

"it's that stupid little smile of yours, lures me in every single time." katie sighed dramatically, arms snaking around your waist.

"so ya best cmere then." you laughed as the brunette suddenly yanked you down on the bed and into her arms, grabbing your chin and pressing her lips to yours in a feverish kiss.

"woah! hold on girls i'm blind i can't see over mccabes nails." beth teased as the irishwoman stepped onto the pitch for training. "we won't even need her for defence, can just flash your nails and the opposition will fall to the ground!" jen continued, slinging an arm over her shoulder.

"fuck off would ya!" katie rolled her eyes, shoving them away as the jeers followed her and you slotted yourself by her side as the training staff called for attention.

"i love you?" you grinned, kissing her cheek as the girl rolled her eyes and bit back a smile.

"yeah love you too i guess, sometimes."

#katie mccabe x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #woso blurbs #woso imagine #katie mccabe

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laiiaaa · 10 months

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A NICE NIGHT — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen happens to meet a stranger at the party Claire takes him to. A brief conversation is shared during a cigarette break.

length 2k

contents literally just nonsense, not infidelity but sorta toying with the idea idk????, inside Carm’s mind (he’s a nervous wreck), reader is a food journalist bc i just think the pairing is cute, Claire slander lowkey…look i just want Carmen to meet some random person organically and bond without feeling pressured to like them :/ very self indulgent :/ baby bear :/

Carmen’s not sure why he agreed to come here: a party with people he doesn’t know and doesn’t particularly care to, too much drinking, too much conversation, too much noise.

He’s trying not to hate it completely, he really is, but there’s that nagging in the back of his mind that just screams unwanted. And maybe a little regretful, or undeserving, or unsure of himself. He wants to like it here. He wants to tolerate it for Claire. Maybe. Maybe just a few more minutes. Maybe a few with a cigarette.

He’s lucky to find the backyard more or less empty, save for red solo cups and beer bottles thrown askew—and a girl standing against the railing, back to the house to face a dark canvas. At least this is better than the mess inside.

Playing it safe, he leans against the railing on the opposite side of the steps, figures it sends a message. We don’t have to talk. Or, more accurately, I don’t really want to. He feels that familiar itch crawling down to his fingertips and pulls out his pack, pops out a cigarette and props it between his lips. He pats down his pockets. And again. He pats down his jacket. And again.

Fuck…

“Do you need a light?”

His head turns in her direction. Did I say that out loud? She’s looking at him, expectant. He must have. “Yeah, I, uh, it must’ve slipped from my pocket or somethin’.” He can’t tell whether he’s more on edge in a crowded room or in a conversation alone.

She walks over to him in a few steps, clad in a black leather jacket that catches his eye. Her cheekbones glow in the pale yellow haze seeping outside from within the house, and her lips are glossy and a little tinted like she’s just eaten cherries. Not that he’s paying any of this any mind; she’s only offered him a glimmer of her flame. She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a bright blue BIC lighter, like one of hundreds he’s lost or forgotten about over the years.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and she nods in response, turning back to the yard just a foot away this time, taking a drag. A metallic flick gives him his fill and his nerves subside only slightly. He fiddles with the lighter for a moment, watching her almost, before extending his arm. “Here.”

She peeks over her shoulders, shakes her head lightly, and looks back. “Nah, you keep it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

He pockets it and inhales. “Thanks.”

She hums and it quirks up into a smile. “You, uh…” Another pull and plume of tobacco. “You do this typa thing often?” Carmen pauses, and she must take it as confusion. “Y’know, like…” The hand holding the cigarette makes a few circles as she turns her body towards him. “Parties. Kickbacks?” An eyeroll, a shrug of the shoulders he thinks is playful. “I dunno what the fuck this even is.”

“No,” he chuckles, and he thinks it comes a little easier than usual. A little lighter. “I-I don’t.”

“Yeah.” She sighs and smiles back at him, looks him in the eye for a blip of time. “Me neither.” Backing up, she moves down onto the first step and sits. She offers her name nonchalantly, adds by the way to the end of the introduction while shooting a look up at him.

“Carmen,” he offers. He clears his throat and steps closer. Am I supposed to sit with her? He chooses to stay standing.

She scoots to the side until she meets the railing, turns her hips to prop her legs along the step below, crossed at the ankle. Leather boots hit an inch or two below her knees. “You can sit here if you want.” Her head pivots toward the house to eye the furniture—two dingy lawn chairs and a collapsible table—and she takes another hit off her cigarette. “Not much place else.”

He nods, smiles because he thinks it’s the right move, and tries to sit down coolly. A few beats pass and he doesn’t know what to do in the silence. “Do you know anybody here?” he asks, lending a glance before looking down at his feet.

“Not really. A friend dragged me here to get me away from work. She’s busy actually talking to people.”

He smiles to himself, a gentle one hidden behind the collar of his jacket that makes his chest warm. I know the feeling. “I dunno anyone either. I, uh…” Fingers run through his hair to the nape of his neck. “A friend dragged me here, too.” A friend… The syllable feels heavy rolling off the tongue. Is that the right word for it?

“Really.” She smiles and exhales. “How come?”

“Uh…” He lets out an airy laugh, mouth tightening into a half-smile as he looks at her while still messing with the back of his hair. “To get me away from work, I think.”

A quiet giggle makes him think he could be doing something right for once—like maybe the whole social thing doesn’t have to be so hard, and he doesn’t have to be the funniest person in the room, and he doesn’t have to try and carry the weight of a conversation. Maybe he can just be.

“What do you do for work?”

Here we go again… He lets the question simmer for a beat. It’s an uncomfortable one: he doesn’t make money, the prestige is anything but, part of him shrivels up when he has to see the reaction. Another inhale before he ashes his cigarette. “I’m a chef,” he says, though it’s quiet. Ashamed.

“Oh, really?”

His heart drops. Maybe he thought better of a situation than he should’ve. “Heh, yeah, it’s not—it’s not, uh…” It’s not that special. Half of what I do is fuckin’ pointless. No, I don’t make a lot of money. Thanks for fuckin’ asking.

“No, no, I think it’s cool.” She tilts her head to the side, another soft thump of laughter to break the tension. She doesn’t seem to mind too much. “I’m a, uh…” She looks to her hands, snubs out the last of her cigarette that’s burnt down to the filter. “I’m a food journalist, so—or, whatever you’d call it—just a writer now, maybe? I don’t even know at this point…”

There’s an exhalation that has Carmen thinking that for once someone feels like he does—a quick-beating heart, jittery hands, an embarrassment unique to someone whose passion is a shame to a respectable world.

“What I’m saying is, I’m not judging.”

His brows lift, a subtle nod—half relief, half surprise. “You’re not.”

“Correct.”

A comfortable silence. A few more plumes of tobacco escape his mouth before he realizes he can’t remember the last time he smoked more than half a cigarette. He likes a quick fix, just a taste of it to make the nerves go down before getting back to work; he doesn’t take it slow, enjoy the pull, indulge in the company of someone else. He doesn’t usually have someone else.

He looks at her again, and for a blip of time he thinks she’s gorgeous, her head gently turned to the side, a barely-there smile adding warmth to the space between them. Part of him is thankful she hasn’t gone back inside, and he doesn’t bother wondering whether she’s staying because she wants to enjoy a crisp night in a bit of quiet, or if her friend isn’t all that much of a friend, or anything else. He’s here with Claire, anyway. He’ll be back with her any moment now, and he’s not sure whether he wants that moment to come. He likes it out here, in the dim light, away from the bustle, stumbling through a conversation with someone who isn’t running miles ahead. It’s not buried under a past that’s grueling to dig up.

So he goes out on a bit of a limb and asks, “What do you write about?”

She looks at him then, mouth open only slightly like she didn’t think he’d ask. “The food industry, mostly. Ethics, culture, history, that typa stuff.” A pause before she adds, with a bit of a tanginess to it, “Not recipes, or cookbooks, or anything like that. Might not be your style.”

“Not my style?” A crinkle forms between his brow, his lips curl up at the corners, gaze shoots down to his feet again.

“What, you’re reading Gastronomica in your free time, Chef?”

He strangles out a breath that’s somewhere between a laugh and a cough, making her smile. “Gastronomica?”

He tries not to think about it too much. Even in his professional prime he wouldn’t fuck with journalists; they were too prying, too nosy, asked the wrong questions about the wrong things. Who cares where his love of cooking came from? Is it a good dish, or is it not?

This is different though. He’s not entirely sure why. Just that it is.

She offers a shrug, and a dismissive smile to follow that slowly wanes. “Doesn’t mean much in the real world, though.”

Self-deprecating. “I get that…” Too well. “It’s the same, bein’ a chef, y’know? It’s, uh, not a lotta money.”

She hums. “Not at all. I still like it, obviously, but—y’know, my parents would’ve been a lot happier had I…” A beat of laughter, sardonic and a little self-loathing. “I dunno, become a fuckin’...a fuckin’ doctor, or somethin’.”

He smiles to himself. A doctor…Claire’s gonna be a doctor. Respectable, easy to confess about. Not a lotta shame there.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t be complaining like that to you; I don’t even know you.”

“No, no I get it. I know what you mean.” He nods and watches his hands before looking back. “The, uh, the judgment. I get that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But, uh, it…it’s nice,” he admits, looking her in the eye, “It’s nice to meet someone who’s in that—that world, y’know?”

She hums and smiles in a way that makes his chest flutter. In a way that makes him think he’s understood. In a way that makes him painfully confused as to how he even broached the topic with someone who’s little less than a stranger.

The back door opens, and light spills onto the porch. Heads turn to inspect.

“Carm?”

Claire.

He freezes before sparking up a smile. “Hey,” he answers. It’s been too long since ashing his cigarette; he flicks it to the ground, standing up and turning to face his…friend.

She takes a few steps yet stays tethered to the door. Music booms from inside and just the thought makes Carmen’s head throb. Her gaze flickers from him, to the girl sat on the steps, and back. “You made a friend?” Her grin feels mocking, almost accusatory.

“N-No—” he shakes his head, turns to look at the girl standing up— “Just, uh…”

“Just lent him a light,” she fills in. He watches her dust off her skirt, adjust her slouched over jacket, check her phone for a second before she looks back up at him. She smiles at him and looks at Claire with the same expression. “I’m headed out, though, so…” Her face softens when she looks at him again, and he wants to think it’s for a reason. “Have a nice night.”

His mouth goes dry before he remembers his manners. “Yeah, uh, you too.”

“Thanks.” Her boots make a satisfying click as she descends, her hand an axis around which she pivots the railing to leave through the gate. He wonders where she’s going, whether she drove here herself separate from her friend, if she’s going to wait for an Uber to pick her up. If she'll ever visit The Bear once it's open.

“So,” Claire starts, grabbing for his attention again. “Ready to go?”

He nods, mumbles a hushed Yeah, and heads toward the door. She bares her teeth in a smile as she looks him in the eye and hovers an open hand near his. He follows her back inside where the music consumes his thoughts and the bass rattles through his shoes.

After letting the air hang between their hands for a moment, he tucks them away into his pockets, thumbing away at his new lighter.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear season 2

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nanamiswidow · 6 months

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a little nanami x reader smut for funsies.

an: i've never posted my writing on tumblr sooo a lil nervous about this. & its been so long since ive written smut, v rusty. i was also testing myself in the beginning to try and not use dialogue bc i feel like i use it too much so the beginning may be extra garbo. if this doesn't do well, pretend it didn't happen. boarder credit as well <3 the purple stars & the mdni

word count: 1,497

cw: (sleepy in the first half) unprotected sex (p in v), singular gendered term (kento calls reader 'sweet girl'), hair pulling, dirty talk, creampie, garbo smut (?) idk (if i missed any pls lemme know)

It was 1am by the time he finally stepped foot into the shared apartment. Nanami knew he wasn’t going to be greeted by you, but there were a few things out of place that let him know you had tried your hardest to stay up. The living room tv still displayed a quieted movie, a few lights still lit, and the person of the hour snoozing peacefully on the couch albeit looking a bit uncomfortable in their position.

He loosened his yellow tie as he wandered through the apartment, switching off the rest of the lights, and eventually making his way back towards the living room. He reached over, his fingers brushing your hair out of your face as he turned off the screen. You stirred just enough to catch a glimpse of the man before you which forced you out of your sleep almost entirely. You graced him with a sleepy smile which he was quick to return. You mumbled something about trying your hardest to stay awake until he came back, but he shook his head, his fingers finding your hair again to successfully move it completely from your face.

Nanami coaxed you up, finally wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. Despite having just woken up, you didn’t hesitate to find his tie, your face turning to concentration, a very sleepy version of it, as you undid it completely. It brought a sigh to him once your fingers moved to the first few buttons of his blue dress shirt. There was a comment about how tired he looked and he showed no effort to fight the accusations, leaning forward to press his face into your neck which was confirmation enough for you. There was a deep inhale from his end, taking in the scent that was just completely you. He could tell you had taken a shower before you had laid in wait for him. It brought him immediate comfort. You exhaled a laugh, your fingers burying themselves into his hair as you returned the physical affection.

Relocating to the bedroom didn’t take any kind of effort. You reluctantly allowed him to disappear into the bathroom, he promised you a quick shower as you climbed into bed. He kept his promise, reappearing ten minutes later, completely ready for bed. If his attire hadn’t said so, the look on his face definitely did.

Now, Nanami was ready to climb into bed himself. Sleep was not far off and he was looking forward to getting some shut eye. The second he got comfortable, he reached over and you didn’t waste any time snuggling up to him. You were met with the smell of his own conditioner and soap, smells that just instantly reminded you of him. You hummed in pure bliss with your nose pressed up against his cheek.

Nanami was unphased by the closeness and, in fact, you weren’t close enough. One large hand dipped beneath the covers, his fingers finding your thigh to bring your one leg over his waist as he brought you flush against him once again. His hand lingered, fingertips pressing into the soft skin, and his thumb began to lazily caress your thigh. It was such an innocent thing, maybe even mindless, trying to coax the both of you into sleep faster, but it was doing the opposite.

Eventually, you sat up, straddling his waist now. He let out a huff, he didn’t want to deny you anything, but he made the argument of how late it was and how tired you looked. You scoffed, if anything, he was the one with the dark bags under his eyes, but you reassured him. Leaning down and pulling him into a kiss finally for the first time that night. The way Nanami held onto your waist was definitely contradicting his earlier statements. The kiss was innocent at first until you licked your way into his mouth which caused his grip on you to tighten. Soon enough, he was forcing you to rock your hips into him. The movements were slow, far too concentrated on the way the other tasted, until his grip on you was borderline painful.

Nanami leaned his head back as you pressed kisses into his cheek and down to his neck. Your fingers reached between the two of you as your fingers felt for the waistband of his pants, he assured you it wasn’t necessary, even apologizing for starting something he probably couldn’t finish. You shushed him, reassuring him with a few gentle kisses, watching his head dip back once again as your fingers wrapped around his cock.

“Let me take care of you…” You whispered against him before pulling him into another kiss as you lifted your hips up. Discarding your panties before your hand wrapped around his cock again, running the tip through your slick folds a few times, whimpers spilling out of you as you did so. Nanami watched as you teased the both of you, his fingers running up your thighs before grasping onto your shirt, bunching it up so as to not block his view. He wanted to watch you sit on his cock. Wanted to watch the way you took him in and to watch your face contort with pleasure.

And you didn’t disappoint. You lowered yourself down onto him, the both of you gasping as your bodies connected and Nanami watched your eyebrows furrow and watched you bite down onto your lower lip. And you wasted no time, almost immediately beginning to move up and down on his length with ease. You were so warm… so wet. Just for him.

A breathy moan escaped your lips as you leaned forward, burying your face into Nanami’s neck, your hips keeping a slow pace. One of Nanami’s arms wrapped around your upper body while the other held onto your hip, coaxing you to continue your slow movements. He buried his own face into your neck, breath hot against your ear, and inhaling your familiar scent.

“Missed you…” Nanami whispered into your ear, his hold on you tightening to better emphasize it.

You felt yourself melt further into him at the sound of his voice. The two of you had only been apart for a few hours, but you had missed him just as much and he could feel it in the way your body clung to him. Those few hours were usually spent worrying about him and it was always a sigh of relief seeing him come home in one piece.

“Just like that…” His voice breathy now as his hand tightened on your hip. “Feels so good…”

He felt your inner walls clench around his cock, making the both of you moan and causing your hips to falter in their lazy movements. Nanami continued his whispered praises into your ear in between shaky breaths and sighs of his own until your body tensed up, feeling that all too familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach, as you came around him.

The man beneath you didn’t give you any time to recover. His broad arms wrapped around your body tighter as he planted his feet on the bed and fucked up into you, spurred on by the feeling of your orgasm, the feeling of your pussy wrapped so tightly around him. His pace was brutal, the tiredness he felt just a few moments ago completely gone, replaced with the need to have you, his fingers digging into your sides. The overstimulation of it all was overwhelming, but intoxicating at the same time.

“That’s my sweet girl… Always take me so well…” Nanami whispered out against you, one of his hands coming up to grab locks of your hair, pulling your face out from being hidden against him. “Tell me how badly you want my cum…” He continued, feeling his own orgasm building up. The sounds you were making, the creamy ring around the base of his cock, and the sound of skin against skin was becoming all too much.

“I know you can do it, baby…” Nanami encouraged, emphasizing his words with a small tug of your hair. He could see the words just on the tip of your tongue.

“Need you to fill me up… want every drop…” You finally managed. He was utterly satisfied with your answer, proud even. He let your head drop back down to his neck as he wrapped his arms around you again, tighter, to finish fucking you properly.

It didn’t take long for his thrusts to falter, a few curses escaping his lips under his breath as he filled you with his milky seed. The feeling of him filling you never seemed to get old. Once you both caught your breath, you lifted your head up, giving him a sleepy smile, one he didn’t hesitate to mirror. One of his hands reached up to caress your cheek before pulling you into a soft kiss that had you melting into him all over again.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento smut #p self indulgent honestly #and this is more of like a test to see if i can really keep pulling this shit off #i miss writing #shawnee writes #gasp #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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five-crows-in-a-trenchcoat · 2 months

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Yknow, it took a very long time for me to realise what the title of pokemon x y (and z) meant bc up until then they were all pretty solid counterparts. Red, blue and yellow, the primary colours. Gold, silver and crystal, the luxurious. Ruby, sapphire and emerald, not only precious gems but the rgb colours (and just colour matching the legendaries too). Diamond (the classic ‘most valuable’ stone), pearl (the classic ‘most valuable’ biological ‘stone’), and platinum (the classic ‘most valuable’ metal). Black and white.

After x and y we of course had sun and moon, sword and shield and finally scarlet and violet (infrared and ultraviolet, the two ends of the colour spectrum. The only reason they wouldn’t have called it pokemon infrared and ultraviolet is bc pokemon red already exists and ppl would think it was a gen 1 remake, and ultra sun/moon also already exists).

But back when x and y came around, and I thought ‘it’s just letters, I know that the legendaries sort of look like them but if it’s opposites then shouldn’t it be a and z?’ (Cool how they brought that back with legends z-a)

And it took me way too fucking long to realise that x y and z are the three digital planes to symbolise Pokémon’s first mainline 3D game. Idk I just thought that was neat.

#pokemon #pokemon x and y #pokemon xy #pokemon red and blue #pokemon gold and silver #pokemon crystal #pokemon ruby and sapphire #pokemon emerald #pokemon diamond and pearl #pokemon platinum #pokemon black and white #pokemon sun and moon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon legends za

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greenorangevioletgrass · 2 years

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it's classified | b.r.b. (1/2)

pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x actress!reader

summary: what was supposed to be a simple one-night stand during the training for your upcoming movie turns into an epic strangers-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends-lovers adventure... 10,000 feet in the air.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: language, drinking, behind-the-scenes nerdiness, fluff, smut [dirty talk, fingering, overstimulation, praise, protected sex], rooster is secretly a softboi, pining idiots

notes: im falling for rooster and im falling fast and hard y'all, and the the way this movie was made is making my nerdy ass giddy skdjfhskdjhf please join me in this dumpster fire. reblog, send me asks, talk to me bc a bitch is horny, okay???? happy reading!

✨ follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest words <3 happy reading and please reblog if you liked it! ✨

***

i. Bruce Springsteen — Born To Run

You wanted to sleep in.

You were planning to sleep in. That’s the sole reason you arrived in this new town a day earlier than the rest of the cast before the rigorous final phase of flight training for your upcoming movie. But as the old saying goes, you make plans and Siri laughs and fucks up your alarm.

And the more you try to go back to sleep, the more anxious you get about the big day. It’s like a schoolkid before a field trip —if only said field trip was where you’d get your ass kicked black and blue. You’re not ready, you knew that. But you had to be. As the new kid on Top Gun, arguably the biggest action film this decade, there’s too much catching up to do. Every minute you’re not spending in training should be a minute spent preparing for it.

That’s why you're giving yourself a head start; sleepwear shucked off, sports bra on, workout playlist thumping from your AirPods. And with a short pep down the steps, your stride hits the sand.

It’s sweaty, hot, heavy as the ground underneath you crumbles a little with every step in your run. It takes you everything to maintain your pace so you don’t sink into the sand and make it even harder for yourself —even if you pay for it in burning heels and lungs and limbs and muscles.

But the view is nice. Lines of blue, yellow, orange, and white fading into each other on the horizon. Seafoam washed up on the shore, clearing your shoe prints like you’re starting over with every lap, every set of lunges and crunches and what-have-you. And through it all, not a single soul in sight.

Well. Except for one man.

Jogging in your opposite direction about 20 minutes into your workout. He runs laps on the mile-long strip of empty beach, bare torso gleaming in the sun and sweat, aviator glasses perched atop the bridge of his nose. You’re not usually into pornstaches, but it suits him. You’d take a longer, better look, but he catches you staring and nods at you briefly with a coy smile as he runs past you.

Fuck.

You push through until you hit the quiet, closed beachside bar called The Hard Deck, and jogs up to the sidewalk, sighing in relief upon finding an even surface —and enough distance to hide your embarrassment from the sexy, sweaty stranger, as you jog back to your apartment.

Out of sight, out of mind.

***

ii. Cage The Elephant — Cigarette Daydreams

But later that evening, sun barely setting outside the window, when The Hard Deck’s come alive with patrons drinking and conversing and playing pool, jukebox music playing in the background, an all-too-familiar figure strides into the room. His six-pack abs are clad in a white tank this time, a flowy Hawaiian shirt thrown over his broad shoulders. The sunglasses, however, seem to be a mainstay, and you force yourself to look away before you embarrass yourself. Again.

He walks over to the empty spot next to you, fingers drumming against the wooden counter.

“Hey, Pen, can I have my usual, please? Thanks.” He tears off his aviators, stealing glances your way not so inconspicuously, as you try to keep your gaze ahead. Don’t get reeled in by the smell of sunscreen and saltwater on him… “Fancy seeing you here.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you try your damnedest to stay cool as you turn towards him. You don’t know what to expect, but you surely don’t expect the warmest, coziest brown eyes looking right at you with a little smile. “I could say the same about you.”

“Nah, I think you just happen to be in my general territory.” He smiles in teasing, murmuring a thanks as he receives his beer. “So what brings you to Fightertown?”

You pause for a second, studying the way he earnestly waits for your answer. He doesn’t know who you are —and you like that. The moment ‘actor’ gets thrown into the conversation, the moment it clicks that they’ve seen you in movies or Netflix, some people can’t get past it. And right now, this stranger is seeing you not for what you do, but who you are —and you want to keep that just a little longer. So you decide to go with the vague answer,

“Work.”

“Oh, yeah? What kind?”

“It’s… classified.” You smirk over your non-answer.

His grin widens as he shakes his head —he knows what you're doing, but he’s not pushing any further. Instead, he cheekily remarks, “You know, with the reps you’re putting out there this morning, I would’ve thought you were gearing up for a mission.”

Well, he’s not wrong. But he can’t know that, so you settle on the next best thing. “I don’t think I’m cut out for the Navy,” which is not a lie —just because you’re playing one, doesn’t mean you’re really one. “You?”

He leans in just a tad closer, and oh God, you can smell his aftershave. “Between you and me, I ask myself that every day for the last 15 years.” And just as quickly as he closes the distance, he straightens up again on his seat. “But yeah. I’m a combat pilot.”

“Wow!” your eyes light up; partly because this is great extra research materials —great coincidence, too, as you’re flying fighter jets in the movie—, and partly because his face lights up, too. “What’s that like?”

“Do you like flying?” he props his knuckles underneath his chin, looking at you thoughtfully. It’s a little unnerving, but you don’t hate the butterflies in your belly.

“Um, it’s… okay?” You chuckle somewhat bashfully. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it more than just… getting from one place to another. Looking at clouds and oceans from a tiny window.”

“Oh, there’s so much more than clouds and oceans with this one. It’s the best fucking thing ever.” He gushes. And pauses. And pipes up, “I can show you better than I can tell you.”

“Really?” You lean against the counter, casually moving closer to him. “Wouldn’t you get into trouble for that?”

“Might just be worth it,” he shrugs, “for both of us.”

His honesty is refreshing. He treads the fine line between cutting to the chase and respecting your space, and you really, really like that about him. “Why don’t you buy me a drink first and we’ll go from there, Mister…?”

“Bradley Bradshaw. At your service, ma’am.”

***

ii. Ryan Adams — Wildest Dreams

Bradley Bradshaw, as it turns out, is at your service. Taking you to his bed, gently resting you on the edge of the mattress as he ravenously devours you in hot, wet kisses —from your lips to your neck. Undoing your buttons one by one, his mouth doesn’t seem able to leave you alone as it follows his fingers down your chest.

“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes out.

He nips at the soft swell of your breast, impatient as he tugs the cup down your chest. Toying at one hardened nipple with his tongue while he teasingly thumbs the other, making you arch your back. And with that, he unclasps your bra with just one hand —one swift movement. Equally as frenzied, you push his open shirt off of his shoulder, his arms more tanned and golden than God.

You chuckle. “I could say the same about you.”

You would think you’d get used to his curious, thoughtful, lewd gaze after a whole night of flirting, but the heat creeps up on your cheeks anyway. “You’re a sweet talker, you know that, baby?”

Bradley pulls away as he shucks off his remaining clothes, white tank tossed aside and faded blue jeans left on the floor. His gray boxers are tight on the front, his hard-on straining from the inside. His sun-bleached hair ruffled by your doing, a soft smile ghosting on his mouth, and you have to admit… you meant every word of it.

Gorgeous.

A little chuckle escapes you as he pulls you back towards his lips. The mustache tickles your skin, unusual but not unwelcome, but you’re far more giddy with the prospect of feeling it everywhere. And the hand…

Venturing down.

Lower.

Gently caressing your soft cleft through your panties.

“Jesus Christ, you’re soaked…” he groans, slipping his hand underneath the fabric.

On any other night, you would’ve been embarrassed by how wet you are, and how blatantly he pointed it out —and truth be told, you’ve been wet since he put his hand on your thigh the whole car ride. Not quite dirty —he didn’t do anything in that manner; but not quite innocent either, knowing what happens next.

But his bold hand indulges like the rest of him. His middle finger slides right along your slit, finding your swelling bud, and he moans like it makes him feel good.

If the little figure-eights weren’t enough to send waves of pleasure all over your body, the stretch of his middle and ring finger entering you at once sure is. You pull him closer, so that his body rests on top of you, worried that you might float in mid-air if he’s not there.

He is, very much, there. Pumping his digits in and out of you, capturing your lips, your tits, every inch of your skin with his mouth. Nuzzling the side of your face like he’s listening to every hitch of breath. Figuring out how to make you sing, how to make your body twist deliciously. You’re so close, so fucking close already, God, and when he curls his fingers inside you just right…

It’s too fast. Too easy. But you’re way too blissed out to think much of it. You can barely think of a response when he doesn’t slow down after her first orgasm, not even a little bit. Whether you like the drawn-out high.

(You do. You really do.)

And you have a feeling he knows that. If the hard cock grinding against your thigh was any indication, you would think he’s into it, too.

“Yes, baby, that’s it. Give me one more —one more before I fuck you…” he murmurs against your jaw, his soft voice reverberating on your skin. “Can you do that for me?”

You don’t always do strangers a favor, but when said stranger is handsome and funny and two fingers deep inside you, an exception can be made.

Might just be worth it. For both of us.

You don’t know when your first orgasm ends and your second begins. Blood and thrill and pleasure just course through your entire body from tip to toe, and it takes you a few moments to realize your moans and whimpers filling the air. He swallows your sweet noises into his kiss, and takes what he can get until you falter from his lips.

He smooths your hair away from your forehead tenderly, watching you regain some semblance of composure through heavy lids and thick lashes. Your finger brushes against the scars on his face. Two lines running down one side of his cheek, smaller ones on his chin. You don’t ask, but maybe the featherlight caresses over the lines is enough of a question.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he rasps, “You still wanna do this?”

“You still need to ask?”

A smile breaks out on the corner of his lips as he bites the inside of his cheek. You push him off with a single finger to his chest, sending him to fetch a condom. This is not the time for stories or sentiments. You’re just two strangers tumbling into bed, looking to scratch an itch.

You flip onto your stomach, listening into the crinkle of the foil, fighting the temptation to sneak a peek at his… asset. But no. Let his length, his girth, his sheer size surprise you. You bury your face in his white sheets, soft and fresh and now wrinkled and bunched.

His large hands stroke your hips, soft on his calloused palms. Pulling you in with a trail of kisses up your spine. Nudging your opening with the tip of his cock.

“Fuck, you’re killing me, sweetheart…” Bradley grunts through gritted teeth.

“What?” you grin, grinding against his hard length. “I’m not doing anything.”

Smack! His hand lands sharply on your ass cheek. Not enough to actually hurt, but definitely enough to make your skin tingle. Enough to make you turn to face him, throwing you a dirty look. “Like hell you’re not.”

“Are you gonna do something about it?”

And then he does.

The smartass remark dies in your mouth, and a low groan comes to life in his, as he stretches you open. Deliciously painful and painfully delicious in the best way —the kind that makes your mind go blank for a moment.

“Fuck, I…” Bradley stills, fully sheathed inside you. “Can I —can I move?”

He sounds so earnest like this. So vulnerable. Boyish, almost. You’re almost tempted to kiss his stupid face senseless, if only moving your hips weren’t a much better way to satiate your desire. Drawing yourself nearly all the way off of him, and hitting your ass back. The sound of skin slapping against each other is filthy, but it still doesn’t beat the groans rumbling out of his chest and the breathy moans you bury in the bedsheets.

The California air is warm that night, but you want it to set you on fire. As he finds his pace, pounding in and out of you with more grit, you reach back for his waist, his hip, his anything, just to say,

“Harder.”

He slows down, the intrigue audible in his voice. “What’s that?”

“I said…” you take a deep breath, setting your jaw as you clench around him, “Harder.”

He curses under his breath and slams you back into his hips. Slower. Deeper.

Definitely harder.

“That hard enough for you, sweetheart?” The spank he gives your ass right after is a sweet consolation prize. He grabs your hair, buries his hand in the roots, and pulls you up so that your back’s flush against his bare chest and good God, you feel like you’re winning.

His hands are everywhere —on your tits, around your waist, between your legs— and he laves wet, desperate kisses on your shoulder, panting in your ear, thrusting up into you mercilessly. And as you inch closer to another orgasm, he holds you closer, cages you in his strong arms.

“Shit… good girl. Come for me…”

It’s too intense. Too intimate. You shouldn’t be able to zone in on his heartbeats matching yours. Or the little kisses pressing on your cheek. But your resolve is slipping, and you fall apart in his arms as he holds you in place —and as he comes inside you, you wonder if you’re in the right place, after all.

He pulls out, and you let out a little whimper, hand digging into his wrist at the loss. But he soothes his hand up and down your thigh in reassurance, and with a final kiss to your jaw, gets up to discard the condom while you catch your breath.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” you remark, propping yourself back on your arms. “I thought you were an… all-round vanilla kind of guy.”

“Well, you know what they say. Always assume vanilla until proven otherwise.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, interest piqued. “Huh. Does that mean you’re… not that vanilla?”

“Maybe,” he drawls mischievously, though you don’t miss the glance he stole at your bare chest.

“Care to share with the class?”

“I think I can show you better than I can tell you.” He sits on the edge of the bed in front of you, closing the distance to your lips dramatically.

You fall back into his bed, laughing into his kiss, noting his penchant for corny one-liners —of which he’s openly proud of. And amidst all the jokes and the talks of less-than-vanilla sex, the two of you seem to forget about the very action of sex itself. Even in the nude and the sweat of the heat, the two of you are perfectly content lying around in lazy kisses and soft touches. Along his arm. Down his chest.

His face.

“Car accident,” he says out of the blue.

“What?” It takes you a moment to realize you’ve been tracing the scars on his cheek—again. Featherlight against the harsh lines. You retract your hand ever so slightly —you really didn’t mean to pry, but he really doesn’t seem to mind.

“Junior year of high school.” He nods matter-of-factly. “The car flipped eight times, I was thrown out the window, landed like 50 feet away… I even still got gravel in my face.”

He juts out his chin, and you tentatively reach out. The bumps were minute, but they’re there.

“Shit. That’s awful,” you mutter. “Bet the ladies think it’s badass, though.”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” His eyes flutter heavily with each blink.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you take a good look at him. So… soft in his broad and gruff and masculine glory. And then ultimately you decide, “It’s cute.”

“Cute?” He opens one eye, looking at you curiously for a moment—proving your point even further—before relaxing back into his pillow. “That’s not too shabby, ain’t it?”

And as he lazily strokes your hair, you can’t help but agree.

Not too shabby at all.

***

iii. Lizzy McAlpine — an ego thing

The next morning, 0800 sharp, the principal cast is gathered in a hangar of the Naval Air Station, making small talk with each other on the weather and the flight in and the training that lies ahead. Your co-star Pedro makes a joke about a dramatic entrance his character makes in the beginning of the story, and you simply laugh it off.

But then you hear footsteps. The heavy combat boots against the concrete, and you turn around. And it’s really, really funny how life imitates art.

Your stomach shouldn’t have dropped so quickly —the sun hits him from the back, and you can only see his silhouette for a moment— but it did. The outfit may be different —gone is the flowy yellow Hawaiian shirt as the muted forest green flight suit takes its place—, but it’s still the same swaggered gait. The same pair of Ray Bans. The same 80’s mustache.

The same fucking guy you slept with last night.

“Everyone, this is Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, callsign Rooster,” Kevin, the stunt coordinator, addresses the whole team, “He’ll be replacing Lieutenant Natasha Trace as our resident naval pilot for this project.”

Shit.

“Morning, everyone.”

You hear an unruly choir of replies around you, but you can barely force out a response.

“Did you guys get a good night’s rest last night?” His eyes flicker your way for a second, and it feels like a cold stab to the heart. More replies from your crowd —seems like nobody caught wind of it, thank God. “Great. ‘Cause we got a long day ahead of us, folks.”

He moves on to the briefing, and you’re trying your damnedest to pay attention —this information is life-and-death, after all— but your head is still reeling. How fucking stupid were you for thinking life would let you off easy.

As if all this pilot training was a cakewalk.

“Who wants to go first?” The aviator snaps you out of your reverie, looking out at the whole group with a simple smile.

The boys exchange looks and kind of murmur ‘ladies first’ out of nerves and hesitation, and you’re a second too late in making any kind of response. This is your worst nightmare.

Kevin looks at you expectantly. “What do you say?”

You shoot your friends a dirty look, as you find yourself caught between a rock and a hard place. The last thing you want to do is to be stuck in a cramped cabin thousands of feet in the air with the man you ghosted after hooking up last night. But at the same time, you don’t want to be a diva. You made a promise to yourself that you were gonna take on whatever challenge they throw at you head-on. And you’ve been making good on the promise so far.

You’re not gonna let some man ruin your streak.

“Lt. Bradshaw, this is Y/N,” Kevin introduces the two of you as you step up to formally introduce yourself.

You offer him a handshake. “It’s nice to meet you… sir.”

He doesn’t flinch at the honorific, but he does pause, as if processing how it rolls off your tongue. How strange it is to shake your hand after touching you everywhere else. “Just Rooster is fine. There’s no ranks in the cockpit. Got a callsign yet?”

“Houdini.” you nod briefly.

He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, curious.

“Passed the Dunker test in record time,” Kevin proudly notes. “She’s a tough one.”

“Let’s not jinx it, Kev.” You pat your friend in the arm with a tight smile.

Bradley —Rooster— isn’t unfriendly, by any means. He makes small talk about how the aircraft works and the training that’ll come in handy as the two of you suit up and get ready to fly. But as soon as the canopy closes, and it’s just you and him inside the jet, not a word is spoken between you. With the engine roaring underneath you, it’s still the most deafening 20-minute silence of your life.

“Houdini, huh?” Rooster flatly pipes up through the comm. “That’s fitting…”

He’s not gonna make this easy on you, but you try anyway. “Look, I—”

“Tower, this is Rooster on Joyride One. Are we clear for taxi?”

“Joyride One, you are clear for taxi,” an operator responds in your headphones.

The plane starts moving, but the only reason you’re taking a deep breath is the front-seater before you. “Rooster,” you call him again.

“I read you loud and clear, Houdini. Do you read me?” He sounds oddly calm. Even. Like there’s no subtext underneath his words.

But no subtext is enough subtext, and you know how to pick your battles —this isn’t one you’re gonna win. “Loud and clear,” you huff in relent. “What happened to Phoenix?”

“Duty calls.”

“That’s a shame. We were supposed to fly together.” You’ve met and talked to her a few times, and you really liked her. You were genuinely bummed that you no longer get to work with Rooster. It has nothing to do with avoiding Rooster.

Well. Maybe a little bit.

And with that, his facade finally cracks, and you can distinctly hear the coldness in his tone. “Guess you’re stuck with me now. Unless you wanna Houdini your way out of that, too.”

Motherfucker. You straighten up, bracing yourself as the aircraft starts gaining speed on the taxiway. “Nope, I’m good. Whaddya got for me?”

“We’re gonna start easy, get you accustomed to the height and the G-Force, and we’ll talk about the basic turns and spins when we’re in the air. Think you can handle that?”

“Oh, yeah. Bring it on.”

And you mean it. You’re taking every bit of willpower in your gut to use everything you’ve ever learned in the training. Every turn, every inversion, every multiplication of the gravity pull. Every thousand feet higher in the air.

You nearly throw up several times, but you’re much too spiteful to admit defeat. Not today.

Not ever.

And even if you get off the plane feeling like you’re about to die, you don’t show it. As soon as your feet touch down on the tarmac again, you simply take off your helmet and take a deep breath. In, out. Take in the smell of fuel and afterburner, which still beats the suffocating air of being stuck with Rooster.

“Kevin’s right.” he admits, fluffing out his matted hair once the helmet’s off. “You are a tough one.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, tight-lipped. “Hey, about last night—”

“I told you, I hear you loud and clear, Houdini.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, stopping in front of you.

“You left in the middle of the night—no number, no goodbye, nothing. Message received, okay? There’s no need to bring it up again, especially not when the comm lines are open.”

Oh.

He steps forward, lowering his voice yet somehow it feels even more intense. “In fact, let’s not bring it up again —ever. Just… forget it ever happened.” He turns on his heels and walks away, towards the hangar where everyone else is waiting.

It pisses you off beyond belief, that he scolded you like you were a child, and then he stormed off like one, and didn’t even let you get a word in. And it pisses you off even more, knowing that he’s right. You were wrong for leaving without a word. Wrong for leading him on, when you know there’s absolutely no chance for you. Wrong for indulging in his company anyway, knowing what you know.

You shat the bed, and now you’re gonna have to lie in it for a whole year.

<<<read part 2 here>>>

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