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dancingtotuyo · 1 month

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Part I

High Infidelity | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: Tommy gets himself into more trouble than he can get out of.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: US justice system (it don't work, probably bad understanding of how it operates), mention of drugs & weapons, alcohol consumption, let me know if I missed anything

Notes: when I planned this out, I didn’t realize I’d scheduled the first chapter to drop on Pedro’s birthday! So happy birthday to him!

Shout out to @janaispunkfor beta reading and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for letting me scream about this endlessly and shaping this world. Finally, @saradika-graphics for sustaining our fic writers with an endless supply of dividers!

Words: 4396

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other resources

You’re asleep, or at least you should be except the phone is ringing and the bed is cold next to you. That’s a bad sign. It always is.

A small grunt echoes from your gut as bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor. You can’t find the phone before it stops, buried under clothes you haven’t folded, scribbled crayon drawings, and bleary eyes. It starts back almost immediately.

“Tommy?”

“He called me.” Joel’s voice echoes through the line. “It’s bad this time.”

“How bad?”

“He asked for a lawyer.”

You press your palm to your forehead. “Shit!”

“The sitter is on her way to yours. I’m getting Sarah up now. We’ll be there in 10.”

“Thank you, Joel.”

“Of course. See you soon.” Joel hangs up.

You roam through the laundry basket for a clean pair of jeans and an acceptable t-shirt. You run a toothbrush through your mouth to freshen your breath. You do your best to push back all the possibilities running through your brain.

You crack open the door to Nathaniel’s room. Your two-year-old son sleeps tightly, his mop of black curls spread out on the pillow. You want to run your hand through his curls and kiss his cheek, but he’s the world’s lightest sleeper, just like his daddy.

The sitter is there 5 minutes later, all too familiar with this routine for your liking. Joel ushers in a bleary-eyed minutes later. He tucks her into the spare room bed. Sarah doesn’t ask questions. She’s asleep before he can kiss her head.

You move like the well-oiled machine that you are. He grabs your purse, ensuring the checkbook is there while you say a few words to the sitter. Joel hands you the small black bag and a light jacket.

Doors open before you and close without you touching them. You and Joel are riding down the highway. The windows are cracked, the breeze playing through your hair as street lights play off the windows, growing bigger and brighter as your eyes fill with tears. You chew on your thumb as the thoughts finally begin to take over.

You’ve felt Tommy slipping these past few months. You’ve tried to ignore it, excuse it. He’s had a hard time adjusting. This is hardly the first time he’s been in jail. It feels like a weekly occurrence at this point, but he’s never needed a lawyer. He’s never been held longer than overnight.

“Did he say what they got him for?”

“No… he asked me to come alone.”

“Fucking hell.” You run a hand over your face. Tommy’s antics are aging you prematurely.

“He’s going to be okay.”

“Says who?” You snap. “We’ve been doing this dance for months, Joel! I know he’s having a hard time adjusting, but maybe we’ve been giving him too much room.”

Joel sighs, letting silence fall over the truck cabin. His blinker clicks as you turn into the familiar station. You wonder if the night shift is actually going to fulfill their punch card offer this time.

Joel has barely pushed the truck into park before you’re out of the vehicle, flying through the front doors. Joel is hot on your heels, not bothering to lock his beat-up pickup.

Your ID is already on the desk, you don’t even have to say a name. The officer at the front desk doesn’t need your license. He barely looks at it. It’s all a raging formality. They escort you to a room, not a holding cell as you’re used to.

Tommy sits at a table talking to a tired-looking public defender. His head snaps up, eyes jumping from your face to Joel’s behind you. “I told you to come alone.”

“The fuck you did Thomas James Miller!” You say before Joel can defend himself.

Tommy stands to his feet, the chair skidding back. “You’re not supposed to be here for this!”

“I’m your wife! You call me!”

“Or maybe you should be home with your child!”

“Oh, I should be home with our son? And what about you?”

“I’m not having this fight with you right now.” Tommy throws his hands in the air moving his attention to Joel who leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “You were supposed to come alone!”

“What’re you in for?” You ask, not giving Joel a chance to answer. Not that he was going to. He knows not to let Tommy deflect to him when you are around.

Tommy sighs falling into the chair like a rag dog. Stress lines engrave themselves deep into his forehead.

“Tommy…” A pit drops in your stomach. “What did they get you with?”

“A gun-“

“Without a permit.” The Lawyer speaks for the first time. There’s a roll to Tommy’s eyes.

“And?”

Tommy can’t meet your eyes. He shuffles in his seat.

“Tommy,” Joel says, voice low and gruff. It’s automatic, parental even.

“A couple grams of coke.”

“Fucking hell, Tommy.” Joel hits his head against the wall.

“I didn’t- I never took it. I promise.”

You take a shaking breath, trying to calm your worn nerves. “So what are we looking at here?” You ask, eyes trained on the lawyer.

You see Tommy out of your peripheral vision using his pleading puppy dog eyes on you. You square your shoulders determined not to fall for it. They’re the reason you’re in this boat in the first place.

“Babe-“

You hold up a hand cutting him off, eyes trained on the lawyer. “What are we looking at?”

“Probably Jail time. DA’s office has been cracking down on these kinds of cases the past few months.”

“Is he getting out tonight?”

The lawyer shakes his head. “We have to wait until tomorrow for arraignment and bail.”

“Then, I’ll see you two tomorrow.” You give them a firm nod, exiting the room in a flash.

The Texas air wraps around you as you exit the stale police station. Joel’s pick-up is cool under your fingers, anchoring you to something.

This can’t be happening. You’ve felt him slipping through your fingertips for months, but you wonder if this is it if this is the moment you lose Tommy for good.

Firm arms wrap around your waist. It’s a warmth you’ve become way too familiar with over the last couple of years. You turn around, letting your tears soak Joel’s shirt as they have so many times before. You twist his shirt in your fists as he cradles your head against his chest. There’s a slight sway in his movements, soothing your wrenching soul.

“We’re going to get through this.”

“He had cocaine!”

Joel sighs. “I know.”

“I can’t keep doing this. It’s going to kill me.”

“Let’s get you home. Get some sleep.” Joel squeezes you and then guides you into the passenger side seat. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

“What time is-“

“Lawyer said about 11. Wants us to meet them at the courthouse at 10.”

You nod, clearing the tears. “Okay.”

The drive home is quiet. You’re used to Tommy throwing out every excuse in the book, promising he’s going to change. The silence makes you want to scream. How do you go forward? How do you explain to Nathaniel that Daddy won’t be home for a long time? Jail Time. It bounces off the walls of your brain like a gong over and over.

You’ve done this before. Raise your son alone. Tommy was overseas when Nathaniel was born. You did the first 3 months on your own- or sort of alone. Joel and Sarah spent many nights at your and Tommy’s home those first few months helping you through the learning curve of being a new parent. If you’re completely honest, you’re still doing it alone, but now with a shell of a man to look after as well.

Joel hands the sitter cash and she’s gone without a word. Your purse and jacket are forgotten on the chair as you collapse onto the couch, holding your head in your hands. The weight of the night threatens to finally break you.

“Here.” The cool weight of a bottle presses against your jeans.

“Thank you.” You take it, tipping the bottle back in unison with Joel in a quiet ritual.

“I think I’m just gonna crash on the couch tonight.”

You nod, a humorless huff leaving your chest. “Just like the good ole days, I guess.”

Joel looks over your profile, catches the wear in your frame, the silent tears slipping from your eyes. The rattle in your chest changes from sarcastic to sorrow and then a sob slips from your lips.

Joel sets his beer on the coffee table, arm slipping around your shoulders. He pulls your loose body into his side. For the second time that night, your face burrows into his chest.

“Shhh, I’ve got you, Darlin’. We’ll get through this.” His voice is soft and soothing. His fingers brush softly over your head down to the back of your neck. You fall asleep like that, lulled by the steady beat of his heart.

You wake up to the morning sun, your body stiff from sleeping on the couch against Joel. He’s up, the smell of coffee wafting toward you. You hear him talking to Sarah and Nathaniel in the kitchen.

You stand, stretching out your sore muscles in wrinkled clothing following the promise of caffeine. Sarah and Nathaniel sit at the kitchen table with syrupy smiles.

“Mommy!” Nathaniel yells.

You force a sleepy smile, kissing his sticky cheek. “Morning, sweet cheeks.” You dip your finger in the syrup on his plate, licking it off your fingertip making him and Sarah laugh. “Morning, Sarah Bear.”

“Morning, Auntie,” She says. “Your clothes are wrinkled.”

Joel’s hand lands on your back and a cup of coffee lands in your hands, sending warmth through your body. The hum in your body is automatic. “Thank you.”

Joel only nods, returning his attention to the pancakes sizzling on the stovetop. You sip on the hot coffee. Joel prepared it exactly how you like it, just like he always does.

“You hate pancakes.”

“Yeah, but the gremlins love them.”

“That they do.” You grin, sipping on the coffee again. “Ugh, it’s infuriating the way you come into my home and make better coffee than I do.”

Joel chuckles, flipping two fluffy pancakes onto a plate. He tops them with cut-up strawberries and whipped cream handing them to you with the biggest shit-eating grin. “And pancakes.”

For a minute you forget it all, the impending arraignment, your husband in jail for unregistered weapons and drug possession, the two children sitting mere feet away. It’s just you and Joel and a stack of whipped cream-covered pancakes. Joel who held your hand through labor and helped you with midnight feedings. The man who got you through Tommy’s deployment. The one who always calls the sitter and drives you to the police station when Tommy gets himself in trouble. You and your rock.

The shattering of glass echoes through the kitchen. “Uh-oh!”

You spin around, taking in the broken glass on the floor. Orange juice leaks over the table, dripping over the edge. You and Joel spring into action, pancakes forgotten. “Both of you stay in your seats,” You say.

Joel grabs the broom before you, sweeping up the shards, his feet already protected in his boots. You turn off the stove, keeping an eye on both children to ensure you don’t add bloodied feet to your morning agenda.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Sarah says, keeping her feet crisscrossed beneath her. She looked up at you. “Sorry about your glass, Aunt Bonnie.”

You smile at her, handing Joel a towel to soak up the spilled juice. “It’s okay, Sarah bear. I just want you to be okay.”

She nods back, curls bouncing around her face. “I’m okay.”

You sigh, staring at the pancakes on the counter. The whipped cream has melted into a lopsided mound, half of it turned back into cream that soaks through the pancakes. You take a bite, the flavors settling nicely over your tongue even if the texture of the pancakes is slightly off. For a man who claims not to like them, Joel Miller sure knows how to make a mean pancake.

Your mind plays back to the nickname. Not many people call you Bonnie anymore. Just a few years ago, it had been a constant. Stemming from Tommy’s group of army buddies, they declared you Bonnie for always stealing Tommy away from their group cookouts and whatnot, and Tommy was Clyde due to his propensity for getting into trouble. For whatever reason, probably just to annoy you, Tommy had introduced you to Sarah as “His Bonnie.” So that’s what she calls you.

Joel empties the remaining shards into the trash can. Several high-pitched clinks sound off until the shards settle. Your fork stirs the whipped cream and syrup together.

“Pancakes are usually best eaten, not played with.” Joel teases, picking his coffee up to take a sip. His fingers graze your arm as he sets it back down, returning the broom back to its rightful place.

”You don’t even like pancakes.” You furrowed your brow, taking another bite. Whipped cream marks your upper lip. You take another bite. “God, one day you have to tell me your secret.”

Joel chuckles. He leans across the counter, elbows resting against the granite much like yours. He sips on his coffee, eyes watching as you stuff another bite into your mouth. “I’ve got many secrets, Darlin.”

You laugh, mouth full of fruit and cream. “You’re an open fucking book, Miller.”

”I think I could surprise you several times over.” He chuckles. Something sparks behind his eyes like he’s actually keeping something from you. You’ll figure it out. You always do.

“These are delicious, Joel, but if I take another bite, I’m gonna be sick.”

Joel frowns. “You feeling okay? You don’t have a fever do you?” He presses his fingers to your forehead before you can roll your eyes.

“Anxiety.”

Joel nods. “You’ve got a little-“ He motions to his mouth.

You cock your head to the side brain not picking up on the obvious signals. He sighs in mock exasperation. Reaching forward, he wipes the whipped cream from your lip with his thumb, pressing the excess to his mouth. The moment catches you off guard, something stirring in the back of your mind as you zero in on the thumb pressed to his lips.

“You should go get ready.” He says as if nothing happened, taking your plate. “We need to leave in an hour.”

You nod, pushing back from the counter. The weight of the day at hand keeps that moment from playing over and over again on a loop.

”Daddy,” Sarah says. “Isn’t it time for school?”

”You’re going to stay here with Nathaniel and Miss Lacy today. Your aunt and I have some things we have to do.”

”Oh,” Sarah nodded. “Uncle Tommy things?”

You stop, sharing a look with Joel. You’ve tried your best to keep Tommy’s troubles from the kids, but it’s inevitable. Sarah is almost 6 after all. She’s always been incredibly perceptive and observant.

“Daddy?” Nathaniel asks, looking around. Your heart breaks a little bit.

Your mind wanders. When will he get to see Tommy again?

Joel takes the lead when you arrive at the courthouse for which you’re grateful. You’re both dressed in nice clothing. High heels clack beneath you. A tie reaches around Joel’s neck. You hold Tommy’s suit in a garment bag as a guard leads you to an office-like room. Tommy sits at a table with his layer from last night and another man you don’t recognize. They seem to be deep in a serious conversation.

All three men turn as you enter, making you feel like you’re in the wrong place. You can’t tell if Tommy is relieved to see you or not. A pit forms in your stomach, like you’re not going to like the outcome of this meeting.

“What’s going on?” You ask.

The door clicks shut behind you as Joel’s scent creeps around you.

”We’re talking.” Tommy says.

“About?” You press.

Tommy sighs, unable to meet your eyes. “A plea deal.”

You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. This is easier. It’s probably better in the long run, but you’re not ready to face the music. You prepared for court, not a plea deal. Not for Tommy to admit guilt with a stroke of a pen, not a judge in sight.

“What’s in it?”

”Baby…” Tommy pleads like he wants to make amends right now.

“What are you signing us up for, Tommy?”

“Two years and a half years. Probation after that.”

You inhale sharply.

“It’s a good deal,” The man you’ve never seen says. “He’s looking at at least twice that if this goes to court, and he will be convicted if this goes to court.”

You look to Tommy’s lawyer for confirmation. He doesn’t make it obvious but gives you a solid nod.

“You were about to sign it.” You look at your husband. It’s not a question.

“Yeah.”

”I’d have appreciated it if you had talked to me first,” you say.

“You’d have told me to sign it.”

You nod, barely keeping the tears at bay. “Yeah.”

The DA holds a pen out to Tommy. Tommy looks back at you for final permission. You give it, watching that expensive ass pen glides across the paper with Tommy’s chicken scratch of a signature. Your heart breaks with each stroke, crumbling a little more as he dots the I and crosses the T.

Joel places a hand on your shoulder. The heat spreads, anchoring you to the moment, keeping you afloat as you stare down the barrel of being a single mother yet again.

Tommy slides the paper back to the DA. He looks them over, tapping them against the table with a satisfied nod as if a family hadn’t been torn apart.

“You have about 30 minutes before they come to get him.”

”That’s it?” You ask. “We can’t even take him ourselves?”

The DA shrugs like he’s being generous, igniting a deep hatred of him inside you. You don’t even know his name. He holds up the papers before sliding them into his briefcase. “Terms of the plea deal.”

You clutch your fists as he walks out of the room. Tommy’s lawyer slips out with him, and then Joel, leaving just you and Tommy.

He stands and you finally realize it’s all happening again. You’ll be alone, worrying about your husband though this time for different reasons.

“Baby, I-” He steps towards you. You don’t move offering zero indication that you register Tommy’s movements.

He reaches for your hands, but you pull them back. “You weren’t supposed to take the Bonnie and Clyde thing seriously.”

You fight back tears, turning so he can’t see them. “Pretty sure they both died.”

A humorless laugh leaves your body as you collapse onto a couch, holding your head in your hands.

Tommy kneels in front of you, slowly peeling your hands from your face, taking them into his. Despite it all, you feel yourself melting into his familiar touch. It only confirms what you are beginning to fear. It doesn’t matter what Tommy does, you’ll always be here waiting for him. He is the love of your life and you would burn the world down to look into his sweet brown eyes and feel his skin against yours.

You look at him through blurry eyes, sniffing back the congestion gathering in your sinuses. He gives you that crooked smile you love so much, and you feel better despite the weight bearing on your shoulders. The past three years have aged him ten. You suppose time has done the same to you.

Slowly, he presses his lips to your hands. “I know I fucked up. If-” He pauses, swallowing. His thumb plays with the thin gold band on your left hand. “If you’re not waiting for me when I get out I understand.”

You squeeze his hand. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Tommy snorts. “Easily? Just last week you were yelling at me for putting you through hell.”

“Yeah, well…” You run your fingers through his black curls as you sniff back your tears. “You kinda hold my heart in your hands, Tommy Miller. I don’t think I could get it back if I tried.”

He smiles at you. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his. His hands creep up your thighs as he rises to his feet. Your back collides with the plush back of the couch as your fingers tangle in his long hair. Tommy presses his tongue into your mouth, a smile growing across your face. This is the first taste of your Tommy you’ve had in months, the one you fell in love with.

The door opens, and before Tommy can pull away, Joel’s gruff voice echoes through the room. “Prospect of going to jail really puts you two in the mood, huh?”

Heat surges to your cheeks. You’re not sure why. You and Tommy had been caught in much more compromising positions throughout your relationship.

“Gotta get what I can while I’m still a free man.” Tommy grins at his big brother, pressing another exaggerated kiss to your lips. Joel’s eyes move to the corner of the room. Your smile feels a little more forced after that.

Your thirty minutes fly at lightning speed. They take Tommy before you’re ready. Any energy you gain from Tommy’s affection is drained the moment he’s led out of sight. You barely catch the look he gives Joel.

”Take care of them.”

Joel nods, gripping his brother’s shoulder. There’s a silent exchange between them. “Take care of yourself.”

A clerk goes over everything with you and Joel. You’re given a strict list of items you can drop off for Tommy at the prison. You don’t process a word, the weight of it all falling on top of you. You came to the courthouse today expecting an arraignment and bail, not to be kissing your husband goodbye for the next year and change. It feels unfair like something was taken from you.

Joel is the one who keeps it together. He always keeps it together. He asks the questions and makes note of the important things. He secures the horde of important documents held limply in your hands.

When the clerk says your name for a second time, or maybe a third, you’re not sure, it snaps you out of the fog. Joel’s eyes are sympathetic as he holds out a pen. His single nod tells you he has all the information in his head. You can sign. You don’t have to think. You sign as flashes of Tommy doing the same filter through your vision.

The pen drops to the table as you push back headed straight for the nearest exit. You feel like you’re in a dream. Joel catches up, tucking everything you forgot under his arm. He grabs your elbow, steering your aimless body in the right direction. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He knows the answer.

You feel like a toddler, wandering and lost, relying on Joel’s firm grip to get anywhere. He opens doors and boots you into his pickup, patting the door once it’s closed. The car is warm from the sun. You fumble with the seat belt, but Joel’s calloused hands are there, guiding your weary bones.

The ride is silent. You basket in the warm sun, head pressed to the window with your eyes closed. The world feels so far away, but you’re extremely tuned into the heat of the sun, the rumble of the truck on the shitty roads, the blinking indicator light, and Joel’s listless tapping on the steering wheel when the vehicle draws to a stop from time to time, toeing the line between consciousness.

This is just a dream, right? You’ll wake up soon and Tommy will be behind you, drawing random patterns around your stomach hip, or thigh. The past year of your life and the past 12 hours have just been the world’s longest nightmare. That’s all.

The truck lurches to a stop. The engine turns off with a distinct click. Your eyes blink open slowly. Your stretch out, toes curling in your dress shoes. Joel’s tie lays haphazardly on the dash. His cuffs are unbuttoned, pushed to his elbows, and the top couple of buttons of his dress shirt are undone. He still looks out of place in his dress attire, but a little more like himself. He hadn’t dressed this nicely for your and Tommy’s courthouse wedding.

Your eyes drift out the windshield. A neon light reflects off your irises. This isn’t home. You look at Joel. “Why are we here?”

His seat belt comes undone with a click, snapping back. “We’re going to go in there and get drunk off our asses.”

”It’s the middle of the day.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at you.

”Can we just go home?”

”No.”

”Why the fuck not?”

“Because we have a sitter all day, and you deserve a night before the weight of the world falls back on your shoulders.”

”Joel.” You want to go home and crawl in bed.

”This is three times longer than his deployment.” The statement hits you square in the chest. “You need this. Give yourself today. If you don’t do it now, you never will.”

You sigh, staring down the flickering neon in front of you. He’s right. You know he is. You might be exhausted, but it’s tempting. When was the last time you let go? Maybe that one good month you had after Tommy got back? When it was all making up for lost time and shit.

“We’ve got a sitter for the whole day,” Joel says. “My treat.”

You inhale deeply, allowing the memories of drunken nights past to fill your brain. You can feel the thrum of alcohol already. You haven’t cut loose in a long time unless you count the nights spent at home alone drowning away the world after you’d tucked your son in for the night.

Your fingers press the red release button of your seat belt. The metal buckle hits the window. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Joel smiles, dragging you inside.

Taglist: @pamasaur @alltheotps @rizzraa @moel-jiller @misstokyo7love @justagalwhowrites @pedritosgfreal

#the last of us #joel miller #tommy miller #tlou hbo #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller x reader #joel miller x reader #pedro boys #ppcu fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro stories #high infidelity (joel miller)

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thefreakandthehair · 6 months

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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 27th: Haunted House | Hunters Moon - Ghost | Funny read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

Haunted houses are supposed to be scary– fog, strobe lights, creepy crawlies and otherworldly creatures. Eddie’s prepared for all of that when he takes the job at the local haunt during his favorite time of year– it’s in the name, after all.

What he’s not prepared for is Steve Goddamn Harrington to show up with a gaggle of pre-teens nipping at his heels like baby ducks demanding attention.

“– don’t need your bat, it’s fine! It’s fake, Steve, c’mon.” He hears one particularly loud mop-headed kid arguing from behind his perch.

Faux blood drips from the gash built up on his forehead down his nose and he smears it across his cheek, both for effect and because as much as he loves the hideous clown role, the viscous corn syrup trickling down his face makes his skin crawl.

Wait, he thinks, furrowing his eyebrows as best he can beneath the special effects makeup. Did that kid just insinuate Steve Harrington wanted to bring a bat into a haunted house?

“Yeah Steve, are you scared of spooky clowns now?” Another of his group sneers, this one a bit taller, skinny with darker hair. “Gonna show off and clobber some poor innocent actor like you did that demo–”

Steve hisses loud enough still for Eddie to hear him and grabs the kid by the shoulder. “Say it a little louder, why dontcha, Mike? Jesus Christ.”

“Well, are you?” A redheaded girl asks as they get closer and closer to the entrance.

“After everything real we’ve seen, you think I’m afraid of what I know is fake?” Eddie can make out the shape of Steve standing with one hand on his hip and his finger pointing around at each of the kisd. “This was you little shits’ idea, remember that.”

Eddie’s grateful he’s toward the beginning of the haunt. He gets to set the tone for the rest of the show, and when someone particularly interesting piques his interest, sometimes he follows them around. Breathes down their neck a little, stands just a little too close without blinking, tilts his head with a ghastly smile when they turn around.

Before they’ve even entered the house, Eddie’s decided to have a little fun with Steve Harrington.

The fog machine kicks off, curling up from the floor around their ankles, spiraling like snakes up to the ceiling. Eddie grins and prepares himself for scare number one.

The jumpscare.

“Ow, you’re on my foot, asshole!” One of the kid whispers.

“Then don’t stand so close!” Another responds.

“We’re literally in a fucking hallway–”

“Guys, language! And while you’re at it, shut the fuck up and pay attention!”

When they’re in classes together, Eddie has to choke back the amused grin that plays at his lips when Steve shows off his bite but nothing is real in a haunted house anyways.

He lets himself smile.

At least, until the sound machine groans to life. He waits for them to look around, to seek control, to figure out what the noise is and how to defend against it.

“Welcome!” He screams with a cackling laugh, leaping out from his hiding spot and landing in a crouching position. “I hope you like it here, because you’re,” he circles around them with bent legs before leaning closer and shouting, “never leaving!”

All of the kids scream simultaneously, devolving into nervous laughter. Steve though? Eddie watches Steve seize up and instinctually yank the kids closer to him.

It’s not what he expects from the King of Hawkins High, dethroned or otherwise. Eddie’s heart clenches as he locks eyes with Steve, flitting back and forth between the rest of the haunt and the door they’d just entered through. His nostrils are flared, his lips tight, his eyebrows knitting together above his nose.

Eddie’s gonna follow him alright, but not for the reasons he's initially planned.

“My name is Krusty, and I’m your new friend.”

He circles around Steve like a predator and leans closer, his lips nearly grazing Steve’s ear. “Follow my lead, I’ll get you outta here.”

Steve turns too quickly and their faces narrowly avoid one another, shoved between the kids itching to keep moving and the wall. Eddie nods and tries to make his smile comforting and reassuring. It must work because Steve’s shoulders drop from his ears and he whispers back.

“Thanks.”

—

Eddie bangs on the wall each time they enter the new room, cackling and yelling things like Fresh meat! and Look, I found us some new friends! The kids seem to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, and even Eddie can’t help but laugh when one of his fellow scare actors snorts in the curly-headed kid’s ear loud enough that he damn near jumps into Steve’s arms.

“Jesus Christ, Dustin!” Steve topples backwards into Eddie, who braces himself against a prop cotton candy machine. “Remember earlier? It’s fake, Steve, c’mon?”

From around Steve’s shoulder, Eddie sees Dustin shoot Steve an annoyed look with wide, incredulous eyes.

“Alright, alright, you good?” Steve rectifies, his voice softer.

Dustin nods and straightens himself out with a pat on the head and ruffle from Steve before walking forward to rejoin the group.

“Last scare, Harrington” Eddie takes the opportunity to whisper in Steve’s ear, dropping out of character entirely.

Who can blame him? How can he be expected to stay in the headspace of a terrifying, bloody clown when Steve Harrington is in his space, protecting little sheep when he’s afraid himself? And wearing some of the tightest jeans he’s ever seen?

He’s just a man.

Steve whips around with furrowed brows and a wrinkled nose. “How the fuck do you know my name?”

“Krusty knows everything.”

He tries to shift back into gear and grins as he licks the fake blood that’s dripped down his nose to his top lip. It must be the fog machine, because there’s no way he just caught Steve’s eyes flickering down to track the movement.

Nothing’s real in a haunted house.

“Your children seem to have disappeared without you, let’s go catch them. Before someone else does.” Eddie claps his hands together with faux glee and skips ahead.

The last room of the haunt is Eddie’s least favorite, truthfully. No actors, no human presence, just disorienting, kaleidescopic strobe lights, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling tangling themselves in whatever they can reach, and disembodied, whirring noises blaring from the speakers. If anything, it just gives him a headache.

Steve’s charges handle it well enough; like many others, they complain that it was boring and Eddie overhears some of their constructive criticisms. He agrees with their stance, but can’t spend much time focusing on that.

Not when he looks back to check on Steve only to find him with one hand over his eyes and the other scaling the side of the wall, cobwebs sticking to the sleeve of his jacket and knotting in his hair.

Before Eddie can think about what he’s doing, his feet make the decision for him and he approaches Steve, places a hand on his lower back. Steve startles against the touch but doesn’t move his hand.

“Just keep your eyes closed and I’ll get us out, okay? We all fuckin’ hate this room, trust me.”

Steve nods and takes a shaky breath, letting Eddie guide him through the room as quickly and discreetly as possible. “It’s just the goddamn lights, man. I get migraines and these are the worst. Those kids give me enough headaches without the extra help.”

Eddie gives a soft chuckle and shakes his head, looks Steve up and down briefly before they reach the end. Selfishly, Eddie wants to take his time and soak up the false reality of the haunted house and the safety it offers because really, in what other world will he ever be this close to Steve Harrington again? But he can tell the guy he’s suffering and Eddie has his fantasies to fall back on later.

They’ve gotten him this far.

“Why’d you bring ‘em then?” He asks, curious.

Steve shrugs and sighs. “They’re good kids and wanted to come, and I’m the babysitter so, of course, it’s me. Gotta make sure they’re safe.”

He says the last bit with a heaviness that Eddie doesn’t quite understand but they take their last few steps out into the night. The illusion of the haunted house crumbles, Eddie removes his hand as though he’s been branded, and Steve’s eyes flutter open.

“Well, you did great. Your monsters are over there.” Eddie gestures with his chin towards the open field where six kids sit in a circle, laughing a bit too loudly.

“Better go wrangle them up.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and comes away with a cobweb.

“Oh yeah, you’ve got a little–” Eddie starts, reaching up impulsively to pick what he can out of Steve’s hair.

He’s touching The Hair’s hair, and he doesn’t catch the rumored Harrington right hook for it. Instead, Steves stands silent as Eddie works, staring and blinking a few times.

“There ya go, de-cobwebed. Free of charge,” Eddie smirks with pursed lips. “Unless you wanna tip, there’s a jar up front.”

“Thanks,” Steve starts, running both hands through his hair and shaking as though to make sure. Or to torment Eddie. Maybe both. “For this and for uh, that.” He jerks his thumb behind them towards the house.

“Any time, man. Any time. Spread the word, will ya? We could use the business.”

Steve smiles at him as he turns to walk away, and Eddie wishes it was really him on the receiving end. But it’s not, because Steve doesn’t recognize him behind all the makeup. He’s just Krusty: bleeding heart, overly kind menacing clown.

It's true, the motto. Nothing's real in a haunted house.

“Oh and, hey,” Steve calls out when he’s just a few steps away.

“Yeah?” Eddie responds as Steve turns to look over his shoulder.

“See you in Click’s class on Monday, Munson.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs #eddie month prompts #please consider reblogging if you enjoy! <333

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drabblesandimagines · 4 months

Note

could i request something with leon and a reader with lots and lots of energy? like i imagine reader jumping around the house for some reason and leon trying to keep up with that energy. that would be so cute idk 😩

Okay, I must apologise because I fear this went waaaay off topic, but I immediately thought of nervous energy and this fluffy bit came out. I hope you still enjoy it - please let me know!

Leon Kennedy x female reader, established relationship

Leon smiles as you finally perch down on the edge of the sofa besides him, moving to slip his arm around your shoulders and pull you in for a cuddle – loves it when you nuzzle into his chest - only for you to get to your feet once more, walking over to the opposite sofa to straighten up the cushions.

You’ve had non-stop energy all day and, thinking back on it, he swears you’d even ate breakfast and lunch without sitting down once. It started with you being out of bed before him, usually an impossible task with his internal 6am alarm clock. He’d often left you tucked up in bed after a kiss on the forehead before he went for his morning run, knowing full well you still wouldn’t be awake on his return.

He’d be a liar though if he didn’t admit that he was still recovering from the Alcatraz incident – some of those bruises were still healing, making him groan like an old man sometimes if he’d sat in one position too long. More recently, and aided by a period of leave from the DSO, he’d been enjoying the lazier starts you were now getting to share, waking up only enough to nuzzle his face into your neck, a few soft kisses here and there, and spooning you into the mid-morning.

No such treat that morning, though. By the time he’d lugged himself down the stairs, you’d mopped the kitchen floor and been to the grocery store whilst it dried.

“What can I do, sweetheart?”

“I’m good, thanks. All under control.” You beam, multitasking up a storm in front of him. You poured him a cup of coffee from the machine and turned back to the stove where you were somehow already cooking him breakfast, a cake was baking away in the oven, all whilst mentioning something about how you were holding off on vacuuming until he was awake. He's a bit in awe at your energy levels today – though it was true he had a few years older than you, he didn’t think it was to this much of an extent. Next, you’d vacuumed all of the rooms, shaking your head at his offer to do them, thinking you were just being a little too particular on the way you liked them done, and when you washed the windows, dusted the surfaces, cleaned the bathroom… But as 5pm rolled closer, he finally realizes what it is, cursing himself internally.

“Sweetheart…” he trails off as you decide the cushion needs a little more fluffing up, now bashing it against your thighs into submission.

“Uh-huh?”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Just, you know, finessing.” You place the cushion down, eyes scanning the rest of the living room. Did you miss that dust on the entertainment console? You were sure you’d ran that fluffy duster everywhere. It’s fine, there’s cloth dusters under the sink – maybe that would be better – and whilst you’re in the kitchen, you should definitely double-check the ice drawer again, just to make sure you definitely have enough ice…

As you head towards the kitchen, you stop a moment and adjust the bowl of tortilla chips by a fraction of an inch. It’s Leon’s birthday celebration, so you’ve laid out your best snack spread, including two huge bowls of homemade guacamole – a family recipe that has never not once been a hit when you’ve rolled it out – but now you’re not sure it’s enough. It’s not Leon’s actual birthday either as he never wants a fuss, no balloons and definitely no banners – reminds him too much of his evening at the RPD HQ - but after Alcatraz, Chris, Jill, Claire, Rebecca and he had stayed in regular contact and somehow what was going to be beers at a bar had escalated into a little gathering at his to celebrate his birthday… and for them to meet you.

Leon has other ideas as you head towards the kitchen and your mind’s too focused to see him poised as you go to walk past. He grabs hold of your wrist and suddenly you find yourself on his lap after a firm and gentle tug, his other arm now wrapped tightly around your waist and keeping you in place.

“You’re nervous.”

“I’m not.” So what if your leg is bouncing up and down on the spot? He lets go of your wrist then, places his palm flat on your thigh and stills it.

“Liar. You’ve been on the go since dawn – I’m tired just watching you.”

“Fine, maybe I’m a little nervous.” You relent – could never resist those blue eyes of his. “You’ve never invited friends round here before, let alone had a birthday party and I want everything to be perfect.”

He smiles – the one you know that precedes a corny line. “It is already perfect because you’re here.”

You roll your eyes.

“Seriously – they’ll like you, I promise.”

“How can you be so sure?” You’ve heard of them from his stories – little snippets he’ll share from his work. They’re all so strong, and brave, and clever…

“Because I love you.”

You still go weak at that knees when he tells you those words – he sounds as sincere as the first time he said it. You lean forward then, kissing him deeply. His hand rubs up and down your back as you do, making all the anxious thoughts stop for a moment as you focus on him and his touch alone.

You pull back after a moment and take in his soft, lovestruck expression, placing a hand on his cheek.

“I still think I should make another bowl of guacamole, though. Just in case.”

“You’ve already made two huge servings, sweetheart - we’re good.”

And, when Chris takes another heaving scoop of it atop his tortilla chip later that evening, it’s Leon’s turn to relent.

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

#ghostdogwrites #ghostdogasks #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff

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dreamer-after-dark · 8 months

Note

I could see Wally Darling being the kind to sneak into your room/house when you're away and steal your panties/underwear. You figure that maybe the washing machine is eating them at first until a pair you were wearing yesterday disappeared from the top of the pile.

👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁

Side note, I have had my panties stolen before! Anyway, here you go ٭(•﹏•)٭

Part Two

Word count: 1,945

Wally is shameless.

👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜

[Y/N]

It happened again.

[Julie]

What??

[Sally]

Panty thief struck again?

[Julie]

Twice in one week???

[Y/N]

It's not a thief! I refuse to believe it!

[Sally]

How many pairs does that make now? 12?

[Julie]

Close! 15!

[Y/N]

[Sally]

I fail to understand why this can't be the doing of a petty thief?

[Julie]

Y/N!

[Julie]

Y/N are you there?

[Julie]

Where did they go? :/

[Sally]

Alas, my darling Juliet! Tis I alone that remains here

[Wally]

Hello

[Sally]

Hi, Wally.

👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜

Seventeen pairs of your best fitting panties have been lost, lost forever. Never to be found with the same elasticity or fit. You stared out into the empty street where the sun parted between leaves. You were too broke to afford replacing them and so you wandered this world commando when the pants offered enough coverage and comfort. Or even if it didn't you still had no choice should you plan around an inviting evening out.

With a huff you adjusted your basket against your hip, your unfolded clothes flopping a bit. The sunshower surprised you as it pelted against the non opening glass doors of the building's laundromat. After double checking the seats and dryer you headed for the opened door just off to the side. You entered a gray stairwell. Beneath the staircases was a collection of cleaning supplies, a yellow mop bucket, and a locked cabinet.

Your slippers echoed through the stairwell as you jogged up. The door to your floor was propped open with a rock. You used your free hand to open the door fully and slide the rock inside. You pushed it to the side with your foot not wanting anyone to trip over on it like you had. Your phone smacked your face leaving a nasty bruise under your eye. It still hurts to remember.

The door shut behind you with a rusty squeak. Your slippers slid lightly against the tiled floors until you made it to your apartment door. The handle gave way and you were thrilled to find it still open. Music boomed from somewhere within one of the rooms. The smell of weed wafted around mixing with the chilled air feeding in from the windows.

You inhaled deeply, shaking loose your worries. As you walked down your hallway you passed the open bathroom where giggling and hushed whispers could be heard. Julie and Sally were doing their makeup together, facetiming you assumed. Further was the kitchen where you heard the clinking of silverware against wood. The voices from the bathroom quieted.

Wally was stirring a cup of coffee when he spotted your annoyed expression, "Hello, Y/N. Are you alright?"

"Another pair off and vanished," you roll your eyes with a glance at your basket, "It's getting annoying."

"I can see how annoying that could get. Do you think they've all been stolen?"

"No! No. I'm sure it'll sort itself out. Have you got anymore coffee, Wally?"

Wally hands you the mug he was holding, "This one's yours, honeycrisp."

You thanked him as he turned away to prepare his own. His hair cascaded like waves down his back. The vibrant blue shining below the lights. Wally was amazing at coloring his hair. You turn away and head down the hallway where two doors faced each other. You entered the left one silently praying thanks to the great nothingness beyond for leaving it unlocked for you.

You placed your laundry on your bed. You would fold the clothes, but your keys needed to be found. You looked around your slightly cluttered room. The tapestry on your window was tied up letting in the sun. The smell of wet earth rose up as the rain thundered down. By the window was a desk. It was stained with paint and ink. On top was a journal, several colors of paint, and a large bottle of water. A mug with several drying paint brushes propped up within say atop the bookshelf.

Small plushies were scattered among the shelves and on the floor. Your bed was next to the wall by the door. The blanket was a pile on the floor next to the end of the bed. Larger plushies were squished from your tossing and turning. Pillows were crammed between the bed frame and wall. Eyes landing on your newly added laundry basket made you realize cleaning your entire room would help you find your missing keys.

👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜[Wally]

Hi, Sally.

Hi, Julie.

[Sally]

Wally, you wouldn't happen to know about the Boudoir Bandit?

[Wally]

No.

[Julie]

Maybe it's one of the other tenants!

[Sally]

Nefarious tenant!

[Y/N]

It has to be the machine

Can't be anything else

[Sally]

Perish the thought! The Panty Snatcher must be caught and brought to justice!

[Julie]

Perish the thought!

[Wally]

Perish the thought!

[Y/N]

Who could it be?

[Sally]

I see you've come around.

[Julie]

It could be anyone!

Any of us!!

How scary!!!

[Wally]

It could be anyone?

[Sally]

List of suspects:

Sally

Julie

Y/N

Poppy

Wally

Howdy

Barnaby

Home

[Y/N]

Me??

Why me??

[Julie]

It's a crazy world, Y/N!

We cannot rule out anyone!

Not even you

[Sally]

Julie is exactly right, darling Y/N! We simply cannot rule you out!

[Wally]

I would hate to see you go without, neighbor.

[Y/N]

Ok :/

👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜👁💜

You smirked at the messages filling up your screen. Julie's energetic texts became shorter and you could imagine her hot pink nails tapping against the screen of her phone. Sally's text became increasingly verbose in response. Wally was lurking as he always did, chiming in here and there.

The phone slipped into your pocket as music filled the already tidied room. Your keys had been found while sweeping underneath your desk. Along with a few scrunchies and a button, your heavily outfitted keys were dragged out. With such a clunky set up you wondered how you ever lose it to begin with. Work keys, house keys, anime characters, pepper spray, and a stuffed animal. All of it designed to be eye-catching and hard to lose.

You flopped onto your bed opting for rest. Your ultimate goal had been completed and you were horribly drained. Your mind drifted back to the mounting loss of your panty collection. Solid color boxers, high waisted panties, boy shorts, thongs, sick day panties. All of it is gone! Sally was right to call it nefarious, but believing that you were being specifically targeted was a level of fear you wanted to avoid. You turned off your notifications for the next hour and returned to cleaning up.

Soon your room was clean, your clothes put away, and the bathroom was finally open. The glow of the full moon was bright and brilliant tonight. Leaving your desk you grabbed a change of clothes, sans panties, and a towel. You stripped down leaving all of your clothes inside the now empty basket. Stepping out you noticed the room across from you was quiet. There was a note taped to the door reading:

Out for the next three days! Rent is on the table!

Sally and Julie were heading out to New York for a concert. All the more to enjoy a long, luxurious shower. Wally was in the room down the opposite hall. His room was the only one on that side. He had the biggest room in the apartment for all of his art equipment. Aside from his bed you couldn't tell it was his bedroom. The last you had been inside it was filled with disturbing personal works. Each one felt delicate and haunting. Completely unlike his pleasant and sweet demeanor.

The music was still going though not as loud. It was mellow and dragging. You could hear the bubbling of his bong. The sound made your heart race. You quickly stepped into the bathroom. The thick glass ceiling above always excites you. It was such a crummy apartment, but it had its ups with this being one of them.

Julie's stickers covered the thick sides of her movable mirror. Her makeup bag was left open covered in eye shadow dust and glitter. A pack of eyelashes were left open on the top of the bag.

A little smudged message was left on the mirror written in red lipstick, reading:

You're beautiful, starshine!

Julie was a sweetheart. The rain had stopped, leaving a silence in the tall bathroom. With a turn of the faucet cold water rushed out from the shower head. The patter of water against ceramic filled the room. You stepped under the stream shivering as the droplets thudded against your skin.

Stepping out from the shower you dried yourself off and slipped into your change of clothes. You felt rejuvenated! As you stepped out of the bathroom, a voice called for you.

"Hi, Y/N. Would you like a snack?" Wally was standing in the kitchen with reddened eyes.

"What are you having?" You couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"A cut up apple. I couldn't think of anything better," he giggled, "I have a few extra?"

You accept the offered apples, "Thanks. I'm sure I forgot to eat with all the other things I also forgot."

"I'm sorry that's happening, it must be tough. Julie did say you were left without much to wear."

You groaned imagining Julie explaining things in detail as she usually would, "I'd rather not make it into a thing. It's just so weird to even consider what they're saying."

"I have a pack of unopened boxers. They may not fit perfectly, but they should help?" He smiled completely at ease.

"That's.. Ok. I couldn't accept that." As weird as it was to have your underwear stolen, Wally offering you some was even weirder.

"Oh, Ok. I'll hold it until you're ready." Wally walked off into his room leaving you in the kitchen.

You heaved a sigh as you leaned against the counter. The apple slices crunched as you bit into it. Each one refreshing and cold. You rinsed the plate in the sink and switched off the lights. You returned to your room, but stopped just short of the door.

It was cracked open. You were sure the door shut behind you when you stepped out. With a gentle push you opened the door further. When seeing nothing out of place you stepped in and shut the door behind you listening for that click of metal against wood. When you heard it you let go of the doorknob and hung up your towel to dry.

You looked around your room again looking over every little detail. The still tidy room was just as you left it. Plushies put away, paints organized, bed made, and the floor clean. Your eyes glanced over the basket on the floor and your heart skipped. Your head swiveled back as your eyes scanned it once more. Leaning down you picked at the shirt and pants shaking them out. A pair of socks fell from the pant leg, but nothing else. With dread it dawned on you. The panties you had worn not even an hour ago were missing.

👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁

[Y/N]

Wally

[Wally]

Yes?

[Y/N]

Where are they?

[Wally]

Where is what?

[Y/N]

My panties

[Wally]

Stolen, I presume?

[Y/N]

By you

Where are they?

[Wally]

You're welcome to check my room, Y/N

Do you want to come in?

👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁👁

You heard the music dip low in the furthest room. You heard the door click as the knob turned. Your heart pounded in your chest as you heard him chuckle from deep within his room.

#playfellowxxx #wally darling #wally darling playfellowxxx #yandere wally darling #wally darling x reader #wally darling x y/n #wally darling x you #wally darling x self insert #wally darling x gn reader #x yn #x gender neutral reader #x reader #boudoir bandit #panty snatcher #creepy wally darling #cuddles and conversations #wetdreams #panty snatcher wally darling #panty snatcher au

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bunchesofoats · 1 year

Text

Proximity.

Feat — Tyler Galpin x Nevermore!Reader

Contains — Slow Build, Playful Flirting, No Established Relationship, etc ALSO SOME VERY LIGHT WEDNESDAY SPOILERS!! (Set before show in canon)

Length — ~1.8k Words

Notes — Reader’s powers/species not specified (just considered an Outcast). This isn’t proofread, moves a little fast, and was written at like 2 am so proceed with caution I guess. ALSO, I ACTUALLY WORK IN A CAFE SO I WILL INFO DUMP GRRRRBARK BARK WOOF WOOF Also, if you have any input just drop it to my inbox !

“Welcome to the Weathervane staff.”

Your new manager welcomed you with a smile, to which you replied with a nod as she left you to do paperwork. You made your way out of her office, remembering her instructions to be training with Tyler. Your feet shuffling up the stairs slowly, paying no mind to the creaks that came with it. You knew Tyler Galpin, not well, but you knew of him enough to know he was the son of the sheriff. The sheriff who didn’t seem keen on Nevermore students. Though you were pretty sure they only hired you for Outcast Diversity, you were at least happy to had gotten a job that wasn’t Pilgrim’s World.

“Medium Iced Chai Latte with a Chocolate Croissant.” A voice pulled you from your thoughts.

Trailing the voice to the source was easy considering he was the only person behind the counter before you came along. There he was, Tyler Galpin, with the usual mop of brown curls that stopped just above his eyes and the crease of concentration upon his forehead as he moved to fiddle with the espresso machine. You’d been dragged here enough by Enid to know the details, especially considering she kept tabs on everyone.

“You’re looking at the wrong end of the machine, Galpin.” You called out, causing him to jump. A smile crawled its way onto your face at his expression. It didn’t take long for him to register who you were outside of the Nevermore uniform, he had seen you enough and he knew there was a new applicant coming in.

“Do you make a habit of scaring the hell out of people?” He gave you a pointed look.

“More of a hobby,” You shrugged before making your way behind the counter. Taking a closer look at the machine, you had been right. The source of the never ending steam was a valve issue. “I’m gonna need a tri-wing screwdriver and 4 millimeter Allen wrench.”

Tyler handed you the screwdriver with no hesitation, he couldn’t understand the Italian instructions anyway and he wasn’t about to resort to Google Translate.

“You have a valve issue,” You began screwing the bits back into place, careful not to direct any steam towards you or your new coworker.

“You have one of these temperamental beasts with a mind of its own?” He quirked a brow at you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Not exactly.” Thankfully, Nevermore had quite the class in engineering and you had fairly decent grades. The steam stopped spewing, and the machine was fixed to the best of your ability. Tyler began gathering the pieces of the pipes, filters, and other parts back into place resounding in a satisfying click.

“Thanks…” He stopped for a moment.

“Y/N.”

“No, yes! No, I mean, yes I know! You come in here a lot, and I recognize your name from your application.” He mumbled on and on.

“You’re supposed to be training me and yet you can’t remember my name?” It was your turn to point questions now. It wasn’t like you couldn’t work a register or understand the difference between a cortado or a cafe au lait, but you needed to know your way around Weathervane at least. Plus, it was fun to tease him.

“I just mean, you’re unforgettable.”

What.

“What?”

“You know what, why don’t we start off with a tour? You know the main area, but let me show you the back room.” Tyler abruptly turned away, leaving with tinted cheeks. He lead you to the small storage room on the opposite adjacent end of the bar counter. The length of it was long, but the width of it could just barely fit one person with the shelves so close on either end. He allowed you in first before following in after, showing everything from the closest to the farthest at the back wall.

With Tyler explaining everything in broad detail, it was easy enough to understand considering everything was ordered neatly from the coffee beans and food products being separated from cleaning chemicals. What was hard, on the other hand, was trying not to pay attention to the way the dim lighting reflected in his eyes. Something about it seemed familiar, almost supernaturally captivating. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he was a Vampire or Siren or even something else entirely luring you in.

“…And if you have any questions then just ask me.” Tyler finally turned back to you, catching your gaze. He hadn’t realize how close in proximity you were, you awkwardly pressed against the wall as he had just been reaching over to point out which coffee beans were which. You hadn’t been paying attention, not with him so close. You weren’t usually the nervous type, not with Vampires and Telekinetics and Werewolves etc constantly being around you. But this newfound flip of your heart was concerning considering he was 1) a normie you hadn’t actually fully conversed with before and 2) you were still unsure of his standing with you as an Outcast.

“Yeah, I’ll call for your help when I need to fix the espresso machine.” You snort. He huffed with a lingering smile you managed to catch. Maybe his stance wasn’t as bad as his fathers.

“I’m definitely sure you don’t need to call me just for help with that, you can call me for other stuff.” Tyler shrugged.

“So you want me to call you?” Your gaze met his again, forgetting the close distance between you both. This was a different start to your new job than you were expecting. Flirting with your coworker in the back of the cafe was probably against all types of normal work ethic and morals. But when was Jericho ever normal?

“Tyler?” A voice called out from the front, breaking the tension between you two. You both recognized that voice, Tyler knowing it more than you did. You both tried to scramble out of the storage closet in an orderly manner. Tyler emerging first, Sheriff Galpin perking up to see his son from the other side of the counter. You followed suit not a second after, barely halfway out of the closet before you could see Sheriff Gallon’s face drop. Suddenly realizing how incriminating the situation seemed, you quickly grabbed a random can from the shelf within arms reach before fully exiting.

“Hey, uh, dad.” Tyler coughed out, clearing his throat from the situation you two were in. “Just showing the new hire around and restocking.” To which you maneuvered the can to one hand to give the man a small wave.

“Condensed milk? I swear you stocked and dated that one when I came by yesterday.” His dad raised a brow. Shit.

“This one’s long expired, found it on the back shelf with a manufacturing issue puncture in it.” You laughed dryly, moving the can to your side hiding it away. Tyler glanced wide eyed as his father’s expression creased.

“You want your usual?” Tyler moved towards the bar, moving his father’s attention with it. You managed to slip the can back on the shelf before closing the door and following the boy.

“Large Americano. Two shots. Hot.” The sheriff’s gaze never left, studying you closely as you followed Tyler to input the order on the register. You knew how to work a register, but you didn’t want to stay within his dad’s eye sight for long. The setup was as easy as the storage closet, everything labeled from Hot Drinks, Iced Drinks, Specials, and more. Clicking onto the hot drinks, you found everything quickly.

“Did you want to add anything in there like milk or cream?” You asked, knowing already what his answer would be.

“Black.” Like your soul, you thought. The order went through and Tyler thankfully already had it done. Reaching past you on the register to hand it to him, the sheriff gave his son a nod and you an unreadable look before leaving.

“Don’t worry about him,” You heard Tyler assure. “He’s too ‘wrapped up in work’ to care about me being in some closet with someone. Nice save, though.”

You turned to make eye contact with him, his arm resting upon the register counter by your waist and yours almost hitting his chest at the movement. Again finding yourself in close proximity.

“Does that mean you’re often caught doing who knows what in closets with people?” You raised a brow. His face flushed at the question, glancing aside and for once probably happy the cafe was emptier than usual.

“Calm down, lover boy. We’ve skipped a few steps, I still don’t even have your number to call you when I need help.” You flicked his forehead away with a smirk. He let out a small lopsided smile as he fell away from you. You were sure his number would be lying around somewhere on file or you could contact him through the employee app, but where was the fun (and consent) in that? You had no time to think about that as customers had come in.

“Ms. Thornhill, what a surprise to see you!” You couldn’t say you were shocked, Jericho’s a small town and being the only cafe around this would’ve happened eventually. You were surprised you hadn’t seen Enid out and about “blogging” despite it being a weekend.

“Y/N, lovely to see you. Why didn’t you tell me you got a job at the best cafe in town?” She gasped.

“It’s the only cafe in town, Ms. Thornhill.”

“I kid, I kid. Now what should I get? I usually get a double-cap, no foam, with two pumps of sugar free vanilla. But now that you’re my new favorite employee, I’d like your recommendation!” Favorite? Had Tyler been her favorite before? You weren’t sure what she had meant by that.

“You know me, miss, I love a good London Fog.” She knew full well of that too, you bring one into her class every other day.

“Alright, get me one of those!” You rung her up For Here and handed the item receipt to Tyler who was already steaming the milk. The next customer just wanted a warmed up Pain au Chocolat which you got out of the way quick enough.

“Here,” You heard Tyler call to you. Facing him, you noticed him holding a to go cup for you and Ms. Thornhill’s mug on the counter. Had he made two whilst you were busy?

“London Fog with an extra pump of vanilla syrup, that’s how you usually order yours.” He sheepishly scratched the back of his head.

“Now what’s this then?” You grabbed the cup.

“Just think of it as a welcome to Weathervane.” Tyler left with Ms. Thornhill’s order before you could question any further. You note a black smear on your hand, confusion riddled— you turn the cup.

— “(xxx) xxx - xxx

Call me outside of work?

- Tyler”

#tyler galpin #tyler galpin x reader #wednesday (2022)#wednesday #wednesday addams #nevermore #tyler galpin one shot #tyler galpin imagine #x reader #hunter doohan #wednesday netflix

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vcnillazelda · 2 years

Text

pinball frenzy

vance hopper x reader

summary: you keep him calm at his worst

tags: (almost) fights, shoving, swearing, fluff, protective vance, dates, emotional hurt/comfort, slight angst with a happy ending, anger management (kind of)

✞———————❖———————✞

the sound of the pinball machine filled the silence between the two of you. you had to admit, vance was very skilled at pinball. neither of you spoke a word to each other despite it being a date. grab n go was vance’s favourite place, so you invited him there; sipping on a blue raspberry slushy as you watch his score tick up at a fast rate. his high score was still quite a while away, and it needed vance’s full concentration. you loved how he scrunched his brows when he concentrated; you wish he’d focus on tests like this. every time the two of you came here, you let vance borrow a few quarters to play, and he’d always pay you back in your favourite slushies and candies.

you carefully brush past vance, not wanting to disturb him whilst also wanting a refill. the clerk here always gave you free slushies for keeping vance under control nowadays. positioning your cup under the slushy machine, you slowly fill it up, still idly listening to the pinball machine. a thump, then the small chime that vance had lost was a huge red flag in your mind. you didn’t even turn yet and vance had already blown up. “what the fuck?!” he yells, a commotion coming from behind you. you whip around, watching your lover shove the other teen to the floor. “vance-!” you drop your cup, running over and circling your arms around his abdomen. “vance, leave it. he’s not worth it.” you mutter to your boyfriend; keeping your grasp firm yet not enough to suffocate him.

vance huffs through his nose angrily, watching the kid splutter apologies as he scrambles out of the grab n go and away from vance hopper’s wrath. his hands flex, he’s stressed and you know you have to try and calm him down or his day will be ruined. “look at me.” you mumble, gently grasping his cheeks with your hands. vance avoids his gaze, clearly unhappy with the situation. that’s okay, he doesn’t have to look. “it’s gonna be okay. deep breaths.” you tell him, voice soft. vance cracks, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your neck, huffing in deep breaths like you told him to.

vance gently grasps the back of your shirt, keeping himself grounded as best he can to avoid blowing up at the people around him; especially you. “you’re doing great. you can always play pinball again, vance.” you run your hand over his back as if soothing a wild, seething animal. “i know but-“ he freezes, thinking through his words carefully. “i don’t wanna ruin our date.” vance grumbles, words vibrating against your skin. “you’re not ruining our date, baby.” you respond; hand slipping up to massage his neck as well as his back. “i did, don’t lie to me. i blew up despite all the work you put into helping and-“

“vance. look at me.” you pull away, grasping each side of his jaw more firmly so he would look at you. he blinks at you, probably expecting you to scold him for ruining everything. “you haven’t ruined our date. i’m still having a great time with you, and i’m so, so, so proud of you for keeping calm.” you tell him, voice gentle. “you’re not mad?” vance frowns, and you shake your head. “no, i’m not mad at you. i can’t ever be mad at you, vance.” you smile, bumping your nose against his gently. vance smiles too, but only a little as he gives you a sweet kiss. “here,” you press a few quarters into his hand. “play another round. do you want a slushy?” you ask softly, and vance smiles a bit larger. “yeah.. i’ll have a red one.” you nod briefly, kissing his nose. “okay, baby. go beat that high score for me whilst i get our slushies.” vance nods too, giving your lips one last kiss before stepping back over to the pinball machine.

you walk back to the slushy machine, cringing at the sight of your spilt slushy. grabbing some paper towels, you hastily mop up the mess and put the cup in the trash before the poor clerk realised you had even made a mess. (they were probably too preoccupied on keeping an eye on vance to notice). you pour two slushies, one red, the other blue, and head back. you place vance’s slushy to the side, watching him play as you carefully rest your head against his shoulder; being cautious as to not knock or disrupt him. “i love you.” you mumble. his fingers falter for a second, but he quickly recovers. “love you too.” he rushes out, still hyper-focused on his pinball. you smile, kissing his shoulder softly before giving him space and watching from a difference. you wouldn’t change vance hopper for the world.

#vance hopper #vance hopper x reader #vance hopper x you #tbp vance #tbp #the black phone #the black phone x reader #// 🍨 vcnillazelda #// 🍨 the black phone

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mysticmellowlove · 4 months

Text

Roasted Beans - Daily Routine

warnings; nasty yan, gross yan, yan male, sub yan, gn reader, cum eating, non-con, oblivious reader,

note; i'm building a catalogue of yans now! bowen, lex/noel, seth, my secret project ;) and now cutie-pie oliver!

It's easy to hide what I do during the autumn months. Everyone loves caramel in autumn. It's easy to hide cum in their caramel latte. It was part of the reason why I liked autumn so much.

Working as a barista in a local cafe wasn't the best job but for what I wanted to accomplish it was perfect. No cities, no bustle, predictable customers and old women who like to tell me about their grandchildren. It was a completely straightforward day. It was perfect for someone who wanted to simply float on by, enjoy their life and relax to watch the world pass. Someone like me, exactly like me.

A smile crossed my face as the bell to the family-owned coffee shop and book cafe opened. There they were in all their glory, their overalls fastened with a knot instead of a buckle. They had told me once that some of the horses had gotten a bit wild. This was one of the reasons I loved working here. My favourite farmhand came in around twelve every day to treat themselves to a latte and something to bite.

"Welcome back." I smiled warmly as they made their way up to the counter, making sure to wipe their boots at the door even though I told them I didn't mind mopping up any residual mud. They grinned at me as they leaned against the counter, their muscles bulging from all the farm work. I had to take deep breaths to calm myself.

"And good morning to you too Oliver." They hummed as they fished their wallet out of their pant pockets. I already knew what drink they would order but they often changed their food item for something special. I swallowed as I watched them scan the display case.

"I'll have one of the cupcakes today I think." They grinned as they pointed to the small ball-like carrot cakes I had baked this morning. I beamed, I had made them a very special one actually. I was hoping they would choose the cupcakes.

"Right then, a cupcake and a latte, salted caramel right?" I wondered as I punched in their total, making sure to add a little discount. It wasn't as if I was babying them, I just wanted them to have some extra cash... of course it was a little selfish though. Extra cash in the bank meant the possibility of a little present for me, or at least that's what I hoped. I knew they liked me, they called me 'sweetheart' sometimes. Jokingly albeit but the hind mind was a powerful force.

"Sure thing." They nodded and tapped their beat-up card before sending me a little mock salute as they went to their usual table. I buzzed as I walked over to the coffee machine, they were in the counter's blind spot which wasn't that great for me. I couldn't watch them enjoy the things I had made but... that meant that there was no way they would know about the extra touch I added to their drinks. My face warmed at the thought.

Since it was such a small cafe there weren't any other attendees today, which again was perfect. Usually around lunchtime the owners would dip down to the primary school and take their daughter out for lunch. I was completely alone, just the way I liked it.

The machine steamed as I made their drink, mixing in the sweet caramel syrup as I loaded the coffee and milk over the top. All I had to do now was duck into the kitchen. I looked around the cafe and once I knew the coast was clear I made my way into the back, staff only.

Quickly I pulled my dick out of my pants, already half hard just from looking at them. A shudder rocked through me as I let my fingers dance on the head of my cock for a moment, imagining that it was them touching me. The thought got me hot and bothered and soon enough I was ready to start.

I had gotten into a nasty habit of doing this with their drinks lately. It had been so long since we first met and they hadn't made a move yet, it was only reasonable that I get a little impatient. So I took to mixing my cum into their drinks. At first, I only swiped my finger over my leaking head and put that in but now... nothing less than one release would suffice.

I tugged my cock as I bit down on my lip to keep my moans silent. I had gotten good at quick sessions, especially since I was still on the job. All I had to do was think of them drinking me in like this, something so intimate and wholly mine... inside them. A flush shot down my back.

My moan built up into a strangled cough as I felt my cock twitch and release, thick ropes of cum dripped into the hot coffee. The cup nearly burnt my hand as I looked down at the mixture for a moment before I took a whisk to it. I had to make sure that it was hidden, it was still a secret and if I was being honest it would probably stay a secret.

I hummed as I tucked my cock back in my pants and pulled out one of the 'special' cupcakes I had made. The two were similar in more ways than one. I plated the cupcake and walked out into the main room once more, breathing deeply to try and will away my blushed face.

With one final caramel swirl, I walked over and placed the two dishes in front of them.

"Here we go, a cupcake and a caramel latte." I smiled as they looked up at me.

"Thanks, you're coffee is always the best!" I nodded as I returned to the counter to watch for other customers. I knew my coffee was the best, it was made only for them.

#sub male #drabble #sub yandere #gn reader #yandere male #oc oliver

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sinsinsininning · 4 months

Text

A little bit softer

Chapter 2.

Eustass Kid x crew mate!fem!reader

TW: depictions of DV, descriptions of medical terms and procedures, not as smutty

A/N: I don’t know why but l always have to make my reader inserts or OCs a medic in some way……It’s probably bc I’m a vet tech.

~~~~~~

Kid felt… guilty, which wasn’t a normal thing for him. Suspecting you were scared of him was one thing. But knowing you were scared of him was another entirely.

He wanted to shake himself some days, you were just a rookie. Not his lover. Not his partner. He didn’t owe you anything. But then he’d ruin his own pep talk by thinking of you and your face.

After your conversation with Heat, Kid walked on eggshells around you. The entire crew was still trying their damnedest to meddle with him, so encounters with you had ramped up a lot. You both still did your best to avoid eye contact or speak to him. But it was clearly starting to wear on the crew’s patience.

“You need to handle your shit.” Killer said to him one day in his workshop. Kid couldn’t even pretend not to know what he was on about.

“You need to fuck off!” He shouted, feeling his shoulders shake.

“Just talk with her, you never know, maybe she likes you as well.”

Kid burst out in hysterical laughter, needing a few moments to catch his breath.

“She’s terrified of me Killer,” He coughed. “She thinks I’m gonna hit her or something. I heard her telling Heat.” Killer cocked his head, thinking.

“All the more reason to clear the air. What’s more is I can’t have the crew keep trying to pair the two of you up, it’s getting in the way of their tasks.” Kid fixed him with a glare.

“Newsflash, asshole! You were the one who started that shit!” He turned back to his table. “Besides the fuck am I gonna say to make her feel better? Huh?”

“That’s true, you’re not good with words.” Killer nodded and began approaching him. “You’ll just have to use your actions.” Kid laughed.

“Oh yeah? How am I gonna do that?” He asked sarcastically before a sharp pain flared in his right arm. “Ow what the fuck?!”

Killer had cut his arm, a deep laceration at least 5 inches long. The masked man shrugged at his shouting.

“She’s in the med bay, go up there, tell her you got cut while working. Ask her to patch you up.”

“Fuck you this stings!” Kid pressed a used rag to his arm. “I’ll fucking stab you.”

“She won’t be there much longer. Tell her you can’t find me and you can’t stitch yourself with one hand.” Killer took that moment leave, Kid stood there fuming for a moment. Part of him wanted to just stay down here and fix it later, just to piss Killer off.

But a stronger part of him wanted to see you, hopefully you wouldn’t run or hide. He made his way slowly to the med bay, almost hoping you’d be gone. As he entered he saw how unlucky he was.

You had your back to him, wiping down the machines that sterilized the suturing materials and other rudimentary instruments. He coughed to get your attention, keeping his injured arm hidden behind the doorframe.

“Hip are you don- oh!” He hated how tense you became, you soft stomach clenching in worry. “Sorry captain, I thought Hip was done with the mop. What can I do for you?” He showed you his arm and felt a small bit better as you gasped with worry.

The rag he’s used to staunch the bleeding made it look worse than it was, but it had dried a little and was now stuck to his skin. You motioned for him to sit on the chair by the table.

“How’d that happen?” You asked, trying to gently peel the rag off.

“Was working and it just kinda happened.” He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to lie to you. “Don’t know where Killer is and I can’t sew with only one hand.” Still not lies technically.

“Gotcha.” You’re all business and he feels a little flush at the sight of you zipping around the room gathering materials. “Well it’s not too bad, really deep though. I’ll numb it, suture it really quick and you should be on your way.” Any trace of fear or anxiety was gone, your posture alert but relaxed, you soft face was focused.

“Take your time.” Kid drawled, enjoying the view, didn’t hurt that your ass looked good as you bent over to grab something under the desk. Your ass always looked good he decided. “Got nowhere to be.”

“Not true,” You return with a small syringe, some type of numbing drug he assumed. “You’re the captain, you probably got plenty of stuff to be doing.”

He didn’t respond, the injection you gave him stung so he had to bite back his swears about it. Neither of you spoke as you worked. You had to stand pretty close to place the sutures, your hands cold but soft as you touched him.

You shivered at one point and Kid realized, horrifically, that he’d leaned to far forward to watch your hands. You glanced up at him, caught his gaze and shuffled a bit further back. He wanted to growl as he saw how tense you’d gotten, your soft apology only making him more frustrated.

You were halfway done and he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“So.” You tensed again, he could see it in your neck especially. “I never did ask… who was your old captain?” You jabbed the needle a bit harder at the question, obviously not on purpose as you profusely apologized. He ignored and continued to stare until you answered.

“His- um. His name is um… It’s Badger. Captain Badger.” You try to focus once more.

“How long did you sail with him?”

“2 years.”

“How big was the crew?”

“About 15.”

“Where’d you sail?”

“West Blue.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“Um.” You were almost shaking, he almost hesitated.

“Why’d you leave his crew?”

“What does it matter?” Oh that was a response, he grinned, anger was better than fear. At least in his book.

“Answer the question. It’s important for me to know.”

“You never needed to know before. Why now?”

“Because I’ve been watching you.” He leans forward more, meeting your heated glare as you tied the final knot. “You’ve got some peculiar habits, I’d like to know more about that.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

He nodded.

“Like on deck or like…. In my room?”

“Not like that you pervert!” He can’t help but shout, you don’t flinch though. A small grin on your face as you successfully get him off the topic.

“So not my room or the showers? Just to clarify.” He knows he’s blushing but he still growls and stands to his full height. You step back but he follows you, a look of fear in your eyes takes over the glee. But he can’t stop himself from continuing.

“You’re clever, but I still need an answer.” He crowds your space, placing both hands on the counter behind you, caging your body with his. He leans forward, letting his breath fan over your ear. “Why did you leave?”

You stay silent, face red and a little sweaty, he pulls back just enough to admire the sight. He can’t make a reassuring face to save his life, but he tries as tears fill up your eyes. Still, he can’t stop, he needs this. You need this.

“If you are unhappy with my performance or skills, tell me and I will fix them. I haven’t brought any bad habits on board. I assure you.” You finally answer, your words felt warm against his face, he grinned some more.

“Uh-uh you see, one of those habits, the only one really,” His grin drops from his face. “Is that you’re scared of your captain.” You pale at his words and start to shake a little. He continues, drawing back slightly.

“That’s something he taught you, right?” He tilted his head a little. “To be scared of your captain. Because you never know when he’ll just up hit you, right?” He parroted your words from the bar back to you. Your eyes are wide with recognition.

“I’m sor-“

“Save it,” He cuts you off. “I know I’m scary, it’s my whole deal. I’m a scary pirate who murders and pillage. But my crew is mine. Understood. I don’t let anyone harm them, especially not myself.” You lean back into the counter more.

“You hurt Wire. You made him need staples and you didn’t even seem sorry. You didn’t help patch him up.” Kid knew this was coming, he still didn’t know what to say.

“It was a mistake,” He said. “I didn’t mean to hit him, but you’re right. I should’ve check on him and made sure he wasn’t hurt.” It was hard to admit he was wrong, but in the small medical room, to you, it was a little easier.

Both of you stayed quiet for a while. He made no move to let you go. And you made no move to try. He wasn’t sure if he would’ve actually stopped you if you did. Finally, the tension in you jaw and shoulders eased, just a little.

“Badger… was bad. He didn’t just hit us. He stole from us and wouldn’t let us leave, even if some managed to escape they’d have no Beris. It’d be like starting from scratch, but worse because if he caught you he’d kill you.” You paused, taking a big breath, turning to stare at the wall. “I was secretly saving Beris, to hopefully run off and be able to hide from him. I didn’t have much, barely anything. One day he came and told me he wanted me to be his… wife.” Kid stood up straight, leaning back like he’d been struck, you continued barely noticing him.

“I told him no, I should’ve said yes and bided my time. Maybe I could’ve taken more people with me, but I was an idiot.”

“No that’s not-“ You cut him off.

“He threw a fit, tried to kill me. His devil fruit power nullifies weapons, so I couldn’t fight back. I tried to stage a mutiny, but everyone was too afraid, he’d never lost a fight. Eventually I jumped over board and swam to shore. I hid on a marine ship, I never had a bounty so I just pretended to be some girl who wanted to travel. I flirted with some of them and got a ride to a port a few islands over.” You sighed, a long exhale that seemed to deflate you. “I had no Beris or even clothes. But I overheard some rookies talking about joining your crew. I figured it was the safest option. So I spoke with Killer and here I am.” You trailed off quietly, tears still hadn’t fallen yet, it was almost impressive.

Kid didn’t speak for several long minutes, just watching you hold your breath. Finally he pushed off the counter, giving you both some breathing room. He began to exit when you called out.

“Captain what are you doing?”

He turned with a scowl.

“I’m setting a course to go murder that asshole.”

“What? Why that’s so far off our course.”

“I told you, you’re my crew. We’re gonna go murder him, then if any of your old friends wanna join the crew they can.” He laughed at your shocked face. When he’d caught his breath he turned again to leave.

#one piece #one piece smut #eustass kid #eustass x reader #kid x reader

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zeltqz · 2 years

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄

+pairings - rindou haitani x fem!reader

+syn - the story on how you fell in love with your childhood best friend and reunite with him years later.

+genre - angst, fluff, smut, slow burn, friend->lovers

+word count - 8.4k

+cw - childhood friends, mutual pining, unresolved sexual tension, rindou and reader are stupidly in denial, and hella oblivious, heartbreak, abandonment issues, oral sex, body worship, drinking, no gangs AU, drunk sex (both reader and rin were out of it)

+rating - no underage consumption / 18+ only / dni if under 18 / ageless blogs dni

+taglist - @anxious-cherry-pie @sheeshizzy @sleeplessreader @magentaviolette @gajeelstan @nalyana

You first met Rindou at eight years old, when you were leaving your ballet class with your mother. On the way out, you peeked through one of the spare open doors to see a young boy practicing his splits in an empty room. Though it was only a couple of seconds you got a glimpse of him, you were already fascinated by the sheer fact alone that he could do the splits.

In your ballet class, no one could do them yet. You were competing with this other girl—the two of you being the only ones closest to the ground. You were determined to beat her, determined to talk to this boy and get him to teach you.

So you waited.

Your next class, a week later on Saturday, you told your mother to drop you an hour before your ballet class. You ran towards the door to the room you saw him in last time, but it was empty. So you checked the next one, then the one after that. Opening each door led to an empty one.

Fifteen minutes you’d spent searching through empty rooms.

It’s clear he wasn’t here.

Your stomach rumbles loudly and you frown, all disappointed and hungry, as you walk to the entrance of the building over to where the vending machine is. Reaching inside your tiny backpack, you grab a couple coins you had taken from your piggy bank this morning and choose a chocolate bar.

Unknown to you, Rindou walks out from the bathrooms, dusting his clothes off and lining up behind you for the vending machine. You grab your bar and begin to walk away, not before catching a small glimpse of the blonde hair from yesterday, then you drop your gaze onto his face then scream.

“YOU!”

It’s a miracle the floor was empty, only the receptionist at her desk typing away but didn’t bother to pay the two of you any attention. Rindou gets startled and flinches for a moment, before looking at you confused. “What?”

“YOU! You’re the guy from last week!”

You should really shut up now before you reveal that you’d been staring at him that one time, and now made it your life goal to search for him.

“What guy…?”

“The splits! You did them!”

“Uhhh, yeah? So?” Rindou gives you one last look before reaching inside his pocket, grabbing a coin and putting it into the machine. You watch as a soda can drops out from the bottom and he bends down to grab it.

“I—how did you learn how to do it? I really need to learn and I thought you could help me.” Your grip on your bag straps tighten as you wait for him to finish drinking his soda. It seems like forever, that one sip turned out to be him downing the drink for almost 30 seconds straight, all the while maintaining eye contact with you.

Just as he stopped drinking for air, your eyes sparkled, waiting for him to spill the secret, only for him to bring the drink back to his lips.

He’s doing this on purpose.

“Hey! Stop wasting my time and tell me!” You’re so tempted to knock the drink from his hands and let it spill onto the floor, but one glance at the janitor mopping the floors on the other end of the room had you shaking your head, discarding your plan immediately.

Rindou laughs and removes his drink from his lips, forearm coming up to wipe the drops of soda from his lips. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but you cannot repeat the secret to anybody. Promise?”

You nod so fast you get dizzy. “Let’s pinky promise.”

“No. I don’t do that.”

“Oh.” You feel a bit disappointed but don’t complain. He’s teaching you the secret to flexibility. You follow behind him with a smile as he walks towards the hallway with the rooms, throwing the can into the bin on the way out. The two of you enter an empty room and he closes the door behind him.

“Okay, what now.”

Rindou looks at the clock, seeing it’s only 1:34PM. He knows most classes start at 2PM, so he doesn’t have long to teach you. He ends up showing you a couple stretches he does at home while he’s watching TV or playing board games with his older brother. The stretches hurt your thighs, but Rindou told you that’s how you know it’s working. But if the pain gets unbearable, then you should stop and take a break before continuing.

Taking his advice, you’d spent the next month doing those same painful stretches and it wasn’t long before you were the first person in your ballet class to ever do the splits.

You found Rindou at the park one day while you were hanging out with your friends. You didn’t keep in touch with Rindou, not seeing him at the leisure centre often, so once you saw him, you practically bolted towards him, all out of breath and talking way too fast for him to understand what you’re saying.

“Woah, calm down and talk slower.”

You nod your head, taking a couple minutes to catch your breath before repeating what you had said earlier, about how you were the first one to do the splits in your class and you had gotten rewarded for it.

“Oh. It’s no problem.” Rindou smiles at you. You give him a toothy grin back and you’re tempted to hug him, but decide against it, not wanting to make things more awkward.

Rindou had expected you to leave the second you thanked him, but was left confused as you stayed, eyes watching his every move with a smile on your face. “Are you here alone?” You ask him the question, looking around the park bench, seeing nobody else around him.

“No. I’m here with my brother.”

You look around one more time and Rindou scoffs. “He’s not here right now, idiot. He’s on his way.”

“Ohhhhh.” You jump onto the park bench, resting your feet on the seats and sit next to him. “I’ll keep you company then.”

“Okay…” Rindou didn’t know if he was comfortable with this, but he never pushed you away or ignored you. He answered every single one of your questions that you’d asked him, trying to know more about him as a person. From your little questionnaire, you found out that he’s only one year older than you, he’s been doing gymnastics since he was 5 years old, he has an older brother called Ran, and lives with his single mother. He likes the colour blue—it doesn't matter the shade, whether light or dark, he loves it and even said he wants to dye his hair blue one day. You told him he’d look weird, he said that’s the point, and how he likes to stand out, which is why he loves doing the splits because it weirds people out.

His brother came around 10 minutes later, holding a plastic white bag in his hands. “Here, take it.” He lazily tossed the bag onto Rindou’s lap and you watched as Rindou dug through the contents like a mole digging through the earth. The smile on Rindou’s face when he saw the packet of jelly beans he’d been craving all week made you smile too. Rindou had a moody face most times, barely ever smiling or laughing, so to see this side of him over something so small made your heart twinge.

You were too focused on Rindou, and he was too focused on his candy, that you didn’t notice Ran scanning you up and down. “Who are you?” He asks after a moment and you break contact with Rindou’s face to look at his brother. If you had thought Rindou was tall, Ran was even taller. Long blonde hair into pigtail braids stopping around his mid shoulder.

“I—uh—” You didn’t really know what to say. You can’t introduce yourself as ‘Rindou’s friend’ because technically, you weren’t friends. You barely spoke to him unless it regarded information about gymnastics and that was around a month ago.

“She’s my friend.” Rindou speaks out for you, mouth full of jelly beans that made Ran’s face cringe up in disgust. But he was happy for his brother that he hadd managed to make a new friend.

“Cool. What’s your name?”

Rindou eagerly listened in too, waiting for you to say your name. It was then he realised he didn’t even know your name or anything about you.

“Just call me [Name].”

“Nice name.” Rindou sends you a small smile before chomping down on the jelly beans again. Your friends, the ones you had arrived at the park with initially, approached the bench asking you if you were coming to the swings with them.

You shook your head and said you want to hang out with Rindou. They thought it was a bit weird at first. Hanging out with boys, but didn’t speak much of it and went down to the swings. Rindou was confused, why you chose him over your actual friends. But the outcome wasn’t so bad, because the two of you hung out even more often since then.

You were 11 years old when you’d dropped out of ballet and stopped doing anything flexible with your body. You’d just grown out of it. Rindou had also stopped, but it was a year before you. He was still insanely flexible that it pissed you off how he still had it in him even without stretching for all those years.

Puberty was probably the worst time of Rindou’s life.

Ever.

It was then he realised he had some sort of feelings for you? He didn’t even know himself, it was confusing. When he had the talk with his mother about his body, and how he was ‘changing’, he coughed it up as bullshit, to which she punished him for swearing. But he didn’t take it back.

His mother gave him a list of things he wasn’t allowed to do with you anymore, like holding hands, sleeping on the same bed, and hugging. Rindou thought it was fucking ridicuous. There’s no way he just turned 13 and now all of a sudden everything is appropriate. Especially when you were his best friend.

He was extremely possessive over you, liking the fact he was your only male friend, because he felt favourited. Like you personally handpicked him to be best friends with out of all billions of guys in the world. You also felt the same about him.

Rindou then realised why his mother told him a list of things he can’t do with you. Because you were also going through puberty aswell. He and his other friends had begun talking about suggestive topics, ones that shouldn’t even be in the minds of boys his age—but his one friend, Shion, had shown Rindou a porno magazine he stole from a store, and as they went through it, Rindou then realised exactly what his mother meant.

Because that same afternoon, when you had come to visit him, he shamefully found himself staring at more intimate personal areas of you, ones that not even a week ago, he wouldn’t even dare look at, or even care about.

Things became so awkward. For you, and for him. He couldn’t get you out of his mind, his young perverted mind practically objectifying you inside his mind every time he saw you, so he distanced himself from you. Barely spoke to you, barely came around to your place anymore. He hated the way whenever you tried to hold hands with him, he would instantly flinch as a reflex and retract his hand as if you had cooties, or when you’d hug him and he wouldn’t deepen it like he used to, instead patting your shoulder once before breaking the hug.

You were sad about the situation. A part of you had a feeling this was coming because the entire friendship, all those years back, you never thought someone as cool as Rindou would ever settle with someone like you.You thought it was only a matter of time before he distanced himself and hung around more ‘popular’ people or whatever.

You could only imagine the surprise on your first day in college,when you saw Rindou again for the first time in 5 years. He looks so much different, yet the same at the same time. He was stuffing things into his locker as you mustered up the confidence to approach him.

What were you going to say? It’s been five fucking years.

Five years before he abanonded you, left you without a single trace, not even an explanation. He just avoided you. Will he avoid you now? Is there even a point? Thoughts plagued your mind and before you even knew it, you turned on your heel and walked the opposite direction.

You were half way down the hallway before you realised your class was in the opposite direction. The direction you were currently avoiding because of a certain someone. You just hope and pray that on your way past, he doesn’t recognise you, or ends up ignoring you just like he’d been doing for the last 5 years.

It’s going well. Everything is going well. You think. Though your head is facing the ground, eyes are unsure what's ahead of you because you’re refusing to look up—he still recognises you.

“[Name]?”

You practically freeze but don’t stop walking, fingers on your bag strap tightening as you count your footsteps in your head to distract your brain from the realisation that he recognised you.

A hand tugs at your arm, and the numbers in your head come to a halt the moment Rindou stops you from walking. “Did you hear me?”

Yes. You did. But you lie.

“Oh, I didn’t hear you. Hey…” It takes all your energy, but you look up at him. It’s the first time in years that you looked him directly in the eyes. He looks different. Way different. But those eyes are still the same. Those beautiful eyes that you always stared into when you were younger. His face is more defined now, which is normal because he’s 17 years old. His arms are more muscular now, concrete evidence that he’s been working out because he used to have very thin arms. His hair is now infact, blue, a colour you’d imagined in your mind the second he told you on that bench years ago his favourite colour is blue.

Rindou doesn’t consider himself an awkward person. He always speaks his shit upfront, doesn’t really have anxiety either. He and his brother were confident individuals, which is normal for boys who happen to get as much attention as they do now.

Yet, he found himself struggling to speak to you. It’s been years since he’d gradually stopped contacting you, a mistake he regrets even to this day. He didn’t mean to—he just felt so bad for you. He didn’t want to ruin your great friendship because his hormones decided to betray him. Things had gotten so awkward the moment he started thinking of you that way, and he knew things wouldn’t be the same.

Also because—he realised he loved you. He realised it at 14 years old, when all his friends were getting girlfriends, the only person he saw himself with was you. He tried getting a girlfriend—her name was Shiko. She was pretty, nice, popular too. Everyone at his middle school shipped them, but things just didn’t feel right. He found himself thinking about you during the span of their 4 month relationship. He even called her your name once, to which she was offended, but forgave him rather instantly.

The moment he realised he loved you was the moment he knew he fucked up. Because you most definetly hate his guts now. He would hate you too if you had just stopped talking to him out of the blue with 0 explanation.

He barely saw you around town either. You two went to completely different schools so that was also off the list. He missed you.

But was too scared to see you again.

Rindou looks at you now, throat dried and tongue-tied, thinking of words to say. On one hand, he was happy to see you again, excited almost. You’d grown up so much. You still look the same as you did, only your features have gotten sharper—a common occurrence of puberty. He’d recognise you in a huge crowd without hesitation.

He keeps his eyes up, not wanting to make that same mistake he did when he was 13. He scans your face, trying to soak your features into his brain so he could replace that picture of 13 year old you inside his mind.

“Hey… how’ve you been?” Rindou wants to slap himself. This is so awkward.

“I’m good. Yeah.” You try not to focus on the fact he still hasn’t moved his hand from your arm yet. You try not to focus on the feeling of his hands burning through your jacket sleeves, melting his handprint onto your skin. It’s hard, but you try your best. “How are you?”

You don’t want to know.

Don’t want to know his life since he magically disapapeared from your life. Don’t want to hear about how much happier he is now that a loser like yourself wasn’t holding him back.

“I’m okay, yeah.”

“Nice.” You gently remove his hand from your arm and readjust your bag on your back. “Well, it was nice seeing you, but I got class now so—”

“Do you maybe want to hang out?” Rindou cuts you off, speaking without thinking the second he saw you about to leave. He wasn’t ready to see you go, not again. He doesn’t know another opportunity he would get to talk to you. Doesn’t even know where to find you after this. He’s not letting this chance go.

Please say yes. He repeats over and over in his head as he watches you look down at the ground, weighing the pro’s and cons.

On one hand, you get to hang out with Rindou again. Your best friend. On the other hand, he did betray you—abandon you for 5 years without a simple explanation. You were so lonely, you didn't even make any other friends because none of them were as amazing as him. He had set the bar way too high and you weren’t sure anybody else could reach it.

It was fear; it kept holding you back and you weren’t sure you needed anymore mental strain on your mind. “I can’t—I’m sorry Rindou.”

He didn’t even bother to hide the disappointment on his face. Just as soon as you start walking again, he stops you. “Wait, can we please just talk? This weekend? I can take you to the park? Y’know…like old times.” When he see you bite your lip—an action you did when you were nervous or was deep in thought—he decided he needed to step up his game more.

Using his grip on your arm, he moves his fingers downwards—it’s a very risky move, but he’s all about risks—and holds your hand. “Please?”

He knows—no, he hopes that his desperation is feeding into you, hopes that you can see how badly he wants you back in his life. The moment he held your hand, goosebumps erupted along your arm. It's a miracle you’re wearing a jacket right now, so you can’t embarrass yourself.

“Okay…we can talk after school.”

“Really?!” His face lights up, and you think it’s adorable.

“Yeah.” You quickly retract your hand from his own, stuffing it inside your pocket. “But I really have to go to class now, I don’t wanna be late.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you there, after school. Maybe 4? That good?” You nod and say no more, quickly rushing down the hall before you were late.

Rindou spends the next hour or so preparing what exactly he’s going to say to you. You just make him so nervous, he’s never nervous to talk to someone, yet alone a girl. The second school’s ended, he’s heading over to the park, the same park he refused to visit and avoided all these years because of the sheer amount of memories flooding his brain the second he looks at it.

Rindou must’ve taken longer to arrive because by the time he gets there, you’re already there, sitting at the top of the slide as you scroll on your phone. Just staring at you was enough to get his heart pumping twice as fast. He climbs the ladder up the slide and takes a seat next to you. The area was so confined, both of your legs were touching and it left your faces heating up. You couldn’t look him in the eye, just waited for him to start speaking.

“Can you look at me?” Rindou’s staring at the side of your face as you look down at your hands, fiddling with the ring on your index finger. You stiffen when he asks that question, taking a moment before you lift your face up to him. You knew you both were close, but it wasn’t until your nose almost brushed against his the second you looked up that it hit you how close the two of you were.

“I’m listening.”

“I’m sorry—for what I did back then. It was stupid of me to just leave you, I don’t know what happened—” A lie. He fell in love with you, that’s what happened, “I was so dumb back then, and I regret everything, I hope you know that. If I could go back in time, I’d never have done it. I really hope you can forgive me [Name], it’s an outdated apology—years overdue, but I want to cherish the time we have right now and maybe…start over? If you want to of course, it’s truly up to you, your the—”

You begin laughing and Rindou has to stop talking because he isn’t sure whether to be angry that you’re laughing at him pouring his heart out to you in an apology, or whether he should be angry at himself, hating the way the sound of your laugh blesses his ears.

“What’s so funn--”

“You’re stupid, Rin.” He knows you don’t mean any harm by it, because you’re smiling. He’s too busy focusing on the fact you called him his old nickname ‘Rin’ that he doesn’t see you leaning in for a hug. In the heavily confined space, it’s a little bit hard to get comfortable and hug you better without his elbows digging into the metal poles.

Rindou swallows, hard, the moment he wraps his arms around your body. It wasn’t enough. Taking another risk, he lifts you from his side onto his lap. You look up at him, confused, but words die inside your throat the second he deepens the hug. It’s much better now, having more arm room to fully wrap his arms around you, embracing you in his warmth.

Any passerbys would probably be looking at the two of your weirdly, two kids hugging at the entrance of the slide, but none of you cared. You lifted your arms to wrap around his neck, resting your head just next to his neck, on his shoulders. He smelt amazing, so good that you found yourself closing your eyes, shifting closer to smell him better.

This is creepy, you thought, but it didnt stop you.

You aren’t sure how long you two hugged for; could’ve been 2 minutes, could’ve been 40 seconds. Time had stopped the entire length of the hug for the both of you.

“Ran’s turning 20 in two months,” Rindou mumbles against your temple, his lips tickling your skin, “Do you want to come to his party with me?”

“I—I don’t know… parties aren’t really my thing, Rin. There’s way too many people there and I—”

The nickname again.

“I’ll be there for you. I won’t leave your side the entire time.” He pulls away from the hug and you look up at him. “He’s gonna get alcohol, legally, since he’ll be of age, and it could be fun? You know, just both of us?”

“You won’t believe this—” You start, hiding behind a little laugh, “but I’ve never gotten drunk before.”

“What?” Rindou looks down at you, shocked. “No fuckin’ way—you serious?” He’s waiting for you to retract the statement but instead you shake your head.

“I mean it! For one, I could never buy alcohol, second, I dunno, I’m just scared.”

“Why are you scared?” He places his hands on the wooden surface behind him, leaning back to get a better look at your whole face. “Alcohol ain’t scary. Well—it’s bitter and strong, but nothing scary.”

“It’s not the drinking part that’s scary—It’s the fact that you’re not in control of your actions that’s scary.”

Rindou thinks back to all the stupid things he’s said and done all the times he was drunk and finds them more funny than scary. “The worst thing I did when I was drunk was get matching tattoos with Ran.”

“What?!” You shift on his lap to get a better look at him. “Tattoo? Where is it?” You lift his arm up, pulling up his sleeves and examine the length of his arm thoroughly for a better look for a tattoo. You also took the opportunity to get a better look at his build without coming off as creepy. His arm muscles tense under your grip and you have to bite your tongue.

“It’s not there—” He chuckles, removing his arm from your grip. You watch with confused, wide eyes as his hand comes up to the hem of his shirt. He takes a moment before slowly pulling the material up past his stomach. From the second he lifted it, thick black ink appeared and as he lifted his shirt higher, the ink just kept appearing and your eyes followed the lines until his hands came to a stop. “There’s more—but I don’t think it’s appropriate to show it in public.” He exhales shakily, the muscles on his stomach tensing up as he watches your eyes examine all over his chest

He’s never felt self conscious before, not underneath your gaze. Your hand reaches out for a moment but you quickly retract it and look up into his eyes. “Can I—”

He’s silent when he nods; watching your fingers gently graze the tattoo from the bottom. Your lips are slightly parted as you run your fingers upwards, slowly, not even realising how much tension you’re causing him because you’re too engrossed in the tattoo, so many questions fill your mind the longer you run your fingers along it.

“Di—did it hurt?” You say the moment you reach the top, just where his fingers holding his shirt up, preventing you from going further.

“I was drunk, so no. I can’t even remember it.”

“Woah.” You look back down at it once more before biting your lip, deep in thought. Rindou would kill to know what you were thinking about—wants to know if you felt that tension earlier, if you were doing it on purpose to see how he would react, or if you were just genuinely interested in his tattoo.

“It’s only on one side.” You point out, “is it like a puzzle or something?”

Rindou shakes his head. “Nah. Ran has the other half.”

“Woah.” You repeat, genuinely impressed at that work of art on his chest. Your mind wonders, if you and him and remained friends all those years—would you have gotten that same tattoo with him? How would it even work—?

“So—do you wanna come to his party with me? I promise, I won’t make you get matching tats with me if you get too drunk.”

You can’t help but smile. Fuck—you missed him so much, that you’re willing to head out of your comfort zone just to hang out with him more. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

During those two months prepartion for Ran’s birthday, you and Rindou used the party planning as an excuse to hang out with each other more often. He would walk you home after school, but since he was a year older, his classes ran on for an hour longer, meaning you’d wait outside his class for him. He’d take the train with you home, sometimes if you both were really bored, you’d walk the distance.

This was only just the start.

The start of your newfound friendship. The beginning of a new era. And god—were you excited.

His birthday finally rolled around and it was packed. It hit you just how many people loved Ran. His house is filled with random people you’ve never seen before, recognising a couple people, third years that go to your school.

You take an earbud out from your ear, leaving it to hang low as you manoeuvre your way through the house, trying to find Rindou. You were wearing a simple outfit—but you had unknowingly grabbed the necklace Rindou’s mother picked out for him to give to you on your twelfth birthday. All the Rindouless years passing by made you forget about the necklace and its importance. But the second Rindou saw it, memories came flooding back.

“You still have this?” Rindou points out about an hour after you had arrived, not knowing a proper way to bring it up. You turn to face him and the moment you do, he grabs the necklace, looping a finger around the simple chain.

The action causes you to stiffen. He doesn’t break eye contact, waiting for you to answer the question. It’s not until you realise silent you’re being that you remember he was talking to you. “Oh! Yeah, I mean—I never threw it out.”

“Word? How does it even fit? It’s been years, no?” He doesn’t remove his fingers and to make matters worse, a very drunk and hyper person pushes past you aggressively, causing Rindou to grab onto your waist to keep you in front of him, not ready to see you get washed away into the crowd of very horny, drunk teenagers.

The second you register his hand on your waist, your brain stops functioning. “It’s a pretty necklace—I didn’t want to throw it out.”

It’s not that pretty. The both of you know it. It’s just a simple silver chain. No jewel, no pendant, no diamonds.

No, anything.

It’s only pretty and special to you, because the person who gave it to you was pretty and special to you. Rindou gives you a smile before a random girl taps onto his shoulder, whisking his attention away.

You can’t help but frown as you watch her whisper something into his ear. It’s awkward. It hit you how many girls actually like Rindou—and you can’t even blame them to be honest.

Look at him.

“Not today, I’m busy.” Rindou responds a moment after and the girl frowns for a moment before her eyes land on the birthday boy himself. She fixes the straps on her dress, and pushes her boobs up before fixing her face and heading straight towards him.

“I hate it when girls do that,” Rindou says after a moment and you take your eyes off her form to look at him with an intrigued brow.

“Do what?”

Rindou looks down at his drink and shakes his cup a little bit, watching the liquid swish around the walls of the cup. He lazily shrugs before continuing, “Thirsting over me and Ran. I mean—maybe he likes the attention, and I used to, but it’s getting annoying now. Like, I’m my own person, not just some sex object to satisfy you. Y’know?”

Rindou realises he’s ranting and instantly closes his mouth. “I mean, You probably get it, don’t you?”

“Get what?”

He wishes your innocence was just an act, one you used to attract guys towards you, but these two months he’s spent you made him realise you truly were slightly innocent when it came to these sorts of conversations. Makes him wonder if you haven’t lost it yet.

“The whole being used and stuff. Don’t you have guys after you?”

You shake your head. “Nope. I’ve never done that stuff before.” Rindou stops shaking his drink, fingers squeezing around the cup as he looks at you.

“You serious?”

“Yah.”

“Bu—but you—” You’re so hot , he thinks, but doesn’t say aloud. “Not even one guy wants you?”

“Jeez, when you say it like that, it makes me sound like a loner.” You say with a laugh at the end, but now you’re actually deeping the situation. You’re almost 19 and haven’t even had your first kiss yet. “Ohmygod, I’m going to die a virgin.” You say without thinking and Rindou watches you, confused, as you practically have a mental breakdown in your head.

“You good?”

“No! I mean, shit, I need to find a boyfriend, or at least lose my v-card before I turn 19, this is so embarassing, god—”

“I mean—I coul—” He instantly closes his mouth, realising just how stupid that idea was. He just rekindled his friendship with you, now he wants to ruin it all because of a stupid offer. “Nevermind. And it’s good that you’re a virgin, y’know—” He stops talking because you’re not listening to him, he can tell by the way you’re biting your lip, probably thinking of a bunch of boys in your class you could potentially lose it to.

He wishes you’d just open your eyes and look at him. He’s right there. But in your confused mind, you don’t think someone as hot and cool and Rindou could ever get with someone like you. Infact, just looking at that girl from earlier, it’s clear Rindou hooked up with girls like her before. All pretty and confident—things that you believed you weren’t.

So Rindou was off the hook. Not even a possibility.

“Dude, dude! RINDOU!” A loud deep voice startles you, and Rindou. Shion is practically out of breath when he places a hand on Rindou’s shoulder, using him practically as an armrest. “Ev—everybody’s downstairs—beer pong—” He says between breaths, then points a finger towards the door, “Go.”

“What?”

“I said—” Shion finally gets his breath back, now standing up tall. “Everybody playing beer pong downstairs and they called for you.”

“Beer pong?”

Rindou turns around to face you, completely ignoring Shion’s drunk ass. “Yeah, beer pong it’s basically—” You listen to him explain the rules of beer pong, the both of you completely ignoring Shion who keeps on tugging the back of Rindou’s shirt to get his attention.

“Fuck off, Shion. I’m talking.” Rindou punctuates his sentence by wrapping an arm around your shoulder, tugging you gently to his side. His voice gets a tad softer when he looks down at you. “Do you wanna play?”

“I don’t know…”

“Please? For me?”

You find it difficult to say no—but you do anyway. “I can just watch you and I’ll cheer you on.”

“Nah. I want you on my team.”

“Stop fucking flirting. Are you playing or not?!” Shion is starting to get annoyed, scoffing loudly before heading back towards the door he entered through. Rindou looks at you one more time, the question still lingering on his tongue before you finally give in and nod.

Rindou is smiling the entire way downstairs. By the time you get to the basement, you see a pool table along with around 15 people downstairs. The only people you recognise is Shion because of earlier. There’s two boys on the other end of the table, one with long black hair, one with crazy pink hair and scars.

“He’s here!” Sanzu quickly points to the other end of the table. You both are being dragged to the opposite end of the table, you being in front as Rindou stands behind you with his hands on your shoulders. You were so fucking nervous. The cups were already set up in a triangle, half filled with beer.

“Are you ready to lose?” Koko sticks his tongue out as he flips the coin, catching it on the back of his hand before covering it with his spare hand. “Heads or tails.”

Rindou squeezes your shoulders to get your attention before he whispers into your ear because the room was far too loud for him to speak at regular volume. “You choose.”

You turn around to look at him, ready to protest before someone is yelling ‘HURRY UP!’

“Tails?” You blurt out quickly, seeing Koko remove his palm from his hand. His face scrunches up in annoyance as he shows the coin facing tails.

“Yeah! Suck it, Kokonoi.” Rindou laughs from behind you before stretching along the table to grab the ball. “Throw it into a cup, just like I told you.” Your fingers brush together as you nod your head and take the ball from him. You toss the ball into a cup, only for it to bounce off the top and flop back onto the table.

You frown but quickly cheer up when you hear Rindou console you, telling you it’s common for that to happen. You notice Rindou never steps away from you to get a better shot, he stands behind you; his chest against your back the entire time, the close proximity is making you feel dizzy and lightheaded—and you haven’t even tried alcohol yet.

One hand on your shoulder as he makes his shot.

The game was more fun than you thought. Though you and Rindou lost because Sanzu was surprisingly amazing at aiming, you had drunk around 7 cups of beer, and you started to feel a bit lightheaded. You tug on Rindou’s sleeve to pull him down to your level to whisper into his ear. “I’m ffeel-feeling a bit dizzy.”

“For real? Damn, you a lightweight, huh?” You furrow your brows as he speaks even though you’re barely registering what he’s saying. “I’ll take you upstairs, c’mon.” Rindou holds onto your hand, giving it a tight squeeze to reassure you that he’s there.

It helps and you drown out the noise of his friends screaming at him to come back and play another round. You drown out the loud blast of music coming from the living room, drown out everything, only registering the lock on Rindou’s bedroom door locking the moment you enter inside.

“Sit down on my bed, there.” You obey, even though the ground looked like it was about to eat you whole, you crossed the distance and fell onto his bed, sinking your face in his black sheets.

You hear the sound of a fridge opening, looking over at Rindou who grabs a bottle of alcohol from his minifridge before coming to sit down next to you. “R-rrreally Rin? You’re drrinking more?”

“I’m not drunk yet,” He begins to pour it into a cup, “I’m a heavyweight, so I gotta drink loads before I get drunk.”

“Ohh,” It explains a lot, why he’s practically normal and functioning like a regular human being, unlike you, struggling to keep your eyes open but at the same time, feel a sort of tingling running down your legs that make you want to run around. It’s confusing.

“You wanna try some? You might like it, it’s better than that nasty beer.”

“Yyeah. That beer was really horrible,” You cross your legs and watch as Rindou passes you his cup. Sober you probably would’ve been a little too shy to drink from the same cup as Rindou—but you barely had time to overthink any scenarios. Gulping down the drink that in fact, tastes much better than that horrible beer.

“Oh my god.” You grab the bottle from Rindou and he watches you, amused, as you pour more of the wine into the red cup.

“Slow down [Name],” He tries to get you to drink slower, but you’re not listening, already gulping it down too fast.

You want to puke.

But you don’t stop drinking. It tasted…sweet? But also, really bitter? You didn’t know, all you knew was that your mouth loved it, and wanted more.

Rindou eventually could see that you were clearly drunk now, your tispy behaviour long gone now as you stare up at his ceiling and your fingers draw imaginary circles into the air.

It’s adorable.

You’re adorable.

It takes Rindou six more cups of that heavy wine before he’s joining you. The two of you are laughing at the ceiling. You aren’t sure what you’re looking at, but the room is spinning and you can’t stop laughing.

“Rinnn,” you stop laughing and sit up from the bed to turn and face him. He nods at you to continue talking. “Why did you leave me those years? Was it something I did?”

One thing you should know about drunk Rindou, is that he has no filter.

“Cause I was attracted to you; jerked off to you, and had thoughts about you.” He places his hands behind his head and looks back up at the ceiling. “So I felt guilty, and just avoided you.”

“That’s it?” You frown.

“Yeah—? Wait, why aren’t you mad? Aren’t you all about feminism and that shit, not wanting to be objectified or whatver? Abolish the patriarcy, sexism whatnot?”

“I mean, I am. Fuck the patriarcy, but still. I don’t care that you did that to me.” You shift to lay down on the bed, propping yourself up on one elbow before turning to face Rindou. “Besides…I also thought about you like that.”

The world stops for Rindou at approximately 10:23PM on a Friday.

“What?” He turns to face you, both of you don’t care about the close proximity, your nose brushing together as you both subtly lean in closer. “You did?”

“Yeah…only a couple times.”

“What exactly….” Rindou shifts closer to you, using one hand to lift your leg up to rest on his own, “did you think about?”

You break the eye contact only for him to drag your face back to his eyes. “Answer me.”

“I—” You swallow. Even though your mind is hazy right now—both of your minds are—you still feel the long forgotten anxiety come back the moment he asked you this. “I can’t remember.”

“When was the last time you fucked yourself thinking of me?” He’s so close. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up when you feel his lips brush against your neck. He’s not kissing you, no—he’s just waiting for the right moment. The second he hears you exhale shakily, he presses a kiss on your skin, slowly moving upwards to your jawline. “Answer me.”

“Last week—”

“Hmm.” Rindou hums against your skin, dragging his hands down your body to rest against your waist. “And you forgot, already?”

“Yeah…?” Your voice trails off into the moan the second he bites down against your skin. Your hands fly to his hair to keep him in place, subconsciously pressing him closer to your skin. “Fuck—that feels so nice.”

You moan again when he hums, the sound vibrating against your skin. You aren’t sure what came over you, but you’re pushing him onto the bed and climbing over his to straddle him. His hands instantly fly to your hips, keeping you atop his own as you lean down to kiss him.

He meets you halfway, letting go of one of your hips to cradle the back of your head, but also to ensure you’re not going anywhere. He tastes a bit like a mixture of beer and that strong wine, but you don’t care. All form of sense overridden from the sheer fact alone that you’re straddling your bestfriend/crush while his tongue is currently down your throat.

You’re not sure where to put your hands, having his drunken kiss be your first, so you rest them aside his head, gripping onto the sheets of the pillow beside him. There’s a tingly feeling down there, that only grows stronger when you move your hips front to back, practically grinding against Rindou’s crotch.

The second your clothed cunt grazes his cock, he’s gripping you in place, moving you along his length at his own pace. His iron grip rocking you back and forth prevents your movements, and you slowly lose control of your own pleasure, but it gets amplified the second Rindou breaks away from the kiss.

“Take off your shirt.”

You nod, sitting back up straight and remove your shirt from over your head. Rindou’s mouth goes slack, slightly agape as he looks at his bestfriend in just her bra. It feels sinful and dirty, seeing you this way, a way he’s imagined for so long and never thought he’d experience the real deal.

“You’re so beautiful—” Rindou doesn’t waste any time, sitting up abruptly as he sucks more lovebites onto your neck. You throw your head back, allowing him more room and perfect access to your body. The feeling of his soft lips making their way from your collarbone—down to your chest makes you squirm.

“W-wait—” You call out and he pulls away to look up at you, confused to see if he’d crossed any boundaries. You reach behind yourself to unfasten your bra and he groans when he sees you naked, topless atop of him, for the first time.

“Goddamn,” His lips are back onto yours, kissing you passionately and professionally. You wind your fingers into his long hair whilst he grips onto your right breast, kneading it in his big palms—tilting his head to readjust the positioning of the kiss.

You arch your back into his touch; also deepening the kiss. Rindou lets go of your breast and quickly flips your positions. The next thing you know, you’re underneath him, squirming under his heavy gaze. He rakes his eyes from your pretty face, down to your bare chest, all the while licking his lips—his brain thinking of 1001 ways to devour you.

He leans down to your chest, pressing soft kisses against your areola to tease you. The feeling of his nose brushing against your nipple had you biting back a moan. The air around it was so cold, you needed his warm mouth to fill it. “Rin…c’mon—please?” You breathlessly beg, eyes rolling back when he listens to your request, sucking a nipple into his mouth.

The sheer warmth had you arching your back upwards, forcing him to take more into his mouth, and gripping onto his thick hair strands. The sensation is amplified, tenfold, the moment he flicks his tongue against your nipple, rubs slow circles with the tip of his tongue before pulling off, making sure his lips stay attached to your nipple until he’s pulled off far enough.

He repeats this with the other one; all the while tugging at the waistbands of your pants. You gently push him off you, raising your hips slightly so he can shimmy your pants down your legs. Tossing them somewhere on the ground, he lifts his own shirt up and over his head, and it’s then you finally get to see the full tattoo.

Rindou’s eyes widen when he looks back down and realises he accidentally shed your panties too along with your pants. He’s staring down at you bare and naked, and you’re about to close your legs from humiliation but he stops you—using both hands to spread you apart.

He mutters something underneath his breath, using two fingers to push your folds apart. The wet squelch made his cock literally jump in his underwear. “You’re so—so…wet.” Before you could even tell him to stop looking, he dives in, using his tongue to lick and suck at the slick coating your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth eagerly.

“God—fffuck—” Your voice was shaky as you gripped onto his hair, literally pulling the strands the longer you felt his tongue flick your clit at top speed. Rindou hums into your cunt, licking you up from top to bottom before tickling his tongue at your hole. It was hard to squeeze through, but he managed it well. The moment his tongue slid in, he grunts, hard, when you tug at his hair, uncontrollable moans leaving your mouth as he fucks you with his tongue.

“Rin—Rindou, I’m, I—fuck, gonna cum—I’m gonna—!” Rindou digs his nails deeper into your thighs, leaving crescent shaped marks on your skin as proof he was the first one between your legs. Your back arches as your muscles convulse and contract, practically drowning him between your legs as you cum.

Rindou retracts his tongue from your pussy and cleans you up, licking your folds a couple more times before shifting to your thighs, giving you a couple lovebites to further reinforce his presence before kissing his way up your perfect naked body, reaching the top as he kisses you sloppily. Your hands tangle themselves in his hair again, pulling him even closer to you.

After a couple more minutes of kissing, your hand trails downwards, tugging at the waistband of his pants. “Please, let me…”

“No. I can’t—” Rindou tugs your hand away from his pants. It’s different when he’s giving to you, not taking from you. He can’t explain it. Even in his drunk, hazy mind, he knows it won’t be right to let you touch him like that, no matter how hard you beg.

“B-but I want to.” You sit up, pulling him back next to you. You lean down, giving him another kiss to distract him. He’s quickly melting into the kiss, cradling the back of your head to feel you more. You slide your hands down his body, into his pants and start to rub against his cock.

Rindou actually groans into the kiss, breaking it to curse under his breath when he feels you play with his tip, rubbing circles along the slit. “Shit, [Name], keep going.” He leans back against the pillow and removes the stray hairs from your face as he watches your hand through his pants jerk him off, slowly.

You frankly, didn’t know what you were doing.

The two of you knew this was wrong. Not only are you bestfriends, but you aren’t supposed to be this way when you’re both not in the right state of mind.

You both knew but it didn’t stop you both.

You flop back down next to Rindou after making him cum. Your wrist aches, but it’s all worth it when Rindou snuggles up next to you, wrapping you tight in his grip and gives your bare shoulder soft kisses.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen next. A part of you wants to remember this moment forever, but when you wake up, you know last night would’ve been just a blur.

***

i was too lazy to proofread it so ignore mistakes hehe....🙎🏽

reblogs are much appreciated thank you for reading to the end☹️

#—tr </3 #haitani rindou x reader #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #tokrev #tokrev x reader #tokyorev x reader #zeltqz #rindou haitani smut #rindou smut #haitani rindou fluff #rindou angst #rindou headcanons

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violetsiren90 · 1 year

Text

Blame Me (Teaser) | Jungkook/Reader

Pairing: Jungkook/Noona Reader (fem reader)

Genre: Best friend's younger brother; slow burn; friends to lovers; eventual romance; eventual smut; neighbors/childhood friends au; forbidden(ish) love; summer love

Summary: Upon returning to your hometown after breaking off your engagement to your boyfriend of three years, you reconnect with your childhood bestfriend as you attempt to put the pieces of your life back together. It seems like nothing has changed in the sleepy little town until your bestie's younger brother returns home from college - very, very grown. As the summer stretches on, the stakes get higher - can you play with fire without getting burned, or have you ignited a flame that won't be extinguished?

Warnings: 18+ (minors, dni); age-gap relationship (between consenting adults); lots of fluff; explicit smut (chapters will have their own warnings); secret relationships; angsty moments; messy situations/relationships; JK on a motorcycle; working through insecurities

Release date: Mid-late May

Author's note: Hello! This will be my first time posting a full-fledged chapter-installment fic here, but I'm excited because I've had this concept brewing in the back of my mind for a while now and BTS Chapter 2 Jungkook, with his curly hair and all his flirty little lives has me soft AF 😂🥰. After launching chapter one, I'm aiming to update twice a month. The teaser below is just a snippet of an interaction to give you a feel for their dynamic.

If you want to be added to the tag list, comment or send me an ask to let me know!

________________________________________

He slug his leg over the bike and settled in, hands on the bars, and flashed a smile over at you that made you suspect he knew just how good he looked sitting there in all that denim.

"C'mon, noona!" He urged, rolling his wrist to rev the engine as his booted foot kicked up the stand. You had never been on a motorcycle before, and if you were being honest with yourself, you were a little terrified of the idea of flying down the road so exposed and precariously perched.

"I don't know, Jungkook..." you wavered, crossing your arms over your chest but advancing a step or two to examine the machine humming under his weight. As you roved your eyes uncertainly over the bike, he reached out and grabbed your arm, pulling you gently but firmly to him.

"Don't you trust me?" He cooed, batting his long lashes over the most obnoxiously irresistible pair of puppy eyes.

"Don't look at me like that!" you chided. He continued to look at you exactly like that. You sighed in defeat.

"Fine," you mumbled, and he let out a laugh, turning to grab the helmet perched behind him and press it over your head before you could protest. You narrowed your eyes at him, your hair pinned sloppily between the two pads of foam squishing together your cheeks. He stared at you for a moment then burst into a fit of laughter.

"Hey!" you whined, but it was hard to be mad at him with his eyes pressed into little crescent moons and his smile so wide and so gloriously blinding as he held his sides and rocked to and fro like a cartoon character. You smiled a small smile in spite of yourself.

"Okay, okay," you sighed, "I know I look dumb, but that was a bit much, don't you think?" Still smiling brightly and chuckling he reached over and buckled the strap under your chin, then patted the top of the helmet.

"Jolla gwiyeobda!" He giggled, tapping your nose. You felt a flush creep over your face and neck which he seemed blessedly oblivious to as he guided you up behind him onto the bike. As soon as your body made contact with the seat, gravity, that crafty bitch, pulled your hips down snugly against his ass, your thighs sliding firmly against the outsides of his own. You kept your hands gingerly on his shoulders as you activated every muscle in your core in an attempt to sit upright. He pulled a helmet over his mop of curls before plucking your hands from his shoulders to guide them around his waist, pulling your chest flush against his torso.

"Tighter, noona!" You could hear the smirk in his voice. This kid. He damn well better not be able to feel your heart beating at a million miles an hour into his back, you thought to yourself in mild distress.

"Like this?" you asked squeezing harder around his waist, and trying your absolute level best to ignore the definition and firmness of his muscles beneath your touch. He hummed in assent. You could still hear that damn smirk.

One rev.

Two revs.

You pressed your eyes shut and curled your head into his back.

He let out a bright peel of laughter.

And then suddenly, you were gliding forward. Faster and faster. You peeked an eye open to discover that in a few short seconds, you had already almost cleared the neighborhood. You cut through the warm evening air like bullet as trees and quaint suburban homes gave way to rolling fields of fertile green. As your broke into the open farmland, your breath caught in your throat. These were the same planes and hills that had met you for years, and yet it was as if you had never really seen them, not until now - with nothing but the wind between you and all of it, the swells of the earth and the sunset. Is this what it felt like to fly? Every ounce of trepidation in your body had been replaced with a euphoric thrill. Did he feel it too? Suddenly he let out a whooping howl that you could barely hear above the roar of the air whipping around you.

Yeah, he must feel it. You smiled. He had before said that sometimes freedom was just hitting the ground running. He said that sometimes you had to take risks to remind yourself that you were alive. As you pressed your cheek into the strong warmth of his back, you began to think you might have a thing or two to learn. And he might be the one to teach you.

-End teaser-

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art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament · 7 months

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SET ONE FINAL - ROUND FOUR

"Hubble Deep Field" (1996 - Hubble Space Telescope) / "Can’t Help Myself" (2016 - Sun Yuan & Peng Yu)

HUBBLE DEEP FIELD: This photo is kind of only incidentally art, but it is one of my favorite photographs ever. It is the visual byproduct of scientific and technological advancement. Honestly, its not even the most visually impressive Hubble (or other deep space telescope) photo. But I don't think there is anything else in the entire world which can so clearly and deeply impart the existential, incomprehensible vastness of the universe. * This photo represents a section of the night sky with "nothing" in it. There are no stars and it is outside of the plane of the Milky Way. From our view on Earth, it is less than a square inch across. Before this image, we knew of other galaxies, and their abundance was absolutely hypothesized, but no one really knew what to expect when examining such a small, seemingly empty part of the night sky. This is what they found. A tiny fraction of the night sky revealed to be teeming with thousands of galaxies, light reaching us from billions of lightyears away. To extrapolate and imagine that the entirety of the night sky is full of this, a vast blanket hidden behind our local stars. At the time, hundreds of billions of galaxies were estimated to exist. Today that estimation has risen to 2 trillion. 2 trillion potential Milky Ways. 2 trillion of the 100 billion stars that exist in our galaxy, there ever growing and evolving and expanding. I look at this image and just feel so utterly and completely small. How can you look at this and not feel atomic. There is so much of everything, and even still there is darkness, space, filled with so much light and possibilities. It represents both our loneliness as a planet, our isolation, and our connection to the universe, that there is no way we are alone, that we keep reaching out and trying to learn and understand our existence. (if you are interested in some more of the science of this, I'd recommend this Forbes article. I think its a good summary of the history and science, and provides a lot of jumping off points for further research) *disclaimer - there are and continue to be images taken with the same and improved techniques to explore space outside of the galaxy. This was, to the best of my knowledge, the first long exposure of dark space. (travelingsmithy)

CAN'T HELP MYSELF: easily one of the installment pieces of all fucking time. the way that the robot originally began as a smooth, precise sort of machine, efficient and quick, but slowly decomposed into jerkier and messier movements because of its own inability to "help itself" since it needs to clean all of its spill or it can't stop is so so visceral and kind of makes me want to tear my hair out. the way the artists capture human movement and desperation in the robot is incredible. to me it kind of appeals to a sick human desire to watch something outside of ourselves suffer, but also the human ability to connect with anything, even a machine. it's so easy to see ourselves in something mechanical!! we are looking for ourselves in everything!!! that's so fucked up and cool!!! (fromjannah)

(The Hubble Space Telescope took this photo in 1996, and it was the first picture ever taken of deep space. "Hubble Deep Field" was originally imaged by the Wide Field and Planetary Camera 2, a camera initially installed upon the Hubble Telescope

"Can't Help Myself" is a Kuka industrial robot made of stainless steel and rubber mopping up cellulose ether in coloured water made by two Chinese artists, Sun Yuan & Peng Yu. This installation was displayed in Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York but was removed from display.)

#art that fucks you up tournament #polls #atfyu polls #id in alt text

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movedmovedsoup · 2 years

Note

HEY HEY HEY!!!! IM SO HAPPY YOU DECIDED TO TAKE REQUESTS! YOU GOT THIS❤️ I was wondering if you could write a fic with Vance Hopper x a fem reader who is really shy around him? And they both got a huge crush on eachother? Tysm! ❤️❤️

yes of course !! tysm for being my first ask 💕 NO PROOFREAD

DISCLAIMER!!! VANCE MAY BE A LITTLE CC!

Vance x fem! shy! Reader

“don’t be a stranger!”

part two is here !

‘oh dear god’

is all you could possibly seem to repeat in your head as you approached the grab n go corner store, sure it was always the to-go spot for kids and teenagers but the popularity seemed to burst especially around the summertime or spring season. as of right now it was the end of the school year, may of 1978. there were only two weeks left of the seemingly never ending school year. this meant joy for you, as you could spend some more time with friends and sleep in late. but the thing was, at the current moment why where you practically dreading your very existence?

because he was there you could see the mop of blond hair slightly moving around from the store window as you walked up to the store that’s was littered with teenagers and kids of every age. of course you weren’t alone, you were with your dear friend tracy. now..tracy sure she wasn’t the most brightest of the bunch but she definitely knew when love was in the air..even if it was believed to be one sided. just a few days prior you had confessed to her how you had a crush on pinball vance for practically the entire school year. now the confession didn’t really get a reaction out of tracy, only lightly scoffing and saying it was obvious for the longest time ever. pointing out the stolen glances, the pace of how you walked becoming ten times faster when he was around in the halls and most noticeably how you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him! but who could really blame you? despite his aggression vance was deemed quite the good looker, often sought after by other girls and made other boys envious. hearing the familiar ‘ding!’ of the front door to the store brought you back to reality, seeing as tracy had opened the door for you to come in, to escape the beginnings of the hot colorado summer.

“you really need to make it less noticeable y/n.” tracy whispered to you with a cheeky smile, the freckles dawning her tan skin were made more evident with the expression. you were caught even more off guard, lips frowning into a straight line. you knew you had been caught in the trace, eyes instinctively wandering to vance. who as always was hunched over the pinball machine that sat snug in the corner by the drinks. gulping quietly as tracy took your hand, leading you through the isles demanding you to pick whatever you’d like, it was her treat. seeing as you tutored her for the chemistry test and she got a good grade, tracy wanted to repay you back. and for someone who only had a dollar fifty to their name..you didn’t mind at all. the two of you leaned on the freezer doors glancing absent minded at the never ending supply of colorful drinks. opening her lips to speak, your chatty best friend seemed to quickly shut her mouth. which definitely wasn’t common..at all. you had noticed and furrowed your brows in confusion, hands immediately patting yourself down just incase something was on you.

“trace? what is it? is there something on me?” you questioned before getting semi-fed up by her silence, eyes shooting up to look at her. you noticed how she wasn’t looking at you, rather behind you, further away than you. following her gaze it landed to the noisy pinball machine, you could hear your heart practically beat inside of your ears. the gaze you had dropped down to the cold tile floor, marked with sneaker imprints. not daring to lift up the gaze but curiosity bit at you as you could hear tracy let out the smallest ‘Ooooo’ mocking hum before drawing her attention to another isle. working up enough nerve to allow your eyes to see what she was ‘Oooing’ and Ahhing’ about. only then did you practically wish to be claimed dead right there and then, a whole six feet under. well because of the circumstances you were currently in that would possibly happen very soon. looking back at you was vance hopper, yes pinball vance yes the boy you had been hopelessly crushing on since last september. he seemed to be trying to not make it obvious he was staring at you, once realizing you were looking right back at him he snapped his eyes back to the game.

cursing under his breath as he dug into one of his pockets, shoving a quarter into the slot before beginning again. god was he hoping his hair would’ve at least covered his eyes from an angle. he just felt no short of hopeless, pure hopelessness. the two of you had a few run ins during the school year from what he could remember you two shared a class or two..before he got switched because he beat a kid to a pulp in one of them. sure you were more on the quiet side when it came to people you didn’t know well. but whenever the two of you seemed to cross paths it would be downright awkward ! for example, one instance you had dropped your books in the halls. vance, who was on a good streak decided that he wanted to help out, before he could even get to the proper distance. you grabbed the fallen books and scrambled out of his way, shoving past him. and if anything that confused him a whole lot more. it was unusual, usually girl’s would’ve killed a man to be in that position and he semi-knew that. with a few more interactions between the two of you, one of them being how you had to tutor him for a week or so earlier on in the year made him feel a certain way about you, the feeling was a little unfamiliar.

as you walked around the isles trying to keep a distance away from the blonde you heard tracy’s voice call out to you about some new ‘seveteen’ magazine article coming out. filled to the brim with excitement you hurried over, it didn’t once hit you that the magazine display was right next to the pinball machine. it was too late, rushing over to tracy you seemed to lose your balance for a moment, ankle rolling as your side hit into the pinball machine. it was like everyone had gone silent in the moment, you had stumbled back, tracy quickly disappearing behind the magazine rack with slight worry and excitement bubbling within her. vance had taken a sharp breath throwing his hands into his hair in frustration. “which one of you dumbfucks did this?!” he yelled in frustration, the cashier inching towards the phone. knuckles turning a white color as he clutched the sides of the machine, chipping off paint as he did so. as some kid from the crowd yelled out a “it was that girl!!!” pointing directly at you, you were trying to hide yourself into the corner of the shop, mind racing with thoughts as you awaited the impending doom. ‘oh dear god, oh jesus does he even hit girls?? if he didn’t before then i’m sure he definitely will now’ shutting your eyes with anticipation, nose scrunched up and all.

but yet nothing came, in fact everyone was shocked but felt safe enough to return to the chatter that was there before. fluttering open your eyes you looked back to vance who was letting out a distressed sigh. not knowing if you should make a break for it or feed into your curiosity you took the risk of inching closer to him. throat threatening to close up the more you got closer, leaving the original hiding spot you were in. “aren’t you uh…gonna hit me..?” you mumbled quietly, voice barely above a whisper. the boy simply scoffed and looked over to you with a hard to read expression. “i don’t mess up girls you should know i have s’more class than that.” you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding feeling like lady luck was on your side. but quickly put your attention back to him as he spoke once again.

“and plus, why would i wanna hurt a pretty face like yours again..? y/n was the name wasn’t it?” his usual rough and threatening tone was definitely taken down a few notches, instead it was a little more lighter and arguably softer. sure it was obvious his voice was straining from not speaking his usual level but he didn’t wanna scare you off, not now that he has you in his presence. his words made your face feel all hot and as if your heart was about to fall from its placing and onto the floor because of how fast it was beating. you only seemed to let out a small chuckle and nodded to his question, not noticing the small smile that slowly appeared onto your lips. but vance definitely took it into account, he liked the smile he saw. thinking you should smile a whole lot more than the usual, worried expression he saw plastered onto that cute face. not allowing another moment of silence to go by he cleared his throat with a boyish grin. “now i’m not letting you fuck with any of my damn rounds again that’s for sure, i need to be repaid y’know i didn’t think about making you bleed for nothin.” immediately your guard went up again not knowing what he was insinuating exactly. the blonde noticed this and rolled his eyes shaking his head. “don’t you fucking get it?” his tone immediately reversed back to his usual one as if he was getting defensive about something. “im asking if you wanna see that new movie with me, chainsaw massacre??” he mumbled looking to the side with his arms crossed as if he was admitting something embarrassing.

“oh!” was the only sound to leave you, mouth formed into a ‘O’ shape as you blanked for a minute. trying the absolute best not to just clam up and run away from him..like you always did. you fished out a piece of paper from your back pocket, gently stuffing it into the breast pocket of his scuffled jean vest. the piece of semi-crumpled paper held your information, well just the house phone number.

“don’t be a stranger vance, pick me up at eight thirty sound good?”

the words that left you seemed almost uncharacteristic from anybody that knew you. and to yourself honestly. you weren’t sure what just gave you the courage to speak that way, especially to someone as intimidating as vance ‘pinball’ hopper. but seeing the mixture of surprise and even the smallest dash of excitement wash into his face, it was definitely worth it. but of course you weren’t overly confident, quickly running off to tracy who was waiting outside with the snacks she had purchased after the near death experience you had just earlier before. she had a knowing look on her face, and when look in your eyes matched hers the two of you shared a excited grin before squealing and laughing the entire way home.

meanwhile vance was left in the grab n go , back facing the rest of the store as he stared back to the pinball machine with its flashing lights. in the reflection you could see him grinning..like a total idiot.

——————————————————————————

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING THIS! i had lots of fun writing this but i’ll admit i didn’t expect this to turn out so long :”) i hope you don’t mind me slightly changing the whole shy aspect towards the end! AND NO !! I DID NOT PROOFREAD THIS IM SORRY ! asks are always open !

#the black phone 2022 #the black phone x reader #the blackphone #the grabber #the black phone #bruce yamada x reader #bruce yamada #vance hopper x you #vance hopper x reader #finney the black phone #vance hopper #robin arellano #wonton writings

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bobluvbot · 2 years

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bonk!

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x f!reader

summary: in which fate uses a karaoke machine to lead the way for romance because you and Bradley are just too dumb and dense for it.

wc: 9k+ (sorry)

warnings: best friend!rooster, age difference, reader has a lot of insecurities like with body image (briefly mentioned, like one line only!) and self worth issues. implied sex so 18+ only! kinda beta’d. I *tried* to keep the angst at a minimum (i write angst but i am changing ok) but a LOT of pent up frustration. Still VERY fluffy though <3

A/N: Yeahhhhhhh. This started off as a single fluffy scenario with my beloved Rooster, but it kinda took a life of its own. Nonetheless, hope you enjoy!

Reader’s call sign is Indigo!

If there was someone to blame for all this mess, it should be Mav. More often than not, it’s always Maverick’s fault.

He brought up the idea first during one of those after hours of the Hard Deck.

If nothing much has been going on back in base, you and Rooster, sometimes the rest of the Dagger squad would stay behind to help him and Penny clean and get everything straight for the next day. You would do it so often that Penny, who was adamant in shooing you guys away claiming that she could handle it, gave up trying and now checks if you’re cleaning thoroughly.

“Pen,” he’d said in passing, leaning against the mop he was using. “You know what’d make this place better?”

“Are you saying it isn’t already?”

Mav stutters, now realizing how his words could’ve sounded differently than he originally intended, much to you and Rooster’s amusement as you listened in to the conversation. “No- I- you know I didn’t mean it like that, honey.”

“I know,” Penny laughs. “I’m kidding. What were you saying, hun?”

“We should bring in a karaoke machine.”

In retrospect, it was a good idea. Not everyone who’d drunkenly belt out lyrics to a song could hit the right notes without the background music, the jukebox has not been updated to have all the hit music the younger crowd wants to hear, and not everyone could remember the piano chords of their favorite song. And as much as it would please the public demand, the highly acclaimed Rooster Bradshaw and his Great Balls of Fire could not commit to a nightly residency at the Hard Deck due to his demanding day job of being a fighter pilot. Welcoming the machine seemed like a harmless decision, and placing it outside seemed to complete the often deserted outdoor seating area.

And for a while it did what was expected. It brought in an interesting crowd to the bar. The nights you were there, you had witnessed a group of stressed college kids out back, screaming their lungs out through Evanescence’s discography. Another time, a small group were hunkered down by the machine, seemingly on guard as their drunk friend sobbed through Adele’s Someone Like You and Roxette’s It Must’ve Been Love. You had been tempted to hop on in a session when a group of friends decided to have a 2012 night, from Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift to One Direction and Little Mix. It brought out a lot of emotions from the patrons of the bar and soon enough it became a regular fixture at the Hard Deck, that Penny had to whip out a reservation list just for the outside seating to keep people from fighting over the time limit each group has before the next can have their go. It somehow made the place even more chaotic, especially during weekends, but added more income so no one was complaining.

It became a problem when you and the rest of the Top Gun instructors gave in to the hype and had a go for yourselves. It started out as innocent, drunk fun. You and the instructors around your age were sick of hearing the oldies and their outdated playlists from the jukebox (Don’t let Rooster know about this) as they played pool, so you went outside and dared each other to grab the mic and pick a song that you used to cry to during your first heartbreak with the promise of a crumpled 20$ bill someone dug out from their pocket. From Lips to an Angel to The Reason to Perfect, your friends each gave their all for the sad bill. Determined to stand out, you decide on Taylor’s Teardrops on My Guitar as your magnum opus for the night. It was a perfect fit, and your friends groaned woefully as the nostalgia hits them. In your drunken haze, you wondered for a bit why you’ve avoided listening or singing this song for so long, but as the song continued, you figure out why.

—

It was 2007, the summer before college, and you had just gotten your dream iPod in pink as a gift from your grandparents for getting into Columbia. You already had a list of all the albums and singles you were going to download on the back of your physics notebook, and the first off that list would be Taylor Swift’s albums. It was nice that you were the same age, you could relate to each song if you tried hard enough, but your lack of non-fictional boyfriends and romantic conquests were a huge setback back then. You were halfway through your second listen when your grandmother asks you if you can bring the casserole she just finished making next door, and because you didn’t have the heart to say no after getting your iPod, you agreed and made your way to your neighbor’s house.

They seemed to have someone over, judging by the number of bikes strewn across the lawn and an inconspicuous blue Bronco parked in their driveway that you didn’t recognize. More reasons to drop off and go, you’d thought, so you rang their doorbell while you thought of a good excuse to speed off. No one responded despite the commotion you could barely make out from the inside, so with an exasperated sigh, you reached out to press the bell again.

You remembered freezing, with your outstretched hand retreating back to the handles of the pan as you made contact with the one who answered the door. He didn’t have blue eyes like Drew did from the music video, nor was he called Drew for that matter, but god, you found yourself breathless and in constant awe like Taylor when you realized who it was.

He broke out in a grin, greeting you with that wretched nickname he and his cousins gave you when you were young. Bradley Bradshaw— the boy that taught you how to hang upside down from the monkey bars at the park because your friends (his cousins) thought you were too heavy to do so, the boy you got so attached to every summer when he came to stay next door because he included you whenever the cousins played Pokemon cards or Super Mario on the playstation and would let you off easy and debt free whenever you played monopoly, the boy who shared your love for aviation and would drag you along with their family trips to the flight museums nearby, and it would take years more for you to realize but he was also the same boy you looked for in the sea of faces at school, in hopes to find someone remotely close to who he was, which just left you terribly single— was back, visiting from college. He was still breathtakingly beautiful, and the crazy beating of your heart as he dragged you by the hand inside to see the family should be the telltale sign that you were going to be ruined before you escaped to college.

Catching up after dinner, you learned there was a girl. There was always someone— he was interested in, confessing their feelings, seeing, crying over him. You should’ve gotten used to it at this point. Bradley was a light that everyone was just naturally drawn to. Maybe you could chalk up the blame to the angsty fanfic you’ve read earlier that day or to the sad Taylor Swift songs you decided to dwell on before you brought the casserole, but goddamn it stung. It hurt when it shouldn’t be hurting in the first place. Bradley was one of your childhood friends, the kind big brother you always wanted to have. You’re sure that if he was around more, he would’ve helped you scare away your bullies or have even posed as your date to prom so you wouldn’t feel as left out as you did. It was in between your third or fourth bite of the cherry pie Bradley’s aunt had given you for dessert when you realized you saw him in a different light now, and it didn’t take long for you to see that he didn’t.

Later that night, you found yourself clutching your teal guitar, Love Story’s chords long forgotten, blasting Teardrops on My Guitar on your alarm clock speaker at 10pm, with only the moonlight and your pink wallpaper witnessing your tear-stricken face.

–

“Oh my god, is Indigo crying?”

“She is, fuck. Hurry, we gotta record this!”

Before your friend could point the camera flash on your face, you kick his shin before whipping out your middle finger, turning away from them to hastily wipe the tears that betrayed you on your sweater.

Despite the waterworks, you were determined to finish the last line of the song perfectly, because this is the last time you’ll be singing this for the next thirty or so years.

“Drew looks at me,” you start, and the doors swing open to welcome an amused Rooster and the rest of the gang into your group outside.

Locking eyes with you, you sing, “I fake a smile so he won’t see,” smiling.

Yeah, at least the sting lessened to a quiet twinge now.

—

The oldies have infiltrated the karaoke machine once they saw how much fun you guys had that night. Soon after, they’d come in early and just play one round of pool before Fanboy drags you and Payback outside quickly, reserving the machine before the bar’s crowd comes in. People would think this is unfair because you were allowed in earlier and would have the advantage to hoard the machine all to yourselves, but they didn’t want to risk disrespecting you guys and buying a round for the entire bar so they kept quiet.

It wasn’t long till Rooster had migrated his trademark song from the piano to the karaoke machine, deeming that it was hard to remember the chords when he’s had a few drinks. You’d still have your turn singing throwback songs with the gang, but once Bradley gets a hold of the mic, you might as well head home because it’s either he sings five songs in a row or a five minute song (there’s no in between). It gets especially worse when he’s got alcohol in his system, the mans will hog the mic for himself. You once got into a fight because of it and it only ended when Hangman snatched it from both of your hands and used it for his own song, much to both your chagrin.

—

“No, absolutely not.”

Those were the last words you register before your phone gets snatched from your hands. Mere seconds ago, you were on Amazon, comparing prices of those bluetooth karaoke microphones that had built in speakers and had just added the highest rated one on your cart.

You’ve grown attached to the bar’s karaoke machine and would look forward to it after a long day dealing with your new array of Top Gun students. You found that belting out Fall Out Boy relieves more tension from your back than your regular chiropractic appointments so you’re determined to still have your karaoke session one way or another. But apparently, your best friend had other ideas.

“I’m relaxing, Bradshaw, but I won’t hesitate to kick your nuts if you don’t give back my phone.”

“Let me just—,” he mutters, tapping on your device that seems suspiciously like removing something from your cart.

You immediately spring into action and he raises his arms above your reach in response. Damn him and his height. You resort to climbing up his limbs, and when that didn’t work, you gave a mean pinch his side. This seemed to do the trick as he hissed, folding over in pain, and you take the opportunity to grab your phone back.

God, you were glad you were on your break and none of your superiors or students were around to witness two of their instructors tackle each other outside one of the hangars.

“I can’t believe you’d betray Penny like this, Y/N.”

“What the hell are you on about?” You ask, shooting him a mean glare while wiping his fingerprints off from your screen on your suit.

“You getting your own karaoke mic means you won’t go to the Hard Deck anymore to sing and that’s just incredibly selfish and I can’t allow that.”

“Well,” you start, “I wouldn’t be getting one in the first place if someone here plays fair and doesn’t hog the mic for himself.”

He scoffs. “You talking to yourself?”

You gasp, appalled. “How dare you. That was one time! It’s not my fault All Too Well’s ten minutes!”

“Uh huh,” he gloats. “I’m just gonna pretend we didn’t listen to the album together and I totally didn’t see that there was a five minute version you could’ve sung.”

This prompts a teasing smile from your lips. “Oh, so you were paying attention to the album. I thought you hated it because it was cheesy teen music.” You say, using air quotes while mocking how he had complained when you took out his Temptations cd from the Bronco’s stereo and replaced it with your new Red album the moment you got it from the mail.

“I had little to no choice on the matter, Y/N. You chose the longest car ride to play that album on repeat,” he responds exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.

You smirk at the memory. You both were off that day and you persuaded Bradley to drive from base to downtown Los Angeles for this dumpling restaurant you saw on Yelp that offered an AYCE for their opening day. It wasn’t easy to get him off his couch during his offs (understandable), but you bribed him with the promise of a full gas tank and a car wash. He did sulk for a bit, but you knew he couldn’t resist free things (or you whining for that matter).

“Don’t distract me from the real issue here. Just don’t get that mic, Y/N. Fighting over that karaoke machine at the Hard Deck makes it more fun.” He says a matter-of-factly.

“Fun because no one has the balls to snatch the mic from you.” You grumble, checking your watch and seeing your break time was almost up. “Whatever,” you say in passing while wiping off some sandwich crumbs that stuck to your suit. “I’ll just order it when you’re not around,” you sneer, sticking your tongue out at Rooster as you start to walk back to the main building where your classes are held.

He catches up to you quick, a smirk on his lips. Does this man ever run out of comebacks? “You’re forgetting the fact that that’s my Prime account you’re using.”

You halt, appalled, your eyes following his figure as he ignores you and continues his walk. “I pay for my half, you ass! That’s our account!”

He doesn’t say anything as he looks back at you, only a knowing expression on his face. You know there’s no escape from this. Because when you’d try to order it later, he’ll just cancel it on his end when he gets notified of the purchase. Frustrating. “I hate you.”

He hums in response, and you try to suppress the tingly feeling you’d always get when he does that. “Still up for dinner later?” He asks when you reach his side.

You feel the weight of disappointment and dismay from your ancestors as you mutter a yes to the man before you separate ways. Doesn’t matter how much Bradley Bradshaw riles you up every chance he gets, you’d always say yes to him.

—

“Just let me take you to lunch, please.”

You had tried your best to keep a respectable distance from your superior but it got increasingly hard as Rooster grabbed your arm and situated himself in front of you, his bulky figure blocking your way. Getting caught was one thing, but having all the feelings for this man you’ve kept in a box stowed away in some hidden part of your head unravel because of how close he is to you right now was another issue you’re not ready to face.

In fact, mere days ago, the thought of him hadn’t even crossed your mind. Renewed determination and excitement coursed through your veins as you started your advanced flight training. You worked your ass off to get to this point, and it’s only a matter of time before you get your wings. That alone kept your head above water. You might’ve taken the long route with your engineering degree, but it surely did wonders as you sped through most of your earlier classes in training. Soon enough you’ll be doing what you’ve always dreamed of as a kid. And nothing will stand in your way to fly.

Well, you didn’t account for having Bradley Bradshaw temporarily stand-in as your flight instructor for a week, so that’s oversight on your part.

You had looked around, relieved to see the hallway was deserted, before you hissed, “You’re too close! If anyone sees us, they’re gonna assume the worst and I’ll be dead.”

“Let them.” You glared at him and he took it back immediately. “Okay, fine.” He had said, taking one step away from you. “Lunch, with me,” he repeated again, as if you hadn’t been listening to him ask for the past few minutes. “I’ll let you order anything you want off the menu. On me.”

He knew your affinity for free stuff, and you never wanted to pluck that knowledge off his head than right now. You sighed, resigning. “You’ll leave me alone after?”

“I–,” he’d stuttered, caught off guard. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t do me like this. I haven’t seen you in so long. We gotta catch up.”

“It’s just,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s different now, Bradley. You’re my instructor and I’m one of your students—”

“Only for a week,” he interrupted, and you gave him a scowl. “Sorry, go on.”

Sighing, you continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I wanna go with you. It’s just that people might get the wrong idea when they see us outside and I’m this close to graduating and I don’t want anything to hold me back, you know?”

He noticed your anxious expression and he’d ran a hand through the length of your arm to comfort you. “I understand, you know I do.” Despite the thick material of your flight suit, his touch left a trail of goosebumps on your skin. The effect he had on you is daunting.

He paused to think for a second. “Hey, what about this. Let’s change out of these uniforms and then I’ll wait for you outside base. We’ll blend in perfectly. That sound good?”

A small smile had creeped into your face as you nodded gingerly. God, you missed him so much.

“I got you, don’t worry. Plus I already told some of my colleagues that you’re a family friend so they leave us alone.”

He probably meant that in a sweet, genuine way, but it still stung. You went through so many changes during the years you spent apart. You worked hard on your appearance and became more confident in the way you deliver yourself, something that you weren’t before. You’d never admit it but in some small part of you, you wished Bradley saw you like the girls he’d go crazy over.

You mustered up a tight smile for him. “Okay, See you in a bit.” You say before walking away.

A single thought remains in your mind: Still not good enough.

—

Lunch went surprisingly easy despite of what had happened earlier.

You’ve imagined this moment with Rooster so many times while you were away for college. Like what would your first meeting as adults would be, if you would ever cross paths again.

Would you have a meet-cute like the movies where you bump into each other unexpectedly, or where you’d trip and he’d catch you, literally sweeping you off your feet? And would it be a new beginning for both of you, finally seeing each other after years of being apart?

Would love just come naturally, fate tired from seeing you both struggle to see it?

Even if this isn’t as grandiose as what you’ve dreamed of, you and Bradley munching through breakfast for lunch and early dinner at Denny’s while catching up seemed like how things should be.

Just his mere presence made everything better (for your heart) and worse (also, for your heart) at the same time.

You didn’t tell him that running thousands of miles away from home didn’t do shit because all you’ve ever searched for was him and anything remotely similar to how he’s made you feel, nor how you’d always check next door first to see if that blue Bronco’s parked in the driveway again when you’d come home for breaks. Instead you told him good (boring) things about college, because those were the safest. It didn’t warrant any additional questions, questions that could prod at your already flaking defense and one wrong step could have him see how much you’re pathetically struggling to keep it up.

He in turn, tells you stories from college to his current naval career, and you listen. Or you try to, as you hyperfocus on how he looked; how this clean cut hair made him look more serious, far from the mop of curls he sported throughout high school and college to how his lips still looked plump and pretty, and you get reminded of how much you liked to sneak looks at them whenever he speaks from that one summer.

This is probably the closest you could be with him so you take advantage of it, marking the features you loved from the old Bradley that remained the same from the new ones you’d get to know from afar.

You manage to catch the important things: how attached he’s been to the California sun ever since he got stationed there and how he’ll take you there to visit once you graduate because he’s that sure that you’ll love it as much as he does, how he’s thinking of growing a mustache, and that he didn’t even consider taking up this job but he’s now happy he did.

He made a point that you know how proud he is of you for following your childhood dream like he did. He swore he’ll take care of you, making up for all those years he hadn’t been around.

You’d hate it later that night because you knew better, but after years of just bottling up all the feelings you felt for him, maybe today was the day you could indulge in the affection he gives you.

Even if it’s ill placed. After all, it would just be today.

Until you realized he meant what he said.

It got hard to remain level-headed in the mist, especially when he became the first person you’d want to call just to tell him about both exciting and frustrating things you got to do from training because you knew he’d understand perfectly, or when he had shown up late to your graduation because he drove for an hour to get you a big bouquet of peonies (your favorite), or when he took you to San Diego and introduced you to his friends who all welcomed you with fondness, finally giving you a sense of belonging and community in this stage of your life.

It was arduous to keep up when even after getting assigned to bases across the country, you’d randomly find packages of random food items that you’ve been craving mentioned in passing through facetimes and texts, or when he would have time to visit, you’d suddenly find that broken bedroom doorknob you’ve been ignoring fixed, the change oil light from your car finally turned off, and you’d always get dropped off in front of Target’s entrance while he finds parking in a busy lot.

Punishing to bear in mind when it’s been custom to have each other pick one up after deployment, when he trusts you enough to park his beloved Bronco at your place and even take it out for eventual maintenance checks, and when you’d lean on his chest when it gets too crowded and his arms find its way around you, tucking you in, and at once there’d be comfort in chaos.

This still isn’t what you hoped to be with Bradley; but you were given something greater, far more than that silly little crush you’ve ever daydreamed about, and suddenly, something you’ve been certain of ever since that day you handed him that casserole wasn’t as clear now. Risking all this for a confession of years of love and adoration didn’t seem worth it anymore.

Perhaps, this was okay. This was how things should be.

—

So you didn’t quite understand why you were fuming, and all that filled your head was hurt, hurt, hurt.

The scene unfolded like a usual Saturday night for everyone: Tipsy Rooster throws his hand across your shoulders, making you sway with him to the opening rhythm of Great Balls of Fire (his third song in a row), leaning close to your ear where his mustache tickles your skin and unsheaths a million goosebumps at its wake, to say that he promises, like pretty promises, to let you sing the last verse and chorus with him as a peace offering for hogging the mic yet again. And you believe him.

Not because the few drinks you’ve had impeded your better judgement, but because it wasn’t like Rooster to break promises. Neither a wash of alcohol nor adrenaline could waver that man’s conviction to a promise.

You relent, plopping yourself beside a warm Phoenix, who was busy playing an intense card game with Bob, Fanboy, and some other pilots. Through the windows, you could spot Hangman’s animated head bob along as he charms two women by the pool table while Coyote and Fritz played beside him. It had been a busy week for all of you back at base, so everyone was just out and about, eager to be distracted from the events at work.

You had felt yourself get dizzy after taking two swigs off your nth beer, so you closed your eyes for a bit, leaning your weight on Nat’s back as you listen to your best friend croon his heart out and have his karaoke moment. Music had always calmed Rooster down, and as much as you’d love to have your overdue turn to sing, you’re always willing to wait for him (even if you’ll never admit it out loud).

So when he finished the second chorus and the piano solo kicked in, you had willed yourself to come back to consciousness. It had been a while since you sang this song, and you’ve never shared a duet with Rooster before because both of you would just be too busy fighting for the mic. You might not have the best singing voice when tipsy but you’re singing with your best friend, and it was okay to be embarrassing with him.

But you never hear your name called, and you open your eyes just in time to witness everything. The door leading to the outdoor area opened and out it spat a woman you remember seeing in passing inside when you went to get a refill from Penny. She was beautiful and of course, she had eyes only for Rooster. Considering the recognition in her face as she saw him plus the sure steps he made towards her, you knew they have had history.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying but she was laughing, obviously sending the fuck me gaze in Rooster’s way, and you could tell he was chuckling too by the careen in his shoulders.

The piano solo gave you an insulting background music as you watched tensed up. Knowing this song by heart, you count the seconds and notes while staring at the two of them.

‘Anytime now, Roos will bid her goodbye and he would call me next to him and we would finish this song together,’ you thought, assuring yourself. ‘He promised.’

Except when the solo ended, he pulled her close, put his arm on her shoulders, handed her the mic, and they sang together.

He didn’t even bother looking back at you. It was as if you weren’t there in the first place.

You should really lay off on alcohol. Something about it makes you act childish and irrational.

Because here you were, a grown woman, an Ivy League and Top Gun graduate, trusted to fly big expensive planes through challenging and stressful situations, yet all you wanted to do was to throw things and wail right then and there because you didn’t know how to quiet the pounding in your chest or to silence the reverberating words in your head: hurt, and in a smaller voice, that should’ve been me.

Despite the open around you, it felt like the air was getting punched out from your lungs, and you just had to get out. Standing abruptly, you forgot the drink perched on your lap and it spills, the cold liquid soaking through denim. Wanting to slip away unnoticed was far gone because your clumsiness just managed to attract unwanted attention from Nat and the rest.

A chorus of startled and worried questions erupt at your wake, but they get swept up in the night breeze as you squeeze past them, muttering something sounding like an apology while your feet takes you down the patio steps and into the sand of the beach, your boots sinking on the sand with your laden steps.

It seemed like the faster you run, your feet get heavier and harder to drag off the sand, making your dash to the parking lot achingly slower. The world was mute, the once noisy bar with all its music and chatter, even the relentless crashing of waves to shore were absent. The biting November wind clings to your frame and to the wet trails left on your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying, but you just hope they didn’t spill when you were squeezing past your friends. They didn’t have to see how pathetic you really were behind your collected front.

But here now, by the unlit back wall of the bar where no wandering eyes could see you, maybe you could let some tears flow to keep the dam from overflowing again. You have always prided yourself in being able to keeping your emotions in check. With a job like yours you couldn’t guarantee a day or two where nothing unexpected occurs, no one gets hurt, or no one treats you unfairly, so you had to learn how to let your work be work, and not let it bleed through your personal life. Same as with Bradley. Your longing for him was met in this friendship and had let yourself get used to that. You knew to turn away when he spots someone that sparks his interest in the bar, you learned to tune him out when he raved about this person he met, you had a set of answers to give when he asks you advice on what to wear for a date or what gift to give.

Because your needs were being met. You have a best friend, a confidant, a partner in him. You have made a joke of yourself, your feelings to keep the man you loved close. You could sleep at night before. You were okay before. You could pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow like before, so why doesn’t it work now?

You cry for the wasted years of devoting yourself to someone who wouldn’t even bat an eye for you when occupied with others that haven’t, or wouldn’t even attempt to do things you’ve done for Bradley, to make him happy, to keep that fucking smile on his face, to keep that light in his eyes burning bright.

You cry for all the times you have rejected or ignored people that expressed interest in getting to know you because you were too enamored and convinced that no one could make up for what he was in your life. And you’re not wrong. No one could make you insecure like he does whenever you act or dress like what he says he seeks for in a partner but he’d still look the other way. No one could be as dense as he is. No one could make you cry about a fifteen year old song like he does and make you feel like your teen self isn’t as different as you were now.

You wonder if you could’ve just given the guy who pursued you for a month with clear intentions and a kind heart a chance, a date, a night to prove himself to you, would you still be crying uncontrollably with your hand muffling your sobs, the rough wood patchwork on a dark corner of the bar the only thing keeping you from curling up into a ball as the years of regret catch up to you on a Saturday night?

Almost the entirety of your life devoted should be enough. It was time to quit Bradley Bradshaw.

Only it had to wait until sunrise to start. Because upon reaching the parking lot, you were smacked with a terrible realization: you rode with him to the Hard Deck.

You had sobered up from tears a little bit, but you feel another sob threatening to bubble out of your throat. Why were you so stupid?

You want to kick the Bronco’s wheels out of frustration but the baby didn’t do anything to deserve it (also because you had paid to get the car washed earlier that day). It was just an innocent bystander to your stupidity and unconditional love to its owner, so you drop down and hug your knees tight, shielding your face from the lights of the lot.

Maybe if you could sleep like this, you’d wake up back to this morning and this will all be a simple nightmare. And the exhaustion from the week and your sadness and anger were all too convincing for you to try it out, if it weren’t for the voice calling out your name in worry, the footsteps quickly coming towards you, and the strong arms that wrap around your frame, willing you to speak.

“Y/N, hey,” Bradley says softly, hand rubbing circles on your back. “Let’s get you somewhere warm, m’kay?”

Managing to muster up some strength, you push him away, or at least a sorry attempt to. Your palms were no match against his hard chest, and they just slide down hopelessly to your sides.

Grumbling, you say, “I can do it myself.”

“Okay, careful.” His voice remained soft, devoid of any annoyance or exasperation. This annoys you more. You wanted nothing but to hate this man to the guts but he makes it hard by being like this, like he actually cares.

You refuse to meet his eyes but you know they’re on you, watching as you hoist yourself up using the concrete as leverage. He had his hand outstretched to catch you if you stumble, and for a second you were tempted to grab it, but you resort to the side of the Bronco to keep your balance and the hand retreats.

Training your eyes to the ground, to anywhere except his stupid face, you explain, “I just need my bag,” gesturing at the lump on the passenger seat of the car. “So I can just catch an uber home.”

“No, I’ll drive you home,” he quickly refuses, fishing out his car keys from his back pocket. You wanted to lunge and steal it from him, but that’s just going to cause unnecessary contact with him. It’s best to avoid touching anything of him because you don’t know what it’ll do to the wall you’ve hastily built against him.

“Don’t bother. Last thing I want is to ruin your chances in getting laid tonight.”

Your words earn a quick eyebrow furrow from him and a miniscule wave of satisfaction runs through you. And you figure it out: if you can’t be happy tonight, no one near you can be.

A desire to cause a cascade of anger through him continues to consume you but he stops there. Face still laced with concern, he shakes his head and sighs, “Alright, let’s get you home.”

You watch him as he opens your door and waits for you to climb in while you remained standing where you were.

“Y/N.” He says it with a tonality he almost exclusively uses at work, when he has to put his instructor hat on or when he has someone to reprimand. “Please don’t make me carry you inside.”

You want to say he wouldn’t dare, but you knew he could easily do it. And even if you scream bloody murder, people knew you two always bicker like this so no one would think anything’s amiss. So you glare at him before noisily climbing up his car and shutting the door on his face. Whether it may be through words or actions, you were adamant to express your frustration to him, to this car, to this entire situation.

You could tell by the slump in his shoulders as he walked to the driver’s seat that he was bothered by how you’re acting but you can’t bring yourself to care. You just want to leave him troubled as you are, with his heart wrung tightly he couldn’t breathe.

The next words come out after a while of driving quietly through dark, empty streets. He was letting you calm down but your mind was far from it. You occupy yourself by counting the streets left to cross before you reach your apartment from the passenger window, wanting nothing but to get the fuck out of there and sleep.

“Y/N,” he starts. “What happened back there? Did anyone cause you trouble? Tell me what they look like so I can tell Penny and Mav about it tomorrow.”

You were thankful you had your hands tucked in, arms crossed over your chest, because you were certain if it had been anywhere else he could easily reach over and touch, he would.

When he was answered with silence, he tries again. “Were you hurt, Y/N? What did they do to you? Please tell me.”

“God, shut up. You’re making my head throb even more.”

“I will when you answer me. Even Phoenix doesn’t know what’s up with you back there. She says you just got up and left.”

“Maybe it’s just that.”

“I know you enough to know that it isn’t. Something happened that made you this upset.”

“Why do you care so much, Rooster? Dealing with you is suffocating.”

His mouth gapes incredulously, and if the car was stopped in a light he would’ve stared at you in disbelief. “Wha–,” he stutters. “Y/N, come on. Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, Rooster? Like a bitch?” You snort. “I already told you earlier I just needed my fucking bag. I didn’t ask for you to come drive me home. I’m only here because you insisted.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I–,” “I don’t want you to go home alone and upset. I hate seeing my best friend like this and not being able to help. I’m sorry.” There it was again, best friend. An affectionate word, even an achievement to have for others, but you never had a word that triggers so much hate in you as much as that. It sends your temper bubbling higher.

You scoff.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. If you’re mad at me, at whatever I did, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not letting you buy the bluetooth microphone. I’ll get you a new one personally as soon as we get home.”

Now you really laugh, insulted, like salt being thrown haphazardly on your fresh scars. You should’ve cut this man off ages ago. “All this, and the best you can think of is that I’m fucking upset over a microphone. God, I’m really seeing everything tonight, am I?”

“Then help me out, Y/N! I’ve been sitting here going through tonight and yesterday night and the last week, wracking my brain for anything I’ve said or did that made you this upset with me.” He breathes, trying his best to calm himself down.

In a leveled tone he begs, “Please tell me what I can do to make this right.”

“You actually saying that unprovoked just proves everything I’ve realized tonight about you, Roos. I just feel stupid now trying to convince myself that you weren’t dense and selfish when it’s really all about you, isn’t it? You only get bothered when someone lashes out on you. Then you self reflect. You only care about your feelings, about your happiness. You don’t give a shit about anyone else!”

“What? You know that’s not true, Y/N.”

“Knowing you forever says the opposite, Rooster. You have the world in your hands and God forbid anyone upset you and ruin your night—”

“God, Y/N, I’m sorry that I can’t read what’s on your mind! If you can just tell me what the hell I did that got you this pissed so I can apologize for it, instead of saying cryptic and hurtful shit that I know you don’t mean then we’d have a better conversation, don’t you think?”

“Wow, so now you’re telling me the things I mean and don’t mean. You sure you can’t read my mind, Roos?”

“I know you’d never say those things to me because you know who I am. You think I’m shallow? Okay. That I’m narcissistic, fine. But saying I don’t give a shit about anyone, about you,” he pauses. “You know better than that, Y/N. I know you do after everything we’ve gone through—”

“So now you want to compare the shit we did, shit we sacrificed for each other during this fucking friendship? Alright, I’m down. Go ahead.”

“What— no! Fuck, Y/N, please. I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to hurt me, making me feel the way I made you feel.” He pleads, his voice getting hoarse from all the screaming. “Just please tell me what you want me to do to fix this. Please.”

“I want nothing to do with you.” It came off so easy from your tongue it’s hard to believe you held this back for years.

It surprised him too, so much so that he gave up trying to make you admit you didn’t mean it. The certainty in your voice scares him enough to believe as soon as he heard it. “Why?”

“Because I fucking hate you.”

You see shock, anger, and sadness and all sorts of emotions you can’t catch because of the tears blocking your vision flit on his face quickly. With a morose expression, he shakes his head in disbelief, blinking some tears away, willing them not to fall. You knew he’s trying to think you didn’t mean it.

But now with tears falling freely, you know you finally do. “Because you make me become someone that I’m not and I hate it. You make me jealous, you make me spiteful of the girls that come near you, you make me hateful and bitter that I can’t make you smile like you do with people who barely know you. And I know that’s so petty and immature and I know better than that but you just make me stupid and irrational.

You make me dependent on you for things that I can do myself. I can drive myself home I can do my own groceries I can take care of myself when I’m sick but now that you’ve weaseled yourself in my life these things aren’t the same without you. I hate that I got attached to this fucking car that eats up gas so fucking quick. I hate seeing your stupid Hawaiian shirts you always forget to iron. I hate your stupid fucking mustache and how long you take to fucking shape them.

I fucking hate how I get so weak when I’m with you that I get all the feelings I know I should’ve given up on ages ago and I know, I have fucking known for years that you’ll never feel the same way I do and yet here I am. I hate that I can’t quit you after all these years I’m still here and I love you and I can’t do anything about it.”

You also hate that unlike the confession scenes in movies have the heroine crying but still look beautiful, you had tears and snot dripping on your shirt and jeans and you only found out when you tasted some while sputtering and spewing out all the words that haunted you for years on Bradley.

Finally everything was on the table. You’ve crossed the point of no return and instead of feeling relief you felt spent, exhausted, and widely aware that you don’t have strength to face your best friend anymore. In fact, you’re sure you just lost yours.

Tears have blinded you to what you were facing and you could barely breathe from the snot build up in your nostrils, so you pull up your sweater to wipe and sneeze into until—

BONK!

A searing pain erupts from a specific point on your forehead and you clutch it while curses flow from your mouth, tearing up again because it fucking hurt and it made your headache ten times worse. Bradley must’ve hit you with something and you’re mad but you also understand why he’d do that.

But as you blink some tears away you see him cradling his forehead as well, groaning and cursing in pain, mirroring your actions.

What the hell just happened? Did he just headbutt you?

Turns out you’ve thought that one out loud. “I didn’t, you dumbass. You keep on fucking moving.”

He grabs your face, encasing it with his big hands forcing you to look at him. You stare at each other for a second and after everything you’ve exchanged in this car you want it to last until it couldn’t, because you knew this would be the last time you’d have Bradley this close. Even if his beautiful features are marred with pain and frustration and other emotions you couldn’t name.

He groans, pulls on the sleeve of his thermal shirt and wipes the snot and tears off of your nose and mouth haphazardly.

And then he leans in for a kiss.

There was a blink, a split second of silence, before the chorus of voices erupt in your head: your five year old self disgusted that you’re kissing that snotty Bradshaw kid; a ten year old you guilty and scared that Ms. Carole will get mad at you for not asking permission to kiss her son; thirteen, appalled that you were basically making out with someone that’s clearly not Emmett Richmond from Legally Blonde; seventeen year old you screeching, screaming ‘FUCKING FINALLY!’ and immediately searching for a Taylor Swift song to accompany this moment; and a twenty six year old Y/N more confused than ever that you’d still end up here, living your adolescent fantasy instead of finding someone new and better.

Yet amidst the chaos, you find yourself mute. In the moment, yes, you were hopeless against Bradley’s lips, yours following his lead like a teenager on her first kiss because you haven’t had (or probably refused to get) enough practice to do this thing properly, but you found it graceless, like trying to walk in shoes that were one size too big— not quite right. Like you couldn’t give yourself fully to the moment because something hefty still lingers in the air, left unsaid.

So against your past selves’ wishes, you pull away. Looking down, you refuse to look at him, afraid that his eyes will confirm your worst fear. “Please,” you whisper nervously. “Please don’t kiss me because you feel bad. That’s… that’s mean.”

An exasperated sigh escapes Bradley and two fingers tilt your chin to face him properly. There wasn’t any trace of guilt nor contempt on his flushed face. Just pure exasperation for all the things you’ve done tonight but you can’t let yourself be so sure. No falling for anything without full certainty and a vocal confirmation. You had enough of your fair share.

“God, you’re the smartest girl I know but you’re also incredibly dumb. I kissed you to shut you up and let you know I do feel the same thing because I know if I just say it you won’t listen because you’re too fucking stubborn.” He huffs.

Locking eyes with you, he quirks an eyebrow waiting if you have another protest to make. If you weren’t in this situation, you would’ve laughed at the ridiculous irked face he’s making. Maybe he is telling the truth, you tell yourself. Maybe this time, it’ll be right.

Deeming your silence and waiting, parted lips as an answer, he says sulkily, “Now, can I continue this without getting interrupted?”

You hit his arm as you nod. Your lips meet again, the kiss deeper this time around judging by the arm that now encircles you, attempting to pull you closer to him but failing miserably.

“Fuck this shit,” he grumbles.

“Language, Bradshaw, damn,” you chuckle, watching him slide off his seatbelt, putting the car on park and the hand brake on.

“My right foot fell asleep because I was stepping on the breaks this whole damn time.”

Now you really laugh. What a giant dork.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off as he reaches towards you and slides off your seatbelt. “Wonder whose great idea it is to confess feelings in the middle of a goddamn street.”

You didn’t get the chance to reply in between hysterics because he swiftly carries and maneuvers you around so you were straddling him, surprised at how comfortable it was. You never had him this close before and you sober up quickly into a mesmerized silence, just admiring how beautiful he looked this close, how the streetlight outside lands square on his face and you could see the speckles of green in his brown eyes, and how all of this is yours. God, saying that feels so foreign but right.

He lets your soft fingertips graze the contours of his face, from his lips to the tip of his nose before one finally settling lost in his curls and the other on the nape of his neck. You don’t know this yet, but he also had dreamed of this moment longer than he could remember.

Suddenly you get hit with a familiar wave of the longing in your pit for Bradley, only this time you can act up on it. So you did, crashing your lips onto his.

Like the other things you’ve imagined with him, this was certainly never in consideration. You’d imagine a spacious park, branches of a leaning tree lined with soft fairy lights that made both of you glow as he leans in, lips melding into yours perfectly as soft music crooned in the background. Instead you get a steamy Bronco two streets away from your apartment, and probably more odd locations in your place. Not that you’re complaining though.

—

You were going through some papers that needed to be graded on one of your students’ desk after class when you feel the presence of three amused pilots approaching you.

Even if you didn’t look up, you know by their steps that it was Fanboy, who took a seat in front of you, Phoenix, that sat next to you, and a snickering Hangman who opted to stand beside you, looming over your hunched figure.

“What did my kids do now?” You say, not bothering to greet them. Even if the students you had also took classes with some of them, you were adamant in calling them your children because despite of how much they annoyed you sometimes, you’ve gotten close to this batch and they to you. Some of the instructors would even ask you to sit them down and discuss about the mistakes they made in their other classes so you could work with them to do it better. Not without them holding you responsible when they act out (sometimes. It can’t be helped) of course.

“Oh nothing. They’re great, actually,” Nat replies. “We just wanted to see the beautiful face of our great Indigo today.”

Mickey pipes up. “Yeah, we didn’t even get to see you at lunch today.”

Moving onto the next paper, you say, “I was busy. But didn’t you guys visit my class earlier?” It was just Hangman and Fanboy casually walking across the back of the room, claiming to grab something very important (a random HDMI cord). They scooted out fast but not before getting a good look at your confused face. You thought you had something stuck to your teeth but you didn’t have your phone with you so you just tried to clean them with your tongue.

“Yeah. We did.”

“Uhuh. Need another cord?”

“No, we just need you to look at us, darlin’.”

You almost didn’t, half expecting Hangman to have a plate of whipped cream ready to smack your face, but food isn’t allowed beyond the cafeteria so you reluctantly raise your head to meet the expectant and scandalous looks on your friends’ faces.

No face smashing occurred, only a mesh of hollers, high fives, and nods of agreement.

“What am I missing?”

“Oh, nothing. We’re just happy you had fun last night with Rooster.”

“Took you guys too fucking long,” Mickey drawls, clutching his head in exaggeration. Phoenix joins him in agreement, grinning at you proudly like she’s your mom and you just got a medal for being a top student in class.

A sweat starts to break out of your forehead. You and Bradley didn’t tell anyone that you were together last night, hell, you didn’t even had time to discuss what you guys were now. The last thing you want is for people to make assumptions and you can’t tell them otherwise because you don’t know where you stand. ‘We just fucked all night in every hard surface you could think of, no big deal.’ won’t be an acceptable answer, especially when this reaches Maverick and Penny.

“Wha—,” you stutter. “I wasn’t with Rooster last night! Stop making up bullshit, Bagman.”

Jake just gives you that god awful smirk and nod combo that tells you he knows you’re full of shit right now.

You turn to Nat, desperate for your friend to back you up. ‘’Nat, I wasn’t with him last night I swear.”

She makes her way to your lap and hugs you sideways. You know you could always count on your wingman. “Oh, my sweet Indy,” she coos. “No need to explain. The same bruise you and Rooster have on your foreheads tell us everything we wanna know.”

#rooster #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #rooster imagine #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #miles teller #it’s maverick’s fault

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roosterforme · 1 year

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A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When you go to Maryland for your work conference, you end up finding something you weren't expecting. And you also get Bradley an early wedding gift.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing and smut

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley worked out after dinner on Friday while you finished packing for your trip. He was happy with his progress with the weight bench, and he loved secretly listening to his decidedly lame playlists alone in the garage with Tramp.

When he walked back into the house, he was pouring sweat and mopping his brow with a towel. He peeled his shirt off and tossed it and the towel right into the washing machine. When he doubled back through the kitchen, you were leaning against the island practicing your presentation with your computer. Wearing just his UVA tee and your underwear.

"Need any help?" he asked, kissing your cheek while he made himself a protein shake.

"Nope. But you can listen to the end, if you want."

Bradley leaned against the kitchen sink and observed you doing your thing. You were so capable. Flawless, really.

"And that, in conclusion, is the fine ass Naval research he we have been doing at Top fucking Gun, ladies and gentlemen," you said with a bow while Bradley applauded loudly.

"So good, Sweetheart. I'd promote you right now."

You beamed at him before you closed out of your presentation and started to shut down your computer. Bradley came to stand behind you, running his hands up the front of the shirt and playing with the elastic of your underwear.

"Mm, you're all sweaty," you said softly as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

"Had a good workout. What are you doing now?"

"I need to email something to Bickel before I shut my computer down," you said, opening your browser and logging in. "What are you doing?"

He kissed your neck while you started to compose your email. "Gonna fuck you," he rasped. "If you're into it."

You gasped as he ground himself against your ass while you typed. He sucked in a deep breath when you turned and licked his sweaty bicep.

You met his eyes over your shoulder and said, "I'm into it, Roo. My period is nearly over now."

He was already pulling down your underwear, kicking it aside as you stepped out of it. He guided your hips back until you were bending over the island, typing away.

"God, this is hot," he pulled himself from the front of his gym shorts and underwear, teasing himself along your ass. He nudged your legs a little further apart and worked his tip against your entrance.

You were making soft sounds in the back of your throat, trying to keep your focus as he entered you, but just the tip. He worked his hands around and and reached up to play with your tits as you bumped yourself back, taking all of him, inch by inch.

When he was fully seated, be paused for a few beats, enjoying the feel of you fluttering softly around his hard cock. He licked the side of your neck and rolled your nipples until they were hard peaks.

"Roo."

God, he loved it when you called him that. Every single time. "I'm gonna miss you," he promised, staring to thrust. "So much."

"I'm going to miss you, too."

He watched you trying your best to type; the effort was admirable really. "That's not how you spell decisiveness, my love."

"Oh, god," you whined, pushing the computer further away from you and grabbing the edge of the countertop. "Fuck me harder, Bradley."

So he did as you asked, with long, powerful strokes. The sound of your wet pussy getting worked had Bradley completely feral. "I'm gonna miss your body," he groaned. He could tell you were getting close as you begged for more, and the occasional slap to your ass sent a jolt of pleasure though your body and into his where you were connected.

He felt you cum around him, squeezing his dick while he squeezed your tits. You looked back at him with a sated, fucked out expression on your face while he chased his own release. When you arched your back, easing your pussy into a new position for him, he slid his hands down to grab your hips.

"Feels like you just gave me permission to get off however I want," he growled.

When you nodded and bit your lip, he went hard and fast. Your eyes drifted closed, your lashes brushing your cheek as you rested your face softly on your hands. Bradley's balls were slapping you as he dug his fingers into your hip bones. He went so hard, he was panting, the building pressure tugging on him so good. Your body treating him so sweetly to an orgasm that had him shouting your name.

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

You were exhausted. Fully spent. Mentally and physically. You could feel your fiancé

cumming inside you, your pussy soaking wet with his release. Your name sounded so good on his lips, his raspy voice the only thing keeping you grounded.

Slowly, gently, he leaned his strong body against your back, kissing you and whispering his love. When his breathing had returned to normal, he pulled your computer closer, cock still buried inside you.

"Let's finish this email, Sweetheart, so we can get some sleep."

He reached his arms around you and finished typing for you as you dictated what you wanted to say. Bradley Bradshaw was everything. You hoped you were doing better, doing enough to show him that.

"You're everything," you told him as you powered your computer down and let his cum drip down your legs when he withdrew. You knew how much he loved that.

The rest of the evening was sweet and delicious as he made you wish you weren't going away for seven days.

"What's your schedule again, Sweetheart?" he asked when you were seated in front of him in your massive bathtub.

"Just getting settled in the barracks tomorrow night, then driving out to see my parents for the whole day on Sunday. And, um, I might try to see Caleb and maybe some of my other friends, too. You remember him? He was at the bar that night when we went to see my parents for Christmas."

Your heart was pounding in your chest now as Bradley kissed your shoulder.

"Is Caleb the pastry chef or the tattoo guy?"

"He's the one who owns the tattoo shop," you said quickly as you continued to rattle off the rest of your plans. You'd be attending a few conferences leading up to your own presentation on Thursday. And then of course Friday you'd be having dinner with the admirals.

"Then I'll be back on Saturday."

"And I'll be picking you up, so happy to be with you again, Baby Girl."

You sighed and let yourself sink back against him. He started to sing along softly to the song playing on your phone as you closed your eyes. You were nervous to see Caleb, because it was a big decision. You had been considering it for a few months anyway, but you knew you'd be more comfortable with someone you knew, especially for your first time.

When Bradley's hands came to rest on your hip bones beneath the water, you smirked. "Roo, my fingers are turning to prunes, and I'm tired."

Wordlessly, you both got out of the tub and dried off, and soon you were drifting to sleep in bed, snuggled against his chest.

Your alarm went off way too early, and you were groaning as Bradley quickly dressed and started to make your coffee.

"Leave me your car keys, Sweetheart. Nat is taking me to drop off the Bronco today," he reminded you.

"Seriously. You need to be nice to my car, Bradley, or so help me," you warned as you handed him your keys and went to collect your luggage from the bedroom.

You sat on the kitchen floor and played with Tramp while you drank your mug of coffee. You and Tramp watched Bradley haul your bin of equipment out to the Bronco, and then he took your personal luggage out as well. Then he came back inside, tossed you over his shoulder and carried you to the passenger seat.

"You are ridiculous." You smiled as he buckled your seatbelt for you, just like he always did. But when he started to pull away to walk around to his own seat, you took his hand and pulled him closer. "I love you, Bradley."

"Mmm, I love you too," he promised, softly kissing your lips. "You're going to give a perfect presentation. I wish I could come to watch you. You're so fucking smart."

But you pulled him closer by his neck until he was halfway on your seat with you. He mashed his lips against yours, and you threaded your fingers through his hair. "I'm really going to miss you," you whined as he worked his mouth along your neck. "So much."

Bradley glanced at his watch, made eye contact with you, and then unbuckled your seatbelt. You whimpered as he scooped you up and hauled you back into the house. You quickly pulled down your leggings and underwear until they were below your knees, and you got yourself onto your back on the couch. As soon as Bradley had his dick free, he was pressing his weight on top of you, pushing you down into the couch cushions as he entered you.

"Damn it, Baby Girl," he growled, fucking you fast and rough. "You make me insane."

"I'm sorry," you gasped. "I needed you, Roo."

Bradley fucked your mouth with his tongue as he went as hard as he could, considering neither of you had undressed even halfway.

"You're fucking ridiculous," he rasped. "Gonna miss your flight. But God, I fucking love you."

He ground himself against your clit, because he knew it would work like a charm for you, and you came as he spilled himself inside you.

You kissed his cheek and ran into the bathroom to get cleaned up. Tramp just looked at you from his napping spot in the sun as you ran past again.

Bradley buckled you in a second time, kissed your forehead and ran around to the driver's side. You reached for his hand after he backed out of the driveway, and he twirled your engagement ring around your finger just like he always did now.

"Hope there's no traffic," he grunted, but there was a smile on his face.

"It was worth it," you said with a shrug as you started a playlist. "Totally worth it."

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

Bradley thought that by this point, he should write his promise to fuck you whenever you wanted him into his wedding vows. But when he pulled into the airport departures lane with barely any time left for you to check your luggage and equipment, he was cringing.

"Hope you still think it was worth it," he growled, hauling your equipment into the terminal for you.

There was no time for a long goodbye kiss, but you looped your arms around his neck and kissed him sweetly. "I love you, Roo. I'll call you when I land."

"I love you too, Sweetheart. Have a great week."

Bradley ran back out to the Bronco before it got ticketed, and he pulled away from the curb as you waved to him. A week without you. And right after things were getting better again. At least he had Tramp and the Real Housewives of Atlanta to keep him company.

When he got home, he binged the rest of the season he had started, and ate one of the meals you left in the freezer for him. He wasn't sure how you managed to do everything that you did for him on a regular basis. So before he left for the Hard Deck for the evening, Bradley cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen and vowed not to make a mess of the house all week.

Before he left, Bradley tossed on a Hawaiian shirt and jeans and fed Tramp. Then he dropped the Bronco off at the shop and waited for Nat to pick him up there.

"Things looking better with you and wifey? The wedding still happening?" she asked, pulling out into traffic and heading toward the bar.

"Yeah, we talked, and I managed to... put some sense in her." Bradley smirked out the window as he thought back to edging you until you cried. Next time you so much as sassed him, he was going to have a field day with you.

"That sounds like an innuendo, and while I'm so happy for you, I don't want to hear anything else about it," his best friend said, holding her palm out in his direction. "Now, let's talk about the fact that I still need you to tell me what you want me to wear to your wedding, so I have time to order it. And should I be calling myself your best woman? Or your best person?"

"Nat, I love you. You can call yourself anything you want. But I'm not about to piss her off or irritate her while she's away this week by asking what you're supposed to wear, so let me get back to you."

As they pulled into the Hard Deck parking lot, Bradley realized it didn't bother him as much now that you and he would be getting married next year. It didn't matter. He could wait. As long as he was with you.

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

You were a mess of nerves as you woke up early on Sunday morning in the tiny barracks room on base in Annapolis. Everyone else from your team would be arriving later today while you were with your parents.

You got into your rental car with a smile. You managed to score a newer model year of the car you owned, just like you and Bradley had done when you got engaged in Virginia. Last night when you picked it up at the airport, you texted and emailed about twenty photos of it to him until he threatened to sell your car. You stopped since he did in fact currently have the only set of keys to your little pride and joy back home.

You made your way along familiar roads without the aid of your GPS, and soon you were pulling into the driveway of the house you grew up in. You let yourself inside and hugged both of your parents at the same time.

After the three of you ate the brunch your mom had made, she started asking about wedding plans.

"Mom, it's probably going to be next year at this point, because there's just not enough time. Next month is Thanksgiving, and you guys will be staying with us for the weekend. And then we'll be here for Christmas in December. And then for January, he's already threatening to take me somewhere for my birthday. So maybe in the spring at the earliest?"

Your mom sighed and sipped her coffee. "Whatever you and Bradley want is fine with us. But he told me he wanted to get married as soon as possible, and I think that's so sweet of him."

Your heart beat a little faster as you considered her words. "I know, mom. And I swear I'm working on it. I'm working on everything now. I actually thought maybe we could stop by one of the bridal shops today and look at dresses? If you wanted to?"

Coffee sloshed out of her mug as she abruptly stood. "I'll go get my car keys!"

As you rode in your mom's car with her, you couldn't help the guilt that washed over you. For months, you had been letting everybody down, including yourself. You'd left Bradley totally hanging when it came to any wedding plans at all. And your mom and dad, pretty much the only close family you and Bradley had now, just wanted to know what you were thinking.

So when your mom asked if it was okay if she picked out some dresses for you to try on, you told her she could, even though you were pretty sure that her idea of the perfect dress would not line up with yours. But she looked at you. She really looked at you, and she smiled. And you honestly felt like she understood what you wanted when you started trying on some of the things she had selected.

"Honey!" she gasped when you came out of the fitting room with a bright smile on your face.

"Mom, I love this one."

"Me too!"

Slowly, you ran your hands along the fabric and turned back and forth in front of the three way mirror. You posed while your mom snapped photos of you to send to Maria. The dress had lace, but not too much, and it cinched your waist and looked amazing. The soft shade of white would look perfect with your mother-in-law's veil. And you knew Bradley would love it.

"This is the one. You look like a bride. Like the cover of a bridal magazine came to life," you mom promised you with a nod.

It really was stunning for how simple it was. But it wasn't just the way it looked; you felt amazing in it. Like you never wanted to take it off. Like you could imagine yourself getting married anywhere in this dress. Like you wanted to become Mrs. Bradshaw in this dress, although you would most likely be hyphenating your name.

"Oh no," said the saleswoman. "That one's no longer available."

"What?!" you and your mom said in unison, turning to face her.

She winced and looked alarmed. "That dress has been discontinued. We can no longer order it. I'm so sorry, it should have been pulled from the floor."

You could feel tears stinging the backs of your eyes as you started to reach for the side zipper.

"Then we'll buy this one," your mom insisted, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

The saleswoman chewed on her lip. "It's been handled so much, I don't know if my manager will let me sell it at this point."

"Then I'll join you, and we can both speak with your manager," your mom told her. Then she turned to you and softly said, "If you want this dress, we will get this dress. Take it off and check over every inch of it, because there is no way they will let us return it."

You just swiped away your tears and nodded as your mom walked away.

"Holy shit," you gasped. Your mom was willing to do the 'I need to speak to your manager' routine to get this dress if you wanted it, and you hadn't even checked the price tag. As you slipped it down your arms, you saw that it was expensive. Like way more than you were planning on spending. But you loved it, so you decided to examine it just like your mom had instructed.

"You want it?" your mom asked, peeking inside the curtain as you stood there in your underwear. "And it looks okay?"

"Yes and yes."

"We're getting it for half off. Let's go before they change their minds."

Your eyes were still wide as your mom insisted on swiping her credit card, and the sales team told you for the seventh time that the dress could not be returned or exchanged.

"I have a wedding dress," you whispered over and over again in the car as your mom drove like a giddy banshee back to the house.

"Yes, and you also have a groom. And he said something about confetti cake the other day? So just a few more things, and I'd say you have a whole wedding."

You mom wasn't wrong. And instead of feeling nervous, you smiled.

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

After dinner, you hugged and kissed your parents, and then you carried your wedding dress out to your rental car. You managed to fit it into one of your dad's garment bags to get it back to San Diego. And you supposed you would have to sneak it into your closet so Bradley didn't see it. But at least your mom managed to be cool about it when the three of you had facetimed him and Tramp before dinner.

Now you were headed into the city. And your nerves were kicking in again. Honestly you felt more nervous about this than you did about your upcoming presentation, because at least you were prepared for anything related to your job. This was something brand new that you'd never done before.

"Caleb!" You gave him an enormous hug. "I can't believe I haven't seen you since Christmas!"

"And I can't believe I'm about to give you a tattoo," he said with a booming laugh.

"As if I would ever go to anyone else," you told him with a grin that turned into a grimace. "I am actually really nervous now. I wasn't this nervous until I got here."

He nodded knowingly as he flipped the shop sign to read Closed and locked the door. "Nothing to be scared about, I promise. Have I ever led you wrong?"

You snorted out a laugh and followed him further past the front desk. "Do I really need to mention senior week?"

He pressed his lips together to stifle his laughter as he led you into a smaller room. "Mooning Principal Danbury was fun!"

"You're right," you told him. "You're always right. I trust you. Tattoo me."

"You still want the same design you emailed to me? The bird thing?"

As your lips curled into a smile that felt like it would never stop growing, you nodded and said, "Yes. The Rooster."

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

A tattoo!!!! Ahhh!!! More about that in the next chapter. Should I post a photo of what she's getting?

PART 8

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