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sunlightmurdock · 3 months

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Ceasefire | 1.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (18+)

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Synopsis: Bradley Bradshaw is in San Diego, summoned to Top Gun for the first time. Commander “Hyde” Simpson is his flight instructor, and she doesn’t have time for schoolboy crushes.

Warnings: ex-husband!beausimpson, divorce, age gap (rooster is somewhere between 26-28, reader is 38), power imbalance between instructor and student aviator, swearing, slight angst at the end, smut, handjobs, teasing, riding and creampies that are never addressed again, sub!rooster, bondage, probably very inaccurate flight info

…

Eleven weeks have never felt quite so long. At the same time, the memory of seeing Bradley Bradshaw staring at you with that dopey smile still feels so fresh. In one week, classes will officially be over. Rooster will no longer be your student. It’s almost pathetic, the way you’re already miserable at the thought of not seeing his face when you walk in every morning.

Still, in this moment, he’s still here and frowning down at his flight manual. It’s a storming afternoon and the air stuff got canceled, but with Beau’s mood swings lately, class remains to be in session. You’re perched on the edge of your desk, waiting patiently for whichever one of your star pupils can answer your question first.

“Minimum total hydroplaning speed of the main landing gear tires inflated to 250 pounds per square inch is 140 knots groundspeed and, for nose gear tires inflated to 150 per square inch, is 110 knots. Ma’am.” Flipping his toothpick in his mouth and offering you a dimpled grin that proves he knows he’s correct before you tell him, Jake Seresin is a fraction faster than Natasha Trace, who sits directly behind him. It’s not the hardest question. They all should know it. It’s just the rain outside that even made you think of it.

Offering Jake a small smile and a curt nod, you open your mouth to confirm that he is once again correct. To his left, you can’t help but glance across at your favourite thing to look at in this bleak little teaching room. Only, he isn’t smiling at you.

He’s staring down at his NATOPs, brows drawn together in something between frustration and confusion. Maybe embarrassment. You can’t pretend that it isn’t your initial impulse to discredit Jake to save Bradley’s feelings — but you don’t. That’s not your job, and it’s not what you’ve worked so hard to do.

“Good work, Hangman.” You tell him calmly. Bradley doesn’t dare look up from the page. Not once. Rain pours on outside and he spends the entire afternoon glaring at the manual like he wants to rip it to shreds.

As you dismiss the class, the thought looms of this all being over soon. With just one more week to go, there are lots of decisions hanging heavy. Maybe that’s what is getting to him.

“Rooster, hang back. I need to speak to you.”

Instantly, you can tell that this was not the right move. He turns towards you, his face sullen and his eyes dark. Your brows draw together, closing the door behind the last of your students and shutting him in there with you. Alone, he remains just as closed off.

“Are you okay? — You seem kind of—“ One step forwards, you reach out for him with a gentle touch, in a way that could still be mistaken for professionalism if someone were to walk in on the two of you. But, the second your hand grazes his bicep, he shrugs it off.

“I’m fine,” He mutters, gaze turned towards the floor. His usual sunny disposition seems to have gone away with the weather. Your eyes draw into a stern squint. “Am I dismissed?”

“Dis— Okay. No, Bradshaw,” You pretend that one didn’t sting, squaring your shoulders and inhaling slowly, stepping closer so that he has no choice but to see you finally standing in front of him. “No, you’re not dismissed. If you want to start acting like this is about rank, then that’s fine by me. I want you to talk to me either way.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. His eyes dart towards the door, and then back to you. Finally, you watch him soften. His fingertips graze the inside of your palm, choosing to look down at that exchange rather than at you.

“Could you come over tonight?”

“On official Navy business?” You tease, poking softly at his ribs through the fabric of his flight suit. All you’re offered in return is a weak smile.

He links his fingers gently through yours. Slightly more incriminating, if you were to be walked in on. Still, it tugs at your heart strings as he sighs in resignation. “Please, Hyde?”

“Of course,” You tell him, giving his palm a quick squeeze. “I’ll be over just after seven.”

He has to wait for you to finish up your work before you’re able to leave. By the time you find him, he has already worked out and showered, and he has been sitting in his room wallowing for about forty minutes.

“Talk to me,” Even with his mood, there’s nothing he can do but drape his arms around your waist and tuck his head into the soft curve of your neck as you straddle his hips. “That’s what couples do.”

There’s a moment of silence, but not the same as earlier. His hands find the small of your back, tugging you closer as he sighs against your shoulder. You know that this time he’s just finding his words. It’s almost enough, having you here in his bedroom, draped around him, ready to listen.

In the meantime, you inhale the fresh scent of his cologne and turn your face towards his temple, pressing your lips to his damp curls.

“I’m just in my head about graduation,” He settles finally, curling his fingers around your hips, pulling back to look at you. “I knew I wasn’t going to graduate at the top of the class, but — I’m starting to wonder if I even deserve to be up there with all of them. You know?”

Your fingers are soft as they card through his hair, your expression much softer than it should be as his instructor. His fingers can’t sit still, pulling you closer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Of course you do,” The answer comes instantly, without hesitation. It’s followed by a chaste kiss. He turns his head and sighs again, readying to protest. “You knew the answer today. Doesn’t matter if you can find it in the book before Hangman or not, you knew it.”

“How’re you so sure that I did?” He challenges, frowning back at you. As much as he wants to believe you’re telling him this because you really believe in him, there’s still a voice in the back of his head telling him that you’re just trying to pacify him by giving him what he wants to hear.

You squint back at him, smoothing your fingers through his freshly washed curls.

“Because I know you better than I know anyone in that class, I’ve flown with you,” You tell him softly. He hums as you kiss his cheek. “I know your instincts up there are better than anyone else. Even if the answer isn’t in your head right away, I know that when you’re up there, you would know what to do.”

With that, he sighs and leans his head back. His fingers flex nervously around your hips. With his eyes closed, you used the moment to catch him by surprise. He sucks in a sharp breath as your palm dips between the two of you and grinds against his cock through his shorts.

“I trust you. Up there, and down here.”

His mouth twitches slightly, his eyes softening as he tries to pull back from you. “Hyde… come on, I don’t need you to baby me.”

You smile back at him, giving a curt nod of your head as you brush your palm more firmly against him. The way his throat contracts when he’s trying not to give in to you prickles along your skin, a rush of excitement.

He closes his eyes as you lean in and suck softly at the freckle on the left side of his neck. Your lips trail tantalizingly slowly along his throat until finally he shivers at the feeling of your breath against his earlobe, “Okay. You want me to make you prove it?”

“Make me?” He breathes out, fingers balling into the fabric of your T-shirt, brows knitting together. Already, his cock is standing to attention through the fabric of his shorts.

“That’s right,” It’s a gentle coo, so soft and sweet that Bradley really isn’t expecting it at all when you tug hard at his hair with your other hand. He inhales sharply, catching your hips and pulling you against him. His cheeks flush red, his eyes blown wide and desperate. You’ve never seen a man beg without even opening his mouth before. “Close your eyes for me.”

Another thick swallow, his throat squeezing around nothing as he closes his eyes, his dark lashes brushing against his cheek.

He’s so pliant, giving himself up to your more than capable touch. Lulling him into calmness that he’s powerless to fight against as your mouth kisses at his chest, pushing at the hem of his t-shirt and helping him out of it.

“Contrary to what you might have heard from Hangman, or from Pete Mitchell,” Bradley bites at the inside of his cheek as you lick at his freshly exposed chest, nipping at his pectoral. Even with his eyes closed, he’s red and embarrassed by how hard his nipples are in the chilled room. “Being a good aviator isn’t about confidence.”

If you’re going to keep talking as you head further south, he’s going to struggle to keep listening. His hands follow you as you slip out of his lap and settle between his knees, your tongue trailing along his middle.

“Instinct is everything.”

Bradley balls his hands into his bedsheets, lips parting just slightly as you suck firm kisses into his taut abdomen.

“Lay down.” You order, and without question, he obeys by scooting back and laying down flat with his legs still over the edge and bracketing you.

“Lay back for me.” You say sweetly, he obeys. To your right, you find the brown leather belt that you’ve been eyeing. Still looped through his jeans, discarded onto the chair in the corner of the room. Rooster fidgets in front of you, waiting to feel your touch again. “You trust me, right, Rooster?”

“Of course.” He exhales, his answer instant.

You push yourself up and he peeks an eye open, watching you free the belt and turn back towards him. Your smile grows as you find him even more red-faced than before, staring right at you.

“Lift your hands and hold your wrists together for me.”

“Really?” He whispers, his voice thick. You nod sweetly, nodding for him to shift further up the bed. He complies wordlessly, pushing himself to the top of the bed and presenting his wrists for you. His eyes darken and his brows raise, watching you climb up the bed with his belt in your hands.

“Don’t pull too hard, you’ll be sore.” You warn him, looping the belt around his wrists and through the wooden slats in his headboard. He gasps softly as you pull the leather tight and guide it through the buckle.

“Fucking hell…” He breathes out, his voice an excited whisper.

After the soft leather is secured, his wrists fastened to his headboard, you take a minute to sit back and observe. He’s watching you with such abject trust, desperation and excitement all at once. His stomach is quivering with each breath, stretched tight by the way his arms are raised.

Your tongue dips out to wet your bottom lip as your fingers reach for him, walking along the length of his thigh. Leaning over him again, you dip forwards and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to be naked.” Rooster rushes out, shifting uncomfortably and glancing towards his tied hands. When his eyes flicker back to you, he breaks into a bashful smile. Your lips twitch, looking back at him.

“Okay,” You agree sweetly, reaching for the bottom of your t-shirt. He watches the way your eyes darken, filling with mischief as you pull it up just enough to expose the soft skin of your stomach, then hold it there. “You’re at a cruise altitude of 35,000 feet, how do you know how to calculate your descent?”

Three miles per distance per thousand feet in altitude. Your mouth twitches watching him do the math in his head while staring at the sliver of exposed skin under your shirt.

“35,000 minus the last three zeroes — uh, thirty-five. Thirty-five multiplied by three… a hundred and five.” You narrow your eyes quizzically as he stumbles through the math, knowing that it comes more easily to him than he’s able to tell you. You’ve not seen him personally land on a carrier, but you know he can. You know that he’s done it a hundred times over. “You’d start the descent 105 nautical miles from the destination, maintaining a speed of 300 Knots-Indicated air speed… and a descent rate of 1,500 to 2,000 feet per minute, with thrust set at idle.”

You smile back at him, peeling your shirt up and over your head. He exhales, eyes falling down to the black bra covering your tits. Forgetting himself for a moment, he moves to sit, the buckle of his belt knocking into the woods and reminding him of his predicament.

“Feet per minute,” You continue, reaching for your own belt, slipping the leather from the buckle and pausing. “If you land on the carrier right, how does the hornet hit the deck?”

“800 feet per minute.” He exhales. Your mouth twists into a grin as you pop open your belt buckle.

By the time that he has rid you of your clothes, his answers are especially fast and you’ve noticed that his wrists are growing red under the hold of the leather.

Standing on your knees, you crawl your way up your, now completely naked, boyfriend and turn. Straddling his abdomen, your naked core sits just out of his reach. His mouth falls open and a dismayed, needy sound slips out.

Having freed him of his own shorts and boxers just moment before, his cock is red and swollen, angry from the lack of attention. Settling yourself with a sly wiggle of your hips, you take his cock in both of your hands and cover as much as you can with your mouth.

Soaking his length with a generous amount of saliva, you hear his head fall back and hit the headboard as your hands start to stroke him. Long strides coat his shaft in spit, your hands twisting loosely left from right. From this way, the way you’re straddling him, you’ve got a front-row view to the way his thighs have started to tremble.

Furthering his dismay, he has a front-row seat to your soaked pussy, inches from his face, but just out of reach. Your hands are steady, just as calm and skilled as they are when you’re in the cockpit. Not too fast, just guiding him steadily closer to his orgasm. Letting your spit soak him, adding more to the mix, squeezing him firmly every now and again. Craning your neck so that you can lick and suck softly at his balls. His moans are strangled, agonizingly desperate from behind you.

When you finally decide to grace him with a firmer, faster touch, his moans are so jagged and eager that you know Hangman and Coyote must be able to hear him. The heels of his feet press into the mattress, his hips bucking eagerly into your hands.

He tugs hard at his restraints and winces behind you. With each delighted sound from your lips as they’re wrapped around him, his own voice is growing more and more strained. For the life of him, he just can’t keep still. He’s putty in your hands. This wouldn’t be the first time he has made a mess all over your hands, but today, that isn’t the plan.

“Hyde, don’t — please don’t — I’m so fucking close…”

You hum, hands already withdrawn. He writhes under you as you turn to face him.

“You can hold on a little longer for me, right baby?”

His voice is getting more strained as you squeeze your hands around his twitching cock and just as he is about to erupt you retract your hands leaving his chest huffing in frustration and near euphoria.

You shift, straddling his hips. His eyes go wide and round, lips parted as you situate yourself right over him and sink down just barely. Your soaked core just grazes him as you rock back and forth softly. His eyes follow the curve of your waist, the slight movement of your tits as you taunt him.

“Can wait a little longer for me, right?”

“Oh, fuck.” Rooster whimpers.

You lower yourself gently onto him, palms braced against his shivering chest as his tip notches into you. He gasps and turns his head towards the pillow, pulling hard at the restraint.

You lean all the way forwards, your naked tits pushing against his chest, your lips mouthing softly at his neck. “It’s okay, I’m gonna take care of you.”

Finally, he’s fully sheathed into you, and he sighs out in relief, dropping his head forwards to rest against the curve of your shoulders.

“I still wanna see you cum,” He pants out, groaning softly as you lift up and sink slowly back down on him, digging his heels into the mattress. “If I can’t do it, I still wanna see it.”

Your mouth twitches at the thought.

“Yeah, you want to watch me get off?” You grin, kissing across his cheek and finally at his mouth. He whines softly, watching you rocking your hips into his gently, grinding yourself into him.

“You have to stop talking or I’m gonna cum.” He mutters with a stiff shake of his head, his eyes flickering up to you as you giggle above him. You purse your lips and lean forwards, pressing a sweet kiss to the tip of his nose and then sit back.

He watches, every muscle in his chest and arms constricting as he watches you sit back on his thighs, all full of him, lifting your fingers and miming a zip across your lips, and then a lock at the corner of your mouth. Finally, even though all of his focus is on trying not to bust, his lips stretch into an amused grin.

You settle back into the rhythm of bouncing on him, bracing one hand back against his thigh as the other dips between your own legs.

The angle is just right, your orgasm ebbs closer but remains just out of reach as he watches helplessly, dazed by the glow of you.

From the first day he saw you, he’d never imagined he would be as lucky as to be at your mercy like this. The thought dawns him and his hips twitch, snapping up to meet yours.

“Christ— wait, slow down, wait— oh, fuck.”

You gasp sharply as he drives himself into you just once more from below before he’s spilling hot and fast into you, groaning and gasping out loud with little regard for who might hear him.

His deep groans are music to your ears as your fingers work feverishly at your clit to keep up. His mouth hangs open, still buried inside of you as he watches you come apart in front of him, your eyes closed and your chest heaving, his name on the tip of your tongue.

Finally, you collapse forwards against his chest, lifting off of him and kissing at his neck.

“Fuck…” He breathes out.

“You feel better?” You whisper, catching your breath as your nails rake along his stomach. He hums in response, kissing softly at your temple.

He sighs in relief as you pull the belt apart and free his wrists, stretching out his arms and rubbing at the reddened skin.

“I can’t stay, Taylor’s getting dropped off home at nine.” You kiss his mouth softly, already starting to push off of his chest. He just groans and rolls onto his front, disgruntled by the idea of not having you in his bed tonight. “I’ll see you tomorrow at six?”

“Right. What should I wear?”

“A little more than you’re wearing now, preferably.”

He chuckles tiredly and considers grabbing his boxers, opting to instead just press his face into his pillow as he listens to you getting dressed again.

“Should I bring them like… a gift or something?”

“It’s a little early for bribery.”

He sighs and sits up swiftly, resting his elbows on his knees, his mouth creasing into a worried frown. “What are we going to do if they don’t like me?”

Really, there’s only one answer; you’d never put him before your kids and he knows that.

Pulling your shirt down over your body, there’s only one thing to do. You lean forwards and kiss his lips tenderly. “They’ll love you.”

Once you convince him to get dressed again, Bradley walks you down to your car. Jake and Coyote say their greetings and goodbyes swiftly and politely, not making you stop for small talk.

Then, as Rooster heads back upstairs with a reddened face and even more reddened wrists, they meet him in the living room, beaming.

”Don’t start.” He groans, trying to dismiss them and head back to his room before the ridicule starts. It’s a little late for that. It’s been a little late for that since they heard Rooster practically crying your name twenty minutes earlier.

As you return home to reunite with your children, you’re greeted with an onslaught of texts about how — to quote — ‘those idiots heard everything’. It should bother you, but the thought of Bradley all red-faced and squirming at their comments just makes you chuckle.

Meeting at a neutral place always seemed like the best option, until you’re sitting in the parking lot, staring at your kids in the backseat — feeling like you’re introducing cats. Well, it has been quite some time since your children got over their interest in scratching and biting, so hopefully this will go smoother than that.

”How are you guys feeling?” You ask them, turning in your seat finally. Dylan can see the worry on your face. Your brows are raised, your eyes are round and fleeting between them each, lips pursed.

”Yeah, fine, mom.” He offers you a polite, sincere smile. It’s the best that he has to give. He knows this means something big to you. He knows that you’ve started singing in the kitchen again, and reading Taylor the stories with the voices, laughing with him until you’re doubled over and crying.

”Do you think he likes cats better or dogs?” Taylor perks up, tucking her feet up onto the seat and quirking her head at you. Your lips twitch as your son rolls his eyes at her.

“You can ask him.” You decide, and she seems to accept this as good enough of an answer. She settles back in her booster seat, crosses her arms across her little knit sweater and smiles back at you. Poor Rooster doesn’t have a clue what he’s in for with this little chatterbox — but you know he’ll be glad to not have to sit in silence.

A beat passes as you look between their faces. They both smile back at you, for different reasons entirely.

“Okay, are we ready to go inside?”

After quick agreement, Taylor watches her shoes cast purple neon shadows across the puddles, flashing bright with each step as your heels clack across the ground ahead of her. A hand lands on her shoulder, guiding her along and making sure that she keeps up.

Swiftly, she looks up at her big brother, frowning curiously at him, ”So, do we have to call him Dad too?”

”Rooster.” You breathe out, lips stretching into a smile as you spot him walking over from his truck. He looks right past you as you wrap your arms around his neck. About five paces back, your kids are trailing you, deep in conversation. About him, no doubt.

Suddenly, his attention snaps back to you, his eyes going wide as you kiss his cheek. He untangles himself from you, aggressively platonic for a man who was begging to hold you yesterday.

“Hi.”

”Don’t be weird, they’re children, not the FBI.” You whisper to him, turning quickly as you hear the two of them approaching this. “Guys, this is Bradley. Bradley, this is my daughter, Taylor, and my son, Dylan.”

”Hello.” Bradley stiffens.

“Hey.” Dylan tries.

“You’re pretty tall. Women like that.” It would seem that you’re all caught off guard by your daughter’s comment. Luckily, it’s just enough of a surprise to make Bradley’s tight-lipped smile break into a wide-stretching grin.

He sits opposite her at the table, Dylan by his side and you opposite Dylan. She spent the afternoon with your mother and it would seem, the two of them spent their time preparing questions.

”So—“ Dylan manages to interrupt, earning himself a stern glare from the little girl who was just about to get into the favourite colours segment of her interview. Bradley turns his head and looks at your son. “What team do you follow?”

Bradley shoots a glance over at you, knowing full well that your son has been raised to be a die hard 49ers fan. He looks back to the thirteen year old and inhales— he can’t pretend to like that team, he just can’t do it—

“The Eagles.” He rushes out.

“Huh.” Dylan quirks an eyebrow, turns his head and shoots you a look. He smirks softly, bringing the rim of his Pepsi glass to his mouth. “And… how’s that working out for ya, big guy?”

Bradley’s mouth falls slack, and he looks quickly across the table for support, finding nothing but you smirking back at him and Taylor giggling in response.

“Hey, buddy, I’ll have you know—“ And once again, that seems to do the trick. That’s the straw, right before the appetizers come out, that gets Bradley really talking, and after that it just doesn’t stop.

Taylor quickly gets him onto the conversation of cats versus dogs — he seems to pass her test. Bradley turns the conversation on you, and winds up grinning ear to ear with the insight of how your children perceive you to be, how they love you. You turn the conversation on Bradley, and reveal to the children that he not only enjoys rum and raisin flavoured ice-cream, but that it’s his favourite.

The betrayal on his face after that one will keep you laughing for weeks to come. It’s almost enough for the children to change their minds about him, but he quickly gets things back on track by revealing that he once met the guy who plays Captain America on a flight.

That wins him some serious brownie points.

You know that, just as easily as he had with you, he had won them over.

He grins at you as he settles the bill — despite your insistence to split it, his nerves seeming to have finally calmed.

“Mom, why do you call him Bradley when his work name is Rooster?” Taylor asks, slipping her hand into you palm as you head for the exit.

“Because we aren’t at work right now.” You answer with a shrug, checking over your shoulder to see Rooster talking with Dylan about something behind you.

“Can I call him Rooster?” She asks, peering up at you.

“If he says you can.”

“Bradley?” She cranes her neck as she calls back to him, capturing his attention instantly. “Can I call you Rooster?”

“Sure. Either works.” He shrugs, tucking his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans, walking to catch up with the two of you.

She looks quickly back up to you, approval plastered across her little face. She gives your hand a quick squeeze and smiles.

…

Tags: @cherrycola27 @mak-32 @khaylin27 @stoncms @shanimallina87 @cool-ultra-nerd @angelmavmurdock @gingerbreadandpaper @mizzzpink @whisperofsong @throwinsauce @perpetuelledaydreaming @n3ssm0nique @thedroneranger @abaker74 @marantha @ghxst-heart @diamond-3 @shawnsblue

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

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rottenrosethorns · 10 months

Note

HI HI!! i love ur blog sm i had to request something!! can we pls get some fluffy leon hcs where he's playing w his partner's hair? or caressing their skin, anything along those lines🥺

im touch starved istg

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x gn!reader

Genre: Headcanons, Fluff

Synopsis: Leon’s love language is physical touch – Leon takes you on a surprise date to the local carnival!

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: mentions of carnivals but no clowns, large crowds, mentions of social anxiety

A/N: I don’t know how to write headcanons lol. So, hopefully this is okay for the first time. I also don’t know how to keep things short and sweet, I was itching to write a whole ass fic for this LMAO. thank you anon for the idea and for loving my humble blog! <3

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- masterlist -

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You always found it surprising that Leon would put 110% effort in planning your monthly date nights. Usually, he’s cool, calm, and collected, so you didn’t strike him as the type to become giddy about some outing; however, Leon always managed to prove you wrong. He was an excellent planner thanks to all the years of training his observation skills.

He knew exactly what you liked and didn’t like. So even if you hated surprises, Leon would always orchestrate the date accordingly and ease into the activity he knew you’d enjoy.

Plus, you trusted him more than you trusted your anxiety!

Before you even leave the house, Leon's sitting on the closed lid of the bathroom toilet, watching as you get yourself ready for whatever outing he'd been brewing for the past week. His eyes would be keen on you the entire time, shifting to look at your reflection in the mirror, then back towards you.

Since he doesn’t want to interrupt your work – you are putting in the time and energy to look good for him after all – Leon resorts to verbal compliments and being your personal hype boy.

You'd usually listen to music or play a video to accompany your routine, but nowadays, Leon was the only companion you needed.

Leon can't sit still for long, so he'll be hovering all around you. One moment, he's standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your midriff to catch you in a tight back hug. Next, he's turning you around with his hands on your hips as he tries to convince you that you don't need anything to make you look more breathtaking than you already were.

You pinch him arm gently, warning him that he'll make you both late if he keeps distracting you. So, he offers to help you with your hair instead.

The man wants to be involved! Let him dote on you!

Surprisingly, Leon's decent as a hairstylist. Experienced from handling young Sherry’s hair, Leon forcibly learned almost any and all basic hairstyles. He'll be extra gentle with you though, making sure not to pull too tight or harshly brush through knots. If he's feeling a bit childish, he'll try to tickle your earlobes. But when you get annoyed, he'll offer an apologetic kiss on your neck before neatly finishing his style.

Sometimes he’ll ask what style you want, but most times you let him decide for you. Secretly, you know he enjoys dolling you up to his expectations, so as long as it looks well kept, you didn’t mind what he did for you.

Leon's not the best driver, so unfortunately, he can't do the one hand driving, one hand on your left thigh ordeal. No matter how much he wants to be cool, he doesn't have the confidence to drive without two hands on the wheel like a teen who'd just gotten their permit.

It's okay though, because he'll interlace his fingers with yours and softly kiss the back of your hand at red lights. Maybe, he can sneak in a peck when there's traffic too.

Leon always opens the door for you and offers a helping hand which never lets go unless absolutely necessary. It's not uncommon for couples to hold hands in public, but when he's brought you to the local carnival with an abundance of people, he's definitely making sure you don't get lost in the crowd. Your safety comes first after all.

If you get anxious around a lot of people, Leon will either rub his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly as he whispers some reassuring words for you or he'll move so that his body acts as a sort of barrier.

You'll always follow closely behind him, tugging at his clothes just in case your hands disconnected for whatever reason. Once you're out of the crowd, Leon will make sure you're feeling okay before holding you closer by latching his arm around your waist.

It’s a win-win for the both of you. You get to feel his warmth from his protection, and he gets to ward off anyone who thinks they have a chance with you. Boy is possessive, so don’t stray too far!

If you get self-conscious about PDA, Leon will pout, but he'll get over it. As much as he wants to smother you in kisses for the world to see that you are his lover, Leon would never force you to be in an uncomfortable situation especially in public.

Therefore, he'll compromise with a ghost touch at the small of your back or a soft grip on your shoulder. He'll know he's doing okay because you'll subconsciously lean closer to him and sometimes put a hand on top of his.

The both of you will explore the carnival grounds for a while, trying your hand at a few carnival games. Of course, Leon is very competitive in nature and an excellent marksman, so he'll absolutely ace at any and all shooter games. But this time, he'll push you up to the podium this time and help you win your own prize.

He'll stand behind you with both hands on your shoulders as he tells you to focus on the three glass bottles. He gives clear instructions, waiting for you to nod your head or make a noise in confirmation before sliding his arms down yours and aiming the toy gun towards the bottles.

He'll hover towards your level, chin resting on the curvature of your shoulder. He does this to help see how you’re aiming, but he purposely pushes himself closer to tease you. He can’t help that you’re just smaller than him and that your figure is always begging for him to embrace you.

He knows you're nervous, but he wants you to win, so he'll wrap his hands around your shaking hands, gripping the stock to stabilize you and the gun before shifting your aim. Once lined up, he'll let you pull the trigger on your own, successfully knocking down the three bottles. Elated, you turn and envelope yourself into a congratulatory hug before happily accepting the prize.

When you're both hungry and take a seat at an open table to snack on the overpriced carnival food, Leon now does the hand on the thigh thingy.

He'll go the extra mile and hook your leg over his, so that you're partially thrown over his lap as he traces random lines on your skin. Again, if you're anxious about large crowds, this'll soothe you.

You can't say you've been to a carnival if you hadn't gone on the ferris wheel, right? Is it very obvious that he plans to seal the night with a romantic kiss at the top of the ride? Yes. But, you'll pretend you don't know what he's planning to do.

Leon's never truly loved someone before, so don't blame him when he gets all his ideas from cheesy romance movies. You'd never expose him though, because you didn't mind being the main character sometimes.

You can tell he's nervous, his eyes are watching the wheel spin round and round as you wait in line. Now it's your turn to calm his nervousness down as you wrap yourself on his bicep and lean your head on his muscles. He'll look away with a soft, goofy smile before taking his free hand and giving you a soft head pat to silently thank you.

Once on the ride, Leon prefers that you sit next to him. Although he liked looking at you sitting across from him, Leon felt much more comfortable with you by his side, especially when you both were swinging higher than the treetops.

As the ride begins to move, Leon will wrap an arm around your side, planting a firm grip on your hip and pulling you close to him. Even when the cart shakes, Leon's hold is firm and keeps you stable, but that doesn't prevent you from fearfully gripping his midsection.

He'll let out a teasing laugh at your timid reaction and press a kiss on your temple as you hide your face in his chest.

Once at the very top, Leon will uncover you and take a moment to admire you. He's very keen on eye contact, so he'll hold your chin with his fingers as he expresses how much he loves you. He'll slide his fingers until they're placed on the side of your neck and pull you in for that cliche kiss to perfectly end the night.

#resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fic #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy oneshot #resident evil fluff #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy fluff #leon scott kennedy fluff #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy fanfiction #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy headcanons #leon s kennedy headcanons #leon scott kennedy headcanons

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sanjisblackasswife · 1 year

Note

law with a s/o who has sensitive thighs???

Im in a Law mood so you asked this at the right time.💓

Law Finds Out You Have Sensitive Thighs (NSFW-ISH)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: A bit suggestive with kissing and touching, Law is a little tease, Oral sex implied, Established relationship

Law is 110% a thigh man. Absolutely canon, he told me after seeing my thighs.

He loves em, he just don’t know WHY he does.

Maybe it’s the way they jiggle, maybe because it’s not a very “sexual” area of the body, maybe it’s how they hug when they are constrains by socks, but regardless of the reason he loves thighs

You did however find out not too long after dating him he enjoys playing with your plushy legs.

They are his new pillows and stress relief balls whenever you are near

Unfortunately for you, that’s your weak spot.

Law isn’t a very sexual guy, he has sex most of the time only if you’re in the mood so you know when he plays with your skin he means so sexual intent behind it….most of the time

So it’s so awkward to contain your moans when you feel his soft cold hands rub against you.

“Law..” You say, but quickly clear your throat to stop yourself from slipping a moan out, you were sitting on his desk reading as your studious boyfriend was researching and he mindlessly did what he always does; grip and squeeze your inner thigh as you wear nothing, but one of his big white shirts. “You okay?”

“Hm?” He looks up at you, glasses tilted on the tip of his nose and his face being supported by his hand he looks at you and your leg, “Yeah..you hungry?”

“No…I um…forget it…”

Law hated when you did that, sighing harshly he puts his glasses down and turns to your side, “What? Tell me.”

“Just…”You hum, seeing his thumb move on you, you had to take a breather from his touch it was getting so bad, and it didn’t help that his hand was so close to your lady parts. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but…when you touch my thighs I um…it …feels…overwhelming.”

He furrowed his brows, really? He’s been doing this for how ling and you tell him this now?

Law then insisted he should stop, but you protest that he shouldn’t, you just needed him to know about your

“dilemma”

“Well what do you want me to do? Stop touching you?”

“No! No! I want you to touch me just…I—oh.”

It was sudden, but Law would be lying to see the shyness of your face to not look a little attractive to him. He gets up from his chair to squat in front of you and pries your legs apart, your back straightens up feeling the cold wind hit your panties, embarrassed to find out you’ve gotten so turned on from just his touch.

“Seems like you like my hands a lot…” Law’s face slightly impressed and surprised to see the small wet spot on your crotch. “Dammit..you’re too cute for that.”

He looks at you, face partially covered from your hands, but eyes still peaking through your fingers to watch him, such a pervert.

He huffs through his nose both hands now on the fattiest parts of your thighs and that’s when he notices your shriek, “If you want to moan. Moan…I don’t care, you’ll do it soon enough.”

Law starts with kissing each knee, his lips feather over your skin leaving you goosebumps already, he gives each leg his attention with soft kisses. and the closer he got towards your panties the further your legs spread.

“You should..just…go back to studying, Law I didn’t—“

“No it’s fine..I need a break.” The sounds of his lips smooching your hot inner thighs immediately made you softly mewl and bite your lip in anticipation, he couldn’t help but whisper “damn” to how hot you looked from above. It’s a shame how quickly Law grabs one of your hands to place on his hair to grip, “I do like your thighs a lot…just…don’t use that fact against me alright?”

“Hah..you better not use my sensitive thighs against me then.”

He winks at you, giving your thighs once last ounce of attention before he gets to where he is needed most.

“Law…”You moan as he pecks your clothed clit before he slides them to the side with one finger.

#one piece #black reader #one piece headcanons #one piece x female reader #one piece smut #law headcanons #law smut #law fluff #trafalgardwaterlaw #law trafalgar #law imagine #law one piece #law scenarios #law x female reader #law x black reader

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midnightstar-90 · 1 year

Text

Payback

Eddie Diaz x Fem! Reader

Taglist | Request | Wattpad

Main Masterlist | 9-1-1 Masterlist

Request from Ella: Reader either dating Eddie, best friends with Hen or a member of the team. Reader faints and whoever you choose helps out. They’re okay just a scare. Maybe some home cooked food and juice afterwards? Hurt/comfort please. Thank you.

Summary: After fainting, Eddie looks after the reader.

Warnings: Angst, Fainting, Fluff

A/N: My Buck and Eddie fluff and angst fanfics are some of my favorites to write. It’s a shame that there isn’t a lot out there.

Words: 1.1K Words

I walked into my apartment after a long HOT day at work. L.A. had recently been hit with a heatwave, and the office building where I had worked’s AC didn’t help with the 110-degree weather.

I placed my purse on the kitchen counter, along with my keys, before getting a cup out of the cabinet. Before I could even get a drop of water into my cup, I heard a knock at the door. Annoyed, my head fell back as I released a loud groan. With each step I took to open the door, a clicking sound from my heels, meeting the hard flooring, echoed through my apartment.

“Who is it?” I asked, now at the door.

I heard a male voice call out, “It’s Eddie.” I looked through the peephole, finding that the name and voice matched the face. I opened the door finding Eddie in jeans and a button-down shirt. In his hands, he carried groceries from my local supermarket.

He looked at me with a smile before his eyes met my face. My face was red, with sweat pouring down my face. “Are you okay?” He asked as I let him in. I went to close the door, stumbling over myself, as I heard the click of my door shut. “Yeah, I’m alright,” I said with a slight slur.

Eddie swiftly placed the groceries down on my kitchen counter, next to my keys and purse, before making his way to me. “Y/N, are you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” He said. Eddie placed his hands on each side of my face, observing me to see if I was alright. I nodded my head, “yes,” but Eddie didn’t believe me. “Y/N, your eyes are dilated, your skin is pale, and you’re sweating like crazy. I think you should sit down.”

“Here,” Eddie directed, pulling me over to my couch. He helped me sit down before he said, “I’m going to get you some water.”

I felt myself become dizzy. Black spots took over my vision, and soon it became hard to breathe. “Eddie,” I mumbled loud enough for Eddie to hear. He turned around, and his eyes went wide before all I saw was black.

“She’s going to be just fine, Mr. Diaz,” I heard a voice say, but everything was still black. I tried to open my eyes, but it was no use. Nothing happened. ‘Am I in a coma?’ I asked myself frantically. “Your wife suffers from dehydration, which is common on days like this. She should wake up soon, but we want to keep her a little longer after she wakes up to make sure that nothing else is wrong with her,” the mystery man said.

I heard some shuffling and a door open and close before my eyes began to flutter open. A bright light took over my vision, causing me to groan in discomfort. “Y/N,” I heard next to me. As soon as I was fully conscious, I turned my head to face the voice, only to see Eddie staring down at me in a slight panic. I felt his hand tightly grip mine. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” He said, giving me a sad smile.

“Where am I,” I spoke groggily.

“Well, you passed out, so I brought you to the hospital. You’ve been out for a few hours, but the doctor said that you were fine. You’re just suffering from a case of dehydration,” Eddie said, leaning down to kiss my hand. “I was so worried,” he added.

“This is payback for all those times you’ve almost died on me. This is nothing compared to when you got shot,” I state, earning a small laugh from Eddie.

“I’m so happy you’re okay. When we get home, I’m going to make that dinner I was going to make earlier, and we can binge any show you want tonight.” I beamed up at Eddie’s words, knowing exactly what we were going to watch tonight.

“Supernatural?” I asked, looking up at Eddie with a gleam of hope in my eye.

“Sure,” Eddie chuckled at my child-like behavior and nodded his head.

Eddie and I sat in the hospital room for about half an hour before my doctor came back. He took a sample of my blood to make sure everything was fine, and when he came back, he gave me the all clear to go home.

When I got back home, I flopped on the couch. “Ahh,” I moaned. “It feels so good to be home!” I exclaimed, earning a laugh from Eddie.

From the kitchen, Eddie began to speak, “I’m glad you’re happy because I’ve got a very special dinner planned tonight.”

Standing up from the couch, I walked into the kitchen. I went over to Eddie, who was putting pasta into boiling water, and wrapped my arms around his waist. I turned my head and placed my face against his back. “I love you, my husband,” I joked, feeling his muscles tense.

“You heard that?” Eddie asked, his voice shaky.

“I heard what the doctor called me. I assumed you told the doctor that,” I said smugly.

“They wouldn’t let me back unless we were immediate family, and I panicked,” Eddie spoke as he stirred the pasta.

“Hmm. I like the sound of that,” I mumbled against his back.

“What?”

“Mrs. Diaz,” I responded.

“Maybe one day,” Eddie said, putting a gleeful smile on my face.

When Eddie was done cooking, he made both of our plates and sat them on the table across from each other. He had made spinach and chicken alfredo with garlic bread. I sat at one of the seats where a plate was placed, and Eddie made his way back into the kitchen.

“They didn’t have that supper fancy wine that you like, so I got apple and grape juice,” He said, walking out of the kitchen with two juice containers and two wine glasses.

“Apple,” I said with a laugh.

He poured apple juice into both of our cups before sitting down across from me. My head shook up and down as I spoke with an amused smile. “I’ve got to give it to you, Eddie. This is the most special dinner I’ve ever had,” I said as I sipped my juice.

“Well, I hope so because Chris is gonna be pissed,” He said, sending us into a frenzy. Our laughs echoed through the apartment.

When the laughs began to calm down, Eddie calmly stated, “I love you, Y/N. And I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I love you too, Eddie. And I’m also glad I’m okay, so I can do this.” I stood up. Leaning over the table, I gave Eddie a small kiss on the lips and sat back down. “Now, when can we watch our show?”

If your user is in red, it means that I couldn't find you. Please let me know if you would still like to be added to my taglist.

Taglist: @mrspeacem1nusone @girlnred @okiegirl24 @babypink224221 @iamasimpingh0e @Virginia @alexxavicry @kaitieskidmore1 @vanessaw05 @bellarkeselection @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @icemansgirl1999 @esposadomd @buckysmainhxe @sunwardsss @ineed-myspace-blog @their-love

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reputationmunson · 1 year

Text

Lavender Wishes | Robin Buckley x reader

summary: your first sleep over with your girlfriend, robin <3

content: fluff, mentions of eating, swearing, brief mention of the upside down, no pronouns directed towards reader, no use of y/n, pet names

word count: [1.5k]

“Oh, I want m&ms too! And don’t forget the popcorn!”

“It’s gonna be hard to forget anything, robs, since you want the whole store” you joke as she rambles over the phone about all the snacks she wants.

“Not the whole store. Maybe half”

“Alright, but you’re gonna owe me a lot of kisses tonight” you bargain, knowing she’s already planning on doing that.

“Yeah, I can do that. Now hurry up and get to the store so I can hold up my end of the deal soon”

You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone and quickly head to the store. Tonight was the first night you’re staying with Robin since you started dating. The relationship was fairly new, but it’s felt like you’ve been together for years. Everything felt so natural with her and you weren’t even nervous about tonight.

Okay… the nervous part was kind of a lie. Of course Robin makes you feel comfortable, but anyone would feel at least a little bit nervous about staying the night with their partner for the first time.

After a trip to the supermarket and way too many snacks for one night, you finally arrive at Robin’s house.

You take a minute and give yourself a pep talk before walking up and knocking on her door.

“Oh my god, it’s about time! I almost died of boredom” Robin throws her arms around you and you try to hug her back as best as you can with your hands full.

She grabs some of the bags and drags you into the house, leading you into the kitchen to put all the snacks on the counter.

“I’ve been here for three whole minutes and still haven’t gotten a kiss. What are you gonna do about that, Buckley”

She smirks at you and cradles your face in her hands before leaning into you. You can’t help the smile that forms on your face and the giggle that escapes you as she kisses your lips.

“I’ve been waiting on that all day and now you’re laughing at me?” she says with the biggest smile on her face "Don't make me revoke your all access pass to these” she points to her lips and makes you laugh even harder. She’s 110% joking and you know that because she always claims that she’d probably die if she never got to kiss you again.

“Lemme make it up to you”

Five, ten, fifteen minutes pass as you kiss her in the kitchen, barely coming up for air unless it’s absolutely necessary.

“Wow. Now I know what that song by Berlin was talking about” She says when she pulls away from you and you look at her, puzzled.

“That one song from Top Gun. Take my breath away” She clarifies and you chuckle.

“You’re so cheesy. Also, remind Harrington he’s not allowed to pick that movie again next time for movie night”

“But that would break his heart… so yeah I’ll do it and speaking of movies, I got about a thousand of them so go pick one out and I’ll make the popcorn.” she gives you a peck and you head to the living room.

Robin really wasn’t kidding about her getting a thousand movies because there’s a stack of them about a mile high on the coffee table. You decide to go with a horror, knowing she’ll have to cuddle up to you for protection.

Your girlfriend has fought against monsters from a weird, alternate dimension, but she draws the line at a guy with chainsaw.

“What are we watchin’ first?” She asks with a big bowl of popcorn and your favorite candy in her hands.

“Texas chainsaw!” you answer, excitedly and she groans. “I knew you’d do this to me. Next time I’m only getting movies that I like and don’t give me nightmares”

“Didn’t you fight evil Russians and that mind slayer thing?”

“Mind flayer and I’d take either of those things over some weirdo who harvests peoples skin”

“Pleeeeaasse, baby, for me?” you give her your best pout and puppy dog eyes and she gives in within two seconds. “Fine, but don’t expect that to work every time” she points her finger at you. “you know you can never say no to me” she doesn’t deny it.

It’s not even ten minutes into the movie before Robin is laying on top of you with her face hidden in your neck. Your hand rests on top of her head and you play with her hair to comfort her.

“Do you want me to change the movie, robs?”

“No, ‘cause then you’d have to get up” she whines and you huff out a laugh. “I have to get up anyway because I have to pee”

She looks up at you and furrows her brow. “And leave me alone? I told you not to drink your soda that fast!”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll pause the movie and the door is locked.”

“A locked door isn’t going to stop a chainsaw! They are literally made to chop wood and take a wild guess what my front door is made of!”

God, you love her so much. You know it’s crazy to even think that this early into the relationship, but you were friends long before you started dating. Plus, it’s Robin. You’d be crazy not to be in love with her.

When she finally gets up to let you move, she dramatically throws herself back on the couch with a loud huff. You lovingly roll your eyes and pause the movie before going to the bathroom.

“When you’re done can you bring me some more candy?” she yells and you already know she’s going to be like a toddler on a sugar high.

You come back to the living room with m&ms in hand and Robin is pretending to be dead on the couch. “Oh no, she’s dead! Guess I have to eat these m&m’s all by myself”

She opens one eye to look at you “False alarm, I guess. Don’t worry I’ll help you eat those”

You toss the m&ms at her and go to change the movie. “Actually, I’m kinda tired. Wanna go to bed?’’ she suggests. “Robin, it’s 9 p.m.” you deadpan.

“Okay, bedtime police. I wanna change into pjs and cuddle in my bed”

“Fine, but only if you bring the candy with you”

She jumps up, grabs the candy and practically sprints towards her bedroom. You grab your bag and get ready for bed in the bathroom.

When you enter Robin’s room, she’s changed into only a sports bra and sweats. Your gaze can’t help but linger.

“Wow, perv! You’re just as bad as Steve” she jokes and you get into bed to snuggle up to her.

“I can’t help it. They’re hypnotizing” you say, referring to her boobs and she snorts.

“So, I was, um, thinking about how it’s only friday and we both have the weekend off, so maybe you could stay tomorrow night too? Of course, you don’t have to or anything I just thought that it might be-”

“I’d love to stay all weekend and conveniently enough, I brought plenty of clothes for the whole weekend” you say before she finishes her sentence.

“I knew you would. just can’t get enough of me”

you start to drift asleep as she rubs your back, but all of the sudden she gets a burst of energy.

“babe, i had too much sugar. Let’s do something fun!”

“I had a feeling this would happen. Alright, what do ya wanna do?”

“Let me paint your nails! I promise I won’t mess it up this time ”

Every time you’ve let Robin paint your nails, she’s made an absolute mess. There was one time she spilled a bottle on the carpet because she was flailing her arms around while telling a story.

“Okay, I’m in. show me what ya got”

Robin displays ten different nail polish colors and goes into detail about what she likes about each one. it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“And this one I think would really make your eyes pop. you always look so good in this color”

“What’s the name of the color?”

“Lavender wishes. Cute, right?”

“Adorable” you hold your hand out to her and she starts her masterpiece. Her concentrated face is so fucking cute you can’t help smiling. Usually, Robin is such a chatterbox, but she’s too focused on doing this perfectly that she hasn’t said a word.

“All done. Do you like it?” she asks when she finishes

“I love it. Thank you, baby”

Robin gently blows on your fingertips until they are dry. When she’s done, she kisses both of your hands and helps you up off of the floor.

“That was some tedious work. Wanna go to sleep?” she asks and you nod. You wrap your arms around each other and tangle yourselves together under the blanket.

Both of you end up staying awake until the hours of the night when it feels like the rest of the world is asleep. You talk about anything, nothing, and everything in between.

It’s the best Friday night you’ve ever had.

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley fic #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley blurb #robin buckley oneshot #robin buckley #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things

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itlearns · 4 months

Text

“There is no way I’m leaving you in the middle of nowhere at this hour to find your own way home”, Miles says.

You’re not really comfortable with cars, actually. You get anxiety and motion sickness.

“The car’s suspension is the best you can find and I’m a really steady driver”, Miles says. “I’m not very good with jolt myself, as you could have noticed”.

That’s not much of a calming statement, if you think about it.

“I had not a single accident in fifteen years drive record, you really have nothing to worry about”, Miles says.

You don’t know why you are refusing an invitation so persistently. Probably because you’re not really calm about the idea of spending two hours in a closed tiny space with Miles Edgeworth. That also might be because he sounds even more irritated and annoyed than usual. You know it’s just because of the case, yet it makes you nervous in some weird kind of way.

And yet you are in the middle of nowhere and you’re tired and it’s getting late and you have no desire to wait all night in the bus stop for the first vehicle to take you to the closest town at 7 am next morning.

So you get into the car.

You don’t really know how to drive, but watching Miles go through motions necessary is somewhat calming. His movements are automatic yet deliberate and controlled. He still looks angrier that usual, but there’s no pressure or sharpness in his hands. You absolutely can believe he didn’t get into a single incident in fifteen years.

“Is driving a car really such an unusual activity to observe?”, he asks without looking at you, as you finally making it to some civilly looking road.

“What?”

“You’re staring”.

“Oh”. You turn your head away just to look back at him immediately, since you have to answer something. “Well, it is a little weird. You look more equipped for horse riding then driving a sportscar somehow”.

He does his strange little sneer, not paired with an actual smile.

“Well, this engine’s capacity is 950 horsepower, so I think the contradiction can be avoided”

“Now, that is a lot of horses”, you chuckle a bit nervously.

This awkward exchange calms you down a little. The case is a mess, and everyone is stressed out. The whole day of investigation and no one was able to find victim’s head. Identifying of the body is not carried out fast enough and autopsy report is obviously not going to be ready any time soon.

Despite Gumshoe running around saying he’s going to take all the dirty work on himself, Miles looks way messier that he usually allows himself to be. His hand laying on the wheel in an effortless manner, but he’s still frowning, and his lips are pursed. And you just don’t want Miles to be stressed or troubled. You want Miles to… You are staring again, aren’t you?

Trying to find somewhere less rude to look at you look at the dashboard and watch the speedometer needle pass 110 kilometers. This with the image of Miles barely even holding the wheel makes you think that maybe it’s time to confess your sins and pray for forgiveness to whoever is may be out there.

“Are… you okay, Edgeworth?”

“I am, thank you very much”. Sometimes you really can’t say if he’s being passive-aggressive or if it’s just his impeccable god damned manners.

“That’s kinda a little too fast, is it not?”

“That’s fine. This is a national expressway, the speed limit here is 120 kilometers per hour”

“You’re being fined for speeding is not exactly what’ I’m worried about”.

He doesn’t react to that at all, eyes still fixed on the road.

“Does it… help? With the anger?”, you ask carefully.

He takes a brief pause to consider it.

“No”.

The speedometer needle goes up to 118.

“Not a single accident in fifteen years”, you remind yourself.

#ace attorney #writers on tumblr #fanfic #sorta #another lil scetch I'm not developing #narumitsu #wrightworth #headcanons #mitsurugi reiji #naruhodo ryuichi #miles edgeworth #funfact I sorta hallucinated this scene in an episode of insomnia #it was surprisingly accurate #headcanon #another fun fact 1 horse has 10 horsepower #so it's 95 horses #which is still a lot of horses #anger issues

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vessilin · 3 months

Text

hey guys i have decided that i will now become a TMAGP account. hashtag. love this new podcast!! as soon as my hands stop swelling I WILL be making RedCanary fan art. I cannot express how much i’m loving this series rn

more below the cut! ! (SPOILERS)

OKAY SO!! episode #1 has thoroughly shaken me to the core. thank you so @sunnyspookss for listening to me yap about it over discord. love u suns!! here are my thoughts on the characters :

Sam - I cannot describe how I feel about this creature. I’m loving them and they’re giving me very… main character vibes (obviously but… anything could change who knows). Currently loving the idea that they wear glasses !!! Def a really fleshed out character (even from just the first episode).

I know Sam SAID that they were working here to ‘get back on [my] feet’ but I feel like there might be something more behind it?

Alice - right off the bat !! I’m loving her. she seems so incredibly sweet and i’m HC-ing her as a trans woman. live laugh love Alice !!! She’s so silly and in some ways reminds me of Tim Stoker ? I think it’s really interesting and I can’t wait to see how her character develops!!

ALSOOO TTHE FACT THAT SHE AND SAM USED TO DATE!??? AUGH. during college too? I feel like this is running a real close parallel to Jon and Georgie.

Gwen <333 - I can totally see some of the Bouchard family line coming in here. At first (a.k.a. the first 10 minutes or so) i didn’t really have any strong opinions and kinda forgot that her last name was bouchard but after the little scene of her and Lena in the office I started to love her even more. The boldness and the gall this woman has makes me want to shake her around like a squeaky toy.

When Lena was like “what do you even want here anyways 😒😒” AND GWEN WENT “your job” I LOST IT. LIKE.

I don’t even know if she and Elias are related but goddamn?!! I’m literally in love.

Lena - She knows something. This woman. this girl. she knows something that I do not know and I do not like it.

Colin - Live Laugh Love Colin!!! He def knows what’s going on!! I have a feeling he’ll be rlly important to the plot and his little end ‘speech’ (more like dialogue but oh well) at the end of the first episode was like??? Major Eye vibes.

RedCanary - I don’t even know where to begin. The insanity? The deleting photo? Canaries should stay above ground? The anger at ArcherK?? The mystery?

I really hope this character comes back but even if they’re a Sarah Baldwin situation that is 110% okay. I love the premise of this person finding something in that box (or maybe just the box in general) that drives them to insanity or drives them to some new information?

Misc. - Ok! Im not sure if the same like… ‘fears’ apply but someone (hi sunny) has said that there might be a new fear system? i think that’s going to be really fun to get into once I listen to the second episode. Secondly !!!! The Magnus Archive being turned into the library of alexandria (not literally but still) is such a cool concept to me. I think it’s very inchresting to think about because

A) as a child i loved researching TLA (the library of alexandria) and B) it makes a whole new timeline- i think?? Or maybe it’s some like alternate dimension or something!!! who knows!! I love it!

The idea of lost knowledge (and that knowledge once being uncovered driving people to insanity) (shoutout redcanary we will remember you!) is such a cool concept in general. the what-ifs and the maybes that can stem from it are so interesting and I can’t wait to see if they expand on that or not!! Either way- i’m loving the podcast so far.

ALSO JON AND MARTIN BEING CHESTER AND NORRIS RESPECTIVELY? DOES THIS MEAN THAT AUGUSTUS IS LIKE. ELIAS OR JONAH???? AUGH THIS PODCAST IS SO GOOD IM LOSING IT

#the magnus universe #magpod #magnus pod #the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp vague #tmagp spoilers #tmagp speculation

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virusinfected-memes · 2 years

Text

HALLOWEEN KILLS SENTENCE STARTERS ;

110 starters. CW: alcohol mention, cussing, drug mention, violence. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed!

“_____, get back in the car!”

“Dude, you okay? Hey! You okay?”

“Hold on tight. I’m gonna get help, okay?”

“He needs to die. And I’m the one that’s gonna get him.”

“I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me!”

“Get away from me! Leave me alone!”

“I need you to go home right now.

“Don’t get murdered, _____.”

“Sleep with one eye open, _____.”

“He’s gonna get you, _____!”

“Just… Just-just please don’t kill me!”

“Hey, whoa. It’s alright. Take it easy.”

“_____. I’m warning you.”

“The evil is here!”

“You need to stand up for yourself in these situations.”

“_____, you’re so paranoid.”

“Well, I’m kind of a sommelier, but for cheap wines.”

“Don’t be bothered by those motherfuckers over there, man.”

“_____ put me up to this shit.”

“Too young to give a shit? Too drunk to remember?”

“It’s Halloween night in [insert location]. When terror’s supposed to be fun. When we hide behind masks and we pretend we aren’t what we are.”

“Is he real? Who knows? Who’s next?”

“Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but the Boogeyman is coming for me. And he’s coming for you.”

“Let it burn!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s not my blood. Okay? It’s not my blood.”

“No, I’m not afraid to go. I just don’t feel like it.”

“Better talk no shit about that woman. She will fuck you up.”

“How about you and I snack on some Cheez-Its and try a little Beaujolais nouveau?”

“The fuck was that? Somebody in there?”

“I think I’ll break it off with my girlfriend.”

“If he comes back, we got something for him.”

“Got a goddamn massacre on our hands.”

“I’ve lived here my whole life. This was a safe place, and now it’s not anymore.”

“Come on, baby. We gotta get home.”

“Go look? Hell no! What’s wrong with you?”

“Love lives today.”

“Evil dies tonight.”

“He’s watching us.”

“Damn, what in the hell’s going on?”

“The goblins will get you if you don’t watch out. They’ll take you and shake you until you shout.”

“I thought we were gonna watch a movie?”

“I pulled some old spooky records. Wanna get high and dance?”

“Did someone just go in our house?”

“You think this is funny, huh?”

“You don’t know who you’re messing with, do you?”

“And sometimes, when the wind blows just right, we can still hear her ghost, calling out his name.”

“Get out of my yard, you little perverts!”

“I was always told that I couldn’t… that I couldn’t talk about _____.”

“I could never acknowledge the tragedy.”

“I’m so sorry. I just want to help in any way I can, okay?”

“We’re gonna hunt him down, and we’re gonna put an end to this.”

“I’m not gonna pretend this didn’t happen.”

“The only way we’re gonna stop this is if we all come together on this.”

“You have a permit for all these?”

“Now, the only way to catch him is to play by his own game—the element of surprise.”

“It’s the wrong night to be out.”

“There’s, like, a creepy man in a white mask, and he keeps, like, trying to play hide-and-seek with us, and I think he’s a pervert.”

“Run! Do not turn around!”

“Fuck this bullshit! Drive!”

“I don’t wanna die in here! Unlock the door!”

“We burned him to the goddamn ground.”

“I’m gonna get you. Come and get it, man.”

“Do you remember that night? At the bar?”

“You know, I-I never said anything, ‘cause I couldn’t be sure. I was so messed up. But you helped me.”

“I always liked you.”

“You’re so crazy.”

“I remember that night. Yeah. I kissed you. You held my hand. Now, I was hoping for more.”

“You stood up to that monster.”

“We didn’t know for sure. I didn’t know what to tell you.”

“Listen, I just want you to know, when he gets here, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“Tonight, I’m gonna protect you, okay?”

“We had him. How did he escape?”

“A lifetime of preparation, and for what? _____ is dead. So many people are dead. We’re not equipped.”

“People are losing their minds.”

“I am not gonna let you do this.”

“Do you even know what that is?”

“It makes the pain go away.”

“Let him come for me. Let him take my head as I take his.”

“Maybe the only way he can die is if I die too.”

“You and _____ should not have to keep running because of the darkness that I created. So you just have to let me go.”

“I am not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“We wanna get married. Um… Uh, I-I guess, uh, right away. Right away, yeah, right away.”

“The waggle dance is how bees communicate. They share the information where the flower is with the rest of the colony. They communicate the precise location by shaking their butts.”

“_____, don’t do anything stupid. We don’t wanna get sued.”

“I bet those bitches are in the bushes.”

“Next time, I’m comin’ with a pitchfork.”

“_____. You’ve come home.”

“I could have made this all go away.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

“It was an accident. I was lost in my own regret.”

“I saw the look in _____’s eyes. All he wanted was more blood. More death.”

“Now I know… there’s nothing inside that man but pure evil.”

“Every time somebody’s afraid, the Boogeyman wins.”

“It’s not you. I know it’s not you.”

“Now he’s turning us into monsters.”

“I swear I was just trying to do the right thing.”

“Just because your intentions are good doesn’t mean things always work out.”

“So, what now? You’re sorry? You’re just gonna stand here hating yourself?”

“I gotta keep trying. But if I go down, I’m gonna go down swinging.”

“Okay, so the key is we stick together.”

“I’ll always remember the song they were playing the first time we danced.”

“Come and get me, motherfucker!”

“You wanna fucking kill someone, take me!”

“It’s Halloween. Everyone’s entitled to one good scare.”

“I always thought _____ was flesh and blood, just like you and me, but a mortal man could not have survived what he’s lived through.”

“The more he kills, the more he transcends into something impossible to defeat.”

“You can’t defeat it with brute force.”

“If we only knew then what we know now.”

“It is the essence of evil. The anchor that divides us. It is the terror that grows stronger when we try to hide.”

“You can’t close your eyes and pretend he isn’t there. Because he is.”

#ask meme #roleplay meme #rp meme #rp sentence starters #sentence starters #halloween kills #* mine

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gwenbrightly · 2 months

Text

(Re)Building the Future Chapter 6

By all accounts, the path that Freddy, Gregory, and Vanessa take through the Pizzaplex doesn’t make any sense. In some places, they are able to find and follow the same route as Cassie. In others? Well, with the way she seems to have been able to travel through solid objects, it’s almost like trying to follow a ghost. Gregory is pretty sure they’ve discovered several places he didn’t even know existed before today, but it’s hard to tell, considering how different everything looks now. Even the places he knows he’s been to before lack familiarity in their state of ruin.

“One of the entrances to Roxy Raceway should be just up ahead,” Vanessa announces as they reach the end of yet another hallway filled with junk. Gregory tenses slightly. Hopefully they don’t run into the animatronic wolf. He’s pretty sure she still hates him for low key ruining her life. The kind of hatred that fuels rage strong enough to motivate you to chase someone through a flaming inferno. Literally.

She still seemed pretty upset about that when Cassie ran into her earlier from what Gregory could see on the security footage.

“Um… Maybe you should go first, Vanessa,” Gregory suggests as they reach the end of the hallway. “Just in case.”

“In case of what?” Freddy asks, confused. Gregory hasn’t displayed any self preservation instincts today up til now. It’s a little unnerving to be honest.

“In case, you know, Roxy’s right on the other side of the door? I don’t think she’ll want to see either of us,” Gregory points out. He’s probably right. Roxy had seemed a bit unhinged the last time Freddy saw her.

“Fine,” Vanessa says, “but you get to be the human shield next time.” She’s not completely sure Roxy hates her any less than she hates the others, but she does owe Gregory for all those times she tried to kill him, so she’ll do as he asks (this time).

Gregory only recognizes the storage room on the other side of the door when he sees what’s left of Princess Quest II. As with most other things in this place, it has definitely seen better days. It’s almost a shame, really. That game had some pretty amazing gameplay (for being 110% certifiably haunted). He rather enjoyed going swishy-stabby with glowing swords, even if he still doesn’t totally understand the game’s connection to Vanessa.

No sign of Roxy so far, he notices with relief. But the canyonesk decor on some of the walls tell him she could be close. They're definitely not far from the raceway now. Too bad he doesn’t have a real life glowing sword to defend himself with. That would make him feel a whole lot better about all of this. So much better. He’d look so cool with a sword…

“Now we just have to cut through Glamrock Salon and then head towards the sinkhole,” Vanessa announces, interrupting his sword related fantasies. “Hopefully the floor isn’t too damaged and we can actually get over there without having to backtrack.”

“The Pizzaplex has a salon?” Gregory is pretty sure he would remember seeing a place like that. Nothing comes to mind. Cassie could probably fill him in on it if she were here. She loves experimenting with different looks when she gets bored.

“Gregory… We passed through the Salon at least once while we were searching for a way to defeat Roxy,” Freddy says, “How do you not remember this?”

Gregory shrugs. “I have no idea. Maybe I was too distracted by how cool Princess Quest II was to notice anything else. I mean, it had an awesome glowing sword and everything!”

Freddy and Vanessa share a look that makes him feel like he’s being judged heavily (because he is).

“Okay. Well. Might as well keep moving,” Vanessa says eventually. She’s not quite sure how to respond to Gregory’s cluelessness.

It’s eerily quiet inside the salon itself. Which is weird, considering how messy it is. Though the rubble in the corner and the fallen signs are probably from the ‘earthquake’ that damaged the Pizzaplex months ago, the trashed furniture and mirrors are most likely victims of Roxy’s rage. And yet… the animatronic wolf doesn’t seem to be here, either. Gregory can’t help but wonder where she is. If they’ll actually see her. If she’ll even be the threat he’s made her out to be. He’s surprised his mere presence hasn’t summoned her to take revenge upon his sorry soul. Not that he wants that or is particularly sorry. Because he’s really not.

Roxy Raceway is an even bigger mess than the salon. Rubble, half filled shipping containers, and gaping holes create a maze of obstacles nearly impossible to navigate.

“How the heck did Cassie make it through here without getting trapped somewhere?” Gregory asks, weaving his way around a set of construction barriers. All of them are struggling and they don’t have the added threat of MXES and Roxy (who is somehow still totally absent) chasing after them.

“I dunno. But it did seem like I got places faster when I was wearing my V.A.N.N.I mask,” Vanessa remembers, frowning thoughtfully.

“Weird,” Gregory replies, saying what they’re all thinking. There are some things from the night of The Incident (and before for that matter!) that none of them really have explanations for. Things that don’t quite add up about the Pizzaplex and all that happened there. Memories that feel just out of reach. It’s something they usually avoid talking about.

“This whole day has been weird,” Freddy points out, “and I doubt that will change anytime soon. Look.”

They’ve managed to (finally) find a clear path leading to the final door before the sinkhole. The sight gives Gregory chills. He hasn’t forgotten what he and Freddy faced the last time they went down there. They were lucky to make it out alive! And now there’s another, possibly even bigger threat lurking below their feet.

“It’s not too late to turn back,” Vanessa says, gripping the door’s rusty old handle. None of them have fond memories of what lies beyond this door.

“We have to do this,” Gregory replies before he can talk himself out of it, “For Cassie.”

“For Cassie!” Freddy agrees (despite never having met Gregory’s friend). And so they begin their descent down, down into the abyss.

///////

“I gotta say, those sunglasses are a great look for you!” Helpy tells Roxy, trying to distract her from the one sided staring contest she is currently having with a still unconscious Cassie.

“Yeah,” Eclipse agrees, “I know that sunglasses are usually Monty’s thing, but maybe you can add them to your act once the Pizzaplex reopens!”

“Oh. Uh. Maybe?” Roxy is glad that the oversized sunglasses cover enough of her face that Eclipse can’t see her expression. She’s pretty sure the Pizzaplex won’t be reopening anytime soon. Or ever, for that matter. She’s also pretty sure she looks ridiculous, but hey, at least when Cassie finally wakes up again, she’ll have something to laugh about. If she wakes up. It feels like it’s been forever since the little girl woke up, screamed at her, and then passed out again. Roxy edges closer to her, trying to detect any changes.

“I don’t think checking on her every five minutes is going to make her wake up any faster,” Eclipse notes. Roxy rolls her eyes. What does he know? It might help. It definitely helps Roxy feel like she has some control over the situation. She’s about to argue this point when Cassie begins to mumble hoarsely.

“The eyes… the eyes! Why are there so many eyes?”

“It’s okay, Cassie. You don’t have to look at the eyes anymore,” Roxy tells her, assuming Cassie is talking about her freshly stolen pair of eyes.

“Nonono… they’re everywhere,” Cassie replies, gazing about wildly.

Well, if she’s not talking about It’s eyes, than Roxy hasn’t a clue what’s got her so freaked out this time.

“What’s wrong with her? There’s not even that many eyes,” Roxy says, turning to Eclipse in confusion.

“I don’t think she’s fully awake yet,” the daycare attendant tells her.

Oh. That does make more sense than any alternatives Roxy can come up with. But still. Creepy.

“They’re watching… always watching…” Cassie whispers, somehow clutching Roxy’s arm. Roxy is careful not to move for fear of hurting her. The little girl whimpers and mumbles something about nowhere being safe.

“That does it. As soon as this is over, we’re dumping whatever is left of your stash in the toilet,” Roxy announces, growing increasingly concerned about Cassie’s wellbeing.

“Hey Freddy… where’d your head go, anyway? You’re kinda freaking me out,” Cassie asks before Eclipse can protest.

“Aww but this is just getting good,” Helpy complains as Cassie continues to ramble about Freddy’s appearance. “Next time you guys drug someone, we should make sure we have a camera ready!” Both Roxy and Eclipse glare at him, but he can’t quite bring himself to care.

“Cassie, can you hear me?” Roxy asks, gently nudging Cassie. Cassie groans.

“No, I couldn’t possibly eat another slice of cake, Mom.”

Roxy considers shaking her harder, but decides that probably won’t do much of anything.

“Okay. We’ll save the rest of the cake for later,” she tells her, not sure what else to say.

“Mom… Mommy… Momther?” Cassie says.

“Yes?” Roxy says awkwardly (she is SO not ready to be a parent). How is one supposed to interact with a child who is clearly high on… something? Cassie’s real parents will be worried sick when they realize she’s missing (if they haven’t already).

“I don’t feel so good…” Cassie complains, finally letting go of Roxy to clutch her stomach. Thinking quickly, Eclipse just barely manages to grab an old cleaning bucket and shove it at her in time for her to start puking.

#myfics #fnaf sb ruin #fnaf fanfiction #roxanne wolf #five nights at freddy's #fivenightsatfreddyssecuritybreach #fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction #five nights at Freddy’s fanfiction #Cassie fnaf #eclipse fnaf #three star trio #fnaf helpy #nobody is holding the brain cell atm #I promise I didn’t mean for the Moondrop candies #to sound so sketchy #Helpy is a menace #Gregory just wants a sword

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hattywatch · 1 year

Text

J. Vesey - July for the Whole Year Ch5.

A/N: I had such a hard time getting these two to do what I wanted them to do. I wanted more pining, more misunderstandings, more ANGST. Alas, they had other ideas. Enjoy ;) ((All reblog tags are thoroughly read and fangirl-ed over))

<< Chapter 4:

September 2021

"It sucks. I should have trained harder," this the closest you've seen Jimmy to tears and it's bringing you to the edge yourself. The frustration slips off his skin and rankles your shoulders, itching to take some of the pressure off of his.

Shaking your head you answer, "No, you give 110% all the time, Jimmy. It's going to happen, you're going to show them your worth and how talented you are and it'll work out. I know it."

It's a Sunday afternoon and Jersey is interested. They have him on a professional try out and he should know by the end of preseason if he's got a spot or not. Since he's staying in Jersey, it's a short train ride for him to get breakfast with you in the city, and it's so much better than him being on the other coast. You're getting a little spoiled by it- having him close again. A call away after you get out of work to grab a coffee. Just a shout to have him meeting you for brunch on his day off. You barely whisper an idea before he’s getting on a train and he’s at your door.

Maybe you talk a big game of confidence to him- because you have all the confidence in the world in the man sitting in front of you- but you're still nervous. Permanence in Jersey would be amazing. Less than an hour away, you'd get your best friend back and maybe one day you'll flex your confidence in yourself, get your head out of your ass, and tell him some of these feelings you've been squashing.

"Maybe I should just hang 'em up. Go play in Europe," he shoves a piece of bacon in his mouth.

You steal a piece off his plate, "That's too far. I just got you back here," you frown and nibble at his bacon.

He doesn't quite meet your eyes when he answers, "You could come, too."

Your heart kicks up an erratic rhythm as you search his face for any hint of a joke, but you don't find one, and that's more unsettling than the alternative.

He grabs the check and heads to the front to pay, swagger in his step, like he didn’t just rock your world on its axis.

______

"I don't think he was serious," Gracia scoffs and sips her beer, rolling her eyes so far back you can only see the whites. You hear the door slam behind her and Brady walks into frame. He bends down and gives her a kiss on the top of her head and waves to you through the camera.

"Girls’ night?" The perpetual smile stretched across his face is comforting.

You confirm, nodding. "I'm having a crisis."

Brady nods sagely, "A Jimmy-sized crisis?"

"How'd you know?" He shrugs but smirks and tells Gracia he'll talk to her later.

"Before I was interrupted- he was absolutely serious," she gets a little closer to the screen and drops her voice, and you appreciate the effort to be discreet, even though you know telling her is the same as sending the story certified-mail to Brady himself. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know. I'm working through it. If he ever offers again, maybe I'll take him up on it. I work mostly remote now and my parents retired during the pandemic, so they're not nearby anymore. Nothing is holding me here."

Gracia interjects, "Now's the time, girl."

Sipping your drink thoughtfully you know she's right, but far be it from you to pump the rumor mill. "Okay, enough about me. Tell me about your honeymoon, please."

Gracias smiles, "I have pictures. Let me share my screen."

______

October 2021

Jimmy's staying in a hotel in Jersey while he attends camp. He said the bed sucks so he's been crashing on your couch damn near every weekend; he’s a fixture in your place, just as much as your ottoman.

The coffee maker is dripping a new pot as you help him fold the blankets when he gets the call.

He nervously answers, you see his agent's name light up the screen. Left hand holding his phone to his ear, the right one clenched hard in his pocket, you wait on pins and needles, biting your lip in an effort to keep a neutral face, ready to support him either way.

It’s not long before Jimmy’s face splits into a grin and you can let go of your lip, swollen and red. He grabs your hand and squeezes.

"Amazing. Yeah send it over I'd be happy to sign it," you squeeze his hand back and your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile is. "Yeah, thank you. Talk to you soon. Bye."

You're jumping up and down before he can get his phone back in his pocket. “You’re staying?!” It didn’t seem possible, but his smile widens as he nods, and you laugh jumping up and down before he opens his arms and you jump up into them. Entangled, he spins you around and you lean back laughing and winsome, hands interlocked behind his neck to see his smile giving way to dimples in his cheeks.

When your eyes meet for a scant second, the high drains rapidly, spiraling down the sink like the plug was pulled, too aware of your ankles locked behind his back and his hands under your ass.

He drops you immediately and you find your footing as he tucks his hands back into his pockets, stumbling over excuses to high-tail it out of your place, “I have to go- call my parents, a realtor, start getting my stuff shipped. See you later?”

It would be weird to let a little accidental butt grab get in the way of everything you built, so you’re genuine when you muster a smile, “Obviously. Go get your ducks in a row. I’ll start sending you apartment listings.” Locking the door behind him, you feel more hopeful and fanciful than you have in years.

______

November 2021

Before you know it, you slip into the easy habit of being with Jimmy. It’s like no time at all has passed and you’re greedy with it. Like a dry sponge soaking up as much water as possible, you fill all your free time with Jimmy.

Trying to make up for the distance that tore you apart with miles and time-zones, you patched yourselves together with phone calls and video chats when they were just a sad facsimile of the real thing. But now… now you have time to sew your friendship carefully back together, reinforcing the stitches; making it stronger, more durable, hardier than before and you both are too willing to put in the work.

It’s implied that each weekend off is spent together. There’s a drawer in your dresser dedicated to sweats he’s left behind, and you’re sure you’re using at least half of his new bathroom's medicine cabinet with your skincare routine.

It feels good. It feels natural. It feels easy.

______

Finally, you make it to Jersey for a game versus Philly. Kevin's in and you'll get to see them both tonight, dinner plans set no matter how the game turns out. You have a jersey, Jimmy’s name across your shoulder blades and a 16 on your sleeve. Watching the boys live has electricity in your veins and a megawatt smile on your face. It's an icy Sunday night, but you took off from work Monday so you can stay the night at Jimmy’s, and say bye before he leaves for a string of west coast games.

The Devils win handily, a 7 goal game that ends 5 to 2. Neither Jimmy nor Kevin played great, but when you see them walking out of the tunnel, shoulder to shoulder, it’s just like old times back at the Garden. Kevin looks up and sees you first, Jimmy still looking down at his feet, mouth moving a mile a minute as he speaks under his breath to Kevin.

Kevin plasters a shit-eating grin on his face and winks. His voice is loud and echoes in the hall, “Speak of the devil, there’s your girl now!” In the past your face would have gone hot and red, maybe you would have stammered out a lame retort at Kevin’s antics, but you just roll your eyes and hold out your arms.

“Yes, here I am,” Jimmy rolls his eyes too, slugging Kevin on the shoulder as they approach.

“Take me to eat, I’m starving,” Kevin’s suit jacket is already off and slung over his shoulder and you know Jimmy’s itching to get out of his, hating the way a suit constricts his movement.

You nod, “I made reservations.”

______ Nothing has changed, despite the two boys cycling through various sweaters for the last few seasons. Kevin proves himself still supremely inconvenient to your love life throughout dinner.

"Kevin I swear to God," you mumble around a mouthful of sushi.

He dips his roll in soy sauce, "I'm just curious! I wanna meet whoever is giving it to you on the regular these days."

Piling ginger onto your salmon roll you reply without lifting your eyes, "No one is giving me anything on the regular. I assure you, I'd know."

He shrugs, "You just seem happy. I thought maybe you were getting laid. Must be another reason." He's quiet for a second, munching thoughtfully on a shrimp moneybag.

You're sure you've made it out unscathed, but he turns to face Jimmy and you're ready to stab your own eardrums with your chopsticks to evade hearing whatever is surely coming next out of Kevin's mouth.

"What about you Jimbo, you giving it to anyone of importance these days?"

Jimmy handles Kevin the way only a lifelong friend knows how. Before Kevin can get the question out of his mouth, Jimmy raises his brows, "You that hard up, buddy? Sorry to say I only see you as a friend."

You choke on your laughter, feeling the tingle of wasabi in your nose, but Kevin takes it in stride. "Nah, if I wanted to bang a friend I'd have made a move by now." He stands up to suss out the bathroom and leaves a thick silence coating you and Jimmy.

"I swear I thought I missed him," Jimmy shoves a California roll into his mouth and you nod.

"Ah yes, the remedy for missing Kev, is actually seeing Kev, unfortunately." You meet his eyes briefly and they're warm and assessing while he lets a small laugh pass his lips.

Kevin peeks over your shoulder, "I just felt you talking shit. Felt it in my soul," he shakes your shoulder with a large hand as he sits next to you.

"I mean… you're right, so please also tell me the lotto numbers, Miss Cleo?"

Kevin laughs and pulls out his wallet signaling to the waiter. "You need a ride back to the train or anything? I'm going to grab a cab that way."

Picking up your napkin you wipe your mouth and drop it onto your empty plate, "Nah, I'm staying by Jim's tonight. I'm off tomorrow."

Kevin props his elbows on the table and rests his face in his hands. You chance a glance to Jimmy, bewildered, before patting Kevin on the back, "Are- are you okay?"

He's muffled, but manages, "Why do you guys keep leaving this open for me to dunk on? I don't have the restraint!" Your pat turns into a chiding slap.

"Oh my God, shut up Hayes." He continues throwing you suggestive looks any time Jimmy looks away until his Uber pulls up to the curb.

When he hugs you goodbye, you hope Jimmy has been afflicted with momentary deafness and misses the muttered innuendo of, "Hope you get dicked down tonight," before Kevin steps back and shouts "love you!" tumbling into his cab.

______

Your Uber pulls up a few minutes after Kev's. The ride back to Jimmy's is only about 15 minutes, but the single glass of wine you had at dinner is taking its toll. Jimmy's gracious when your head falls onto his shoulder, stacking his on top of yours.

"Tired?" he mumbles into your hair. You nod in reply, knowing he can feel it under his cheek.

The car pulls up to his building and he helps you out before looping his arm around your waist as you trudge up the stairs in your heeled boots. "Did your TV come today? I think I have one more glass of wine in me."

He shakes his head, "Shipping delay. They said next week. I finally hung the bedroom one, though."

You step back and let Jimmy unlock his door. "That works," you perk up, kicking off your boots by the door and slinging your winter coat over a stool at the kitchen island, before grabbing a glass from the cupboard to the right of the sink. "Want one?"

Jimmy looks up at you while working on the knot of his tie and toe-ing off his dress shoes, "Yeah just one, though." You grab another glass from the cabinet and fill it with the sweet white that Jimmy keeps in the house for you, since you know he prefers beer over all else.

When you sit side-by-side on his bed, socked feet dangling over the edge, it seems like a great idea. He clicks on the TV to House-Hunters and you spend the first glass of wine poking fun at the couples who always seem to be a partnership of the most annoying individuals the producers can find.

It still seems like a great idea when Jimmy gets up and leaves the room and comes back in sweats and a t-shirt with two more glasses of wine and hands you your share before plopping down, sitting with his back against the headboard and his own wine glass propped on his thigh.

You deem it a good idea to take the next commercial break to wash your face and change into a pair of leggings and one of Jimmy’s sweatshirts, since his apartment is always just this side of cold- and join him against the headboard.

It doesn’t seem like a particularly good idea or bad idea- so you remain neutral as you pick up your side of the comforter and slide your cold feet under the thick blanket. Jimmy mirrors you on his side, and changes the channel during a commercial.

______

Hindsight is 20/20, so it’s very easy now, with the first rays of sunrise peeking through the bedroom curtains, to realize that pulling the covers up to your chin and plugging in your phone on Jimmy’s nightstand were bad ideas. They seemed innocuous at the time, but in the sobering morning light, you feel the heavy weight of them.

Speaking of heavy feelings, you grasp at your ribcage only to find a lanky arm wound around it, fist clutching the sheets in front of your body.

The clock on the nightstand reads 5:03, so you sleepily make you worst decision of the past 12 hours and choose to close your eyes and press back into the warm heat of Jimmy’s body and let it lull you back to sleep.

The next time you wake the sun is brighter and the arm around you squeezes slightly. It stops abruptly, paralyzed for a second before you hear a sharp inhale of breath behind you. Jimmy’s so close you feel him slowly let the breath out against the nape of your neck.

“Shit,” it’s soft but you hear it anyway.

You're left cold when he gently removes his arm from around you and rolls out of the bed.

______

The speed that Jimmy accesses running around his apartment packing is actually pretty impressive. You’d be more impressed if you weren’t worried he was doing this to avoid looking at you directly. Still in pjs, you’re slowly sipping your coffee, feet tucked up underneath you on his couch trying your very best to be relaxed about this whole situation.

“I could help you pack, you know,” you yell towards his open bedroom door. The thump you hear sounds suspiciously like Jimmy knocking his head against his bathroom cabinet. The hasty curse that follows confirms your hypothesis.

He replies with a croaked, “I got it. Almost done,” and you accept your fate on the couch.

“You going to be good here if I leave? I don't think I have time to drop you at the train.” Jimmy walks back into the living room, luggage in hand. “ We overslept a little," Jimmy walks back into the living room, luggage in hand and speaks mostly to the floor.

Smiling up at him, you nod. "I am fully capable, yes. I'll lock up behind me," you promise. His face relaxes a touch and you can see a red mark on his forehead where you confirm that, yes, he did whack his head against the cabinet.

Standing, you walk around Jimmy to drop your mug in the sink knowing you'll wash it before you go. You stand in front of him (blocking his escape route to the front door) to confirm, "See you in a week?" Trying to inject some hopefulness into your voice, you silently pray whatever awkwardness is still clinging to Jimmy after your impromptu bed-sharing will be scrubbed clean after this away stretch.

At the same time, you hope you can shove him back into that box in your heart and stop making things weird with your best friend. Surely, no man who's interested in you would be reacting in the way Jimmy is, frenetic and downright dodgy.

You can't remember the last time Jimmy was anything but calm, quiet sureness around you – maybe when you first met and he came to your door with bagels, if you really had to put a date on it.

He nods like you’ve seen him do in intermission interviews, brows drawn together and mouth in a hard line. You’re sure he’s going to give you some platitude about playing a full 60, but he just promises back, "Of course." After checking his watch he tacks on, "But I do have to go now." He leans down to hug you and you wrap your arms tight around his middle.

When your phone rings shrilly, still on the couch, you turn your head to glimpse at the caller id. That's your plan anyway, but you're surprised when your lips catch Jimmy's, clearly in their path to your cheek before you jerked your head to the right and intercepted them.

It's shy and perfect for only a second, both of you tentatively leaning in and tilting your heads, before Jimmy breaks the kiss and looks down at you, confusion pinching his brows together. "I'm sorry. I-"

Before he can finish, you cut him off. Shaking your head with your eyes closed, you spill your secret.

"I'm not."

Your voice is breathier than you want it to be, but you realize that you want this more than anything you've ever wanted before, so you power through your embarrassment, heart thrumming harshly in your chest and palms sweating where they’re clutched behind Jimmy’s back.

You've made some questionable decisions in the past few hours, but you'd hate yourself forever if you didn't make your intentions explicitly clear.

And Jimmy- Jimmy has never once let you down since you've known him and he keeps that impeccable streak going as he croaks out a soft, "Finally," and brings his perfect mouth to yours with purpose this time.

The arm that was hugging you to him is joined by the other, and you hear the clatter of his luggage falling to the hardwood. He doubles down, dragging his hand up and into your messy bed head. When he thumbs at the pulse point behind your ear, it's visceral when you bite at his lip in retaliation and you feel him smile before his mouth leaves yours and his lips and tongue follow the path his thumb found over the thin skin just below your right ear. It makes you breathe in sharply, his name slipping softly out of your mouth before he brings his lips back to yours and swallows your moan.

His mouth feels holy against you, intimate and reverent, promising he’ll be back for more.

After a messy moment of teeth and tongues, a meeting you've both been silently, secretly awaiting, he pulls back and holds your face as gently as glass. Eyes closed and lashes against his cheek he's smirky when he delivers the bad news, gently shaking his head. "As much as I don't want to. I have to leave. I don't want to miss the flight."

"See you in a week?" You remind him, now so sure he’ll give you the exact answer that you want, genuinely and doubtlessly.

He leans back in and gives you one more languid kiss before he picks up the forgotten luggage and heads towards the door.

“6 days. I’ll be counting the seconds.”

The door closes behind him and you know you’ll be doing the same.

#jimmy vesey imagine #jimmy vesey fic #new york rangers fic #new jersey devils fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #hockey fic #reader insert #relationships #first kiss #mutual pining #idiots in denial #idiots in love #bed sharing

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beatleszeppelin · 11 months

Text

Puddles (of Water) on the Bathroom Floor

Summary: Dwayne is sick, really sick, so when Olive has a pageant in California, you get called to babysit. To babysit Dwayne!

Category: Sick Fic, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: vomit, fever, taking medication, lots of crying, swearing...

Word Count: 3.5k

Note: This is an unfinished work, I don't know if it will ever be finished... but here it is anyway.

Babysitter in the Bathtub

You are in the bath, and you hear a call on the landline. Your mom yells through the bathroom door to tell you that Sheryl called and she has a babysitting job .

You have your mom give you the phone while you are in the bath, hand creeping around the door.

You put it on speaker on the toilet lid, and ask when she needs you.

“I actually have a weird request.” “Okay shoot”

“Well, for the school break there is going to be a pageant that my sister wants Olive to be in, Frank is also going, because he hasn’t seen her since he’s been out of the hospital. And Richard refuses to stay home, because of some work thing.” “No, yeah I totally understand, but what is it that you need me to do?”

“Well Olive was sick last week, with a stomach bug, she’s all better now,” she added, “but Dwayne has it, and I just don’t feel comfortable leaving him alone when he’s sick.”

“I’m available anytime.”

“Thank you so much, we’ll be gone from the 8th to the 11th, unless Olive wins top three, in which we may have to stay in California ‘til the 14th for some sort of ceremony, but I doubt he will still be sick by then.”

“Do you need me to stay at your house then, or…”

“No, no, just once or twice a day, to check up on him. Maybe make sure he eats something, and force him to take medicine when he needs it, he probably wouldn’t take it even if his temperature was 110,” she sounds exhausted.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, I’ll be over tomorrow morning, what time are you guys leaving?”

“Too early, I’ll leave you a note with instructions walking you through everything.”

“Sounds good, and make sure to call and tell me how Olive does, and wish her luck for me.” You start finishing up the call to let them pack.

“I will, and thanks for helping on such short notice.”

“No problem, and Sheryl, I hope you have a good time on the trip.”

“Thank you, I’ll call you when we get there, bye.”

“Bye.”

Your arm was dripping on the floor, as you hung up the phone.

Shot Glass of Pink Syrup

Late morning the next day, you knock on the Hoover’s door, after waiting a minute, you let yourself in. Dwayne isn’t in the living room or kitchen, so he must be in his room.

A bottle of liquid Tylenol was set next to a shot glass on the dining table, and a note was left on a yellow legal pad. The note reads: Left at 5a.m. He was feeling fine, so he didn’t take medicine. However, Dwayne was up, miserable all last night. I will write you a check when we get back. I also left $40 on the counter, if you need to order a pizza… Thanks again for doing this!

And at the bottom of the paper was their sister Cindy’s number, just in case you needed to call.

Your feet sunk into the shag carpet with every step down the hall to Dwayne’s room. After the last trip, Frank got his own room, so Dwayne was alone in here. You stood outside the door, left open a jar, seeing him lay on his bed. His sheets were sagging down the edge of the bed, dripping down to the floor.

“Dwayne, you awake?” There was no response, meaning you would need to wake him to take his temperature. It felt strange, entering his room without him knowing. You walked in, shimming in through the crack in the door, so his door didn’t squeak to wake him.

He lay on his side, in grey sweatpants and a white shirt, face half pressed into the pillow, and his mouth open. His feet were tangled in the remnants of the bedding.

You looked around, the Nietzsche banner was down, and his room was warmer than you remember, not just in color, temperature too. You got close to the bed, “Dwayne,” you said again. You reached out to shake him, not knowing where to touch, so your arm stayed out for a long moment.

You set your hand down on his hip, but not letting your fingers grip down to touch his butt. You shook him a little, repeating his name in a louder tone.

“Mom?” His eyes barely opened.

“Ummm no, it’s me. I’m just going to take your temperature.” You looked to his side table, a thermometer was laying next to a half full movie theater cup of water. You picked it up, and his head fell back to the pillow, and with seemingly no depth perception he reached for the instrument.

He placed it under his tongue, mercury rapidly rising.

After an awkward moment of you standing over him, he took the tube from his mouth. The numbers had peaked at a little over 101.

“Woah, okay. You must be burning.” You ran your hand up his arm, and squeezed at his shoulder. He flinched away, skin probably sore. “I’m going to grab you some medicine, how are you feeling?”

He didn’t respond, rather shrugging in place.

You walked back down the hall, and straight to the counter, where a bottle of tylenol sits. You pick it up, reading for the dosage, but they all seem to be for children 12 and under. You decide that filling the shot up would get the job done, and return to his bedside, walking tentatively, as to not spill.

He was more presentable, his hair was laying more smoothly than when you’d left him, and you noticed his dyed black hair was a light brown at the roots now. He was also sitting up.

You handed the shot glass of pink syrup to him. He shivered, and shut his eyes tight. “You really don’t like this stuff do you?” You picked up his water and held it out to him.

He swallowed the medicine swiftly, gagged once, then his hand shot to his stomach, and the other over his mouth. Dwayne groaned, taking his hand off of his mouth to take your drink offering. Every swallow was loud, like he was trying to keep something down, by drinking quickly.

“I was gonna check on you, then go home to eat. Come back tonight,” you said, sitting next to Dwayne on his bed, “but I could go get food for the both of us, and maybe stop and get you some adult medicine if you want.”

His lip was still wobbly. He hummed a pleased sound, that you decided to take as a yes.

“Should I wait until the medicine starts to work or should I leave soon?” You asked him.

“I am getting hungry,” he said bashfully, setting his now empty cup on the nightstand.

“I’ll leave now, then.” You picked up his cup and took it to the kitchen to fill.

It fills slowly under the low water pressure of the facet, giving you time to look at the art and pictures that seem to riddle every corner of the house. Photos of Sheryl and Richard’s wedding overlapped report cards with A’s and B’s in every subject and Dwayne’s name at the top. You never knew his last name until looking at it; you had always assumed that his last name was just the same as the rest of the Hoover’s.

The water had filled and overflowed into the sink. You dump some out before returning it to its rightful place on the nightstand. Dwayne was in the bathroom, so you yelled that you were leaving, and grabbed your keys off the table.

Frozen Taquitos on a Sick Stomach

An hour and a half of running around town brought you back to The Hoover’s house, with a full tank of gas, a five dollar footlong from Subway, and two cans of soup. No medicine.

You walk in their front door, and are met with Dwayne sitting at the table reading a book. He stands to offer you help, and you wave him off.

“I got a sandwich for myself, and I got you some soup,” You set the bag on the table, “I couldn’t get the medicine though, apparently you need to be 21 for that.”

He dug through the bag, and held up the two soups.

“Thank you for trying, I’m going to eat the soup later I think. Right now I could go for some real food though.”

“Are you sure? That might make you sick.” You got your sandwich out of the bag, unwrapping it, and Dwayne handed you a plate.

“I am fine, right now at least,” he said standing by you at the table.

“You’re free to have my other half.” You slid the plate over to him, and opened the bread, exposing the sandwiches middle. The fileted sandwich had jalapenos covering the top layer of anything edible so he had to refuse. “Just because you aren’t sick right now, doesn’t mean that the symptoms are gone, so you might not want to eat anything too harsh. Just incase it fucks with your stomach.” He was already digging out a box of taquitos from the freezer, covered in ice. “I think I’m fine,” he mumbled as he put them on a plate. He wrapped them in a paper towel and threw the plate into the microwave.

A minute…

He takes the wrapped taquitos off of the hot turntable, and grabs some salsa from the refrigerator. He, along with the plate and jar, go and sit on the couch to eat.

You join him and reach for the remote on the middle of the coffee table. You turn it to Nick, and enjoy the shows about kids going to school, and living without adults.

After a couple episodes pass, Dwayne sits up. He’s pale, and looks like he’s sweating.

“Are you okay, you look like you’re going to be sick?” You lean toward the edge of the couch ready to stand, just like he is.

Dwayne picks his plate up to take to the kitchen, but bending down must not have helped his stomach. He sets it back down, and slowly starts walking out of the room. He only gets half way across the carpet before he says, “I don’t feel good.”

Almost immediately after announcing, he falls down to his knees behind the couch, and he turns his head away. His fists are tight, and he rubs them up and down his legs. He is shaking, but you can’t see his face.

His hands stop making fists, and he moves them up to cover his face.

You don’t move.

After a second however, you ask, “do you need help getting to the bathroom now?”

He nods.

You tiptoe around the coffee table, behind the couch, and meet him still in a ball. He doesn’t lift his head when you approach, rather he tucks it closer to his chest. You place your arms under his armpits.

He’s sweaty and hot, and you assume that his medicine has worn off by now. You walk him to the bathroom down the hall, holding up most of his weight.

You leave him at the door, and ask that he keep the door unlocked, in case he needs you. Then you yell from outside the door, “where does your mom keep the towels?”

“Hall closet,” speaking loudly makes his voice break.

Opening the hall closet, you see a tower going to the ceiling of towels, sheets, blankets, and what might be curtains, (but you didn’t see the metal rings). You pull out a dark towel, straight from the middle of the stack and surprisingly it doesn’t fall.

“Can I hand it to you,” you ask, already prepared to close your eyes tight. A skinny arm shimmies around the corner, and you pass it over.

The water starts and you decide to sit on the floor outside, like camping out overnight for a concert. You need to be there for him, just in case he needs you.

Sitting on the floor back to the wall, you play with the carpet. Then after a few boring moments, you stretch your legs out and reach for your toes as far as you can. You can hear water splashing down, and bottles clunking and sputtering out soap or shampoo, or whatever part of the process he may be at.

Wonder if you can do the splits? You stand and start inching yourself down, until your legs start burning, and you topple back.

Boredom overtakes you and you wander to Dwayne's room and start looking at his bookshelf. Symposium, Thus Spoke, Remembrance of Things…

The hot water hitting Dwayne’s back felt good at first, but soon the heat overcame him. His head felt heavy, dizzy, and faint. He tipped his head down, and held on to the side of the tub, this only worsened the feeling. The room spun and his stomach growled angrily. “Are you out there?” He could only conjure a whisper while bending down, before he started to burp. “Can you come in and help? Please.” He tried swallowing back this nauseous feeling, but it quickly turned.

He swiped the shower curtain away, and his hands hit the edge of the toilet, catching his falling body. With a crash he opened the toilet…

And a crashing sound pulled you from your snooping. You stumbled around the doorway, and hesitated by the door, until you heard gagging.

You opened the solid wood door, and saw Dwayne’s head in the toilet, one leg in the shower, the other dripping puddles of water onto the linoleum floor. The wet shower curtain clung around his body, which was wracked with gags and/or sobs. He heaved breaths, and choked on the mostly liquid that quickly evacuated from his stomach.

You took his towel off the floor and held it out for him. He soon got a break from his violent vomiting, and wrapped the towel around his body, replacing the shower curtain. You could then help him get his footing and turn off the shower, ignoring the pile of wet clothes in the bottom of the shower from earlier.

Now, hugged into his own body, he shook, near the toilet. His hair dripped shampoo, and he sat in the puddle of water he had created. His lip wobbled and he hummed a whimpering tone to keep his gag reflex at bay.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how to help you,” you said as the first thing since you entered the room.

He cried at your statement. Bubbles from his hair dripped down into his reddened eyes, burning on contact.

“Where are your washcloths?” You started looking in the cabinets before you could even finish your question.

He pointed to the hall, and you ran out to the hall closet and the tower of towels. Which sounds like a ride at Disneyland, but now was not the time.

You pulled one from the basket, feeling for the softest one in the bin. More retching stopped your testing, and you returned to his side.

You put your hand on his shoulder, waiting patiently for the wave of nausea to subside. Guttural sounds and high scents filled the tiny bathroom, making you feel sick. Now was no time for you to throw up, though so you kept it to yourself.

Minutes of retching, dry heaving, and sobs, left Dwayne exhausted with snot and tears all over his face. You turned around for a second so he could put on boxers off of the counter, and dry off his lower half.

“Can I look now?” You were turned toward the bathroom door, with your hands covering your eyes so you couldn’t accidentally see anything in the mirror.

He pulled at your shirt, since his throat was probably killing him from the horrible gags and sobs.

Turning, you find him slumped down on the toilet, wearing blue checkered boxers, and a towel around his shoulders. His eyes are a painful red. They are puffy, and pathetically swelled. He still has shampoo falling down his half black hair.

“If you sit on the edge of the tub and lean over, can I get the shampoo out of your hair?”

He stood up, and sat at the edge. He leaned forward, and sat back up abruptly. He looked to you with a whine and a waver of a frown. You took the washcloth from earlier, and wet it in the sink, then took it to his snotty face. After that you wet it again, ringing it out on top of his head, excess water running into his towel that rest on his tired shoulders.

A couple more times and the suds were gone. He reached up like a toddler who wanted to be picked up and you knew his mission was a similar one. He put his hands on your shoulders to help himself stand, then kept them there as he finished getting dressed in his most comfortable pajamas.

You walked him to his bed, whence he finished getting dressed. And pulled back his covers for him. The less bending he does the better.

The movie theater cup still stands on the nightstand, empty. A helpful thing that you decide to do is fill it up again and keep Dwayne hydrated. So this time, not wanting to stray too far, you take it to the bathroom to fill. You walk out with the cup, and hear a small noise, and assume that it is Dwayne getting comfortable in bed. The tap runs cold, and the pressure fills the cup slowly.

You shut it off with a squeak, and carry it carefully back to the bedroom, not spilling any more puddles of water.

When you arrived at the side of his bed, Dwayne had rolled away from you. His shoulders shook and he shivered in his [color] shirt. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You grabbed his trash can from the side of his desk, and thankfully it was lined. “Are you gonna be sick again?”

“I’m sorry,” he whined, and shook his head.

“It’s okay,” you said, not knowing exactly what he was meaning, but knowing what it was about. “What do you need?”

He rolled back over to face you, and his eyes were puffy and his cheeks were red. He started to cry, and you repeated your previous question. “I want… I want my mom,” he choked out.

Your eyes welled up at his request, and you felt it all the way to your stomach. But not a moment later, you composed yourself. “I can call her if you’d like.” He covered his face with his hand, and you heard a muffled, “No, I just want her.”

“May I sit down,” you gestured to the edge of his bed.

He started crying harder, and you made the split decision to sit down next to him. His childlike sobs were loud, and shook the bed you shared. He whined a little, too.

You rubbed up and down his shoulder, offering comfort in any way you could. Soon, you lay down next to him, and started to play with his still damp hair.

He bit his hand to quiet the sobs that wrack his body. But quickly you pulled his hand away, so he didn’t hurt himself. Although you were too late and a bruise in a crescent moon shape was already visible.

After a little time, his breathing had become more calm, and his body was only slightly shuddering.

“Hey Dwayne, do you want to try to fall asleep? After a fever, everything in the bathroom, and now this, it’s no wonder you felt like crying. Anyone would be exhausted. And that’s nothing to be embarrassed about, btw’s.”

He peeked out from behind his hands, eyes still glassy from the tears, and he lay his head down on the pillow next to the one you leaned back on. You rubbed his back. His eyelids fell closed, and his eyelashes stuck together from wetness.

The sun shone in through the gaps in the blinds and lit up his chest, and created reflections across the tear tracks on his cheeks. His breathing was now deep and even, so you eased yourself off of the bed.

You cleaned up lunch from the living room. Throwing both of the leftover plates away. And then you remembered the clothes in the shower, and all of the water on the bathroom floor that you could help clean while you waited for Dwayne to wake up.

You pushed open the bathroom door, keeping a hand on the handle so you wouldn’t make much noise, then you almost slipped and fell on your ass, so the handle really helped.

#Dwayne Hoover #little miss sunshine #Little miss sunshine fan fics #paul dano #dwayne and reader #paul dano fanfics

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malkahpariyz · 7 months

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My modest journey and how my family has supported me and uplifted me through it :

A lot of people have different ways of exuding their modesty and the utmost modesty at that. I believe in wearing the veil and accommodating my modesty in ALL ways… and I believe people have the right to wear the veil and accommodate their modesty in all kinds of ways, as long as they are still exuding the utmost modesty. I believe modesty comes in an array of high levels. I believe all women who practice modesty can exude the highest levels of modesty while still being unique, creative, stylish, fashionable, and as different as the want to be about it. I believe God is please with all who choose modesty and veiling and all the ways they choose to exude the highest levels of modesty.

I am someone who has always been a modest person. Modest fashion has always been apart of my wardrobe and my interests all my life. Even if others didn’t quite notice because I was invisible to them my family always noticed who I was and who I am. My dear auntie reminded me of this when she uttered “Your vibe has ALWAYS been, that you don’t have to show too much to be cute” “I know who my niece is, MODESTY IS WHO SHE IS” and when I decided to increase that modesty and make it more intentional, as well as teach people the freedom within modesty that is contrary to some peoples idea of modesty, by leading by example (all for the sake of becoming even more myself, and being more myself than I have ever been, fighting down false narratives of me, increasing my faith, and my faith practices for myself and God & no one else, and drawing nearer to God in my Hebrew Israelite faith) I made sure I did not worry about what others thought about my modest dressing, whether they thought it was too much or too little modest for their perspective or liking, because that is never what is important. As I am different versions of myself all the time, I am whimsical, I am one me but I have different sides of me, different parts of me, and whichever version of myself that I am today. God is pleased with… and no matter what others think my modesty should be, if God agrees with what my modesty is, who is anyone else to disagree with God? I’ve always been modest, maybe I wasn’t anyone else’s type of modesty, but I’ve always been modest.. and to become even more myself, I increased my modesty and it still may not be the modesty you want me to be at all times but it’s the modesty that I want to be and always have been at all times. No matter which way it’s exuding and showing it’s beautifully modest head today. That’s why I called this movement I am starting “modest chic”, because it’s the art of expressing yourself and your modesty and your veiling practices at the same time, having the utmost modesty while being creative and unique in your style, and caring absolutely nothing about what anyone thinks. If today my modesty is at 89% and tomorrow my modesty is at 99% and the day after my modesty is at 100% (these percentages are theoretical, because I firmly believe there are different versions of 100% modesty) but that whimsical window of modesty is completely acceptable and okay. That is why I started this movement because even if I’m not your version of modesty I’m still modest, and I still deem it spiritually, energetically, and physically necessary. Whether you agree with how I chose to exude it today or not. Tomorrow I may choose to exude it in a way you’re accepting of, but either way I’m not looking for your acceptance. I’m just following God and exuding my modesty and freedom of expression at the same time. I am 110% modest no matter if anyone agrees with what I have on or not… and no matter what faith you practice, if you truly practice modesty, you should try to see it all in this way. As God wants you to be modest and be yourself that He literally made you to be. He gave you your soul and your personality, and He wants you to show it and every way you can, while still being modest and keeping your self respect… and I can see all my modest sisters from miles away, your good at it, you can do both, your good at being yourself and being modest, keep doing that. I see you. As long as you serving God and not yourself with your daily actions and thoughts. As long as you live for Him and His purposes. As long as you following Gods true commands for you and your life and following the path God has you on and serving His purposes and leading by example with your Godly ways. Be you while doing it. God is pleased with that. You can be yourself and serve God at the same time. That’s how He intended it to be. He made you YOU. A unique and individual person. As long as you serving God while being yourself and not serving yourself and your own motives, will, & plans. You’re doing great. Keep going. Stay blessed. Gods plan, not ours.

Your only job is to be yourself, express yourself, and serve Gods ways, plans, and energy. Through actions and reactions you have mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically & emulate positive love energy. If you doing that, you can be as creative and stylish as you like with your modest goddess self. You are serving God by showing people how they can express their like for fashion, art, and creativity through their love of God and the modesty He called for. Be yourself and serve God through being yourself. God loves you for that.

A message I told myself that can help to uplift all those who practice modesty :

*context help: YAHUAH = Gods name in ancient Hebrew.

Here are some examples of how my family helped me in my journey:

(People don’t always realize but words matter and I’m about to show you just how much they matter and stick with people)

My Great Grandfather passed away this week, and I am going to miss him SO MUCH. He was a beautiful man that recognized the beauty in other people. He literally loved me so much, and would ask my mother about me every single time they spoke… one day we came to visit him and of course I was dressed in what I call “my modest chic vibes” and he looked me up and down and smiled, and said “such a beautiful girl, and DRESSES NICE, dressed like a lady” “classy”… and in moments like these, I’m reminded of who I am. If I ever faced judgements or disapprovals of who I am, these are the moments I’m reminded that I am just the woman I should be.

My Auntie, she’s my favorite auntie but I won’t tell the others that because then they really gone be jealous of her 😂… but I’m going to tell you why she’s my favorite. There’s never not one moment where I feel unseen by her. Right now I can here her voice saying “ITS WHO SHE IS!!”… because it’s the truth, she knows me, she really knows who I am and she will never stand for anyone not realizing, or not accepting, who I am. You need people like that in your life. When the world says no, she says yes. When the worlds calls me “this”, she will tell them “NOPE, SHE’S THAT.”

My Mom, she affirms me so much I can not even tell you all the things she has said to uplift, confirm, and support who I am… there’s only one thing I can shed light on to sum everything she has ever told me up. One day she told me “I can’t wait until you become famous, because everyone else is going to be like WOW, and I’m going to be like: She’s been this her whole entire life”

Words can mean alot of things. It can mean what helps people stay on the path God has set for them to be on in His will. So please watch what you say to and about people. Words carry energy, and energy is the force of life.

So today speak life into people. Recognize people for who they truly are, that God loves them for being.. and help others on THEIR journey, not the journey you think they should be on. But their journey and mission in life, that God has them on; for Gods purposes, with purpose, on purpose.

One love

- The Modest Blog

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hepatosaurus · 1 year

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2022 AO3 Wrapped!

Last year, inspired by some people on discord, I decided to actually track my fic reading for once. I’ve been logging my books and movies for a good 20 years now, so why not try that with fic? I hoped it might help me comment more too, or at least get a sort of baseline number that I could improve on. So, after crunching the numbers: I read 110 fics and 1,188,700 words across 15 fandoms (...more on that last point later)! It was a fun experiment that I’ll definitely do again, with some tweaks. Please forgive any weird numbers/percentages; I haven’t taken a math class in manymany years, and it probably (definitely?) shows. The vibes are accurate, at least.

(I posted an earlier (and shorter) version of this on twitter, but wanted to archive it here too for posterity’s sake because...twitter.)

Word count

This is about what I expected, though I was surprised to see that I only read one 50-100k fic (only one 100k+ fic too, but that doesn’t surprise me at all). I finished up a couple long(er) fic in January (notably, one 200k+ fic), hence the high numbers there, and only read one (1!) fic in July, which explains those low numbers. Otherwise I generally read between 50-100k total per month.

More details behind the cut, aka god damn girl, you sure know what you like and stick with it, huh. (I really hope this text cut works...)

Top Fandoms

So, about those 15 fandoms. I really did think I might have more variety back in January - like maybe I’d be able to chart fandom trends over the months, something like that! - but lol nope. My FE3H fixation is still going strong, three years later. I’ll get to those Witch Hat Atelier and Stranger Things fics in my Marked for Later pile...eventually.

Top Authors

110 fics, 80 authors! There were definitely some repeat offenders: merionettes! desmodus! notallbees! printers_devil! epistrophic! nebulia! No names in the pie chart, but look at those pretty colors. You're all stars.

Top Pairings

No real surprises here. I’ve been in sylvix hell since early 2020 so I knew they’d dominate, but there’s an okay showing from...other Sylvain ships...and gen! and Claude ships! Hi Claude! (Graph cuts off at 20 for my sanity.)

Top Characters

Ha. ha ha ha ha ha ha. Surprise! Listen: I knew Sylvain would be #1, I’m not an idiot. However I did NOT realize he featured in 60% of the fic I read in 2022, jeeeesus christ man. (He’s versatile, okay!!!) Chief Blorbo aside, my Blue Lions/Golden Deer bias persists. Maybe in 2023 I'll read all those Black Eagles fics I saved? Or fic from other fandoms?? (Again, chart cut off at 20 for sanity.)

Tags, Tropes, and Ratings

Looks like I sure read a lot of horny post-canon friends-to-lovers get-together fics with a good dose of pining, huh. That...tracks. Regarding AUs, modern AUs won (14.8%), followed by college/university, canon divergent, and modern with magic. Also fun: figure skating! magical girls! rock band! time loops!

I definitely need to rethink how I track nsfw content though - it’s very inconsistent and redundant here, and doesn’t really tell me anything. The explicit rating is self explanatory, but what’s the deal with those different NSFW and smut numbers? Where did I draw the line? It probably make more sense to scrap the latter tag and just track PWPs.

Etc: Commenting, Rereading, Reccing, and Bookmarks

Commenting: I mentioned earlier that I hoped logging my fic reading would help me comment more, or at least find out how frequently I leave comments, and turns out that number is 46/110, or 41.8%. (Mer reminded me that this number does NOT include alpha reader comments, which is very true. ✨⛸️) Not bad, but I think 50% (or more?) is definitely doable next year. This whole practice really did help me comment more - it made me stop and think about exactly what I did or didn’t like about each fic I read, from <1k vignettes to 200k+ canon retellings. Obviously I’m not telling the authors what I didn’t like, but as for the good stuff...like, I found a lot of compliments hidden in the Comments/Notes field of my spreadsheet that never actually made it to a proper comment, but they definitely could have. I’m never gonna be a person who comments on everything, and I’m NOT going to lie and tell an author that I liked their fic when I really...didn’t? but: 50%. I think I can do that.

(also I cannot emphasize enough how great it was to have a completely private space to bitch about terrible (or not-so-terrible) fanfic. does this fic use too many repetitive epithets? does that author NOT understand Character Y at ALL? was the resolution to this otherwise decent fic just a liiiittle too rushed? tell it to the google form!!! A+ would recommend.)

Rereads: As expected! I don’t reread a ton, with some exceptions. (Honestly a lot of my non-FE fics this year were rereads of old favorites.)

Bookmarks: Without double-checking, I think I bookmarked fewer fics compared to previous years, mostly because I was already keeping track of them in my spreadsheet. I’d like to get a little better at consciously bookmarking fic going forward, though - it’s really handy to have a public, easily accessible list of my faves. (I also say this as someone who frequently raids the public bookmarks of other commenters/authors/etc.)

Recs: 46.4% “yes”! interesting. Only one hard no, and that was partially my fault for not reading tags/warnings correctly.

In an ideal world I’d have some actual fic recs here too, but that...did not happen.

Overall!

This was a fun and very satisfying experiment, especially as someone who loves tracking things. I know a lot of people hate the idea of having an actual/official AO3 Wrapped, and honestly I wouldn’t like that either, but it was fun to actively (and manually) subject myself to this particular Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known Through Fanfic Tropes. I DO think it made me read fic a little more...deliberately? And therefore I read a little less fic than normal, maybe. I noticed that I hardly dropped any fic at all, either because I was more picky with what I read or I just powered through, and I don’t think that was the case in previous years. There was also a tiny bit of pressure at the beginning to start off the year with the “right” fic. Like, “oh god is my first fic of the year seriously going to be this unfinished 2nd person, woke-up-with-the-wrong-junk CYOA in which Claude and Lorenz investigate fuckplants and discover the true meaning of friendship.” (for the record, it was not my first fic of the year, but I DO recommend it.)

God this is long. One benefit of twitter is that it doesn’t allow me to ramble on like this, but oh well, that’s what you get. I really, really hope the cut tag worked.

#fandom #fic tracking #ao3 wrapped #fandom navelgazing ahoy!#warning that this reallly is like 95% about fire emblem fanfic.

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anarchistlime · 2 years

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SakuAtsu but Atsumu tore his ACL but would still show up to practice.

They aren’t sure how he got to practice in the first place since he has to be attached to crutches, until they see Osamu peak out from the door way.

Meian goes to ask what’s up and finds out Atsumu begged Osamu to take him because he couldn’t stand being at home he wanted to do the one thing he loved.

They all beg him to go home and rest so he can heal quicker and come back.

The team takes turns visiting Atsumu, and when the time comes, accompany him to physical therapy. They all try their best to cheer him up except for Sakusa.

He hates when it’s his turn. Not because he hates it gets annoyed by Atsumu. He can see the pain and frustration in Atsumu’s face. He hates having to keep Atsumu from pushing himself. He hates having to comfort Atsumu crying on the way back to his apartment because he’s not progressing fast enough.

He hates seeing Atsumu in pain.

Obviously because the team has been out a setter, they had to find a “temporary” replacement which only hurt Atsumu worse.

“Omi you don’t understand! I need to hurry and get back on the team! That guy doesn’t set the way Hinata needs! Or Bokuto!”

At first Sakusa thought his head was too big until he got to know his setter more. Atsumu was just scared he’d be replaced. Once he is in the clear to play again he’ll have to relearn everything. And MSBY is his only insurance really. What other team is going to want a player who just recovered from a knee injury who hasn’t been able to play for a year.

A Kageyama interview didn’t make the situation better.

“With Atsumu being out for injury, you don’t seem to have much competition anymore.”

“Well did Kageyama even consider Atsumu as competition? I wouldn’t”

Atsumu threw away the magazine after that. He didn’t want to say what dear Kageyama had to say about that.

When he does eventually get the doctors okay to start training again Atsumu thought it meant he could go 110% on training.

His first game back his knee gave out on him and was benched for the rest of the game.

Atsumu was quiet for the ride home. The team tried to make plans after the game but Atsumu claimed he had to go to a doctors appointment in the morning.

Sakusa knew he didn’t. And Sakusa was the only one who seemed to notice something was different.

Atsumu didn’t show up to practice. The team knew he was at a doctors appointment and maybe he was tired afterward and bummed out from the previous game.

Then 3 days passed, then a week. No word from Atsumu.

Bokuto took it upon himself to stop by his apartment against Sakusas advice. To Bokutos surprise, a small family now lived in the unit.

Atsumu Miya had disappeared.

Well he retired. Foster was well aware as well as Sakusa, but they promised to not say anything to the rest of the team.

I wanted to fully write this out but Ehhhhh.

Where is Atsumu now? I have yet to decide.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#atsumu miya #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu angst #haikyū!!#SakuAtsu #msby black jackal #msby atsumu #msby sakusa

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bratshaws · 1 year

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through the hourglass 138. brb x oc

a/n:KCJANKW idk man, THESE CHAPTERS AMIRIGHT - tumblr continues to hate me but it does not know that I am just as petty(reblogs and comments are supper encouraged <3)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

/100/101/102/103/104/105/106/107/108/109/110/111/112/113/114/115/116/117/118/119/120/121/122/123/124/125/126/127/128/129/130/131/132/133/134/135/136/137

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @dhwanishah09 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva

She always wondered how exactly that amount of snow just plowed down in a matter of seconds, because as soon as they put the car in the garage and walked inside it happened, and she couldn’t see anything when she looked out the window.

For someone who had only seen snow very few times, Beatrice never stopped being amazed by this weather. How could she loathe and love it at the same time? The San Diego native in her begged for the sun, the beach, the smell of the ocean and the minimal layering of clothes when leaving the house…but the other part,maybe the part that only showed up because of Rooster, just loved seeing that amount of snow piling up.

Was she still cold? Yes.

Was she still having issues about the amount of layers needed to just get out of the house? Yes.

But she could handle it, her body still had issues getting used to the cold but it was much better than last time. “Hey,” she turns her body when she hears his deep voice calling, a folded towel on his hands, “How are your knees?”

“Huh?” she completely forgot she kneeled on the snow back at the cemetery. But now that she remembered, a jolt of discomfort darted from her knees up to her spine, making her wince, “OH um…hurting a little.” she mutters, looking down at her pants and the wet spots that got smaller because of the heat inside the cabin, “What’s that?”

“A warm towel.” he smiles, “You can lie down on the couch, take your pants off and I can put this on you.”

Beatrice stared at him for a few seconds, then narrowed her eyes, “Wouldn’t a blanket help too?”

Rooster pursed his lips, holding the towel tighter in his hands, “Sure,” he begins, “But that’s not going ot heat up that specific spot only.” and his eyes drop down the length of her body, smirking at her when she just blushed hard and gave him an amused eye roll,laughing at him and nodding. “You can stay on the couch.”

“Not on the bed?”

“Nah, here is fine.”

She narrowed her eyes even more, but hooked her thumbs on the elastic of her pants, gently tugging it down once she’s away from the window - even if no one could see them from the outside, it was still…strange to do that in front of a glass. “What are you planning?”

“I just want you to be warm.”

“On the couch.”

“Yeah.” and he ended with that, smirking even more at her and following the sway of her hips with his eyes, “It’s going to be alright.”

“Mhm.” Beatrice didn’t believe him, but that couch was really nice and maybe it’d be better than going all the way to the second floor and the master bedroom. She does sit on the couch with only her underwear on, watching as he gently drapes the warm towel over her knees. She winces a bit, the sudden thermal shock making her tendons clench with discomfort, “Ow.”

“Everything okay?’

“Hurts a bit.” and then he pulls the blanket, out of nowhere, and puts it over her as well, slipping his hands on both sides of her, tucking the thick fabric around her body as if she was a burrito herself, “...oh.” he arches his brow at her, “Oh I thought…” he kisses her forehead as she snuggles onto the blanket.

“Thought what?”

“Something…that you’d do…when it involves me and I’m only using underwear.”

He laughs, throwing his head back before kissing her nose, pressing their tips together and grinning at her red face, “Later.” he coos, “I want to warm you up first,I can draw a bath for you too.”

“You don’t have to,I can take a shower later.”

“Hm…you sure?” she nods while bringing the blanket to her jawline, burying herself into the soft couch. Rooster smiles, plopping down next to her on the opposite end of the couch - Beatrice wastes no time in putting her feet on top of his lap, swooping the end of the blanket to trap it under her legs. Rooster just grins, placing his hand on top of her calf bone to rub it soothingly through the thick covers.

Beatrice, face partially hidden by the blanket, just blinked at him, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” he says softly, ‘...I’m…glad we went there.” he begins, still rubbing her calf, “I thought I’d be so nervous but…well,I was, but it was easier to handle, you know?”

“I’m glad to hear that,Roos.”

“Yeah.” he inhales shakily, dropping his head to the back of the couch, eyes following the lines of the cabin’s ceiling, “Nikki is asleep, just a little cabbage all wrapped up in the crib…and the dogs are enjoying how warm that place is too…and Jojo is on your bed.”

“Ahh, so that’s why you wanted to stay down here.”

“She looks so cute,I’d hate to wake her up.” he says softly, “Let her have a little fun, that bed is amazing.” he grins, sighing again, “I also wanted to talk to you…you know, just the two of us.”

“Just talk?”

“I mean…for now.��

They shared a laugh, the crackling of the fire only making the comfort of their surroundings wrap them into another warm invisible blanket making them scoot even closer to each other with his touch on her leg climbing up to her thigh but never moving further from there. Beatrice had to admit she was happy to see him…calm and relaxed and…just at peace. He looked at peace, coming here - to Virginia - and seeing his parents’ graves meant a lot to him.

And now that he had Nikki, undoubtedly he’d make it a habit, any time he could. “...you look better.” she whispered, “From early morning, you know? You look relaxed and…just happy…you look fulfilled.”

Rooster chuckles softly, then inhales, “...I have you to thank.” he smiles, “I don’t know if you know that, but your support has helped me a lot,baby.”

“I try my best.”

“I know.” he smiles at her, rubbing her thigh, “And I appreciate it so much, gorgeous. You know how much I do. You are just…an angel. You truly are…and I-” he leans down to kiss her forehead, then the bridge of her nose, “Love you for it.”

Beatrice’s cheeks were still red when he pulled back and her giggling was only muffled by her hands when she covered her face, “I’m all red!” she squeaks, blushing even harder - he could see it on the parts of her face where her hands couldn’t cover. Bradley just grins more, falling back against the couch and keeping his hand on her leg for a while.

What a day it was, and it was still morning.

He wondered what other things they could do this week before the New Years, in fact he knew there were things they could do, he promised he’d take her to a few of his favorite places…maybe his old high school? Is that place still up? It was already old back when he got in, maybe they destroyed it to create something new in place…either way, he could look it up.

Of course that with the snow they didn’t have much to do, it was obvious, but he could figure something out. Beatrice would like anything, as much as she hated the cold they could manage something. “...baby.” he calls and she looks back at him with a little smile, “Oh,I thought you were asleep.”

“Not yet. What’s up?”

“I was just thinking what we could do when,well,” he gestures to the window and the snow falling outside, “This stops. Before the New Year,I mean.”

Beatrice blinks, “Well,I mean, skating is out of the list.” she drops her eyes to her stomach, “For obvious reasons.”

Bradley smiles at her stomach, then lowers himself just enough so his ear rests on it, Bea parts her legs so he’s more comfortable in there. Her hands came up to touch his hair, gently brushing through the sandy brown strands as he remains there, just trying to listen something…there was nothing that he could hear yet, but it was more than welcome to see him being so loving.

“Anything?”

He narrows his eyes, then purses his lips, ‘No, nothing, but maybe I heard a hi on the lower left.” Beatrice laughs again, still combing his hair as he sighs, keeping his cheek on her stomach, “Are you okay,though? No nausea?’

“Nothing yet.” she says, which was true, she feared the trip was going to make her feel sick but it didn’t. She just felt jet lagged,nothing more thankfully, “Nor cravings, I’m okay. I feared I’d get sick too but, I’m glad I didn’t.”

“I know,gorgeous.” he smiles, kissing her stomach, “But you will tell me if you do,right?’

“Yeah, of course.”

“Good.” he smiles, leaning up to kiss her lips sweetly, once, twice, three times, and then keeping his forehead against hers, “You are so pretty, ain’tcha?” and that accent made her melt immediately. Bradley’s accent rarely came out but she adored whenever it did. It was so charming, like those…old movies where the cowboy fell in love with the fancy lady, the ones her father loved to watch.

“Roos.”

“Prettiest girl ever.” he smirks, “I might take you out on a date, what do you think?”

“A date?”

“Yep…as in I’ll prepare us dinner and we’ll enjoy it with the dogs and Nikki.”

Beatrice chuckles softly, touching his cheek with her smaller hand, “I’d never say no to a date with you.” she whispers breathily, feeling like this was just their very first date again. Almost four years together and they were still…like they were. She used to think those things never worked in real life, in fact she just assumed Hollywood created this fake idea of love…and then she met Rooster who could literally be the personification of romance in a very handsome,sexy body.

“Never?”

“Never. You are too romantic for me to say no…plus, I love you.”

His own cheeks flushed just the tiniest bit, his tongue wetting his lips before he kisses her again, “Love you too.” he pushes himself to his feet however, then points at her once he reaches the threshold “I’m gonna set something up for us for lunch, anything in mind?”

“Hmmm, no. Surprise me.”

“That I can do.”

Once he’s out of her view, Beatrice snuggles deeper into the couch and the pillows as she gets comfortable. Her hand only leaves the confines of the blanket to check her phone and see if she got any messages. Of course their friends and family weren’t going to annoy them there, but Beatrice knew they’d message them in some way,shape or form.

And she was right because she got a message from Evelyn, who didn’t want to bother the two at all but she let Beatrice know they were going to find the baby’s gender this week. She also said that Jake’s mom really wanted to know so there was no point in stalling, “...wow she’s three months along already?” she questions herself, then looks down at her own stomach, counting the time on her fingers with her brows going up, “I think this is the highest number of Military babies in less than a year.”

“What?”

“Oh,um,nothing! Just talking to Ev! She’s going to check the baby’s gender this week!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” she pauses, dropping the phone to her lap, “Do you…want to know the twins’ gender, just like we did Nicole’s?”

Her husband takes a while to reply and instead of shouting he appears on the hallway with his long sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a bowl nestled on the crook of his left arm. He purses his lips, then shrugs, “I don’t know…do you want to?”

“I mean…if you do?”

“...gorgeous,we’ll stay at this for hours.” he laughs, “I mean,I don’t care? We’ll just…raise them the same regardless of what they are,so, of course there’s the need to check on their health…we don’t have to worry about that.”

“I guess so.” she frowns a bit, interlacing her fingers on top of her stomach, her feet moving lazily under the covers, “Do you have any…thoughts? Of what we’ll see?”

“Babies.”

“Rooster.”

“I mean,If I’m honest,” he laughs, holding up a hand, “I’m gonna wait until the bets start, you do know the guys love trying to figure out our life.” he pauses, looking to the side, “Even before we even got together too.”

Beatrice smiles a little bit wider, her cheeks red as she moves her feet under the blanket back and forth, “You wanna wait then?”

“If that’s okay with you, I mean,we still have to tell people and since we want the pregnancy to go smoothly, I don’t see why not.”

She sighs with a little grin, closing her eyes and setting her head on the pillow, “You are right, I don’t really wanna worry about that right now, but I was just thinking…I mean, that means that Ev is three months along.” she begins, “And that she’ll know soon so the baby will be born in…um…maybe June?”

“I think so? It’d make sense with all things considered.”

“And the twins, if everything goes well, will be born in…” she mutters the numbers under her breath, “April or may?” she blinks, “i need to check and be sure so we can set the new nursery too- oh my god we are going to need a new nursery Roos.”

Bradley’s smirk only widens, “I mean, yeah.”

“Hrrmm!”

“Baby, please, it’s okay…now,” he disappears on the corner of the threshold, throwing her a final wink, “I’m gonna finish our lunch,okay? Call if you need me.”

“Okay…” she smiles weakly, the realization that they are having twins getting stronger every day…not that the ultrasound wasn’t enough but…she was just having these moments of ‘is this really real?’ ever since they found out.

She also needed to contact the clinic about her birth control shots and figure out why it just…didn’t work this last time. After all it worked before, why not now?

…or maybe she should take a little nap while Rooster was busy cooking. She could do that.

She was starting to give herself a headache.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

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