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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

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Thick Thighs Save Lives - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Summary: Being the only aviator with meat on your bones is tough. It's even more tough when you're stuck showering with two of your teammates.

Contents/Warnings: smut (minors dni), double penetration, fingering (vaginal and anal, f receiving), oral (m receiving), dirty talk, shower sex, protected sex, spit kink, body insecurities, mid/plus!sized reader, self-deprecation, arguing, angst with a fluffy/smutty ending

WC: 5.5K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

If there’s anything you don’t want to hear during a not-so-friendly game of beach football, it’s ‘shit!’. The exclamation comes from Coyote who’s branched off to your towels on the sand, fingers curled around his watch, “We’re late.”

“How late?” Phoenix is already adjusting her ponytail, as it’s frazzled from the action. She’s squinting in the sun and remedies it by knocking her sunglasses down off of her head and onto her nose. It’s smooth, and she knows it by the soft smirk that curls at her lips.

“We have twenty minutes to get on the road.”

“Shit,” Rooster parrots, dropping the ball where he stands, which is how you know he’s panicked too, “We all need showers. Penny’s gonna kill us if we stink up the restaurant.”

“We can go in teams,” Fanboy decides, already sprinting over to his towel, “We don’t have time for individual ones.”

Before you can get a word in edgewise Coyote and Phoenix are rushing to join him, Bob hot on their trail. The showers are spacious, sure, but you wouldn’t exactly volunteer to share them with anyone.

With a terrible sinking feeling in your stomach you realize that the only three left are you, Rooster, and Hangman. That means the only way you’ll get to Penny and Maverick’s engagement party is if you shower together.

They’re already at their towels, scrubbing sand out of their hair and strapping their watches back on. Hangman’s is a thick, black leather band, and you can see flecks of sand marring the sleek strap from where it laid on the towel. Rooster’s is thinner, brown in color and gold around the rim. His is clean, but he puts it on his sweaty, sandy wrist. It won’t be for long.

Both men are shirtless, too-tight jean shorts squeezing their waists. You make a point not to stare as you trek back to your towel, already picking up on their competitive banter before you’ve even stood beside them.

“-probably use all my shampoo,” Hangman scoffs, clenching his towel tight in his fist, “You always steal my shit, Bradshaw.”

“I think it’s only fair seeing as you steal my gel!” Rooster quips back, gesturing to Hangman’s stiff, shiny hair, untouched even after your game, “Isn’t it fucking weird, Y/L/N? How much he uses?”

Rooster looks back at you for confirmation, someone on his side. But you’re too disheartened to respond, dreading your impending doom. All you offer is a meager, “Yeah.”, that curls a frown under Rooster’s mustache.

“You hurt yourself or something?” Hangman raises an eyebrow, stunned by your lack of teasing, “I think we need to call the doctor, you didn’t just insult me.”

“I’m fine.” You grumble, towel held around your waist despite the presence of your rash guard, “Just tired from football.”

“Well get ready,” Rooster warns you, “Mav’s gonna have to tell us all about how he and Penny met, and I’m really hoping he withholds the details on the little rendezvous that got him in trouble with her dad, but I know he won’t.”

You shudder for a moment, if only to please him, to throw him off your scent. You’re tired, there’s not any other reason you’re in a funk. You’re tired.

You are tired. You’re tired of caring, of constantly thinking about it. You’re tired of wearing a rash guard to the beach instead of a swimsuit, because everyone else is smaller than you. You’re tired of watching people’s eyes, tracking them to make sure that if they ever dip below your chest there’s something in front of your stomach to block it from their view. You’re tired of adjusting your uniform to make it looser, you’re tired of leaning against the bar instead of sitting at it, you’re just tired.

“Hey,” Hangman’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, admittedly less grating and irritating than it normally is “You sure you’re okay?”

You blink and they’re staring at you, brows furrowed and limbs frozen in place. You wish that the waves lapping gently at the sand would crash onto shore and swallow you whole, sweep you up in a tidal wave of salt water and seaweed so that you wouldn’t have to answer.

“I’m fine,” You grit, slipping your feet into your shoes and rushing to stand outside the showers, “C’mon, we’ll be late.”

You had hoped that they’d get too busy bickering with each other to ever find you. But here they come, not five minutes later, just as Phoenix steps out of the steamy bathroom. A towel is wrapped around her torso and Hangman exaggerates his ogling of her, only turning your stomach further.

“Perfect timing,” He drawls, and she rolls her eyes.

Bob steps out next, taking one look at her face and stepping in front of her, “Your turn, Bagman. Try not to use all the gel.”

“See?” Rooster nudges you, his elbow against your arm as Bob and Phoenix walk away, “I told you! It’s absurd, he slathers it on like cement.”

“He’s gotta,” Coyote drawls, reaching over to knock on Jake’s head, “Otherwise his head’d sound as empty as it is.”

The two engage in a good-natured shoving match, but it’s one that nearly sends Coyote’s towel cascading to the ground, and you keep your eyes firmly on the tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner that you’d brought. You read over the ingredients, as if sodium laureth sulfate and glycol distearate will keep your mind off of your humiliation.

“You said you’re fine,” Bradley murmurs from beside you, “But if it’s something you just don’t wanna say around Hangman, he’s not listening.”

Part of you is less embarrassed to be honest and exposed to Rooster than Hangman. But he’s still a man, an incredibly fit one at that, and you’re not sure you’d ever want to reveal it to either of them.

“I’m just nervous,” You tell him the only part of the truth you’re willing to admit. I’ve never... showered with a- a boy before. A man.”

You cringe at your misstep, but if Bradley’s amused by it, he doesn’t show it. Instead he hums, sympathetically so, “We’ll turn around, honey. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“You’ll turn around,” You mutter, “I think it’ll just egg Jake on further.”

“What’s this I hear about eggin’ me on?” A familiar southern twang makes you tense as the man it’s coming from appears by your side, bumping his hip into yours, “You ready for our steam session, sweets?”

“Leave her alone, Hangman,” Rooster groans, feet slapping against the tiles as he goes to adjust the water. He shoves at Hangman’s back as he passes, and you stifle a giggle as the man nearly falls over.

“Hey, she’s the one that chose to shower with us,” Jake insists, and Bradley’s scoff is enough for you not to fight back, “And I would, too, if I were you, darlin’. Do you know how many ladies are lined up to see how hung Hangman is?”

You force a gag, “The only lady I see here is myself, and I’d rather smear wet sand in my eyes.”

“That’s what I’m gonna do to you if you don’t turn around and shut up,” Bradley speaks through the roar of the shower water, steam already rising from its fall, “Just drop your pants and wash your ass, so Y/L/N can shower to herself.”

“Well, well, well,” Jake smirks, towel cinched around his waist in only one hand as he stalks for the showers, “Looks like one of the ladies lined up is Bradshaw himself. Wanna see it, Rooster? Here it is.”

Jake drops his towel ceremoniously, and Bradley’s face morphs into a grimace as he turns away hastily.

“My fucking eyes,” He laments, and you pause in gathering your toilettries to laugh, while also trying very hard not to stare at Jake, “Oh my god, Y/N, you won’t have to worry about me seeing you. I’m going to pour shampoo into my eyes until I go blind.”

Jake realizes you’re taking a little too long getting ready, cocking a hip as he leans his head back to stare down his nose at you, “So what, you gonna ditch dinner, Y/L/N? Whatcha waitin’ for?”

“She’s waiting for you to stop being a perv and turn around,” Bradley comes to your rescue once again, and thankfully, Jake seems to realize it’s a real issue, pivoting until he’s facing the shower wall.

“I think she just wants a nice view of our asses,” Jake theorizes, standing with his clear on display, “Which is better, Y/N? Mine or Chicken’s?”

“Chicken,” Rooster grumbles under his breath, and if you were brave enough to actually declare a winner, you’d give it to him just for that. But, Hangman’s form is rather impressive, all tight curves and tan skin and-

And you shouldn’t be looking. You clear your throat awkwardly, peeling off your rash guard as Jake sponges his side down. There’s sand running thick down the drain and you hope it doesn’t back up, something you’d feel terrible for Penny to have to clean up.

“Uh,” Bradley stills in his place, “Shit, I think I left my shampoo over there. Y/N, could you…?”

“I got it,” You hum, reaching over for the blue bottle and tucking it in his carefully, blindly outstretched hand, “Thanks for, um- here.”

“Yep,” He nods, smearing a dot of the substance on his palm and lathering it through his hair.

“Oh no,” Jake mimics Bradley’s previous predicament, dropping the bottle in his hand so that it rests between his legs, “Y/N, could you-”

“Ass,” You drawl, reaching forwards to butt your palm against his back. He stumbles forward with a laugh, catching himself on the railing. He bends down to reach for it and you’re nervous he’ll peek at your body from between his legs, but he stays respectful, something you know he is at his core even if he pretends differently.

You find yourself relaxing against the tiled floor of the shower, feet firmly planted instead of poised to run. As much as you know neither of the men in front of you would make any rude comments about your body or your weight, there’s still the nauseating fear that they might think differently of you having seen you completely unobscured. So you’re thankful for the privacy, that lasts… well, until it doesn’t.

The snap of your conditioner cap catches the skin of your pointed finger in its jaws and a gasp clutches tight at your lungs.

“Son of a bitch!” You cry, waves of pain flowing through your finger and out towards the rest of them. On cue each man turns, eyes wide and fear-stricken, without thinking.

You know they didn’t do it on purpose. You know they instinctively thought you were hurt, and wanted to help. You know they didn’t mean to look at you. But the withering feeling in your guts knows no logic, only fear.

They’re looking, it hisses, They’re looking at everything. The way your stomach pudges into a roll at the base. The way your breasts sag. The way your thighs stretch, marks littering their stems, and present no gap.

“You’re bleeding.” Bradley observes, eyes trained faithfully on your finger, “I’ll get a bandaid.”

He rushes for the cabinets outside the shower, dripping water over the floor. Jake stands, staring, but you’re too humiliated to glance at his face and notice the soft pinky blush on his cheeks that’s spreading to his ears.

“Here,” Bradley speaks from behind you, though he molds himself to your side when you’re still frozen in fear. He brushes a towel over your cut, the turquoise material staining red. He then undoes the waxy paper wrapping from the bandaid, sticking it tight to your skin.

“It’ll get wet,” He reminds you, “But it’ll stop soap from stinging it.”

You don’t even thank him. At your prolonged silence he glances up at Hangman, intent on giving him a concerned glance, but he sees the man’s eyes rove over your form and snaps.

“Dude,” Bradley utters gruffly, “Don’t be a perv. Come on, turn around.”

When Jake stays just as still as you, he reaches for him, shoving hard, “I said turn around!:

“Please, Jake,” You whimper, tears brimming in your eyes, “Turn around.”

“You’re crying.” Jake snaps out of his trance to frown up at you, and Bradley keeps pushing, an insistent thorn in his side, “Why are you crying?”

“Because you’re-!” You gush, lip wobbling, “You’re looking at me, and- and judging me, and-”

“Judging you,” He scoffs, eyes nearly bugging out of his head, “Best body I’ve ever seen. Case closed. Court dismissed.”

“Shut up,” You seethe, tears finally dripping down your cheeks, “Just shut up! You think this is fucking funny? You don’t think there’s a reason I didn’t want to shower with you?”

“You’re private, I get that.” He scoffs. “But if you think I’m judgin’ any part’a that, then you’re stupid, too.”

“Not the compliment you think it is,” Bradley mutters, hands still prying at Jake’s shoulder, “She told you to turn around, just do it.”

“No,” Jake doubles down, pushing Bradley away and stalking towards you, “I wanna know why you think so goddamn low of me. You really think I’d rope a woman into a shower and then pick apart what she looks like? You think that low of me?”

“It’s not about you,” You gush, hands at your sides in frustration, “It's about me! And my fucking body, okay? I’m not calling you a dick for judging me, I’m calling myself-”

“What?” Jake’s head tilts to the side, eyes glinting dangerously, “What are you calling yourself?”

“....Gross.” You finish lamely, the fire in your chest extinguishing with the poof of a sigh that escapes your lips.

He’s grabbing your hand without thinking about it, gentle but firm. You stare at him, anxiety-riddled.

“Listen here, girly. I’ve let you get away with sayin’ a lotta things about yourself. Dumbass I agree with, especially considering these circumstances. I’ve heard clumsy and stubborn, those I don’t have an issue with either. But don’t look me in my fuckin’ face and tell me you’re gross, ‘cause it’s an insult to me and my tastes.”

He squeezes your hand once before releasing it, and it feels more now like a heartfelt gesture than a threatening one. You’re breathing heavy, lungs cut short from the adrenaline of the moment, Even though Bradley isn’t pushing him anymore, standing on the sidelines waiting, watching, Hangman turns around without another word. He scrubs aggressively through his scalp and you’re almost surprised nothing bleeds, your mouth hung slightly open and your tongue leaden over your teeth.

“I’m not your type.” You finally manage to mutter, voice taut.

“Yes you are,” Jake scoffs, “How would you know?”

“I saw you eyeing up Phoenix earlier.” You roll your eyes, and if Bradley hadn’t turned around again you’d have flashed him an exasperated look.

“So? A man can like several shapes,” Jake boasts, voice losing venom, “Plus I ogle Phoenix just to piss her off.”

“It works.” Bradley cuts in, and you snort.

“Point is,” Jake drawls, and you’re sure if Bradley was in his line of sight he’d have been the victim of a very withering stare, “Don’t discredit yourself. You’ve got sexy ass thighs, woman.”

“Jesus, Jake,” Bradley sighs, “Can you just hurry up, already? I’m sure there’s nothing more Y/L/N wants than to get rid of you.”

“Oh, shut up, lapdog,” Jake deadpans, “You can’t tell me you don’t agree.”

Bradley’s silent for a moment, and your gut churns.

“Whether I do or don’t is irrelevant,” He chooses his words carefully, “Let’s just leave Y/N alone.”

“He totally does,” Jake snickers, “Hear that, Y/L/N? It’s his blush.”

“Like you weren’t blushing!” Bradley scoffs, “I looked up at you and thought you’d been temporarily replaced with a baboon’s ass.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” Jake drawls, “That’s what I think every time I see you, porn stache. Then I remember it’s just your natural charm.”

The crisis has been averted enough for you to let out a shaky laugh at their insults, and the sound catches both men’s attention.

“Listen, Y/L/N,” Jake starts, voice much kinder and softer now, “The point of this isn’t me telling Bradshaw he’s got the face of an ass. The point is to get it through your thick fuckin’ skull; you’re pretty damn sexy, y’hear?”

You snort at his callous nature, “No one’s ever told me anything like that before.”

“Yeah?’ He pauses,towel in hand that he nimbly swings over his shoulder, “Well, pardon me for lookin’, and even more for touchin’, but everyone else is fuckin’ insane.”

Before you can process his words he reaches down to palm at your thigh, a hefty squeeze that sends your flesh spilling against his palm. You stiffen, even though he stays politely away from your ass, encroaching only on territory he could also grab while you’re clothed. The feeling of his touch, no matter how chaste, elicits a noise from your throat that you wish you could pass off for a scream.

It’s not.

It’s a moan.

He stops where he’d begun pulling away, eyes sharpening slightly. You don’t dare look at Bradley, but if you did, you’d see his cock twitch.

“Did I hurt you?” Jake asks, voice low.

All you can do is shake your head, teeth digging into your lower lip helplessly.

“Did you like it?” He tries again, but this time he doesn’t accept body language as an answer/ Still hunched, he ignores your nodding and reaches up with his free hand to tug your bottom lip out from under your teeth.

“I asked you a question,” Jake croons, voice smooth and soft, “Did you like it?”

All you can whimper is a meager ‘Yes’.

Do you want me to do it again?”

“Yes.” Stronger, this time.

His hand plants itself firmly back over your thigh, thumb stretching towards the curve of your ass this time. It’s a little more suggestive, and a lot more alluring.

“Jesus,” Jake groans, kneading the soft flesh of your doughy thigh between his fingers, “Bradshaw, c’mere for a second.”

He hesitates, “Do you want me there, Y/N?”

“Yes,” You nod once more, legs stiffening and thigh tensing against Jake’s palm, “I- I do.”

“You take front,” Jake instructs, falling into place behind you with his hands now greedily prying at your ass, “And I’ll take back.”

The smile that Bradley offers you when he steps in front of you is nothing short of dreamy. It’s enough to make you blush, and he lets out a soft, breathy laugh at how forward Hangman is being while he stands giddily in front of you.

“If you say hi,” Jake drawls, hooking his chin over your shoulder and reaching around your front to grip at the seams of your inner thighs while glaring at Bradley suspiciously, “I’m going to slap you.”

“I wasn’t going to say hi,” Bradley scoffs, and you can tell by his blush that he totally was.

“Jesus, enough yammering,” Jake scoffs, turning his head to press his dewy lips into your neck, “We’re gonna be late for dinner.”

You worry, for a moment, that he’ll let go. That he’ll walk away, get dressed for the restaurant, and pretend nothing ever happened. But that’s not what he does, of course. Instead, you feel the hard press of his cock against your ass.

“I’ll be gentle,” Jake croons, feeling you tense as his hands smooth over the dip of your ass, “We’ll go slow, okay?”

“Real slow,” Bradley murmurs, and it catches your attention, reeling it back to him. You realize he’s standing much closer to you now than he had been before, lips nearly brushing yours.

The second your lips meet his in a kiss, Hangman smooths his hand between the globes of your ass. You squirm at the sensitive feeling, foreign as his fingertip brushes against your hole. But he doesn’t let up, and neither does Bradley.

Rooster’s tongue slides against your bottom lip, warm and wet. At the same time Hangman’s hands squeeze your ass, pulling apart each side and smoothing down the skin between. It sends a shiver up your spine that escapes in a puff of air between your lips, one that Bradley eagerly swallows.

Bradley’s hands grab your cheeks, thumbs brushing near your eyes and yanking you closer. You can feel Jake’s fingers carefully prodding and pressing at the tight ring of your asshole, a hitch in your breath causing you to bite down on Bradley’s lip.

“Fuck,” He hisses, coming away with a red lip and a guttural groan, “Jake, just- let up. Me first, she’s obviously sensitive.”

“She’s just tight,” Jake murmurs, lips pressing to the expanse of your shoulder, “Nothin’ I can’t fix.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to fix it,” Bradley grumbles, tearing a condom open with his teeth that he’d snagged from his wallet, “‘Cause I’m going in first, and you- shit!”

His fingers, slippery from the water and probably excess soap, drop the condom. The way that you’re arched into Hangman’s touch means that your thighs are squeezed together and bent slightly, and there’s no better way to catch a condom than between your thighs.

The foil wrapper sticks between your legs, making it easy for Bradley to pluck it out and toss the wrapper aside. Penny will find it tomorrow, because you’re sure as hell not gonna remember to get it.

“Well, whaddya know,” Jake drawls, grinning against the skin of your neck so hard you can feel it, “What they say is true. Thick thighs save lives.”

You face-plant into the water-dropped skin of Bradley’s neck, ignoring the way Hangman snickers.

“Actually, I think they just stopped a life from being conceived,” Bradley reasons, only a few sloppy strokes of his cock needed to easily slip the condom on, “But that probably saved my life, ‘cause if I got you pregnant in Penny’s bathroom, she’d slit my throat.”

The tip of Bradley’s hardened dick presses to your inner thigh, skin seldom touched and sensitive. You lean into it, but Hangman’s fingers follow, gently stroking over the rim of your ass. It’s starting to feel less foreign and more pleasurable, a twinge of something sweet licking at the underside of your belly like a rogue flame.

Bradley gently presses two fingers against your slit, ever-considerate in making sure you’re sufficiently prepped, but his eyes widen at how much slick he’s greeted with just past your folds.

“Holy shit,” He breathes, nose nudging yours as his lips brush with your own, “You’re wet.”

“Duh,” Hangman scoffs, and one of his hands abandons your ass to slip between your folds, collecting slick on their tips and dragging it back to your ass, “I’ve been touchin’ up on her for a while now.”

“Pardon me for thinking that’d work like an umbrella on a rainy day,” Bradley bitches, but you cut him off with a kiss before he can spout any other mildly insulting metaphors for how bad he thinks Hangman is in bed. You’ll vouch if you have to, he knows what he’s doing.

With each slow circle that his fingers trace around your rim, you bend back into him. Until you can feel his cock pressed stiff to your backside,just as Bradley presses his tip flush with your clit.

“Oh-,” You gasp, clit sending a shockwave of electric lust reverberating throughout your body, “Bradley, I- Inside, please, now!”

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” He croons, speaking in a velvety soft hum against your lips, “Don’t worry.”

He holds to his promise, sliding his dick down from where it’s pressed to your clit and easing it between your folds. You heave a blissful sigh at the feeling of being full, and it makes you rock backwards into Hangman’s fingers.

One breaches your hole, slipping inside with an agonizingly pleasurable burn. The stretch feels heavenly, especially because your cunt is already stretched to accommodate Bradley’s cock that slowly bottoms out inside of you.

“Good,” Jake praises, kissing beneath your ear, “I knew you could do it.”

Rooster lets out a groan at the feeling of your involuntary clench around him, eyes screwed shut. His forehead is braced against yours and you take the liberty of engaging him in another kiss, letting the pleasure of Jake’s fingers at your hole compel you to lick into Bradley’s mouth.

Being pleasured from both sides is too overwhelming. You feel yourself already rising to a climax, pressed on by both Bradley’s thick cock grating against your insides and Jake’s fingers.

You smooth your tongue over Bradley’s, gripping his shoulder when he increases his pace to be steadily fast. He’s not speeding through anything, but he’s not slow either, and it makes your insides burn.

The feeling of his cock ramming over and over and over against that spongy spot deep within you is too much, especially when Hangman slides a single, thick finger into your ass. You can’t help it, your orgasm hits you like a freight train (or perhaps a fighter jet), and you clench sporadically around Bradley’s thick, hard cock.

You whine relentlessly into his mouth, fingers clawing and prying at his damp skin as your knees go weak. You’re surprised you stay standing at all, but you funnel all of your orgasmic vigor into the kiss that Bradley eagerly licks out of you, and clutching his shoulders is enough.

Coming down from your high is jarring, especially when you realize that the steady pressure against your clit had been Bradley’s thumb the entire time. The pleasurable sensation is starting to sour with the unpleasant sting of overstimulation, and you tear his hand away eagerly, “Too much.”

“Sorry,” Bradley grunts into the kiss, the bristles of his mustache grating at your lip.

Bradley pulls out of you, still hard and red-tipped.

Jake takes one look down, his free hand sliding up your back while his other stays firm at your ass, “Those were pretty sounds. Look’t what they did to Bradshaw. See that, honey?”

You nod, breathless as you stare at Bradley’s impressive length.

“I think you should return the favor,” Jake muses, putting pressure against your back so that you bend in half, “Suck him off, darlin’.”

You land at eye-level with Bradley’s covered cock, and you can’t get the condom off fast enough. You drag your tongue along the underside of Bradley’s hard dick, taking the heated length into your hands and squeezing fondly at his balls. He swears low and gruff under his breath, watching your tongue snake against his slit.

Your lips curl around the head of Bradley’s cock, and the way that Jake adds a second finger to your ass makes you suck hard. You feel Bradley’s cock twitch on your tongue, and you scrape your teeth feather-light along him as you take more of him into your mouth.

He tries to keep himself still, tries not to face-fuck you, but he’s hopeless. His hips jolt forwards and you gag at the feeling of his dick hitting the back of your throat. It makes him groan, fists clenched at his side.

You bob and suckle along every inch of Bradley’s dick, licking up the vein that runs along the side and hollowing your cheeks while Jake fingers you open. When there are suddenly no fingers in your ass anymore at all, you whimper, taking Bradley’s cockhead into your fist while you try craning your neck to look back at Hangman.

“Keep going,” Jake directs you, nodding his head towards your fist, “He’s not done, and neither am I.”

You slip the hand that’s curled around Rooster’s dick and slide it up his length, rubbing gently at the base while you kitten lick the head. He pants and groans, bucking into your fist and subsequently your throat. The feeling of Jake’s dick pressed tight to your stretched hole makes you jolt forwards, and you face-fuck yourself on Bradley’s dick.

“Jesus,” He hisses, “You’re- you’re good at this, baby. C’mon, a- a little more, now.”

You let out a scream muffled by Bradley’s cock as Jake slides himself into your ass, dick grating delightfully tight against your rim. Once he bottoms out he sets a merciless pace, giving you no time to adjust before you’re being hammered into like he’s a feral animal.

“See that, Bradshaw?” Jake boasts, sending a hefty slap to your ass, “Told you she could do it. Perfect ass.”

“I see,” Bradley pants, hands tangled in your hair while you bob on his cock, “I- I’m gonna cum, honey.”

There’s barely any warning before the sight of Jake’s cock ramming into your ass gets to be too much for Bradley, but you don’t need it. You’re perfectly content to welcome his warm seed down your throat, letting it paint the inside of your mouth as you tongue him dry.

You don’t realize you’re using Bradley’s cock as a pacifier until he pushes at your forehead, hissing in oversensitivity, “Okay, okay! It’s too much,” He soothes you by sticking two of his slick-stained, thick fingers between your lips instead, “Here, honey. There y’go.”

Drool gathers at the seam of your lips and Bradley smears it away from your mouth, gathering it on his palm and licking it away. He groans at the taste, his own seed permeating your saliva, “Messy girl.”

Jake isn’t satisfied with his lack of action. Apparently, jackhammering into your ass isn’t quite enough for the guy, and he fists a hand in your hair to yank you upright with a grunt.

Bradley’s fingers slip from your lips with a pop and you cry out as Hangman manhandles you, pleasurable pain flooding your senses from the hair-pulling that start waves of a second orgasm swelling below your belly.

“Open,” Jake commands, keeping your neck bent backwards so that his face hovers over yours. You open your mouth without hesitation, and he spits inside.

Warm saliva, cooling quickly the more you stick your tongue out, pools by your throat. You eagerly swallow without being told,drool now seeping backwards down your face and towards your eyes. Jake licks it off with a broad, wet swipe of his tongue, and smears it against your lips.

The kiss is messy, upside-down and drooly, but it’s hot. Jake’s tongue licks against yours and his teeth nip at your bottom lip, a real spider-man style porno.

Your spine aches from being bent like a curly-q, but the ecstasy bleeding into your core is enough to push it to the back of your mind. You reach down to finger your clit, a whimper bleeding into Jake’s mouth at the action.

“Gonna cum, honey?” Jake drawls, “Sweet pussy’a yours gonna clench around nothin’?”

His southern drawl is stronger when he’s fucking, you note. It’s attractive.

“Not nothing,” Bradley volunteers, sticking his spit-soaked fingers up into your gaping cunt, “Cum, baby.”

You’re very good at following orders.

Your second orgasm hurts, in the best way. It tears you apart from the inside out, cunt clenching tight at Bradley’s fingers as he curls them inside of you. Jake bites hard at your lip as you ride out your second orgasm, and his dick twitches inside of you once, twice, three times before he’s letting himself go in tandem.

He fills you with warm cum, the substance gushing out of your gaped hole and oozing out around his own cock.

“Jesus fuck,” He snaps, the words an unintelligible grunt against your lips, “So tight, and so sexy.”

Bradley’s free hand braces itself on your stomach, and the touch doesn’t make you recoil like it normally would. It’s lewd, but being splattered with their cum really makes you believe that they’re not going to judge your body.

Instead you lean into the touch, letting Bradley embrace you as you come down from your high a moaning pile of mush.

“Slow,” You warn Jake, who’s never heard the word a day in his life. He follows directions, though, easing his dick out of you and making sure it doesn’t burn.

“We need another shower,” Bradley pants after a moment of fucked-out silence.

You nod, brain foggy, “Yeah. We- we can’t show up to the restaurant smelling like sex. They’ll know.”

As it turns out, you don’t need to smell like sex for everyone to know you’ve just had it. You show up forty-five minutes late, sweaty-faced and rosy-lipped, all slightly out of breath. Your dress is rumpled, and Bradley’s tie is haphazardly secured.

“Oh,” Phoenix grimaces, nose scrunching in disgust, “Gross, guys.”

“In my bathroom?” Penny looks aghast, “You better not have clogged the shower drain.”

“Easy,” Maverick throws a hand out over her own, “We’ve done it in there one too many times to judge.”

“Gross!” Payback rears away from the older pilot sitting next to him, “Everybody needs to stop getting laid, but if you do, don’t tell me about it!”

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causenessus · 3 months ago

Text

try again

part 0.3. FEELING A LITTLE DAPPER

“she still has his contact in her phone. some days she still looks through their old texts; at the last conversation they had, without even knowing it’d be their last. other days, she hovers over the delete button, but she’s never hit it. she could never sever her last tie to him. she wants to believe that maybe their lives are intertwined, sewn together in some way. she looks at the prunus mume tree right outside her office window as she cleans up the place a bit. it had to mean something, right? to her, it didn’t signify a lot, just forever. it was a heart-twisting reminder of him every time she saw it, and she wonders, did he recognize the tree? when he walked into her office and stared out her window, did he recognize it as the one that bears his favorite food? her head instinctively turns to look at it every time she passes it by, much like she used to do when she’d walk by his house when they still lived close to each other, even after they stopped talking. it’s not like there’d be anything new about the tree she hadn’t already seen; the flowers were blooming from the branches dancing in the wind, and its roots were peeking out from underneath the ground, but she still can’t help turning her head every time she walks by it. she can’t ever stop herself from looking at anything that reminds her of him. which is funny, because she sees him in everything; every song is about him, every story is about him–he was everything to her, and he still is everything. he’ll always be in her life. not a lot, just forever.”

content warning: lighthearted joke about being an alcoholic

"when you walked in, i just stood still. i said, 'i'm sorry, love, i have no will. if i try to move, i'll break and spill. tired is the burning sea that calls me to the bottom like a stone. and i'm sinking alone.'"

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

today has been a day...so if this is a crusty boring chapter i am SO sorry

i tried i promise

when the tea gossipers gc moved in they all ended up writing like a document with multiple agreements

some of which being a cycle in which they will all cook for everyone, or if they're feeling lazy, they have to treat everyone out (but there's a $40 limit on how much they have to pay, anything more than that is either split between the rest of the three roomies or they'll each pay for their own drinks. tldr; there's lots of holes and amendments to this rule)

iwaizumi (although this applies to everyone, it's mainly for him since this is required in the rest of their jobs) is sworn to secrecy because he lives with three people who all specialize in dealing with serious cases and personal lives

omi is very admant about recycling. and he makes sure to wash out everything before it's recycled so that it's done properly (i'm projecting)

the tea gossipers went out to a sushi restaurant first before akaashi and y/n agreed it was too peaceful there and they wanted to go to a bar to drink (they're both only slightly tipsy atp, y/n doesn't feel like getting blackout drunk today and akaashi debating it rn)

the peas in a pod gc went to onigiri miya once omi got home when osamu stood there listening to atsumu explain the situation and try and convince omi to text y/n while omi ignored him the entire time

and then texted y/n five minutes later bc he couldn't hold himself back anymore

and as mentioned in the beginning :) y/n has kept his contact and a pfp of him from when he played volleyball when he was younger

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

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wisteriaiswriting · 10 months ago

Note

Hello! I hope you're day has been going well! Could I request for Sova, Phoenix, Cypher, and Chamber x reader with a fear of needles. As in if they're about to get a needle they'll grab whoever's hand or arm and attempt to squirm away? Thank you and have a good week!

𝔽𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕠𝕗 ℕ𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕤:

When you start squirming | Squeezing his hand | Aftercare

Words: 604

Not sure if you wanted headcanons or a fic so there are both.

When he found out your fear he made sure he was at every appointment, never leaving through it.

Lets you hold his hand, quietly handling the pain from you squeezing.

Afterwards he’ll make sure you are okay. Carefully caring for the area with bandaids and cleaning it.

***

“Мой голубь,”

It was after your appointment with Sage, one that called for you needing some needles. Sasha made sure to stay with you the whole time, not even his hand left yours.

“Finished, are you okay now?”

He had just applied a fresh bandaid to the area, you weren’t even looking at it. Instead leaning onto him, and he let you. After all, that appointment was full of needles. And anyone who faces their fears deserves some rest, and it was well deserved tonight.

***

Мой голубь - My Dove

This man will have to be called in for you, somehow missing this fear completely.

He won’t give you the chance to grab his hand as he will reach for yours first. Joking about the pain to try distract you.

After the needles are done he’s taking you out for anything you want. If you look at something for even a few seconds it is yours, as a ‘Get well gift.’

***

“Hey hey, Sage! What was so–”

Jamie had to pause when he saw the situation, Sage was holding a Needle in one hand and the other was held out. You were leaning away from her, trying not to run away even if you so wanted to.

“Aw love, c’ere.”

Letting you embrace him as he did the same.

“Sage, the needle?”

He watched as she paused, looking at the one she held before it clicked.

“I’m sorry, but it must be done.”

He pulled you closer, into a tighter hug. Letting Sage inject the needle, when she backed away you both quickly left.

“That’s done now, how ‘bout I take you to the new store, think it was a cafe?”

He has known about this fear but due to work he wasn’t around. Causing him to rush into the room when you start squirming.

Instantly taking your hand into his gloved ones, using anything he can think of to help you. Although he can’t hide the pain well when you squeeze.

He isn’t the best at comfort, but is pretty good though. Anything that comes to mind will be told, even if it isn’t meant to.

***

",فراشة صغيرة"

Tilting your head up to see Amir’s mask, due to Sage doing the injections he didn’t remove it.

“You’re strong, don’t let a pesky needle ruin all that work.”

Throughout the appointment he spoke to you, most of the time distracting you from Sage working. And the needles themselves. Soon enough it was finished, and you didn’t realize.

“Look at that, now then, let’s go.”

***

فراشة صغيرة - Little butterfly

Medical appointments aren’t his type of thing but he’ll stay for you. Never leaving your sight or the room.

When you start squeezing his hand he will turn so you can’t see him in pain.

He’ll try his best after, so you’re being taken to the best restaurant. Even shopping after, anything you want will be yours.

***

“That wasn’t so bad was it Ma lumière,”

Even with his comments you didn’t look at him, he made it sound so easy. And it seemed he knew it wasn’t working, soon his footsteps got closer. Suddenly right behind you before his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Je suis désolée, ma chère, let me make it up to you.”

Slowly turning you around to face him,

“Dinner, dancing, I know the perfect place. And a reservation for your brave work today.”

***

Ma lumière - My light

Je suis désolée, ma chère - I’m sorry, my dear

#valorant x reader #valorant x male reader #valorant sova x reader #sova x reader #valorant phoenix x reader #phoenix x reader #valorant cypher x reader #cypher x reader #valorant chamber x reader #chamber x reader #wisteria♥

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wordsofelie · 1 month ago

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Chapter 6

🌅Don’t you dare runaway (A Phoenix and Ashes Sequel)

Miya Osamu x f!reader

Summary: Miya Osamu thinks some things will never change—Atsumu will always be annoying; his Ma’s food will always be the best and you will always be his favourite sunrise.

Content Warnings: Timeskip Setting, Manga Spoilers, ex!Suna, Swearing, 1 Original Character, Mention of Burnout & Anxiety

Words count: 5.9k

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 7

When he wakes up, the sun hits his eyelids like a hammer. He squints, instinctively trying to shield his eyes, but the warmth has already pulled him from sleep. As he slowly stirs, his muscles feel sore and heavy, almost numb. Maybe he really did overwork himself.

Osamu rubs a hand across his face and sits up, groaning when his head nearly bumps into the frame of the top bunk, which used to be his twin’s bed by the way.

“Shit,” he mutters.

Has he always felt so cramped in here? Or perhaps it’s the ghost of Atsumu’s past who is trying to kill him?

11 a.m., Osamu reads on the clock. The man hasn’t slept in this late in years. There’s a brief flash of panic, but it quickly fades when the smell of clean sheets wafts up to his nose, and he realises that he is in his childhood bed. He’s not late for work—he’s just home, at his parents’ house. It feels strange to have nothing to rush to. No restaurant to open, no rice to prepare, no clients to serve.

Osamu doesn’t know if he feels empty or relieved.

Soon though, he gets up and follows the smell of pork bun coming from the kitchen.

“Good morning my love.” His mother greets him while humming some old pop song. “Did ya have a nice sleep?

“The best,” he replies and tries to sneak one bun, but she swats his hand away.

“Wait until it’s cooled down, yer gonna burn yer tongue.” She chuckles, and it makes his chest feel lighter.

Osamu raises his hands in defence.

“When ya were six, ya drank a whole bowl of soup that was burnin’ hot. Then ya cried but still finished it all in one go. We had to take ya to the hospital ‘cause yer tongue was scalded.”

Her son laughs, “Good food should never be wasted.”

“Good food should be tasted and enjoyed. No need to rush.” She wags a finger at him. “And that works for everything in life.” She lowers her voice when she says that last part.

“Argh, but I want to eat now.”

“Osamu,” she declares firmly, fixing him with a look that only a mother can give. “If ya can’t stay still and need to keep your hands busy, go to the supermarket and buy me some fresh ginger.”

“Sure.”

“Always so impatient.” She mumbles once he’s gone to the bathroom to get ready.

“By the way, have the beds always been so small? Maybe we should change it.” He asks a bit later as he puts his shoes on in the genkan.

“They’re not small,” his mother replies with a smirk. “Yer too big, that’s all. Look at ya.” She pats his arm, and he blushes as if she had just embarrassed him in front of a whole crowd, even though they’re just the two of them right now. “Never thought I’d give birth to two pairs of muscles.”

Osamu rolls his eyes in response, “’Tsumu’s the athlete, I can’t compete with him.”

Not everything is about competition, she would usually explain. But after over two decades of trying to ease tensions between her two sons, she concluded that maybe they’re a lost cause and even when they are old and wrinkled, they’d still fight over who’s the strongest, the smartest, the happiest.

So instead, she opts for a more resigned approach, “Ya also work a lot honey, it’s very physical to have a restaurant. And I want to keep the beds for my grandchildren”, she admits shamelessly, “Well ya need to get married first but don’t worry ya have time, just find someone kind and who’ll make ya happy.”

“D’ya think I’ll be happier than him?”

The question comes out faster than his thoughts and for a moment, he doesn’t even realise he’s said it out loud.

He frowns and looks down at the floor before grabbing a grocery bag. “Never mind.” The words taste bitter, a bit awkward too, and before his mother can respond, he’s already halfway to the door.

The town is quiet. Or maybe, Osamu thinks, he’s just not used to quietness anymore (it’s scary, he would even confess). It’s a rare kind of calm, almost slow, one that seems to create a void in his chest. He knows he should enjoy it, but a second of silence is enough to restart the machine—the machine being his incessant thoughts. The restaurant, the clients, the bills, there’s always something that can resurface and keep him occupied.

Stop thinking, he begs his mind. This week should be about resting, so why can’t he do such an easy task? Perhaps, you’re right, he should try meditation (well, you’re always right, aren’t you?)

He remembers you telling him to inhale deeply and so he tries. But you’re not with him right now. Here, it’s just him, the crisp air, and the peaceful hum of a sleepy town and he finds it incredibly hard to calm down if it’s not your voice ordering so.

When he wanders through the aisles of the closest 7-11, he only realises he’s frowning like an embittered grandpa when he hears two teenagers giggling how about his eyebrows look like they’re about to touch each other.

He pretends to ignore them but immediately relaxes his forehead muscles the second they leave. He texts Hinata to ask him about the meditation class; trying won’t kill him.

“Ginger, ginger, ginger,” he repeats as if that would help him find said ingredient faster.

Maybe he should try adding ginger to his onigiri. What about ginger chicken onigiri? That could be a good idea for his Spring menu. What would you think of it? He wonders. He imagines you trying it, the way you’d probably tilt your head slightly, considering each bite before giving your honest opinion. His stomach knots unexpectedly, and the warmth he’d felt a second ago falters. Would you like it? Would you even be there to try it?

“Miya Osamu, you’re back and you don’t even take the time to greet an old friend?”

The boy turns to the voice that broke through the fog in his head. “Chihara Umi,” he grins. “An old friend? I didn’t know ya were forty years old.”

Umi. He has heard this name more than he has said it. First from his brother since he was always closer to her than himself, navigating between periods of intense fighting and unspoken “I love yous”. And then from you, because if Osamu had to label your relationship, he would call you his best friend—but you'd probably not call him yours, since Umi had held that title long before him.

The girl had moved into the apartment next door when the boys started middle school years ago. She was so quiet when they met her, Atsumu wondered if she even talked Japanese. He started miming words and she pushed him in the stomach (the poor boy threw up his lunch). That day, the Miyas discovered that she did speak Japanese and that she was also a living menace. After that, Chihara Umi turned out to be the loudest and fiercest middle schooler in the whole of Hyogo Prefecture (and with the twins, she had strong competitors). She never left the twins’ side throughout their school years, even though she would complain about Atsumu being a pain in the ass a little too often. Their mother would often refer to her as the “daughter she never had.” Which made the twins feel extremely betrayed and overlooked.

When they entered high school, she met you and Osamu never understood why someone so calm like you would want a tornado-like as a best friend, but anyway, at the time he just came to the conclusion that girls were complex creatures.

She’s currently studying medicine in Tokyo, and even if he hasn’t seen her in years, now that she’s in front of him, she looks almost the same, with her short hair and bright eyes.

She clicks her tongue and crosses her arms to her chest, “Shall we grab a coffee?”

He nods, tossing the ginger into his basket and following her out of the store.

“Sooo, what’s up?” She asks as she rests her elbow on the table of the coffee shop and cups her face in her hands. “Everything’s good with the restaurant?”

Osamu sighs when he sees her mouth forming a thin, straight line, “she told ya.”

“What?” She exclaims a little bit too loudly and Osamu knows she’s lying through her teeth (Umi has always been a terrible liar), “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s fine though. I’m glad she still counts on ya.” He says with a dry tone, almost resigned.

“Of course, she can count on me. She’s never hidden anything from me, you know.” She takes a sip of coffee, and it makes the man chuckle.

“See, I knew she told ya”, he leans back in his chair.

Umi opens her mouth a few times before letting out a groan and slumping forward. “Okay, okay. You’re right she told me about how you’ve been acting weird for weeks and that you’re ignoring her and that you even screamed at her.”

“It’s not-” Osamu starts, but the words get stuck in his throat. He rubs the back of his neck, “I’m not ignorin’ her, I mean, I am but…”

“But?” The girl raises an eyebrow. Her eyes are locked on his face, and she waits for him to admit the thing he’s been avoiding.

“Does she like Sakusa?”

“Osamu!” Umi’s eyes widen for a second and then her expression hardens. She slams her fists on the table, “Why the hell are you askin’ me that? We’re talkin’ about you, not him. How is that even relevant? Whether she has a boyfriend or not doesn’t give you the right to just abandon her.”

Only one word catches his attention, and it hurts. His pride is crushed to the floor—his heart too. “Boyfrien-”

“Oh c’mon, don’t look at me like that,” she grumbles, running a hand through her hair in frustration. She avoids his gaze, probably because he looks too pitiful right now, “It was just an example, all right? She’s not dating him, and I don’t think she plans on dating him. Do you know why?”

“Why?” Osamu’s voice is barely a whisper. He sounds like a child who just got scolded right now. His heart is thudding heavily in his chest, he can hear it all the way to his temples.

“Because she’s too preoccupied by her friend ignoring her,” Umi says, and her voice couldn’t be more accusatory.

Osamu doesn’t reply, because what can he say? She’s right. Every bit of it. His silence fills the space between them, it’s thick and uncomfortable. Umi watches him carefully, her eyes searching his face for any sign of an answer, but he stays quiet.

“Why are you running away from her?” This time it comes out soft, it almost gives Osamu a shiver.

He exhales sharply, “I didn’t mean to act like that, but these days… these days, I keep doin’ shitty things. It's like I can’t control my fuckin’ brain. My thoughts are swirlin' nonstop. I want to do things right and nothing I plan actually happens. I didn’t think I would love her like that, but I do, so so much… I just wanted things to stay the same, y’know? But I screwed it all up. And now she hates me… I really didn’t see it comin’”

Osamu doesn’t care that he just shouted his love for you in the face of your very best friend, he’s tired of pretending that you’re just his former teammate’s ex, or his brother's communication manager, or even worse, a sister at heart. You’re so much more; you’re everything, and he wants you the way he wants the sun to wake up every day and soak up in its morning light with the certainty that it will return tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.

But Umi doesn’t look so bewildered at the confession.

“Isn’t the love you don’t see coming the most beautiful?” she simply tells him, and he thinks her eyes shine.

Osamu’s heart clenches at her words. He swallows hard.

“I wish I could tell her I love her.” Osamu declares with more despair than intended.

“Then do.”

There’s a long pause after that because even though Osamu’s mind hasn’t shut down in months, his thoughts can’t form into proper sentences in this moment.

“But how? With the restaurant, I don’t really have time, and she needs someone who’s there for her. It’s easier if we remain friends, but I’m also scared she’ll just never forgive me and-”

“When did you lose your confidence?” Umi interrupts, she sounds bored, “The Osamu I met wasn’t so insecure. For once, you’re losing to Atsumu.”

“Well, he’s the one who said I’d ruin our friendship if I confessed,” Osamu admits as he stares down at the table.

“And you listen to him? Gosh, Osamu you’re such a coward.” She shakes her head, exasperated. “I need to have a talk with the guy though, how does he dare say that to his own brother?”

Osamu feels his blood rushing to his head like he has just been stabbed with a knife. Something’s wrong with him, why is he only noticing it now? When did he lose his confidence? Why are his thoughts invading his mind constantly, restlessly? It’s like he is running a race faster than he should, but when will he cross the finish line? And what’s the finish line anyway? Success? More clients? An article in a famous food magazine?

What if the finish line is weariness and exhaustion? What if he becomes apathetic and loses you?

“Have you ever heard about burnout?”

Burnout—Osamu probably saw something about that on the news, but he didn’t really pay attention. After all, he’s used to pouring effort into everything he does; he learned that when he started playing volleyball at a young age. It’s only normal to give your best when you love something, it’s how you become strong, not weak.

But maybe it does apply to him, maybe he was wrong, again and again and again. Maybe putting in too much effort does make you weak.

“You say your thoughts are never stopping, and she told me you’re always at the restaurant these days. Don’t you think you’re overdoing it?”

“I am, that’s why I came home,” he admits and it’s strange how a feeling of wear and tear settles in his bones even though he’s just sitting.

“Okay then first, you need to change that. Once you’re better, you can pour your energy into her and give all the love she deserves.”

After that, he listens attentively to what she tells him. How he should take things slowly, take more days off, find other activities that are not work-related. The man is absorbing her words and when he thinks she’s done with the conversation, she puts her hand on his.

“Osamu, one more thing…” she starts, and her features turn even more serious. “Please don’t forget how sad she had been after Suna broke her with her.”

“I know I was there.”

She replies hastily, almost in a hurry, “She still thinks she doesn’t deserve to be loved and that anyone who would date her would leave almost immediately.”

“But I won’t- ”

“This is not about you but about her, show her you love her as much as possible, but also give her space and don’t get mad if she doubts your love. It’s not that she doesn’t like you, she’s just afraid. But first, take care of yourself, you idiot.”

He doesn’t complain about the nickname, “D’ya think she’ll want me?”

Umi opens her mouth, but she concludes that giving an answer will be too easy, so she winks and gets up, “You’ll have to find out yourself.”

That night, Osamu reads about burnout and how his situation looks a little bit too much like the ones described on the internet. Why was I so blind? He mumbles to himself.

“I’m going every Tuesday,” Shoyo texts him back and Osamu raises an eyebrow because for a second, he forgot what the conversation was about in the first place, “do you want to come to the meditation class, Osamu-san? I can send a message to the instructor.”

He hesitates before tapping, “Yes, I want to try.”

The week passes and Osamu goes back to Osaka.

Starting afresh is harder than he thought. He must put his pride aside to implement a new routine and accept the fact that, yes, the great Miya Osamu isn’t invincible and that perhaps, he needs help.

So, he writes down what he needs to do and after a month or so, even though he can’t say his mind is peaceful, he sees improvement.

First, he decides to have breakfast at home in the morning before going to work, something he has been neglecting for months. His mother bought him a new rice cooker for his last birthday and the boy didn’t even take the time to take it out of its box. So, he finds it on a shelf of his apartment, between a cabin suitcase and some books that look way too clean to have been read. The appliance is very much used after this day and the rice bowls are often served with tamagoyaki or grilled fish. ‘Tsumu is quick to join him in the morning, complaining at first that his dietician frowned vigorously when he saw his blood test and urged him to change his diet immediately because it’s too high in fat, “he said that I should eat fish and omelettes in the morning… If only I had a brother who knew how to make food…”. And even though Osamu growled because isn’t Atsumu old enough to use the pan by himself? He ends up adding a bigger portion of rice and buying another piece of fish when he goes to the market and cracking two more eggs in his breakfast (he even replaced the coconut oil by sesame because apparently it contains less saturated fat). One morning, he realises that he is 15 minutes late for work and blames it on the fact that Atsumu rambles too much, the latter fires him with insults about how girls love guys who talk but “Mister, the only girl I care about is food would never understand". Osamu slammed the door, but once safely outside he smiled, because he'd rather die than admitting that sharing a meal with his annoying brother in the morning actually helps him feel better.

Then, he starts leaving the Tuesdays evening shifts to Nagisa to go to the meditation classes. “Call me if ya need help alright, I have my phone with me.” He still tells his part-time employee.

The first meditation class is weird. Osamu finds the sitting position way too uncomfortable, and his ass hurts the next day. He doesn’t understand why he needs to focus on his breathing, it’s only a natural thing to do and why the hell does he need to breath with his stomach and not his chest?

“I couldn’t focus when I started in Brazil,” Hinata explained one day. “But when you finally understand how your brain works and how you have the control on your thoughts, then it becomes the best thing.”

Osamu really tries to believe him, so he comes back. The one-hour class passes faster and faster each time, until he found himself falling asleep once and feeling extremely sorry when the instructor wakes him up twenty minutes after the end of the session.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized.

“No, don’t be! It’s a good thing you fell asleep, it means that you're more relaxed.”

And Osamu doesn’t know if he said that out of politeness or professionalism, either way, he starts enjoying the activity even more after that.

He also decides that hiring a new person is a good idea because he swears he trusts Nagisa but just for safety measures he thinks that having two employees who can support each other when he’s not here, will be beneficial. The girl he finds is called Sato Rin and she’s confused when her boss decides to call her by family name instead of her first name because “Osamu-san, you call Nagisa by his name, so why not me? Is it because I’m a girl?” and Osamu just mutters some last-minute excuse about how “I just know too many Rins around me and I don’t want to mix ya up with someone else.” He gets away with it without having to explain that in reality he doesn’t know that many Rins, in fact, he only knows one. But the one is your ex, and repeating your ex’s name every day at loud would be too much for his fragile heart.

Sato and Nagisa quickly become good friends. The girl being a little older than him, she has no qualms about using her senpai privileges on the boy. Atsumu is convinced that they’re into each other and he even puts money on the line with Inumaki on who will be the first to confess. Osamu doesn’t want to take part in the bet at first but as the weeks pass, he joins Inumaki’s team (not only to contradict Atsumu but only because he’s convinced Rin will confess first).

And finally, he closes the restaurant on Sundays. When he announces that to one of his regulars, the old man doesn’t seem so impressed “ya were open on Sundays? Mizusawa would’ve had a fit,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “That old geezer always said Sundays were meant for beers and baseball games.” So, Osamu turns on the TV the first Sunday he spends at home, but baseball seems to be more tedious than he imagined. He prefers inside courts and bigger balls, so he skips to a volleyball game and at the end of the month he realises that he has caught up with his brother’s entire season and watched all the Schweiden Adlers games and the Tachibana Red Falcons' and the Azuma Pharmacy Green Rockets' and the entire V.League 1 (well, almost, because unfortunately he never found the time for the EJP Raijin).

It was hard at first. Changing his habits, taking time, doing other things, and especially not constantly worrying about whether his restaurant will burn down or crumble into pieces when he’s gone. It came with sleepless nights and bitten nails. But as February turns into March, he realises the earth still turns even if he wakes up later, even if he takes more time to shower in the morning, even if he closes the shop earlier to go to his brother’s games.

Osamu even finds comfort at some point. The black under his eyes reduces, the strain in his neck too and he remembers why he opened a restaurant in the first place—to gather people, make them happy.

That month is rather a success, the boy concludes one morning.

But then there’s you.

You, the one he hasn’t seen since he lost his temper, the one who still believes he’s been avoiding you. He knows he has to tackle the second part of his plan: regaining your trust.

Osamu realises he needs a strategy, and texting you feels like the perfect first step. He considers mentioning the new ramen place that just opened downtown, hoping it might lead him to ask you on a date, like you used to do often before he started acting like a pre-pubescent teen trying his best to repress his overwhelming feelings for his crush.

But, as usual, nothing goes according to plan. He should have known better by now. When he finally arrives home that night, every word he’d rehearsed in his mind ready to be sent by text, he’s greeted instead by a weird Atsumu.

“Hey, so… I was at the trainin' camp with the National Team.” He starts and Osamu raises an eyebrow.

“I know, we live together, and ya were gone for a week. How was it?” He asks, taking off his coat.

“Good, it was good.” Atsumu clears his throat before quickly adding, “It was in Tokyo.”

“Cool.” Osamu replies and heads for the kitchen. He is about to ask the setter why the hell he's following him like a puppy, but he is cut off.

“And I saw Umi… She told me about how I said some pretty harsh things to ya. Listen man, I’m sorry.”

Osamu turns to his brother with raised eyebrows. To be honest, he had almost forgotten about it and he’d much rather avoid bringing the wound back to life.

“Huh? Why are ya sayin’ sorry, It’s fine-”

“No, it’s not. I don’t think I realised that ya liked her that much. I thought it was just a crush. I mean she’s single, yer single, ya guys are always together. I didn’t know it was so deep, but I saw how ya reacted last time at the shop and Ma’ told me ya came home and also Umi, she told me about how ya haven’t been doin’ great. I’m such a shitty brother I should have noticed that.”

“Yes, yer a shitty brother.”

Atsumu groans—of course ‘Samu would take advantage of his vulnerability, but he decided to swallow his pride, “I think she’s a great person. Ya could have made her happy.”

The corner of Osamu’s lips turns upwards at the words, though he tries to hide it (he doesn’t want Atsumu to know the effects you have on him).

“It’s a shame I didn’t realise sooner, maybe if ya’d confessed before, she wouldn’t leave.” He buries his face in his hands and sighs heavily.

“Leave? What d’ya mean?”

The information doesn’t seem to fully register in his mind but his heart heard it right and it starts beating to a new rhythm, but not the one he likes so much (the one he feels when he sees you), no, it’s a loud and unpleasant one that can only be followed by a bad news.

“Tetsu-kun, ya know the tall guy from the JVA?”

Osamu nods hurriedly and with probably a bit too much agitation and nerves.

“He’s lookin’ for a communication manager, and he wanted her to pass the interview which she did and she did well. So she might work with him now. But the job is in Tokyo.”

“What? And when’s the job supposed to start?”

Atsumu gulps loudly as if it would help delaying the announcement, “Tomorrow.” And after a second he adds, “she leaves tonight. I thought… I thought she told ya, she used to tell ya everythin'.”

The word “tonight” is enough to create a tsunami in the younger twin’s heart. He doesn’t even put on his jacket again and rushes towards the door, “Well, seems like she doesn’t tell me everythin’ anymore,” he snaps.

“Wait ‘Samu, I’ll drive ya.”

Osamu doesn't bother to argue and follows his twin to the parking lot. He barely has time to second-guess his decision to trust his brother—who only got his license two months ago—when Atsumu speeds through a red light, nearly driving the car up onto the pavement. “The traffic’s a nightmare tonight!” he chuckles, as if that justifies his reckless driving.

The anxiety Osamu has tried to push away for days suddenly comes back and he has to put a hand on his chest because he fears his heart will explode if he doesn’t.

The ride is extremely fast and slow at the same time, but they eventually make it to your apartment.

“I’ll wait for ya, go get the girl.” The setter tells him.

Osamu opens his mouth and looks at him, he wants to admit he’s scared. Scared that you’re already gone and that he’ll never see you again and that his life will be a fucking disaster if any of those things were to happen. But Atsumu doesn’t let him speak. Instead, he bends forward and opens the passenger’s door from the inside.

“Ya wanna be happier than me or not?” He asks.

Of course, Osamu promised, not only 'Tsumu but himself, that he will be happier. I can’t run away anymore.

So, he gets out of the car, almost tripping over the concrete as he climbs the stairs two at a time, or perhaps, three at a time.

He barely has time to catch his breath that you appear in front of him after opening the door. Your face, your skin, your hair, your whole body—every part of you is finally an arm's length away, and his lungs open in an instant. The oxygen flows back into his blood, he can breathe again.

“Osamu?” You ask with wide eyes and your month is forming into that weird shape it does when you’re confused.

“I-” He begins but his thoughts become clouded by that dark fog that he used to consider as natural but was in reality his biggest enemy. “Yer leavin’?”

He ends up asking even though to anyone foreign to the situation it will be a stupid question since you’re holding a suitcase in one hand and the green shinkansen ticket in the other, you have your shoes on and your blue scarf around the neck, and yet it’s the only thing Osamu can think of.

“I am,” you reply, and he can hear the suspicion in your voice. “I have a train.”

“To Tokyo.”

You avoid his gaze as you settle the suitcase on the floor and cross your arms, “Atsumu told you.”

“I wish ya were the one who told me.”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me.”

Osamu feels his eyebrow frown hardly (they’re probably about to touch each other indeed), and he lifts his arms to grab your shoulders but you’re fast to take a step back. That’s when he remembers that your last physical interaction, or just interaction, wasn’t so friendly. He needs to be gentle with your now or he fears you might close the door and lock yourself inside (that would only be fair since it was him who shut the door first).

“I always want to talk to ya,” he declares but your gaze only moves further away from him. “Yer the only person I never get tired of speaking with. When I drive and ya tell me about yer day, when ya complain about yer worries while ya eat, when ya call me at midnight because yer-”

“Your point?” You interrupt with a sharp tone, it’s direct, almost painful like a sudden jab to the stomach. But Osamu doesn’t really mind being hurt by you for it’s better than being away (it took him some time to understand that though).

“Don’t leave.”

You laugh, but Osamu doesn’t know if it’s bitter or exasperated, “if it’s a joke then it’s not funny Osamu.”

“I’m sorry If ya thought it was a joke, but ya know I would never make fun of y-”

“Then you better have a good explanation for why you started treating me like I was the plague. You think I’m stupid? You think I wouldn’t notice how every time I touched you, you flinched away? It happened so many times… at Kita’s place, when I came back from Aomori. Do I repulse you or something?” Your voice grows angrier with each word. “And then you started avoiding me. You didn’t want to spend time with me, you barely even texted or looked at me… I asked if I did something wrong, and you still didn’t tell me why you were acting like that. You know who was like that, too? Rintarou.”

Osamu feels his heart tighten at the comparison.

“Maybe all guys are the same after all—acting all cute and kind, then tossing you aside when they get bored. So, I don’t know what planet you’re living on Osamu, but I’m not gonna forgive you just because you want me to and I don’t care if you’re sorry or not, if you didn’t want me to leave, you should have given me a reason to stay.”

In this moment, Osamu holds two convictions: first, that he'll have all the time in the world to explain everything later. And second, that right now, he needs to make up for all the days, months, and years he didn’t spend calling you his.

He takes a step closer; you stand your ground.

“What if I give ya a reason to stay now?”

He brushes a stand of hair from your forehead and moves his hand from your cheek to your neck. His fingers are big compared to your features, but the touch is light, “Can I kiss ya?”

Your eyes leave his to fall on his lips and you nod, slightly, timidly, as if you were sharing a secret to him and didn’t want anyone else to know.

He kisses you and you taste like sunlight. You’re warm and it’s obvious that Osamu needs you like his body needs solar vitamins to function.

The kiss stops way too early for his liking and when you break the contact, his face moves on instinct to find your lips again because he needs more (more of you, please, please).

“I wasn’t expecting that…” you admit, and you start playing with the sleeves of your jumper.

“Will ya stay?” He whispers as he leans his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes for a second but quickly opens them again (a blink is enough to miss seeing your face.)

“I promised Kuroo I’ll go to Tokyo…It’s such a great opportunity for me, and to be honest I’m a little bit lost right now, what does that-” (kiss, he wants to finish your sentence but lets you speak instead), “even mean?”

“I’m in love with ya.”

Gosh, he finally said it out loud and he feels an infinite sense of relief when you don’t push him away, or disappear or scream at him.

“When-for how long-how did you...”

He chuckles when you don’t seem to be able to form a proper sentence and holds you close in his arms.

“Stay…” he repeats.

You squeeze the back of his shirt.

“I need some time to think… This is so sudden.”

“Ya can take all the time ya need, I-I’ll be there, waitin’. Just know that I really mean it. I want ya to be my girlfriend and I want to be yer boyfriend, I’m serious about it.”

You don’t put blind trust in his words right now; it’s clear from the way your shoulders hunch and your hands fidget restlessly. But he has to be patient with you, he promised Umi.

“Can we talk about it when I come back from Tokyo?”

Osamu hides his disappointment by putting on a smile, “of course. When are ya comin’ back? I can pick ya up at the train station. I can even take ya now. Well, it’s ‘Tsumu who’s drivin’ but I can just kick his ass out of the car.”

You let out a small laugh, “Bokuto’s already proposed, he’s probably waiting for me now.” You take your phone from your pocket to check the hour, “oh shit, I have ten missed calls from him. I really need to go.”

Osamu could say he’s satisfied that way, the conversation took a turn he wouldn’t have thought possible just a few days ago, but after picking up your suitcase and closing the door, you leave a soft kiss on his cheek and say, “I’ll be back Wednesday. You better be there when the train arrives.”

Now, Osamu can relax because he has crossed the finish line.

Once you’re out of sight, he squats down and leans against your front door. He really hopes the neighbours won’t come out, because he’s smiling like a crazy man. No, you know what? Forget the neighbours, forget ‘Tsumu (that’s for free), forget everyone—Osamu is the happiest man in the entire universe.

And you’re the reason.

author notes: such a long chapter but I hope it's worth the read :)

(this chapter should be called « atsumu’s redemption »)

taglist: @wolffmaiden, @teyvatsunsets, @obibiwan, @sugacor3, @sunahsvt, @iluv-ace , @cinnamonruts

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count-alucard-tepes · 11 months ago

Note

How would op hotties react to forgetting their wedding anniversary with their s/o?

Haha oh lord, here comes the chaos!

S/O: “…love, this is what I got you for our special day! What you get me?”

Kizaru ✨: *realizes what day it is and hears glass crack* “…oh I thought we’d go out today…why don’t you get ready, love?”

Akainu🌋: *curses under his breath* “…I took the weekend off for us to go on a trip…what do you think?”

Ryokugyu 🌱: *raises a brow* “…special day? It’s not my birthday…I think”

Fujitora 🐅: *literally has no idea what his S/O is talking about* “…every day with you is a special day, love…which one is this?”

Sir Crocodile 🐊: *smiles nervously* “…it’s a surprise at dinner tonight…” *excuses himself to call his jeweler to get something expensive and pretty for his S/O asap*

Doflamingo Donquixote 🦩: *realizes all hell is going to break loose* “…hehe…shall we go shopping…baby? Anything you want?”

Benn Beckman 🔫: *smiles weakly* “…I was just about to make you breakfast and…clean the entire house…for a week”

Katakuri Charlotte 🍡: *blushes uncontrollably as he foresees what is going to happen* “…I need to head out for a bit…I bring it later, okay? Pinky promise”

Killer🔪: *is literally on the verge of tears because he forgot* “…I’m gonna need a moment, love” *sprints off to town to grab some flowers*

Kaido🐉: “…I’m sorry, honey! Please stop chasing me!!!?!”

King 👑 : “…dammit…I’m in trouble”

Queen👑: “…please don’t kill me”

Izou🔫🔫: *grabs his S/O and distracts them with kisses*

Dragon D Monkey 🐉🐒:

Oven Charlotte 🍞: “…babe…I’m gonna be honest…I have no idea what you’re talking about….please don’t kill me”

Buggy🤡: “…someone send help please…I’m gonna die tonight”

Marco the Phoenix 🦅: *rubs the back of his neck nervously* “…maybe we could have a picnic on the beach…I’m doing the cooking, love”

Eustass Kidd🤘🎸:

Rosinantè Donquixote aka Cora-San💕:

Who’s-Who ❤️‍🔥👹: he gets real quiet, “…uh…oh yeah…the best prize is a surprise…so…you got to wait, kitten…” *internal panicking initiated*

Gecko Moria🦇: he gets paler than he already is, “…what…special day…love?”

Iceburg💜: he’d grabs Tyrannosaurus, “…this is gift…he’s all yours and these are happy tears…”

Gild Tesoro⚜️🏅: he’d grin awkwardly and use his powers to quickly make a unique necklace, “…here you go, love…let me put it on you!”

Rob Lucci🐆: he blushes in response and tries to act cool, “…I made a reservation at your favorite restaurant, of course…for tonight…you’ll get your gift later” *he’ll get an ‘urgent’ call from work and would disappear for an hour or so to organize everything*

Karasu🐦‍⬛: he is beyond upset upon realizing that he forgot their special day. He makes up by getting his S/O’s favorite flowers and writes them a poem.

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 2 years ago

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A Possible Crossover?

Okay, so I have a huge crush on Charlie Hunnam and watched The Gentlemen for the nth time (brilliant movie, highly recommend it). And it got me thinking about a crossover with Peaky Blinders.

Totally not only watching it for him… no, really! I seriously love it.

Anyway, what about a little rivalry between two wolves, the Wolf King of Camden and Law of Hammersmith and The Blood Hound of Kensington and Chelsea?😏

Just imagine being courted by Raymond Smith, Micky Pearson’s right hand, and him trying to not let his world interfere with yours. Bottles of fine whiskey, luxurious dinners at restaurants that leave you wondering how the hell he’s able to pay for them or at his estate (which is oddly large for a man living alone), trips around the UK and Ireland (often he’ll rent a holiday home outside the city or in the countryside, preferably the latter so you’re safe and he can let his inner Wolf out without anyone seeing him).

Since meeting you, Raymond is trying to get clean entirely. No more White Widow Super Cheese. He’s asked Bunny for help and together they’re working on it.

Alfie, on the other hand, courts you the old-fashioned way by leaving you flowers, handwritten notes, and homebaked goods. He especially prides himself on his soda bread, made according to an old family recipe. There are very few people who know about it and its exquisite taste because he doesn’t sell it at his bakery. However, each time you drop by, he makes sure to serve you a sandwich made from it and give you a loaf before you leave.

Though he knows he has his own vices as well, drugs is one he’s never meddled in. Nevertheless, that’s not to say he doesn’t know about the dangers of the criminal underbelly dealing in them. As such, it makes him highly uncomfortable you’re associating with one of the top dogs (no pun intended) in the industry. Henceforth, it requires a lot of patience, suppressed growls and snarls, and hiding of fangs whenever you drop by with Ray at your side.

Alfie’s well aware you adore his bakery and he makes you your coffee exactly the way you like it. So the last thing he wants to do is ruin the time you spend there, in his most personal part of London. But whenever the other Wolf is at your side, his own floats to the surface enough to be unleashed if he loses his composure for even a split second. He’ll try his best to keep his temper in check, but the seething violence mixed with jealousy will show in how he’ll grumble his way through the conversation, shorter than usual, and avoid your gaze. Ray he just completely ignores.

Fortunately, you never fail to catch the apologetic glances in your direction nor turn a blind eye to the way he hangs his head as he offers you a basket with baked goods before you head out.

Each time it happens, he hopes you’re alone next time.

Because then he might finally have the courage to sit down for a cup of coffee with you.

Ngl, I’m kinda here for this concept. Might have a crack at it sometime soon.🤔

Tag list: @buttercupsandboys @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @zablife @liliac-dreamer @babaohhhriley @dreamlandcreations @wandawiccan60 @solomons-finest-rum @alikaheroes @rose-like-the-phoenix @vir-tual

#Alfie Solomons #Alfie Solomons imagine #Peaky Blinders #Peaky Blinders imagine #The Gentlemen #Raymond Smith #Raymond Smith imagine

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teddy06 · 2 years ago

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The Dagger Squad as things my dad actually did while being in the Navy

(In no particular order)

Rooster: Break into a closed zoo during a sixteen hour stop over in Australia because he and his friends had no where else to be and they wanted to see kangaroos but the zoo wouldn’t open before they left

Phoenix: Ate a live dragonfly to prove a point to a group of recruits he was training, then denied it any time a recruit that hadn’t been in the group asked if it were true, like “where do these rumors even start”

Coyote and Hangman: won too many free pitchers of beer during a competitive darts competition at a bar in the Philippines, to the point where the restaurant ran out of pitchers, they had to start giving away beer to random people, and were forcibly separated and put into new teams

Fanboy: stuck the end of a broom to the back of his helmet, put on a red shirt and painted his face to go to a Halloween party thing with his squad as Marvin the Martian, and ended up being the only person with a real costume

Fritz: Was out too late with a group of friends in San Diego and had like forty minutes to get back to his ship before curfew, but the taxi they called could only fit so many people so he opted to run back, ended up on a random trail going in the wrong direction and almost got caught by boarder patrol trying to get back into the country because he’d gone to far and ended up in Mexico

Yale: peeled an orange so that the peel was all one long piece, ate the orange and then spent several hours crazy gluing the peel back together because he was bored

Bob: was the only person to think to bring a change of clothes in his carry on whilst leaving for a deployment, and when commercial planes ended up getting their luggage mixed up and lost was the only person in his squad to have clean clothes for two weeks

Omaha: was approached multiplie times in multiple different countries by civilians speaking the native language because they had assumed he’d been from there

Payback: got into the officers line at dinner, filled a soup bowl with shrimp and a soup bowl with cocktail sauce and then went and sat with a group of recruits and kept telling them they needed to go up and get some shrimp just to fuck with them

Harvard: meticulously collected sand from ever beach his squad landed on a in little Tabasco bottles only to give up and throw them away because he decided that it was too much work and that he didn’t like Tabasco enough to keep finishing bottles of it

Halo: got so drunk at a bar in the Philippines that he started doing karaoke to a song in Tagalog; he does not speak Tagalog nor has he ever done karaoke since

#for context on my father:#he was in the navy for 22 years #mainly worked on a hovercraft unit in the 90s #and then trained recruits for a while #he was mainly stationed in California but went over seas a lot when he was active duty #he in fact was not a pilot #he is a little insane #atticus moment #Atticus stories #teddy 06 #teddy06 #top gun maverick #top gun headcanons #bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #natasha ‘phoenix’ trace #robert ‘bob’ floyd #javy coyote machado #mickey fanboy garcia #Ruben ‘payback’ fitch #Neil ‘Omaha’ vikander #billy ‘fritz’ abalone #Callie ‘halo’ Bassett #brigham harvard lennox #Logan ‘Yale’ lee #there’s too many of them Jesus #if you read this far feel free to ask for context on some of these #can’t gaurentee that I can give it #but May as well attempt

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self-shippy · 1 month ago

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Selfship-tober Day 8: Terror

Content warning for a description of a dead body! Prompt made by @sennamybeloved

“Hey, Lora?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you man the fry station for a bit? I have to go to the bathroom.”

Lora nodded. “Do what you need to, Dee. I’ve got you covered.”

“You’re the best!” Dee patted Lora’s back, then ran off.

Lora sighed. I told her I could handle it, but now I have to worry about fries and taking orders… I don’t get paid enough for this.

As if on queue, Lora heard a customer pop into the restaurant. She groaned before putting on a faux smile. “Welcome to Donald’s Burgers!” she said with an obnoxious amount of cheeriness. “What can I…”

Lora’s thoughts trailed off as soon as she saw who the new customers were: none other than Phoenix and Maya.

“Phoenix!” Lora shouted. She ran up and clung to her boyfriend’s neck, nuzzling her face into his chest.

“Birdie!” Phoenix laughed. He wrapped his arms around Lora’s waist and pulled her close. “Didn’t expect to see me here, huh?”

Lora shook her head, then looked up. “It was a very pleasant surprise. I’m guessing Maya convinced you to come over?”

Phoenix gave Lora a sheepish grin. “You could say that.”

“He didn’t want to go out at first, but when I mentioned the place you worked, he agreed almost immediately!” Maya said.

Lora gave Phoenix a quick kiss. “I didn’t know I had that sort of control over you,” she said with a shifty smile.

Phoenix let out a nervous laugh.

Lora sighed. “Well, I guess I should get back to work.” She walked behind the counter. “What would you two like to eat?”

“Hey!” a voice shouted from the kitchen. “Who’s in charge of the fry pit?”

Lora gulped. “I’ll be right back,” she said with a smile, and ran off to the kitchen.

When Lora reached the fry pit, she saw what was wrong: one of the vats had been boiling, and boiling, and boiling, to the point that oil had spilled all over the floor. She gasped. “I am so sorry!” She said. “I was taking a customer’s order, and I completely forgot that I told Dee I’d handle it!”

The manager looked at Lora with a glare. “If you can’t multitask, then you shouldn’t have joined our team,” he said. “I’ll let you off the hook this time, but keep that in mind. Now clean this mess up before it gets worse.”

“Yes, sir,” Lora said with slumped shoulders. She went over to the nearest closet to grab a mop, but she noticed something odd. She had accidentally stepped in a red liquid oozing out from underneath the door’s gap. She took a step back, and could tell that whatever it was didn’t move like water moved. A pit was forming in her stomach. She took a shaky breath, and slowly opened the door.

From the lobby, Phoenix and Maya heard a shriek. Phoenix immediately knew the voice was Lora’s and, before he could think, ran into the kitchen.

“Nick!” Maya shouted. “Where are you going?”

Phoenix turned back. “You just stay here, Maya!” he said. “It could be nasty!” With that, he turned back and went deeper into the kitchen. Eventually, he found a crowd gathered around a closet door.

“Lora!” Phoenix shouted. “Lora, are you there?” He pushed through the crowd gathered around to find Lora sitting on the floor. She was physically unharmed, but had a terror-stricken face. Following her gaze, Phoenix met eyes with a dead body, just a few feet away from Lora. Despite the terrible circumstances, Phoenix couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

“Everyone, get away!” the manager shouted. “We’re closing this place up for the day!” The crowd slowly dissipated, leaving Lora, still paralyzed and staring at the body, and Phoenix, trying to get her attention.

“Lora! Lo-ra!” The manager waved his hands in front of her face. Lora still didn’t move. The manager sighed, and sat directly in front of her, firmly placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Lora, you need to step away from the dead body. Looking at it won’t do you any good. I need to call the police, but I need to make sure that you’re okay first.”

Lora’s gaze finally fell upon her manager, and she slowly nodded.

“Good. Now, go into the lobby and compose yourself. The police will ask you questions when they arrive, and I want you to be able to answer them.” He looked up at Phoenix. “I assume you know Miss Wing?”

Phoenix nodded. “We’re dating.”

The manager looked back down. “Just go with your boyfriend, Lora,” he said. “He’ll help you feel better.”

Lora slowly nodded again, and her eyes fell on Phoenix.

“Come on, Birdie,” Phoenix cooed. “Let’s get out of the kitchen. You’ll calm down better that way.” He extended his arm towards her, and she grabbed it, so lightly that Phoenix could barely feel it. He pulled her up, and led her to the seats that Maya had gotten.

“What happened?” Maya asked. “Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone except for the dead person in the closet,” Phoenix sighed. “Poor Lora was the one who found it.” He rubbed Lora’s back as she continued trying to zone back in.

“Hey, why’s everyone out here?” Dee had suddenly emerged from the bathroom. “What’s going on?”

Lora finally turned her head at a normal speed to look at her friend, and tears finally broke. “Dee, I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I didn’t take care of the fries!” She ran to her friend and hugged her tightly.

Dee gave Lora a worried look. “What do you mean? Was there a disaster in the kitchen because of the fry pit?”

“It was because Lora found a dead body,” the manager said. “I called the police already. Lora’s just going through some shock.”

Dee sighed with relief. “So it’s not your fault,” she said. “Thank goodness.”

Lora continued crying into her friend’s shoulder until the police arrived. From there, everyone was separated from each other and questioned on the events.

“Hey, pal, long time no see!” Gumshoe said to Lora. She solemnly hummed in reply. “Now, I know this’ll be hard, what with you still shocked from it and all, but I’m gonna ask a few questions about what you saw.”

At least Gumshoe’s understanding, Phoenix thought to himself. I’d hate for Lora to be stuck with someone stern while she’s like this.

“Hey! You! Are you even listening?” The cop questioning Phoenix waved his hands in front of his eyes.

Phoenix blinked furiously, then turned back to the cop. “Yes, sir,” he grumbled. I’m glad she’s not stuck with this guy.

Suddenly, another scream was let out in the restaurant. This time, it was from Dee. She was being handcuffed and taken away.

“No, I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me! You’ve gotta believe me!”

Lora jumped up from her seat, running as far as she could before Gumshoe held her back.

“Dee!” she shouted. “Deeeeee!”

#Selfshiptober 2024

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sweetyyhippyy · 1 month ago

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Get to know me! 🩷🪩

I decided to make a get to know me page because, why not! 🥰🥰

That's me! Thank god for makeup and filters. 🤣

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

Get to know me by reading my favorite things!

Color: Purple, pink, orange, yellow

Food: Mexican food (specifically tacos, rice and tamales)

Hobby: Writing, experimenting makeup

Candy: Chocolate (especially with nuts), sour skittles, jolly ranchers

Snack: Chips and salsa, spicy chips

Restaurant: Chili's, Olive Garden,

Drink: When I was drinking soda; Dr. Pepper and Root Beer. lemonade, margaritas

Scent: Vanilla, citrus, "manly" scents, clean laundry.

Sports Team: Phoenix Suns, Arizona Diamondbacks, Oakland Las Vegas Raiders

Movie: 10 Things I Hate About You, Clueless, Halloween, Final Destination (not the 4th), Friday Night Lights, Four Brothers, Disney/Pixar

TV Show: Friends, Sons of Anarchy, Modern Family, Big Bang Theory, True Crime Documentaries, Game Shows

Actor/Actress: Joseph Quinn (duh), Robert Downey jr., Sandra Bullock, Margot Robbie, Elizabeth Olson

Musician: Harry Styles, Bruno Mars (love of my life), Britney Spears, The Jonas Brothers

Season: Fall and Winter

Dislikes: Bugs, rude people, racists, homophobes, anti-trans, incels.

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system4ofphoenix · 9 months ago

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System4 of Phoenix

Operating out of Phoenix, AZ, System4 of Phoenix is dedicated to keeping businesses shining. Whether it's restaurants, medical facilities/offices, or auto car dealerships, they deliver expert cleaning services to maintain pristine environments conducive to success in various industrial and commercial facilities. Visit: https://system4phoenix.com/

#“car dealership cleaning services”#“auto dealership cleaning”#“medical office cleaning services”#“healthcare cleaning services”#“healthcare cleaning services in AZ”#“restaurant cleaning in Phoenix”#“restaurant commercial cleaning services”#“janitorial services in Phoenix”#“commercial janitorial services”#“commercial cleaning services in Phoenix”

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sanjuwrites · 1 year ago

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WIP Wednesday

aand here's chunk from my AU that i've dubbed agent reyes, and that i'm very much in love with! this baby is now 12.2k and is officially on track to be the longest thing i've ever written, and i'm so excited to share snippets with you guys <3

TK scoffs, “I should have known that you set us up, it’s so typical of gover – ow, Judd, what the hell?” TK’s rubbing the back of his head where Judd smacked him.

“Just shut the hell up and listen to the man, will you? You’re startin’ to royally piss me off, kid.”

Carlos lets TK’s words roll off his back and flashes a smile at Judd. “It’s an amnesty deal,” he says quietly. He looks everywhere but TK’s face as he continues. “You help us use the sarcophagus to capture the head of the Cunningham crime family, and the Pheonix’s entire case file disappears – across all intelligence agencies. The CIA, FBI, MI6, the Greek NIS, and Interpol are all on the same page here. You sign this and agree to help us, and you’re a free man. Any crime you commit after the deal will go back on the record, but not as the Phoenix – but with this deal, they’re agreeing to stop monitoring hits on aliases they’ve connected to you. Like I said, clean slate.”

“I can’t – I can’t be the only one that gets off scot-free, not when I was the one that dragged everyone else into this. Nance, Marjan, Mateo, they were all just normal people until I dragged them into this – I can’t just abandon them.” TK looks flustered, waving his hands around to point at the team behind him.

Marjan steps forward and squeezes his shoulder, “Nancy and I already signed it, TK.”

Nancy picks up when it’s clear Marjan doesn’t seem to be able to continue. “We’ve been talking about getting married, and maybe being able to have a kid or two in the future. We can’t morally bring a child into a life that has so much uncertainty, and there are a lot of hoops Marj and I have to jump through before we can even begin to try. And I love you, TK, but I want an out.” Nancy’s voice wavers as she speaks, and Carlos remembers her saying she feels like she’s betraying TK by taking the deal

“Gracie and I already signed it too, T. We have someone else to worry about as well now, and I don’t want to raise this baby in a life of uncertainty like Nance said. Tommy’s been askin’ us to move down to Austin and help with Charles’ restaurant for years now, and we think it’s for the best.” Judd’s voice is quiet but full of conviction.

Mateo’s quiet and TK looks at him. “Mateo?”

“I haven’t signed it yet. I told you when you and I first started this, I was with you till the very bitter end, whether it ends like this, or with us in a supermax prison. I’m not signing if you’re not.”

Carlos hates himself a little for the way the jealousy curls her tendrils around his bleeding heart.

i'm going to tag @chaotictarlos, @detective-giggles, @alrightbuckaroo, @decafdino, @theghostofashton, @bonheur-cafe, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @taralaurel and @catanisspicy

#agent reyes 👀#sanjuwrites #tarlos #911 lone star #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star fanfiction #tarlos fanfic #911 lonestar

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thegodsplayground · 2 months ago

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Like the last post of Emma and Logan talking, they are talking to each other in Spanish but I'm too lazy to translate it except for the word dad since I'm used to having Emma is Logan call Luis papá

Emma: I can't believe papá has a girlfriend and he is probably clean!

Logan: the old man is doing better than what you and Elizabeth told me

Emma: I only have a few memories of him from when I was a kid

Logan: I have only like 2 memories of him from when I was a kid

Emma: I hope the grace girl is nice and not like her

Logan: yeah... I have a few memories of her and some fears from what she did to me

Emma: that's why I hope hex murders her

Logan: *tearing up* god she traumatized me so much

Emma: same bud, you want to get some food?

Logan: mhm.. what about that one good restaurant!

Emma: the one phoenix took you to once?

Logan: yes! That one

Emma: sure bud we can go there

*Logan runs off and Emma chases him to the restaurant*

#oc #logan #logan bermudez #the gods playground #in character #emma #emma bermudez #sibling conversation #they are not arguing with each other for once #yippee

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 3 months ago

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True [Chapter One] The Invitation [Bakugou Katsuki]

Summary: Years after the war, Airi Usui is living abroad in America, helping people affected by conflict and natural disasters. She thinks nothing of her former life until an old friend suddenly contacts her. Class A is having a reunion, but Airi is not sure she wants to go, especially after she ended her long-term relationship with Katsuki Bakugou and is nervous about seeing him again.

Will this reunion change her life for the better? Or send her spiraling back into another long year of therapy?

A/n: I'll try to update this story once a week if I'm able to. This idea has been eating at me for a while.

Airi Usui is a character created by me from a previous account that I used to manage. The character of Kairi Kirishima was created by Angelleap77 on AO3, who allowed me to use her. Please enjoy.

Warning(s): OC, aged-up characters, anxiety, reunion, post-breakup, natural disasters.

A new dawn had come and the town of Falmore Tennessee began to slowly heal.

Airi, a woman in her twenties, wobbled down the sidewalk, toting a case of biodegradable bottled water in her arms. She could feel the heat of the midsummer sun beating down on her, but despite the humid weather, and her desire to escape indoors, she still had much to do.

This time last year, a tornado ranked EF-4 on the Enhanced Fujita Scale touched down in Falmore. The damage, Airi remembered, was horrific. Miles of homes and small businesses had been uprooted and reduced to rubble, seeming more like a landfill than a small rural town.

As soon as she and ‘Synergos’ (synergy), the organization she worked with arrived, Airi knew the project would be massive. Together with the civil servants of Falmore, they began the clean-up. Then came the rebuilding stage.

It was impressive in a year what together they had accomplished, Airi noted. Falmore had risen from the ashes like a phoenix into something new; something stronger. Houses were rebuilt. People began to come together and the wreckage soon took shape into an artistic environment with a Southern charm. It was lovely. But there was still work to be done.

With the case in hand, Airi took it to the site of a local business; Creekview Cafe. It had been uprooted in the tornado, one of the last mom-and-pop restaurants down the several-mile stretch in which the tornado had traveled. She sat the case down on a wooden bench near the growing foundation, then wiped the sweat from her face with a faded rag that she kept in the back pocket of her jeans.

“Hot day, ain't it?” Asked Samuel Miller as he approached, taking out a pocket knife to cut himself a bottle from the case.

He was the owner's son. A robust man who easily towered over Airi.

“I should be used to it,” she admitted. “June and July in Japan are comparable, though I admit I've become a little spoiled driving around everywhere with the AC on.”

The difference was, in Japan, she either walked or rode the train, having to deal with the heat head-on. Or the cold given the season.

Samuel guffawed, then raised his bottle.

“Thanks for the water, Airi.”

She ignored the fact he had mispronounced her name - Air-ee as opposed to Eye-ree - and smiled. It became clear when she first moved to America as an Aid Worker that few would pronounce her name right. After a while, she stopped correcting them.

“Think you can give us a little rain with that Quirk of yours? The season has been a little dry,” He added.

“I'd like to,” Airi retorted. “But unfortunately it doesn't work like that.”

Her Quirk, ‘Shape of Water’, was in simple terms just mere water telekinesis. She could move, manipulate, or otherwise interact with matter using water, but she could not naturally will the clouds to produce rain. Drawing water from the air was the closest she could do, but nothing on an advanced scale, not without consequences.

Motioning with her hand, the water lifted from his bottle and mocked her gesture, spinning into a sphere as she rotated her finger through the air.

“I can't make it rain, but I can soak you head to toe if you want.”

Samuel snorted.

“Nah, I reckon I'll manage just as.”

Airi smiled widely, then returned the water to the bottle. She thought so. Samuel returned to his task of helping with the restaurant soon after, leaving her to wander the town. For hours, she aided anyone who needed her, mostly fetching cases of water and attending to anyone showing signs of heat stroke. She was no construction worker, but there were small acts of kindness she could offer. It was her job after all.

As darkness fell and the street lamps came on, the workers retired to their homes for the night. Those without such accommodations went to the community center, one of the first shelters built. While Airi could afford to stay in a hotel room, she chose to stay at the center to save money. It was easier to help out, providing meals and comfort to those who needed it.

Aside from the public showers and the fully stocked kitchen, there was a common area, which Airi had to pass through as she strode through the doors. The walls were painted sage, a color that some claimed provided them with comfort and lined with pictures of the town before and after the tornado. Nostalgia, she assumed. In addition, there were also three rooms total; A, B, and C; meant for events and birthday parties, however at the time, they were being used as temporary housing.

Airi took up residence in room B. When she first came to Falmore, she was living cot to cot with her team and the citizens of the town. The entire population, more or less, was packed like a can of sardines. But with multiple teams working around the clock, some with a multitude of useful Quirks, the numbers soon dwindled as houses were built, followed by several small businesses and a hotel.

More than a handful of people were still homeless, however. But in another three months or so, Airi hoped to see those numbers diminish.

Quietly, so as not to disturb anyone who might already be asleep, she crept into the dimly lit room and over to her cot. Her muscles screamed in protest for her to rest, but covered in grime and sweat, Airi yearned for a shower. She gathered a to-go bag prepared earlier with extra clothes and bath products in it, then collected her phone, which had been put away.

On her way to the showers, she cut it on, watching as a multitude of notifications popped up on the screen. It was no surprise that her mother had sent her a message, she always did to see how she was doing. But what shocked her was the voice message waiting in her inbox; a message from someone she had not heard from in years.

Eager to see what Izuku wanted, Airi clicked on the message and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Hey, Airi. It's Izuku,” the voice informed her. She involuntarily smiled. “Um…so I don't know if you are too busy or not, or if you are still in the States, but I did it. I managed to plan a reunion, with Ashido's help. In a week, the majority of our graduating class is going to be in Japan. If you can make it, let me know. I hope you–”

Before he could finish, the message cut out. He ran out of time. Airi paused, standing in the hall with her phone still pressed to her ear as though at any moment, she would hear Izuku's voice again. But he was not going to say anything. She sighed, feeling a little melancholy. Saying she missed him would be an understatement; she truly did miss her friends. Katsuki especially.

The last time she spoke to him, things did not end well. How could they? Especially since she broke off her relationship with him. No, she did not do it because she wanted to, or because her feelings for him changed, but the long distance and the conflicting schedules were slowly adding tension to their relationship. Airi had no other choice. At least, she told herself.

A pang of guilt washed over her, a sentiment she thought she had long since swallowed down. Hearing Izuku's voice brought up so many repressed memories and emotions. It made her feel a little dizzy. Airi clutched her phone and took a few deep, soothing breaths.

There was a reason she moved on, the trauma was eating at her, and though she would love to reunite with her friends, she was scared of what feelings seeing them would dredge up.

It was a shame she was too busy. Her work was a good enough excuse, she hoped.

–

In the days that followed, after the voice message, Airi felt conflicted. She was starting to feel bad about her decision, though a part of her was mad at Izuku for reaching out to her. It was terribly unlike her to point fingers, especially when the reason for the issue was because of her. She was wracked with apprehension, and her work ethic was starting to take a toll.

“Airi. Hey…Airi.”

Jerking in fear, as though she had been physically shocked, Airi darted her eyes around so fast, that they stung in protest. She saw Akinori Chibana, a male with shaggy neon blue hair standing beside her in the common area of the center. He was the project manager, a foreigner, who like her, came from Japan.

“Are you OK?” He asked, staring at her in worry.

“I zoned out again, didn't I?” Airi asked. She took an uneasy breath, knowing that she had.

Annoyed with herself, she ran her fingers through her short sea-green hair, lightly tugging at the wavy strands. It happened to her a lot lately. She was lost.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's fine,” Akinori assured her. “Look, if something is bothering you, I'm here to listen.”

Airi appreciated his offer. She knew a part of the reason he suggested it was because it was his job, but on the other hand, he was a kind person. She hated to unload on him like this.

“I heard from an old friend recently. There's going to be a reunion back home and he wants me to attend.”

Akinori hummed.

“Oh. A reunion sounds nice.”

Once again, she was overcome with guilt. He did not know how much of a blow to the stomach his words were to her. She frowned.

“Yeah, it does.”

Taking her grief the wrong way, Akinori placed his hand on her shoulder.

“You should go if you want. It will be another five to ten years before there is another one if there is a chance for one.”

“I know. It's just that–”

Akinori interrupted her.

“If it's about the expenses, I can pitch in.”

It was not about the expenses, she could afford a round-trip ticket. It was about going home. She let him know that she appreciated his offer, forcing a smile.

“I'm nervous is all.”

Nervous was a loose term. She went through months of therapy to overcome her trauma after the events of her first year at U.A. High. It was why she chose the role of savior instead of fighter; the reason she ran when she had the chance; the reason she ended things with Katsuki.

To return would be awkward. She was scared her friends would not want to see her again.

“You know…I admire you Airi,” Akinori admitted. “I was ecstatic when you joined Synergos. I mean you graduated from the hero course. Going home is a walk in the park to someone like you.”

Her face heated up. She knew what he was trying to do, but it was not so simple. Still, it made her feel a little better. He was right. If only the voice in her head was not conspiring against her.

“If you aren't comfortable, don't go, but if you want to see them, now is the chance. Don't let it slip through your fingers,” Akinori stated.

He gave Airi a gentle pat on the shoulder, then left the common area, returning to work. She stood next to the door a moment longer, kicked the toe of her boot on the tiled floor, and then reluctantly reached into her pocket for her cell phone. She was going to call Izuku back. There was no way she was going to think too much about it. If she did, she was scared that she would give in to her fear.

I can do this. Just call him…come on.

Airi hesitantly made the call, pressing her phone to her ear, but Izuku did not answer. She was redirected to his voicemail and prompted to leave a message. Her throat felt dry as she heard his voice, and then the line beeped and grew quiet. She considered hanging up then, but she pressed on.

“Hey…it's Airi.” Her voice was broken and hoarse. “You can count me in. I'll see you at the reunion.”

She quickly hung up and then took a deep, uneasy breath. Her body shook in apprehension. There was no turning back now.

#my hero academia fanfiction #bakugou x oc #my hero academia fandom #bnha bakugou

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snezfics-n-shit · 1 year ago

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Sicktember Day 4: Hiding An Illness

Fandom: Ace Attorney Characters: Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth Notes: Phoenix and Miles are busy men. As cases pile up for both of them, their married life seems to have switched to autopilot. Going so long without time alone has them both eager for a real date night, and this Saturday happens to be completely free on their schedules. Neither of them have any intention of letting anything get in the way of that, even if it means hiding a slowly blooming cold from an equally unwell husband. As far as the timeline goes, all you need to know is the Wright Anything Agency is very much back on its feet, almost too much.

“Shit.”

That was the only thing Phoenix could say as he stared at his reflection in the master bathroom mirror. He looked just awful. A pink gradient dusted across his cheeks, being the most intense as nearly red on the rims of his nostrils. He was supposed to look and feel irresistibly attractive for his husband on their date tonight, and here he was doing neither. Now, if it was Miles… No, no, that would be downright mean on today of all days, albeit still providing an incredibly sexy mental image.

He exhaled slowly. Surely he could do something about this.

He started with lightly applying petroleum jelly on the most obviously chapped parts of his face. He was careful not to use too much, of course, to avoid looking suspiciously oily. That alone did a lot of good, and provided welcome relief… He just had to be careful when blowing his nose, which could easily undo all this effort.

“Love? Are you alright?” Miles’s knock and calling through the door snapped Phoenix out of his silent fretting. “You’ve,” a curious pause, “been in there for quite a while.”

“Yeah, I just… I just noticed the toilet looked like it needed another cleaning!” Phoenix cleared his throat. “I’ll be right out.” He quietly slipped a travel tub of the same petroleum jelly in his suit pocket.

There needed to be an awful lot of spare cleaning supplies in the restaurant bathroom if he didn’t think of another reason for frequently sneaking off soon.

. . .

Miles was quite proud of himself once it was his turn to assess his appearance at the same mirror. He still could only barely comprehend Phoenix’s reasons for his frequent toilet cleaning; after all, he did say it came from an old habit that ran in his father’s side of the family for generations, but was no longer needed at home now that there were no worries about making good impressions when providing a place for some kind of “overseer” to stay. Unneeded or not, this habit afforded Miles with time to sneak away and make use of some stage makeup Trucy left behind after moving into her new college dorm. No, he was not going to ruin all the effort he put into looking like the picture of health by crying over the thought of Trucy no longer being a little girl.

Miles was absolutely sure Phoenix wouldn’t even notice the heavy bags under his eyes, and if he did, he would at least conclude they came from a long week of sleepless nights spent staring at his work computer. If he wore his glasses right, Miles hardly caught a glimpse of said bags in his reflection.

He had this, as he once heard Larry say, “in the bag.” He had the spare makeup in the bag, too, or rather, his suit pocket.

. . .

Well, this was going to be a disaster.

At least, Phoenix felt like it would become one as soon as he could feel his nose running just as he was settling into the surprisingly uncomfortable chair facing his husband across the white-clothed table. Miles was looking right at him, and it was too early in the date to excuse himself to the restroom yet. With how the establishment seemed to pinch pennies on these chairs, he wouldn’t be surprised if the paper towels provided would make him look worse than he felt.

“Please, forgive me, darling. I’ll be right back.” Miles excused himself, likely to the restroom that Phoenix was now definitely not allowed to use now, but at least that meant Phoenix could sneakily swipe at his nose with one of the fancy cloth napkins as soon as Miles was out of sight. Thank god, they were actually soft.

Phoenix perused the drink menu, carefully noting to avoid anything bubbly that might aggravate his already irritated throat. What would he do if Miles wanted a bottle of champagne, though? To turn it down would be even more incriminating, and speaking of incriminating, Phoenix hadn’t even thought of what dish was most accommodating for his lack of appetite.

Miles’s definition of “right back” seemed awfully loose right now, too. Phoenix worried if his husband didn’t hurry up and return, he may find himself too comfortable not having anyone’s eyes on him, only for that excessive comfort to be the night’s plans’ undoing.

Come on, come on…

. . .

“Sorry to have made you wait.”

“Huh?” Phoenix looked up. “Oh, yeah, it’s all good.”

Miles sighed in relief as Phoenix seemed to forgive his absence. He was lucky to have a husband that hardly ever asked for detailed explanations of any situation outside of the courtroom. What would he have had to say if an explanation was needed, anyway? A true answer would be that Miles had locked himself in a restroom stall to stifle a set of sneezes in a painful fashion until the need to do so finally subsided, but it being the middle of January would make for more questions than answers he was willing to give.

“So, uh, I was thinking we could order the soup first, and go from there.” Phoenix suggested. “I heard it’s pretty filling on its own, and really good, too.”

Miles squinted. Had Phoenix caught onto him? Soup sounded heavenly, and it was light, too. It was almost too perfect of an idea. Phoenix even started to look nervous just a few seconds into Miles’s evaluation of the potential order. Miles needed to navigate this with great care.

“I’d quite like that, yes.”

Judging from Phoenix’s look of relief, Miles had been successful in his carefully worded answer.

. . .

As the soup was placed in front of them next to glasses of Miles’s miraculous choice of a wine with no bubbles to be seen, Phoenix considered himself to be in the clear. It was a pretty close call, after all, when Miles squinted at him upon making the suggestion of ordering the soup.

The wine’s alcohol content even seemed to be enough to make Miles cough, which meant Phoenix could easily time his own coughs with a properly sized sip of wine. It didn’t really taste as strong to him, though, but maybe Miles was just that much of a lightweight. Perhaps he could even mask his growing fatigue as a result of the wine as well. This was so convenient.

This was too convenient.

Phoenix should have known that his husband could likely read him like a book by now. Miles had seen right through his façade and was kind enough to gently accommodate his cold without directly calling him out on being sick on the one date night the couple had been able to plan in almost a year.

Now he felt horribly guilty to have tried deceiving him. It was now time to come clean, to restore the trust he had surely made a dent in, if not broken.

“Miles, babe, I’m really sorry for—”

“No, no. You don’t have to apologize for figuring me out.” Miles assured him. So he did know Phoenix was sick, huh? “I suppose it’s time for me to come clean.”

“What? No way! I should be apologizing.”

Why would Miles need to apologize when Phoenix was the one who was hiding an illness? If anything, Miles ought to have been giving him a light lecture on how he should be at home in bed, and he would have been completely right to do so.

“Please, there’s no need to apologize for figuring out the truth. It’s what you do so well in court, after all.” Miles cleared his throat, far more roughly than he usually did. “I must admit I haven’t been well.”

Phoenix stared at his husband blankly. The stuffiness of his head did affect his hearing, but this was outside the scope of just some muffling.

“Wait, you–”

“It was wrong of me to hide that from you.” Miles looked up to find Phoenix’s face beginning to grow rather pale.

“So… You weren’t hiding that you figured out I was sick?”

“I thought you had been the one to catch me in the act.”

Maybe someday down the line, the two could laugh about this, but for now, the couple’s course of action was just getting home and into bed.

. . .

The king sized bed that Phoenix and Miles shared was now almost unrecognizable: covered in varying spare blankets, tissue boxes, and the contents of said boxes that neither of the two had the energy to throw into the garbage bin.

“Hey, you know,” Phoenix paused to blow his nose, and it felt so good to finally put full effort into doing so, “this is still kind of a date night.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Miles snuggled up closer to his husband. “If we were both in perfect health, I’m sure we would both be in bed as part of the date by now.” The roughness of his cold-affected voice made that sound even more sensual than he intended, but he didn’t mind that at all. “I hope you’re not looking forward to seeking that kind of decongestant, by the way. I’m far too exhausted.”

“Oh, believe me,” Phoenix laughed as carefully as he could to avoid coughing into Miles’s ear, “I’m beat, too.”

“How about some sleep, then?” Miles yawned. “That is, as much as we can.”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

#my writing #my fics #snez attorney #sicktember #sicktember 2023 #this got long because of all the POV stuff I hope you guys don't mind #no spelled snz bc I had no privacy sorry

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