#And happy holidays to all reading this!!!

[sometimesanalice]

Morgannn!! 💖 oh I’m so, so happy you liked this! Fluffy, fun, and flirty vibes for days!

I’m so happy that it was something that made you smile! 🥰🥰

More for you!!

Oh, this was absolutely delightful and fun and exactly what I needed after this week! I broke into giggles and a smile more times than I could count! I love everything you write, but sometimes you pop off with the best little details and phrasings and it's such a joy to read your writing!—🥹🥹🥹

And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you��d even agreed to it in the first place. 

Quite literally the vibe for modern dating, and especially with how many men always forget Feb 14th is a holiday!!!!!— I just imagined her being like “are you sure??” like five times and this guy being like “it’s a Wednesday like yeah”. But truly, the amount of me not utilizing the notifications on their built in calendar is a CRIME. But especially on international hearts day!

And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Men don't appreciate good fashion. That's why we dress for the group chat and ourselves!— the girlies(gn) just want to look and feel cute! But also, you know that group chat was popping off with the🔥 emoji, lol

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

This visual this gave me! A beacon of pink! Get her a drink!— goodness knows miss ma’am needs one! She was just trying to go with the flow and have fun! But I loved trying to find ways to highlight just how out of place she was there, not only like with how she felt but also the setting!

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

STOP, THIS GOT ME!— I MEAN CAN YOU IMAGINEEEEE

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

Snaps for Selleck mention.— the OG mustache man!

Oh.

AN ITALICIZED OH, SO YOU KNOW IT'S GOOD!!!— ITALICIZED OH SUPREMACY!! (Also I’m so endlessly tickled by the amount of support the italicized oh has gotten 😂 I know I posted about it specifically, but I love how much love we all have for those two little letters!)

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

This was entirely too relatable. Those jeans are too slutty and the group chat must know! (nothing wrong with taking a lil pic either 🤫) — I was so obsessed with the idea of her being like “you guys won’t believe what happened” and her phone just blowing up the other night of her best babes wanting allll the tea! You know the brunch talk is going to be popping! (But the slutty beans and that cock walks are a lethal combo!!)

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

This whole pool scene was so fun! You captured Jake and Bradley's game with so much descriptive detail, it made me want to watch the movie again! Jake would absolutely get hustled, that man has too much ego to not get played.— ahhhh!! This is the best thing you could have said because Morgan I know nothing about pool lmaooooo 😂 I was reading as much as I could and snooping on r/billiards to figure out what was going on hahaha! All the while cursing myself for deciding her ace needed to be her sneaky pool shark skills. He would SO get played, he wouldn’t be able to help himself!

In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. 

This is quite literally one of my favourite ways a kiss has been described. So visual, yet you can feel it. It's going to be rolling through my brain for a bit, I love it!— stopppp!!!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰 there’s always so much pressure to try and get a first kiss right, so that makes me so happy that it landed well with you!! 🫶🏻

For the Plot

Summary: Things aren't looking too good for you, sitting alone at the Hard Deck waiting for a man who might not show. Until Bradley Bradshaw sits down across from you and turns your entire night upside down.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Length: 7.7k

Warnings: fluff, so much flirting, and an italicized oh

Going on a first date on Valentine’s Day is unarguably the worst possible idea that anyone has ever had.And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place.

The guy you were planning to meet tonight was cute enough, even if you were still undecided about the mustache. And while the chats between the two of you had been pretty good as far as it goes getting to know a literal stranger, you were hopeful that it could be even better in person. The fact he was in the Navy was still a bit of a consideration for you, but not a deal breaker.

In retrospect, the name of the bar should have been your first clue and the location paired with the causal beachy exterior covered in planes should have been the second.

You had been expecting to see more than one girl all done up in pinks and reds tonight, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. And you swear to god, somewhere you hear a record scratch as you step into the Hard Deck, because you are surrounded by nothing but a sea of olive green and khaki and denim.

And you have never been so clearly out of place in your entire life.

There was nothing about your ensemble that was even remotely fitting for the literal Navy bar you’d found yourself in.

The ice pink mini slip dress you’d dug out of your closet was admittedly a little much for a first date, but since it was Valentine’s Day you figured why not lean into it a bit. And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Or so you’d thought at the time, because now it was a decidedly you problem.

The silhouette was simple enough, with the gentle drape of the cowl neck and the barely-there spaghetti straps, but the shiny sheen of the fabric made a statement of its own. It wasn’t something you got to wear very often for as much as you loved it.

But then you’d gone ahead and paired it with the tallest, most ostentation heels you had. The effort had been worth it though because the pearl encrusted block heels made your legs look like they went on for days. Even if it had been a feat trying to get the dainty buckle done with the way you’d been rushing out of the house with your beaded bag in tow.

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. And even though there were civilians- like yourself- scattered about the bar, none were anywhere near as dressed up as you.

There are more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you stand there with your feet glued to the uneven wooden floors, as the door with its porthole-shaped window slowly closes behind you with a squeaky creak. The twinkle lights above your head felt more like a spotlight, illuminating how out of place you are in this moment.

Your hand is still clutched on the handle unsure whether you’re going to make a run for it or not. You are more than a little tempted to hightail it back to the parking lot and text your date to claim a bout of food poisoning from the safety of the driver’s seat in your car.

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, trying not to panic. Officially a victim of your own bad decision making.

You take a quick scan of the room, trying to decide what your next move should be. There’s a woman behind the bar with kind but clearly inquisitive eyes. A blonde with a wolfish smile eyes you from where he stands next to a man with broad shoulders bent over what must be the pool table, hidden behind the paneled half wall. By a dart board, there are a couple men with their heads turned towards you, the game seemingly forgotten as they discuss the spectacle that is you.

There are hundreds of planes dangling over the bar, patches and plaques littering the walls and rafters, rounders suspended from the ceiling laden with too many ceramic mugs to count. It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances.

When you spot an open table tucked away in the corner of the room it feels like life raft to the iceberg of a situation you’ve put yourself in. Mindful of the scuffed, uneven floors- because the last thing you need is to eat shit or twist an ankle in front of room full of curious onlookers- you hustle over to the spot in hopes of having a moment to regroup.  

Once you’re situated- shrugging off the ivory cardigan you’d topped your outfit, trying to keep the nervous sweat that wanted to break out over your body at bay- you pull out your phone and check the time only to realize you’re devastatingly on time. Five minutes early, to be specific.

So you wait.

And check your phone again and the notifications in the dating app, just in case you missed something.

And wait.

You try to play it cool, skimming posts on Instagram and replying to some overdue texts. Finding anything you can to keep yourself occupied to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach the longer you sit there. Alone.

Now you’re not just simply embarrassed, you’re mortified.

You can still feel the eyes, the energy steadily shifting from curiosity to sympathy over the last thirty minutes you’ve been waiting all alone in the corner of a Navy bar you had no business being in for a man who clearly wasn’t going to show.

So much for doing it for the plot, you think to yourself with a shake of your head.

Another minute ticks by with no message and you decide you’re more than ready to hightail it out of there. Fully aware that you’re about to become a topic of conversation that won’t have to be restricted to only covert glances and muffled whispers. But hopefully, they’ll at least wait until the door closes behind you before the chatter starts up for real.

With a sigh, you reach for your beaded bag, just as a large body slips into the chair across from you, with an ease that is in contrast to the bulk of muscles you catch in your peripheral vision.

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

It’s the smile that you catch first. Not quite a grin, but something familiar and friendly and charming in the way it crookedly pulled to the left. Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. But what surprised you the most was the way he was sitting in the stool across from you just as comfortably as if he was supposed to be there all along.

There was no way you could have prepared yourself for the sheer level of attractiveness of this man.

He was in a league of his own with those curls and wide shoulders. The white and olive green stripped crochet shirt he was wearing didn’t hurt either, especially the way the top buttons were undone giving you glimpse of a chain around his neck and the chest underneath it. He didn’t need to be in uniform- or even in a Navy bar- for you to tell he was a military man. Not with the confident way he held himself.

Even if the mustache he was sporting made it feel like the universe was playing tricks on you, but he more than wore it well.

You huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “What gave it away?” you ask. “The way I’ve been watching the door? Or just the general look of regret and embarrassment?”

“Embarrassed? What do you have to be embarrassed about?” His eyebrows pull together, perplexed. He shakes his head like he disagrees with even the suggestion of it. “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is the guy who is missing out on sitting across from you right now.”

You give him a soft smile of your own in return for the cinnamon sweet words. There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release.

“That’s kind of you, but I think I’m going to head out,” you say, nodding to the door you never should have stepped through in the first place.

He gives you a teasing tsk. “And let a dress like that go to waste? Now that would be a shame.”

The appreciative look in his gaze that sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. And then his eyebrow ticks up, just a little. Part invitation, part dare. And you can’t say you’re not intrigued.

There’s a decision to make.

You could leave now and cut your losses. There was a reason you had a back-up pizza in the fridge and had left you well-loved copy of You’ve Got Mail sitting out on your coffee table.

Or you could stick around and see what happens next.

You tilt your head at him, just as teasing. “Would it now?”

“It would,” he states, sincerely.

Before you can reply, your phone lights up with a new notification, pulling you out of the whisky haze you’d found yourself in. 

His eyes dip down to your illuminated screen. “Is that him?”

“It is,” you confirm, almost regretfully. You open the app and skim the message. And then read it again.

There’s no sorry, no apology for cancelling a half an hour after the time for the date that had been his idea in the first place. And then he’d even had the audacity to tack on a cavalier maybe another time at the end.

Unbelievable.

He lets out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

“Apparently, I should have been the one to remind him that the fourteenth of February is a calendar holiday and a fan favorite day of the greeting card companies.” It’s so ridiculous you’d laugh if you weren’t so annoyed by the lack of consideration and the not-so-subtle blame he’d tried to shift on you. “Even though I did double check if he was sure about meeting up today, I guess I didn’t realize I actually needed to spell out ‘Valentine’s Day’ for him.”

The man across from you doesn’t bother holding back the less than impressed look on his face. And you decide you like that about him, that he wears his thoughts so openly. It’s refreshing.

“Do you mind if I take a look at his profile?”

You shrug and pass your phone over. You were planning on blocking West the second you had a moment anyways. You see him roll his eyes and guess it has something to do with the amount of shirtless gym selfies.

He snorts as he scrolls, “Please, his mustache has nothing on mine.”

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes good-naturedly, as he hands you back your phone. “But am I at least a close second?” There’s no mistaking the flirtatious tone in his voice.

You hum and take full advantage of the opportunity to look at him unabashedly, mapping the contours of his face because you can.

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.

The way the golden light of the sunset is hitting him you catch some sunkissed strands in those soft looking waves of his hair. There’s the beginning of some crinkles around the edges of his eyes. You notice the scars on his face, some that look long healed and others that are still a light pink- like the one on the side of his neck and beneath is ear. And that mustache on him worked for you, one hundred percent.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he lets you assess him that leaves no question as to whether or not he’s been flirting with you. You like the way he’s looking at you and the way he’s easily made you forget about being overdressed and how uncomfortable you were even just five minutes ago. You’re having fun. And while you still haven’t answered his question from earlier, you have no doubt that he’d show you a good time if you let him.

“Maybe not a close second, but yours is certainly up there,” you tease.

He grins. “I can work with that.” There’s something about the way he adds on for now that has a spark dancing up along your spine. And then he sticks out his hand, “I’m Bradley.”

It’s a good name. It suits him. It’s one you think you’ll enjoy the way your tongue will curl around the letters of it in your mouth.

When you give him yours in return, he sits up straighter in his seat, like he’s won a small victory.

You don’t doubt that he’s the chivalrous type, the fact that he’s gone out of his way to come over to try and turn this evening around for you says more about him than any dating profile with nonsense questions and overthought answers ever could. But with a man like him, one who’d swoop in to save the night of a stranger because she looks like a damsel in distress, there’s an answer to a question you need to hear first.

“Bradley, this isn’t a pity thing, is it?” You were right, you like the way saying his name feels. You drop your hands into your lap, as you search his eyes. “Because if it is, that’ll make me feel worse than being stood up did.”

The way the words were sitting out and open on the table between the two of you made you feel vulnerable in a way you didn’t like. But you’d rather know now before anything goes further. Doing it for the plot or not, your ego could only take so much bruising in one evening.

He pins you with a look so serious that you feel it down to your toes. “Trust me, this is furthest thing from a ‘pity thing’, as you put it,” Bradley says, his tone slipping down a few gravelly notes. “Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.”

Oh.

A thrilling rush of warmth courses through you as your cheeks heat up.

You nod, trying to not look as affected as you feel. “Ok, I believe you.”

“Good,” he smirks, his gaze dropping down and lingering on your lips. You didn’t realize you’d trapped your lower lip between your teeth, you release it immediately. “Because you should know, I would have come over sooner- the second I saw you, actually- if I’d known. That’s some dress, sweetheart,” Bradley continues, “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.”

You couldn’t help but be curious, so you lean in closer. “Oh, how so?”

Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret.

For the first time all night, you don’t regret wearing the dress. You don’t regret the ostentatious shoes or the glimmering beaded bag. You don’t regret walking through that creaky door. You don’t regret showing up tonight.

How could you when you’ve just been served the best plot twist you’ve possibly ever experienced? A meetcute you never could have seen coming.

You realize just how close your faces have gotten and lean back in your seat, from fear of thinking you might do something stupid, like kiss him. “Will you stop with the big cow eyes, if I agree?”

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.”

You press your lips together trying to hide your smile, all too thoroughly charmed, but the corners of your mouth curl up all the same.

“Trust me, you have plenty.”

And Bradley’s own smile gets even wider.

Anyone in the bar can see how pleased with himself he is at your words. It rolls off of him in steady waves and swirls around your shins and ankles.

He makes a show of settling further into his seat, now that it is officially his seat. “What’re we thinking? One milkshake, two straws?”

You play along and pretend to ponder the offer for a moment. “That seems more like a second date type of activity, does it not?”

“You’re right, something to look forward to for next time,” he responds, not missing a beat. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

There wasn’t a menu or anything on the table when you sat down, so you aren’t sure what all is offered here. You thought you might have caught a glimpse of a laminated stack near register when you’d first walked in, but you hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to yourself at the time by getting up again and wandering around and reminding people just how out of place you’d been.

You look around and see a mix of ceramic steins, pint glasses, beer bottles, and a few stems of wine on tabletops and in the hands of the other patrons.

The noise of the bar had become a faint white noise in your ears as the two of you talked, but it comes back in full force now.

“If they have rosé, I’d take a glass of that.” It isn’t hard to miss the hesitation in your voice, feeling a little silly defaulting to your usual go-to. You don’t imagine they go through a ton of pink wine here. “But, uhm, anything on tap would be fine too, if they don’t.”

Bradley’s lips twitch up. Not in a smirk, but something caught between amused and something else you can’t quite describe.

You try not to fidget under his warm gaze, “What?”

He slides out of his stool and rounds the table, setting a big hand on the armrest near your elbow, “There’s something you should know about me, sweetheart.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, more than a little breathlessly. Feeling a little high off of the smell of his leather and vanilla cologne, and something underneath that that reminds you of kerosene in a way that makes you want to breathe him in even more.

Bradley dips down close, his lips just a whisper from your ear, and murmurs, “Pink is my favorite color.”

Your head tips back on its own as you laugh. Its unabashedly loud and bright and delighted thing that fills the nooks and crannies of the corner you’d tucked yourself away into. And if a few heads turn your way because of it, that’s alright with you.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. The back and forth, the flirting, the banter, the teasing. He’s so quickly turned this night around for you, you already know your cheeks are going to hurt by the end of it.

The sound of Bradley’s own laughter chases after yours. It’s warm and raspy and boyish, and you like the sound of it. You like him.

“One rosé, coming up,” he says, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he steps out of your space. “There’s nothing I like more than a girl who commits to a theme.”

You catch his wrist, his skin warm under your palm. “Wait, what’s it really?”

“Red,” Bradley says, then gives you a slow once over, making your pulse spark in your veins. “But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar.

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

When he comes back, only a few minutes later, he has glass of familiar pink wine in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. And oddly enough, a straw tucked into the pocket on his shirt.

“It’s almost a perfect match,” he notes, when he sets it in front of you.

“At least I won’t have to worry about staining if I end up spilling on myself.”

Bradley chuckles and moves his stool in closer to yours, sitting back down with more smooth grace than a man with his build has any right to move. He tips the neck of his beer towards you, and you lightly tap your wine glass against it.

You take a sweet sip. “So.”

“So,” he repeats, with a teasing lift of his eyebrow.

“What’s your move?” you ask, running a glossy tipped finger around the rim of your wineglass.

“My move?” And there’s that grin again, one he doesn’t try to hide as he takes a sip of his own.  “‘m pretty sure I’ve been showing you my moves since I sat down. I’ve never been good at being subtle.”

Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until it’s pulled taut against itself.  

You set an elbow on the edge, resting your chin on your hand as you study him. “But what’s the big move? I know you have one,” you press further.

His hands are big, calloused and rough, but capable. You want to know the story behind the scar that’s near the base of his thumb. You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left, and you pocket that new discovery for yourself the way a kid enthusiastically collects rocks in a park.

Bradley takes that piece of paper and folds it in half before twisting it again.

You watch in fascination as that pleased grin transforms into a confident smirk, like he’s enjoying even just the thought of showing you his big move. He looks like good trouble.

Bradley’s eyes slowly lift to yours, his hands pausing whatever he’s doing with that wrapper. He shoots a thumb to the left towards the end of the oval shaped bar. “You see that piano over there?”

“Mhm.” It’s an almost purr.

“That’s my big move.”

You feel your eyebrows lift in surprise. Bradley gave off such hometown golden boy vibes, you’d never have expected that he’d be the musical type too. The idea of seeing those hands fly over a set of black and white piano keys made your stomach tighten deliciously in anticipation.

“Am I going to get to see it?”

His gaze is steady on you when he replies, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll show you my move.”

A grin stretches across your face and you feel downright giddy, as you wiggle your shoulders in triumph.

Bradley shakes his head amused, and then refocuses his efforts on the task he’d started with the straw wrapper. He struggles only for a moment- those large fingers getting in the way- as he tries to open the end just enough to slip the tail though. He gives it one more final twist, securing the loop, before inspecting his handiwork.

“Now, since we’re valentines and all, it seemed only fitting that I get you- well, make you- a little something.” Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.”

The words escape you for a moment at the sheer sweetness of the gesture.

Gently, you take it from his outstretched hand, and slip it onto the pointer finger of your right hand, adjusting it with care until you have it situated just right.

“I usually wouldn’t be able to accept something so grand on a first date. But for you, I’ll make an exception,” you say, liltingly. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You look down to appreciate it again, more than a little tempted to take it off and tuck it securely into your purse for safekeeping. For as much as you liked your dress and bag and your shoes, that little paper ring was now your favorite piece of the outfit you were wearing.

When you glance back up at him, his cheeks have the faintest pink hue to them. The little nonchalant shrug he tries to give you does nothing to hide how pleased he looks. “I make a mean daisy chain too. We might have to wait a couple months for Spring, but I’m good for it.”

Your mind flashes with an image of you and him in a park with a picnic basket sat between the two of you, and those large hands of his threading celery green stems together. It’s a pretty picture.

“Well, aren’t you just a regular modern day Renaissance man.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he rasps, silky smooth. It makes goosebumps raise along your arms. “Now, I’ve told you mine. Can’t say I’m not dying to know what your big move is. Am I going to get to see it, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse, lifting your glass to take another sip, “If you’re good.”

Bradley hooks a foot under you stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. “Just out of curiosity, what’s your position on kissing on a first date?”

You bend forward towards him and think you hear his breath hitch, you smile. “I’ll keep you posted.”

You’re still looking at his lips when a shout from across the bar startles you both.

“Bradshaw!”

Bradley mutters a string of curses and then blows out a breath, giving you a smoldering look that tells you that the conversation is far from over. You’re more than willing to let him try and change your mind about where he lands in the mustache rankings.

You look over your shoulder to see the with the sharp smile from earlier waving your date over to the pool table. “I take it you know, Malibu Ken?”

“Unfortunately.” A mischievous look coasts over his face. “But I’ll get you all the Ring Pops you could ever want if you say that to his face.”

You laugh. “I’m holding out for that daisy chain.”

Another holler rings out from across the room, the same Southern drawl as before.

“Seems like he wants your attention. Is he a Leo?”

He snorts. “You know what, he just might be. But more like he’s been waiting for the right moment to annoy me since I ditched him to come talk to a pretty girl instead.”

You try not to preen at the compliment.

“The relentless type, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. There’s a story there and you want to know more. “I know I still owe you the big move, but is it alright if I try to show off a little for you now? Just to get off my back for the rest of the night, then I’m all yours.”

You feel like you’ve just pulled an ace from your pocket.

“What are the stakes?” you ask, intrigued.

“Two hundred dollars and a whiskey,” Bradley replies.

You let out a low whistle, trying to school the catlike grin that wants to overtake your face. “That’s a lot of Ring Pops.”

The corners of his mouth curl up. “I was thinking dinner for our third date,” he says. “I’m buying for our second, of course. But it’s only right that we split the spoils of war.”

The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. You playfully pat his shoulder in faux commiseration.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, but you already know your answer. “Okay,” you agree, “Just as long as you’re okay with a little respectful ogling. You like my dress, and I like those jeans you’re wearing.”

He laughs, it’s a throaty rich sound. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. It’s a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you don’t mind at all.

Bradley offers you his hand and you take it in yours; his fingers slip between yours easily like the two of you have already done this before.  

The two of you only make it a few steps before you tug on his hand, waiting until he looks at you from over his shoulder before asking, with a lifted brow, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

He huffs out a not-so-exasperated sigh, “I blame it on the 80’s.”

“Whatever you say, Brad-Brad.” It’s the one and only time you’re ever going to say it, you decide. You like saying his name too much to shorten it. And his back may be turned to you now, but that now familiar chuckle still makes its way to your ears.

Bradley leads you to the bar first, where he buys another glass of rosé and a beer for himself. When you try to pass your credit card to the woman behind the counter, he takes it, and rasps into your ear, “Let me.”

He tucks it right back into your purse as the sound of brass instruments starts up yet again.

“Like a dog with a goddamn bone,” you hear him mumble. And you press your lips together to keep from laughing. Sure, you’d rather be seeing his big move, but you can’t claim not to be amused by all of this.

He nods to a group of people in the corner near the popcorn machine when the two of you enter the alcove with pool table. Some of his other friends of his you assume.

You send them a little wave, one that they return in greeting. You can tell they’re curious, but you’re grateful when they resume their conversation instead of making you feel like your date with Bradley had become a spectator sport for their viewing entertainment.

The first thing Bradley does is introduce you to his friend. It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. You appreciate the way he is still prioritizing your comfort the way he’s been doing it since he first sat down across from you.

The second thing he does is pull out a chair for you. Not with a fanfare, not with a flourish. But like it’s something that’s innately ingrained in him. You get the sense that the gentleman thing isn’t an act with him, it’s who he is.

Jake rests a hip against the table. “Sorry to interrupt your date, but Bradshaw and I had some unfinished business.”

You wave him off, it’s not a big deal. Not when you’ll have the rest of the night with Bradley. Plus, you’re eager to watch this play out between them, curious about their gameplay.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with,” Bradley rumbles, as he arranges the balls in the rack. And you wonder if he lost the lag before he’d made his way over to your table for one.

He comes back over to you, and leans on the ledge next to you as he chalks his cue. You’d thought about slipping your sweater back on, with the outside chill pressing against the line of glass windows at your back, but Bradley had more than enough warmth radiating off of him that you didn’t need to.

“You that eager to be out a couple hundred, Bradshaw?” Jake grins, as he leans over the side of the table. He turns his gaze to you and sends you a wink right before he breaks, sending the cue ball barreling into the others with a resounding clack, scattering them across the table.

And then they’re off.

It’s a rapid fire of back-and-forth banter between the men as they take their shots. Mostly good natured, but undeniably competitive. Smirking when they land their shots, and snarking over fouls. Clear that neither of them wants to lose.

Jake is all confident posturing, playing low over the cue with a lightly too tight grip. It’s the only thing that gives him away that he’s not the easygoing player as he wants people to think he is. Choosing higher risk shots that would highlight his ability versus some of the more straightforward options laid out for him, and skilled enough that it pays off most of the time. But after a couple rounds you note he’s too quick to stand up after taking his shot, not enough follow through because he’s too eager to see if his gamble pays off.

Bradley is all loose-limbed ease, clearly comfortable in both his skin and at the table. You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. Although he does take his time as he positions himself around the table, only adjusting his bridge every now and then. Always with a 1-2 shot, a warm-up stroke followed by a steady hit. Watching him you catch his tendency to throw out his elbow of the follow through.

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

When Bradley’s not up to play, he’s by your side, right at your elbow. And when he is, it’s your eyes he’s looking into the moment he stands back up, seeking out your reaction. But more than once you feel his eyes on you as you watch them play.

True to your word, you to admire him in those snug fitting jeans. And when he catches your appreciative gaze, he sends you a wink before lining up his next shot.

Jake sinks another solid into the pocket he’d called only moments ago, and turns his dimpled smile at you, “You still sure about your date with the old man, chickadee? I bet I could show him up in that department too.”

The way he says it, you know he’s just teasing, probably just to rile you date up and get a reaction from him.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I have a thing for mustaches now,” you toss back, unbothered. And Bradley smiles into his drink.

You watch as Jake lines up his next shot and hits the white with a compact stroke.

“Double hit,” you declare.

“Dammit,” Jake curses.

You look over to see Bradley looking at you with a focused look on his face. Like there’s a theory clicking into place, one he needs the answer to. Wordlessly, he hands you the cue.

“You sure?” you ask.

“Two hundred dollars sure,” he states.

You take it from him with a sly grin.

Bradley’s thighs brush against the front of your knees, you know if you parted them even a couple inches, that he’d fit just right between them. His hands landing on your waist again as he assists you off the stool you’ve been perched on. And you’re starting to think he just likes an excuse to touch you, not that he needs one because you already more than like the feel of his hands on your body.

You walk the pool table, running a finger around the rails as you do. Evaluating the balls on the table like they’re chess pieces. The slow clip of your heels on the floor like the tick of a clock as you take your time deciding your approach.

“You’re the stripes,” Jake offers helpfully. “Don’t worry, I’ll even let you have a free shot.”

And you can’t help but laugh because this is going to be fun.

“Bradley?” you ask, leisurely chalking your cue.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you mind?” You gesture to the spot behind you, and he catches on quick with a not-so-subtle glance at the short hem of your skirt.

He sets his beer down and comes to stand behind you, there’s just enough space between the two of you that you don’t have to worry about hitting him with the cue, his broad from proving you the coverage you needed to bend over the table. While you don’t think you’d mind Bradley seeing the silk thong you had on underneath your dress, you weren’t exactly up for flashing the whole bar.

You haven’t played in a while, but it’s a muscle memory at this point, as you map out your moves. Seeing the lines and angles and arcs in your mind’s eye before anchoring your bridge.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. A tendril of smokey gratification curls its way along your spine. You turn your head back to the pool table looking between the cue, target, cue ball, target.

It’s a smooth stroke with a satisfying crack. A clean three-rail shot that lands the striped five into the pock you’d intended for it.

“Damn” is all Jake says. His eyes you up, clearly impressed.

“You sure about that free shot, Jake?” You stand up and smooth out your dress, just for the show of it. “Or do you want to make it double or nothing instead, Malibu Ken?” You hear Bradley snort from behind you.

And just like you thought, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, “Deal.” Jake turns to Bradley. “I just let your girl hustle me, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Bradley says with a grin, but his eyes are on you.

Neither are surprised when you sink your next shot too. The six sailing into the left corner pocket.

On your next shot, you may or may not deliberately foul. A tactical choice that sets Jake up with a less than ideal position on the table, knowing it’ll be a difficult shot for him to make.

“Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?” Jake grouses.

You just smile and take a sip of the rosé that Bradley hands you, neither confirming or denying.

Surprisingly, he banks it.  But his good luck only lasting through that one play. Because on his next, the ball glances off the side rail at too acute an angle to reach the intended pocket and he groans.

Not quite ready to be done, you ease off a little. Enough that they both know you’re going easy on him to extend the game longer, just so that he can catch up to you.

But soon enough, soon there’s only your eight ball left on the table.

“Looks like you’re about to be out four hundred dollars, Jake,” you say with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Just put me out of my misery already.”

You turn to Bradley, who has been carefully positioning himself behind you the whole time. You hold out the cue to him and ask, “Do you want the honors?”

He shakes his head. “Go on, finish him off, sweetheart. I’m enjoying the show.”

And when your final ball tips into the side pocket, Jakes resounding groan is drown out by the whistle Bradley lets loose between his thumb and pointer finger, as you turn towards him beaming.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you.

You look over his wide shoulder, “As for the whiskey, something expensive please, Malibu Ken.”

Jake huffs a grumble but nods all the same as he goes to round up your winnings.

“Scored four hundred dollars and a valentine, that’s not too shabby, if I do say so myself,” you preen to Bradley.

“Think that might have been the best thing I’ve seen all year,” Bradley announces. “The hottest too, if I’m being honest.” You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze. His finger slips under the thin strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder somewhere along the way. He slides it back up and into place, treating it like some delicate thing the same way he did that paper wrapper. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

Normally, this is when you’d rerack, but you’ve never had a Bradley Bradshaw looking at you before.

“I took a class in college over the summer as an elective credit, and it turns out I had a knack for it,” you explain with a playful little shrug.

“I’ll say.” He takes another step closer. “Did you just show me your move, sweetheart?”

“One of them,” you grin.

You don’t have to press up to his height, not with your pearly heels.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. You feel the curve of a smile before his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer.

The scrape of his mustache against your upper lip sends electricity racing along every nerve ending in your body. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. It’s unhurried, like he’s been waiting to savor the feel of your mouth against his. Exciting and new as you learn the taste and touch of him. You knew it was going to be good, but even so, it’s better than you could have expected.

“Think you just snagged that number one spot of my list of favorite mustached men,” you say against his lips.

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps.

You inhale the amusement of his light chuckle, letting it go to your head like champagne bubbles, before he slips a hand around the base of your neck and pulling you in close once again.

A couple hours later, you find yourself at home on the couch. Your cheeks a little sore from how much smiling you’d done tonight, as Tom and Meg trade words over a plate of caviar on screen.

It was only much later that night you’d gotten to see Bradley’s big move.

He’d surprised you with his voice and the talented way his fingers glided over the white and black keys. An expensive glass of amber colored liquor sitting atop the old piano as he played, and four hundred dollars tucked safely away in your purse.

You’d given him your number when he’d walked you to your car, only distracting you for a few extra minutes with his mouth, before you’d left for the night, hoping that you’d hear from him soon.

A notification lights up your phone, and a ribbon of thrill unspools through you.

You sigh when you see that it’s a notification from your dating app. You’re wary to open it, not wanting anything to color your night, but you figure now is as good of time as any to block the guy who had nothing on the one you’d spent your evening with.

When you see the name of the person who’d sent you a message, you click into his profile with lightning-fast fingers, skimming all the details to things you hadn’t had a chance to learn yet.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟑𝟓

𝐉𝐨𝐛 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

There is a picture of him in uniform, grinning to someone out of the frame. And another one of him shirtless on the beach, surrounded by some of the faces you’d seen tonight at the Hard Deck.

But it’s the answers to the prompts that he’d picked, that set your heart fluttering.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬: 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩��𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬.

That one makes you laugh.

You open the message from him, one that had been sent with a rose.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞? 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧? 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐩.

You don’t even have to think.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝?

And you can’t help but grin to yourself as look at that paper ring still on your finger. Because you know, this app won’t be on your phone for much longer.

Not now that you’ve met him.

Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!

And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[carawenfiction]

I hope this isn't a bother. I know you aren't accepting asks anymore, so please ignore if you don't want to read 🙂

I love your story. It was my second IF ever, and it helped set the tone because it's amazing. I am so glad you wrote it. I truly love your characters. I know you aren't writing it anymore, but if you ever want to post any details from the rewrite or just random snippets, they would be devoured. I love all of the romances, but Quaiel was especially intriguing. I would love to write stories about them, but I don't want to be too far off your original thinking.

Again, please don't feel like you have to respond or care about any of this. I just appreciate your book and all your characters. I hope you have a lovely holiday season. Thank you for all your hard work.

Hello again everyone <3 thank you for this ask and all the other asks expressing concern about my well-being and asking me about potential other writing projects. And thank you to those who have sent me enthusiastic asks about the world and characters of TSS. I know it's been a long time since I was active here so the fact that I'm still getting messages and asks at all is pretty shocking to me, but makes me very happy.

I wanted to make an update here and let those who still follow me know that I'm actually in the process of writing a new IF. It has a published demo, though I won't reveal the title just yet since I want to get some more of it done before sharing it with everyone here. I feel incredibly guilty about the state I left TSS in even though I knew it was the right decision for me, and I want to make sure that I've got more to show for this new project to regain some trust that might have been lost with the long time waiting and then the cancellation.

As for TSS: while it won't be continued, the story and characters have stayed with me through the years. The reason I haven't released any snippets or my planning for how things would go is because I've been considering, if I've got enough time, to maybe rewrite the story at my own pace (it would be a very thorough rewrite and many things both storywise and characterwise would likely change), make it a complete story instead of a trilogy and release it for free. I'm still not making any promises, though - this is a very huge maybe. But it's something I would really like to do when and if there's a good opportunity to do so.

Absolutely feel free to write stories about Q and any of the other characters! I'd love to read them if you do. Part of what I love when it comes to writing is how the creativity of one person can ignite creative sparks in other people. It's honestly magical.

Take care of yourselves and thank you for sticking around <3

[maybege]

Take-Off - FBI 14

Summary: Your nightly rendezvous with Morgan has some unexpected consequences.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.0k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: CM typical stuff

I love how I said this would be out by mid-January and yet here we are … Anyway, sorry not sorry. I had to move back to my parents for like 6-ish weeks, my country’s election resulted in a drastic shift towards conservative/right-wing policies and January (being the awful month that it is) had my depression returning for an unwanted sequel, you know how it is. Anyway, Part 15 is not yet finished so idk when it will be out but rest assured I am thinking about Hotch and I hope that after reading this next chapter you do too! Let me know what you think 🥰

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

There was still sleep in your eyes as you made your way from the car to the elevator, searching for your badge in your purse. “Thank you for letting me sleep at your place,” you said, looking over at Derek, “I – I have no idea how this would have panned out if not for you.”

Derek pressed the button and the metal doors closed before the little jolt of the cabin notified you of the movement.

“We are all here for you, kid,” he smiled, “You are one of us, you hear me? Anyone in that office would help you if they could. Garcia, Rossi, Reid, Hotch,” – your heart jumped at that – “Prentiss, me. All of us, okay?”

The elevator stopped, and you smiled. “Okay.”

Arriving at the office was nothing like what you had imagined your glorious return from PTO to feel like. For one, you had seen yourself wearing a glamorous new outfit that showed everyone just how happy you were to be back and how confident you were in returning to your post. Most importantly, it would’ve given you the emotional support to think that Hotch’s presence wouldn’t have any impact on your confidence.

Admittedly, what you had not thought about during your holiday was what it would look like to your colleagues when you and Derek would arrive at the same time, both carrying coffee mugs that said his name, and his shirt thrown over a dress that you clearly had not planned on wearing.

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest?” JJ teased you, rounding the corner of your desk to sit down opposite you, “Disappearing without another word to get some,” she drew bunny ears in the air, “relaxing and,” – another set of bunny ears – “soul-searching done and now you show up with Morgan? Way to go, my friend.”

“Shut up,” Derek laughed, throwing back the last of his coffee, “You don’t want to know what she looks like under that shirt.”

You laughed, too, your heart feeling fuller by the minute of being surrounded by your team again. “It really isn’t –”

“You look like shit,” Emily greeted you dryly, a teasing smile on her lips as she crossed her arms, “Was it worth it at least?”

“We have no time for small talk,” Hotch’s voice sounded from the door to the conference room, “Everyone at the roundtable now.”

It should have stopped being surprising how put together he could look in the middle of the night, but your eyes still lingered on the white shirt he was wearing, how his tie seemed a little loose and how that was the only indicator that maybe it had been a little too early for him as well.

Reid and Rossi were already at the table when you entered and you sat down next to the older man with a smile. He threw a pointed look at your shirt and he did not even need to open his mouth for you to know what he was about to say.

“Shut up,” you grinned and he only laughed, good-naturedly patting your knee when JJ threw on the presentation.

“Alright, we have a child abduction in Montana,” Hotch opened. The image of a teenage girl was projected onto the wall. Blonde, blue eyes, preppy cheerleader outfit.

“Grace Donovan, 15 years old, was last seen at dinner with her parents when they reported her missing two hours ago.”

“It’s the middle of the night, how do they know she is missing?” you asked, frowning at the image, “Are they sure she is not out with her friends?”

You watched as Hotch opened his mouth to say something when his eyes met yours. And then they roamed over you, landing on the shirt you were wearing and Derek next to you and you could see the frown forming on his face.

Shit.

“She is not in her room and none of her friends know where she is,” JJ answered smoothly, not having noticed Hotch’s pause, “That and the security system seems to have been tampered with. This is beyond anything a fifteen-year-old could do.”

You nodded, looking down at the table and trying to avoid Hotch’s eyes on you.

“All right,” he said, throwing a look at his watch, “Wheels up in 10. We have 22 hours left.”

He caught up to you at the door, a dry hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you back into the room. If the others noticed, they did not show it, simply leaving the room as Hotch pulled you back to the front.

The blinds were still closed, you noticed, and as the door fell closed behind JJ, you were completely alone with him. Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes completely taking him in. Standing tall at the end of the desk, he eyed you and your skin tingled wherever his eyes seemed to land – your calves, your thighs, your torso, your face.

When you had handed in your PTO request after an entire week of being ignored by him, you had fooled yourself into thinking that maybe distance was what you needed. That distance would get you to see him in another light and not the one where you thought about what dirty things his voice could whisper in your ears late at night.

Clearly, the racing of your heart proved that that was not the case. That even time and distance away from him didn’t get rid of the sudden need to feel his arms around you. Or his lips on yours. Or his hand between your –

Until he opened his mouth.

“Need I remind you of the fraternisation policies the FBI has in place, Agent?”

“Hotch –“

“I understand that you have been gone for two weeks and, quite frankly, it should be none of my business what you two get up to in your private time so make sure it remains none of business. Understood?”

“It – it’s not what it looks like!” you protested, knowing what must have been going through his head. But what was worse was that you weren’t sure if you wanted to convince him of the truth because of the FBI rules or because you wanted him to know the truth.

He made a big step towards you and you gasped, feeling his body heat radiate so close to you, “And what does it look like?”

You could not say anything, the lack of sleep and confusion at Hotch’s angry demeanour catching up with you. You could not remember the last time you had seen him so upset at you. Openly upset.

“I see you, wearing clothes that clearly have been worn a whole,” he started again, his voice cutting through the silence, “Shorter hem than usual, deeper cleavage, formfitting. Obviously showing off the best parts of your body. On top of that, I see a shirt that clearly does not belong to you. When I called Derek at four in the morning, he said JJ needn’t contact you because you were already there with him, which leads me to believe that this,” he tugged at one of the buttons, “is Agent Morgan’s shirt. Am I wrong?”

Had he just said you were attractive?

He scoffed, “I didn’t think so. So now, what does it look like?”

“Josh kicked me out,” you blurted out, swallowing thickly at how close he was to you, “Derek found me in a diner after, uh,” slowly you lifted the hem of the shirt, revealing the red-yellowish condiment massacre on the fabric, “He gave me his couch to crash on.”

Hotch did not say anything, a tiny furrow between his brows. You glanced down and saw his forefinger and thumb pressed together.

“I know the FBI rules, Hotch,” you continued with a small voice, “And I, uh, I am really not interested in Morgan like that. He was a friend when I needed one.”

“Why were you in a diner of all places?” he asked.

“I – I didn’t know who to call,” you shrugged, “I was emotional and confused and it was the closest thing that was dry and warm and open.”

For the longest time, he did not say anything and you kept looking at him. Your hand was still in his and sometime during his speech they must have slipped from your wrist to interlace with your fingers and you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

He was so close.

“Next time you call me,” he said slowly, his other hand going to grab something from the inner pocket of his jacket.

You looked down at the little white square in his hands, “I already have your business card, Hotch,” you reminded him gently.

“This is, uh,” he cleared his throat, letting go of your hand like it was burning him, “This is my personal contact information.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, looking at him with wide eyes before the reality of the situation hit you, “oh.”

You took the offered card, keeping it close to your chest as if he would decide to snatch it away from you any second. “Thank you,” you mumbled, cheeks and ears warm as your heart began to race, “I should probably go and – “

“Yes,” he nodded slowly, “You probably should.”

*

Hotch did not know what he had been thinking when he confronted you in the conference room.

He probably had not been thinking at all.

And when was the last time that had happened?

The team was quiet as everyone found their place on the jet, settling into their respective routines. Even after years of work, late-night and early-morning calls never got any easier. And despite the worry for the missing girl on everyone’s mind, exhaustion was slowing everyone down.

The first talk over the files had already happened as soon as the jet had started. Now all they needed was to wait.

“We won’t get any new information until we are there,” he announced, “So everybody get some rest while you can.”

General murmurs of agreement sounded all around him and as he set up his laptop on the table in front of him, he saw Reid settling down on the couch, Derek and JJ sitting opposite each other, each occupied with their own books while Emily seemed to be choosing which playlist to listen to.

He tried to ignore the fact that the only free seats now were with him and Rossi.

“How long will the flight be?” your voice piped up from the galley way at the back of the plane. You were wearing different clothes now. Jeans and a colourful blouse. Flowers, he recognised at a second glance at the same time as he turned away, because why did he need a second glance?

“Come join us,” Rossi offered, opposite to him and motioned to the seat right next to Hotch. His jaw tensed but he kept his eyes on the laptop screen, trying to focus on what the PD had already sent him.

“Thank you,” you smiled, sitting down next to him and he tried to ignore how your thigh brushed against his.

“Tired, huh?” Rossi commented motioning to his face, “You got that look of someone who had a long night.”

“Well, it is five in the morning, Rossi,” you answered good-naturedly, “I don’t think any of us have gotten enough sleep tonight.”

“Right, you are,” the older man said, reaching into his bag in the seat next to him,

Silence fell over the jet. “What are you doing?” you asked quietly, looking up at him. Not because you wanted to, obviously, but because you tried to show him you were not trying to look at government documents without his permission. And the soft look in your eyes, he argued, was just because you were tired.

“The responsible detective sent over some of his personal notes from the first victim,” He explained, his fingers tingling as he remembered how your hand had felt in his, “I wanted to get a head start on them.”

You hummed in understanding. “Always working, Agent Hotchner.”

His lips quirked up, “Is that critique I hear, Agent?”

“Sorry, Sir,” you grinned, a sparkle in your eyes that made his heart jump in his chest in a way he had not experienced in a very long time.

This was going to be a long flight.

And well, if your head fell onto his shoulder while you were sleeping, who was he to wake you?

[bassboosted-moon-chao]

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Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday to my sweet silver baby boy! He was born December 24th 2000, according to his Memory Stick data.

[fevekko]

🏹🐦💘 happy holidays from your favorite super-heroes!! 💘

(i am not late today is the 25th everyone please shh)

fanart inspired from @kitsuneisi and @xmaruu11 's DDVAU! my brain is so rotten with these two silly gooses...

[obsob]

once more around the sun!! :3

[mail-me-a-snail]

TRUE BLU v.

Are you there? Say something.

the final chapter of true blu is now UP!!! it's hard to believe we've finally made it here ;u; when i set out to write this fic, there were plenty of times when i wanted to throw in the towel and call it quits...but im really glad i stuck to it :'3 im proud of this fic and all y'all's support made it possible !!

so here we are at last. as always, comments are appreciated <3

[uharuz]

- merry christmas shreya! @kiimtaehyung insp. x x | cr. (1, 2, 3, 4)

[coladaminx]

Alright these pictures need a whole thread BUT I'm short on time so this is gonna be quick 🤓 other then all the other times that we see who's a light for the other It's very in our face 🥺 just toto being himself and talking is enough for Ron to slowly come back and his world regains color again SO POETIC!!!! 👌🤌❤

[dairyfairyy]

read ms s.e hinton's christmas fanfic for the curtis bros for the first time

im in tears.

[whispers-of-gallifrey]

It's thinking about Maxwell and Jacobi hours

[naturecalls111]

Briefly opening commissions until the 13th! Need to replace a few art things of mine so if anyone is interested in a character-centric comm for the holidays, I have a few slots open – feel free to DM me! :3c

[fistosfavoritecustomer]

This comic where thundercracker writes a Christmas story is one of the best things ive ever read rn

[masterjedilenawrites]

Here's To Many More

Clone x Reader Life Day Exchange 2024

Echo x reader | 1.9k words

Content: themes of angst - such as having a difficult year and feeling alone, references to past anxiety attacks, hand scars and tremors, comments about life & death, an almost-kiss, themes of hope and joy at the end

Prompts Used: 

"Breathe. Hi, we found you, just breathe for me, okay?"

"Hey there, take it easy. Your body went through a lot."

generally healing after physical & emotional trauma

Note: Hiya @writersnook11, nice to meet you! Holiday angst - what a fun challenge. I ran with a vibe from a Christmas song that's been hitting me in the feels this season - sort of has a melancholy-turned-hopeful tone to it. I linked it at the end but it's not a requirement to listen, just thought I'd pay credit to my inspiration.

Leaves fluttered and rustled against the pavement as your speeder, contributing to the symphony with its own soft hum, drove over them. The suns setting earlier meant an otherwise bustling neighborhood now lay quiet and peaceful in the dark, adorned in their twinkling holiday lights and warmed by their fireplaces and gathered loved ones.

You drove through the rustling and the twinkling, noticing every detail with an odd, sort of detached calmness. You'd been down these lanes countless times in your life, but it was like it was the first time you were truly seeing everything. All the colors and textures and temperatures. So many homes, full of so many people, living so many lives. There was a whole world out here, outside of your head.

Eventually your own home came into sight. You pulled up next to the first bit of empty curb, just one house away, and killed the engine. The hum of the speeder died down, leaving you in still, quiet air. Cold air. You flexed your gloved fingers, grateful you'd been able to scrounge up a pair for the trip, though your poor, frozen nose hadn't been so lucky. You cupped your hands around your face and took a few open-mouthed breaths to generate some heat. It didn't quite do the trick, so you dropped your hands back down into your lap with a sigh. Of course, you could just run inside and get warmed up soon enough. But that would require energy, urgency, things you'd been in short supply of most of the year. So instead, you lingered. Took your time. Paid attention to the sensations of the world around you and not on exhausting thoughts like running.

Something was tickling your face. You ran a finger across your cheek and pulled it back to inspect the tiny flecks of snow now caught on your glove. You wanted to feel them fully so you gingerly took off both of your gloves, finger by finger, until the skin of your hands was exposed. Hands that looked nothing like your own. You knew they were yours, they moved like yours, they felt like yours, but they didn't look like yours. They were scarred and calloused, palms barely able to flatten out as you held them up in hopes of catching more snow. As predicted, your right one immediately started shaking, unable to hold the position without triggering its tremors. You quickly closed your fist and held it to your chest with your other hand. 

It's okay, it's okay. You squinted your eyes shut, trying to keep your breathing steady and not to let your mind wander in all the usual dark places. It's okay. Just breathe.

Just breathe...

Your own inner voice started to shift into the voice of another. A firm, steady voice you had been reaching out to in your memory more often these days.

Breathe. Hi, we found you, just breathe for me, okay?

You cracked your eyes open, half expecting to see his face just as you had in that closet. Panicking. Overwhelmed. Unable to catch your breath until he'd grasped your shoulders and coaxed you into calming down. When you'd opened your eyes and met his, so full of care and understanding, it hadn't mattered that half the party was crowded behind him, staring and whispering nervously. All you had been concerned with was following his gentle instructions, trusting that he'd lead you to safety.

Opening your eyes this time, you of course were met with the darkness of the night, broken up only by the tiny flakes of snow drifting in it. You were still clutching your hand to your chest, but that little well of anxiety that had threatened to rise up had been quelled. You were breathing just fine.

You were fine.

Alone, but fine.

A soft crunching of leaves grabbed your attention. You peered down the sidewalk and saw someone approaching. It could have been worrisome, a mysterious dark figure headed your way you at night. Except you could clearly see one of the limbs ended not in a hand, but a scomp link. There were very few people it could be, and only one given the context.

"Ah, I was hoping it was you! Saw some head-beams, thought I'd come out and see if anyone needed help."

"Hey, Echo." You hadn't known his name when he'd found you hiding in your friend's closet all those months ago, and now you knew him as a friend, too. Perhaps not as close as the ones you'd known since childhood, but he was a good one all the same.

You briefly considered jumping out of your seat and meeting him on the sidewalk, slipping an arm through his and guiding him back inside where it was likely so much warmer and merrier. That's what old you would have done. Before... well, before you became the present you. The one that struggled to think quickly enough to make decisions and just wanted to get through one day without feeling like dead weight.

Thankfully Echo didn't skip a beat. He walked right up to your speeder, opened the passenger door, and slid into the seat next to you.

"You alright?" he asked with a half-smile. But he didn't wait for an answer, knowing you hated the question. "It's been a while since I've seen you. You're looking a lot better."

You couldn't help but return a small smile of your own. You knew he wouldn't lie to you. It felt good to hear you didn't look like such a mess anymore.

"I'm feeling better," you responded.

"Oh?"

"Not great," you quickly caveated. "But better. Fine. I feel fine."

Echo nodded. "I'm really glad to hear that. And I'm really glad you're here. We weren't sure you'd make it."

You were pretty sure you knew what he meant but decided to take the opportunity to indulge in some dark humor.

"What? That I wouldn't come tonight? Or that I wouldn't be alive for another Life Day?"

Rather than smack you upside the head for such a comment, like all of your other friends surely would, Echo merely leveled a look back at you that made you smirk in amusement.

"You know very well I was referring to your annoying habit of canceling plans at the last minute. How many times now have you said you'd be home soon?"

You merely rolled your eyes, refraining from comment. You knew that he knew that you had your reasons for being away for so long. He was only teasing.

Echo reached over and set one of his hands on top of yours. "That said, you did worry me a few times. So yes, I'm really glad you're here. In both senses of the word."

His smile made you feel warm, and the way he was looking at you lit a small but happy fire within your chest. Perhaps that's why you didn't notice how cold your fingers had gotten in the night air without gloves. Though with his hand over your own, Echo could certainly tell.

"And on that note, let's get you inside. Everyone else will be excited to see you, too."

Echo scrambled out as you slowly got your own door open. You shoved your gloves into your coat before they could fall off of your lap as you stood.

"Here, let me," you could hear Echo calling as he hurried around to your side of the speeder. Ever the gentleman. Unfortunately, in his haste, his foot caught on something, maybe a branch or a crack in the pavement, and he went stumbling forward. You were already on both your feet and quickly reached out to help steady him, bracing your arms underneath his.

"Hey there, take it easy. Your body went through a lot this year, too," you smirked a bit as you both caught your breaths from the unexpected activity.

Echo chuckled. He was embarrassed, you could tell by the bright pink flush to his cheeks, but your comment seemed to lighten the mood. That, and the fact you were now standing very close together, still holding each other up. Echo blinked down at you, awkward and confused at first, and then relaxing as his gaze stayed in yours. That quiet stillness of the night you'd been thinking about earlier made its way back. Only now you weren't so alone in it.

Just when a sudden, pleasant thought entered your mind, that maybe he would kiss you, Echo cleared his throat and shifted back. He withdrew his scomp quickly while his good hand softly dragged along your arm as it fell away. A line of goosebumps surged in its wake, causing you to shiver, and unfortunately reminding Echo why he had rushed over here in the first place.

"Time to go inside," he nodded matter-of-factly. And you found you couldn't argue. It was getting pretty cold. So you fell into step beside him as you finally walked the final steps back home.

A wave of warmth and light and laughter hit you as the front door opened. Somewhere between the group hugs and the smell of baked goods, you'd forgotten why you'd been so anxious to come back here all those times. All of your loved ones were here, every single one. Seeing their faces, hearing their voices, was now filling a part of you you hadn't realized had been so empty for so long. The thought would have delighted you had you had the energy for such a strong emotion. So instead you settled for serenity. A calmer, quieter version of happiness. And though you weren't matching everyone else's liveliness, you still found yourself able to keep up with their conversations. You helped where you could, being mindful of your limits but never dwelling on them. And you even joined in on singing an impromptu carol.

Echo stayed close by you throughout the evening. You weren't sure what had happened, or almost happened, between you earlier, and you suspected he was still thinking about it too as you caught him gazing the same way at you several times. You'd be here for a few more nights, as would he, so you were sure there'd be other opportunities to figure things out. Tonight was for catching up and keeping warm and finally putting some of your deepest troubles to bed.

Oh it had been such a long, long year. You'd been tested in ways you never knew possible, each seemingly worse than the last. Your heart often sat heavy within you and several times you'd wondered if you could keep going.

And then... you did.

You pushed through one trial and into the next tribulation, again and again, and eventually you made your way here. To this very spot where you suddenly, finally, felt good. Your body had been through it, but you weren't broken beyond repair. You'd experienced far more than your fair share of grief, but you hadn't lost everything. You weren't thriving, but you also weren't hanging by a thread. You had hope. For the first time in a long time, you were allowing yourself to look ahead.

And toward the end of the night, when you'd all gathered around the fireplace and were holding mugs aloft in a toast to the season, you had your chance to declare your intentions for the future.

"Happy Life Day!" everyone cheered together.

"Happy Life Day," Echo whispered next to you.

You smiled up at him and clinked your mug against his.

"And here's to many more."

Song Inspo: Merry Christmas, Here's to Many More - Relient K

Please go check out the @cloneficgiftexchange blog for all the other contributions to this great event! Fics are being posted all throughout today (12/14/24). Spread the love for fandom writers/creators by reblogging!

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[shuploc]

WAIT, is it true we're getting more miguel art? Don't get me wrong, I love Astarion, but my atsv fixation is coming back hard and it would just be so perfect! <33 Thanks for all the work you do!

Well, short answer is yes! It's a little silly actually, but to you guys it seems like I just randomly stopped drawing him and moved on, but I've actually been working on multiple Miguel drawings since like, October, for different zines. Those pieces will eventually get posted too, but it'll be a while, ngl.

But yes, ya'll will get a completely different Miggy thing soon, hopefully in time for Christmas! 😊 I'm SO glad you like my Astarion stuff too, thank you so much for the kind words!

[renatogpadilla]

What's In A Name.

Lux had to stop herself from lighting up.

"Jinx... Jinx..." She tried the name out in her mouth. It felt good! She looked like a 'Jinx'! Short, sweet (well, maybe 'sweet' wasn't the right word) and scrappy! "Jinx!"

She put her entire accent into that last one.

Jinx wondered how it was possible to roll the letter 'J'. She also wondered if she was as red as she felt hearing her say her name so much with such... Joy? Yeah, that must have been it... She wasn't used to that.

"Okay, glad you like it." She was REALLY trying to hide that smile, she was! "And... I appreciate that you don't blame me for... Who I was then."

"Never."

Alright... Where was she... Ah, right. Vi.

"My sister eventually found me..." She continued, tapping her temple with a brass middle finger. Had Lux noticed that before? "And I wasn't really in the best place up here. So imagine my face when she rolls up with Piltie girlfriend of all things."

Lux's hands shot up to her mouth. "No!"

"Yeah, I did NOT take that well..." She wasn't as much ashamed of how much she'd been mad at Vi as she was embarrassed of how little control she'd had over it. "Apparently, they'd been trying to find some dangerous psychopath with ties to Silco that had been making the criminal underworld get a little too bold for comfort... Imagine her face when it turned out to be her baby sister." Now that Jinx had time to really think about it, from Vi's point of view, their entire dynamic had been exceedingly fucked up.

"Anyways, things escalated pretty quickly after that. She'd grown to love her Piltie 'Cupcake' so much I thought she was replacing me... I got ready to take care of that issue myself when I found myself on the bridge between the two cities. And on the other side? Who else but Ekko? All grown up and ready to rock. my. shit."

Lux gasped. Audibly. Jinx could tell she was holding in a squeal. Childhood friends to enemies to lovers? Class-defying sapphic romance? Criminal underworld political drama?! This story had it all! Lux had never been so invested in anything in her life!

"Lemme tell you, that fight was a wake-up call. Boy Saviour had HANDS! I'd never seen anyone dodge like that either... This was before I got my powers so he was a real threat! But when he had me pinned to the ground, hand on my neck... put your eyebrows down, Lux they're gonna hit my roof, it wasn't like that! But... something stopped him. He hesitated. For a moment, he wasn't Ekko the Firelight and I wasn't Jinx the criminal... I think... He saw Powder in my eyes then. Whatever was left of her and he couldn't bring himself to kill me." She would never forget the look on his face. "I had... Other priorities. And a tricked-out grenade. I pulled the pin and waited..."

Lux softened again, and it was at this point that Jinx realized that she had tried to blow herself up a lot along with her enemies back then. Like, every other fight she'd tried to take herself out, even when she had Isha... Damn, she had NOT been okay in the slightest.

"Well, I know he made it out," said Lux, she had to make the lights dim a bit. When had she made them that bright? "So... How did you...?"

"Same way anyone in Zaun made it out of anything back then. Ekko pushed us out of the way. Saved us both."

Lux was starting to idolize this boy she'd never met. I mean, kid makes it growing up in Zaun, starts a freedom fighter gang and then pulls Jinx?! AFTER that big fight on the bridge?! 'Boy Saviour' sounded right! She HAD to meet this absolute hero someday! She hoped, whenever her witch left for home (ouch) maybe she could bring her friends to visit someday... Or, perhaps very selfishly, that she could tag along.

"Anyways, next thing I know I'm strapped to a chair. Silco had taken me to this crackpot scientist he knew. Brilliant man, but Gods he was messed up! Like, he had issues and that's coming from me! Just straight up creepy... Anyhow, he pumped me full of drugs until I got better... And I got superpowers out of it, so that was a plus!"

"I'd been meaning to ask about that... We've been running tests on me for weeks but what exactly is it you can do?"

Ooh, a chance to flex? Don't mind me! "I call it 'Chemhead Strength'! On command!"

"Isn't that a derogatory term...?"

Jinx walked over to Pow-Pow on the ground and lifted it with a single hand. "You tell me, Flashlight!" Her eyes glowed purple when she used her powers... Lux thought it was absolutely sick. And hey! There's something we have in common!

"Strength was just one part of the deal!" She said, putting the gatling gun down gently next to Fishbones. A flash of purple later she was sitting next to Lux again, like she'd never moved at all. Lux hadn't even seen her cross the room! "Speed's only good for short bursts, though. Little hops and dashes here and there. I can't exactly run from here to Piltover-Zaun in the blink of an eye, but I can cross a room no problem." She said it as non-chalantly as she could. She was suddenly feeling herself quite a bit.

"Last but not least came endurance. I speak from experience when I say you could put me through a brick wall and I'd walk it off!" She was actually pretty proud of that one. It had come in handy more than she'd like to admit...

"That's so...! Wait. From experience?"

"Yeah, you can thank my sister for that. I'm getting there." She was so excited getting to show off that she'd momentarily forgotten where her story took her next... She sunk herself into the couch. "You were right, you know? The person I had been up until getting strapped to that chair was the result of circumstance. A lost little girl who hadn't had the power or the nerve to right her wrongs. To work on herself. Who had been too clouded by her own grief and rage to see it... And I thank you for letting me understand that." Though a part of her still didn't fully believe it.

"You are so very welcome, friend." Lux was feeling herself now too.

"Having said that..." She steeled herself for this one. "Who I was after that, was all me. That I can't deny. That I won't deny. I did some messed up things, and I won't pretend I didn't. So... If you still want to hear it... know that that was MY choice. Alright?"

Lux nodded her head again. This felt heavy. She took a deep breath as discreetly as she could.

"Remember." Jinx said, straightening on the couch. "You wanted this."

"And I still do. If you feel like it."

"I think I just might, Flashlight."

She told her everything.

Kidnapping Caitlyn in the shower...

"You saw your sister's girlfriend naked before she did?" Lux mostly asked to distract herself from how terrifying the thought of getting kidnapped naked by a Jinx high off her mind would be. Nope! Just shoot me, thank you very much!

"Yeah, I never gave her enough shit for that... I'll say this, though: I may hate the bitch, but she's fine as fuck for Piltie swine. Gotta give my sis props on bagging that, but you didn't get that from me!"

The tea party...

"I didn't know what was going on... I just heard them, all of them at once... Some insane combo of schizophrenia and all the chems in my system telling me to shoot... Anything. I fired on Vi and Caitlyn... I didn't hit Vi and Caitlyn." Her voice was so small saying this, Lux wanted to hug her again, but too many in one night would probably lose its effect... She'd try it anyway later. For now, let her get this out, just like she'd needed to vent about Sylas. Jinx was fighting her demons and she was proud to stand by her side while she did.

"Silco bled out in my arms... riddled with holes, straight from his d-daughter's hands... And he still didn't blame me..." The words rang in her head again, whether a twisted reflection of Fiddlesticks' vision or exactly what had happened, she couldn't tell. You're perfect just the way you are...

She needed a moment after that. She couldn't tell if Lux had grabbed her hand or if she had grabbed hers. It didn't matter, she supposed.

She may not have had tears left tonight, but her eyes still hurt.

"Still here, Jinx." Lux said, squeezing the hand a bit. To kill your own father... Twice! And one that loved you regardless of who or what you were, at that... Lux couldn't imagine the pain. The grief. This girl was made of iron.

Jinx simply nodded her head in acknowledgment.

"What I did next took the cake, though." She couldn't help but glance at Fishbones. "The absolute finest crash-out Zaun ever spawned..."

The explosion of the Council...

Lux was starting to see why Jinx thought she might be... apprehensive about her past.

Here's a girl from nothing, who was seen as a menace (and at her worst moments, was a menace), who the downtrodden minority saw as a symbol of hope and rebellion, as a light in the dark! And she had now effectively killed a large number of the people in charge of the pseudo-regime they were all rebelling against.

Jinx had, Lux realized to her nausea, unintentionally become everything Sylas wanted to be by complete accident.

Maybe her new friend was afraid that Lux would shun her because of that. To tell the whole truth to herself, there was a knot in her stomach thinking of the parallels between this reclusive not-a-witch and the rebel very-much-a-mage... But Lux, maybe due to foolishness or hope or clarity or experience or some weird mixture of all of the above, realized that there was one key difference between the two: While both Jinx and Sylas had grown up in environments that hated who and what they were, Jinx had had people (criminals and villains, sure, but people nonetheless) that had let her be herself despite the horror and the glares. Silco had been the father she'd needed, and now, without him, she'd gone off the rails and done something the whole of Zaun would live to regret...

Lux realized that Sylas was Jinx, made alone. If all she'd known had been that hate, that grief, she wouldn't be the kooky friend living in the woods she'd come to care for. She'd be a monster, dark and terrifying, that even her light couldn't save from her spite at herself and the world.

And while Jinx had reacted to the pain, Sylas had chosen to inflict it... But then again, Jinx hadn't been kept in isolation for decades just for being herself and existing... Ugh, the whole comparison was so complicated!

A very small part of Lux began to pity Sylas. Oh, who he could have been, if he wasn't alone... Best not to dwell on that... For her own sake.

Jinx then told her of the following weeks... And how she'd met a lovely little street urchin named Isha. The little mute girl had come into her life and just... Decided to stay. No judgement, no hatred... Just love. She was everything she'd needed at the time. Well, her and her other friend (Frenemy? Co-worker? Aquaintence? Second surrogate mother to her child?) Sevika, who hadn't allowed her to be alone, whether intentionally or not. The two apparently hadn't seen eye to eye a lot over the years, but now that Silco was gone, they got to grieve together, and while they still came to blows on occasion, they became each other's rock and bonded over their shared love of little Isha...

Lux found the thought of her friend raising a scrappy child the cutest thing she could imagine. Just her and her little rascal playing games, building little inventions (possibly of mass destruction, but she wouldn't think about that), getting into trouble and being adorable together was enough for Lux to feel her heart grow a size... But she knew how it would end. She knew, after a while it would come to tragedy. So she enjoyed Jinx's smile and joy as she recounted how they used to get beetles to fight and pretended it was this huge spectacle for all to see... But it was just for them. Two orphans that found each other at the bottom of the barrel and made each other's words a better place.

It was the purest love that Jinx had ever known.

Her laughter filled the hut and for a moment her smile was brighter than Lux could ever hope to glow.

Then she told her of how things evolved... How she'd fought Vi and Caitlyn inside the city's guts. How she'd been put through that concrete wall. How Caitlyn had blown off her finger. How Isha had saved her... How she'd become the symbol of revolution for the entirety of Zaun, and how she'd gone into hiding for the next seven months, hearing how people with blue hair had started taking a stand against the Noxians flooding their streets... Oh, yeah! The Noxians! That whole thing also happened!

It really told Lux something about how incredibly messed up the situation was that the actual Empire of Noxus was involved in this tale and she hadn't heard about it until this point. What do you MEAN the greatest military force in the world taking over your city was a side-plot?!

"Yeah, this big unga bitch named Ambessa brought them along. I never really knew what it was she wanted, but it became a problem."

Lux did a double-take. "...Ambessa Medarda? 'THE WOLF', AMBESSA MEDARDA?! THAT AMBESSA?!?!"

"That's the bitch!" Jinx said it like she had no stake in that at all. "Why? Were you a fan of something?"

Now it was Lux that braced herself.

"The Noxians are Demacia's greatest foes! Once every two months almost on the dot they come to our borders trying to conquer us and make us part of that barbaric coalition they call an empire, and you mean to tell me they just showed up one day, with AMBESSA MEDARDA herself and you just... what, lived?! Told her 'No thanks, madame! We do not want to be colonized today! Please leave!' and it just... worked?!"

"Well, to be fair, I only saw the bitch like once. She passed by me when I was breaking into prison..."

"Yeah, and you LIVED! How the fu- wait, did you say you broke into prison...?"

Ah, yes... Isha. "Okay, so... As I became the symbol of a revolution, the most wanted woman in two cities and now one middle finger lighter, it turned out little Isha had been rilling people up. I didn't want to be a symbol, or lead the revolution or anything... I didn't even KNOW there was a revolution for most of it! But Isha... She wanted to do something with it. She wanted to actually inspire people to rise up! So she dressed up as me when I wasn't looking and started going to rallies and meetups, instigating and causing riots in the name of standing up to anyone that would threaten the people of Zaun. Noxians included..."

She continued to tell Lux about how little Isha had been taken during a rally and she and Sevika had gone in to save her... And what had happened inside.

To say Lux was surprised at the Vander fight and reveal was an understatement. Yeah, Jinx had been there. Finding out her father was alive, and more than that, that he'd been turned into a monster was a moment she'd never forget... And naturally, now that her father was back in the picture, it was time to get her sister, who apparently had quit her job back when Caitlyn had shot her middle finger off.

"Lemme tell you, that breakup got her BAD." She told Lux. "She'd been doing underground fights to drown out her pain for seven months and dyed her hair black... So when I found her, she was passed out in her apartment after a night of fighting. Needless to say, she didn't exactly react well to me popping up in her room."

The explanation of the next few hours was... Emotional, to say the least. Lux heard, little by little, as Jinx recounted spending time with her sister, bickering, fighting... bantering. How they found a note their father had left, and how it might have changed things if it had ever been found... How they found Vander again, changed and transfigured into something almost unrecognizable, and how he realized who they were... How for a brief, beautiful time, despite everything, the sisters were and had a family again.

What happened next was hard to hear...

It wasn't the part about the mystery cult leader mage that turned chemheads into robots offering to help their father (though that did catch Lux's attention. Apparently Jinx called him a 'Metal Fortune Cookie'), or the part where Caitlyn came back and turned on Ambessa within about a minute of seeing Violet again (Jinx's sister must have been really something else if she had her ex that whipped after seven months absent). No...

It was the part where the Noxians showed up and somebody killed the cult leader mage, corrupting his connection with all the people he'd helped and causing them to forget themselves... including the now-mindless monster that was Vi and Jinx's father...

How one moment they were a family, holding each other past the pain of a life of strife none of them deserved, and the next, her father was gone, lashing out at whatever moved, his daughters included, wild and in pain, with Noxians on all sides...

It had been little Isha that had known what to do.

The same thing her mama had done so many years ago. That same haunting mistake that had kick-started everything...

And Lux held her through the whole thing.

She had no more tears. She couldn't cry anymore tonight.

For this, she wished she had tears.

Lux killed most of the lights. She left one, small and unimposing, changing from blue to pink, blue to pink, blue to pink... A perfect little candle for her friend's perfect little girl. Jinx thought it was wonderful.

Gods know how long they held each other, but the sun hadn't come up yet, so it was still somewhere deep in the early hours.

"After that, all hell broke loose." She said. She had some mixed feelings about this next part. "The Noxians were everywhere, Cookie - sorry, Viktor- got resuscitated by some insane mix of chems and magic and lost himself as well somewhere in the process. And as if that wasn't enough, he brought the corpse of my dad back to life as a bloodthirsty monster to use in his uprising. Oh, yeah. He kinda gave up on the whole 'help thy neighbor' thing and decided to turn everyone into mindless robots, so we had THAT 'Glorious Evolution' to deal with... Well, the others did. I... I had other plans." Home stretch, Jinx, you're almost there.

"I tried my best to make peace with my sister and then..."

Lux just knew she wasn't going to like what happened next...

"Well, then I remembered that the only way to break a cycle of suffering was to step out of it. To... To remove yourself from it." She put her arm around Lux a little tighter. Lux didn't mind at all. "So I went home. To The Last Drop. Had a whole meltdown, cut my braids off, set the place on fire... And while it burnt I went down to my workshop and made one last little gadget. One just for me. A little monkey bomb. Felt fitting, you know? To... to end it... to end me with it. So I stepped to the nearest ledge and took a deep breath..."

"Oh, Jinx..." Lux didn't have the words. But a part of her understood. There were days (not many, and not often, but there were days) though she would never admit it, when things got so bad... when the pressure of hiding who and what she was became so unbearably crushing that she had eyed her bottle of Petricide Potion a little too longingly...

But the weight of this moment, she couldn't have imagined if she'd tried. And for her friend, she tried.

"It was Ekko that saved my life."

Absolute fucking hero, Lux thought. Whenever she met him (and now she WOULD meet him!) she owed him a drink.

"He came in, at the nick of time, sweating like he'd run a marathon and talked me down from blowing us both up... He... He just sat with me. Just... Let me get it out. No judgement, no fight, no snarky remark, just... time. Time enough to tell me... Well, it sounded ridiculous, but I couldn't help but listen, you know? He said that in the time since I lost my finger he'd been stuck on this other version of the world. Apparently, he and Jayce and a Yordle professor from Piltover just happened to be messing with this huge magical reactor at the same time and ended up stranded in another reality."

"And the Noxians were the side-plot?"

"Yeah, I still don't fully get it myself. But... he told me about this other life. This other world where nothing bad happened after the heist... Other than Vi not making it out, but that's not the point. He told me of this other Jinx... One that never stopped being Powder. For a second I thought he was gonna rub it in my face. 'Look what you could have been!' or 'She was so much better than you!' but... He didn't. Hell, he saw the good in her and told me that all that mattered is that that was somewhere in me too. He didn't try to change me. Just... show me I could do good with who I was. That I wasn't broken. That I still had time to figure out a way to make myself work... To make us work... if I wanted it. And I wanted it, Lux. I really REALLY did. And that he would be there every step of the way..."

No romance novel Lux had ever read (and there had been quite a few) could ever come close to that. Gods above, he gave up the perfect life for her!

"You'll... umm..." Jinx cleared her throat. Now she knew she was all red. "You'll have to forgive me for not going into detail about how the next few hours went."

"Oh, worry not, mon chère." Said Lux, not even trying to hide her playful grin. "I've always been told I have an incredibly active imagination and I'm more than happy to put it to good use!"

Jinx smacked her in the arm and chuckled. What a rollercoaster tonight had been!

"Anyway, after a few hours of making new gear, changing our looks and making up-"

"And out!"

"-WE managed to convince Zaun to join the fight against the Noxians on the side of Piltover. Brought the whole thing together for the first time since... I don't even know how long! Also made this huge flying machine to get us there. I think it's the best entrance I've ever pulled, if I'm being honest! Colors and bullets flying everywhere... Noxians and robot-people getting knocked every which way... Lux, I think it's the closest I've come to making actual magic happen. Then Ekko took off to help out in the fight..." Her tone changed for what must have been the 10th time tonight. "I heard he made it out, but..."

"Was he okay...?"

"I don't know... I never saw him again."

Lux was genuinely speechless.

"I joined up with Vi and got jumped by what was left of dad... We fought. As hard as we could. We... tried to get him back to us. To talk, but he wouldn't listen. Like there was nothing left to listen... Except there must have been, in the end..."

This was the last of it... Just get this out and you're free.

"He grabbed me, and I let myself fall into the bowels of the city with him. I pulled out the monkey bomb and got ready to blow us both to hell, but... at the last second, he... softened. One last act as my dad, I guess. His claws relaxed around me and I got the smallest opening possible to dash away. I left the bomb to go off with him and jumped into an old ventilation duct on the way down as the colors exploded around us... And after that... I was gone."

Jinx felt herself relax, for the first time in... probably months. Someone knew now. The whole thing, beginning to end, and she was still here.

"Remember when I said the only way to break a cycle is to remove yourself from it? Well, that's what I did. My sister would never move on if I stayed in her life, and Caitlyn only left me alone at the time because she loved my sister more than she hated me, which side-note: I blew up her MOM after the tea party, kinda skimmed over that before, so Vi must've had her on a leash! But she'd have to go after me again, if I showed my face... And Ekko? He'd find a way to kill himself for me at the first sign of danger... Better to leave him sad but alive. I lo-... I care for him too much to curse him with me. To give him that chance to play hero one too many times. Did keep his hoodie, though. That's for me... So I stowed away on a blimp (always wanted to ride one of those things, by the way) and flew wherever people wouldn't look for me. Where the name 'Jinx' wasn't on everyone's mouth... Where I could disappear into the dark, and curse the ones I loved no more..." And for a while, she thought, it had worked.

"Just your luck a Mage comes knocking on your door."

"Yes. Luck." Jinx admitted. She allowed herself to smile. "The best luck. And not to get sappy but... I'm really glad you did, Lux."

"Well why would we get sappy now?" The glowy Demacian girl quipped, and Jinx knew she'd made a friend for life.

"Anyway, that's me!" She said, standing from the couch she had practically fused with over the last... Hour? Or two? Meh, whatever. "You wanna take the bed? It's not much of a bed, but you're not sleeping on the couch after sitting through all of THAT."

Lux hadn't even thought about how she was going to spend the night here until this exact moment.

"Oh, no! I couldn't! I wouldn't want to impose..."

"Girl, I told you I was a wanted terrorist and you hugged me so hard you provided mood lighting. You're taking the bed."

"I-" She sputtered, but Jinx practically lifted her off the couch and started dragging her to her ramshackle little room. She really was deceptively strong.

As Jinx unceremoniously carried her through the door at the back of the hut, Lux got her first look at her friend's room. A big, thatch bed and a couple of hand carved drawers (wow, she'd had a LOT of free time on her hands!), a big window to the outside with the floppiest curtains Lux had ever seen, a little shelf over at the side of the wall with a bunch of little trinkets of her own making, a little mini-workbench for Zapper, Lux presumed, and a standing mirror in a corner of the room in front of the bed.

Jinx dropped her on the bed like an unruly kitten.

"Jinx, I can't. Noble or not, I'm a soldier! I could sleep on the floor! It's no problem, really!" She was just making excuses now.

"You are NOT sleeping on the floor!" Jinx went, taking off Lux's boots and gently (at least she thought it was gentle... she was moving a lot!) tucked her in. Which implied holding her down on the bed and just dropping a big blanket on her. "You are my guest and my friend and I'll be damned if I let you treat yourself like that in my house!"

"But it's your bed! Where are you gonna sleep?!"

"Uh, couch? I was already sinking into it before! Never let it be said I'm not a good host!"

"That doesn't feel right." Lux protested. Even if she was already snug as a bug in a rug.

"Well, we're not gonna cuddle. Buy me dinner first!" Jinx jested. She thought she was being funny. She clearly didn't know who she was dealing with.

So she almost jumped out of her skin when Lux answered with "Deal!"

...

"Um... Excuse me?"

"Dinner! Or lunch, or whatever! Because you know what, Jinx?" Lux sat up and spoke with authority, trying to hide how incredibly red she was at the moment and failing miserably. She'd just answered out of reflex! And she didn't think of Jinx like that... though she had to admit she enjoyed being carried juuuuust a little bit too much. "We went through something horrible tonight. And it was so bad you told me your whole life story! And on top of that, we have both been through a lot! Each of us has dealt with Noxians and a revolution! Hell, I'm still dealing with mine! So we're taking tomorrow off! As soon as my shift is over at midday, I'm going to make an excuse and I'm coming to get you, and I'm going to show you what Demacia is all about! Outside of the mageism, the swords and shields, the politics... You let me into your home, Firework, so now you gotta let me show you mine!"

Jinx slowly realized how dangerous letting Lux call her 'Firework' had really been. She was a bit overwhelmed at all the aggressive kindness. "Look, that sounds wonderful and all, but I haven't gotten to the cities for a reason! What if someone recognizes me?! And besides, I only have two outfits..."

"Then I'll sneak you a dress or something!"

"Oh, don't you DARE, Flashlight! Do I look like the kinda gal that wears a dress?!"

Lux had to admit she thought she'd look cute in one. Like a big ragdoll!

"You won't know if you don't try it!" She said. And she was really getting excited now. "If you don't like it, I won't push, but please try it? For me?"

Big round eyes... Waaaay too big, but they did the trick!

Jinx sighed in defeat. "Fine... Tomorrow. But nothing fancy, okay? I was never exactly high class or nothing." She smiled a bit. When was the last time she'd let herself have nice things?

"Yes! You're going to love it!" Lux let herself light up a little. "I'll pick out something simple for you to wear, nothing too fancy! Don't worry, it's going to be lovely." Okay, maybe she was a bit too excited about this...

"Okay, whatever. See you tomorrow..." Jinx stretched and went to the door. "Goodnight, Flashlight."

"Goodnight, Jinx!" There she went, rolling Js again.

When Jinx closed the door, she let herself lean on it a bit and breathe a sigh of relief. Like a huge weight had lifted off her shoulders at last... She smiled wide. And for a moment, nothing was wrong in the world. She said it to herself, mostly. Barely a whisper before going to sleep.

"Isha would have loved you."

And she thought Lux didn't hear it, but now it was the noble who had to fight back the tears...