#Billiard Cue Rack

[srsallay]

Check out this awesome 'Monster 8 Ball Billiards Game' design on @TeePublic!

[sailorrhansol]

Amnesia | Teaser c.sc (m)

❀ Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f. reader

❀ Summary: Choi Seungcheol has never been the type to commit to relationships - casual is more his thing. You’re fine with that - except you and Seungcheol seem to be terrible at casual when it comes to one another. 

❀ Word Count: TBD

❀ Genre: FWB to Lovers

❀ Type: Smut, Angst if you squint

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Teaser Warnings: Recreational drinking, tension

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Playlist

FULL FIC AVAILABLE NOW

Wordlessly, Seungcheol holds his hand out. Flushing from the neck down, you hand it over to him with a silent thank you. He pops the top easily, bicep flexing for a moment before he passes it back over, shooting you an award winning grin. 

“Wow, so strong.”

He pouts and you swear you see stars. “Hey, I am strong.” 

“No, no, you are. Thank you.” 

“You shouldn’t tease me. I’m new.” 

“Huh.” You sip your beer, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat. It does nothing to soothe the heat spreading over your skin under the sole attention of Seungcheol. “I don’t remember that being a rule.” 

“I never was one to play by the rules anyway.” 

“Oh, so you’re saying you cheat at games like Jeonghan does.” 

“I like winning.”

You roll your eyes. From the edge of your vision, you see people leave the pool table. Eager to stand up and stretch your legs, you start to slide out of the booth, the wood grain scratching against your jeans as you do. 

“Come on then, cheater. Let’s play pool.” 

“I’m down.” 

Seungcheol follows you. Your fingers grip the glass of your drink tight, knuckles straining. You move around tables and duck around other patrons, hyper aware of the way Seungcheol keeps close to you, the heat of him against your back. 

Next to the rows of dart boards are two pool tables, the felt a faded green with beer stains and other mysterious smudges on the surface. You grab a cue from the rack on the wall, spin it in your hands, and hand it over to Seungcheol. He eyes it, running his fingers along the splintered and dented wood.

Grabbing your cue in one hand and the triangle rack and set it on the table while he collects the balls from the table and the pockets, rolling them over to you. A few feet away, Joshua is already accusing Jeonghan of cheating. You don’t know how you cheat in darts, but you do know if there is a will, Jeonghan will find a way.

“Dangerous to let them have sharp objects,” Seungcheol notes, sliding the last ball over to you. You huff out a laugh, rolling the rack of billiard balls back and forth to set them. “You’re not going to get violent with me, right?”

“I don’t know, are you going to cheat?”

His smile is wicked. “Me? Definitely not.” 

“Hmm. Not convincing.”

Seungcheol presses the flat of his palm over his chest, drawing your eyes to how thick he is in the chest area. You swallow thickly as he says, “Cross my heart.” 

“Whatever you say. What are we playing for?” 

“What will you give me?” 

You look up at the shift in his tone. Dark. Flirty. He leans against the pool table, resting his hip casually as he crosses his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his arms flex, totally focused on the way his eyes are only for you. Intent. Meaningful. 

A warning goes off in your head. You already feel the pull to him, the innate attraction that has your heart hammering. You should brush off the flirtation, move on to other things. Relationships aren’t really your thing, but there’s something about him that makes you know you’ll want more. 

You already do want more. 

“What do you want?” you ask softly, ignoring your better judgment. 

When Seungcheol smiles, you know you’d give him anything. Everything.

“I can think of something, I think.”

[jaysng]

impress you — sim jaeyun

pairing: jake x reader

genre: comedy, fluff

synopsis: your precious jakey’s billiard game is did not go as expected.

• REBLOG if enjoyed.

the billiard hall was buzzing with energy, a mixture of cheers, laughter, and the clinking of pool balls echoing around the room. you were seated on one of the high stools, watching the game intently. your eyes flickered between jay, who was casually leaning against the pool table with a confident smirk, and jaeyun, who was lining up his shot with a focused expression.

it was supposed to be an easy win for jaeyun. he’d even told you on the way here that he was going to impress you with his billiards skills. but things weren’t going according to plan.

jay had been a surprise contender, smoothly sinking shot after shot with almost infuriating ease. you had to admit, he made it look good—too good, in fact. and judging by the way jaeyun was glancing at you every few minutes, he’d noticed the way you were watching jay.

jay lined up his final shot, sending the eight ball smoothly into the corner pocket. the room erupted in applause, and jay grinned, straightening up and giving you a quick wink. you couldn’t help but smile back, impressed despite yourself.

“and that’s how it’s done,” jay said with a casual shrug, handing his cue back to the rack.

jaeyun muttered something under his breath, his expression darkening as he watched jay walk over to you, looking every bit the picture of confidence. when jay reached you, he gave you a playful nudge.

“not bad, huh?” he teased, and you nodded, still smiling.

“yeah, that was pretty impressive,” you admitted, your gaze flicking over to jaeyun, who was now fiddling with the pool cue, his jaw clenched. jay noticed the look on jaeyun’s face and chuckled, giving you a knowing look before excusing himself to grab a drink.

as soon as jay was out of earshot, jaeyun let out a frustrated huff, tossing the pool cue onto the table. “who the hell does he think he is?” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

you raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the stool with a teasing smile. “someone who’s better at billiards than you, apparently.”

jaeyun shot you a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “oh, come on, y/n. you know i was just off my game today. next time, he won’t stand a chance.”

“sure,” you drawled, still grinning. “or maybe he’s just better, and you’re jealous because he’s handsomer too.”

the moment the words left your mouth, jaeyun’s eyes widened in disbelief, his eyebrows shooting up in mock outrage. “what did you just say?” he demanded, taking a step closer to you. “he’s handsomer than i am?”

you shrugged, enjoying the way he was reacting. “i mean, he’s got that whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going on. it’s hard to compete with that.”

“you better take that back,” jaeyun warned, his tone playful but with a hint of seriousness. he leaned down, his face close to yours, his eyes narrowing as he tried to look intimidating.

you leaned back slightly, biting your lip to hold back a laugh. “and what if i don’t?”

“then i’ll… i’ll…” he faltered for a moment, clearly scrambling for a threat. then, in a burst of inspiration, he reached out and started tickling your sides, causing you to shriek with laughter.

“jaeyun, stop!” you gasped, squirming to get away, but he just grinned, continuing his playful assault.

“not until you take it back,” he insisted, his hands merciless as they found all your ticklish spots.

“okay, okay!” you finally caved, laughing so hard that you could barely breathe. “i take it back! jay isn’t handsomer than you!”

he immediately stopped, grinning triumphantly as he straightened up. “that’s more like it,” he said, looking smug as ever.

you were still catching your breath, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye as you looked up at him. “you know, you’re kind of ridiculous sometimes.”

“ridiculously handsome, you mean,” he corrected, giving you a wink. you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face betrayed your true feelings.

“yeah, yeah,” you said, shaking your head. “ridiculously something, that’s for sure.”

he chuckled, his earlier frustration completely gone. he reached out, gently tugging you closer by your hand. “but seriously, y/n,” he said, his tone softening as he looked into your eyes. “you know i don’t care about the game, right? i just… i just wanted to impress you.”

you felt your heart flutter at his words, your playful mood shifting to something more tender. “you don’t have to try so hard, jaeyun. you already impress me, just by being you.”

his eyes lit up at that, and he squeezed your hand, a soft smile playing on his lips. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you confirmed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

“good,” he said, his voice filled with relief. “because you’re the only person i want to impress.”

you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling your heart swell with affection. “mission accomplished, then.”

“mission accomplished,” he echoed, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. you closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of his lips against your skin, the earlier tension now just a distant memory.

and as he pulled back, his gaze lingering on you with a softness that made your heart skip a beat, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you were the lucky one.

a/n: man this is so bad im so out of ideas for jake’s post arguement i’m goneeee 😭😭😭😭

[mustainegf]

OMG PLS ELENA MAKE THIS HAPPEN So you two are hanging out after the show and you ask him to teach you how to play billiards and while he's teaching you he's standing right behind really close to you and you start grinding your ass againt him teasing him and he gets hard and fucks you on that table🤤

Bro thank you so much for requesting this, because every time I see this gif I THINK THE EXACT SAME THING

𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 ¹⁹⁹¹

Lars's basement was vaguely lit and reeked faintly of stale beer and cigarette smoke. A scratched up pool table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by faded band posters and abandoned instruments. James racked up the balls as I stood behind him, highly conscious of his broad shoulders and the way those jeans wrapped around his ass.

James turns to me, holding the cue stick. "Alright, first things first, grip the cue like this." He demonstrates, wrapping his fingers around it loosely. "Now you try."

I step up to the table and wrap my slender fingers around the smooth wood, emulating his grip.

My hand brushes against his as he adjusts mine, and sends a shock through me. I pull back quickly, feeling the flush rise to my cheeks. James smirks at my reaction.

"Like that," he says, stepping closer until our bodies almost touch. "Now focus on your stroke. let the cue do the work."

As I set up my shot, my eyes cannot help but dart to the firm lines of James' jaw and how well his black leather jacket fits him across his arms. His nearness is like venom, making the game difficult to pay attention to.

I take a deep breath and strike the cue ball, watching in delight as it sends the solids scattering across the green felt. "Yes!" I exclaim triumphantly, wheeling around to James with a grin.

He chuckles, shaking his head in amusement.

I step up to the table again, lining up my next shot. James moves behind me this time, close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off his body. Strong hands reach around me, adjusting my stance, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs as he does so.

"Mmmph." I bite my lip, stifling a moan at the intimate contact. James seems oblivious, entirely too focused on fixing my posture. But his hands touching me, however fleetingly, sends a jolt of desire straight to my core.

"Relax your shoulder," he says, his warm breath dancing across my ear. "And keep your elbow slightly bent."

As I follow his instruction, I am hyper-aware of every single point of contact between us. the press of his chest against my back, the gentle pressure from his thumbs against my hips.

As James continues guiding me, I grow bolder, my weight subtly shifting to grind my ass back against the prominent bulge forming in his jeans. A low groan rumbles in his throat, sending the vibrations across my ear.

The hardness pressing into me makes me ache with desire. I know exactly what it means-James is turned on, and I'm loving every second of it. Emboldened, I start to swivel my hips in slow circles, rubbing myself against him like a cat in heat.

"Fuck..." James growls, his hands tightening on my hips. "What are you doing?"

I don't stop the sensual dance, softly panting while his erection throbs against me. "Just helping you get a better view," I purr in a husky tone, my voice filled with lust.

"Oh, I've got a perfect view, all right," James grunts out, breathing hard in an effort to stay in control.

I giggle at the wicked gleam in my eye, quickly picking up the pace, really grinding my hips into his straining cock. The friction is fun, and I can feel myself getting wetter by the second.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I tease, reaching back to palm the impressive bulge in his pants. "Mmm, feels like you're enjoying it a little too much."

James utters a strangled imprecation, his fingers digging into my flesh as he fights the need to thrust forward and bury himself inside me. "Enough," he snaps, but there's nothing real behind the word at all.

"Enough," James repeats more firmly, reaching to grab my hips in a bid to still my movements. The words are an outright lie, though, because I can feel his arousal pulsing hot and hard against my ass.

James whirls me around to face him suddenly, his piercing gaze locking with mine, dark with scarcely restrained hunger. "You want to play, baby? Let's play."

His mouth crashes down on mine in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue as he claims my lips with fervor. I moan into his mouth, my own desire igniting as I cling to him desperately.

James breaks the kiss, leaving me gasping and wanting more. "Strip," he gruffly orders while his eyes shoot over my body in blatant appreciation.

I do so without argument, shimming out of my tight jeans to reveal a pair of lacy, purple panties underneath. My tank top is next to go, followed by my pair of black bra cups, which leave my nipples in view. Finally, I slip off my shoes and step out of my clothes to stand before James in my underwear.

He drinks me in, his gaze lingering on the swell of my breasts and the soft curve of my stomach. "Damn, you're sexy," he mutters, reaching out to trace a finger along the waistband of my panties.

I shiver at his touch, my heart racing in anticipation. He hooks a finger into the fabric and tugs gently on it, urging me to lift my hips. I do so, all too willingly, and with a quick move, he peels my panties off down my legs before flinging them aside.

I am standing before James, naked, my skin flushed with desire, my breasts rising and falling with every quickening breath. His hungry gaze roams my body, drinking in all the details, from the light freckles sprinkled about my collarbones to the glistening folds of my sex.

"Beautiful," James whispers, his voice low and rough with need. Stepping closer, he fills my vision with a muscular physique, his scent, a mix of smoke, leather, and masculinity, engulfing me.

He reaches out, palms so much larger than mine, and he cups my breasts. Thumbs brush over my nipples in a way that shoots sparks straight to my core. I arch into his touch, a needy whimper escaping my lips.

James leans in, hot breath fanning across the skin of my neck as he nuzzles the crook.

Without warning, James spins me around and bends me over the edge of the pool table, my arms splayed out for balance. The cool, smooth surface presses against my bare breasts as he positions himself behind me.

He leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he says in a husky whisper, "Gonna fuck you right here, where anyone could walk in and see you getting pounded. Imagine Lars' face if he caught us like this."

A shiver runs down my spine as I contemplate it-a thrill of fear mixed with the utter taboo of it all. James' words are filthy, designed to push my limits, to ignite my desire further.

"I bet you'd love that, wouldn't you?" he continues, his hot breath sending tingles down my spine.

"Bet you'd come so hard if someone saw me spreading these thick thighs open and burying my cock deep inside your tight little pussy." The sharp slap he gives my ass follows his words, the sting of it blending with the pleasure coursing through me.

"Yes," I breathe, pushing my hips backward in silent invitation.

I hear the distinctive sound of James' zipper lowering, followed by rustling fabric as he frees his throbbing erection. My heart races in anticipation, my pulse pounds between my thighs.

He bends down over me then, and I feel his hot breath caressing my ear again. "Alright, doll, just relax and let me take care of you," he coos; the voice is soft and melodious, a direct contrast to the raw desire behind it.

Slowly, deliberately, James presses the head of his cock against my slippery entrance. I instinctively clench, but he does nothing more than hold still, allowing me a moment to acclimate to the feel of him pressed against me, his thick length pressed against me.

"That's it, just breathe," he coaches, his hand settling on my lower back. With a soft, almost gentle motion, he begins easing inside me, inch by glorious inch.

As James slowly sheathes himself within me, I reach back and clasp his hand tightly, my nails digging deep into his skin. The sensation of his full length buried deep inside my clutching warmth is overwhelming, bordering on painful in its intensity.

But it's a good pain, the reminder of how thoroughly I'm claimed by him in this moment. I hold his hand like a lifeline, anchoring myself as he begins to move, his hips rocking against my ass in a slow, deliberative rhythm.

"Oh god, yes," I moan low, my words muffled against the table. Each thrust sends waves crashing through me, coiling a pressure tighter and tighter in my core.

James sets an unrelenting pace, his strong strokes pushing deeper and harder with every pass. The table creaks beneath them, its salacious accompaniment primal in coupling.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his hand reflexively tightening on mine as he pounds into me. "Gonna fill this sweet pussy up soon, mark you as mine."

The promise sends another jolt of excitement through me, spurring me onward. I rock back to meet his thrusts, the slapping of skin against skin loud in the room.

Suddenly, James becomes erratic, his thrusts shorter and with more force. "Ah, shit. baby, I'm close," he warns in a strained voice, his words laced with imminent release.

I feel him swell inside me, his cock throbbing to the cadence of his racing heartbeat.

As James pistons in and out of me, I concentrate hard on the sensation of his heavy balls slapping against my clit with each powerful stroke. The coarse hairs at the base of his cock graze my inner thighs, adding a delightful texture to the friction.

His thick shaft stretching me wide and his balls stimulating my sensitive nub prove to be my undoing. A scream of pleasure tears from my throat as my orgasm crashes over me, walls clenching rhythmically around his plunging cock.

Overwhelmed by the force of my climax, I collapse forward onto the table, my chest heaving as I fight to catch my breath. James' hands are still tightly clutched on my hips, holding me in place as he withdraws from my spasming channel with a wet pop.

Before I can even fathom what's coming, I feel the first splash of his hot cum against my ass, painting my skin with his essence. He continues to shoot stream after stream, marking me as his in the most animalistic way possible.

As his last spurts subside, James steps back, leaving me drenched in his seed and shaking with aftershocks. Sprawled across the table, I just lie here, my body still humming from pleasure, my mind scattered everywhere from the ferocity of our encounter.

I shake and my knees go weak as I sit up, but my legs give out totally under my weight. Large arms wrap around me, picking me up off the table and cradling me against James' firm chest before I can fall.

He murmurs, "Don't you worry, gotcha," as he carries me across the room to set me down easy among the plush cushions of the couch. "Stay put, I'll be right back with some towels to clean you up."

He gives my thigh a reassuring squeeze before getting up off the bed and out of the room, leaving me to my afterglow and composure. Though the tremors still rack my body, I curve my lips in a contented smile as I settle backward into soft upholstery, already looking forward to James' return.

He's back in a moment with a dampened cloth and carefully cleans up the evidence of our lust, his touch tender, almost loving, as he cleans me up, making sure to not rub too hard over my sensitive skin.

His fingers dance tantalizing patterns across my thighs, tracing around each swipe of the cloth and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Then, every now and then, he pauses to press a kiss to the spot he's just cleaned, peppering my skin with sweet compliments.

"So pretty like this, all flushed." he murmurs, leaning in to plant a lingering kiss on the small of my back. "Such a beautiful mess."

[spnbabe67]

Bruises and Bitemarks

Kinktober Day 5: Marking (J.S.)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Fem Original Character

Warnings: Smut, PiV, Hickeys, Biting, Spit, Pussy-job

Summary: Tatum promised herself that her night with Jake was only gonna be a one time thing. But can she really resist him? And more importantly, can she keep whatever this is between them a secret?

Word Count: 3208

Authors Note: I know the title is a little on the nose, but its also the title of a song by Good For Grenades.

Tatum was fully intending for, whatever the hell that night with Jake was, to be one time and one time only. She’d kicked him out after the second round, citing not wanting to inflate his ego until his head was so big that he couldn’t get out the door as her reason. That’d earned her a smack on the ass as they were both getting redressed, well, Jake was at least. Tatum had simply crossed her arms over her bare chest, leaning against the wall and unabashedly watched him pull his clothes back on; the infamous Jake Seresin doing the walk of shame for once. She’d sent him out the door with a mocking waggle of her fingers, going to shower only once she took a moment to compose herself.

The next day it was like nothing had happened between her and Jake, not that they’d had too much time to interact. Tatum giggled under her breath as the dark haired man from the bar the night before turned out to be the instructor for this mystery mission, shocking Hangman and a couple of his cronies who had apparently given Maverick some flak after he had to buy the entire a bar a round and subsequently got thrown ‘overboard.’ Karma’s a bitch. It wasn’t like she cared, she couldn’t give two shits about what had transpired between her and Hangman, she could be another notch in his belt for all it was worth. She was worth her salt, she knew it and everyone else knew it. She was the last pilot to be taken out by Maverick in their dogfighting exercise, outlasting even Natasha, and what she did outside of training had no effect on her performance. 

That night she took her fellow pilots, including Maverick out to The Hard Deck, buying them all a round. She raised her glass to Maverick across the bar, giving him a smirk as he flirted with Penny. That man has his work cut out for him. Much to her surprise, Jake hadn’t shown his face at the bar, not usually one to turn down free drinks. Tatum internally shrugged, no skin off her back, and her wallet stayed a couple bills thicker. Tatum quickly downed her glass of scotch, watching Penny refill it before taking Natasha up on her challenge to a game of pool. The raven haired pilot engaged her in some trash talk as she racked the billiard balls and with a loud snap had them careening out of their neat triangular shape, ricocheting against the walls of the table.

“So,” Natasha started, lining up her next shot and narrowly missed knocking the striped ball she had been aiming for into its pocket. “You shacking up with anyone or are you stuck in the barracks with the rest of us?”

Tatum snorted a laugh, walking around the table, the pool cue loosely in her grasp. She was grateful for the easy friendship she had with Phoenix. Growing up, Tatum had always equated the other girls in Middle and early High School to sharks, always moving between friendships and could smell drama like blood in the ocean; she always made it a point to not piss them and their unnaturally dead eyes off. But when Natasha ended up in her class at Top Gun the two became fast friends, neither of them standing the wishy-washy nature of the other girls in their class, and not letting Jake or Coyote give them any shit.

“Is that your not so subtle way of asking me if I’m fucking anyone right now?” Tatum grinned and arched a brow at her friend as she pocketed the ball she’d been aiming for, moving to set up her next shot.

“Maybe.” Natasha’s tone was nothing but sly.

“Well, Ms. Nosey, there’s nothing to report.” The lie easily rolled off her tongue, mostly because in her mind, Tatum didn’t consider the one time thing between her and Hangman to be anything other than a slip in her morals, a way to break her dry spell and work out frustrations. What it wasn’t was a long term thing, not friends with benefits and definitely not an exclusive situation. “I’m single and subjected to the barracks like the rest of you. Unattached and unbothered, just how I like it.”

Tatum leaned back over the table, mindful of how the skirt of the dress she’d changed into rode up against her thighs, the flowy fabric brushing against her mid thighs. She uttered a curse under her breath as the cue slipped against her sweaty hands, sending the cue ball on an errant trajectory. 

“Bagman,” Tatum stiffened as Natasha called out to Jake who’d apparently showed up in the last couple minutes, perched on a stool at one of the high tops by the pool tables. “I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show.”

Tatum looked over her shoulder to see Jake’s gaze already on her, looking her up and down before giving her a serpentine smile. “And miss an opportunity for Ice here to buy me a drink? No way.” Tatum rolled her eyes, moving out of the way so Natasha could angle her shot. “What’re you drinking Hayes?”

“I don’t drink.” Tatum heard Natasha huff a laugh at her blatant lie as she swiftly pocketed one ball, moving to line up another shot.

“Since when?”

“Since now.” Tatum watched Natasha easily sink another ball into its pocket, anything to try and ignore Jake’s eyes tracking her. 

Jake called out his order, and since Natasha was on a hot streak, Tatum sauntered over to the bar putting in his order as well as one of her own. Tatum handed Penny a couple bills in exchange for her Jack and coke, the beer Jake requested, and one for Natasha, thanking the bartender before returning to the pool table. 

“‘Bout time, bitch. I was about to take your turn for you.” Natasha teased.

“Is that so?” Tatum jested back, pulling the pair of longneck bottles back towards her. “Then I guess I’ll just give this one to Jake instead then.”

“Not a chance.” Natasha took the chilled bottle from Tatum, kissing her friend on the cheek in thanks.

“Deal’s a deal.” Tatum slid Jake’s beer over to him, taking a sip of her own drink before picking her pool cue back up and assessing the sorry state of the pool table, Phoenix having nearly all of her balls in pockets. “The fuck is this Nat?”

“Not my fault you suck.”

Tatum flipped her friend the bird, but could help breaking out into a smile as she managed to find a halfway decent angle. Tatum tried to concentrate on her shot but she could feel Jake’s eyes on her. She shook off the feeling, managing to sink a couple of her own into the pockets before she scratched. 

“I thought you said you didn’t drink?” Jake smirked at her as Tatum walked back over to the table.

Tatum took a sip, keeping eye contact with Jake before setting the glass back down on the table. “It’s just Coke.”

Jake narrowed his eyes, the only indication of his suspicion until he reached over, wrapping his hand around the glass and brang it to his lips. Tatum bit the inside of her cheek, not giving him the satisfaction of looking sheepish at being caught in her lie. 

“My question stands. I thought you didn’t drink?”

“Okay fine.” Tatum relented, watching as Natasha successfully hit the 8 ball into a pocket, raising her arms in victory. “I drink, just not with you.”

Natasha pulled Jake in for a match and Tatum migrated over to where Fanboy and Payback were playing darts. From where he was playing billiards with Phoenix, Jake watched Tatum throw her head back in laughter at some joke Payback made out of the corner of his eye. The way her hair was pinned up in a low chignon accentuated the curve of her neck, it drew the eye to the bare expanse of her back put on display by the halter neck of that dress that made her look sexy as hell. As she lifted that damn glass to her lips, Jake was mesmerized by the way her back muscles rippled under her soft skin. He could practically feel the memory of how her body felt under his hands. Jake tore his eyes away from Tatum, turning his attention back to the pool table, ignoring the stink eye Phoenix leveled at him. 

As the night progressed, more and more of the patrons filtered out of The Hard Deck until Penny signaled for last call. Tatum had ended up chatting with Penny as the night came to a close, only a few night owls still hanging around. 

“You need a ride home?” The bartender asked her as she dried the crystal tumblers, setting them back up behind the bar.

“I got her Penny.” Tatum glanced up as Jake walked to the bar, jacket slung over one shoulder. 

Tatum furrowed her brows. “You’re still here?”

“What else am I gonna do? Go back to the barracks?”

Fair. Tatum shrugged her shoulders as Penny gave her an inquisitive look. Tatum knew the bartender had her best interests, as close with her as she was with Natasha. She hopped off the stool, waving to Penny as she followed Jake out of the bar. Tatum knew something smart was about to come out of Jake’s mouth as he grinned either to himself or at her as they both climbed into his truck.

“So,” Tatum internally groaned at Jake’s tone, preemptively rubbing her forehead after she buckled her seatbelt. “Unattached and unbothered, huh?”

Tatum was confused at first, trying to comprehend what exactly Jake was referring to but then her conversation with Natasha earlier, right before Jake showed up.

“Eavesdrop much?” Tatum accused, crossing her arms.

“Not eavesdropping if you are having a conversation in a public place.”

Tatum mumbled under her breath about technicalities as she slid lower in the passenger seat.

“Still waiting for an answer, Ice.”

“Why does it matter?” Tatum countered. “I told you that thing last night was a one time thing that neither of us was gonna speak about again.”

“That thing?” Jake gave her an amused look as he pulled into the parking lot. “You mean where I fucked you into a quivering mess with you moaning my name?”

Tatum shivered at the memories his crude words invoked, squeezing her thighs together. “Jesus, Jake. You kiss your mama with that mouth?” His answering smirk had Tatum rolling her eyes and unbuckling her seatbelt and kicking the door open. “Goodnight Hangman.”

Tatum heard Jake slam his own door as he chased after her inside. His hands landed on her waist as she pulled the keys for her room out of her purse. She sucked in a shuddering breath as he placed an open mouth kiss against the junction of her neck and her shoulder. One time. One time was all this was supposed to be. But here she was, letting Hangman lead her by her wrist down the hall to his room. She should have heeded the warnings more, listened closer to the scuttlebutt about him. Because the next thing she knew she was urged inside his room, the door swiftly closed and locked. Then his lips were on hers, harsh and demanding, his hands roughly grabbing at her hips and waist hard enough to bruise. Tatum slid her own hands into his hair, letting her nails scratch his scalp, tugging on the short strands making Jake grunt into her mouth. 

They both stumbled backwards, Jake leading Tatum by the hips until he sunk down on his own mattress, pulling her onto his lap. With the change in height difference Jake kissed a hot trail from her lips to her jaw to her neck until he reached the spot under her ear that he knew drove her crazy. Tatum dug her nails into Jake's shoulders as he sucked and nipped at her neck, feeling each movement of his lips against her skin send jolts of arousal shocking through her. She rocked her hips back and forth against the buckle of his belt, her skirt hiked up high on her thighs from where she was perched on his lap. Jake sucked and kissed every inch of skin he could reach on the side of her neck and down to her collarbone before pulling the v of her neckline to the side, exposing her breast. 

Tatum tipped her head back, grinding her hips onto Jakes as his mouth closed around the skin just north of her pebbled nipple, north of where she wanted to feel him. Her breath came in short pants tinged with desire as Jake finally wrapped that mouth of his around her nipple, the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her waist coming up to palm the other. Tatum was breathless by the time Jake slid his hands under her dress, sliding the garment up and over her head to be thrown to unknown places in his room. 

His pupils were blown wide with lust as he surveyed her naked torso, the only thing keeping her from being fully naked was the black lacy g-string barely covering her soaked pussy. Jake stood, bringing Tatum with him with his hands gripping her ass. That was, until he dropped her back down onto the bed on her back. Instantly he was hovering over her, pressing a kiss to the valley between her breasts, his hand toying with the waistband of her panties, pulling them away just to let them snap back with a biting thwap. 

“Who are these for, huh?” Jake muttered against her skin as he kissed his way between her breasts up to the hollow of her throat where Tatum felt the tip of his tongue in the dip. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted me to find these.”

“You really like to hear yourself talk, don’t you.” Was Tatum’s only answer, though the flush of her cheeks was probably an answer in its own right. 

Jake just chuckled, removing his shirt, hands moving to undo his pants. Tatum sat up, helping remove the article of clothing, his jeans and boxers following a similar path to that of her dress and his shirt. 

Jake put a hand on her belly, pushing her back against the bed. Tatum let him lay her back, lounging on her elbows as she watched him fist his cock in his hand, giving his already hard length a few lazy pumps. He spit onto his cock, using it as lube as he slid his hand up and down his shaft a couple more times before he took hold of Tatum’s thighs, pulling her closer towards him. She bit her lip as Jake pulled her panties to the side, admiring her glistening folds. Her head fell back as Jake guided his cock through her soaked pussy lips, the underside of his shaft sliding against her throbbing clit. She tried to buck her hips up, wanting to chase the feeling but Jake pinned her hips to the bed with a large hand, using the other to guide himself through her slick. 

“Just fuck me already Seresin.” Tatum uttered through gritted teeth. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Jake rutted against her heat one last time before Tatum felt the head of his dick catch against her opening before he slowly pushed himself into her.

Jake tilted his hips back and forth, fucking her agonizingly slow. His hand against her lower stomach added pressure as she felt him slide impossibly deep inside her. He slid in and out of her at a snails pace, it must have been torture for him as much as it was for her. 

“Jake.” Tatum groaned, needing him to go faster.

“I’m fuckin’ ya, ain’t I?”

Tatum glared at him. “Fuck me for real.”

Jake cocked his head at her, running his hand up and down her thigh. “What’s the magic word?”

He couldn’t be serious. Oh but he was, not budging from that languid pace that he’d set from the moment he’d pushed himself inside her.

“Please.” Tatum moaned as Jake added his thumb circling in light, slow circles around her clit.

“Please what?” Jake crooned. “Tell me what you want. Gotta be specific.”

For fucks sake. “Please fuck me harder.”

“Again.”

“Jake, please.” Tatum refused to let her pleading turn to whining. “Please fuck me harder. Please.”

She could have cried when Jake finally picked up the pace, snapping his hips harder, bottoming out into her. Tatum moaned as he hovered over her, changing the way his thrusts rubbed against her walls. 

“What would our friends think if they saw you right now, huh? Begging for me to fuck you harder? What do you think Phoenix or Rooster would think if they heard you begging for my cock, begging me to fuck you like a whore.” Jake growled into her ear.

The pure filth dripping from his lips like honey should not have turned her on as much as it did. Tatum dug her nails into Jake's back, digging her heels into his ass to keep him on this pace. She murmured his name over and over as his cock brushed against her g-spot, the hand he’d slipped between their bodies making rapid circles against her clit with that perfect pressure. Her walls fluttered around him as her climax built and built until she teetered over the edge, burying her face into his neck as she came hard. Her pussy clenched around him, making Jake’s teeth dig into Tatums shoulder as he came with a series of erratic thrusts, his legs shaking.

Jake pulled out of Tatum with a low groan, turning Tatum so they laid with her back to his chest. He lazily placed open mouth kisses to her shoulders as they both came down from their shared high. Tatum hummed, stretching her legs out on the bed.

“I think your bed is bigger than mine.” She muttered, nipping the skin of Jake’s inner bicep with his arm under her head.

“I don’t think so. Feels just as small as yours.” Jake pinched her side, making Tatum squeal and hop up from the bed, discarding her underwear on her way to the bathroom in his room.

Tatum’s eyes went wide as she flicked on the light, the harsh fluorescence highlighting the red marks on her lower neck trailing to her shoulders and breasts along with the indentations of teeth on her shoulder. “Jake fucking Seresin! What did you do?!”

Tatum made Natasha swear her silence when she requested to use her friend's concealer the next morning. She refused to divulge who exactly turned her neck into their own personal chew toy, only relenting the fact that the sex was good, and no, it was not serious. 

When Jake came in a few hours later, his eyes immediately dipped to Tatum's neck and when he passed her in the hall that afternoon, he leaned in, whispering to her.

“Next time, I’ll make sure you can’t cover the marks I give you.”

And some part of Tatum hoped he was right.

[creepswrites]

Hi! How are you?

First of all I just want to say that I really love your writing style <3

I also have an idea if you might be interested (if you don't want to write about it, that's okay feel free to ignore this request)

May I request for Bo Sinclair and he's teaching a reader how to play billiard? I don't know if you remember the scenes when Bo is in the living room and we can see they have a billiard table there (I wanted to show you pictures but I couldn't send them so I hope this makes sense)

Anyway thanks in advance

Have a nice day/night!

okay so i rewatched the entire movie start to finish for your request to see the table and I THINK IVE GOT AN IDEA OF HOW TO DO THIS, i hope you like it!!

BO SINCLAIR TEACHING GN! READER HOW TO PLAY POOL

"Bo, are you sure I'm gonna get the hang'a this?" You pouted slightly, leaning against the table as Bo set up the game. "It sounds complicated."

"'We'll take it slow. Ain't no rush." He smiled at you as he passed your own cue stick. "So this here's the cue stick. 's got a lil chalk piece on the end there, that's the side yer gon' shoot the balls with."

You frowned as you looked between the sticks. "Yours is longer than mine."

Bo snorted, making you swat him. Perv. "Yer shorter than me, 's to be fair." He ruffled your hair playfully and began organizing the balls in the center of the table inside a triangular rack. "So, I'mma break the rack. Ya use the cueball, the all white one here, an' whatever ball I knock into the pockets is my color."

You watched Bo carefully line up the shot and launch the cue ball into the cluster of balls, stripes and solids scattering about the plane of green. A single yellow ball fell into a side pocket. "Alright, now what?" You asked curiously.

"Well, I'm solids, so you gotta use that lil white ball to knock the striped balls 'round." Bo said, leaning dramatically on his cue stick. "Try 'n get 'em into the pockets 'fore I get the solids in."

Seemed simple enough. "And whoever gets all their balls in wins?"

Bo nodded, a warm smile on his face. While he knew pool wasn't really your thing, he appreciated your efforts to learn for him. "Yep. Get all the balls in, knock the 8 ball in, an' ya win." He gave you a little shrug. "Easy."

You blinked in confusion. "Wait, but, the 8 ball is a solid?"

"Yeah, y'ain't wrong. But we both gotta play for it. 'sides, otherwise the balls're too uneven." Bo hummed, motioning you to come closer. Once you stepped into his space, he pulled you gently against his chest. "Alright, I'mma show ya how to line up a shot."

"You sure this ain't just an attempt to bend me over a table?" You teased him with a playful elbow.

Bo's face was red as he cleared his throat. You made a mental note to touch on that later. "So, use your fingers to rest the cue stick," he said, voice low in your ear as he guided your hands to rest on the table, "An' rest the stick there atop your fingers. Makes it easier to shoot. Now, aim at the cue ball and try to knock it into one'a them striped balls. See if you can get it into the pocket there in the corner."

You bit your lower lip and squeezed one eye closed in concentration. It took a few scratches at the table but eventually you knocked the cue ball against the striped ball. It bumped gently against the side of the table and you blew a raspberry.

"You got it, darlin'. Takes practice 'sall." Bo said, kissing the crown of your head. "Way better at this then Vince, that's for damn sure."

"Bo, I didn't even knock a ball in." You pouted yet again, leaning into his hold.

He nodded, chuckling. "Yep. Still better than Vince."

You poked at him with the cue stick and he barked out a laugh.

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Leona Kingscholar - Playful Dress Vignette

"Once we got it started"

[Playful Land – Expedition Whale]

Trey: Really now… All the first years are just filled with energy.

Leona: Seriously. They ran around like crazy during the show, and they're still trying to drag me to all the attractions.

Leona: This is just as exhausting as when my nephew tries to tag after me. I've had more than enough.

Trey: Haha… Yeah, this also reminds me of how it is whenever I got to amusement parks with my siblings.

Leona: Thought I'd take a nap on a bench somewhere, but… There's nowhere with a decent amount of shade.

Leona: There's gotta be some place indoors I can relax… Hm?

Leona: This attraction they got here on the map… It doesn't look too terrible. Hey, Trey. Come with me for a bit.

Trey: Eh, me!? I mean, I don't really have any plans, so it's fine, but…

Leona: Good, it's settled. Follow me.

Trey: What in the world… Leona's actually inviting me somewhere!?

[Playful Land – Cue Sports Lounge]

Trey: Oh, this is the billiards hall.

Leona: Yep, this is good. The air conditioner works, and it's quiet and cozy. Just as I thought, it's the perfect spot to chill.

Trey: Ah, I see… You just needed a partner so you could hang here in the sports lounge.

Leona: So, how well do you know the rules of billiards?

Trey: Let me think… I've only played a couple times, but I have a general understanding of the rules.

Leona: Good. That makes my life easier.

Leona: Then… Let's go with the "rotation" variant.

Trey: Rotation…? What's the rules to that? Is that different from "eightball"?

Leona: In rotation pool, you score points based on the number on the ball pocketed.

Leona: The 1 ball scores you 1 point, the 15 ball scores you 15 points… And so on.

Leona: To win, we both try striking the balls and try to reach the points value determined beforehand. That's all.

Trey: Okay… That sounds a tad more difficult than the eightball game I know, where you just have to get the 8 ball in, but it sounds interesting.

Leona: Ordinarily, I'd set the target value to somewhere around 180 points… But it's a pain to try to calculate everything.

Leona: Let's keep this game simple and see who can get the most points in the first rack of 15 balls.

Leona: If you're good, we'll start.

Leona: So, I'm first up. Similar to eightball, we begin with the break shot, but…

Leona: Before I do that, I'll tell you an interesting tidbit about rotation pool.

Trey: Tidbit…?

Leona: Just like eightball, with rotation rules, the balls must be struck in order from the lowest number.

Leona: In other words, in the first half of the game, when there's more balls on the table and it's more difficult, you score less points, and in the later half, when there's less balls and it's easier, you can score higher.

Leona: Even if you have a bad first half, you can still turn things around later, and even if you're winning in the first half, you can lose it all in the end.

Leona: Basically means that even beginners have a shot at winning. Not a bad rule, huh?

Trey: Yeah. Except… Why did you decide to tell me that just now?

Leona: It'd be a pain if you thought I was being unfair just because I got a huge lead in the beginning without explaining everything.

Leona: I'm puttin' in the effort to make it fun for you amateur, too. Be grateful.

Leona: Number 15, left rear pocket.

[clack!!]

[thwump]

Leona: Hm, some of the balls were awkwardly placed, but I made it through somehow.

Trey: Urgh… Y-You won again…!

Leona: Ah, my bad. I completely forgot you were here too. Sorry I was neglecting you.

Trey: Based on how you were talking about it all, I assumed you were pretty good from the get go, but…

Trey: I couldn't keep up with you at all. It ended before I could get in a single point…

Leona: You had me a bit worried that I could lose midway through the game, but once we got it started, it was a complete blowout. Ah, yeah, that was a good game.

Trey: You were worried? Yeah right! You were yawning every time it was my turn.

Leona: So, what do you say, wanna play another round? I can give you a handicap.

Trey: Well, I can't stand for being shown up like this...

Trey: Play one more game with me, Leona. Only… You don't have to give me a handicap.

Leona: Perfect. Alright, we'll set up the break shot.

[Playful Land – Cue Sports Lounge]

Trey: Play one more game with me, Leona. Only… You don't have to give me a handicap.

Leona: Perfect. Alright, we'll set up the break shot.

Leona: Number 8, left rear pocket.

[clack!!]

[thwump]

Leona: Hm, the location of the 8 ball was in a difficult spot, but I got it somehow.

Trey: The score stands at 36 to 0… Even if I still have a chance to turn things around it's still a huge gap. Maybe he'll just carry it all to the end again…

Leona: Safety.

Trey: What's "safety"...?

Leona: It's a call that lets you drive the targeted ball to somewhere other than a pocket, instead of having to change up players.

Trey: I see, so you can move the ball safely without having to make a crazy shot… That's a good strategy.

[clack!!]

Leona: Okay, it's your turn. Make this fun for me, Trey.

Trey: Next… Number 10, right rear pocket.

[clack!!]

[thwump]

Trey: Nice, I sunk the 10 ball as well as the 9 ball. That makes it 36 to 19. You starting to sweat a bit?

Leona: Oh, man, yeah. You've caught up so fast, that I'm sweating like crazy. I might lose, whatever should I do?

Trey: Haha, you're not fooling me, saying it like that while you just lounge in your chair like a king… Number 11, left rear pocket.

[clack!!]

Leona: …That one ain't goin' in.

[thup, thup…]

Trey: Urgh, just like you said. But how did you know it wouldn't go in before you even saw where it was going?

Leona: Hey, come on, now, I may be me, but I still lead the magical shift club, y'know. Seems like you're underestimating what I can do.

Leona: It's easy to tell just by seeing the angle you hit the cue ball with.

Leona: I can figure out which way the ball will go, what it'll hit, and where it'd stop…

Leona: In a game, you always have to stay two moves ahead, lil' Clover. …Now it's my turn.

[clack!! thwump]

Leona: Game and match. Final score is 87 to 33, that's my win.

Trey: I knew it would be like this, but you definitely had me by the tail the whole time. How long have you been playing billiards, Leona?

Leona: Basically since I was a kid. The family chamberlain taught it to me so I wouldn't embarrass myself in social settings. Well...

Leona: Thanks to that, I got pretty good, but back before I enrolled here, I really couldn't enjoy any heated competition.

Leona: Even now, the only one that'll play with me is a bird-brained old man. Nowhere near satisfying.

Trey: A commoner like me can only possibly imagine…

Trey: But with how good you are, I can see how you'd have to hold back in certain gatherings so as to not sour the atmosphere.

Leona: There ain't nothing more boring and annoying than a game where I gotta hold back for my opponent's sake.

Leona: It ends up feeling like my hands and feet have strings tying them down, it's frustrating. Kind of like a puppet.

Trey: …Yeah, I bet. …Then, I'll make sure that I'll become a much better player before the next time we play.

Leona: Hah! The next time we play? Even though you got a beat down by someone who was just trying to pass the time? You're a sucker for punishment.

Trey: Next time, let's invite the other third years. Don't you think Vil or Lilia might be good competition for you?

Leona: Who knows. …But hey, if you think that'll be the case, I'll be eagerly awaiting.

Leona: Eagerly awaiting for the joyful moment where I can watch how you all'd dance for me in your frustrations when you get beaten to a pulp, that is.

Requested by Anonymous.

[lostloveletters]

Love Like an Ache in the Jaw (John Brady x OC)

Summary: Kate "Woody" Woodward isn't quite sure what to make of love when she's finally got it, presented to her with unwavering devotion by the freshly promoted Captain John Brady.

Note: This is an expanded version of With a Rose Between Your Teeth (Is That Blood in Your Mouth for Me?) Title comes from Sweet Dreams, TN by The Last Shadow Puppets. Also, a million thanks to Kara @karasnonsense99 for letting me ramble about these two all the time ilysm🖤 Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Inevitable historical and technical inaccuracies. Depictions of blood. Sexually explicit content involving oral sex (m. receiving).

The shining double bars on his collar said it all, catching the sunlight as he walked over to her on the tarmac. Unprecedented pride bubbled up in Woody’s stomach at the sight of him, and for a careless moment, she allowed it to boil over into a congratulatory kiss on his cheek. John didn’t protest, his hands on her waist, kissing her as best as he could with his lips pulled into a smile. Whispered about going out that night to celebrate. Not alone. Never alone, but typically with good enough company that she didn’t mind.

They were joined by most of his crew, guys she’d gotten to know well enough by virtue of hanging around John, but she managed to talk Darla into coming along when Holly declined her invitation, a regretful tiredness in her smile when she insisted Woody go out without her. But her fellow mechanic was fun, if not a little rowdy—perfect for a night of celebrating.

In all honesty, the night panned out to be a bit tamer than she’d been expecting. She zoned out from Hoerr and Hambone’s argument over whether Rita Hayworth or Betty Grable had better legs. John didn’t hesitate to input his preference for Hayworth, something Woody occasionally teased him about, asking if she should dye her hair red just to watch his ears burn the same color. Always muttered something about liking her the best, taking her into his arms and kissing her as if she needed the reassurance she wouldn’t lose him to the likes of the bombshell actress.

No, the conversation being held behind them caught her attention, a man musing at the billiards table over finding someone to play eight-ball with, having just been paid and ready to supplement his payday. Her fingers twitched as she brought her cigarette to her lips, inhaling as her mind raced. She’d played plenty stateside, back when she was still going by Kate.

Woody wasn’t sure what the hell he meant by quid, but her serpentine confidence slithered over the necessity of understanding exactly how much was on the table. When the car business was slow, hustling pool had been her next best bet. Good enough that she was sure even after two years of eschewing such habits, she would come out on top. 

She turned around in her seat, and before she could stop herself, said, “I’ll play you.”

An RAF pilot and his buddies. They shared incredulous looks, snickering amongst themselves until one chuckled, “That would hardly be a fair game.”

“Double it.”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

The corners of her lips twitched, and she snuffed out her cigarette in the ashtray in the middle of the table as she stood up. “Whatever you’re betting, double it, if you’re so sure.”

The voices at the table fell to a hush, and she felt John’s fingers brush the small of her back through her blouse, as if to give her an out if she wanted. Too late. She let the beast rear its ugly head, forked tongue and all, as she stared down the pilot. He relented, holding out the pool cue for her. Probably figured it’d be an easy win. Line his pockets with her misguided cockiness.

Woody grabbed the cue. Watched with curiosity as they set up the rack, placing the eight ball at the foot instead of in the middle. Licked her lips as she realized there may have been differences in the way the British played than how she was used to, but she wasn’t about to betray her own ignorance by asking what exactly the rules were.

Instead, with a deceptively bored-sounding self assurance asked, “So am I stripes or solids?”

He considered her for a moment. “Stripes.” Motioned to the table. “Ladies first.”

She scoffed, cooly rolling her eyes at his false chivalry as she leaned over to break the rack. Spared a glance at John, his arms folded across his chest, watching her with an intensity that nearly sent a shiver down her spine. She hit the cue ball, sending stripes and solids across the felted table.

Standing up straight, she followed the striped ten as it rolled into a corner pocket. Missed the next one, but so did the pilot, and it was her turn again. She made up for her sloppy performance with nine and twelve in another corner pocket. 

Woody stalked around the table and leaned over in front of John, making a bit more of a show than was necessary in shifting her hips to make the hit. Fourteen in the middle pocket. Looked over at him, the slightest smile on her face when they locked eyes. Everything else faded into the background, white noise and static compared to the way he was looking at her. 

Acutely aware of his attention, drinking in the sight of her as she leaned over every so often, deliberately biting her lip or sticking her tongue between her teeth just to see his reaction, playing a different game entirely by the time she hit all of the stripes into the pockets, finally finishing off the eight ball.

Darla laughed. “Goddamn Woody, I didn’t know you could play like that.”

“She must’ve cheated somehow,” the pilot said dismissively to his friends, as if she weren’t even there.

“Jesus Christ, these guys,” Hambone muttered.

“There’s no way she could have cheated,” John said. “Be a man and pay up.”

“Or what?”

Woody shot him a glare, leaning against the cue. “Or I’ll shove this up your—”

It happened so fast. Too fast. Before she could even blink, a wad of spit landed on her face. 

John grabbed Woody’s shoulder, pushing her behind him. Scraping chairs and mangled shouts drowned out the music playing from the jukebox. She wiped the spit off of her cheek with the back of her hand, cringing as she shook it out. Her stomach sank. Why the fuck did she say that? Lost herself for just a minute, let herself be the person she tried to leave behind in San Francisco, and it all went to shit, like everything Kate touched tended to do at some point.

Her eyes frantically searched for John in the fight that erupted. The sinking feeling in her stomach warped into something else entirely at the sight of him, taking a punch to his jaw before throwing a solid one in return. Always found guys who fought for their girls teeming with unearned bravado, something to prove. But John’s bravado had been wholly earned. Proved himself with his promotion to Captain, which he was putting in jeopardy on her behalf. More than that, it looked good on him.

Still, she wouldn't let him bear the brunt of her mistake if she could help it. She shuffled forward, narrowly avoiding an elbow to the face as she grabbed his arm.

“John, come on! He’s an idiot!”

She practically had to wrestle him away from the chaos and into the bathroom. A cramped space with peeling paint and a naked lightbulb that almost didn’t let her close the door behind them until she forced it shut.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?”

Water poured freely from the faucet. She watched as he splashed some in his mouth, swishing it between puffed up cheeks. 

“People might think we’re in love or something.”

He spit into the sink. Water pink with blood pooled at the rusty drain. It dripped from his chin as he stared her down with blown out pupils, reflecting her own unspoken desire. “We are.”

She reached out and wiped his chin with the pad of her thumb. Glanced at the glistening residue on her finger before sticking it in her mouth, letting the faint coppery taste settle sweetly on her tongue. 

“Yeah. We are.” 

And all at once she was consumed by it, the fiery desolation of being loved and loving in return. Made her skin burn, feel more alive than she had in months. No wonder it made people go crazy. Like him, her calm and collected pilot who suddenly didn’t hesitate to throw punches over a woman with no honor to defend except for the fact that he loved her. 

He loved her.

She kissed him with a ferocity that forced him to grip the sink to keep himself steady. The faint traces of blood still in his mouth sent an almost vampiric fervor through her. Brought her hand up to his neck and felt the way his Adam’s apple bobbed at her touch. Always privately lamented that she couldn’t mark up his throat the way she desperately wanted to, sink her teeth into him and let everyone know he was hers.

She wanted more of him. Always more. Lowered her hands to unbuckle his belt.

“Sweetheart, what are you—”

“Got that handsome face of yours roughed up over me,” she rasped, pressing her lips to his jaw as she unzipped his pants. “‘S the least I can do, Johnny.”

He uttered a low ‘fuck’ as he watched her drop to her knees in the tight space. Nuzzled her nose against his crotch, the dim lighting nearly concealing the playful smile that's spread across her lips. She pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees. He swallowed roughly, licking his lips in anticipation. 

She spit into her palm, then took his cock in her hand, wet and calloused as she pumped his length. Pressed a kiss to his head before wrapping her lips around it, her tongue warm and inviting. He threaded his fingers through her hair, his blunt nails scratching against her scalp. 

She watched him intently, his face contorting with pleasure as she took more of him in her mouth. Noticed with obsessive observation what made him moan louder or tug on her hair a little harder. All of the noises he made echoed in the cramped space, and only served to drive her wild, give her more motivation to bring him to climax. 

Her fingernails pressed crescent-shaped marks into his thighs when he thrust in her mouth. Didn’t matter that her jaw started to ache a little, lips were probably swollen and puffy. She wanted him to feel good, to know how much he meant to her, to use the memory of her on her knees in any fantasy he conjured up for himself in his private moments. She wanted to be it for him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he forced out, his voice low and gravelly. “I’m close.”

She choked a bit when he thrust harder, the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat. It twitched against her tongue, pulsing and veiny, his length almost too much for her to handle when he came, her name falling from his lips like a prayer though she was the one on her knees.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised as she swallowed his cum, fondly stroking her messy blonde hair. “Such a good fucking girl.” Her body purred at his words, claiming her with a gentle ownership she keened at the thought of. 

She figured she loved him for much longer than just that night, except she hadn’t realized because it felt so different from the way other people described it. Not particularly soft or sweet, but it made her feel powerful, alive.  Like staring down everything she feared and finally feeling able to conquer it all instead of running—she was so damn tired of running.

He offered his hand, pulling her up from the floor. His lips brushed her cheek, adoration pouring from the simple gesture of affection. “I love you,” he whispered against her warm skin.

“I love you too.”

Woody leaned against the door, catching her breath as John pulled his pants back on. Took a look at himself in the mirror, straightening himself out to appear every bit of the no-nonsense Captain who had her wrapped around his finger. 

Turning around, he gave her a once over, taking in her ragged appearance in comparison.

“Your nylons—“

She looked down, finding a tear at the knee. “I don’t give a damn. Let’s just get outta here, Johnny.”

“You sure?”

“We can sneak out the back and spend the rest of the night alone. They all probably think we left already.”

“Sounds like you have somewhere in mind.”

Woody smiled, turning the knob to crack the door open, checking if anyone would notice the two of them slipping out together. Taking his hand in hers, she gently squeezed it. “I might.”

[readyforevolution]

In 1932, Richard B. Spikes received a patent for an automatic car gear shift. Major companies welcomed his inventions. Its patent #1889,814.

By the time he created the automatic safety brake in 1962, Spikes was losing his vision. To complete the device, he first created a drafting machine for blind designers. The machine would soon be used in almost every school bus nationwide.

These are other inventions by Richard B. Spikes:

railroad semaphore (1906)

automatic car washer (1913)

automobile directional signals (1913)

beer keg tap (1910)

self-locking rack for billiard cues (1910)

continuous contact trolley pole (1919)

combination milk bottle opener and cover (1926)

method and apparatus for obtaining average samples and temperature of tank liquids (1931)

automatic gear shift (1932)

transmission and shifting thereof (1933)

automatic shoe shine chair (1939)

multiple barrel machine gun (1940)

horizontally swinging barber chair (1950)

automatic safety brake (1962)

[junkdrawerfics]

Billiards, Bets, and Teasing

Summary: Rooster and you make a bet over a game of billiards because you are unwilling to admit how much you suck at the game. Being a good sport, Rooster helps you out, with a little teasing along the way. (friends to prospective lovers?)

Word Count: 2964

Warnings: None? Things get a little up close and personal, but nothing I write goes past that really.

---

“I hate this game,” you grumble, glaring at the billiards balls as if they had just murdered your father.

“That’s just because you’re bad at it.”

You toss your glare towards Rooster across the table. The man wears a cocky smirk, and if you weren’t so ready to hit him, you could probably admit to how attractive he looks with it.

“I’m not bad at it, Bradshaw.” You definitely are. You most definitely are. “I bet I could beat you any time, any place.” But a little bit of blustering never hurt anyone, right?

Wrong.

“Okay. What are we betting?” Rooster takes a drink from his beer before dropping it on a nearby table and swiping a pool stick from the rack.

You hesitate when he comes to stand next to you, all too aware of how much taller he is than you. You have to tilt your chin up to look him in the eyes, which you do, something stubborn flaring in your chest at the confident glint in his. You may suck, but you won’t go down without a fight.

“What were you thinking?” You prompt, eyes narrowed.

“Loser has to do whatever the winner says.”

A snort escapes you, “What are we, ten?”

“What are you, scared of losing?”

“Psh, no.” You set about racking the balls, mostly so you can break away from his intense gaze. “You’re on, Bradshaw.”

“When I win, I’m gonna make you call me by my real name,” Rooster hums, tossing you one of the stripes.

You perk a brow, mildly unimpressed at his creativity, “Is that really all you want from me?”

“Nope.”

You falter.

What does that mean? You glance up, question ready on your tongue, but it gets lost when you catch Rooster already looking at you, eyes dark and velvet as they trace over your face. Every inch of your skin goes warm under his gaze. It’s like standing in a summer storm, being caught in the middle of Bradley Bradshaw’s attention.

Equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

“You can break,” you whisper, barely concealing how flustered you suddenly feel.

Rooster nods, eyes lingering on your lips for a moment too long before he focuses on the cue ball. You watch him distractedly, the way he poises over the table, how his fingers curl around the cue stick, the slight tensing of his jaw as he focuses.

And with a sharp crack, you realize all too quickly just how epically you’re going to lose this.

You play a few rounds, the atmosphere slowly loosening again as you fall back into familiar rhythms. The moment is all but forgotten as you get swept up in the game. As it goes on, though, it becomes abundantly clear that you are just as bad as he said.

“You know, sometimes it’s smarter to eject than just keep fighting,” Rooster hums, an amused smile pulling at his lips as you duck, rise on your toes, and walk around the table, just looking for a good angle.

“I am not giving up,” you grumble, still stubbornly clinging to hope despite being three balls down. You finally settle on your next target and take aim. “I just need a good round and I’ll catch up!”

“Maybe you’d do better if you were aiming right.”

And then, suddenly, he’s behind you. Every muscle in your body goes still when he presses against your back, strong arms curling around you, hands tracing down your wrists until they cover yours on the cue stick. Every inch of him is warm, every solid plane of his body pressed against you, and you can barely breathe. His cologne, something warm and woodsy and leather, sends your head spinning.

You stay frozen like that, heart racing, until Rooster’s voice breaks the silence, barely a breath, “Is this okay?”

Is it? Are you okay with this?

You’ve had a crush on the aviator since the academy, a fact that Phoenix loves to tease you about constantly. But you never thought you had a shot with him, so you gladly embraced the teasing, competitive friendship that started between you. 

But this feels far more intimate than something friends should do. He wouldn’t need to be this close to correct your aim, not unless he wanted to, and that thought makes you feel dizzy, ignites a long buried hope.

“This is okay,” you hesitantly respond, voice just as quiet.

Rooster lets out a breath, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s just as nervous as you are. Probably not. Not with how you feel moments away from exploding in a mess of butterflies and sparks as he draws somehow closer, leaning down so his lips are at your ear.

“Be firmer with your bridge hand, and choke up a little on your grip-” He shifts your hand further up the cue stick. “-just like that.”

You’re barely paying attention to his instructions, though, too distracted by his voice. It’s raspy and warm, just barely above a murmur, and you can feel it rumble through his chest.  You glance at him, catching on his lips before looking up to his eyes, all honey and melted chocolate. They flicker down to you, and Rooster smiles, one of those genuine, slanted smiles. 

“Are you even listening to me?” He asks, tone teasing.

“Kinda hard to,” you breathe without thinking, and a blush erupts over your cheeks when his smile turns into a knowing smirk.

“Am I distracting you?” One of his hands comes to rest on your waist, thumb brushing tenderly over your ribs, and you want to melt.

Instead, you turn back to the cue, trying your hardest to focus and hide the way his touch makes every thought you have skitter to the corners of your mind.

“So, firm bridge hand, choke up, what else, Bradshaw?” You ask, feeling an inkling of pride when your voice comes out stronger than you expected it to.

The aviator hums, hand returning to cover your hand and adjust your grip, “Keep your arm close to a ninety degree angle-” You adjust and he nods in your peripherals. “-good, and then it’s just about keeping it straight, make sure you follow through.”

Rooster guides you through the movement, the cue stick moving much smoother than it did before. You bite your lip as you make the shot, still with his help, feeling the sharp crack as the cue hits the white ball, sending it straight where you want it. The solid 3-ball goes right into the pocket.

“Yes!” You squeal, jumping up victoriously.

Rooster’s hands move to your waist again when you turn back to him with a smile so big it makes your cheeks hurt. Your eyes are practically glittering with unconcealed glee. Every nerve in you is on fire, from his touch or the shot, you can’t tell.

“You better watch yourself, Bradshaw! You might have just signed your own defeat,” you sing, grinning up at him cheekily.

“Don’t get too confident,” Rooster warns, voices low with mischief, “You showed your hand, Widow, I’d hate for you to get distracted again.”

You puff out your chest, something smart on your tongue, but it crumbles when his fingers flex against your sides. Your face goes warm again when you realize just how close you are. Swatting at him gently, you escape his grip and put some distance between you.

“Play fair, Rooster.” You point accusingly at the man.

The aviator shows his hands, feigning innocence, “Yes, ma’am.”

You nod, though it’s not lost on him that you cross to the other side of the table, eyeing him suspiciously. He doesn’t make another move though, just watches as you decide your next shot.

You run through everything he showed you, how to hold your hands, the angle of your arm, how it felt to have him so close, his breath ghosting over your ear as he spoke - wait, no. Shaking your head, you cast Rooster a glare, though it’s merely met with a smug, knowing look.

“I will beat you,” you grumble out with every ounce of stubbornness you possess.

“Take the shot,” Rooster urges, still smirking.

And you do. With a deep breath, you snap the stick forward, keeping it as straight as possible and following through. The cue clips the 1-ball, sending it spiraling towards the corner. You hold the breath, watching with wide eyes as it spins, slowing down as it nears the pocket. Closer. Closer. Until it wobbles on the edge, as if to taunt you. You narrow your eyes at the ball, ready to just give up and let Rooster take his turn, but then it slowly, dramatically, tips into the pocket.

“Hah!” You gasp, hands shooting into the air, “I did it! Did you see that? I did it! All by myself.”

Rooster nods approvingly, and you can hear him laugh as you dance around in victory. It doesn’t matter though, because you’re on cloud nine. You actually did it. Granted, it’s because Rooster showed you how to, but you did it. Maybe you can actually win this.

The game is more competitive from then on. You miss your third shot, but that sets you down by only one. And lucky for you, Rooster seems to be off his game now, missing his own shot by only a fraction.

“Look who’s the master now,” you tease as he draws away from the table with a huff.

“I’m still winning,” he reminds you pointedly.

“Not for long.” You line up your next shot.

And you make it, well, not the one you were intending, but it still counts. You flutter to the other side of the table, passing so close to Rooster that your arms brush. Even that small touch leaves you feeling a little fuzzy, but you hunker down for your next shot, trying to ignore the feeling. The 7-ball goes in, leaving you with just two more.

“See?” You look expectantly at him over your shoulder, but Rooster is already looking at you, not the table, and the warmth dancing in his eyes makes your heart flutter. You pout, “You weren’t watching.”

“I was watching you,” he counters smoothly, leaning against his stick, “Arguably more interesting.”

“Well-” You purse your lips, looking away quickly when his eyes flicker down to your lips. “You should uh, you should keep your head in the game, Bradshaw. I’d hate to win because you’re distracted.”

“Then stop being so distracting, sweetheart.”

You go as red as a cherry at the nickname. It rolls off his tongue so naturally, so intentionally, as if it’s meant just for you. Your heart seems to think so, with how it soars up into your throat.

This is flirting. It has to be. All of it. Part of you was holding back, making up excuses. Maybe he was a little tipsy - but he’d barely started his beer. Maybe it was just because you’re alone, it’s been a stressful week, but you know Rooster isn’t like that. He’s respectful to a fault when it comes to you and the other women. That only leaves one reason he’d act like this.

You re-evaluate the blond. He’s standing closer than before, watching you just as intensely. Usually it’s easy to tell when he’s just joking around; his eyes get that little crease at the corners, and there’s this one smile, a little more wolfish than the rest. But right now, right here, his eyes are nothing but earnest, warmly glancing between your own, and his mouth is drawn into something serious. He means it.

You need to know he means it.

“I know what I want if I win,” you say offhandedly.

“And what’s that?” Rooster raises a brow at you.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see when I beat you,” you hum, taking a shaky step back as you redirect your attention to the table.

Now you just have to win. A whole new sense of determination settles in your chest.

The two of you battle it out until there’s just the 8-ball left. Rooster tries and fails, though he doesn’t look upset this time as he pulls back. Instead, he just looks at you expectantly before grabbing his beer and leaning against the bar table to watch.

It’s not an easy shot, the ball awkwardly against the wall with the cue ball a good distance away. No easy call. But you live for the difficult calls.

“Corner pocket,” you claim.

“Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck, Bradshaw.” 

You take aim, sliding the cue stick a few times before going for it. The cue ball goes careening across the green, and you watch with bated breath as it hits the 8-ball, ricocheting it off the wall towards the pocket you called. It sinks in with a resounding clatter.

“I win.”

You straighten up, pride flooding you like a dam breaking. Turning to Rooster, you hold your chin up, grin wide and victorious. He doesn’t look even the taddest bit defeated though. The aviator pushes himself from the table so he can stand toe to toe with you, close enough that you can feel his heat again.

“So, what do you want?” He asks, voice low, intrigued.

You hum, pretending to think, but it’s just to give you time to collect your thoughts. You know what you want, you said so, but you can’t deny that you’re scared. There’s something about putting things into words, making them real, that shakes you to your very bones, but you think it would be just as bad if you don’t.

“Anything right?” Your voice quivers.

Rooster gently touches your waist, his eyes darting between yours, “Anything.”

“Well, I have two things then.” You pause, searching his face, and only continue when he gives you a nod. “First. You’re gonna answer a question. And be honest.”

“Shoot.”

That draws a laugh from you and Rooster smiles. Leave it to him to make a stupid joke at a time like this. It successfully eases the nerves buzzing under your skin though.

“All this-” You gesture between the two of you. “-what is this, Rooster? I’m trying really hard not to get my hopes up, and I need to know where all of this is coming from.”

It feels so vulnerable, putting it all on the table. Rooster could just brush it all off, tell you it was just teasing, and you’d have to lock it all back up. Somehow. But you trust him enough to have your heart open right now.

And Bradley doesn’t do any of that. A heavy sigh slips from his lips as he pulls you a fraction closer, and you can’t help but notice the slight tinge of pink on his ears. Is he embarrassed?

“‘Bout a week ago, Phoenix gave me thrashing, said I need to man up and make a move on you,” he explains, shaking his head fondly, “She’s the one that made sure no one else came tonight.”

“Huh.” You’d been wondering why the other’s hadn’t come. Usually all of you would end the week with a trip to the Hard Deck, but they’d all come up with varying degrees of excuses for why they couldn’t. Suddenly, what Hangman said to you makes a lot more sense.

“Sometimes a man just has to back off to let others have the stage, Widow, I’m sure you understand.”

“So, this was all a set up?” You ask, brow furrowing.

“Yup,” Rooster drawls, gauging your reaction.

“Because you like me?” You hazard a hopeful guess.

And Rooster just can’t resist, not with how you look up at him, all doe-eyed, lip caught between your teeth. Not with how you’ve been reacting to his teasing all night. You squeak when the man suddenly leans down, his lips pressing to yours without hesitation, one of his arms curling around your back. 

It's warm, just like you expected, just like everything is with Bradley. His lips are slightly chapped, but they mold so perfectly to yours, it doesn’t bother you. And it’s Bradley. You hum softly into the kiss, hands coming up to curl around his neck and draw him closer. It’s slow and gentle and perfect and so Bradley. You wish you could stay here forever. The brush of his mustache breaks you from the moment though, but just because it makes you smile, and you can’t help but draw back and laugh.

“That kind of answers the second request,” you muse, giggling more when Bradley presses several, more chaste kisses to your lips, like he can’t stop.

“What was it?” He asks, breathless and with a matching smile of his own.

“Well, if all of it was because you liked me, I was going to request you take me on a date. I’m assuming that’s on the table?” You mess with the short hair at the back of his neck, enjoying the soft breath it drags from his lips.

“Definitely.” Rooster rests his forehead against yours. “I was going to ask you out either way.”

“I’d say we both win then,” you chirp, pressing a final kiss to his lips.

.

.

.

“Does that mean you’ll call me by my real name?”

“Hmmm, maybe. We’ll see how the date goes first, Bradshaw.”

You pull away with a wink and Rooster shakes his head.

“You’re so mean to me.”

“Well, that’s what you get for teasing me all night.”

“You liked it,” he points out with a smug grin.

“Shut up.” Your blush comes back with vengeance.

“Yes ma’am.”

Oh, if you didn’t like this man so much, you think you might strangle him. But you do, so you just roll your eyes and set about racking a new game. Maybe this time around, you can get your own teasing in. Revenge can be pretty sweet, after all.

---

This was originally gonna be around 1000 words... It took on its own life I guess. I hope y'all like it!

[tokuvivor]

May I please request a character dynamic between Mrs. Beakley and Gladstone?

Okay, sure.

Just to note: When I got this request, I still had another story queued up (the Donald and Fenton one) that you requested that I had to wrap up. But that’s done, so now there’s this!

Update: I’m sorry this took so long to put up, but ultimately, here it is. After this, I’m going to take the fics that I have done for both this prompt and the platonic sentence starter prompt and pop them onto AO3.

I give you…

On a Warm Summer’s Evening…

Originated from this post.

It was late. Gladstone was too tired to sleep. On this particular evening, he just so happened to be staying at McDuck Manor, as was Fethry (they had spent the day hanging out with Donald and Della).

Trying to be as quiet as possible, he snuck out of the guest bedroom. ‘Crap,’ he thought. ‘What now?’

His eyes wandered around the dark hall. He noticed a door to a room that he hadn’t been in before. He decided to check it out.

When Gladstone flipped on the light, he was surprised to see, amongst various games and game pieces, a solid mahogany pool table. It was rather immaculate, as if it hadn’t been touched in a while. Even the playing field seemed to not have any nicks or tears on it.

“Incredible,” he murmured. “I never would have guessed Uncle McDunkle would have something like this hidden away. Okay, maybe I would have, but a pool table? Surprising.”

All 15 balls were nestled snugly in their rack, but the cue ball was nowhere to be found. Gladstone started poking around to find it. He was so invested in his search that he didn’t pay attention to how much noise he was making. And he didn’t notice the looming figure coming up behind him, flashlight in one hand, wooden club in the other.

“AAAAAHHHHH!!!”

“What the feathers?!”

It took a bit for Gladstone’s eyes to adjust to the figure in front of him, but eventually, he realized that the figure was a stern-looking Mrs. Beakley.

“Ah- buh-“

“Gladstone,” Beakley whispered sharply, “what in Heaven’s name are you doing rooting around the mansion at this hour? I had reason to believe you were a burglar.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Gladstone admitted. “My mind’s just-“ he used two fingers to make a zooming motion to try and illustrate his point.

Beakley was rather annoyed with Gladstone for disturbing her sleep. But she couldn’t say she didn’t relate to his situation.

“Well, then,” she replied. “Have you tried anything to go back to sleep?”

“I figured maybe taking a walk would help,” the gander suggested. “But I don’t know-this doesn’t usually happen to me.”

“I see you found Mr. McDuck’s billiards table,” Beakley continued, changing the subject.

“Pffft, guess so,” Gladstone replied. “I never saw him as the kind of duck to have one of these, though.”

“Oh, he bought this years ago,” Beakley explained. “Said he would use it after meetings with clients or fellow businessmen. But, to the best of my knowledge, he never did. So it’s just sat here. I’d suspect he probably views it as some sort of a status symbol. Massive shame to let such a purchase go to waste.”

Was Gladstone’s hearing playing tricks on him, or could he sense a bit of resentment and frustration in the housekeeper’s voice?

“You up for a game?”

Beakley could not believe what she was hearing. “What?! Absolutely not!” she hissed. “It’s past 11 in the evening, and I’d like to get back to sleep, thank you very much.”

She then went silent, weighing her options. Even though she wanted to get back to sleep, after Gladstone woke her up, in all honesty, it would be quite hard for her to actually get back to sleep. Plus, like she said, she had no idea why McDuck would make such a purchase if he wasn’t going to use the pool table.

“Well…” she reluctantly admitted. “I suppose we could play a game. If that will sate your desire.”

“Fantastic!” Gladstone replied. “Then I guess it’s game on.”

“I should warn you,” Beakley continued, “I was quite the billiards player back in my day.”

“Very well, then,” remarked Gladstone.

“And I will not go easy on you.”

The two stared competitively at each other.

“Care to make it interesting?” Gladstone asked.

“What do you propose?” Beakley shot back.

“100 bucks?”

As high a standard of morality as Beakley held herself too, she was also not one to back down from a challenge. “Make it 200.”

“Deal.”

Gladstone broke. “Call it, Veintidos.”

Beakley ignored the nickname. “Solids.”

The fifteen balls went scattering about the table. However, Gladstone didn’t sink anything, at least not yet.

Beakley was now up. The cue ball had a good position relative to the 6. She took aim, and fired. The cue ball struck the 6, and sent it flying into a corner pocket.

“Not bad,” Gladstone remarked.

“Oh, I am just getting warmed up,” Beakley retorted. She had her eye on the 3 now. She changed her position as needed, and after the cue ball struck the 3, it peeled off in the opposite direction, and dropped into the opposing corner pocket on the same side of the table. “Hm. 2 for 2.”

Gladstone wasn’t worried, though. He could bounce back in a big way. It wasn’t just luck, though. It was skill.

Beakley tried for the 7 ball next, but she didn’t get enough power to sink it. “Your turn,” she said curtly.

“Alright,” Gladstone noted. “Let’s see-“ He sized up his ball situation. He eyed the 12, took aim at the left corner pocket on the other side of the table, and fired. The 12 was just past the center of the table, so Gladstone needed a lot of power in his shot. The cue ball smashed into the 12, sending into the corner pocket. 2-1.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Beakley echoed.

“Well, I try,” Gladstone answered. His next target-the 15 ball. It was in the center of the table, and with how close to the center pocket the cue ball was, Gladstone was going to have to do some maneuvering. He angled his cue as far down as he could, and took his shot. The cue ball successfully struck the 15, but the 15 veered just to the left of the opposite center pocket, coming to a rest right at the edge of the playing field.

“Well, I guess it’s your move, then.”

“Quite so,” echoed Beakley.

She eyed the 7 again, and this time, her aim was true. It dropped into the center pocket.

Next up, the 1 ball. She took a good shot at it, but the 1 fell just shy of the right corner pocket.

Gladstone took a look at the field. Which ball would give him good position at another point?

He eyed the 14 on the edge. He prepared to take his shot, and…fired. The cue ball crashed into the 14, and started towards the opposite wall. With as much force as Gladstone put into his shot, the 14 rolled all the way to the opposite right corner, and dropped in.

Gladstone sharply exhaled in response. He needed to be in the zone. He was a confident player, but he knew Beakley was bringing her A game.

He tried to sink the 9 into the same pocket, but he came up just short.

“Hm,” Beakley quietly remarked. “Back to me, then.”

Looking back at the 1 ball, she set up her aim, and easily dropped it in. She sunk the 2, which was along the corresponding side of the field, in short order. Beakley then eyed the 5, floating near the middle. She moved over to one of the longer sides, intending to sink the 5 in the opposing center pocket, which was exactly what she did. Just the 4 and the 8 to go, and she would win. However, the 4, which she shot towards the pocket to the left of where the 5 went, bounced off the edge of said pocket and came to a stop just right of her intended target.

“Back to you.”

Gladstone nodded, then set up his second go at the 9 ball. It easily went in. He tried sinking the 15, which had eluded him before, into the corner pocket on the other side, but no dice. It bounced off both edges, then reversed course a bit. It was still within close range of the pocket in question, but now it was back to Beakley.

Beakley came towards the 4 ball, and it went into the corner pocket with ease. She now went in for the kill. The 8 ball was near the center of the table, so this would be somewhat of a shot in the dark. She tried to pot it in the opposite right pocket, but came up empty. Gladstone was still alive.

“Third time’s the charm,” he muttered under his breath, seeking down the 15 once again. This time, he made it in. Now he needed to keep it going.

In the corner diagonally opposing where he’d just potted, he saw the 10 ball. And the 11. If he used enough force on the cue ball, he could sink both in one go.

He took aim. He fired. The cue ball zipped towards the other corner, knocked into the 10, which, in turn, pushed the 11, and the two dropped neatly into the corner pocket. Gladstone was only down by a single ball now.

Beakley was thoroughly impressed. For someone so obnoxiously drunk on luck, she’d figured, he had major skill at this.

Gladstone had landed the cue ball pretty close to the 13 ball. The angling seemed too slim to try for the side pocket, but if he could just get it back to the other side of the field…

He aimed for the opposite corner pocket. The cue ball knocked off the 13. The 13 rolled towards the pocket in question, tailed off a bit in speed, but on what was seemingly its last leg of momentum, ultimately dropped in.

Gladstone and Beakley stared at each other wordlessly. They knew this next pot would be for all the marbles.

Gladstone took his first shot at the 8 ball, aiming for the other corner on that side of the table. No luck.

That left the door open for Beakley, and she repositioned the cue ball, took aim, and finished Gladstone off by sinking the 8.

“Very nicely done,” Gladstone remarked quietly.

“Thank you,” Beakley answered. “You’re not so bad yourself. And now, I believe we had a wager?”

Gladstone fished around in his breast pocket, pulled out two $100 bills, and slammed them on the table. “There you are, Downton.”

Beakley nodded in acknowledgment. “Goodness, what time is it?” she wondered, checking her watch. “Well! Just about 12:30. That certainly whiled away time.”

“Yeah, it was actually pretty cool,” Gladstone added. “You’re like a regular Calisota Fats.”

“Well, I usually played either while undercover in my S.H.U.S.H. days, or against a fellow agent,” Beakley recalled. “‘‘Twas quite a rush. This was not too bad itself.”

Well, Gladstone was satisfied, and as much as Beakley was downplaying it, she was as well. So they bid each other good night, and returned to their rooms. As they did so, the same thought crossed both of their minds:

‘Who knew?’

[obetrolncocktails]

Ignition | Danny Wagner X f!Reader X Jake Kiszka | Part 4

Warnings: ANGST, Danny fluff, JAKE TEARS.

Word Count: 3,284

Summary: With things moving forward with Danny, it feels like you can finally let go of the sadness tied to Jake. Danny intrigues you: he's sweet, thoughtful, funny as hell, and so, so sexy. He's effortless, and he has no clue.

“So?” Sam asked after launching his pool stick into the cue ball on the billiards table, breaking up the rack of other balls. Danny and Sam had nothing better to do than to go to one of their favorite bars and play another game of pool, just like they had done since moving to Nashville. 

“So…” Danny echoed, stepping around Sam to take the next shot, sinking a solid ball into one of the pockets. 

“Oh come on,” Sam urged his best friend. “You’re gonna pretend that the grin that’s been plastered to your face this entire time is for no good reason?” Danny relaxed his expression, becoming acutely aware of his own smile. No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts inevitably wandered back to you. “It’s Y/n, isn’t it?” Sam asked while Danny prepared his next shot. Another ball in a pocket. He hit another in his next turn and watched it bounce back without sinking, and he stepped away from the table. Danny shot Sam a look, the corners of his lips turning upward guiltily.. “I knew it!” Sam said with excitement. “Finally.”

“Shh,” Danny scolded him. 

“Daniel, it’s not like you haven't been in love with that girl for-fucking ever. It’s about time you got it in,” Sam took his shot, sinking a ball into the pocket, before accidentally landing the cue ball into the pocket as well. “Damn it,” He cursed under his breath. 

“I didn’t ‘get it in,’” Danny rolled his eyes. We did go on a date on Tuesday, though,” Danny explained, his lips curling upward again, his cheeks flushing softly. 

“How’d it go?” Sam asked, stopping for a moment to take a long swig of his beer. 

“So good,” Danny admitted, turning and leaning against the billiard table. “She’s great,” he said, turning to his brother. “Like, there’s just something about her that has always stumped me in the past. She’s always been guarded, but now she’s opening up to me,” he explained. “And honestly, I can’t get enough of her.”

“Have you talked to Jake about it?” Sam asked, raising his brows over the rim of his cup as he took another swallow. 

“Do I need to?” Danny asked, avoiding eye contact for a moment, knowing the answer. 

“Uh… Duh, man. Y/n and Jake are best friends. I think that would be kind of shitty if you didn’t have a conversation with him. He’s pretty much your brother.”

“I just don’t know where they stand with each other right now, you know? Did you see what happened at rehearsal?” Danny asked. 

“I couldn’t hear, but it didn’t look like it went over exactly well,” Sam admitted, sighing deeply. “And Jake didn’t leave rehearsal very happy, either.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Danny agreed. “I just don’t want things to be weird after.” 

“I think it would be weirder if you didn’t speak to him first. At least you could walk away knowing that you were honest.” 

Danny nodded, turning to line up his next shot, placing the cue ball in the position of his choice. “I’m sure he’ll understand, and maybe her spending time with me will cool down things between them, you know?” 

“Maybe. You just gotta do the talking,” Sam insisted. 

***

“So I wanted to talk to you about something,” Danny began, coming to sit beside Jake as he scrolled through his phone. Jake looked up over his sunglasses. 

“Sure,” he answered, crossing one leg over the other. Danny wasn’t sure if he was imagining awkward tension in the room or if it was just his nervousness speaking. “I’m guessing it’s about Y/n?” Jake asked, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. 

Danny nodded, squeezing the drumsticks in his hand for comfort. “Yes,” he answered, reaching up to knit his fingers through his hair. 

“Mm,” he nodded. “And what about her?” He asked, his composure concerningly nonchalant. 

“Well, we’ve decided to date,” Danny continued, the words coming out more awkwardly than they should have. “We realized that we had mutual feelings for each other, so…” The room was silent for a long moment, Jake nodding slowly, his eyes cast down to the floor.  “Is that a problem? You don’t have feelings for her, right?” Danny asked. “From brother to brother, it’s cool?” 

“It’s fine,” Jake answered with a shrug, reaching for his guitar to idly whisper his fingers over the frets, pretending again like he was practicing. He knew that there was something going on between you and Danny already. 

“Are you sure?” Danny asked again, sitting back in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“Just like you said, Daniel. It’s ‘cool,’ okay? I don’t really care what you do with her.” Danny didn’t like the way Jake spoke to him, but he wasn’t prepared to address it directly. I don’t care what you do with her. The words spun uncomfortably in his mind. He let silence linger for an awkward moment before continuing.

“Y/n really misses you, you know,” Danny explained, moving in another direction. “I think you should reach out to her– maybe go grab a coffee or something. She could use her best friend.”

Jake pulled his sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head, sighing deeply as he gazed at Danny. He nodded slowly, biting his bottom lip out of nervousness. 

“Eh, she probably hates me anyway,” he shrugged, putting his guitar pick in between his teeth, hiking the guitar on his knee. He didn’t seem bothered, but Danny knew him well enough to know that wasn’t the case. 

“She doesn’t hate you,” Danny shook his head. “But she is very angry at you.”

“For not liking her back?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow, his expression laced with annoyance. 

“For being a fucking asshole, man,” Danny countered, his tone steeped with annoyance. Danny wouldn’t have usually spoken to Jake in this way, but if it had to do with you, it felt personal to him. Jake scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“You ghosted her completely,” Danny added, raising his eyebrows in question. “You completely abandoned her.”

“She could have reached out when she was ready. I told her I cared about her and to take care of herself. I don’t know how I was responsible for all of this.” Jake argued defensively. 

“Well you don’t seem to give much of a fuck by the looks of it,” Danny said, half-scoffing as he addressed his brother. “While you’ve been gone, I’ve been the one she’s been crying to. So trust me, I know.”

“I do care,” Jake said, sighing deeply. “I just don’t know what to say,” he continued, scratching his chin. 

“Well, maybe instead of saying nothing at all, Well you could start by pulling your head out of your ass and going to apologize,” Danny said, his tone coming out with a sharp edge. “You owe it to her.” Jake was silent for another moment before nodding. 

“You’re right, you’re right,” he agreed. “I’ll talk to her,” He continued. 

“She misses you,” Danny repeated. “Like, a lot, Man.” 

“I know she does,” Jake replied with a deep sigh. “I’m sorry.”

The rest of the rehearsal went by with relative ease, and Jake packed up quickly, heading out of the space without much of a goodbye. 

***

You raced around the house as you heard your phone ringing, dodging furniture and tight corners to grab it in time. As Danny’s contact flashed across the screen, your face lit up instantly. 

“Hi,” You answered, smiling brightly through the phone. 

“Hey there, pretty girl,” he greeted you softly. “I was thinking about you. How’re things going today?” 

You leaned against the kitchen counter. “Good,” you told him with a gentle sigh. “I got off work a little while ago. I’m about to make some dinner and get settled down for the night, I think.” 

“Well, could you use a little company? I just got out of rehearsal, and I’m in town. If not, it’s alright of course,” he chuckled nervously. His tone was hopeful, and it made your heart leap knowing that he wanted to spend time with you, even if there was no organized plan. 

“Always if it’s you,” you assured him. “Come over! Have you eaten?” you bit your lip as you waited for his response, twirling idly back and forth like a little girl. “Maybe we can have dinner and watch a movie?”

“That sounds great, I’m starving. I’ll be over in an hour,” he said. “Don’t run away in the meantime.” 

“I wouldn’t dare,” you told him with a smile, hanging up the phone. 

Excitement rocketed the time forward as you busied yourself by tidying the kitchen and living room, brushing your hair and touching up your makeup to look good for him. However, in the last moment as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you decided you’d wanted to be one hundred percent genuine with him, feeling the urge to wash it all off. Something about Danny felt like a fresh start, and one where you wouldn’t have to work so hard to dress yourself up in the beginning, only to eventually learn how to shed away the layers of protection you’d cocooned yourself beneath. You removed all of the makeup, cleansing your face and gathered your hair into a loose ponytail, satisfied with feeling clean and ready to wind down. 

Danny showed up slightly early, ringing the doorbell with a bright, cheerful smile. “Hi,” he said, bending to kiss you softly. You lifted your hands to rest on his chest as you urged him to kiss you longer than he’d originally intended. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, still half-pressed to your lips. 

“I’m not wearing any makeup,” you chuckled once, half-surprised at his comment. 

“And you look beautiful,” He repeated, caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb. He spent a long moment observing your features. You felt radiant beneath his touch, watching his eyes wander over your face. After another moment, he snapped out of it and broke the silence, clearing his throat. 

***

Jake had been very particular with the way that he dressed, changing clothes after rehearsal into an outfit that made him feel confident and pulled together. He had debated for a while whether to get you flowers in his attempt to apologize, and though he wrestled back and forth (knowing you loved receiving flowers), he bought them anyway, even if the occasion wasn’t exactly one of happiness. Nervousness coursed through his body as he prepared something to say to you, trying his best to manifest somewhat of a script. Every time he did, he’d mince his words or trip over them. Eventually, he decided he’d swallow his pride and do the right thing. He’d go to your house and apologize in person without the protection of a rehearsed response. 

He knew the drive by heart, but it felt incredibly strange now that he was enroute to your place. He’d isolated himself from you for almost a month now, and he knew that words would do little to adequately excuse his behavior. It didn’t mean, however, that he wouldn’t try. 

Despite his nervousness, he did know what he wanted to say. He’d wanted to say these words for the longest time, but he’d buried the terrifying truth so deep that once the vulnerable feelings had been uncovered, he’d panicked and broken your heart in the process. Stopping at a local grocery store, he picked out the nicest bouquet of flowers that he could find. Once he purchased them, he drove directly to your house. 

Getting out of his car, he reached for the bouquet and turned to walk up your stairs, silently going over what he was going to say to you. He froze in his tracks when he heard Danny’s voice coming from inside of your house. Through the open glass storm door, Jake could see you and Danny standing in the living room, hooked within a loving embrace.

“Hm?” You asked, looking up at Danny, unaware of Jake’s presence. 

“Come here,” He repeated with a smirk. 

“What?” You asked flirtatiously, reaching out your hands to take his as he pulled you closer.

“I just wanted to touch you. I don’t know,” he shrugged. He swayed with you in the silence. 

“It’s okay,” You smiled, squeezing his hands. “I love the way you look at me.” You bit your lip as you studied his gaze.

“You do?” He asked, looking down at you, his thick, dark lashes casting his gaze with such sexy innocence.

“Mmhmm,” you admitted with a pleasant smile.  

“I really like you, Y/n,” he admitted. “I have for a really long time.” 

“You do?” You asked. “I mean you have? For how long?” A wave of surprise rolled through your body, summoning a layer of goosebumps over your arms and legs. 

“Probably since the first days when Jake and I would go to the record store— when we moved here.” He seemed nervous, but empowered at the same time. “I thought Jake had feelings for you. I really did,” he chuckled nervously, reaching to pull at the curls at the back of his neck. “He’d always make these extra trips to see you, and he wouldn’t tell me,” He continued with a shrug. You broke eye contact with him for a moment as he reminded you of the pain you’d thought you’d gotten over. You silently pushed it back down. “So I took a step back,” he explained. “I let him be that person for you.”

“Why?” You asked him, squeezing his hands. “Why didn’t you try? We could— Maybe we could have been–” Danny shook his head. 

“It wasn’t the right time then. I don’t know exactly how or why this happened–why we happened like this,” he explained. “But I know that it feels right. You are worth waiting for.”

His words set your skin ablaze, like after a hot summer day well-spent lounging by the pool. You practically glowed with excitement. “Maybe Jake isn’t my person,” you admitted quietly with a shrug, surprisingly feeling a moment of relief. You watched as Danny gazed at you intently. “Maybe it’s you, Danny. And I know that it’s super early to say that, and we’ve just gone on our first date, and it’s crazy to say– but–” he cut you off, freeing his hands from you in order to lift your head gently as he caressed the contour of your jaw. 

“And what if you’re right?” He asked you, his amber irises moving from left to right as he gazed into your eyes. “Does that scare you?” He continued. 

“Not at all,” you answered almost instantaneously. It was the truth. He didn’t scare you. He filled you with promise.

Your words, however, sliced through Jake like an irreparable slash through the sail of a ship doomed to sink. ‘What if Jake isn’t my person?’ He repeated incessantly in his mind. His brows furrowed with emotion; a mixture of heartbreak and fury crackled through his mind, body and soul, betraying his confidence with a thin, angry line of hot tears. Silently, and without a word, he crouched down, laying the flowers delicately on one of the final steps to your front door, taking one painful last look at you kissing Danny before wiping away his tears, retreating to his car and speeding away. 

His knuckles had become bloodlessly-white from how hard he gripped the steering wheel, the tears blurring his vision as he drove. He swiped at them, embarrassed. He shut off the radio, leaving the cabin of the car painfully silent except for the quiet whir of the outside wind whipping against the car as he drove home. He had made the worst mistake, and now he was paying for it double, losing his best friend, and the possibility of more without a chance for redemption. Why did he have to turn you away in your most vulnerable moments when he most definitely felt the same way about you? Why, when he could have been honest with you and could have tried for more, he threw it all away like a coward, refusing to even tell you the maddening truth: that he was painfully in love with you, and it scared the shit out of him. He’d vowed to never tell you, because, like his past relationships, most of them had ended painfully. As close as you both were, he chose to lie and protect the longevity of your friendship, destroying the chance for love in the process if it meant he could selfishly have you forever. He didn’t expect, however, for it to tear him apart in the end. 

Watching you kiss the wrong lips filled him with a darkness that burned away the final vestiges of the sweet, charismatic disposition he’d led with for so long. It would take time, but he’d pull you back in again, and once he had you, he wouldn’t let go—even if the means in doing so weren’t exactly the most respectful to Danny.  

***

“Did you drop these?” You asked Danny, seeing the forgotten bouquet of flowers on your doorstep. They were cold from being left outside for a while, but they seemed like they had been deliberately placed there. 

Danny inspected them briefly. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Wasn’t me this time,” he admitted, his gaze rising to look around at the road in front of them, his eyes scanning in each direction. 

“They’re beautiful,” you remarked, caressing the soft petals of the flowers with the tips of your fingers. “Free flowers!” you said with an enthused grin. 

“Sounds like you have a secret admirer,” Danny added, pulling you into his side, wrapping his arm securely around you as he stepped toward his car, kissing you goodbye before being on his way. “Good luck, because you’re all mine,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose before lowering himself into his vehicle. 

“Drive safe,” you told him with a smile, leaning through his open window. 

“Like my life depends on it,” he said, pursing his lips once more, tilting his head upward to meet your lips. 

“Hey,” you said after a moment, a thought dancing on your tongue. “What are you up to tomorrow night?” You asked him.

“Not a thing.” 

“How would you feel about spending the night?” You asked him, raising your eyebrows. 

He looked up at you with a surprised, but understatedly excited expression. “Spending the night…like?” He asked, his tone finishing the sentence for him. 

“I’m putting no pressure on anything,” you said gently, moving to discuss the idea of sex. “I say we take it naturally. If it happens, it happens. If not, I’m cool with that, too. I just want to hang out with you,” you shrugged. “And it’s my favorite when I don’t feel pressured to go out and plan for an adventure. Don’t get me wrong, they can be fun, but I really love snuggling in bed, watching TV, and just—“ you paused, searching for the right word. 

“Coexisting?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” you said, breathing deeply. He just understood. 

Danny echoed your expression.  “I’m definitely interested,” he said with a soft chuckle. “And I’m excited,” he continued. 

“Regardless of if anything happens,” he blushed, “I’d love to stay with you,” he finished. 

“You’ll just have to bare witness to my hair routine,” he grinned widely. “These curls don’t happen overnight.” You watched as he purposefully shook his head, his curls bouncing around his face.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll sacrifice pretty curls for something a bit more…” you paused, finding the right word. “Sexy.” 

“I think you make the perfect point,” he agreed.

--

End of part 4.

If you would like to be tagged in upcoming parts, fill out this form!

taglist: @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @astreamofcolors, @sammysobaby, @gretavanfreakmadie, @tidelander92, @weneedsomehealing123, @sarahstardust7, @strawberryblondeee, @squirreledelman, @haylaps, @madneedshelp, @watchingover-hypegirl, @llightmyllovee, @moralmorbid, @gretavangroupie, @jordie-gvf-admin, @brujamagik, @gretasmokerising, @ascendingtothestarsasone, @mama-likes72, @gold-mines-melting, @songbirds-sweet, @myownparadise96, @sanguinebats @sulkyrie, @sicksadandrad, @mackalah, @interstellar-shores, @jakekiszkasmommy, @laneygvf, @overtheehillsandfarawayy, @takenbythemadness,

[hs-transfusion]

So, is there any difference with the First Guardians in this AU? Presumably with Bec given the patterns set up with the guardians, but what about Doc Scratch?

I don't have any major plans to switch much around about Bec, but I think Doc Scratch could do with a mixup. Maybe instead of a cue ball he's like. A billiards rack. I'm sure there's an Illuminati joke to make somewhere.

The short answer is that I don't have anything solid set in mind just yet.