#I will pay him back in $10 or a beer

[shippingfangirl013]

I have a $10 bet over a bottle of blueberry moscato wine for a Stranger Things S5 watch party in my backyard, that some part of my BTTF/S5 conglomerate theory is at least partially true, and my best friend John has already given up on winning the bet.

(It’s okay. I’m gonna buy him a pack of beer, but I have an outdoor movie theater when I feel like putting the screen and projector up… so if S5 is out in Summer of 2024 [pls god don’t be that long] I will be sipping on my favorite wine, looking very smug. And if I don’t want wine by that point, then I’ll probably settle for strawberry lemonade or something idk.)

[ratatatastic]

god forbid you are two boys sharing your cup days! god forbid!

[yohankang]

shit went down at work today and there's a chance they'll fire me 🙃

[seungcheorry]

thinking about vernon's partner being so adored by some of his members it's actually ridiculous.

like, everyone's at a party and dino comes straight to you and says "let's do a drinking match, i wanna see who can drink faster, me or you". vernon just side eyes the maknae, and you're quick to say "it's okay, i got this, babe".

you win the first round, drinking a full glass of beer milliseconds faster than dino. seungkwan laughs at the maknae, saying he finally found his match. as the two are bickering, some other members come to watch what's all the fuzz about.

"how many more can you take?"

"about three glasses, otherwise i'll get drunk", you tell dino, who looks at vernon for approval.

"they say it's three glasses, then it's three glasses", he shrugs.

the second round is about to start when wonwoo says "wait, wait, wait~ let me record this"; seungkwan is the mc of everything, presenting both of you to the camera and placing bets on who's gonna win.

vernon holds back his smile as he sees all of you laughing, and secretly bets 10 bucks on you.

dino gets the second round though, lucky that the beer went down wrongly and a bit of it came out through your nose.

"aigoo, are you okay?", vernon asks, reaching for you when you start coughing.

third round is a show apart. dino gets four glasses of beer - two for you, two for him. "okay, show me what you got".

he claims soonyoung as his assistant, making his hyung hold his second glass; vernon obviously offers himself as your assistant too.

"you got this, babe", he encourages you. behind him there's mingyu, praying that you don't - he had bet 20 bucks on dino.

"if dino lose, seungcheol will pay for everyone's meal", jeonghan announces while the leader tries to slap him.

"you gotta win this"; "please, i want a free meal"; "this is stupid" - are things you hear, the last one being said by seungcheol.

when the third round starts, you can literally see vernon by the corner of your eye, ready to catch you in case you need it. you gulp down the second glass like a champ, beating dino by a whole second.

it's hilarious how seungkwan pushes vernon out of the way to grab you by the arms and jump around, celebrating your victory. mingyu and junhui go to dino, holding the maknae by his face while saying "you did good, we're proud of you" - although they can't help but laugh when minghao says "you owe me 5 bucks, you loser" to the youngest.

jihoon looks at vernon laughing with you, quickly pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips, before he turns to seungcheol. "can i order anything off the menu?".

[ninyard]

I was thinking about Aaron; older, his twins almost 10 or 11, and everything is… normal? His daughters get to say my daddy is a doctor or my mommy is a scientist when their teachers in school ask about their jobs. He goes to dance recitals, or little league tournaments, Katelyn bakes little cakes for the school bake sale when she has the time to do so. Most evenings he comes home to a home cooked meal, or he’s happy to hand his wife a hot plate of food when she’s finished a long shift. They have a mortgage, and bills, and insurance and a college fund for the girls - they wave to the neighbours when they pass them in the mornings, or have a beer on each others porches in the evenings. They have to water their grass. They help their kids with their homework. He’s been to therapy. He sleeps at night. He wakes up in the morning. They’re a family, and they work, and everything is normal.

One day their youngest by four minutes is having a shower in their main bathroom. He should’ve fixed the lock when he said he would. Katelyn is at work, she should be home soon - he’s in the kitchen, the radio is on behind him, the extractor fan is loud. He doesn’t pay attention to the first round of banging, leaning over the check that there was nobody knocking on their front door, and then he hears it again. Three, four solid knocks of fist on wood from the upstairs bathroom. The older of the two meets him on the stairs just in time for him to hear his youngest calling out, “dad!”

“The lock is jammed!” she yells, and Aaron tries it from the outside. Nothing - no movement, no give.

“Stand back,” Aaron says through the door. “Don’t be scared, just stand back in the tub.”

When he’s certain she’s retreated, he tries it with his shoulder first - nothing. Again with his shoulder, a hard, forceful whack - there’s a little bit of movement, but still not enough. He’s taken a step back before he’s realised what he’s doing, and aims his foot for just below the door knob. The second his heel meets splintering plywood, he hears it. The thumping against a wall, or maybe it’s just the pounding heart in his chest. As the door swings open he feels the racquet in his hands, the blood on his face, the hands in his hair.

This has been in my drafts for so long that I’ve lost where I was going with it but something something Aaron accidentally being triggered by/around his kids and having to deal with that, knowing he’s scaring them, knowing they don’t know whats happening. Aaron feeling so far away from his past but being transported back in an instant.

[theaceace]

An old concept that I'm still feral over, but a Dreamling fic in which the dreamling relationship is chronicled entirely by Yelp reviews of the New Inn.

Reviews are either 5* or 1* with surprisingly little in between, and the business owner replies are always a riot. They start off fairly normal, talking about the food and drink, the couple of guest rooms upstairs, the location and prices etc, but then they start to get weird.

Constantine leaves 3*, beer is shit whiskey is ok not haunted which is more than I can say for most london pubs and the response is Thanks Jo, but you're still banned

4* this place is run by my history professor and it's amazing but he asked me about my overdue essay three times so I can't give it 5* and Hob, who has had multiple students visit the pub for the sole purpose of doing this, is just like you still haven't submitted that, get off yelp and start citing your sources

There are multiple 5* reviews like would give 10* if i could, the owner chased off a neo nazi with a literal sword he pulled out from behind the bar

5* should probably give it less because a couple of times the answers to the history round on the monthly quiz night have been wrong, but otherwise it's a solid little place for a reasonably priced pint and a nice afternoon and Hob's response is just those answers were right

And then Dream comes back and the reviews start... Changing, a bit

One of the 1* reviews is just complaining about the fact that there was a bird at the bar and no one got rid of it and the reply from Hob is that's Matthew, he has a tab. Several of the 5* reviews are also about the fact that sometimes there's a bird in the bar

One of the 5* reviews is saw the most beautiful goth twink in the world, will definitely be going back and Hob nearly deletes that one. The reply instead is that's my boyfriend, unlike Matthew he never pays his tab

5* i have no idea how i got there or found the place because i swaer i was halfway across london from where google maps says it is but anyway the bartender was really great and understandig when I started crying on him, will defiantely go back if reality ever warps like that again. Response from owner: yeah sorry about the reality warping, we don't get it either

1* I only wish I could have given this establishment a glowing review – fabulous service, lovely food and a sumptuous wine I hadn't expected, but unfortunately I had to see my brother's face. Response from owner: Desire get off the internet, it doesn’t need your help

[rueclfer]

meet cute // shigaraki tomura smau pt two

when you run into your gaming bestie

a/n: i love u shiggy nation and i love this pathetic loser!! (written under the cut btw)

part one

To be fair, you understood the need for some liquid courage. Before leaving your apartment, you were giddy with the anticipation of meeting your closest friends, but the moment you found yourself outside of his front door, your hands were suddenly clammy.

You gave the door a quick 3 knocks, taking a step back from the doormat.

From the other end, you hear footsteps and scuffling on the floors.

"Let me get the door!" Toga's voice comes through the barrier.

"Fuck no! It's my apartment!" Shigaraki's voice comes in.

The rustling and feet scuffling continues on for a moment while you hear various banging and thumps behind the door.

"You two can actually fuck off!" Spinner swings the door open and quickly slams it shut right behind him to lock the others in. He engulfs you in a hug, picking you up and swinging you around in circles as the others swing the door back open to reveal pouty expressions behind it.

"Hi Spinster!" You squeal, hugging him back with the same grip.

"No fair." Toga mutters, crossing her arms.

After Spinner release you, the rest patiently waited for you to step into the apartment and put your things down before getting their turn to greet you with squeals and laughs.

"We meet again, shortstack." Dabi casually drops a hand on the top of your head, slightly ruffling your hair.

"Hi, 2nd favorite silver haired freak. Not surprised to see that you're wearing the same clothes as the last time I saw you." You swat his arm away before coming in for a hug.

"Not everything. You wanna see?" He cocks a suggestive eyebrow at you.

"Your rancid skid-mark infested tighty whiteys? Pass." You shove him aside to get to Shigaraki, who was patiently waiting up against the wall right behind him.

"Hi, Shiggy." Your voice lowers into the soft greeting, wrapping your arms around him, letting yourself melt in.

You feel him stiffen under you for a moment before reciprocating the embrace, letting himself lean back into you with one hand on the small of your back and the other on the nape of your neck

"Hey." He mutters into your hair. "Glad to know I didn't scare you off last time."

"Scare me?" You slightly pull away to look up at him. "You're such a sweet little angel, how could you scare me?"

"Okay, that's enough of that." He rolls his eyes and lightly push you away. "I think you're the one that scared me, actually. Terrifying to have you know where I live now."

"Yeah? Well you better keep your door and windows locked then because no way am I leaving you alone now." You pat him on the chest before turning around and revising the group.

There had been countless evenings where you would ask if anyone was online, looking for their company, but to be met with a void of silence or finding out they were all in person together.

Of course you understood that for a long time, you were the outsider. You were the person who couldn't be reached outside of the screen and yet despite knowing this, a pit continued to grow in your stomach from the loneliness and envy.

Seeing everyone's personality from online shine brighter in person felt like you've won the jackpot. Their beaming faces and screaming competitiveness felt like you had been there this entire time, confirming that this closeless was real after all.

Across from you, you see Shigaraki leaning back on his loveseat and resting a half empty beer can on his knee while he watches you contently, not paying any mind to the progression of the board game that sat in the middle of the living room.

You met his gaze and returned the stare.

"What?" You mouth towards him.

He shrugs. "Nothing." He mouths back.

You two had gotten "killed off" in the elaborate game about 10 minutes ago, forcing you to sit out and wait for the last one standing to take victory before you can move on to the next game. In the meantime, you and Shigaraki resorted to this unspoken staring contest.

Of course after mere seconds, his eyes would dart away from your own, causing you to sport a cocky grin.

"Stop that, you're making me nervous." He kicks your foot.

"I'm bored." You sigh back. "How the fuck did we even die so early in the game."

"Well my reasoning is that I hate this game and purposefully died early so I don't have to play it. You on the other hand, just suck." He takes a sips of his beer before passing it off to you.

"You wanna give me a tour?" You take a swig of the cold, bitter liquid.

He nods his head and stands up, reaching his hands out to help pull you up off the couch. You take one last sip before setting the can down on the side table, taking his hands and letting him hoist you up.

He keeps his pinky interlocked with yours as he leads you down the hallway, making your skin run hot.

It was obvious that physical touch wasn't exactly something that Shigaraki is 100% comfortable with, and you respected that enough to keep physical interactions gentle and to a minimum despite all of the urges you had to just wrap your body around him and devour him whole.

You remember when you first spotted him at the cafe. He stood at the other side of the room texting each other back and forth for a good minute before mustering up the courage to take a seat at your table. You took note of his trembling hands, but he had the widest smile on his face, in which the memory of is probably tattooed to your brain at this point.

Though he still refuses to turn on his face cam while gaming, you don't seem to mind it as much anymore after meeting him.

"That's Dabi's room. Mine is this way." He motions to the door to the right end of the hallway before leading you to the left.

"Go easy on him, Y/N, he's a virgin!" Dabi calls out from the living room, followed by giggles and laughter from the others.

You tried to choke down your laugh until you saw a slight smirk grow on his face as he shakes his head. "He's lying by the way."

Your ears go hot, still nervously chuckling as you enter his room.

Dark, as expected. Blackout curtains were an essential to gamers, but you wondered when the last time this room has seen sunlight.

"Brace yourself." You warn a second before pulling back the curtains, illuminating the room. You turn around to see that it was just as you expected his room to look like- various video game and anime posters, and a display shelf of figurines- the typically dorky memorabilia that he always gushed to you about on voice call.

You blew a whistle at his elaborate PC setup and took a seat in his chair, letting your hands run over the keyboard and trinkets sitting on the desk.

"So this is where the magic happens." You swivel around to see him flopped down on his bed, letting his head hang upside down over the edge to look at you. "Let me know what aimbot software you downloaded now that I'm here, yeah?

He rolls his eyes, half chuckling. "Never beating the aimbot allegations just means I'm that good. This is everything you expected it to be?" He replies.

"Definitely cleaner." You tease, getting a scoff from him in return. "Just as cute and dorky as I expected, though." You smile, scooting the chair closer to him, noticing the faint pink blush formed across his cheeks.

"You feel okay with me being here?" You take a finger and brush a stray piece of hair off his forehead. "Not freaking out like last time?"

"Maybe internally, but I think I got most of that out." He reaches up and grabs your hand to hold into his. "You feel okay? Being here? And seeing me?"

"Of course I do." You gripped his hand back, letting yourself interlock your fingers with his. "It's fulfilling in some way? I don't know. I'm happy to have met you. You've been my best friend and I didn't think I'd be able to meet you for a long time."

You liked him so much, much more than you'd like to admit. For a long time, you wanted nothing more than to be able to hold his hand like this or or even breathe the same air as him and now that you were here, you weren't sure where to go with your feelings from this point.

You often wondered if he felt the same about you. There had been more than enough restless nights with half delirious conversations to solidify your friendship with each other, but did he want you the way you wanted him?

"Me too." He mutters silently. "Do you...think we can do this again sometime soon? Maybe at your place next time or here, I don't really care. Just us though. We'll ditch these dumbasses."

"Oh? You actually like my real life company?"

He presses his lips together in response.

Obviously, expressing his emotions didn't quite come to him as easily as it did for you, but you saw the efforts nonetheless and could never pass on the opportunity to tease him for it.

"Jokes, Shigs." You laugh. "You sappy motherfucker, of course we can do this again- me and you."

"It's a date then."

Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open without a single word or sound coming out. It was usual for you to shamelessly flirt with him, but for a bold proposition like that to come out of his mouth made your limbs go weak.

Shigaraki clearly had the same reaction with the way he reach over to grab a pillow to smother against his face, hiding his nervous coughs and giggles.

"Wait no no no, don't get embarrassed." You laugh, jumping on the bed to try and rip the pillow off. "It's a date! Say it again for me."

"Fuck off!" He yells into the pillow. "I didn't say shit."

You successfully rip the pillow away from his hands and pin his arms down with your own. He had a panicked smile on his lips, his face cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

"Say it again." You lean closer to his face, making his eyes widen at the sudden close proximity. "And then I'll leave you alone."

There was a beat of silence while you held his arms above his head as you slowly inch your face closer to his.

"I want to go on a date with you, and I don't want you to leave me alone." He says like he's holding in his breath. "And if you lean in any closer, I might just explode." He squeaks out.

You smile, pausing for a second before leaning in to plant a kiss on the space right under his eye. Soft, slow, and sensual.

You stayed there for a moment just to see his face flush into a deeper shade of red and eyes grow wider before hopping off the bed and exiting back out to the living room.

"Do your thing, then hurry up. I want to play more games."

bonus:

[moonstruckme]

apple pie - send a character + a prompt off this list and I’ll write a drabble

congrats mae!! love the new theme and all your fics xx could i get sirius black and 10?

Thank you angel <3

¹⁰⁾ a six pack of beer and an apology

cw: alcohol, reader is implicitly introverted and/or shy

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 744 words

Sirius finds you on the roof of his building. It’s a nice roof, not because of the roof itself—that’s pretty disgusting, actually, scattered with beer cans and smelling of piss from parties gone by—but because of the view. The trees and bricks of his neighborhood, giving way after a few blocks to city lights and black sky. 

You’re silhouetted against it all, sitting on the edge of the roof with your feet dangling over the pavement. You have a six pack of beer sitting beside you with one missing. 

“Are you planning to drink all of those by yourself?” Sirius asks as he sits down on your other side, the beers between you. 

You startle a little, and his muscles tense, ready to snatch you away from the edge. Sirius sits there like that all the time, but it makes him twitchy when you do it. When you realize it’s only him, your sigh is half relieved and half exasperated. Maybe there’s a little bit of fondness in there, too. 

“No,” you reply, “but I wanted to have the option.” 

“Sound.” Sirius grabs one for himself, popping the tab with a hiss. 

You keep looking out into the distance while he takes a couple of slow sips. He never knows what exactly you’re doing when you get like this. Sometimes you’ll be quiet for so long he thinks you must be entirely in your own head, but then you’ll say something like “I think that couple on that stoop has just been on their first date. See how nervous they are?” and he’ll realize you’ve been paying attention all along. 

Now, he knows you’re only waiting for him to own up. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says, “for luring you here under false pretenses.” 

“You told me it was a small dinner.” 

“There is food down there, if you go looking…” 

“This is a party, Sirius.” 

“You wouldn’t have come if I’d told you it was a party.” 

You take a sip of your beer, looking like you might be trying to hide a smile. “No,” you agree. 

“Then I lied.” He tests his luck, tossing you a grin meant to coax out your own. “I’m not sorry.” 

“I knew it,” you mutter, but there’s no real malice in your voice. Sirius leans over, bumping his shoulder into yours. 

“I wanted to see you.” 

You give him a look. “You could see me any night.” 

“I wanted to see you tonight,” he amends. “I had to get you here somehow.” 

You sigh, leaning into him in turn. “I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from your party.” You cringe. “Or being rude to your friends.” 

“Don’t be silly, nobody minds. They all love you anyway, and now that I’ve been gone for more than five seconds James will have seized the opportunity to change the music. They’ll all be having a grand time.” 

You smile, turning your face down so your hair almost covers it. But Sirius won’t be robbed of the sight; he hooks your hair on a finger, slotting as much as he can behind your ear. 

Your eyes meet his. “I like your music,” you tell him. 

Sirius beams. “And that’s why I like you, gorgeous. Well,” he hedges, “part of why. There’s also your personality, I suppose.” 

“Stop.” You give him what he supposes is meant to be a stern look, but it’s only heart-wrenchingly cute. 

“And your lovely ass, can’t forget that.” 

You turn your face entirely away from him, but your shoulders shake silently. Now that Sirius has you laughing, he decides to push his luck one more time. 

“Do me a favor?” He asks. You look over, still fighting your smile. “Come back inside. You can sit with Remus—he adores you, and he’ll be happy to have someone he doesn’t need to make small talk with. In an hour I’ll kick everybody out, and it’ll be just us for the rest of the night. Okay?” 

You tug on your bottom lip with your teeth, mulling it over. “Yeah,” you say after a minute, “okay. Just give me a minute and I’ll head down.” 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Sirius leans over, capturing your lips with his. He makes it good and persuasive, but in all honesty he’s probably as wobbly as you are when he pulls away. “And will you do one more thing for me, please?” 

“Um.” You look a bit dazed. “Sure.” 

“Get down off the edge. You’re freaking me out.”

[rottenaero]

What if Steve got kicked out of his parent’s house after season 2?

He was already on thin ice after s1, with the beers and his fight with Jonathan, but after he got into ANOTHER fight with Billy they’re just kinda like, ‘pack your shit and leave’

And after a few weeks of living out of his car in the school parking lot, Eddie notices him after Hellfire and just kinda like, offers his house as a place to stay.

Of course Steve is like, ‘nah, ill be fine’ because he doesn’t want to freeload, but Eddie is absolutely not having it and convinces him that he wouldn’t be, and that he can pay him and do chores and shit if he really feels that bad about it.

Then Steve just starts living with him, of course there are rules, don’t invite people over, don’t talk about Eddie’s business, and don’t talk about the shit in his room.

The rest is the standard criteria, don’t bring animals in, don’t burn the house down, blah blah blah.

Course Wayne is a bit mad about this random guy with the last name Harrington at first, but the guy makes him coffee before he leaves for work, and is willing to put on a goddamn sailor costume to pay help pay the rent, so eventually they become acquaintances.

Eventually turning into the two watching sports on the tv and laughing at Eddies antics.

Thing is, during this whole thing, no one knows they live together. Dustin and the party don’t get much more than i moved out with a friend after the first time they ask to hang out at his house, and Hellfire just knows he has a roommate, not that its Steve, because all his shit is in the living room and hes always working when they’re over.

One day, mid-lunch, they decide to hang out at Eddie’s after school and he's all cool with it but is like ‘wait, my roommates off, let me go ask them if its okay’ and they're like ‘sure, okay, I wonder who it is?’

Then he waltzes straight up to Steve Harrington, who’s sitting by Nancy and Jonathan, and asks.

“Hellfires coming over afterschool, you good with that?”

“Yeah sure, do whatever, its your damn house, I can get out your hair if you want?”

“Nah nah, its all good, want you to meet ‘em anyway. Hey hey, wanna sit with us today?”

“Sure.”

Then Eddie heads back to the now silent Hellfire table (actually the whole cafeteria is a little silent) and sits down in his seat, Steve sitting in the empty one next to him.

Hellfire is absolutely confused, not just because Steve lives with him, but because of the very talked upon rumors about Eddie being gay, and how very true they were, and the fact that as a former-king, Steve should know that.

Steve however, seems very unconcerned with those rumors because for as close as Eddie keeps getting to him, even holding his bicep at some point, he acts very chill and relaxed, even leaning into him at some points.

Hellfire eventually calm down, and go to his house after school, and around 10 they decide to just stay the night. Eddie gives them a thumbs up, and turns to Steve.

“You’re bunking with me tonight.”

“Cool.”

Gareth starts panicking because there is a very obvious pride flag above one of his posters and he may not have seen it before and Eddie is so getting beaten up.

Except none of that happens. They wake up early that morning and Steve starts getting ready for work, and is about to leave when he turns to Eddie with a smirk.

“What, no goodbye kiss? Too dorky to do in-front of you friends?” And Eddie strolls right past the flabbergasted Hellfire and plants one on his temple.

“Goodbye o-great-king-of-assholery!”

Gareth quite literally chokes.

(What makes this even better? They’re not even dating, thats just Steve-being-Steve)

Part 2

Ao3

[sometimesanalice]

Sun Stroke

Summary: It’s been a few months since you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and moved to San Diego. And when Rooster and his teammates introduce you to Dogfight football, you know you’ll never be the same again. Hard pressed and out of sorts, you take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw/Female Reader

Length: 8k

Warnings: smut, mentions of masturbation, an ode to the jorts.

(author's note: this is a prequel to the 'Like I Can' series, however it can be read on it's own!)

Bradley Bradshaw was a dead man.

The hangover you’d woken up with was 100% his fault for pressing that final Blue Moon into your hand last night at the Hard Deck.

It had been a couple years since the last time the two of you had seen each other in person and even longer since you’d both lived in the same city, but he knew you. And he without a doubt knew better than to order you another drink when you were already fighting back the giggles.

But what were you going to do, not drink a free beer paid for by your longtime best friend? Not to mention the way he’d teasingly called you a lightweight in a way that sounded a little too much like a dare.

You’d only moved to San Diego a little over a month and a half ago, and maybe if you were going to own up to the role you played in earning this headache, you probably should have known better than to try and keep up with the group of aviators. But since he’d been the one to drive and you were having a good time, you’d thrown caution into the wind and cheers-ed his glass with your own with a grin.

Bad choices shouldn’t taste so good.

It was a citrus-kissed mistake you were paying for now with your head pounding as you rushed around your apartment in a frenzy trying to throw your things together to get out the door to meet everyone at the beach. It’s a feat that would have been so much more manageable if you hadn’t been surrounded by a sea of cardboard boxes, all in various stages of unpacked disarray. It’s an inconvenient maze made by your own procrastination.

Those pain relievers you’d popped not too long ago couldn’t kick in quick enough.

You were running late. You hate being late.

And the way your phone keeps pinging is stressing you out even further. You know it’s Bradley and you’ve been ignoring it in favor of trying to get your act together. It goes off again, barely a minute since the last text had come through, but this time you pause your rummaging to check it.

🔴 Rooster, 11:10 AM: where are you??

🔴 Rooster, 11:17 AM: on a scale from 1-10 how bad is your hangover?

🔴 Rooster, 11:22 AM: tick tock, kid.

🔴 Rooster, 11:23 AM: bring me a coffee?

You roll your eyes at the nerve of that last one. He was going to have to beg Jimmy to make him a tar-like pot from the Hard Deck’s ancient coffee maker if he wanted any. If you were suffering through a hangover, he could suffer through being undercaffeinated.

It didn’t help that you were feeling more high strung than usual. Your vibrator had died before you could finish last night and you’d meant to buffer in time for a quick orgasm this morning, but then you’d slept through your alarm.

You hadn’t had sex since you’d broken up with your ex almost three months ago. While you were doing just fine on your own, you were getting tired of the feel of your own hands and fingers.

When your boss had mentioned the promotion that he wanted to put you forward for, you were elated until he mentioned it would involve relocating to the West Coast office. You’d been on the fence, it was the next step towards your dream job, but you were content with your life in Boston. That night when you had casually mentioned the possibility of it to your boyfriend at the time, it seemed clear to you that it would be an either-or situation.

Either you’d stay in Boston with him or you’d move to San Diego on your own.

Not wanting to rock the boat, you didn’t mention it again. Even though you were still weighing the choice in your mind. It wasn’t until a phone call with Bradley, that you’d finally settled on the right choice for you. After breaking it off with your ex, the two of you had essentially lived like roommates until you’d left without a look back.

At the time, you thought it had been a brilliant idea to use some of your less worn clothes as packing protection for your things. But now as you desperately dig through your third box labeled Bedroom looking for the sporty black and white one piece with the zipper that you know you have but can’t seem to find, you’re starting to think you might be the biggest idiot on the West Coast.

The only beach appropriate thing you’d been able to find in your frantic searching was the bright red scalloped bikini you’d bought a few years ago for a bachelorette party in Tulum wrapped around a set of pretty glass candle holders. And while it made your boobs look great, it was much sexier and revealing than what you were going for to meet up with the Daggers on their home turf.

When your phone dings yet again, you finally admit defeat and give up on your search. In a huff, you put on the bikini, giving the bow behind your neck a good tug before pulling up your denim shorts with a couple jumps, trying to speed things along.

Earlier, you’d found the sticky note that said “FRIDGE!!!” underlined a few times by a heavy hand on top of the beach bag you vaguely remember packing for yourself the night before. The soft cooler bag covered with cheerful palm leaves had been haphazardly shoved onto the top shelf and was now sitting by the front door with the rest of your things, including the low sitting pink and white striped beach chair that Bradley had given to you as a ‘Welcome to San Diego’ gift.

You take one more passing glance around your apartment you look for any stray item that might have been missed- not that you’d be able to spot anything anyways through the cardboard battleground that is your apartment- and then you’re shoving your feet into your sandals and flying out the door in a flurry.

Pulling into the private lot of the Hard Deck, you park in the open spot next to your best friend’s blue Bronco. The bar wouldn’t be open until later, but Penny had given the group of aviators’ carte blanche parking perks. It was something you were especially thankful for as you slung the heavy bags over your shoulder.

The warm coastal breeze and briny salt air were clearing the cobwebs from your head.

Even though the feel of it drifting over your bare skin reminded you of just how exposed you were in just your skimpy bikini top and frayed denim shorts, you’d only realized when you were halfway to the beach that you’d forgotten to put a shirt on in your haste to get out the door. But you were sure you’d packed an oversized linen shirt to cover up with if the sun got to be too hot.

As you pass by the well maintained, but sun-bleached patio, you see Penny sitting at one of the picnic tables with her laptop. She waves when she sees you and you raise the iced latte you’d stopped for up to her in greeting, as much as you can without having the beach chair slip off your shoulder.

Further down the beach, you see the group of energetic aviators. Nat looked a bit like an orchestral conductor the way she is directing the finishing touches on the set up. You weren’t too late, just fashionably so, but you were already planning to buy them all a round of drinks later anyways. Even though it’s just a casual hang out, you still want to make a good impression with Bradley’s friends.

It was been one of the things you’d been most worried about moving here. Rooster had opened the door for you to get to know his friends, but you didn’t want to be just an extension of your best friend in the way it felt like you had been in high school. You really liked these people and wanted to make your own friendships with them too.

You’re more than regretting the choice to try and bring everything in one go, with the way the sand is shifting under your feet and how your beach bag and chair keep bumping against each other with every step you take. And just as you’re contemplating ditching them for the moment to circle back for after you get rid of the cooler bag that’s weighing you down, you see Fritz nudge Bradley, pulling his attention away from his phone and pointing in your direction.

The wide grin that appears on his face is immediate and you feel the corners of your own mouth pulling up. California looked good on him. He seemed happier and lighter here, more like the boy you knew from back home. The one he’d been before he lost his mom and the man who’d helped raise him. You hope that one day it’ll look just as good on you. He gives the other man a quick pat on the back before he’s setting off towards you in an easy jog.

“Hey, where’s mine, kid?” Bradley asks, nodding to your drink with its ice cubes now more than half melted before effortlessly taking the heavy bag from you.

You’re so grateful for his help- now that you can feel your arm again- that you almost forget that you’re supposed to be annoyed at him.

“You know what you did, Br-adshaw,” you retort, catching on his name and hoping he could feel your attempt at a glare from behind your dark sunglasses.

It was a change you were still getting used to. You’ve known him since you were eight, he’s always been Bradley to you. But you’d caught on very quickly that everyone else here only ever seemed to call him ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’. And he’d grinned so widely the first time you’d called him by his callsign that it seemed like a confirmation to the question you’d been too apprehensive to ask.

The man didn’t even have the courtesy to look guilty, the all too knowing smirk on his face confirmed everything you already knew, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Mhmm, sure,” you say, flatly pressing your lips together in an unamused line. You’re tempted to flip him off now that you have a free hand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He tugs his sunglasses down his nose with a finger to look at you from over the top of them, more serious now, “But you had fun, right?”

And it’s too hard to keep up with the façade of being mad at him when he is looking at you so earnestly. When you were younger you had a higher tolerance against those big brown eyes, his ‘cow eyes’ as Carole had called them. Now that you lived here maybe you’d have a fighting chance against them again, but you felt yourself giving into them.

You were still getting use to the fact that you got to be around him all the time again, and sometimes it felt like you were relearning him as an adult. Your friendship with him felt just as familiar as it always had, but you could admit it was also different now.

“A little too much,” you say with a light laugh at your own expense, “But yes, I had fun, Rooster. I really like your friends.”

He smiles, pleased. “Ok, good.”

Bradley slings an arm over your shoulder and the two of you start walking towards the rest of the group. You hold your drink up for him to take a sip as a sign of truce.

He grimaces at the taste, “Why does it taste like I just licked some of that potpourri shit my Grandma Rose used to keep in her house?”

“Maybe because it’s a lavender latte,” you say, taking a smug sip of your own now that the two of you were even. The coffee shop you’d stopped at has become your favorite in the area. It was a little thing, but you liked having a go-to spot when so much still felt so new to you.

“You’ve only been here a few weeks and they’ve already got you drinking the California Kool-Aid? Coffee should taste like coffee, not a damn flower,” he gripes.

“You sound like you’re seventy. Next, you’ll be yelling at kids to get off your grass,” you tease, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “And I’ll have you know I liked these before I moved here. It was just an extra selling point getting one this morning because I know you aren’t going to drink it all when my back is turned.”

He barks a laugh, “Now that I know there were ulterior motives involved, I might just have to help you finish it.”

You stop and push your sunglasses onto the top of your head, giving him a firm look, “You’re still on friendship probation, tread carefully where my coffee is involved.”

Bradley playfully reaches out for your coffee, “You don’t scare me, kid.”  You attempt to push him away, but he doesn’t budge an inch.

The two of you had basically reached the rest of the group. The gentle crash of the waves was mingling with the sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing from a speaker and the bursts of easy laughter of his friends. Jake is a few feet from the two of you at the edge of the set up as he works to cover himself with sunscreen, the mist sparkling on the fine hairs on his forearms before he rubs it in. 

“You might have those curls figured out now, but I bet my mom still has photos of you with that terrible middle part from when you were thirteen. Don’t mess with me, Bradshaw.”

His head snaps towards you, “Your potpourri coffee is safe, I promise.” You can’t help but laugh at the panic in his voice and the way he warily eyes Jake, clearly not wanting the other man to get his hands on any potential blackmail material.

The sound of a low, exaggerated whistle pulls your attention over to Hangman. “Lookin’ good, kid,” Jake drawls, a pair of dimples punctuating his lazy grin on either cheek, “Red is definitely your color.” His pecs and abs are gleaming in the sun. He’s not your usual type, but it’s working for you more than it should.

God, you really needed to get laid. Or at least get a more reliable vibrator.

“Nah, I’m not having any of that,” Bradley warns, pointing a finger at him, “You cut that shit out right now, Seresin.”

Jake puts his hands up in surrender, but that sharp smile gets even wider, “Just givin’ the lady a compliment, Rooster, don’t get your feathers in a ruffle.” He sends you a wink and you think you hear Bradley grumble something under his breath.

The blonde with all his pretty boy looks was absolutely a shark when it came to finding ways to get under Rooster’s skin. You’d heard your best friend complain about him for years. And even after learning about their truce, you hadn’t been too sure about meeting him in person. But ultimately his easy charm had won you over pretty quickly. You could admit that now you had a lot of fun teaming up with Jake and riling Bradley up.

“Thank you, Jacob,” you sing, tugging on Rooster’s arm towards the spot that had been left open for you in between his things and what you recognized as Natasha’s oversized beach towel.

You gingerly balance your coffee on the arm of his deep green beach chair before dropping the rest of your things into the sand and take in the carefully curated beach arrangement.

Fritz and Harvard are off to the side casually tossing a frisbee back and forth between them. Callie and Nat were facing off against Coyote and Payback in a game of cornhole laughing as they shit talk. Yale looks like he is napping, but you spot the AirPods in his ears, probably trying to listen to the audiobook he’d recommend to you last night in peace. Next to him is Fanboy, who looks pretty engrossed in the comic book he’s reading. And Bob was making his way back up the beach towards the group from where he’d been down by the water.

“I’m going to go offload that and say ‘hi’ to people,” you tell Rooster. Taking the heavy cooler bag back from him, you set off towards the designated grazing area in the middle of the ocean-facing semicircle Nat had corralled people into, greeting his friends as you pass by.

You were more than a little curious about tipsy you had packed for the day. Unzipping the bag, the first thing you spot is the last thing you ever would have expected to find for a day at the beach.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself, hesitating for a moment, unsure whether or not to add it to the rest of the things in the cooler.

“Are those pickles?” You turn to see Mickey standing behind you.

You hold the jar up for his inspection, “I can’t tell you what I was thinking by bringing them. Do you think I should put them in?”

He surprises you when he whoops and takes the jar from you, holding it above his head like a championship belt, “Yo, Payback! Look! The kid brought pickles!”

“Which kind?” Reuben calls back, taking a pause from the game with a beanbag still clutched in his hand.

“Claussen! The whole kind!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” he hoots, sending you a thumbs up. “Grab me one too, Fanboy.”

Mickey twists open the lid with a satisfying pop and fishes one out. “These are the best, thanks!” he says before excitedly hustling off towards Reuben to share, the cornhole game now on an indefinite pause.

You hadn’t been too sure what tipsy you had been thinking, but apparently the beach pickles were destined to be a hit. Either that or you weren’t the only one trying to shake off the tail end of a hangover this morning.

Bob swings by to grab a soda, but stops to help you unload the rest of the things from your bag. As the two of you work together, he tells you about the crab he’d found near the patio of the Hard Deck that he’d just released back into the ocean. 

Both of the large coolers were pretty packed, so no one would be going hungry or thirsty today. You make a note to shop around for one of your own and maybe a beach umbrella since no one else seems to have one. You were more of a sand, sea, shade type of girl.

Once everything is all put away, you grab a couple bottles of water and make your way back to your friend. You catch him taking another curious sip of your coffee, this time he nods like the taste might be growing on him. You let it slide because you see that while you’ve been away he’s set up your chair for you.

“Are you feeling peckish, Rooster?” you ask, plopping the water in his cup holder, eyeing the pilfered bag of trail mix he must have pulled out of your tote bag in his hands.

“What?” Bradley shrugs, unapologetically. You roll your eyes at him affectionately as he helps himself to another handful. “God, I’ve missed this. Japan has so much good food, but one of the perks of being back stateside after a year and a half is all the snacks. I’ve been going to Trader Joe’s like twice a week since I’ve been back.”

You still didn’t know anything about the mission that had brought him back to Top Gun. That phone call you’d had with him the night before he’d shipped off had played in your mind on repeat until he’d texted you that he was back safely in San Diego. The only thing you had been able to glean is that not everything went according to plan, based on his newest additions to his collection of scars. They were the first thing you’d noticed when he’d picked you up at the airport. Still shiny, pink, and fresh.

“Well, with that Hawaiian shirt collection of yours, you’d certainly fit in.”

He chuckles at that as he takes a moment to sort through the collection of various nuts and fruit and chocolate bits, he plucks out the raisins and drops them back in the bag. You bite back a smile because some things never change. He’s always pulled out the raisins, usually to replace them with more chocolate chips. Back when you were teens, his infamous ‘Bradshaw Mix’ was basically a 3-1 ratio of chocolate chips to anything else.

“Wait a second. Hold up, ‘peckish’?” His hand pauses halfway to his mouth, “Was that a joke at the expense of my callsign, kid?”

You point at yourself like who me? blinking innocently at him, “I would never.” Then grabbing a few of the nuts from his open hand you pop them into your mouth, shooting him a sunny grin.

Now that everything was all situated you felt like you could finally relax. You were like this when you traveled too, never at ease until you were through security with your bag stowed above your head. That tightness in your chest only releases after you’re buckled into your seat with all your in-flight necessities tucked away in the seat pocket in front of you.

Maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice the shirt that he was wearing. Well, mostly wearing. The sleeves had been cut off with an overenthusiastic hand and neared nip slip territory with the amount of Rooster’s golden skin that was on display.

“The Hooters shirt, really? Of all the things you could have held onto from your glory days, you chose that? How gauche.” You slide your sunglasses back on your face with your pinky exaggeratedly pointed up to the sky for dramatic flair.

He clutches his chest, “She’s got that fancy degree and been living in a big city and now she thinks she’s too good for Hooters? My, my how times have changed.” Bradley whips his tank off and tosses at you the same way he had done hundreds of times when the two of you were growing up.  Except the overpowering smell of teen spirit and axe body spray was replaced with a subtle, rich woodsy smell.

Rooster laughs when you succumb to the urge and throw him your middle finger. 

“Your motley crew of teenaged horndogs only went there because you all had a crush on Danielle Batula’s older sister,” you shoot back, folding up his shirt and putting it on top of your things.

“Hey now, we also went for the Lots-a-Tots. I’ve always been a feminist, kid, if a woman feels empowered wearing those spandex shorts then I’m going to support her,” he says with a wink, “Far be it from me to tell a woman what to wear.” You reach up to flick his nose and he bats at your hand, grinning even wider.

“And what’s the excuse for the reason you’re wearing jorts at the beach?”

Not that any man should be able to pull them off, but he wore them well. You were pretty sure he could pull off most anything with the body he’d worked for over the years, but the fact of the matter was that denim had no place mixing with sand.

“These are my beach jeans,” he says like it’s the most logical thing in the world, as he strikes a pose with his hip cocked out.

“I can see that, Rooster. But why?”

“It’s because they get him laid,” Javy cuts in with a booming laugh, slapping Bradley on the back as he passes by on his way towards the coolers, “Isn’t that right, Bradshaw? How many numbers did you score the last time we all did this? Like five?”

He runs his against the back of his neck, looking more sheepish than you’ve ever known him to be, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. She doesn’t need to hear about all that.”

“Oh.” It sounds just as stupid coming out of your mouth as you feel, not entirely sure how to respond or what to do with yourself.

Objectively speaking, you know your best friend is attractive. Tall, broad, and tan. You’d seen him get hit on more than a few times at the Hard Deck in the short time you’ve been here. But Rooster’s sex life wasn’t something you really wanted to hear about- or think about- especially when yours is nonexistent at the moment. 

However, it was one thing to generally know Bradley had no problem finding someone to take home and a different thing to hear just how easy it was for him. 

But you couldn’t say it surprised you though. During your first night out with everyone, you’d overheard a girl in the bathroom talking to her friend about him in more detail than you ever wanted to know, right down to confirming there had been more to the story he’d told you about how he’d earned his callsign.

You pointedly ignore the turn in conversation in favor of digging through your woven beach bag. You hadn’t had the time to apply sunscreen with all your rushing around to get here, and knowing Rooster he most likely hadn’t put any on either. His shoulders aren’t pink yet, but they undoubtedly will be by the end of the day. Even with the SPF 65 you’d purchased with him in mind.

Grabbing the bottle, you smoothly lob it to him, “Here, put that on. ‘Lobster’ isn’t nearly as cool of a callsign, Rooster.” You have to turn away from the chaotically haphazard way he rubs it all over his face. 

Leaving him to his own devices, you pull out a battered paperback book and toss it into your chair, only slightly mortified to see that tipsy you had been in a grocery store bodice ripper mood. If only you had noticed it earlier, you would have swapped it out for something less incriminating.

How you’d taken the time to unpack your books, and not all your clothes was beyond you.

You’re about to step around to the front of your pink and white striped chair when you feel a firm tug on the belt loop of your shorts, making you stop to turn back towards your best friend.

“Woah, get back here. We can’t have you frying, kid.” He squeezes some sunscreen into his hand, “Turn around and I’ll get your back for you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you say, adamantly shaking your head, “I trust you with a lot of things, but I am not trusting you to put the SPF on me. You haven’t even rubbed it all the way in on your face yet.” You thumb at the smear of white on his cheek to further emphasize the point.

“Hey, these hands handle a multimillion-dollar fighter jet, I’m more than capable of covering your back with sunscreen,” Rooster huffs, “Now, c’mere.”

Natasha laughs beside you as you dart out of his reach and around your chair to stand by her instead. She must have just walked up, because the last time you’d seen her she had been over on the other side of the group talking to Callie. But you had every confidence she would back you up with this since her friendship with Bradley was one that spanned years, and she’s undoubtedly seen him fried to a crisp before too.

“She makes a good point,” she says with a smirk, pinning him with a sharp raise of her eyebrow, “The last time I asked one of you guys, I ended up with the worst tan lines.”

The look of betrayal on his face is comical, “And here I thought we were friends.”

“I’ve decided to upgrade,” she says pointing to you. You beam in victory towards him and he just shakes his head at you before looking down at the large blob so sunscreen in the center of his large palm like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

You take Natasha up on her offer to help you cover the spots you can’t reach. All the while, you can hear him grumbling to himself as he works on rubbing in the dollop that had been meant for you over his shoulders and chest. After she’s done with your back, you shimmy out of your shorts and work on getting your arms and legs covered.

As Nat pulls up her thick, shiny hair onto the top of her head- the reason she must have come over here in the first place- and reminds Rooster about the plan to play ‘Dogfight’ football a little later before setting off again. You’d heard of flag football, but that name was new for you. You’d seen enough football with your ex and you were suddenly very grateful you’d brought a book to keep yourself occupied, even if it was a bodice ripper. 

You double check your set up, ready to hunker down, when you feel Rooster’s eyes trained on you, “What?”

“Just looking for evidence of this tattoo you allegedly have,” he says, doubtfully, “Considering that I only found out about last night. Since when do we keep secrets?”

“I told you it’s not for the viewing public, so it’s none of your business. Now, stop hovering and go play with your friends. You’re annoying me,” you say without heat, shooing him away.

“Are you bossing me around, kid?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yep,” you say breezily, getting comfortable in your chair and opening your book, “You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

“You’d think,” Rooster agrees with a laugh. He squeezes your shoulder before strutting off to go join where Coyote, Harvard, and Fanboy are already tossing a football back and forth not too far away.

Now that you’re on your own, you lose yourself in the words printed on the cheap paper of your smutty bargain book. You’re too engrossed in the tension and build-up of the story you’re reading to pay attention to anything else. And you’re reminded why this particular book has never made it into a donation box when you do your spring cleaning, it’s got the best combination of all your favorite tropes. By the fourth chapter you’re completely immersed in the story, and all the chatter happening around you becomes white noise.

The only signal of time passing is marked by the melted ice in your empty coffee cup, by the crinkle of swiftly turning of pages, and by the sun as it rises higher and higher in the sky.

What minimal marine layer there had been when you’d first arrived is long gone. You’re probably due for another layer of sunscreen by now, but you can’t be bothered when you’re in the middle of possibly one of the hottest sex scenes you’ve ever read.

It’s so well written, so incredibly vivid that you can almost feel greedy hands and wandering mouths along every inch of you. The blood thrumming in your ears has drowned out the sound of crashing waves. You’re so hyperaware of your body. It’s as if you can feel every individual grain of sand on your skin. Tucked between your fingers, on your shin, in the nook of your ankle bone. The high heat of the day has your hair sticking to the back of your neck and sweat collecting in the hollow of your collarbone. You’re too keenly aware of the prickling sensation on your shoulders and the tops of your thighs.

You thought living vicariously through the main character might help take the edge off. Instead, all it’s done is given fresh life to the ruined orgasm from the night before, like an echo of need reverberating throughout your whole body. A reminder of how untouched you’ve been over the last few months. You can’t help the way you’re shifting in your chair, trying to relieve the way your clit is throbbing in time with your heartbeat. The moment your cunt clenches around nothing, you close your book with a sharp snap. Not even bothering to mark the page you left off at.

You feel fidgety and keyed up. 

Needing something to do, you grab your tote looking for the lightweight linen coverup you assumed was packed. But digging around all you can find is Rooster’s Hooters shirt from earlier.

You’re more than a little irritated at yourself for not double-checking you had everything before you left for the day, and because your tipsy self had clearly fucked you over. You don’t know anyone else as well as you know Bradley to rummage through their things to look for some other form of sun protection, so with a huff you pull it on over your head. The cotton is soft and warm to the touch. You’re grateful for the way it covers your shoulders, but you’re already mentally preparing yourself for how smug he’ll be when he sees you in it, especially after all the shit you gave him earlier.

Still needing to keep yourself occupied from wanting to crawl out of your skin, you crack open the water bottle you’d grabbed earlier and swallow down a few large gulps. You’d heard when Natasha had rallied the group for their game, but you hadn’t taken a moment to find out what ‘Dogfight’ Football actually was.

You’re not even the slightest bit prepared for what you see playing out in front of you down by the water. You’d figured watching some of their football game would help your act together, but now you feel even more spun out of control than before at the sight of so much skin.

Fuck.

The sun is bouncing off of their hard, athletic bodies. Under the shiny sheen of sunscreen and sweat, their muscles look bigger and the divots and ridges more pronounced. You knew these were some of the best and brightest the Navy had to offer, but seeing them in action was something else entirely. The power of their legs was impressive as they ran and spun around their opponents. The precision of their aim as they threw the football to a teammate. Every single one of them was in peak shape. Those weren’t vanity muscles, those were earned and honed by hard work.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from any of it.

The lithe line of Natasha’s toned thighs. The full, defined pecs on Jake’s massive chest. The way Bob’s large hands easily wrapped around most of the curved football he’d just caught. The skin over the wide expanse of Javy’s back was pulled taut, his muscles flexing as he twists and bends. The way Mickey was breathing hard made his chiseled abs stand out even more than they already did.

It was a lot. Especially for someone who couldn’t remember the last time they’d been good and truly fucked.

And then there was Rooster.

There had been a few moments since moving here where you’d been struck by this version of him. It was almost like your brain couldn’t connect the tall, broad man in front of you racing across the beach with the long-limbed, gangly boy you’d known with the red and black braces. Or the one in the teal shirt who’d scooped ice cream for his first job. Or the one who’d helped you pass Algebra 2 when the math teacher cared more about coaching the basketball team than he did trying to make sure his students understood the material.

Seeing him now, like this? This version of him was new to you.

Rooster’s chest and face were flushed pink, those curls of his are an absolute riot. The sweat he’d worked up made it look like his golden skin was gleaming in the bright afternoon sun, even with the patches of gritty sand that were sticking to him. Power and control radiated off every inch of him, the embodiment of physical strength and agility. Every movement he made was purposeful and precise, like he knew exactly what he was capable of.

You knew he was built, but the casual perfection of his body still takes you by surprise.

The broadness of his shoulders, the definition of his biceps and arms, the jutting v-shaped muscle that ran diagonally from his hipbones towards the trail of fine hair below his belly button. The long tendon that ran along the side of his neck was on full display as he throws his head back to laugh at something one of his teammates says. It was impossible to miss the unapologetic confidence in his swagger or the way those ridiculous jorts were clinging to his thick thighs. They were absolutely soaked through, the light wash darkened by the Pacific, and the denim was molded to him in a way that left nothing to the imagination. 

When did Bradley get an ass like that?

The startling intrusive thought about your best friend has you shooting up from your chair in a flash, your book tumbling off your lap and into the warm sand.

Jesus Christ, you needed to get a grip.

Shade. You needed shade and to get out of the heat. And you definitely needed to get away from the overwhelming display of sunkissed sweaty skin and peak physical prowess playing out before you.

And then you’re off like a shot towards the Hard Deck.

The burst of cool air you’re hit with as soon as you’re pushing through the patio door that Penny left unlocked for the group is more than welcomed against your overheated skin, even as it makes goosebumps erupt along your body.

You sigh in relief once you flip the lock to the worn wooden door of the bathroom closed. Leaning against the cool surface that’s littered with faded stickers from all around the world, you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your racing heartbeat to slow down. You’re breathing hard like you’ve run a marathon, your lungs uncooperative to the point where you don’t feel like you can take a full breath. You’ve never felt this antsy before, it’s like there’s a live wire under your skin.

In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself. You’re more than a little windblown, but it’s the wild gleam in your eyes that surprises you the most, it’s a look on yourself that you’ve never seen before. Your thighs rub together as you shift your weight on your feet and it makes the pulsing of your clit impossible to ignore.

You weren’t. You shouldn’t.

But you have no idea how you’re going to make it through the rest of the afternoon and evening if you didn’t with how on edge you are.

Bringing your hand up to your chest, you press it there and let your thumb soothingly skim the side of your neck, trying to use whatever techniques you’d learned in those overpriced yoga classes you’d started taking before you’d left Boston to calm yourself down. But your fluttery pulse won’t be pacified.

Every part of you feels hypersensitive, you can feel every thread of Rooster’s shirt against your too tight skin. The desire to be touched is overwhelming. Your breasts feel heavy and you’re all too aware of your peaked nipples against the cups of your swimsuit. You’re craving hands other than your own.

It’s been so long since someone else has made you come. Even longer since you’ve had a back-arching, toe-curling, steal-your-breath kind of orgasm. You want to be pressed into the door, you want a firm, solid body fitted against yours. You want to be kissed and touched and fucked.

You keep telling yourself that you aren’t going to, even as your hand trails down the soft cotton between the valley of your breasts and over your stomach down even further. Your fingers sneak easily beneath the top of your bikini bottoms since you’d left without pulling your denim shorts back on. There are no thoughts left in your head, only the ringing in your ears. You need, you need.

There’s a small whimper that escapes you at the first touch of your fingertips against your slippery clit. The sensation has your hips jerking forward on their own, seeing out more. You’re so wet already.

There’s no finesse or slow build up. No gentle teasing or trying to draw this out. Your fingers are making quick, tight circles on that pulsing part of you. In the quiet of the bathroom, the rhythmic slick sounds you’re creating feel almost too loud.

You already know it’s not going to take you long to get there, but you still can’t help but let your mind wander. You think of big hands with thick fingers, ones that are calloused and rougher than your own touching you in just the way you like. The thought of a thick thigh pressed in between your own, on you could rock and grind against, has you rolling your hips harder against your fingertips. You can almost feel the ghosting of hot lips, a wet mouth, and a teasing tongue along your neck. All you want is a raspy voice in your ear whispering filthy words and murmuring pretty praise.

Couldn’t even wait until you got home. C’mon then, dirty girl, show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone and no one’s watching.

Go on, give that needy clit the attention it deserves. Spread your thighs open further- yes, just like that- I want to see how wet you are for me.

Jesus, look how hard you’re working for it. You’re going to make yourself come, and then I’m going to fuck you so hard that everyone will know what we did in here. They’ll all know how desperate you were for this cock.

A soft whine makes its way out of you, and with your free hand you pull up the collar of the shirt you’re wearing over your mouth to try and muffle your sounds as you tremble all over.

You’re hit with the scent of clean laundry and the warm, woodsy scent of expensive cologne. It’s rich and cozy, it reminds you of the trees that grow everywhere in your hometown. And underneath that, there’s a smell that you’d know anywhere, one you’ve always been familiar with. It smells like Br--

You come open-mouthed with stars blooming behind your eyelids, the force of it hitting you so hard that your knees nearly give out beneath you. The hand that had been covering your mouth slaps against the door for support. Your hips writhe against your fingertips as you chase those last shimmery moments of your release.

In your post-orgasm satisfaction, you feel like you can finally breathe again, now that all your antsy, unsettled energy has been freed from your body.

When you can feel your legs again, you go wash your hands once and then again for good measure. Like somehow it’ll erase the last few minutes from the Hard Deck’s history books, even though you’re sure it’s seen much worse. You chance a peek at yourself in the mirror, you look more relaxed than you did when you’d arrived.

Unlocking the door, you leave the sanctuary of the quiet bathroom. The only thing on your mind is the glass of ice water that’s calling your name. You’re about to round the corner out of the hallway when you collide into someone’s chest. A firm, sweaty, shirtless chest.

“Oh hey, there you are,” Rooster says, his big hand steadying you at the waist. “You ok? You look overheated, kid.”

Your face heats up immediately. You’re too flustered by what just occurred barely five minutes ago to look him in the eye. You feel embarrassment trying to bubble its way to the surface, but you push it back down in the name of self-care. Plus, you could always blame it on sunstroke if you had to, not that you were ever planning on telling anyone about it.

“Probably just dehydrated,” you ramble, trying to sound unaffected. Your eyes are trained on a spot just under his ear. “But you’re one to talk. You’re fried, Rooster.” With a finger you press lightly on his bright pink shoulder. His hisses and knocks your hand away.

“Nah, I’m just working on my base tan.” You don’t see as much as you feel the moment he notices what you’re wearing. Smugness rolling off of him in waves, “Not too good for Hooters now, are you?”

“Shut up,” you mumble.

“C’mon, let’s get you some water.” Tucking you under his arm as he steers you back towards the bar. “So what did you think of Dogfight football? Did you catch any of it or did your highbrow literary choice have your full, undivided attention?”

Your mind starts to whirl, unable to think of a reply. Thankfully you’re spared giving him an answer as the rest of the clamorous team spills in through the open patio door. The commotion is a godsend, because it’s almost like he forgot he even asked the question in the first place in the all the activity. The real answer will forever be a secret between you and the Hard Deck.

The late afternoon melts into evening like hand-churned ice cream, smooth and silky.

Eventually, the beach set up is packed away into trunks of cars as the party moves inside the bar. You end up back in your denim shorts, the Hooters shirt is the crowning glory to your ensemble for the rest of the night. You don’t even feel guilty getting people to call Rooster ‘Flamingo’ after the third time someone asks you about being out of uniform regulation. But he isn’t faring much better in the too-tight shirt he was borrowing, since it turns out that out of everyone in the group only Bob had been the one with enough common sense to pack a spare one.

As predicted, the pink hue of Rooster’s skin deepens with every passing hour until he’s bribing you into leaving early with the promise of burgers and milkshakes in exchange for putting on aloe for him back at his place.

He’s sprawled face down on his couch in a pair of loose sweatpants with his eyes closed, contentedly humming as you work on applying a second coat of the cool, soothing gel to his hot-to-the-touch skin. One of the movies the two of you use to watch all the time plays on in the background, the crumpled wrappers and empty cups of your dinner sitting out still on his coffee table. Every time you come here you can’t help but seek out any little touches that look like him, but much like yours, his condo seems to be a work in progress.

“It’s nice having you around, kid,” Rooster says with a sigh. “I’ve missed you.”

“You don’t have to butter me up, Bradshaw, I’ll put one more layer on for you before I leave,” you tease, as your hand follows the freckles along his back.

He squeezes your knee, “No, seriously. I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but I’m really happy you’re here.” And you know that if you were to look in his brown eyes, you’d see nothing but fondness reflected in them.

You give him a soft smile, “I’m happy I’m here too.”

It’s late by the time you get back to your place.

It seems pointless with the cardboard boxes still scattered around your apartment, but you still go through the motion of putting all your things away. Like wiping out your cooler bag and throwing your clothes in the washing machine, including the well-worn Hooters shirt. You’ve already decided to spend the rest of your weekend trying to unpack your things, you’re ready to make your space feel more like your home.

It’s a slow sinking feeling that settles over you as you wash the sand and sea salt from your skin in the shower. Your day has been so filled with chatter and laughter, that it feels uncomfortably quiet. It was different from the peaceful quiet you’d had at Rooster’s place, this was the empty kind of quiet. 

You turn the tv on in your room and crawl into bed, savoring the way the cool cotton of your sheets feels against your legs. Checking your phone, you see that Nat has sent you some pictures that she must have taken during the day. Scrolling through them you like the windblown, carefree girl you see in them.

For as good as the day you’ve had, you can’t quite shake off how lonely you’re feeling now. You can’t help but think about how nice it would be to come home and have someone here to laugh and relax with. Someone just to be with.

You pull your lower lip in between your teeth as you click into the app store feature on your phone. Taking a few moments to skim the options, you download the dating app with the highest rating and best reviews, deciding that it can’t hurt to try.

Not everyone got to have a fresh start in a new city, and you wanted to make the most of it. A new city with new places to go and new people to meet.

And you are ready to embrace every bit of it with open arms and a hopeful heart.

California was going to look good on you.

Bradley Bradshaw, you liked that lavender latte and you're not fooling any of us!

Many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse and @callsignspark for being the best babes to swoon over pretty pilots with!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[tobiotetsu]

the beast’s beauty

fushiguro toji x f!reader

description: because of your father's mistake, the infamous toji zenin forced you into imprisonment in order to pay his debt. however, what you never expected was to fall in love with the monster he was.

genre: angst, historical au, 18+, mini series

warnings/tags: explicit smut(vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, ) violence, mentions of stockholm syndrome & misogyny, blackmail, character injury, blood, profanity, mdni, grammar mistakes

a/n: to welcome our fav dilf to the jjk screen, here's a little beauty and the best retelling for toji:) reblogs are truly appreciated <3 (taglist: open) (wc:1k)

general masterlist

part one ♕ part two ♕ part three ♕ part four ♕ part five

You never enjoyed the company your father kept. Drunks, assassins, mobsters, gamblers. You would always find yourself pulling him out of taverns in the early hours of 2 to 4 am. Usually, fear would course through women’s veins if they had to enter an establishment of this kind however, that wasn't your case. You were predisposed to bars, and whore houses since you were 10.

Now here, age 22 as you make your way through the liveliest bar in town. The air stank of beer and fresh cigarettes; a smell that you've grown more than used to. Your upbringing was merited to being the only daughter of a single father. Your mother died in childbirth and your father never chose to remarry. When you were younger you thought of it as romantic, but as time went on you saw it for what it really was.

He gained a free pass to hoard whores. Your house doors welcomed a new woman every week. The most motherly advice you gained was how to seduce a man and how to keep your tits perky.

The bar was more full than it usually was. Sweaty bodies stood, all facing the same direction. A poker game was at play. By the looks of the chips stacked in the center, it looked rather intense. Your feet began to move faster as a small anxious feeling nipped at your stomach. Shoving arms and legs, you squeeze into the front of the table.

Two men were sitting at opposite ends of the table. The left side of the table was far more crowded than the right. Women were draped over the man who was seated. A hand covered the majority of his face so all that was in view were his eyes. Dark green eyes shined brightly, even though the mess of dark hair was in front of it.

‘He looked focused’ you thought. He stared ahead, not giving any attention to the women around him. You could see why they were all interested in him. Physically, he was very attractive. His legs were spread out under the table, arms crossed and sat straight. His shirt fit on his body like a glove. His shoulders, chest, and even the muscles on his torso were visible through the cloth.

Before you could notice anything a familiar voice caught your attention. At the other end of the table, you see a familiar ratted navy coat. With a far lonelier crowd, your father was squinting at the four cards in his palm.

“All in” he shouted as he pushed all his chips closer to the dark-haired man.

“Dad!” you jumped to him, clasping your hand on his wrist. As you opened your mouth to protest, a deep voice intercepted.

“Sorry, cap.” was all the man said as he displayed his cards. The faces and noise around you felt dull. Muffled voices and blurry vision were all you had as you watched your father’s cards get trumped by a royal flush.

“How much money did you bet, Dad?” The urgency in your voice was a cover for the panic. He had no money. Whatever money he did earn at his sales job was put towards the tavern and prostitutes. Whatever was left was the sum you had earned at the library.

“Sweet pea, I-I messed up,” there was a shake in your father's voice. One that you had never heard before. “It wasn’t money. Gu- I need to get”

You couldn't understand the slurred speech your father spewed.

“Gu? What are you saying, Dad?” you held your father steady near the back entrance of the building.

“Guns” your body jumped at the sound of another voice joining your conversation. You spun around to be faced with familiar eyes. They look much darker at night. The only thing illuminating the scene was a candle hanging beside the door in between you two.

“He didn’t bet money. Your father owes me guns.”

Your eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

He must be confused with someone else.

In an effort to clear your father's name you turn to him for reassurance, but all you are met with is disappointment.

“Mmm sorry. I sold the guns and I didn’t have anything else to give” Your father's voice fell flat.

“Dad, What are you talking about? Why do you have guns? What are you in?” your hands grasp his arms and shake his drunk body hoping to shake the truth out of him.”

“Your father works for my business. And he fucked up and sold my guns for bitch money.” the man said. His head tilted to the right, allowing for his face to be seen. The first thing you saw was a scar that ran through the right corner of his mouth. He was taller than you assumed he was. As he inched towards you his size grew.

“What do you want?” your voice dripped in fear.

“Well, your father here, he bet me something to act as a placeholder, till I get my guns.” he fished in his pockets as he spoke those chilling words. He retrieved a small syringe from his pocket.

Your worried eyes turned to your father but before you could protest, rough hands brushed your lips, pressing your mouth shut. You felt your skin break as a cool needle was stuck in your neck. Tears welled up in your eyes as your fear was confirmed.

You felt your own body turning into mush, your muscles stopped protesting the man's actions and started to skin into him. Your back hit his chest and your head rolled onto his shoulder. With what little power you had you flailed your limbs, but all of your efforts were met with failure.

You couldn't hear anymore, couldn't distinguish voices. Couldn't yell and scream at your father for pimping you like a whore to a beast. You didn't know whose voice it was but you were hoping their word was true, as those were the last words that you heard before you blacked out.

“I'll take care of you, I promise.”

[ jjk gen taglist: @meepmoop12w @thepsychicartist ]

[princessbrunette]

you’d sent dbf!pope some… pictures.

not just any old pictures, and even when he saw the notifications stating you’d texted him ‘10 attachments’, he was more curious than he was nervous or apprehensive. he thought he’d developed that trust in you not to act a fool when he was in your house. with your father home.

you see, you’d gone shopping that day. feeling especially daring, you’d snapped some pictures. at first seemingly innocent— ones in the mirror wearing your little sundress, smiling through the screen. but quickly, clothes come off and soon you’re pushing your barely covered tits together like a pornstar or spreading your legs, showing off that very obvious wet spot in your panties. that spot pope knew all too well.

considering you could hear him downstairs with your father all evening, you’d expected him to leave you on read the way he did. he was your fathers best yet youngest researcher at his company, and as men do — your father not really having any real ‘friends’ before that, they’d gotten to be pretty close, your man of interest showing face at your house nearly every day now.

hours later, you finally heard the familiar footsteps coming up the stairs. at first they were quiet and careful, but became pretty thunderous the closer they got. as expected, you’re innocently waiting on the edge of the bed with your hands on your lap with a smile.

“no, okay. don’t look at me like that. are you crazy?” pope looks pissed, folding his arms after closing the door gently behind him. you tilt your head faux-innocently, and it’s pretty out of character. you were usually a very sweet girl, a tease — yes, he can admit. but not this mischievous. it unfortunately didnt take this kind of behaviour to get him naked the first time.

“you didn’t like the pictures?” you mewl and he purses his lips.

“you know i liked them. what i don’t like — okay, is you sending me this shit whilst i’m downstairs with your dad.” he whisper-yells the last part, storming right up to you with his phone in his hand.

“but im gonna guess he’s passed out with a beer in his hand right now… right?” there’s a twinkle in your eye. one that told him you really didn’t care about the scolding. he breathes heavily, staring down at where you sit. the eye contact is hot and heavy, and after a moment he gives in— grabbing your head to meet him halfway for a pissed off kiss.

he exhales out his nose like it’s relief to relieve that tension, pushing you to lie back on the bed with a little more force than he was used to— but today he felt you deserved it. you wanted to be a brat? he’d treat you like one.

“just so you know, i am so against this. this is so wrong.” he pants as he rips your skirt down, worried words contradicting his actions.

“mhm.” you dismiss, not really taking him in.

“no really. this is like, life ruining. do you understand?” he’s suddenly gripping your cheeks with one hand, getting you to stare into his eyes. he’s so pretty you go into a bit of a daze, but nod dumbly regardless. “good.” he lets go, before pushing up and beginning to hastily undo his belt. “i’d say it’s only fair you… pay for what you did, right? show me you’re sorry?” he raises his brows, lines in his forehead from the impending age.

“anything you want mr popey.” you’re totally game, giggling as you reposition yourself to be on your knees, ready to repent with your mouth. popes eyes flit over to the lingerie store bag on the ground in the corner, and being the kind of guy he is — his heart aches a little at the effort you put into impressing him. he couldn’t help it. he was a softie.

“hey, if we have time afterwards. you can show me the stuff you picked up today. deal?”

“deal!”

[wildemaven]

confessions | tim rockford

pairing: tim rockford x f!reader word count: 1349 warnings: 18+ blog; beer consumption, Tim is older than reader but no age given (not more than 10+ years), fluff, pining, secret crushes, kissing, fluff, one mention of calling Tim ‘old’ in a playful manner, (none of these pictures dictate the appearance of reader, this is all purely for vibes and up for your own interpretation) notes: this is my first Tim fic and I’m so excited to be apart of the Summer Lovin’ challenge out on by @pedgito @chaotic-mystery @amanitacowboy Big shout out to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for giving it a once over for me!! I appreciate you!!

“Thanks again for coming.” You lean over and say before hiding behind the sip from your plastic cup of ice cold beer. 

“Of course. It’s a bummer your date couldn’t make it.” Tim says now leaning slightly over in your direction so you can hear him. 

The music isn’t loud. More of a steady hum as a slower ballad is played on stage. Low enough that you can carry on an easy conversation without shouting over blasting speakers. 

“Yeah. Definitely a bummer he couldn’t make it. I don’t think I’d be having as much fun as I am if I was alone— so thank you.” You almost feel bad about lying. Your date that canceled on you last minute for this very concert you’re attending right now with your partner instead. 

Expect Tim doesn’t know that there never was a date prior to him accepting your last minute invitation to be your plus one. His detective skills certainly are not keen on the slight crush you've had for the man for some time now. 

“You don’t have to keep thanking me. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to be here. It’s kind of a bonus that they’re one of my favorite bands. Missed out on getting tickets. So I should be thanking you.” Tim bumps your arm playfully with his elbow before directing his attention back to the stage where the lead singer is ripping on his shiny black electric guitar. 

“Oh! I didn’t realize that when I asked you. I’m so glad it worked out like this.” Another lie. 

You knew it was one of Tim’s favorite bands. Overheard him one morning in the break room talking about this upcoming tour and how it’s been a dream of his to see them live. The only problem was this exact venue had sold out before he had gotten a chance to even attempt to get tickets. 

It pays to know people. Especially the kind of people who owe you favors. You had immediately called in the favor and you were able to secure two tickets that were relatively close to the stage without any issues. 

Tim Rockford has been your partner at the police department for the last three years. The crush you’ve been quietly harboring for him has been alive for nearly the same amount of time. 

You tried to not feel guilty while flat out lying to him about the whole thing. Especially right now with how much he is enjoying himself. His head bobbing in time with the beat. The words so effortlessly fall  from his mouth as he sings along to each song. 

As the song plays on, you don’t see the way Tim is admiring you thoroughly enjoying the music. Your arms high in the air, falling into a rhythmic wave that mirrors the other concert goers. What surprises him most, and finds almost angelic, is the way you sing word for word without missing a beat, making him even more grateful you asked him to come now, so he could witness such a sight. 

“I’m surprised you know all the words.” He says with a grin that makes your stomach swoop instantly. 

“Of course I do. It’s a good song.” You’d only discovered it when you began your rigorous studying of the band’s entire discography after securing the tickets. But Tim doesn’t need to know that— yet. “They’re a great band for being around for so long.” 

He shoots you a pained look.

“A great band for being around for so long? Sweetheart, I was listening to them in high school. You calling me old?” He turns fully to you in the small row where your seats have been abandoned for the better part of the show. His signature Detective Rockford stance, hip cocked out and hand secure at his waist band, is way less intimidating when he’s dressed in his off duty casual clothes and unarmed. 

“Well, not as old as my dad…” Technically, Tim isn’t not much older than you, but the years between you were enough for there to be a difference in tastes of music. You shrug your shoulders at him, not sure if he’s picking up the flirty tone you’ve adopted in the last few minutes. “But if the shoe fits, I guess.” 

“I’m hurt— wounded.” Tim grabs at the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching under his grip. 

“What was that?” You cup your hand over your ear and lean back into him. “I can’t hear you over your knees popping every time you stand up.” 

His smile drops and it has you feeling like you might have crossed a line that has blown any chance of ever being something more serious with Tim. 

“Tim— I was totally kidding. I’m so sor—“ Tim cuts you off before you can properly apologize to him. 

Tim’s lips are softer than you had imagined them being, slotted perfectly over yours. The music playing is no longer the main event for you, fading into the background as Tim conveys to you his own undisclosed feelings for you through the kiss. It’s a moment that feels straight out of one of your favorite rom-com movies. 

“I hope I haven’t been reading this whole thing wrong and I didn’t just make an ass out of myself by shutting up that pretty mouth of yours.” Tim’s musky cologne mixes with the beer he’d been savoring as his words fan across your face at such a close proximity. 

“No. You definitely didn’t— to both things.” A cool breeze sweeps through, alleviating the warmth that’s settled on your skin. “I have a confession to make.” 

“What’s that?” His thumb grazes over the apple of your cheek. It’s gentle effort helps ease all of your shot nerves. 

“There was no date. I got the tickets and planned to ask you. I didn’t want to sound desperate or weird, so I made it seem like I was going with someone else and that they canceled at the last minute.” 

“Oh— well I guess I should confess something to you then.” There’s a small hint of relief that you detect in his voice at your confession, you wouldn’t be one of the best detectives in your department to let that tell slide by unseen. “I was jealous of your non-existent date.” 

“Really?!” 

A light fluttering sensation swirls through you. Sincerity etched in the flecks of the warm brown eyes staring back at you. 

“Yeah. Heard you talking about it with everyone at work. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a small part of me that had wished it was me going with you.” 

“You’re only saying that because it’s your favorite band playing right now.” 

You amusingly roll your eyes and push at his solid unmoving arm, but he catches your wrist before you can pull away. 

“Nah, I would have been jealous even if it was that Bieber kid.” Tim maneuvers his hand around yours, interlocking your fingers together. 

“Good to know, Rockford. I'll remember that for next time.” 

The chords of a new song fill the air. A vivacious energy spreads through the crowd like a wildfire. It’s not enough to break the small bubble Tim and you are currently existing in. 

“Next time? So what does that mean for us then, Sweetheart?” His brows knit together. He’s hopeful at the prospect of a next time, but doesn’t want to be too expectant and scare you away before he even has a chance to have you. 

“I don’t know. Let’s listen to the rest of this concert. Then afterwards you can take me to that old diner you love over on Pine Street. Order some food and we can talk until they threaten to kick us out.”

“If I’m not mistaken, that kind of sounds like the perfect first date.” He delivers another weak-in-the-knee inducing smile and you can’t help but mirror it with a little wink. 

“Way to use those detective skills.” 

It’s your turn to kiss him. It doesn’t linger as long as you’d like, but the night is still young. 

[19burstraat]

ketterdam dashboard simulator

goedmedbridge420

who up boeking they canal

10,345 notes

drydens follow

I can't believe some of you log on here and thirstpost about barrel vagrants. it makes me so sick. these men are the very pits of society and have never honoured ghezen a day in their lives. there are so many other young men who make their living in a reverent way. have some dignity.

#ghezen #inghezenssight #ghezenhonouring #churchofghezen #handofghezen

2 notes

kooperomno1fan

lionsroar12 follow

omg HOW is kaz brekker winning this he's SO problematic he's not even good for the economy he killed members of his own gang and kidnapped councilman van eck's son

dregsundrained

cranky coz your gang fell apart aren't you

17,860 notes

oskervoexchange follow

guys is this a mandela effect or what bc I SWEAR this painting used to be in the university district art museum, I literally saw it this week??? but I went today and it was GONE?????? there wasn't even a plaque?? guys pls I'm so confused why is everyone acting like this is normal for ketterdam? do priceless antiques just VANISH? am I being gaslit?

450 notes

stadhall-clerking

guys I'm so sorry I've been MIA :( I found out that my landlord was using my rent on the staves rather than fixing my black mould problem so I pushed him out the window and told the stadwatch he must have fallen and died because he wasn't honouring ghezen and got away with it. anyway I think maybe the black mould explains the dirtyhands/sturmhond fic I was writing sorry :( but I WILL finish my fairy queen of istamere meta post once I've moved into my new lodging

670 notes

dregsconfessions follow

SUBMISSION: sometimes I lie awake thinking about the time I fell down an entire flight of stairs at the slat when kaz was at the bottom, and he just stared at me (still lying on the floor), and then asked if I'd changed the beer kegs at the silver six yet. GIRL NO?!?!?!

#submission #dregs #dirtyhands #admin comment: laughed so loud my upstairs neighbour threatened to shoot me

546 notes

dregsconfessions follow

ADMIN NOTE: if the razorgulls don't fucking stop sending anon hate to this blog we'll tell dirtyhands n he'll send you your own IP address back

#see what happens you hack job seagulls

500 notes

kerchtourismboard

it's us, the real kerch tourism board, here to tell you what we're putting in the new summer season pamphlet. we got 1) three pages all about kaz brekker that end up being more of an advertisement than a deterrent 2) list of slipperiest spots in the barrel where you will fall over and get a concussion when ur drunk 3) top 10 ways to get your wallet stolen by a child in broad daylight 4) paintings of the komedie brute 5) advert for sten's stockpot 6) map of public toilets

570 notes

kerchtourismboardreal follow

we are not affiliated with any degenerate impersonator accounts who claim to be us. we are the only real kerch tourism account.

23 notes

kerchtourismboard-real follow

grafcanal smells like piss and you should bite everyone you see wearing the mister crimson costume

450 notes

stensstockpot follow

it's all 'fuck sten's stockpot' and 'I got food poisoning from the special at sten's stockpot' until you realise you don't have the money for cilla's fry, and then you come CRAWLING back to the loving arms of sten's stockpot and our special. you fucking traitors. you'll be back! you'll all be back

canaljumpings follow

what's in the special sten's stockpot

stensstockpot follow

it's a surprise ;)

bertskerch follow

nah I thought this was the real stens lmao

stensstockpot follow

bert smit you still have 45 kruge to pay on your tab and if you don't cough up we'll send our debtors to break your legs

230 notes

exchangingbabey follow

my grisha girlfriend who still wears a kefta and says things like 'nikolai lantsov is a bastard': ugh they're still debating whether or not the council of tides should be able to control kerch shipping, I hate inter-country politics

me: I think I hauve the queen's lady

4500 notes

(insp) (insp)

[vicxss]

Natasha Romanoff x bartender!university student! reader

Summary: You're working to make ends meet and unexpected help arrives

Warnings: smut, fingering, stimulation and penetration

English is not my first language

It was 7 pm when Carol called me in for a shift at the luxe nightclub that was rented for a bachelor party, she strung me along that it would be closed so I would have to wear a jacket, despite being a woman.I ran into Carol and Maria Hill near the bar.

Carol: I'm glad you're here, these people are crazy - she hugs me

Maria: I must agree, I only agreed to come because I need the money - she says, starting to prepare a drink

Y/n: I also came for the money, I need to pay my university expenses, which are not cheap at all - I read an order and start to prepare like Hill

Carol: Come on people, you can't tell me that I only came here hoping to pay someone back - she says and we look at her

Y/n: We only came for the money anyway - I comment and Maria nodsI notice from a distance one of my teachers, Bucky Barnes, he is a Russian teacher but we ended up having disagreements.

I don't like the way he teaches and I bet he doesn't speak any Russian, this broke my expectations since I intended to learn Russian and I am interested in the language.

Carol: I see that you have already noticed Barnes, he came for Professor Tony's bachelor party in mechanics.Here is another area that I don't get along very well, although he is not my teacher, I only see him in the hallways and when I go to my friends' class.

Maria: And that's why he's asking God and the world for drinks, this guy must be rich, seriously, where does a university professor pay for a place like this?

Y/N: Maybe they earn well, I would have to earn very well to work with people from the university.

Carol: that's true, I can't stand to look at people anymore, they make me sick

Maria: Remember what Seth did on Wednesday?

Y/n: he showed everything he didn't have, and he still thinks he is good

Maria: his mother is the real good one - she says and Carol looks at her with disapproval and I just start laughing

Carol: He's never going to stop staring, it's already getting weird - she says referring to Bucky who is staring at us - If looks could kill?

Y/n: We just share the same feeling and I am interested in a better future, I say, rolling my eyes.

Carol: I'm going to deliver these drinks - she says and leaves with a tray of drinks in her hands.

Soon after Hill also leaves to hand out whiskey and I am left alone.I am trying to serve as many people as possible, but I don't know if I should take turns between drinks or handing out beer to the many men who were cursing me to get my attention .With a quick movement, I noticed a woman with red hair pass by the counter and stop beside me. She looked at me, and I could see the green in her eyes that seemed a color I had never seen before. Her wavy hair was reddish-red half copper, and she had a light makeup that highlighted her eyes and mouth.  God, she was beautiful.Shit, concentrate.

Y/n: Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, please," I said so she could hear me.

"Show me where the beers are and I can help you deliver them while you prepare the drinks," she said with a husky tone of voice that made my skin shiver.

I pointed to a door behind the counter, and the woman smiled and winked at me. She shook her head with a nervous laugh, and I turned to the counter so that I could take my next order. 10 or 15 drinks, that's what they ordered, I was only satisfied when the group of people returned to the stage where the performance was taking place.I leaned against the counter and noticed the woman looking me up and down, I took the opportunity and did the same. She was wearing a tight black dress, enough to make her breasts bulge, I lost myself and looked at her face again.

Y/n: thank you for your help, Miss...?.- I asked, arching my eyebrows

"Natasha" - she says giving me a beautiful smile and extends her hand I bring her hand to my lips placing a light kiss on the back of her hand, I did the whole movement while looking at her who didn't break the contact.

Y/N: it's a pleasure to meet you Natasha, my name is Y/n.- I smile, taking the woman's handWe hear the wood of the counter creaking, Carol arrived at the place with messy hair and fixing her own jacket, as soon as she notices us she gives me a mischievous smile and takes a tray leaving the place.

Natasha: Finally, what are you doing here?

Y/N: I have come for the money, I have to pay the university fees.

Natasha: I understand, do you know anyone here?

Y/N: Some of them are my professors - I speak and she is surprised

Natasha: gee, ....

Y/N: I know," I laugh, "would you like to go somewhere more private?I ask her ear and see her skin shiver.

She straightens up and walks out from behind the counter to leave, I didn't even have time to be embarrassed since she turned around and nodded. I followed her until we reached a bathroom that I would say was spacious.I pressed the woman against it, the kiss was rough and hurried. My hands went to the woman's waist, leaving a gentle squeeze on the spot.

She broke the kiss to give a soft moan and then pulled me back in. She pulled at every place her hands went, my hair, my neck, my collar, my waist, everything so that we could have more contact.I felt her desperation and grabbed her thighs and supported her on the sink in the bathroom, she intertwined her legs around my waist and I rubbed myself against her making her moan with the contact. I stop the kissing and go to her neck, squeeze her ass and she moans, tilting her head, giving me more access to her pulse point.I take advantage of the position to pull up her dress and take my thumb to her clit covered by her panties.

I noticed how wet the woman was, smiling over her skin I stimulated her clit with circular motions. She let out a moan near my ear, making me moan as well. My body burned just to make that woman moan for me. i pulled down her panties, sliding my fingers over her folds and felt the woman move for more contact. The position may be uncomfortable for me, but it doesn't matter.

A noise coming from the end of the hiding place put me on alert, but I didn't stop the movements, in fact the adrenaline only helped me by increasing the stimulation on the woman's clit. I kissed her to hold back the moans, and she responded in an instant. I felt the woman's body become more breathless and then I began to alternate the stimulation with penetrations over the woman's entrance.

I heard the footsteps and then decided to increase the speed, causing the woman to moan harder on my lips. I penetrated the woman's entrance one last time. Natasha hid her face in my neck to stifle a moan as she came. She bit my neck and sucked, I knew this would leave a mark, but I smiled.

"Cестра, I saw you come in there, we have to go." A voice came from behind the door, she was speaking Russian

Natalie answered in Russian as well but I didn't understand. I took my fingers from the woman and brought them to my lips. She looked at me with fire in her eyes as I sucked on the fingers that had the woman's liquid all over them. I was satisfied when she bit her lips.I helped her down, while she tried to adjust her dress. Straightened her hair, and she pulled my chin to deposit a lingering kiss on my lips. Then she turned, looked at me one last time, and left.

[imaniwriting]

Can you write an imagine where jj is seeking refuge in his girlfriend’s home and she cleans his wounds and comforts him?

(This is so cute)

𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬

Warnings : Luke, abuse, mentions of blood, angst, swearing (let me know if i missed any)

Summary : after jj encounters his dad he has nowhere to go and chooses to pay his girlfriend a visit who is more than willing to take him in for a few days

Genre : Angst, Fluff

“You are a piece of shit!” Yelled Luke while taking another hit at his so called son. JJ was hunched up against the wall not having the energy to fight back.

He took one last hit at JJ’s face before spitting on him making JJ flinch. “You’re the goddamn reason why your mother left.” Luke gritted out while picking up a beer from the floor. JJ stood up and stormed into his room profusely crying.

He pulled his hair in anger feeling like he was a pet that his father could control whenever he wanted. He picked up his phone staring at the popped up message that was sent 20 minutes ago.

“Hey JJ, John B told me you were going home and i just wanted to make sure you’re okay”

He read the message over and over again shocked that someone really cared about him. Meanwhile you were sitting anxiously at home biting your lips staring at the message you sent 20 minutes ago. Usually JJ was a fast replier never did he leave anyone on read for more than 10 minutes especially you.

You sat up on your bed when you saw that he had opened the message waiting for ‘typing’ to pop up on your screen. But it never did. Not after 5 minutes not after 10.

You were about to leave your house to check on him when there was a knocking on your door. “Coming!” You yelled skipping down the stairs to answer your door.

And there he was, the love of your life standing with bloodied cuts on his face and hands. You placed down your keys and quickly embraced him in a tight hug.

JJ wrapped his arms around your waist and gently moved you so he could step into the house and escape the coldness of the night. “God, JJ what happened?” You asked while closing the door and turning to him.

“Nothing that hasn’t happened before” he chuckled but there wasn’t any humor to it, it was a cold chuckle. You frowned and quickly took his hand in yours to guide him into the bathroom.

“Sit down” you ordered in an instant taking out the first aid kit he followed your command and sat down at the edge of the bathtub that was standing in the back of the bathroom.

You walked up to him and took out a cotton ball and alcohol to clean his wounds. “This may sting” you informed him but he just kept on staring at you nodding absently.

He hissed when you made contact with his wound making you look into his eyes apologizing quietly “sorry”. You went to kiss his cheek softly before turning to the cut on his lip.

JJ kept staring at you completely lost in love. He often found himself staring at you loving every aspect of your body. You quickly finished with all the cuts he had and discarded the now dirty cotton ball.

“Thank you, baby” he said softly while gently grabbing your face to kiss you. The kiss was a loving one not lustful or harsh. You kissed him back careful not to hurt or open the cut on his upper lip.

You slowly pulled away making him whine at the loss of contact. “JJ don’t go back there” you said staring into his ocean blue eyes. “I won’t” he replied making you smile lightly.

You went in for another comforting kiss and another one before deciding to go to sleep.

JJ had his hands comfortably wrapped around you in bed while you were sound asleep he hummed a tune happy to be in the presence of the only person who he knew would always stand behind his back.