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astonishinglegends · 2 years ago

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Ep 269: The Hitchhiker of Mogollon Rim

"The trickster is found worldwide. Superficially, his tales seem little more than entertaining stories for children, but they encode important truths. The trickster is central to many religious beliefs, and some of the tales are sacred. In fact, a number of cultures permit only a few persons to tell the stories and restrict when they can be told because they have a power of their own." -- "The Trickster and the Paranormal," by George P. Hansen

Description:

The Mogollon Rim in northcentral Arizona is a geological landform that spans around 200 miles east to west, demarking the southern boundary of the Colorado Plateau in the state. This topographical feature is classified as an escarpment where wide and steeply sloping cliffs and rock masses delineate the high pine-covered plateau on the northern side, which receives cold winter temperatures and light snow from the desert-like conditions below to the south. This transitional nature provides a habitat for significantly varying types of plants and animals. Perhaps because of Mogollon Rim’s liminal nature, this variance is claimed by many to also extend to creatures and phenomena that dwell beyond our understanding. Accounts and legends of UFOs, supernatural occurrences, and even its own brand of a hominin-like beast known as the “Mogollon Monster” are familiar to the territory. The supernatural element became all too real for our guest, Jay, who endured a terrifying encounter while working as a wildlife biologist for the Arizona Game and Fish Department. While studying black bears in the rugged canyons and terrain of the Rim, Jay encountered an impossible stranger in a pretty unlikely place, one that insisted on getting a ride. But who or what was this thing, and what was their intention? An ancient spirit known to the Native American cultures of the region or a physical being with mystical powers masquerading as a weird human? While it is never advisable to pick up strangers, it seems that one may be compelled to give a ride to a hitchhiker on Mogollon Rim, maybe as just a playful reminder that humans are not the apex of the paranormal food chain.

Reference Links:

CLICK HERE to listen to “Astonishing Al’s Mix Tape” on Spotify

CLICK HERE to listen to “Astonishing Legends Creepit” – a curated collection of our creepiest episodes on Spotify!

Mogollon Rim on Wikipedia

Mogollon culture on Wikipedia

Navajo

Escarpment

Madrean Sky Islands

Sky island

“Mogollon Monster 100” trail race

Mogollon Monster

The Mogollon Monster from Weird U.S.

“Bigfoot sightings abound in early Rim Country history” from the Payson Roundup, Tuesday, March 1, 2016

“Arizonan Legends” from the Horizon Sun, April 1, 2017

“Rim Country Places” from the Rim Review, January 22, 2014

“Ask Clay: Gather round for tales of the Mogollon Monster” from azcentral.com

“Searching for the Mogollon Monster” from Williams - Grand Canyon News

“Story, video: Apaches go public with Bigfoot sightings: 'It cannot be ignored any longer'“ from Tucson.com

“40 years later: Most documented UFO sighting, abduction still draw interest” from the White Mountain Independent

The Mogollon Monster YouTube channel

“The Legend Of The Mogollon Monster In Arizona May Send Chills Down Your Spine” from Only in Your State

Arizona Game & Fish Department

Location:

Mogollon Rim, Arizona

Suggested Listening:

Badlands

Badlands is an anthology series that blends history and true crime to tell the transgressive stories of some of the biggest names in Hollywood. This is not the Hollywood history you’ve heard before. These are uncensored, immersive, edge-of-your-seat storytelling. Host Jake Brennan, creator and host of the award-winning music and true crime podcast DISGRACELAND, explores the most insane stories surrounding the world’s most interesting Hollywood icons. Badlands has covered many actors, directors, and more, including the mysterious deaths of Marilyn Monroe and Natalie Wood... Tim Allen’s former career as a low-level drug dealer... the curse of the movie Poltergeist... how porn star John Holmes got caught up in the infamous Wonderland murders... and more episodes on Winona Ryder, Johnny Depp, River Phoenix, Gianni Versace, Robin Williams, Heath Ledger, Sharon Tate, Robert Downey Jr., and so many more. New episodes of Badlands are released every Wednesday, with bonus episodes released every Friday. Subscribe to Badlands on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, the iHeartRadio app, AmazonMusic, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Opening the Doors

Hear Forrest as a guest on our good friend Bradley Netherton’s podcast, Opening the Doors, all about the legendary band with Jim Morrison! This episode covers all the mentions of The Doors on The Simpsons animated series.

KLU Podcast – Keep Looking up

CLICK HERE for Persephone Holloway’s podcast, KLU “Keep Looking Up” on Podbean

Persephone May Holloway’s music on Spotify

Southern gothic podcast

Listen to our good friend Brandon Schexnayder’s Southern Gothic podcast, featuring Forrest narrating Edgar Allen Poe’s poem, Annabelle Lee

Find us on YouTube!

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CREDITS:

Episode 269: The Hitchhiker of Mogollon Rim. Produced by Scott Philbrook & Forrest Burgess; Audio Editing by Sarah Vorhees Wendel of VW Sound. Music and Sound Design by Allen Carrescia. Tess Pfeifle, Producer and Lead Researcher. Ed Voccola, Technical Producer. Research Support from The Astonishing Research Corps, or "A.R.C." for short. Copyright 2023 Astonishing Legends Productions, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

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kitasuno · 11 months ago

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we fly together | kageyama tobio x reader

in which kageyama tobio is born for several things: the court, his team, and you. and he really, really wants to marry you.

wc: 766 | gn reader | little glimpses of your relationship with tobio over the years

There are several givens in Kageyama Tobio’s life.

There’s volleyball. It’s in his blood. Volleyball is shoes squeaking on floors, the shrill of a whistle, Nikuman after practice, and that sweet, sweet feeling of connection– fingers brushing yellow and blue leather and palms aching after a serve. Kageyama Tobio was born for the court and born to fly.

His team is one of them. There’s Sugawara, who still treats him to yakitori and an Asahi Dry (or three) whenever he’s back in Miyagi. Daichi sends him assorted nuts from Sendai every once in a while and Nishinoya mass e-mails him slightly blurry pictures of his life abroad on New Years. Ushijima buys electrolytes for him and Kourai. Shouyou is, well, Shouyou, and Kageyama counts him as two givens.

There’s the small things too: he takes a little too long to read Kanji, he buys a new face wash every month, he will always avoid rush hour.

And then, he thinks, there’s you.

It hits him in full force in the middle of the street on a Tuesday evening as he holds a plastic bag of groceries. It also, consequently, renders him immobile for ten minutes, because Tobio had never been one to dwell on the givens. But as he stands on the pavement and his bag carries the burden of hashi for two, yogurt for two, two packs of sandwiches and four bags of gummies,

( because you really like those gummies: and Tobio had thought, if you like the grape flavor, then you should also try the strawberry. And if you wanted to try something new, you might crave the fizzy Cola ones. And if you liked the Cola ones, then he had to buy the Ramune flavored ones, too )

Tobio gets the urge to buy a ring. And an urge, no, a craving to marry you.

Tobio remembers study sessions in high school and desperate makeouts in Karasuno’s dusty storage closet. He remembers the firsts: first conversation, first fight, first kiss, first date. Sprinting on beaches before the sun kissed the horizon and laying underneath the stars. He remembers graduation under cherry blossoms and pressing his second button into your palm with red cheeks and shaking hands.

There were tears, too. Anger as he realized he couldn’t, for once, be selfish and have both you and professional volleyball. Anger as you had cried and cried and cried in his arms because you were getting your degree in Miyagi and he was moving to Tokyo. Anger as you had suggested breaking things off because you knew that Kageyama was born for the court. To fly.

And you had said, between tears, that Tokyo was his potential. Because you knew him, and you knew that he didn’t like texting and that he wasn’t good at communicating, but you somehow underestimated how much you meant to him. Then: you had stopped crying because Kageyama was crying. And you had never seen Kageyama cry.

You were there when Kageyama started on the National Team, standing in the bleachers with the biggest smile he had ever seen, jumping as you turned to show him the Kageyama embroidered on the back of your jersey. You were there when he accepted his position on the Adlers, and watched their broadcasted games behind textbooks and journals and pencils from your dorm in Sendai.

Kageyama was there when you called him sobbing because the pipes in your dorm leaked. He was there when you got fired from your part time job for slapping a customer. Begrudgingly, he was there when you asked him to have Oikawa Tooru sign twelve jerseys for your friends at university. And then, he was there when you graduated college, diploma in hand and a blush on your cheeks as you pressed your button into his palm even though you really weren’t supposed to do that.

Now you’re in Tokyo, having accepted his slightly bashful request for you to move in with him– in a nice apartment on the fourteenth floor overlooking the city; because even though he didn’t really like heights, he knew you loved city lights and people-watching. And if he had to cover his face when he saw the nameplate next to your shared apartment that read Kageyama, well. You didn’t have to know that.

He’s still on the street, and he’s still holding his grocery bag, but his eyes are firm because he really wants to make your last name Kageyama.

So he makes a phone call.

“Tanaka-san,” He says before his former upperclassman can react. “Where did you buy Shimizu’s ring?”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama fluff #kageyama fic

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traveler-at-heart · 6 months ago

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Undercover

Summary: Natasha and you play a happy couple for an undercover mission.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

-----

It’s mortifying.

As you lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, the moment replays in your head over and over and over again. How you wish you had an off switch for your brain.

This is supposed to be an undercover mission, and yet you can’t keep your true feelings hidden from Natasha.

Undercover as a married couple, no less.

Today, while you were sitting in the living room of your “newlywed home”, reading a book, Natasha approached you. Her hand rested on your shoulder.

“I’m going out for a run” she had said. You nodded absentmindedly, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

“I’ll start dinner now”

And it wasn’t until you heard the door shut, that you snapped out of it.

You didn’t have to pretend inside the house. There was absolutely no reason for you to kiss any part of her like that, no one was watching.

Your cheeks flushed and your palms began to sweat. Feeling stupid and exposed, you tried to cook dinner, finding it hard to focus on what to do.

If Natasha noticed the slightly burned meatloaf, she didn’t comment on it. Even as you downed your wine quickly and poured yourself more, she remained stoic and acted as usual.

The night went by in a blurr and now you’re staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Natasha is in the study, doing surveillance and thank God, because sharing a bed after what you did today?

Impossible.

How do I get myself in these situations?

—

“The Maggia” Fury said, looking around the room. There were only five people there, which told you this was an important mission. “What do you know about it?”

“Family of criminals, from Europe, mostly Italy. Loose alliance at that, each family just stays out of the other’s way” you casually said. Hell, you could go on and on about them for much longer.

“Someone does their homework” Fury nodded.

“Show off” Natasha leaned forward, whispering in your ear. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, but you tried your best to hide it.

You feared your best wasn’t very good.

“Their operations consist mostly of loan sharking, narcotics and prostituion” Maria continued. “But, we recently recieved intel that the family in New Jersey is playing something more dangerous”

“Potentially, HYDRA and the smuggling of Trinium”

“What’s Trinium?” Rogers, who had been following in silenece, finally intervened.

“Incredibly rare element and highly explosive if exposed to a special charge”

Of course, it was always about blowing something up.

“We’ve located the leaders of the Jersey family. You two will be sent immediately to start the undercover mission, as the timeline indicates that the purchase will happen in less than three months. Sorry for not getting you a gift, but your wedding was done in such a rush” Fury slid down the files towards you and Natasha.

You took it and were about to hand it to Steve, since he was sitting behind you, but Fury just chuckled, shaking his head no.

Maria had to bite the inside of her cheek to not laugh at your shocked expression, while you turned to look at Natasha with wide eyes.

“Oh, darling, I’ll make you so very happy!”

—

Just your luck, Natasha decides to stay and work from home on Friday. Your plans of eating junk food and wasting away watching reality tv to feel better after your slip up are down the drain.

Instead, you are out gardening. It’s part of the cover, you insisted since you moved. What kind of person would not make an effort to improve their house? One they were planning on living in for years to come.

And truly, you had outdone yourself. In the month you’d spent here, the grass went from dry to green, all kinds of flowers blooming thanks to your hard work and the knowledge provided by years of helping your mother.

It doesn’t matter if the sun is burning your skin or sweat is dripping down your back, you absolutely cannot spend the morning inside the house with the woman who you have a crush on, and who probably knows your true feelings now, thanks to that stupid, stupid…

“Hey” her voice snaps you back to reality, looking up to meet her green eyes, soft and gentle.

“Hi” you reply from your place in the ground, wiping your forehead. “What’s up?”

“You’ve been at it for hours now, and it’s getting too hot. Come get some rest”

“It’s fine, I just need to…”

She calls your name, more of a plea than a warning not to argue with her and you sigh, standing up. As you go up the porch, she hands over a glass of cold lemonade and you take it, realising that you were very much in need of some refreshments.

“What are you doing?” you mutter when you put the glass down, and she takes her hands in yours.

“You’ve been acting strange since yesterday”

“Natasha”

“Did you act on instinct?” she asks, her lips inches from yours.

“Y-yes”

“That’s what a good agent does. You act natural. It’s not something you put any effort in. You don’t drop the cover under any circumstance”

She is throwing you a life line, a gracious way to salvage some of your dignity -if you have any left, that is- because you both know, you are not that good of an agent.

“She’s walking towards the house” Natasha warns, your back to the street. You don’t look behind you, allowing the redhead to pull you into a heated kiss that steals your breath.

“Hey, neighbors”

You turn around, Natasha’s hand falling to your lower back. Waving at Beatrice Costa, the both of you fake smiles. It’s still hard to believe this regular looking woman is leading a criminal organization next to her husband.

“Your garden is looking spectacular!” she admires.

“Thank you, Beatrice. I’ll stop by to give you some flowers when the hydrengeas bloom”

“As long as your wife doesn’t get jealous” the woman jokes, and you feel Natasha’s hand snaking around your middle, pulling you flush against her front.

“She does” the redhead says in a teasing manner, making your neighbor/suspect laugh.

“Anyways, I came to invite you two over for dinner tomorrow. To thank you for last week”

“Oh, it was no bother, really” you say, smiling.

“I insist. Eight o’clock?”

“Sounds great” you nod, and once she says her goodbyes, Natasha turns you around in her arms, still not letting go of your waist.

“See? It’s working. You’re doing great. Nobody questions us” she eases your nerves over what happened yesterday.

Nobody questions you because you are really in love with her, that’s the truth.

“What are you doing?” you say, your breath hitching when she leans over, about to kiss you.

“She’s still around” Natasha says, letting you close the distance to meet her lips.

By the time she drags you back inside, so you can have lunch, the only thought in your head is the feel of her lips in yours.

—

It had been a simple ruse, so simple that it was a wonder it worked.

Natasha made sure Beatrice’s car would malfunction. She always parked outside, and you made sure to be Natasha’s lookout as she drained the battery.

Morning came, and true to her routine, the woman was ready to leave home when the luxurious Mercedes Benz refused to turn on. It just so happened that you were running by, and as any good neighbor would do, offered to help.

What a coincidence, your wife knew enough about cars to fix the issue and send the woman on her merry way.

Beatrice was too polite and too rich to waste the opportunity to thank you -and flaunt her wealth- so next morning she stopped by with a tiramisu from the most expensive bakery in town, to thank you both.

And fuck, it was good tiramisu.

Now, she would greet you and Natasha when either one of you would run past her house (part of your intelligence operations).

Four weeks after the start of the mission, and it had finally paid off, as you received an invitation into the lion’s den.

“So, what’s our game plan here?” you say, looking over yourself in the vanity mirror.

“Enjoy the evening” Natasha says, smiling at your reflection.

“What?” you turn to look at her, confused. “We’re gonna be inside their house. We could bug it”

“Their phones are tapped. That’s all we need. And the man’s computer. But maybe I’ll excuse myself and break into his study”

“That’s too dangerous” you protest. Even if they act like normal people, they’re life long criminals with an extensive network. And you don’t feel prepared to take over anything if Natasha’s compromised. “Could you not?”

“If you have any idea on how to hack into their financial system, sure”

You huff, annoyed at her bored tone. As if she’s not risking herself over something that can be done a million other ways.

“Nat, I don’t want anything bad happening to you. We’ll find another way, ok?” you insist, putting on your heels.

“Ok, darling” she nods, as a spouse would do to calm their crazy wife and you glare, but take your win.

Without another word, you prepare to leave the room, when you feel her arms around your middle.

“What are you…?”

“Clothing tag was out” she says, fixing your sweater. “There. Perfect”

Her words, accompanied by a squeeze to your stomach make your head fuzzy. Clearing your throat, you nod and go down the stairs, picking up a bottle of wine from the kitchen counter.

“Trust me” you say when Natasha gives you an inquiring look. “Ready to go?”

“After you, sweetheart”

As you walk down the street to the Costa residence, Natasha takes your hand, running her thumb over the back of it. She might sense your nerves, or is apologizing for before. Either way, you keep a light conversation until she knocks on your suspect’s door, her arm firmly around your waist.

“Welcome!” Beatrice says, ushering you into her home. It’s elegant and big, but not too flashy or pretentious. “And what do we have here?”

“Just a little gift. It’s actually one of the bottles we got from our honeymoon” you take the lead, your hand in Natasha’s as you navigate the luxurious home all the way to the dining room.

“Oh, this is close to the place where my family is from originally”

Oh, what a shock. It’s not like you know everything there is about the Maggia, along with the history of the Gulf of Naples.

While Beatrice goes to the kitchen to check on the food -made by their staff, of course- Natasha looks around the room. You know that inquiring look, as she evaluates every threat and possible complication should you be compromised.

To help her ease into the environment, you take her hand in yours, feeling less exposed because you’re in front of other people who should believe your relationship is real. The mission is the only way you can justify your desire to feel Natasha’s touch.

By the time Beatrice comes back, Alessandro is right behind her and he introduces himself. His clothes scream old money, and the watch on his wrist screams fucking loaded of ilegal money as well.

“This wine is magnificent” he comments when you sit down and begin to eat.

“Le Lune del Vesuvio” you say, looking at Natasha across the table. “We spent our honeymoon in Italy and I just had to drag Nat to Pompeii for a tour”

“Are you familiar with the region?” Alessandro asks and you nod, having practiced everything.

“Yes, I did my dissertation on cultural identity in Pompeii”

“She’s a genius, my wife” Natasha says with a smile, impressed at how much detail you’re putting on everything to keep them engaged.

“Well, Beatrice’s family, the Fortunatos are from the same area. The Costas are from Sicily. So we are very happy to hear that you know it so well”

“How did you two meet?” Beatrice pivots, and Natasha is happy to answer.

“I was working on a client’s divorce settlement and needed an art expert. Y/N was the only one with the knowledge to help our lawfirm. A divorce brought us together” she says, looking at you with a smile.

Such a romantic.

“Oh, that’s lovely. Well, not for the divorced couple. But not everyone can get a happy ending, I suppose” Beatrice says.

It’s your turn to ask the usual questions and Natasha acts surpirsed, following up the way any normal person would, as if you don’t know every single detail about their lives and criminal record already.

When the conversation pivots to Alessandro, you perk up. This has proven to be the hardest part of the mission, as he keeps a tight leash on all their financial records through obscure third parties.

“You know, I also teach some finance classes. Would you be open to giving a lecture on art appraising? I think it’s an interesting market” he turns to you.

“That would be interesting” you say, groaning internally. Now you’re gonna have to actually work on a presentation, for fuck’s sake. Nobody told you you were gonna be quizzed to this extent during the mission.

Natasha hides her smile with the glass of wine, and you kick her under the table. Her smile fades just a little, but you can still see the teasing in her eyes.

She’s having too much fun with this.

—

The next morning you wake up to a note from Natasha. She’s picking up a “special” package, which means she’s coordinating with Maria the next stage of the mission.

You’re surprised to find a bouquet of flowers adorning the dining table.

Natasha is doing her share of the mission and you have to focus on yours, which is the fucking presentation. There better not be a Q&A session or you’ll lose your damn mind.

Moving to the study that also works as a surveillance room, you pull out your computer and begin to work. To be fair, you enjoy art enough to know more about it than the regular person. You had also been in contact with appraisers and auction houses back in your Interpol days, as you tracked ilegal art dealers.

For obvious reasons, you can’t mention that bit.

You’ve been working for a couple of hours when you hear the front door open, Natasha hurrying up the steps.

“Hey” she says with a frown.

“Everything ok?”

“You didn’t answer my text. Have you even taken a break to eat?” she puts down a heavy box in front of you.

“Sorry, I was preparing for the lecture”

“I got you your favorite food for lunch. And did you see the bouquet?” Natasha insists.

“Uh, I did… but is there a reason for…?”

“You seriously don’t remember?”

“Is it our fake first date anniversary, baby?” you tease, leaning forward. Natasha’s so worked up it's almost comical.

“Y/N, it’s your birthday”

“What?!” you turn to look at the calendar. “Holy crap, how could I have forgotten my own birthday?”

You are so focused on the mission, this completely slipped your mind. What were you supposed to do any way? Being undercover meant cutting off contact with the rest of the world. The timing sucks, but work is your priority right now.

“Work on that thing tomorrow. You should be resting and having a special day”

“Nat, it’s fine. It won’t be the first or last birthday that I’m stuck at work” you sigh, rubbing your eyes.

“Please?” she reaches for your hand, and the gesture is so gentle that your heart skips a beat. Natasha is very serious about taking the day off.

“Ok” you nod, and the hint of a smile can be seen on her face as you take her hand. She gets plates for the both of you and even agrees to watch Project Runway, which she loathes and you love. Without either one of you noticing, you end up across the couch, your legs on her lap.

“Our dinner reservation is at seven” she says, her hand going up and down your thigh.

“Dinner?”

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t take you to dinner?” Natasha smiles, making you blush.

“Well, no one really knows it’s my birthday, so…”

You leave out the most obvious part of how her logic is flawed: you are not even married.

“I know it’s your birthday. Come on. Just let me spoil you once?”

You clear your throat and nod, afraid that if you speak, your voice will give away how much those words affect you. Natasha telling you she wants to spoil you?

That alone is the best birthday gift you’ve ever gotten.

—

It’s honestly a lot more than you could have asked for. The restaurant is beautiful, the food is amazing, and Natasha is looking at you in that special way that makes you feel so happy and confused at the same time.

If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn you saw love in her beautiful emerald eyes.

“How’s your food?”

“Here” you take a forkful of your pasta and offer it to her.

“Really good. Almost as good as the one we had in… where was it? Naples?” Natasha teases, and you smile.

“That’s the city. The whole region is actually really beautiful… maybe I should take some of that time off and travel again” you ponder, thinking about how life has been all about work for the past years.

“Where would you go? Aside from Naples?”

“Sorrento, Lecce, maybe Positano. I don’t know, I guess I’d spend it around the south, just because the food is that good” you sigh, dreamily.

“How come you know so much about it?” Natasha inquires, smiling softly.

“My parents owned a house, because my grandparents were from Salerno. So we’d all spent every summer there, until they sold the property” you explain, letting the waiter take your empty plate. The memory of hot days, cold water and delicious food comes back to you, coupled with the places you’d visit, driving everywhere with your family.

“So, maybe you were destined to be on this mission” Natasha says, smiling.

“I don’t know if destined or it was Fury messing with me” you slip up, hurrying to take a sip of your wine. He had teased you endlessly about your crush on Natasha, and he was probably laughing his ass off as he prepared your identities.

“Whatever it was, I’m happy we’re in this together” Natasha admits, smiling to you.

“Me too” you agree in a low voice. Then, you look at her and smile mischeviously. “So, since it’s my birthday, can we get a nice dessert?”

“I’m already on it” Natasha raises her hand, the man bringing a plate with a slice of chocolate cake and a candle. “Make a wish”

What could you possibly wish for? You wanted to spend time with Natasha, get to know her, have her look at you the way she was doing right now.

Your wish was granted already. Still, you smile, and lean forward to blow out the candle.

—

“Maybe this is a bad idea”

Natasha is hovering. Hovering and following you and asking all kinds of questions while you prepare your bag.

“It’s gonna be fine” you say, again.

“It’s too risky”

“All I have to do is place this phone next to his computer” you lift the device that Maria sent. “And we’ll have access to his files”

“What if he notices?”

“I better run fast then” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t laugh. “I’m a SHIELD agent, not a history nerd with no fighting skills”

“Except you are a history nerd” she mutters and you turn to glare at her.

“You know what, Romanoff”

“Can I at least drive you there?”

There’s a moment of hesitation on your side. Does she think you’ll screw up the mission? Or is she actually worried about you? Either way, she looks conflicted and there’s no reason to not give her some peace of mind.

“Alright”

On the way to the lecture, you review your notes, missing the way Natasha smiles at the things you’re saying about the subjective value of art and how it has changed throughout history.

Such a nerd.

“I’ll be in a cafe monitoring everything. Call me when you’re done and I’ll pick you up”

“Yes, darling wife” you say with a slightly mocking tone, the same way you always call her your wife in public, but with no one else around.

As you exit the car and walk towards the university, Natasha calls for you.

“I didn’t get to wish you good luck” she explains, pulling you close and kissing you softly. “Good luck”

“T-thanks” you say, out of breath.

Natasha nods, letting you walk as if she didn’t just do the sweetest thing in the world.

You try not to think about how much you’ll miss this when the mission’s over.

But now you have to stay focused.

Alessandro waves his hand in the air, and you walk towards him with a smile.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this”

“It’s not a problem, really”

It totally is, you criminal motherfucker.

“Oh, I forgot my laptop, could I use yours? I have the deck on a flash drive”

Alessandro hesitates for a second, but his mask slips back to place instantly. If you really were a regular person, you never would have noticed his concern.

It means he keeps everything hidden there.

“Sure. Let me just…” he quickly types his password, and you look around the classroom, pulling out the phone and placing it on the table next to his computer. “All set”

“Thank you”

As the slideshow is projected in the auditorium, you look around the room, feeling more confident.

“So, how much would you guys pay for a banana taped to a wall?”

—

“I’m telling you, he keeps everything there” you say to Natasha, browsing through the device. “There’s some encryption, though”

“My expertise”

“Show off”

“Let’s get something to eat” she changes the subject.

“You don’t wanna go back home and check if it’s working?”

“I think a few hours won’t make a difference. We won’t be long, detka”

You think Fury would disagree, but she’s calling you detka and your gayness outweights your sense of duty.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything you want”

“Pizza”

“Anything but pizza” she says, making a face and you laugh.

“Natasha!”

“Sushi” she proposes.

“Fine, sushi it is”

The evening is spent talking about everything but the mission, and by the time you’re driving back home, all you want to do is get in bed and sleep.

“Where are you going?” you ask when Natasha walks to the study.

“You did your part, now I have to work” she explains with a smile.

“Fine” you close the door to the bedroom, joining her in the study. “Either way you’re gonna wake me up when you come back to bed. Might as well help you now”

“Sure” she says, even though you know next to nothing about code and hacking.

While she works on the computer, you look at the window, yawning and stretching in the couch.

Natasha finds out that Pluto is the banking organization they use for their covert operations. To access the accounts she needs a code-string of numbers.

“How many numbers?” you ask, half asleep.

“Six”

“Not coordinates. Could be dates. Most of them like to write down the dates of their oldest founders' tombstones anywhere they can, like a fucking tramp stamp” you joke, falling asleep. “Get into the database and try those”

“Maybe…” Natasha begins to say, but when she turns around you’re snoring.

And what does she know, you are right, the key to the algorithm is based on tombstones’ dates. Talk about morbid.

“Nerd” Natasha says affectionately. Deciding it is enough work for the day, she closes the laptop, helping you up to your shared bedroom.

Truth is, she’s not ready to finish this mission.

—

The end is near, you both can tell. With the encryption finished and the communications that you have intercepted, SHIELD has enough to arrest them.

According to the conversations you recorded, the exchange is set to happen two weeks from today. So you have two more weeks of fake domestic bliss. And then back to being just colleagues.

“I’ll be home as soon as I have a response” Natasha says.

“See you later” you say from your spot in the couch.

“No good luck kiss?” she jokes, referring to the time she said goodbye to you before the lecture.

But you’re not messing around when you stand up and place a chaste kiss on her cheek. If these are the last two weeks you get to do this without being questioned, you’ll make the most of them.

“Be safe”

“You too” she smiles, squeezing your hand.

The sun is setting, but you don’t feel like cooking anything or watching television. Instead, you decide to go out for a run, passing by the Costa mansion out of curiosity.

“Hey, neighbor” Beatrice greets with her signature wave. She often looks like royalty waving at the commoners. “Want some refreshments?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m just out for a short run”

“Come on, you could use some rest! I’d love to hear how the presentation went”

Feeling cornered, you nod, stepping foot inside her mansion. Beatrice has a glass of lemonade ready, which surprises you, but you take it and sip slowly.

Damn, even her lemonade tastes amazing.

“Heard those students were fascinated by your presentation” she encourages you to speak, and you nod, the movement making you a bit fuzzy.

“It was fun… yeah”

“Everything ok?” Beatrice comes close to inspect your face, and you try to step back. Your leg gives in, so you end up on the floor.

“I’m not sure…”

It isn’t until the very last second you understand the woman drugged you.

—

Everything is upside down or so you feel as you struggle to open your eyes.

“See? I told you she’d be fine”

“Oh, shut it. We’ve been waiting for hours” a man says and you blink several times. Their names come back to you slowly.

The mission.

Was your cover blown?

“Y/N, dear, I do apologize. My wife may have overdone it with the clonazepam” Alessandro says. You try to move, but your hands are tied behind your back. “Yes, about that. Don’t worry, we won’t keep you here for long. We just really need to use your connections in the art world to smuggle a tiny, tiny thing”

Good news (for you). The cover is safe.

Bad news (for them). Natasha is gonna kill them.

It looks like you’re in an abandoned warehouse, and judging by the sound, it’s close to the river.

“Yeah, uh… look. I don’t know how to say this, but you’d be better off crossing the border, whichever one. South, north”

“I’m not following” Beatrice says.

“Well, I’m afraid Natasha’s gonna kill you when she finds you two” you grimace, almost feeling sorry for them. They truly don’t know what’s coming.

“No offense, but I think a Maggia family will be more than safe from…”

“The Black Widow?” you say, with a smug smile.

“Bullshit” Beatrice snaps, pulling you by the hair. “Stop the nonesense and help us out. Or we’ll send you home to your loving wife in a body bag”

There’s a loud crash outside of the warehouse, and a widow bite is shot close to Beatrice’s foot as a warning.

“Hands off my girl” Natasha says, gun raised and pointing at Alessandro. “You ok, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Sorry for missing dinner”

“It’s fine. We’ll heat it up when we get home” Natasha jokes. With a nod, you throw yourself to the floor, shattering the chair. Beatrice throws a couple of punches, and she’s quite the fighter.

While Natasha is engaged in battle with Alessandro, the woman escapes and you’re following close behind. The drug is still in your system, and you can tell by the way your steps are a little clumsy.

Beatrice leads you to the edge of the river and you catch up to her out of breath.

“It’s over” you say, hearing Natasha step right behind you.

“Cap’s got the other one. Let’s bring this one in” she says, walking past you. She fails to see the gun that Beatrice is hiding, and you push Natasha out of the way. The bullet passes between you both and you launch your body against Beatrice, knocking her down.

Still, your diziness makes you lose your footing and you fall to the river.

“Rogers, Hill!” Natasha calls over comms, borderline hysterical. “Someone come in”

“I’m here, Romanoff” Tony says, flying over the redhead.

“What the hell took you so long?”

Tony’s suit scans the river and finds you.

“She’s ok, I’m getting her out now. Handcuff our suspect there”

Natasha turns to glare at Beatrice, punching her so hard she’s knocked out.

“Bitch” Natasha says, handcuffing her.

Maria approaches to make sure Natasha doesn’t kill Beatrice, while the redhead sprints towards the spot where Tony drops you off.

“Are you ok? What hurts?”

“J-just cold” you mutter, holding on to her hands.

“Let’s take her to the Medbay. Romanoff, stay so you can lead the rest of the mission” Steve says.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Natasha screams so loud that every agent on the scene turns to look at her. “I’m going with her to the hospital, I don’t give a crap about your mission, Rogers”

“Tasha, I’m fine” you insist, but enjoy the way she pulls you against her, her hands on your lower back. Natasha kisses the top of your head, leading you to a car that will drive you to SHIELD’s medical facility.

Fury turns to look at Hill, amused.

“Remember our little bet?”

Maria rolls her eyes, annoyed. She pulls out a twenty dollar bill and reluctantly hands it to her boss.

“So not fair”

—

Bruised ribs, a potential cold from your night swim and a minor concussion. All things considered, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

Natasha seems to disagree, which is why she pushes to postpone the mission debriefing.

“You need to rest” is all she says.

Back in your old room, you shower, enjoying the hot water and clean clothes. Natasha is still sitting on your bed when you walk out of the bathroom.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep without you” she confesses shyly, which makes you smile.

“Me neither”

“I thought I lost you”

“I got lucky. Those two idiots actually thought I was an art dealer” you chuckle.

“You’re a very convincing art nerd” Natasha teases, and you want to pull back but she grabs you by the waist. “I wish I still had two more weeks”

“It doesn’t have to be just two weeks” you say, running your hand through her hair. “I don’t want to pretend to be with you, Natasha. I want to be with you, for real”

“Yeah?” she looks up at you, a guarded expression on her face.

Instead of answering, you lean forward, kissing her softly until she pulls you to straddle her lap.

“You know, we never consumated our marriage”

“Seems like we should get on with it” you laugh as she flips you over, making you lie on your back.

“Just as long as you don’t fake an orgasm” she jokes, kissing every inch of your body.

“Promise I won’t”

Your reality turns out better than any undercover mission could ever be.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x r #natasha romanoff x you

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astrologermanjunath · 2 years ago

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Unveiling the Mysteries of the Future: Astrologer Yuvaraj, the Best Palm Reader in Florida

In the vibrant city of Florida,US nestled amidst the serene landscapes and bustling metropolis, seekers of ancient wisdom and cosmic insights turn to the renowned Astrologer Yuvaraj. His mastery in the mystical art of palmistry has garnered him a reputation as the best palm reader in the region. With an exceptional blend of intuition, knowledge, and compassion, Astrologer Yuvaraj has guided countless individuals on their journeys of self-discovery, providing clarity and direction in uncertain times. In this blog, we delve into the reasons why he is regarded as a guiding light for those seeking answers from the stars.

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Palmistry, an ancient divination practice, traces its roots back to the Vedic times and has since been celebrated as an art form that reveals the unique intricacies of an individual's life. Each line, mount, and mark on the palm holds valuable information about one's personality, past experiences, and potential future. Astrologer Yuvaraj possesses a profound understanding of this esoteric discipline, allowing him to decipher the language of the palm with extraordinary precision.

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Beyond his profound expertise, Astrologer Yuvaraj is revered for his warm and empathetic demeanor. He understands that seeking guidance from the stars can be an emotionally charged experience, and he treats each individual with genuine care and respect. His approach ability and open-mindedness create a safe space for clients to explore their innermost thoughts and emotions, fostering a deep sense of trust and rapport.

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Astrologer Yuvaraj firmly believes in the power of self-empowerment. Instead of merely predicting future events, he aims to equip his clients with the tools to make informed decisions and create their destinies. Through his enlightening readings, he unveils the potential hidden within each person's unique palm patterns, encouraging them to take charge of their lives with newfound clarity and purpose.

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The testimonies of satisfied clients stand as a testament to Astrologer Yuvaraj's profound impact on their lives. Countless individuals have attested to the positive changes they experienced after seeking guidance from the best palm reader in Perth. His insightful readings have inspired people to overcome obstacles, embrace opportunities, and embark on transformative journeys of self-discovery.

Conclusion

In a world filled with uncertainties, Astrologer Yuvaraj shines as a beacon of ancient wisdom, guiding souls towards self-awareness and empowerment. His extraordinary mastery of palmistry, combined with his empathetic approach, has earned him the title of the best palm reader in Perth. For those seeking to unravel the mysteries of their lives and chart a course towards a brighter future, a session with Astrologer Yuvaraj is an experience like no other, as he unveils the secrets written in the palms, unlocking the true potential of every seeker. You can also get rid of relationship disputes by the help of astrologer Yuvaraj.

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psychicrajsharmabestastrologer · 2 years ago

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#astrologer rajsharma #famous astrologer in new jersey #rajsharma #astrologer #best astrologer in new jersey #usa #spiritual psychic healing #spiritual healing #tarot reading #palm #palm reading

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chukys-mouthguard · 8 months ago

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rubberband

featuring -> luke hughes x female reader

word count -> 2.8k

genre -> fluff/angst

summary -> luke comes back to umich, but he can’t avoid seeing you

note -> italics are flashbacks

The start of another school year meant another fall semester filled with football, house parties, and memories. You and your friends had just finished moving in the day before, Saturday being blocked off on your calendar as the day of welcome back parties all over campus. Typically you would have one house in mind to go to, but since he’d left Michigan, you weren’t a fan. Not that the other guys that were still around weren’t great, but the memories that remained after Luke had moved on to New Jersey were still so fresh for you. Though it was your Senior year, and you were trying your best to make it a great one.

You and your friends headed down the sidewalk, closing in on the hockey house and you could feel your palms growing sweaty. The house still looked just as it did the first night you’d shown up there Freshman year, not a clue of who you would meet that night.

“Can I get you anything?”

Looking up, your eyes met those of the curly haired Freshman you’d heard was named Luke. He smiled softly down at you, noticing how shy you’d become looking over the large amount of alcohol they had covering their kitchen counter. Your freehand scratching at the skin of your wrist, a nervous habit Luke surely noticed but found cute, smiling down at you as you nodded.

“Um, sure.”

“We’ve got beer, vodka, tequila. Though I would not recommend that unless you’re actually trying to die tonight.”

You laughed at his joking as he gave you the grand tour of the bottom shelf alcohol that the boys could afford. Though no one minding as they more so cared about being drunk than what the liquids tasted like.

“What are you drinking?”

Luke looked at his solo cup, making a face before returning eye contact.

“Beer, but if I’m honest I wouldn’t recommend this either. It’s awful to be blunt.”

The two of you laughed together, your eyes scouring the options once again as the only logical choice remained, vodka. Luke poured you some into a cup, letting you decide on what you’d opt to mix into the alcohol. Though he mentioned he wouldn’t judge if you drank it straight, but surely it would taste worse that way.

“I’m Luke.”

“Y/n.”

“Well y/n, can I give you the tour?”

Little did you know it, but at the time Luke was using the excuse of a tour as a way to get away from the party. He wasn’t the biggest party animal his Freshman year, enjoying the opportunity to sneak away with you for a bit and relax. His favorite spot was to sneak up onto the roof, not many people knew how and it was often quiet up there.

But it was clear that had changed as the roof was currently crowded with tens of people seated around, some chugging beers and tossing them to the ground below. Others shouting at the crowd below over the music that was blasting from the house.

“So Luke Hughes, how long until people discover our secret spot?”

The two of you had been keeping up the routine of sneaking to the roof for several weekends now. No one ever seemed to notice, and even if they did they made their own assumptions of what the two of you were doing.

“Hmm, well, I would hope they never do. I’d love for this to stay our spot. But, I would say maybe two more weekends and we will get kicked out.”

He sipped his beer as the two of you watched the party taking place below. Always loving to watch his teammates try their luck with different girls; some succeeding, others striking out.

“Can I ask you something?”

You looked to Luke, his smile fading as he looked more sincere, nodding his head as his way of asking you to continue.

“Do you, are we…sorry, I just. I don’t want to read too much into anything, but, what would you say this is? Like with us?”

Luke sighed softly, sipping his beer as he tried to find the right response. Making you nervously scratch at your wrist as you were immediately regretting even asking the question. Surely he didn’t see this as anything, he was focused on hockey not relationships.

“I think this is, comfortable? It feels right? I don’t know, I just really like you being here with me. I can’t describe it, but it feels natural. What do you think?

He nervously sipped his beer while you now tapped the side of your seltzer, nodding slightly in agreement as you were thinking of your own response.

“I agree. It feels right, whatever it is. I just enjoy the time I get with you, always. And, I’m happy here.”

“Me too.”

Luke’s smile faded as he slowly moved closer to you, his hand tucking some of your hair behind your ear before resting on your cheek. You could feel his breath against your lips he was so close to you. Your eyes darted from his lips to his eyes as time felt like it was frozen before he’d finally kissed you. The two of you tangling your hands into each other's hair, the taste of alcohol mixed with your chapstick. Neither one of you fighting for dominance, simply letting the moment happen how it may.

Luke finally pulled away, a blush on his cheeks as he scratched his head. Slightly embarrassed at his forwardness, but appreciating that you didn’t seem to turn down his actions.

“Still feels right?”

“Mhm, definitely.”

Luke smiled as he looked down, messing with the bracelets on his wrist, pulling a simple rubberband type off and grabbing for your hand.

“Here.”

He placed the bracelet on your wrist with a smile, admiring how it looked despite its simple nature.

“Whenever you’re feeling nervous, when you’re missing me, or whatever the case may be. I’ll be there.”

You smiled at the rubberband, lightly snapping it against your skin. Realizing that not only was it a reminder of Luke, but something to help your nervous habit he’d obviously picked up on. Appreciating the gesture and that he’d noticed the small quirk about you.

That bracelet was your source of comfort during numerous finals weeks, a stress reliever during all of Luke’s home games as you’d snap it against your skin. And even with Luke leaving for New Jersey, the bracelet remained as a symbol of his promise to always come back.

Things between you and Luke had continued similarly to how they’d started your Freshman year. Though never putting a label on things, it was common knowledge that you were certainly more than nothing, you were something.

You watched the group of girls from across the way, crowding around in hopes to get to see the guys after their big win. It was a normal occurrence, especially with girls from opposing schools. And while you and Luke were definitely secure in your relationship, you still couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous.

Watching how the girls all flocked to him, asking for pictures, trying to create small talk. Luke of course too nice to ignore them, simply smiling through it all.

Looking up, his eyes met yours, his smile growing wide as he excused himself from the group of girls. Immediately wrapping his arms around your waist as he picked you up, stealing a kiss before setting you back down.

“You’ve got some groupies huh?”

Luke rolled his eyes with a short, placing an arm around your shoulder as you two started off towards the exit.

“Only one groupie I have eyes for babe.”

Things were great with Luke, that was until he’d gotten drafted by the Devils. You knew the day was likely to come at some point, but you never thought about what it would be like when it finally did.

The conversation hadn’t really taken place regarding what would happen for the two of you if and when he made the move to New Jersey. But once things were official, and he was leaving, you were faced with the inevitable.

“So, you weren’t gonna tell me until the day you were leaving?”

You looked to Luke through tear filled eyes. While you wanted to be happy and excited for him, having just signed his entry level contract with the Devils. You were heartbroken that in the same day he’d achieved his dreams, he was also telling you goodbye.

“I know, it’s the worst possible way to tell you. But, believe me, this is all happening so fast there was no right time for any of this. I hate having to just up and leave you. I won't be that far, you can come visit me, we will see each other in the summer. This doesn’t change anything.”

Luke looked down to see you nervously pulling at the rubberband that was on your wrist. Smiling softly as he knew you hadn’t once taken it off since he’d given it to you over a year ago.

Taking your hands in his he tried his best to relax your mind that he could see was racing with a million and one thoughts.

“Look at me, I promise, this doesn’t change things okay?”

You wanted to believe him, that him only being a few states away wouldn’t change anything. That you’d continue with your relationship exactly how it had been. That you could snap the rubberband on your wrist whenever you were sad, anxious, or missing him, and it would all magically get better. But you couldn’t help but be nervous about what this next step meant for him. Leaving you behind at school, while you knew it was bound to happen, didn’t feel any less shitty than all the times you’d tried to prepare yourself for it.

“You promise?”

Luke cupped your face as he brought your lips to his, the kiss nothing more than a longing peck, but enough to make your racing thoughts cease for even a moment.

“I promise”

But his promises fell short, and those summer’s at the lake house never happened. One trip to New Jersey was all you’d gotten, and soon enough Luke had become mostly a memory.

Text messages and calls were here and there, his schedule keeping him busier than he ever was at Michigan. You’d tried your best to hold out hope, telling yourself that he’d made a promise to you. But as more time went on, you’d begun to realize that maybe all this relationship was with Luke, was nothing more than a casual thing. That despite how much he cared about you, and all the promises he’d made, he wasn’t looking for something serious. That he wasn’t serious about you.

Making your way up the stairs of the hockey house, you’d noticed several familiar faces along with several new ones. The freshman players were easier to spot, as they reminded you of Luke on the night you’d first met him. Timid compared to the veteran guys who were screaming about games of pong and beer die that were set to start in the backyard.

You felt yourself growing a bit anxious, wondering why you’d come back to a house that held so many memories. While they were mostly good, they made you think of Luke.

Heading out to the backyard, you found comfort in the sea of people. Knowing that you’d easily be able to get lost among them, distract yourself from the familiar faces while you hoped the alcohol you planned to consume would ease your nerves.

Following behind your friend, you found yourself subconsciously snapping the band at your wrist, trying to distract yourself from any Luke related thoughts that crept into your mind.

Taking a solo cup from her hand, your friend began talking about the way the girls at the party seemed to flock to all the hockey guys as they stood on the back porch. The two of you laughed, knowing you once were like them. Drooling over the shirtless boys at the house, thinking they were the hottest thing on campus. Wanting to be able to say you’d gotten the chance to talk to one of the hockey boys at the party.

“Oh my god, y/n, please don’t look at the porch.”

Your friend reached for your arm, turning you to face her so your back was to the group of men on the porch. Naturally you looked over your shoulder as you were curious what she didn’t want you to see. But the moment you saw him, you felt your heart sink.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. We can leave.”

Obviously, Luke had every right to be there. He did go to Michigan and played hockey for the school. But you weren’t expecting to see him back since he’d moved on to the NHL. Especially not expecting to see him shirtless at the hockey house looking more amazing than ever. Girls crowded around him, all hoping to get even just a touch of his hand on their skin to be able to brag about for the next month.

Before you could make a decision about leaving, Luke’s attention had turned in your direction. Slightly lowering his sunglasses from his eyes, they met yours as he stood shocked to have seen you.

You could feel the goosebumps beginning to cover your skin, your heart racing as Luke began to make his way over to you. Instinctually, you headed through the crowd, wanting to be anywhere but this house. Luke set down his beer as he took off after you.

“Y/n, come on. Please y/n!”

His hand grabbed your arm as he caught up to you, stopping you in your tracks as you turned to face him.

“What?”

Your tone was harsh as you tried hiding the pain in your voice, but the tears in your eyes of course gave it away. Luke’s heart sinking seeing you hurt, never expecting this moment to happen, otherwise he might have prepared better. But for the moment, he was at a loss for words.

“I, I’m sorry. For everything. I know that’s not specific, but I’m honestly just shocked to see you.”

You laughed as you wiped your tears that were threatening to fall. Shaking your head you searched for the right words, trying not to start a fight in the alley next to the hockey house. People occasionally walking by, a scene not something that was needed, especially for Luke.

“You’re shocked to see me, on the campus of the college I go to? Interesting…”

“Oh come, don’t be like that y/n please! Look, I get it. I fucked up, in so many ways. The summers at the lake house, you coming to New Jersey, all of it. I broke my promises to you, and I wish I could go back and change it all.”

Luke’s eyes fell to the band on your wrist, watching as you snapped it against your skin. Hating that he was making you nervous or anxious, wishing that things could go back to normal for the two of you. But he knew he’d ruined that.

“Look I get it, if you didn’t want something serious. If I was just a casual fling or something. Then fine. But why waste my time? Why make me think you liked me?”

Luke grabbed your wrist, stopping you from snapping the band any longer.

“Y/n, none of that is true. It wasn’t that I thought you were a casual fling. I just, I couldn’t be the person you needed. With signing with the Devils and leaving here, leaving you. I just couldn't keep my promises. And it was wrong, to make you think I could. To keep you holding on if this wasn’t going to happen for us. And I’m so sorry to do that to you.”

You looked up at him, seeing the pain in his eyes, believing his words as you pulled the band from your wrist. Setting it in his hand as you nodded your head with a sigh.

“I appreciate the apology, but it doesn’t change anything that happened. It doesn’t change how I feel, how hurt I am by all of it. So, you can take that bracelet back. I can’t keep it anymore and think about you every time I see it. That was a promise, that I could think of you and find comfort anytime I snapped it or saw it. But, I think that I need to move on. Because it’s just another broken promise at this point.”

Luke bit his tongue, knowing that despite what he wishes he could say, you don’t want to hear it. Holding the bracelet tight in his hand, he watched as you pushed past him. Heading back to the party, leaving him with only the bracelet as a memory. Slipping it on to his own wrist, immediately snapping it a few times to calm his emotions before returning to join the guys on the back porch.

#luke hughes fluff #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes fic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes angst #nhl imagine #nhl fics #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb

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anakinstwinklebunny · 5 months ago

Note

the other anon inspired me and now id like to request hockeyplayer!anakin x reader please!

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're feeling uncomfortable with it, please do not read

Author's note: sorry Nonnie you waited so long‼️ I absolutely enjoyed and missed writing headcanons so give bun bun more 🗣️🗣️

Hockey player!Anakin who is definitely an ass/boobs man. He loves to watch your round ass in tight jeans where he can just put his hand inside one of your pockets, showing you off to entire school. When it comes to breasts he loves to have them in his hands, to feel them fill his palms, to feel their weight, to jingle them and make nipples hard, although I think he'd just stare blindly, like a starved man, at your cleavage if you had some more revealing shirt, of course in private since he wouldn't just ogle you in front of everyone

Hockey player!Anakin who made love to you after his hockey game;

Yet another thrust slipped from his hips - was way too smooth - swollen, shaky lips parting to exhale a moan. Sweat trippled down the edge of his curl, twirling around the wet hair before falling down his forehead

"Ani--" you mewl, before he understood the assignment and pressed his lips to yours, any sounds bubbling in your throat became swallowed by his tongue pushing against yours

“Fuck--still--so tight,” he rasped, flushed face burying in your neck. Damp curls tickling your skin, your ears following the vivid sound of skin slapping and wet sounds colliding “Missed you all game, couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You whimpered, nails dragging down his back, catching on the fabric of his jersey. “Ani,” you choked, legs spreading wider, giving him new angle, to which he accepted; speeding up his movements

“I know, baby. I know,” he moaned, his cock filling you in ways that left you breathless, eyes rolling behind your head. “Coudlnt win this without you” his pace faltered. Hand curled under your knee, pulling it higher against his hip, other hand cradled your sensitive breast. “Youre my dream girl” he whispered “Always here for me, always mine, always cheering me on in this jersey of mine..so casually having my name on your back.”

Another kiss to your neck, which felt as if you were his only one oxygen. With each deep, slow thrust, he unraveled, moaning into your neck

“God,” he groaned, voice breaking as he kissed you again, softer this time, sucking on the spot. “the best celebration ever”

Hockey player!Anakin who always has messy hair with that one curl falling over his brow

Hockey player!Anakin who took you skating;

“C’mon, babe, just relax. You’re doing great--you haven’t fallen yet,” voice teasing yet encouraging.

“Exactly… thanks to this railing,” you muttered, your baby steps on the ice resembling a cautious toddler.

A soft chuckle escaped his throat as he watched you grip the railing like it was the only lifeline. Despite your clear anxiety, he found your determination charmingly cute. He took a step closer, placing his hands gently on your hips

“You’ve got to ease up a little. Can’t you feel how shaky your legs are? You look like a baby deer trying to stand for the first time,” he joked, a warm smile spreading across his face.

You gasped as your skates slipped slightly, your grip on the railing tightening instinctively.

He couldn’t help but laugh, watching the panic in your eyes as you fought to keep your balance. There was something undeniably endearing about your vulnerability, and he secretly relished the moment. Moving behind you, he positioned himself closely, his hands firmly yet gently holding your hips to support you.

“You’re holding onto that railing so tight, I think it might leave a dent,” he teased, fingers brushing lightly along your sides.

“No, no, no!” you exclaimed, voice rising in desperation as he nudged you away from your only source of stability.

Another laugh escaped him, a mix of amusement and affection, as he noted the startled look on your face. It was irresistibly cute to see you so flustered. He tightened his grip on your hips, speaking softly, “I’m right here. I’ve got you. Just glide slowly.”

“I hate you so much,” you muttered, taking a hesitant glide forward, your legs trembling beneath you.

“It’s okay, baby…” he soothed, hands steadying you as you made your way across the ice. "I forgive you" another joke slipping through his lips

“You’re doing wonderfully tho” he reassured, though the smirk on his lips betrayed how hard he was trying to suppress his amusement at your plight.

You clung to his arm as if it were your next, only lifeline.

“Relax,” voice a soothing mix of humor and warmth “I promise, you’re safe with me.”

“We won’t fall, right?”

He couldn’t resist the smirk that spread across his lips at your anxious question. There was a playful urge to tease you just a bit more, knowing how nervous you were.

“Well, that depends…” tone light and playful. “I won’t fall because I can skate, but you… well, you might be a different story.”

“Just--shut up!” you shot back, the irritation in your voice only making him laugh harder. He found a twisted satisfaction in your struggle, knowing it was all in good fun.

With a sudden surge of affection, he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, unable to resist the sudden impulse.

“Ani, you’re distracting me,” you murmured, gaze dropping to the ice, a frown adorning your lips.

“Sorry…” sparkle in his eyes betraying the amusement. “But seriously, you’re doing amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, barely containing a chuckle. It was hard to hide his delight in watching you tackle something so simple yet, for you, so challenging. He gave your sides a gentle squeeze, a teasing smirk returning. “See? You’re not slipping as much as you think.”

Hockey player!Anakin who's definitely into hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows (optionally)

Hockey player!Anakin who, when he's going to sleep, is all tucked to his ears under a duvet. He can not sleep when he's not perfectly, comfortably curled. You'd definitely became his teddy bear, curled with him as well if you're sleeping with hi

Hockey player!Anakin who gave you his jersey with his name and number on your back, so everyone would know you're already, happily taken

Hockey player!Anakin who sometimes ended the game with bruised nose after getting into a fight

Hockey player!Anakin who you tease about the exercises he does with his teammates before the game, on the ice..that leave small room to imagination

Hockey player!Anakin who keeps his hand in your pocket..on your ass..while walking with you through school's halls

Hockey player!Anakin who loves roasted and salted corn

Hockey player!Anakin who can be such a dramatic baby girl on the ice;

After every game, if he’s tired, he’s a full-on dramatic baby. “Baby, they were trying to kill me out there,” he’d whine, flopping face-first onto the couch. “You have to kiss me better. You don’t even understand how rough it was.” And you’re rolling your eyes, but also kissing his bruises because, let’s be real, he’s your dramatic baby girl, and you adore him

If he gets called for a penalty, he rips his helmet off and runs his hand through his tousled curls, looking like a damn runway model as he skates to the penalty box. He mutters to himself the entire way, throwing the refs exaggerated “Are you serious right now?” looks.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne

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chrisspirategirl · 2 months ago

Text

Stream —> C.S. (ᥫ᭡)

Continued.. 🩵

“Tangled in love, stuck by you, from the glue.. don’t forget to kiss me or else you’ll have to miss me..”

Over 2 months had passed since Chris’s confession about you being one of his hear me outs. You guys started texting almost everyday and night with “good mornings” “good nights” all that talking stage shit. You both just instantly clicked, you’ve been following each other for a while occasionally liking each others posts but you’ve never had a conversation with him until now.

Christopher Sturniolo: Good morning gorgeous! Hope you slept well last night. I was dreaming of you like always 🫡

A smile forms on your face when you read his message. Your fingers are quick to type a response.

Y/n: good morning! LMFAO you’re so cornyyyy

Christopher Sturniolo: hey! I’m just trying to be sweet 😒😒 God forbid a man shows a girl how much he’s into her

Y/n: you’re into me? 😏😏

Christopher Sturniolo: DUHH!

You giggle to yourself, he’s sassy, definitely. But he’s funny and so cute looking you really can’t resist! He’s always talking about meeting you which makes you a little sad since you’re in New Jersey and he’s back and forth in LA and Boston. A girl can dream though.

You walk over to your vanity prompting up your phone against the mirror as you click to go live in insta. You’re not a HUGE influencer or anything like that but you have a good amount of followings, 148k to be exact!! Really you blew up by just posting videos of you lip syncing to random audios, it was definitely unexpected but you’re grateful for the outcome! You’re about to hit 1 million on TikTok which still to this day shocks you because you’ve never imagine to be well known over the internet. So to have that privilege to be considered an internet icon is practically an unknown achievement to you.

Viewers begin to join the live FLOODING the comments with whatever comes to mind.

User: Y/NNNNNN

User: natural beauty

User: wife!

User: HIIIIIII Y/NNNNNNNN HRUUUU

User: you’re so effortlessly gorgeous im gagged.

User: did the rizz get you 😏😏

+ 100 more

“Hiii lovelies!!” You exclaim with a sweet smile on your face, “so today I have a few errands to run so I’m gonna quickly get ready while talking to you guys” you explain as you begin preparing your skin. Unaware that Chris has joined the live.

Chris sturniolo: oh hey gorgeous😂🫡

User: CHRIS?!

User: CHRIS WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

User: bro trying to rizz her up

User: need a man who makes it clear he want me

+ 100 more

You look down at your phone noticing how Chris had requested to go live with you, your stomach flutters a bit before clicking accept, the screen splits in half revealing Chris propping up his phone a huge grin on his face when he sees you. “What is up guys!” He says with enthusiasm, his hat on backwards wearing a black t shit and a white long sleeve underneath.

“Hellooo” you respond as you continue putting on your concealer, the comments going BALLISTIC BAT SHIT CRAZY!

User: HELLO?! THE TENSION?!

User: already shipping

User: DATE IMMEDIATELY 😭😭💔

User: someone come up with a ship name

^User: @/user GOODBYE

User: Chris.. count your days.

User: HE CANNOT HANDLE IT LIKE I CAN 😭😭🥀

User: something tells me…

^User: @/user right…

Chris smiles as he reads the comments, “where you off to?” He asks you as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand. “I have a few errands to do so I should be rushing right now” you chuckle as you try to quickly finish off your makeup, nothing too extreme, just your normal makeup routine. “Boringggg” Chris jokes before reading the comments.

“ ‘Bro thinks he has rizz’ ACTUALLY (🤓☝️) I DO thanks.” He responds with a sassy attitude earning a giggle from you.

“Crazy how you guys really try insulting me as if I’m not the most flawless person out there” he continues playfully rolling his eyes, “he really thinks he’s all that” you respond jokingly Chris gasping in offense, his hand flies to his chest “y/n!! How dare you insult me like that!” He replies with a fake pout.

You continue finishing up your makeup Chris sits there watching you with admiration forgettint that he was on an insta live and not a FaceTime call. The comments taking quick notice of his softened demeanor and points it out. After applying your lipgloss you quickly get up from your vanity chair and rush over to grab your shoes. Slipping them on and returning back in frame “okay guys I’m done getting ready in about to get off live so I can go find my keys because I love to lose them!” You say sarcastically to which Chris comments “the amount of times she has told me she can’t find her keys is insane!” You grab your phone as you walk out of your bedroom walking downstairs “shut up Chris!” You respond “okay seriously I need to go I love you guys bye!” You add before ending the live stuffing your phone in your pocket and rushing towards the living room to search for your keys.

Chris lets out a small sigh before Nick walks into the kitchen spotting him sitting at the dinning table. “I saw you were on live with y/n” Nick begins with a faint smirk clearly teasing him for trying SO hard to be always talking to her, Matt and Nick are the only ones who know about Chris and y/n, they were thrilled that Chris finally started getting back out there and promised to keep their relationship private since you nor Chris wanted anyone to know about the whole situation because then people start creating unnecessary rumors.

Chris lets out a sheepish laugh “yeah” he responds before standing up from the table stuffing his phone in his pocket. Nick leans against the kitchen counter smiling mischievously at Chris, “dude why are you looking at me like that” Chris says somewhat terrified but his tone sounded more playful than serious, “no reasonnn” Nick says emphasizing the ‘n’ at the end of his sentence which catches Chris more off guard. “Alright relax” Chris responds before walking towards his bedroom.

But there WAS a reason and Chris was very unaware of what Nick knew.

Tomorrow the triplets had a video to shoot, but who would Nick and Matt be if they didn’t surprise their little brother once in a while.. the video was originally going to be a vlog of whatever but Nick and Matt agreed that the vlog would have a special meaning and guest.

You and Chris had a 3 hour time difference so by the time you were texting him goodnight which was already 10 pm for you it was barely 7 pm for him. You never explained what errands you had to run but Chris didn’t overthink it since he knew you were busy outside of social media.

The next morning, Nick and Matt had woken up Chris a little earlier than usual which seemed a bit suspicious to Chris but he figured they were going somewhere for the vlog and getting some work done for upcoming tours and events. BOY was that goober wrong. Well kinda.

The camera is rolling Chris is in the backseat, Matt and Nick are in the driver and passenger, Nick is holding the camera talking as he normally would for any vlog bringing up special events happening in the future not just for the triplets career but for spacecamp. And just saying whatever comes to mind.

Matt makes a left turn towards the LA airport earning a confused expression on Chris’s face, “are we picking someone up?” He asks Nick only smiles at the camera as Matt looks over at Chris through the rear view mirror with a subtle grin.

“So we actually have a special guest that will be included in this vlog. We’re very excited to have them be in our video.” Nick says emphasis on the ‘excited’ catching Chris’s attention, he wasn’t aware there would be a guest on their vlog, normally he would know if they were having someone else in their vlog but the fact he didn’t know until now only sparks his suspicions more.

Arriving towards the pick up section Chris moves towards the backseat window eyeing who the fuck could be there that they’re picking up. Nick opens the passenger side door getting out with camera still in hand, pointing it towards the entrance of the airport before you come walking out with a suitcase in hand, a huge smile on your face, Nick points the camera towards a wide eye Chris who’s still in the car before he quickly gets out “no fucking way.” He says completely shocked “surprise!” Nick says cheerfully still keeping the camera on Chris before you walk into frame standing in front of Chris who wasted no time in giving you a tight hug.

“You’re even more gorgeous in person” he whispered to you the camera not picking it up. Before both of you pull back but still close enough to each other. “Hii Nick” you say giving him a hug as Chris takes the camera pointing it at both of you, Matt gets out of the car to give you a warm welcome hug as well. Before Chris hands the camera over to Matt. “You guys are absolutely SICK for doing this to me” Chris says chuckling. The camera perfectly capturing the moment of Chris admirably looking down at you.

He really couldn’t believe that you were right there in front of him, he could literally hold you in his arms and he’s just processing that now. It was crazy how just a few months ago he was talking about how pretty to were on a twitch stream to being right there beside him, If anything he was falling even harder for you at this point. You definitely are his top 1 hear me out!

RAHHHHH I feel like this turned out so bad 😭💔 but you guys wanted a part 2 and who am I to say no when I also enjoyed writing about this even though I kinda don’t like it but WHATEVER. Some of you guys want this as a Wattpad story and OH how I’m so ready to do so, I’ll let you guys know when I have everything set up for that! But thank you so much for the positive feedback on this story I hope you enjoyed!

Besos a mis amores! 💌

↳ @chrisspirategirl ❤️

Dividers from —> @bernardsbendystraws

#°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍒ྀིྀི works #Spotify #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo fanfic #streamer!chris x influencer!reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets fanfic #sturniolo triplets fanfiction

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alltimecharlo · 19 days ago

Note

do it the other way around!!! will as mack's current boyfriend and will's listing out everyone mack's looked at in the past month as possible future boyfriends...

🪽

hehe thank you for asking!! <3 this is a remix of this fic where will does the ‘current boyfriend’ tiktok trend on mack :) fic under the cut!🩵

The locker room’s quiet, at least by Sharks standards. Just the buzz of clippers two stalls down, the occasional thud of a skate hitting a rubber mat, and Will absolutely overthinking everything.

Mack is filming him.

“Smile, Smitty,” Mack says cheerfully, phone angled in vertical video mode. “C’mon, look cute.”

Will obliges, lifting his head from where he’s taping his stick and blinking into the camera with that soft, sleepy grin that drives Mack completely insane. He’s got his practice jersey rolled halfway up his forearms and his hair—longer these days, curling at the ends—is still damp from the shower.

Mack hits record.

“Okay,” he says, turning the camera to himself. “So I’m here with my current boyfriend.”

Will’s head snaps up.

Mack fights a smile.

Will blinks. “Your what?”

“Current boyfriend,” Mack says innocently, back to filming Will, who’s now paused completely, tape mid-tear.

Will’s smile flickers. “Current?”

There’s a pause. Mack can see the gears turning behind Will’s eyes. This is a guy who once read five scouting reports on a goalie just to figure out their glove side. He is thinking. And spiraling.

“I mean,” Will says, voice rising slightly, “I didn’t realize there was an expiration date.”

“What? No,” Mack says, barely holding back laughter. “You’re just—y’know. The current one.”

Will narrows his eyes. “So, who’s the future one?”

Mack shrugs. “Could be anyone.”

Will sits back, full-on suspicious now. “Anyone like… the new social media intern? The one who brought you that smoothie?”

Mack lifts an eyebrow. “You mean Julian?”

“You know his name.”

Mack snorts. “He was literally wearing a name tag.”

Will doesn’t look convinced. “Or maybe that guy from the hotel gym? The one you said ‘had good taste in playlists’?”

“Oh my god,” Mack laughs, lowering the phone. “You are insane.”

Will stands up, squinting. “I’m just saying. If I’m your current boyfriend, maybe I should know who I’m up against.”

“Will.”

“Mack.”

Mack takes a step forward and plants a palm against Will’s chest, just over his heart. “There’s no one else, you idiot.”

Will pouts, a little. “Then why would you say it like that?”

“Because it’s a TikTok trend,” Mack groans, reaching past Will to grab his phone and hit stop on the recording. “It’s supposed to be funny. People post it and then their partner freaks out and gets jealous and it’s, like, endearing or whatever.”

Will frowns. “I wasn’t jealous.”

Mack lifts an eyebrow.

“Okay, I was a little jealous,” Will mutters.

Mack grins and leans in, presses a kiss to the corner of Will’s mouth. “You’re more than current.”

Will tilts his chin up. “Yeah?”

“You’re, like… permanent.”

Will softens immediately.

Mack starts to walk off, fondly muttering, “Dumbass,” but Will catches him by the wrist, pulls him back in for a real kiss.

♡

#idiots!!! (affectionately)#will you jealous jealous man…#willmack #macklin celebrini #san jose sharks #will smith hockey #mackwill #wacklin #hrpf fic #hrpf #hockey fic #hockey rpf #Willmack prompts

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astonishinglegends · 2 years ago

Text

Ep 268: Your True Halloween Stories II – Part 2

"So I believe that through my work, I've experienced incredibly positive things. I've experienced the veil very, very thin, and I've experienced what I would call angelic visitations. But if I believe in that, then I have to believe in the other." -- Hospice Social Worker "Rachal," from story #3

Description:

We hope your sleep has recovered after last week's round of creepy and unsettling accounts. Now, we aim to disquiet your peace with another three! Our first story comes from Megan, whose family has a history of experiencing items showing up in unexpected places. But when a letter is delivered to a vulnerable location, we wonder if it came from someone still Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Note. Our next guest, Chad, has stories showing that growing up in Ohio can be Weird on Both Ends, with High Strangeness in the Middle. In the final narrative, Rachal, a Hospice social worker, had a patient whose reconnection with a Life Leech proved to be an exhausting experience. Join us if you dare for Part 2 of Your True Halloween Stories II, and rest easy if your life is pleasantly unremarkable. 😈

Reference Links:

CLICK HERE to listen to “Astonishing Al’s Mix Tape” on Spotify

CLICK HERE to listen to “Astonishing Legends Creepit” – a curated collection of our creepiest episodes on Spotify!

“Professor-student romance ends in murder-suicide” from NBCNews.com

“Ernesto Bustamante, Former Idaho Professor, Kills Self After Allegedly Murdering Student Katy Benoit” from HuffPost.com

“2022 University of Idaho killings” on Wikipedia

The Village of Ada, Ohio’s website, www.adaoh.org

The Village of Ada, Ohio’s Wikipedia entry

The Reagle Beagle on Yelp.com

“The Role and Responsibilities of a Hospice Social Worker” from Regis College

Location:

The village of Ada, Ohio, where Chad had his brushes with High Strangeness.

Suggested Listening:

Badlands

Opening the Doors

KLU Podcast – Keep Looking up

CLICK HERE for Persephone Holloway’s podcast, KLU “Keep Looking Up” on Podbean

Persephone May Holloway’s music on Spotify

Southern gothic podcast

Listen to our good friend Brandon Schexnayder’s Southern Gothic podcast, featuring Forrest narrating Edgar Allen Poe’s poem, Annabelle Lee

Find us on YouTube!

Click this text to find all Astonishing Legends episodes and more on our Youtube Channel https://www.youtube.com/c/Astonishinglegends

Join us on Patreon!

SPECIAL OFFERS FROM OUR SPECIAL SPONSORS:

FIND OTHER GREAT DEALS FROM OUR SHOW’S SPONSORS BY CLICKING HERE!

CREDITS:

Episode 268: Your True Halloween Stories II – Part 2. Produced by Scott Philbrook & Forrest Burgess; Audio Editing by Sarah Vorhees Wendel of VW Sound. Music and Sound Design by Allen Carrescia. Tess Pfeifle, Producer and Lead Researcher. Ed Voccola, Technical Producer. Research Support from The Astonishing Research Corps, or "A.R.C." for short. Copyright 2023 Astonishing Legends Productions, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

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sugrhigh · 1 year ago

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BOY NEXT DOOR 7 - ( c.s )

part six

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- cursing, smut (oral m!receiving)

a/n: part 7 bay beeeee let’s get it, they’re falling yall 😳

@fawnchives @teapartyprincess4two @55sturn @l9vesick @mattinside @sturnioloco @rootbeerworshiper @stonermattsgf @dazednmatthews @chrisactualwife @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @breeloveschris @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @sturnlvrs @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18

the following week and a half are a complete haze. between classes and schoolwork and hanging out with chris, it’s been a whirlwind of both pleasure and stress, but you’re not complaining about it.

it’s the most fun you’ve had with a guy in a minute, the most fun you’ve had with anyone in a minute period.

you catch yourself smiling at your phone in class when he texts you silly things throughout the day, or when he gives you a quick call to tell you something crazy. he’s always insisting that you spend the night at his, just so he can wake up with his chin nuzzled into neck and his arm wrapped around your waist.

after practices he’ll pick you up to go get food, or bring something back for you if he stops on the way home instead. you’ve also been to a few of his games since making up, which depending on the result will usually end in some type of fun new sexual escapade.

he never forgets to kiss you hello and goodbye, is constantly giving you his clothes to wear because they “look better” on you, and he even throws his arm around your shoulder in public without shame.

he’s doing the little things, and you have to admit that you really like it.

ramona and cass have caught on at this point, always shooting you sly grins when you say you’re heading out, or that you have plans. you never even mentioned chris by name in the beginning, but they knew.

and despite prior flukes, they both support you whole-heartedly and are always gushing about how different he’s acting. you try not to read into their theories too much, but sometimes you can’t help but wonder.

why would he be putting in effort on all of these extra gestures if he didn’t truly want something more?

he’s already got the sex, so what else does he need?

but one thing you still haven’t fully learned about chris is that he’s selfish. he needs and wants everything, in almost all aspects of his life aside from his romantic interests. that is, until he met you.

and now that he has you, finally, he wants it all. whenever you’re not with him, he’s thinking about you. sometimes it’s the dirtiest fantasies that he’s just waiting to fulfill, and other times it’s wondering what you had for lunch, or what you dreamed about, or what you’re up to with your friends.

when you are with him, he can’t get enough; your smell, the way your hair feels against his palm, the softness of your lips all over him. he adores when he makes you laugh, when you toss one leg around him before the two of you go to sleep, when you’re standing in the crowd supporting him in his jersey.

he even likes when you scrunch your nose in disgust at him after he hits you with yet another cheesy pickup line.

chris has no idea how to handle the intensity of his feelings, or how to identify them. unbeknownst to him, you’re feeling the exact same.

but everything is still normal as you two lounge on his bed, both enjoying the wind down after a long day. the sun is well below the horizon now and you’ve been watching hockey for the past two hours—shocker. but you can feel chris growing restless beside you, hand stroking your thigh lazily.

“alright, what’s your deal?” you ask after he huffs for the fifth time, even though you know he’s just bored.

he pauses to think about it for a moment, rolling his lips between his teeth. then his eyes go wide and a grin takes over his face as you watch an idea form in his mind.

“wanna play super smash brothers?” chris asks, and you feel your own expression light up at the suggestion.

“oh my god, seriously? i didn’t even know that game was still around.” you gush in excitement.

“lucky for you, i’ve got it on my switch.” he wiggles his eyebrows a few times before he leans over to grab the device off of his nightstand.

you stay silent while he props the screen up on top of the covers, sitting up straighter like he’s preparing for war as he hands you a controller.

though the console is a completely foreign thing to you, you used to be decent when you played on the wii several years ago. you have a feeling the skill will translate.

“are you sure you’re ready? i’m a known pro.” he warns you with a smirk as the game loads.

you shrug, deciding not to boast about your own ability just yet. better to leave it a mystery, just in case you do actually suck.

“your threats are unimpressive.”

“i’d hold the sass, princess. we haven’t even started yet. plus,” he drags the word out for effect as he stares at you with a devious look in his eye, “i have a dare for you.”

a snort escapes before you can help it. “so we’re back in middle school now?”

“c’mon, humor me.”

“alright, let me hear it.” you give in, because you are wondering what he has in store.

“every time i beat you, you have to take off a piece of clothing. and every time i lose, if i ever actually lose, i’ll do the same.” chris explains.

it’s an enticing offer. you pretend to contemplate the challenge, tapping on your chin lightly with your pointer finger as you furrow your brows.

“okay, i’ll take the bait.” you finally say.

you don’t plan on being defeated anyways. he’s underestimating you yet again, and you can also tell that he’s surprised by your answer.

but regardless, he gives you a nod of approval. “very daring, i’m impressed.”

“you'll be even more impressed when i kick your ass.” you tease with a smile, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before you refocus on the task at hand.

“sure i will, now pick your character already.” he prompts, pointing a finger at the screen.

you already know who you’re going to play as, because you used to choose the same fighter pretty much every time. so you use your controls to scroll and select quickly.

“so you’re a kirby girl.” chris notes with a grin, like it makes perfect sense.

“force of habit, i guess.” you respond as you glance down at the switch.

he just shakes his head, clicking on the default stage so that he can get the game ready to go. “that big pink fuck won’t save you now.”

“hey! don’t you dare talk about him like that, he can hear you.” you motion to the screen in offense.

this makes him chuckle, a delightful sound that you’ve come to know and love.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. are you ready?”

you square your shoulders. “prepare to die, chris sturniolo.”

the game begins a moment later, and neither of you are relaxed in his bed anymore. you’re both quite literally on the edge of your seats, fingers frantically jamming at the controllers.

you’re the first to hit him, watching his XP fade just a little bit as a result. he grunts beside you while he continues throwing aimless attacks your way, eyes narrowed in determination.

he’s next to land a big one, which knocks kirby on his ass for a solid few seconds as chris pummels your character. you’re at nearly half of your health before you escape his grasp, so you grit your teeth and keep battling.

but it’s no use. even though you knock him off of the little island, he delivers the final blow a moment later and pikachu wins the first round.

“shit!” you yell as you watch your own fighter die.

chris throws his arms up in victory, already beaming over the fact that you’ll have to be the first to start stripping. you stare at the screen incredulously before you hang your head in shame.

“i think you owe me something, baby.” he chirps happily.

your mind races, trying to find some loophole to save your dignity. then the sides of your mouth turn up just a bit. you reach down to peel your socks off and toss them to the floor, fully smirking now.

chris shakes a finger at you accusingly, though he’s smiling regardless. “that does not count, you little cheater.”

“it totally does. socks are essential to daily life.” you argue.

he licks his lips as he grips his controller once more. “fine, but you don’t have an excuse after this, and puppy eyes won’t get you out of it.”

“sure they won’t.” you reply innocently, giving him a knowing look.

the next round starts up and this time you come out swinging, sending quite a few damaging hits his way. you’re satisfied with the head start, avoiding him by jumping around on the obstacles in the arena.

every time he’s about to strike, you feel him tense up beside you, so you decide to use it to your advantage. you back up as he advances, once again steering clear of any harm.

then you switch up and go on offense again, sending pikachu up into the air with the last strike of the match.

chris groans in disappointment as you let out a brief cheer, nudging him with your shoulder suggestively.

“i think you owe me something, pretty boy.” you mock him, unable to hide how pleased you are.

he just rolls his eyes in response, reaching to grab the collar of his shirt so he can pull it over his head. you honestly weren’t fully prepared yet, and your mouth goes dry as you watch his muscles clench while he shifts to chuck it to the ground.

you can see some of the hickies you gave him scattered across his collarbones, and although you’re a little embarrassed, it’s also a bit of a turn on.

“distracted?” chris taunts.

you narrow your eyes and turn back to the switch. “never.”

the third round commences and you’re feeling far more confident now. he may have a big ego, but he’s not as good as he made himself out to be, so you’ve at least got a chance.

it’s dead even for a moment while you each go punch for punch, bringing your health down quite a bit. you’re completely zoned in until you feel his hand grip your thigh, inching higher and higher rather quickly.

it makes your stomach flip, and you’re forced to look over at him in surprise. in that moment, you know you lost, because chris removes his fingers just as quickly as they were there and goes for the final kill.

he meets your eyes after he’s secured the second win, pure amusement evident in his expression.

“who’s the cheater now, huh?” you shove him lightly, but he just laughs.

“hey, you never said touching was off limits. i was just using my resources.” chris says, clearly deciding to maintain his innocence.

“that’s total horseshit and you know it. you’re lucky i’m a good sport.”

so you tug your own sweatshirt up, throwing it toward the foot of the bed without a second thought. you’re left in your lacey red bra, though it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before anyways.

but when you glance over, there’s a hungry glint in chris’s eyes that lets you know he's just as excited as the first time. his gaze flicks down to your chest, tilting his head forward a bit so his face is closer to yours.

“jesus, that bra is fucking sexy.” his words sound more like a whine than anything else.

you can feel yourself beginning to shake ever so slightly in anticipation, trying to steady your hands by holding your controller.

“don’t say shit like that to me.” oh, but it sounds so delicious.

“i’m sorry.” chris lies breathlessly.

his lips ghost over your cheek, his teeth clamping down on that sweet spot behind your ear a moment later. you let out a small gasp, placing your hands on his warm chest to push him away.

“we’re supposed to be playing.” you remind him quietly.

everything in your body is screaming for him to pin you to the bed, to let him have his way with you, but you won’t let yourself get carried away that easily. not this time.

“damnit, i’m not going to be able to win with you looking like that right beside me.” chris complains.

“sounds like a you problem.” you brush him off and click the button to start the next round.

you can feel your hands sweating as you move kirby around the stage. you know exactly what you’re doing now, walking right into his attacks as if you’re practically begging to die.

the attention chris gave you after you lost last time was intense, and you can only imagine how it’ll go once you take off your pants too.

so, you let yourself lose. pikachu defeats kirby swiftly, and now it’s time to face the consequences.

“you suck at this.” he grins widely after your third loss, clearly content.

but you don’t say anything. you just lay back, lifting your hips up so you can wiggle your sweats down your legs. you kick them off at the foot of the mattress, enjoying the way chris’s eyes go wide as he watches you.

“you’re evil, you know?” his voice is dangerously low as you sit back up, confidence flooding through your veins.

you nod, biting down on your lip to keep yourself from smiling like a cheshire cat. “what are you gonna do about it?”

he opens his mouth like he’s going to tell you, and then changes his mind.

“nothing.”

not the answer you were expecting. you furrow your brows, completely thrown for a loop, when you get your own brilliant idea. an idea he won’t be able to resist, literally and figuratively.

“fine, then i have a game for you.” you say, trying to provoke him.

“i’m listening.” he sounds intrigued.

“let’s see how long you can go without touching me, because i bet you won’t last more than a minute. but i can do whatever i want.” your voice gets sultry at the end as you glance down at his mouth.

chris feels all of the blood rush to his dick just thinking about the dare, already turned on from seeing you in your tiny matching set. he knows he won’t be able to contain himself, but he doesn’t care.

“filthy girl.” he purrs, nodding his head yes.

you watch him situate himself against the pillows, laying so you can roll to your knees and straddle him. his eyes roam your body, lips tilted into a lopsided smile as he relishes the feeling of your silky skin on his.

your hands go to his bare shoulders, steadying yourself as you lean down to give him a brief kiss. you move to his jaw before he can get to into it, taking your time as you finally reach his neck. he spreads his hands out on the comforter, gripping it harshly to prevent himself from giving in.

your hips rock against him agonizingly slow, and you can feel his hard on as you grind your cunt into it. fingers trail down his stomach, raking at the skin lightly.

he’s choking on his breath underneath you, trying so hard not to buck into your movements even though he wants to so bad. you’re careful, leaving open-mouth kisses in new areas in the hopes of giving him more hickies.

chris’s eyes flutter closed, lips parted in bliss as a small whine escapes, and you can tell he’s just itching to truly feel you.

you move your face up so you’re right by his ear, whispering your next words without hesitation.

“come on baby, touch me. i know you want to.”

it’s your first time using the pet name with him, and you can tell by the groan he lets out that it’s enough to send him over the edge.

his hands reach to grip your ass, rocking you against him harder as he gives one side a little slap. chris tilts his head so he can capture your mouth with his for a real kiss, tongue and teeth meshing together beautifully.

when you pull away his lips are glossy and red, which you always love seeing. you shift yourself off of him so your hands can move toward his sweats, fingers dipping below the waistband just slightly as you look up at him for permission.

chris nods eagerly, biting down on his lip and squirming around for any kind of contact. you steady his hips with your hands, clicking your tongue once in distaste.

“you better be patient, or i won’t do a damn thing.” you chide.

“i’ll be good. so good.” he promises, practically pleading with you now.

the neediness ignites a fire in your stomach, so you slowly begin to work his pants and boxers down his legs. his erection bounces free, slapping against his stomach, and you feel your mouth watering just looking at it.

once you’ve officially discarded his clothes, you position yourself between his legs so that you’re eye-level with his cock. he’s already throbbing at the sight, waiting as you spit in your palm and wrap it around the base of his shaft.

chris lets out a moan as you start to move your hand up and down ever so slowly, making sure to tease as much as possible because you know how sensitive he is right now. your run your thumb over his slit, which is leaking with precum, and he trembles in your grasp.

after a moment like this, you finally bring your head down, wrapping your lips around him and swirling your tongue across his tip.

“fuckkk.” he hisses through his teeth, reaching to wrap a hand in your hair messily.

you take as much of him into your mouth as you can, using your hand on the part you can’t reach as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head slightly. your other palm rests on his thigh, steadying yourself as you suck his dick.

“feels amazing.” he praises through a whimper, involuntarily bucking into your throat now.

you can feel him pulling you by the hair, forcing you to take more of him as tears brim your eyes. you know he’s getting close just based on the way he’s beginning to shake, so you pick up your pace a bit.

“shit, baby, just like that.” chris groans, his body shuddering as you work your tongue.

he’s breathing heavy now, head thrown back with his eyes screwed shut, hair messy across his forehead. his grip on you tightens, a dead giveaway that he’s about to come.

“fuck, fuck, i’m—”

you feel him twitch in your mouth, body completely tense as his orgasm spills down your throat. his hand untangles from your hair so you can pull away to swallow, brushing stray strands from your face.

his chest rises and falls heavily as he lays there, riding out the high before he peels his eyes open to look at you through the bleariness.

“you’re incredible.” chris says as he reaches for your hand, pulling you down into bed beside him.

he presses a kiss to your forehead, a gentle touch that you’re not used to, and you feel your stupid little heart melt.

“and you’re getting soft on me, mister tough guy.” you joke, poking his side like you're making a point.

“for you, i think i can live with that.”

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #hockey!au #neighbor au #christopher sturniolo smut

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caninescreations · 14 days ago

Text

Nine Years, Nine Months, and Nine Days

it's late so i'll edit the post later and make an AO3 link when im not sososo so sleepy. no title BUT i did piggyback this idea off that one anon who proposed cat!stan but back in New Jersey to @dark-lord-of-awesomeness and i was like... "yeah i can take a crack at that"

creative liberties taken with the premise, though, and absolutely NONE of this is beta read. did it all in two late-night sessions. you get spellcheck and that's about it, baybee

1963 Stanford and his brother were nine when it happened. There had been an old woman on the boardwalk, layered in crocheted shawls and cardigans despite the muggy September weather, her snow-white hair pulled tight in a braided bun at the top of her head like a head of cauliflower. She had the sort of puckered face that belonged to people who don't know what smiling is, and probably never did, and she had been parked square on a bench where the sand met the street, tossing breadcrumbs to seagulls that hovered in the air around her but did not seem to want to land. By her side was a carpet bag almost as big as she was, sitting open and overfilling with myriad items. Sheafs of patterned papers, browning flowers, one iridescent beetle that tried to clamber out before her wrinkled hands nudged it back inside.

He thinks it was the beetle, really, that started it. The both of them had been so fixated on its size and color, and so confused as to why an old woman would even have a bug in her bag. Stanford wanted to examine it, to see if it was a species he knew. Stanley just wanted to know how heavy it was, and maybe if it could fly, too.

"If she catches me," Stanley had said with a clever grin, a small crab cradled expertly in his palm, "then I'll just say I saw a crab tryn'a nab her snacks."

Stanford had nodded along, agreed with the logic.

The old woman had been keener than either of them had expected, though. Stanley's arm had only gone elbow-deep into the bag, barely time to root around for the beetle, when her bony fingers had snatched him up and pulled him to front, too fast for Stanford to intervene.

"Thieving little paws best keep to themselves, young man."

"I wasn't thievin' nothing!" Stanley had protested. "I- I saw a crab in your purse. Thought it woulda scared you out of your old-lady skin like a cartoon skeleton if you saw it."

"Well, aren't you sweet?" She'd let him go, then, his wrist red from the force of her grip. "Such a considerate little thing ought to be rewarded as he deserves."

She'd produced from her sleeve then something small and shiny that crinkled. A piece of candy, sort of brownish from what the two of them could see through the white waxed paper wrapping.

"Here," she said.

"Wait, really?" Stanley asked, accepting the candy as any nine-year-old would. "People don't usually thank me for rootin' through their stuff without asking."

"People don't usually keep live animals in their bags, either." She scattered another handful of crumbs along the ground, and the birds continued to not land.

"Fair enough. Say, you don't happen to have an extra, do ya? I got a brother, see, and hard candies don't split easy enough to share."

"This one is just for you," she had smiled. Then her sweet tone dropped. "Now scoot. I've got birds to bait."

And Stanley had.

He didn't end up splitting the candy in the end- one bite had revealed its flavor as toffee, and while Stanford never minded accepting a spit-covered hemisphere of hardball sugar, he hadn't been in the mood for that particular taste that particular day. On top of that, it had been sort of sticky-on-the-outside in the way that only really old candy got, and Stanford hated feeling it on his teeth. So Stanley ate the whole thing, chattering on with it tucked in his cheek as they returned to the beach and played on the wrecked boat they'd found earlier that summer. The mugginess continued late into the afternoon, until the clouds grew heavy with rain and threatened to spill down upon them.

And then, he remembered, something happened. Stanley had curled over onto himself, groaning in discomfort. Lightning flashed above them. Stanford had crouched with his hand on his brother's back, trying to soothe what he thought was a simple stomach-ache. But then his brother was coughing, and retching, and convulsing on all fours on the sand like something was trying to crawl out of him. The sky opened up and began to pour out onto the beach like a vertical tidal wave, and his brother got smaller, smaller, smaller- until sitting under his hand, curly-furred and yowling, was a little kitten.

=== 1964 Stanford was sitting underneath the table on the floor, sulkily poking at his peas and mashed potatoes. In the next room over, Ma and Pa were arguing again. He could hear their muffled voices through the walls. Beside him, on the floor, Stanley sat eating Stanford's portion of the evening's meatloaf. It had been a long time since his transformation, but his brother was still kitten-sized, all doe-eyed and chubby in a way that kept their mom cooing and their father acquiescent to any cat-related shenanigans.

"If I told you once, I've told you a thousand times, Caryn- I'm not letting a cat eat at the table like its a person!"

"Stanford is grieving, Filbrick!"

"He's mental, that's what he is! And you keep feeding into it, letting him convince himself that his brother isn't gone! He needs to accept reality, he needs to move on, and he can't do that if you keep indulging him like this!"

"Move on? Move on-?! Filbrick, Stanley is missing, not dead!"

"It's been a year, Caryn. What do you think happens to little boys who are lost for that long, huh? They don't come strolling in through the front door, that's for sure! We're not gonna let him coast by on false hope."

Stanford tuned them out. His brother finished eating and mewled quietly, crawling into his lap and pawing at his shirt. Stanley couldn't talk, but Stanford had gotten a book from the library about Morse code, and though his teeny kitten body was still a little wobbly, he could get a short and misspelled message or two out. It's how they'd settled on the name currently adorning Stanley's collar, when it became clear that their parents weren't willing to listen. Archer, after the giant lady from his brother's favorite poster.

"No, I'm okay, really," Stanford said. "If Pa won't let you eat at the table, I'll just eat on the floor. You can have half of my dinner, and then you won't have to eat the cat food. I know it must be gross."

The purring he got in response let him know without it needing to be spelled out that he'd said the right thing.

=== 1965 Stanford planted his face in his hands and groaned. "That does it. I've read every book in the public library, and there is nothing about magic curses. I hate it here." From his backpack Stanley crawled, chirping as he swiped at the used stack of books to Stanford's left as if to agree. He was steady now, if still ridiculously small. "We may have to take our research excursion beyond the reaches of Glass Shard Beach. We might even have to take a bus."

Stanley clicked out a short word.

"Well of course I'm gonna hide you. We might not need money for two tickets but they don't let animals on the bus. My backpack's fine, isn't it?"

…A reluctantly-chirped 'yes'.

"We'll figure this out, Stanley. I know it's… been a little while," if two and a half years even counted as such, both the summer and their birthday coming in hot, "but I've got your back."

=== 1966 "If you don't shut up about the cat I'm getting it put down," Filbrick snapped. "It's not Stanley. It's never been Stanley. It is a cat. It eats kibble and shits in a box. Your brother ran off and got himself kidnapped or murdered and now you're imagining things because you can't face the truth like a man. So either cut the crap and get your head screwed on, or Archer gets the boot. Am I understood?"

Stanford took a deep, shuddering breath and gripped the animal in his arms more tightly. It wiggled uncomfortably, but rather than yowl in complaint as it usually liked to, it curled its tail up under itself and pressed into his belly like it was trying to hide there, claws curling into the black suit jacket.

"Stanford Filbrick Pines, look at me when I'm talking to you. Am I understood?"

"…Yes, Pa. I understand."

Filbrick shook his head and grit his teeth, keeping his eyes on the road. "Twelve freakin' years old and still acting like magic is real. You're disrespecting your brother's memory with all this nonsense."

=== 1967 Stanford sat at his desk, staring at the stack of cards wishing him a happy thirteenth birthday. He was a man now, technically, having muddled his way awkwardly through his passage in the torah, wishing Stanley had been there to cut through the thick tension with a quip and a smile. But Stanley wasn't here. It was only him and Archer.

His hand ran along his cat's back, carding out a few knots from its curly fur as his eyes bore holes into the cardstock.

"You're just a cat," he muttered to himself, a repetitive chant he'd forced himself to learn after Pa's outburst at the funeral last year. Anything to keep Archer from being taken away. "A very smart cat, but a cat nonetheless. Magic isn't- magic doesn't happen in Glass Shard Beach. I was a confused little kid who missed his brother too much."

=== 1968 Stanford, fourteen, sat with his homework in the shade of the Stan o' War, its rotting deck letting in beams of hot sunlight through the woodworm-eaten holes in the wood. Archer was lounging beside him, stretched out in the sand with its paws kneading the air contentedly. Its tail flicked back and forth lazily as it rumbled like a car engine, loud and grounding.

"A kitten!" He startled at the girlish squeal, nose lifting from his book to find some vaguely-familiar young woman in a swim skirt and sandals whose name escaped him. "Stanford, I didn't know you were a cat person- is he yours?"

"Er, yes. Though Archer isn't really a kitten. It's just small. I think it might be a breed of munchkin cat."

"That's pretty groovy," she said, crouching down and reaching out for a petting.

"Ah, I wouldn't-" Stanford began, trying to warn her off. But Archer had already rolled to its feet and hissed, shaking the sand off its body in the girl's direction and trotting with a huff to his side. He chuckled nervously as she brushed the sand from her arms, saying, "Sorry about that. It doesn't really like other people- just me and my family. My cat is kind of protective like that."

"Aw, a regular little man of the house, ain't he?" the girl cooed at it, maintaining her distance. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna steal your pet boy. I just thought a cutie like you might appreciate a woman's touch."

"I'm not sure that Archer is interested in interior design," Stanford said.

"I was talking about giving him a good scratch behind the ear," she laughed. "Though if it's interior design we're talking about, that boat could use some. I've seen you hang around this old thing for years, and you ain't ever done anything with it."

"Ah, well. It's a quiet place to think," Stanford mumbled, drawing circles into the ground with his littlest finger and rather wishing to get back to his homework the more the girl made it apparent that he was woefully behind on his half of the social upkeep. "It doesn't need to be anything more than that."

"A quiet place, huh? Was I interrupting your alone time?" she asked, getting back to her feet. Archer meowed indignantly at her, and she amended, "Ah. Right, I'm sorry. Can't be alone if you've got Archer, can you?"

"…No, I suppose I can't," Stanford replied, a small smile warming his expression.

=== 1969 "What do I need a car for, Pa? Everything in this town is close enough to walk to." Stanford followed his father outside to the back lot, Archer close at his heels. His father stopped at the car- not the family car, they never went anywhere that required a vehicle to get to, and Pa seemed only to ever use it to get larger big-ticket items for the pawn shop or to get to those secret society meetings he went to every month- and held out the key.

"Whether or not you get your nose out of those books of yours long enough to actually earn the scratch to get your own car is irrelevant. Driving is a skill no man can do without. Now get behind the driver's seat- you're gonna learn how to drive stick. None of that namby-pamby automatic transmission garbage they're rolling out these days."

"Of course, Pa." Stanford opened the door and unlocked the passenger side as he slipped into the seat. Archer hopped in immediately, hopping nimbly from his lap, to his shoulder, and then out of the way and into the back seat.

"And put that damn cat back inside, I don't want it making a mess in my car."

"Archer has never once urinated or defecated in your car, Pa. It's a smart cat, it knows what it can and can't get away with."

"And it's not gonna start now! It already thinks it owns the house, I'm not letting it ruin my upholstery."

"It doesn't cause any trouble," Stanford tried to say.

"No trouble, eh? No trouble when it won't eat the cat food I shell out for, no trouble when it scratches up your bed posts and the good sheets, no trouble when it keeps getting into the fridge and eating the pastrami!"

"That was one time!"

"I paid good money for that pastrami!"

"And I paid you back for it!"

"It's about the principal of the thing, Stanford. If you don't teach that cat some respect it's gonna walk all over you."

Stanford neglected to mention the multiple occasions during which his napping father could be found with Archer in his lap, one wide hand set on its rumbling side without complaint.

"Can we just start the driving lesson?"

Filbrick shook his head. "Not until that cat is out of this car."

Stanford let his head drop onto the steering wheel and groaned.

=== 1970 When Stanford came home from school that day, Ma had been cradling Archer like a baby and smothering the poor thing's head with kisses. Archer, in contrast to its reactions to other displays of over-affections by strangers, was purring loudly with tightly-shut eyes even with her thick rouge smeared into the fur on its head.

"What's going on here?" asked Stanford, setting his bag down on the coffee table. It thumped with books, but the new straps held their weight well.

"We've got a little hero here," Ma told him, fingers scritching underneath the cat's chin. "I was havin' a client over to do an in-house reading on account of she was willing to pay more, and your cat caught her tryna steal the jewelry from my nightstand while I was in the bathroom. Ran her right outta the house, he did! Ain't that right, Archer?"

It let out a self-satisfied meow, brash and loud, and snuggled more into her arms.

=== 1971, April Stanford did something he hadn't done in years that night, and curled up on the mattress of the bottom bunk. The pamphlet for West Coast Tech was crumpled between his hands, the paper already half-ripped. He kept his eyes trained on the far wall, mind carefully blank as the poster for 'Attack of the Fifty-Foot Tall Woman' stared back at him. Quiet as a church-mouse, Archer leapt onto the bed and crawled under his arm to nestle against his chest. He could feel it rumbling quietly, its thick and curly fur shedding onto his wrinkled clothes.

"I made a fool of myself today," he admitted to it. "Stumbled over my speech to the recruiters and bumped the table. The whole machine broke down, just like that, and then they left. My one ticket out of Glass Shard Beach, gone like dust in the wind because I couldn't properly deliver a formal presentation in front of an audience."

Archer nosed under his chin, and he let his fingers release the pamphlet in order to card through its pelt. There was no judgement from it- never had been, not since he'd adopted it from the streets in the wake of his brother's disappearance. A strange thing, small as a kitten for ages, growing so slowly that it was only through pictures that anyone in the house had noticed it had grown at all. Nine years, enough for any cat to be considered old, and still as spry as a cat one-ninth of its age. But still just a cat at the end of it all. Long-lived through good caretaking and scraps of meat slipped under the table at dinner time. Loyal as a dog and twice as crafty.

"At least you don't care that I'm a failure," he mumbled. "Not that that will change Pa's reaction when he finds out I blew it."

Archer lifted a paw and smacked his face. There was a lot of force behind it, though the cat had miraculously decided not to use its claws. It meowed directly into his ear, and squirmed from his grip. He didn't move, more confused than anything else, as it jumped to the floor and trotted to his desk, which was currently still covered in papers. He knew it liked to play with his work, but only after he'd been sitting and thinking for hours on his own.

He watched it sniff around, its little paws digging scrap paper and notes onto the floor before it found something that seemed to catch its attention. It nudged the paper to the center of the desk, sat down on its haunches, and yowled at him. Stanford groaned- Archer was a chatty cat at the best of times, but when it yowled it wouldn't stop until he'd come to see what it wanted or his Pa came in to yell about the noise.

Not wanting to face the man this soon after the most humiliating day of his life, Stanford dragged himself out of the bottom bunk with a sigh and shuffled over to see what his cat was fussing over. It was an empty college application, one of many he'd been handed by his guidance counselor to fill out "just in case" his first choice fell through. Just looking at it made his stomach churn, the idea of going through all that effort of applying to somewhere only half as good and still getting a rejection letter swirling around in his mind's eye until he snatched up the page and crumpled it in his hands in a fit of anger.

When it was no more than a tightly-wadded ball in his hands, Stanford dropped it to the ground and sat aggressively at the desk. His elbows hit the table and his fingers found their way into his thick, curly hair to yank and tug his frustrations out. Archer made a little wheezy huff, hitting the floor with a thud and returning back to the desk after just a moment. When he bothered to look up, his cat dropped the paper from its mouth and pawed at it, leaning in close to his face and yowling loudly at him once more.

"What, you think I should keep trying? Do you want me to get on my hands and knees and go campus to campus, getting the door slammed in my face?"

Archer bopped him in the nose with a paw and hissed in displeasure. The clever cat always seemed to be able to tell when he was putting himself down, and refused to indulge him whenever he did. Just like-

He looked back down at the crumpled application and began the process of gently un-crumpling it. With a sigh, he grumbled, "Well. If I fill them out, at least Pa can't get mad that I'm 'not trying hard enough'. What do you think the statistical likelihood of getting a full-ride scholarship is for a freak from a backwater New Jersey town?"

Archer slammed its head into his cheek before it bit him.

=== 1971, June

He was passing his parent's bedroom when, through the open crack in the door, he overheard their conversation. Stanford stood still against the wall, hands still dripping wet from the bathroom.

"Whaddya want me to do, huh, Caryn? It's a cat. I'm not gonna let Stanford ruin his own future just because he can't follow a simple dorm rule!"

Ma sighed, "It's not like he'd have t' hide it forever, Fil. That poor animal's almost ten, it'll probably pass away before too much longer."

"Then we keep it here and get it put down while he's away," Pa replied. "He can cry and moan about it when the semester's over."

"Filbrick!"

"What? You're tellin' me you wanna watch that thing limp around like our last one? We'd be doing it a favor."

Stanford chanced a peek through the door, trying to catch sight of either of them.

"I'm not saying you're wrong, I'm saying our son's been through enough! Let him have the cat. Let him take it to college with him." Caryn gestured as she spoke, the smoke from her cigarette trailing after her hand like a record of the motions. "At the very least let him be around to watch it die. Give him some closure for it? Honestly, Fil, the kid's leaving to start summer classes tomorrow. Summer classes! I didn't even know colleges did that. He'll be workin' himself like a dog, I know he will. At least the cat'll make sure he pulls his head out of his books long enough to eat and sleep."

Her tone was pointed, and Stanford saw Pa grit his teeth and massage his brow with one hand. "Fine. We'll keep the damn thing fed while he's away. But it's not going with him. I'm putting my foot down on that. He'll be eighteen tomorrow, a full-grown man. And full-grown men do not need fluffy little animals to make 'em feel better about their feelings."

Stanford clenched his fists and moved away from the door, the single slice of birthday cake he'd forced himself to eat sitting heavy in his stomach. He wouldn't leave his only friend behind.

…Admittedly, he should've known that trying to hide Archer in his coat when it was mid-June was not one of his smarter ideas.

"Gimme that damn cat, you're not taking it with you-"

There was an odd popping sound, a sparkling flash of light, and then the twelve-pound terror that Pa had been scruffing became instead two-hundred-and-ten. There was a rip, a yelp, and the three remaining members of the Pines family stared down at the fresh heap of limbs on the ground between them. Pa stared, agog, his fist still clenched. Between his fingers was half of a shirt, well-worn, with white and red stripes.

There was a human teenager on the ground, wearing the other half of the shirt and the tatters of an outfit meant for a child about a third his size. This teenager- a doughy-looking white boy wearing Stanford's own face with hair long enough to cover what the clothing scraps couldn't- looked up at the three of them with a sort of blank, uncomprehending confusion. Stanford could relate to that.

"St- Stuhh- St-" he stuttered out through his paling, sweaty face.

"Stanley…?" Ma warbled. The cigarette in her hand dropped to the floor and started to scorch a hole in the worn carpeting. Pa didn't even chide her- he, too, was staring down at the carbon copy on the floor where once was a cat named Archer. No-longer-Archer looked between the three of them, then down to the pair of calloused hands that now belonged to him. He looked back up, locking eyes with Stanford for a brief instant before flicking his gaze away and croaking out a one-worded question.

"M-ma?" His mouth moved like he couldn't quite remember how words worked. His limbs, too, twitched like they were used to a much more restrictive range of motion, pulled in close to the chest like paws.

"My baby boy-!" Caryn collapsed to her knees, her shaking hands reaching out and clutching Not-Archer by the face. Her fingers cradled his cheeks, turning his head this way and that, and he let her, limp like Archer went whenever Ma scooped it up. "You- where'd you come from? How are you-? Why were you-?"

She stopped trying to speak, then, letting out a pained and aching sound when-- Stanley, sweet Moses, his brother! Not a cat, never a cat-- he managed to get his arms around her shoulders and hold her back. She clutched him tight and began to cry.

"I knew it." Stanford's voice was flat. There was a haunted look in his eyes, and his hands came up to clutch at his arms. "I knew it. I knew it the whole time, and I-" he took a sharp breath inward. "I let everyone tell me I was crazy. I let you tell me I was crazy!" His head turned sharp to Pa, then, that haunted look hardening to icy stone.

"I watched my brother get turned into a cat! I asked for help- I begged for it! And you were gonna put him down!"

Pa snapped his jaw shut. "Your cat just turned into a naked hippie and your first thought is pointing fingers at me?"

"His name is Stanley!" Stanford shouted, clutching the air like he wanted to strangle something. His fingers twitched, all twelve of them, and he threw his arms out wide as he laid everything out. "He's my brother! He's your son! You said he went missing! You made us hold a funeral for him! He's here right in front of us but you won't admit that even though you're holding his shirt!"

And Pa looked at the scrap of fabric still held in his hand. When he opened his clenched fingers, he could see the care tag on the inside of the collar. Stitched there in his wife's blocky embroidery with cheap black thread in all capital letters was his missing son's name.

"I-" all at once, the man looked at a loss. The taught line of his shoulders seemed to sag, millimeter by millimeter. Hoarsely, Pa mumbled out something that Stanford, in a million years, would never have bet a cent on hearing. "I don't know what's happening."

"Sixer?" Stanford looked down to the ground, where his brother was wrapped tightly in their mother's arms. "I-is this real? Can you understand me?"

His knees and expression both crumpled. Bruising his tailbone on the ground, he reached out and clutched at one of Stanley's hands, lacing them together and squeezing with all his might just to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Stanley squeezed back, strong despite his lack of coordination.

"Stanley…" Stanford murmured. "Stanley, I'm so sorry- All this time you were counting on me, and I- I convinced myself that I imagined everything. I was a fool- I've been a horrible brother-"

"Hey." Stanley was looking at him with a stormy gaze- anger, bitterness from years of being ignored, likely, and why wouldn't he be? Stanford had all but abandoned him in his time of need, left him to languish for years under an unsolvable curse- His brother slapped his face with an open palm. It stung a lot more than the paw did. "Quit bein' a dick to yourself."

Stanford blinked, and then began to laugh. It wasn't a funny laugh- or, rather, it was a laugh that was funny-sounding. Of all the things for Stanley to say to him right off the bat, of anything for which his brother would take advantage of that most precious of human abilities, chiding him for self-flagellation was the least anticipated. And yet, when Stanford remembered Archer, remembered when his brother was last human, he couldn't imagine anything else.

He joined their mother in the hug, arms wrapping around both Stanley and her as he buried his hysterical laughter into his brother's thick, curly hair and sagged in relief.

#gravity falls #stan pines #ford pines #filbrick pines #caryn pines #nine years au

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leonw4nter · 1 year ago

Text

She’s Everything and He’s… He’s There Too I Guess

Hockeyplayer!RE2R!Leon x Figureskater!Reader

“Those damned hockey players…”, you quietly hiss to yourself as you skate off to the side. You had almost fallen down and cracked your head open as there was a crater in the ice, left behind by those rowdy hockey players who used the arena before you did. You usually used the arena before the players could since the ice was at its best but because you ran late, you ended up with deformed ice. You stayed at the side a little more, checking your skates and looking around for some more craters so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of the hockey team flail embarrassingly and land face-first. Besides palms that had a slight dull ache to them, you were lucky you didn’t fall hard and end up with a serious injury. “Sorry for uh– the ice,” a voice piped up behind you. You turn around and the first thing your gaze falls on is a pair of irises that are a hue of a midwinter sky. “I’m apologizing on behalf of my team. Do you, um… need any help…?,” he shyly asks. This guy looks new, might be a rookie since you haven’t seen a blonde-haired, rosy cheeked, baby-faced athlete that contrasts the rugged, brunette guys with faint stubbles. His blond hair is slightly tousled, the tips of his ears pink. “No, it’s fine– I’m fine,” you respond with a small nod. He looks at the rink before he asks if you're sure, genuine concern flashing in his eyes before you respond that you’re really sure, shooting him a small smile. He eventually turns around to get back to his team but not before he looks back once or twice. “Kennedy”, the back of his navy blue jersey reads. He’s cute; polite too. ──────────────────────────────────────────────────────

That’s how your friendship started out with the shy, good-souled starting goalie whose name is Leon. He’s looked out for you whenever you skated and offered moral support when he wasn’t training, shooting you a thumbs up and that adorably goofy smile of his. Whenever you’d blow him an air kiss mid-spin, he’d divert his gaze elsewhere as his cheeks and the tip of his ears redden up; his teammates would tease him too, which you found endearing. After your first interaction with Leon, you noticed that the team would usually arrive earlier than they normally do (and shoot Leon teasing grins and looks). They watch you skate to pass the time, some of them complimenting your moves as you leave the ice and they take their respective posts; all the players easily tossed compliments, except for Leon. “You um… you l-looked good out there–”, he would quickly mumble.

“Leon we’re literally friends, how are you still so shy?,” you would say with a bright smile. He often stuttered or rushed whatever he had to say, though you would usually giggle and softly offer a ‘thank you’ whilst he said his ‘no problem’ or ‘your welcome’. You give him a small pat to the arm before moving to the seat where you placed your bag and you swear you could hear Chris, Leon’s teammate, tease Leon and say ‘your girl’ or something close to that. Back then, you would immediately freshen up and get going after practice but after making friends with Leon, you’d stay at the arena to cheer and watch him play just like he does with you.“Good luck!,” you exclaim before they start a practice game. Leon shoots you that hundred-watt smile before pulling his helmet down, getting his game-face on. A giddy sizzle of electricity runs up and down your spine, making you feel all warmly odd and fuzzy. A smile curls the tip of your lips upward, bringing your head down to release a small chuckle. Goddamn Leon, you’re making the ice princess feel awfully warm.

“Give it your all Kennedy; your girlfriend’s watching you!,” Chris yells in an awfully happy voice.

“Shut up man, she’s not my girlfriend!,” Leon yells back, silently thankful for the fact that his helmet is hiding the beet-red flush of his cheeks. After some time, the practice game finally ended. You got up from your seat to bid Leon and the guys goodbye before you finally left.

“Bye guys, bye Leon!,” you say with a small wave. All the guys said bye in unison, with Leon’s own response being slightly delayed since he was ruffling his silvery blond hair.

“Bro got his own special goodbye greeting,” Chris says to no one in particular. The other guys turn their heads to give Leon a knowing look along with a teasing snicker, prompting Leon to shyly mumble a “shut up” even though no one really said anything besides Chris.

This is your routine for the next 5 months. You and Leon have managed to grow closer too– now going on hangouts, lunch runs, and sometimes teaching each other basic moves from your respective sports. You also noticed that Leon seemed to be a little more awkward around you, unable to maintain eye contact when doing something as simple as talking and choosing to focus on other parts of your face like your cheeks and occasionally your lips too. There was an instance, about a month ago, where you both were watching His Girl Friday. Leon was saying the lines at the same time as Cary Grant’s character was, seemingly familiar with the film. He kept spilling facts about the movie, obviously very enthused. You know some facts too, but not as in-depth as him. His eyes twinkled with interest, his legs bouncing with enthusiasm whenever a scene he liked came on. Though he never looked you straight in the eye for no more than seven seconds, you would often catch him stealing a glance when he thought you weren’t looking. You feel him shift on the couch so you turn to look at him but you’re instead met with a piercing gaze. Odd. He inches a little closer, his gaze unsure whether to focus on your eyes or… lips. Heart pounding like a jackhammer in your chest and mind fading into nothing, you did what you thought was the most un-awkward thing at the moment: share a piece of trivia.

“Um– Howard Hawks and Charles Lederer also worked on Gentlemen Prefer Blondes,” you swiftly say, causing the words to sound a little mashed together.

“I know,” he simply says. There’s a rasp in his voice, his gaze fixed on your eyes now. Slowly, he closes the gap and you follow him too but he stops and pulls back at the last minute. “Nevermind,” he murmurs before turning his attention back on the screen. You sit there, frozen still and trying to process what happened. “Did he just try to kiss me,” you silently think to yourself. You clear your throat and adjust your position, trying to get your focus back on the movie but all you can really think about was that moment. “If I could travel back in time, Cary Grant is one of the people I’d like to meet,” he suddenly says. He turns to you, that goofy grin on his mouth again; he’s acting as if that moment mere seconds ago never happened. Maybe I’m just overthinking this.

Instances like this keep happening for a month or so; he leans in close, you keep thinking that this is it, he pulls away saying “nevermind” or “nothing”. Leon always wore his heart on his sleeve: he spoke what he truly felt so keeping something secret was definitely uncharacteristic but not too odd. He did start being more affectionate though: buying you flowers, getting you food, and even buying you random stuff (like a leg warmer that you had told him was cute once). He even began holding your hand or giving you hugs, which made you feel special but that feeling went down the drain when you saw him hug Chris’ sister Claire. All this was confusing you, since you liked him too and you wanted to know if this was a one-sided thing with all the signals thrown around. This time, you were determined to get your assumptions about his feelings straight so you wouldn’t be all the more confused and possibly misled. Jill, a friend of Claire's, arranged an outdoor ice skating get-together. Claire invited Chris, who in turn invited Leon and then invited you. For the next two hours, the four of you spent the time skating around. Jill and Claire needed help maintaining their balance so the three of you had to stay around them so they wouldn’t fall and possibly injure themselves. Since there weren’t so many people in the rink, Leon and Chris got to race each other whilst you got to do your jumps and spins. Not too long after, it was down to you and Leon doing the skating. “This is it. Showtime,” you thought to yourself. Catching up to Leon, you decided to pop the question.

“Soo… are you into Claire? Or Jill?,” you asked innocently.

“Huh– Um, no–,” Leon responded. Flustered, the tips of his ears reddened.

“C’mon. Just tell me so I can maybe play matchmaker and set you up with either of them,” you coax. You masked your own personal feelings for him by using this method. Although it stung slightly, you can’t force him to like you so the most you can do for him is to help him out regarding matters of the heart.

“I mean… they’re kind and beautiful and overall great people but they’re just not, you know… they’re not my type,” he shyly responds.

“Okay… then who’s your type?”

“You.”

You stop pushing your feet and just slide across the ice, staring into Leon’s face with a puzzled expression. “Did I hear that right?”

“Yeah, you did,” Leon quietly says. Looking back at the others, he sees that they’re sitting down and having a chat over some hot chocolate in a thermos so he takes this chance to finally speak.

“Y’know, when I went up to you those 5 months ago and apologized about the ice, I didn’t think my decision would hit me with a vengeance. At first I thought you were pretty and good at what you do but after being friends with you, you look much more divine to me and seeing you march to the beat of your own drum and- and actually getting a look into your actual personality, I knew that I’d love you. I’d love you through my screw-ups and through yours too,” he confessed. You two were still skating but at a slower pace now. Snow was beginning to gently fall down, tiny snowflakes gliding through the frigid air. Steam softly billowed out of your mouths, both your cheeks red like apples but not as red as Leon’s.

“Claire and Jill are amazing women– they’re just like you: they’re nice, attractive, helpful– overall decent people but out of all the possible personalities in here, my favorite type is you,” he finishes. His heart is doing quadruple Axels in his chest, ready to take flight or shatter any moment now. His hands, stuffed inside his warm coat pocket, are feeling clammy and sweaty. Suddenly, he kind of regrets letting out such a long confession.

“Hey I’m s-,” you cut him off in the best way ever.

You skate in front of him, hands extending towards him. Your left hand tugs at the collar of his gray trench coat whilst your right hand travels to the back of his neck, your fingers gently digging into the back of his head and threading themselves amongst the tufts of soft hair. You draw him near, closing the gap with a tender kiss. His body tenses up, his system shutting down, and he freezes but soon regains his bearings and kisses you back. His fingers leave his pockets and situate themselves on your waist, his thumbs gently drawing circle patterns. He doesn’t ask for more, just giving and taking. His slightly chapped lips spread into a giddy smile whilst still pressed against yours; Leon could only describe this kiss as a comforting breath of the sun that could keep the winter away. You pull away reluctantly and gaze into his eyes, ink-hued pupils swallowing the icy blue of his irises.

“I love you too,” you breathlessly say with an equally giddy grin.

A surprised laugh escapes Leon’s slightly parted mouth as he hugs you, lifting you up.

“Hey lovebirds!,” Jill calls out. You two look at Jill, who is cupping her mouth with gloved hands. “We saved some hot cocoa for you both! Come while Chris’ ass isn’t chugging it yet!”.

You two look at each other again, a small chuckle escaping your lips as you guys’ eyes glimmer in the shared love being realized. Leon takes your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours. You skate over to where Chris, Jill, and Claire are waiting. Jill hands the cup to Leon but Leon politely declines, offering it to you instead which earns raised eyebrows and smirks from the three. You take a sip of the drink, a comforting warmth taking over your body like a nice warm, weighted blanket.

“Don’t you want some?,” you ask Leon.

“I have a better way of tasting it later,” Leon responds with a cheeky wink.

“I heard that!,” Chris’ loud voice booms.

NOTE - This is my first time writing and working on something like this so if you liked it then that's really great and if not then feel free to tell me what you want me to improve on! My uploading schedule isn't super definite since I write whenever I feel like it. That's it and thanks for reading :)

The dividers (the ones with the star and circle) are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy fluff #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 2 remake #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #fluff

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roosterforme · 2 years ago

Text

That's My Boy | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets caught up in his emotions after Everett turns twelve. As his son gets older, he realizes that days spent playing baseball in the park together will grow fewer in number. He wants to make all of them count.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 2400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32

"I can't believe he's turning twelve next week," Bradley muttered as you and he stood in front of a wall of baseball bats in San Diego's best sporting goods store. "It feels like he just turned seven."

You slipped your arms around his waist and gave him a squeeze. "Have I mentioned yet that I love that you kept the Padres game tradition alive every year for his birthday? Ev is going to flip when you tell him you got box seats for the game on Sunday."

Bradley kissed the top of your head and grunted softly as he smiled. "I fucking love that kid. He still asks me to take him to the park to hit balls all the time. And I just don't know how much longer he's going to think I'm cool, you know?"

You snorted against Bradley's chest and then looked up at him. "He'll probably think you're cool for longer than he thinks I am!"

"Well, yeah. Obviously, Kitten," he said as he rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. "But I might only last another year or so past you."

"You're obnoxious," you informed him with a grin as he positioned you with your arms out in front of you and your palms up.

"I know," he replied, giving you another kiss. Then he walked around the store and loaded your arms with two new bats, a new mitt, cleats and some baseballs. "I think that's good. Plus I ordered him and I those personalized Phillies throwback jerseys."

"Seriously? You think the two of you needed more Phillies jerseys? You probably already have half a dozen with BRADSHAW on the back."

"Actually I have seven. This will make eight," he said, pulling you closer to him while your arms were still full. "But he won't be a kid for much longer. He's not gonna want to match with me when he's eighteen. And I love spoiling him. And you."

You set everything down at the register while Bradley dug his credit card out of his wallet. "So..." you said softly while the cashier bagged everything up, and he paid. Bradley looked at you out of the corner of his eye as you ran your hand along the back of his bicep. "You want to take me home and spoil me while Everett is with his cousins for the evening?"

Bradley smirked and grabbed the bag, lacing his fingers with yours. "You want to dress up in your bodysuit and kitten ears for me? Let me kiss off your whiskers?"

You were giggling as you ran out to his Bronco, and Bradley was hot on your heels.

----------------------------

"Dad, I want to try out my new gear," Everett whined as he looked out the front window at the pouring rain a week later. His voice was starting to get deeper, and all of the girls in his class had a crush on him. He had grown up so much since Bradley met him, and sometimes it still shocked him that he had a son.

"It's supposed to be nicer out tomorrow. We can go then."

Everett turned and looked at him. "But tomorrow's your birthday."

Bradley smiled. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do after work than come home, get changed, grab his mitt, and go to the park. "Yeah, it'll be fun."

But Everett still looked skeptical. "Won't Mom be mad if we ditch her on your birthday?"

"Nah. We'll be home for dinner. And I'll make it up to her later."

Everett grimaced and started to head upstairs, but then he paused and asked, "Can we wear our new jerseys?"

"Of course."

And it turned out, you were a little annoyed at first the following day. "I have birthday dinner and cupcakes planned. I thought the three of us could eat together here since we're going to the pizza place with Molly and Bob on Friday."

Bradley pulled you close and whispered, "Just for an hour?" He rubbed your back and gave you his sweetest expression. "We'll just hit a few balls and come right back."

He turned as he heard Everett thunder down the stairs. "Ready, Coach?"

"Please?" Bradley asked you, kissing your forehead.

"Go," you said, pushing him toward Everett. "But seriously, be home by seven or I'll eat all the cupcakes myself."

Bradley and Everett ran out the front door with twin grins and loaded their gear into the back of the Bronco. It was strange to see how tall his son had gotten after a recent growth spurt; he was already almost as tall as you. Another few years, and he'd be the same height as Bradley. Maybe taller.

"You okay?" Everett asked, and Bradley realized he was just standing there staring at him. He looked a lot like his biological father, but he really looked so much like you.

"Yeah," he grunted, kind of missing the days when he would buckle Everett into his booster seat. Now he climbed into the front seat without help. Bradley started the engine and said, "A few more years and I'll be teaching you how to drive this thing."

Everett's eyes bugged out. "You'll let me drive the Bronco? Mom hardly ever even drives it."

"Yeah, well, Mom doesn't appreciate the fine art of making sure it doesn't stall out on the highway."

"I would," he replied, looking around the interior like it was a hallowed space.

Bradley nodded as he pulled into the parking lot. "I don't doubt it, Kiddo. You ready to test out your new bats?"

"So ready!"

The grass was still a little damp from all the rain, but the air smelled fresh as the sun dipped closer to the horizon. Bradley waited until Everett signalled that he was ready, and then he pitched an easy slider to him. Everett sent it soaring. "Holy shit," Bradley muttered as he watched where it landed so they could collect it later. "Nice," he called out as he reached into his bucket for another ball.

This time he threw the same pitch but harder. The result was identical as Everett nailed it far into the outfield. "I like this bat!" he said, adjusting his stance, ready for more.

Bradley rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck before throwing his slider again, this time with everything he had. He could feel the ball leave his hand. The perfect pitch. And then he heard the crack of the bat. The perfect hit. This time the ball went even farther than the last two.

"Damn," Bradley said, reaching for another ball and rolling it around in his glove a few times. "Try the other bat," he told Everett, and he watched his son switch them and take a few practice swings.

"Ready!"

Maybe he wouldn't be expecting a fastball this time. Bradley wound up and threw a pitch that even Bob could only hit half the time in the rec league games.

Crack!

"Jesus, Everett," he said as he watched the ball sail directly over his head. In a real game, it would have been an easy out for the center fielder, but it was hit so well and so hard, Bradley was kind of shocked.

"Come on, Dad," Everett called. "Throw a really hard one."

Bradley looked at his eager face. He wasn't taunting; he really wanted a harder pitch. But Bradley was already starting to get a little sore as he scooped up another ball. He threw the hardest changeup he could muster, and while it wasn't a clean hit, Everett still got some wood on it.

But when he threw that pitch again, Everett hit it square on and sent it sailing farther than the other balls in the outfield. "Damn, Kiddo," Bradley said, gaping at his son who looked completely unfazed.

"Wanna switch places?" Everett asked, heading toward Bradley and handing him the bat.

But it was more of the same. Sure, the bat wasn't quite big enough for Bradley, and it was still hard for Everett to stay in the strike zone, but Bradley could barely hit his pitches. They were too fast. His slider was so good, he had Bradley swinging too late. His changeup was so sneaky, Bradley swung early.

Finally, Everett threw a fastball that Bradley nailed so hard, they'd be lucky to find it in the treeline. "That's a birthday home run, Coach!" Everett cheered, jumping and tossing another ball up into the air.

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, just standing there staring at the twelve year old. He felt tears prickle his eyes as he smiled and closed the distance between them. "You're really good, Ev," he whispered, pulling him tight to his body. When his son smiled up at him with his slightly crooked front tooth and bright eyes, Bradley said, "Let's get home for dinner with Mom."

-------------------------------

You loved more than anything that you and Everett had Bradley in your lives, and that the boys so easily lost track of time when they were together. But tonight you made an enormous dinner for your husband's birthday, and now they were late getting back. Just as you started to make yourself a plate of food, unable to wait any longer to eat, the two of them burst through the front door. Everett was talking a mile a minute, and they looked absolutely adorable in their matching shirts.

"Did you have fun?" you asked, taking a bite of mashed potatoes. It was actually impossible to be annoyed at them when they got like this. But Bradley met your eyes with a soft smile on his face that almost looked a little sad.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice rough. When you set your plate down and went to him, he pulled you in for a hug. "Thanks for making dinner."

"Happy birthday," you whispered for probably the hundredth time today. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm perfect."

The three of you ate at the table, but Bradley was a little quieter than usual. And he only ate one cupcake instead of two or three. And you thought you saw tears in his eyes when he opened the enormous Phanatic foam finger Everett picked out for him.

"I love it. And I love you," Bradley told Everett as he hugged him. "We can put it upstairs in the Phillies room."

You watched the way your son hugged him as he said, "Happy birthday, Dad." There was no way that kid was ever going to stop thinking Bradley was cool.

"Ev, sweetie, it's time to start getting ready for bed," you reminded him.

"Go on up and get a shower, and then I'll tuck you in," Bradley told him as Everett went thundering up the stairs.

He was old enough that he probably didn't still need to be tucked in, but you knew for a fact that Everett had never once asked Bradley to stop. When you looked at your husband across the table, he was rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. You stood and went to him as you softly asked, "Will you please tell me what's wrong?"

He looked up at you with tear filled eyes before scooting his chair back and patting his thigh so you'd sit on his lap. You settled in with your arms around his neck, and he kissed your cheek and your shoulder as he visibly tried to hold back his tears.

"God, Kitten. You should have seen him tonight. He's just so fucking good."

"I know he is," you replied, kissing his cheek.

"No. He's better than me now. He hit the hardest pitch I could throw, and then I could barely make contact with his slider."

You let those words really sink in. Bradley was easily one of the best players in his recreational league. He could pitch nine innings and make it look easy. He could hit the ball beyond the fences. "Are you serious?"

"I'm so fucking serious, Baby," he whispered, rubbing his mustache along your neck. "He's twelve. His voice hasn't even changed all the way yet. He hasn't even reached his maximum height."

You took Bradley's face in your hands and kissed his nose. "And this is making you cry?"

He shrugged as you ran your thumbs along his rosy cheeks. "I'm just overwhelmed. He seems so grown up now." He closed his eyes, voice shaky as he said, "I wish I'd had more time with him when he was a little kid, you know? I didn't get to see him when he was a toddler or anything. It would have been nice to have another year of tee ball. Hell, I wish I'd had a few more years with you, too."

Now your throat felt tight with tears of your own, but you shook your head. "You found us at just the right time. Right when we needed you the most."

Your forehead came to rest against his as he gave up the battle and let himself cry. You loved that he was so soft for the two of you and let you see his emotions. He took as much time as he needed while you ran your fingers through his hair, and when he met your eyes again, he was smiling.

"I don't know what I'm going to do when he doesn't want to play ball in the park with me anymore," he said with a laugh as he wiped his eyes. "I live for this shit."

You kissed his cheek as you heard Everett calling for him to come upstairs. "I really don't think you're going to have to worry about that, Coach."

Bradley stood but kept you close. "Pretty soon he'll be grown. An actual man."

When he tried to walk away to tuck Everett in, you put your hands on his chest to keep him in place. "Yeah. He will. And he'll have the best role model in you to show him how it's done."

Bradley ran his hand over his forehead, and he looked like he might start crying again. "I better go tuck him in while I still can."

You nodded and followed him up the stairs. When he turned right toward Everett's bedroom, you stood in the hallway, blinking away your own tears as you listened to their voices. Their combined laughter filled your house and your heart as you waited to take your husband's hand for the night whenever he was done being the dad who was tailor made for Everett.

-------------------------

Soft and sweet Coach makes me tear up every time. Bradley, Everett is always going to think you're cool, and he's always going to want to spend time with you. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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