#both of them chatted with the pilots for a bit and then while the one went to check the next person in the other went to get something

[crj-200]

nightmare low blood sugar situation neutralized

[luxurychristmaspudding]

listen

summary: you’ve been serving frankie and his friends at your bar for months. despite your wishing and wanting, the shy pilot doesn’t work up the nerve to ask you out before santi introduces you to his buddy, joel.

swept off your feet by the sweet southerner, and charmed by pope, the boys come together to show frankie exactly what it is he’s missing.

read part 2, watch, here

grouping: f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia

rating/warnings: 18+. MDNI. no outbreak (tlou) - but based after the tf mission. softdom!joel, softdom!santi, sub!frankie, sub!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, maybe MFM?, sharing the luuuurve, praise kink, one (1) count of spitting in mouth, dirty talk, daddy kink (heavy, sorry lmao), oral (f&m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it!), creampie, come eating, pussyjob?, so many orgasms i started to lose count, maybe a tiny bit of angst, m!masturbation, light choking, f!overstim, bad spanish, right okay we’re done.

wc: 14.7k. we aren't gonna talk about it.

an: this is fucking filthy. i’m sorry. don’t ask.

When you first started to hang out with them all, Will told you that Frankie was useless with women. What you didn’t expect was for him to be this fucking oblivious.

You had been bartending when you met him at a bar downtown - all industrial steel, burnished mirrors, and low light. Frankie and the boys would come in every so often, and you warmed to them immediately. It was hard not to. The four men were always respectful, always polite. They never overstayed their welcome, or their tolerance, and always asked how you were. 

Of course, it helped that they were also handsome, and you quickly fell into the trap you were sure they wove for all hospitality staff. The lingering glances from their table, the crooked smiles at the bar. The competition they seemed to enjoy amongst themselves of who could lather you with the most attention.

Will and Benny did particularly well. The elder brother saved a special, particularly mischievous smile and a wink for you every time he came to order, and saved a special, bruising elbow to the ribs for his brother every time he caught Benny staring. Benny was always a hoot considering his sore ribs, the air never seeming to have been knocked from him as he chatted away to you across the polished wood.

But it was the quieter two, Frankie and Santi, who piqued your curiosity. Santi - often cool, detached; who offered little information in the way of his life but seemed to want to be wrapped up in yours. Who would watch you over the rim of his glass of whisky, drop his eyes to your lips, dip his mouth in a smirk, and say he’d see you later. And Frankie, who could do almost nothing but watch you from his corner of their booth, his Standard Oil cap sunk low on his brow, both hands around his bottle. His deep swallow when you’d catch his eye. The blush that would crawl up his neck, threading through his cheeks when you smiled.

Over the months they came to the bar while you worked there, the five of you became friends of sorts. Once in a blue moon turned into once every two weeks, turned into every Saturday night. And you made sure you were always there, sacrificing the time you would have spent surfing social media on your sofa for time spent flirting with your favourite regulars. Enjoying their eyes on you. Enjoying Frankie’s blush when you called him sugar as you asked if he needed anything else. 

One day, you hoped he’d gather enough courage to give you the answer you hoped for.

You.

But he never did.

When the time came for you to move on from the bar, you made sure to let them know. Your new job further into the city was a step exactly in the direction you wanted to go, and though the men shared touching groans of disappointment, they congratulated you wholeheartedly. 

They also invited you to their Saturday night drinks. You gladly accepted. 

On your last shift, Will slid you Frankie’s mobile number, explaining that he was the most reliable member, the one most likely to know what was going on with the group at any given time. When you ribbed him about how he must always be on his phone, Frankie shyly admitted it was because he had a daughter. He was constantly on the lookout for updates, sweet little pictures and messages his ex would send over. They had a good relationship, and his kid - Lucia - was gorgeous. They just live a little far away, Frankie had admitted, a sad little frown glazing over his features. 

You had softened to him even more, asking him questions about his daughter over the bar while you poured his drinks, propping your chin in your hand and listening to him as he continued to talk after you were finished. You found yourself trying to make Frankie laugh, to hear his sweet chuckle, to brush a touch against his arm, see the sparkle in his eyes beneath his cap - similar, you imagined, to how your own eyes glittered back at him. 

The conversation only stalled when Benny called for him - Fish, where are those drinks? - earning himself a thump from Will, who muttered something about Frankie finally finding the courage and Benny’s big fuckin’ mouth. Frankie’s cheeks had heated, and he'd cleared his throat, thanking you before gathering all the drinks in his large hands and heading back to the booth.

What you had overheard heated the tips of your ears and rattled around your brain, looming in the back of your mind when you joined them the Saturday after. 

But Will's words must have just been a silly little joke, because no matter how hard you try, Frankie will not bend. No matter what you wear, no matter what you do, the curly haired pilot remains firmly out of reach.

And it’s not like you don’t have fun together. You join them on nights out. You’ve been invited over for poker games and parties. You share glances with Frankie, jokes, tales, hell, sometimes he even puts an arm around you. But it’s always the same. The end of the evening is always frustratingly uneventful. 

Crowded into sweaty bars and packed living rooms, you’re caught in a never ending circle of wanting and longing. Maybe that’s why, one night, you find yourself exchanging heated glances with Santi. 

Frankie never really touches you beyond a hug and a kiss on the cheek when you arrive, and remains a staunch gentleman no matter how much he drinks. Santi seems to strive to do the opposite. He finds you in the kitchen one night, trying to cool off after watching Frankie laugh and lean into another woman’s conversation, feeling foolish, immature, but trying to blink away tears anyway. 

He talks to you like you’re the only interesting person he’s ever met, standing a little too close for a friend, only moving away when you’re interrupted by one of Benny’s buddies searching for a beer. When you return to the living room, Frankie notices. Notices how Santi pulls you in close when you’re near, presses a kiss to your hair, places a casual hand on your knee when you’re sat next to each other. And how you let him do it. 

When Santi drops you off at your house, he looks at your lips for a long time. His eyes are burning as he tucks your hair behind your ear and wishes you a good night. But he doesn’t go further. 

It’s driving you fucking insane.

You were sure you hadn’t imagined the chemistry between the three of you before, so what was wrong now? Whose starting pistol were they waiting for? You can’t help your desperate huffs of frustration every time you close the door at the end of another night - alone, sopping wet, with only your hand to help.

Until one night, when you really believe, truly believe that it might end differently.

Frankie has been sat next to you in the booth all evening, laughing and chatting away. His arm is slung over your shoulder, his thigh against yours, your body pressed into his side. It feels good, it feels right, and he’s looking at you in such a way that you begin to teeter dangerously close to pressing your lips to his in the middle of the bar. 

You and Frankie take the opportunity to talk about anything and everything. Catching up on your jobs, how he’s re-received his licence, your families, future dreams and aspirations. It’s almost funny how perfectly everything seems to realign. You think this is the turning point - this is when you realise how perfect you are for each other, this is when you take the leap. The only hiccup seems to be when Frankie says he’ll be away for the next three weeks - working, and then visiting Lucia. Your heart crumbles a little - just a little - before you try to sweep away thoughts of him dying in a helicopter crash or falling back in love with his ex. It feels like you’ve waited so long for this moment that the universe might just try and be that cruel. Just for shits and giggles. 

But it won’t. Everything’s fine. Everything’s great.

Santi seems to notice. He’s quieter than usual, watching the two of you cosy up together. He looks pleased, if a little put out, and when he thinks you aren’t looking he exchanges a look with Frankie. A raised eyebrow, a dipped head. A fucking finally.

As you move to leave the bar at closing time, Frankie touches your arm.

‘Mind if I walk you home, querida?’ He asks, holding out your coat. You take it and swoop it on over your shoulders, grinning at him.

‘Thought you’d never ask.’ You say.

Frankie walks you home like a gentleman. 

Too much of a gentleman.

You bump shoulders every so often, but he doesn’t move to take your hand. And he’s all bashful smiles and throaty laughter, compliments and flirty asides, but you return them tenfold, wrapped up in a blinding smile.

You’re making it easy for him. Obvious. But he still isn’t taking the bait.

Maybe he doesn’t want you.

It’s an uncomfortable thought, but it bounces around your skull the whole way home. And it rumbles even louder when you get to your door and he pulls you in for a hug, a light hand barely lingering on your waist, before he wishes you goodnight. 

You stand there, a little dazed before your brain catches up and decides to deploy your last ditch attempt. Just to see. Just to find out. 

He’s halfway down your front path when you call out to him.

‘Frankie. Do you want to come in?’

He turns, limbs coming to a clumsy halt. His brows are high on his forehead, mouth a little ‘o’. Then he frowns.

Fuck. You’ve never felt like such an idiot in your life.

‘I - er,’ he starts, and you look down at the floor, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the concrete. ‘I have an early start tomorrow.’ He says. 

You look back up at him.

‘Sorry,’ he continues, ‘Any other time and I’d be - I’d be right there. Y’know. Just - timing, that’s all.’

You try to soften the bite that wants to creep into your words at his rejection, but barely manage it.

‘It’s cool,’ you say, trying to smile. ‘No worries. I just - I bought that film you said you watched the other day. Paddington 2? The one Lucia likes.’ A slow smile lights his eyes. ‘Just wondered whether you wanted to come in and watch it with a beer. But yeah. No worries,’ and then, because you just can’t help yourself, you add - ‘Wouldn’t have been any funny business, just so ya know.’ 

You force out a laugh, and Frankie drops his eyes. Disappointed, confused. You feel bad for a second, but then you remember how embarrassed you feel, how stupid. It makes your skin crawl. Nevermind.

You clear your throat.

‘Anyway. Get home safe, Frankie,’ you say, ‘See you soon.’ 

You rush in and close the door before he can reply.

---

Your phone buzzes with a text early the next day.

You open your eyes with a groan, clutching unseeingly at trinkets on your nightstand until your stomach lurches at the thought that it might be Frankie. You sit up to grab it.

It’s not Frankie. It’s an unknown number.

Hey. Do u want to head to the bar 2night?

You frown, confused, fingers dancing over possible replies before another text flies through.

Got a friend Id like u to meet.

And then another.

Its Santi btw. Cant remember if u have my no.

You breathe out, type a quick sure. Fuck it. What harm could another of Santi’s friends do to your pride? Your sex drive? What harm could a night with Santi do? You follow it up with -

Who else will be there? Are you setting me up?

You chew on your thumb anxiously, waiting for his reply.

Just the 3 of us. Might be ;)

You snort at his reply, shooting back -

God. Am I really such a charity case?

 - before getting out of bed to make breakfast. Halfway through your pancakes, you get a text back.

Nah. Just cant stand seein a good girl like u go to waste.

You put your phone back down on the table, slowing your chewing. Good girl. The two words send a lick of heat curling up your spine. A good girl like you going to waste. 

A slow, smug smile spreads across your lips. You pick up your phone again and begin to tap out a reply. A risky move, one which would surely harm your chances with Frankie, but fuck it - 

If you don’t want me to go to waste, you could always have me to yourself.

You stare at the blinking cursor for a second before deleting the message, instead asking him for a time. No need to be hasty. 

You don’t know what his friend looks like yet, anyway.

As it turns out, Santi’s friend might be exactly who you need to forget about Frankie.

Joel Miller is older, in his fifties. Greying, tall, broad, gorgeous, and a true southern gentleman to boot. The kind of guy - you imagine - who would drive you to work the next day if you couldn’t walk after seeing him the night before.

And it’s going well. Really well.

You, Joel, and Santi chat easily around your little table, swapping jokes, telling stories, brushing touches to each other here and there. Joel works in construction - runs his own company with his brother, Tommy - and has a grown up daughter called Sarah. He’s worked on Santi’s house - actually knows most of the group - but is usually too busy (or too tired, he tells you) to come out and join them. You think about how unlucky it is that he hadn’t come around before you made such a fool of yourself last night. And then you vow not to think of Frankie again for the rest of the evening.

Joel is easy to be around - warm, safe - earthy and masculine. And maybe it’s something to do with the way his chocolate brown eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles, but you don’t know what’s wrong with you. You can’t seem to stop thinking about what it would be like to run your fingers through his curls, feel the scrape of his stubble between your thighs, what his arms look like beneath his flannel, what his fingers - what his cock - would feel like inside of you. Something about the man is making your toes curl in your seat, and he hasn’t done anything more innocuous than thumb the charm hanging from your necklace. It’s agonising. 

And to make it worse, Santi knows. You don’t know how, but he does. Maybe you’re just that easy to read. 

In the blur of Joel leaving to go to the bathroom and get more drinks, Santi leans over to you.

‘What do you think?’ He asks.

You shrug, trying your absolute hardest to play it cool.

‘He’s nice. I like him. You should bring him out more often.’ 

Santi’s eyes glint with something molten, something teasing and knowing and sharp.

‘You want to take him home.’

You baulk at his words, cheeks flaming in response. You open and close your mouth as he leans in and laughs.

‘I never said that -’ you splutter, but Santi takes your hand.

‘You don’t need to, querida,’ he says, ‘I can see it written all over your face.’ 

You groan, forehead falling to his shoulder. 

‘If it helps,’ he continues, ‘I think he wants to take you home, too.’ 

You look up from his shoulder into his eyes, and they glimmer back at you. You bite your lip.

‘Ya think?’ You ask.

‘Yeah, baby,’ he teases, ‘I do.’

You hum against him before tilting your face further back.

‘You know…’ you say, lips loosened by the alcohol. Santi tips his head to the side, waiting for you to continue. ‘'S not quite how I imagined the night would end.’

His lips quirk in a smile again. Ah, fuck.

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. I kinda thought you’d take me home instead.’

Santi chuckles and looks away around the room. When his eyes settle back on you, they’re black and burning.

‘I’ve thought about it,’ he says, scratching his beard, ‘A lot. But I guessed you were too caught up on Frankie.’

You freeze at his words and sit up straight, clearing your throat.

‘I don’t -’ but Santi shakes his head at you, cutting you off. He says your name softly.

‘I know about last night,’ he says quietly. Your cheeks begin to burn again, but this time for a completely different reason. ‘He told me about it after he walked you home. And I told him he was the biggest fuckin’ idiot I know.’ 

Despite yourself, you smile.

‘I’m not gonna take you home, baby,’ Santi continues as you watch him, curious, ‘Not right now, anyway. My shit is complicated enough -’ Santi cuts himself off with a sigh, and your brows bunch together.

‘What’s wrong?’ you ask, your voice low and kind despite the fire sparking at his words.

Santi looks at you again, and whatever’s in his eyes looks too complex to divulge. He thumbs your knuckles, swirling patterns onto your hand.

‘Nothing,’ he says, but you frown at him again. ‘Just… stuff. Stuff to do with Frankie. It’s - complicated. I’ll tell you about it some other time. But what I wanted to say was - I wanted you to meet Joel. Because I think you’d be great for each other.’ 

Your jaw drops again, but before you can ask any questions, anything about his stuff with Frankie, Joel reappears with new drinks for the three of you. Santi gives you a tight-lipped smile, squeezing your hand before picking up his bottle. But you drop his gaze when Joel places a hand at the top of your back as he sits down.

‘Everything okay, baby?’ He asks. 

Santi doesn’t leave early, but he doesn’t leave late, either. He stays long enough to know exactly where this thing with you and Joel is going, and then bails when he knows he should. Even if you still kinda wish he’d stay. 

Even if you didn’t get the chance to ask him more about Frankie.

You and Joel linger for an hour longer, the ache in your core and the wetness in your underwear in response to him now almost impossible to ignore. Joel keeps a hand on your thigh. He sweeps a palm down your arm, tucks your hair behind your ear. And when the bell for closing rings out, he takes your hand and leads you out into the night.

He keeps a hold of your hand the whole way to your door. 

When you get home, you turn to him on your doorstep. He smiles at you, taking you in through his eyelashes. A muscle ticks in his jaw.

You grip your keys tightly in your fist, the metal leaving marks and almost drawing blood as he leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You forget to breathe as his scent crowds your senses, as the scruff of his beard scratches your cheek. You want to lick his neck, find out if he tastes as good as he smells, want to know what it feels like to have him pressed against you, on top of you, under you, behind you -

Joel cuts through your thoughts with a low chuckle against your ear.

‘Breathe, darlin’.’ He murmurs.

You open your eyes, take a deep breath, and sigh a laugh as you look down at your feet. 

He is still unbearably close, and you know, you know you shouldn’t, but you don’t know if you’ll ever see this man again, and everything Santi said at the bar, and the fact that you feel like Joel could make you come with just a flick of his wrist is likely what sparks your tongue to stutter out - 

‘Do you want to come in?’

Joel looks down at you again, a fire alight in his eyes. The heat sends a shiver down your spine.

He doesn’t give you an answer. Just pushes your front door open, takes your wrist, and pulls you inside.

---

Being with Joel is great.

It’s amazing. It’s like you finally have someone who can keep up with you. Your brain, your days, your plans. It’s like someone plopped Joel Miller on earth with a little note saying he was yours.

In the three weeks after you first meet him, you share countless breakfasts and dinners and spend your weekends wrapped up in sheets watching reruns of Golden Girls. It’s so simple to spend time with someone who is so easy to be around, someone who just gets you. 

Joel makes you laugh, makes you feel important, wanted.

And the sex is incredible.

Like nothing you’ve ever had with anyone else. He seems to know what to do, exactly how you want it done, every time - it’s effortless. And somehow, you seem to do the same for him. In fact, the only problems you seem to have found are his size (because he’s huge) and the fact that you can’t be inside each other all the time.

Which is why it takes so much effort for you to peel yourself away from him when Santi asks if you’d like to join him and the guys for drinks on Saturday. You give him an affirmative before promptly being distracted by Joel coming out of the shower.

You see his reply forty minutes later.

Frankie will b there. That OK?

You type back a quick -

Of course :)

 - before getting on with your day.

Drinks are almost the same as usual. It’s surprisingly easy to slot right back into where you were. Laughing, chatting, joking with Will and Benny. What they’ve been up to, who they’ve been with. Questions you manage to dodge with only a knowing smirk from Santi to remind you he knows exactly who you’ve been doing. 

Frankie joins in from across the table. He couldn’t meet your eye when you first arrived, but over the course of the evening and a few drinks, he seems to have relaxed enough to look at you. Really look at you.

Which is unfortunate, because you can still feel Joel’s come from earlier in the day seeping into your underwear.

At some point in the evening, Benny and Will make their excuses - they have a family get together tomorrow they can’t be too hungover for - and it’s just you, Frankie, and Santi left. 

It’s easy for the most part. Santi bridging the gap so effortlessly that it begins to feel like nothing happened between you and Frankie at all. And it didn’t, you remind yourself. Nothing happened. And then you met Joel.

So why are you still thinking about it?

You try to distract yourself, lose yourself in the conversation taking place between the two men. Something about Star Wars, new castings they’ve chosen for a series coming out later in the year. You try to contribute as much as you can, but fail miserably, earning yourself a brief history of the franchise from Santi. Eventually you get him to ease off with a hand to his chest, laughing until he starts to giggle, too. He uses the interlude to get up to use the bathroom and get more drinks, leaving you with Frankie and his soft, brown eyes.

You peer at each other nervously from across the table. You watch as his tongue darts out to wet his lip, as he chews the inside of his cheek before taking a deep breath and meeting your eye. 

You feel your jaw clench.

‘About the other night, a few weeks back,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was a fuckin’ moron -’ he pauses for a moment, sweeps a hand over his face. ‘I’m real rusty at this. The whole dating thing. I don’t think I even realised what it was you were sayin’ to me.’ Frankie huffs a laugh. A horrible, anxious feeling starts to work its way up your throat. ‘But I -’

He’s interrupted as a bartender floats by your booth, sweeping up some of the empty glasses. You smile up at her and thank her sweetly. 

Maybe you can stall whatever Frankie has to say.

She swats at the air with her free hand.

‘Not at all, sugar,’ she says, ‘Can’t let a thing like empties get in the way of a date like this.’

You smile at her and bite your tongue, feeling hot. A blush begins to claw up your cheeks as she winks at you both and swings away. Had she not seen Santi? And - fuck - now how do you brush this off with Frankie? How do you stop where this is going?

You turn your eyes back to him, and he hasn’t even flushed at the insinuation. Instead, he bites his lip, something which sends a jolt of heat to the space between your thighs. He scratches the back of his neck, and rushes out in a lowered voice that even though he’s busy with work at the moment, he’d like to make it right -

‘I’d really love to take you out this weekend.’

Your stomach plummets to your feet. Fuck. 

Tears of frustration prickle in your eyes. A lump of panic settles in your throat, and you almost feel like you could run out of the bar. Why is he doing this now?

You take a deep breath and try to form the kindest smile, the most apologetic furrow in your brows that you can.

‘Frankie,’ you breathe, and already his face begins to fall. You lean across the table and take one of his massive hands. ‘I’d have loved to, but -’

He shakes his head quickly, trying to draw his hand back.

‘It’s okay,’ he begins, ‘Fuck, I’m sorry. I must have just misread - I didn’t mean - I don’t want you to feel -’

But his interruption only serves to further spark the surge of irritation. You squeeze his hand tighter so he can’t rip it away and utter his name harshly. He stops immediately, his eyes whipping back to yours. Something stirs in you at his immediate obedience.

‘Listen to me,’ you say, shaking off your traitorous thoughts. ‘I’d have loved to. But I - I literally just started seeing someone, and I -’ you break off, groaning in frustration, ‘I don’t know if it’s serious, or if it’s exclusive, but he’s great, and I don’t want anyone - especially you - to get hurt by me being selfish or not knowing where things are at.’ You huff out a breath and meet his eye. He looks disappointed, upset even - but worst of all he looks understanding, almost grateful that you don’t want him to get caught up in this complex knot of wanting. 

‘Frankie,’ you say softly, and try to smile, ‘I mean this in the least… damaging way. If you had asked me three weeks ago, when we were here last, I’d have said yes. In a heartbeat.’

Maybe it does make you an asshole. Maybe it does make you selfish. But it feels important in this moment to make sure that Frankie understands - you like him. You wanted him.

It’s just timing. 

Frankie grimaces.

‘Fuck.’ He hisses. And when he tries to withdraw his hand this time, you let him. But you don’t look away. 

A low light flickers in his eye. Something close to anger, you think - at himself, or at you, you’re not sure.

‘Is it -’ he begins, ‘Is it Pope?’

‘Pope?’ You ask, confused. Frankie shakes his head.

‘Santi. Is it Santi?’

You bark a laugh. You can’t help it.

‘Santi? Your Santi?’ you ask, bewildered. Frankie’s cheeks heat again. You want to put a pin in that, the flush at your, but your brain is suddenly so riddled with dredged up questions you can hardly order them.

‘What do you mean, Frankie?’ you ask, exasperated.

Frankie shakes his head again, realising his mistake, but you are beyond dropping the topic.

‘Frankie,’ you say, stern this time. ‘What do you mean?’

Frankie whips his cap off, runs an agitated hand through his hair, shifts his gaze around the bar for the other man.

‘He - he likes you, too,’ he says. ‘I was worried - worried he’d beat me to it ‘cos I didn’t ask before I went away. He said it was taking me too long to do - to gather the confidence to ask you -’ Now Frankie barks a laugh. ‘But it looks like we were both too late.’

You shake your head, the cogs in your brain turning slowly. How Santi looked at you was no secret. But if what Frankie was saying about how Santi felt was true, why had he introduced you to Joel? And if that was true, had you misunderstood what Santi said about him and Frankie? You feel your mouth open and close, but Frankie takes your silence to ask you another question.

‘Who is it?’

‘What?’

‘Who is it?’

You splutter over your answer, hesitating, stalling -

‘Frankie, how the fuck would you know?’

Because he would. And, rightly or wrongly, that panics you a little.

‘Is it someo-’

You cut him off, holding up your palm.

‘Frankie -’ you press a hand to your throat, feeling your rapid pulse. Fuck it. ‘I thought - I thought Santi was interested in you.’

Frankie chokes on his breath.

He stares at you, calculating something, breathing heavily.

‘It’s not - we’re not -’ he fumbles. You slouch back in your seat. Frankie’s eyes flutter closed. ‘We fuck around sometimes. And sometimes - sometimes other people -’ You groan, your head tipping back against the leather. Your head is spinning. ‘But we wouldn’t - I wouldn’t - fuck. I don’t want you to think that that’s what this is about -’ Frankie splays his hands in front of you. ‘God,’ he says, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to explain any of this.’

The room suddenly feels too warm. You cradle your head in your hands, and stare at the way the table swims beneath you. What the fuck is happening?

You glance up at Frankie, but he’s watching you so intensely, so much concern and panic and want in his eyes that it makes you feel claustrophobic.

‘I need some air.’ You mumble across the table, and stumble out of the booth on unsteady legs. From the corner of your eye, you see Santi begin to cross the floor to return to the booth with drinks in his hands, see him watch you trip across the bar. In the back of your brain, you hear him call your name, but your hands are already on the handle of the front door, pushing it open and feeling the cool night air hit your clammy skin.

What the fuck is going on?

You fumble in your pocket for your phone and find Joel’s contact. You want to go home, and you want his help to forget about this. And, you think, you should probably ask whether he had any idea about Santi, or Frankie, or Santi and Frankie. 

The call with Joel is quick, and he sounds appropriately concerned without needing to hear any details. He tells you to stay in view of the bar and to not move a muscle, and that he’ll be there in 10. You hope he can make it in five.

He’s too slow. After seven minutes, Frankie bursts out of the bar, Santi quickly following him.

‘Fish -’ Santi’s calling, but he catches himself when he sees you still standing there. Frankie screeches to a halt, too.

The three of you stare between each other, eyes wide, like you’re waiting for a bomb to go off. 

Frankie says your name before you shake your head - rushing out a not now, Frankie just as Joel’s pickup peels into the parking lot.

Frankie can’t see him with his back turned, but he sure does when Joel comes striding from behind the two men to stand at your side.

‘Everything okay, baby?’ he asks in his low, southern drawl, and you instinctively lift your mouth for a kiss before realising how cruel that would be.

Joel tenses as you withdraw, finally taking in the other two men.

‘Pope,’ he says with a nod, and Santi smiles weakly back at him.

‘Frankie,’ Joel says a little softer, ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘Joel.’ Frankie says through his teeth, realisation burning in his eyes. 

‘How ya doin’, kid?’ Joel asks him, placing a hand on your lower back. Frankie juts out his chin.

‘Fine. Great.’ He says, ‘I was just leavin’, actually.’ Frankie whips his cap off, runs a hand through his hair. His jaw is set, angry. He shakes his head at the ground. ‘I’ll see you guys around.’ He says to no one in particular, turning on his heel and fleeing towards the car park. 

Santi and Joel meet each others’ eyes in some kind of understanding, and you look angrily between them. Being left out of the loop again was not feeling cute.

Joel sighs, wrapping his arm around your waist.

‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.’ He murmurs, but you lurch out of his grasp and turn on the two of them. They watch you, surprised.

‘No,’ you say, ‘Nu-uh. We aren’t going anywhere until one of you tells me what the fuck is going on.’

Joel and Santi look at each other, expressions unreadable. 

Santi shakes his head.

‘Come back inside,’ he says, turning back to the bar entrance, ‘We’re gonna need more beers for this.’

---

When you get down to the root of it, the truth isn’t even that complex. That’s the laughable part.

The long and short of it is this. One: Pope knew Frankie liked you. But he knew Frankie moved slow. And he’d gotten tired of watching, of knowing he’d be a dick if he made a play instead. And he cares about you, his friend. Wants to see you happy. Enter Joel. Two: Santi and Frankie fooled around while they were in Delta Force. It’s not a secret, but it’s never really been discussed. Sometimes they still fool around, but it’s been less frequent as they’ve gotten older. As they date other people. Three: Sometimes, when those other people they’re dating are willing, they bring them in, and they all have fun together. 

Something Santi would have been fine with if you were his. Something Frankie was less cool with doing if he’d made his move. 

Santi admits that he’s likely just been a dick throughout the whole thing. You make him promise to do better over another beer. He does. He also now knows not to cock block his best buddy with a mutual friend.

And Joel feels kinda bad about that. Not bad enough to pump the brakes with you, but uncomfortable, sure. He’s had Frankie round for barbecues, he likes the guy. He’s sorry he whisked you away from him. But not sorry enough.

Joel hasn’t been involved in any of Frankie and Santi’s adventures, but it’s something he’s played around with before. He’s had threesomes, but he doesn’t really volunteer more than that. The thought ignites something deep in your belly and you file it away for another day, a different conversation.

Once it’s all explained and you’re laughing together again, everything feels fine. Normal.

Except you don’t see Frankie for weeks afterwards.

You drop him a text every now and again, just wanting to know whether he’s okay, but you hear nothing back. Santi tries to assure you that you’ve done nothing wrong. There’s nothing for you to worry about.

But it still sits uneasy in your gut.

You see Joel almost every day. And Santi once a week. 

The three of you meet for beers in a different bar from the one Santi meets Frankie, Will and Benny in - your bar. And you have fun. 

It never goes beyond touches with Santi, though you find yourself wishing more and more often that it would. He rests a hand on your thigh under the table, his thumb swiping patterns over your flushed skin. Sometimes he has an arm flung around the back of your seat, sometimes rubbing the back of your neck, sometimes tucking hair behind your ear. He watches and stares and smiles and laughs at you and Joel, and you watch back with delighted curiosity. You like the way he makes you squirm while you sit next to the older man. And Joel loves to watch you squirm, too.

He loves getting you home and finding your panties soaked with arousal. He loves swiping two of his thick fingers through your folds with the front door barely closed, his hand shoved down the front of your jeans, your back arched already, a needy whine heavy in the back of your throat. He loves talking you through the things he’d like to watch Santi do to you, how good he knows you’d be for the two of them, how well behaved, how you’d take, take, take it, and how proud he’d be to show you off. My girl. He growls as he fucks into you at night. My girl.

And it suits you, how giving, how generous Joel is. 

Seems to suit Santi, too.

At some point ideas had been swapped between you and Joel - some thinly disguised remark dropped by him over dinner one night had led to you picking at the thread and grinding him down over three days, trying to get to the bottom of it. He liked to share, he’d said. He liked to watch. He liked the control, and the pride, and the possession of it all. And goddammit, you liked the sound of it, too. Because after serious discussion - serious boundaries, limits, run throughs of possible scenarios, you talked through people who you wouldn’t mind trying it with.

And there was obvious one name you both settled on.

Santi.

And well, given his history, it didn’t take too long for you to convince him to join you.

And if it hadn't been for Santi’s suggestion, his knowledge, his understanding of his best friend, there’s a chance Frankie’s name wouldn’t have come up at all. You’re not sure if you’d have dared, considering how things were left. But, lo and behold, it does, and along with it the chance for him to see exactly what he's missing out on. 

---

All the rules have been arranged for tonight, but the most important one, which you must remember, is that Frankie is not allowed to touch you.

At all. At any point. 

You and Joel head to the usual bar to meet Santi and Frankie for drinks. You make sure to wear a dress which clings to your curves, dips at your cleavage, and settles just high enough on your thigh to be bordering on acceptable. And it must be more than acceptable, because Joel threatens to fuck you out of it three times before you leave the house.

It must be acceptable, because Santi cannot keep his eyes or his hands off you when you arrive at the venue, and Frankie from across the table cannot regain control of his jaw.

They both look good - you all look good - Joel with his hair combed back, a deep green flannel on, Santi in all black - and suddenly all you want to do is call the drinks off now and just head back to Joel’s. But the patience, the build up is critical. It’s foreplay.

Instead, you lean back in your chair, sipping on your cocktail as you take in the three men.

The conversation flows easily after a while. Joel is a master at it, weaving questions in and out, making sure to put both you and Frankie at ease. Besides, it’s been a while since you last saw each other. Not that either of you were any less eager for him to be involved. He’d been very keen, according to Santi. 

He’s in dark jeans and a tight navy blue t-shirt tonight, his trademark cap confining his curls. He’s not dressed up, but he’s made an effort, and his shy looks across the table, his kind questions and easy jokes have begun healing the fractures of what happened weeks ago.

It doesn’t hurt that he and Santi had a good, long talk, and that you then shared a sweet phone call. 

All the same, he sits opposite you, unable to touch you for the rest of the night.

Instead, he just gets to watch as Joel presses kisses to your neck, pulls you into his chest, skates his hands over your thighs - anything he can get away with doing to turn you on. And Santi isn’t far behind. Holding your hand on top of the table, bringing your knuckles to his lips, keeping a hand on your knee almost the entire time.

Your brain is a hot, buzzing mess by the time Santi checks his phone.

‘It’s getting late.’ He says, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

‘Eager, no?’ You tease, trying - and failing - to cover the scent of your own desperate need.

‘Of course,’ Santi smirks over the rim of his glass, ‘But I’ll take my time with you.’

You try to laugh but fall back into Joel’s shoulder at his words, and the older man chuckles. He kisses your forehead tenderly. Frankie watches hungrily from across the table, the dark void of his eyes flicking towards his watch, desperate to leave. 

When you do, he walks at a distance behind the three of you. You smile to yourself and sway your hips a little more for his benefit. And you swear you get a low whine as your reward.

---

You’re quiet the whole way home, trying not to clench your thighs too hard or rock yourself against the seat. You're so desperate for friction, for relief, that it’s hard for you to concentrate on what’s going on in the car. Hard for you to think of anything beyond Joel’s warm, heavy hand on your thigh as he drives. 

He leans over to you halfway home, and whispers -

‘You’re quiet, baby. Everything okay?’

You flick a glance to him and find his eyes equal parts concerned and equal parts aflame. You smile.

‘I’m trying to be good,’ you murmur, ‘But you’re making it very difficult.’

Joel dips his chin in a smirk and squeezes your thigh, his fingers drifting dangerously close to your panties. You squirm a little in your seat, and it goads him to drift his hand further until it catches at the lace of the gusset. You gasp at the feeling, a tiny whimper making its way out from your lips, and all conversation in the back of the truck grinds to a halt. Your cheeks heat, and you turn to look out the window again, clamping your lip beneath your teeth.

No one says a word the rest of the way home.

Once you're all home, a silence settles around you. Everybody wide eyed, geared up, on edge. You’re not sure who to look at or what to say until Joel does it for you.

‘Upstairs.’ He commands, and everybody moves to follow him up the staircase. You keep your eyes on his broad back the whole way up, and once you reach the top, he holds his hand out behind him for you to grab. You do.

When you get to his bedroom door, Joel leads you in. You turn just as Santi crosses the threshold, as he pivots to Frankie behind him and says -

‘Kneel.’

Frankie glances at you, swallows, and returns his eyes to Santi. He drops down to his knees in the hallway.

‘Good,’ Santi murmurs, stepping forward to crouch down in front of him. ‘Do you remember the rules?’ He asks Frankie.

The younger man nods, his eyes dropping to the floor.

‘Yes.’

Santi nods once. 

‘Good. Listen. And do not leave this spot.’

Santi straightens, turning his back on Frankie. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him on the floor - small, submissive - and you can’t help the little gasp you let out as Santi steps towards you and closes the door slowly behind him, leaving just enough of a gap so that Frankie can hear everything that happens but watch none of it. 

Joel skirts his fingers down your waist and presses a kiss just under your ear.

‘You ready, baby girl?’ he rumbles. You turn your face to look at him over your shoulder, finding his eyes dark, a familiar power behind them. You nod.

‘Yes.’ you say. He nods, pleased, twisting to kiss your mouth before guiding you towards Santi.

‘Good,’ he says. He turns and moves towards the armchair in the far corner of the room, sitting heavily in it.

Santi steps towards you and gently takes your face in his hands.

‘You okay?’ He asks quietly. You nod.

‘Yeah,’ you whisper, ‘Are you?’ 

Santi nods, his eyes searching yours for a hint of hesitation. You try to open up your mind to show him the excitement, the want you feel. Satisfied, he licks his lips.

‘Can I kiss you?’ He asks. You nod again, and Santi leans forwards, capturing your mouth in hard, slow movement.

Santi means to make a study of you, you think. His tongue is everywhere, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip, his hands gentle and then needy, already figuring out exactly what it is that makes you tick. And to make it even worse, every time you take a moment to catch your breath, he has that fucking smirk on his face. It’s infuriating, and you quickly need to find something  which will wipe it off.

So you begin to undo his belt.

Pope huffs a chuckle against your lips, but doesn’t stop the work your hands are doing. Instead, he matches it with his own fingers. 

With deft movements, he slips a hand under your dress and finds his way to your panties, touching you through the fabric. You groan against his mouth, and he smiles, ghosting over your folds. Not to be out done, you slip your hand into his jeans and palm him over his boxers. He hums against you.

‘Are we racing?’ He asks.

You cock your head to the side.

‘Thought you wanted to take your time?’ You quip back, and something flashes in his eyes. 

He steps back.

‘Take this off.’ He says, tugging at the hem of your dress, and you pout at him. 

‘Does that mean you take these off, too?’ You ask, tugging at his jeans. You’re pushing your luck, you know. But you think this might be easier if Santi undresses with you, if only to really see what you held in your hand. 

Santi raises an eyebrow. ‘We’ll see,’ he says, ‘But you go first.’

You step back from him and glance at Joel, assessing. He nods at you, encouraging, and you pull your dress up and over your head. You stand before them in only your panties, and Santi takes a deep breath, biting his lip, smiling again.

‘Gorgeous, baby.’ He says. And you feel it. The way this man looks at you makes you feel weak, giddy - like your core is on fire. 

Santi steps towards you to kiss you again, making sure his hand returns to where it had been, ghosting over your underwear. You groan into his mouth, impatient now, and his teeth scrape at your chin as he clicks his tongue. In answer, he sweeps your panties to the side, and grazes two digits along your slit. You moan loudly again, and Santi groans up at the ceiling.

‘Fuck, querida.’ He says, before stretching a thumb to your clit and sinking the two fingers deep inside you. You stumble against him as he begins to work you, breathing heavily against his clothed chest. You turn your face so your teeth can nip at his skin underneath.

‘Take - this - off.’ You hiss, and he laughs, slipping his fingers out of you with a groan to oblige. Santi removes his t-shirt quickly and chucks it somewhere across the room before pushing his jeans down and stepping out of them. He hurries to find purchase within your body once more, rocking you against him, curling his fingers deep inside you. His tongue returns to your mouth and you remember his hard cock in his boxers. You reach for it, but he blocks you with his arm. You whine.

‘Tan mojada ya, baby.’ He drawls. Santi removes his fingers from where they were curling inside of you and brings them to your mouth, tapping your lips. You open for him, and he presses them in, allowing you to swirl your tongue over them. You clean off the scent of your heady arousal as Santi watches you. He presses them hard, once, against your tongue, and you open your mouth wide for him. 

He retracts his fingers.

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, and it goes straight to your cunt. You whimper a little, and he grins, stepping back and out of his boxers. ‘Take those off for me.’ He says, motioning at your soaked panties. You almost trip in your eagerness to do so. He retreats backwards until his calves hit the mattress, and he sits down before laying back, getting comfortable.

Santi watches you from the bed, laid out on his back. His lips curl as you rake your eyes over him - hands folded behind his head, his biceps rounding by his ears, his firm, strong torso spattered with dark hair, and his long, hard cock, bobbing and drooling as he takes you in.

‘Come here.’ He says. 

You begin a slow walk to the bed, hesitating only for a moment as you crawl onto it and towards him. He licks his lips as you come closer, and you bite your lip back.

You feel unsure without being given specific direction, but you know that Joel will put you right if you step a toe out of line. So you place a knee on either side of Santi’s hips, and sink your heat down onto him as he pulls you forward by the back of your neck, searching for your lips.

You start to move, to adjust to try and let him inside, before Joel’s voice cracks like a whip out of the corner.

‘Either of us tell you you could fuck him yet?’ He growls.

You try to draw your mouth away from Santi to give your response, but he clamps your bottom lip between his teeth so you can go no further. You whimper and shake your head.

‘So put your fuckin’ hips back down. Y’ain’t earned it yet.’

Santi lets your lip go and flops back against the sheets with a shit-eating grin. You lower your hips again and place both your palms on his stomach, pushing your tits together. He eyes them greedily, reaching out and flicking a thumb over each nipple. You feel your pout grow, your brows drawn tight together and your bottom lip swollen, jutting out almost comically. Santi catches a glimpse of your face, and puffs out a laugh.

‘Poor baby,’ he coos, ‘Just wanna get fucked, don’t ya?’ You nod pathetically, but don’t dare move. He is achingly hard beneath you, his thick length resting perfectly between your folds. Santi lowers his hands from your nipples until he has them on your hips, and like he’s read your fucking mind, he begins to rock you back and forth.

A wanton, needy moan drools out of your mouth as your pussy wets him, fresh slick leaking out of your clenching hole. You wonder how much of this Frankie can hear. 

Santi groans beneath you, watching the head of his cock disappear under you every time he slides you forwards. The pressure of him just against your lips is heady, and you watch as he guides you forwards just a little more, urges you to lean a little further forward until your clit catches on the head of his cock on every slide. You throw your head back, your fingers scratching at his torso, and he watches you. He whispers that you look so pretty like this, how he can feel you, look at how wet you’re making my cock, baby, can feel you twitchin’ on me already, angel. He guides you back and forth until you feel a heavy pressure begin to settle in your pussy, a burning beginning deep in your gut. Your moans become more frantic as you begin to plead with him, though you’re not sure what for.

‘Use your words, baby,’ Joel reminds you from his seat. ‘Ask Santi. Tell him what you need.’

You release a hot breath of air, biting your lip.

‘Gonna come, Santi,’ you tell him breathlessly, ‘Need to stop. Gonna come.’

But Santi just smiles sweetly up at you, his eyes heavy lidded. You pussy twitches, the knot pulling tighter. He reaches up with one hand and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

‘Why would I want you to stop, angel?’ He asks. You shake your head. You don’t know. ‘Talk to me, baby.’ He prompts.

‘I don’t know. Haven’t been - fuck - told -’ you whimper. He nods, swallows harshly.

‘I want you to come,’ he tells you, ‘I want you to come now, and then I’m going to make you come again, and then as many more times as I see fit, do you understand?’

You groan and nod.

‘Yes, Santi.’

‘Good girl,’ he says. ‘And when I’m done with you, I’m gonna give you back to your daddy, and he’s gonna make you come as many times as he sees fit, too. Okay, baby?’

You clench around nothing, painfully, moving faster over Santi’s cock of your own accord.

‘Fuck. Yes, Santi.’

Santi settles his head back against the bed again, running his hands all over your body, anywhere he can touch you.

‘Go on, baby,’ he says, ‘Use me.’

Fuck, you groan out, tilting your hips to allow your clit to scrape down the underside of his cock at every pass. Without thinking, you lean so far forward that you plant a hand around the base of Santi’s throat to keep yourself upright, tightening your fingers over his pulse point. He lets out a strangled moan, his eyes fluttering closed, and you feel the pressure in your core build heavier and heavier until the white hot heat snaps. You throw your head back, coming with gasps of his name and loud moans, still rocking yourself back and forth, still squeezing over his neck.

Your vision is fuzzy and your breathing still feverish when Santi grabs at your fingers and pries them away from him. You flush at your carelessness, an Imsosorry rushing out as you stare at your hand in his. He shushes you tenderly, breathing deeply.

‘S’okay, baby,’ he says, ‘I like it. Don’t have a problem with it.’ He squeezes your hand, and then fixes you with a wicked, cruel look. ‘Just don’t wanna come yet, that’s all. Only so much a man can stand when I can feel you falling apart on top of me.’

You flush even deeper, leaning forward to bury your face in his neck, laving hot, open mouthed kisses along the hard muscle there. He groans and chuckles against you, kneading your ass.

‘Want me to fuck you now, baby?’ He murmurs into your ear.

You whine against him, lick across his jaw.

‘Yes, Santi,’ you groan. ‘Please fuck me.’

Santi grips the hair at the base of your neck to pull you away from him, and you let yourself be led. He slides you off him, and rests on his knees before you. Your eyes dip hungrily to his bobbing cock, shining with your come, tip an angry red, precum dripping down its length. It twitches under your gaze, and you lick your lips. 

Santi chuckles again, his hand still buried in your hair.

‘Dirty fuckin’ girl.’ He murmurs as he manipulates your body. ‘Turn around,’ he says, ‘Hands and knees, baby.’ You follow his directions, turning on the bed towards Joel before planting your limbs and curving your spine, angling your ass in the air. You’re not sure where you should look until Santi releases your hair and leans over your back, a hand on your hip.

‘Look at your daddy,’ he says into your ear, gripping your chin softly to angle your head. You look at Joel through heavy lidded eyes, only to find his are similar. ‘Keep your eyes on him.’

Joel is still fully dressed in the chair, head heavy against the back of it. His legs are spread wide, a hand on either arm, fingers spread and clenched slightly against the fabric. His jaw is tense, and you can see how his jeans strain over his cock - fully hard by the looks of it. You moan into the sheets as you watch him watch you. Santi kneels behind you, running his hands over your soft skin, as he dips two fingers through your folds, swearing softly.

‘She’s so wet, Joel.’ He whispers, and Joel’s eyes leave yours momentarily to see Santi hold his fingers up to the light, coated in slick. Joel’s hips move slightly, bucking into nothing, and he barely manages to grunt out a response. You wonder again how much of this Frankie can hear behind the door, whether he’s straining in his jeans just as Joel is, whether his ear is pressed against the crack just so he can hear what Santi is whispering to you both.

Pope grips one of your hips, and uses his other hand to line himself up at your entrance. He uses his tip to spread your slick around a little more until you whine again, fisting the sheets.

‘Please, Santi, please -’

And he needs no more encouragement, sinking all the way in on the first thrust. You cry out into the mattress, your sounds coming out choked, overwhelmed as he sets a relentless pace.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he hisses out behind you, neither of you able to get more words out. 

You quickly lose yourself to the feel of him pumping in and out, every part of you wound up tight, hot. You can feel yourself squeezing him already, making his hips stutter. Joel notices, too. You wonder whether he remembers Frankie is outside, as well, because he manages to force out in a low grumble -

‘How does she feel?’

Santi gathers your hair up in a fist, bringing your face up from the sheets just so they can hear you better. He grits his teeth, tries to stutter out his answer -

‘So - fucking - good -’ and at this, a delicious smile sweeps across Joel’s face. He’s proud. You moan even louder and manage to garble out a daddy, which makes him positively grin.

‘Atta girl, baby,’ he says to you, before turning back to Santi, ‘Just good?’

You and Santi both hear the prod in his words, and it shoots another thrill through you to remember just how much control Joel has; how he wants him to tell him what he already knows, to prove that his worth.

‘Not just good,’ Santi groans, ‘Fuckin’ perfect. So tight. So warm. She’s clenchin’ me already, makin’ me feel like a fuckin’ teenager,’ he laughs around a puff of air, before leaning back into you. ‘Tómatelo con calma, hermosa - quiero que esto dure.’ You moan again at his words, as they spark the opposite of their desired effect.

‘Shit,’ Santi chuckles out, ‘God, Joel. Pussy like I’ve never felt. And so responsive, too.’ To prove his point Santi lands a firm smack on your ass and you yelp, pulsing around him, biting your lip. He moans behind you. ‘Don’t know how you ever get anything done,’ he bites out, ‘I’d never be able to leave her alone.’ 

You glow under Santi’s praise and Joel’s warming stare, and push yourself up loosely onto your elbows as Santi returns both of his hands to your hips. You push back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Santi gasps, before reaching around you to rub desperately at your clit. Your moans bounce off the walls, sharp gasps and whines melting into begging -

‘Please, Santi - fuck - oh my god, oh my god, please - ‘m so close. So close -’

‘Gonna come again, baby?’ He coos from above you. You nod furiously.

‘Yes,’ you gasp out, ‘God, please Santi, fuckin’ me so good -’

With a grunt, Santi hauls you upwards so your back is flush against his chest. He fucks into you harshly, fingers still working your clit, his other hand pinching and twisting a nipple as he kisses and bites his way along your neck, you shoulder, below your ear.

‘Good girl,’ he says, and your head dips back onto his shoulder, mouth open in a sob because he feels so good - 

Santi grips your chin again, yanking your face down and towards Joel.

‘Look at your daddy,’ he snaps at you, ‘You look at your daddy when you come for me.’

And you do. You can barely keep your eyes open as your body gives out, loud, broken moans escaping your mouth, Santi and daddy alternating somewhere in there as Santi fucks you through it, fingers still on your clit as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder -

‘Good - fucking - girl.’

And you see even Joel’s eyes close momentarily, his hands clenching to fists on the arms of the chair, a growl of desperation only you can hear tumbling out of his chest.

Santi is relentless as he chases his own release, but you’re so tight around him that he refocuses his efforts.

‘Again, baby,’ he orders, ‘Give me another. I can feel it. Come on. It’s right there. You gotta give it to me, hermosa -’

But you whine against him, twitching, trembling, sobbing through the overstimulation, unsure where the boundary between pleasure and pain is. You shake your head, try to catch your breath.

‘Too much, Santi, too much,’ you cry, ‘Can’t - don’t know -’

‘You can, baby,’ he breathes, voice like steel, and you whimper. That tone so similar to Joel’s, how he knows, how now Santi knows, that you can.

At his insistence, you tumble off the cliff again, weakly calling his name as a gush of arousal spills onto his lap, as you pulse and contract around his cock. He releases a strangled groan, his hips stuttering, his breathing heavy. He peers over your shoulder at Joel.

‘Where do you want it?’ he gasps.

‘Inside her.’ Joel growls, and you moan again as Santi sheathes himself to the hilt and comes and comes and comes. You feel him fill you, his dick pulsing and twitching deep in your pussy, and he sags as he begins to leak out. You both hit the mattress, Santi just about propping himself up on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you. You both breathe heavily for a second, until he moves your hair from your face and touches your cheek.

‘You okay?’ he rasps, throat dry. You chuckle breathily.

‘Yes.’ You sigh. Santi licks his lips and laughs quietly, too, shifting gently to slip out of you. You both groan, trying to catch your breath again. Your limbs are liquid, your body heavy, and somewhere in your dazed state you feel him dip a kiss to your shoulder blade before using his tongue to soothe the bite mark he’d left earlier.

You turn your face towards him as you feel his weight leave the bed. He smiles at you, muttering something about getting himself cleaned up before gesturing to the opposite way you're facing. You turn your head to find Joel, pulled to his full height, standing at the foot of the bed, still fully fucking clothed.

You slowly rise to your knees on the mattress, and Joel smiles at you, lifting a hand to settle against your cheek. You lean into it, turning your head to kiss his palm.

‘You okay, baby?’ he asks softly.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You breathe.

He nods, pleased.

‘Good. On your knees, on the floor for me, baby girl.’ He says.

You pull your languid limbs off the bed and settle on your knees on the floor, waiting patiently for him. You rest your palms on top of your thighs, tingling and relaxed, and wait for your instruction. It comes before Santi even leaves the bathroom. 

‘Mouth.’ Joel says, and you shuffle forward towards him, hungry hands grappling with his belt as he chuckles down at you. ‘My eager girl.’ And you shine a blinding smile up at him. 

You whip his belt off, launch it across the room, and make quick work of the button and zipper, pulling his jeans down his thighs so just his boxers are left. You lick your teeth at the sight of his barely contained cock, the front of his underwear stretched, the tip of his dick peeking from above his waistband, leaking and swollen. You rise up on your knees as you reach for the band, lifting your eyes to Joel’s as you pull his underwear down, smiling again as one of his big hands comes to rest at the back of your head, impatient already. 

His boxers and jeans pulled down, you take Joel into your hand, pumping him gently before pulling the tip to your mouth, blowing on it lightly before pressing a kiss to the weeping slit. Joel sucks a breath in through his teeth, and presses his hips forward, sinking his cock past your lips. You take him gratefully, opening as wide as you can, your tongue soft and firm against him, tracing and twirling as you hollow your cheeks.

‘So good t’me.’ Joel breathes out, pushing a little further, just to hit the back of your throat and hear you choke lightly. You moan around his length, your eyelids flickering shut as he begins to fuck your throat slowly, making sure to feel every inch you allow him access to.

Santi emerges from the bathroom, and he can’t help but grin as he takes in the sight of you on your knees before Joel, swiping a hand over his mouth to try and hide his mirth. You flutter your eyelashes at him, and he shakes his head before crossing the room to sit in the chair Joel was in before. He crosses an ankle over his knee, leaning back to watch you both. 

You hum around Joel and begin to bob up and down his length, using your fist to pump what you don’t have the patience to take in your mouth. Joel tangles his fingers in your hair and groans as he feels your tongue dip into his slit, slip over the sensitive spot on the underside of his head. 

‘Fuckin’ hell,’ he grunts, ‘Putting on a show for Santi, are we?’

You smile wickedly around his cock, before taking him all the way to the base on your own. You hold your head there as long as possible as Joel chokes out moan after moan, and from behind you Santi mumbles -

‘Fuck, Joel. She’s leaking all over the floor.’

Joel huffs out a breath, pulling you off his cock. He peers down at you, eyes dark.

‘Are you, baby?’ He asks.

You wiggle your ass to feel what even you hadn’t noticed, too caught up in sucking his dick. A small puddle of you and Santi has been dripping down onto the hardwood where you kneel. More slick pulses out of you at the realisation.

‘Yes, daddy,' you sigh, and Joel’s eyes roll up into his head. He yanks your hair roughly to bring you to your feet.

‘Get up,’ he snarls, ‘And get on the bed.’

Joel all but throws you back on to the mattress, and it happens in such a rush that you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. You wrack your brain as Joel undresses before you, his eyes scouring your body, taking in the marks, the bruises already forming, how your hair is wet with sweat at the roots, how your pussy still drips onto the sheets - 

And then you get it. Joel is getting off on it - on the thought of you being full, used, wanted, shown off -

Once he is down to just his skin, he crawls over you, lifting and pushing your hips to move you up the bed. He dips his head to lick and kiss and bite at your neck, and your hands flutter around him, touching him everywhere. His back, his arms, his neck, his face, scraping your nails down his exposed skin. He makes his way to your mouth, devouring you - all tongue and teeth until he rears back to look at you, sprawled and gorgeous below him. 

‘So beautiful, baby,’ he groans, ‘So perfect like this. Open your mouth for me.’ You do as he says, flattening your tongue out against your lower lip for good measure. He groans again, and then leans forward to spit in your mouth. You swallow it down hungrily.

‘Thank you, daddy.’ You say, and he leans back down to kiss you again before retracing down your neck, your collarbones, your breasts -

‘Such a good girl, rememberin’ your manners,’ he grumbles, ‘So good, takin’ Santi, look so good when you’re takin’ his cock.’ You whimper as he bites down on each of your nipples, soothing them with open-mouthed kisses. He kisses down your stomach, around your heat, nipping the inside of your thighs, making sure to leave marks, breathing hotly onto your skin.

‘But now you’ve made a mess, baby, haven’t you?’ He says. You mewl at the ceiling, clutching the sheets around you as Joel blows on your clit, hovering just above where you need him. ‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you, with a sharp slap to your thigh.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You cry.

‘And what do we do when we make a mess?’ He asks.

‘Clean it up, daddy.’ You pant.

‘Good girl,’ he coos, ‘Good girl.’ Before he licks a fat, hot stripe from your leaking hole up to your clit.

You gasp at the sensation, your back arching off the bed, the coil in your stomach already wound impossible tight, every part of your body still so sensitive. Joel works with abandon at your pussy, flattening his tongue to lap at you, tasting the mixture of you and Santi, slurping around your opening before focusing his efforts on your bundle of nerves, sharpening his tongue to work it in tight circles, then figure eights. Your hips buck strongly against him, and he secures a forearm against your lower belly to stop you struggling. He hums against you as your hand winds its way into his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp.

‘Daddy, daddy, daddy, so good - fuck - so good - tongue feels so good, baby -’ You babble to him, to yourself, and Joel lowers his mouth, working his tongue inside you, grinding his nose against your clit. Your shoulders shoot off the bed, and you pull his hair now, biting a curse between your teeth. Joel doesn’t let up for a second, just moves his forearm so he can force your upper body back down onto the bed. Your fingers loosen their grip on his hair, coming up instead to scrub at your face as moan after moan escapes you.

A groan echoes from the chair, and you flick your gaze behind you to see Santi watching greedily, palming himself through his boxers. The sight only serves to work you up more, your core tightening and tightening and tightening, an unbearable heat settling where Joel’s tongue is, but you need him deeper -

‘You close, baby?’ He mumbles against you.

‘Y-es.’ You force out, as he pinches your clit between his lips.

‘What do you need?’ He asks.

‘Fuck - your fingers, Joel, please -’ 

Joel obliges, slipping one, and then two digits into your cunt easily, fucking them in and out as he licks again at your nub, swirling and sucking and lapping -

‘Come on, baby,’ he groans, ‘Give me what I want.’

The forearm he has braced against your middle barely keeps your back on the bed as you come, hard and loud against his tongue. Your whole body twitches, so warm, as he laps and laps and laps at you, as you beg him to stop, to let you breathe for just a second - but he doesn’t, he never does, just eats until he’s had his fill, until he’s satisfied. 

When he lifts his head from between your thighs, his beard and cheeks are glistening with your come. He releases his grip on you and begins to crawl upwards again, and you clamp your thighs shut to stop him from provoking anymore overstimulation. He laughs down at you, kneeling back to yank your legs back open with his strong hands.

‘We’re not done with you, yet, baby,’ he coos, ‘I ain’t had all my fun.’

You shake your head at him, pitiful, your lower lip jutting out. He pouts back at you.

‘You don’t want daddy’s cock, darlin’?’ He asks. You can’t even find it in you to hesitate.

‘I do,’ you cry, ‘Just don’t wanna be touched anymore.’

Joel nods at your words, strokes your cheek, kisses your forehead.

‘It’s okay, baby girl,’ he murmurs, ‘I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. Won’t make you come again if you don’t want to.’ Liar. He knows just as well as you do what his cock does to you. But still, he pauses, makes sure you’re looking at him. ‘Can I still have this pussy, angel?’

You blink up at him. Something warm curls in your stomach. Relief, you think, that he’s heard you, understands - that you know - even with Santi and Frankie here - you could stop this at any time.

‘Yes, daddy.’ You say. 

He smiles, wraps you up in a tender kiss.

‘Thank you, sweetheart.’ He murmurs as he lines himself up at your entrance, and begins to sink in.

Joel tugs at the backs of your thighs, hitching them to your chest so he can watch as he splits you open. His eyes flick from your cunt to your face, the glistening slit stretching to accommodate him and the way your jaw falls loose in a silent ‘o’, your brows brunched, your eyes rolling and falling shut. The slip of him is sinful tonight - your orgasms leaving your body like jelly, Santi’s cock preparing you for Joel’s thickness. But he still moves toe-curlingly slow, inch after inch after inch providing a delicious stretch. He groans as he feels you flutter and tense and contract around him, still unable to breathe, unable to speak. Only he can get you like this - not a babble slipping past your lips, unable to do anything but feel him. Joel pants, moaning again as he bottoms out, tip kissing your cervix. He runs a finger over your cheek, letting you adjust further.

‘Talk to me, baby,’ he urges.

He rocks his hips back and forth, no more than an inch, but it punches out the breath you were holding.

‘Fuck, Joel,’ the whisper all you can get out. He smiles at you.

‘Yeah, angel?’

‘So big.’ you breathe, shifting your hips so he can sink even further in.

‘There she is,’ he huffs, pulling out again, ‘There’s my girl.’

Joel rocks forward again, and you cry out around him, the noise setting him off into a languid pace which allows him to hit every single spot inside you. You can’t bear to touch your own body, frightened of sending yourself into the void, but you do touch Joel. You clutch at his biceps, his tight forearms, nails leaving little crescent moons wherever you grip. You tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls, swipe the lines on his forehead, the stubble on his cheeks. He twists his head to kiss and suck at your thumb, and you mewl at him, eyes wide and glassy, so full of him you don’t know what to do.

You’re barely aware, even, of the slick sound of skin and Santi’s soft groans as he works his cock in the chair, caught up in the intensity of you and Joel fucking, his chest flushed and shining with sweat. 

There’s still not a noise, not a peep from the other side of the door.

All you can hear is Joel; his deep breathing, low grunts and moans, his whispered praises, and the startlingly wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of you. You can’t stop the contractions that build inside you, and every time one ripples through your pussy Joel’s head drops a little lower towards your chest. 

Your orgasm feels deafeningly close and impossibly strong, brought on by every shift of Joel’s dick. You try to breathe through it, your moans getting louder, soaking the room with sound, but it’s hopeless. 

Joel dips his head to kiss you softly, swallowing your sounds for just a minute. When he pulls away, you teeter on the edge, everything feeling heavy and blurred and blazingly good.

‘Joel.’ You whisper urgently.

‘I know, baby,’ he says, ‘I can feel it. You’re taking it so well, sweet girl. So good f’me. I know it feels good. You can let go. You can do it. Come on.’

You all but scream against him, your orgasm ripping through your body, every muscle on fire. Your legs shake and your arms tighten around his neck as you shiver and twitch around him, and he moans, long and loud, like you’ve never heard him do before. 

As he fucks you through it, the relief, the pleasure catches up with you, and tears swell and pour out of your eyes.

‘So good,’ you sob, ‘So good daddy, God -’

Joel coos back at you. ‘Atta girl, baby. Knew you could do it. Knew you could give me one more. And it was so pretty, baby.’ he grins at you, before picking up his pace. You whine beneath him.

‘’S okay,’ he promises, ‘Where do you want me, darlin’?’ and you huff at him, as if you could ever give a different answer.

‘Inside. Come inside me.’ You say. And Joel crowds you out, pushing all the way in so you’re moaning again, pumping in the deepest part of you as his hips flex against yours, his head in your shoulder. You stroke his curls, breathing deeply as he relaxes. 

‘Jesus Christ,’ he mumbles against your skin. He pulls his head away, blinking. You giggle up at him.

‘Y’alright?’ you ask, and he smiles back.

‘Fuckin’ more’n alright,’ he laughs, ‘Are you?’

‘Yeah,’ you say, ‘Real good.’

Joel slides himself out of you, both grunting at the loss, and he flicks a look over your shoulder.

‘You good, Pope?’ He asks, grinning at the other man. You twist your head to look at him too, giggling again when you take in his fucked out face, exhausted in the corner, his stomach covered in come. Santi can’t help but grin back.

‘Yeah, great.’ he answers wryly, and you giggle even more.

Joel laughs with you, rolling onto his back and pulling you against his shoulder, kissing your hair.

‘Did so good, baby.’ he reminds you again as you feel him begin to dribble out of you.

Santi stands with a groan, and makes his way back towards the bathroom, muttering something about having to clean himself up again. 

You press your face to Joel’s neck with a smile, leaving soft kisses, only coming away when you hear the jingle of a belt buckle. Santi is dressing at the end of the bed, just short of pulling his top on. You frown at him.

‘You’re leaving?’ you ask. He looks up, smirking again.

‘Not yet, querida,’ he says, ‘Just cold. Besides, there’s still someone we need to look after.’ 

You watch him as he buckles his belt with baited breath, curious as to how this will play out. You aren’t sure what exactly will happen next - whether Frankie will come in, or who will… deal with him. Your breath hitches in your throat before Joel answers your questions for you.

‘Go check on Frankie, baby girl,’ he murmurs, stroking your hair back. You bury your face in his chest again, and breathe in deeply. You scrunch the sheets at his waist in your fist, and Santi chuckles at your reluctance to leave the bed. You plant a kiss to Joel’s exposed skin before pulling yourself away to sit up on the bed. Planting your feet and gathering your strength before standing. You pick up Joel’s flannel from the floor and slip your arms into it, bundling yourself against the chill you now also feel as you pad towards the door. You feel Joel and Santi’s eyes on you, silent, assessing.

When you reach the bedroom door, you touch it gingerly, breathing deeply. You feel… nervous. How would Frankie react to everything he’d heard? You knew he’d done things like it before, but you knew you would be so… angry. Jealous and frustrated. You bite your lip, and slowly pull the door back.

Frankie is exactly where Santi left him, on his knees a step back from the threshold. Your breath catches in your throat as you take him in.

At some point during it all, he'd removed his cap. It’s tossed on the floor a few feet away, and his hair is… fucked. Strands stick out on all sides, his curls mussed and frazzled. Sweat is gathered at his temples, and his skin has a warm, glossy sheen to it. All across his face, right down to the hollow of his throat peeking above his t-shirt. His lips are swollen and bitten, wet with spit as his tongue pokes out to lick them again at the sight of you, and his eyes… Eyes so dark they’re almost black, pupils blown so wide they just sparkle back at you. Deep, dangerous, and hungry. 

He’s ravenous as he looks you up and down - your smooth skin, naked thighs, bare pussy - still dripping with come - up to your exposed tits, bitten and bruised, your neck, your face… totally fucked out, swollen lips, smudged makeup, your own blown out eyes. He moans as he takes you in, and you go weak at the knees at the sight of his hands raking up and down his jean-clad thighs. His dick is straining against the denim, against the claw of his zipper, and as you look closer, you see a wet patch much larger than just precum darkening the fabric. Your cheeks flush at the sight, at the knowledge - Frankie had come in his pants just listening to the three of you.

You breathe out shakily and get to your knees, so close to him you're almost touching. You reach a hand out to cup his cheek, and he leans into it, breathing in and out deeply, closing his eyes.

‘You okay, baby?’ You ask him softly, voice low. Frankie groans again.

‘Yes.’ He croaks out. 

You don’t know if you’re allowed, but you figure you’ll find out soon enough. You lean forward, tits spilling out of Joel’s shirt, and place your hands on his thighs. His breathing sputters, and his head drops forward, but not before you can catch his lips in a sweet, soft kiss. Just like you’ve wanted to, for so long. 

He sighs against you, lips seeking yours. But he seems so exhausted, so on edge, that he can hardly pour any fire into it. His tongue searches your mouth, almost like a plea. 

Please. Please.

As though he hears it too, Joel says quietly from the bed -

‘Help him, baby.’

You pull away from Frankie’s kiss and lean your forehead to his.

‘What do you need?’ You whisper. 

He looses a ragged sigh, too turned on to even know himself.

‘Can I touch you?’ He breathes.

You nod, and he reaches out his hands - carefully, gently - to skirt over and up your waist, to touch your stomach, to skate over your tits. You wince, once, as he traces over one of your nipples, and he freezes. You smile shyly at him.

‘It’s okay,’ you whisper, ‘’M just sore.’ He nods, and continues to touch, caressing your neck, thumbing your jaw, your cheekbone, stroking your brow. He’s so tender, so Frankie, that you feel tears well behind your eyelids. As though he can sense it, tell the gravity of the moment, he drops his hands, skirting them along your thighs, drifting towards your hips, thumbs rubbing the sides of your tummy, before creeping towards your heat.

‘Is this okay?’ He asks.

‘Yes.’ You sigh, this time against his mouth, drawing his lips back to yours. 

When Frankie dips one of his hands to sweep through your folds, you both moan. Low and long against each other. 

‘Fuck,’ he breathes against you, stalling. Slowly, slowly, he brings his coated fingers to his mouth, so close to you that you can smell it, the mix of you and Joel and Santi, and he slips the digits between his lips. He holds your eye the whole time, devouring, tongue swiping over every knuckle, every valley, until they’re clean. He releases them with a pop. You groan, wanting him, impossibly, and you ask again.

‘What do you need, Frankie?’

‘You.’ He says. Frankie swoops forward again to kiss you, one hand now at the back of your head, one back between your legs, gathering the mess between your thighs. You rock against his hand as he parts you, feels you, and you reach forward for his belt, his button, his zipper, undoing all three in record time. You slip a hand into his jeans, under his boxers, impatient to feel him, all of him, and he gasps against you, stilling his movements. He groans your name, almost in warning. 

‘It’s okay,’ you tell him, stroking his hair soothingly, ‘You’ve waited so long, Frankie. It’s okay.’

You take your hand out from his pants, and join his at your pussy, just for a moment, just to collect what’s left and what’s already pooling from you again, before returning your hand to his cock, using the combined juices to move your hand easily up and down. Frankie moans brokenly against you, his body slumping forwards. 

You can’t see him like this, but you can feel him - and Frankie is big. Not quite as big as Joel, but thicker and pulsing against your palm, already wet from his come and what you have just provided him. You swipe your thumb over his tip, collecting his precum to spread down his length, and he jerks against you at the movement. 

‘Fuck, baby,’ he whispers, ‘I can’t, I’m not gonna last, hermosa -’

You shush him again, kissing at his temple, his brow, his cheek, before nudging to his lips.

‘It’s okay, Frankie,’ you say again. ‘I want you to come. You deserve to come. You’ve been so good for us.’ 

And it’s all Frankie needs as he moans loudly against your lips, body seizing and relaxing harshly against yours as he spills himself over your fist, over his jeans, over your thighs and the top of your mound. There is so much of him it’s almost comical, and you laugh softly as he finally starts to relax.

He looks up at you shyly, questioningly.

‘Look at you, Frankie,’ you breathe, and he flushes right to the tops of his ears. ‘So good.’ You murmur.

‘All for you,’ he whispers so only you can hear. He holds your gaze, trying to communicate everything he’s been thinking behind that door. ‘All for you.’

You lean forward and kiss him again. Try to forget, for now, the scratch of those unanswered questions, what it could all mean. Later.

‘Come on,’ you say, taking his hand and rising from the floor. He follows and returns your smile. ‘Let's get you cleaned up.’

[willowsnook]

Can I get a vodka with water in a tall glass? 😘

lewis hamilton x bsf!reader

It's always been you

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

Packing up whatever stuff you could salvage, you tried to keep it together. You'd been pulled out of work today after a call from your building about some pipe breaking that flooded your condo. The things in your home were priceless to you and now a lot of them were ruined; living there for ten years meant you had accumulated a lot of stuff. Taking out your phone you dialed your best friend's number because he always knew what to do.

"Hello," he said.

"Lew..." your voice cracked as you responded.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" He asked concerned.

"My whole condo is flooded," you got out, crying.

"I'm calling an Uber for you right now to my place, Melissa will let you in and I'll be there in a couple of hours okay," he told you and you finished grabbing your stuff and headed down the stairs. In total, you had managed to stuff two suitcases full of clothes and bathroom stuff, deciding you'd hire someone to get the rest of the stuff tomorrow.

Melissa greeted you at the door of Lewis' Monaco penthouse. You had been over many times so she knew you and smiled sympathetically as you dragged your stuff into the guest room. Since he wasn't going to be home for a while you drew yourself a hot bath and sat in the water staring into the void until the water was cold. You changed into your favorite pair of pjs before walking out into the living room turning on the tv. You watched for a little bit before you dozed off.

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

"Sweetheart," you heard a voice calling and you stirred a little before waking up. Your eyes adjusted to the low lights and you saw Lewis kneeling down next to you on the couch.

"Hi, sorry I didn't mean to doze off," you said mumbling, sitting up.

"Don't worry about it, you had a long day," he said kindly and you took in his appearance. He was wearing sweats and a tshirt which was very out of character for him.

"Where were you coming from?" You asked noticing his tired eyes.

"London," he said and your eyes widened.

"London? What were you doing there?"

"Just a little shoot, but I called my pilot after hanging up with you," he said and your eyes filled with tears. "Hey don't cry sweetheart."

You sniffled as he wiped a tear that was rolling down your face.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

He smiled and kissed your forehead before standing up.

"Stay here for now, and I’ll gather all the staff members' numbers for you in case you need anything while I’m away."

"Are you sure it's okay Lew?" You asked unsure. "I don't want to intrude." He waved you off.

"Of course. I already have someone stopping by your place in the morning to get the rest of your stuff."

Your heart swelled. Lewis had always been the friend you could count on the most and you had been through a lot together. You had been there for him to lean on these past years as he struggled with Mercedes and he had been there for you as you struggled with imposter syndrome when you moved up the corporate ladder quickly. He really understood you like no one else did.

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

After a couple of months of living with Lewis, you found that your schedules rarely aligned. Whenever you were both home at the same time, you made a point to share a meal or spend a little time together. While Lewis had a beautiful home, it still felt a bit awkward to be there as a guest.

He was currently home, in between races and the two of you were sitting by his fireplace having a glass of wine.

"I think I'm going to tour a house tomorrow," you mentioned and he frowned.

"You know you can stay here as long as you want," he said.

"I know Lew, but this is your home, not mine," you said and he looked like he was about to argue with you but decided against it.

You chatted a little more about your days before heading off to bed. Your bed was cold as you got in and you shivered. Late fall in Monaco was cold and it felt like the heater was not adapting well. Trying to fall asleep you dozed lightly but woke up a couple of hours later freezing. Wrapping the comforter around yourself, you trudged to the living room and turned the fireplace back on.

Not long after, you heard footsteps come from down the hall. Lewis came into view, clad in just long plaid pajama pants and no shirt.

"What are you doing up?" He asked sleepily, smirking at you bundled up.

"I think something is wrong with the heater in my room," you said.

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I didn't want to disturb you," you said shrugging. "I'm fine sleeping out here."

"No, come on," he said pulling you to your feet. You followed him down the hall to his room. His room was massive with floor-to-ceiling windows looking over the Monaco skyline. Pulling the covers back you nestled into his bed, warming up immediately. Lewis slid into next to you , his leg brushing against yours.

"Holy shit, you're freezing," he exclaimed and you burrowed further into the bed. His hands found your waist and he grabbed you, pulling you into his chest. His skin was warm and you sighed contently as he warmed you up. Falling asleep like this was easy.

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

The sound of your alarm woke you up and you groaned opening your eyes. You started to sit up but were held down by a strong arm that tightened around you.

"Five more minutes," he said sleepily, snuggling into the crook of your neck and you relaxed.

"I need to get ready for that tour," you said lightly.

"Cancel the tour," he said not opening his eyes as you turned to look at him.

"Why?"

"You live here with me," he said, finally looking at you with those deep brown eyes.

"I don't want to be a permanent resident of a guest room," you said twisting out of his grip to sit up. He pushed himself up to be eye level with you.

"Then don't be," he said and you looked at him confused. "You'll be in my room anyways."

"Lewis..." You started but he cut you off.

"It's you, it's always been you don't you get it?" He said frustrated. "You are who I want to come home to, who I want to wake up next to. I want to have dinner every night with you. I want to hear about your day at work and tell you about the day at mine. I just want you."

You looked at him stunned. Of course you had thought about what life would be like if you two were together but nothing had ever happened. Smiling softly you brought your hand up to caress his cheek.

"Well I guess I could stay, but there are a few changes we'll have to make design wise," you said and his face broke out into a grin.

"Whatever you want sweetheart," he murmured, pressing his lips into yours in a gentle kiss.

[blackcoldcrackedheart]

Idc what anyone says s1 of 911 was really good.

That being said...

_

"Why is that guy staring at you?" Tommy asked, he and Evan were meeting up for breakfast after their respective shifts. They figured it would be easier for Evan to meet up closer to the harbor than Tommy driving to DTLA. They both agreed to meet at a little garden themed coffee shop in silver lake before heading back to Tommy's.

Tommy had caught the dark haired guy not necessarily ogling Evan, but more so looking as if he was studying Evan. He looked around Tommy's age or older, dark black hair and grayish beard. The man with him, a curly haired dark blond man, seemed skittish.

"Do you know them?" Tommy asked, pointing at the men now.

Evan turned towards them, seeing now that the blonde man was trying to hide his face and the dark haired man was waving at them as if they were old friends.

Evan let out an excited laugh, "I think I do, yeah. " he waved back. Laughing again when he saw that the dark haired man tried to swat the blonde man with the laminated menu.

Tommy cocked his head to side, brow arched as he watched the pair- clearly a couple with their matching rings and comfortable demeanor- approached them. "Heads up." Tommy cocked his head towards the encroaching couple.

"Hi, Buck, right?" The dark haired man said nervously, holding on tightly to the blond mans hand. "I'm sure you don't remember-"

Evan’s smile was infectious as he looked at Tommy and then at the couple, pointing at the blonde man as he said "Too much sushi guy."

The blonde man groaned into his hands as the dark haired man chuckled, "The nicest way to describe that night."

Evan laughed as he stuck out his hand, "it's good to see you guys," he nodded towards the blond man, "Glad to know you're okay after that."

Tommy could feel the dark haired guy's eyes studying him, while blonde guy looked like he was anxious still.

"I don't think we ever got to introduce ourselves properly, I'm Paul and this is-"

"Conner." Evan supplied cheerfully.

Tommy did his best to look down at the table while trying to not laugh. He figured what Paul and Conner were trying to do when they came to their table, and he couldn’t blame them. He adored Evan, but Tommy knew how Evan had a tendency to unconsciously flirt with men prior to coming out. It was adorably funny when he had pointed that out to Evan at first (with Evan nearly collapsing into his pillow about how a firefighter in Texas thought Evan had asked him out on a date).

Paul's smile was almost smug as Conner looked a bit bashful. "So you remember him." Paul teased.

Evan shrugged, "My roommate's name back then was Conner too. Easy to remember."

Tommy took a sip of his coffee to keep from laughing at Conner's disappointed face.

"Totally." Paul noted, eyeing Tommy as he continued "Well, we didn't mean to interrupt breakfast with your... teammate?"

Granted, they were both wearing their LAFD hoodies. But Tommy could pick up the inflection of piqued interest in Paul's voice. Conner just looked like he was struggling to determine what they are based off looks alone.

"Oh," Evan smiled bashfully at Tommy, knocking his foot against Tommy's under the table, "He's not my teammate but he's an awesome firefighter pilot down at the harbor station." Evan rested his hand against Tommy's and Tommy caught the look of excitement on Conner and Paul's face (and he swore he heard Paul say "called it") before they shifted to something more neutral when Evan turned to them again. "This is my boyfriend Tommy Kinard."

Tommy was all smiles and let out a huff of laughter as Conner and Paul both eagerly shook his hand.

"A hot firefighter pilot?" Conner teased, "You got lucky."

Tommy squeezed Evan's hand. "I definitely was the one to luck out."

The group made idle chit chat for a while before Paul noted they should let Buck and Tommy get back to eating breakfast so that they could rest.

Tommy waited till he was sure Paul and Conner were out of ear shot. "It was Conner?"

Evans face scrunched in confusion, "Huh?"

"I'm guessing you might have accidentally flirted with one of them during the call, guessing it was Conner?" Tommy asked with a smirk.

Evans eyes went wide as Tommy laughed, "How did you know?"

Tommy had seen a picture of the firefighter from Texas on Evan's Instagram.

And obviously Tommy knew what he himself looked like.

"You have a type." Tommy explained, still laughing at a very red faced Evan.

[gildedneon]

That Which I Cannot See

That Which I Cannot See - Part 1 - Pure Imagination

Respectfully, you may not use my work, but you are welcome to share it. My work is only intended for those 18 and older as it contains explicit adult themes.

Summary: Basically A Star is Born but make it Sleep Token. A video of you singing Take Me Back to Eden gets attention online and you're invited to sing backup vocals at their next concert. Only, you end up doing a lot more than just that. The first in what will be at least a 3 part series.

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader 

Tags: Hand stuff (for now), mask play, concealed identity play, obscured vision/partial blindfolding, is this a musical now?, shower play with the lights off, monster kink? if you squint?, spiritual cult leader Vessel, dirty talk.

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: I enjoy candlelit showers while blasting Sleep Token and inspiration struck one day while listening to Take Me Back to Eden. What if? So I wrote it. I have already planned out a part 2 & 3, so fear not, our journey has just begun.

Read on Ao3

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

So there I was, doom scrolling Instagram when *ping*

“Sleep_Token: We loved your video” My brows furrow. That can’t actually be their official account. Tapping the notification, I switch to my finsta, where I post anonymous videos of myself singing. I recently shared a clip of an acoustic cover of Take Me Back to Eden that got a decent amount of attention, but I didn’t think it got that much attention. The message thread opens just as another is coming in. 

“Sleep_Token: How would you feel about joining us sometime?” What the hell? 

I click their profile. Blue check mark. Holy shit. Shock has me so caught up I can’t even think of a clever response. Or any response for that matter.

What does ‘joining us' mean? Like for an orgy or going to a show? Because I’m down for both, but I only have tickets for one of those things. At least my brain is still cracking jokes. I stare at my phone and figure out something to say.

“Hi! Thanks! I actually will be at the show this Friday. I can’t wait :)” My heart does a little somersault as I hit send. 

“Sleep_Token: Perfect. Our manager will reach out for details. Bring something black to wear. We’ve got the rest covered!”

What the fuck does that mean? Reaching out for details for what? What is ‘the rest’ and how is it ‘covered’???

*ping*

The DM from the manager comes in. 

On auto-pilot, I go back and forth with the manager. Realization sets in… I’m going to be backstage at the Sleep Token show. I’m going to meet the Espera and sing with them. On stage. At the Sleep Token show. Friday. In less than a week. What the fuck.

Four days… I have four days to perfect my outfit. Immediately, I FaceTime my best friend. She answers on the second ring.

“Callie… you’re never gonna believe this.”

“Alright??… spill bitch”

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

My stride lengthens to keep up with the woman leading me through bright lit hallways. The week had flown by in a blur. Now it’s Friday and I’m being led backstage in sweats and a tank. I hadn’t fully wrapped my head around their invitation. But what I really hadn’t wrapped my head around was what had been developing since that night. Once I had gotten off the phone with Callie, I saw I had a DM request from a username I didn’t recognize.

“Hey it’s V” I think my brain had short circuited. It all felt like it came out of nowhere. I guess that’s the thing about change, it doesn’t happen until it just… does. We had started chatting  and it continued throughout the week, getting to know each other a bit, what we enjoy, what we don’t, our favorite colors, and even a bit of flirting. Another strange development in a situation that materialized all too quickly. But it was exciting. It has been a while since I’ve been truly excited about something or …someone. 

I think it helps that we don’t really know each other. Our identities are a secret. It’s sort of like getting to know the contents of a box without getting to know the box, if that makes sense. It’s hard to explain, but I like it. Being myself comes easier this way. There are less distractions.

My guide comes to a stop and knocks on a door. Anticipation grips me as it opens, a woman dressed in black greets us with a smile on her face. 

“Come on in! We’re excited to meet you.” The Espera, or the three female background vocalists, usher me into the dressing room and to a spot in front of the mirror. Their welcoming energy helps quell my buzzing thoughts. We fall into easy conversation as I work on my hair and makeup. The dress I chose is sexy but functional. Thin straps, square neckline dipping in a quick plunge, finished off with a thigh high slit. My hair tumbles around my shoulders and down my back in a lion’s mane of waves. My lips are painted the darkest shade of red, the only real part of my face that will be seen from behind the gold mask that lays on the counter before me.

The Espera give me a crash course in backup vocals. No pressure, just last minute winging it in front of 13,000 people. I still can’t wrap my head around this, even as they help fit the mask to my face. It looks just like theirs, intricate bronze scrollwork curling down my cheeks, leaving only my mouth and jaw exposed. The mesh panels over the eyes allow me to make out shapes and light. So I can see plenty, but it doesn’t feel that way. For me, I might as well be blind. It’s the feeling of being out of control, a vulnerability that leaves me a bit raw and on edge.

A knock raps at the door and my ears grasp at every little sound, attempting to make up for my lack of sight. The women gather as it clicks open. Their blurry forms disappear to the sounds of scuffling shoes. The door closes. My blurred vision watches as a dark figure slowly makes its way across the mirrored space. Fully blind I would know it was him. The magnetism of his presence is threatening to drag me in like the gravity of a blackhole. It’s supermassive…

I hold my breath as he surveys me. It would be a lie to say that I am not intimidated under his gaze. Despite the disguise, the feeling of vulnerability remains.

“This suits you. How does it feel?” He purrs his approval. The tension in my chest eases. 

“Thank you. How does what feel?”

“Your transformation.”

“Transformation? Into what?” My breath hitches, I can see his dark figure looming behind me.

“Your true self.”

“I’m not really sure what you mean by that. As excited as I am, I am also a little nervous.”

“What are you nervous about?”

“I’m not sure if it’s one specific thing. I just don’t know what to expect. I’ve never done this before. I know I’m wearing a mask but it still feels scary to have people actually watching me. This is worlds away from posting anonymous videos online.”

“I can understand. For us, the disguises are about showing the parts of ourselves that do not feel comfortable in our daily lives. Whether that is because we feel they should be hidden or we lack a suitable outlet. So it’s really not a disguise at all, but a revelation. By wearing this mask, I take off the invisible one I wear everyday. I embody the aspects of myself that I wouldn’t otherwise. So ask yourself… What would that feel like for you? Who would you allow yourself to be if you knew you were free from judgement?”

“I think it would feel freeing. But how am I supposed to figure that out tonight?”

“A lot can happen in just one night.”

Unsure of what to say, I sigh and tilt my head. A gentle tap on the side of my mask is his response. I stare straight ahead, looking upon our blurry reflections in the mirror.

“Envision yourself right now. A different version of you, a fantasy. Who could you be? How would you carry yourself? What presence do you bring? Take a minute. Close your eyes if you need. Think of the answer and then feel it. Become it. This is the transformation. It is first in your mind and then, in your being.”

I take a breath, close my eyes, and do as he says. I see the masked version of me, painted with black, a version of me that no one knows. Not even myself. She can be anything. I can be anything. This essence blossoms in my bones, radiating until it anchors itself into my being. Excitement ripples under my skin. I open my eyes.

“How does it feel?”

“It feels… different. I see myself but also… more.”

Vessel tilts his head.

“I saw paint. On my neck and it ran down.” Skimming my hands over my arms to illustrate my point.

“Stand.” I pray my knees don’t give out as I follow his command.. His proximity sends little electric waves skating along my skin.

“You know it’s true what they say. Depriving one sense, heightens the others. Close your eyes.”

I do as he says. Anticipation coursing through me.

“Touch, for example.” 

His hands skate up my arms, over my bare shoulders to my neck. His fingers stroke along my skin, pressing into the muscles and working at the tension. Other parts of me start to crave the same and the weight of arousal settles between my thighs. I exhale a sigh. His fingertips play along my skin, alighting little sparks. Just as I’m being lulled into a daze, he stops. Moving away from me, he leans against the counter, silently staring. The vulnerability isn’t as uncomfortable now. Security has replaced whatever fear I felt before. He reaches for something on the counter.

“May I? I have an idea for you with this paint.” 

“You may.” I tease lightly and I hear the sound of spinning plastic. 

The light of the room is dimmed as he steps closer. Both hands come around my neck and fear takes root in an instant. What am I doing? I’m alone with a man who is dressed like a demon god, his hands are wrapped around my throat, and we are in a room where no one can hear me scream…probably. Oh no…. Should I be worried about how that turned me on?

Instead of squeezing the air from my lungs, he works the paint onto my skin. His fingers splay as he drags his hands down both sides of my neck. His fingernails scrape over my collarbones, stopping just before the neckline of my dress. My eyes fall closed and I can’t help the sigh that escapes or the shudder that runs through my body. Nor can I help imagining what it would feel like to have his hands on my thighs. Leaving a sinful trail of evidence, as he explored more sensual areas of my body. Circling behind me, his hands clasp my arms, leaving one last mark.

“Look at yourself.” His deep voice jarring me from my haze. Even with my obscured vision, I can clearly see the twin trails of black that drag down my neck, stopping just before my breasts and the stark handprints on my upper arms.

“It looks like I’ve been marked by a monster.” I say, amusement clear in my tone. 

Silence. A brief moment of tension, then his hand wraps around my throat. He leans closer to me.

“Are you calling me a monster?” His teasing is mixed with tones of darkness. I shudder at the thrill. 

“No. Monsters are scary and I’m not scared of you” …Yet 

“Do you want to be scared of me?” His voice is low in my ear.

“Maybe a little” Maybe more than a little.

I see his head tilt in the mirror. I can’t see his eyes but I feel them flaying me alive, gleaning every dark desire snaking through my body. He releases me, putting a bit more distance between us. 

“As much as I would love to explore that, it’s about time we get ready to go on. You’ll be brilliant. If you get nervous just remember my touch and how it’s plain for everyone to see.” I could feel him wink at me as he said that. It wasn’t the worst suggestion. That would certainly distract my thoughts from wandering into anxiety, but it would distract me in other ways. Blushing, I step through the door he holds for me, and follow him down the hall.

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

Like a cutscene in a movie, suddenly I’m on stage and the show is taking off. The lights and sounds are overwhelming. I allow myself a few minutes to adjust. Slowly, I begin to pick up the swaying movements from the Espera. Taking cues from their hazy shapes. Then, I allow my voice to softly join theirs. The flashing mass of screaming fans mere feet away is difficult to tune out, but I let them blur into shapes through my mask and my voice rises to the music. With each song they play, my confidence grows, and I feel that vision of myself, from the dressing room, coming to life.

Well, I know what you want from me

You want someone to be your reflection, your bitter deception

Setting you free, so you take what you want and leave

Excitement strikes like lightning. Of course I knew this song was coming, but being a part of it? Dancing while every instrument reverberates through my body?  

Won’t you come and dance in the dark with me?

Tapping into that sensual side of me, I allow it to take form, my hips swaying to the rhythm. I trail my fingertips over my body, and pleasure ripples behind my touch. Hearing whispers of my voice wafting through the background is unreal.

Lipstick, chemtrails, red flags, pink nails

I once made a comment to Callie about how I fantasize about being in an orgy while this song plays because it never fails to turn me on. The way the beat builds and morphs, the lyrics on top of that, it feels like seduction. My voice vibrates through my being, sparking a dark desire that flares with the melody. My eyes fall shut as I remember our time together in the dressing room. I feel his phantom touch along my skin and surrender myself to the sensations.

You make me wish I could disappear

The music dies down, somber notes begin to rise. Recognition flutters in my heart. This is the song that first drew my attention to him… and his attention to me. My eyes snap open on instinct, despite my obstructed view, I see a dark figure approach me, blocking out the crowd. My heart begins to race. I tilt my masked face up at his towering form. He grabs my hand and leads me from behind my place in the background. There we are, front and center. I have no idea what he is doing or what he expects of me. My blood roars through my ears, beating against the tense curiosity of the all too quiet crowd. Curious cheers ring out, but my focus is drawn to him.

I dream in phosphorescence 

Bleed through spaces

My nails scrape restlessly against the fabric of my dress. I have no idea what he wants from me. We never talked about this. Am I just supposed to stand here? Am I supposed to sing a specific part or harmony? My thoughts race as panic begins to sink its claws into me. 

His finger curls under my chin. The gentle weight of him pulls me from the quicksand of my mind. 

I’m transfixed as he sings to me.

My, my those eyes like fire I’m a winged insect you’re a funeral pyre. 

A calm intensity settles in as I focus on the figure before me. Like a siren song his entire being draws me in until there is no one else. No crowd. Not even the band. Just him and me.

The music begins to build. I feel it in my chest. His hand lightly strokes my chin in invitation. The energy builds in my stomach and moves up my throat. God, it feels like it’s going to burst out of me. So I close my eyes and let it.

I will travel far beyond the path of reason. Take me back to Eden. Take me back to Eden

Our melody turns into harmonious wails. 

Take me back to Edeeeennn

My eyes open to a flash of white teeth as he grins down at me, the music continuing its heavy intensity. That grin against his mask and paint, looks every bit like the monster I mentioned. The music drops into a quiet tempo and he steps closer, leaning in as his hood brushes my cheek. 

“Stay.” He commands, before sauntering off, just as three chords are played. 

Well yeah I spit blood when I wake up

He crouches towards the swarming crowd as he recites the lines. Waving hands and screaming smiles line the front of the crowd. As I watch him move across the stage, I remember his painted marks on my skin. My cheeks burn as he approaches me again.

I need you to see me for what I have become

Long fingers wrap around mine, bringing my hand to grasp the microphone, joining him for the chorus. 

My, my those eyes like fire 

My voice is a sweet backdrop contrasting his, as we sing together until the beat drops off. The hand folded atop mine loosens, his arm falling slack and I let go of the mic. His free hand sneaks through my hair, cradling my head in his hand. The sounds of birds chirping flit around the notes of the piano. This intimate moment sets me ablaze as I remember there are thousands of people watching. Jealousy licks at my sides from the scrutiny of their gaze. I pay them no mind. 

His hands fall from my hair, as he lifts the mic, but sings to me.

I guess it goes to show does it not 

That we’ve no idea what we’ve got until we lose it

His words resonate through my chest. Understanding the opportunity tonight presents, I want to make the most of this night, of this connection, and just enjoy whatever is to come.

No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence

Sound pours from me as I join him singing once again. The music sweeps me along and I ascend with it.

We were tangled up like branches in a flood

What happens next takes me by surprise. Vessel loops an arm around my waist, drawing me in until my dress brushes against his belt. He screams the ending lines with such intensity I feel as if I’m being hit by a hurricane. I can barely make out what he’s saying. My heart seizes with another little thrill of fear. All I see is the fierce glint of teeth through the contortions of his mouth as the music fades out. 

Piano keys begin to play, as he leads me back to my place among the Espera. This is the last song of the show, Euclid. What a beautiful note to end on. I channel all the joy in my little heart into singing this final song. I know maybe the lyrics aren’t the happiest but I can’t help but feel light while singing it. Our voices fade out, as he brings things to a close.

The whites of your eyes, turn black in the lowlight

So give me the night, the night, the night…

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

We stopped by the dressing room long enough for me to grab my belongings and then he was leading me through more hallways. He holds a door open for me and I step into a gaudy locker room. Leading the way, I follow him through the space and into a long room. The harsh fluorescence glares off of the white tile lining the walls. On the left, is a mirrored wall of sinks and who knows what else. On the right, benches border each door frame, opening into showers. 

We walk a few stalls down, I hang my tote and arrange my clothes on the bench as he wanders away. Pulling out a hair tie, I twist my hair up into a messy bun. Butterflies twist through my belly as he returns to my side, hanging a towel on my hook. We’ve shared this entire night, this entire week, without seeing each other’s face, perhaps we’ve seen a deeper truth. Either way, I’m not ready for it to end.

Inspiration strikes and I stride back to the main door and begin to flick the lights off one by one until all that is left is the glow of the adjoining locker room. His masked face tilts as his attention focuses on me. Grabbing the door handle, I pull it closed behind me until only a necessary sliver of light shines through. Giving my eyes a second to adjust, I carefully make my way back to my bench. I feel another thrill of excitement at the atmosphere. The near pitch black, the silence all around us, almost like something you’d see in a scary movie. I hear clothes rustling from the bench he is at. I’m still working on undoing the straps of my heels when I hear the harsh splash of water against tile. Once all of my outfit has made it into my tote, I take cautious steps into the awaiting shower.

“I wanted to keep the mystery going but maybe it’s a bit too dark.” So dark, that I can barely make out the other person in my proximity. My hands feel along the cool tiles for support.

“Give it a minute. Your eyes will adjust.” He’s calm. Still. Giving me space to acclimate. No longer clutching at the wall, I can make out the shape of him easier. Barely, I see the steam from the water and pumps of soap attached to the wall.

“Will they adjust enough to be able to tell the difference between which is the soap and which is the conditioner?” I tease.

“Hmm might have to go with good ole trial and error on that” Our laughter echoes against the walls. 

Stepping closer, I let my gaze wander. The lines of his muscles catch what little light there is. My breath hitches, the difference in our height is exaggerated now that I am barefoot. The way he looms over me keeps his face masked in shadow. Again, the thrill of being alone with this strange, dark god shivers through me, bringing my awareness back to the arousal that has been burning all night.

“Well I will gladly volunteer as the test subject.” 

“And I will gladly accept. I didn’t want to assume…”

“I would actually prefer if you do assume.” I step closer to him. Even in the pitch black I can see his head tilt down at me.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

“I did.  I’ve never experienced anything like it.” I say almost reverently.

“Shall we keep the experience going then?” A shiver runs through my body

“Yes.” I breathe..

“Sing for me?” My brows jump up. Posting videos of me singing alone in my house and singing background vocals could not prepare me for this.

“What do you want me to sing?”

“Anything” My mind goes blank all for one song. I take a deep breath to still my nerves. 

Come with me, and you’ll be, in a world of pure imagination

Tentatively, I recite the words.

Take a look and you’ll see

Into your imagination

There is no life I know

To compare with pure imagination

His voice joins mine. 

Living there, you’ll be free

I stop, allowing him to finish the verse

If you truly wish to be

Courage is easier found in the dark I realize, when my hands begin to trail along his chest and I continue singing.

If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it

Anything you want to, do it

My long nails gently scrape across his abs as his fingers trace the black paint along my chest.

“What a mess I’ve made.” The timbre of his voice sends desire rushing through me. Reaching back, he grabs something from one of the dispensers and lathers his hands. The creamy substance spreads down my shoulders as he begins to work out the tension in my muscles. His hands began to slip down to above my breasts. Working in slow circles. The combination of excitement and desire keeps my mind sharp despite the haze of lust. His thumbs swipe across my skin with a delicious pressure. Grasping the tops of my arms, he leans towards me and my lips hum in anticipation. His mouth grazes past my cheek. 

“I think… this is conditioner” He murmurs in my ear. I can’t help the surprised giggle that escapes me. I can feel his amusement even as he turns from me. The muted clicks of the dispenser can be heard over the shower stream. When he faces me again, the energy shifts. A thrill runs through me as he grabs the back of my neck with one hand.

“May I?” He echoes the familiar words he spoke earlier in the night.

“You may.” I breathe and his lathered hand begins running down my neck, as his other creeps up into my hair. My head tilts back. The glow from the distant light flashes off his sharp grin. His hand moves lower down my chest, as he works at the paint there. I’m not sure which is more arousing. Him painting me or washing it off. My nipples harden and a dull throb settles between my thighs just as his large hand sweeps over my breast. His fingers capture my nipple, flexing and rolling against my soft skin. I exhale shakily as he moves on to the other, giving it the same treatment. Grabbing my hips, he pulls me into the water, washing away his claim, his touch laying stake to a new one. Then he flips me around, I catch myself on the cool tile wall. As he steps closer, I can feel him pressed against me. 

“I very much enjoyed having my mark on you, clear for everyone to see.” His voice is low against my ear, as his lips drag over my neck, gently nipping at my skin. The hand on my right hip slides down my thigh. My legs tense in anticipation. His fingers begin swiping in teasing strokes, closer and closer to where I burn for his touch. 

“Tell me, what has you so wet for me?” I let out a whimper as his fingertips slide through the evidence of his claim. 

“Was it on stage? When I whispered in your ear?” Stay. I shook my head. That definitely turned me on but it wasn’t where it started. The memory of us in the dressing room, with his hands around my neck flickers through my mind. Just that quick thought stokes the already well fanned flames of arousal.

“Before the show in the dressing room” I say and receive a hum of approval. I’m rewarded as his finger dips inside me ever so slightly. His strokes are shallow, only increasing my need for him.

“What about it?” His fingers slow, urging me to respond. It’s hard to think through the fog of my desire.

“When you painted my neck.” Relief washes over me as he picks up his still too slow pace. His left hand moves from my hip, trailing over my fluttering stomach, paying brief attention to my breast, before sliding around my throat. My thighs clench around his hand before I can help myself, my body vibrating with anticipation.

“Ah so this is what you like?” His grip tightens as he speaks and my hips rock back desperate for more than this teasing. All I accomplish is grinding my ass against his cock. He inhales sharply but presses himself fully against me. 

“So eager.” He laughs. “Is this what you’ve wanted?” His fingers still move at a languid pace, but curl deeper inside me.

“Yes” I nod enthusiastically.

“But it’s not enough is it?” I shake my head. Because despite the pleasure I felt, the need was greater. The need to feel more of him, to have more of him. He obliges, sliding in a second finger. I cry out, my cheeks heat from embarrassment at the echo. I press my lips together, stifling my moans. His fingers still. He leans forward, his chest against my back, pressing me into the wall.

“Don’t stop singing for me now” He purrs and the rumble in his chest vibrates through my own.

“It’s just you and me. There’s no one else.”

I exhale heavily as my mouth parts. Right away, he rewards me with deliberate strokes of his fingers. The hand around my neck lazily works at the muscles there and waves of ecstasy shoot through me. My nails catch on the grout between the tiles as pleasure begins to coil tight in my muscles. I’m lost in the way my moans reverberate around us as his thumb carefully starts working my clit. It’s consuming. The stretch of his fingers, dragging over every sensitive spot inside me, playing my body like an instrument. His hips roll against my backside, grinding against me. I can feel the hard length of him, thick and hot against me. I begin to crave more and the thought alone of feeling all of him inside me brings me towards the peak. 

“Someday I will have all of you and you will have all of me. Until then I will have the memory of how wet and tight you are around my fingers. Wishing you were wrapped around my cock instead.” My hips rocked, practically riding his hand as the pleasure ramping up inside me spun so tight I felt it would snap at any moment. “Every time I look at my hand I want to remember how it felt to have you come on my fingers.” A ragged cry left my throat as his words pushed me over the edge. The tension inside me broke. Shattered shards of pleasure sliced through me as my body shook. His hand slipped out of me and I felt him work himself against my ass. Tremors skittered through me as I began to come down from my high. The cooling fire in my core alighting anew at the knowledge that he would soon follow. The hand around my neck had slid to brace himself against the wall.

“I want to feel you claim me again.” Shortly after those words left my mouth, I heard him groan. He shuddered against me as I felt hot spurts of him against my hip and back. His cheek came to rest against the top of my head. We stayed pressed against the wall as our breathing and heart rates slowed.

“Well I’m afraid I’ve made a bigger mess than when we started.” My body vibrates against his as I laugh. He pulls me back to the water and gets to work cleaning me off.

“Ves. Thank you, for tonight.” The nickname felt a bit strange on my tongue but appropriate given the standing of our relationship now.

“The pleasure was mine. Thank you for joining us and thank you for indulging me.” 

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“I’m flattered… We will see each other again, you know.” Now it’s my turn to tilt my head at his words.

“Will we?” The possibility hadn’t even crossed my mind. Everything happened so fast.

“If you would like… There is still so much left to explore.” Even in my sated state, the purr of his words spark arousal. 

“Oh I think I would like that very much.” Tension crackles between us. God if I don’t get out of here I’m going to be in over my head. Exhaustion was starting to creep into my bones. 

“I think it’s past my bedtime.” I say with a yawn. That gets a little laugh out of him.

“Well you run along home before I’m inclined to drag you back into this cave and never let you go.” Again, he’s teasing, but the edge in his voice promises something darker. “Or someone comes looking for us and turns all those awful lights on.” His hands grip my shoulders as he leans down and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “We wouldn’t want to ruin the mystery.”

“We sure wouldn’t” Reluctantly, I walk away. I dry off the lingering evidence of what just occurred between us, slip into my clothes, and return to the harsh light of reality.

[warnersister]

Show Me The Way Home, Honey

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Simpson!Reader

Summary: The men at top gun love a bit of sweetness, turn out a bit of helicopter honey was just the right amount.

Warnings: mentions of injury, head injury, parental death, angst, allusions to smut, fluff, parental fighting, plane crashes, it's a happy story i promise.

Flashbacks In Italics -> not my gif

All the aviators were gathering by the pool table, each wondering why their peers from years before surrounded them at the Hard Deck. Hangman had just taken a shot against Coyote before standing up, having recognised a familiar head of hair.

“Well if it ain’t Honey!” You stood at the bar, chatting with Penny while sipping on your second beer. You were famous at top gun, being Beau Simpson’s daughter after all. You were training at top gun around the same time as the rest of the pilots in the room, however flying the Air Ambulance and mountain rescue helicopters.

You turned around to the unforgettable voice, the face you were expecting stood before you, smirk adorning his tanned lips. “Hangman, you got old.” A few laughed at your remark but he just chuckled, pulling you into a hug as you embraced him tightly. “Didn’t expect to see you here, darlin’.” He hummed. “Could same the same for you, Jake.”

Your fame here in California wasn’t necessarily due to your father’s rankings, but the name you had made for yourself. It was your own decision to join the Navy, despite your fathers wishes to keep your feet safely planted on terrafirma - away from the dangers of the sky. But after almost a decade of your adamance and training, you were off, deployed on battleships or costal air bases - send to retrieve wounded or stranded fighter pilots when their missions had been unsuccessful.

God it must’ve been a decade since you’ve seen everyone, but these naval aviators couldn’t forget a face that easily - at least not yours.

You were 24, fresh from your required nursing training and now ready to earn your wings. You were accompanied by your father on your first day, getting a prologued lecture that you had yet to start paying attention too. “And watch out for those fast jet pilots. Don’t take no shit off of ‘em.” You raised a brow. “Why what’s wrong with fighter pilots?” You queries, your walk nearing to a close. “Long story short, the think with their dicks.” You scrunched your nose. “Jesus, dad couldn’t you have phrased that better?” He just shrugged and turned your shoulders to face him properly. “But I’m serious, if they try anything come tell me.” You nodded, a small smile on your lips. “Have a great day sweetie, I love you.” He kissed your forehead and gave you a big hug. “I’m starting pilot training, not kindergarten - I’ve been through two years of naval training and six of nursing.” You laughed, just still reciprocated. “I know, but your still my little girl, the only person I got.” Your mum died a while back, it still stung but you both knew you could always rely on the other. “I know, Cyclone.”

You started walking towards the hangar, but heard behind you “it’s admiral to you, lieutenant.” You shook your head, and headed for your first day - the first step into the rest of your life.

The hangar was decorated accordingly, at least ten sparkling and fresh F-18s sat, just waiting for their aviator to fly it. You continued walking, silently passing an ongoing lesson as you spotted your own adjacent to the helipad.

The clicking of boots was loud against the floor, echoing off of the metal of the hangar - the curious minds of the navy’s best fighters looking behind them to find the cause of the sound and god, they weren’t disappointed. There you walked, a stern look on your face, hair trailing gently as a slight breeze blew through the build, aviator glasses sitting atop of your head, and eyes glittering with adoration as you examined the aircraft.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was one of those watching you, a low whistle exerted his lips. “What have we here?” As he said that, Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw lowered his glasses to get a better look than he was already getting. “Now she is mighty fine.” Hangman continued, but Rooster couldn’t say anything, the only thing leaving his mouth was a trail of drool - he wasn’t alone, quite a few of the trainees now distracted, rather than listening to their instructor.

There were three of you training to fly the copter. A girl called Darla and a boy named Simon were both in your shoes. Your first day you were taken for a ride by your own teacher, Hurricane.

You had heard a few of the students mention a nearby bar that was overly friendly to the top gun pilots, so you assumed it wouldn’t hurt giving it a once over that evening. “Penny?” You asked, and the bar hostess turned around at the sound of her name, eyes lighting up when she spotted you. “Oh my god I haven’t seen you since-” She trailed off when she ran over to hug you. “My mum passed, yeah… been off training I’m officially an aviator now.” She raised her brows. “Beau Simpson allowed his daughter to join the navy?” “Not really, but not got much’ve of a say in it now!” You laughed. “Make sure those fast jet pilots keep it in her pants.” She raised her brows. “Damn are they really that bad? Thought my dad was just being dramatic.”

Penny swung back around the busting bar and asked what she could get you. “Just a beer, please.” “Coming up, sweetie!”

You took your drink and headed to the juke box, opting for ‘you've lost that loving feeling’ by The Righteous Brothers. You always loved that song, your dad playing it you when he spoke about when he himself was a top gun graduate. “You lost that lovin’ feeling, sugar?” You heard from beside you. There stood a tanned man, broad shoulders and toned arms that he was definitely flexing, a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of aviators to accompany the moon beyond the windows. “Ain’t lost it just yet.” You replied, taking a drink from your glass. “Names Bradshaw, call sign Rooster.” He offered his hand. “Simpson, call sign Honey.” You took it but instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and kissed it gently. “Mhm, sweet light honey, I get the name.” You laughed at the man. “Good to meet you, Bradshaw.” “Whatcha flying?” He asked. “How’d you know I’m flying?” “Saw ya in the hangar.” “Stalking me now?” “Always been drawn to the gorgeous ones.”

You eyed him, before replying. “Helicopters. I’m a nurse, you?” “F-18s, honey.” These were the ones you were warned about, the fighter pilots. But still, you were your fathers daughter - never one for really listening to instructions. “Using my call sign now? Could've at least bought me a drink first.” “Ain’t a call sign more like an observation. PENNY! ANOTHER FOR THIS MIGHTY FINE GAL, PLEASE!”

“How ya been?” He leant his arm against the bar, trapping you slightly. “I’m good hangman, I’m very good, you?” He chuckled and hummed in agreement.

you had been a member of top gun for a few weeks now, and you were enduring a PT session, courtesy of Hurricane. "Up, down." Push ups were gruelling after a full day of strength training, you'd been training so long even some of the fighters were calling it a day. through your peripheral you noticed someone perch beside you and you could only guess who it was when they started doing push ups at double the rate that you were going. "Give it up, Hangman." you huffed, pushing yourself down again. "Come on honey, double time!" and he nudged his hip against your own, sending you off balance. "JAKE! FOR GODS SAKE!" you groaned, keeling over and hitting him.

"Stay away from my pilots, jet boy." Hurricane grunted. "You're dismissed Honey, great work today." "Thank you, captain." Hangman offered his hand once you had gotten your breath back and you took it, heaving you up. he pulled you so close that your chest smashed against his. "Woah if you wanted to kiss you, just had to say darlin' after all, you're looking mighty fine." You rolled your eyes and pushed him off - "In your dreams, Seresin." "You're certainly in my dreams." He slung an arm around your shoulder and winked at you, escorting you to the showers before he had to leave you.

"You finally shake off the leach?" A woman also in the showers asked, a sarcastic smile on her lips. "Only thing stopping him was the female sign on the door." You replied and both shared a laugh, "Phoenix, you must be the famous Honey." "That's my name," You grinned. "You gonna be down at the Hard Deck tonight?" You thought for a moment. "Sure, see you there."

"Well how-howdy little, lil lady!" A voice exclaimed from behind you and you spun around at the voice. A little boy wearing a small pair of western boots, belt wrapped around his waist about three times to hold up the flared jeans he was wearing, vest and a pink Hawaiian shirt hanging open. He tipped his cattleman hat, and lowered his aviator glasses that were about a hundred sizes too big for him, almost falling off of his nose when he moved to rest his hands sassily on his hips. You knelt in front of the boy and gasped, raising your hand and fluttering your eyelashes as you feigned flattery. "Well hello handsome, don't you look nice?" He dropped his facade and giggled, stomping his little feet. you grabbed the boy as you stood up and sat him on the bar, keeping your hands on his waist so he didn't fall.

Hangman cleared his throat. "Who's this?"

you were stood at the pool table playing against Coyote while he was actively trying to flirt with you, just humming when he was bragging about some trip himself and hangman had managed to pull off on their flight today, before you were saved by Phoenix brining you a drink over. 'Life saver' you had mouthed to her, and she just nodded with a wink, pulling you away when you had won the game, Coyote much too busy trying to swoon you to realise the eight ball had already been played. "Hey, darlin'!" You turned to see Rooster, smirk adorning his face as he approached you. "Hey Brad," he began to engage in conversation before everyone's attention was drawn to where Penny's voice directed. "Beau, didn't think I'd see you anytime soon!" He laughed and hugged her, "Still human Pen, just getting better pay." All top gun members throats went dry, their relaxed evening seemingly turning into a drill session within seconds. he looked at the group and waved you over with a smile, everyone's jaws hanging open when he pecked your forehead and started up talk. "Hey dad!"

"Holy shit." Payback groaned. "Simpson, of course." Bradley said. "Well, you know what they say - get the father to like ya, get the daughter." Hangman said as he began approaching the two of you. "No one fucking says that, Bagman." Phoenix remarked, but he was away before he could be stopped.

"Admiral!" Hangman laid a hand on your shoulder and grinned at his superior, your fathers eyebrows shooting up as he looked between the two of you. you did a small eyeroll before shrugging the hand off of your shoulder and looked on, amused as he tried to sweettalk your dad.

you were soon distracted, though by a sweet tune emitting from the bar's ancient piano. you looked to see Bradley playing the starting chords to an infamous Jerry Lee Lewis song and you ran along to join him, pushing across the bench with your hip to simultaneously sing.

"GOODNESS, GRACIOUS, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!"

"What'd I tell you about fighter pilots? They're bad news." Your father grumbled under his breath as he drove you back to your temporary home. "They mean well." you hummed, but turned your head against the head rest to look at him. "I'm also not stupid- humouring Hangman is just funny." There was silence for a moment. "What about Rooster?" "What about him?" "I've seen those eyes he looks at you with." "What eyes, dad?" You scoffed with a laugh. "You know, those ones." You turned back to face the darkened road. "They're the only eyes he's got."

Before you could respond to Hangman, the boy groaned loudly. "Mama, I'm thirsty!" He thumped his boot against the bar slightly with a pout at those quivering lips. "Hey, what'd I tell you about stomping?" You hummed, tone gettng sterner. "Don't stomp the foot unless i want a boot in the but." He giggled at the final word. You smiled at him, glad he listened to you at his little tantrums. "You're just like your daddy." You rolled your eyes. "Now what can i get my little cowboy to drink?" "Orange juice please, mama!"

"Mama?!"

After thirty weeks of aggressive training, you had finally been out on several 'dummy' rescue missions. "So today, pilots we'll be focusing on-" The siren which had laid dormant since you arrived at top gun started bleating loudly with an iterative red beacon, accompanied by a female voice overing the neighbouring intercom. "Requested: lieutenant Simpson, Honey, lieutenant Pierce, bear, lieutenant Shirley, Temple, two F-18 fighter jets down at Toro Canyon Park, immediate medical backup required." The Captain looked at you guys. "Show time pilots, show me what you've got." And before you knew it, you were in the air and navigating your way towards the billowing smoke. You landed just off of the treeline, and managed to find the wreckages rather quickly - but it wasn't the planes you were concerned about, it was the pilots.

Two parachutes 100 feet away from one another, seemig like a collision below the allowed guidelines, you were guessing a mock dog-fight, "I've got this one." You ran towards one of the victims and your peers headed to the other, each carrying your medical bag.

you peeled to parachute away from them, and gasped when you saw a knocked out Rooster laying motionless on the grass. "Bradley!" You shook his shoulders, seeing no signs of response so moving him into the recovery position. After checking there was no obvious nor outstanding damage to his head, you removed his helmet to see a nasty gash bleeding right above where his helmet had cracked. "Brad," You kept talking, attempting to make him conscious. "Stay with me, Bradley." you began to apply pressure to where the bleed was, making a make-shift bandage covering the top of his skull until you could get him back to base.

"Hey Honey" you heard his voice rasp as he attempted to raise to his elbows but you pushed him back down. "Hi Roo, just gotta stay there for me, got a nasty gash on your head here." You explained, resting his head against the ground. "You're fuckin' gorgeous." He giggle, looking at your eyes with a dreamily-dazed expression. "Okay, Brad seems like a concussion." "No, no, you're the prettiest woman I've ever seen, wanna marry ya." He continued to blurt out. you tried to ignore the fluttering of butterflies in your gut, just shaking your head. "You don't know what you're sayin' Brad, just gotta stay still for me." You secured a neck brace. "No i know what i'm saying, i wanna take you out and propose and fuck ya so hard that you scream, then ill make love to ya so we have our own little Bradshaw-" He continued to mumble. you breath faltered and your heart skipped a beat at the thought. "There you go, Bradley. Ready to get you home." You secured him as Temple came over to help you, heaving up the other end of the stretched, and moving back to the helicopter, Bradley shutting his eyes in the meantime.

"Who was the other?" You asked. "Hangman" she replied with a scoff mixed with a laugh as you joined her. "Shocker. He injered too?" You asked and she shook her head no. "Was sat up awake when we got to him, damaged ego but nothing else - still taking him to medical to get a once over though." You nodded in response, giving the thumbs up Bear when Rooster was secured. Hangman took a sip of his complementary water, "Hey, Honey" You nodded. "Hangman" "What's up with Bradshaw?" "Concussion, head trauma, need to get back to medical to confirm anything else." he leant forward and placed a hand on the centre of your back and surveyed Rooster. "Back off, Hangman." He raised his hands with a chuckle, before moving backwards and allowing you to work.

You'd worked some overtime that day to wait with Bradley and make sure he could get discharged that evening so that's why you were sat beside him, having just replaced his glucose drip feeding into his arm. The clocked ticked over to eight but you didn't mind, you were move than happy to watch the sunset outside of the window in silence, especially beside Bradley - even if he's knocked out cold.

A sudden cough withdrew you from your thoughts as Rooster's eyes fluttered open. "Hey, sweetheart." "Don't you dare sit up." You warned with a glare, noticing the way his arms shifted below him and he relaxed again with a small smile. "Now this is a view I could wake up to everyday." He said. "Yeah, the sunset's beautiful-" "No, I mean you, I could wake up to you everyday." He spoke softly and cut you off, looking at you with a gentle stare.

"How are you feeling?" You ignored his statement. "I'm okay, seriously, just a bit tired." You smiled. "I stitched up your head, so no flying because you also suffered a concussion-" "I meant what I said." You stopped talking and gave him a questioning expression. "I'm in love with you." "Bradley-" He reached up and kissed you softly and you relaxed into it. "You been growing a moustache, Bradshaw?" "Do y' like it?" You hummed as you nodded. "Good 'cause it's stayin'."

"Yes, I'm his mom, aren't I baby?" You pinched his cheek and asked Penny for an OJ "Oh my! I didn't realise there was a big scary cowboy in my bar, here's your juice box, sir." Penny curtseyed at your son. "Much obly-obul- oby-lysed obliged, ma'am" He smiled, blowing bubbled into the carton through the small straw.

"Who's his dad-" "Nick! Buddy, what'd I tell ya about running from the truck!?" voice bellowed from the doorway, you turned to your husband, who's eyes softened at the sight of you when he removed the aviator glasses from his face. He walked over and grabbed you waist, pulling you flush against his body and leaning down you kiss you lovingly. "Oh I get it, you saw a mighty fine lady and decided she was more important than sticking with your poor old dad, I get it." He said to your son, nipping at your neck with his teeth.

Hangman gritted his teeth and forced a smile and acknowledged you husband, "Rooster."

You spent the next three months sneaking around with Bradley, hidden winks, ghost-like touches, stolen kisses, and honestly a few on-base fucks. All secret until one day your dad had decided to visit your medical station, where you were laid on the bed against Bradley's shoulder while he left kisses in your hair and drew shapes on your hips. "Hey hon-" You father walked in and the two of you immediately jumped off of one another. He froze in the doorway, "What the fuck!" He about-turned on his heels, slamming the door shut behind him before storming off. "Oh god-" You stood up, but was pulled back by Bradley. "He was gonna find out eventually," "He's gonna disown me, Brad-" You had never seen you father that mad before.

"Bradshaw." The group heard from behind their lesson. "Admiral," Rooster turned to see him, and the group hollered like a group of school-kids teasing the man as he was lead away from the hangar and towards Admiral Simpson's office. They sat in silence momentarily, Cyclone staring out of the window and taking deep breaths, assumingly trying to calm himself.

"What're you playin' at, Bradshaw?" He asked after a while. "Excuse me, sir?" He turned towards Bradley - crossing his arms over his chest. "My daughter, seriously?! My only fucking daughter?" His tone of voice rose with every syllable. "With all due respect, sir-" "No, you do not get to talk. My daughter if the only thing I have in life and the only thing I can really protect her from now she joined the navy is scum like you." "Scum?" "You fast-jet pilots are all the same. Can't keep your dicks in your pants, well I'm telling you now - you stay the fuck away from her-" Bradley cut him off. "If I'm not mistaken, you were once, too a fast-jet pilot and that means you lived up to your own assumptions, and I know she's the only one you got because your wifes's gone," "Shut your mouth Rooster, and listen-" "No-" Rooster stood up, his chair being shoved abck against the wall behind him. "You listen. We may not've been together that long, but I fucking love her and I wanna marry her whether you like it or not, maybe you should look at yourself as a fahter, she's been stayin' with me, balling her eyes out for the past week 'cause the only person she's got left ignores her calls and pretty much disowns her! That's your fuckin' problem, now if you dont mind, Admiral, I'm goin' home to the love of my fuckin' life and you have absolutely no authority to stop me." Bradley spat with venom, slamming the door shut behind him and heading home to you.

Cyclone gained a lot of respect for Rooster, that day.

"Hello," Your dad walked into the hangar where you were with Bradley and the two of yours conversation end quickly as you look towards your father with a blank and unreadable expression. "Sweetheart I'm so sorry," "I don't want your apologies, dad." You grunted. "Want me to leave, hon?" Bradley asked, but your father answered him instead "no, i need you here too." "Look since your mom died your the only thing I have I'd live in rags on the street if it meant you were happy, i couldn't stop you joining the navy and i was so scared, what if something happened to you? And i knew from working here for nearly a decade what the aviator reputation was. When i saw you with Rooster i felt I'd failed the last part of you i could protect. but i know, you're not a little girl anymore and I shouldn't have reacted that way, I'm sorry."

You said nothing, but stood up and hugged him tightly, tears apparent in your eyes. "It's alright, sorry for going against your wishes." You reciprocated, "You are a Simpson after all." You both laughed, and your father held out an arm. "Come on Bradshaw, I can deal with you as a son-in-law, I guess."

"Bagman." You husband nodded, mouth pursing into a thin line. "He yours?" Bradley grinned, cockily. "He sure as hell is, aint ya, Nick?" "Yeah, dad!" The boy giggled.

"Er, I think Coyotes callin' me." And he walked away, to absolutely no one as Bradley chuckled victoriously and snaked his arms around you. "You scared him off, Brad." "Good, shouldn't even be lookin' at ya, you're all mine." He pecked your cheek, pulling yourself and your son along with you, and towards the piano, still sat in its spot in the Hard Deck.

It was graduation day, all the top gun graduated gathered to celebrate, Bradley raising his trophy above his head smugly, showing it off to his fellow pilots and the accompanying civillians.

"Bradshaw, congrats on getting top gun." Cyclone approached him. "Thank you, Admiral." He thought for a moment. "Can I have your blessing?" Cyclone looked at him, confused. "Can I marry her?" He was nervously sweating, gulping on his saliva and pulling at the collar on his neck. Your father immediately smiles and shook Bradley's hand. "Of course you can."

Your wedding day was like no other, a runway close to the ocean, a flyover from Phoenix and a few others from Top Gun, your dress was gorgeous, Bradley cried as you walked down the isle, when your father gave you away, when you said your vows, he never stopped crying. God, he was over the moon happy. "I love you, Honey." "I love you, Rooster."

even your honey moon was pure bliss, although the resort was gorgeous you hardly left the hotel room, Bradley too busy fucking you into the sheets and trying to put a baby to you just like he had promised when you had recovered him from that botched training exercise.

Now here you were, perched on the leg of your husband, your four year old son singing along to the tune as Bradley sang to him, playing the piano simultanous to circling your waist.

"GOODNESS, GRACIOUS, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!"

and Nick had called it a night, you and Bradley said goodbyes to your friends at the bar who had also been called back to top gun, you saying goodbye to Maverick when your husband wasn't looking, you headed to the truck. "How about we get home and I fuck another baby into ya'?" Bradley asked against your lips, between desperate kisses. "Take me to bed or loose me forever, Rooster." "Show me the way home, Honey."

And the men all stood there in silence, sickened to their stomachs, their sweet Honey stolen away by no other than Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw. Damn.

[final-script]

Royal In The Paddock | CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x PrincessOfSpain!Reader

Sumary: The Princess of Spain for the first time in the paddock.

Warnings: English is not my first language !!!There are probably many mistakes (I will correct them later).

Gif: overtake

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

It was very unusual for the Spanish royal family to participate in this type of event.

This was because most of the time, they were busy in real duties outside the country, but this time that did not happen, at least not with you.

Your parents did have to fulfill some duties, but you were completely free, which excited you since you had obtained permission and were going to attend the Spanish Grand Prix for the first time.

You were thrilled by the power, at last witnessing, what you saw, almost every weekend on TV

(…)

In the company of your assistant and a bodyguard they received the paddock of the GP of Spain.

Many surprised faces around you and you understood them, it was not very common to see Spanish royalty in a Grand Prix.

The group moved through the terrain, meeting several of the pilots and directors along the way, exchanging a few words with each one.

The Aston Martin and Ferrari teams were the teams with which you spent the most time, these being the teams that had a Spanish driver, they were all very kind answering your questions, also surprised about your show of interest.

(…)

I thank God for the training for public events that I have had over the years.

Thanks to that I was managing to behave, if I was excited to be in a GP, but I was also excited to meet the Spanish Driver, dressed in Ferrari red.

Little did they know but you had a little secret love for him.

After today, hopefully I will be allowed to attend the next GP.

C- I hope I arrived on time and that Fernando has not overtaken me, but it would be a pleasure if you could join us and watch the race from here on the wall of Pits. I observed my assistant and he gave me the go-ahead.

I think that for a moment we were leaving aside some orders but nothing and nobody took away what I lived.

P Y/N- It will be a pleasure to accept the offer. I felt the touch of my assistant, which indicated that we had to leave, which was all for today. -I would like to stay longer, but I must go and I hope it will be a good race for both.

I shook hands with those present and left the garage with my companions.

(...)

Arrive earlier on race day so you can chat with some spectators in the area.

I was able to meet the families of Ferrari drivers and even some celebrities.

I screamed internally when Carlos came up again to talk to me.

P Y/N- How do you feel for today?

C- I want to believe that I am lucky and even more so if you are supporting me.

P Y/N- Please leave you for my mother, at least while she is not present.

C- okay, then, I want to believe that I am lucky and even more if you are present.

I could feel the heat rising up my face, I just hoped the tone didn't change much or at least I didn't notice it.

P Y/N- I don't think you need luck, you have the wit.

A couple of hours later, I didn't give him the winning trophy, but a solid second place.

After handing out the trophies to the guys on the podium, I went back to Ferrari's hospitality, where I had been offered to stay, until the people calmed down a bit and I could leave with peace of mind.

(...)

I enjoyed a snack, until I saw Carlos appear again through one of the doors, this time he no longer wore his race suit but still, he looked very good.

C- princesa (princess). It caught my attention even though I was already observing it. -I came to say goodbye, I know that soon he will leave and I wanted to wish him a good trip back.

P Y/N- Thank you for seeing you approached, it gives me the opportunity to thank you for the beautiful hospitality you have given me this weekend, the only thing I regret is not having been able to give you the winning trophy, I hope next year it can be.

C- hopefully it is, but… If you are not very bold of me, there is something I would like to ask of you, if possible and if you agree, clearly.

P Y/N- I definitely have no way of knowing if you don't tell me. We both laughed.

C- tell me if I'm being daring , but… I don't want to have to wait until next year to see her, I would like to invite her to dinner. Wow, I think I didn't expect that or maybe I did, but in my dreams.

I think I stayed quiet too long but….

C- you know that… Forget it, I'm sorry I was daring.

PY/N- What?… NO, wait, sorry, you're not being daring at all, I just didn't expect it. I managed to tell before he walked away.

C- then what does it say?

P Y/N-I would love to have dinner with you, only first I have to finish with some commitments, then maybe we can meet, although to fix that I think I will have to have your contact.

Smiling quickly he gave me his phone and I myself scheduled my personal number.

P Y/N- I apologize if we delay in meeting.

C- when it's okay, I understand you're busy, in fact I will be too, I just wanted to make sure I would see her again.

P Y/N -I can only say, I do not know when it will be but I hope it will be soon.

C- Mee too.

With our lives, I didn't know where this was going, but I wanted to find out.

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

ANOTHERS

Royal Wedding - Carlos Sainz Jr. x PrincessOfSpain!Reader

No More Secret - Mason Mount x Reader

[missathlete31]

Random Hangman Story Idea of the Day-

hopefully an actual writer takes over this story and writes it. Please someone- take it!

Jake giving up his Christmas leave to Bob because he finds out Bob’s sister just welcomed a new baby and he knows how much the WSO wants to be home for the holidays. So Hangman goes to Admiral Simpson and requests to give his leave away anonymously. When Cyclone calls Floyd in to tell him, Bob is so happy to get to see his family, he doesn’t think about who could have given him this gift and just heads out to pack.

The Friday before Christmas, as everyone who has the time off leaves, those stuck in Miramar start making their own plans. Bradley and Phoenix are about to head out for some last minute shopping before they begin their holidays at Mav and Ice's home, when they see a light on in Jake’s apartment. They head up to investigate, shocked when the cocky pilot answers the door, expecting him to be halfway to Texas at this point.

Natasha realizes pretty quickly how Bob was able to make it home and asks Jake about it. The blond explains how he didn't need to go home, his parents wouldn't want him there, and soon he is being invited by the two other aviators to join their festivities. Hangman declines, convinced it was a pity invite and that no one actually wants him there. Bradley and Nat beg him to reconsider but head out when it's clear their teammate isn't going to change his mind.

On Saturday, December 23rd, Jake runs around the mostly deserted Top Gun base with his air pods in. He’s about to start his fourth lap when someone grabs his shoulder- it’s Maverick, looking just as surprised as Jake is to see him there. The two chat amicably for a bit when Pete brings up Christmas. Assuming this is his Captains way of trying to see if Hangman is going to crash their family dinner, Jake explains that while he appreciates the offer he doesn't want to impose, especially after such an emotional few months for Mav and his family (reconnecting with Bradley, Ice's cancer battles). Maverick tells Jake that there is nothing they wouldn't love more than if the blond would join them, even joking about how low key the whole event will be since Ice used to do the seven fishes on Christmas Eve and the big Christmas Ham and both Pete and Bradley are hopeless in the kitchen. Jake still seems unsure, to which Mav asks him to think about it and leaves him be.

All this leads to Jake Hangman Seresin arriving at Pete and Tom's house with a handful of groceries and presents on Christmas Eve morning, insisting on cooking to earn his place at the table. Of course his captain informs him he is meant to be a guest, but everybody stops fighting it as seven courses of delicious seafood find it's way to the dinner table. The group spends the night eating, drinking, watching Christmas movies and just spending fun time together, Jake having the best holiday he can ever remember. And as they all bid each other goodnight and head off to their different guest rooms, Hangman can't help but thank his hosts for having him. Tom and Pete just smile at the young man they are ready to adopt and tell him it's their pleasure, ushering the pilot off to bed so they can place the numerous wrapped presents they purchased for Jake under their tree, excited to see his reaction the next morning.

When that reaction ends up being tears for finally finding the family he always dreamed of Jake will find himself subjected to a lot of hugs on Christmas morning.

And yes, Brisket might be one of the presents waiting for Jake under the tree 🥰

[justrainandcoffee]

The sun always rises again (Farrier x fem!oc) Part I

Dunkirk

Farrier Masterlist

Summary: Farrier is in Sussex visiting his grandmother who is sadly dying. In a local pub, he and his best friend, Collins, met Marguerite in not the best circumstances. What started as a nice gesture quickly became in an inevitable attraction. || Collins plays his best cards trying to persuade his best friend to do something about the girl that he clearly likes and, maybe, he succeeds.

Warnings: Misogyny, sexual harassment. Mentions of war. Fluff. || Collins is the MVP.

Words: 3k.

1932

Marguerite Sarah Lewis was born in 1910 in London but when she was four years old, her mother and older brother moved to Sussex. Although French, her mother met her husband there and for the woman it was a special place.

1914 meant the beginning of one of the greatest wars that Earth faced until that point of the history and Mr. Lewis answered the called. And that's why Elise Lewis, the wife, took her kids and went there. The sea, the view, allowed the woman to imagine that one day soon she was going to see him back.

But that day never came. Nor in 1914 nor the next four years. In 1918, Marguerite was eight years already and his brother twelve. Both of them old enough to understand that their father was never coming back. Yet, Mrs. Lewis stayed there waiting for a ship that didn't exist.

Theodore Lewis jr, her brother, moved again to London when he was old enough to do it but she remained there in Sussex where she was still studying.

Her mother died when she was 19, in 1929. Maggie always knew that the poor woman never accepted her husband's fate. And now that she was older understood a bit better what she was feeling. Probably if Mr. Lewis had survived the war, then his wife wouldn't have died at the age of 43. But that was something that the Lewis siblings will never know.

The only thing that Maggie knew now was that she was the owner of her own destiny and needed to live in that world called adulthood.

She found a job in a local library first, where she worked for two years until she started to work as waitress in a new pub. The salary was higher and the tips were all for her.

In 1932, when she was 22, her life changed completely when she met him.

The pub was crowded as always. Men going there to relax after work was something that happened every day. It was full of loud men, laughing, chatting and making jokes while they were drinking beer.

Among them, two friends were having a conversation too. Their blue uniforms indicated that they were soldiers probably out of duty for a while. One had blond hair and the other brown shorter than the first one.

"Hope your grandmother can get well soon, Farrier."

"I don't think so. Until this point we're expecting the inevitable, but at least I'm here to be with her. Thanks for coming with me, by the way."

The blond, Collins, smiled "That's what friends do, Will."

Farrier nodded raising his pint of beer. "How's Sally?"

"It didn't work. But there's plenty of women in this world."

"And if men keep creating unnecessary wars soon the planet will be just populated by women. And humanity will be doom."

"Humanity is already doomed. But, if that's the case, then better I hurry up to get one before my death. And you should do the same."

Farrier shook his head "I don't have time for that. I always promised myself to be a good husband and father, not like my old man. If I get a girl, then it has to be for life."

"Sometimes you took life too seriously, William. Go Farrier, fuck some girls and you'll be fine."

William Farrier just hummed.

Collins decided to changed the subject and both men started talking about the new pilots that both of them were training. Young but smart men, ready to fight if the country needed it. Although both of them really hoped that it would never be necessary.

Maggie was praying in silence for the end of her shift. Sadly, she was used to men being rude and sometimes puting their hands on her body, but this time one in particular was crossing the line and she was quite uncomfortable. His friends were more drunk than he was and the only thing they managed to do was to encourage him to be nastier.

"Hey, doll, bring your pretty ass here, sweetheart! My mates and me want more beer. And unbutton your dress a bit more, love! Those two precious tits of yours want to know me."

The four of them of laughed so hard that Farrier and Collins that until that moment weren't paying attention at all, looked at them and both exchanged glances then.

Maggie looked at her both co-workers and friends, who same as her knew the consequences of working in that kind of jobs. They were young women in 1930s there wasn't much they could do there. Maggie just breathe and walked to them carrying a new tray and left it on the table but she wasn't quick enough and the man grabbed her by the waist and sit them on his lap, against her will.

"I have to go," she said trying to get up "I have work to do."

"Pretty sure your friends can cover you, love."

"No, they can't."

"Come on, sweetheart. I saw you looking at me. Let's have fun."

"I said no."

"She said no," mocked him, smirking at his friends who laughed again. "The little bitch, said no."

"She said no."

This time it was a deeper voice and the man in question turned around to see both pilots behind him. His friends looked down and pretended to be drinking their beers. The man let her go.

"We're just having fun."

"Get your ass out of here. Now."

He thought for a moment about starting a fight with them. He and his friends were four and the strangers were just two, but something in them make him reconsider his options. The blond was taller than him and the other seemed to be stronger. Not to mention that they were trained men. The group just recoiled and without further words, they left the place.

"Are you okay?" Farrier asked to Maggie.

"Yes. Thanks, sir. And you too," she said looking at Collins as well. "Usually I know people here, but those were new."

"Probably they won't come back."

"I hope not. You're new too."

"Temporary living here," Farrier commented. "My grandmother is sick and I'm just saying goodbye."

"That's sad, I'm sorry."

"Thanks, miss…"

"Marguerite Lewis."

"William Farrier, miss Lewis," the man said kissing her hand.

At their side, Collins was smiling and was waiting for the perfect to start teasing his best friend.

The days that followed, Farrier visited the pub every night. Sometimes with his friend, sometimes alone.

There was something in Marguerite that Farrier found fascinating. She had a pretty smile and his brown eyes and dark red hair made her even prettier. He had the chance to speak to her and discovered a good young woman. Maggie loved to read same way she loved yo bake. Once, she offered him one of her cookies and Farrier could testify that they were indded delicious. And even without knowing everything about him, she sent flowers to his grandmother's funeral when she knew about the sad news. Something that Farrier took as signal that she was really a good person.

They even spent a morning in the beach, talking and walking by the seashore. Her reddish hair shone in the sun and William wondered if the hair was really as soft as it looked. Or if her lips were.

"I used to play here a lot when I was a kid," she said unaware of his thoughts, "despite everything, I had a good childhood."

"Despite everything?"

"My father died in the Great War. I don't really remember him, I just know him because of the photo my mother kept."

"I'm sorry, Marguerite. That sounds sad."

"It was for my mother and maybe my older, he remembers him a bit more. You can't really miss someone you don't remember, right?"

"I guess. But still is a sad situation. No kid should grow up without a father."

"And yet…" Maggie looked at him and smiled softly "but it doesn't matter. That was long ago."

Not long ago for Farrier's liking. He was also a kid back then, but he remembered his mother talking about the mutilated soldiers she saw in the hospital were she worked as nurse. And the sadness in her eyes when years later her son told her that he was now part of the air force. But she never opposed to his decision.

"Do you like the sea, Mr. Farrier? I guess watching it from the skies is quite an experience."

"I do like the sea, yes. And it is, it's big and infinite. Indescribable."

Maggie looked at him for a moment and saw him lost in the memories of an experience she was never going to feel.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked. So he told her about the sky, the clouds, the cold air in his face. The feeling of parachute jumping.

His life, Maggie thought, it was extraordinary and there was no way that a man like him could find interesting the life of a town girl whose more fascinating experience of the week was to find a pound in the street. Or that beautiful ring that found one day walking through the beach. And yet, Farrier was ready to hear about her same way she was about him.

.

"You like her," Collins finally said at the end of their second week there, "I highly recommend you to do something because someone else can take advantage of your slowness."

"Like you?"

"I'd never do that to you. I know I'm more handsome but she's with you. I heard that there's a place where you can eat and dance nearby, invite her to go with you, William. I don't think she refuses the invitation considering how she looks at you."

Collins was right.

Maggie couldn't deny that she was captivated by the pilot from almost the beginning. He was handsome, attentive and a gentleman. William was the kind of man that her mother said she needed to find but that until the moment she knew him, she thought didn't exist.

Danny, one of her co-workers and friends, borrowed her one her dresses. Danielle's sister worked in a textile mill and she usually gave her sister clothes that the factory rejected despite their impeccable condition. The dark green dress that Maggie was wearing that night

So of course she said yes.

.

Danny, one of her co-workers and friends, borrowed Maggie one her dresses. Danielle's sister worked in a textile mill and she usually gave her sister clothes that the factory rejected despite their impeccable condition. The dark green dress that Maggie was wearing that night was one of those. Marguerite also allowed her friend to do her makeup.

"He's so handsome," Danny commented, smiling at her "and you're very lucky, Mags."

"Do you think I have a chance? I really like him."

"I think, you are the luckiest girl in whole Sussex."

Marguerite smiled. Never before a man paid attention to her the way Farrier did those days there. Sure she flirted innocently with some of young men in town, and kissed some of them years ago, but never did more than that. Never felt confident enough to do it because all those boys didn't seem to be looking for a serious relationship. But William wasn't a boy, he was a man and he acted like one.

Maggie looked at her in the mirror, when Danny finished her job, and smiled. The final result was better than she imagined.

Collins didn't tell Farrier who was the owner of the car that was parked in front of the house that belonged to William's grandmother, but somehow his friend managed to get one so he could go with Maggie to their date.

"Are you going to get in trouble for this?"

Collins snorted "please, have a bit of faith in me."

Farrier raised an eyebrow, suspiciously, but after looking at him several seconds let it go. "Okay then. Give me the car keys."

"Have fun, Romeo," Collins said throwing the keys at him.

.

Maggie didn't expect to have a good night like that one, although she dreamt about it. Feeling a happiness that didn't know it was possible to feel and her heart pounding by just looking at him. For a moment she felt stupid smiling at him almost all the time but she couldn't help it. Dinner was delicious and they spent the time to know each other a bit more. She even let him take her hands in his.

Maggie knew French because her mother used to talk in her native tongue in the house. Farrier asked her to taught him the language, if she wanted, because in his own words "you will never know when you're going to need it."

"But for that, you need to stay here, William, I can't teach you from the distance."

"Maybe I found a reason to stay," he answered. And for someone who, as his best friend claimed, took life too seriously felt as a personal achievement that flirty but also true line.

Dancing with William was lovely. Several other couples were doing the same with their partners while a singer sang and the orchestra accompanied her beautiful voice.

Maggie had her head resting on his shoulder and his hand was on her waist. Farrier could feel her perfume invading his nostrils. It was sweet with a delicate aroma of roses.

Your slowness.

Collins' words resounded in Farrier head. Fucking Collins. Who was he calling slow? His hand left her waist carresed her cheek. Both pair of eyes stared at each other before he leaned towards her a press his lips against hers.

Maggie put her hands on his chest and let him guide her. Despite his appearance, at least with her in that moment, Farrier it was gentle. When they pulled apart, he caressed her hair.

"I like you," Farrier confessed.

"I like you, too, Will."

And to confirm those words, they kissed again.

.

Farrier had only two weeks left before returning to work and he spent every moment with her. Even if she was working, William was there. He became part of the landscape of that pub and everyone there, even the owner, know who he was now. And when she wasn't working, they were in the beach or in her house.

The last night, she let him enter in her bed for the first time. He was her first time and Farrier, if that was possible, fall in love with her even more.

"I'll be back soon," he promised her while she was in his arms and she was holding her against his body.

"I'll be waiting for you."

William kissed her again and Maggie knew, no matter what would happen in the future, that he was the most correct decision she ever took in her whole life.

The months they spent separated, they communicate through letters and some calls when they had the chance to use a phone. Collins attributed his friend's new behaviour to him and in part, he was right.

Of course William returned to Sussex, this time alone, and he did with a ring in his pocket. The same night they saw eachother again, he asked her to be his wife and feeling a happiness that it was hard to describe, Maggie accepted his proposal.

Farrier sold her grandmother's house and the one his own old flat and moved to Sussex with her.

Marguerite Lewis became Marguerite Farrier just weeks later. The wedding in the church in that town was a celebration for the people living there, her brother that went from London to there and, of course, Collins.

His life those first years there were the happiest that Farrier could remember. His wife gave him two beautiful kids that he swore to protect with his life, same as her.

"One day I'm going to be a pilot like you, papa," his firstborn called Edward, said.

"Will you?"

"Yeah. Flying the skies in my own plane!" the boy exclaimed opening his arms and running around him simulating he was indeed flying. William caught his son and lifted him in the air and Edward started to laugh, still with his arms wide open like plane.

From the kitchen window where she was cooking, Maggie couldn't help but smile looking at them with pure love. Once, Farrier commented her that he always promised himself to be a good husband and father and it was clear now that he was fulfilling that promise.

While Ed stayed outside playing with his toys and their little girl, Clara, was sleeping on the couch, William went to where his wife was.

Marguerite smiled when she felt his strong arms around her and his lips on her neck.

"It smells delicious, Maggie."

"Thanks, honey. It will be ready in no time."

William placed a new kiss on her skin before opening the cupboard to search the plates and cutlery.

Life was good for the Farriers in that little corner of the world.

Sadly, it was already 1938.

_

PART 2

[pablitogavii]

hiii (no rush) could you do one where gavi goes on a family vacation with the reader’s family and they all love him🤍🤍

Family vacation

Your POV

When we came back from Ibiza, my family invited me and Pablo to travel to Hawaii with them for the next week. I was really glad my family wanted Pablo to come knowing that during the season we can't spend time together as much as we wanted.

"Soy nervioso amorcito" Pablo told me while we were packing our bags at our shared room at Pablo's family house in Sevilla.

"Why cariño??" I said walking up to him and snaking my arms around his neck playing with the small hairs on his neck.

"What if they don't like me? And my English is not that good.." he said and I smiled touching our noses together before kissing his lips lovingly and he leaned into the kiss.

"They already love you, cariño. And if you don't understand something, I will translate for you so don't worry" I said and he smiled but still kept his muscles tensed.

"My dad loves football so he already loves you..and my mom heard how well you treat me so she loves you as well..just relax and trust your princesa" I added and he smiled nodding his head and kissing my lips again.

"I trust you, princesa.." he said and I nodded as we finished packing and left to meet my family at the airport.

"Mama!" I waved and she hugged me tightly while my dad shook hands with Pablo politely. You were smiling at how tensed up your boy was but hoping he will eventually relax.

"You stole our daughter away boy!" my mom joked but Pablo thought she was serious apologizing which made you giggle and move to touch his chest and rest your head on his shoulder.

"Ellos se burlan de nosotros, amor" [They are teasing us, love] I said and he chuckled with slightly blushed cheeks as we all walked to our gate.

We walked into the plane, and Pablo grabbed my suitcase and put it in the above compartment before moving to let me sit by the window knowing how much I love it.

"You choose wisely babygirl" dad said and I chuckled nodding my head while looking at Pablo who really always was such a gentleman. I kissed his cheek and he blushed red making me giggle a bit.

Pablo's POV

The plane ride was nice as I chatted to her dad about football and she was sleeping peacefully with her head on my shoulder holding onto my hand tightly.

"Congrats on the National win, it was a hard game against Croatia.." her dad said and I nodded telling him that I was preparing for it for months and that I was very proud of the win.

"Um..Gavi can I have a signature??" small kid walked up to us followed by his mom who apologized but I shook my head saying that it was alright since I was kinda of used to it by now.

"Thank you!!" kid was so happy that it made me smile as he walked away and I continued to chat to her dad about the upcoming season.

When the pilot said we will start descending soon, I moved a little starting to wake her up so she can get buckled safely.

"Five more minutos, cariño!!"she whined like she always would when I woke her up and I chuckled hearing her mom say that she got it from her. I kissed her head repeatedly running my fingertips up and down her arm as she slowly opened her eyes and looked at me adorably.

"Estas bien?" she asked and I nodded reassuring her that I relaxed a lot more over the last few hours I chatted with her dad. We walked out and grabbed our bags getting into a taxi that drove us tot he hotel.

I have never been to Hawaii before and it was truly so beautiful all around. She was sitting next to me holding my hand while I looked through a window at the beautiful nature.

"Do you like it amor?" she asked and I turned to her nodding my head with a big smile on my face.

"It's so beautiful" I said and her dad turned front he front seat.

"You'll see how beautiful it will be from a boat ride" he said and we both looked confused with what he meant.

"There is an event with fireworks on the boat that we got tickets for you two" her mom explained and she looked so happy about it that it made me smile. That was really kind of them.

"As long as you make sure she stays safe while on the boat.." her dad added and she rolled her eyes.

"Of course, sir!" I said to the man feeling ehr grip tighten on my hand as we looked at each other and I shrug my shoulders making her giggle.

Your POV

After getting to the hotel and unpacking, we went to the dinner with some of the old family friends that lived in Hawaii now. They heard we were here and wanted to catch up so my parents agreed.

"Long time no see, beautiful girl!" woman said and I smiled shaking hands with her husband before they asked who Pablo was looking at him up and down. Way to make him nervous!

"This handsome boy is her boyfriend. Isn't he lovely?" my mom said proudly and Pablo shook their hands politely before grabbing onto mine as we walked to the table. He pulled my chair before sitting besides me.

"Soccer isn't it?" man asked and I could tell he meant it in a mocking way. This family was very rich and often found pleasure in insulting others.

"We call it football but yes, I play for Barcelona" Pablo answered and I smiled proudly knowing that my boy isn't one to back down from a fight.

"Youngest at the World Cup and winner of National title" my dad added and Pablo smiled nodding his head. I was glad my parents really loved Pablo and defended him like this.

"Our Illias played soccer. Do you remember Y/n?" woman said and I rolled my eyes knowing where this is going. She always thought I would end up with her son because he was just so "irresistible"...more like entitled dick!

"Yeah, only for one year..but Pablo plays professionally" I said and my mom gave me a glare which made me calm down feeling Pablo' grip tighten. It was his way of telling me that I shouldn't pay them any attention.

"Yeah, Illias decided on law school..very intelligent our boy is" she said and it made me want to vomit since I knew the only reason he agreed on law school was to keep getting money on his account.

"Yes, and your daughter broke his heart" man said while laughing meaning it as a joke but it really wasn't. It was true Illias asked you out (surely being instructed by his family) but you rejected him before leaving on your trip to Europe where you met Pablo.

"Be careful boy or she might get you too" woman laughed hysterically and I looked at my dad about to get the fuck out of this restaurant but then Pablo reacted.

"She already did, señora. This girl owns my heart and can do what she pleases with it.." he said kissing my head and shutting them up for good and I smiled leaning into him with a bright smile.

"Good man!" my dad whispered tapping Pablo's shoulder and I could tell he was gloating in pride.

Pablo's POV

It was already one week into our vacation, and I really grew to feel like a family member to her parents. They were always very kind to me and very supportive of our relationship.

"How do you say meat in Spanish boy?" her dad asked me while we were standing by the grill with beers in ours hands and I smiled happy he wanted to learn.

"Carne" I said and he nodded repeating it to me while flipping the steak skillfully.

"Daddy, can I steal my boyfriend for a moment??" she came snaking her arms around my waist and I smiled knowing that she was missing spending time with me whenever she would get this needy.

"Que pasa amor?" I said as we hid behind the wall and she went on her tip toes kissing my lips passionately while snaking her arms around my neck playing with my hair.

"Pablo!" her dad called after a few moments and she groaned making me chuckle at her clinginess.

"I'm really happy they love you..but can't they just leave us alone!" she whined and I kissed her lips again pulling her closer to my chest.

"Tonight, we are going out alone amorcito..and I promise you will have all of my attention" I said and she touched my abs underneath my shirt teasingly.

"All of it??" she smirked and I shook my head at her little stunt grabbing her chin and smashing my lips onto hers.

"All you can take, princesa" I whispered into her ear biting it a little and making her moan before retreating back to the grill to meet with her dad.

I knew I left her unsatisfied but it was also kinda cute to see her steal glances from me while I wasn't looking and act out on her 'frustration' for the rest of the day.

Your POV

"Alright, mom dad me and Pablo are heading out for tonight" I said feeling very frustrated and 'needy' especially after the teasing I received from my malicious boyfriend this morning.

"Should we wait for you for dinner? I am making that chicken dish Pablo loves so much" mom said and I swore to god I got jealous at my own mother. Can't they love him but leave us the hell alone!

"No! Um..we will eat something out. Right, cariño??" I said and Pablo was smirking at my sudden outburst knowing it was hard to control my built up craving anymore.

"Yeah, don't worry about it Mrs. Y/l/n" Pablo said politely and she gave him a kind smile before we both finally left the house.

"Where are we going??" Pablo said as we walked towards the beach and I was almost running away from home at this point.

"Somewhere we can finally be alone!" I said and he chuckled nodding his head in agreement. We arrived tot he beach and Pablo put down the blanket for us as we sat down and watched the beautiful sunset with me sitting between his lags and my back glued to his chest.

"It's so beautiful amor" he said while twirling a piece of my hair around his finger as sun completely set and we were surrounded by darkness.

"Everything is perfect when I'm with you..alone" I said and he chuckled as I turned around straddling his lap and running my hand through his hair gently while he held my hips.

"I'm very happy you parents love me tho preciosa" Pablo said and I looked at him smiling and nodding my head.

"Mhm..me too but cariño right now I want to have 'all of you attention' all night long.." I smirked grinding down on him and he took the signal kissing my lips passionately and laying me down on the blanket gently.

This family vacation will be something I will remember forever..<3

I hope you like it <3

[notroosterbradshaw]

slow dancing in a burning room - two

word count: 5.3k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, smut, fluff.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I know this series is a bit different to what you’re used to from me, so I hope you keep reading. I truly appreciate all the effort you make to show your support x

one.

Your phone started ringing just after you’d showered and your last lesson of the morning session. Wrapped in a towel and shivering, you saw Bradley’s smiling face as the phone vibrated. “Hey,” you answered. “This is an early call, sweetheart, what’s happening?” you asked, hoping the demand didn’t sound as deliberate as it felt. “Everything okay?”

“We’re at the beach, come join us!”

“You’re at the – ” You frowned, checking your watch. No, it wasn’t playing games on you. “It’s the middle of the day, Bradley.”

“I know,” he laughed. “Mav has us down here doing something he’s calling  ‘defensive football’. It’s kinda crazy but… kind of fun,” you could hear him cover the receiver and muffle something back. “Natasha said you have no excuses and to get down here.”

You giggled quietly, heart exploding with his joy. It sounded so good to hear him so positive and happy. “Well, I just showered. Lemme go home and get some stuff, okay?”

“Awesome. Can’t wait to see you, love. Can you wear that…” he paused and whispered. “Can you wear that white swimsuit?”

You laughed, covering your face. “Bradley, no – ” That was strictly for his eyes only.

“C’mon, please? Just for me?” he grovelled. “I wanna show you off.”

Blood flushing through your system as you roasted with embarrassment, how could you say no? “Lemme see what I can find.”

“You’re amazing. I’ll see you soon. I’m getting called back.”

“You’re so fuckin’ whipped, Bradshaw!” you heard someone screech past as you laughed.

“You are so fuckin’ whipped, Bradshaw,” you mocked. But you were allowed to. He was in love with you.

He huffed a laugh. “You’re evil. I love it. See you soon.”

“Okay, see you soon,” you replied, your grin so wide and you so happy for him. You were excited to go see him in his element, having fun with his friends, laughing, joking.

You found yourself at the beach about an hour later, spotting Bradley and his squad thunder across the sand and shoreline, golden brawny shoulders covered in sunburn and sand, running in circles they his team tossed, tackled and laughed jovially. Bradley and Javy looked absolutely ridiculous in their jean shorts (what?!), and a few of the pilots were in full-length jeans. They could only have been so uncomfortable. All were far too competitive for their own good. Your eyes fell on Mav, and gosh… it had been so long. You didn’t want to go over and say hi, knowing how tentative things were with Bradley. 

Moments had to be picked precariously these days.

“Hey,” Penny smiled as you dropped your towel on the sand a while away, not wanting to interrupt them. You wandered up to chat with her, the joy of small business accounting fresh before her, calculator, pen and pad scribbling and furiously making notes. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. Let me guess, too busy playin’ house with Rooster and forgetting the rest of the world?” she teased lightly.

You laughed quietly, toe-thumbing the warm sand but it was hard to argue – you had been spending an inordinate amount of time shutting off the rest of the world together. And while you loved your friends, getting lost with Bradley Bradshaw had forever written all over it. “Something like that,” you admitted.

“Your mom was talking about you guys moving in together! That’s a big step.”

“Yeah,” you said bashfully. “Bradley got the keys to his parent's place so we’re gonna give that a go,” you tried to downplay it.

“The one on the beach? That is just lovely for you both.”

“Still lots to do – I mean, he will be away and I have work but he wants to try and do as much as he can.” The thought of Bradley Bradshaw: handyman had crossed your mind once or twice since you’d decided to move in together.

“That is the sweetest thing,” she teased gently as a football plopped at your feet. “Incoming.”

Placing your foot on the sandy leather, a low growl met you as Bradley’s hands wrapped around it and then surrounded you a moment later. “Hey, Penny,” he said, gently pressing a kiss into your temple. “Here’s my sweet girl.”

“Who’s winning, Rooster?” Penny dared ask.

“Uh, not too sure,” Bradley admitted, his sandy palm sneaking under your white linen shirt and resting on your hip. “We kinda lost count, I think.”

“How many times have you tackled Hangman?” you murmured as he chuckled darkly.

“Definitely lost count,” he said, that hint of arrogance seeping through.

“You two are really so sweet,” Penny said. “I can see why your mom is so excited by this,” she pointed between you as Bradley tenderly kissed your hair and you wrapped your arms around Bradley’s strong waist. You heard his small moan made only for your ears.

“This is really special, you two,” she admitted, as she looked beyond you and nodded towards… Mav.

“So strange to see him back here,” you admitted. “Haven’t seen him since I was a teenager.”

Bradley hummed, you weren’t sure if Penny picked up the clipped shortness in his tone, but you sure did as he whispered he’d be back soon. Remembering Carole’s mantra, ‘if you’ve got nothing nice to say, say nothing at all’, he bit his tongue for Penny’s benefit only.

“We’re not going to talk about the jean shorts?” you called after him.

“They’re jorts!” he retorted, throwing a grin back before dashing back to the game. God, he looked so good, even if he was wearing jorts.

“Oh, that makes it all better…” you muttered to yourself, not sure how the fashion crime still made him look like he’d just walked in PFW as Penny grinned. 

“Oh, girl. He is so in love with you. I have never seen Rooster Bradshaw like this before. Hearts breakin’ all over Miramar today,” Penny teased as you tried to hide your smile, but it was next to impossible as you kept your gaze on him. The way his body moved, his muscles, the gleam of the sun off his tanned skin.

Divine, and all yours. You were mesmerised by him and if everyone could see how in love with you he was, you wondered if you were able to keep it low-key for how you felt for him. You never expected to be so in love, fall for someone like him. He just moved people… but no one knew the way he could move you.

“I’m really happy,” was all you could tell Penny.

“I know, darling heart. I can see that but won’t tell anyone,” she winked. “Go, watch those half-naked aviators show off for a while. I’ll bring some drinks out when they’re done,” she said, collecting her stuff and heading inside the bar and you wandered back to your gear. You carefully took off your shirt and folded it neatly in your beach bag, grabbing your towel and laying it out –

“You’re just pathetic,” Natasha sidled up to Bradley, following his gaze to your form.

“So fuckin’ pathetic,” he agreed as he watched you pedantically flatten out your towel and get to your knees and move to your tummy, eagerly grabbing your book and tossing yourself into it. He didn’t see you read often, he knew that was because probably of him and how he’d imposed in your life these days, but watching you in the sun, completely at ease – Jesus Christ, he was so lucky. Could easily hang his own team out to dry to share his time with you.

You weren’t wearing that swimsuit he quietly pleaded for, but it was fine by him. Your curves, the flashes of skin? You were sexy in his oversized, ratty tees, messy morning hair, and grumpy without your coffee. There was no time you simply weren’t perfect to him… for him.

He chewed his lip, knowing he’d softened in ways he’d never imagined he could. Dropped his walls for the woman who deserved the world and more. He’d changed for the better, and he hoped you would always be proud of him for how he loved you.

Struggling and as hilarious as the bet to wear the jorts was, he felt like he was wearing cement but, in this case, was probably for the best.

“You’re gonna marry her,” Natasha decided, snaking the ball from him in his stupor and dashing off for the other end of the beach, his teammates raising his arms in victorious touchdown fashion. Bradley didn’t even care. 

“Probably,” he agreed, a small smirk quirked at his lip, before adding, “Hopefully.”

Meandering back to your apartment later that evening, Bradley held the bags on one side and your hand in the other, the sun starting to set. He felt good, loose, a few beers in his system, Mav survived another day (even if he’d again fucked Cyclone right off. It wasn’t lost on anyone when the Admiral chased down Mav on the beach in the earlier afternoon) and had to even credit the old man, things between the squad had been tempestuous at best and it had really brought them together.

He'd go to the grave with that.

“You good?” you asked, interrupting his thoughts as he turned to face you, his glasses tangled in his wild, messy curls, a small smile on his face, a dimple threatening to reveal itself.

“Just needed today. I didn’t realise how much,” he confided. “Thanks for coming along.”

“I’m glad you asked, it was fun to see you all unwind even if it was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen,” you replied as he stopped and dragged you back to him. He dropped the bag at his feet and took your cheeks in his rough palms.

“Love you,” he murmured, laying one of those lazy kisses on your lips. You moaned against his mouth as he giggled quietly. It was just one of those kisses that had the ability to render you stupid and he loved that he had that power over you. His strong palms drifted down your sides and wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer again. “Let me take you home. We shower and then I just make you cum and cum with my tongue until you tell me to stop. Wanna taste you all night, love.”

Giggling against his mouth, you pushed him back lightly. God, he could be so filthy sometimes. You’d never know anyone so confident in making the dirtiest of promises and dutifully fulfilling them until you screamed his name over and over. You’d give him anything he ever wanted. “I love you,” you told him honestly and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to love anyone like this again.

You waited for Bradley impatiently the next night. When you finally heard his bag hitting the floor at the entry and the door closing over quietly, you weren’t surprised when he didn’t mutter a hello before hitting the makeshift liquor shelf. You went to him and surrounded him as he still forced the alcohol down his throat, and he kissed you barely.

“I heard,” you told him as he nodded solemnly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m angry,” he admitted, his raspy tone rough.

“I’m sorry, baby. What can I do for you?” you smoothed your palms down his back, the rage within him radiating off his hot skin through his clothes. “Are Bob and Nat okay?” you asked gently, moving your hands to his chest and pressing your hands into the firm muscle, your eyes desperately searching his unreadable face.

The new theme… every time you thought you’d seen him angry? The next night he’d come home worse. And he hated it, because he knew you were on tenterhooks around him, and it killed him that he couldn’t control his emotions after hours, on your time, when he should be his best self, your best selves together. He would try and take out as much tension as he could on pads at the gym before he came home, but his head couldn’t tune out the rage that each day brought with Maverick… even Hangman was at his fucking worst and nothing made sense.

“They need to stay in overnight for observation,” he said softly as you caressed his torso.

“Okay. That’s the best news we could hope for. I’m glad to hear that.”

He sighed, finally meeting your eyes. “I don’t really wanna talk, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to be alone?” you asked, dreading his answer as he shook his head.

“I know I’m not great to be around at the moment, but please stay with me?”

“If that’s what you need, sweetheart…” you told him and poured yourself a glass, feeling as empty as the glass appeared. He apologised gently. You poured him another glass too and raised yours. “To Iceman.”

“Ice,” Bradley sighed, taking a warming sip this time. You stayed quiet with him for a long while, the loss of Ice compounding what was already a rough day. “I love you, sweet girl. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

You gave him a light smile. “I’m not going anywhere, Bradley,” you promised him. “Come here, let me hold you,” you told him softly as he put the glass down and breathed long through his nose. He took you in, his dark eyes starting from your bare feet, your legs to the curve of your waist. His palms moved to rest on your hips, his long fingers pressing into the flesh as he rested his forehead against yours. He melted into you, his strong nose pressed against yours and dragging down past your lips and his forehead slipped into the curve of your shoulder. “Love…”

You knew how much he needed you, he need comfort, he needed shelter, but first, he needed to surrender. He had been on his haunches since Mav walked into his seminar last week and he had barely a moment to unwind since. “I love you,” you pressed your hands into the firm muscles of his back, wound so tight, coils ready to explode. He needed to unleash and lose himself and his mind a little bit.

“I want you,” he admitted.

“Just try and relax, baby,” you begged him quietly.

“I know how to do that. Getting lost with you,” he confided, the tone in his voice light, regarding you.

You reached up to run your fingers through his waves and he pulled back lightly, wetting his lips and carefully dipping to meet yours, and you kissed him sympathetically, wanting him to stay slow, stay in the moment. His fingers found the hem of your tee and raised it without questions. “Brad – ”

“Turn around, love. I need to bury myself in you, forget all about today.”

Numbly and as instructed you turned around and Bradley ran his palm over the curve of your ass, giving it a gentle grope before looping his slender fingers under the flimsy tights you wore, revealing a lack of underwear and he sucked in a breath. “Good girl,” he dragged the tights down and helped you step out of them, the tickle of his moustache against your hamstrings unfamiliar and teasing. “Take a step,” he said, nudging your legs apart, his fingers creeping around and sliding into your warm pussy. “Love, were you waiting for me?”

Not really, you wanted to admit and fell back against him as his thumb started to work against your clit. As much as you didn’t want to bandage up the day by making love, it was hard to deny him when he needed you so badly and he could make you feel so good. Maybe he could coax you through this? You’d get in the mood; you always did.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he murmured into your jaw as you writhed into his hand. He let out a small, rough laugh. “Like that?”

You were trying to and gee, it still felt so good as you clutched the bench top so tightly you begged not to splinter yourself. His skilled fingers pressed into your pussy, warm with slick, warm with what he begged was your desire for him. One finger then two, all the way in… and the way out as you squeaked, all the way in and contorting against your g-spot.

His perfect fingers.

It wasn’t how you saw tonight, but he had a mystical way to make you give in and share the moment with him. “You’re throbbing. Don’t you have dare cum anywhere else but on my cock, you hear me?” his hot breath was at your ear now, his divine tongue tracing from your shoulder to the nape of your neck and be paused momentarily while you heard him open his belt and drop his zip.

Bradley pushed down his jeans and boxer briefs before taking off his tee, discarding it, he gave himself a few guiding pumps, his cock painfully hard and bent his knees a little as he guided his thick cock into your weeping cunt. “Oh, Bradley,” you couldn’t deny him as he pushed in sinfully slowly. Bottoming out, he breathed deeply, kissing your neck, his tongue gliding down its curve as he reached for your slit again.

“Don’t you dare cum until I say so, hear me?” he asserted, his thumb and index fingers pinching your clit. God, you loved when he proved his position in power.

You breathed deeply, gathering that he needed this so badly. Your gentle Bradley Bradshaw needed his release, most nights this week had been the same, with the exception of yesterday… it brought the best night in a few weeks – your man at his best. 

But that hadn’t stopped the strange nagging in the back of your mind. He’d been quiet, reclusive, seeking comfort in fucking to release. There wasn’t a heck of a lot of intimacy, he’d rolled over and gone to sleep most nights, but you couldn’t hold it against him. What he was putting his body through to prepare for this mission was unlike anything you’d ever heard.

From what you’d mentioned to Grandpa, Viper admitted what Bradley and his squadron were being put through was more than he’d ever put his 1% through, and more than he’d heard before.

The thing was you didn’t really feel connected, you kind of felt like a vessel for him and wondered if this was just something because he was clearly going through it, or if this would continue after this assignment ceased? Both left a nagging feeling that maybe you weren’t coping with it as well as you would have hoped for either. “Fuck,” you were so in your own head, you knew you’d lost your orgasm. Shit.

“Yes, love,” he concurred. “Just a bit more for me.”

And as Bradley rutted into you, telling you to cum when you weren’t close to doing so, you held your hand up. “Bradley,” you tried as you felt the sweat of his forehead balance on your shoulder. “Bradley,” you spoke up and his hips slamming into you stopped abruptly.

“What?” he muttered back.

You shook your head, begging him silently to ignore you and just get it over and done with. He started to furiously rub your clit thinking you just need a little extra stimulation, but it only felt uncomfortable. You sighed and just let him finish as he sped up behind you, quads snapping into your hamstrings like pistons as you braced the bench top to keep your balance. You held Bradley make a low growl behind you and you knew he’d come. He kissed the curve of your shoulder, pulling your back to his front tightly as you shrugged him off, lying about how sensitive you felt. 

“Sorry, baby. Just needed that out, you know?” he breathed, leaning his body weight against you and he slipped out of you, his cock weeping against your ass and the proof of your fucking seeping between your legs as he hummed in appreciation. “That looks so good.”

You heard him pulling his jeans back up and turning you to face him, his face soft as he chuckled low, mess dribbling between your legs and he tried to kiss you. He paused when he realised you weren’t returning his advances.

“What’s up?”

You couldn’t articulate how empty you felt and could only look at him.

“You okay? Did I hurt you?” he asked, crestfallen. “Was I too rough?”

“No, it’s fine – ”

“No. It’s clearly not,” he cut in, his calloused hands soft on your jaw as he lifted your eyes to meet his. “Are you sure I wasn’t too rough?”

“You weren’t rough… you just weren’t…”

“I wasn’t what?” he was starting to panic, he never in his worst dreams ever wanted you to be scared or upset or -

“When did it become a thing that you come home wild and just expect me to fuck you out of your piss poor mood?” you said before you could find a way to be more eloquent and articulate yourself a little better.

His jaw dropped as he stammered over words. “I… what?” he asked, lost, confused. It was all etched across his handsome face.

“Since Mav came back, you’ve been a storm in a teacup. Every single night you have come home angrier than the night before and I just feel like the only way I can get you smiling again is if we fuck.”

“I don’t – ” he tried.

“Bradley, I don’t understand in what world you think what just happened was good for me. This isn’t a consent thing, you certainly didn’t hurt me, but Jesus, I’m not just some tool, some vessel you fuck until you feel better about yourself.”

He started to frown and took a step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – ”

“I’m supposed to be the woman you love. Not once this week when you’ve gotten home have you asked me how my day was, you’ve gone straight for the booze, drowned yourself in a few scotches and then fucked me before barely saying another word and going to sleep.”

He kept his mouth shut this time and leaned against the corner of the bench, giving you some distance.

“And I know today was terrible. You lost Ice, you almost lost Natasha and Bob. I cannot imagine what you’re going through, but if you think for one second what just happened was just what you needed, wow, we need to really talk.”

“I’m sorry, love. I don’t know what has come over me,” he admitted softly. He felt sick. Never in his wildest had he wanted you to feel anything except his equal. He had never intended to make you feel inferior. All he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears, a disillusionment in himself he’d never felt before. “You’re the only person keeping me afloat at the moment,” he confided quietly but he couldn’t meet your gaze.

“Thing is… I know that. But does that mean I cop all your baggage as well, just for the fucking fun of it?” you raised your voice a little. He still looked stunned. It wasn’t often Bradley found himself dumbstruck, but he’d never known he could hurt anyone the way he had clearly hurt you. He looked at his feet, muffling an apology and something about not coping at the moment.

“No shit,” you told him. “I am breaking my back to bend and cater to your whim, Bradley.”

He looked up, lost, lonely, ashamed. “Love, I’m so sorry. I have just been so – “

“Angry?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. He almost wanted to smile – you got him in one.

“Preoccupied?”

“Well – ” he was surprised there was more.

“Rude, obnoxious?”

“Fuck, am I doing anything right at the moment?” he asked sensitively. He looked so utterly broken, you almost wanted to go to him, but your brain was fried. All you could think of was a hot shower, clean yourself up and go to bed. “Love...” he tried calling after you as you went to the bedroom, slamming the door in your own right. Your neighbours must be so thrilled with you and Bradley’s current door-slamming arrangements.

Not one to take anything laying down, he carefully followed you to the bedroom but already heard the water running, your clothes discarded near the hamper. He couldn’t help himself and picked up your tee, pressing it to his nose and letting your perfume try and centre him before collecting the rest and putting it away to wash.

He leaned against the bathroom door and knocked gently. You didn’t reply so he hoped walking in was okay. What he found wasn’t. You were sitting on the closed toilet, knees dragged to your chest, naked and in tears. “Oh, my God, love. I’m so sorry,” the urgency of the situation hit him rudely.

You were upset, you were devastated because of him. He moved and knelt before you but didn’t know if he should touch you although he was absolutely desperate to hold you, whisper all the endearments you needed to hear to reassure you how much he loved you, needed you, wanted the rest of his life with you. Apologise for being so completely irrational but also, he couldn’t explain how he was feeling – all the thoughts, feelings and emotions that Mav coming back had brought him. And losing Ice, a man who stepped in when Mav betrayed him all those years ago –

He hesitated to grasp your ankle, clueless as to what you needed or what you’d allow him to do. He wanted to wrap you up and remind you that you were everything, but he had never seen you so troubled and worse, because of him. He was distraught that he might have scared you, and made you doubt everything he felt because he was spiralling.

The thing was, he knew he was spiralling. You knew he was… and worst? So did Maverick. He hadn’t mentioned to you the heated words they’d exchanged when Bradley had approached him about pulling his papers. It was years in the making, and the lack of control Bradley had made his head spin. But it felt so good to finally have the question in the air.

Why did Mav stand in his way? And what was Mav’s shitty response? Bradley wasn’t ready. He was never ready for anything in his life. Losing his dad, his mother. How could Pete Mitchell take the one thing he was so certain of and suggest he wasn’t ready? 

“I’m sorry I missed that you weren’t, God, how do I say this? You weren’t into it, that I was being selfish. I know I’ve been hard to take the last few weeks, love,” he said miserably. “I’m not coping, I’m treating you like shit and hurting you. My brain won’t stop – ” he paused when you laced your fingers in his hair and he sat up to look in your eyes. Tears strained your cheeks, breathing uneasy but you pulled him into your arms anyway and Bradley Bradshaw had never felt more loved. He tenderly wrapped his arms around you and whispered, “You’re too good for me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

“I love you, Bradley. I love you so much and that is why this is scaring me. It’s too good to be true, and Mav comes back… and it’s like I don’t even know you,” you confessed to him, and he finally got it. “I’ve known you my whole life, but I don’t know this part of you. And I need to understand because if this is going to our life… I need to be a part of it. Not compartmentalised and watching you try and handle it yourself.”

“I know,” he said sadly. “I know, baby. I am not doing much well right now.”

“No. And that’s all you needed to say to me. Let me be there for you. Let me be a part of this.”

“I don’t want to drag you into my bullshit – ”

“Bradley, if this were me going through this, you would do everything in your power to fix it. Please… let me try and do the same. The right way.”

Bradley had never felt so adored and loved by someone. He knew his mom loved him unconditionally, but it had been so long that he felt that someone could try and be that person for him again. “I will, love. I don’t wanna lose you, but I just can’t do this on my own.”

You were both silent for a moment before you released him and held his face in your soft palms. Your handsome, broken boy.

“And you’ll never have to,” you gingerly moved to your feet and he did the same, and you kissed him, forcing all the love and adoration you had for him into it. And you could feel him shake against you. “Oh, Bradley,” you said, pulling him to you tightly as he buried his face into your skin. You could feel his stinging tears but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. So, you let him cry. And you cried, but it just affirmed how much you loved him and how much you needed each other.

Kissing your hair, Bradley whispered he would see you at home tonight. You nodded, gently touching his waist, not wanting to show too much affection while his squad, superiors, and friends were gathering to say goodbye to Ice.

You watched Bradley every moment of the procession while holding Grandpa’s hand, protectively from your position. They were eerily similar, stoic in training, eyes forward, strong, emotionless. “I’ll go back to the Kazanskys’ with Grandpa, Grandma and Ma for a little while. Are you able to get away for a bit?” you hoped. He gave a small shake of the head.

“I can’t, sorry, love. I’ll see Mrs K when this is all over and pass along my condolences properly. I don’t think Mav got an exemption either. It’s all too close, with everything pushed up a week and I’ll probably be late.”

You tried to hide the way your shiver could easily be constructed as plain cold fear, but he didn’t admit it if he noticed. “Can you message me when you’re on your way home?” you asked quietly.

“Of course,” he said faintly.

“Be safe, baby,” you told him as he nodded and licked his lips, kissing your temple tenderly. “I have to go. I love you,” he said, whispering purposefully into your skin, not wanting anyone else to know or hear how much those words meant to him. It felt like there wasn’t a sentence that ‘I love you’ was punctuated at the end of the last 48 hours. It reassured you and the last few days had scared you both so dearly as you nodded gently. He stopped to shake Grandpa’s hand on the way past before following his squadron back to base.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” Grandpa asked, approaching you. He had been speaking with Maverick for a long while.

“Yeah,” you told him gently. You knew Grandpa wasn’t doing well; Ice had been one of his students and as he rose through the ranks, Grandpa had acted as a mentor as such for him. You needed to spend time with him today. He hated outliving his students. Your world was spinning, the men you loved were going through so much and you were trying, dear God how you were trying to be there for them, but you were struggling to keep your head above water too.

You reached for Grandpa’s hand as he gave a wry smile. It had been such a long time since you’d seen him in his dress blues, and the authority he demanded that day made you feel so proud that he still commanded as much respect today as he did all those years ago. As a child, this Navy shit was just a boring way to waste your time. It affected swimming, school, and regular kid shit until you got to your teens and Viper was close to retirement age, well, those years with the handsome officers in their suits… and now, with your own partner. And all the risks you’d taken for granted as a child for the families of officers that didn’t come home and the fear you felt for Bradley, his squad, for you.

You sighed, Jesus, your life was so ingrained in all this. And while you’d always known, it had never felt as precarious as it did at that moment. How quickly it could all end. And poor Ice was so sick… he’d made it as far through as far as it was written in the stars. You could only hope you and Bradley were afforded the same luxury.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[cosmossystem]

on the topic of "sysmeds* have gotten louder recently" i just want to ramble and give my optimist perspective on it really because i dont think its the full story. (*and if you have a problem with me using that term, stick around and youll see why i use it.)

for context i formed as a fictive alter in about mid to late 2016. we were going through a lot of rapid splits and shutdowns at this time. many of the people who split would get forcibly dormant just days later, including me, and im lucky that i got out of it because i know a lot of those alters back then didnt. normally i wouldnt call all of us alters, but this was a very trauma-heavy time and we were going through heavily fragmented periods with dissociation and amnesia. we couldnt accept that we were plural.

anyway, point is that we were in plural spaces around then, and i took over as the host in december of that year as i broke up with my shitty in-system persecutor boyfriend (thats a story for a different day.)

so its 2017 and im 12, turning 13 soon, both inner and outer. we are a rapidly growing system of 13, no 20, no 41-- and then soon its back down to about 30, where it will stay for the next 8 years. but in the mean time, me and my new partner, jam, are learning to pilot a flesh-mech on the fly and letting ourselves be cringy tweenagers. we take over the tumblr blogs (most of which are anti-cgl blogs, which is very ironic considering some of our members now do that) and we start journalling. more importantly, in late 2017 i make my own blog and i start chatting. im basically the only person fronting about 70% of the time and im a huge yapper so it starts to take off.

i post art. i wont say what specifically i do or what fandom its for but the gist is that i run a requests blog. (im sure, if you were in a very specific sect of fandom around then, you could probably guess who i am and what blog i ran, but i doubt that will happen here. if it does, keep it to yourself.)

and i get really popular. im talkin hundreds, at one point thousands of followers. i wake up every day to a dozen asks and i fulfill them and i talk about my day with the people in my askbox. i tell them about my disability, about my boyfriends (later, husbands), and i tell them about my plurality. sometimes i get into the weeds of discourse, but i try not to. mind you, im about 13 or 14 and im the staunchest pro-queer, pro-endo, pro-tucute tween you would have ever met. still not quite all there on the pro-kink or pro-ship fronts, but that didnt cause me any issues at that point, and i wouldnt figure it out for another two or so years. anyway, people are usually nice to me and i am nice, if not a bit impassioned, back.

most of the people i speak to on this blog are singlets. but being that this particular fandom is mostly made of younger people like me (at this point anyway) many of them are curious about plurality or plural themselves. funny enough, while i remember discussing a lot of my plurality and explaining what it meant, i dont recall a whole lot of people arguing over it. no one ever sent me anon hate saying that i didnt exist and that didosddsdosod was the only way to be plural. i DO recall getting dogpiled on numerous occasions because this was during the height of ace discourse, mogai drama, and right at the rise of the whole "bi-lesbians-dont-exist" thing, so most of my controversy covered those.

but on several occasions i explained to singlets what a system was, and what it meant that i was "married" to my headmates, and i met so many people who said they were also plural, and i even helped a few realize they were plural. i truly look at that with a sense of pride and joy because how many people get to say they helped someone realize an important aspect of themself/ves? how many people are out there living their life as single when theyre actually more than one? how many didnt know that word existed until a stranger happily explained it to them, before realizing that word applied to them? its one thing to be gay and know youre gay, its another to go your entire life without realizing that being gay is an option until one day it dawns on you and the next youre out and proud. being plural is like that. its world-altering. most dont realize its an option until theyre told.

its not necessarily that system spaces didnt have their problems. from singlets, there was more curiosity. system spaces were still very much divided, but for the most part sysmeds stuck to their corner and mostly only argued when argued with. that word, mind you, did not exist at the time, we just called em "anti endos". i dont remember when or how that term was coined, but theres a good reason we call them that now, and its because they would say the same shit to me that transmeds would. regardless, i dont doubt that there were probably issues of them going out of their way to harass people, but i cant recall any and it never happened to us, so make of that what you will.

in those times, i experienced more transphobia, homophobia, and aphobia than i did anything else. when i did see sysmeds, it was in their own little bubble. i think the broader world didnt care so much about plurality and didnt know that sysmedicalism was a thing that could happen until maybe a couple of years ago now, and back then, it was treated purely with curiosity and intrigue instead of hate.

but "system spaces" have always had an anti-endo side, and i know this because i was one.

i havent said as much up until now, but in those early days of journaling, it was maybe for a year or so that we were anti-endo. couldnt tell you what changed really, but i think it was just a growing exhaustion of hearing about how terrible and awful and cruel and disgusting those evil, evil endos were. a lot of sysmeds like to proclaim their 'one true real genuine method' of being plural is the only one, and since the start we were never going to fit into that mold-- we were and are fictive heavy, in-system relationships, able to change forms in headspace, no dissociative amnesia, very little memory loss and practically no multi-consciousness, the works. but it was there and it wasnt very pretty. i am grateful i didnt internalize too much of it, didnt spread it very much, and we got out when we did because it was toxic enough back then and its worse now.

i should say that i dont think necessarily there is a rise in sysmedicalism similar to, say, the trend of label policing (a la bi lesbians) or ace discourse at its peak. while that does happen with minority labels when theyre suddenly thrust into the spotlight of the week, plurality has not had that moment yet (thank god, knock on wood it never does) and so far the only way this has happened is with a few isolated incidents that i know of, maybe im wrong. but i think its moreso that the plural community has grown to crazy heights with the rise of more people discovering it and understanding themselves, and naturally there would be a proportional rise in sysmedicalism too. the only main difference maybe is now that we have bigger platforms like tiktok and twitter, and we have prominent plural resources like pluralkit and simply plural, and with the rise in political unrest-- all of those things contribute to this rise in sysmedicalism. they have more visibility and a loud voice despite being the minority, and so they get their fifteen seconds of fame.

i guess i get it. theyre angry. theyre upset that the world is injust. they think theyre allowed-- encouraged, even, or that its their right-- to come into a community that has been building itself for the past several decades on inclusion and resource-sharing and cause a commotion. they have a disorder, they have trauma, they DESERVE to be listened to and they dont want to see their very debilitating disorder being mocked like this, or whatever it is they say. unfortunately they are the terfs of this community, and i can say that because ive been dealing with those too for the past decade also.

what im trying to get across is this: plurals have existed forever. this community has existed for decades at this point, maybe centuries. with every progressive movement there will be a counter-movement, and this one is no exception, they just happen to be particularly loud right now. as we grow in numbers, so does our visibility, and so does theirs. the plural community is fine. it continue to be fine. there is nothing happening right now to us that hasnt already happened a billion times before, and there is no sysmedicalist piece of shit on this planet that can destroy us. theyve been trying for as long as weve existed and they never succeed. keep going, keep telling people about us, keep existing and keep doing your best. be louder than them.

red

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his girl - ch. 2

So, I have vague plans for this fic now but the first two chapters are just dabbles, trying to find a way to write a reader insert and to write Frankie Morales. I'll have to think of a good title for the fic as I get the story together, for now it's just a bunch of scribbled ideas in a notebook. I'll update and give more of a summery once it's taken shape in my head I guess? Until then, I hope you enjoy a second date with Frankie and some fluffy flirting with our sweet soft boy.

Edit: making this easier to navigate- Chapter 3

Waking up late the next morning you catch up on the gossip from last night in the bachelorette party chat thread. It’s filling up with groans and promises to never drink again as your friends wake up across the city. You’re feeling fine, you’d only had a couple of cocktails last night, and now you’re poking fun at your friends while Lizzy curses at you for letting her do too many tequila shots. 

Steve’s future wife: “Seriously, you should’ve stopped me, you were supposed to be my guardian last night!” 

“I stopped you from ordering Long Island Teas for the entire club at 1am, your head and your credit card should be very grateful, Lizzy!”

Steve’s future wife: “My head doesn’t feel very grateful right now…”

Your phone suddenly pings with a new message and as you tap out of the party chat you see Frankie’s name on your screen. You can’t help but feel a little jolt of excitement as you pull up his message.

“morning. i was wondering if youd maybe like to get some coffee today, seeing as i didnt get a chance to buy you a drink last night?”

Your mouth pulls up in an inadvertent smile as you see the text, you’d been hoping he’d get in touch soon.

“Morning, yes I’d like that, I definitely need coffee this morning! 

You hit send but instantly regret it, maybe that message sounded like you only wanted coffee and not that you were happy to see him again? You quickly type out a new message. 

“Sorry, I hit send too fast… I meant to say that I definitely need coffee. But I'd also like to get some with you.” 

The second you hit send you see the innuendo and bite your lip, fuck! 

…

Frankie can’t help but chuckle as he sees her message come through. He knows she means coffee but he sees her typing away as the three dots move on his screen and guesses she’s trying to back track from the “get some” innuendo. He waits while she types, still smiling to himself. He’d been nervous about asking her out for coffee so soon but he wanted to give her a chance to get to know him a bit before he asked her out for dinner, less pressure for both of them he figured. When her instant yes came back he’d felt heat flash through his body, he really wanted to see her again and she seemed to feel the same way. 

“Shit, ignore that last message completely, I mean, yes, I’d really like to get some coffee with you this morning, Frankie.”

Frankie chuckled again and typed his reply. 

“no pun intended then?”

“Shut up :)”

And then; 

“Where do you want to meet, and when? I’m free the whole day. My only plan was to recover from last night.” 

Frankie suggests a coffee shop in a part of the city close to downtown. The area is good for weekends and has lots of places to hang out under the trees that line the river that runs through the neighbourhood. She knows the place and agrees to meet there in an hour and Frankie gets in the shower to get ready. For all the flack Pope had given him last night about making him pay up the one hundred dollar bet he’d also seen that Frankie was really into this girl. He’d spent the ride home telling his friend to not worry, that he was a great guy and that this girl would like Francisco Morales if he only gave her a chance. 

“I know it’s a tired old line but just be yourself, Fish. You’re charming when you want to be and good looking, you know the girls always line up for you when we’re out, even with that damn cap shoved down your forehead. She’s into you so just relax and enjoy the company of a beautiful woman.” Pope had slapped his friend on the shoulder before getting out of the truck and now Frankie tries to force himself to feel some of Pope’s confidence as he scrubs himself down in the shower. “Just relax, he tells himself as his stomach flips at the thought of the way her lips had felt against his cheek last night. “You’ve got this, Frankie, you got her number, she replied, she wants to see you again, just take it from there.” 

…

The second you’ve confirmed to Frankie that you’ll meet in an hour you rush out of bed and into the shower. Butterflies are back in your stomach and you’re kinda surprised at the effect this guy is having on your nerves. It’s not like you to get so nervous about a guy you’ve barely spoken to, even if he was cute and broad as a barn door. Something about Frankie’s shy approach, the way his face seemed to soften when he smiled, made your heart melt a bit. But there was definitely something more confident lurking under the surface, you could tell from his teasing replies to your messages. It gave you the feeling that he was probably hiding a more assertive manner under his initial shyness and you couldn’t wait to make him comfortable enough to bring it out. You were looking forward to getting to know him better and so far it didn’t seem like you’d regret your snap decision to give him your number last night. 

The coffee shop Frankie suggested is right on the river and as you’re walking towards it Frankie texts saying that he’s got a table out back next to the water’s edge. You make your way through the building and see him sitting at a table looking snug in a dark green hoodie, the cap still firmly on his head. His unruly curls are poking out around his neck but it looks as if he’s made the effort to contain the ones around his ears, they are tucked in under the edge of the cap, still threatening to escape. He’s sitting relaxed, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed, looking out over the river where two crews are rowing past. As you get closer he seems to spot you from the corner of his eye and his gaze finds yours, his handsome face splitting into a warm smile as he gets up. 

“Hey, good to see you,” he says, stepping forward to drop a kiss on your cheek before stepping back, still smiling. Your butterflies make themselves known as his warm smell washes over you, that same warm cotton smell from the night before, mint from his toothpaste and something that has to be his body wash. His lips are soft as they brush against your skin, a sharp contrast to the light scratch of his beard. He seems to pause for a second against your cheek as his hand lands on your waist and when he pulls back you feel the cool tip of his nose on your skin. 

“Hi, good to see you too,” you smile as you try to squash the butterflies, letting him pull out the chair opposite his at the small table as you sit down. He gets back to his own seat and leans on his forearms on the table, making it shift slightly as it takes his weight. You bite the inside of your lip as you suddenly feel very shy at the way his eyes are focused on yours and he seems to notice the movement, his eyes dropping to your lips as you worry at them. 

“You’re gonna draw blood, hermosa,” he says with a soft voice and you feel his thumb smooth over your bottom lip, making you let go of it. His gesture is gentle and calming and as he drops his hand back to the table you find yourself wishing he’d continued, your face leaning into his hand. His crooked smile makes your own creep back as he captures your fingertips between his own on the table, gently tugging them towards him, as he leans closer, dropping his eyes to your lips again. Your breath catches in the back of your throat as you watch the pink tip of his tongue dart out over his bottom lip as he moves closer. 

“Morning, early birds! Let me guess, some coffee to start off with to wake you up, huh? And then let me take you through our specials today. Ya’ll are gonna love our seasonal pancakes!” 

You all but groan when the server’s chipper voice cuts through the moment you’re having, Frankie immediately pulls away from you and your fingers slips through his as he clenches his jaw before picking up the menu card on his side of the table. The server continues to rattle through the specials and you scan the menu in front of you. 

“Do you wanna start with coffee, maybe?” Frankie asks, ignoring the server’s chatter. 

“Yes, please, that sounds good. I don’t know what I wanna eat yet,” you say and flip the menu over to look at the huge drinks menu on the back. 

“Black coffee for me, thanks,” Frankie says to the server who has finally covered all the specials. “Know what you want, hermosa?” 

“A double shot cappuccino, thanks,” you reply, looking up at the server who takes your orders and walks away with a nod. 

“Rude,” Frankie smirks as he leans forward again, capturing your fingers in his, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His shyness from last night seems to have disappeared in light of your own and his eyes are warm and soft as he gently tugs you forward, his gaze flicking down to your lips and up to your eyes. You feel heat pooling in the pit of your stomach as he gets close enough for you to smell his toothpaste again, his lips pulling up in a small smile as he gently strokes his thumb over your bottom lip. 

The sharp signal of a phone suddenly cuts through the air and Frankie actually drops his head on to his hands and curses in Spanish under his breath before he leans back and pulls the offending item out of his back pocket. 

“I’m about to toss this damn thing in the river,” he grumbles, throwing you an apologetic look. But looking at the screen his eyebrows pull together in a deep frown. 

“I’m really sorry, I have to take this, it’s work but they usually don’t call on a Sunday.” 

Frankie gets up and steps away from the table. You watch him retreat, realising you don’t actually know what he does for a living. You go back to studying the menu and after a couple of minutes Frankie sits down again, a disappointed look on his face. 

“I’m really sorry, but I have to go,” he says, his hand shooting up to the back of his neck in that same gesture from last night, his face looking crestfallen and apologetic. “There’s an emergency at work that I have to deal with, the guy who’s on call this weekend is stuck in traffic behind some big pile up and can’t get to the airfield.” 

“Oh,” you say, disappointment washing over you, feeling your stomach drop, and it must’ve shown on your face because Frankie’s hand shoots forward and grabs yours. 

“Please don’t think I’m trying to get out of our date, I was really looking forward to hanging out with you but,” Frankie’s fingers are rubbing across the back of your hand, his eyebrows knitted together over his worried eyes, “it’s a medical transportation, some transplant organ that I have to pick up from Mount Hope and fly over to General, it can’t wait.”

“Wow, I didn’t even know you’re a pilot. You fly airplanes?” 

“Helicopters,” he replies proudly as he pulls you up from the chair, still holding on to your hand. “I did it in the army for years but since I left I’ve been working at a local airfield, doing different transportation assignments.” His large hand feels like it dwarfs your own with how easily it fits inside the warmth of his and you hold on to him as he walks you across the patio into the coffee shop. “Maybe we can get the coffee to go?” he suggests, “And some pastries too? They do really good little hand pie things here.” He smiles down at you and you feel a bit better about the sudden end to your date, at least it doesn’t seem like he’s running off just to get away from you. 

When you get to the counter Frankie asks for your coffee order to go and pays for a couple of hand pies while you pick them out, cherry for you and Frankie immediately goes for the same one when you point it out. While he’s waiting for the pies he suddenly looks over at you with a quizzical look. 

“What?” you ask, his face suddenly mischievous. 

“Are you afraid of heights, hermosa?” 

“No, but I’ve never been in a helicopter if that’s what you're asking?” 

“Do you wanna go up in one today?” Frankie grins, his eyes definitely looking like he’s about to get you into trouble.

“Can you do that? I mean, are you allowed to take someone up just like that?” 

“You’re my new co-pilot in training now,” he beams, delighted with his idea. “I’ve got to fly from the airfield to Mount Hope, pick up the box, fly over to General and then back to the airfield. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours if you’re up for it?” His smile is infectious and the excitement in his body is palpable as you feel his hand squeeze yours, you can’t refuse him. 

“Sure, I guess I’ll sign up to be your co-pilot, Frankie,” you laugh and he pulls you in under his arm, dropping a kiss on the top of your head as he grabs the bags with coffee and pastries. “You’ll love it, I promise.” 

Frankie guides you out of the coffee shop and shows you to his truck parked across the street, taking you round to the passenger side door and opening it for you like a gentleman. It makes you smile at him as he gives you a hand up the high step and he grins back at you, making your heart flutter at the sight of his eyes lighting up. In the short time you’ve spent with Frankie, his eyes have definitely become your favourite feature, the dark brown irises changing as his smile comes and goes on his face. When he smiles they seem to soften, his eyebrows coming together as the corners crinkle, when he’s nervous or awkward he drops his head and looks up at you from underneath the peak of his cap and his eyes mirror the worry in his head, now they’re really sparkling with mischief and glee as he all but bounces around the front of the truck before pulling himself up into the driver’s seat. 

“Your coffee, hermosa,” he passes the take away mug to you before placing his own in the cup holder. The truck has been sitting in the warm sun and Frankie pulls the hoodie over his head, tossing it in the back before starting up the truck. The white t-shirt underneath does nothing to hide the sheer width of his shoulders as he turns in his seat, hooking his arm round the back of the bench seat as he manoeuvres the truck out from the tight spot at the curb. You try not to stare at how his chest flexes as he twists half way around in the seat, his muscular arm resting right next to your head. You follow the line of it up underneath the sleeve of his t-shirt, it’s ridden up high on his deltoid and you can see the dark smudge of his armpit as he grunts, twisting around again. 

“Admiring the view, cariño?” Frankie chuckles as he catches your eyes on his chest and you feel heat rushing to your face, quickly slapping your hand over your eyes, stifling a giggle. Frankie laughs loudly and pulls your hand from your face, tugging you closer to him across the wide seat. 

“Come here, hermosa, you can look as much as you want,” his chest is rumbling as he laughs but he pulls your hand up to his mouth and presses his lips to the back of it before setting it down on his leg, moving his hand to the gear shift and pulling out into traffic. 

“So, never been in a helicopter?” he asks, glancing over at you. “Ever been up in a smaller plane?”

“No, nothing like that, only regular commercial flights. Is it very different?” You’re slightly nervous about the idea but Frankie’s excitement is infectious, this is clearly something he loves. 

“It’s very different from a commercial flight but I’ll make sure to go easy on you, no loops or flying upside down.” He moves his hand on top of yours as the traffic starts to flow smoothly, lying warm and solid over your own. 

“I’ve never seen a helicopter fly upside down, you can do that?” Your limited knowledge of helicopters makes Frankie break out in a big grin. 

“Only on special occasions,” he glances away from the road for a second and gives you a wink and you roll your eyes as you catch on. 

“Ha. Ha. Very funny, you’re a regular comedian,” you pull out your hand from under his and punch him lightly on his upper arm, but you can’t help but smile as he chuckles and pretends to duck his head to get away from you. 

“A few helicopters can fly upside down but not this one, unfortunately, I’d like to see your face when I do it,” he laughs again and takes your hand back, placing it on his thigh but holding on to it this time. “Really, don’t worry, hermosa, I’ll take us up and down and fly straight as an arrow, no fooling around.”

“At least not in the air.” It slips out before you know it and Frankie immediately snorts loudly and you feel laughter bubbling inside you as he breaks out in a wide grin, shooting you a mischievous look. 

“At least not in the air,” he agrees, looking at the road again but his eyes are wrinkling at the corners as he smiles. “I’m gonna have to keep an eye on you, make sure you’re not touching any of my buttons.” 

“Ok, that one was too obvious,” you giggle as he tries to contain the way he’s chuckling at his own joke. 

“Yeah, I know but I couldn’t help it,” he smiles, tugging at his cap and looking over at you as the truck comes to a stop at a red light. His brown eyes are warm and happy, the sunlight shines into the car from behind him and his unruly hair has escaped from under his cap and is curling around his ears again. You hesitate for a second but the urge is too strong, you reach up and graze across them with your fingertips, feeling the soft strands brush against your skin. Frankie inhales deeply and the smile slips from his face, replaced by something more urgent. He leans in and the rich aroma of the coffee he’s been drinking washes over you. 

“I really want to kiss you,” he mumbles close to your lips, “but not in my truck at a red light, so please, hermosa, do that again when I won’t crash any vehicles we might be in.” He stays close for a beat longer and drops his gaze to your lips before pulling back with a small groan just as the light changes to green. 

You feel like the atmosphere in the truck is about to reach a dangerous boiling point so you try to calm yourself down by sipping on your coffee and reaching for one of the pies, handing the other to Frankie. 

“I feel like I'm tempting fate by eating a cherry pie with one hand while wearing a white t-shirt.” he says as his first bite drips cherry juice down his fingers. “This is so good though,” he catches the trickle down his pinky with his tongue which makes you swallow and quickly look away. 

He’s right, the pie is very tasty and you both fall silent as you try to capture every flaky crumb that falls from the pie as you bite into it. The filling is sweet and tart and gone far too soon. 

“Fuck, I wish we’d bought three each,” you moan as you swallow down the last bite. Frankie is still juggling the last of his as he turns the truck on to a smaller road on the outskirts of the city, steering with one hand and keeping the pie away from his, miraculously still white, t-shirt. 

“Here, have the rest of mine,” he offers, holding out his hand to you. 

“You sure? You’re not one of those people who offer their food and then get offended when I eat half your fries?” 

“No, I’m smarter than that, I always order a large fries when I’m eating with a woman,” he grins. “Just take my pie, I’m gonna need both hands here anyway.” 

“I’m gonna test you on that,” you say as you gratefully take the last bit of pie from him, “this damn pie really is too good.”

“You wanna share my fries, hermosa?” Frankie smirks, the truck now rumbling down a long straight road, air hangars in the distance. “That must mean I’m getting a second date out of this?”

“That still depends on how this helicopter ride goes, you make me airsick I might change my mind.” You scrunch up your nose as the hangers come closer. “I’m actually kinda nervous, I don’t wanna fuck up your assignment by throwing up in your helicopter.”

“Do you usually get carsick or seasick?” Frankie asks. 

“No, not usually.” 

“Then you’ll be fine, that kind of sickness has got something to do with the balance system in your ear so if you don’t get seasick you’ll be fine in a chopper.” He reaches over with his clean hand and squeezes your thigh, giving you a warm smile, “Don’t worry, hermosa, I’ll take care of you.” 

Frankie pulls up next to the hangar and parks the truck, grabbing his hoodie from the back, quickly coming round to the passenger side as he tugs it over his head and gives you a hand down.

“This is the place,” he says and waves in the general direction of the open hangar doors. “I’ll just get the paperwork from my boss and then we’ll be off.” 

With a hand on the small of your back he guides you towards the hangar where you’re both greeted by an older man who introduces himself as Denny, Frankie’s boss, as Frankie explains that he’s taking you with him on the assignment.

“Sorry to commandeer your date, miss,” he says with a friendly smile as he hands Frankie the paperwork and a set of keys. “But I’m sure you’ll enjoy the trip, Frankie is one of my best pilots.” 

You look over at Frankie who’s looking pleased about the praise as he flips through the paperwork Denny handed him. 

“Thanks, boss, I’ll remember those words next time we talk about my pay raise,” he grins and closes the folder. “Come on, cariño, let me show you the chopper and get you strapped in.”

Frankie’s warm hand rests on the small of your back again as he takes you towards one of the helicopters parked outside the hangar. He’s rattling off facts about it and the technical specifications, you’re trying to keep up but most of it means nothing to you, and he soon breaks into a chuckle as he sees your confused face trying to comprehend what he’s talking about. 

“Don’t worry about it, sorry, I get a bit carried away, even the guys in the army would tell me to shut the fuck up when I got too technical.”

“It’s really cool that you fly helicopters for a living but I genuinely have no idea what any of that means,” you smile at him, “I’m just happy you’re happy to let me tag along today.”

“Of course I am! It was my idea after all, I’d feel too shitty about ditching you before I even got you a coffee.” You’re at the chopper and Frankie unlocks it, sliding open the door and helping you up into the passenger seat. He picks up the seat belt but pauses, looking at your torso. 

“You’re gonna be cold in just that t-shirt and jacket,” he says. You’re wearing the same jean jacket you had on last night with a fresh t-shirt underneath and as you watch he tugs his hoodie off again. “Put this on, I’ll run over and grab something from the locker room.” 

You take the hoodie from his outstretched hand, “Thanks, Frankie,” and he gives you a quick smile before turning and jogging back towards the hangar. 

You slip his dark green hoodie over your head after shedding the jacket and tossing it on to one of the seats in the back. The smell of him overwhelms you the second you pull it over your face, still warm from his body. It smells clean, like fresh detergent and something woody and spicy that might be his body wash. You stop for a second to inhale the scent that seems to be inherently his before pulling it all the way down. The hoodie is far too big for you and you have to roll up the sleeves just to have your fingertips showing. 

You’re wiggling into the seat belt, hooking your arms through on either side, when Frankie comes jogging back with black hoodie on. This one is decidedly more well worn, the fabric fraying at the edges around his arms where he’s pushed it up to his elbows. Down by his hip you can see the white of his t-shirt shining through a hole that looks like something burnt through the hoodie. 

“Comfy?” he asks as he steps up into the cockpit on your side, checking your seat belt and clipping you in securely. 

“Yeah, very. Thanks for lending it to me,” you smile up at him. He’s very close suddenly, as he bends down and pulls on the straps, you feel the tension locking your body into the seat. Frankie looks down at you as his hands still on your waist, you’re holding your breath, his eyes seem to be fixing you in place as much as the seat belt and you hear him slowly exhale, almost in a shudder. 

“Remember what I said about not crashing any vehicles?” he asks, his voice dropping into a low whisper, dark and rich. You nod slowly, the hoodie suddenly feels much too warm. “Please remind me about that when we come back here.” He stays locked on you for a few more breaths until he finally pulls away, caressing your waist as he lets his hands slip over you.

As he steps down and walks around the chopper to the pilot’s side you slowly exhale, trying to calm your racing pulse. That’s four times you’ve been close to kissing and the tension is building inside you to the point where you just want to grab his face and pull him down to your lips. Frankie’s presence is both comforting and rousing, his easy smiles make you feel happy and warm, but the tension that builds when he comes close is exhilarating and almost paralysing. 

Frankie swings into the pilot’s seat and straps himself in, starts going through the pre-flight checks and hands you a pair of headphones to put on. He slips a pair over his own ears and soon you hear his voice coming through them as the helicopter's engine roars to life. It’s loud, much louder than you expected, and you’re glad for the headphones protecting your ears. 

“You ready?” Frankie’s voice comes through the headphones with a slight distortion and you give him a nod and a thumbs up and he smiles back. His face shifts into a more serious look as he looks over the instrument panel and readies everything for flight before he pulls back on the stick in front of him and the helicopter slowly rises off the ground. You feel your stomach plummet as the tarmac drops away beneath you, the cockpit of the chopper seeming impossibly small. It makes you feel like you’re sitting on a tiny chair with nothing but sky around you as Frankie makes the helicopter climb higher. You focus on a spot on the floor between your feet to get your nerves under control and only throw quick glimpses out the window as the surrounding buildings fall away and are replaced by blue sky.  

“Hey, you ok?” Frankie’s voice comes through your headphones as his warm hand lands on your leg and you glance up at him. His eyebrows have knitted together and he’s got that sweet worried look again. 

“Yeah, I’m good, I think I just got a bit of vertigo as we took off,” you huff, drawing a deep, slightly shaky breath. 

“We won’t be climbing anymore, I’m just gonna keep us straight and steady to Mount Hope now. Just keep breathing, hermosa.” He rubs your leg a few times and smiles before he grabs the stick with both hands again. You watch him as he checks the instruments, hailing Mount Hope Hospital to let them know his ETA and then corrects the chopper’s course slightly with a small movement of his hand. He’s moving with an easy confidence that makes you relax, he looks so comfortable in the pilot’s seat, so sure in every move he makes, never hesitating as he checks the instruments and manoeuvres the helicopter. This is the most confident and assured you’ve seen him yet. You trust yourself to sit up a bit straighter and start looking around, carefully glancing outside and actually admiring the view. 

“Feeling better?” You look over at Frankie as his voice comes through your headphones again, he’s smiling as you nod and smile back. 

“Everything looks so different from up here, I can’t even pick out any landmarks,” you remark, looking out over the city again. 

“That’s city hall over there,” Frankie points at a large domed building in the distance. “And there’s General Hospital where we’ll drop off the cargo. And there’s the river,” he points at the long watery snake that glints like silver as the sun hits it from above. 

Frankie continues to point out landmarks to you as he pilots the chopper towards the first destination and pretty soon you feel comfortable enough to lean closer to the window and let your gaze drop down below the chopper. Your stomach clenches at first but then you get used to the view and start enjoying yourself and Frankie’s easy company. He seems so happy flying, so in his element, that it’s hard to not get affected by his good mood. The shyness from your first meeting last night is gone and when he looks over at you it’s with bright eyes and a big smile. 

“I love that I’m the first one to show you all this,” he grins as you get braver and turn in your seat to get a better view out the window. “Your very first helicopter ride, it’s a big deal.” 

“I see why you love it so much, it feels addicting, to be able to fly above everything like this.” 

“Yeah, I always knew I wanted to be a helicopter pilot, used to watch the traffic reports on the news, just to get to see how the pilots flew, even when I was just a kid.” He chuckles at the memory. 

“And then you did it in the army you said?” 

“Yeah, I joined up with the intent to train as a helicopter pilot, I was in Delta Force for years before I left the army.” You see his face change into something darker as he seems to fold in on himself a little. “It wasn’t exactly the experience I thought it would be, it…it was maybe…it left me a bit..I don’t know…” he falters and you see the light go out in his eyes as looks down on his hands for a brief second. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, you don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to,” you regret bringing it up as you see how it changes his mood, but Frankie shakes his head, giving you a small crooked smile. 

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just…I wanna tell you about it but not now, it’s maybe something for a date much further in the future, if you still wanna have me around then.” He says the last thing with a look over at you that melts your heart, that soft smile that transforms his face. 

“We’ll see,” you smile back at him, “if you stay true to your word about sharing your fries with me.” 

He chuckles and takes your hand, giving it a quick kiss, before grabbing the stick again.

The radio crackles through your headphones and you hear someone from Mount Hope hail the chopper and Frankie responds, starting to prepare for the descent down onto the landing pad outside the hospital. It takes a few minutes and your stomach flips a few times as Frankie steadily brings the helicopter down towards the ground. 

When you’re on the ground a hospital worker in scrubs and a jacket walks over to the helicopter holding onto what essentially looks like a big cooler with a red cross on it. Frankie quickly unbuckles himself and jumps out to slide the door to the back seat open. The middle aged woman with grey hair grabs his hand as she climbs into the back, giving you a quick nod, while Frankie checks that she’s safely strapped in and gives her a pair of headphones.

Soon you’re up in the air again, this ascent was much easier to handle, and Frankie turns the helicopter around and radios to General Hospital to let them know the ETA of the transport. With a stranger in the back of the chopper, the woman has the cooler on her lap the whole way, your conversation with Frankie is minimal. You keep looking out the window, trying to spot places you know, and at one point Frankie nudges your shoe with his boot and points down at a building ahead of the chopper. “The Outback Bar” is painted in large letters on the roof and he gives you a quick grin as you spot it and smile back at him. 

This trip is longer but time still passes fast and soon Frankie is bringing the helicopter down towards the bigger hospital. This time the landing pad is on the roof of a tall high rise and Frankie’s eyebrows are knitted together in concentration as he parries the side winds and slowly makes the descent. You watch him from the corner of your eye as he gently shifts the stick and works the pedals to correct the position. You can’t help but wonder how different this must be from his experience in the army. You try to imagine doing this while at the same time being under threat of enemy fire, but you can’t even picture it. 

When the helicopter touches down on the landing pad you barely feel it, just a slight sway. The lady in the back immediately unbuckles herself as Frankie gets out and slides open the door. You hear her yell a thank you to him over the roar of the rotor blades before walking with brisk pace towards the medical team waiting for her. Frankie swings himself back into the pilot’s seat and straps himself back in. 

“That’s it, mission accomplished, back to the airfield for us.” he says through the headphones and gives you a bright smile before pulling back on the stick and making you rise into the air again. 

“I feel bad,” Frankie suddenly says. “I just realised I never asked what you work with? I’ve just been going on about helicopters.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you laugh, “My job is nowhere near as exciting as helicopters, if I took you to my office you’d fall asleep in a corner before long,” you smile back at him.

“I doubt it, I’d be stealing snacks in the break room, isn’t that what office work is all about?” he smirks back at you. “What kind of business do you work in?”

 “I work in publishing, with academic books mainly.” 

“Really?” Frankie says, his eyes widening as he looks over at you. “That’s pretty damn impressive though, sounds like a job you need to be really smart to do.”

“I don’t know about smart, often it feels like I mainly baby sit grumpy professors who don’t understand why their thirty year old dissertations can’t be printed unedited as a text book,” you sigh, “my people skills are very often tested to the max.”

“But still, you’ve got a college degree right?” he asks, as you nod he continues, “I went from high school to the army and then on to this. I know nothing about anything except flying choppers.”

“That’s still pretty impressive to me though,” you smile at him. “If we had one of those Deep Impact situations, you know, where they have to select the important people to save to keep the human race going? Book editors would not make that cut but I’m pretty sure pilots would be needed.” 

Frankie chuckles, “I fucking loved that one, with Elijah Wood and Morgan Freeman, right? I liked that the meteor actually hit earth, and they showed the destruction and the panic, most movies build up to it but then disaster is avoided at the last second..” 

“Yeah, I really liked that too, in a messed up kinda way,” you say, ”and how they showed how that kind of event brought out the worst in the human race.”

 “What kind of movies are you into?” Frankie asks as he corrects the chopper and sets a course towards the airfield.

“Uuhm…most of them, I guess? I love any kind of historical drama, makes me feel like I have a time machine. And although I’m not crazy about superhero movies I love all Spider-Man movies, really looooove,” you emphasise the love, pulling out the o while Frankie chuckles. 

“I didn’t take you for a Spider-Man girl but that’s good to know.”

“What about you, what are your favourites?” you ask him. 

“I’m pretty predictable, I love action movies, and superhero movies,” he laughs, “and any good horror movie, especially at home with all the lights out, really scare the shit out of myself.” 

“Oh no, I can’t handle horror movies, Frankie!” you protest. “I get so scared I can’t sleep after them. I saw Gremlins when I was like nine and it scarred me for life, I haven’t watched anything scary since I think.” 

“You never watch horror movies?” Frankie asks, his eyebrows raised, looking shocked. 

“No, never really, I avoid them if I can.” 

“Not even classics like The Shining, Psycho, Halloween?” Frankie’s looking over at you, rattling off horror films you’ve heard of but would never dream of watching.

“No, nope, never ever, absolutely not,” you shake your head firmly, you know exactly where Frankie is going with this. 

“I think I need to plan a movie night for our second date,” Frankie chuckles. 

“That’s one sure fire way of not getting a second date, Frankie,” you warn, crossing your arms and pressing your lips together in a firm line, “absolutely not happening.” 

Frankie giggles and leans over, tugging at your arm, trying to uncross it, “Come on, hermosa, I’ll protect you, keep you safe from all the monsters, I’ll let you hide behind me when you get scared.” 

“Why would I even wanna get scared in the first place?” you protest, his giggles making you smile as he tugs your arm free and pulls it over towards his seat. 

“Because then you can hide yourself in my arms and I can feel like the brave guy protecting you from the imaginary monsters,” Frankie smiles and does that thing where he pulls your hand to his lips for a kiss while his warm brown eyes stay locked on you.

You smile back at him, his lips are warm and soft against your skin, and you wish you were back on the ground already. “I’m happy with you just being the brave helicopter guy who’s great at keeping me calm during flying.” 

“Yeah, really?” he smiles and you recognise the way his eyes shift to something more mischievous, “wanna try something scary up here?” 

“Uhu, what do you have in mind, Frankie?” you ask cautiously, “no crashing any vehicles please.” 

“Just hold on to your seat belt, like this,” he lets go of your hand and motions you to grab on to the straps just below your shoulders.

“Why, Frankie?” you ask nervously. 

“Just hold on,” he grins and you grab hold of the straps, watching him intently. He hails the airfield on the radio and tells Denny you’re almost back but that he’s going to try out something before landing. “We’re just gonna have some fun up here,” he says to his boss while grinning over at you. 

“Frankie….” you plead, but you can’t stop yourself from giggling too as the all clear comes through the radio from Denny. 

“Alright, here we go,” Frankie grins and you suddenly feel your whole world tipping sideways and you all but scream as the chopper suddenly tilts, Frankie pulling hard right on the stick. After a few seconds he straightens up again, only to bank hard left as you squeal, squeezing your eyes shut. Your stomach drops as you feel gravity pull you down, only the seatbelt keeping you in your seat. Next to you Frankie is chuckling happily as he pulls the chopper back up horizontal again. You press your head back hard against your set, trying to catch your breath. 

“You alright, hermosa?” Frankie’s voice comes through your headphones, you can hear his grin and you open your eyes and look over at him. “I fucking hate you, Francisco Morales,” you huff but you can’t hide your smile creeping up. The rush had been exhilarating and Frankie laughs at you. “Wanna do it again?” he asks and when you nod, he looks delighted, “knew you’d like it. Hang on then, cariño.” 

As Frankie puts the chopper through a number of skilled manoeuvres, the world around you tips and tilts until your head is spinning, adrenaline flowing through your system. It’s like being on the world’s best roller coaster and you can’t help giggling and squealing as you’re running out of breath. Until suddenly, out of nowhere, the air sickness hits and you feel nausea crash over you. 

“Frankie,” you cry out, “please stop, please stop.” 

Frankie immediately brings the chopper up to hover steadily and leans over, one hand on the stick, the other on your shoulder. You breathe in and out of your nose and try to control the panic in your chest. 

“Just breathe, hermosa, just look at the horizon and keep breathing.” He rubs his warm palm over your arm, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done so much, I’m so sorry, hermosa.” He keeps rubbing his palm up and down your arm and the warmth from his hand and his calm voice in your headphones brings your breathing under control and the nausea dissipates slowly. Eventually you can look away from the horizon and over at Frankie, he’s still leaning over as far as his seat belt will let him, his eyes worried and guilty looking under the cap. 

“Feeling better?” he asks, moving his hand up from your arm to gently cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over the soft skin. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to make you air sick, cariño.” 

“I’m feeling better now,” you give him a small smile, “I don’t know what happened. I was having fun and then it just hit me all of a sudden.” 

“I think I went a bit overboard on the banking, I should’ve been more careful with you, I’m really sorry.” Frankie’s pained expression tugs at your heart and you reach up and put your hand over his on your cheek. 

“It’s fine, Frankie, I really had fun, it was like being on the best roller coaster. I guess it just got a little bit too much suddenly.” 

Frankie looks a little bit less guilty and gives you one of those warm, soft smiles that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle, his thumb still caressing your cheek.

“I think I’ll get us down again now, get some solid ground under your feet, hermosa.” 

“Sounds like a good idea,” you smile back at him, thankful for his calm way of getting your freak out under control. He leans back into his seat, reluctantly letting go of your cheek, and starts the descent. 

As the helicopter smoothly descends towards the airfield tarmac you see Denny approach from the hangar. Shielding his eyes from the dust whipped up by the rotor blades he waits until Frankie safely puts the aircraft down and turns off the engine, the silence almost deafening after the constant roar in your years. Frankie gets himself out of the pilot’s seat before coming round the chopper to help you out, gently taking the headphones off your head and unclipping your seatbelt. 

“Easy there,” he says, taking your hand and helping you to find your footing. Your legs are surprisingly jelly-like after being in the chopper, a bit like stepping off a boat when the ground still moves under you. “Don’t want you falling over, hermosa,” Frankie tucks his arm around your waist as Denny comes over. 

“Thanks for handling that, Morales,” he says as Frankie hands over the paperwork and the keys to the chopper. “Head on out of here, I’ll finish up, go enjoy your date.” The last thing he says with a smile at you, still safely tucked in with Frankie’s arm around you. 

“Thanks, boss, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he gives Denny a nod and guides you back towards the truck. You’re fine on your feet now but Frankie’s arm feels good around you, so you let your hand slip around his waist and with a little tug Frankie pulls you closer, you catch his smile as you glance up at him. 

As you get back to the truck Frankie walks you over to the passenger side door but doesn’t open it. Instead he moves so that your back is against the side of the truck, with him standing close in front of you. You feel a shiver run through your body as you see the look in his eyes, his brown eyes almost black as he leans closer to you. 

“Remember what I told you to do again, back when we were at the stop light?” he asks, his voice dropping low and dark. 

“Yes,” you breath out, pulse racing so fast you can feel it in your throat. 

You lift your hand and caress your fingers through the unruly dark brown curls poking out around his ear. Frankie inhales and briefly closes his eyes before opening them again as you let your hand slip down his neck, caressing the soft skin behind his ear. You stroke your thumb over his jaw, fitting your thumb against the bare patch. 

Frankie steps in closer, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks, slotting them around your face. The pink tip of his tongue pokes out, wetting his bottom lip briefly. 

“Can I finally kiss you now?” he whispers as his eyes flick down to your lips before looking up at you again. 

“Yes, Frankie, please,” you whisper back at him. 

His lips are soft, warm, supple, as he gently presses them against yours, his thumbs caressing your cheeks and his scent fills your nose. You wrap your arms around his waist and pull him closer and he steps in eagerly, pushing you up against the warm metal of the truck. His tongue darts out and runs along your lips, making you open up and taste him willingly. He deepens the kiss, tilting his head to savour more of your mouth as you feel his tongue slide along your own. A small moan escapes you and in response Frankie slides a hand behind your head, tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer. 

You’re bunching up the sides of his black hoodie with how desperately you’re hanging on to him as he licks deeper into your mouth, the gentle kiss quickly turning into something a lot more eager. Frankie’s pressed up against you fully and as he shifts his stance you feel the ridgid thickness between his legs press up against your stomach. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you and heat pools at the apex of your thighs as Frankie moans into your mouth, shifting his weight again. With a groan he pulls away from your lips, both of you panting, out of breath. 

Frankie drops his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, you can feel his chest rise and fall against yours. 

“You drive me crazy, mi hermosa,” he whispers, “wanted to do that since I first saw you last night.” You smile up at him even though his eyes are still closed. 

“Probably would’ve let you do it last night too, Frankie,” 

“Should’ve asked Pope for a bigger bet,” he grins, opening his eyes and looking down at you. You smile and reach up for his lips, he meets you eagerly and you lose yourself in how soft he feels as lets his tongue slip into your mouth again. 

Chapter 3

[factorialsotherfandoms]

hi \o/!! for a little prompt maybe guizo and dara with “mindlink” or something like that? honestly thought anything with those two would be good!!

Hello!!! Vague SDOL spoilers below, but it's set pre-canon so it's just characters and a few of their abilities.

"This shouldn't hurt, but it's gonna look kinda weird," Guizo warns.

That's fine, Dara's seen this on Xande before. She nods, and offers her hand.

Guizo does not even hesitates as he slips a ring onto her finger - most men would, and part of her appreciates just how normal this seems to him - before blinking for a second. Black and gold lines begin to trail up from their touching rings, curving up their arms, their necks, and into the hair by their ears. On Guizo, she can see it trace a small pattern in the folds of his ear, before entering the canal itself.

And, sure enough, while see can see the trace… Dara doesn't feel a thing.

"/Hi Dara/!" Guizo's voice echos inside her skull, drawing her attention back to his face. "/So like I said, I can't hear everything. You need to think about thinking to me at the same time as thinking what you want me to think./"

"That's nonsense," she says the words with her mouth, laughing just a little.

Still, she thinks of Guizo, and tries to… conceptualise shunting a thought through the air towards him.

"/I'm in your braaain/."

"Just give it a try," Guizo uses his mouth words this time.

… So he didn't notice that.

Damn.

Dara knows it works - she's seen Xande and Guizo use it before - it's just… how do you think about thinking a thought to be thought by someone while also thinking the thought to be thought? It's all a bit of a pain.

"I did…"

"Hm," Guizo squints at her. "I didn't hear, so… maybe try again?"

"/Hello Guizo this is Dara/," she tries, and receives a blank look in return.

"/I guess you did try/?" Guizo thinks intl her brain.

"Yeah…" she frowns. "I just don't get it."

"/Chico struggles with it too/," Guizo thinks to her, as though that will cheer her up. "/But… oh I know. Maybe try something physical? Eye contact or touching me isn't really helpful when we wanna be able to split up, but like… sometimes I press the ritual tattoo if I'm struggling to focus. It makes it easier to concentrate on concentrating but not concentrating too hard./"

Hmm. What can Dara do… this is a place for feeling silly, if she can get the hang of it with something silly, she can work on just doing it with time.

She's not an occultist like Guizo, the tattoos are not real for her, just an indication that the spell is active. She does not have nearly the same connection, she doesn't have the same learnt grasp of magic and tattoos as Guizo, it doesn't hold enough importance to her to focus her mind. It would not work for her, not so new to the occult as she is. Maybe someday, but not now.

In the future, perhaps, but for now…

There was this one show she saw, where the pilots of the spaceships had comms in their ears. And to activate the comms, they had to press them.

Maybe that could work? It's more magic than science, but those are basically the same, right?

Now if she worked on a spaceship, which ear would she put her earpiece in… usually it's shown as right, but she's right handed - surely if she wanted to comm someone in a fight, she'd want to use her left hand, then? Her gun wants both hands, but her gun is not the only weapon they use.

And, she hears better on the right anyway. She wouldn't want to get jumped because she was chatting on her comm.

Left, then.

She can adjust the technique with time - she really needs to be able to do it hands free, so she can call for help while fighting or providing medical aid - but for now.

For now think of it like a tiny sci-fi earpiece in her left ear, and if she presses it she can talk to Guizo.

… feeling incredibly silly, she brings up her hand, and presses two fingers to her ear.

"/Hello? Hello? This is Dara. Guizo, do you copy? Over?/"

Guizo's face breaks into a grin. "/Reading you loud and clear, Miss Dara! This is Guizo, confirming operation 'beat Chico next trivia night' step one complete! Over!"

Dara grins back; this is all a bit silly, but she has seen how useful it can be. Next time the radios break they'll be ready and, until then, she has a crown to regain.

[raindrop-21]

Sunrises

Word count: 875 ish

Cw: phantom angst, mainly dew x phantom

@thatfuckinjester

Even though it was required to have two quintessence ghouls at the ministry at all times, Aether and Omega were both out helping at another ministry, and no other quint ghoul could be found. The reason for that is every now and then quint ghouls fade into stardust, and the help of another quint ghoul is needed to make sure the fading quint ghoul doesn't permanently disappear. Phantom, being the new ghoul that he is, doesn't know that this happens. It doesn't help that he hasn't been told that it will happen to him.

None of the other ghouls didn't think it'd happen just a few months after the tour ended, mainly because it took two to three years for Aether and Omega to fade away for the first time. Phantom got scared when he was walking through the ministry's hallways to go to the observatory in the loft of the library and his phone fell through his hand. He was even more scared when his hand started phasing through the floor when he tried to pick it up. He used his non-fading hand to pick up his phone and ran to the library, thinking he was just hallucinating from a lack of sleep or lack of connecting with the stars. Ue quickly made his way to the observatory.

He laid on the ground of the observatory and looked at the stars, letting his thoughts connect to them. An hour and a half later he disconnected his thoughts from the stars, sat up, and when he looked at his legs, they had turned into a shiny silver-gray dust. He was terrified. He picked up his phone and went to a group chat he barely ever texted in - the pack's group chat. He texted a small, but urgent text:

> “Help. Turning to dust. In observatory.”

It's thirty minutes later when someone finally comes to him - Dewdrop. He can hear Dewdrop groan as he climbs the ladder to get to the observatory. Dew turned on the light of the observatory and looked until he spotted the little quint. Most of the ghouls thought he was joking; it wasn't soon enough for him to fade away for the first time.

At least they thought.

With a worried gasp, Dew ran over and sat next to Phantom.

“Little Star? When'd this start?” He Worriedly asked.

“I dunno. My hand was kinda see-through earlier, but I thought it was because I hadn't connected with the stars in a while.”

Shit. Why hadn't they told him about this? Even more so because connecting with the stars whilst fading speeds up the process. Dew holds Phantom's hand and texts the group chat.

> “He wasn't lying. He's fading, fast. I need Swiss and Rora here quickly, Sunny if you can find her.”

Right after he sends that text Phantom's hand fades through his and back down to the ground.

“Phantom, I need you to stay awake as long as you can, okay? You're fine. This is normal for quint ghouls when they come top-side.”

“Does that mean I'm going back to the pit? Or am I joining the stars?” The little quint asks with his round starry eyes.

“I dunno, but I don't want to find out.”

While they wait for Swiss and Rora (possibly Sunny) to come, Dew quietly sings Ride by Twenty One Pilots for Phantom, a song they both enjoyed. Dewdrop watched as Phantom's body slowly turned to stardust. All three multi ghouls arrived when only Phantom's torso and head were left. All three quickly sat around the smaller ghoul, Sunny immediately started trying to keep his soul grounded to the Earth instead of letting it flow away with the small bit of quintessence she possessed while Swiss quickly gave Aurora a run-down on how to help keep his soul on the Earth.

While the multi's did that Dew spoke to Phantom to keep him calm. Well, it more to keep himself calm, he loved the little quint even though he didn't show it much.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it kind of feels like I'm asleep? Like I'm here but I can't feel what's happening.”

“Oh okay.” Dew sighs.

Around fifteen minutes later, when just Phantom's head is left, not knowing if they'll be able to ground his soul, Dew softly kisses Phantom, possibly for the last time. Phantom giggles when he's kissed by Dew, like the many times he did when they shared small kisses.

“I love you, Dew.”

“Love you too, Little star.”

And then he was gone. His whole body turned to dust. Sunny, Swiss, and Rora are all trying their hardest to hold onto his soul, but it doesn't work. When Rora stops grasping at the invisible strings of his soul, she grabs at the stardust he left behind and sobs, loud and heartbreakingly.

Dew not one for tears, cries. Hard. Sunny texts the group chat a small simple thing:

> “He's gone.”

In the next few minutes everyone's there, Copia included. They're all there mourning the loss of their packmate, bestfriend, lover, and for Aurora, life mate. They're there until sunrise, and from the observatory, the sunrise looks stunning.

“You know, I heard somewhere that the most beautiful sunrises are made by the souls of those who've left us.” Aurora quietly says to the group.

Who knew the last they'd see of Phantom was his stardust?

[cetaitlaverite]

Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

link to the masterlist is here

02. You Were Going to Fall

Days passed and Freddie managed successfully to keep out of Rosie’s way. Really, it wasn’t a problem at all trying to avoid him. Instead, the problem was in trying to avoid talking about him with Millie.

“Fred,” Millie would venture whenever Freddie was distracted with something else. Often, this happened to be when they were all preparing to send a set of crews out on a mission. 

“Yes?” Freddie would answer, fiddling with the frequency of the radio to get it as clear as she could. 

Satisfied that she’d caught Freddie sufficiently unawares, Millie would pretend nonchalance and ask, “Why didn’t you stay to chat with Rosie the other night?”

Mercifully, Millie hadn’t tried to mention it yet today. The crews had all gone out, Rosie’s among them, and Freddie had been certain that when Millie overheard her and realised she was talking to Rosie over the radio that she’d say something. But she hadn’t. Warily, Freddie had started to let her shoulders drop from their requisite position by her ears. 

Rookie mistake. Millie always knew how to lure her into a false sense of security only to catch her off her guard.

“Fred, what do you think of Rosie?” Millie wondered, and Freddie groaned from her position staring at the ceiling while spinning in circles on her chair. 

Sitting up straight, Freddie pushed some sweaty hair off of her forehead - the humidity was killer today - and smoothed over the disarray of her curls. She eyed Millie with both suspicion and curiosity while tugging the sleeves of her blouse back up her arms, hoping some sort of breeze might swoop in at some point and offer a reprieve from the heat to every bit of skin she put on show. If it didn’t cool down soon, she thought she’d have to start undoing buttons, a last resort since her jacket and the jackets of everyone else had long since come off. 

“Why do you want to know?” Freddie asked eventually.

Millie shrugged and made a show of hemming and hawing. “Oh, you know…”

Freddie rolled her eyes. “Just ask him, Mils.”

At this, Millie dropped her act and raised her eyebrows. “What?”

Freddie let out a breathy laugh. “Mils,” she began, with all the patience of a mother doing her best to reassure her child that the dentist really wasn’t that scary, “you’re gorgeous. This isn’t news to you. You’ve already got half the pilots and their crews chasing your skirt. More to the point, you’re smart, you’re kind, you’re funny, and you’re loyal. You’re quite literally any man’s dream. So once he lands and we’re off the clock, go find Rosie and ask him if he’ll save you a dance, or ask him if he’ll take you out some time - or, if you’re that worried about it, ask him if he’ll buy you a drink. I can assure you the only answer to come out of his mouth will be ‘yes’.”

Millie didn’t speak for a few moments. Her eyes were fixed steadfast on Freddie, her eyebrows furrowed, her hands still in her lap.

Freddie stared back at her for a moment, waiting for a response, before she decided she wasn’t going to get one. She offered Millie an encouraging smile and leaned back in her chair again, tilting her head back until she was gazing at the ceiling and then using her feet to twirl herself around and around and around.

The ceiling above Freddie was painted a faded white and dented. And, somehow, dirty. It looked as though it was tea stained, though it couldn’t have been, because how would tea have gotten on the ceiling? The dark marks and tea staining blurred together as Freddie spun herself faster and faster in her chair, seeing how fast she could go, until a hand slammed down harshly on the backrest and jammed her to an abrupt halt. Only then did Freddie notice that two of the four prongs holding the chair to the ground had come off of it.

“You were going to fall,” Millie explained, firmly tipping the chair back down before retaking her seat across from Freddie.

“Yes,” Freddie acknowledged. Though she wasn’t sure why Millie wasn’t laughing about it. Paddy and Amy, from the other end of the room, certainly were - calling over teasing insults about clumsiness and needing to rest.

Millie ignored them. She stared back at Freddie steadily for a moment, and then she started, strangely and inexplicably, to smile. “You think I fancy Rosie,” she said.

Now it was Freddie’s eyebrows which furrowed. “You do fancy Rosie,” she replied.

Millie laughed a little bit. “Well, I won’t argue that he’s handsome. But I’m not interested in him for me, Fred, I’m interested in him for you.”

Freddie frowned. She didn’t know what to say. Instead, she turned her eyes out of the window and watched the grass swaying in the gentle breeze which was the only reprieve from the stifling heat. How desperately she longed to be outside right now. Lying in the itchy grass, the sun warm and calming on her skin, bright even behind closed eyelids, while the breeze cooled the sweat on the rest of her. She’d fold her jacket up behind her head and take her shoes off, scrunch up the grass between her toes, and lie there until evening came and it was time for dinner.

“Fred,” Millie prompted when she hadn’t replied.

“Yes?”

“What do you think of Rosie?” she pressed, repeating the question which had started this whole conversation. Indeed, which had started this enduring conversation which had spanned the entirety of the four days since the night Freddie had first become aware of Rosie’s existence.

Freddie chewed contemplatively on her bottom lip, still gazing out of the window. She tracked fluffy white clouds across the blue expanse of the sky while she whittled away at the stubborn block of her thoughts, chipping at what she knew were half-hearted lies until she reached the truth waiting beneath the surface. 

It took a lot for Freddie not to lie just then. But she didn’t want to lie to Millie, not really. Millie, after all, had never lied to her.

“I think,” Freddie began, mustering her courage, “that Rosie is lovely. I just also think that he’s not Daniel.”

Millie didn’t say anything for a moment. But she rolled her chair across the floor until she was sitting at Freddie’s desk with her and rested her head on Freddie’s shoulder. “Does he have to be?” she wondered quietly.

“No,” Freddie conceded, resting her own head on Millie’s. “No one will ever be Daniel again, not even Daniel. But I am not a single woman -”

“Yes, you are, Freddie,” Millie cut her off. Her voice was firm but not harsh, the voice of a friend who wanted nothing but the best for her. “It’s rotten, what happened to Daniel. Really, really rotten. But you still have a life to live.”

Freddie stared resolutely at the grass, at the peace outside of the window. She willed her voice not to wobble when she spoke. “I had my chance at love -”

“You’re twenty-three years old!” Millie exclaimed. She realised a beat too late how loud she’d projected her voice and made a desperate attempt to divert everyone’s attention back to their own conversations. Once assured they weren’t being eavesdropped, Mille went on, quieter, “You’re a young woman with your life all ahead of you, Freddie. You have love left in you, I know you do - I see it every time you take one of the new girls under your wing, every time you stick up for me or Jem when one of the lads is getting too forward again. And I saw it in your eyes when you were with Rosie.”

“Rosie is a good man,” Freddie said softly. She turned her face and pressed a kiss to the top of Millie’s head, in spite of the sweat sparkling on the gold of her curls. “You deserve a man like that, who’ll look at you like you make the sun shine and hang on to every word you say, even when they’re dreadfully boring.”

“Rosie was looking at you like that,” Millie pointed out. 

“Daniel used to look at me like that,” Freddie countered.

“I’m sure he did,” Millie reassured her. “I’m sure he thought you were the most wonderful person who ever set foot on the earth, because he would have been stupid not to think so. But I’m also sure that there are other people out there who could use a heart like yours to give their love to. You have so much of it to give, Fred. You care about people so deeply. But don’t let the people you cared about and lost stop you from finding new people to adore.”

Freddie let out a choked little laugh. “I’ve spoken to Rosie once.”

“It doesn’t have to be Rosie,” Millie reasoned with a quiet laugh of her own. “You just have to be open to it. If someone asks you to dance and you think he’s handsome - and, of course, if you think he deserves it - then say yes. Just try it. One dance doesn’t mean you’re getting married.”

“I haven’t danced with a man since Daniel.”

“Maybe you should,” Millie told her gently. “This war has been so long already. How much longer will it be - how much longer will the rest of your life be - without dancing?”

Freddie contemplated these words for much of the following hours. She contemplated them when the first signs of life started to pick up on the radio and she was in contact first with the radio operators and then the pilots of the various crews. She contemplated them once everyone was safely landed and the other girls were discussing going to the officers’ club to celebrate, and continued to contemplate them as she let Jem do her hair while she focused on her makeup.

The officers’ club was quiet when they got there. Only the American Red Cross girls were here so far. The men, probably, had only recently gotten out of interrogation and were resting before forcing themselves into dress uniforms just so they could have a drink.

There would be no band playing tonight - not on a Thursday, and not right after a mission. Considering the band was composed of the crews, it would be cruel to force them into it. So, while it was quiet and the gramophone volume wasn’t dialled all the way up for dancers, Freddie excused herself and crossed the room to take her place at the piano.

It wasn’t all that often that she played these days. She hadn’t learnt anything new since leaving home. But, once, she’d loved to play the piano more than she’d loved to dance, which was saying something, because once upon a time she’d really loved to dance. Now, it was a rare occasion, when she was feeling brave or feeling distracted and needed something to channel her energy into, that she even let herself get close. 

But tonight - tonight Freddie wasn’t sure whether it was brave or distracted she was feeling. Perhaps a mixture of both. Millie’s pleas from earlier were still poking around in the depths of her mind, irritating her with their insistence, but the night was breezy, the stars were bright, and Millie had been right to remind her that she was young. She would never be this young again. She had a whole life ahead of her, one that she’d hardly been living for two and a half years, and what would Daniel have given to have had all that time to waste?

Well, he wouldn’t have wasted it, this much she knew to be true. If nothing else, her Daniel lived life like he was daring someone to take it from him. It was just a shame that someone had. More than a shame. A tragedy. The earth had lost one of its brightest sparks when it had lost Daniel Brookings, but the stars had gained one of theirs.

The music flowed freely from beneath Freddie’s fingertips. The song she’d chosen without really thinking about it - Ave Verum Corpus by Mozart and Liszt - was one of the first she’d properly been able to play as a child when she’d still been learning. She’d liked it back then because it felt bright and twinkly, like snowflakes and fairies and princesses being twirled around grand ballrooms. Now, it felt lonely; isolated notes plucked one after another reminded her more of a biting cold than a pretty one, the startling realisation that the magic of childhood was over, a cavernous, empty room that should have been filled with couples dancing but instead was filled with silence.

When she finished she released her breath. At some point she’d sucked it in and held it there. Her fingers hovered over the keys for one beat, two, and then a voice from over by the bar called, “Again!” 

Freddie’s eyes shot up and she laughed when she found Benny grinning at her, the source of the heckling.

“Something a little happier this time, though, Fred, alright?” added Bucky with a conspiratorial wink in her direction. 

Freddie inclined her head at him in acceptance of this request and started to play something lighter, faster, more optimistic. Her fingers had to work hard - it had been a while since she’d given them such a workout - but the pleased cheer she was rewarded with made it worth it. 

From across the room, Rosie sat, mesmerised, as Freddie played her song. Her eyebrows were furrowed ever so slightly in concentration, her eyes shut as she let her hands tell her where the music needed to go, and there was a light flush high in her cheeks which his eyes kept getting stuck on. There was something about her in that moment, he thought, which was pure magic. She’d been lovely the night he’d first met her, when she’d been flushing at all the attention and frowning at her friends just as much as she’d been smiling at them, with those dimples in her cheeks and the warmth in her eyes. But now she was breathtaking, so lost in her beautiful music she couldn’t find the time to filter her facial expressions before she let them show.

“You should talk to her,” said someone seated behind him. Rosie only had to turn halfway to meet Millie’s eyes, since he’d been sitting sideways in his chair, faced away from his table and the crew seated at it so Freddie would be in his direct line of sight over at the piano.

“She, uh, didn’t seem all that willing to talk to me the other night,” Rosie confessed to Millie, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Millie nodded, smiling softly. “She’ll tell you why someday, I think. But tonight, don’t ask her about that. Ask her to dance.”

Rosie considered this for a moment, along with the advice Millie had given him those few nights ago when he’d first laid his eyes on Freddie. “You just need to be patient with our Fred.” He may have had his flaws, but impatience wasn’t one of them. And watching Freddie now, with her eyes closed and her lips pursed, presumably humming along to the tune she was playing, he thought if anyone was worth waiting for it must have been her. 

Turning to Millie, Rosie opened his mouth to tell her that he was going to go and ask but was cut off by Millie in her enthusiasm. “Ask her!” she insisted, tugging on his sleeve. 

“Alright!” Rosie replied, mimicking her tone and grinning. He tugged his sleeve out of her grip pointedly before finishing his beer in one big gulp - liquid courage - and rising to his feet. “Gentlemen,” he said to his crew, inclining his head at them.

Pappy smiled around a sip of his beer and raised his hand in a salute.

Rosie laughed and rolled his eyes before starting across the empty dance floor towards Freddie.