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ridingthatd · 1 year ago

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◕◔ RYOMEN TWINS I

◔◕ itadorixfem!reader, sukunaxfem!reader, nsfw, heavy smut, twins breeding you, possessive, kinky asf part 1

the ryomen twins were known around the whole kingdom- more like they were feared by the whole kingdom, they hold a power no one could compare to, no one as much as dares to make eye contact with them- fearing for their life, they could destroy an entire nation just by lifting a finger- and nobody want to experience the agony of disobeying or displeasing them in anyway.

even though the twins look identically alike- they're the complete opposite of each other, after working for such a long time for them- the longest anyone worked under them without "suddenly" dying or got brutally killed. you learned to tell the difference between them.

sukuna ryomen. such a heartless man, who you can barely get a reaction out of- at first you always thought how can someone be so psychotic, how can someone hold so much evil in them, but you learned to accept it by time, you learned to live with seeing him take a bath- soaking in a solution of cursed energy formed from crushing and straining venemous creatures.

sukuna ryomen. was rough with the way he treated you, rough in a way he wouldn't care to ask about your opinion or care to open his mouth and tell you what he pleased- he would simply harshly pick you up by his lower four arms, make you sit uncomfortably with him in the disgusting of a bath- watching your every move as you gently scrub on his rough skin, and what always seem to leave you fascinated was the vibration that always leaves from his chest everytime you scrub him- purring like a huge beast. resting his huge face on the swollen of your breast as he breaths you in.

itadori yuji. he was the complete opposite of his brother, he held such a nice energy around him, he was never harsh nor aggressive in anyway towards you, he had such a gentle soul- that's at least how you felt, he would treat you like a delicate flower with so much gentility, you loved having silly little conversations with him, you loved the small walks he would walk with you- even as much as help you with laundry that he knew nothing about.

itadori yuji. he would always yell at his brother as soon as he takes a look at the finger marks he left behind from picking you up here and then, like a ragdoll- you could be doing dishes, sukuna make his way toward hold you 7 feets up the ground sniff you then place you down with a thud. itadori seems to hate it as he frowns at the marks rubbing them gently, he even goes as far as placing a kiss on them letting his lips linger there while his pink warm tongue peak out licking wetly- he makes an unbearable eye contact with you.

your heart pounds in your chest, as you hear yelling coming from itadoris office- you never ever heard itadori yelling the way he's yelling right now and it made you feel so uneasy, it made you wanna run and hide far away. you flinch once you hear the door open and loud footsteps echos in the hallway- the hallway you were in, mopping the floor.

from the shadow that's coming your way- you can tell it was sukuna with his two extra arms that his brother didn't have- or as they say he didn't wanna show. you tightly shut your eyes, holding the wooden mop praying to goddess that he would just to go his room.

but even the goddess couldn't save you from sukunas shadow that now tour over you- you can feel his warm breath on your neck as he leans in, sniffing you as always- but this time he didn't hold you nor pick you up.

you flinch again as you hear itadoris office door slam open and fast heavy foot steps comes directly your way. it was itadori- you couldn't recognize him, he look furious like a beast who was set out of the cage for the first time. glaring at sukuna.

" I fucking told you to stay away from her." he growls out, fuming at the mouth, sukuna rolls his eyes as he steps away from you and continue his way toward his bedroom yelling out a-

"I didn't touch her brother, have it however you want" that makes itadoris eyes snap to you- grabbing your arms harshly for the first time- scanning you for any marks that his brother could have left behind.

it looks like he wasn't satisfied as he picks you, holding you to tightly- to close to your liking you can feel his hard chest pressed harshly against your soft boobs- hard nipples, as he makes his way toward his bedroom closing the door loudly behind him.

he throws you on his bed, making you gasp- as you bounce, not letting you have enough time to process what's happening as he continues his scan- roughly holding your hips, pressing hard against the bed, not letting you move.

you were confused why, when was he this harsh, his soft touch were long forgotten as he hold you so painfully that you couldn't help but choke out a-

"it hurts" that seems to snap him out of it, as his eyes look at you gently and his touch loosen up a bit- looking at you worriedly but whatever his next thought was, it made his eyes darken again, his grip harden, fingers squeezing your hips, earning a pained groan from you.

"why? don't you like that" he whispers harshly against your ear as he leans in, you frown confused on what does he mean by that, you feel his warm breath against your sensitive neck, making you move your hips, trying to escape whatever is going on.

itadori trail his nose slowly down your ear taking deep breaths in, feeling his lips brush against your neck as he do, your heart is pounding as he settle one of his thick legs between your thigh, while the other is outside- caging you in.

"I don't think I quite understand what you mean, my lord." you gasp out, feeling him place his lips on the sensitive part of your neck, while his nose rub gently making it ticklish. itadori lean back to look you in the eyes- his eyes were dark, pupils expanded, staring at you hazely, as if he got drunk on your scent that he was sniffing in.

his eyes trails to your lips, your heart thumps-thumps as he leans in brushing his nose against yours still maintaining eye contact- his mouth half-open just like yours.

"I will show you" he growls out before he fully leans in and take your lips between his teeth- tugging them into his mouth, to meet his warm tongue that peak out to cares your lips, wetting them with his spit- before he fully take your lower lip in, and start sucking on it, making a hot loud wet sound,

this doesn't seem to be enough for him as he leans more in, pushing his knee into your sensitive cunt, making you moan into his mouth which only seems to drive him even more crazy, pushing his knee deeper just like his tongue that makes its way in your mouth just to meet yours.

circling wetly around it, it made you feel so light headed, the way he sucked your tongue into his mouth lapping on it likes he's a new born baby, you whimper into his mouth not realizing that you starting to arch your already dripping cunt into his knee.

"wanna breed you" itadori rasps out, as he break his tongue away from yours staring at the wet string that still connect your mouth together, he grinds his knee into your aching cunt, breathing hard against your lips.

"wanna fuck you" you whimper, your fingers tugging on his hair, letting your tongue out- in intention to tell him that you want his tongue inside your mouth again.

this move of yours drived him crazy, making him groan as he harshly gives you his tongue again swirling it around yours, while he line his throbbing cock against your leaking cunt, grabbing the hem of your dress and pulling it up- grinding against your panties only.

yours lips disconnect again with a wet pop sound, as yuji trail his rough large hands under your dress making their way toward your aching nipples- twisting them against his fingers.

"wanna be inside of you now" he moans out more like to himself- his hips thrusting crazily against yours, it was to much force- to inhuman, it made you bounce hard against the bed, you couldn't do anything but grab on his hair for support- which only seemed to make yuji go even more psychotic.

"fuck, want to feel your wet cunt on my face" he growls out, flipping you so fast- that he was laying down as you straddle his face, your panties was ripped into half by itadoris teeth- like it offended him for hiding your cunt from him.

he slapped your ass so hard- you were sure it was going to leave a purple mark, you cry out, "fuck sorry won't do it again" he coo at you rubbing the spot- but he lied, he does it again and again and again, your pussy was so wet, dripping, drenched as you ride your lords face, you can slide on his face from how wet it was with your juice.

slap, slap, slap, your ass was covered with purple hand marks "more-" he laps on your 5th orgasm, "I want fucking more of this sweet little cunt" he growls out eating your cunt up eagerly, your body was limp on top of his face, your full body weight was set on his face- but he only seemed to enjoy it.

"please no more i can't-" he slurps on your clit holding your thighs hard against his face, you choke on your sobs, "I can't please- please".

he gently stroke your ass, as he mutters out "one more", and you give him exactly what he asked for, squirting all over your lords face- it was to much pleasure, you were trying to move your hips away, but he held your thighs locked into his face not freeing you till he licked every single last drop.

you thought it was over as he place you down on the bed- but you judged to quick as you take a look at his ragging cock that was covered with his own cum, seeds leaking out cumming just from eating your delicious cunt out.

your cunt clench once itadori reveals his huge cock, wanting to be filled by it, "please please" you pathetically spread your thighs, showing him your puffy red pussy from being sucked by him.

"you want me to fuck you? you want to be fucked by your lord?" he darkly questions out as he lines his cock, pushing fully in before you got time to answer.

dark, all you can see is dark, pleasure, all you can feel is pleasure, as you open your eyes gasping for air, to see itadori thrusting his hips inside of you, so fast- so hard, chanting to himself.

"fuck you're so tight, so tight" he moans out drool drips from his mouth to yours, it was to hot, to hot, "I'm going to fill with my cum, you want it? you want it?" he crazily questions as he lock his hips with yours, hovering over you, grabbing your chin just to shove his tongue deep inside your mouth, fucking it just like he's fucking your pussy.

"fuck fuck gonna fill you fuuuuuck" he growls as you feel hot cum hit your womb, you twitch underneath him, it was all to much for you- for you little human body.

itadori didn't pull out his cock was spilling since forever, still spilling even as it leaks out into his bed sheets- you whimper, as you feel him rock his hips, fucking his cum into you.

he coo at you, kissing your sweaty forehead before he pulls out, and spread your thighs just to grin crazily as he looks at the way your red puffy pussy was dripping with his cum.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ to be continued?₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ

: ̗̀➛ part 2 is 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

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gloomwitchwrites · 29 days ago

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i’ve only recently found ur acc and i’ve fallen in love! ur def becoming one of my inspo’s in writing my own fics!:D

now, what about t141 with an alt s/o who’s always dying their hair or piercing themselves? maybe it’s the first time they find reader doing said shenanigans, what would their reactions be? 🤔 i think soap would have the best one lol, but i’d love to hear what your thoughts about it! <3

Well, hello! Welcome! Now, I had multiple people request this very thing. I am answering one of those asks and the others will simply fall under this one (since they are all very similar). I did go with some variety here since being "alt" can mean a lot different things. I do have one with hair dying, one about showing off their taxidermy/skull collection, a metal concert, and forcing (Gaz) to have a makeover. I had lots of fun. Enjoy!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings: established relationship, humor, fluff, swearing, hair dying, taxidermy, concerts, makeovers

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Jesus bloody Christ. What happened?” John stands in the doorway of the bathroom, his eyes wide as he surveys the scene. “Did you murder someone?”

You stand hunched over like a gremlin in the shower, holding the handheld showerhead. The dye in your hair is circling the drain, but that’s not the only place is stains. The shower is going to need a good scrub as is the bathroom sink.

“I’m changing my hair?”

John blinks. “You told me you were going to a salon.”

“This is cheaper.”

His mouth opens and then promptly closes. You see the gears turning. John is reigning in the panic.

“It’ll come out,” you insist.

“Everything is red,” murmurs John.

“Only temporarily,” you insist.

“Are you talking about your hair or our bathroom countertops?”

“Are you mad?”

“No,” he says firmly, hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to shut the door and pretend that our bathroom doesn’t look like a crime scene.”

“I love you!” you call out as he starts shutting the door.

“I love you, too,” he sighs heavily. The door is nearly shut before it suddenly opens again. “Do I need to grab bleach from the store?”

“That would be great.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Stop moving,” you mutter.

“You’re gonna poke me in the fucking eye, love.”

“It’s just eyeliner. Calm down.”

“You’ve poked me already.” Kyle points at his eye. The white is slightly red with irritation.

Kyle’s gaze narrows, but you only tut, grasping the bottom half of his face with your hand. Squeezing his cheeks a bit, you tilt his face from side-to-side, observing your work. About half of his face is done. You’ve even added face piercings to his lips and nose.

The clothes were the easy part. Kyle was more than willing to put on what you picked out for him. It’s completely different from his tracksuits and jeans. He looks like he walked right out of the punk scene.

“You promised I could do your makeup.” You put a little whine in it, pouting your lip.

Kyle lightly grasps your wrist and tugs, removing your hand from his face. “I did,” he agrees. “But all this? Really?”

You’ve set out nearly every product you have, nearly covering the entirety of the bathroom counter.

“We have to match,” you insist.

Kyle’s mouth twitches slightly but he settles. “Fine. But you better make me the best-looking bloke in the joint.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“This is June.” You present the racoon skull to Johnny.

His eyes widen slightly. “Hello, June,” he greets.

You wait for the eventual frown, for the brief flicker of disgust, but it doesn’t come. Johnny isn’t drawing back or judging you at all. His attention is rapt—focused.

You gently return the racoon skull back to the shelf and point to a collection of preserved butterflies. “These were a gift from a friend.”

“They’re beautiful,” murmurs Johnny. “Do they have names?” He leans in, observing the display of colorful wings.

“No, but they do!” You enthusiastically gesture toward the rest of your collection. There are skulls and bones from all sorts of animals, preserved beetles, tentacles in jars, and even petrified fish bones.

Men say they want quirky, but when they get quirky, they run. Johnny though is entirely fascinated.

“Can I touch this?” he asks with an excitement that surprises you, pointing toward a beaver skull.

“Yes. It’s delicate though. I’m always fixing the jaw.”

Johnny lightly lifts the skull and brings it close to his face, slowly rotating it.

No. Johnny isn’t disgusted. He isn’t shaming you for your special interest. If anything, he’s fascinated.

You’re keeping him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The shredding of the guitar reverberates in your chest. It stirs your blood, sending waves of adrenaline through your limbs until even your fingers and toes twitch with anticipation.

The breakdown is coming, and with it will come a sea of bodies. They’ll crash against each other like a massive wave before descending into chaos, nothing but flailing limbs and gnashing teeth.

Already, the energy is pulsing, becoming a frenzy that will eventually burst.

You’ve never been in the middle of the pit before. You usually stay off to the sides or well out of the way, not wanting to receive an injury.

But now you have protection. Now, you have a bodyguard.

Simon stands right behind as your support and your shadow. This isn’t his scene, not that he doesn’t enjoy a metal show, but he could care less about throwing himself around in a pit. When you expressed the desire to do so, Simon agreed, but only if he joined you.

Sure, it might scare some people off, or deter others from getting too close, but Simon is supportive anyway.

He’s just a bit vicious. A bit protective.

The shredding rises. It’s time.

A pause.

Then everything crashes.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

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vxnuslogy · 4 months ago

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— will they, won’t they.

pairing: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader

premise: hoshina soshiro has been hopelessly in love with you for years now. and for the first time, you finally hear him say the words "i love you."

— warnings: down bad + jealous hoshina, modern setting, reader is a kyudo player.

— author's note: little miss says she's going on a break then proceeds to write about hoshina soshiro for all the dying fans (its me, i'm the dying fans.) art credits to @.BByo_chick on twitter.| ~700 words.

“how long are ya gonna keep me here?”

“no one is forcing you to.”

hoshina only clicks his tongue and stares at the dojo walls. his finger impatiently tapping at his chin as he hits crossed leg on the floors. it’s half past 5 in the afternoon now and you have no intentions of going home anytime soon.

“i’m gettin’ bored here,” he drawls, hands stretching over his head as he watches you shoot another arrow with pin-point accuracy that makes his smirk twitch uncomfortably. you’ve gotten too good at kyudo, and it shows.

“then go home,” you reply as you pull the bow back and aim for your next shot. “you don’t have to keep waiting for me to finish.”

but that was the thing: hoshina wanted to wait for you and he always will.

he wants everyone to know that you had him and he’s all you’ll ever need. there was no need for that guy who caught your fall a few days ago—not when he’s been catching you for the past 3 years. he was your guide in the train station every morning, so why do you keep trying to go to the station earlier and ask your junior for directions? hoshina soshiro was always by your side, so why couldn’t you see that?

“i’ll wait,” he murmurs into his hand, eyes looking at anything but at you. “got nothin’ to do at home anyways.”

it was a weak excuse, but it always does the trick. you always relent and let him stay but not without throwing a look over your shoulder that screams “you’re acting strange.” because he was. hoshina, against his will, feels his lips being tugged into a frown whenever you interact with anyone that isn’t him.

that sounds very bad–it is bad in a sense–but hoshina would never dream of taking away your freedom. so he just watches, painfully by the sidelines, with a scoff on his face as another student from a rival school stammers to ask for your number. it was irritating, having to watch everyone throw themselves at you when you’re clearly uninterested.

“what the hell will happen if i’m not by yer side, captain.” hoshina jests as you pack up your stuff and lock the dojo.

“is this about earlier?” you ask with an amused lilt to your voice. “when the new student asked for my number?”

hoshina hated how you always aimed for the heart.

“i have no idea what yer talkin’ about,” he weakly tries to change the topic. hoshina racks his brain to think of something—anything—to help change the conversation, but his mind keeps circling back to you. how you almost looked serious when some guy–who was leagues below you by the way–had the gall to ask you out for a date.

“never took you for the jealous type.” you tease.

“it’s because ‘m not.” he said through gritted teeth, hands balling into small fists against his school bag. “‘m lookin’ out for ya, alright? that guy was a creep. i’m keepin’ yer ass safe from weirdos.”

you looked unconvinced but didn’t comment on his unusual aggressiveness. hoshina let out a frustrated sigh, a hand coming to ruffle your hair and pull just a tiny bit closer that would make everyone question your relationship. this was driving him crazy but he couldn’t do anything about it.

“‘m not jealous. get that over yer pretty little head.”

and until you both got on the train and went your separate ways to go home, hoshina soshiro never once let your hand drop to your side. he kept you impossibly close to his side and whispered sweet good lucks into your ear. body so comfortably lax in your presence he was slouching on the train seat so he could bury his nose in your hair.

hoshina soshiro was so unfathomably in love with you.

how could he not love you when you use your own heartbeat to calm his erratic one during every competition? when every hug has his mind spinning with gold and you. every victory is dedicated to your name, and no trophy or medal could ever compare to the feeling of running into your arms and drowning in your praise.

“i love you.” he mutters as you sleep peacefully on his shoulder on your way home. how many years has he been saying it before he lost count? it’s truly just a matter of when you’ll wake up and finally realize it yourself.

he feels the blood rush to his brain as he throws himself on his bed, unable to wipe the image of you smiling as if you had heard him.

#soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no 8 x reader #first kn8 fic kinda nervous #( 🂡 ) – royal flush of stories .ᐟ

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egcdeath · 6 months ago

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sealing the deal

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

summary: you and patrick make a few unique business proposals to each other.

word count: 7k

warnings: succession au – tomshiv dynamic (pre-failmarriage), proposals (business and romantic), fluff, a little angst, mentions of a dad being very sick/almost dying, lots of exposition/background on the relationship, art cameo, a little domesticity, established relationship

author’s note: you don’t have to know anything about succession to enjoy this fic! i’ll explain everything that you need to know. if you’re a diehard succession fan i can’t promise that everything will be completely faithful to the source material but it definitely takes a lot of inspiration from tom and shiv’s dynamic.

i wanted to give a HUGE thank you to my succession anon who gave me so much help and guidance for this fic and basically ended up being my co-author for this fic! i hope you all enjoy :)

It wasn’t always easy loving the youngest son of the owner of a multi-billion dollar media conglomerate.

In fact, most of the time, it was quite the opposite.

Even without Patrick working in his family’s business, it always felt a little bit like you were in a competition for brain space and time with his family and career, and you were losing. Badly.

You weren’t exactly sure that you knew what you signed up for when you first met Patrick—connected to each other by a mutual friend you went to business school with, whom you’d begged to try to set you two up for career advancement purposes more than anything else.

“You know that guy you keep asking me about?” your friend asked you after taking a hefty sip from the drink the bartender just passed her.

“Patrick Zweig?” you asked, not bothering to pretend like you didn’t know who she was talking about.

“Yeah!” she laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. You weren’t sure where she was going with this subject, but you were intrigued by her mention of the man and her apparent entertainment at the situation.

“What about him?” you asked, perversely curious as to why she was bringing him up now.

“I invited him to come out with us tonight!” she laughed once more as she divulged this information, as if it wasn’t shocking news to you.

“What? What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me before!” you practically yelled at her over the sound of loud music and other bar patrons. You suddenly felt very self conscious. If you’d known you were going to meet Patrick Zweig tonight, you would’ve put yourself together, rather than coming straight from work to the bar.

“I wanted to surprise you!” she continued with her giggling at a situation that you did not find nearly as humorous. “Oh my god. I wish you could see your face right now.”

“I hate you!” you laughed, thinking that maybe this was some sort of prank. “You’re joking, then?”

“No, he’s really coming. He just got back from D.C. and wanted to meet with me. I asked if my hot friend could come along and he was like, ‘Obviously!’”

You groaned aloud. This wasn’t how you intended to make your first impression on him.

“Okay, well, what’s his type?” you asked her, hoping to get a bit of insight before you were launched right into what might end up being your first date. You were sure that you would make a good impression if you showed up as you were, but you wanted to be better than good. You didn’t want to be just another forgettable notch on his bedpost.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, taking a sip from her drink. “Hot? A nice ass? A little mean? Isn’t that every guy’s type?”

“You’re not taking this seriously enough for me,” you replied. You wanted to have a strategy going into this. You would’ve appreciated at least a small briefing before meeting someone so intimidating.

“I am, you just check all the boxes already. Just be yourself and I’m sure things will work out fine,” she assured you.

Her assurance was well warranted, considering that things worked out far better than fine. In fact, your friend was overdue for a fruit basket—one that you would be paying for with Patrick’s credit card as you sat in the dining room of your shared penthouse apartment, after you wrapped up a day of work in the skyscraper that was his father’s corporate headquarters.

At the time, you had a slight idea of who he was, but you had an even better idea of who his family was. Anyone who owned a television would be familiar with his family’s corporation—from the causal channel surfers who passed one of their many news channels during their search for the newest episode of The Bachelor, to the thousands of people with their logo burned into their device screen from the hours they spent with their eyes locked on the 24-hour stream of borderline propaganda.

Beyond his impressive family, you’d heard whispers and rumors about Patrick for a long time. Between headlines in gossip magazines and stories from your mutual friend, you learned that he’d entered the political world as an attempt to make a name for himself outside of his family name, but struggled to be taken seriously for many years due to the less than stellar reputation that came with being a Zweig.

Although, rumors about his career were just the tip of the iceberg. Gossip about his tumultuous relationships—if they could even be called that—and history of partying far too hard often ran wild, making you believe that your initial meetings with Patrick would be nothing more than a few hookups and sweet talking yourself into a new job. After all, there was no better pillow talk than an elevator pitch.

At first, your plan seemed like it was right on track. You ended your first night together in the early morning, finding yourself in Patrick’s apartment for hours. Your night hadn’t really ever ended, with the two of you leaving the bar together, having some of the best sex of your life in a bed that felt a little bit like laying on a cloud, then proceeding to talk for hours until it was time for you to go back to work. You smiled to yourself as you sat in the backseat of Patrick’s car, exhausted from the long night and a little uncomfortable in yesterday’s clothes, but mostly enthusiastic after your surprisingly eventful night with the man.

It was a strange turn of events from what you initially expected. While you couldn’t be too sure what you were getting yourself into when you learned you were being set up on a date, you assumed that Patrick would be like any other rich asshole you’d gone out on dates with, who got what they wanted from you, sent you off on your merry way, then never spoke to you again. You quickly discovered that he was unlike anyone you’d ever been with before.

Patrick seemed to be full of surprises, and the fact that you were going on multiple dates with him in the first place was one of those very surprises. You hadn’t expected to go on any more than three dates before you asked about working for his family, securing yourself a job, then leaving him alone.

What took you by even greater surprise were the dates themselves. What started as an intimate dinner in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city ended with you at a terrible 24-hour diner, treating Patrick to his first slice of cherry pie as you talked into the wee hours of the morning.

Your subsequent dates went similarly, with the two of you talking endlessly about anything and everything. Patrick was someone full of surprises—he was far from the rich asshole you expected him to be, and more like a knowledgeable politics nerd with a lot of money.

You talked for hours about big things, like why Patrick decided to pursue a career as a political strategist and what brought you to New York City, but you also found it easy to discuss small random things with him, spending an extended period of time discussing how you named your cat, and debating on the best restaurant in the city.

You always thought of yourself as being somewhat agreeable and friendly when it came to conversation, but your discussions with Patrick took you by surprise. You weren’t sure you’d ever clicked with someone the way you clicked with him, and it made you as excited as it made you nervous.

By the time you worked up the nerve to ask Patrick about working for his family, you were already beat to the punch. The two of you were tucked into the booth that you’d recently declared as yours in the same diner that you seemed to be spending all of your all-nighters in, reclining comfortably in the particularly uncomfortable seats.

“Do you like the business side of things?” Patrick asked you, stirring a flattening Diet Coke with a straw.

“It’s fun,” you dismissed. “It’s less fun going to work on a half-hour of sleep.”

“Shut up. You love it,” the man across from you laughed, an admittedly very handsome half-smile on his face. “I mean it though. Do you like what you’re doing?”

“It pays the bills, I guess. I like the work, but I’m not huge on the company. All the politics and the instability with layoffs lately… It isn’t exactly ideal.”

“Would you ever work for my family?” he asked. “I mean, you’re just wasting potential elsewhere. I really think they could use someone like you on their team.”

“Seriously?” you asked, partially surprised at the proposition, but mostly surprised that you weren’t the one to ask in the first place. Across the table, Patrick listened to you intently. “I mean, If they’d have me, I’d love to work for them.”

“My dad mentioned something about them looking for some new blood. I can put in a good word for you, if that sounds interesting to you.”

“Is this because I showed you the joys of a slice of diner cherry pie?” you joked, trying not to let on just how overjoyed you were about this opportunity.

“You got me. And now that you mention it, we should probably order another slice,” he suggested, going along with your joke. “You’re smart and you clearly know your shit. Besides, I’m mostly doing it for myself. It’ll be nice to have someone around at company Christmas parties who can actually keep up with me.”

“Well, thank you,” you replied calmly, though you were doing somersaults in your mind. “I look forward to drinking eggnog and singing Mariah Carey songs with you.”

In retrospect, you recognized this action as the first of his many wordless declarations of love. You later learned that Patrick did everything he could to avoid talking business with his family, as it was clearly a sore spot for everyone involved. Realizing that he’d gone out of his way to get you a job had been an even more kind gesture than you knew at the time.

While you initially expected your fling to taper off after Patrick fulfilled his end of the business deal he didn’t even know he was facilitating, your relationship did nothing of the sort. In fact, his favor seemed to have the opposite effect on your bond.

Before you knew it, the two of you were courting each other like lovesick Jane Austen protagonists. In another shocking turn of events, Patrick ordered flowers to your doorstep each morning and took you on lavish dates, while you began to take four-hour long train rides to and from D.C. each weekend to visit him, and frequently sent him rambling love letters.

While you hadn’t expected for your relationship to unfold the way that it did, you genuinely loved Patrick. You loved the way his eyes crinkled when you told him something stupid that he’d laugh at, or how he leaned in to whisper something judgmental in your ear about someone you mutually disliked during family events. You loved the way his hand felt in yours and the way his mind worked, which he frequently displayed to you while discussing his latest political strategy. You even loved when he minced words to describe how he felt about you, knowing that though the word ‘love’ might never leave his lips, his actions spoke far louder than his voice ever could.

It just so happened that you loved his proximity to power, too.

While his money and power might have piqued your interest initially, it didn’t change the fact that the two of you quickly clicked. You had a natural chemistry, with you matching Patrick’s flirty words and actions with ease. It also just so happened that you entered each other's lives at the perfect time, with you in dire need of a career upgrade, and Patrick in need of someone unafraid to show him more affection and care than he was willing to give.

Though he wasn’t the best at communicating his feelings, you quickly became a tenured professor in Patrick-ology. You were certain that this played a role in why Patrick liked you so much in the first place—being somewhat emotionally stunted, he needed someone who could understand his thoughts without him having to explicitly say every detail, and you did exactly that.

This skill worked out surprisingly well for you. You gave him the love and understanding that he’d been looking for and missing for all of his adult life, and you got to reap the benefits that came with being in a relationship with someone in one of the most powerful families in the world.

Despite your more humble beginnings, you quickly became familiar with luxurious items and activities. You also quickly learned that no matter how prepared you thought you were for that level of wealth—you weren’t. You couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times your unfamiliarity with certain norms left you as the laughing stock of the family.

But it wasn’t all corner offices in skyscrapers and helicopter rides. During the honeymoon phase of your relationship, it certainly felt like it, but the cracks in your foundation became more and more evident every day.

The thing was, as much as you two cared about each other, there was a family shaped shadow that loomed over everything that you did. It was clear that you were an outsider in Patrick’s family. Coming from an upper-middle class Midwestern background, you were often made to feel like you were a stupid gold-digger, only staying around your boyfriend for power, rather than love. At times, you wondered if his family knew what love was at all.

The love, or lack thereof in Patrick’s family was what shocked you most of all. It was no secret that his father was unnecessarily cruel to all of his children, but particularly to his siblings trying to work their way into more serious positions in the company. Patrick somehow managed to dodge that particular flavor of cruelty, with him very obviously being his father’s favorite and working outside of the family business, but the emotional scars his father left still lingered.

But his father’s presence didn’t just loom over him, it was beginning to loom over you, too. Not only in the extreme intimidation you felt when having to interact with him, but in the small acts of callousness Patrick showed you throughout the course of your relationship.

It began as small things, things that bothered you less the more you got used to them. Like how he always seemed to unconsciously belittle your work, not even bothering to seem interested in the recaps you gave of your day before he launched into a story of his own about the candidate he was working with. Though you tried your hardest to fight through your smaller pet peeves with him, Patrick’s inability to be straightforward about his emotions felt like the cherry on top of an already painful sundae.

Regardless of all of the flaws, bumps, and roadblocks in your relationship, you promised to yourself that you would be in Patrick’s corner, no matter how ugly things got or how poorly he treated you. Not only out of your own self-interest, but out of your love for the man, and the knowledge of how difficult his upbringing made certain things for him.

Which was why when you got the call from Patrick that something had gone terribly wrong with his father while coming back from his birthday celebration, you didn’t hesitate to rush to the hospital, encouraging your driver to speed all the way to the building.

When you arrived, he and his siblings were in disarray in a way you’d never seen before. His father, who was typically a presence that towered over everyone in the room, was reduced to an old man hooked up to a number of machines. His older sisters, who were always either waiting for the moment to swoop in and make a crude joke or waiting in the wings to discuss the next business strategy, paced back and forth endlessly, clearly feeling the pressure of their sick father.

Patrick sat alone on an uncomfortable chair, peering helplessly into the observation room. It was rare for you to see him with his feelings written so openly across his face, even after years of being in a relationship with him. That concerned you.

You made quick work of walking over to Patrick, whose tensed-up shoulders slightly dropped as you took a seat next to him. Though he wouldn’t ever tell you this, you knew that your presence made him feel more supported and a little more safe, though you being or not being in the hospital clearly wouldn’t have an impact on if his father lived or died.

“Hey,” he greeted you, immediately squeezing your hand. “Thanks for coming,” he said weakly, as if he was fighting off a new round of tears. In that moment, you so desperately wanted to take some of his emotions for yourself, knowing that Patrick hated feeling any feeling, let alone such negative feelings to such a serious degree.

“Of course, honey,” you reassured him, running what you hoped would be a grounding hand up and down his arm. “Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Water? A snack? I saw that burger place you like on my way over.”

“No, nothing right now,” he sighed. You inspected him cautiously, knowing that he wasn’t exactly one to always say what he meant. “Really,” he assured you, though you didn’t completely buy it.

Since he wasn’t in the mood for more material items, you decided that the best course of action was a little affection. He wasn’t always the biggest fan of receiving affection in front of his family, but you figured that in a time where he was uncertain if his father would live or die, he would appreciate a little outward support.

You laid your head on his shoulder and angled your body closer to his. Not expecting any response, you were surprised when Patrick kissed the top of your head. “I’m glad you’re here,” he told you quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’d be in trouble if someone overheard him.

You held his hand as the two of you sat for hours, only getting up to stretch your legs or take phone calls from friends with insight on other high-end medical facilities that might be able to better accommodate Patrick’s father.

You did your best to give Patrick his space when he needed it, as he floated between two of his siblings—one of which was focused mainly on the future of the company, and the other in a state of denial about the state of her father—then back to you when he could no longer stand the chaos of his sisters.

It was a stressful scene, and one that was clearly too much for your boyfriend, who went back and forth between wanting to be glued at your hip, and wanting to be left completely alone. You’d seen Patrick stressed in the past, with him chatting your ear off as he waited for his candidate’s election results, or as he prepared to give a speech at an event, but you’d never seen him like this.

He almost seemed fragile, like one wrong word or action might break him. It frightened you to see him in such a state. Again, you lamented not being able to take some of his pain for yourself.

In the time that you waited without any word from any doctors, a few gears began to turn in your mind. Life was so fleeting, which was proven by Patrick’s mighty father falling so seemingly easily. Really, it could’ve been any of you sitting on that table with tubes and monitors attached to you. If it were Patrick who was sitting on that gurney, you would be an absolute wreck. If he somehow died, you also wouldn’t technically be a widow, despite your long-term relationship with the man.

All of it made you wonder if you should just bite the bullet and propose to Patrick.

Sure, it wasn’t the best timing ever. Sure, you’d always imagined yourself being on the receiving end of a grand proposal, especially from someone like Patrick. But maybe he would appreciate the gesture—giving him a distraction to take away some of his pain, and giving him one final grand milestone with you while his dad was still alive.

To a lesser extent, being married would provide you with certain protections you didn’t have while you were only his long-term girlfriend. Obviously, you didn’t want to think of anything bad happening to your boyfriend, but accidents and tragedies could happen at any point, and it was better to be prepared than to be sorry.

It felt right that you might be able to join his family during a time where he was losing a family member. Not only for his sake, but because losing their patriarch meant unprecedented instability in his family. You wanted to be sure of your spot amongst them, after you’d grown used to the privileges that came with being Patrick’s girlfriend.

You fidgeted with the ring on your middle finger, a family heirloom passed from generation to generation onto you. It was no expensive piece of jewelry, and it certainly wasn’t an engagement ring, but it was incredibly meaningful to you—a symbol of your family, which was extremely important to you. Patrick knew just how much you valued the ring and exactly what it represented to you, so in turn, you hoped that if you gave it to him, he would understand how much he meant to you.

Getting up from where you’d been sitting for far too long, you began to pace the hallways of the hospital, wondering about the timing of your now imminent proposal. As you shuffled through the sterile building, you surprised yourself as you came across your partner.

“Patrick!” you said with a start after unexpectedly catching a glimpse of him.

“Hey,” he greeted unenthusiastically before beginning to walk right past you.

“Wait,” you grabbed onto his arm before he could fully walk away, encouraging him to look right at you. It was now or never, and the words were on the tip of your tongue.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t have time for this right now,” he dismissed, his voice monotone and listless.

“You do, though. Patrick, listen,” he didn’t look like he was in the mood to talk, but was prepared to listen to you anyway. You knew you only had a few seconds to pitch your proposition before you lost him, so you spat out your words rather than beating around the bush. “Let’s get married.”

“What?” he looked at you with brows drawn in confusion. It wasn’t exactly the ideal reaction to your proposal, but then again it wasn’t much of a proposal. “Right now?”

“Obviously not now, but… soon?” as you spoke, you began the process of slipping the ring off your middle finger and attempting to present it to him in the palm of your hand. Sure, it wasn’t the most romantic or put together proposal, but it felt right to be offering him such a grand and personal gesture while everything else was going sideways in his life.

“I know it’s probably not the best time, but I thought that maybe I could make things a little better with your dad and… I don’t know. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If something ever happened to you, I wouldn’t want to wonder about what we could’ve been and-” you rambled on before you were interrupted with a sigh.

“Honey, you can’t just make my dad dying better,” he rubbed his temple exasperatedly, then looked between you and the ring you were presenting him with. “If you wanted to make me feel better, you should’ve just brought me coffee.”

You frowned at him, knowing that you’d offered him that very thing earlier and he turned you down. You wondered if your communication would ever improve—or if it even needed to improve, since this proposal was going so poorly that you’d probably leave the hospital single.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you closed your palm and put your hand in the pocket of your jacket, fully prepared for Patrick to tell you to fuck all the way off. It had been stupid for you to think that Patrick would appreciate such a grand gesture during such a terrible time.

“Wait,” Patrick stopped you, now reaching for your arm. “My answer isn’t a no, it’s just… I don’t want this to be the memory. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Doing all the work of getting your hand out of your pocket, he grabbed the ring you presented him with to further prove his words and slipped it on his ringer. It only fit halfway down his finger, but he kept it on regardless.

“Really?” you said, suddenly perking up.

“Duh,” he replied, looking a little shy as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink and he briefly looked away from you, as if his feelings were so strong that he couldn’t even manage to look you in the eye.

You couldn’t contain your excitement at his answer, jumping and squealing a little bit as you pulled him into an overly enthusiastic hug. You heard the familiar sound of Patrick laughing quietly in your ear as you squeezed him. Though he always seemed to hold back his emotions, you knew that he was just as excited as you were to be promised to one another.

You pulled him into a soft kiss, draping your arms around his neck, holding him as close as you could until he inevitably pushed you away.

Patrick surprised you with how long he was willing to embrace you, clearly in need of a little bit of comfort after such an emotionally exhausting night. You surprised yourself when you ended up being the person to pull away.

“Should we go check on our family?” you asked, not bothering to hide your excitement around finally being in.

“I just need a second,” he told you, glancing down the hallway before pulling you into yet another embrace. He pressed his face into your hair, soothing himself with your scent and presence. You rubbed circles into his back and muttered something about him taking all the time he needed.

You were interrupted by one of Patrick’s sisters, whose voice called out your names down the hallway. “When you two are finished with your snuggle-fest, the doctor has news for us.”

“Wait, what?” Patrick pushed you away quickly, his tune changing in an instant.

“Good news, I think. But move your asses. C’mon,” she directed, already turning away and Patrick quickly following her.

If you were experiencing an emotional rollercoaster, you couldn’t even begin to understand how Patrick was feeling. Finding out his dad was sick, being proposed to, and immediately hearing more news about his father in the span of just a few hours must’ve felt unreal.

You sat quietly and observed from the sidelines as a doctor took them into their father’s room and filled in the siblings on the state of him. They all seemed to share a collective sigh of relief, and though you couldn’t hear the exact news from where you were sitting, you knew that it must’ve been good.

When Patrick came back to you, he had a hint of a sad smile on his face. “Ready to go?” he asked you.

He didn’t need you to ask twice. You were more than prepared to escape the too-bright lights, sickeningly sterile scent, and the feeling of sadness that seemed to be hanging in the air of the hospital.

Your driver was a welcome sight, with him giving you a quiet greeting as the two of you got in the backseat of the car. As he drove, Patrick reached for your hand, which you gladly gave up to him.

In the following minutes, Patrick crept over further into your space until he sat directly beside you, leaning his head on you with his eyes closed. The long day was surely taking its toll, with the anxiety of his dad being in such dire straits, and the excitement and confusion of you proposing to him.

His sleep was well earned. You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, then closed your own eyes, letting the soft sound of the early morning city traffic lull you to sleep.

In the following days, you could tell that something wasn’t quite right with Patrick. At first, you chalked it up to nerves around his father’s health, but that didn’t seem to be it. Typically, when Patrick was really anxious about something, his silence on the elephant-sized topic gave him away. While you’d heard quite a bit about the state of his father from him—whether it was an update sent to him by his step-mother or an actual visit to the man—you hadn’t heard a peep about your engagement since the day after you got engaged.

On the other hand, you were struggling to keep the news to yourself, despite the request of Patrick. You wanted to scream the announcement from the rooftops, but in the early morning after you returned from the hospital, Patrick made his position very clear: Wait a little while for things to blow over before you started telling people– your friends and family included.

Despite the fact that he wore your ring every day since the day that you’d given it to him, something about his behavior told you that it was that very ring that was giving him so much internal conflict.

In the past few years of knowing Patrick, you learned that he was a bit of a control freak. You wondered how out of control it made him feel for you to be the person to propose to him. Part of you wondered if you should’ve even proposed in the first place if it was going to be an issue. Maybe you should’ve let him do things on his own timeline, rather than making him feel nervous or insecure in your relationship.

But at the same time, Patrick initially seemed rather entertained by the idea of you getting married. In the morning after your engagement, he couldn’t stop referring to you as Mrs. Zweig. At the desk of your brand new office, given to you after a serious promotion, you found a box of expensive chocolates with a note fondly referring to you as his fiancé. As you laid next to him in bed that night, he pulled up the profiles of three separate wedding planners and asked you about your preference in people.

It almost felt like his feelings on your engagement were constantly fluctuating between being excited to be with you forever, and being terrified of that very commitment. Things weren’t made any better by Patrick’s professional-level ability to dodge questions, especially questions related to how he genuinely felt.

“C’mon, you know how I feel,” he replied to you after you directly asked him over breakfast. He lifted his mug casually, subconsciously putting space between the two of you.

“Pat, I don’t. That’s why I asked,” you forced out a laugh, though the situation wasn’t exactly funny to you. If Patrick didn’t want to marry you, you didn’t want to force him to do so.

“But you always know how I feel,” he said with a bit of a pout and a whine—what you called his ‘let me get away with it’ demeanor that he often used with his family—before setting down his coffee and standing up.

“Not this time,” you explained, standing up as well and abandoning the plate of half-eaten eggs in front of you.

“You’ll figure it out,” he dismissed your concerns and stepped close enough to you to hold your face in both of his hands.

“Love you?” you asked, hoping that if he could confirm that at the very least, you might have a better understanding of what was going through his head.

“Of course,” he said genuinely, though he didn’t offer you any parroting of those words. Instead, he dropped his hands from your cheeks and kissed one of them. “Have a good day at work, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” you tried not to look as annoyed as you actually felt as you made quick work of grabbing your work bag and leaving. You needed some time to make sense of it all.

The situation only became more complicated as you sat down in a conference room, mentally preparing yourself to make your first big presentation as the newly vetted Head of Parks and Cruises division. You cared greatly about what your peers thought about you, so you couldn’t deny the nerves running through your veins.

These nerves only increased when you caught a glimpse of Patrick from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the conference room, shaking hands with people on your floor and clearly making cordial small talk.

You desperately hoped that he was there to wish you luck on your presentation, and not to pick your conversation from the morning back up. You bitterly thought about how he couldn’t have picked a worse time as he waved at you from the window. You stiffly waved back, not exactly in the mood to be interrupted right before a big presentation.

“Hey, if I don’t make it back for whatever reason, you can do this presentation, right?” you asked quietly, leaning into your newly-hired assistant’s ear.

“Wait, what?” he asked you, brows furrowing. “I don’t know, I haven’t practiced or anything, and-“

“Perfect,” you replied, not listening to a single word he was rambling out. “Just read off the slides. You’ll be okay.”

You didn’t bother staying to listen to Art ramble in your ear about how he didn’t know what he was doing. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be the one presenting, and if he absolutely had to, he’d probably be fine.

You shut the door behind you, politely waving at one of your co-workers as they entered the conference room. You made your way to Patrick and stood with your arms crossed against your chest, trying to strike a good balance between showing him how agitated you were, and not trying to further agitate your fiancé, who seemed to be in a particularly fragile mental state lately.

“Hi honey, is anything important going on?” Patrick asked once you stood across from him.

“Actually, yeah. Is there any way we could chat a little later? Like maybe an hour or two?” you suggested. “I can block some time off on my calendar for you and everything.”

“I’m sure whatever it is isn’t more important than this,” he glanced over at the conference room as he spoke to demonstrate his point. You wished you could explain to him how far that was from the truth.

“What is it?” you asked, your patience beginning to grow thin.

“You’ll have to see. Come with me?” he offered.

“Patrick, I’m in the middle of a meeting!” you whisper-shouted, trying to keep your voice down and your body language mostly neutral, so your colleagues couldn’t observe how much you were freaking out as you talked to your partner.

“It hasn’t started yet,” he dismissed casually. “They’ll be fine without you. I won’t be fine without you.”

You eyed him suspiciously.

“Please,” he added, as if you’d ever be able to say no to him—though you were pretty tempted to do so.

“Fine,” you gave in with a small, soft sigh. That didn’t deter Patrick at all, who seemed uncharacteristically excited as the two of you sat in the backseat of his car.

“So where are we going? Or, what are we doing?” you asked, trying to ignore the terrible feeling in your gut that you felt about leaving your meeting.

“It’s a surprise,” Patrick said coyly. “It’ll be more fun than that meeting, though.”

“I’m sure,” you replied, looking out the window. You hoped that whatever romantic gesture Patrick planned would be worth losing the respect of all of your peers. You wondered what you could tell them that would make your absence seem acceptable. Family emergency? It wasn’t exactly a lie. It wasn’t quite the truth either.

When your ride stopped and you stepped out of the vehicle, you were surprised to find yourself at the diner that you spent the majority of your first few dates at, splitting pieces of pie and talking each other’s ears off for hours.

“Craving some cherry pie?” you asked him curiously. Obviously, this seemed like a task he could’ve handled on his own, coming to the diner himself or having his driver buy and deliver him a whole pie, but you figured that maybe he was simply in the mood for some nostalgic comfort. In the midst of such chaos, you would be happy to give that to him.

“It’s been too long,” he shrugged before grabbing your hand.

Patrick led you to the booth that you declared as yours all those years ago, and began to chat your ear off like normal. While you wanted to think about work, it was surprisingly easy to forget about the real world when you were in such a nostalgic place with him.

The two of you ordered your old usual order, only enhancing the feeling of nostalgia as you shared a plate of painfully average pancakes and a slice of cherry pie.

“Ew, what is that?” you laughed after you bit into something hard and gross. “This fucking place,” you muttered, looking for a napkin that you could spit out whatever it was that you almost just consumed.

When you glanced down at the napkin, you were shocked to find what looked like a metal ring covered in cherry syrup. “Oh shit. Do you think this belonged to someone?”

Once you looked up, you were shocked to find Patrick holding a black velvet box, one that you’d seen before nearly a year ago as you deep-cleaned your shared bedroom, one that you chalked up as a gift for his mother or a friend.

“Patrick?” you asked, clearly confused. He parroted your name right back to you and opened up the box, showing you one of the most beautiful rings you ever laid your eyes on.

Suddenly, it made sense why he asked you to come out with him, interrupting you in the middle of the day to take you to a diner where you shared so many memories. Sure, he could’ve waited until you got off work, but you figured he was thinking about your conversation from the morning and wanted to do something that would show you how much he truly cared about you. He’d always been better at bigger gestures than verbally sharing his feelings, so part of you remained unsurprised.

“I first fell in love with you here, so it only felt right to bring you back here to ask you to marry me?” he explained, not breaking eye contact with you. He was never one for a soapbox when it came to sharing his feelings, so his proposal was short and straight to the point. Though, you wondered if he had more words prepared that he simply couldn’t get out. Based on the speed of his leg bouncing under the table, you knew that Patrick was nervous out of his mind—despite him already knowing what your answer was.

You recalled what Patrick told you in the hospital about not wanting your proposal to be the memory—the memory you told others about when you shared the news, or fondly recalled to your kids in ten years when you reminisced on your love story.

If accepting his proposal now, and acting like his proposal was the only proposal made him feel better, you didn’t see any reason why you wouldn’t fully lean into it.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, genuinely being surprised at the offer, but playing up your excitement for the sake of your nervous fiancé. “Of course I’ll marry you, Pat.”

Patrick broke into a toothy grin, his excitement contagious to you. “Give me your hand,” he directed, taking the ring out of the box.

He slipped the ring onto your finger, and it somehow looked even better on your finger than it did in the box. You looked at it in amazement curling and uncurling your hand to look at the ring from all of its angles.

“It’s gorgeous, Patrick. Thank you,” you told him earnestly as you looked from your hand to him. You weren’t surprised by the quality of the ring or even that he found something that you liked so much. Growing up with lavish gifts constantly being given as an expression of ‘love’ made Patrick pretty damn good at giving you gifts. As for the other expressions of love… he wasn’t the best. But he was very obviously trying his best for you, and you loved that about him.

In some ways, your proposals felt like the perfect encapsulation of your roles in your relationship. While you offered Patrick a ring with little monetary, but high emotional value, he gave you a ring that was probably more expensive than you could ever fathom, that didn’t have the same emotional ties that your family heirloom of a ring did.

Beyond the appearance or symbolism behind your rings, and despite your very different proposals, you were ecstatic to be engaged to Patrick. It only felt right that after years of loving the man, you two were finally making things official in the legal sense.

As you peered at your shyly smiling fiancé, you couldn’t help but break out into a grin yourself. You underestimated just how exciting it would be for you to be starting a new chapter of your relationship.

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig headcanon #patrick zweig smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #challengers fic #reader insert #josh o'connor x reader

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coichii · 16 days ago

Text

BABY, ITS COLD OUTSIDE ✭

—(🎧)—> your visiting your best friend, about to head out for the evening. it’s all changed by a seemingly instant blizzard. now that you have to spend the night at his, could this be your chance to tell him that you love him?

pairing - bsf!hyunjin ♥︎ fem!reader

genre: bsf to lovers, comfort & fluff

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mutual pining, sleeping in same bed(non sexual) before dating

series note : hello !! welcome to part four of my winter series, “winter records of love” where there will be 8 individual short stories for each member :) these stories are based off of songs I deem “winter” feeling ! this story is based off of “Baby, it’s cold outside” by Frank Sinatra. enjoy!

“Hyunjin? Have you seen my coat?”

The weather? Absolutely ran through with snow.

It’s a nice winter day, no less than 20 degrees outside. The wind blows flurries of snow across the sky, piles of it building up and overflowing the grass and roads. A winter wonderland, if you will.

Hyunjin had invited you over to his, knowing his place had a fireplace and yours didn’t. He didn’t want you to suffer in the cold, knowing you would be to shy to ask yourself.

Deep down, Hyunjin knows he asked you to come over for a different reason. Yes, he was worried about you being cold and possibly getting sick, but, he also has a massive crush on you.

Ever since freshman year of highschool, he’s been insanely into you. Seeing you walk past him on your way to class to talking to you every single day in and outside of school, only confirmed his love.

He loved how you supported him when he started his idol career, cheering him on from hellevator to chk chk boom. He loved everything about you, but he wasn’t sure if you felt the same.

How wrong could he be. You’ve loved him ever since high school too. You loved the way his eyes lit up every time he would rave about dancing. Melting when he would show you his absolutely beautiful pieces of art. Honestly dying every time he even looked at you.

You love him, but he’s a world famous idol, and you’re just some nerdy college student. You shouldn’t succumb to such feelings, you’re just going to get hurt.

“Oh, uh.” He looks around. “I can go look.”

You hum at him as he scurries off, searching around his tiny apartment for the beige, wintery coat you decided to wear to his.

You don’t want to leave, but it’s getting late. The sun sets early and the snow is picking up, and you wouldn’t want to worry anybody about your safety.

Hyunjin walks back into the living room empty handed. You swear you can see a blush on his cheeks but you’re not all to confident.

“I checked, couldn’t find it.” He looks out the window. “You can’t leave in that.”

You mirror his actions, turning your head to look out the window.

It might as well be a blizzard outside.

The snow was now coming down in herds rather than flurries. Snow piling up hiding the foundation of houses just across the street. You’re not even sure if you can see the orange of the sky anymore because all you see is white.

“Wow.” Is all you can mumble out as you continue staring. “How am I going to get home?”

“You can stay here for the night, I won’t mind. It’s too dangerous for you to leave anyways.” He argues, looking in your eyes for any sense of discomfort.

“O-oh uh… are you sure? I mean I don’t want to be a bother.” You stammer, hands flinging in a distinct motion.

“Y/n, I’ve known you since high school. I promise it’s not an issue. Besides,” he looks out the window once more. “what can you do.”

You think for a moment, but you know it’s pointless. He’s right, what can you do. The snow is here and it’s here to stay. And it’s not like you don’t want to spend the night at your handsome crushes house.

“You’re right.” You sigh. “I hope I won’t be a bother.”

“Y/n.” He says sternly, grabbing your hands. You ignore the burning in your cheeks as he ignores the burning in his. “You aren’t and will never be a bother.”

You can hear the sincerity in his voice as you nod, taking note of the look in his beautiful, black eyes.

“I’ll set it up so that you can sleep.” He smiles, letting go of your hand and walking towards the one bedroom’s door.

You’re positive you’re flushing red.

Staying over??? At his house??? The sweat might as well have been pouring down your skin at this point.

You’ve known him since Highschool, and you’ve been over plenty of times both when he lived with his parents and after he had moved out. You practically have the entire place mapped out in your mind. But, you had never slept over before. Blame your strict parents and nervousness for that.

You ignore the bubbling anixety in your chest as you follow hyunjins steps, walking towards his bedroom.

Inside you see him cleaning up anything that had been left on the floor, decently clean for a man. You also notice him having a new pair of sheets in hand.

“Oh? Where are you going to sleep Hyunjin?” You nervously ask, heart rate spiking when he turns around and faces you.

“I’m going to take the couch. Want you to be well rested for when you drive back in this weather.” His voice is low, almost as if the darkness from outside was making him tired despite it being no later than 5pm.

“You’re sure?” You ask, and he just hums in response, mind too focused on pulling the sheets past the corners of the mattress. “Why don’t you shower so you can be in bed soon. I know you’ve had a long day.”

You hum back at him as you find the linen closet, grabbing a soft pink set of towels and moving to the bathroom.

◂—♥︎—▸

It’s been about two hours since you had showered, and about an hour since you had fallen asleep.

The sheets are beyond comfortable, feeling equivalent to a cloud as you soak up its warmth. You should be dreaming like this, comforted and relaxed.

But in your head, you’re experiencing one of the worst nightmares you think you ever have.

A reoccurring one at that. You’ve seen it time and time before as a child, the vision severed into your mind permanently. You don’t know why, but this one is particularly vivid.

Colors flashing, noises loud, lights blaring. It’s terrifying, so you can’t say you’re exactly pissed when you wake up in a cold sweat, hand clutching at the loose shirt hyunjin gifted you for you to sleep in.

Shakingly, your sweaty hands reach for the tiny lamp that’s resting upon hyunjin’s nightstand and flick it on, exhaling sharply as the once dark figures in the room start to take shape.

The dream is over, and you know it, but you still can’t get that eerie, unsafe feeling out of your heart and stomach.

You know what you need to do.

“H-hyunjin” your voice is low and quivering as you creep into his living room, seeing hyunjin sprawled out of the couch with a thin blanket cloaking his body.

“Jinnie?” You nudge his body, him groaning and twisting. “Jinnie, p-please wake up.”

Hyunjin pries his eyes open, squinting until he processes the sight of hot tears cascading down your cheeks.

“Woah woah, y/n. What happened.” He moves his hand to wipe the tears away with his soft thumb. You ignore the turning of your stomach as you lean into his touch.

“I-I’m sorry this is s-so embarrassing.” You sniffle, moving your hands to hide your reddening face.

“Ba- I mean y/n. If it’s making you cry like this, then it can’t possibly be embarrassing.” He gently pries your hands from your face, forcing you to lock eyes with him. “Tell me what happened so I can help you.”

“I uh, just had a nightmare. It was vivid and s-scared me.” Hyunjin coos at your response, rubbing his finger against your cheek.

“Oh, y/n. You’re safe now, y’know.” You nod. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

You think for a moment, heart still racing uncontrollably. You know you won’t be able to sleep anymore with this feeling in your chest, and you also that hyunjin always helps to calm you down.

“I-if you’re not u-uncomfortable. C-can you sleep in bed with me?” Your soft voice hits his ears, and he immediately smiles and sits up.

“Of course, y/n.”

◂—♥︎—▸

A stream of light breaches a small crack in the blinds, hitting and warming a slice of your face.

In bed lies you and hyunjin, his arms found their way around your waist in the middle of the night, his head buried into the crook of your neck.

You hear him groan beside you, your body growing hot as slightly tightens his grip around your body.

“Mhm.” He groans, eyes slowly prying open. It takes him a while to process his armed wrapped around your waist, face turning red as he moved it back to his side.

“y/nnie, good morning.” He grumbles, voice slurred with sleep. “How’d you sleep?”

He’s moved back to his side of the bed now, the area he had been in when he first got in bed with you.

He doesn’t know how he moved from there all the way to your side, but he’s not complaining.

“Well thanks to you. Seriously, you have no idea how much it means to me.” You mumble in response, burying your face back into the cold, satiny pillow.

“You don’t have to thank me at all, y/n. I do it because I lo-“ he breathes in. “Y/n? Can I tell you something?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, heart dropping and picking up speed. “Y-yeah sure. What’s up?”

He sighs, “You don’t need to thank me because I love you. I’ve loved you since I’ve known you. I would help you again and again and again no matter what. I’m sorry if it’s sudden, but I never want you to question why I would do something for you.”

Your silence frightens him as you soak in every single word that he said, looking in his eyes as yours begin to sparkle with tears.

“C-can I kiss you?” He ask, bringing one of his soft palms to your cheek. You sheepishly nod as he brings his face to yours and presses his lips against yours.

It’s soft, delicate, and sweet. Lips mold together seamlessly, each press deeper bringing a wave of blissfulness. It’s better than anything you have ever felt, warmer than any kiss you have ever experienced.

Pure love.

◂—♥︎—▸

“So, date next week?” You ask as he throws your coat over your shoulders. He smiles as he turns you around to face him. “Mhm!”

“Okay then. See you then, jinnie.” You smile, making your way to the door as he suddenly grabs your wrist from behind.

“Heyyy. No goodbye kiss?” He pouts, lip sticking out in an annoyingly adorable fashion.”

“Okay, okay. C’mere.”

And wow, does it feel amazing to press your lips against his. To not be drowned in doubts or uncertainties anymore. To know the man you’re in love with is in love with you too.

It’s the warmest, most beautiful feeling in the world, and you would have it any other way.

#stray kids #skz x reader #straykids x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #kpop #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff

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tragedybunny · 1 year ago

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A Little More Than a Nibble - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion wakes you up at camp looking for a late night snack. You both end up with something a little more. (Fluff, Angst)

Yes I'm on the Astarion train. How can you not love him?

This short is set before Astarion's act 2 confession

Something called to you from the dark, stirring you out of sleep. Fragments of the waking world brushed against your consciousness; a dying fire, a far off owl calling, a presence hovering over you. The cold influx of terror lasts only a moment as you realize the presence is not only familiar but expected at this point. “Are you awake darling?” Astarion’s voice exudes the beguiling charm that’s become so familiar to you, familiar enough you’ve started to catch the hint of artifice that lays behind it.

Sleep-heavy eyes drift open to find him kneeling down next to you, red eyes fixed on you. The deep slumber is hard to shake off and your answer is no more than a drowsy whisper. “I am now.”

“Oh apologies my sweet but I was just wondering if…” He lets the words hang for a moment, waiting for your mind to catch up, to finish the implication. Really though it could only be about one of two things since you’re the one in camp that’s been both fucking and feeding him. And with the ungodly hour, you can easily conclude which it is.

“No luck hunting?” He deserves at least a little teasing for waking you like this.

“Actually I was thinking about you and couldn’t get the taste of you off my tongue. Would you mind terribly if I had just a little taste, just a slight nibble?” Perhaps you’ve been too indulgent with him and he’s grown used to getting his way with you, a habit you really should put to an end. If only the mere suggestion of those teeth at your neck didn’t make you quiver with excitement.

Still, it won’t do to placidly let him have his way every time. “You say slight nibble, and I wake up woozy the next morning. I fail to see what I get out of this little arrangement.”

For a moment, you think you see the slightest hint of hurt at your refusal, before he swiftly resumes his flirtatious persona. “Why, you get my gratitude and affection. Both of which are undying, I might remind you.”

It’s not the honeyed words that convince you, it’s the ghost of an emotion, the possibility of vulnerability, that there’s something beneath the mask he shows everyone, even you. Not that you would really refuse, you’re too far gone for that. Life as the daughter of a noble house of Baldur’s Gate primed you for this, to fall for a man so wrong, and dangerous, and not at all anything you should want. Rebellion after years of complicity, years of forced perfection and crafted smiles, of doing everything expected of you. The Illithid ship had given you a terrible burden, but it had also been more freedom than you’d ever known in your life. Freedom that didn’t necessarily come with inbuilt wisdom. Silently, you throw back the covers, beckoning him into the bed roll beside you. With a satisfied smile, he gracefully slides in, body pressed against yours.

The first time you’d let him do this it had been awkward, sloppy almost, a fact explained by the later revelation you were his first. Now familiarity has led to comfort, intimacy of its own sort. Different than just sex, but no less thrilling. An arm around your waist, he buries his head into the crook of your neck, lips brushing up against it in a gentle kiss first that makes you shiver before the bite.

The sharp ice of those teeth piece your skin and drive into the blood flowing in your veins. Then you feel it, the echo of your blood flowing into his veins. It had frightened you the first time but now it sends a wave of bliss through you. An involuntary sigh escapes you and you know if his mouth wasn’t full, he’d be tormenting you for how much you enjoy it. Arms loop around his shoulders, pulling him tighter against you, as though you are begging for more. You are though aren’t you? You can’t get enough of this, of him.

Drifting away, you lose yourself in him, a sweet surrender to an inexorable pull. As promised though, he’s only taken a taste when he lets up, pulling away, and licking any drops from your skin. The control he’s starting to show is impressive, even if it leaves you yearning for the strange connection of his feeding. Knowing that he never lingers after any encounter between the two of you, you unwrap your arms which feel so much heavier now, letting him go. Unexpectedly, he remains, head now resting on your chest, forehead pressed to your cheek. “Not going to eat and run?”

“In such a hurry to be rid of me?” He murmurs, his face hidden so you don’t even have a chance of reading his expression.

You’re not naive, despite what the others might believe. There’s nothing more you expect beyond what already passes between the two of you. Even if you believe you could care for him, he’s not open to you that way. Still, even if the tone is nonchalant, you feel there’s a loneliness behind it he's not quite hiding all the way. “I didn’t say that.” He doesn’t ask directly to stay and you know he won’t, so you pull the covers over the two of you and put your arms back around him and without saying another word.

With a subtle shift, you feel him get near your throat once again before stopping himself. “Perhaps I should go.”

“You don’t have to, I trust you.” Tentatively, you reach a hand up and softly stroke it through his silver hair. First he tenses, and you wait for a reproach for being too tender with him, but none comes. A moment later and you feel the tension release and he relaxes again. Your eyes are heavy, your body desperately craving sleep, but you're afraid there will never be another moment like this, with him so close, and not pushing you away. So you fight to stay conscious, and keep your fingers moving gently as long as he allows it. Sleep comes to claim you again though, and just as the world fades around you, lips brush your collarbone and the arm around your waist holds a little tighter.

The dawn comes, and the camp stirs. When you find the empty space in your bed roll, you tell yourself your heart doesn’t break a little and get ready to get on with your day.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

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lover-girl-estxx · 1 month ago

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Not my gif

Season 4 episode 10 spoilers (haven't finished this season)

this is Angst Angst Angst

| 3rd Person POV |

Y/n didn't even know what day it was, she been in her and jjs bed- well I guess just her bed now. Since they got back from Morocco, her mind couldn't wrap around the fact that her boyfriend since freshman year was gone. I mean he has to come back right? She thought everyone came back, Big John, ward, John b and Sarah they all came back.

She laid there for days just thinking about everything, thinking that when JJ looked to her on that island and asked "you wanna just stay here and never leave? Surf all day, catch fish, hook up whenever sounds good to me" with a big smile across his face she brushed him off but now she'd take it all back and say "yeah Jay let's stay here forever".

"she's been in there for 4 days we have to do something" John B said "what can we do?" Kie said "something" Sarah added "I'll make her food okay?" Pope said standing up. "Hey Y/n" he said softly peeking his head in the door, She wrapped up in JJs hoodie zoning out but reruns of they're favorite shows played. She slightly looked over at him "I brought you some food" he set it on her nightstand "you need anything else?" He added she shook her head, his hand went over the handle "thanks Pope" she whispered "yeah".

It turned dark out and it dead silent in the house now, she put her shoes on and grabbed her backpack. And slipped out the window of the room. She finally got to the liquor store "two 5th of you cheapest vodka please" she said and put a leader of Coke "ID" the woman asked Y/n pulled out her fake ID and handed it to her.

Now that was her thing crying and drinking the thought of him away. The times she would get up it would be to look at something else of jjs. This time she looked out her window, John B stood in front of a tree out front JJ Maybank craved into it she took her bottle and went outside. "hey y/n" she stood next to him "hey.." he looked down to see that bottle in her hand and the smell coming off her breath "how many have you gone through?" she shrugged he took the bottle from her softly "you shouldn't be doing that its a waste" "it makes me feel okay" "does it make you forget he's dead?" her eyes opened "no but I think I should punish myself a little for leaving him there alone" "JJ would understand why we left him okay? he wouldn't want you to punish yourself you gotta stop" he wrapped his arm around her "yeah I know I just- I don't know".

Y/n thought instead of dying for herself she was gonna live for JJ. The next day they took notice that Y/n was moving around cleaning her room, they went in not saying anything just helping her. they'd find things of JJs and set it aside slowly building a corner of all his stuff for her to look at through the day.

Y/n found herself every morning on the water surf for him, swimming for him and boating for him.

| 6 Years Later |

"this was your Uncle JJs board when he was you age" Y/n said pulling the board of of the surf shed her God son standing next to her "I don't know if I can use it, it's a lot bigger than mine" "you'll do great! grab the towels bubba" he hopped in the truck while Y/n loaded they're boards.

Y/n was sat straight on her board he was laying on his board "okay Jay this one coming is yours" she helped turn his board around, he went and stood up "YES JJ!" she yelled and clapped. she rode in "good job!" she smiled and gave him a high five "thanks" he smiled back.

"Uncle JJ surf like all the time?" he asked strawberries covered his face "yeah even one time him and your dad went surfing in a hurricane it was dumb but they loved it" "sounds fun" "no JJ never do that" "I think I like the beach as much as Uncle J" she smiled and felt tears raise in her eyes "I think you do to" she ruffled his hair making him giggle.

#jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank angst #jj angst #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader fluff #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #jj maybank fic #jj maybank

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queen-of-the-avengers · 4 months ago

Text

Finally Free

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Warnings: angst, bucky being abused (implicit), auctioned and sold, nightmares

Summary: Bucky was ripped from your arms and taken by Zemo, and you vowed to spend every waking hour trying to get him back. You have tried for over a year, and your time has finally come when Hydra is auctioning off all the super soldiers for profit. This ends with you.

Squares Filled: vibranium (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

Bucky is dying. You run as fast as you can to get to him but it’s like you’re on a treadmill. You can run as fast as you can but you’re not going to get to him in time. Bucky is getting beaten by men, taking every single blow as if he deserves it. He reaches out for you and you run faster if it’s possible. One of the men takes a knife and shoves it deep into his chest, piercing his heart.

“BUCKY!” you gasp awake.

You look around the dark room and realize you’re just having another nightmare. The fan spins above you but it’s not enough to cool your sweaty skin. The sheets are dark with sweat, your heart races a million miles a second, and tears roll down your cheeks on another failed day of bringing the love of your life back home.

Everyone hears your screams for Bucky but no one ever brings it up. There’s no need when they can’t do anything about it. They’re trying but it seems like all of your efforts aren't enough. The government wants him back just as much as you do but they can’t get to him in time whenever he does pop up. No, the only way you’re going to save Bucky is if you do it yourself. You have the resources, it’s time to put them to good use.

Since you can’t bear to be at home knowing Bucky isn’t going to be there, you’ve been sleeping at headquarters. It’s not ideal but you refuse to sleep in the bed if Bucky isn’t going to be there. You brush your teeth and run your hands through your hair to make it look less matted before smoothing out the wrinkles in your clothes. You haven’t had time to go back to your place and grab more clothes. Not that it matters anyway. You’re not going to rest until Bucky is back home.

Headquarters is running smoothly with everyone running around working endlessly. Most everyone is working on computers while agents run back and forth with paper files in their hands. Some see you and immediately shy away from your gaze which you can understand. Since Bucky was taken, you've been a shell of the person you were before.

Normally, you’re such a sweet yet confident woman who knows what she wants. You have to have thick skin in your line of business but you don’t let it change you into someone you’re not… Not until Bucky was taken.

“Have you found him yet?” you ask one of your trusted employees.

“Yeah, it looks like they took him to a secure facility in Siberia. According to our motion sensor cameras, they haven’t left.”

“Is there any way in?”

“Not in the way you want. This place is their home base. There is no way of getting in without a hoard of guards up your ass. You’d barely get in ten feet before either being killed or captured.”

“Shit,” you mutter.

“I might have your way in.” You leave Sebastian’s side and walk over to Jeffrey who is on another set of computers. “Through connections of the dark web, I got us invited to an exclusive auction in Egypt. He’ll be there.”

“How do you know?”

Jeffrey shifts in his seat uncomfortably. “They’re auctioning off all the super soldiers.”

Your heart twinges in pain. Bucky is over there right now suffering at the hands of Zemo no doubt.

“You got me in?”

“Already done. All you have to do is show up.”

You turn to address the entire room. “Alright, listen up. I need to know everything about that auction house--all of its exits and entrances, camera placement, and everything about their guards and their schedules. Do not leave anything out.”

Everyone gets to work immediately, and you turn to the big screen which has Bucky’s picture on it.

I’m coming for you, baby.

You and Bucky are the ones who started Winters, a company dedicated to infiltrating organized crime that specializes in black market trafficking whether that be for organs, sex, torture, and everything else under the moon. You two have saved many men, women, and children across the globe. When your business got to be too much, you hired men and women who had skills in order to help the business.

After rescuing people, you send them to your many anonymous safe houses located across the world. They are so off the grid that no one in the black market will ever find them. If they do, there are guards and procedures to deal with outside threats. When the victims are ready to move on, they are free to leave and return if they feel the need to.

While doing this, you have built such a highly respected persona so you can get in just about anywhere and buy just about anything, all without raising concerns.

Bucky was taken from your arms, and you screamed to him that you’d find him no matter how long it took. It’s been a year since that happened but you’re not giving up now. Not when you feel like you’re so close.

Cairo is such a beautiful city that you often enjoy but this is a business trip, not a pleasure one. You’re in your hotel room getting ready for the event, and you swipe your deep red lipstick over your lips. You grab the masquerade mask that only fits half your face, shielding the upper portion of your face so that only your lips are shown. If you want to continue your business, you have to keep your identity a secret. The only thing people know about you is your bright red lips. The mask on your face is solid black but has a lacy exterior to give it more of a mysterious vibe.

You grab the small earpiece that will remain hidden inside, and you’ll use your hair to cover your ear to conceal it even further. Please let Bucky be okay. It took a long time to fix what they broke.

“Jameson, do you copy?”

“Copy.”

“Alexander?”

“Copy.”

“Jeffrey, do you have eyes on the cameras?”

“I have eyes on the sky. Don’t worry. You’ll know about a problem before there is one.”

You continue down the line until you get through everyone confirming that their earpiece is working and online. Once you’re ready, you leave the hotel room and ride the elevator down to the lobby. There is a car waiting for you where Alexander and Jameson are. They’re your trusted bodyguards that Bucky entrusted with your life when he can’t do the job himself.

Alexander opens the door of the town car for you, and you slide in with both of them in tow. The ride to the auction house is short but filled with so much tension. No words are said because there is nothing anyone can say that can make you feel better.

When the car pulls up to the auction house, Alexander and Jameson get out first before you do. You walk to the front door to check in which goes without issue. The next step is the metal detectors, and your bodyguards are forced to leave their weapons behind that they can pick up when they leave. This is a weapon-free event except for the staff. It’s to ensure everything goes as smoothly as possible.

You comply and are let into the main room where the guests are mingling. There are servers passing around champagne flutes as if this is a morning brunch instead of a highly illegal auction. You look at Jameson and he bends slightly so that your mouth is next to his ear.

“Make sure the exits are clear. I don’t want any issues.”

“You got it, boss.”

You grab a champagne flute with no intention of drinking it, and you stay close to the walls so that you can observe everything and everyone.

“If it isn’t the elusive Vixen. A pleasure to meet you.”

You look to the right and see the man responsible for Bucky’s demise. Zemo. Your blood boils inside your body. You want to strangle him for taking Bucky away from you. It’s a good thing your mask covers your eyes entirely otherwise he’d see the deadly glare you’re giving him.

“Keep your cool, Y/N. You’re so close. I know you want revenge but wait until Bucky is back,” Jeffrey says over comms.

He’s right. No good will come from attacking now when you don’t know for sure that Bucky is here. You need to see him for yourself.

“When I heard you were coming, I had to see you for myself,” Zemo continues. “I have something I think you might be interested in.”

“It better be worth it. You know I hate wasting my time.”

“It will be,” he winks. “I hope you have a good time at the auction.”

You and Alexander find your seats just as everyone else does. You’re holding a sign with your number on it so that if you raise it, the auctioneer will know who to put down if you were to win. Zemo walks on stage and introduces himself to everyone before getting started. A very short woman walks on stage and stands next to Zemo, just another super soldier for people to toy with.

“Let me introduce Exhibit A. Don’t let her small stature fool you. She is highly trained to infiltrate and destabilize any network from within. With a kill count of over a thousand, she won’t hesitate to get the job done. Her most significant kill is Osama bin Laden. As you can see, no organization is too complicated for her. Bids start at one million dollars.”

Almost everyone puts their sign up, signaling to Zemo that they��re all interested in buying her. You keep your sign down, only interested in one soldier. As Zemo ups the price, more and more signs go down until there is only one left.

“Sold to Number 57.” The woman is escorted off the stage only for a tall and muscular man to take her place. “Exhibit B…”

As far as you know, there are ten super soldiers that Hydra experimented with when they had Bucky under their control. When their most prized possession was free, they must have made more because Zemo auctions off twenty skilled and highly dangerous super soldiers. Each one that comes on stage brings your heart closer to your stomach when you realize none of them are Bucky. Jeffrey must be able to read your thoughts because his voice chimes in your ear.

“I know he’s here, Y/N. Just keep doing what you’re doing. I have Sebastian and Ricardo scouring the place looking for him. Don’t worry, they won’t get caught. I know how to keep my men hidden.”

You’re so lucky to have someone like Jeffrey on your side. He has never failed you before. When he says he is going to do something, he gets that shit done. Zemo finishes with the twenty-fifth and final soldier before announcing the end of the auction.

“Thank you all for attending. Buyers, please see my associates to arrange transportation for your purchases.”

You get up and place your sign on the seat just like everyone else did. Zemo almost trips coming down the stairs just to get to you.

“I have to say, Zemo, I’m disappointed in your selection.”

“I was saving the best for last. Only the most elite are able to bid on him, with you being first, of course. Follow me.”

You and Alexander follow Zemo to a hidden room in the back where even more guards and twice that of weapons are. This auction is good for more than just super soldiers, but this auction tonight was just to showcase them. To think these people are going to be roaming the Earth tomorrow for nefarious reasons makes your skin crawl, but you suspect Jeffrey has men already taking care of it.

No one is going to be taking home a super soldier but you.

Two men step out of the way and your eyes land on Bucky who has a stoic look on his face. Even though he isn’t saying anything, you can see the emotion in his eyes. He wants to cry. He wants to fight back. Wakanda got rid of the trigger words that were stuck inside his brain, but you have a feeling Zemo has been trying to implement new ones into his mind.

Over your fucking dead body.

“Allow me to introduce the Winter Soldier himself. Was taken by Hydra in the 1940s where he was molded to fit our needs and turned into one of the most dangerous and highly skilled assassins this world has ever seen. With just the right price, he can kill anyone with such precision that no one will ever know he was there, has stamina that lasts days or even weeks depending on how hard you push him, and not to mention this beauty.”

Zemo grabs Bucky’s metal arm and slides the sleeve up to show off the cool metal.

“A pure vibranium arm out of Wakanda itself. That adds extra muscle to all of your needs. I’ll give you to him along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want. Unfortunately, since he is like a shiny new toy, the starting bid is at twenty million dollars.”

“I’ll give you one hundred million.” Zemo looks shocked and drops Bucky’s arm. “I do not want anyone else having him. One of my guards is handling the payment as we speak. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal. I will tell the other bidders that he is no longer on the market.” Zemo nods to one of his henchmen who leaves the room. “I can have transportation arranged in any way that you like.”

You step forward and look at Bucky even though he can’t see your eyes.

“You are going to be my new favorite toy.” Of course, he doesn’t answer. It breaks your heart knowing he wants to cry. That’s a good thing in its own perverted way. They haven’t completely broken him if he wants to cry. “I’d like to take him off your hands if that’s okay. I like to deal with them in my own way, so I won’t be needing your transportation.”

“I understand,” he nods.

Alexander takes the lead and you make sure to place Bucky between you and him so that no one else gets any ideas. Instead of Alexander taking the normal way out, he turns and heads toward Jameson who has cleared the way. Once you’re out of the main room, you feel that you’re free to talk.

“Make sure Zemo doesn’t see a penny of my money,” you say to Jeffrey.

“Don’t worry, he won’t see a single one. You’re still in the blind spots of the cameras, but you’ve got maybe ten minutes before they reboot.”

“I only need five.”

Alexander meets Jameson at the very back who leads the group to the car waiting for you at the back. You open the back door and usher Bucky into the back of the car. Alexander is next but Jameson stays where he is.

“Make sure we’re not followed. Get out as soon as you can.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You get into the car and it speeds off before you can shut the door. Bucky looks around in confusion because he has never been transported in a town car before. It’s usually on ice and in a wooden box.

“Where are we going?” he asks apprehensively. Once you know it’s safe to do so, you take off your mask, revealing yourself to Bucky. “Y/N?”

“I told you I’d come for you, baby. I’m here. You’re safe now.”

Bucky doesn’t care if Alexander is in the back with you, he breaks down in tears. Alexander and Jameson started working for you after Bucky was captured so he doesn’t know who they are. You take off your seatbelt and slide closer to Bucky to hold him close to you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and cries, mostly for his freedom.

“No one is going to hurt you again,” you promise.

Alexander takes out his phone to call Jameson but you don’t listen to a word he says. All you care about is Bucky and how he’s back in your arms.

“I tried so hard to be brave for you,” his voice cracks.

“It’s okay, Bucky. You don’t have to be brave anymore. I will make sure Zemo never finds you again. I’ll erase whatever shit he put in your head a second time. I know how to do it now.”

Bucky pulls back only to press his lips to yours. He is safe because of you. You vow that you won’t have any more nightmares of Bucky dying because he’s not. He’s back home where he’s going to stay for good.

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lefteagleblizzard · 1 month ago

Text

𝔙𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱

Mike munroe x male reader

A request that I received from a really nice person here on tumblr: a small idea I liked for a fic if you like the idea as well. Nothing too big, just a fic about Reader and Chris being brothers and constantly nagging each other about their crushes on Ashley and Mike.

I expanded the request a bit, sorry if I went overboard with it. Hope you enjoyed it.

Tags: set before the event of the game. Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Chris and the reader are brothers. Some very quick shifts of pov between characters. Jealousy. Mike and Jess/ Emily are not together in this. Friends to lovers. Mike is a flirt.

Words count: 4000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔱𝔥

𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢'𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 Part 2 of it

For anyone interested, I took inspiration from this clue that you can find while playing as Chris.

The music thumps in the background, a mix of bass-heavy beats and voices blending into a dull roar. You and Chris sit at a small, round table near the back, well out of the action but with a good view of everyone mingling.

"So," Chris says, taking a long, dramatic sip. "You actually spent the whole night staring at Mike. Dude, seriously, you're lucky your eyes didn't burn a hole in the back of his head."

You scoff, leaning back in your chair with a mock sigh. "Like you're any better. When are you actually gonna talk to Ashley? She's cool, she's cute, she's well, out of your league but hey, a guy can dream.”

"Hey, I do talk to her," Chris retorts, feigning offense.

"Uh-huh," you say, raising an eyebrow. "It’s a lot if you can manage to squeak out a sentence before turning red.”

Chris chuckles, crossing his arms. "Fine. Why don't you go up to Mike and tell him what you think? 'Hey, by the way, I've been thinking about how perfect your jawline is all night!’ I'm sure that'll go over great." He did a horrible interpretation of your voice to mock you even further.

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks flush just a bit. "First of all, I would never phrase it like that. And second, at least I actually know things about him beyond his favorite book."

"Oh, really? Let's see who knows more about their crush. No cheating. No wimping out. Winner gets bragging rights." Chris leans forward, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Bragging rights? How about you admit I'm objectively hotter than you when I win?" you echoed, folding your arms.

"Sure. Whatever fantasy helps you sleep at night," Chris said, grinning as he dramatically cracked his knuckles. “I'll go first since I know you're just dying to hear all the juicy Ashley knowledge."

You chuckle. "Go with your in-depth research, Sherlock."

Chris clears his throat, sitting up straighter. "Fine. For starters, her favorite color is purple."

You make a face, unimpressed. "That's it? You think knowing her favorite color makes you the expert here?"

"Let me finish, smartass. She loves thriller movies. She also has this little habit of chewing on her nails when she's nervous."

You raise an eyebrow, genuinely impressed but unwilling to give him the satisfaction. "Okay, okay, not bad. But that's kid stuff. Let me show you how it's done."

Chris rolls his eyes, clearly not expecting much. "Alright, hotshot. Give me your best Mike trivia."

You sit forward, lowering your voice like you're letting him in on a secret. You have always been good at noticing things. Maybe it was a result of growing up with Chris and when it came to Mike Munroe, your crush, the small things were more than just interesting, they were revealing.

For one, every morning, without fail, he was up before the sun. He’d go for a quick run to stay in shape. You’d always catch glimpses of him at college heading back to his room in a tank top, earbuds in, eyes focused ahead and glimpses of sweat on his forehead.

He had this tough, confident exterior. He wasn’t loud like some of the others in the group. He had a way of using humor to deflect, to keep people from getting too close. You saw it when he’d brush off any talk about specific topics.

And then there were his tastes.

He likes his coffee black. Pretends it's macho. He had a surprising amount of nostalgia in his preferences. You couldn’t forget the time you’ve talked together casually on the lodge, his face lighting up as he talked about his love for old action movies.

Chris raises an eyebrow. "Alright. Maybe you’re better equipped than me. But, let's be real, you wouldn't even know where to start."

"Better than starting with nothing," you counter. "Besides, I could charm him if I wanted to."

Chris raises an eyebrow. "What would you even say?"

You grin, leaning in like you're revealing a grand plan. "I'd just walk up and ask him about his football season. Mention that time he scored the winning touchdown. You instead are hopeless"

Chris nods, pretending to take you seriously. "Oh, sure, because that'll definitely make him swoon. Hopeless? Me?" Chris laughs, leaning back with a smirk. "At least I don't have to worry about being mistaken for a stalker."

You both burst into laughter. For all the banter, you know neither of you would really judge the other for these harmless crushes. It's what makes the night so much fun.

From across the room, you caught sight of Ashley standing awkwardly near a table stacked with half-empty snack bowls and crumpled napkins. She shifted from foot to foot, clearly trying to blend into the background.

"Hey, Romeo. This is your chance," you said, leaning closer and nudging Chris with your elbow.

Chris snapped out of his trance, his head swiveling toward Ashley. His brows furrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in amusement before settling back into a more thoughtful expression.

Chris groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "What am I supposed to do? Walk up and make everything even more embarrassing?"

"News flash: she knows you're a loser," but she clearly likes you anyway. Stop overthinking it. Just go talk to her. Be romantic for once. She loves that whole 'awkward and sincere' thing you've got going on."

"First of all," Chris said, pointing a finger at you, "I'm not awkward. I'm, uh, charmingly self-aware. Second, what if I say something dumb? Or worse, nothing at all? I can't just walk up to her and-"

"You're a coward," you interrupted, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

"Yep," he said, popping the "p" and lifting his cup in mock toast.

You were scanning the room until your gaze landed on Mike Munroe.

He was leaning casually against the wall, drink in hand, chatting with a girl you vaguely recognized from English class. His tuxedo fit him perfectly, tailored in all the right places, the dark fabric catching the light just enough to highlight his athletic build. The black foulard tied loosely around his neck was an elegant touch, a little different from the usual bow ties and neckties most guys wore. His hair was perfectly tousled, like he hadn't even tried but still managed to look effortlessly handsome.

You felt your chest tighten. For a moment, your imagination betrayed you, painting a picture of Mike turning toward you, smiling like he did when he told one of his dumb jokes when he got elected class president. You could almost hear his laugh, warm and inviting, as if it were just for you. But reality snapped back into focus when the girl he was talking to leaned closer.

"Mike would never look twice at me like that." You mumble more to yourself without thinking, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice.

Chris, placed a hand on your shoulder. His touch was light but reassuring. "Don't do that to yourself. You're a catch. If Mike doesn't see that, he's an idiot."

You looked up at him, grateful but unconvinced. Chris stood up, brushing imaginary lint off his jacket. "I'm getting us drinks. Let's make it through the rest of this night together, yeah?"

You nodded, watching as he made his way to the bar. You glance around, your gaze landing once more on Ashley and an idea strikes you. Chris is now far away from your position. It’s your chance to do something.

You stride over to her, flashing a friendly smile, keeping your movements casual so you wouldn't startle her. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed you, but she relaxed as you softly took her arm.

"Hey," you said, grinning playfully as you gently guided her away from the corner.

Ashley laughed, the sound light and genuine. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement but no resistance as you led her toward your table.

"Come on, you can't let Chris and I have all the fun sitting in the corner judging everyone." you replied, glancing over your shoulder with a mock-serious expression.

"That's what you two have been doing all night? Very productive." She scanned the place as you reached the table and she managed to spot Chris at the bar, meticulously mixing something with an unusual level of focus. But then her gaze shifted, catching Mike watching the two of you.

Jaw set, lips pressed into a firm line, eyes tracked the way you gently tugged Ashley along. His gaze lingered on your hand before flicking back up to your face. Lips pressed together in a faint, almost imperceptible scowl, as though something about the sight of the two of you together unsettled him. There was a slight tension in his posture, the way his shoulders seemed just a bit too stiff for someone casually enjoying a party.

Chris returned with two drinks in hand. "Okay, I've done it," he announced dramatically. "The ultimate drink. If you don't like it, I'm never speaking to you ag-" He cut himself off mid-sentence when he saw Ashley sitting at the table, smiling up at him.

"I... uh..." Chris stammered, turning an impressive shade of pink.

"You made this for me?” Ashley asked sweetly, taking the drink from his hand before he could respond. “Thank you, Mr. Bartender."

Chris blinks and he lets out a nervous laugh, giving you a quick glare as he hands the drink to Ashley.

She giggles, taking a sip and you watch as Chris visibly relaxes. They share a smile and there's a warm, unspoken understanding between them, a quiet moment that you can't help but feel a bit envious of.

The music shifts, slowing into a softer, more romantic melody. Couples move onto the dance floor, swaying together in a slow embrace. Ashley’s eyes light up as she turns to Chris, her cheeks flushed with a faint rosy tint from the slight inebriation she feels. "Come on, Chris," she says, tugging at his hand. "Want to go there for a bit?"

Chris's eyes dart to you, searching your face for reassurance, his expression almost apologetic. He's asking, without words, if you'll be okay.

You manage a smile, giving him a nod.

Chris lets out a laugh, his tension melting away as he lets Ashley pull him onto the dance floor. They disappear into the crowd, leaving you alone at the table. You watch them go, feeling a bittersweet pang in your chest as you take in the sight of them together, laughing and smiling, fitting together so effortlessly. Chris fumbling his way through the first few steps before finding his rhythm.

They looked so happy.

And you were here instead, alone at the table, your thoughts inevitably drifting back to Mike.

Chris feels his heart race as he stands on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on Ashley's waist, her arms draped over his shoulders as they sway to the gentle rhythm of the music. Her gaze meets his every so often, a smile warm and genuine, making him feel like the only person in the room.

"I didn't know you had these moves." she teases, her eyes twinkling.

Chris chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh, trust me, I don't. I'm just doing my best not to crush your toes."

Ashley laughs, her grip tightening on his shoulders as she rolls her eyes. "You're doing just fine. I don't mind if you, you know, relax a little."

"Relax? Yeah, I can... I can do that," he says, voice faltering as he tries to ease into the rhythm, matching her movements as the song continues.

His focus wavers after a while, gaze drifting over her shoulder as he catches sight of his brother sitting across the room at one of the tables with Matt nearby.

There's something off about the way you're holding yourself. You're smiling, sure, even laughing at something Matt is saying, but Chris can tell that the smile doesn't quite reach your eyes. It's the kind of forced expression he's seen on you before, usually when you're trying to act like everything's fine when it really isn't.

Matt, on the other hand, seems entirely oblivious, leaning in a bit too close, his face lit up with that typical over-eager grin. He's almost leaning into your personal space as he chats away, looking way too thrilled to have your undivided attention, his eyes never leaving yours. The proximity feels a bit too familiar, too comfortable, with his arm casually resting on the back of your chair.

Chris feels a pang of protectiveness twist in his gut. He glances around the room, half-expecting Emily to appear and pull Matt back to the dance floor, but there's no sign of her. Instead, he spots her on the far side of the room, tipsy and laughing as she spins around with some stranger she's apparently mistaken for Matt. She's caught up in the music, oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend is practically glued to your side.

Ashley notices his distraction, her gaze softening as she studies him. "Chris?" she asks, her voice gentle, bringing him back to the moment. "Is everything okay?"

He blinks, snapping his attention back to her, guilt creeping in as he realizes he's been distracted. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Just... got a lot on my mind."

Ashley smiles, tilting her head as she searches his face. "You sure? You can tell me, you know."

Chris hesitates, glancing around the room one more time. His gaze lands on Mike, who's slow-dancing with the girl in glittering dress. She's leaning against him, her head resting on his chest, but Mike's attention isn't on her.

His eyes are locked in your direction, his brow furrowed and his jaw set in a subtle scowl that's hard to miss. There's a tension in his gaze as he watches you and Matt together. There's a faint scowl tugging at his mouth, a subtle clenching of his jaw that makes it look like he's holding back the urge to step in but doesn't quite know how to act on it. His brows are drawn together and his eyes flick between you and Matt with a guarded intensity.

Chris frowns, glancing back at you. It's clear now that something is brewing beneath the surface, something he doesn't fully understand but can sense all the same. He looks down at Ashley, his expression softening as he makes up his mind.

"Hey, Ash?" he asks quietly, feeling a bit awkward but determined. "Would you mind helping me out with something real quick? I, uh... I owe someone a favor.”

You were mid-laugh at something Matt had said about his latest sports practice when a shadow loomed over the table. You looked up to find Mike standing there, holding his drink loosely in one hand and the other casually tucked in his pocket.

"Hey, Matt," Mike said, his tone light but carrying a subtle edge like he's asking for a favor he already expects to be granted. "Mind if I steal him for a bit?"

Matt's smile falters, and he glances at you, a bit reluctant, as if he doesn't quite want to let go of the moment he's carved out. "Uh... well, we were just-"

"Looks like Emily's about to make out with that guy," Mike interrupted, tilting his head toward the dance floor. "You might wanna handle that before it gets messy."

Matt whipped his head around, his face paling slightly as he spotted Emily drunkenly giggling and leaning far too close to the stranger. "Shit," he muttered, scrambling to his feet. "I'll, uh, catch you later." he says to you, giving you a quick nod before he disappears into the crowd.

"Yeah, sure," Mike said smoothly, his smirk widening as Matt hurried off. You glance back at him just in time to catch a wicked grin flash across his face as he watches Matt weave his way toward Emily.

He turns back to you and without a moment's hesitation, he slides into Matt's now-empty chair, shifting it even closer to yours with an obnoxiously loud scrap of wood against the floor. He dropped into the seat with a satisfied sigh. His arm resting along the back of your chair but soon sliding fully around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

The warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne, earthy with a hint of spice, made your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. From this close, you could see every detail of his face: the light beard perfectly trimmed along his jaw, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the infuriatingly perfect way his smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. He was leaning into his persona, that cocky, playful charm cranked up to eleven and it was doing things to your brain you weren't sure you were ready to admit.

"Well, this is cozy," Mike said, his voice low and smooth. "Didn't think Matt was ever gonna leave. Guy's got some stamina for talking, huh?"

You blinked, struggling to form words. "Uh, yeah. He's chatty"

Mike chuckled, the sound warm and teasing "Chatty? That's the nicest way to put it. Bet he's been boring you to death, huh?"

"Not entirely," you said, though your voice was far too shaky to be convincing. "He's enthusiastic."

Mike raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "You're too nice, you know that? If I had to sit through more than five minutes of that guy's rambling, I'd be asleep in my chair."

You laughed, though it came out a little too breathy. "Maybe I'm just better at pretending to be interested."

"Pretending, huh?" Mike's smirk widened. "So, what about me? Are you pretending to enjoy this little moment we're having?"

Your brain short-circuited. "I... I mean, no. I-uh... you're not boring. Definitely not boring."

"Good to know," Mike said, his voice dipping slightly as he leaned in just a fraction closer. "I'd hate to think I was putting you to sleep."

"You're not," you managed to say, your face burning.

Mike grinned, clearly reveling in your flustered state. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?"

“I’m not nervous,” you said quickly, though your gaze flickered away from his, betraying you.

“Sure you’re not,” Mike murmured, his fingers brushing just a little too close against your shoulder, the touch lingering for a beat longer than necessary. “What were you and Matt talking about? You looked a little bored." His tone was smooth but there was a faint edge to it now, like he was testing the air.

You noticed the subtle shift in his expression. His jaw tightening just slightly, his eyes narrowing for a fraction of a second as if he didn’t quite like the idea of you and Matt sharing a private moment.

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Just sport stuff and his latest victory for his team. He was just being friendly,” you added, trying to sound indifferent.

You didn’t miss the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes flickered just briefly toward the ground before locking onto yours again.

Mike’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, he looked real friendly.” The smirk that followed didn’t help, pulling at the corner of his mouth as if he was more amused than you thought he should be.

You raised an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a moment, Mike just stared at you, his expression unreadable. “Nothing,” he said too quickly, the innocence in his voice so forced that you could almost feel the tension cracking around him. The grin stretched wider, like a challenge. “Just saying, if I didn’t know better, I’d think Matt was hitting on you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and a flush of heat spread across your cheeks. You tried to play it off, but there was no denying the way your heart stuttered in your chest. “He wasn’t,” you said quickly, your voice coming out a little more defensively than you intended.

"Either way. Figured I'd come over and I don't know... make the night more interesting for you. Prom only happens once, right? Gotta make the most of it. Besides—” His voice softens, his gaze locking onto yours with a sincerity that takes you off guard. "—I've been waiting for an excuse to spend some time with you."

You swallow, feeling the heat rise to your face as his words sink in. "You have?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a slow, deliberate motion. "I mean, I could've come over sooner but you were busy with your brother. Then you were with Matt and I figured, maybe it's time I got a little selfish."

The intensity in his gaze makes it hard to breathe and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, caught between disbelief and exhilaration. "I... didn't think you noticed me like that," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike's grin softens, his hand moving from your shoulder to gently rest on your waist, pulling you even closer. "I notice a lot more than you think," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Like how you always look away when you think I'm watching, or how you get that little crease in your forehead when you're trying not to smile too much."

Mike makes a silent note to himself to later thank Chris for the insights he’d shared minutes ago.

You laugh, feeling both embarrassed and overjoyed. "Okay, now you're just showing off."

He chuckles, his arm tightening around your waist as he dips his head a bit closer, his voice a soft murmur. "Can't help it. You’ve got me so close to losing it and you don’t even realize it." His fingers press gently into your side.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with a tenderness that surprises you. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, a vulnerability that makes your heart race. “Let me be the happiest guy in this place tonight.”

You feel your pulse race at the invitation, your mind whirling with both excitement and uncertainty. "What about that girl you were with?" you ask, your voice quiet and hesitant, unable to stop yourself from wondering.

Mike's smirk returns, his hold on your waist tightening slightly as he leans in, his voice a soft, almost possessive murmur. "She's not you. You’re the only one I can’t get out of my head.” His voice is rough, coated in something darker.

You meet his gaze, feeling your breath hitch as you search his face, trying to process the weight of his words.

He takes his chance to lean in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that leaves your heart racing. His lips crashing into yours with a desperate urgency that leaves you reeling. His hand slides around your waist, fingers tightening as he pulls you against him. The heat of his body sears through your clothes, and his thumb traces a slow, deliberate line along your cheek, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, that familiar cocky edge in his eyes. His eyes burn with that familiar, dangerous gleam-a challenge, a promise. His breath is ragged, as if he's barely holding back.

"Still up for that dance? Because I've got this new boyfriend I'd really like to show off." he whispers, his voice low and teasing. His breath brushes your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. He looks at you with that trademark mischievous grin, the one that could melt anyone’s defenses.

A rush of warmth floods your chest at his words, a mixture of giddiness and disbelief. Your heart skips, caught between the sweetness of the moment and the thrill of his presence. The corners of your mouth twitch up as you meet his gaze, and though you can barely keep your composure, you nod.

Mike's grin widens and as he takes your hand, guiding you to the dance floor, you feel as if you're floating, lost in the warmth of his gaze and the excitement of being his.

Note: if you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3

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apocalypseornaw · 5 months ago

Text

Shame on You

Dean Winchester x Reader

You and Dean burned hot and heavy but life as a hunter hits hard and puts a strain on relationships. When you're pushed back into each other's lives will it be a second chance or a fool me once, shame on you situation?

Everyone has those memories that are set in stone. The ones that no matter who much you'd prefer to forget they refuse to budge, choosing instead to linger at the back of your mind. Waiting until you least expect them to spring their trap and make you remember, rather you'd like to or not.

Too many of those for you starred Dean front and center. Dean Winchester, a legend in the hunting world. Someone monsters feared, a name known in heaven and in hell but to you? Your traitorous heart kept a completely different side of him close no matter how much you wished to forget.

To you? Dean was the fifteen year old tried to act cool and aloof but had stayed up all night with you and Sam during the summer if you all happened to get dumped on Bobby. He was the eighteen year old that helped Bobby get your first car road ready. He was the twenty two year old who'd called you to tell you Sam was getting out of the life then the twenty six year old who'd been wracked with guilt over Jess.

He was the man who lost his father within two months of you losing your aunt but still managed the drive so you wouldn't be alone to light the pyre.

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

Dean was the man who called you on the road just to check in, the man who at one time made an hour drive in twenty minutes because you'd been hurt and said "I need help"

Dean was the man who put up the front that nothing ever bothered him but whenever you showed up you'd see that look in his eyes, that look that clearly said "She's not gonna back down until I face it" and you never did.

Dean was was the man who on the night he was bound for hell begged you to stay behind because "I don't want you to see me ripped to shred by hellhounds after your aunt dying by a werewolf"

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

Dean was the man who you fought shoulder to shoulder with against anything and everything that came your way. The man who would patch your wounds and tell you how strong you were even when you felt your weakest.

Dean was the man that when the two of you started getting closer he treated you like you were made of glass and even apologized the first time the two of you kissed, thinking he'd crossed a line you didn't want crossed. The man that the first time the two of you fell into bed with each other spent hours going over every inch of your skin, bringing you pleasure you'd never knowm with past lovers.

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

Dean was the man who you gladly gave your heart to, entrusting him fully with everything you had. You loved him in a way you'd never previously even dreamt of. Then the arguments had started.

They were small, simple stuff really. No relationship was perfect but as hunters somethings said were lines crossed. Doubting each other's survival abilities, citing that you were a hindrance in one blowup of anger and even telling you to "go home to Bobby" when all of you had gotten pretty banged up had been the final straw. You'd been pushed too far.

You knew Dean and you knew he was pushing you away to protect himself but you also knew to protect yourself and the love you would always have for him you needed to leave. So leave you did. That was until Sam called and said four words that drew you back into Dean's orbit "We need your help"

"Out of every hunter we know, you call her?" Dean's voice was dangerously low. He was working hard not to yell, not to let his temper get the best of him but two years had passed since you walked out on him. Two years with his heart ripped out of his chest and out walking around in the world and only talking to his little brother instead of him.

Sam cut his eyes up from his computer screen, completely unphased by his brother's anger "You pushed her away Dean. Y/N loved you with everything she had but you kept pushing and pushing. It's what you always do. I can't falt her because you can't communicate for shit"

"Why do we need her on this hunt?" Dean repeated ignoring the insult, so Sam turned the screen around "because her aunt discovered the species. As far as I can tell out of hunters that are still alive that's faced it she's the only one. It was either I call her and she works the case with us or she ends up finding it on her own and works it solo and could end up getting hurt or worse on a solo hunt. Last time it took her, Bobby and her aunt to take out a pack. You really want to send her alone?"

That thought stopped him in his tracks. It felt like the air had been ripped from his lungs at the thought of you dead. "How long until she'll get here?" He asked about the time Sam's phone dinged. Sam glanced at the screen and shrugged "About ten minutes"

The bunker was just how you remembered it. A part of you felt like you should park your car next to Dean's impala and go chunk your bag in his room but that was then, this was now. You waited at the heavy outer door until it opened to reveal Sam on the other side. "Sam" you greeted with a smile and when you reached up to hug him he met you halfway. "It's good to see you Y/N"

When you pulled away from each other you looked past his shoulder and he half grinned "He's in the library, looking over the lore you sent ahead" you nodded "I bet he's so thrilled you called me" his smile softened "He still loves you" you shook your head "Fool me once Sammy. Sometimes you need more than love, you actually have to want the other person there"

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but stopped and shook his head "This is gonna be an interesting hunt to say the least"

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

You followed Sam down the winding stairs despite knowing the bunker as well as he did. You could find the library blind folded. "Dean?" Sam called out and your heart proved traitorous yet again by nearly leaping out of your chest.

The stubble that always graced his sculpted jaw was thicker than usual as if he'd missed trimming it by a day or two, the white Henley he wore under a dark blue shirt was unbuttoned to the point enough of his neck and collarbone was sticking out that you lost your train of thought as memories of the sounds he made when your lips traced that sensitive flesh flashed through your mind. Fuck, this had been a bad idea. You quickly schooled your features hoping Dean hadn't clocked you taking your time looking over any physical changes on him.

Dean on the other hand was barely able to meet your eyes. You looked as beautiful as always. Your hair was back in a braid, small pieces had worked their way loose but he imagined that was probably due to you riding with the windows down and the radio turned up. Your jeans were torn in a few places and the Led Zeppelin shirt you wore had seen better days but he couldn't have imagined anyone looking better in that moment than you alive and right in front of him after two years of only hearing your voice on the rare occasions he'd been in the room when you'd call Sam.

"Hey Dean" your voice was low, barely above a whisper. He nodded slowly before finally saying "Hey Y/N" you tore your gaze from him and looked at Sam, a tired smile slipping onto your face "Police and medical examiner reports please? Then we can gather what we need and hit the road. Faster we get to Missouri, faster we stop this stop. Then we really need to get Garth and a few more hunters of the like up to speed on the lore because I'm one person I can't be on speed dial every time these son of bitches crawl out their caverns"

Dean watched you slip into hunter mode with a small smile on his face, he loved you just as much as he had the day everything imploded between the two of you. He had to remind himself you were here for this hunt, not for him. No matter how much that truth hurt. "Lets get to work"

For some reason Sam had deemed it a good idea to send you and Dean to the medical examiners office together while he went to talk to the local police. Good idea in theory, divide and conquer and all that. The problem? Your patience was wearing thin before this hunt started.

You had to make two stops to get the needed supplies to make bullets that would put these things down, the motel only conjoining rooms left, you'd been left with the choice to let Sam take your car or to chauffeur Dean around and now the blonde, leggy medical examiner couldn't take her eyes off Dean long enough to let the two of you fully examine the bodies.

Your fed suit felt like it was choking you, the air in the office felt thick and you felt like you may very well throw a punch if something didn't change in the next five seconds. "Ms Jones is it normal protocol for the medical examiner to eye fuck the federal agent sent to examine the bodies of the victims found littered throughout the area or are you just adding on to your job title?"

You weren't sure who was more shocked by your words. Dean, Ms Jones or yourself. She composed herself quickly you had to give it to her so you attempted a backpeddle "What Agent Wilson chooses to do with his downtime once this case is closed is up to him and I'm not trying to rain on anyone's parade but you did tell our other partner Agent Cohen that you currently have what four bodies on ice? Now Agent Wilson is a looker as are you but I'm sure you both can wait a few more days"

Dean swallowed a smirk but you clocked it before he did as she apologized "I sincerely apologize Agent Taylor for my lack of professionalism" you forced a smile "I'll try not to let it slip when I report back to the state board" her face paled several shades as she led the two of you back to where the bodies were kept.

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

You were silent the entire ride back to the hotel, using the files in your lap as an excuse but you were fuming. You want to go back as knock Ms Laura Jones' perfect white teeth down her throat. How dare she flirt with your..... with Dean...with what she thought was an Agent on a case. The unprofessionalism. That's definitely what was bothering you. Not the thought that maybe he would've flirted back if you had gone with Sam.

"Y/N" Dean's voice broke through your thoughts and you glanced up to see you were back at the hotel and let out a breath. "Thank god" you wanted to get back into your jeans and get to work figuring out an idea of where these things could be held up. You needed to kill something.

You could feel Dean's eyes on you as you slid out the impala and lovingly ran a hand down the side of your own car. You needed this case over as soon as possible, for the sake of what little sanity you had left.

Dean didn't want to dwell on how good jealousy looked on you even when you never would've taken claim to the emotion or on how his heart had attempted to leap free of his chest to find its way to you where it knew it belonged when he realized you were indeed seething with anger at Laura's flirting.

He didn't want to humor the fact that whenever he didn't look at you he could feel your eyes on him and when he glanced your way he could see your shoudlers tense slightly in that way that was you acknowledging that you felt his attention but refused to return it.

He didn't want to think about the way you chewed on your bottom lip in concentration as you helped Sam make the bullets. He damn sure didn't want to think about any memories that flashed through his head when you had glanced up to pass him the bullets and half smiled. You owned him to this day and this damn hunt was tearing his heart out.

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

You had mapped out two likely locations for the nests for these things. They were within about forty yards of each other but you'd known the boys would never agree to you checking out one alone. That meant either everyone checking one then heading to the other or one of the boys going alone.

You knew before he ever said what Dean was thinking "I'll take the north one, clear it. If I find something I'll call and you two come running" you leveled him with a glare "Dean these things are as fast as a Wendigo, as bloodthirsty as a rugaru and damn near as hard to kill as a ghoul. Against anything else you'd have my vote of confidence but I don't like you going in alone"

He gave you a smirk in return "Don't worry about me sweetheart. Been fine up until this point"

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

You were begging your legs to move a little faster, your lungs to suck in a little more air and your body to be just a little stronger. There were six. The last pack had been four. Damn these things.

You felt the air currents move a half second before a body slammed into you and your back connected with the solid wall of the cave. You slid down with a heavy grunt and looked up to see one of the slobbering things over you. "Damn you're ugly"

Your gun had gotten knocked out of your hand but you'd smeared your knife in the concoction that was used in the bullet so you hoped that was enough. You slipped it from your boot and waved a hand at the thing "Cmon then, we don't got all night"

You went back and forth with the thing, narrowly avoiding its talons but finally seeing an opening to drive your knife hilt deep into its chest. You didn't hesitate to see if the knife would kill it instead you dove for your gun and flipped around the moment your hand wrapped around the cool metal and fired two rounds into the things head.

It fell with a heavy thud and you let out a breath, falling back against the dirt. "Y/N" You heard Dean's deep voice echoing your name and hollered "This way!" The moment he skid into view you saw he had a slice above his eyebrow and was favoring his side but the concern on his face was not for himself, he was looking at you.

You pushed yourself up to your feet as his eyes raked over your body, marking each visible mark no doubt "I'm fine Dean. Sam get the vics out?" He nodded "They're at the ranger station. Story is they were hiking and got stranded running away from a bear" you kicked the thing at your foot "What? Cocaine bear?" He grinned "I mean..we could sell it" he offered you his hand and you hesitantly took it.

You scrunched up your nose "I need a shower"

Once everyone had showered you gathered back with the boys in their room for first aid application. Sam needed stitches on his left shoudler, Dean needed a couple on that slice above his eye and had bruised ribs. You turned out fairly lucky considering the only bleeding you had was from scraping your arm and a leg on the walls of the cavern and your back would be bruised like hell from that slam but besides that nothing was broken so you'd all faired pretty well.

You were currently perched on the edge of the dresser, nursing a bottle of water and watching as Sam finished emailing Garth, The Banes twins, Donna,Jody and a handful of other hunters everything you knew about these things to update the collective lore.

Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed nursing a beer and trying to avoid your eyes. You were hoping they wouldn't need your help with anything for a while because now that the pre hunt and post hunt adrenaline was fading, the aching pain that accompanied the knowledge that the green eyed hunter that sat so close to you might as well have been a million miles away because he was no longer yours.

Sam glanced up once he was done "Anything to add?" You shook your head "That's it" he nodded "Ok then" you slowly stood up then motioned to the door that connected your rooms "I'm gonna hit the hay then. Roads calling my name so I'm hitting it bright and early"

Sam stood up and pulled you into a hug "it was good to see you after all this time" you smiled "Sorry for being a stranger" he barely glanced towards Dean before whispering "I get it" you stepped away from Sam and nudged Dean's shoudler on the way by "Guess you're free to hit up Laura now" he scoffed lightly "Yeah. Hey, stay safe sweetheart and if you ever need us...just call"

You half smiled "Same goes for me" before walking into your room and closing the door. You leaned back against it and shut your eyes to try to stow off the emotions. You could do this. You just needed a little sleep then you could hit the road.

"You're an idiot" Sam didn't waste any time tearing into Dean once he was sure you had secured the door behind yourself. Dean threw his hands up defensively "What did i do?"

Sam motioned to the door you'd just disappeared through "Nothing, that's the point. I've seen you mourn what you had with her for the last two frickin years man. You love her! You still do! You said it terrified you hearing gunshots then seeing her down. Don't let her walk away again without an effort. I'd give almost anything for that to be Jess on the other side of that door. Talk to her, tell her what she means to you. Argue, scream, have sex...hell do whatever you have to in an attempt to fix this because it's achingly clear you both still love each other with everything. I know why you pushed her away but it didn't work. She still loves you. So would you rather her die having spent the previous night in your arms or her die thinking you no longer wanted her?"

Dean didn't have to say anything for Sam to know his words had hit home. He nodded slowly looking from Sam to the door "Go" Sam repeated so Dean sat the beer on the side table and walked across the room before heading to the adjoining door so Sam buried his nose in his laptop in an attempt to make it seem like he wasn't paying any attention.

You had just brushed your teeth and plugged your phone in and was about to crawl into bed when a knock at the adjoining door drew your attention. You smoothed the cloth shorts you were wearing and went to answer it, half expecting Sam but there stood Dean.

"Yeah?" You asked looking from him to where Sam sat blatantly trying to appear as if he wasn't paying the two of you any attention. Dean scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck "Can we talk?" You nodded "Yeah, sure"

You stepped by to let him in about the time Sam glanced up. The two of you had a silent conversation which consisted of you asking if he knew what Dean wanted and him shrugging.

-----------

You nodded and turned back into your room, closing the door behind yourself and leaning against it. Dean stood in the center of your room looking a little out of place. "How ya been?" He asked then grimaced along with you. "We're not strangers Dean"

He nodded then sat down on the edge of the bed that wasn't disturbed and ran a hand down his face before looking up at you, a playful smirk finding his face "I'd offer a backrub since I know you're probably hurting but I doubt you'd take me up on the offer" you laughed and walked past him to sit on the edge of the dresser to face him before shrugging "Last time you gave me a backrub we broke the bed at Donna's cabin"

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to his hands. Several long moments passed before he finally spoke "I get why you left me" you let out a breath of air that sounded a lot more like a sigh than you meant for it to "Dean please.." you really didn't feel like tapping into the self worthlessness John had instilled so deep into him. You'd tried so hard for years for him to see himself like you did, how Sam did. How damn near everyone who cared for him did.

He held up his hand to cut you off "Hold on. I'm taking the blame. I pushed you away" when his eyes met yours you felt anger boil up into your chest "Why?"

"Why?" He echoed and you nodded "Why? Why did you let Cassie get close? You let Lisa get close? Yet you kept me at arms length for years. You let me fall in love with you then no matter what I did it wasn't good enough Dean! I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH" You hadn't meant for your voice to raise but when he cut his eyes at the adjoining door you realized it had.

"You were always good enough" he replied. You jumped to your feet, driven by anger and pain along with the aching love you still felt for the man in front of you "THEN WHY PUSH ME AWAY INSTEAD OF FUCKING FIGHTING FOR ME?"

"BECAUSE YOU FUCKING SCARE ME OK?" You froze dead in your tracks at his response. "What?" He stood, taking a couple steps to put space between the two of you before turning to face you "Most of my life it was me and Sammy. Dad was a joke as a parent. Bobby was a constant that was gonna be there regardless. No one else was there, no else really mattered. When we were younger you were a friend. Another kid dragged into this shit show of a life too young but then he went to Stanford and all of a sudden you're the only person I knew in the life. You turned from this...this kid that used to be dumped off at Bobby's along with me and my little brother to this amazingly strong and beautiful woman. You turned into a constant in my life, the one thing that I could always count on. I never meant to fall in love with you because I never would've wanted to put the target that comes with a Winchester loving someone on your back but I did. Then when you loved me back?" He let out a breath, running a hand over his face.

You stood there staring at him, unsure what to say. Where was this two years ago? Why now? "Why have you waited two years to say this?" You couldn't help the venom in your voice. You were hurt and in all the years you'd known Dean before the two of you had gotten together you were stupid enough to think he'd abstained the last two years.

He shrugged "Because I'm an idiot? I thought if I tried hard enough you'd stop loving me and then I could just throw myself into hunting. I could find all the biggest cases. Make sure only little ones were left, keep you as safe as I could" "Dean my aunt died on a werewolf case. Not exactly a world ender" you replied and he nodded "I know. I know"

He turned to face you and you saw his shoulders sag "I'm human sweetheart. I'm not perfect. You of all people know that but I love you now more than ever. I never stopped loving you. It's going to end my world the day you stop breathing but when and if that day comes I'd rather face it knowing the last night we both spent on earth was in each other's arms. I broke your heart and I can't begin to make up for that but I will try with everything I have because there has not been a single day that I've stopped loving you. I have not touched another woman in the last two years, I can get tests if you need me to. I'll take it slow. We can start back by dating.."

You cut him off by crashing your lips against his. When you pulled away he smiled softly then raised both eyebrows "What was that for?" You laughed and shook your head "I love you Dean" you cut your eyes at the bed then added "now want to make up for the last two years?" A groan came from deep in his chest as he pulled you to him "You don't know how damn much"

You stopped him before he could press another kiss to your lips and he looked defeated at first before you said "Don't ever push me away again" he nodded "Yes ma'am" then grinned "Now can I kiss you?" "You can do whatever you want Winchester" you promised and his eyes darkened to a deep green, "I love you" he swore before crashing his lips against yours.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction

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peleksstuff · 3 months ago

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escape 1. | rafe cameron x pogue!reader

*gifs not mine*

kinda contemplating about dropping this whole series parts, this is done just in my drafts waiting to be published. kinda want to discontinue the high on you timothée fic but anyways here’s some rafe cameron fic that is not a smut (i love smut but rafe fics imagine is so full of it)

summary: you helped the pogue escape from the notorious kooks.

—————-

You were a Pogue, but not the type to hang out with John B, JJ, Kiara, and Pope all the time. You weren’t exactly part of their tight-knit group, though you’d occasionally show up to the parties they hosted.

It was a small island, after all, and despite the social lines drawn between Kooks and Pogues, it was hard not to cross paths every now and then.

Tonight was different. You were sitting further away from the group, close enough to see them but far enough to stay in your own bubble.

Kie, Pope and JJ were dancing near the fire, their laughter echoing through the night. It was a typical night for them—carefree and full of the wild energy that came with living on the edge.

But your attention was pulled elsewhere.

Rafe Cameron, the island’s most notorious Kook, was standing near his group—Topper and a few other Kooks.

He was infamous for hating Pogues, but unlike the others,Rafe had never laid a hand on you. He didn’t even look at you. For some reason, while the rest of the Kooks would sneer, taunt, and sometimes get physical with Pogues, Rafe kept his distance from you.

You never questioned it, though. It was just one of those things you couldn’t explain, and you didn’t care enough to ask.

You were about to leave when a commotion caught your eye. Over by the beach cinema, where the islanders had set up a big outdoor screen for movie nights, you saw movement.

Rafe and Topper were standing over someone, and as you squinted, you realized it was JJ. He was on the ground, bruised and bloody, while Kiara screamed at them to stop. Pope was nearby, looking just as bad as JJ, trying to pick himself up.

Your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t know them well, but you weren’t going to stand by and watch while two Kooks beat down on a couple of Pogues.

The fear gnawed at your stomach, but there was no time to hesitate. You noticed a pile of dry leaves and twigs near the beach cinema equipment—a makeshift bonfire they hadn’t used tonight. Without thinking, you grabbed a stick from the dying flames of your own fire and ran toward it.

With a flick of your wrist, the small pile caught fire, and soon, smoke started billowing into the air. The flicker of flames danced up high, crackling louder than the sound of fists hitting skin. Rafe and Topper paused, distracted by the sudden blaze, and you took the chance to rush toward JJ and Pope.

“Get up!” you hissed, grabbing Pope by the arm while JJ groaned, wiping blood from his face. Kiara was at JJ’s side in seconds, helping him stand.

Rafe’s eyes shifted from the fire to you, and for a moment, you locked eyes with him. There was a flicker of surprise, then amusement. He didn’t look angry. In fact, he looked almost impressed, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

It was like he was silently acknowledging your quick thinking, finding the chaos of the moment entertaining. You quickly broke eye contact and focused on getting JJ and Pope out of there, your pulse racing.

As you helped them retreat, Rafe and Topper made no move to follow. You could feel Rafe’s gaze on you, that smirk lingering in your mind long after you were clear of the danger.

The next day, you tried to stay under the radar. You didn’t know JJ or Pope well enough to get involved in their mess, and you weren’t looking to make enemies of the Kooks either. You went about your day as usual, but there was a sinking feeling in your gut that something wasn’t quite right.

That feeling solidified when you found yourself cornered by Topper near the docks. He was pacing in front of you, his face red with anger.

“You think you’re smart, huh?” he spat, glaring at you.

“Messing with me last night? You had no business getting involved.”

You took a step back, your heart hammering. “I wasn’t going to let you beat them senseless,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Topper’s eyes flashed with rage, and he took a step closer. “You should’ve stayed out of it. Now you're my business"

You swallowed hard, glancing around for an escape, but the docks were deserted. Before you could respond, another voice cut through the tense air.

“Topper, back off.”

You turned to see Rafe walking toward you, his expression unreadable, hands shoved in his pockets. Topper froze for a moment, looking between you and Rafe, clearly unsure of how to react.

“Rafe, she—” Topper started, but Rafe cut him off with a lazy shrug.

“She didn’t do anything worth getting worked up over. Let it go.”

Topper looked like he wanted to argue, but something in Rafe’s tone made him reconsider. He clenched his jaw, muttering something under his breath before storming off.

Rafe watched him go, then turned his attention to you. There was that smirk again, the one from the night before. He didn’t say anything, just looked at you with a casual indifference, like what had just happened didn’t matter.

“Thanks,” you said awkwardly, not sure how to interpret his behavior.

“You shouldn’t get involved in things that don’t concern you.”

“Just be careful. Topper’s an idiot, but he won’t always listen to me.”

There was something in the way he said it that made you pause. It wasn’t a threat, but it wasn’t quite a warning either. It was like he was giving you a heads-up, but in the most casual way possible, as if he didn’t really care one way or the other.

You nodded, unsure of what to say. As he turned to walk away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his words.

Rafe Cameron, the island’s most dangerous Kook, had just bailed you out, and while he was acting like it was no big deal, something told you that he wasn’t entirely indifferent.

two

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x readet #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic

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cameronspecial · 1 year ago

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I Will Love It, Rafe

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Rafe wants to make their house a home for Y/N.

Masterlist

Being married to Rafe is the most amazing stage of Y/N’s life. She didn’t think he could’ve gotten more loving and attentive, but he did. When they moved into their house in the Outer Banks, he did the whole carrying her across the threshold thing and his husbandly duties didn’t stop there. He helped in every possible way to bring their house together and create their home. He gave his input on the paint colour, couch swatches, what style of furniture he wanted and anything else she would ask him. Even going as far as buying a few decorations he sees in the store and thinks she would like. Every time he would meet her with the same adorable nervousness of her not liking it, which she would always reassure him she does like it. This house is really starting to feel like theirs.

Rafe knows Y/N has been dreaming of a built-in bookshelf in the room that is going to be their office and Rafe is dying to make that happen for her. Sarah took Y/N out for the day under the pretense of showing his wife the island that is now her home. This allows him to work on his project for her. He enlisted the help of Sarah’s pogue friends because he knew he wasn’t the most masterful with his building. He isn’t their biggest fan, but he can put their differences aside for the sake of Y/N.

“We just have to nail the last top face frame rail and then we are ready to paint,” Rafe confirms with the others. Pope nods, “Yeah. Although, she won’t be able to put anything on it until after twenty-four hours, so I don’t know if you want to wait to show her.” “I think I’m too anxious to wait. I need to know what she thinks right away. What if she doesn’t like it?” Rafe frets, not seeing that he is holding the wood up crooked. JJ hits the back of his head, “Snap out of it. You aren’t holding it straight.” Rafe fixes his hold on the wood so that JJ can nail it into place. John B is the one to reassure his, hopefully, far-future brother-in-law. “Don’t worry, Dude. You said that she’s been showing you pictures of these bookshelves, so you know what she wants. Plus, she’ll just be touched by the gesture even if it isn’t exactly what she wants,” John B promises, slapping the husband’s back. “Thanks,” Rafe whispers.

———

The big reveal is quickly approaching and Rafe feels the sweat on his palms. He wipes it off on the towel in his hand. The front door opens and he swears as he realizes he won’t have enough time to get cleaned up. He runs to greet the girls and is met by a questioning look from his wife. She sets the bags in her hand down, “What’s with the paint?” “Uhh, I’ve been working on a project for you, but I’m not sure I want you to see it,” he confesses, walking over to pick up the bags and kiss her. She returns the kiss, “Why don’t you want me to see it?” “Because I don’t think you will like it. So I’m going to have to take it down and pay a professional to make a better one,” he explains. He pulls out his phone to call the pogues back to take down what they had built not even twenty minutes ago.

Y/N takes his phone out of his hand and makes him look at her. “You don’t have to do that. Just show me what you did. I’m sure I will love it, Rafe,” she comforts him, placing her hand in his. He lets out a breath and takes her upstairs to their office. He opens the door to reveal the labour of his day. Her eyes set on the bookshelves and she lets out a squeal. Her arms wrap around his neck. She kisses him on the cheek, “Rafe, I love it. This is incredible. Thank you so much. You are really making this place our home.” He gives her a kiss of his own with a massive grin. “You’re welcome, Angel. I would do anything to make you feel comfortable. I want you to love this space as much as I love you.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

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redheadspark · 7 months ago

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Here (Part Three and Final Part)

Summary - Azriel's mate pulls through, but Azriel sets a new target on the one who almost took his mate.

Warnings - Angst with a hint of fluff mixed in

A/N - Part of the Ocean Eyes Series. Here is the last part of this small three-part series, by popular demand. I hope you like it!

Part One

Part Two

Azriel felt himself flying out of the guest room, thankfully moving his son safely to the side of the bed to let him sleep. But you were in his mind, hearing your voice calling out to him so gently and yet strained simultaneously. He was beyond fast, going across the hallway in a mili-second and bursting into your room. He stood still at the doorway, seeing the blue tint of the room thanks to the moonlight and how you were squirming a bit in your position on the bed. Almost as if you were waking up from an unpleasant dream. You squinted, your nose twitching a bit as you took in a sharp inhale.

Azriel…what happened…

"Honey, hey," Azriel said in such a rush and trembled as he made his way over to him, pushing the chair to the side abruptly to be kneeling and in front of your face. He reached up to touch your cheek, his palm against your cheek lovingly as you took in another breath that sounded a bit uncomfortable. Finally, he saw you open your eyes right at him and he finally smiled, tears in his eyes as your gorgeous blue eyes were looking back at his hazel ones. Azriel only said three words, there words that were simple but moved your heart:

"There's my girl,"

All the worry he had, the fears of you dying in front of him and leaving him this world, they no longer existed. You were there, safe and alive, watching him with weary but comforting eyes. Azriel felt like he could breathe again, finally taking in a long breath since it felt like he was holding it in for so long. The last several hours were filled with worry, despair, rage, and devastation at the notion of Azriel watching you slip away from him. He was already thinking over every scenario that could happen to him, but now he simply wished to fall to his knees in both happiness and exhaustion from being on edge for far too long.

"Az?" You finally voice, your voice so raw and yet still gentle. Azriel beamed, tears down his face from hearing your voice finally. How he missed your voice, the warmth it brought like the sun rays on a summer day. Hearing it in the bond was one thing, but to finally hear It with his ears, made the tension that he carried fly away and out the window.

He took out a long breath, attempting to remain composed in front of you as you were searching his eyes, but it was all too much for him. He hid his face for a brief moment into his arm, the last thing he wanted to do was to show his tears to do since you were the one who was hurting and near death. Although you were still in the same pain and drowsy, you were concerned seeing your mate in such a way in front of you,

"Azriel, what.." You were about to ask, not understanding what was going on, but Azriel inhaled sharply and looked back at you. You saw the pain in his eyes, pain that was mixed relief and grief as he scanned your eyes.

"I'm just fucking glad you're okay," He hummed, his voice sounding so broken but also ecstatic at the same time. He leaned forward, kissing your cheeks and forehead over and over while his hands cradled your face and stayed so close to you. You heard it and saw it, how he was so worried and now relived that you were there and breathing.

"Cauldron, don't you dare scare me like that again," he said against your hair as he cradled your face in his palms, you feeling some of his tears hit your cheeks and nose. You carefully reached up to touch his wrists, holding him there like an anchor as you were letting him kiss you all over and touch you.

The last thing you remembered was trying to fly into the sky, masked men chasing after you and attempting to ambush you, and then the searing pain that blossomed throughout your entire body. The scream from your lips was almost animalistic as your vision went cold and you fell from the sky, limp and cold.

But now you were there, warm in a bed and Azriel in front of you with fresh tears.

"Where am I?" You asked, looking around at the room you were in. Azriel moving the hair from your eyes and rubbing your arms soothingly.

"River House," Azriel explained, "Cassian found you out cold and brought you here. You've been asleep for a good 9 hours, baby,"

You attempted to sit up a bit, in hopes to maybe gather your bearings, but you froze and gasped out in pain. The entirety of your back had a spasm from the shocking pain and you whimper. Your wings felt so stiff and painful, especially your left wing, almost like it was on fire as Azriel wrapped you in his arms and helped you go back to your side.

"Your wings are still healing, rest for me," He urged you as you sighed and took in a few long breaths, "Madja got most of the poison out from your wing but there's still some left,"

It made you look at him in shock from the news that there's poison in your wing. No wonder you were feeling insane pain, to the point that moving your wing would be almost like torture so to speak. You recalled that searing white pain when you were flying up in the sky, the pain was large enough to have you lose your breath and then pass out cold, paralyzing you within seconds.

You shot an alarmed look at Azriel, "Where's Alec? Is he safe? Is he—" You were about to ramble several questions all at once about your son, who was now in your mind at the forefront of your worries.

"He's okay, sweetheart. Alec's safe and okay. Look, he's asleep right across the hall, see?" Azriel said to you, you looking out the door that was left abruptly open. Even from your spot on the bed, you could see Alec, tucked away in bed amongst the messy sheet and snoring away with his head on the pillow. Watching your son shift in his sleep, his black hair was that was growing out a bit too long against the dark blue satin pillows, you smiled at the view. There was your son, safe and sound, sleeping as if nothing was going to harm him.

Just the way you both wanted.

"He's worried about his momma, just like I am," Azriel explained, his voice solemn as you looked from your sleeping son to your mate, watching him scan your body up and down with his wide eyes. Although you knew his worry was valid from what happened to you, you also wanted to bring Azriel would have the current headspace he was in, which was dark and almost sickening. So you moved your own hands up to cup his cheeks and face, feeling how flushed he was along his skin and almost clammy.

You leaned up and kissed him, his lips were soothing to you since it felt like years since you kissed him last. Azriel instantly caved and melted into your touch as he cupped your jaw with one hand and the other moving down along your waist to tuck you in close without harming your damaged wings. You both needed this kiss, not in a lustful manner but in such a way like lovers who have been separated for some time. It felt like it, you missing his warmth and his soothing touch for however long you were unconscious and slipping in and out of reality. It felt like you were in some deep sleep that had no dreams or nightmares, but almost like you were walking in the form of direction.

Kissing Azriel was your direction, your guided path, and it felt like you were found again.

You barely pulled away from him, breathing in the scent that only Azriel would carry while you were still caressing his face with your fingers and watching him with love in your eyes, "I'm right here, Azriel. I'm right here and breathing and I'm not going anywhere,"

"You better not," He hummed, almost in a light joke but the emotion was still there in his voice, "You're not allowed to leave me In this world,"

"Never," You vowed, that single word rang in the air between you two in the small room. You still had plenty of questions about what happened, from what you remembered last and what occurred in between. Did Azriel know what happened to you? Did the others know and find out through him?

Who was it that did this to you?

Perhaps your husband and mate knew you were thinking deeply, from the look on your face made him stare at you lovingly," You don't need to worry about it, my love,"

Of course, you were going to worry, waking up in a foreign bed and insane pain from almost being poisoned to death. Youknew you were in no unmarked territory or area that you shouldn't be in. In actuality, you knew the woods for centuries and were familiar with the layout. So you weren't lost, nor were you in a nasty situation. Which only left…

"Who was it?" You croaked out, Azriel's eyes going a bit big from the sudden question from you. But you were alert and watching him intently, to which he was shocked by what you meant.

Azriel shook his head, "No, no. Don't worry about it right now, okay?"

"Az—" You were about to argue, but he interrupted you.

"That's for me to deal with, not you," he stated to you, you searching his eyes and seeing something a pinch darker. Hetook in a long inhale, "I'm going to take care of it, I need to. Someone tried to take you from me, and I can't let that go,"

He sounded so broken in that moment with what he said to you, the protective side of Azriel was visible over his eyes and in how he was even kneeling next to the bed. Stiff, on alert, and almost mechanical. This side of Azriel was more prone to inflict fears onto others, to bring even the strongest of men to their knees. You have only seen it a few times in all the life you had with him, and it felt like you were seeing it all over again.

"Stay with me, tonight. Stay Azriel, please," you pleaded with him, thinking having him with you would be the safer option than for him to go out on a rampage. Even with the several questions ringing in your mind, somehow you were willing to just be with your mate. You are also trying to distract him from doing something he would regret in the end, and Azriel reluctantly takes the bait. He sighed, inhaling deeply and then nodding.

"Okay," He hummed, the anger that was threatening to overcome him was now diminishing and evaporating into the air. Maybe he sensed your worry over him, the panic that he may do something that would make him be filled with regret. Carefully, but with swift movement that seemed so fluid, he scooped you in his arms. You clung to him, feeling a bit of the pain as he kissed your forehead and knelt on the bed. He gently got you back on the bed, though he was now on his back and having your head tucked into his neck. Your arms around him, being able to use his body now instead of a body pillow that you were attached to for several hours, and breathing in his musky and yet gentle scent.

Azriel cradled you close in his arms, finding that love again as your body was against his, your hair against his cheek and nose, and feeling your heartbeat against his own. This was his center again, the fact that you were awake and there with Azriel made him feel safe all over again. The last 9 hours were hell, torture upon himself since he had no way to help you or make you wake up for him. But not anymore, and the happiness he thought he lost was slowly coming again in wave after wave.

"I love you," You hummed, your energy was dropping as sleep was about to overcome you. Azriel held you a pinchtighter as you felt his fingers in your long hair.

"I love you more than the stars in all of Prythian," He vowed against your head, you feeling his fingers move along your hair and his lips along your forehead, "I got you right here, get some sleep,"

While you were holding him gently and falling back asleep, a smile was now etched on your lips with the sense of security in your mind that your husband and mate were both holding and protecting you, Azriel was already thinking of what he was going to do with your attacker and whoever else was behind this. Even while you were alive and well, he still had the protective streak about him and that side that was locked away.

It's been some time since he let his Spymaster side come out full throttle, maybe it was time for it to happen again.

"High Lord Beron informed me that Eris went rogue,"

Azriel rubbed his face in his hand, both in frustration and with the anger festering under his skin as he was sitting across from Rhysand in his office. Cassian was chatting with you in the room where you are recovering, Nesta and little Rose accompanying him as they were giving you some company. Alec too was with you, not once leaving your side when he woke up and found you awake in your bed and happy to see him. Azriel knew then that he needed to talk to Rhysand and Cassian about the meeting they had with High Lord Beron the night before while he was with you. Though he was furious that they both conducted with him present, he also knew why: he would have torn the room to pieces in anger beyond reason.

"We showed him the arrow, and he recognized it from Eris's security and their stash of arrows. Not to mention the poison that the arrow was drenched in. He found out Eris left Autumn Court an hour before the attack happened, and hasn't returned since," Rhysand explained to Azriel, seeing how his shadows were fuming from near this news. Cassian side-eyed Azriel, feeling the tension himself as he cleared his throat.

"Beron doesn't condone what he did, and he claims that it's not a representation of Autumn Court," He said halfheartedly.

"Cassian," Rhysand said in a warning tone, but Cassian simply glared back at him.

"I'm not gonna sugar coat it, Rhys. I don't buy what Beron said: it came from his Court and that makes me suspicious of him," Cassian explained in a shrug.

"I agree, but I also need to take into account that Beron would not place his own Court in the line of fire. He hasn't since the war, why would he do that now?" Rhysand countered back, Cassian huffed silently as he leaned back in his chair. Rhysand focused back on Azriel, who was still quiet throughout the exchange and looking down at his scarred hand that clutched the arm of his chair. Rhysand could talk to him through his bond with him, he's done it in the past. But something about this moment, seeing his Spymaster and his brother, trying to hold it together, he didn't want to pry his mind. It felt too emotional for him, too raw even, to even tap into his mind.

"Beron has soldiers looking for him, and he had made it his personal mission to search for Eris. We also have permission to find him with our men since this happened in our Court," Rhysand explained to Azriel, motioning his head over to Cassian, "Cassian volunteered Illyrians to comb the sky and the woodlands as we speak. If he is found in our territory, we can punish him as we see fit."

Once again, Azriel said nothing, to which both Rhysand and Cassian gave him uneasy looks since the calm demeanor that Azriel was giving off was unsettling. Neither one of them seen him so calm, so collected almost, especially considering his mate nearly died hours before.

"I've already warned the other High Lords in case he does hide out in the other Courts, though I did not close the details and what precisely happened. All of them agreed to notify us if he does show up in their territories, and if he is found—"

"He's mine," Azriel finally spoke, his voice low and raw. Both Cassian and Rhysand shot a look at him, seeing him slowly uncurling his fingers from the arm of the chair. Marks were seen in the wood from his nails, to which his palm was facing up and he made a small fist.

"Azriel, you need to focus on your mate and your son, not Eris," Rhysand gently reminded him, but Azriel shook his head once.

"He's mine," He repeated, his eyes not swaying from looking at his scarred hand. Cassian was looking at him in concern now as Azriel was sitting so still, not blinking once.

"Az," Cassian was about to chime in, but Azriel jumped up abruptly for the chair with such force the chair fell back behind him and bounced off the floor. The fury in his stance, the heated stare that illuminated his hazel eyes, even his shadows were radiating off his body as he glared at Rhsyand in front of him.

"HE WENT AFTER MY WIFE!" He bellowed, his voice booming off the walls with such a force that it was almost deafening. Both the High Lord of Night Court and the Illyrian Army Commander were silent, almost afraid themselves as Azriel was still glaring at Rhysand.

"My…fucking…wife. He wanted her dead….and he went after Alec when he was a babe. I'm done with him and with this," Azriel growled, his scarred hands clenched so tight Rhysand saw the veins pop out in contrast to his scars, "I am done letting him sliding through my fingers. I watched my own wife nearly die in my arms Rhys, enough is enough. Don't you fucking dare tell me you wouldn't feel the same if it was Feyre who was nearly killed,”

Azriel was heated, he might have crossed a line mentioning his High Lady, but he was agitated and no longer wished to be composed. Rhysand felt the pain, and deep down he was right: Rhysand would feel the same if Feyre was the one who was hurt. He would have reprimanded Azriel for mentioning Feyre, but he wasn't going to. Not when Azriel was right. Azriel looked over at Cassian.

"Or you with Nesta," he said, Cassian inwardly growled from the thought of Nesta being in that position.

"I want his head on a spike," Azriel stated as he looked back at his High Lord, "He needs to pay from these past years breathing fear down my family's back for his amusement. I need to know, here and now, that he is mine when he is caught. DoI have your word?"

He was asking Rhsyand, both as his High Lord and also as his brother and friend. He could go against Rhysand if he needed to, his mind was simply on ending Eris and eliminating the threat against his family. No matter what it took, the length and the commitment, he would. But this was one last ditch effort for Azriel to get his High Lord's permission, the last inch of sanity he had.

Rhsyand, giving him a solemn look knowing that Azriel was driven in this, took in a long inhale.

"You have my word," He replied, sealing Eris's hate.

The End.

Tagging - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup @sizzlingstarlightsky @iluvyewman-blog @masbt1218 @a-courtof-azriel @homeslices @zanzie @topaz125 @saltedcoffeescotch @he6rtshaker @tenshis-cake @pruvii

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sometimesanalice · 2 years ago

Text

Like I Can (Part 3)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 7.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

(All’s well that ends well❣️ Enjoy!)

You’d been on edge all day.

Having slept terribly the night before, you’d woken up early and giving up on the idea of going back to sleep had ended up at a sunrise yoga class, hoping that some movement would help you clear your mind. By the end of the hour you were even more frustrated than you were before you arrived, the poses feeling unnaturally forced instead of flowing seamlessly as they usually did.

So much for some goddamn inner peace.

Work was even worse. You had arrived to find that the espresso machine was broken. And whoever made a pot on the ancient drip machine, that was undoubtedly pulled out of a dingy storage closet somewhere, clearly hated everyone else since it tasted like tar. You could barely focus enough to clear out your inbox, when your work nemesis started breathing down your neck about a proposal that wasn’t due for another two weeks.

Time was dragging on. And every time you looked at the clock thinking it had been at least an hour since you’d last checked, were continually shocked to see that barely fifteen minutes had passed by. Thankfully it was Friday, so your boss didn’t care when you called it a day and left at lunch. It was better for everyone this way.

You had tried painting your nails, but didn’t have the patience to let them dry and smudged them trying to open a package of crackers. Ignoring the crumbs that got everywhere as you ate them while working the cotton pad over the remnants of your pretty pink polish. Your new favorite show didn’t hold your attention like it usually did and you found yourself mindlessly scrolling on your phone, missing most of the plot you’d had to restart it. Twice.

Not even the scenic drive along the coast to the restaurant you were supposed to meet your date at had done anything to alleviate your nerves.

You had been surprised at the choice of location when you had received the text message with the information about this particular date. As much as you enjoyed going to the Hard Deck, you were very much looking forward to drinking something other than a beer. Sure, Penny could make a mean spicy margarita, but sometimes an overpriced aesthetically pleasing cocktail just hit the spot better than anything else.

But most of all, you were thankful for a change of pace and the privacy this offered you. You had never been one for the spotlight, and dating on display had left you feeling drained.

You’re sitting in a surprisingly comfortable wooden wicker dining chair on the outdoor patio of the new trendy fusion restaurant you’ve been dying to come to. From your spot tucked away in the corner you can see the ocean waves rolling in and back out again. The golden rays already promising a stunning sunset later in the evening.

The foliage of the giant potted monsteras and birds of paradise made the terrace feel like a lush oasis, and contrasted stylishly against the large painted terracotta tiles on the ground. The pergola that covered it was dotted wisteria amongst the other climbing greenery, and numerous oversized hanging rattan sconces. The dainty lights woven throughout reflecting off the wine glasses on the table.

This was exactly what you needed. Too bad you couldn’t let yourself enjoy it, the twisted knots in the pit of your stomach had served a constant reminder of your nerves all day.

You had used this date as an excuse to finally buy the deep green floral dress you’d had your eye on for ages. The gentle drape of the neck was subtly sophisticated, while the high slit on the side added some serious sex appeal.

There was nothing wrong with a little retail therapy you had told yourself as you’d swiped your credit card. If you looked good, maybe it would help you to feel good.

In all honesty, it probably had a little too much sex appeal since you couldn’t stop fidgeting in your chair trying to get the silky dress cover up more of your thigh that was currently displayed rather provocatively. It felt like the more you tried to get it to lay right the more of your leg was exposed.

It probably didn’t help that you couldn’t stop the restless bouncing of your leg. You weren’t usually an antsy person, leg bouncing had always been more of Rooster’s anxious habit than yours.

Maybe you’ll feel less exposed once you draped the linen napkin across your lap. You’re tempted to do it now, but you don’t want to disturb the artfully laid out tablescape before your date has arrived.

It had been three weeks of back to back truly terrible dates. You could see the finish line now, but you couldn’t say that it wasn’t wearing on you. It had sounded like fun in theory, but now you weren’t so sure you would said yes again if you were offered a do-over.

You were tired.

Tired of going through the motions with men who could hardly be bothered to do the bare minimum. Tired of trying to sell the best version of yourself. Tired of putting on a show when all you wanted to find was an easy kind of love.

And this particular date had you more on edge and anxious than any of the other ones you’d gone on.

Even if you were pressed, you could not remember a single thing about the guy Payback had set you up with on your most recent blind date.

That evening you hadn’t even bothered trying to put together a cute outfit for the meeting. Instead, the only real effort you’d opted to put in was painting your lips a bright red as an attempt to psych yourself up for it. You didn’t usually wear such a bold color, but when you did it never failed to make you feel more brilliant.

And while you couldn’t remember anything about your date, what you did vividly remember was the fight you got into with Rooster that night.

You had been coming back from the restroom and on your way back to your date when you had bumped into him rounding the corner.

“Sorry, that was my fault,” he’d said as he reached out to steady you with hand going to your waist, dropping it once he realized it was you. “Oh, hey.”

Glancing over to your date who seemed absorbed in some game he was playing on his phone, you figured he wouldn’t miss you if you spent a few extra minutes away to catch up with Rooster.

He had been acting really distant lately, taking a couple days to respond to texts rather than a couple of hours like it usually took him. Natasha had told you about the rigorous training they were being put though, and you had assumed it probably had something to do with that. However, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off between you two.

Rooster was already pulling away from you and taking a step towards the bar when you reached out grabbing his wrist to keep him with you. Looking around for a quiet place to talk, you’d heard him sigh behind you, but still held on to him as you made your way to one of the high-top tables in the corner by the empty stage.

You’d stopped and let go as you turned towards him, only to find him already looking at you with an expression that landed somewhere between expectant and exasperated. The cuffs of his shirt straining around his biceps as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well?” he grunted out.

Was he mad at you? You couldn’t think of any recent arguments you’d had recently that would explain the harsh tone he was using with you.

“Is everything ok? I feel like you’ve been really off lately. You know I’m always here for you, right?” Your hand was already reaching out to touch him, but you resisted the urge not wanting to further agitate him.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m surprised you even have time to talk to me with all these washouts you’ve been wasting your time on. You’re the one with the busy social calendar, not me.” He was looking over the top of your head avoiding your gaze now, the bitterness in his voice had stunned you.

“Seriously? What is the matter with you?”

He’d never been so intentionally callous with you before and it hurt.

“Listen, if there is an issue me dating the people your friends have been setting me up with, you need to let me know,” you’d said pointing a firm finger at him, your anger rising. “This was supposed to be a fun no pressure situation, but I don’t want to be in the middle of this if things are getting heated between you guys. It’s not worth it to me. But you don’t get to ignore me for days and then claim that I’m the one avoiding you.”

He made a noise of frustration as he dragged both hands through his curls. You could see the flex of his jaw as he’d clenched his teeth together.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he ducked down to that his eyes were level with your, and you could see the remorse in them. “You’re right, that was shitty of me to take it out on you. I’m just… tired.”

You’d simply nodded at him, feeling like you weren’t on the same page as him didn’t sit well with you. “Phoenix told me about your new training program, it seems intense,” your voice sounded small even to your own ears.

“Yeah, the training,” he’d sighed out pausing for a moment as he weighed his words, rubbing at his chest, “It’s taking a toll on me, but that’s my problem. I mean it, I’m sorry.”

“Are we good?” you searched his eyes, your friendship with him was so important to you.

“You and me? We’re good, kid. Always.” He’d reached out and squeezed your shoulder before heading back to where the group was gathered together pretending like they weren’t just watching your argument play out.

Needless to say, your head was somewhere elsewhere entirely as you made your way back to your date. You’d felt bad being so distracted, but your mind just kept playing the argument on repeat. It was like your brain was trying to pull apart every little word to decode something that you didn’t think was there.

After Payback’s friend had left, you rejoined everyone else around the pool table. You couldn’t tell if the mood was off or if it was just you reading into things, since they hadn’t been prodding you with questions like they usually did.

Natasha was in the middle of giving you a glowing review of the man she had been bragging about since she first offered to set you up, when Rooster came to sit with you both.

“He’s just your type. He’s an engineer, so he’s smart. He’s got that whole glasses wearing and floppy hair thing going for him. And he’s funny. Rumor has it that he talked back to his Rear Admiral one time and got away with it because the guy had found him amusing. I fully expect you to name one of your future children with him after me.”

Rooster had surprised the pair of you when he stood up so violently that he almost knocked over the beers on the table.

“What the fuck, Bradshaw?” Nat had exclaimed as you both worked to rescue the teetering bottles from becoming casualties from his sudden movement.

You had no idea what he was going to say as an explanation for why he’d jumped out of his seat the way he did, but what he ended up unexpectedly announcing instead of answering Nat’s question had sent you into a tailspin.

So now here you are in a restaurant you’d be dying to go to, fidgety and anxious in a probably-too-expensive-and-probably-too-provocative dress for a first date with the guy who Rooster was willing to break his long-standing rules for to set you up with.

To say you were feeling the pressure was an understatement. No one knew you like Rooster did. He’d seen you at your best and at your worst. He wouldn’t just pick any random guy he knew, he would be picking the one who he thought would be the best for you.

The thought should be comforting, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness.

You pick up your phone again and double check the time in the text that Rooster had sent you with all the details for your date with his friend.

It was either that do that again or moving the ever-so-slightly crooked gold salad fork back into place.

You’re about to open Instagram for the third time since you sat down, turning when you hear a throat clear purposely behind you.

��Hey, sweet girl.”

For Rooster, when you’d first agreed to participate in the bet with his friends those dates started off as annoying inconveniences. Just inconsequential disruptions that got in the way of his time with you.

You were his best friend and at his bar, yet he felt like he’d hardly seen you these past couple of weeks- or at least not as much as he would have liked.

Sure, he got some time with you here and there at the end of the night like when you had late night tacos on the beach. Or when he’d taught you his favorite pool trick, well more like attempted to teach you, he loved how stunningly bad you were at the game. But he felt like he was competing with these idiots his friends had picked out for your time and your attention.

He wasn’t used to sharing you. In the past, if you had a date that conflicted with something spontaneous he wanted to do or something that the group had planned together, more often than not he could get you to move it or cancel completely.

He’d never been above a little bribery to get his way, he knew what you liked.

You going on dates wasn’t a new concept to him, but seeing them paraded in front of him was a different story. And he was getting really tired of watching you from across the bar while feeling like you were out of reach.

The more of them you went on, and the more he heard Natasha crowing about having the perfect man for you the more agitated he felt. The worse that feeling in the pit of his stomach got.

The evening of date for Payback’s pick, they’d all seen you walk in through the doors of the Hard Deck wearing that shade of red lipstick. You’d wore it so well. His friends had immediately started speculating about what it meant. Phoenix had called them all idiots, and while he couldn’t claim to know anything about make-up and those things, he did know you didn’t just wear that color for no reason.

He had vague memories of his mom putting the color on when they’d go greet his dad, at least he like to think those were his memories. Or maybe they were just something he’d created in his head from all the time he had spent looking at old photos of his mom and dad together, her smile always outlined in the color. His favorite was the one where his dad’s cheeks were covered in bright red lipstick kisses as he smiled indulgently down at his mom while a young Bradley was propped on her hip clutching his prized F-14 Tomcat. He had that one framed on the end table next to his couch.

And seeing that color on you for a date with this random guy had rattled him.

He’d felt so terrible later that evening when he took those feelings out on you. Hating himself as he lashed out at you. Hating himself as he saw your face fall and the hurt in your eyes. Hating himself for being the person who made you feel bad.

And the crux of it all was that you weren’t wrong, he had been deliberately distant by being slow to reply and ignoring texts from you. He wasn’t proud of it, but he didn’t know what else to do. He’d hoped by creating some space that it would help him to try and get his head back on straight.

He’d let you assume that he was tired from the new training program they were being put through. What he didn’t tell you was that he was already outperforming everyone on the team, and that he hadn’t had to do any extra push-ups in a week and a half.

He was tired because he hadn’t been sleeping, and he couldn’t sleep because every time he tried to close his eyes all he could see was you on these dates. Replaying them in his mind’s eye wondering what the outcome would have been had they not gone so terribly wrong each time.

The what-ifs swarming around his brain day and night like agitated hornets.

While he had been quick to apologize for being a dick, the sharp pain that settled behind his sternum wouldn’t subside no matter how much he had tried to rub it away.

He didn’t know what was more unbearable, the idea of losing you to a chance encounter of circumstance. Some meet cute courtesy of the universe that he couldn’t see coming until it was too late, when it’s already too far out of his hands and out of his control. To see you grinning that smile so bright, the one so wide it made your dimples appear, as you introduced that guy to him.

Or sitting here night after night analyzing every little thing as you date the people some of his closest friends had picked out for you. Watching and hoping that these dates would just be funny stories you told on drunken nights out rather than the story told at your wedding about the night that everything changed when you met your person. Of having to be happy for you even as you pull away from him.

His ears were ringing and he’d felt his stomach drop.

He could see it now, a day when your life ran parallel to his rather than entwined as he was used to. Of you with a partner. With children. Of him as ‘Uncle’ Rooster, demoted to the rank of ‘longtime friend of the family’ rather than a core member of it.

The thought of it making him feel sick.

All evening he had been moving around like a ghost completely lost to the thoughts in his head, but now it felt like he’d been shocked by a live wire. He’d pretty much jumped out of the chair he had just settled in, almost knocking the beers in front of him off the table completely.

“I want in, I’ll do it,” he’d blurted out, interrupting the conversations that had continued on around him while he had been spiraling. “This whole thing has been a complete shit show. I can’t watch this anymore. I know a guy, I’ll set it up. I’m in.”

His hands were sweating as he hoped no one would call his bluff. He’d made it a point to actively avoid looking at you. You had such an uncanny way of reading him.

“I don’t know, Bradshaw. You’re a little late to the game, aren’t you? I’ve been saving the best for last, and I’m ready to collect my winnings.” He’d expected some shit from Hangman, but he never would have guessed it’d come from Phoenix.

Feeling his anger flare up, he reached into his back pocket and fished out a $100 bill from his worn leather wallet, double the original entry fee. He slapped it down on the table, leaving no room for any further discussion, “I’m the one setting her up for the next date.”

He’d caught a look between Hangman and Phoenix, but he couldn’t be bothered to read into it as he tried to keep his temper in check.

He wouldn’t lose you. Not to someone who didn’t deserve you, especially when he already knew the person who could make you happy.

“Alrighty,” Jake had drawled out, as he pocked the bill. “Looks like we have another player. I look forward to taking your money.”

He’d extended his hand out and they’d all shook on it, reaching Phoenix last her grip firm and her smile sharp. And that was that.

Now he was here at the new popular restaurant he’d heard you talking about a few weeks ago, his feet cemented to the tiles beneath him just gazing at you.

He could tell from where he was standing behind you that you were nervous by the way you were opening and closing apps without truly looking at anything. He knew it was a habit of yours when you were feeling anxious, something for your hands to do as you tried to distract yourself.

He had sweet talked the hostess over the phone into reserving the best spot on the outdoor terrace, and you looked so beautiful sitting there wearing his new favorite color. Your hair is held back by a delicate golden clip on one side leaving the line of your neck exposed, the sea breeze picking up a few wisps. It makes his teeth ache with want.

He knew you were gorgeous, he’d stared down enough men at the Hard Deck to know that others thought so too. However, he’d never let himself sit with those thoughts for too long, not trusting himself to keep his mind from wandering.

You were his best friend.

And best friends don’t think about how the other would look so perfect in their bed, that pretty green dress forgotten on the floor.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you would look under his arm.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you would look with his ring on your finger.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you are for him.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect he is for you.

Him.

It was a good thing he didn’t want to just be your best friend anymore.

He’d already done too much thinking, done too much waiting. He wasn’t going to miss his moment.

Taking one more deep breath, he made his way to you.

“Rooster? What are you doing here?” He was the last person you’d expected to see when you turned your head to see who had been trying to get your attention, “Are you ok? What’s wrong?”

Did he get emergency orders? Did your date get in an accident?

Your anxiousness was quickly morphing into panic, you’re already half way out of your seat when he puts his hand on your shoulder, his thumb stroking the skin there reassuringly.

He is standing there looking completely at ease, as if he belonged there, “Nothing’s wrong, sweet girl.”

And there it was again, you hadn’t been sure if your ears were playing tricks on you the first time he’d said it. That simple term of endearment silencing the alarm bells that were going off in your head, the edges of the lush restaurant softening around everything except him.

“Your mom always called me that,” you say softly.

You cherished all the memories you had with Carole, the woman who had been such a significant figure in your life for so long. You knew your mom still sent Rooster a cake every year to celebrate her birthday from whatever bakery was closest to wherever he was stationed.

“I know, I remember,” his voice so warm and deep, “She loved you.”

He says it so simply, so sincerely. As if his presence here hasn’t just completely untethered you and sent you adrift in a sea of bewilderment.

The writhing snake that had made a home all day in the pit of your stomach finally disappeared, only to be replaced with the fluttering of wings that you were desperately trying to ignore.

You’d been so shocked when Rooster had exclaimed that he was going to set you up with someone, your mind had been whirling so much at the time you could barely focus on anything that had been said in the aftermath of his announcement. Maybe you had missed some caveat he’d come up with for his participation in the bet? That could make sense, considering how adamant he had always been in the past about never getting involved in your love life.

He was standing there looking so good in his best short-sleeved button up shirt, the one that was scattered with vibrant palm leaves that fit snugly against his body. And wearing the white slacks that usually had you looking anywhere else in the room to avoid acknowledging the way they clung to your best friend’s thighs and ass. If only he knew how weak they made you.

There just has to be a logical reason for why he’s here, but the soft smile on his face was rendering your brain uncooperative.

You were getting tired of feeling like you were missing something that should be so obvious, “My date is supposed to be here soon, are you going to hover in the back like you have been at the Hard Deck? Or are you just planning on pulling up a chair and third wheeling up close and personal?”

“Why would I need an extra chair,” he asks as he pulls it out and eases his large frame down onto the wicker seat, “When mine’s already free?”

You move to open your mouth when the waitress arrives, asking if you had your drink orders selected.

“I’ll do the Bourbon Sidecar. You feelin’ like a gin, sweet girl?” You just nodded at him mutely, still desperately trying to catch up. “And the Clover Club for her, please.”

It’s what you were planning on ordering to calm your first date jitters before had Rooster arrived and sent you into a complete tailspin. He hadn’t even looked at the thick textured cardstock of the drink menus that were strategically placed just to the right of the golden soup spoons on the artfully laid out table.

The butterflies were threatening to break free from the tightly locked cage you had attempted to shove them in.

The waitress took down the drinks, and you watched her as she crossed the patio pausing to tap away on the screen of their POS, trying to give yourself a few more moments to collect your thoughts.

“Bradley. I don’t understand, what’s going on?” He’s sitting there looking so secure, so steadfast, so sure.

His cheek ticks up, “I like it when you call me Bradley. Why did you stop calling me that when you moved out here?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Why did you stop calling me Bradley when you moved out here?” he asks again, leaning in. How does he expect you to answer a question, when your mind is going 1,190 miles an hour?

“I don’t know,” you start with a halfhearted shrug. “You’ve made a name for yourself in the Navy, you are ‘Rooster’ to everyone here.” You open your mouth to say more, before closing it quickly.

“There’s more going on in that head,” you feel his foot reach out tapping against yours under the table, before leaving it there a steady presence. “Tell me.”

You know you can tell him anything, but this feels different.

The intensity of his stare has you fighting the flush you feel spreading across your cheeks.

It wasn’t something that you’d ever given much thought to before, but you know if you answer truthfully now that he’s asked you it’s going to leave you feeling more exposed than you’ve ever been with him.

You sit up more fully in your chair deciding to be brave, “I mean, we haven’t really truly been in the same place since we were teens, and things are so different now. It was easier to start calling you ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’ like everyone else, because it didn’t make me feel like I was piece from a different puzzle trying to force myself into a new picture. I wanted to fit into the life that you’ve built here, to feel like I still have a place with you as you are now.”

You’re actively fighting to keep your eyes on his. It would be so easy to look away or to laugh off your confession, but for whatever reason, you don’t want to take the easy out.

“I never knew you felt like that, but I wish I had,” the look in his eyes is softer than anything you’ve ever seen from him before. “I like being Bradley to you, I want to be Bradley to you. You aren’t just a piece to me, you’re the whole picture. You’ve always had a place here, exactly as you are you are now.”

It’s never been like this between the two of you. It feels like you both are saying too much and not enough all at the same time. As much as you find yourself wanting to sink into these intoxicating yet unfamiliar feelings, you know you’re still holding yourself back.

God, he is so handsome. You had been right, the sunset that was just starting was stunning, but the way golden beams were hitting the lightened strands of his curls was spectacular.

You’re almost too afraid to ask, but it’s unbearable not knowing, “Why are you here right now, Bradley?”

Of course, the waitress chooses that moment to return with the drinks.

She sets them down in front of you, the skewered raspberries sitting daintily on the side of your glass are suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room. You vaguely hear him saying you both need more time and that he’ll flag her down when you’re ready to order.

He waits for her to leave to attend to her other tables before turning his heady gaze on you once again.

“I thought I’ve been making my intentions pretty clear here, sweet girl.”

He takes a sip of his Sidecar before continuing, the slight bounce of his leg the only thing giving him away that he might not be as self-assured as you’d originally thought, “I’m here for our date.”

There’s no hope of containing the butterflies now. You’re a lost cause.

“Bradley.” You can only imagine the emotions he is reading on your face. It would absolutely break your heart if this was some kind of bad joke.

“He’ll never love you like I can.”

“What?” you ask sounding every bit as dazed as you feel.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says shaking his head slightly, huffing out a little laugh at himself, “I got ahead of myself.”

You watch as he resituates himself in the chair, wiping his hands on the front of his slacks before restarting.

“Watching you on those dates has been hell, I don’t want to be jealous of some guy you gave a second glance. I don’t want hold back, not when we can be so much more,” he reaches across the table, taking your hand between his two large ones, “I thought having you as a friend was enough for me, but how am I supposed to sleep at night knowing that I could be the one who makes you happy and then do nothing about it? That I’m the only one who can love you the way you deserve to be loved?”

You’ve always known he’s cared for you, that was unquestionable, but to be loved by Bradley Bradshaw? It was something you’d never let yourself imagine, let alone dared to hope to for. It had been kinder to spare yourself from the heartache that came with hope. But now? With him sitting right here in front of you saying you could have him like this?

Was this how he felt flying in his F-18 every day?

He gets up and rounds the table coming to your side, hooking an ankle around the tapered leg of your chair pulling you out a bit. You’re suddenly very thankful for the probably-too-expensive-and-probably-too-provocative for a first date dress you purchased when you see the way his rich brown eyes turn molten as he gets a glimpse of your exposed thigh.

He settles into a crouch before you, his warm hands seeking out both of yours, “You don’t need Phoenix or anyone else to set you up, because he’ll never love you like I can. Let me show you how good it can be. Let me be it for you, sweet girl.”

The man in front of you is everything you could have ever possibly wanted for yourself. And to be the one who could get to keep him forever? There’s no doubt in your mind, it’s worth everything.

You’re sure you will have to have a more serious conversation about what this means for the two of you, but that can wait for another time when he’s not in front of you with his eyes so earnest. So hopeful. To another time when he’s not wearing his heart on his sleeve as he patiently waits for any kind of response from you.

It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him right now.

So easy to learn what that mustache would feel like against your skin.

To learn how his lips and tongue would feel against your own.

To learn how his mouth would move with yours.

But what’s a couple more hours when you’ve had years to build up to it.

“Well then, Lieutenant. I guess you better show me how it’s done,” you bring your hand up to cup his face, your thumb gently stroking along his cheekbone. “But I’m warning you now, I fully intended to give you as good as I get.”

Being on the receiving end of a Rooster smile was something special, but it had nothing on the beaming grin that Bradley Bradshaw is giving you now.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” he says as he lands a lingering kiss on your cheek before standing and pushing your chair back in for you. “You’ve always known how to keep me on my toes.”

He returns back to his surprisingly comfortable wooden wicker chair, stretching his leg to rest it against yours. When the waitress comes back you both end up picking your meals at random, having been too absorbed with each other to actually bother reading the menu.

You’d barely eaten all day because of the knots in your stomach, and now you were starving. Thankfully, Bradley at least had the commonsense to ask the waitress to pick her favorite dish as a third entrée “for the table”.

It feels the same in many ways, he knows what to say to make you laugh and what to bring up to get you fired up. And you know what questions to ask to keep him talking and how to push his buttons just right.

But it’s also different when he doesn’t bother to hide his knowing smirk every time he catches you looking at his lips. And it’s even better when you don’t bother trying to hide yours when you catch him doing the same.

Afterwards, he takes your hand in his as you slowly make your way to the parking lot, his fingers lacing between your own. He surprises you when he leans against the Bronco, murmuring something about not wanting to let your pretty dress get dirty. His long legs extended wide as an invitation for you to come stand between them, his strong hands stroking the silky material of your dress on your hips as you step closer.

You’ve been ignoring the pull low in your stomach all evening, the tension between you two the most luscious feeling you’ve ever experienced. The combination of his heat, his woodsy smell, the headiness of his gaze on you almost too overwhelming.

Almost.

Your hands settle on his broad chest, playing with the button of his shirt now a bit nervous. Your faces closer than you’ve ever allowed them to be before. If what you’re hearing is the sound of the waves or the roaring of the blood in your ears, you couldn’t say.

You know he is waiting for you to make the first move. You see the moment when he’s about to say something, knowing him the words would be wonderfully reassuring and perfectly Bradley.

Why would you want to talk when his mouth was already waiting like a question. Why would you want to talk when you could learn what it’s like kiss him instead?

So you do.

When your lips meet his for the first time it feels like the sweetest kind of devotion.

bradleybradleybradley

His mustache scratching satisfyingly at the skin of your upper lip. His mouth tasting like the Sidecars he sipped on throughout the night and something that was just fundamentally Bradley.

Your hand moves on its own to stroke the side of his neck, your fingers seeking out the line of the longest scar that adorns his skin there from that night all those years ago.

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest as he licks his lips before bringing his face down to yours again. Your other hand tightly clutching his shirt in anticipation.

He’s always been so in tune with you, so when he tilts your head just right before leaning into the kiss it feels like a homecoming.

thisthisthis

One of Bradley’s hands makes its way up your back, pressing you closer to him as the other bands more securely around your waist. And when his tongue skims your lower lip, you sigh into his waiting mouth thankful for his strong grasp on you.

Nothing your mind could have imagined would have ever come close to the perfection that is Bradley Bradshaw’s mouth moving against yours. Nothing has ever felt so good, so right.

When he pulls away, you’re both over fighting back the smiles that feel like have been permanently fixed on your faces all evening.

“I’m don’t want to call it a night yet,” he tells you, as he brushes the hair back from your face. His smile turning playful, “What do you say, kid? Wanna go get some milkshakes?”

“Depends,” you reply cheekily, “Can I drink it in the Bronco?”

Wrapping both arms around his neck you draw him back in towards you again.

“Anything you want, sweet girl,” he promises against your lips.

The next night at the Hard Deck, you entered the bar with Bradley’s arm draped your shoulders.

His team whooping loudly when you pull him in for a kiss as he handed you a Blue Moon. They’d declared the drinks were on Bradley that night as they’d swarmed you both in celebration. Maverick pulls you aside to give you a warm hug, whispering “I knew you’d get here” in your ear before releasing you.

Now that you had let yourselves cross that line from friends to more, the pair of you are entirely too aware of the other. Never content to be too far away from the other. Your eyes like magnets, each seeking out the other to find them already looking back.

There’s nothing friendly about the way he has his hands on your waist. Nothing neighborly in the way his hands rub your shoulders. Nothing platonic in the way he rests one hand on the back of your neck, his thumb making teasing circles.

And there’s nothing friendly about the way you run your hands through his curls when he’s at the piano. Nothing neighborly in the way you slide your hand into his back pocket. Nothing platonic in the way you rest your hand on his chest, your finger tracing the line of his collarbone.

It has always been so easy with him, even as you explore in this new area of your relationship.

You’d been orbiting around each other all night, when Jake yelled out to heckle you both about indecent exposure, threatening to call his cop friend if Bradley didn’t “get his ass over to the pool table in the next thirty seconds.”

He’d peppered your face with kisses before you’d shooed him away, laughing when you realized he had swiped your beer and had taken it with him.

“So you and Bradshaw,” Natasha states as she settles down next to you.

That makes you smile.

“Yeah, me and Bradley.”

How could you have possibly thought you’d want anyone else other than him? You were a goner from the moment you’d turned and saw him standing there at the restaurant. Your golden boy.

You turn towards her, putting a hand on her arm, “I’m sorry that you didn’t get a fair shot at the bet. I really do appreciate the effort you all went through. I mean, Bradley would have had it in the bag anyways. But still–”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she waves a hand, cutting you off, “We had a team meeting and changed the rules of the bet anyways. I still won, so it’s all good.” Her smile was nothing less than mischievous.

“Wait, what?”

“We could all see from Rooster’s reaction during that disaster of a first date with all the dogs that he was completely hung up on you. We didn’t want to wait for him to figure it out, so we decided to adjust the terms a bit to help him out,” she laughs at your clearly baffled expression. “We reached out to the cringiest people we knew and set you up with them instead. And then took bets on how long it would take Rooster to get his head out of his ass and go get his girl.”

“Oh my god, seriously?” The revelation has you bursting out in laughter.

“Yep, well except for Bob. His date was a genuine accident, bless him. I’ll be honest, I didn’t even bother reaching out to anyone. I was betting on Rooster getting it together before I needed to step in,” she explains while wearing the most self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Of course Natasha Trace had bet on him. On you.

You couldn’t wait to tell Bradley how you had both been so absolutely played by his team.

You loved these people. You loved your life here in San Diego.

“I’d apologize for putting you through all that, but it looks like it worked out well in the end,” she says knowingly nodding her head towards him.

You’re fully watching him now as he bends over the pool table looking amused at something that Hangman says.

Bradley looks up catching your eye and shoots a wink in your direction, a grin taking over his whole face. You already know you’re wearing a matching one.

“I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

Thank you so much for all the love on this one! I’ve loved sharing this journey with you all! Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!

If you want to know what happens next for these two you can check out my masterlist!

Written as part of @roosterforme’s #Love Is In The Air TGM Fic Challenge!

Song Inspiration Sam Smith’s “Like I Can”.

Thank you Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) as always for being the ultimate hype girl!

Taglist:

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