#john would sing along with the window down to it

[butdaddyilovehim99]

*taps on microphone and clears my throat* i hate to break it to y’all but Gale most definitely is a country fan in any universe where he’s a cowboy

he’s 24 and grew up in Wyoming (I’m 24 and grew up in Wyoming) no matter how much you resist you will find yourself listening to country music while driving down the county road you live on when a semi truck with a flatbed trailer pulls out in front of you—fully loaded with unsecured 1.5 ton round hay bales and you’re not even mad when you gaze the the foal and mare you watch everyday during your commute to and from work

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

TF141 taking you on a picnic date 💐

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They're a little very all over the place because I wrote all of them on different days lol

I hope you'll enjoy it anyway <3

Some NSFW for all of them, but it's just a little bit at the very end, the rest is sweet fluff!!

Lmk who you would go on a picnic date with!

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John is such a romantic.

Maybe not the flashy kind, but in subtle and sincere ways. He would absolutely love to take you on a picnic date, he might even be more excited about it than you are.

You know how girls have those dreams of specific dates or scenarios??? Well, boys have that too, and this is John's. He finds the perfect spot, a secluded park with a field of wildflowers that bloom beautifully in the summer.

As ready as he was to organize the whole thing himself in the matter of a day, he'd adore to organize it with you. Write a grocery list, make some homemade goods, pack up the car. The domesticity makes his heart do flips.

"Do you reckon champagne would be too over the top?"

"John, honey, we're going on a picnic."

"Touchè."

And it's 100% fool proof.

This man has something planned for every single scenario because nothing will ruin this for him. He'll hold your umbrella while he gets soaked if he has to.

He hasn't asked you to marry him yet, but this seals the deal for him. He's already imagining going on a picnic like this on every single anniversary until you're physically unable to.

Did he overdo it a bit with the outfit? Maybe, but he couldn't care less about potential grass stains when his white button-down shirt and his beige slacks basically make you drool.

John insisted on a classic picnic basket, but he'll accept input regarding the pattern of the blanket. He's so utterly in love with you it's ridiculous. And when you come down the stairs in a flowy and floral sundress the blood in his body doesn't know where to rush first, his heart or his cock.

"Fucking hell, dove. You look divine."

He makes heart eyes at you but also has a raging hard on. What can he say? You keep him balanced.

John has to try so hard not to drop to his knees in front of you and beg. For what? He doesn't even know. It just feels like the right thing to do with you looking like a goddess. He loves it when he can press his nose against your soft mound all while his forehead rests on your pudgy tummy and your fingers card through his hair.

The drive there is lovely. The sun is out, it's a comfortable temperature, and the mood is high. The windows are rolled down, and you both sing along to music while his hand is planted firmly in yours. The location is even more beautiful than you thought. There's willow trees and all kinds of sweet smelling flowers accompanied by the symphony of busy bees and chirping birds.

After everything is set up, it's the best day of your life, probably. It's so so so nice.

And yes, he did bring the champagne.

Your head is in his lap while he strokes your hair and feeds you bits of cake. It's so romantic that it's sickening. SICKENING, I say. He's just so perfect. You talk and laugh, and it's so fun. T

he day goes by in the blink of an eye, and suddenly, it's golden hour, and John swears you're heaven on earth. You're so pretty, and he wants nothing more than to kiss you silly, frankly.

So he does.

Just bristly and sloppy kisses wherever he can reach, your cheeks, jaw, neck. You shift your position, you're now lying down on the blanket, facing each other. The tips of your noses touch, and you're a tangled mess of limbs.

John wants to fuck you more than he ever wanted anything in his life, but he's a man of style, so rubbing you through your panties until your hips buck away from his hand will have to do until you get home and he can take care of you properly <3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Johnny only wants to spend time with you. He doesn't care how.

He'll do anything to be by your side. Such a clingy bastard but we all love him for that. He loves being outside, and now he gets to let out his romantic side, too???? He's sold.

I'm also firmly convinced that he listened in on what his sisters gushed about in books or movies, and he uses that as his guideline for dates.

He makes sure there's a variety of different foods. Let's be honest he probably packed way too much, but he just wants to have options! Frankly, Johnny's is positively buzzing with excitement to get to spend such a lovely day with you.

As much as he loves to laze around with you on the couch, he needs air to breathe. So anything that's outside is an immediate yes from him. He's so so so excited that he doesn't shut up about it for days before the actual date.

Johnny is 100% one to overpack. He takes absolutely EVERYTHING, and you end up not even using half of it.

"I- Johnny??"

"Yeah, bonnie?"

"Why, for the love of God, did you bring a hazmat suit???"

"Ya never know!"

He will pack so many outdoor activities, like frisbee, badminton, a football, literally so much but you don't end up using any of it because he'll doze off as the sun shines down on the both of you.

He just can't help it! Your pudgy tummy is such a nice pillow, and the way your fingers rake through his mohawk and over his scalp nearly make his eyes roll into the back of his head.

He doesn't notice the smiles and nice looks the pair of you get from bypassers, but you can't help but giggle. It makes your belly jiggle, which in turn makes Johnny smile, still face down in your soft fat.

After he wakes up, though, there's a lot of talking that you'll happily listen to.

Corny jokes, overexaggerated stories from missions or his family, and from time to time, he'll get distracted by your pretty face with all its soft edges and kiss you.

Constant snacking. I mean, we all know the boys can EAT, but Johnny is such a foodie. Will eat everything and anything.

He also LOVES Irn Bru. It's definitely more of an... acquired taste, shall we say, but I think it's also very nostalgic for him.

He doesn't care what you wear. However, there are some things that get him feral. Sundresses are obviously on the list, but he adores long skirts. He likes how they flow when there's a nice breeze, and he thinks they make you look very elegant.

He will play into the whole Princess charade with long skirts or dresses.

"There's ma princess. Are ya ready to depart, m'lady?"

He will also bow very dramatically.

Undoubtedly, his favorite part of those skirts is when he gets to push them up your plush thighs and bury is face in your sweet cunt while the fabric is bunched up around your wide hips and fiddles with the hem because his goal is to bring you to bliss with his tongue only <3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Kyle loves the water.

I don't know why, but I feel it in my bones. From streams and lakes all the way to the great big ocean. His casual style in the summer would definitely be coastal grandson, too.

So your picnic date would obviously take place in the vinicty of water. It's somewhere in a small park that has a nice big lake with lilypads and ducks swimming across it.

You'd be right by the shore, feet in the shallow water while you enjoy your lunch. Kyle is so sweet and considerate!

He'd bring you a bouquet of daisies and lovingly hold your hand in his. If it gets a little too breezy, he'll tuck you into his side and stretch his jacket over the both of you as much as he can.

He always brings you a new rock from that lake when he comes home from his morning run, and when you two are at the beach, he'll collect seashells with you.

It's all about balance and teamwork with Kyle. He makes the sandwiches while you whip up a quick sweet treat. You carry the basket while he has the blanket slung over his shoulder and your drinks in the other hand!

I feel like he'd really enjoy picnics, but they're not his favorite activity. He likes to explore a bit, just sitting around isn't quite his style. But it's nice to just sit and breathe sometimes.

For dates, he prefers the classic going out to dinner. Getting to see you all dressed up in the gentle atmosphere of a cozy restaurant makes his heart swell. But he won't ever deny you anything. Definitely not something as simple as a picnic.

A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he sees a little duck family waddling along the shore before they glide into the water.

"You think we'll have little ducklings of our own one day?"

You can only match his smile as you follow his line of sight.

"Who knows, maybe."

He pulls you close and presses a kiss to your temple. The picnic is starting to grow on him.

"... did you mean actual ducklings, or was it a metaphor for kids?"

"Both?"

As badly as you want to call him ridiculous, the mental image of Kyle with a duckling or a baby makes your heart beat with affection.

Also does not care what you wear, but he, too, has a weakness for sundresses as all men do. The way it hugs your ass, your tummy, and your supple tits makes him want to sink his teeth into your soft flesh.

An absolute sucker for a square neckline. No, I can not elaborate. You'll just have to take my word for it.

You watch the sunset together, the park becoming emptier as the light fades. He loves how you look during the golden hour and will gently hold your face to admire all your pretty features. Kyle likes that the park now only has the both of you and a pair of swans that swim over the lake like lovers.

What he loves even more is making you ride his slender fingers while the only sounds that fill the air is the chirping of cicadas and your heavenly moans while the remnants of the golden sun shine down on you making you look like a dream come true <3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Simon isn't thrilled, let's say.

When he thinks of picnics he thinks of big open spaces, obnoxious people with annoying kids and uncomfortable wooden benches. Of which none are his cup of tea.

So you make compromises. Talk about it and ask what he would be okay with. He isn't the biggest fan of PDA, he's stuck between wanting to show off his love for you to the whole world and keeping it close to his heart like the sacred thing that it is.

But Simon perks up when you mention something about a lovely forest that's pretty secluded. Now that he can work with. Even though he's a born city boy, he'd much rather take a walk in a forest or on a little trail than on the busy streets of Manchester or London.

So he agrees, deciding that your excited reaction and thank you kisses were already worth it. He watches as you prepare the lunch you're taking with you, answering all your questions on what he'd prefer.

The truth, he'd eat rocks if your lovely hands prepared them.

He packs up the car and drives to the car park nearby, grumbling over the fee before it all melts away when he sees your smile.

The walk there on its own is nice. Holding your hand and listening to the birdsong that echoes along the tall trees. Of course, he's carrying everything.

You will never ever have to carry anything with him around, not on his watch. It's his way of repaying you for taking care of him and loving him. He would've carried you as well if you weren't so fussy about it.

When you set up the blanket and just lay down, it's the first time you think you've ever seen his shoulders untense on their own.

Simon's eyes even flutter shut, and his breath evens out.

It's just the two of you in a little glade with the vast green of the woods making your own little sanctuary.

Your head is on his shoulder, and his nose is buried in your hair.

"This.. this is nice."

He speaks so softly as if not to disturb the peace of nature. You can't help but smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

"I'm glad you think so. It is really nice."

It's mostly pleasant silence after that with the occasional short conversation, but that's how you like it best.

When you hand him his lovingly prepared sandwich, he catches your chin between his fingers and kisses you so softly that you melt right into his touch.

"You're so patient with me, love. I appreciate it."

"Of course. A few compromises aren't the end of the world if it means you're happy."

He's a fucking goner, okay.

He loves it when you wear one of his sweat jackets or flannels over a nice dress. It's so obviously not yours which signals to other people that you're taken.

And considering the size and color of the thing, it's safe to assume it belongs to that hunk of a man always by your side.

He lays back onto the soft blanket and pulls you onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you. There are a few sun spots shining through the thick canopy of leaves, warming your skin.

You're half asleep, dozing off, ignoring the way he fiddles with his trousers until he pushes your panties to the side and sinks his thick cock into your pussy, having you warm his length. It makes him feel so impossibly close to you and his brain melts and before you know it, he's snoring beneath you, his dick buried inside of you <3

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I hope you liked it! <3

More CoD and other works -> 💫

[newobsessionweekly]

Stolen moments

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x rookie!reader Fandom: The rookie

Summary: You and Tim find it difficult to have some sort of intimacy due to your busy schedules.

A/N: Here's another Tim one that I loved writing. Not really a fluff girl, but I think I wrote something cute. Hope you like it. Don't forget to leave your feedback, it'll help me. Have a great day bubs and lots of love! 🫧

Fluff

Warnings: Not proofread yet, that's it.

Requested: yes Words: 1.8k Requests for Tim are open! GIF not mine, credits to the owner!

Being a rookie was intense. The constant struggle to keep yourself out of dangerous situations and, even more important, to manage them and go home safe and sound was exhausting. Gladly, your T.O. was understanding and his open, talkative personality helped you through when things get complicated.

John Nolan was a man that you trusted with your life and you grew closer, being not just your training officer, but a very important friend in your life. When between you and Tim things weren't going smoothly, he is your go to person. Mostly because you appreciate his advices and on the other hand because you're stuck with him every day, him reading you like a book.

You and Tim have been together for a few months now and it was clear as day that you adore that man with every breath. Tim is not far away from that, his love for you reflecting in his eyes, some might say he smiled in the last couple of months more than he ever did in his whole career at the station.

Music from Tim's car echoed through your mind as you embraced that still moment. No more people talking through the radio, no sirens whiling down the streets, no gunshots fired. Just you and Tim, singing along the radio, his hand resting on your lap as he squeezed it from time to time, sending chills down your spine, memories from the last night you'd spent together reddening your cheeks.

"I was thinking, maybe, you'd want to move in." Tim broke the silence as he checked the mirrors, his car making its way to the station. You hummed at his words, considering that. No more squeezing out your schedules, no more running around to see each other. More Tim tests on your time off work.

"I'll think about it. I love staying with Lucy though." you told him as he parked the car.

"Seriously? When's the last time you saw Lucy?" he quietly laughed.

"Yesterday."

"When's the last day you've been to your apartment?"

"Last..." you tried to remember what day it was. "Saturday."

"And now it's Friday." he pointed out the fact that you spent a whole week at his place.

"I'll think about it." you smiled at him, making him do the same as Tim was about to closed the distance between you two.

A loud knock on the window made you jump right before your lips could meet and Tim grinned at the sight of Lucy. "Speaking of the devil." he murmured frustrated under his breath, making you laugh as you went to greet her.

"Y/N, here's the mail from this week. Didn't know when you'd come home so I thought..." you thanked her, stuffing the envelopes in your purse. "Morning, officer Bradford." Lucy greeted Tim and he welcomed her with his grumpy face.

"Officer Chen" he didn't leave your side, hoping your best friend would disappear, but she grabbed your arm, rambling about her date, stealing you away from your boyfriend.

The morning briefing concluded, leaving a hasty window of respite before the day's duties would fully take hold. In that fleeting moment, you found yourself alone with Tim, the magnetic pull between you palpable in the air.

"Hey," your boyfriend murmured, his voice low and husky as he closed the distance between you. "Be safe out there today, okay?"

Seeing Tim so handsome in that uniform, made your heart skip a beat. His beautiful blue eyes searching you from head to toe, admiring your beauty and playing a wide smile on his lips. A smile that means sinful thoughts are running in his mind.

His words were a tender caress against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you leaned in, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Your heart quickened as his hand brushed against yours, the electricity of his touch sending sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

Before you could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the moment, jolting you back to reality. You turned to see Nolan standing before you, his expression expectant as he awaited your response.

"Ready for patrol, Y/N?" Nolan's voice cut through the air, breaking the intimate spell that had enveloped you and Tim.

You blinked, startled by the sudden intrusion, and turned to face your TO with a forced smile. "Yes, sir, ready to go."

Nolan glanced between you and Tim, his expression shifting from curiosity to understanding as he realized the tension that hung heavy in the air. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, his voice tinged with awkwardness. "I'll let you two carry on."

But before he could make his escape, Tim's voice cut through the silence, his tone laced with frustration and determination.

"Be careful out there, both of you," Tim said, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and love. "And stay safe."

With a curt nod, Tim turned on his heel and made his exit, leaving you and Nolan standing in the wake of his departure. As you watched Tim disappear from sight, a swell of emotions washed over you—frustration at the interrupted moment, longing for the connection you shared with Tim, and gratitude for his unwavering concern for your safety.

Tim's frustration was touching the ceiling. Both of you had plans that night, leaving him longing for the next time you'd be alone again. A next time tagged with a question mark because of your chaotic lives. He wanted to have you close all the time, to make sure he can protect the woman he loved dearly. But above this excuse, Tim wants you close because he needs you. Every touch and little kiss stolen here and there gives him the strength to carry on with his life, gives him an anchor to hold on when things get messy.

The midday sun beat down on the bustling streets of LA as officers gathered around the street food area for their lunch break.

As you and Tim sat together at the table, the bustling activity around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble. Tim's touch was gentle yet possessive as he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent declaration of affection.

"You know, Y/N, I think moving in together could be a great step for us," Tim said, his voice soft and tender. "We already spend so much time together anyway, and it would make things so much easier."

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned into his touch. "I know, Tim. It's just...a big step, you know? I want to make sure we're both ready for it."

Tim's gaze softened, his eyes filled with understanding as he squeezed your hand gently. "Copy that. We'll take things at your pace, okay? No rush."

His touch sent a thrill racing through you, igniting a warmth that spread from your fingertips to the depths of your soul. His thumb traced delicate patterns on the back of your hand, a tender gesture that spoke volumes without a word being spoken.

The connection between you and Tim was electric, a palpable energy that pulsed between you with each passing moment. His gaze was intense, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and adoration as he leaned in closer, his lips tantalizingly close to yours.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the anticipation building to a fever pitch as you inched closer to each other. Just as your lips were about to meet, the voices of your beloved colleagues shattered the moment once more, leaving you both frustrated and longing for more.

"No, I mean is great that Henry is visiting me, don't get me wrong. But I feel like this weekend is going to fly by so fast and the chief already approved my OT for both days and I feel like we won't spend so much time together." Nolan ramble about his son and they sat down beside you and Tim.

"Tell me about it." your boyfriend scoffed as he caressed your thigh, his tone tinged with frustration.

For Tim, each interruption felt like a cruel twist of fate, a barrier preventing him from fully expressing the depth of his love for you. He yearned for the stolen moments, the brief glimpses of intimacy that left him craving more. With each interruption, his frustration grew, a silent plea echoing in his mind for just a few moments alone with you.

"I already spoke with him and he's gonna meet us tonight at the bar" you told John as you savoured the food in front of you.

"But I thought he's coming tomorrow." Nolan frowned and Tim raised his eyebrows at your words. He knew you meet them now and then after shift, but he didn't know that was your plan for tonight, instead of spending it with him.

The constant interruptions felt like a cruel reminder of the obstacles standing between you and Tim. You longed for the stolen kisses and whispered words, moments of intimacy that seemed to slip through your fingers before they could fully blossom. Each interruption left you feeling incomplete, aching for the chance to bask in Tim's presence without the prying eyes of your colleagues.

"Surprise."

As the lunch break drew to a close and the time came for you to return to patrol, Tim's frustration was palpable. He shot you a longing look, his eyes silently pleading for just a few more moments alone together.

He walked you to the shop and when you made sure Nolan was already inside and away from your whispering, you turned to him and intertwined your fingers together.

"So that's the plan you have tonight, huh?" he asked you, clearly not feeling very happy that you chose them over you. He had plans too, watching tonight's game with his friends. Some important game he said, but if it was to choose, he'd rather spend the night with you than watch it.

"Well, they asked me to join after you said you have plans. I thought maybe some time apart from each other would be nice." you admit.

"Some more time apart?" he questioned.

"Maybe it's best if I move in." you told him after Nolan informed you about a call that was just dispatched to you. Tim smiled, softly grabbing your cheeks, finally placing a kiss after long hours of watching you from distance.

"I'll see you tonight, Y/N," Tim said, his voice tinged with regret as he watched you leave. "Be safe out there, okay?"

You nodded, a bittersweet smile playing at the corners of your lips as you bid him farewell. And as you headed back out onto the streets, the memory of Tim's tender touch and loving gaze lingered in your mind, a reminder of the love that bound you together, even in the face of interruptions and obstacles.

[coff33andb00ks]

Mountain Mama - LH

Lewis Hamilton x unnamed ofc summary: You can take the girl out of the country, but can you ever really take the country out of the girl? songs: Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver and Is This Love by Bob Marley & The Wailers a.n.: am currently soft for Lewis and had to write to get him out of my system spoiler alert it didn't work warnings: discussions of prejudice and racism, pure disgusting fluff, author unabashedly shows her love for country music, author also is fully in love with one sir lewis Hamilton now

She wasn't worried about her family liking Lewis. Her sister had already met him and was doing her part to talk him up as the greatest man that ever lived to the rest of the family. She knew there was a wary level of respect between her parents and Lewis after their unofficial meeting over FaceTime. He'd been a little shy but very sweet, telling them a little about himself, and later her mother had said well he seems like a nice young man.

High praise from mama, who'd called her last boyfriend dried up dog shit.

Her father hadn't said anything about him. He didn't follow formula one, only knew about it because of her photography, so he didn't know who Lewis was. But when he'd texted her to tell her he'd watched a bit of the race after she'd confirmed Lewis was coming home with her during summer break she knew he was at least trying.

So here she was, behind the wheel of the rental car, driving to her parents' home with Lewis in the passenger seat and Roscoe in the back. Music was on, the windows were down, and with each mile she traveled closer to home she felt both more relaxed and more anxious.

She needed them to like him. They didn't have to love him, call him the son they'd always wanted, or even add his name to the Christmas card list. They didn't need to learn everything about him. She just needed them to like him enough to want him around when she came home for a visit. She needed them to like him and understand how very much she loved him.

They would bristle a little bit. Especially Grandma. Because he was older. Almost 40 and never married? Hm… And all those tattoos… She could hear Grandma clicking her tongue in disapproval over the tapestry of artwork that covered most of his body. And her father's eyebrows would hit his receding hairline when Lewis inevitably dressed as though he'd just stepped out of Vogue to go down to the diner in town for lunch on Friday.

"Babe." Lewis spoke just loud enough to be heard over the music. She glanced over at him, saw his playful little smile as he lifted his phone.

"No," she laughed when the song playing ended and another began. Immediately recognizable because it was one of her lifelong favorites. The one her grandpa had sang on summer nights around the bonfire when he was a few slugs of moonshine deep.

Lewis held up his hands and swayed in time to the music. "Almost heaven, West Virginia… Blue Ridge mountains, Shenandoah river…"

And she had to sing along, because she always did. Because it was her favorite, yes, but also because he always sang it. The man who shook his head in disappointment over all the other so-called embarrassing songs on her Spotify never failed to belt out John Denver with his entire soul.

She slowed, turning onto the path that wound through the trees, anticipation growing as the trees grew further apart, spreading into the dusty lawn she'd learned to ride a bike on. A turn and she saw it. Home. The front porch where she'd sat on her grandma's lap sipping lemonade. The ever present barn cat sitting on the top step, black tail twitching. Her dad's truck was parked crookedly near the back of the house and she could just see the sheets rippling in the breeze on the clothesline in the back yard.

Stopped, song still playing, she stared at the place she'd grown up, trying to view it as a newcomer. The grass needed mowing, the barn needed a new coat of paint. The roof on the old smokehouse was sagging a little. The porch railing looked crooked. But for every imperfection she saw a beautiful memory. How many millions of dandelions had she picked when the grass got a little tall? Up in the hay loft of the barn her name was carved into the top plank. The smokehouse, which had always held the lingering aroma of curing meat, had been the best spot during hide and seek. And she'd been leaning against that porch railing when she'd had her first kiss.

Her throat tightened with emotion.

Home.

"C'mon, mountain mama," Lewis said softly, unbuckling his seatbelt.

She wanted to apologize for not growing up rich, for not having a stately home to show him. She knew she didn't have to. Lewis didn't care about that, and he hadn't grown up much better than she had. He only cared about seeing where she'd been raised and meeting the people who'd raised her. What had he said when she'd asked him to come home with her?

I already love that little town because it made you.

She climbed out while he got Roscoe out of the backseat, and was opening her mouth to tell him they could get their bags later when the screen door banged.

"Is that my baby finally come to see me?"

It wouldn't matter if it had been two weeks or two months or two years, she would get that greeting. Not even bothering to close the car door she broke into a run, jumping the top step and laughing through tears as she was wrapped in her grandma's arms.

"Oh I miss these hugs." Grandma kissed her cheek, gripping her shoulders and holding her at arm's length. "Look at you. That boy of yours is treating you right, huh?"

"He is, Grandma," she promised, looking back to see Lewis closing the car door.

"Oh." Grandma squinted her eyes a bit. "He is handsome."

She giggled. "Heart of gold, Grandma."

"What's his name again? Louis?"

"Lewis."

As if he knew they were talking about him he glanced to the porch, smiling. Roscoe was already making his way to the steps, looking warily at the cat.

"Go on, get," Grandma said, shooing the cat away.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Grandma's shoulders were a little more stooped, her hands a little more shaky. Why oh why did time have to go by so quickly? Pushing away the invasive thoughts of her beloved grandmother not being around forever, she slid her hand into Lewis's once he was on the porch. "Grandma, this is Lewis. Lewis, this is Grandma."

"It's so nice to finally meet you, ma'am." He extended his hand and as soon as he smiled she knew her grandma was smitten.

"Oh honey aren't you sweet." She shook his hand. "Well, c'mon in – is that dog house trained?"

"Better than some humans," he promised with a grin.

They'd barely gotten into the house when her father came to greet them. He wasn't nearly as smitten as grandma, and she recognized the old macho act he'd played on all her old boyfriends. Then her mother came hurrying out of the kitchen, bringing with her the aroma of lemon meringue and peach cobbler.

There was overlapping chatter. Greetings and questions and the beginnings of an interrogation. Roscoe was cooed over by Grandma, given a begrudging welcome by her dad.

"I straightened up your old room," mama said when Lewis excused himself to go get their bags. "And got new sheets for your sister's old room."

"Is she staying too?" she asked in confusion, squatting to give Roscoe ear scratches.

"Of course not – you know her and Dale are almost finished the new addition on the back of their place? The twins will have a nice big playroom."

"Are the twins staying?" Why would mama need to do anything to her sister's room?

"No… It's for your boyfriend."

She froze. Oh god. Of course her mother would think… "Mama…"

"It's not fancy or anything but I don't think he'll mind do you? It's got plenty of room for him and Roscoe."

At that, Roscoe nudged her hand, silently begging for more scratches. "Mama, I thought he'd sleep in my room."

"Oh. Well you two can switch." Her mother shrugged.

"Jesus, Kathy, she wants to sleep with the boy," her father said loudly.

Surprise, Mama, I'm not a virgin!

"I don't think your dad likes me."

She looked up from unpacking her suitcase. Usually she didn't, usually she just rummaged to get what she needed, but she'd wanted a break before the rest of the family arrived for the cookout. The time change was affecting her a little and she wanted to get a nap in.

"What makes you say that?" she asked, setting her toiletry bag on the dresser.

"He calls me boy." Lewis was standing at the window, hands in his pockets, looking out at the back yard. Where her father and brother in-law were firing up the grill.

"He doesn't mean… He calls anyone younger than him boy," she promised.

"I get it. Really, babe," he said, looking over at her. "It just rubs me wrong."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" she asked, crossing the room.

"Will it change anything?"

"He's not like that, Lewis. He's southern, yes, he's a good ol' country boy, pickup truck, cold beer, guns and 'Murica, Toby Keith and Hank Jr, but he's not racist. If he's told that the way he says something is offensive, he stops saying it." She slipped her arms around him from behind, pressing her face to his back.

"It'll just make him like me even less," he sighed.

"No, babe… If he didn't like you, you wouldn't be in my bedroom."

He chuckled, covering her hands with his and interlocking their fingers. "Not only am I boy, I'm the asshole that deflowered his little girl."

She snorted at that. "Please, like I was an untouched virgin."

"How you were able to have sex way out here is a mystery to me."

"There are so many spots where you can go to be unseen," she told him.

Lewis hummed, unwrapping her arms and turning to face her. "Were you shagging farmer boys in the woods, babe?"

Leaning up, she pressed a kiss to his lips. "Once, yes. Most of the time it was in the cutoff down the old service road. Or out at the powerline."

"You weren't seduced in a bed?" He shook his head in disappointment. "I'm so sorry."

"And where was your first time, hm?"

He rolled his eyes. "Coat closet."

"That's even worse than a pickup truck."

"Didn't count, I wasn't in love."

"Oh see you didn't tell me that." Pulling on his hands, she walked backwards towards the bed. "That changes everything."

"Hotel room? Back seat of a car?" he guessed, letting her pull him along.

"A penthouse, actually," she murmured as she fell onto the bed.

He hesitated briefly then joined her, holding himself above her. "Penthouse? In Bumfuck Virginia?"

"You said it only counted if I was in love, right?"

"Mhmm."

"Penthouse. Monte-Carlo. Afterwards he took a bubble bath with me and we danced to Bob Marley." She watched his eyes soften and leaned up to meet his lips in a kiss. "He was the first one that made me feel loved."

"Does he still make you feel it?" he whispered between kisses.

"Every day."

"If he ever doesn't make you feel that way, will you tell him?"

"Yes." She kissed him again.

"Promise?" he whispered.

"Promise."

The food was delicious, and she was so happy her parents had made vegan alternatives for Lewis she could have cried. He seemed happy too, and during the meal she watched him talk with her dad and Dale, heart swelling each time he turned to praise her mama's cooking. Roscoe was parked between them, his gentle snoring just barely noticeable above the music playing.

It was a balmy evening, lightning bugs flashing as the sun sank low, and she watched Lewis's head drop back with a groan after he finished a third helping of Grandma's peach cobbler. "I think I hurt myself eating, ma'am."

Grandma glowed, patting his hand. "It's how I won her Papa," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Lewis chuckled, rubbing his abdomen with his free hand. "If I was twenty years older…"

She beamed as Grandma giggled, so obviously charmed she looked twenty years younger in the golden glow of the sinking sun. "Oh bless your heart, honey, I don't think you could handle me."

"I can barely handle her," Lewis told her in a stage whisper.

And she knew her family liked him. Their laughter was natural, the conversation flowed. Her twin nephews kept coming over to him, asking him questions about his tattoos, his jewelry, and she fell in love all over again at how patient and gentle he was with them.

When he insisted on helping with cleanup she saw the warmth of approval in her dad's eyes. The twins said they would help, too, and she could only look on as they followed him back into the house, Roscoe taking up the rear.

"He's a good one," Grandma said.

"He's alright." This from her dad, and it was the best she knew she could get for now.

"I like him a lot, honey. You ain't looked this happy in a long time." Mama squeezed her shoulder on her way past, and right behind her was her sister, flashing a grin as she helped gather the platters.

"You wanna take a walk?" her father asked.

It was a callback to her childhood. Dad always said it was to work off what he'd just had to eat, but she had figured out in her early teenage years it was his way of checking in on her. Their walks after dinner had been when they'd bonded, and as she fell into step next to him and they strolled beyond the barn she realized how much she missed these walks.

"I didn't want to like him."

She pressed her lips together to keep from asking why. Always best to just stay silent and let him get all his thoughts out in his own way.

"He's a little older than you. But I think that's what you need. Someone to keep your head from floating with the clouds." He sighed, snapping a leaf off the old oak tree as they walked under the branches. "And… You know how people are around here, honey."

She nodded. "But not you, dad," she whispered.

"I don't give a shit, you know that. But even Dale said something, and… I know you always worry about what people think."

"I used to," she said.

"You always hid away from the world. And I let you. Thought I was protecting you from how bad it can be sometimes." He twirled the leaf between his fingers, sending it swirling. "You're out in it, now. Can't protect you anymore."

"I don't need protecting, daddy," she promised.

"You telling me your knight back there doesn't protect you?" he asked, stopping at the fence to the back pasture. "That bo – sorry. That man loves you, honey."

"I know. And I love him."

"People around here will talk." He propped his arm on the fencepost and looked out. "Ain't got nothing better to do."

"I don't care what they say." And she didn't. She used to, yes, used to care too much, pretending to be someone else so she'd be accepted. The only people whose opinions mattered were inside the house and standing beside her.

"Good. Because I want him to come around more often."

"You like him?" she asked. She knew he did, but she needed to hear him say it.

"Yeah, he's alright," he chuckled. Throwing his arm around her shoulders when she groaned, he pulled her in close.

"Dad…"

"Rest easy, honey. I like him. Long as he treats you right I'll never say a word against him."

They stayed at the fence and she let herself be her dad's little girl for a few more minutes, watching the sunlight fade. Walking back to the house she could hear music still playing, but now instead of her dad and Dale's country it was the smooth beats of reggae and she was smiling as she entered the kitchen to see Lewis dancing with the twins to Is This Love.

He spun to face her, face lighting, and ducked to speak to her nephews then held a hand out to her, drawing her to him. His lips met her forehead. "I wanna love ya, I wanna love and treat, love and treat you right…" he crooned softly as they danced in her mama's kitchen.

"You better," she whispered. "Because I think they like you more than me."

His laugh was warmer than any sunlight, and she didn't mind at all when he kissed her then broke away to ask her grandma to dance.

She missed all of this, the love and the comfort and all the memories.

But she couldn't wait for the love and memories to come.

[gladiatorcunt]

- BELLY OF THE BEAST | II.

the ocean washed open your grave

cw: kinktober prompt (teratophilia), made up mer anatomy, double penetration (in reader’s ass and pussy) w/ two dicks on one guy, implied painal, merman!john b with siren tendencies, mer people eat humans, implied somnophilia and kidnapping and oviposition, mating rituals but only one party knew about them, background jjpope, blood, extremely dubious consent bordering on non con, implied plus size reader, reader’s intentionally silent, yandere

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

It’s the heart of july. You can see Venus this evening. Picked clean fish bones scuttle along the pebbled gray beach like a rake sifting through bramble. Broken shells litter the sand, shards of vivid color and shades of dull nude turned this way and that. Someone’s inspecting them on the edge of the water, angling their hands in strange ways to investigate how the sunlight shimmers off the shell. They’re agitated, their search going unsatisfied, loose strings of thread frayed at the ends without objects to connect.

Summer is stressing you out, too much time spent feeling pressure to have experiences when you should really be lounging the dog days away in an old timey rocking chair. You’d cringe at the condensation sliding down your glass of sweet tea. You’re on an aimless walk on the beach instead, keeping a wide berth from the shore.

That’s when you see him.

A sunken sunbeam on earth. His tail is a myriad of red-yellow-orange scales, when he moves he becomes a human man on fire. The flick of his ruby tail fin looks like flame taking shape in the open sea, something that you know is basically impossible, maybe your brain is swelling. But it gives you a moth’s wings all the same. You rub your eyes but he’s still there when you open them again.

A merman.

He’s hissing at the blonde guy fooling around with the shells, “JJ, get your tail back home or so help me.”

Which to you is just a series of clicks and trills.

“JJ” snorts, sticking his tongue out and going back to rifling through the shells.

You stand around awkwardly, transfixed and somehow unable to move away. The merman with brown hair finally spots you and his eyes widen for a split second before he makes a distressed bunch of clicks, to which the blonde one seems to get the message and dart under the surface of his water. His pile of shells are left unattended on the shore.

The brunette merman clears his throat, “Hi, there. What’s your name?” His voice is groggy around the unnatural syllables, but his tone is smooth and enticing.

You freeze, and all thoughts of sneaking away are out the window. You’ve seen him, you can’t ask him to trust that you wouldn’t tell anybody about him, not that they’d even believe you. Still, having insurance never hurt nobody.

You find yourself making footprints in the sand, stepping forward until you’re right in front of the merman, looking down at him like a child peers down a well. A cold sensation splashes at your spine through your clothes, but he doesn’t sing so he must not be a siren, that or he doesn’t need to sing to ensure you in his talons.

His teeth would give a great white shark the shivers as he smiles, mouthing your name back to you in the sea air.

The sloshing of the waves under the setting sun is all you can hear, and his warm brown eyes are all you can see. The world swirls around you, becoming mist that falls to the ground and is swiftly swept out to sea. One minute you’re plopping yourself down on the sand in front of the merman’s grinning face, and the next he’s scraping the edge of his talon along your thigh.

Men will be men, no matter the species.

“My name’s John B.” He says, his pupils dilating at the scent of your blossoming arousal, a shark with a single drop of the blood in the ocean. “So nice to meet you, babe.”

Later you’ll remember stuttering, trying to make excuses to peel away and run for the hills. But John B clicks disappointingly and sucks his teeth, fishing a stuck piece of flesh out from in between them. It’s the skin and hair still on that bit of meat that makes you stay, another stupid decision you’ll kick yourself for later if you even survive. You try to open your mouth to speak, but the movement is sluggish and your words feel trapped in your vocal chords by some kind of force field.

How much can you explain away putting yourself in danger because the man with a fish’s tail and gills was hot? John B smiles from ear to ear when you give into the pull between you two, swishing his crimson tail fin back and forth as your eyes fixate on the flecks of melted gold in his.

Hours seem to pass by in a blur and when you’re aware of reality again, you’re on your back with John B hovering above you. His talons are buried in the sand on either side of your head, and the full moon behind him sparks a feeling of trepidation in your belly.

He smiles, razor sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. “Do you trust me?”

You try to answer and he laughs, his sharp claws scraping against your nose as he boops it. John B knows you can’t actually form the words, but lucky for you he has a knack for knowing exactly how you’re feeling. And pushing you to feel however they’d need you to, but he digresses, it’s the cusp of mating season after all. He’s not going to pump you full of his eggs, but those first glimpses of your thighs in your swimsuit has his cocks itching to come out.

JJ is probably back moping with the others anyway, they’ll have found some other poor unsuspecting humans for dinner and settled in for the night. He can be a little late to catch up with his pod, just this once.

Your mouth drops open as John B grinds his lower half against yours, having ripped off your swimsuit bottoms in the blink of an eye like it was nothing.

His scales give you little cuts here and there, but their smooth texture and the way their coolness soothes the heat licking at your body has you trying to gasp.

You feel an opening push against your pussy, semi-hard folds with the hint of a deeper recess. You’d have no serious problem if you spent your night bumping pussies with what some would say is a freak of nature, but then you feel a couple slight bumps in the middle of his folds.

John B grins, bloodthirsty.

“Gotta coax ‘em out of their sheath, give ‘em something to fuck into.” He grits, pressing your hand to the outer sheath and guiding your coaxing movements, little rubs and pats. “And lucky for me, I've found the perfect thing. I’m sorry, I normally don’t play with my food. That’s JJ’s thing.”

He tsks, and half out of fear and half out of crazed desire your rubbing becomes more focused and your pats turn into love taps. Sure enough, two long cocks begin to jut out from his opening. They’re the same fiery color as his tail, each as thick as your forearm, with more of a tapered tip than a human cock and sort of squishy even when they’re hard. You don’t want to even try to guess how big they are, definitely larger than any human’s dick could be.

You hear a woosh go through your ears and you find that you can little sounds into his salty lips now, whining as they brush against yours. John B hums what sounds like a lullaby and you feel your pussy release a gush of slick, loosening up to prepare itself to be torn apart.

You whimper into his mouth as he teases the tips of his cocks against both of your entrances, and he kisses you quiet as he starts to push in without warning. His teeth cut your lip open, and the taste and scent of your blood only spurs him on more.

“Oh, that’s it, human. Work that pretty ass back on me.” He trills hypnotically, his scales scratching against your flesh as he slams both of his cocks to the hilt inside of your holes. “Look at you, pounded all sloppy by monster cocks you can’t even see.”

You can’t really scream, when you try it just sounds like the last weak sound someone would make before they die. But… you don’t feel any pain, and you look to confirm that you’ve indeed taken every inch of the merman’s dicks. A plus to fucking a monster with powers, you guess, you know he could’ve made you feel, could’ve ripped your walls open and used your blood as lube to work up an appetite.

His teeth keep cutting you as he kisses you, graciously letting you adjust before flicking his tail fin in the air and fucking you into the sand back. His talons slide all over your body, playing pat-a-cake with the skin on your tummy and groping your tits when one of his thrusts has his cocks feeling particularly good. You moan when he pinches your nipples, his claws scratching your pert buds just right as his cocks split you in what seems like four different directions.

You reach up to shakily grab onto his wet shoulders, closing your eyes as the summer night breeze wafts over you. Till a sharp poke to your cheek makes you open them again. Ah, he wants you to see what kind of “man” you’re really fucking. Once again, men will be men even when they live underwater.

The cock in your pussy hits a spot deep inside you that has you gasping for air, a useless effort since John B does it again and again and again. Your hands fall to brush along his gills, divots in his torso with smaller fins extending outwards, wanting to firmly grab that part of his torso but also not wanting to incite a frenzy in the merman.

If only you’d known that a mer’s gills are even more sensitive than their genitalia. The second your finger tips touch the small flaps, John B hisses and digs his talons into your love handles, drawing blood as he picks up his thrusts. His tail thumps against the sand, how he has the strength to life all 200+ pounds of his body and tail to fuck you in a missionary sort of position is beyond you.

Your voice is gone at this point, carried away by the wind into the night. You wrap your arms around John B’s neck and hold on, smelling the salt water and something sweet like coconut, letting the motions of his cocks molding your insides around them move through you. The one in your ass rebels against the tightness of your asshole, bullying it with every stroke with what little slick trickled down into the rim from your pussy.

He wraps his strong arms around your waist and lifts your hips up, forcing you to take him at a deeper angle. John B grounds him by gripping your ass cheeks, his talons pushing into the thick globes, drawing blood there too. He doesn’t have the leverage or means to properly smack them, but that’s something for next time, seeing how the water would ripple around them with every slap.

You’re dazed, lying there and taking it. You hear music, drums and rumbling vocals, but there’s no one around and no one’s singing. You’re bleeding from a few different places, so maybe it’s dizziness brought on by blood loss that emboldens you to pull the merman into another kiss. Even as his cock in your pussy pummels your g spot and the one in your ass abuses the puckered hole, John B is strangely mindful of his teeth this time.

Your tongues shyly flick against each other, he clicks and slaps his tail fin on the sand bank in quick succession. Instead of quickening his thrusts as he swims towards release, the merman slows down, shimmying his hips and jostling his cocks inside you. The moonlight combined with your blood and the joining of your bodies means you’ve signed up for something you can’t even comprehend.

John B tentatively skirts a talon down your stomach, deep in thought as well as deep in your guts.

“You know what? I think this needs to be round anyway, be a shame for you to be another skeleton decorating our cave.” Are the last words you hear before a wet hand closes around your throat and a louder lullaby reaches your ears. “We’ll figure out the whole “human” thing later, I could kiss JJ for wanting to waste his time on finding shells for Pope.”

Distant whoops and cheers follow you into unconsciousness.

[soft-pine]

i saw a post on here a while ago which was like "i think it's more interesting if john wasn't just abusive. like if sometimes he was nice and fun. took them to movies and stuff. it's more complex. it's more real."

but the thing is - that's still abuse. in fact, the abuse is all of it. it's abandoning them for weeks alone in motels, it's taking them to wrestling matches, it's making them call him sir, it's taking dean fishing, it's teaching them to hustle pool for money, it's sharing a beer with pre-teen dean, it's angrily throwing away food dean cooked, it's stealing them a christmas wreath made out of beer cans, it's teaching a six-grader to make a sawed-off shotgun, it's teaching dean how to fix up the car, it's leaving dean in a boys home for stealing bread and peanut butter.

i'm worried about the way fandom sometimes loses the fact that, of course, john was sometimes fun, sometimes kind, sometimes present. very few people are wholly one way all the time. and it's clear from the ways dean talks about john (and the way john talks) that one of the main ways john's abuse worked was hope. hope that things would get better. yes, that once they found what killed mary, they could go back to having a life. but also on a smaller scale, don't you think each time john came home dean hoped he wouldn't leave again? don't you think each time john sent dean away, john said if dean did better it wouldn't happen again. don't you think that there were moments rolling down some two lane with the windows down and the radio on and them all singing along and dean hoped it could feel like that forever?

abuse really rarely is tonally consistent.

john winchester is a fascinating, complex, sometimes even sympathetic character. i don't think he had evil intentions. i think he wanted things to be better for his kids than he felt like he could make them. i hate him with my whole soul. and there is no argument based on canon that can reasonably conclude he was anything but abusive.

[l0v3tast3]

Could you do how cod men+könig would reach to hearing reader sing for the first time ,like reader could be like cleaning or something just minding her own business and they walk in to her singing to her self

this request was so adorable to write omggg (⌒ω⌒) thank u for requesting this anon i rlly liked it hehe !! i hope you enjoyyy <3

✎ tags: gn reader, uber amounts of fluff!

✎ word count: 600 words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests are open!

♡ simon "ghost" riley — simon won't really admit it, but the first time he hears you singing, he thinks it's the most soothing sound he's ever heard. it could literally be the most off-key tune there ever was but he doesn't care, he'll want to hear it again and again. when he comes out of the kitchen to get the last of the dishes from dinner to wash, simon finds you singing quietly to yourself as you wipe down the table. he'll just stop and literally hide behind the wall so you won't see him and stop. when you come back into the kitchen, he'll be pretending to wash the last of the dishes he has, but you'll start catching him listening in on you more and more after that.

♡ john "soap" mactavish — johnny will have the windows of his truck down and the music nearly vibrating the car, singing (poorly) at the top of his lungs because it always makes you smile and laugh when he does. it becomes your routine on any drive longer than twenty minutes- you'll chastise him that someone's going to make a noise complaint or there'll be a police car around the next corner to pull him over, but you're the one turning the music up when he does it. johnny won't push you to sing along with him after you tell him you don't have the best voice, but when a slower song comes on and you start quietly singing along to it, he's grinning from ear to ear and memorizing the sound. you'll notice how he puts on quieter songs a lot more often after that, but you don't say anything about it.

♡ kyle "gaz" garrick — kyle hears you singing for the first time when he gets home early from some errands. he'll be lugging in some bags while you've got your music on somewhere in the house, the voice he loves hearing so much drifting through the house. he'll approach as quietly as possible to keep hearing it, and as soon as you notice he's home he's complimenting your singing, telling you that you should definitely do that more often. it's not rare after that for him to ask you to sing for him; whether he can't sleep or you're just together lazing around, he'll take any opportunity to hear you.

♡ john price — john will be working in his home office, the door propped open slightly while he's filling out reports he couldn't care less about. he's basically hoping for something to distract him when you walk down the hall, quietly singing the song that's been stuck in your head all morning, and john has a little smile on his face while he follows behind you to see you reorganizing something in the living room. he'll lean against the wall and listen until you notice he's there. when you startle and stop singing, he just laughs a little and tells you to go on; if you don't, john will play a song of his own on his phone and sing along with you to it, dancing around the room with you standing on his feet.

♡ könig — könig will absolutely not let you know that he's heard you sing. the first time he does is when he gets out of the shower and is making his way across the house back to you. you'll be singing along to your favorite song while you put away clean dishes, and könig will stop in his tracks and listen until you're done, making sure you don't see him while you do. despite his lack of verbal acknowledgement, könig will start endlessly complimenting your voice, how he loves the sound of it and everything you have to say, until you start knowingly singing around him.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hii!! Can I request something based of a scene from season 3 of obx? So basically JJ and reader have been dating for a while and reader finally tells him that she loves him and he replies with ‘thanks’ because he doesn’t know how to act with being loved and reader feels hurt and leaves him alone. They ignore each other for a couple days but both feel bad and it ends with JJ telling reader that he loves her too ?? Hope this make sense 🥹

Request: Hii! Could I request a jj x fem reader with prompts 6 "don't push me away" and 8 "you can't love me". Basically a lot of angst that leads to fluff with jj not feeling like he deserves you.

I think these requests got sent when season 3 came out...I'm so sorry anons

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Late night cuddles were part of your and JJ’s night routine. It didn’t matter if you were outside in the hammock, the pull-out or in Big John’s old bedroom, he needed those cuddles to fall asleep. 

 Fingers entwined in his tousled hair, you playfully twirled a few strands around your fingers as his head rested on your chest. ‘’How do you fall asleep when I’m not here?’’ you mused softly, curiosity tinging your voice.

JJ's eyelids gently fluttered closed, his face painted with contentment as your touch traced soothing patterns. ‘’I smoke,’’ he explained, a sigh of relaxation accompanying his words as if the mere thought of your touch had already begun to lull him into a serene state. ‘’It takes me out like a light.’’ 

It wasn’t true. Nights at the chateau were fine. Your scent lingered in the sheets and on the pillow — and on the shirt you always used to sleep in. On nights where JJ had to go home — home with his father —, these nights were not so great. JJ would lay in his bed and, depending if his father had too much to drink or not, he would get a few hours of sleep or wipe the blood from wherever his fist had landed.

A comfortable silence fell in the room, joined by the occasional singing of crickets outside the window. You found them annoying at first, but you were used to it by now. It was part of the ‘sleeping over at the chateau’ experience. 

Along with the blinding morning sun. 

‘’We should go to the beach tomorrow, catch some waves.’’

JJ hummed. ‘’My board is still at my dad’s though…’’ 

‘’We could pick it up after he goes to work? He works on Wednesdays, right?’’ 

‘’Yeah,’’ he replied, snuggling deeper into your chest as sleep began to claim him. ‘’Let’s do that.’’ 

‘’JJ?’’ He hummed again. ‘’I love you.’’

You felt him stiffen on your chest as the three words left your lips, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

‘’Eh...thanks.’’

When JJ fell into a deep sleep, you gently slipped from under him and searched for your pants and shoes. You felt bad for leaving in the middle of the night, but you couldn't wake by his side after he hurt your feelings so deeply. You weren't mad at him for not saying ‘I love you’ back. You understood if he wasn’t ready to say it back, everyone had their own pace, but his response had left a bittersweet taste in your mouth.

It was no news for anyone that JJ was an idiot and he had the tendency of blurting out something dumb when his brain goes into panic, which was probably what happened when you said the three big words. That’s why he always plays clown when things get emotional. 

Guilt filled his guts when he woke up alone in the morning. 

Truth was, JJ didn’t know how to act with being loved. No one ever told him they loved him before. No one ever made him feel like he was worthy of being loved. So he didn’t know how to react to someone telling him they love him…even when the person was the most important in his life. 

A few days later, you were walking down a street when you saw John B. and JJ coming out of the gas station. His blond hair was pushed back under a snapback, just the way you loved. He laughed at something John B. said, then his eyes crossed yours across the street. JJ completely froze. 

Your feet walked before you made the decision and you crossed the street. John B. saw you coming and eclipsed himself, going inside the store to pay for the gas, leaving you and JJ to talk. The latter tried to offer to go instead, but John B. didn’t let him. 

‘’What’s up?’’ 

‘’Really, JJ? We haven’t spoken to each other in five days, that’s all you have to say?’’ 

He looked toward the store and shrugged. 

‘’We have to talk about the other night,’’ you said, bringing up exactly what he didn’t want to talk about.

The words hung in the air for a few seconds until JJ said something. 

‘’I have no idea what you’re talking about. Like you said, it’s been five days since we saw each other.’’ 

You should have known he would play fool, but it won’t get him out of this conversation.

‘’JJ,’’ you said sternly. ‘’I know you hate talking about feelings, but we have—’’ 

‘’You can’t love me,’’ he interrupted, his voice laced with self-doubt, and his eyes filled with disbelief. ‘’I’m just some loser. I don’t deserve you or your love.’’ 

His words hurt like a knife to your heart. 

‘’Don’t say that.’’ You shook your head, reaching for him, but he stepped back. ‘’You’re not a loser, JJ. Whoever said that clearly doesn’t know you. I know you, the real you, and I love you.’’ 

‘’I don’t want you to love me.’’ 

It was at this moment John B. chose to return, forcing your and JJ’s conversation to end. You wanted to glare at the brunet, but your back was to him. Couldn’t he have stayed longer inside the store? 

‘’John B. is back. I’m gonna go.’’ JJ nodded at the twinkie, impatient to get in and drive off. 

You grabbed his arm with pleading eyes. ‘’Don't push me away.’’

‘’We really gotta go.’’ 

‘’JJ!’’

After that encounter, you decided to not go to the chateau for a while. It was more his home than yours, so you didn’t want to be in his space. If he didn’t want to talk to you, fine. No, it wasn’t fine, but what else was there to do? 

Sarah and Kiara were sad to not have you around for cookouts and boat days. They invited you for Pope’s birthday ‘party’, but you saw JJ smiling and having fun in John B.’s backyard and went back home.  

It wasn’t until the annual end of summer bonfire that you saw him again. He was talking with Kiara and Pope, probably telling them some dumb story by the way Kiara was shaking her head in disbelief. Now that you weren’t there, she was the one who had to deal with him. 

A little later into the night, you went to get a refill and bumped into JJ at the kegger. He kindly offered to fill your cup, then asked to talk to you. You followed him down the beach where the waves were crashing on the rocks, the music and voices from the party-ers fading into white noise. 

‘’I want to say I’m sorry. For pushing you away and for being a jerk to you.’’ He kicked his foot in the sand, a fidgeting habit when he’s nervous. ‘’No one ever told me they loved me before and I just— I flipped. You know how I be.’’

You hummed. No one knows him like you do. 

‘’I wasn’t mad because you didn’t say it back.’’

‘’No?’’ JJ raised his eyes to you. 

You shook your head. ‘’I could never be mad at you for that.’’ 

‘’Then why did you leave?’’  

‘’No one says ‘thanks’ after you tell them you love them!’’ 

‘’What was I supposed to say?’’

Truthfully, you didn’t know. 

A more serious expression settled on JJ’s face as he reached for your hand. ‘’I can see how that didn't land right. I’m sorry,’’ he said again. ‘’I'm a fucking idiot for not saying it back.’’

—

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[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℐ𝓈𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈ℴ𝓃𝑔

req: " here we go again dude this literally doesn’t works everytime" said pope "just wait man it’s gonna work this time" "Jayj stop you’re getting beer in my hair" kie said. "Okay that’s enough beer tricks for you today jj" said John b slowing the boat down " guys let’s go home and make dinner it’s almost 7" said John bs sister from next to Sarah and cleo, it was hot and almost sunset, once they arrived to the château they set everything outside tables and everything and started on making the food while the soft tune of " island song " blasted through the speakers connected to John bs phone, his sister found herself climbing into the hammock and closing her eyes and enjoying the peaceful vibes only to woken up by jj shaking her awake, once food was ready they set it on the table and started eating all together.

a/n: edited the req to make it shorter here (: original request here!!

♫ island song- zac brown band

“Jesus Christ, not this shit again.” Pope groaned in annoyance when JJ picked up his beer bottle, a smirk on his face.

“Oh, cmon, man, put a lil faith in me for once! Swear, it’s gonna work this time.”

Pope raised his eyebrow, rolling his eyes. “Mhm.”

“Sure it will.” You chimed in.

“It will!” He exclaimed, already grabbing a glass from the side. He popped the beer open, and began to swirl the empty glass around the rim of the top of the beer. You watched with a furrowed eyebrow.

He then tapped the bottom of the empty glass to the beer rim, the foam floating back to the top.

“See?! I told you it would work this time!”

“Yeah, but that just makes the beer flat.” You told him.

“Yeah, but it’s cool as fuck.”

“It was pretty cool.” Sarah agreed.

“Okay, you’re getting beer in my hair!” Kiara spoke from behind him, the beer flying from the bottle, into the sky and Kiara’s hair.

“Sorry.” He told her, before putting the beer to his mouth and drinking it, chugging it in one go. You shook your head at the boy, turning back to the setting sun.

“That’s enough beer tricks for you, buddy. Hey, we should go back. It’s almost 7. Still gotta cook dinner and shit.” John B spoke from the drivers seat, all of you turning to the boy.

“Yeah, okay.”

“It’s hot as fuck anyways.”

“I’m down.”

With everyone’s nods and agreements, he turned the boat around and headed back to the Chateau. You all hopped out and ran off the dock, John B following behind.

You grabbed the speaker in the house, bringing it out into the back of the house.

Everyone else piled into the kitchen and the table, you hooking your phone up to the speaker and smiling at the pogues who looked up at the time they all knew. They all smiled and began to sing along, you singing as well, smiling as you left, still hearing the soft sound of the music inside through the open windows.

You hopped into the hammock, turning your head to the sunset, and began to fall asleep to the sound of the music and the seagulls cawing.

Later, JJ was the one who shook you awake.

You sighed, turning the boy and wiping your eyes.

“Yo, foods done. Come eat ‘fore you get eaten up by a bear.”

“A bear? Seriously?” You mumbled out, stretching as you stood up and got out of the comfy hammock.

“Like a grizzly bear. Or maybe a polar bear…”

“A polar bear? In the summer? On Kildare?” You raised your eyebrows at the boy, watching him open the door for you and shrug.

“I don’t know. Would you rather it be like… mosquitoes eating you up?”

“Not really.” You told him, both of you sitting down into the table.

“Why is anything eating you up?” Kiara asked you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Ask JJ.” You said with a mouthful of food, pointing your fork at him.

He rolled his eyes, putting peas onto his spoon and flicking them at you. You glared up at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Hey- no-“ John B started, but he was cut off when JJ flung peas at your brother too.

“Oh, you’re in for it, dude.” John B mumbled.

“Are we seriously having a food fight right now?” Kiara asked.

“Yeah, we are!”

[latibvles]

playing pretend.

who up mourning that this is the last prompt. it’s me im up. anyways for Dress Uniform we’re going all the way back to Wendover. It’s December, 1942, and John Egan’s about to find out that he is in fact, a very good actor.

—

The frigid air reminds him vaguely of Manitowoc.

Of course, it would get much colder, snow piling up against the door. He’d help his dad dig out the pathway leading up to the house, the sidewalk, the driveway. And he remembers steam puffing up around their mouths, how he’d take his dad down in the snow to save his sisters from the “dragon” and how powder would cling to his curls. It’s something sobering, warming — he’s not drunk, not enough to have much trouble finding his way.

Wendover isn’t big. There’s base, and there’s the town, and the local bar. On a weekend, they might’ve taken a bus into Salt Lake City, but it’s Thursday, so they all settled for this instead with no practice flight tomorrow. He could take his chances walking back alone, and he doesn’t hate the memories that are choosing to accompany him. He likes the cold, for the most part.

He shoves his hands into the well-worn pockets of his dress uniform, hums under his breath as he takes in the windows with their lights off. If he had a watch, he’d check the time, but he doesn’t. Bucky just knows that it’s late, because he’s never been the kind of guy to call his nights early.

The song they’d been singing in the bar has wormed its way into his thoughts and he’d have to pester Brady for the name of it tomorrow.

He’s halfway between bar songs and shoveled snow when he hears hurried footsteps behind him. He doesn’t have much time to turn around before he’s being swathed by the scent of a peachy perfume, arms hugging one of his and he’s met with slightly frizzy hair, and eyes boring into his own; hazel ones, alight with something indiscernible. He knows her face, because it’s hard to forget something that pretty, but he and Lieutenant Savorre hardly ever spo—

“There you are!” She practically chirps, jovial. If it weren’t for the fact that he can’t smell anything on her breath he’d ask if she was drunk. She’s not though, as she tilts her head up to sear a kiss against his cheek that’s warmer than the whiskey in his blood. Her breath ghosts against the shell of his ear, making him shiver.

“Sorry for the trouble, Captain, but those boys back there have been trailing me for the past block. Could you play along?” Bucky hears it, then. The loud laughter, and as he turns his head he catches glances of the group in his peripheral vision. How they double over one another and stumble, loud and reckless in the quiet. They aren’t Army, not by the way they’re dressed. If Savorre’s scared or nervous, she doesn’t show it. Her lips are pressed into a tight smile as she looks up at him and they keep walking.

Bucky’s never been much of an actor, but he figures he can try.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he leans forward, daring to press a kiss to her hair and Savorre bows her head to let him, like they’ve practiced this before. “Took you long enough.”

“Got caught up with a friend,” Savorre’s reply is breezy as she lifts her head once more. “Missed you like crazy though.” Bucky swallows, harder than he means to, at how easily the words come to her. And if it weren’t for the clamor behind them, he could easily forget that she was just saying it to say it.

“Like crazy, huh?” he counters with a grin of his own. Savorre’s nose scrunches, her eyes narrow.

“Don’t tease me.”

“Can’t help it,” he counters. She huffs, and he chuckles. “C’mere.” Bucky moves his arm from her grip to drape around her shoulders, pulling her into his side and dunking himself further in the scent of her, the warmth of a body pressed against his own. Her hand finds his heart through his jacket, hand curling against fabric.

She’s too good at this.

Savorre keeps looking up at him, laughs at the jokes he comes up with and counters his quick remarks with her own. His thumb presses into her shoulder as he tries to make sense of their predicament. Or rather, the fact that this is the most they’ve really spoken since meeting a couple weeks ago. And he can’t help but be mildly surprised at how easy she makes this all look: she laughs and lightly pats at his chest and bats her eyelashes like she really is his “sweetheart.” It’s impressive. It’s off putting.

He glances behind them momentarily as he leans down as if his plan is to whisper something salacious in her ear.

“Bank left,” he mutters, and Savorre giggles and gasps out a “Sir!” that sells as he veers down a sidestreet with her in tow. They move a few feet behind and Bucky looks behind them to watch the group of boys stumble past, paying them no mind.

Savorre untangles herself from him with a soft sigh, straightening out her jacket and he watches for a moment. His well of words has run dry and all he can really do is stare as she rights herself; straightening her tucked in tie and rumpled collar, before her gaze drags up the length of him to settle on his face.

“Sorry for the trouble, sir. I hope I’m not uh– in trouble for that.” Bucky balks at her.

“What? No. I’m not—” he pauses, before waving his hand dismissively. “Stays between us. That happen often?” Savorre looks a little caught off by his question, before she presses her lips into a line.

“Sometimes, in Texas.” She shrugs, looking at the main street. “Usually we… travel like a pack but my partner had to make sure our Radio Op got back safe and I was handling something with the bar owner.” She reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He doesn’t miss it — the way she keeps the details vague and he isn’t going to press her for them. But he does smile a little bit.

“Your partner, that’s—”

“Neumann, yeah. Tiny one, black hair,” Savorre demonstrates by holding her hand near her mouth and Bucky can form the image pretty quickly. It was hard not to stare at them.

“I don’t think she’s a fan of me,” Bucky admits and Savorre chuckles at that. He’s pretty sure this is a real laugh of hers, and she shakes her head a little bit.

“Everyone thinks that. It’s just her face. Promise she hasn’t said anything bad, sir.”

“So you girls talk about us?” Savorre rolls her eyes, but he doesn’t think it’s malicious as she raises a brow towards him.

“If you’re hoping for the inside scoop all I can offer is that we’ve been calling you ‘the tall one’, so don’t get too excited,” Savorre smiles a little, like it’s the secret he’s been waiting to be let in on. Maybe it is, because he’s been curious about all thirty of them since he met the pilots on the runway. He presses a little more.

“If I’m the tall one then what’s Kidd?”

“That’s classified information for the 349th to know and for neither you or Kidd to ever find out.” Bucky kisses his teeth, makes a hissing noise as he puts a hand over his heart as if he’d been wounded. She laughs again, with a slight shake of her head and a roll of her eyes.

“Y’know Savorre, they say secrets are poison to a marriage.”

“So now it’s a marriage? I thought it was a rescue mission.”

“Well I’m hoping if I promote myself I’ll get clearance to know what it is.” Savorre makes an ‘ah’ noise, then hums, like she’s really considering it. Makes a point to take her chin between fingers and stroke it pensively, staring up at the cloudy night above them before clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

“Sound argument, sir, but no can do. Plus I’d have to be the one to promote you anyways if that’s how you wanna play it.”

She’s got him there. There’s a glint to her eye — something like mischief — and Bucky’s pretty quick to decide that he likes talking to her and wants to do it more. Mostly because she’s funny, which he didn’t know, and in part because somehow she’s made the idea of Jack Kidd being called anything besides Jack or Kidd seem like the most interesting thing in the world. It feels like a game in some respects and Bucky likes a good game.

“You can drop the sir,” Bucky offers. “...when we’re offbase.” An olive branch, or something like it, he watches the way her face softens up some in surprise, before she tilts her head and furrows her brows.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s just us. Bucky works fine.” Savorre looks like she’s contemplating it for a moment, her expression virtually unreadable. It’s always been pretty easy for him to decide who he does and doesn’t like; it’s easy for him to file Savorre into the prior category as opposed to the latter. She nods, slowly, mutters his name under her breath before fixing her gaze back on him with a smile; warm, friendly.

“This isn’t just a way to get yourself on the fast track to promotion, is it?” Bucky scoffs in mock offense.

“Y’know, if you weren’t smiling all nicely I’d be offended by that.” He whines. Savorre snorts a little bit, which he doesn’t expect.

“Well then sorry, Bucky, and you can call me Viv when it’s just us. If that’ll make it up to you,” She offers and he nods. Viv. And then it’s almost like an immediate switch; how she rocks back on her heels for a moment, looking away from him to one of Wendover’s low rows of businesses and houses. “And thanks again for… playing along. I wouldn’t’ve done that if I had another option.” She sounds almost apologetic and Bucky rejects the unspoken apology with a wave of his own hand, a shake of his head.

“Anytime,” he assures, before amending the statement. “Well, maybe not anytime but if you need a bailout I’m not… it doesn’t bother me.” Viv nods, and he takes her in a little bit. The pinkened state of her cheeks and tip of her nose from the December air, and the progressive softening of her features.

She’s not readable, at least not in any way he understands quite yet. But she’s not stiff either, or rigid. The only other time he’s ever gotten some kind of read on her was when she’d breezed past him with two other pilots to go greet Veal with a “What took you so long?” and a smirk that reminded him of just about every other pilot he’d met, including himself. Maybe she didn’t have sharp edges, but she wasn’t shy or meek about anything.

She’s not shy or meek now either. Maybe comfortable, which feels like some kind of reward for him.

“I might give some of mine the heads up on that,” she admits. “If you don’t mind. Some of them are too shy about that kind of thing and don’t know how to ask.” It doesn’t sound like a complete thought, more like she had more to say but is withholding it. He decides not to pry into it.

“I don’t mind,” he agrees, instead. They lapse into silence for a moment, stiff with that uncomfortably frank knowledge that, yeah, this isn’t the first time any of them had been followed around. Bucky decides, quickly, that he doesn’t like it: the silence and the knowledge. He can do something about both, thankfully enough. “So can I keep walking you back or do you plan on leaving me in the dust?” Viv makes a noise, somewhere between amused and disbelieving.

“Yeah you caught me, I was planning on running for the hills ‘till you opened your mouth.”

“Yeesh, am I that bad of a husband?”

“Well I wouldn’t know. You promoted yourself pretty quick — and it still doesn’t count.” She walks towards him, and then brushes past, and he turns on his heel to follow her, falling in step pretty easily.

“I’m taking that as a ‘No, Bucky, you’re great and also terribly funny. An absolute catch.’” That makes her snort again and she reaches to lightly shove at him, but he doesn’t move much as she shakes her head.

“Sure, Bucky. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

[magickcandie]

Queen with Reader

With Brian May x Reader undertones

Christmas with Queen!

You had gone through university with Brian, Roger and Freddie as you were also working towards an art major. Once they became Queen and added John Deacon, the five of you had become inseperateable. You were always around them.

You had known that when the holidays were coming around, Freddie would insist on doing something very big. It was only natural of them. However you insisted on bringing your own decorations to help decorate the studio.

John and yourself were always dancing to Christmas music or singing along to whatever you could play on piano. Freddie didn't want let anyone help with the decorations.

"I have a vision, my dear, and frankly, you'll only get in the way. I hope you understand."

"Come on, it's Christmas," you whined back at him.

"Oh fine."

You clapped your hands and grabbed a piece of garland to start adding to the window ledges.

“I can’t reach!” You shouted, standing in your toes.

“Even Roger can reach!” Freddie teased.

“Hey!”

“You know, standing there and gawking won’t help the decorations go up.”

“I’ll go find a ladder. Or a stool.” Said John, setting down his own piece of tinsel.

You dismissed his intentions. “Eh, it doesn’t matter. Rog, come here.” You waved him over.

You looked up to gage the distance then positioned Roger by the wall. Then you walked behind him and jumped on his back.

“What are you doing!” He laughed.

“Stand still!” You strung the garland to the wall just before letting go and jumping off Roger.

Freddie looked between you two. “My darling, Y/N, I love you, but you’re not clambering onto my shoulders."

You and Roger exchange glances. You two matched the same glances and immediately you both run at Freddie. He attempts to hold him still while you start to climb on his back.

Brian was brooding the whole time. For no reason really. He had expressed his feelings towards helping, but he found many an excuse to whine and read elsewhere.

That went on until entire studio had been decorated with tinsel and ribbon, garlands just about on every wall, and there was mistletoe hanging by the front door.

"I get the star! It's my tree." You laughed as everyone went digging through the box.

Brian was content to sit read the newspaper, now joining everyone in the main room.

You had stood on your toes, reaching up to attach the star. That's when you heard a snicker. You dropped a hand to your hip and looked over your shoulder to scowl.

"Are you just gonna laugh at me?"

Brian looked up at you, laughing aloud this time. You crossed your arms.

"Would help me?"

"No, no, why don't you ask John. He's just about as tall as me." Brian said.

"Are you really being angry with me because I didn't ask you for help? Please?" Brian and you held eye contact. "Please," you tried again.

Brian stood up, coming up behind you to hoist you from the waist, seemingly stronger than he seemed.

You placed the star on and Brian set you down. Freddie clapped. John went around to shut off the lights, Roger to plug in the tree.

"Merry Christmas, you jerk," you said to Brian with a smile.

"Happy Christmas to you too, Y/N." He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and placed a kiss on your cheek.

You were going to enjoy the holidays, you decided.

[starssaroundmyscarssblog]

Can you write for reader x Sherlock where reader is a little like Elizabeth Bennet, likes to read and paint etc. Singing and all the cultural stuffs and Sherlock has fallen for her too hard?

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍

pairing: sherlock holmes (bbc) x fem!oc

summary: in which sherlock holmes doesn’t catch himself from falling quick enough for jane burbank

word count: 3.04k

warnings: none

a/n: this was my first time writing for a request so i really hope you like it <3 i also made it [x/oc] as i'm more comfortable doing it that way but i tried to stay away from descriptions as much as possible to make this little fic as inclusive as possible too <3

he wanted nothing more than to talk to her, even if it was only a meagre apology for accidentally brushing against her in the library isle. she enamoured him and he hated it, even years later as he held the heavy velvet curtains between two fingers and watched her cross over the road and unlock the door to her flat. john smirked behind his newspaper, "you're doing it again."

"doing what?" sherlock huffed, letting the curtains drape back into place over the window. "saying i'm doing something again would mean i'm repeating the action. what's special about me standing by the window." he stalked through the flat and flung himself into an old wooden chair by the kitchen table, seething over his frustration.

he hated it when john was right. nothing frustrated him more than his closest friend seeing right through him as if he were a spirit. more often than not, when he was sulking about not having cases or waiting for results from his less-than-ethical experiments, sherlock would find himself rooted to the floor by the window. sometimes he would play his violin slow and mournful, sometimes he would stand in plain sight.

it would stun him when the sunlight bounced off the wire frame of her glasses, the reflection shooting through her window and right back to his. sherlock found it hard to concentrate on anything else when she would sit in her arm chair with a cardigan that on anyone else would have looked ugly but on her the bright colours did nothing but compliment her. she always had a pen or pencil or paint brush hidden away in her hair, and occasionally she would reach up and fiddle with it as she thumbed delicately through the pages of her book.

sherlock looked up from concentrating hard on the surface of the table when his phone buzzed him his pocket, and he pulled it out. his smile became visible against his will.

you're doing it again, if you want to come over you only have to ask

within minutes he was at the door, ripping off his burgundy dressing gown and trading it out for his thick and heavy belstaff. at john's call of "where're you off to all eager?" he simply shouted "out" as he clattered down the thin staircase. sherlock was out of the door and crossing the road faster than he was able to think, knocking sharply on the blurred stained glass window set into her front door.

there was a crash from inside, a mutter of swearing as she pulled back the door to reveal her haphazard state. sherlock stared dumbly at her, trying to ignore the red splatter of paint on her neck dripping onto her chest, searching for words as when he opened his mouth it turned dry. "you didn't ask," she said, but stood back to let him into her house anyway.

sherlock walked in through the hall, catching himself casting his gaze over the walls like he did every singe time. the university diploma sat pride of place over the mantlepiece of the fireplace in the living room reading 'ba joint honours in history and history of art awarded to jane burbank, graduating with a first from the university of edinburgh'

next to it was a framed photo of the pair of them stood together at a mutual friend's wedding the previous year. sherlock had gone along begrudgingly when he'd found out that jane was attending the party after the ceremony because her cousin was the maid of honour for the bride. they were both standing outside of the venue side by side, smiling into the lens as one of the flower girls was messing with the petal confetti in her small wicker basket in the background.

jane brushed her bangs off her eyes as she moved around the airy living room, shoving wooden crates of paint back into place on the shelf and moving her latest canvas out into the garden to dry completely. sherlock stood awkwardly in his coat and ran his finger under the collar of his shirt sitting tightly against his neck. she stared at him as she returned, wiping a paint stain off the hem of her white dress as she did so.

"sherlock, i don't know why you insist on dressing like a child from the past in the middle of summer." london had been blanketed in a sticky, heavy heat as they hit the peak of august, making being indoors impossible but being outside worse. jane was only glad of her broken window to allow a constant breeze to pass through the ground floor of her house but knew the relief wouldn't last long. it was only a matter of time before the rain came in thick drops and plunged them into everlasting autumn.

he shrugged awkwardly and peeled the coat from his body, and when jane looked at him from behind her easel tucked away in a corner by the bay window he removed his blazer from his shoulders too. sherlock felt too free when he was with her, it scared him, but she made him feel to exhilarated to even care sometimes.

once, when they'd met at a summer research project collating students from different courses at the russel group unis, jane had cleared her throat to catch his attention in the library. at the noise he turned around, still holding the heavy volume, and saw her looking at him through a gap in the shelves perching her chin on the heel of her hands. "hey," jane whispered at him, "d'you want to do something fun?"

sherlock couldn't find his voice to tell her that what he was doing was fun and that he didn't really want to leave the safety of the library that late at night, but her bright eyes sparkling in the fluorescent lights hanging from the high ceiling from exposed wires made him throw caution to the wind and join her on their escapade. jane dragged him to a concert and to this day not one of them could remember who it was they'd seen only that they were rubbish and the cone of chips they'd picked at while walking through a grassy park was much more enjoyable.

he'd been dressed for winter then too, despite the thin linen of his shirt trying to cool him down in the muggy night air. but he couldn't care less about the heat invading his skin or the salt from the chips that caught on his finger tips because he was talking to jane burbank, and it had been all he'd wanted to do since she came bursting into the lecture hall for the summer programme two minutes late in a haze of frazzledness as she pulled down the hem of her summer dress where it had ridden up from her haste.

if he had been a better man he wouldn't have looked down past her neck but he couldn't help himself.

perched on the end of the emerald green sofa shoved against a bright white wall covered in artwork and cheap antique picture frames, sherlock fumed silently like the kettle he wished jane was setting over the stove because he could see john giving him his worst 'i told you so' look from the front window of his flat over the road. jane returned with a silver tray laden with small plates holding biscuits, two empty glasses holding ice and a large pitcher of sparkling orange juice.

"d'you want to go out and do something fun tonight?" jane found herself repeating the words every time she saw sherlock, which wasn't as often as she would have hoped considering she bought her house opposite his flat with his proximity in mind. he was always out sleuthing with john, who she'd seen more, and got on well with.

so was it really any surprise that jane took any chance she could get with sherlock, to make the most of the time they had together. he'd intrigued her all those years ago (it hadn't in-fact been too many years ago since they'd graduated with first honours, but life in the wake of sherlock holmes was long and weary) and still continued to do so now. she was pleased she knew him before he made it big as a 'boffin' in the national press and was even more pleased that he still kept up with her completely opposing lifestyle despite his cold-heartedness and want of plain fact.

with a gleeful grin and a shake of his shoulders as she squealed at his minute nod, jane was away to pack her bag and to grab her sandals before rejoining him at the front door. much to her excitement, sherlock had decided to brave the outside world without the protection of his belstaff, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone and his blazer was tucked neatly under his arm as he waited patiently for her. "ever practical," she muttered and locked the door behind her. the heat of the day beat down on her exposed shoulders from where she'd pinned her hair up at the back of her head and she pulled her sunglasses over her nose.

they set off and june looked at her watch, "quarter to three, fancy going out for something to eat first?"

"whatever you want to do," sherlock agreed, and sure enough half an hour later they were sat on outside tables for a cafe overlooking westminster watching the people go by. well, sherlock was watching the people go by and jane was peeling away the pastry of a croissant she'd ordered while taking occasional sips of her glass of diet coke. he tapped his fingers against the saucer for his coffee patiently waiting for her to finish so they could leave.

jane wanted to look through the markets in camden for old records before they tried to find a pub for dinner and finished off the day at st james' park to listen to the music drift over them from the live festival happening in hyde park that she didn't get tickets to. she was always asking him if he wanted to do something fun even when she'd planned the day to some kind of degree of legible and sherlock just agreed.

but he did so because jane had asked him to, and anything that was fun to her would be fun for him.

after their intermission at the cafe, where jane had stopped to take some candid photos of some couples she'd seen over the green before turning the lens on an unsuspecting sherlock, they suffered the stuffy carriage of the underground before emerging at camden. jane beelined for stalls selling records and cassette tapes she didn't need because her selection was already overflowing. she picked up a sleeve and turned it to sherlock, grinning, "don't you just love them?"

he smirked before saying, "i prefer blur" only to receive a smack on the shoulder for his admission. by the time they'd left jane had bought enough to put a sizeable dent into her savings account made for paying off her student debt and she was dragging sherlock to an art gallery she noticed was free to the public before they sat down to eat again.

there was something about her wide eyes as they walked around the gallery that sherlock couldn't tear his eyes away from. it might have been the sun shining down on her cheekbones from the glass ceiling or the way she looked like one of the twisted statues in her white dress and delicate sandals or her screwed up face as she focused on something in the background through the lens of her camera. being with jane was a break from the world he'd plugged himself into and he loved every second of it.

sherlock didn't love it as much, however, when they were sat outside (again) at a pub jane liked sharing a bowl of chips while she told him about the awful date she'd had with an awful guy who had an awful name two days prior. his back straightened and something curled in the pit of his stomach as jane told him about the bloke's lacklustre effort of wooing her, especially when he lumped her with paying for dinner and their tube fares back because he'd 'conveniently' left his wallet in a different jacket.

"he wasn't even wearing a jacket, sherlock, i mean can you believe it? i go on one date for the first time in months and he's a total prick!" she picked at a chip and dunked it angrily into the splodge of tomato sauce she'd poured onto the plate before soaking up any vinegar that had been left behind, "is chivalry really dead? i refuse to believe it is."

sherlock made a hoarse noise in the back of his throat before leaving for the bar and returning with a drink to replace jane's third glass of diet coke since they'd sat down. he placed down the cocktail in front of her and felt a flush of pride creep down his back as jane placed her hand over his to thank him earnestly. she took a sip, then another until the entire thing slid down her throat with a sigh of relief.

"i really needed that," she said and giggled to herself. sherlock forgot every time he was with her when she drank that jane was the lightest of lightweights, but when she'd had one she was happy and when jane was happy sherlock was well on the way to being happy too.

another cocktail later and jane had reached her happy medium for alcohol intake - she was blissfully unaware of anything happening outside of the six foot boundary around her but could still hold herself upright and kissed sherlock enthusiastically on the cheek when he caught the bill as a waiter was passing by their table. she laughed all along the path and the whole time the two of them were walking to st james' park.

sherlock didn't make it a habit to carry people around on his back, but when jane looked up at him with a pout and wide glassy eyes he acquiesced and hoisted her onto his back with her ankles locked together just below his navel.

she insisted on getting a cone of chips for old times sake even though they'd eaten enough to fuel an army back at the pub, and jane happily handed over five pounds in cash for a cone and a pot of curry sauce to the woman behind the till. "thank you!" she called out from over her shoulders and sherlock walked through the gates to the park and let her down gently onto the grass where they usually sat.

jane fell forwards and caught herself from landing on her face by her knees, laughing as she slumped forwards onto her chest and propped her chin up into her hands. sherlock sat beside her on his jacket and brushed her bangs out of her eyes, and she felt her skin flush where his fingers had touched. the music from the concert in hyde park eventually reached them just as jane thought it would and she began to hum the tune under her breath as she picked at the chips sherlock was holding out for her.

jane rolled onto her back and felt the blades of grass tickle her shoulders and she moved to make herself comfortable. "we never talk anymore sherlock." she huffed, and tried to reach out and run her fingers over his cheek but stopped when she realised her hands were moving in the completely wrong direction.

"you've been talking all day."

"but i mean you and me. we never talk, i talk at you and you listen."

"i like listening."

"no you don't, you'll out live god trying to get the last word in."

he laughed behind his smile, "i like listening to you."

jane pushed herself onto her feet and sank down again so she was eye to eye with sherlock. he could still see the red splatter of paint along her neck and upon closer inspection he found that the drips had dried throughout the day past the neckline of her already low summer dress. "i wish you would do more than watch and listen to me." she whispered, still tapping out the rhythm of the new song against her knee.

"but i like listening to you and i can't help but watch you. it irritates me." lies.

"no it doesn't."

damn.

before sherlock even had a chance to refute or say anything in his defence, jane's hands were placed gently on either side of his neck and she pulled him forwards to join their lips. jane held him so close that their noses bumped together repeatedly and she had to lean forwards to follow him when he pulled away. "jane!"

"what?" she questioned, finding that she'd sobered up at a startling rate when the gravity of what she'd done had truly set in. "oh, sherlock i'm so sorry i didn't mean to-" her words were cut off as he kissed her again, again and again to pepper kisses all over her cheeks and along her forehead where her bangs had fallen over her eyes again.

jane was a breath of fresh air, the calm in the middle of the storm he lived his life by. in the moment with her, sitting on the grass in a darkened london park he couldn't help but not care about what john would say when he finally got home or if jane would soon realise how dangerous tangling her life with his truly was.

she pushed herself onto him and held onto his arms as she kissed him harder, not caring that sherlock was the right-hand-man of every inspector at scotland yard or that his idea of fun was dissecting human bodies and testing them for bruising. the only thing that mattered to her was the boy she'd liked since she walked in late to the lecture hall was kissing her back after he'd admitted to her, drunkenly at their mutual friend's wedding, that it was all he thought about whenever he saw her

🪩⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊🔎

[baocean]

SPRINGSTEEN - JJ MAYBANK

First of my country songs series, listen to the song!!! (Give country a chance, I’m begging you)

Summary: Seventeen years old or twenty-seven, it didn’t matter, you still loved JJ Maybank.

Warnings: none!

Pairing: JJ Maybank x touron!reader JJ Maybank x kook!reader

It had been almost ten years since you last saw him. You could still remember like it was yesterday, though. You were freshly seventeen and were spending the summer on the Banks with your family.

The first time he saw you was when he was passing your beach house in the Twinkie, along with his other friends. John B called a hello out the window and JJ turned his head to watch you play with your little cousins in the front yard until he couldn’t see you anymore.

You were stuck in his head like a piece of bubblegum. Sort of like the one you were popping in your mouth when he first drove by. He memorized the way you looked, the way your white top made your tan skin shine, how your cut off jeans made his fingers tingle. The Ray-bands that were stuck in your messy hair, fresh from the ocean. You were wearing flip flops and still, JJ couldn’t get enough.

He made up stupid reasons to take the Twinkie, drive it across town and down your street, hoping to get another glance at you.

When he did, he pulled onto the side of the road. You were getting out of your car, an iced coffee in one hand and a bouquet of flowers from the supermarket in the other. He thought you looked like a dream.

“Are you new?” He called out the window, swallowing the nerves. He felt like he was talking to a celebrity. Something told him he wouldn’t be as nervous to talk to an actual celeb as he was calling out for you.

“I’m here for the summer. Who are you?” You replied.

“JJ. Would you go to a party with me tonight?”

“Are you going to murder me after, JJ?”

The cute blonde sticking his head out of the Volkswagen Touran was grinning ear to ear at your response. He shook his head, then you smiled, too. You shrugged your shoulders and agreed.

“I’ll pick you up at seven. You’ll be here?” He yelled, smacking his head against the door, it made a loud sound from the metal of his rings.

“I’ll be here. See you tonight.” You smiled and turned to walk up the stairs to the front door.

Fourteen days later, you were pretty sure you had fallen in love. For the first time, you were feeling something like you could jump off a cliff and no matter what or where, JJ would be at the bottom to catch you. Maybe you were just being a silly teenager, but you were certain that’s what love felt like.

JJ would take you to the old shipyard and find a container to sit on and watch the ships sail out onto the ocean or take you to his friend Kiara’s restaurant where you would sit and talk as a date until Mr. Carrera forced you guys out.

At the end of everyday, he’d take his sweet time driving you home, taking the far way around the island. He’d make you so late your parents would be angry every time you got home. You didn’t care, neither did he.

“Don’t go.” You whined one night. Sitting in the Twinkie, in your driveway. It was the third week of summer, it was a hot and sticky night, the ac was blowing your hair in a way that made JJ think you looked like an angel. He gave you a sickly, sweet smile that made you want him to kiss you. You had only known JJ for three weeks but when he kissed you, it felt like it had been years. He kissed you so sweet, he put his hand on your cheek and pulled you over to sit closer to him. It was the best kiss of your life.

At twenty-seven, you still thought about him like the last time you saw him was the day before. You wondered if now, at twenty-seven, JJ would think about you too when he would hear a song from Bruce Springsteen. That summer, at eighteen, JJ was obsessed with him and Snoop Dog, saying he wanted to smoke like Snoop and sing like Bruce. He certainly smoked enough to run with Snoop Dog but you used to laugh and cover your ears when he sung along to the radio.

You were back in the Banks, in the same house on the same street, almost ten years later. The same family you were with the last time were there, except your father. When he died six months ago, he made you promise to start a tradition of making good use out the the house he paid an expensive mortgage for. So there you were, with the same cousins you used to play with in the front yard, now the same age as you were the last time.

When you saw him, he was driving by in a beat up, black Jeep. You were unloading things from your white BMW, the one you had been dreaming of buying since you graduated college from Clemson. He hit the breaks so hard the hodgepodge of items on his passenger seat went flying. You dropped your bags back into the backseat.

You almost couldn’t believe it was him. He was so handsome, the same blonde hair and pretty blue eyes, just all grown up. He let his arm hang out the side of his car as you walked over. You caught sight of your name, tattooed into his wrist. It had faded since you last saw it. He had gotten it a few weeks before you left that summer. You could remember the god awful look your mother gave you when she saw your name, tattooed on the pogue boys wrist as he shook her hand for the first time. You also remembered you didn’t care what she thought, all you could think about is that when he got it, you were holding his hand and he was telling you how much he loved you.

“Is that you, JJ Maybank?” You wrapped your fingers around the door handle and pulled it open, not thinking about what you were doing. You had guessed you just wanted to see him, all of him.

He smiled and it’s like you were sent back into time, the first time he smiled at you, in the same driveway. He nodded, stepping out the car that was still running. JJ needed to see you too, without a stupid door in the way. He wanted to see what ten years did to you.

He grew taller. Even at seventeen when sleeping at the Chateau, he would complain about not being able to rest because of his growing pains. He used to pull you into his body and tell you to kiss it better.

JJ thought you were even more beautiful than you were at seventeen. At eighteen, he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. At twenty-eight, he knew you were the most beautiful woman there was.

That night, he took you out to The Wreck, where Mr. Carrera greeted you, telling you all about Kiara’s successes in Australia. ‘Born in the USA’ played over the speakers in the restaurant. JJ sang along to the lyrics.

“You haven’t gotten any better at singing.” You laughed over the Bruce Springsteen song.

“Yea, I quit smoking too. So there goes both my dreams.” He shook his head, looking up at you through his blonde hair.

“What’s your dream now?” You head your head in your hands, watching him think. His eyebrows furrowed anytime he thought hard about something. You learned that about him early on.

“Move out of my apartment, I’m barely there anyway. Get a nice house on the water and surf a ton. Open up my own surfboard company. Probably marry you, too.”

He took you by surprise. You found yourself thinking the same thing, though. Time didn’t seem to matter when it came to you and JJ.

That summer, you spent any free time with JJ. When he bought the small warehouse to start his business, you were there when he signed the lease. The first surfboard he made was for you. When you got sick as a dog for a week, he was there. You learned how good JJ was at making chicken noodle soup.

Three years later, on the other side of town, the nicer side of town, JJ and you walked along the beach. Your house was just a few hundred feet down. It was a dark blue, with a wrap around pouch and had a hammock you laid in when the sun was setting.

Your boyfriend’s business took off, he was shipping surfboards across the world daily, with lots of orders waiting for him. Your career in marketing was taking off well.

He proposed to you three years after twenty-seven. On the beach your dark blue house rested on. With a ring he saved up his entire life for.

At seventeen, you thought that summer would be the last time you saw JJ. At thirty, you wanted to laugh and tell her she was a silly teenager. You wanted to tell her that her cliff jumping love was real, and it lasted.

…….

[malarkgirlypop]

BoB Themes songs/Songs they would jam out to!

Winters:

Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac, the live at warner brothers edition. Absolutely loves Fleetwood Mac, would drag Nix along to see them in concert, he just adores Stevie Nicks. I could see him just singing this so loud in the car, putting his whole soul into it.

Nixon:

Shots by LMFAO and Lil John, it just depicts his life, gets him hyped to do shots, also an excuse to do shots, "The song is telling me to do it!" Will put it on every time they pregame so that he can drink and dance.

Lipton:

Kiss from a Rose by Seal. I can imagine Lipton singing this, he loves this song so much. He is so serious as well when he sings it, he means every word, might have secretly choreographed a whole dance to this, but will not tell a soul about it. Speirs might have spied him doing it and just watched with a little grin on his face.

Speirs:

Master of Puppets by Metallica. You cannot tell me this wasn't playing in his head and he sprinted through Foy. Doesn't head bang just appreciates the music. Constantly playing in his head whenever he does cool shit.

Eugene:

Come away with me by Norah Jones. This song is so sweet just like him. I can imagine him just sitting daydreaming about leaving with Babe, like the song says. It helps him unwind after a stressful day, he just sits and listens and daydreams about being in field where the yellow grass grows knee high. It helps him escape the sadness and he just is able to put himself in a nice headspace.

Babe:

No thoughts empty head just Teach me how to Dougie by Cali Swag District playing. He will have this in his brain constantly, and is just doing the dougie in really tiny movements so that no one notices. When he looks spaced out it's because he is in his brain doing the dougie, let him finish his performance before you talk to him, you can tell when the song is over you will see him take imaginary applause.

Welsh:

Love on Top Beyoncè. HE IS A BEYONCE FAN LET ME TELL YOU! Him and Kitty love her! Kitty was her fan first but Welshie definitely fell harder. He sings this to Kitty as he butchers the high notes. He bops around the room, her music just makes him so happy. Kitty and him have been to multiple of her concerts and having a fucking boogie in the pit.

George:

Scatman by Scatman John. My god don't let George play this, you will be kinda scared. He tries his best to scat but really he is just yelling random syllables at you. He will run around the room scatting furiously, he thinks this song is equally hilarious and the best song in the world, he loves it. You will be crying laughing as he performs this for you. Up in your face scatting, like we can all imagine what he looks like doing this right?

Toye:

Burn it to the ground by Nickleback. Just Toye and this song idk scratches an itch in my brain. I can see him just scrunching up his face jamming out. Also this plays in his head when he wears his brass knuckles. This is his fight song. He loves the grungy guitar and yelling vocals. Will sing the song if drunk enough, but will try and fight you at the same time.

Bill:

Come as you are by Nirvana. Idk also same as Toye it just scratches an itch in my brain, more lowkey but this is his chill song. Will listen to this while having a bourbon. Will sing quietly to the song. This plays in his head when he walks anywhere it's his like I'm a bad bitch song. Blast it in the car windows down with a hot chick in the passenger seat, you see him in his fucking sick ass car, shades on and you just want to be him. Why is he so cool? It's the song! But also Bill is just cool.

Liebgott:

Yeah! by Usher ft. Lil John and Ludacris. This is his song that he just pulls bitches with and by bitches I mean Web ahahaha. Just fucking slays the dance he does to this, like is he from step-up? Moose from step up vibes very that! Like ok stop it why are you so hot? He just is so smug and kills it every time. Ugh I can imagine it and he is so hot. Like he is just got chicks grinding all over him and he is the star of the show still. His smirk and dancing. OMG HOT!

Web:

Prada by cassö, RAYE, D-Block Europe. A classic white girly song, loves the part where is says I got strippers tits in my face. Bounces up and down super drunk. Does a motorboat motion at his favourite lyrics, has people he is dancing with has his arms around them just jumping up and down.

Donald:

Low by Flo Rida, T-Pain. This is his jam! Goes absolutely mental when it is played, will stop and dace no matter where he is! Played one time when he was in the supermarket with Skip and Alex. They left him in the aisle having a dance party by himself. They went and got him when the song stopped playing he was a sweaty mess and all of his items he had collected were scattered over the floor. Will pull out his one party trick which is his back bend.

Skip:

Rock this Party by Bob Sinclar. Nothing gets him more hyped that this song. Will move his whole body to this song, if you watch him you're worried he's going to dislocated something. You've never seen someone jump as high as he does to this dance. This song will cheer him up whatever mood he is in. He just can't fight the infectious beat. Don and Alex played it one time for him when he was crying, it ended up with him still crying but dancing like a maniac.

Alex:

Axel F by Crazy Frog. I just see him like crab shuffle dacing around the room, like the you can't touch this dance move. He will run and run to this song if it plays when he's on his morning jog. This song is what got him up Currahee. He sung it in his head the entirety of Tocca to help him get through PT. Bahahaha. Somehow good at the weird vocal lyrics it has.

Buck:

Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes. Buck loves this song, the steady drum the classic bass riff. This is his marching song. He walks everywhere to this song. But he is so fast when he does it cause he keeping pace with the drums, so don't go on walks with him if he brings his headphones you will be left behind. This is his hype song. Plays air instruments the song, will do the air guitar solo and kill it.

Martin:

Don't stand so close to me by The police. Listen he likes the song sure but the title is him to a T. Don't stand close to me is his motto in life. He likes his personal space and he will play this song if he thinks you're getting in his bubble. He will just stare at you while it plays, until you get the message.

Perco:

Boom Boom Pow by Black Eyed Peas. We know that Perco is a fast runner it's cause this is playing in his head as he runs. Does his amazing B-boy skills to this song. Popping and flips. You just watch him absolutely devour this song. He is a freestyler but omg he just fucking kills it.

Bull:

Fake ID by Big and Rich. Has the whole line dance to memory from the movie footloose, which is one of his fav movies. He is so good at line dancing and he just loves the moves to this song. Is in his happy place doing the dance, just grinning!

This is the playlist if anyone wants it.

Tag list: @sweetxvanixlla, @xxluckystrike, @panzershrike-pretz, since we talked about it!

[hbowarbabes]

Sealed with a Kiss

John “Bucky” Egan x Roxanne Vernon (OC)

Summary: Bucky needs Roxanne to know that he wants something serious with her, but she isn’t fully convinced that he’s committed to just her and her alone.

Words: 2.3k

Next

• • •

Thorpe Abbotts Airbase,

August 17, 1943

It was a quiet afternoon at the clinic, and Roxanne was sitting at her desk, going over patient files.

Most days, she was used to the bustling activity of the clinic, and her friends rambling about their love lives, but today was unusually quiet.

Roxanne looked out the window, watching as the airmen were getting in and out of vehicles, going for their next mission.

As all the airmen roamed the base, Roxanne wondered if Bucky could be somewhere between them.

She had been left thinking about him and their whole interaction the whole week.

Her friends would continuously ask her if she was going to see Bucky again and maybe take things to a more serious level, but she didn’t know.

After the club, they occasionally saw each other while roaming around Thorpe Abbotts, but they could never actually make time to sit down and talk. Bucky was busy with missions, and Roxanne had her own duties to fulfill at the clinic.

As the days turned into weeks, Roxanne couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had been made aware of Bucky’s reputation as a ladies’ man through countless rumors. And as much as Roxanne tried to block them out, it came to be true.

She had seen Bucky talking to countless other women on the base, his easy smile and confident demeanor drawing them in like moths to a flame.

At first, she had brushed off her feelings, telling herself that it was nothing more than her being dramatic. But as she watched him interact with more women that crossed his path, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was not the only person on his mind.

It wasn't just the way he smiled at them, or the way he laughed at their every word. It was the way he looked at them, with a certain intensity in his eyes that Roxanne had also seen directed at her.

It made her heart ache with longing, and she found herself questioning whether or not she was just another conquest to him, another woman to add to his list of admirers.

Despite her growing suspicions, Roxanne couldn't ignore the undeniable chemistry that existed between them whenever they crossed paths. Every time their eyes met, sparks flew, and she found herself drawn to him like a magnet.

It all made sense to her why she had managed to stay single for so long. Love was nothing but a headache. Was it something worth fighting for with Bucky?

Roxanne still couldn’t answer that for herself.

Suddenly, the door of the clinic swung open with a rush of air, and in walked Bucky with a look of urgency on his face.

Roxanne's heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, his brunette locks hiding under his hat along with that light sheepskin jacket that fit on him perfectly. She couldn't help but smile as he made his way over to her.

"Hey Roxanne," Bucky said, a wide grin on his face. "I was hoping to catch you here."

Roxanne felt a flutter in her chest at his words. Bucky was a handsome and charming man, and he had left a good impression on her. Roxanne thought he came across as a polite individual, very down to earth. What she wouldn’t expect was for him to seek her out like this.

Roxanne looked up at Bucky with a mischievous grin on her face, “So, no singing this morning?”

Recalling the drunken state he had been in at the club, Bucky smiled and replied, "I can start doing it right now, but my voice isn't gonna sound great."

Roxanne raised an eyebrow and teased, "Are you really going to sing when no one else is here to listen to that beautiful voice?"

Bucky paused for a moment, contemplating Roxanne's words. Suddenly, a mischievous glint appeared in his eye as he declared, "Why not? I thought it’d be better to just sing for you."

"Oh, John, you’re killing me." Roxanne replied, getting up from her desk. Bucky looked up at the clock on the wall, once again realizing that he couldn’t stay at the clinic much longer. Roxanne saw his desperation as she now stood face to face with him.

"What’s got you all in a hurry this morning?"

Bucky hesitated for a moment before speaking, his eyes locked on hers. "I wanted to see you before I go." he said simply.

“I must’ve made quite the impression for you to decide to come back and see me.” Roxanne stated jokingly, trying to ease the nervous pilot in front of her, who was forced to hold back his laughter.

“John, what is it?” She grew worried as Bucky’s face went stern again.

“Look, I know we’ve only known each other for a couple weeks, but I miss seeing your face, Roxanne. I want to stay in touch, even when I'm on missions. I want to get to know you better." Bucky said, his eyes searching hers for a reaction.

Roxanne was taken aback by his words, her heart racing with excitement. She had been drawn to him since the minute he came up to that stage and sang with her, his confidence and humorous demeanor never leaving Roxanne’s mind. And now, he was standing in front of her, wanting her to stick around with him longer. She wouldn’t have expected that from someone like him, but she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity.

"How could I say no to a request like that?" Roxanne said softly, a smile tugging at her lips.

"You make sure to come back to me in one piece. I’d like to keep getting those letters for as long as I can. I’ve got to pass time around here somehow.” Roxanne looked up at the ceilings of the clinic, sighing at the fact that she only saw the same four walls everyday.

“And maybe after I come back, we can pass time outside of this place. Get to know each other more.” Bucky grinned softly.

Roxanne nodded, a smile plastered across her face. "I'm looking forward to it."

Bucky's eyes lit up at her response, and he took a step closer to her. Their faces were close enough, close enough for Bucky to see the luminosity of Roxanne’s emerald orbs.

He felt so happy and enamored, he assumed Roxanne felt that way too. He couldn’t leave without showing her how much she meant to him.

Without warning, he slowly leaned in to kiss her, but Roxanne pushed her palm against his chest to stop him, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Bucky immediately distanced himself from her, his smile quickly fading as the pang of rejection set in.

"I'm sorry, John-" Roxanne stammered, looking down at her hands.

Bucky's expression fell slightly, but he nodded in understanding. “No, no. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

As the moment hung awkwardly between them, the shrill sound of a voice calling out Bucky's name shattered the silence.

Bucky's friend, Buck, stood at the entrance of the clinic, watching as his friend stood in embarrassment in front of Roxanne. Bucky cursed under his breath. Just when he thought he could finally leave things official with Roxanne, he realized he had taken it too far.

"I have to go," Bucky said, his voice tinged with regret. "But you keep an eye out for those letters.”

Roxanne nodded, a look of unease played on her face. She felt so stupid pulling away from him like that.

Bucky turned on his foot, quickly making his way out of the clinic.

"John, wait," she called out, her voice filled with desperation. He turned around to see Roxanne walking up to him, her shiny brunette locks bouncing as she walked down the hall. And before he knew what was happening, she reached up and gently placed a kiss on his cheek.

The gesture took Bucky by surprise, and he stood there, frozen in place as he tried to process what had just happened.

“Stay safe out there, John.” Roxanne looked up at him, her gaze unwavering, and he could see the love and longing in her eyes.

In that moment, Bucky realized just how much she meant to him, and he knew he couldn't let her go. She had such an influence on him.

He wrapped his strong arms around Roxanne, pulling her into his warm embrace. Bucky found it hard to pull away from her.

Roxanne rubbed her thumb glided across Bucky’s neck, her head resting on his shoulder. She whispered softly in his ear, “I’m serious. If you don’t keep your promise to take me out, I’m not sure how I’m going to feel.”

Even with the many women he had been accompanied by in the past, he could never compare those feelings to the ones he had for Roxanne. With her, conversations didn’t feel forced. It was all genuine feelings from the heart.

Even when they weren’t flirting and just having a friendly conversation, Bucky felt like he had someone.

“Will do, Miss Vernon. Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone.”

“I’ll be lucky if I can make it out of this clinic, Major.” Roxanne followed Bucky out of the clinic.

She watched as he joined his friend outside the door. As she waved at him from the doorway, she couldn't help but feel angry at herself. Why didn’t she just accept his kiss?

She couldn’t deny the attraction she felt towards Bucky, but she knew that rushing into anything could end in heartache. She had only met with him once. She didn’t know if he would be one for commitment.

In Roxanne’s mind, she believed she was nothing more than a fling for him. Something temporary to keep his mind off of his work.

Even if Bucky might not have come to her begging to get into bed with her, Roxanne still wanted to take things slow.

She knew she was young and felt that there was no need to rush things. She had so much she still wanted to do.

If Bucky wanted, he could have any woman, any woman other than Roxanne. He was attractive, had a personality that could make a woman fall to her knees- what more would someone like him need?

Roxanne shrugged off those thoughts. It was her mind getting the best of her.

As she sat back down at her desk, Roxanne couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions- surprise, nerves, and a hint of excitement. She had never expected Bucky to show an interest in her, and she wasn't quite sure how to process it all.

She wondered if he would really stick around and keep his promise to write to her, or if this was just going to become a short-lived moment of connection between them. But she wouldn’t know until she tested the waters.

• • •

Two weeks later

"Roxanne," Bucky said, leaning against the bed frame as Roxanne continued to sort paperwork, keeping her back turned to Bucky. "I want to take you to the city this weekend. Have a proper date, just the two of us."

Roxanne's eyes widened in surprise, but then a smile spread across her face. "I honestly didn’t think you’d remember."

Bucky furrowed his brow, confused. "Of course I’d remember. I haven’t taken a hit to the head yet."

Roxanne chuckled, shaking her head. "Hey, I’m not holding it against you. We’ve both been pretty caught up with work."

“Doesn’t mean I won’t take you out. Work isn’t the only thing I live for, Vernon.”

“I know, but I’m not going to force you to take me out if you don’t have time-”

“We’ll go out tonight ," he said quickly, cutting Roxanne off. "I've got a weekend pass. All you gotta do is give me the word, and we’re outta here."

“You got an idea of where we’ll be going if I decide to say yes? I’d like to dress accordingly.”

She’d look hot in a damn bikini for Christ’s sake, Bucky thought. He looked Roxanne up and down, admiring the way her uniform hugged her body so nicely. He would never be one to stare when she was looking, and he thanked god that her back was turned to him.

“I was thinking some fancy restaurant. You look nice in dresses.” He said casually, leaving Roxanne in a state of shock.

“Are you flirting with me, Major?” She asked, trying to sound nonchalant but secretly enjoying his indirect compliments. The way Major sounded coming off her tongue made a Bucky feel a way he couldn’t describe.

He laughed, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Maybe. How else am I going to get this lovely lady to go out with me?”

Roxanne's smile widened. She dropped her files on the bed in front of her, then turned to face Bucky. "Fine. You’ve got yourself a deal."

Bucky nodded, containing the eagerness within him. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Roxanne’s. The sight of her perfect curls and red lips left him mesmerized. He wanted to kiss those lips so badly.

He could hear his heart beating quickly, almost to point it was beating out of his chest. "What time?"

Roxanne glanced over the thin silver watch on her wrist. “I don’t get off work till’ four, so let’s make it seven.”

Just then, the echo of laughter and chatter got closer to the clinic. Roxanne and Bucky paused, both closely watching the door, where Sandra and Jean came barging in.

“Seven it is.” Bucky nodded at Roxanne, then made his way out of the clinic just as the ladies were approaching them.

Bucky stood inches away from the door, but not before he stopped in his tracks, hearing Roxanne shout from the other side of the clinic.

“Seven o’ clock, Major. Don’t be late.”

Bucky nodded eagerly, mock saluting the brunette. "Yes, ma’am."

[planetpiastri]

14- kissing under the stars with rooster please🥹❤️

hi birch!! idk what it is, but writing rooster brings the sap outta me. so here's a super sappy, super romantic, super sugary blurb about camping w roo<3 | [wc - 0.9k]

When Bradley first invited you to a weekend getaway at his family cabin with all of his Navy buddies, you weren’t entirely sure you should come. You’d only met Natasha—and Jake, once, but you tried to block out that particular memory, since it involved too many tequila shots and a karaoke machine that only had Mariah Carey—and you and Bradley had only been dating for a few months. It was too soon, right?

But as Reuben and Mickey helped you push your kayak into the lake, and Bob tossed you a half-used can of sunscreen, and Bradley watched proudly from the treeline as he put on a pair of sunglasses, you found yourself immensely glad that he’d convinced you after all.

Bradley joined you in the backseat of the kayak, teasing as he did, “Are you sure you’re supposed to be in the front? Do you even have your pilot’s license?”

“Stand back, nonbeliever,” you shot back, pushing away from the shore before Bradley even had a chance to get comfy. He cried out and laughed, nearly toppling out of the kayak, but managed to right himself.

“Easy, killer,” he chuckled. “You didn’t tell me you were a kayaking machine.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to impress you,” you shot back. “Is it working?”

“Definitely.”

The afternoon passed in a comfortable haze as everybody paddled around the lake, sharing whiteclaws and waters. Jake had blown up an inflatable kiddie pool and stocked it with snacks, booze, and a bluetooth speaker. Classic rock oozed from his round little paradise, and periodically the other pilots would paddle over in their canoes or their inner tubes and nab a soda or a beer from his cooler.

You and Bradley traded your kayak for Bob’s inflatable raft and spent most of the day sprawled out, half-napping, your limbs tangled together and sticky from the sunscreen. When he wrapped his arms around you and tumbled the two of you into the cold water of the lake—subsequently losing his sunglasses—you decided maybe it was time to head back and get dinner.

Conversation flowed easily with everyone as you all paddled back to the cabin and dragged your various flotation devices up onto high ground. Reuben volunteered to start the campfire, and Javy got nominated to light up the grill and get the hot dogs cooking. You joined Natasha in the kitchen as she showed you how to make her famous ‘miscellaneous fruit tart,’ and the two of you banded together to banish Bradley from the kitchen when he kept trying to steal fresh strawberries. Mickey and Bob were put on music detail, filling the wood cabin with old John Denver and Fleetwood Mac tunes. Jake was a surprisingly adept sous chef, helping where Javy told him to and plating out piping-hot dogs built to everyone’s particular specifications.

As the sun set and the stars came out, everyone gathered around the fire pit. You and Bradley shared a two-seater plastic bench, one blanket thrown over both your laps, your head on his shoulder.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you whispered into the skin of his neck.

“Thanks for coming,” he replied just as quietly, pressing his lips to your hairline.

Under the blanket, his calluses traced the knuckles of your hand, sending shivers up your arm. You shut your eyes and pressed deeper into him.

Mickey, who—along with Jake and Javy—had started drinking around noon and hadn’t ever stopped, was the one to finally tip the night away from ‘sleepy and romantic’ and towards ‘rowdy getaway weekend’ when he stood up and began to conduct everyone in singing along to Dancing in the Dark, which still playing from the open living room windows.

“Do you want to step away for a breather?” Bradley asked you, his hand warm in yours.

You nodded, and the two of you eased out of the two-seater. No one else seemed to notice you leave as you snuck down to the shoreline, hand in hand. The blanket was thrown over Bradley’s shoulder. When you rounded the path and saw the stars glittering on the surface of water, your breath caught in your throat.

“Way better than movie night on your couch, right?” Bradley asked, shaking out the blanket and laying it down on the pine needles.

He sat down, and you curled up against him. You could hear your friends singing and laughing around the bend, and the smell of burnt marshmallows filled the air, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to want to go back. In this moment, in the arms of this wonderful, charming man, you felt perfectly content.

“I love you,” you said before you could think better of it.

When you looked up at Bradley, he was grinning down at you so hard it looked like it hurt. His hand came up to cup your cheek, and when he kissed you, it felt like—oh, of course. It felt right. It felt like your whole life had been leading up to this moment, at this lake, with this man.

He pulled away sooner than you expected, taking your breath with him, and blurted, “Oh—I love you, too. Obviously.”

Your smiles smashed together as you grabbed him by the collar and dragged his mouth back to yours, hardly able to keep the delighted giggle trapped in your chest from spilling out of you. His hand settled on your waist, and you wasted the night away on the shore of the lake, the stars sparkling overhead and your best friends drunkenly singing a short walk away.