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risriswrites · 1 year

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Booze, Burgers, and Bartenders

summary: short love story involving rooster and penny's favorite bartender.

pairing: bradley bradshaw x fem reader

warnings: none really, just some mild language and minor angst (if you can even call it that)

author's note: wow!! thank you guys so much for all of the love on my second fic "just roommates". i don't have a lot to say about it because honestly i'm speechless! with that being said, this fic has been in the works for months now and i'm exhausted with it. i wanted to write this and get it out back in may but everything with college really held me back and then from there i've just been enjoying summer and have been putting it off. so i apologize for the wait, but i hope y'all enjoy it!! likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated :)

word count: 5.7k

“Penny! Where are the extra bottles of Budweiser?” you call out, body crouched just below the countertop of the bar in an effort to find a hidden Budweiser bottle behind all the Corona’s.

Somewhere in the bar, Penny shouts back to you, a muffled, “Just got a new shipment order in this morning! Check in the backroom, they’re probably still in their packaging!” reaches your ears.

Huffing, you force yourself back to a standing position, leaning your weight against the bar for a few seconds before pushing off and heading towards the backroom.

Flickering the light switch on once the door is fully open, you begin the tedious search for the famous beer the patrons preferred to order at Penny’s bar. Sighing to yourself, you grab a stool just in case the box was placed on one of the top shelves. Jaxson had a habit of doing that, he knew both yourself and Penny preferred the heavier boxes on the bottom shelves, but he somehow always managed to “forget” that important factor.

Crouching low you start with the bottom shelves before moving upwards. Luckily, Jaxson put the newest box of Budweiser’s one shelf above the middle. Lifting the box into your arms, you steady yourself before moving back out of the room and towards the bar.

Maneuvering around the tables and chairs scattered throughout the bar was easier said than done. It wasn’t until you were able to push the box onto the countertop that you could take a breath, leaning your body weight onto the bar again with a huff. Flicking your hair over your shoulder, you notice Penny coming into your field of vision, a sly grin on her face.

“Jaxson leave the box on the top shelf again?” she questions, quirking a curious brow in the process.

Pinning her with a joking glare you smile, “Not this time, but it’s still heavy.”

“Hey, I’ve been doing it for ten years, trust me hon, it doesn’t get much easier” she chuckles.

Throwing your head back with a groan, you grip the edges of the bar, leaning back on your heels, “I’m sure I’ll get used to it soon,” straightening back up on your two feet, you turn to face Penny again, fixing her with your stare and point in her direction, “but, if Jaxson continues to put new, heavy, boxes on the top shelf, I can’t guarantee he’ll be around forever.”

Penny lets out a snort and nods her head in understanding, “I’m right there with you, but until then,” she gets up from her seat at the bar and pats the box of beer twice, “let’s get these in the fridge.”

With a forced laugh and a mock salute, you let out a “You got it Pen,” and resume struggling against the bottles of booze.

Nights at the Hard Deck fluctuated. Weekdays were a little slow, apart from Friday nights, with Saturdays being the busiest. Not that you’re complaining since that’s when you receive the most tips. And having the local aviators around as eye candy wasn’t so bad, plus, they’re generous tippers.

Tonight though, there had been an abundance of new faces floating around the bar. Mainly naval aviators, not to your surprise, but the sheer amount that had been crowding the bar was just a tad overwhelming.

Even Jaxson was flustered, his eyes flitting back and forth from you to Penny in search of some assistance. Unfortunately for everyone, you each were too busy struggling with keeping up with your own sides of the bar, and just when you thought you had a second to breathe, another patron would waltz up to your side and ask for a drink.

Glancing over towards Penny, you notice her interacting with a brunette clad in a leather jacket, an easygoing smile accompanying the glint in his eyes as he spoke with her. Smirking to yourself, you keep this interaction in mind and turn back to the guy in front of you, grabbing a bucket, loading it with ice and the six coronas he ordered, popping the tab off one before handing it to him with a smile, “Here ya go.”

The blond shoots you a smile, and pats a hand on the bar, shouting a “thanks” back in your direction. Moving around your section, you plucked empty bottles off the bar top and disposed of them in the large trash bin under the bar. And just as you were about to grab a clean washrag to tend to simpler tasks than dealing with the local riff raffs of the bar, another patron squeezes their way up to your side of the bar.

Flicking your gaze over to the guy you shoot him a small smile, “I’ll be with you in a second.” Snatching the wash rag, you tuck it into your jean shorts and take two strides back to the bar, leaning your forearms on the top, you shoot the mystery man a small smile, and pose the million-dollar question, “What can I get ya?”

After mixing the jack and coke your customer requested, you accept the twenty and continue working around the bar, popping bottle-tops off Corona’s, Heineken’s, and the bar favorite, Budweiser. All while simultaneously wiping any spills off the countertop.

A few hours later, the Hard Deck is looking less and less crowded, with all the civilians having cleared out. Which allows for you to sidle over to Penny and pester her for the next two hours before closing, sipping on your Coca-Cola in the meantime.

“Haven’t seen you all night, how’d it go?” Penny questions, permanent smile on her face and a light in her eyes you haven’t seen in a while.

Quirking your head to the side, you raise your eyebrows, “Clearly not as eventful as yours,” you smirk. Wiggling your eyebrows you throw out a second question, “Who’s got you all hot and bothered?”

Penny giggles at your playfulness, swatting at you with her dishrag, “No one special.”

“Now that, is a lie if I’ve ever heard one.” you point at her with the pinky finger that had been resting around the bright red can you’ve been holding.

Bringing the can back up to your lips, you smile, “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that brunette with the brown leather jacket decorated in naval patches, would it?”

This earns you another swat from the dishrag.

Leaning away from her, your smirk grows wider, “I’m taking that as a yes.”

Penny playfully glares at you for the second time today, and peers around you, nodding her head in the direction of your side of the bar, “You’ve got another one.”

Giggling to yourself you turn your head in the direction Penny motioned to, the sight before you halting your giggling almost instantaneously.

Bradley Bradshaw.

Cussing under your breath, you take the last sip of your coke and turn to make your way towards him, receiving a swat from Penny’s dishrag in the process.

“Bradshaw.”

The man of the hour turns in his seat towards you, honey brown eyes gazing into yours for a brief moment before one side of his mouth quirks up into a half smile, “Hey.”

“What made the navy drag your ass back here for?” you ask, snorting at his attempt at remaining casual, folding your arms over each other, jutting your hip out in a stance that you hope comes across as vaguely threatening.

Bradley taps his thumb on the bar top and shoots you an award-winning smile, “I’m not really sure about that yet, sweets” he states, his voice coming out in a low rasp, while his eyes wander behind you towards the bottles of liquor.

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, you open your mouth to shoot him a smart-ass retort, but instead, choose to close it and offer up the same line you use on everyone else, “What can I get you to drink?”

Bradley refocuses his eyes back onto yours, lips forming into a frown at your lack of retaliation, “Bottle of Budweiser if you have any would be great.”

Moving on autopilot, you bend down and sort through the fridge for another Budweiser, gripping the bottle and popping the top off, before sliding it forward towards the tall hunk of muscle in front of you, “You opening up a tab?”

Bradley looks over towards the pool tables where his friends were gathered around, no doubt betting on who was going to have to pay for the next round of beers. Turning his attention back to you, he stands from his seat, pulling his wallet out from his back jean pocket and holds his card out to you, “If you don’t mind, that’d be great sweets” sending you a small smile in the process.

Plucking the card from his grasp, you send a sarcastic smile his way before turning to the computer to input his information.

Bradley lets his gaze linger on you for a moment, then sets off back to his friends.

Hangman is the first to comment on Bradley’s singular beer and the sour look on his face, earning him a rough shove from Phoenix.

Nat turns to face Bradley, offering a sympathetic look, “Didn’t go well I take it?” she mumbles.

Hangman snorts and gestures with his beer towards the bar where you’re currently standing with Penny, “Judging by the way she’s standing,” sucking a breath through his teeth, “I’d say it went swimmingly.”

Jake goes to sip his beer with a smirk on his lips, satisfied with his dig, until Natasha forcefully bumps his elbow, forcing his beer to miss his mouth and instead spill down his shirt. Glancing towards her, scowl present on his face, Nat flutters her eyelashes and pouts, “Oops.”

Bradley covers his laugh with a sip of his beer, looking towards the dart board as a distraction.

“Maybe you should go get cleaned up.” Phoenix smiles, her words sickeningly sweet and not up for debate.

Grumbling to himself, Jake gets up from his seat and makes his way towards the bathroom of the Hard Deck. Once he’s out of sight, Nat fixes her gaze on Bradley, “Alright, tell me what’s going on.”

A huff slips past Bradley’s lips and he slumps into the seat adjacent to Phoenix, “That’s the thing Nat, it’s not really going anywhere.”

Nursing her own beer, Nat plays with the perspiration sliding down the bottle, “It’s probably gonna take some time Bradley. You can’t just show up after not talking to her for a year,” sparing you a brief glance she watches the way you smile and pop a cap off the bottle for a customer you’d been serving for the better half of the night, “stuff like that actually bothers a girl yaknow” emphasizing her words with a pointed look.

Bradley taps his thumb against the tabletop, a low groan leaving his throat, “I know Nat, I just didn’t know how to tell her I was being deployed for six months and then dealing with the Uranium mission on top of that,” he pauses briefly to sip on his beer, “It’s not fair to her.”

Natasha nods briefly, understanding where he’s coming from, “I get that, but that’s not your decision to make.” Pointing at him with her bottle briefly, she maneuvers it to gesture towards you, “She’s a big girl, she can make her own decisions.”

Bradley nods his head in understanding, moving his gaze to survey the room briefly, a red blush painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Sensing how flustered he was Nat slaps the table and shoots him a sympathetic smile, “I’m going to get us a few more beers from our favorite girl. When I get back, you’re going to be done with all that sulking and were going to kick Coyote and Hangman’s asses in eight ball.”

An, “In your dreams hot shot,” settling over both Natasha’s and Bradley’s ears, the pair rolling their eyes simultaneously at the overconfident voice of Jake Seresin.

“Ready to start cleaning up? It’s twenty minutes before we close.” Penny asks, the clinking of glass bottles ringing in your ears when she tosses them into the trash.

Peeking at her from over your shoulder you send an exhausted smile her way, “Definitely, tonight’s rush took a lot out of me.”

Biting her lower lip, Penny begins wiping down the counter, “That the only thing that took a lot out of you tonight? Or did a certain tall, mustached naval aviator have something to do with it?”

She doesn’t look over at you when you whip your head to glare at her, instead choosing to continue to innocently wipe at the sticky bar top.

“Don’t start.”

Moving away from her, you begin to collect the remaining empties and toss them in the trash.

Ignoring her for another ten minutes, you busy yourself by sweeping up around the front of the building, avoiding Bradley and his lingering group of friends.

Maneuvering back to the bar, you grab the remaining glasses and bring them to the dishwasher in the backroom. Once you’ve loaded it up, you put in the dishwasher detergent and start it on a regular cycle, heading back out to the bar to help Penny finish up.

Gripping the rag in your hand you begin wiping down any places Penny may have missed, hyper fixating on the task at hand to avoid looking over at the man who ghosted you a year ago.

Penny eases herself into the space you were occupying, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt at gaining your attention. Looking up to the ceiling you breathe out, turning your head to give her your full attention. An apologetic smile is what meets you and you instantly feel your resolve soften.

“I’m only going to say this once, and from now on I won’t mention it.” Nodding her head in Bradley’s direction she continued, “He’s a good guy Hon, but unfortunately, he’s still a guy. And guys make stupid mistakes. Trust me,” an eye roll from her ensuing shortly after.

“I’m not telling you that you need to forgive him, but maybe hear him out?” she coaxes.

Looking over towards him, you watch as his drunken form laughs with his friends, “I’ll think about it Pen.”

“Okay honey,” leaning away from you she squeezes your shoulder, “Oh and I’ve gotta go pick up Amelia, soo could you close up?” she pleads.

Throwing your head up, you laugh, “Oh I see, just trying to butter me up so you can sneak out to go be with that Naval officer.”

Penny bites her lip at the thought and begins heading for the door, “Not yet, but maybe eventually,” she vocalizes, shooting you a wink in the process. “Alright guys and gals, time to go!” she calls out to the last group lingering at the back of the bar.

The blond calls back to her, “You got it Pen!”

Giggling to yourself, you finish up a few more tasks as the remaining aviators file out. Going to the storage room to grab some beers to restock the fridges for the following day, it’s always easier on you guys the next day if you restock the night before.

Heading back out to the bar you notice the handsome aviator you’ve been avoiding all night, sitting right where he had been earlier that night.

“Heyyy” Bradley smiles, clearly drunk judging by the flush that’s blossomed over his cheeks, neck, and ears.

Chuckling to yourself, you let an amused smile crawl across your face, “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again?”

Bradley hiccups and leans his head on the bar top, “I need to,” another hiccup interrupts him before he continues, “close out my tab” he rasps.

Nodding to yourself, you go over to the computer and close out his tab, printing his receipt and wrapping it around his card, you turn back to him and place the card on the bar top, sliding it towards his drunken form.

Bradley looks you over and smiles, “You’re really pretty.”

Choosing not to laugh at his words you fold your arms over each other and smile at him, “How are you getting home, Bradley?”

He hums, still looking you over in a daze, “I drove.”

Shifting a little in his seat, he uses one arm to reach into his back pocket, presenting you with the keys to his infamous blue bronco, jingling them in front of you with a goofy smile on his face.

Leaning towards him you grip your hand around his, easing the keys from his hand into yours. His eyes watching your hand as it encloses around his.

“I’ll be taking those big boy.”

Bradley groans, reaching his arms out towards you as you lean away from him, “Nooo, come back, I need those.” he whines out.

Shaking your head you muffle a chuckle at his drunkenness, “Bradshaw you can’t drive yourself home,” nibbling on your lower lip you spit the words out before you can take them back, “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Bradley shoots his head up at your statement, “You’re taking me, where?” he questions.

Rounding the bar, you grab your purse in the process heading towards Bradley, “I am going to take you home.”

“How do you know where I live?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Cute.

Smirking at him, you quirk your own eyebrow, “I’m a witch.”

Bradley points at you lazily and whispers, “If you’re a witch, then tell me what I’m thinking about right now.” Promptly closing his eyes afterwards.

Looking up, you shake your head, smile growing wider on your face, “Burgers” you declare confidently, crossing your arms in the process. As if this motherfucker didn’t spend every waking minute with you for a year.

His eyes instantly open, mouth dropping in amazement, an emphasized “Yes” leaving his lips.

Offering your hand to him, you give him a small nod, “We can get some on the way home if you want?”

Bradley eyes you skeptically, “You promise?”

Smiling, you fold your fingers in, leaving your pinky out for him, “I promise.”

Slowly, Bradley wraps his own pinky around yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Alright, let’s get going. Joey’s Burgers sounds amazing right now.” Giving his hand a squeeze, you lead the way out of the bar, Bradley stumbling behind you, mumbling about some triple patty burger that they recently added to the menu.

Once the two of you managed to make it out the front door, you turned back to lock up, Bradley leaning his head on your shoulder as you did, making it a little more difficult to maneuver around in the process.

“Okay tiger, lets get you in the car.”

Leaning his weight on you some more, he scrunches up his face in confusion, “I’m not tiger, I’m rooster.”

Lugging his weight across the graveled parking lot and towards the bronco, you snicker at his words, “I know Bradley, it’s just a nickname.” Earning a low groan from Bradley in response.

Once you’ve made it to the bronco, you focus on getting Bradley’s passenger door open, all while he leans more and more of his weight on you, at this rate the navy should just hire you if you can lug a full-grown man around a dark gravel parking lot.

After you’ve managed to get the door open, you coax Bradley into the passenger seat with the promise of burgers and a movie once you got him home. Rounding the car after ensuring he’s buckled himself in and jumping into the driver's seat.

Looking over towards him, you note the way he’s leaned his head against the window, arms folded over each other, in what you could only guess is an attempt at staying warm. Mindful of his potentially cold state, you don’t bother with turning the air conditioning on, and keep the volume of the radio low, trying to allow Bradley to relax as much as possible. He’s lucky he’s cute when he’s drunk.

Pulling out of the parking lot of the Hard Deck, you make your way down the street to Joey’s Burgers, ordering two large fries, two medium soda’s, one triple patty burger for Bradley, and one regular cheeseburger (with only ketchup) for yourself. Then continuing your mission of getting Bradley back home for the night before he’s sobered enough to realize he’d not only let you drive him home, but also from the driver’s seat of his beloved bronco.

Parking Bradley’s bronco wasn’t an issue, however, getting Bradley to move out of his passenger seat was.

Pleadingly, you rushed out a whispered, “Bradley, please get out of the car, you can’t stay in there all night.”

Receiving only an annoyed grumble in response, you tried again in the form of bribery, “I got you your favorite burger from Joey’s, if you get out of the car you can eat it while we watch a movie.”

This gets his attention and before you know it, you’re lugging Bradley out of his seat and across the parking lot. Somehow, he’s gotten heavier in the past twenty minutes of your drive. Mumbling to no one in particular, you let out a low, “He’s got a lot of groveling to do after this.” Huffing out a breath, you manage to pull him up the steps of the cozy one-story house, forcing Bradley to lean against the wall while you unlock the door.

Once you’ve managed to get the door open, you pull the brunette aviator over the threshold and towards the couch, kicking the door closed once you’ve made it inside.

The grey couch that had been centered towards the edge of the living room absorbs a drunk Bradley Bradshaw into its cushions, earning a content hum from him in response.

Throwing yourself down next to him, an audible sigh slips past your lips, leaning your head against the cushions in an attempt at seeking a moment of comfort before you inevitably must help Bradley into bed.

Lolling his head to the side Bradley fixes his gaze on you, eyes trailing across the expanse of your face, when the question, “What happened to my burger?” comes tumbling out of his mouth.

A sharp laugh is what Bradley gets in response, along with a, “I swear you become more and more like a dog as the night goes on.” Bradley is too drunk to understand what that’s supposed to mean, so instead, he widens his eyes and tilts his head a little, a silent question in regard to the aforementioned burger.

Yep, definitely dog like.

Swiping the bag of burgers and fries from the table, you pull Bradley’s special burger; along with a few napkins, out and hand them over to the man of the hour, who immediately starts to gobble it down like he hasn’t eaten in days.

While the man who resembles a golden retriever consumes his food next to you, you start the venture of looking for a movie you wouldn’t mind focusing your attention on until Bradley falls asleep, settling on “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days”.

Settling into the couch again, you curl your legs up underneath you and proceed to snack on the fries you’d gotten.

Everything was calm, for a total of thirty seconds.

Your peace being ruined by an overgrown buffoon looming over you to steal one of your fries from its container.

“You know, I got you your own fries,” you snicker, side-eyeing the Topgun graduate who has resorted to looking like a kicked puppy from your scolding.

“Yours tastes better.”

Snorting at the remark, you shake your head in exasperation, “Finish your food and if you’re still hungry, you can have some of mine.”

Seemingly pleased with the compromise, Bradley gets comfortable on the couch once more, and continues with consuming the fried potato.

After some time has passed, Bradley satisfied with his food and no longer pestering you for yours, you make an attempt to clean up. Which is instantly foiled by a tipsy Bradley Bradshaw, “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you Bradley,” you wave him off, continuing your advances towards the kitchen.

Bradley forces himself off of the couch, stumbling after your composed form, “Sure seemed like it earlier.”

Tossing the leftover food in the trash, you grab a paper towel and the spray bottle of cleaner he always left under the sink, “And I don’t recall you being particularly sober within the past two hours.”

A small smirk graces Bradley’s lips while he leans his body weight against the doorframe of the kitchen arms folded over each other, “I had a triple patty burger from Joey’s an hour ago.”

Rolling your eyes at his retort, you push past him to get back to his living room, “You’re welcome then.”

Like a piece of gum on the bottom of your shoe, Bradley follows after you, “You don’t have to clean.”

Better than having to look at him while he’s sober and engage in this conversation.

Pulling your eyebrows together, you force yourself to concentrate on the coffee table littered with grease stains from the bag and a few misplaced French fries, completely ignoring Bradley’s piercing gaze.

Hearing him sigh, your gaze breaks from the table and flits to where he’s standing. Looks more like leaning to you since he’s clearly still feeling some of the effects of the alcohol. As your eyes roam over his figure, you take in his posture, his arms, and lastly his eyes, which are locked on yours and the way you’re examining him.

Looking up to the ceiling, you huff, bending to your full height. Abandoning the damp paper towel on the semi-clean coffee table before you address him.

“I don’t hate you.”

Bradley’s eyebrows lift, one side of his mouth quirking up in a half-hearted smirk, mustache following suit, “So you’ve said.”

Your eyebrows crease while your eyes pinch, fixing him with a glaring look, “But I don’t appreciate being led on for months either,” your tone heavy in the way you spoke to him.

Bradley visibly winces at the jab, “I know, not my proudest moment.”

Crossing your arms over each other, you jut your hip out, “Why’d you do it then?”

Bradley crosses the room slowly, moving closer to your defensive stance with a slowness that resembled someone afraid of spooking a baby deer, “I didn’t want you to get caught up in all my shit.”

“One mission for six months is bad enough,” he pauses, “Another mission with no guarantee of survival a month after the last isn’t something I wanted to put you through.”

Your frown that you’d adorned for majority of this conversation, deepens, “That’s not something you get to decide, Bradley.”

A forced chuckle slips past your lips, “I’m a big girl, I’ve been able to make my own decisions for myself, for years. I don’t need you and your hero complex thinking you can make those decisions for me.”

Your eyes roam his face scowl still prominent. Finally uncrossing your arms, you poke a finger into his chest, “You should be able to trust me enough to tell me those things, and allow me to decide if it’s too much,” you pause taking a step back, hand retreating back to your side, “or if I care about you enough to stick around.”

Bradley tenderly reaches for the hand you’d forced back to your side, threading his fingers through yours, “I know, trust me I do. I just thought I’d be protecting you,” he breathes out, using his hand to bring you closer to him.

Your hardened gaze softens at his words, he thought he could protect you from himself, from heartache.

Settling your other hand on his chest, you tilt your chin up, the height difference between the two of you showing in the close distance you’re in.

“Like I said before,” you whisper, “That kind of decision I can make on my own.”

Bradley’s eyes are half-lidded as he looks at you, processing your words and what to do next with them.

Silence falls over the two of you, the only noise emanating from the tv next to you.

Breaking his gaze, you look behind him to see the clock hanging from the wall that’s surrounded by framed pictures of his parents along with a few pictures of himself with some of his squadron, taking note of the time.

Glancing back to him, you mumble, “You should probably go to bed.”

Bradley huffs at your suggestion but makes no move to argue.

Instead, he grips your other hand in his and pulls you closer, tilting his head to the side, “Tuck me in?”

Laughing to yourself at his suggestion, you give him a small nod, taking the lead down the hall to his bedroom, “Sure, do you want some warm milk while were at it?” you tease.

Bradley hums from behind you, “Now that you mention it,” he trails off, biting his lower lip to contain his laughter.

“Keep dreaming aviator,” you chortle.

“Oh I intend to,” is the retort you get in return.

Turning into his bedroom you push him towards his closet and gesture for him to change, turning your back to him in an attempt to avoid being distracted by his charm and physique, reacquainting yourself with his bedroom instead.

Not much has changed apart from the bedding which had gone from a pale blue to a darker green.

A raspy, “I’m decent,” makes its way to your ears and you turn to look for the source. Intaking a sharp breath at the sight of Bradley Bradshaw in a plain white t-shirt, and boxers, eyes roaming the expanse of his body before deciding you’ve ogled him too much.

Moving your eyes away from his lower half, you make your way to the closet in search of your own shirt and boxer combo, cause if you’re staying there’s no way you’re staying in your “The Hard Deck” tank top and jean shorts.

Wordlessly, Bradley sidles up behind you and reaches for his old training tee from his first days at Topgun, handing you the shirt and a pair of gray boxers to match.

Mumbling a soft “Thanks”, you make sure he turns all the way around before stripping down to put the new garments on.

Once comfortable, you glance to the opposite side of the bed Bradley’s in, fiddling with your fingers as you fight yourself on whether or not you can trust yourself with him again.

Screw it.

Acting before fully thinking through your decision, you climb into bed beside him, hiding under the covers for some warmth, and maybe from Bradley.

It’s Bradley’s warm hands that bring you out of your thoughts, hooked around your waist and pulling you to him, “You’re thinking too loud,” he mumbles, one leg slotting between yours.

Reaching up with your right hand, you glide your fingers through his locks, earning a sigh of content from him, “I just don’t want to get hurt again,” you confess, tugging your lower lip between your teeth.

The confession has Bradley propping himself up onto his elbow, his free hand finding your own, putting it square against his, measuring the sizes of your individual palms, slotting his fingers between your own once he’s satisfied.

“I can’t promise that being with me will never hurt,” he states, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Sighing, he continues, “I don’t know if something will happen to me when I’m in the air.”

You nod solemnly at his confession, running everything over in your head, the pros and cons of being with him, loving him. What that might do to you.

Bradley tilts his head toward yours, catching your eyes once more, “But,” he pauses, “I can promise that I’ll never voluntarily hurt you again, and I will do everything in my power to come home to you.” He finishes, voice shaky and his eyes displaying a vulnerability you’ve never seen before.

Scanning his honey-colored irises, you search for any doubt he may have hidden, finding none, a soft smile graces your lips.

Leaning forward, you nudge your forehead against his, eyes fluttering closed at the contact, “Okay” you whisper.

Opening your eyes to scan his face, trailing along the faint freckles that litter his cheeks, your smile widens, “but this is your last shot Bradshaw, don’t ruin it,” you tease.

Bradley grins back at you before closing the gap between the two of you, slotting his lips against yours in a kiss that had been a long time coming; by at least a year.

His tongue traces the bottom of your lip and without much coaxing, you open your mouth enough for him to slip his tongue in, maneuvering his body over yours for easier access. Bradley slides his hands down your frame to trace circles into your hip, while the other braces himself next to you.

Breaking the kiss, Bradley maneuvers his lips down towards your exposed neck, trailing open mouthed kisses lower each time before coming back to your lips, catching them with his over and over until the two of you have settled into a relaxed state, lazy open-mouthed kisses replacing the urgent ones you were enacting before.

Gently reaching your hand up, you slot your fingers into Bradley’s tousled locks, tugging ever so slightly, earning a low groan from him in response.

Smiling to yourself, you slot your lips against his one last time before leaning back, appraising him with a gentle smile adorning your lips, “I thought we agreed on sleep?”

Chuckling, Bradley moves a stray hair out of your face, “Sweets, will you please put me out of my misery and go on a date with me?”

Clicking your tongue, you drag him down closer to you, snuggling into his chest as you make yourself comfortable.

“Mmm, dating the bartender, huh? Hope it’s for more than free drinks,” you quiz, trailing a hand down to his abs, tracing each one with your fingers.

A tender kiss is placed to the crown of your head, while one large hand sneaks under the back of your shirt, tracing small circles across your skin, “Definitely.”

Humming, you close your eyes, content with the warmth emanating from Bradley and his tender touches, “That’s nice.”

Bradley chuckles at your drowsy state, “So is that a yes?”

He receives a chaste kiss that’s pressed to his shirt, right where his heart is as you mumble out, “It’s a yes Bradshaw.”

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster x reader #topgun maverick #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #topgun fic #bradley bradshaw imagines

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reality-detective · 1 day

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Your thoughts on this folks?

Americans have been watching a massive, controlled Military Operation who strategically and critically planned and successfully trapped the Washington Establishment… Made them all confess their crimes and play a role in this operation piece by piece… as Americans have had to visually see and witness a ‘Continuation of Government’ in the form of a “Presidential Administration” where these corrupt and evil people will, have, and will continue to destroy their system from within, spend all of their dirty money doing so, until it’s time for the Military to visually step in.

The timelines all add up and prove the Military Operation and Occupancy:

1. Snake Poem read by candidate Donald Trump – January 2016

2. 2016 Presidential Election – November 2016

3. President Elect Trump and Putin on Fox News = “ready for ‘reset’… I will work with Trump” – November 9, 2016

4. Law of War Manual (Military Occupancy and Negotiations etc.) – December 2016

5. Military Justice Act (Supreme Court clarifying Military Law is separate than Civil Law; heavy emphasis on Military Tribunal terms) – 2016

6. Military stands behind CIC Trump (Military Intelligence and JAG head bands; Optics) at Inauguration – January 2017

7. Saudi Arabia crowns Trump King – May 2017

8. Declares Jerusalem Capitol of Israel – December 2017

9. Executive Order 13818 – Declares National Emergency to deal with Human Rights Abuse – December 2017

10. CIC Trump walks in front of Queen – July 14, 2018

11. Putin hands CIC Trump soccer ball (“the ball is in your court”; did not participate in 2022 World Cup) – July 16, 2018

12. Executive Order 13848 – September 2018

13. CIC Trump makes history; walks into North Korea – June 2019

14. National Quantum Initiative – Executive Order 13885 – August 2019

15. Space Force established as Military Branch – December 2019

16. Corona Sars Virus first mentioned to American Public as a Threat from China – February 2020

17. Two more National Emergencies Declared – March 13 and 27, 2020

18. Executive Order 13912 Federalizing 1,000,000 National Guard to Active-Duty Status – March 27, 2020

19. CIC Trump quote on attack worse than Pearl Harbor and 9/11 combined – May 2020

20. National Guard Troops place fence around Capitol Building (47 US Code 606) – January 2021

21. CIC Trump receives full grade Constitutional by Law and Military Grade Inauguration ceremony – January 20, 2021

22. “Joe Biden” breaks 20th Amendment amongst many other violations – January 20, 2021

23. Aircrafts constantly over and through 33 mile no fly zone radius D.C. – January 2021 to present day

24. “Biden” extends Executive Order 13848 (first time) – September 2021

25. Quantum.gov launched – September 2021

26. New York Times reports Military Tribunals coming mid-2023 – December 2021

27. Army and branches transfer all communications to Space Force under ONE command (Biden’s never mentioned the Space Force not once; zero News Articles with his name tied to Space Force) – August 2022

28. Major Optics and Comms in CIC Trump speech – November 15 2022

29. More News Articles establishing Space Force Command Centers with zero mention of Biden – December 2022

Those few timelines and timestamps do nothing but prove a Military Operation and Occupancy along with many more Laws, Codes, Orders, Statutes, Acts, Optics,

The National Guard has been out of their state militia status and operating as Active-Duty Status every day since they were Federalized in March 2020.

There’s MORE than enough documentation and ‘proof’ to show not only the National Guard, but also thousands of World Alliance Aircrafts in and out of the United States and National Guard bases.

There’s United States Coast Guards with United States Navy at their stations. USCG is Department of Homeland Security during Peacetime and transferred to the Department of the Navy during Wartime.

The Brunson vs. Adams case simply states the obvious… Congress violated the Constitution.

- Benjamin Fulford

I will add; everyone thinks they know what's going on but very few have done any research on Trump's executive orders. Everyone has discarded Q because they have seen dates come and go without seeing any results. Fact is they weren't dates but rather chapters and paragraphs from the law of war manual.

We're going by the Book. Why? Because it has to be done by the rule of law, if not, it's just more crimes being committed.

Sun Tzu - The Art of War... Know your enemy, löök weak when you're strong, infiltrate and use disinformation to confuse the enemy. 🤔

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newscast1 · 2 years

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China censors report on this city seeing half a million Covid cases a day

Amid the reports of crematoriums being flooded with bodies and hospitals running out of space, a Chinese health official claimed that half a million people in Qingdao city are being infected with Covid every day. New Delhi,UPDATED: Dec 24, 2022 12:16 IST Patients lie on their beds at Central Hospital in Zhuozhou city in northern China’s Hebei province on Wednesday, Dec. 21, 2022. Nearly three…

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lollygaggingloser · 1 month

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"It's become a necessity... You've become a necessity."

💫Varigo mini fic ❤️

You like a flustered Hugo? So do I.

After another long day of research for Varian's latest invention, Hugo escaped the royal library with little breakthrough achieved. He sighed, flipping through a borrowed book as he slowly walked down the marble halls of Corona's castle. It's pages gave no more information than he already had and Hugo was certain that the only place left to search for answers would be the eternal library. His walking pace slowed as he began to dread telling Varian his failure to find what they needed within the royal palace. It was bad enough to admit he failed, but worse knowing they would need the help of the eternal library again. Entering the library wouldn't be difficult to him or Varian now, but neither enjoyed going there.

It's been a little over a year since their adventures and discovery of the eternal library with Nuru and Yong. Their journey had ended in success and now, Demanitus's grand library was available to them along with the select few of scientists, engineers, and scholars that could be trusted with the library's vast collection. Still, instead of being this great source of knowledge and advancement, the group would view it as the place their dearest friend (in Hugo's case, his boyfriend) got possessed and almost trapped inside forever. The library was able to give Nuru a solution to save her kingdom, teach Yong how to hone his craft for fireworks and pyrotechnics, and help scientists across the world advance the seven kingdoms, but all the good of the library could never mask the trauma all four of them experienced there.

Hugo closed the almost useless book in his hands and stared out one of the nearby castle windows. Seeing his reflection in the window first, he retied his ponytail to clean up the stray hairs that had fallen on his face during his work. Satisfied with his appearance, his gaze focused to the view outside. Below him, he could see the royal garden, its flowers blooming in deep shades of purples, reds and blues. The sun was barely beginning to set, giving the sky a calm orange hue. Beyond the gardens were the castle walls that stood tall, separating the palace from the bustling lively kingdom of Corona. Hugo had to admit he became quite attached to this kingdom after becoming Co-Royal Engineer of it. Its people may have celebrated too many holidays for his liking and its princess always had him on edge with her hyperactive cheery disposition, but during these quiet moments, he couldn't imagine a more peaceful place. It also didn't hurt that he got to enjoy this view from a castle. He'd never imagine being inside a royal palace he didn't need to break into, much less with such a lofty title, but here he was.

Not bad for a prior thief and conartist, he figured. Discovering the eternal library must have given his resume quite the boost.

Hugo laid the library book on the windowsill before resting his elbows on it, leaning his body to stretch out his back. Even with this easier job, his back still gave him trouble. It was probably due to all the abuse it went through from his time pulling jobs for Donella. He wondered how his old boss was doing now. Truthfully, Hugo hadn't seen her since the day they uncovered the eternal library and parted ways. There would be the occasional letter between them, but once Hugo was no longer her underling, the two felt no need to see eachother. After ending his ties with Donella, he wasn't sure what his next step was, but he knew it would include Varian.

Varian.

The blonde softly smiled, thinking about the short scientist that passionately vouched for him and got him this new position. Hugo couldn't help but think fondly of Varian's smile, the freckles on his cheeks, and the gleam in his bright blue eyes. Hugo yearned to see him after having his nose in books all day.

As if the world heard his wish, Hugo's eyes squinted as a flash of bright light hit them. The light derived from the reflection of the sun bouncing off a pair of goggles. Wearing those goggles has the alchemist he was wishing to see. Hugo grinned as he watched Varian stroll into the gardens, and sit on the edge of a large stone fountain. It was likely that Varian was taking a break from work too, seeing him stretch his arms as he sat alone.

Might as well join him, Hugo thought as he made his way toward a staircase and descended to join his partner.

Out of everything that occurred from their journey, meeting Varian was what changed Hugo. The funny part was, he didn't know when it changed him. The change was slow, unraveling at a snails pace, with Varian's kindness breaking Hugo's walls and infecting him. Then suddenly, it was all at once, like a firecracker bursting with intense heat and flair, and Hugo found himself longing to be the good person Varian and the others thought he was.

Hugo was annoyed by Varian when they first met. The freckled alchemist was the model of a goody two shoes know-it-all and it nerved him to see how careless Varian was in trusting others. It irked him even more to know he was one of the people Varian shouldn't have trusted so freely. And yet, that trust...that ability to see the good in others that people can't see in themselves gave Hugo this new life. There was something about Varian's genuine nature that was contagious and powerful. It tore him down and built him up multiple times. It was easily one of the reasons Hugo found himself falling for him.

He learned later that Varian believed in second and third chances after his own criminal past was forgiven. Now the two of them stood together, as lab partners and lovers, ushering a more scientifically developed Corona. It amused Hugo to realize how many previous criminals were not only living peaceful lives in Corona, but also within the palace.

The kingdom should have come with a slogan. Come to Corona. The capital of criminal rehabilitation. Includes royal titles!

Once in the gardens, Hugo crouched low and carefully stepped around the few twigs and leaves on the cobblestone steps toward the fountain. He quietly tiptoed his way to the fountain's right side before plopping down next to Varian in such a rush that he almost knocked him off the stone edge.

"Hey Goggles!"

Varian yelped at first before seeing Hugo's shit eating grin.

"Hugo!" Varian chided, slightly shoving him back. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

The blonde chuckled, letting his partner collect himself from the scare, fixing his lopsided goggles.

"And what is Corona's Royal Engineer doing in the gardens?" Hugo inquired. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were slacking off."

"I could be asking you the same thing," noted Varian, quick to retort Hugo's remark. Over the past year, Varian had picked up Hugo's sense of sarcasm and comebacks. It was only fair that since the shorty had changed him for the better, Hugo could change him as well...for the worse. His sense of humor wasn't the only thing that changed. Varian had gotten taller, but was still shorter than Hugo. At least the blonde no longer had to be looking down or bend over so much when wanting to see eye to eye with him. Varian's skin was less tan due to all their inside work lately, but in the sun, his freckles continued to pop out more intensely. And so did his scars. They were from their adventures, and it made sense since Hugo, Yong, and even Nuru had scars of their own from travel mishaps and the occasional fight or explosion. But Varian had the most from putting himself in harms way to protect them. Hugo wondered if he wasn't such a coward or selfish if he could have prevented Varian from so many injuries.

The two locked eyes for a brief moment. It was insane how such a simple look could change the atmosphere between them. The look in Varian's eyes was a mix of joy, relief, and just a hint of annoyance. He truly new how to make this scrawny engineer feel special. Compelled by the unspoken fondness in his gaze, Hugo's smirk softened and he reached his hand up to touch Varian's cheek. Understanding what was to happen next, Varian smiled meekly as Hugo leaned in to kiss him. The alchemist's lips were soft and warm against his and Hugo felt like he could kiss them all day. Slowly pulling away, Hugo relaxed next to his boyfriend and the two leaned comfortably against each other, perched on the fountain.

"Did you find anything in the royal library?" Varian softly asked.

"Yes....No. I found nothing."

Hugo felt Varian tense up, knowing what it meant.

"Hey, hey, I can go on my own, Goggles," he assured, giving his boyfriend an encouraging smile. "I'll find the info we need, and we can go to our lab to finish up-"

"It's okay, Hugh," Varian interrupted, glancing up at him. "I'll be o-...I am okay. We'll go together tomorrow."

Hugo nodded, both worried for Varian and relieved he wouldn't be stepping into the eternal library on his own. Varian's gaze turned toward the sky, taking in the vast view. The two sat in silence for a moment before Hugo broke it, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Penny for your thoughts? You got that eyebrow scrunch so it must be something serious."

Varian softly scoffed at Hugo, but rubbed his forehead as he answered.

"Well, if you have to know...I was thinking about you," he confessed.

"Me?"

Determined to lighten the mood, Hugo smirked and tilted his head to feign innocence.

"What about me were you thinking about?" he asked. "Nothing inappropriate I hope."

"Hugo-"

"No, I understand, Freckles. With my good looks, superior intelligence-"

"HUGO-"

"And! And my rougish charm, there's no possible way you couldn't think of me. So tell me, actually, let me guess...you were thinking... about how in love with me you are."

Hugo waited for Varian to quip back with a tender insult or another little shove, but was surprised when Varian turned to look at him, a soft blush radiating across his cheeks.

"Yeah...I was," Varian answered. An amused "heh" escaped Hugo's lips as his flirty facade faltered. While Varian was usually the more anxious and flustered one between them, there would be moments like these where he laid his heart bare, and it would strike Hugo to his core.

"I was thinking," he continued, looking back at the sky, "...about us. And how my life is so different with you."

"Cause I drive you crazy and make it a little harder?" Hugo joked, trying to regain composure. Varian chuckled, shaking his head.

"Of course not!" Varian scolded him. "You drive me crazy, yes, but you don't make my life harder. You make it easy. You make it-"

Varian paused, trying to find the best words to convey his feelings. All the while, Hugo struggled to keep his heart from pounding so fiercely from all the sincerity in his boyfriend's voice.

Calm down Rottwange, he thought to himself. Don't let some sappy words get the best of you.

"Loving you is like...like breathing."

"Breathing?" Hugo pried, finding the strength to tease Varian once more. To add to the dramatics, Hugo playfully rested the back of his hand on his forehead in a swooning motion. "Ah, so it's effortless? I'm such an amazing boyfriend that loving me is second nature to you, Sweetcheeks?"

At that, Varian laughed and gave Hugo a little shove.

"Well, that too I suppose," Varian giggled. He then took Hugo's hands and held them gingerly in his. "More like...I need it to survive."

Hugo swallowed, his throat feeling dry, not sure how much more of this sweet talking he could take. He didn't even realize that Varian had intertwined his fingers with his.

"Loving you is like oxygen, Hugo," Varian confessed, gazing at their hands with an intense stare . "Like food, or water, or sleep. I need it to live. I can't imagine living without loving you."

Hugo's ears burned hot red and he brought his and Varian's hands up to cover his face. He could handle these words if Varian was joking around or teasing him back, but the tender and true expression on his face and honesty made him melt.

"Geez, Var, you can't just say stuff like that without warning," he mumbled, his thoughts and composure becoming disorganized. Varian smiled, his own face blushing from the realization of his words.

"Sorry,"Varian apologized. Hugo shook his head and looked back at Varian.

"I can't imagine living without loving you either, Varian," he confessed, deciding to cave into the mushy sentimental atmosphere. "Loving you is like breathing for me too. It's become a necessity...you've become a necessity."

"Do you mean that?"

Varian focused on Hugo's face, searching for any hints that the blonde was jesting. And then, Hugo saw it. A flash of concern, doubt, and bashfulness? spread across the alchemist's features. Just when Hugo began to believe Varian held the spontaneous charisma to confess his feelings without care, he found himself corrected. Varian was just as self-conscious in disclosing these feelings as Hugo was receiving them.

Hugo held up his hand in a small fist against his chest. He began to list the things he needed to live, a finger popping up for each necessity.

"Oxygen. Food. Water. Sleep. Loving you. That's all I need, Sweetcheeks."

Now it was Varian's turn to be lost for words, only being able to let out a soft laugh. Hugo leaned in once more to kiss him, savoring the gentle silence, and keeping his boyfriend from saying any other words that could make him fall apart.

#vat7k #varian #varigo #hugo vat7k #varian and the 7 kingdoms #tts varian #varian and the seven kingdoms #tangled the series #hugo rottewange #varian vat7k #fanfic #flustered Hugo is my drug #its been so long since i wrote some stuff #dialogue based on a conversation i had with my fiance

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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girls just wanna have fun 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, blackmail, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re struggle to push back against your controlling father result in a misguided crush. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

You don’t like to think of yourself as sweaty, you’re glistening. You keep a light jog, just enough to get your heart pumping. And bouncing. Your sports bra is less than secure but you don’t mind.

Running’s another new hobby. It’s a reason to get out of the house when your dad’s being a drag. And a reason to scope out the neighbour. As you turn the corner onto your street, you slow down, coming in sight of Bucky’s yard. Disappointment washes over you as you get closer. He’s usually out by now.

“Goddammnit,” you hear him curse as he appears from beside the house, his tee shirt soaked in water, “fucking hose.”

You stop by the fence and watch him strip away the drenched shirt. He tosses it in anger, his muscles rippling under his skin, and scowls as his hands frame his wide hips. You gulp as your mouth dries out. Wowee.

He looks over as you hover near his gate. You cough and shake your head, “everything alright, Mr. Barnes?” You ask, keeping your voice perky.

“Uh, yeah,” he shakes his head slightly, “yeah, just damn thing split.”

He huffs and closes his eyes, tilting his head up to the shining sun. It’s almost as if he’s trying to match you, tempting you to do something. Your cheeks burn from more than the summer heat. You hum in sympathy.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Well, I’m sure if you really need a hose, you could stretch ours over the fence.”

“Yeah, your dad wouldn’t have an aneurysm?” He scoffs and opens his eyes, narrow those baby blues in your direction.

You step back on your heel and shrug, shuffling your feet as you run in place, “I don’t know, Mr. Barnes. Just being nice.” You turn and keep bouncing looking ahead, “gotta finish my run.”

“It’s Bucky,” he calls after you as your soles pound the sidewalk. You puff out, smiling. Bucky.

You circle the block again and come up once more to your neighbour’s walk. Again, you keep a look out for him. There’s another car in the lot. You recognise it. His annoying friend is there. The one who used to tease you about your school uniform.

You roll your eyes and turn your sights forward, only to collide with someone else. Just the person you were dreading. You stutter step back, panting heavily, chest rising and falling heavily. You don’t miss how the man’s eyes peek down before meeting your own. You don’t mind being on display, just not for him.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Wilson,” you cross your arms and he clears his throat. Ugh, gross. You drop your arms, “sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s just fine, sugar,” he smirks, “don’t mind running into a pretty girl like you.”

Ew. You could barf. It takes all your manners not to gag at him.

“Right, um, well, I should just--”

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky’s voice draws your attention from your half-baked excuse, “Corona okay? I don’t got any Heineken right now.”

“Corona? What are you? A coed? Why don’t you toss it to this little beam of sunshine?” He nudges you and you inch away.

“I got a free case. You really gonna be picky,” Bucky challenges as he comes up to the fence and holds the beer over it. “She’s too young.”

“I drink,” you lie. To be honest, you don’t. You tried a single vodka and orange soda in high school and vomited in your shoe. “You know, college.”

“Yeah, college,” Sam winks at you, “she’s really grown up, Buck.”

You glance over as his brows raise coyly and he glances over at you, the tip of his tongue poking out. You flutter your lashes and refocus on Bucky. You shrug.

“Obviously, I’m just playing around. I’m a good girl, Mr. Barnes,” you smile.

Sam purrs, just loud enough for you to hear. You repress the furrow that threatens to wrinkle your nose. You have to stay pretty for Bucky.

“I’m just fine. Dad’s got some Bud in the garage.”

“Bud, huh, you like toilet water?” Sam chides.

Your lips draw tight and you spin on your heel, “anyways, I’m going to go stretch.”

You skip down the sidewalk and through your own gate. You hear Sam chuckle, “you doing it out here, sugar? Where we can see? You know, I got a bad back, could use a few pointers.”

You just shake your head as you wave dismissively and head inside. He has to ruin everything. You don’t get why Bucky is friends with him. They have their little poker nights and all you ever hear in exchange are snipes. Do they even like each other?

You enter the house and fill a large glass of water from the fridge filter. You gulp it down, parched from more than your run. Mm, just the thought of Bucky with his shirt off, the little coils of gray hair, and the way his muscles were just perfectly lined with that extra later of pudge. The kind a man ages into.

“There you are,” your dad appears as if out of thin air, “what the hell are you wearing?”

“Love you too,” you face him as you put the glass down.

“Were you outside like that?”

You look down at your bicycle shorts and bra.

“I was exercising,” you snip.

“You can wear a shirt next time,” he sneers. “You’re supposed to clean the pool.”

“I got time,” you argue.

He sighs as he opens the fridge. He takes out his carton of egg whites and plops it down on the counter. He takes out turkey bacon as well. He swings the door shut and turns, silent as he readies his late breakfast.

“What are you talking to Barnes for?” He asks curtly as he puts a pan on the stove. You grab your glass again.

“Was being friendly, that’s all,” your heart deflates. Fun’s over.

“Mm, and he’s friendly? He knows how to be?”

“Ugh, whatever’s between you has nothing to do with me,” you rebuff, “he’s nice.”

“Sure,” he sniffs doubtfully, “he’s a bitter old bastard.”

You’re one to talk. You don’t put the quip to voice, instead draining what’s left of the water. You turn and rinse the glass and put it in the dishwasher.

“If I clean the pool, can Shelby come over?”

“Shelby? What, so you can blast those video games again?”

“No, so we can swim,” you say. “Duh.”

“Duh,” he mimics in a whiny voice. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Well, can I? Please?” You soften your tone, “I’m so bored.”

“Mm, fine. No more wet towels on the lawn though.”

“Yes, sir, will do, sir.”

“And cut the attitude,” he warns as he peels bacon strips from the package, “and put a shirt on.”

You spin and stomp away. You take your slides from the front mat and carry them to the back door. You’re not putting a shirt on, you’re going to be cleaning the pool. There’s no point in that.

You go out and grab the net, extending it long. You lazily skim the water. It doesn’t really need a cleaning. It’s still sparkling and clear.

As you stare into the blue depths, the shadow of the leaves above rustle over you. You glance up and over to the disturbance. You see a head poking over the top and nearly shriek. It’s Sam, watching you.

“Ew, what are you doing, perv?” You accuse.

“There’s tree rot up here,” he points to the trunk, “told Buck I’d take care of it. Let his old knees have a rest.”

You frown and turn back to the pool. You know he’s watching you. You feel the weight of his gaze. The same sensation you long for when you pass by Bucky.

“And the view is nice,” he slithers, “you might wanna reach a bit... right there. Little leaf,” he points over the fence, “bend just a little bit, sugar. Arch that back.”

You can’t believe what he’s saying. You retract the pole and turn to scowl at him, “you’re gross.”

“Ah, come on, don’t act so innocent with me? What happened to the plaid skirt and those cute little stockings?”

You glare at him, “I’m an adult.”

“Sure are,” he agrees.

“What do you want?” You snarl, “I’m busy.”

He grins and leans on the fence. He tilts his head and bats his lashes, “’oh, Mr. Barnes, I’m a good girl. I would never drink your beer. But yes, I’ll sit in your lap, show you what a good girl does’,” he mocks as he pretends to fix hair longer than his trimmed style.

“Well, happy to see one of us is grown,” you retort.

“Ah, sugar, you can’t deny it. I see right through you. You weren’t wagging that ass for me but you will,” he eyes you up and down and licks his lips, “you want a bite of Bucky, I can get you it. There’s just one catch,” he pulls back slightly and looks down, “and it’s hard and throbbing.”

You’re stunned. Speechless. Blistering at being caught in your pathetic flirtations but worse, being called out so crassly.

You recoil and turn back to the pool. You’re not really considering his offer. As much as you dream about Bucky, and touch yourself, and cum about him, it’s just no, you can’t. It’s a fantasy, nothing else. That’s all it can be.

Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do. It’s all so much easier in your head.

“That’s okay, you take your time,” he slaps the fence, “I got work to do. But first,” he puts an arm over the wood, “think I’ll watch you do yours.”

#bucky barnes #sam wilson #dark bucky barnes #dark sam wilson #dark!bucky barnes #dark!sam wilson #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #series #drabble #au #silverfox au #girls just wanna have fun #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #falcon and the winter soldier

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thetravelingtyper · 5 months

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On The Same Page Pt 7 (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader Bookshop! AU)

Simon spends the night over, you dream of the past, and share a sweet moment and news with the man...

Part 6, Part 8, Masterlist

Dessert passed without much fanfare and Sam stood for the dishes.

“It's getting late Pumpkin”

The name has you rolling your eyes but you stretch, popping your back as you listen to the sound of the rain. You turn to Simon who regards you calmly. His hair has dried and fluffed up, and you want to run your hands through it. Under your observation, Simon gives a small smile and you flush, turning away. The time was nearing 11 and you would need to be up to open the store on Friday. You stand out of your chair, turning to push it back in. Simon watches a moment before following, pushing his chair in before shuffling to your side.

You look up to him with a smile before moving to Sam and hugging him. Finishing up the plates he turns his head to place a kiss on yours before murmuring,

“Goodnight Buttercup,” He turns to Simon and nods.

Simon returns it as you return to him, a question in your reach.

“Ready for bed? It's not too late for the nail polish?” You ask it with a smirk, your hand going to Simon's arm. You get a humored huff at the joke,

“Sure.”

Your lips quirk up and you turn to leave the kitchen and Simon follows, hand trailing to take yours. You squeeze his and lead him to his room. At the door, you part, opening the door to reveal a small but comfy room. It was intended to be an office but you and Sam each worked either in the kitchen together or in your rooms. There was a bed tucked into the corner and yet more bookshelves. In one corner next to the small bathroom were a few more cases of typewriters.

“Typewriters?” He asks simply. You allow him to enter before you and you follow, approaching the corner and grabbing a case.

“Yeah, most are rescued from around London. I work on them in my free time.” You open this case, a brown crackled leather. Inside you reveal an ultraportable, a smaller typewriter. You pull the machine out and set it on the quilt of the bed before inviting Simon to look. He finds an ivory keyed machine in a casing of grey plastic. His fingers skim over the keys finding the hammers responsive as they move with a light click. You smile at the machine fondly, thumbing the worn leather of the case before speaking,

“Smith-Corona Skyriter, it is from the 1960s. Reliable once I get a new ribbon in it. It had a few sticky keys but a little cleaning got that fixed.”

You say it with a knowing tone and Simon can tell you care a lot for the machine. He runs a final hand over it before handing it back to you. You slip it back into the case, closing it before setting the bag aside. You return to him then.

“Do you need anything else Simon?”

He shakes his head.

“No thank you love, ‘his is fine.”

With that you nod and move to leave the room before pausing, biting your lip. You then spin on your feet and call his name. Simon looks down at you and you move. Pushing up onto your tiptoes you press a small peck to this cheek, brushing against warm skin before turning and rushing out of the room with a soft good night simon your cheeks flushed.

You quickly retreat to your room and close the door softly so as to not disturb Sam. Leaning against your door your heart races but you feel giddy. You smile to yourself before. You went into your bathroom and brushed your teeth before shutting your lights off and tucking yourself into bed. The sounds of the rain lured you into a deep and easy sleep.

The sounds of a river woke you in your sleep. Your eyes open to a tapestry of stars. You were on a hill overlooking your college city. Sam and you found it while biking one day and shortly made the space under an old oak tree your own. The light of a full moon lit your way as you stood on a spread quilt. Approaching the tree you grab a branch and hoist yourself up. Eternity passes as you climb, a breeze kicking up smells of the sea despite your distance, You feel at the stern of life, and you finally made it to the top before sitting on a sturdy branch, leaning back to watch the stars.

Here the burden of the world was shouldered by wood and bark. You hear a yip and your fox dances through the air, past shooting stars and nebula. There are smaller cries and she is followed by her kits. One of them, smaller than the others, tumbles in the air and you reach out to catch the poor thing.

Four black paws land on your palms as the little fox steadies itself. It shakes its fur and peers at you with new blue eyes that'll darken to a rich amber as it ages. The little fox watches you as you once again lean against the tree. The weight of the editing position gave way to the thrill of your newest publications. They had been a great success. But under the weight of your new work, you found yourself missing the fox and your old home.

Your open palms come to rest on your stretched-out legs, but the kit, ever the explorer, hopped out of your hands and into your lap. It then curled up gave a yawn and fell asleep. Your heart melts and you run your hand gently through its soft fur. It sighs in contentment in its sleep. You sit against the tree for a timeless period, head swirling with the dance of the fox and the twinkling of stars.

However, as dawn rises on the sky there is a call of your name at the base of the tree. You peer down expecting Sam but you find a different man. He looks up with brown eyes, they focus on you intently. He calls again,

“Come on Dove, it's time to leave this place.”

Your heart quickens in knowing but your mind pulls back, looking up instead, seeking the disappearing stars. The mother fox has stopped her dance and pads down to you. She looks at you, and you reach out a hand. She butts her head against your head before looking at her kit. The kit stirs, giving a sleepy yawn, shining eyes blinking away a sleepyness. However, it makes no move towards its mother, instead choosing to snuggle further into your lap.

Laughter passes over the mother's eyes and she looks to you a moment before looking to the vanishing moon.

‘I'll be back’ she seems to say, licking at your palm before turning and joining her other children in the air. She gives you one final look,

‘Take care of him’

You nod and she and her other kits disappear with the last of the stars. The man calls you again and the fox kit hops up and into the air, waiting for you to follow. You look at it a little shocked and it steps simply further into the air before turning back to you with a little yip. It then descends to join the man, curling around his neck like a scarf.

You stand, bracing yourself with the trunk of the tree. Uncertainty swells but looking down you meet his eyes and find something steadfast there. He is strong, you know then. His arms come out and he calls,

“Jump dove, I'll catch you.”

You trust him then, something in your heart swelling. You ready yourself, fears of publication, leaving home, and an uncertain future weigh you in the warm sunlight. But with the echo of stars behind your eyelids you take a breath and jump, easily falling into steady arms.

Friday

You stir and awaken slowly to the sound of London awakening, you turn onto your side, hands dreamily reaching for the fox kit only to feel the ghost of fur as you finally wake up. You sigh into your pillow, curling yourself up for a second before stretching fully out. You sluggishly get out of bed. There is a soft knock at your door and you call out a gentle come in.

The door opens quietly and Simon steps into the room. You straighten up a little at his presence. He looks around your room, taking in the sense of just, you. Books stacked in assorted piles dot the room. Cream walls are spotted with posters, and in the corner on a crate sits a teal record player with records stored below. He looks at your desk finding the Corsair. He steps toward it and runs a hand over the worn plastic. You feel a warm comfort bubble in your chest at his observation. You don’t mind him in your space and that surprises you. You shake the thought aside and stand, turning to tuck your blanket back in before crossing the small space to join him.

“It’s mine from when I was a kid. I started writing back then,” You reach a hand to brush the machine,

“It, it felt wrong to leave it.” You stumble on your words for a moment, a wave of hurt surging in your chest. What had you left behind?

A hand covers yours over the keys then and your eyes flicker up to his.

Honey and bourbon. Or?

He dips his head looking into your eyes, his hand on yours travels up your arm and you hold in a breath, afraid to break the moment. His hand ghosts over the sleeve of your shirt before reaching your shoulder, he then lifts it. You exhale, slowly, tension releasing from your shoulders before his hand returns to span over your neck, his thumb resting on your cheek. Unlike James, this touch is gentle, reverent even, an examination of a treasure before it can vanish into dust. But instead of grasping at emptiness, Simon finds you under his hand.

Something, someone so unlike him. A person untarnished by the horrors he’s lived, hell, the things he’s committed. Finding you was a sanctuary. After coming in for that month he returned, hearing James threaten you awoke something nasty in him, claiming to be your partner, his heart quickening in the moment before he was pleased by your shocked admiration. Then getting caught in the rain, holding you close in the kitchen. But the feeling of your lips against his cheek was a ray of sun on his dark heart.

Something in his chest wove around his heart when he thought of you. Your passion for writing and typewriters, baking yes, but working with others. You were warm and welcoming to everyone. Johnny about talked his ear off about you, and the Fox’s Den made him feel at home. Sam humored him. The man loved you like family.

The men passed into the hallway as you remained in the kitchen. As they entered the guest room Sam turned to him abruptly, green eyes focusing in on the taller man, evaluating. Simon returns the look, not in challenge but in understanding. He knew sibling protection all too well.

Sam seems satisfied and then speaks,

“You're a good man Simon. Johnny talks a lot about you.” He starts, a hand running along the books on the nearest shelf absentmindedly. His eyes move to the typewriters, then back to the quiet man before him.

“I get the hunch you intend to stick around?”

Simon nods, something setting on his face at the vision of your smile in his head.

Sam nods, humming and running a hand through his hair, the curls stretching before bouncing back into place.

He then gives Simon a serious look, eyes sharp,

“Take care of her Simon, especially in these coming weeks. I don’t trust this.”

Simon speaks up, like a rumble of thunder from his chest,

“Of course.” It's a strong affirmation, quick and quiet, and it brings a smile to Sam's face.

“We agree then.”

Simon’s mind returns to you, wide eyes looking into his. Your hands move on their own, one reaching to his free hand and the other skimming up his abdomen to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart.

“Si” Your voice is soft and you offer him a shy smile.

Simon just admires you in the streaming sunlight, the rain clouds having turned away into mist. The air in the room stirs, and memories of strong arms around you wakes your writer's mind. You can see the fox kit yawn and tuck itself against Simon. The sound of the ever-present sea echos into the buzz of your ears. Then there is all but silence, and you feel like the last two people in the meaningless world, the blank landscape dawning around you with the new day was yours to create. Nothing else mattered you realized in his arms, you looked up back to him with a growing excitement, in your mind, you could sense the gathering of waves, wild like a storm but tamed by the safety of what life was offering.

You grin at him and in your mind the fox kit awakens, pulling from Simon and dropping down to your typewriter, a ghost of an idea appearing. Price was right you realized. What had you lost but, your eyes softened, what had you gained? Your hand on Simon’s chest travels up, over his collarbone, and up his neck. He signs softly when your hand mirrors his on your own face, cupping his face and running fingers along a strong jawline.

He murmurs your name in a sacred whisper, eyes, and hand dropping to meet yours. Stands of his hair brush against your forehead, his eyes rich and warm flicker to your lips but he makes no other movement choosing instead to cherish your warmth and the feel of you in his arms. Your heart quickens and something shifts in your chest. Determination perhaps, a rush of the moment but promise of something more has you leaning up and connecting your lips to his. He is caught by surprise before his eyes close and he leans further into the kiss.

His thumb caresses your cheek sweetly before his hand trails to cradle your head. He tilts your head to deepen the kiss before he parts for a steadying breath his heart pounding in his chest. You look up at him with a lightly flushed face, not quite having expected to kiss the man but the honeyed chuckle he lets out pleases something in you. His hand squeezes yours before moving to the small of your back and pulling you close.

You breathe out, head tucked against his chest for a moment before your alarm for 9 am finally sounds. You sigh and Simon fully releases you, allowing you to shut your phone off. You look back to him in question.

“Are you sticking around Si?”

The syllable rolls naturally off your tongue, and Simon leans back against your desk in consideration. He pulls out his phone checking something.

“I’ll need to run home love.” You nod at that as there is a knock at the door. Sam waits a moment before popping his head in with an easy good morning to Simon, a knowing smile on his face before his eyes find yours.

“Morning ladybug. Sofia is here, she came around 30 minutes ago seeking you.”

You stand a little straighter and sigh. You loved your manager dearly, especially after all that happened, but the woman tired you out sometimes. Besides the point of her not just calling but you understand that this must be a rush. Maybe she could answer some questions.

Sam then turns to SImon.

“Your clothes are in a bag whenever you decide to head out.” With that Sam passes you a wink and heads back down to the bookstore. The smell of a quick breakfast drifts in through the open door. You look back to Simon,

“I still have your jacket-”

“Hold on to it for me.”

You blink in surprise but nod a little smile creeping onto your face. You move from your bedside and step towards Simon, his hands lifting in expectation, they move to your elbows before tracing to your back, you look up at him,

“Will you be back sometime today?”

His fingers circle patterns into your skin absentmindedly and he hums.

“If I can.” It is simple but his eyes dip towards yours and you feel at peace here with him. You nod. He watches you relax in his arms, looking up to him with curious eyes tracing a scar that goes from his chin to his next. He doesn't feel self-conscious though, not anymore. You raise a hand to trace the scar softly.

“Do they hurt anymore?”

“Not often, sometimes there's the ghost of a memory.”

You hum an affirmative before gazing into his eyes. They are sunlit into a light hazel, flecked with gold under the rays. You enjoy the moment a bit longer before you sigh.

“I should keep Sofia waiting, besides, you need to leave.”

He nods, then leans down to press a kiss to the side of your head before letting you go. He moves to the door,

“I’ll wait for you dove.”

You smile in appreciation and after he leaves change for the day. On a whim, you turn to your laptop and slip it into your backpack to take down to the store. You look to your corsair with a smile and turn to exit your room.

Passing into the living room you find Simon sitting on his phone, his eyes raising to you when you pass into the kitchen. Sam had eaten a quick breakfast, the evidence of which was in the fridge. You grab a yogurt to take down. You look back to Simon when he enters. You grab another yogurt and some wrapped banana bread. You present these to Simon and you and he make quick work of them.

After cleaning up you both gather your things and head for the door to the bookstore. Passing down the stairs you hear the voices of Sam and Sofia along with an English-accented voice you didn't recognize. You make it to the bottom of the stairs followed by Simon and see the three in the sitting area with a few scattered teacups that humors you. Sam’s look alerts the others and Sofia and another handsome man turns to regard you and Simon.

Hazel eyes lift to you in warm but urgent expectation before shifting to regard the man behind you. Sofia was a woman in her mid-40s, with long black hair and a set of round glasses perched on her nose. She had taken more the place of an aunt while you were away from your parents, a close friendship cemented by long hours up late with tea and manuscripts. She also did double duty as your illustrator, and it was she who helped you paint all the foxes.

The other set of brown eyes regarded you curiously before shooting to the tall man behind you.

“L.T.?” His accent told you he was a local, Simon tilts his head in regard,

“Kyle. It’s been a while.”

“It's been ages!”

Kyle shoots up as Simon moves forward and offers a hand out, Simon takes it as you follow, setting your stuff at the inside of the counter before joining the others.

“Morning Sofia, sorry to keep you waiting,” You look to Kyle in consideration and he meets you with a wide smile. You return it happy with his nature, he offers his hand.

“Kyle Garrick.”

You return with your name and nod,

“Johnny’s told me about you! It’s nice to finally meet you!”

He grasps your hand in both of his and gives a cheeky wink,

“Same love, Johnny would not stop talking about you.”

You laugh, Johnny was the equivalent of a golden retriever you thought. Kyle’s eyes move between you and Simon and you wonder what else Johnny may have said. But the curiosity passes when you see a bundle of documents in Sofia’s hand, you sigh at the look in her eyes. You pass Kyle and Simon and take the seat next to her. Kyle looks between the two of you before he returns to his seat as well.

You look to Simon,

“Are you leaving Si?”

He thought he needed to return home but nothing was pressing. He shifts, then mind made up he sets his bag next to your chair and takes a seat on a ottoman next to you, long legs spreading out. You offer him a pleased smile before turning back to Sofia. You find her eyes on Simon, a simmering curiosity, much like Kyle’s but with a more maternal feel. She pats your knee before going into an explanation.

“I am sorry about last night! I was in such a rush with that letter arriving! I spoke with Sam’s family, they were shocked with the notification that arrived yesterday as well.” She pulls out an official-looking document, the embossed paper making you roll your eyes. You take it and look over it. There was the general nonsense, the niceties, and such, but what got your interest was the communication of the development of a working relationship between the two publishers with the combined work of you and James. Your gut wrenches as you flip the page.

There you find a promotional tour schedule showcasing both you and James amongst some of the other authors. You scan the list and are relieved to find Sarah listed as well. You flip the page and there you find an advertisement for another formal event. Dread splinters through you and you want to burn the paper. The announcement was inviting international publishers to a gala here in London with you and James as some of the headline speakers. You didn't like the implications of the gala and the following formal dinner. Given what happened last time you don’t understand why they would want to pull you and White Owl into a stunt like this.

“I don't like this.” You speak it, your voice low and cautious, trepidation nipping at your fingertips as you pass the paper to Sam. He nods in agreement. Kyle’s eyes look between the two of you,

“Trouble?” He asks and you nod.

“Unfortunately so, I believe my ex-fiance is causing a ruckus again. He’s the reason I came here at all,” A hand presses to your knee and you find Simon regarding you,

“I've told Johnny the whole story but I can tell it again if you want to hear it?”

“Sure.”

Kyle affirms with a gentle tone, and you find yourself happy he was there. Simon on the other hand tenses and your hand reaches to his. His hand engulfs your knee easily, once your fingers brush over his he flips his palm up. You set your hand in his and he intertwines your fingers, brushing his thumb every so often over your knuckles as you begin to speak.

You began from the beginning, moving to finish your master's, meeting Sam, and eventually getting into the publishing and editing business.

Fin - For information, this is a Smith Corona Corsair:

Taglist!

@ghostlythots, @tapioca-milktea1978, @cmbghost, @nexthyperfix, @feedthefandoms995

AN This was going to originally include you meeting James, but I figured all of the past stuff should be its own chapter!

#cod mw2 2022 fanfic #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap and reader #simon riley fluff #fanfiction #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #on the same page #Simon riley x you #Simon riley #cod mw2 2022 #john soap mactavish #Protective ghost #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick

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