#smart cookie universe :)

[b0nelessdoodles]

espresso needing to weigh the moral pros and cons of the research he wants to conduct and shadow milk is just floating there like DO IT

(he's gonna do it 'cause that stupid blonde jock likes him a whole lot for reasons he cannot understand)

[writeshite]

“Do you trust me?” Spencer nods; you hug him close, his feet on yours, “Relax, I’ll lead.” 

He’s never been good at dancing, often likened to having the coordination of a newborn duck; he could barely walk without bumping into things. He’d never longed to dance until he watched you glide across the kitchen, his arms settle over your shoulders, your own coming around his waist, the music is soft, and you move slowly. 

“Told you, you could dance,” You move in a circular motion, and Spencer laughs as you purposefully butcher the lyrics, “What, you don’t like my spectacular singing?” you jest. His head bumps against yours, and as the laughter dies down, he’s left humming lowly alongside you.

[thanekrios]

VENLA THORNE

[bigfatnerdd]

hear me out cake but I might have a type

[sarahsmi13s]

Home Is Where The Heart Is

18+ content MDNI

pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x sarah grant (fem!oc) characters: sarah grant, jake seresin, the bradshaws (bradley, alyssa, and leia), the dagger squad, penny and amelia, sarah's team and assitant coach Cameron Kamp, misc characters warnings: language, military homecoming, pregnancy, pregnancy hormones, crying, brief mentions of religion, cheesy lovey dovey shit, THIS DOES CONTAIN SMUT, you have been warned, breeding kink, pregnancy sex, a ruined pair of jeans, oral (fem recieving), unprotected p in v (don't be dumb) word count: ~8.5k a/n: this story is inspired by ‘His Little Girl’ (bradley bradshaw x reader) by the lovely @roosterscockpit​​  ( @milesdickpic​ ) and characters from this story are mentioned. also, yes, the oc is based on me lol (well a fantasy version lol) PLEASE READ: i know it's been a while but this part in the story takes place in late June this is part 8 in the series, found here -> j and s universe loose summary: it's time for a reunion

They say home is where the heart is, but what about when your heart is on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the ocean? Is that where your home is?

Cause that’s where Sarah’s heart was. Thousands of miles away, on a floating hunk of metal. It shouldn’t be there, it should be by her side. Her heart should be rubbing her back and cradling her growing belly. Not getting sonogram photos in the mail. 

But that’s where it was, because that’s where Jake was.

Their home rarely ever felt like one when he was gone. It was quiet and cold. 

Except for the days Sarah and Jake got to video call. 

Sure, it wasn’t exactly the same – but they would take what they could get.

“We still need to have a baby shower,” Jake said as he watched Sarah clean from her computer on the counter. “I’m not having one until you get home, Jake,” she answered, a sigh behind the words. She’d told him the same thing since after the gender reveal.

He sighed, watching her move around the kitchen, “Sarah, what if I’m not back by the time you have the kids? Then you’re stuck at home with nothing.” She shrugged and wiped down the counter, “I’ll go shopping then.”

“Sarah, the whole point of a baby shower is to eliminate the need for us to spend our own money,” Jake said, trying to get her to understand that it was okay to have one without him.

Sarah stopped cleaning and looked at him. “Jake, there are things I want to have your opinion on. Like strollers and carseats and cribs. I want to buy those things with you, I want to do all that with you.”

“Sugar…”

“Jake, I don’t want to do these things by myself. I’m already having to set up the nursery by myself.” 

He furrowed his brow, “The squad isn’t helping you?” She sighed and scratched her forehead, “No, no, they are. It’s just… I want your say in these things. I need your opinion.”

Jake gave her a small smile, “Sweetheart, the nursery doesn’t need to be fancy. We’ll be moving after the wedding anyway.” Sarah sighed and rubbed her belly, “I guess you’re right… I just miss you. They do too.” He nodded, “I miss you too Sugar. I’ll be home before you know it.”

“When do you come home?” She asked him softly, hand still rubbing her belly. He sighed, “I’m still not sure…” Sarah bit her lip and nodded.

“I’m so sorry, Sugar… I wish they would decide, I want to be home with you.” She gave him a shaky smile, “I know you do, Love… I want that too, but as long as you come home, I’ll be happy.”

Jake smiled at her, “I love you, Sugar.” 

“I love you too, Cowboy,” she smiled back before looking at the list on the fridge and sighing.

“What’s wrong Sarah?”

She shook her head, “Oh it’s nothing. I just remembered all the stuff I need to get for the banquet that’s not this Saturday but the next Saturday.”

Jake smiled, “How much have you gotten done?” Sarah groaned and rubbed her face, “None of it. And I have so much to do…”

She didn’t want to hang up on him, having him on her computer screen helped her to feel like he was home. Made the home feel less lonely, made her feel less lonely. And the twins got to hear their dad’s voice. 

“I don’t wanna hang up either Sugar…”

Sarah sighed and looked back at him. He always seemed to know what she was thinking, even a million miles away Jake could read her like a book.

She leaned on the counter, giving him a soft, loving look as she smiled. “But we both have things we need to do…”

Jake nodded, resting his head on his fist, “Unfortunately…”

“We’ll talk tomorrow?” Sarah asked, hopefulness in her tone but she knew it wasn’t a guarantee.

He nodded and sat up, “But I can’t video call tomorrow, so it’ll have to be over the phone.” She nodded and stood, her hand rubbing her belly, “We look forward to it.” Jake smiled, love engulfing his eyes as he looked at her.

“I can’t wait til I’ve got ya back in my arms Darlin’. The day can’t come fast enough.”

“I love you Jake. So do they.”

“I love you too Sarah. And you two little troublemakers in there, Daddy’ll be home soon.”

Sarah sighed and readied her cursor on the “End Call” button. “Bye Darlin’.” “Bye Sugar.”

They ended the call at the same time before their tears could fall. Both waited until the little light by the camera turned off before they broke down crying.

Over the next week and a half, Sarah and the squad got all the decorations ready for the banquet. They put together the centerpieces and planned out where everything would go.

The centerpieces weren’t too hard to make. One of them was simply a bouquet of daisies and greenery with a softball in the middle; the other was a vase with softballs in it and a yellow rose and green hydrangea flower arrangement on top.

Amelia had gotten extremely into baking, and she was actually quite good at it. So, to save a little bit of money, Sarah asked her to bake a few of the desserts for the team. Most importantly, gift softball cookies for the seniors with their name and number on them. Sarah, of course, bought her the ingredients and paid her for her work.

Other desserts would be brought by parents and players, along with fruit and veggie trays.

Cyclone offered to cook, grill or something, but the school insisted on paying for it to be catered since they weren’t paying for much else. 

So, the team decided on both pasta and barbeque. Sure, not exactly tied together, but girls like their options!

And with all of it being taken care of, all Sarah had to do was sit down and make the awards, which didn’t take very long at all. 

Then all she had to do was wait for the day.

The morning of the banquet Sarah woke up early, the twins wanting to start the day as soon as possible.

“Alright babies, okay okay I’m up,” she groaned as she sat up in her bed. She took a few breaths as she sat on the edge of her bed, massaging her lower back. “It’s 5:30, Penny and I aren’t setting the Hard Deck up until 10. Why can’t I just sleep in?”

She got out of bed and went to her and Jake’s closest to get her clothes out for the banquet. A shin length cream colored dress, one of Jake’s shirts that matched the school's colors, and a pair of tan Nike shoes.

Sarah was not about to wear heels, not with her sore and swollen feet. Sandals were also off the table, because again her feet were swollen and she couldn’t see past her belly to see her toes to paint them. 

Could she have gone to get them done? Sure, but the one smell that managed to make her sick this far into her pregnancy was the smell of a nail salon. So she had resulted to socks and using press ons or glue on nails from the store.

“Okay, I just need to wash my face and freshen up, then get dressed.”

She went to the bathroom and turned the water on to let heat up while she re-tied her bun and put on a headband. 

Once the water was warm, Sarah grabbed her morning face wash and wet her face. 

“Oh, Finley,” she hissed as she started to wash her face. 

Finley seemed to have a preference for being active early in the morning and loved to kick virtually the same spot all the time. 

“You have got to chill, baby girl,” she said, looking at the side of her belly that her daughter was occupying. “I know you’re excited about Mama’s busy day, just can you kick somewhere besides my bladder?”

She watched her belly move with another kick. “Thank you baby.”

After getting dressed, Sarah gathered what wasn’t already at the Hard Deck and put it in her car.

“Okay, now I won’t forget those… but what do I do in the meantime?”

She looked down at her belly, “Let’s start planning a shower, just so Daddy and Mama don’t have to start from scratch.” Sarah grunted a little at the kick she received, but it was gentle so it also made her smile. “Alright, laptop and my water cup and to the couch we go.” She set an alarm for 9 and sat on the couch. 

Opening her laptop, she went straight to Pinterest and began pinning ideas into a board for her and Jake to go through later. He may be on a ship in the middle of the ocean but he was still going to be a part of the planning process. She cared about his input and a few thousand miles wasn’t going to change that.

So for the next few hours she compiled ideas for decor and food, games and prizes. She found a few lists of items for a registry just to have something to go off of. 

By the time her alarm went off she had a lot of ideas in that board along with her having gotten distracted by food recipes and pictures of cows and puppies.

She got up and packed her laptop away in her bag before she grabbed it and her phone. Swiping her keys from the bowl, she locked up the house and went to her car.

Once she was seated and buckled, she put in an order at Chick-fil-A so she could pick it up before meeting everyone at the Hard Deck.

When Sarah got to the bar, pretty much everyone was already there, most likely cleaning or waiting for her to arrive.

She got out of her car and slipped her bag onto her shoulders before grabbing the food bags and the drink carriers. However, once she got situated with the drinks, she noticed the framed awards sitting in her front seat. 

“Shit,” she cursed, trying not to fumble the drinks and send them crashing to the gravel of the parking lot. “I just had to order drinks… shit okay Sarah, just do the easy, smart thing and sit everything down, pick up the awards and then grab everything else. You can do that.”

And she did exactly that, managing to tuck all the awards under her arms and then re-pick up everything.

Sighing, she walked toward the bar’s door, making sure to move carefully so as to not drop anything.

Inside, Penny noticed Sarah coming towards the bar, looking like a Jenga tower trying to walk and not fall over.

“Oh my goodness gracious,” she said, sitting up a bit straighter as she noticed Amelia come out of the bathroom. “Hey, Amelia, will you go help Sarah? She’s trying to do a single trip and I don’t want her to fall.” Amelia nodded and immediately went to go outside, “Yeah, sure Mom.”

As Amelia headed to the door, Sarah had stepped onto the sidewalk to go to the stairs.

But as she brought her other foot up, she didn’t get it quite high enough which caused her to trip.

She, thankfully, didn’t fall, but in her attempts to keep herself from falling forward she stuck her arms out to balance herself. And as she stood up straight to catch her breath and held her hand to her chest to calm her racing heart, she looked down and realized that her quick response had caused her to drop the awards and the two drink carriers.

She swore in frustration, “Dicks!” 

“Oh my god are you okay?” Amelia immediately asked as she opened the door, having seen the near fall just as she opened the door. 

Sarah nodded, “I’m fine, I just dropped the drink and awards…” Tears stung her eyes as she spoke, looking down at the mess at her feet.

Both Sarah’s shout and Amelia’s tone had caught the aviators’ attention and they immediately came outside.

“Hey what happened?” Bradley asked, coming out first with worry on his face as he looked between Amelia and Sarah. 

“I just tripped, Roo, I’m fine,” Sarah told him before sniffling a little bit. She cleared her throat a bit and held the bags of food out, “Least I didn’t drop the food.” Bradley nodded and took them, handing them off to Amelia.

He stepped forward and felt something crunch under his foot. When he looked down he realized that it was only ice but there was still shattered glass and some plastic from the frames that had broken off. He heard Sarah sniffle again.

Bradley looked at her, watching her shake out her hands before covering her face. He knew she was on the verge of tears so he tried to comfort her, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We can clean it up.”

“I dropped all the fucking drinks, I’m sorry guys,” she said, as annoyed frustrated tears slipped down her face. She huffed and looked at styrofoam cups that sat broken on the concrete. “I’m really really sorry guys. I just didn’t want to come back outside and I-”

“Hey, hey,” Javy said, gently grabbing her shoulders. “Hey, look at me.” Sniffling, Sarah lifted her gaze to Javy. “There she is. Hey, don’t worry about this, it’s just drinks.” Nat came over, her and Reuben squatting down to pick up the cups and carriers. “Yeah, it’s alright, there’s drinks inside or someone can go pick up drinks,” Mickey said, already pulling out his keys. Bob nods next to him, “Yeah, there’s a convenience store just up the road. Fanboy and I can go get drinks.”

At the reassurance from her friends, Sarah nods and wipes her face, sniffling as she calms down a bit. “Yeah… yeah you’re right. You’re right…” 

She took a deep breath and looked down at the mess again, tears gathering up again at the sight of the broken picture frames. But she swallows the tears and squats down, mumbling a little to herself to try and stay calm.

“The awards don’t need frames, the girls won’t c-” She stopped mid amendment when she turned them over, finding that the spilled drinks had soaked and stained the cardstock. “Damn it…”

She covers her face as the frustrated tears fall once more, “They’re ruined… this day is already off to a bad start…”

Javy shook his head and squatted down with her, “Hey, no, none of that pretty mama.” He tilted her chin up and wiped the tears from Sarah’s cheeks, “We still got all day to make up for this accident. Bob and Fanboy already left to go get more drinks, and did you bring your laptop?” She nodded, “Yeah, it’s in my bag.” “Good, I’m sure Penny has a printer in the office and you can reprint the awards in there. We can make the day better,” he helped her to stand and she giggled a bit as she wiped her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, Jav, you’re right. I guess it’s just the pregnancy hormones and the stress of today. Thank you.” He nodded and smiled, “Course, now let’s get inside and eat. I bet the little bugs are hungry.”

Just as he said that, Finnegan kicked Sarah’s bladder, “Yes, they are, but now I also reeeaaallly have to pee.”

They all laughed at that. “Then let's get you inside.”

After breakfast and the Hard Deck getting a thorough cleaning from the squad while Sarah reprinted the awards, they all went out for lunch before getting last minute decor and supplies.

When they got back to the bar they got everything set up. The squad moved picnic tables down to the sand to clear the deck as much as necessary while Penny, Amelia, Alyssa, and Sarah swept what sand they could off the deck. And one table was set up to hold gifts and awards.

After that was taken care of, decor such as banners and light were strung up. Rooster and Payback hung a flag sign that read “CONCESSIONS” above the door from the deck into the bar. The food and drinks would be set up inside to keep bugs and sand from getting into it.  

All of the table decor and smaller things would be set up later so they didn’t get snatched or knocked off and broken.

Once the big stuff was out of the way, the squad gathered in the bar to have a victory drink before heading home to shower and get ready.

While Sarah and the others headed straight home to get showers and change, Bradley had to take a quick detour.

“Bradley, where are we going?” Alyssa asked, realizing he wasn’t headed toward their home.

He chuckled a little, “You’ll see honey, but you can’t say anything. Sarah’s team wants to surprise her with something.” He turned toward the dockyard, “Or should I say someone?”

Alyssa’s brow furrowed, a little confused by the vagueness, but she went with it, “Alright.”

Bradley just chuckled, driving down the road before pulling into the dockyard and parking. “Okay, do you want to come with me or stay in the car?” Alyssa shrugged, “How long are you gonna be?” He shook his head as he unbuckled, “Not long at all, Honey.”

She nodded and rubbed her bump, “Okay, I’ll stay here, but I won’t promise I’ll be awake by the time you get back.” He chuckled and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

Rooster got out of the Bronco and jogged toward the docks.

There were a few people there still, but a lone pilot, off to the side on his phone, stuck out to him.

“Yo! Hangman!” 

Bradley waved with a huge grin on his face as Jake looked up at him, “Bradshaw! Took you long enough!” Jake walked over to him, pulling him in for a quick hug and patting him on the back, “Long time no see Rooster.” He chuckled, clapping Jake on the shoulder, “C’mon, let’s go. You hungry?” 

“Yes, I’m starving actually.” “Well, let’s get you to the house and you can eat the leftover pizza in the fridge. If Leia and Mav haven’t yet.” 

Jake nodded and chuckled, “Yeah, let’s go.”

A few hours later, after changing, scarfing down a few slices of pizza, and getting a lot of Leia cuddles, Jake and the Bradshaws left for the bar.

“Are you excited to see Aunt Sarah again Uncle Jakey?” Leia asked him from her spot next to him in the backseat. Jake nodded with a bright smile, “I am Leia, but she doesn’t know I’m home yet, so you have to keep it a secret. Can you do that for me?”

Leia nodded her head enthusiastically and saluted him, “Yes, operation don’t tell Aunt Sarah Uncle Jakey is home is a-go!” Jake and her parents laughed. “Thank you, Captain Bradshaw,” he said, saluting her back.

They both laughed a little more before settling.

Jake looked out the window, looking at the California sky as his mind drifted.

His only thoughts were of Sarah and the two little bugs she was carrying. Being on that carrier so far away, not being able to be near them at all made him feel horrible. He’d missed out on so many milestones of her pregnancy. Of course Sarah told him everything and sent him plenty of photos, but it just wasn’t the same.

Hell, he didn’t only miss her pregnancy milestones, he missed her career milestones.

This was her first year as head coach of the softball team and she took them to the state championship and won! Sure, he saw it through a phone camera and still celebrated with her. But he wished that he could have been in the moment with her. Share her joy with her in real time.

She got fucking coach of the year and he didn’t get to celebrate with her over dinner. He didn’t get to walk around the grocery store or the mall and tell everyone he saw that his girl was “an amazing coach with the plaque to prove it" just to see the shy smile on her face as she blushed.

But he was here now and he was going to make up for lost time.

Sarah walked around the bar, greeting players and their parents as they walked in. 

She honestly sounded like a gleeful broken record, greeting everyone in generally the same way. “Hi, so glad you could make it! We’ll be starting around 5, seating is outside but you’re welcome to play pool or darts as we wait until then.” And multiple variations of that.

Everyone mingled and played the various games inside the bar, a few of them going out to play cornhole, which was graciously provided by Warlock.

“Aunt Sarah!” 

At the sound of the littlest Bradshaw’s voice, Sarah gasped playfully and turned to greet her, “Leia Rey!! Oh how are you? Did you have fun with Papa Mav today?” Leia nodded and hugged her, “I did!” Sarah smiled at her, “That’s great! Well, I’m sure the girls would love to know you’re here. If it’s okay with your mama and daddy, you can go say hi.”

Leia turned to her parents with her puppy eyes, “Can I Mommy?” Alyssa nodded and laughed, “Yes baby, but don’t go outside unless you tell me or daddy okay?” “Yes ma’am!” 

She ran off to the group of girls, who immediately got excited to see her and lifted her onto the pool table.

“Those girls love her so much,” Sarah said as she turned back to Alyssa and Bradley. “Yeah they do.” 

Bradley was smiling like an idiot trying not to spill the fact that Jake was currently using his spare key to take Sarah’s car to kill time until speeches.

“Okay, I’m going to get some things situated, then I think that we’re gonna get started.”

Both Alyssa and Bradley nodded as Sarah smiled and walked away.

“Thank goodness… I’m so bad at keeping secrets,” Bradley sighed, rubbing his face. Alyssa chuckled and patted him on the shoulder, “Well, you’ve done good so far Honey. Just a little while longer.”

After checking what needed to be checked, Sarah got everyone’s attention.

“Hey! Hi everyone! We are so so happy you could make it out tonight, and be with us to celebrate your girls and the hard work they put in this year. First we are going to eat, then our AD, myself and Coach Kamp, and one of our seniors will give a speech, and finally we will end with awards and photos!”

The group clapped and cheered a little.

Sarah smiled and clapped her hands together, “Okay, I’m going to say grace really quick and then we can all dig in and go sit outside.”

She said a quick prayer over the food before everyone dug in and got a plate of food to go sit out on the beach.

About halfway through everyone’s second plate, or dessert, they decided to start speeches.

The Athletic Director was up first. He introduced himself and told everyone how long he had been with the school, and all that fun stuff. He talked about the team's stats over the season. Praised the girls and their dedication and effort, praised the coaches for their roles and impact on the team.

“I must say, we’ve had plenty of coaches over the years, but Coach Grant really stands out. She came here and brought an energy that the students adore. She’s done an absolute fantastic job, and no discredit to Coach Kamp. Both have created a team like none other, and it is their first official year coaching together. I can only imagine what the future holds for the program.”

Sarah smiled at him and shook his hand before a quick hug as her assistant took the microphone.

“Okay, so most of you know me, I went to school with a lot of either your younger siblings or older children,” Cameron said, pulling a laugh from everyone. “These girls have been such a delight and blessing to coach and watch progress throughout the season and I can only imagine where these seniors will go. Can we get another round of applause for the 2023 State Champs!”

The crowd clapped and whistled, dying down once Cam spoke again. 

He continued to brag about the girls sharing some funny things that happened before moving to talk about Sarah.

“Now, this woman right here, she is a beast. She came here last year being thrown into the head coach position of not one, but two sports. And she has absolutely killed it. She cares so much about her students and her players, and it’s truly a privilege to coach with her.”

Sarah chuckled and shook her head as Cam pulled her in for a side hug. “Stop, oh my goodness!” She fanned her face, “Pregnancy hormones and speeches don’t mix.” Everyone laughed and clapped as Sarah took over the microphone.

She smiled and wiped her eyes, “Oh gosh, so I’m going to apologize now for both my previous crying and any future crying that occurs.”

Sighing lightly, she looked around at everyone, “Wow… okay okay, so as most of you know, I am not from here, if you couldn’t tell from my accent. I come from a small town in Arkansas, one where everyone knows everyone. I wish I could say I don’t know how I ended up here, but we all know that isn’t true.”

Tears pricked her eyes at the vague mention of Jake, but she cleared her throat and pressed on. 

“But I feel like I’m right where I’m supposed to be. Truly, I feel so blessed. I hope I’ve proven to you this past year just how much I care for my students and players. I know the way I approach things can be a little different than coaches in the past but… that’s why I’m here. I want every one of your children to succeed on and off the field, and in and out of the classroom. And that means I will do what I have to to make sure that happens.”

She looked at the tables where the players sat, “This group of girls… they are so so hard working. And I hope I made as big an impact on them as they’ve made on me. I was so nervous, so unbelievably nervous to come here and start coaching. It’s… It’s very different from how I was coached. And I knew I was going to step on toes with how I was gonna coach my team. I want to thank you all for sticking with me and trusting me.”

Sarah let out a watery chuckle as she watched the seniors fan their faces and wipe their eyes. 

“Oh my seniors, I wish we had more time together. But I’m so very thankful for the time we had. My door will always be open to you, for whatever you need. And I know that you will be successful, whatever you put your mind to.”

Teary eyed with shaky smiles, the seniors got up and shared a group hug with her.

Parents and the school’s photographer snapped a few photos of the lovely moment before they pulled away, Lauren taking the microphone.

“Don’t put away your tissues just yet folks,” she said, wiping her eyes with a laugh. “All of us put a speech together and I was elected to read it. And I am so so excited.”

Lauren looked at Sarah, “Coach, I know you want to sit down, so we have a bar stool for you to sit on. Because you deserve to have a seat.” Sarah shook her head with a light laugh and sat on the stool. 

“I’m aware this sounds like the one I gave at the basketball banquet, but please bear with me, it’s worth it to listen to the end.”

The teenager pulled out a sheet of paper and cleared her throat, comically sipping a cup of water before starting.

“As student athletes, coaches make up a pretty big part of our career. They teach us so much more than our sport; they teach us valuable life lessons. Such as: leadership, teamwork, accountability, punctuality, and so many more I can’t name off the top of my head. These lessons will stick with us all of our lives, lessons that we won’t forget.

You thank us for taking a chance with you, Coach… But we want to thank you for taking a chance on us.

Thank you… for pushing us. For pushing us to be our absolute best on and off the field. We are sure there are countless times that you wanted to ring our necks, instead you lit a fire under our feet and didn’t let us settle for mediocre. Because we are so much more than that. Thank you for seeing that when we didn’t.

Thank you, Coach… for believing in us. For not letting us quit and taking time to show us how much you care. You have given us so much support in such a short time and we will forever be grateful for that. 

Thank you for the sacrifices you’ve made. The hours spent working with us and making us feel seen and heard. The hours you lost sleep over us because you could have slept in, especially the last 7-8 months, but you wanted to give us every opportunity you could to practice.

Thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”

Sarah was sobbing by the end, a shaking hand covering her mouth but not hiding the smile. Lauren and the other seniors were crying as well, all coming in for another hug.

“Okay, we have a gift for you. But don’t open it yet, okay?” Lauren said as she wiped at her cheeks. “And we have another surprise for you, but first the seniors have one more person we want to thank.” 

Lauren turned toward the door, gesturing with a slightly trembling hand while smiling, which caused everyone to turn toward the door.

“Will Lieutenant Jake Thomas Seresin please come to the stage?”

It almost took too long for his name to register in Sarah’s brain but the moment the blond aviator was stepping out of the Hard Deck, she was sobbing again. Slipping off the barstool with little grace, she ran as best she could to her fiancé with him meeting her quickly in an embrace. 

Sarah couldn’t form words through her tears, but she didn’t need to. She was clinging desperately to Jake’s jacket with one hand as the other threaded in Jake’s hair. Her hot tears wetted his neck but he didn’t care, she was in his arms again.

“I’m here Darlin’. I’m here,” he said lowly, cradling her head as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Tears pricked his own eyes, feeling the twins kicking as Sarah’s bump pressed to his abdomen. 

Sarah pulled back and rested her forehead on his, “You’re home… you’re really home.” Jake smiled and nodded, “I’m home Sugar.” She let out a watery giggle before kissing him deeply, fist balling in his shirt to make sure he wouldn’t go anywhere. 

Jake reacted similarly, both hands holding her jaw to keep her close before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and one hand on her bump.

The kiss was electric, months of separation being mended by this one act. Tears of longing turned to ones of joy as they mixed together on their cheeks. And in that moment, two souls were making up for time lost.

Everyone around them cheered, clapping and some were most definitely crying. 

Sarah and Jake lips disconnected as they laughed, meeting together again in quick succession before they turned to everyone with smiles. 

“Who knew? I know some of you knew, who was it?” Sarah asked, wiping her eyes and pointing an accusatory finger at them all. The crowd laughed and Jake kissed the top of her head, “I don’t know about the parents but the squad knew and the girls knew, this was actually their idea.”

Her jaw dropped and she looked at her players, “What?”

They all laughed and proceeded to explain that when Jake had video called the week before the state championship game that is when they planned everything. It was a simple plan really. Once they knew the date Jake was coming home, they all agreed that doing it at the softball banquet would be best because they wanted to be a part of the reunion.

“Oh my goodness, girls… thank you,” Sarah said before they all had a quick group hug.

When it disbanded, Jake kissed Sarah’s temple before sitting down, Leia immediately climbing into his lap. She smiled after him before getting back on the deck and grabbing the microphone.

“Alright, who is ready for awards?”

When they got home a few hours later, they were nearly on one another when the door closed.

“Sugar, while I love this dress, I need you to take it off before I tear it off of you. I’d hate to ruin it,” Jake nearly growled in her ear as she shut and locked the door.

She bit back the moan, but leaned back against his chest, “Take the food to the kitchen and meet me upstairs, Daddy.”

“As you wish, pretty mama~” Jake rasped in her ear, hand running over her bump before he nibbled her ear.

He turned to go towards the kitchen, smacking Sarah’s ass playfully before going to put leftovers in the fridge as she tossed her bag on the couch before going upstairs.

When she got upstairs and in the bedroom, she immediately started getting undressed. 

Her shoes got thrown toward the closet, her socks thrown haphazardly toward the basket by the bathroom door. She took Jake’s button up off and laid it on the bed before slipping her dress down her body and letting it pool at her feet. Last came her bra and panties, falling to the pile at her feet.

She put Jake’s shirt back on and went to the bathroom to wait for him.

Jake hadn’t even bothered to put leftovers in the fridge neatly, he shoved things over and found places where they would fit for now. 

He took the stairs two at a time, his tight jeans being both a hindrance and his drive to get to his bedroom faster.

When he got there, the first thing he saw was the pile on the floor next to the bed and both his jacket and shirt joined them.

“I’m in the bathroom Cowboy.”

A wolfish grin split his features and he toed off his shoes, thankful to have changed out of his work boots. 

He walked into the bathroom, seeing the love of his life with her hip against the counter, his shirt barely covering her nipples. “Oh, look at you, my gorgeous girl,” he drawled out, immediately putting his hands on her hips to pull her close.

“My handsome man~” She purred, her hands going straight to his chest. 

Grinning, he planted a kiss on her lips. Innocent and delicate at first before his hands were pushing the button down off her shoulders, immediately turning the kiss into hungry and desperate.

Jake pressed Sarah against the bathroom counter, his large, calloused hands roaming her now naked body.

“Fuck, Sugar, I missed you so damn much~” He grunted out between hot kisses.

Sarah’s head fell back, exposing her neck to her fiancé as her nails scratched his torso. “I missed you too Cowboy~” Her hand grazed over the bulge in his jeans before palming him, “I missed this too~”

His hips bucked involuntarily at her touch, craving the skin on skin contact. His body ached for her soft caresses and fleeting kisses, the chill left behind on his hot skin after her fingers danced along his muscles. He ached for her.

The low groan vibrated against her neck, sending a wave of arousal through her. Jake’s head nuzzled slightly against hers before he kissed her again.

Her hand threaded into his hair as his hands softly rested on both sides of her bump. His thumbs traced soothing circles on her skin and she brought him closer.

Jake moved to the side, just to get a better angle to deepen the kiss and bury his hand in Sarah’s hair. 

His unoccupied hand moved down to run its fingers through her folds. “Damn, pretty mama, so wet for me already~”

“You’ve been gone for weeks, Jake. The moment I saw you, my hormones went fuckin’ nuts~”

A needy growl bubbled in Jake’s throat as her hand palmed him in time with the movements of his fingers and she purred against his lips. 

After a few more seconds, Jake brought his fingers up to his lips before parting the digits and watching her arousal string between them in a poor attempt to keep them together. Moaning, he slipped the coated fingers in mouth, letting his tongue clean the silky sweetness off of them.

“Mmm, just as sweet as I remember~” 

She whimpered and captured his lips, wanting just a little taste. Jake responded in haste, his tongue dipping into her mouth and sharing whatever was left. The hand in her hair tugged a bit and the other cupped her neck as he pressed her against the counter.

When they pulled back for air, they rested their foreheads against each other.

“Jake, baby please, I need you between my legs. I’ve missed your mouth on my pussy, please~” Sarah begged against his lips. Her nose nudged his gently, contrasting her desperate plea to have him eat her out like a man starved.

He chuckled lowly and gently nudged her nose back, “You don’t gotta ask me twice, Sugar.”

He kissed down her body, following the goosebumps left by his fingertips until he was on his knees and lifting her leg over his shoulder.

Jake groaned at the sight before him. It was a sight he saw countless times before, but a sight that never got boring.

Humming, he pushed his tongue past her lips, moaning the moment his senses took in everything. His eyes fluttered shut and he worked her cunt from muscle memory. He didn’t need to see to draw pretty sounds from his fiancée’s throat. He knew every curve, every spot that made her putty in his hands.

Every swipe and flick of his tongue drew a moan from her lips. Desperate, pleading moans as her heel dug into his back.

Sarah gripped the counter, blindly trying to reach for Jake’s hair to ground herself. “Fuck Jake!” She managed to finally find his golden locks and thread her fingers through the strands. “Oh shit, don’t stop~”

Her moans bounced off the tile of the bathroom, echoing and letting Jake hear them for a second time. He could tell she was close, having been deprived of his touch for too long. He couldn’t blame her, he was desperate too.

Jake ran his hand up her leg, a feather light touch until he got to her entrance and easily pushed two digits inside. “Fuck Sugar… y’ so damn tight~”

“Oh fuck, Jake I’m gonna cum~”

“I know, darlin’. I know, cum for me~” He grunted out, his inflamed chest rumbling with the words as he curled and twisted his fingers.

Sarah’s head fell back, a strangled moan forcing itself from her throat as she pulled at his hair and white knuckled the counter to keep herself upright.

The sensation made Jake open his eyes, looking up to see his fiancée as she came. But his eyes caught sight of her baby bump, and Jake fucking lost it.

His lips wrapped around her clit and his other hand dropped to palm himself through his jeans. He moaned and hissed as she clenched around his fingers and lightning shot up his back.

Jake’s hips jerked as his cock twitched and he grinded harder against his own hand, chasing his high just as he brought his Sarah to hers. He saw dots behind his eyelids as his abdomen flexed and reached his peak.

The gentle tug of his hair pulled him back to the real world. Back to the bathroom where his future stood looking down at him with a fucked out expression on her face.

“You alright down there Cowboy?” She asked lightly with a soft smile as she caught her breath. He nodded, a grin splitting his face, “I’m fuckin’ amazing, Sugar…”

She giggled as he stood up, her eyes flickering down, “Oh, Honey, you um..” He chuckled and nodded, reaching over to turn the shower on, “I know, I know.”

While shower sex is usually very fun, Sarah did not want to stay in the shower any longer than she had to. She had been on her feet a lot that day and she was terrified of something happening and her slipping and falling.

So they saved it for the bed, not particularly caring that they had just gotten clean. Jake just got home and they were going to have proper sex, they could just have another shower in the morning.

After drying off, Jake laid down on the bed, Sarah crawling on after him.

“You’re sure about this Honey?” Sarah asked as she straddled Jake, her damp hair dripping onto his chest. “I don’t want to crush you.”

Jake chuckled and reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, admiring his fiancée in the warm light of the lamp. “You won’t Sugar, I’ll be jus’ fine.” 

She nodded and guided her hands to the headboard, “I feel like this is not the position we should be doing this. Because my hips already hurt and I don’t feel like I look sexy up here.” He snorted a little, “I think you look sexy all the time, but if your hips hurt we can switch positions. Your comfort comes first Darlin’.”

“Okay, thank you Jake, because you would have been doing most of the work anyway,” Sarah giggled and moved off of him. He sat up and pecked her lips, “Of course Sugar, how do you want to do this?”

She hummed and kissed him as she thought, “Hmm, I definitely need to be on my side.” Jake nodded and kissed her neck, “We can do that. How do you want me, pretty mama?” 

“Inside me Jake, that’s where I want you.”

He hummed and pressed his lips to hers and laid her down, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

As she laid there, the golden light of the lamp made her glow even more than the pregnancy had.

“God you’re beautiful,” Jake nearly whispered. Though he was always confident when he complimented her, he was just so amazed by her.

He cupped her cheek, thumb grazing her cheek bone. She looked up at him, her warm, tender brown eyes filling this pit in his chest and making his eyes water.

“Fuck.. Sarah I.. I was so homesick… I missed those beautiful brown eyes, looking at me with so much love…”

Sarah teared up as well, her nose and throat burning with emotion as she held his hand to her face. “Jake…” He shook his head before leaning down to press his lips to hers. “It’s okay, I’m home now. I’m home.” 

She smiled at him, the infectious expression spreading to Jake’s face before he kissed her again. 

“Let me make up for the time I was gone,” he mumbled against her lips before kissing her shoulder as he moved to lay behind her.

Jake slid an arm under her neck to play with her breasts, his other hand sliding the head of his cock through her folds. 

“Fuck Jake, please~” 

He smiled and laced his fingers with hers as he pushed in slowly. 

Sarah gasped lightly, moaning as she squeezed his hand, “Ooohh fuuck, Jake~”

“Oooh now that feels like home~” Jake groaned, a playful twinkle in his eye. 

Sarah couldn’t help but laugh a little, rolling her eyes at him. “You’re not funny,” she responded, though her tone and smiling face portrayed the opposite. “Oh Sugar, I’m hilarious,” he said, gently squeezing her hip and nipping at her jaw.

She shook her head playful, making Jake laugh. 

When he sobered up, he placed a gentle kiss behind her ear before he started to slowly move.

The slow push and pull of his hips was both pleasuring and infuriating. She could feel every inch and ridge of his cock with every drag, but the pace left her crawling towards the edge.

“Jake, faster Darlin’, please~” She nearly whimpered, letting go of his hand to reach for his head, gripping his hair with gentle desperation.

It wouldn’t take much convincing, Jake was just as desperate as she was. Having been stuck on a carrier with nothing but photos and memories to get the job done. He needed this just as much as she did.

With a small, airy groan, Jake nodded and gripped under her thigh as the other hand massaged her breast. “As you wish, Sugar.” He picked up his pace, his top leg hooking over hers to both adjust the angle and give himself more room. It was faster, but still gentle – knowing that she was sensitive and didn’t want to do anything too rough or crazy.

“Fuck, Jake, I missed you~” Sarah moaned, pulling his damp hair and arching back into him. Her other hand fisted in the sheets, white knuckling the duvet as her fiancé fucked her. “I missed your tailor made cock filling me up~”

“Oh shit~” Jake rasped out against the skin of her neck, biting down on her shoulder as his hips snapped. “Oh! Jake~” She yelped out in surprised pleasure as she held his head in place. “Damn, Sarah, you can’t just fucking say shit like that~” 

He said that, yet he wanted to hear more. More about how they were made for each other, like puzzle pieces – a perfect fit. More about how they completed each other – two halves that made up a whole.

Sarah turned her head as best she could, arm hand moving to dig its nails into Jake’s hip. “You’re perfect for me Jake, so perfect~”

Jake’s head fell into the crook of her neck, a small grunt escaping and vibrating against her skin.

Propping himself up on his elbow, and while keeping his movements steady, he captured her lips desperately. His hand came up to cup her cheek as he deepened the kiss, swallowing her moans.

She disconnected their lips, “Jake, I’m close. I’m so fucking close~”

He pressed their foreheads together, his green eye watching her face intensely as he started to grope at her chest purposefully. 

The slacking of her jaw and the way her eyes fluttered shut as he gently tugged and rolled her nipples had him dangling on the edge himself.

“Oh fuck shit~” Sarah moaned out, her nails leaving crescent indentions and raised red trails on his hip before her hand moved to his thigh for the same purchase.

The short, one syllable moans hit Jake’s ears and he was reveling in them. Loving the way he could feel her clenching around him, her soaked walls fluttering as she vibrated his being with her moans of ecstasy.

“Shit, Darlin’, I’m close. I’m so close~” Jake panted, nearly whimpering as her nails dug into his thigh on a mission to replicate the art on his hip.

She moaned again, muffling herself with his lips before barely pulling back to whisper. 

“Let’s cum together baby~”

Jake was sure his eyes rolled back for a second before letting out a guttural moan as he locked their lips together again.

He desperately chased his high, doing his damnedest to get Sarah to hers.

“Ooooooh fuuuuck! Jake I’m gonna cum~”

“I’m right there Sugar,” he rasped out. “Just hold it a little longer.”

She whined and shook her head, “I can’t, I can’t~”

He nodded and pressed his lips to hers, waiting just a few seconds before growling against her lips, “Cum, fucking soak my cock Sweetheart~”

Simultaneously, the rubber bands in their abdomens snapped, both moaning out each other’s names in pleasure as they came.

After a few moments, the euphoria dampened as they caught their breath. 

Jake smiled and pressed his lips to hers, “I love you, so so much.” Sarah giggled, pecking his lips, “I love you too, Cowboy. I’m glad you’re home.” “Me too Darlin’. I missed having you by my side.”

She smiled and kissed his cheek before yawning a little.

He chuckled, lightly kissing her shoulder before gently pulling out, “Let’s get you cleaned up so you can sleep.” She hummed and nodded in response as he moved, quickly grabbing the still wet hair towel to clean her up with.

She hissed a little bit at the contact but hummed at the gentleness of her fiancé.

When he had her cleaned up, he kissed her thigh and stood up, moving to get clothes for them both.

“Wait, Jake, I need your help.” He turned to her, seeing her reaching for him, “With what?” She huffed a little, “I gotta pee and I’m stuck. I can’t sit up.” 

Jake covered his mouth and tried not to laugh as he went over to help her carefully sit up before standing. 

“Okay thank you, I’ll be right back,” she said before pecking his lips and waddling to the bathroom.

He shook his head with a light laugh and slipped on a pair of boxers before grabbing another pair and an oversized t-shirt.

Once Sarah came back, he helped her into the boxers and his oversized shirt before they got into bed.

“I think I’m about to have the best sleep I’ve had in months. Now that I have my heart back.” 

Jake looked down at her and smiled with a light chuckle before kissing her nose, “Were you this cheesy when we met?” “I think you rubbed off on me a little, but it only enhanced my already cheesy cheesiness,” she replied, pecking his jaw.

“But seriously Jake, you are my heart. I love you, forever and ever,” she said lowly, kissing his lips as his eyes glossed over a little. 

He let out a slightly watery chuckle, dampened by emotions as he spoke, “I love you too Sarah, forever and ever.”

hi... hello... yes yes i know it's been a while since i posted anything really related to this series

but i still hope you enjoyed! and yes i did get emotional at parts of this i hope you did as well

im going to be doing a back story piece for the series soon, and the next up date will be baby shower HC's and the birth is coming soon!

thank you so much for being here even though i'm very behind, i truly appreciate you all my darlings 🥰

I do have a pinterest board set up for this, just to help me get into the vibe (one is to help with future parts, one is only for the current parts)

SO

if you want to check it out and get more of a feel for the dynamic going on---- you can click right --->   here

if you would liked to be tagged in this series, please comment or reblog the masterlist linked at the top! or you can comment here!

j and s tags <333: @milesdickpic @roosterscockpit @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @sebsxphia @mayhemmanaged @nobody7102 @djs8891 @kmc1989 @marbledaesthetics @fangirlbang @penguin876 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @bellaireland1981 @memeorydotcom

[eonars]

bro im ngl im playing the fuck out of hellblade 2

[leng-m]

This past week or so has just been so logistically frustrating, as if the universe just doesn't want to cooperate. And it's one of those things that you can't really complain about because they end up being such small matters in the grand scheme of things? But like, the way they've staggered up over the last few days makes me want to tear my hair out.

Like, I wanted to upgrade my phone to meet the requirements for my work app; couldn't buy it over the internet without getting into a new contract, so I called my service provider, and they were like, "Yeah, go to a store to just buy a phone without a contract," and I go to the store, and they were like, "No you can't get a phone without a contract at the store. So what you do is buy the new phone with a new contract here, go home, call customer service and cancel the contract, and pay for the phone's value online." So I was O_O wtf, but I ended up doing it. And then I go to work the next day, try to get it reimbursed like IT said they would, only to find out I wasn't qualified for the reimbursement because I apparently allocated my benefits budget in January all to the health category and not the "flexible" category. And the only reason I decided to get a phone upgrade *without* a contract was because IT said I could get reimbursed for a new device (and not the plan).

But wait, it doesn't stop there! The new phones they sell don't come with their own chargers and ear phones anymore. So I had to buy a separate charger from amazon. And it came and it was broken!! I wanted to return it, and got sent a return label to print. I have no ink in my printer!! Now I need to buy cartridge just so I can return a charger that wasn't working all because I got a new phone that apparently no longer comes with one.

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: I Want to Retire - Idia Shroud x reader

You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it. Now, as the villainess you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.

Series Masterlist

You’ve lived a life. A noble life, full of honor, glory, and caffeine-fueled late-night writing sessions.

You're an aspiring author.

An aspiring author who, unfortunately, just created the most stupid novel plot of all time.

At least, that’s how it feels. You sit back, staring at your screen, utterly defeated as your latest creation flickers mockingly before you.

You’ve named it: "The Battle for Genius Prince Idia’s Hand" (working title, don’t judge). And wow, it’s a mess.

Here’s the breakdown of your disaster:

You’ve got your heroine—a girl so sweet she’s practically made of sugar, like one of those cookies that look good but crumble the second you bite into them. Naturally, she’s fighting for the affection of your male lead, Prince Idia, who is a socially awkward, genius mechanic prince (because you thought it’d be fun to make him hot and bad with people).

Then there’s the villainess. Ah, the villainess. She’s smart, sharp-tongued, and has enough sass to level a small city. Her entire personality? Sabotage. And she’s also after Idia—because apparently, that’s the only thing women in this story care about. (You regret this immensely.)

But oh no! Plot twist! Idia gets kidnapped by some unnamed evil force (you’ll figure it out later). The heroine? Well, instead of rescuing him, she falls for some Bland Prince. You don’t even know why. You think his name might be Greg. Or Gerald. Honestly, he’s that unremarkable.

Meanwhile, the villainess doesn’t even care anymore about Idia. Instead, she’s full-on dedicated to ruining the heroine’s new, bland romance because… well, that’s her whole schtick.

It’s… awful.

You sit back, hands in your hair, groaning aloud. “What is this? Who would even read this?”

You glance at your notes. They’re a chaotic mess of random scribbles: “Idia = genius, but hates people,” “Villainess needs more fire,” and “Heroine? Too boring. Spice her up. Maybe dragons?”

Yeah. This isn’t working.

You slump in your chair, utterly defeated. The characters are good, great even! But the plot? Oh, the plot is a dumpster fire. No, worse. It’s a flaming dumpster floating down a river of bad decisions. You can’t believe you spent hours writing this.

That’s it. You’re scrapping the entire thing. You’ll keep the characters, sure. But the story? Gone. Deleted. No one needs to suffer through this mess.

Determined, you crack your knuckles and reach for the keyboard, ready to hit the big red “DELETE” button on your disasterpiece.

“Say goodbye to this trash heap,” you mutter, “and hello to some actual good writing.”

But, alas, the universe has other plans.

Just as your finger hovers over the delete key, the worst possible thing happens. Your elbow, as if possessed by the forces of chaos itself, nudges the precariously balanced coffee cup on your desk. The liquid inside, which you had so carefully placed right next to your laptop like a ticking time bomb, tips. In slow motion, you watch the dark, caffeinated doom spill over the edge and land directly onto your keyboard.

“No, no, no, no, NO!” you shout, lunging forward, but it’s too late.

The coffee floods your keys like a tidal wave of misfortune. Your laptop makes a sickening little noise, a soft bzzt, and the screen flickers ominously. You sit there, frozen in horror, watching your computer sizzle as if it’s been cursed by the gods of terrible life choices.

And then—just when you think it couldn’t get worse—it gets worse.

There’s a small, but very real, spark. You flinch back, because nothing good ever comes from sparks. The screen flickers violently, the keys start to buzz, and then—before you can even process what’s happening—you feel it.

ZAP!

Electricity courses through your body. Your vision flashes white, your muscles seize, and in one horrifyingly comedic moment, you realize you’re being electrocuted by your own laptop.

You’d scream if you could, but all you manage is a high-pitched whimper before everything goes black.

Dead. You’re dead. Killed by your own coffee and a poorly thought-out novel. Fantastic.

You blink your eyes open, your head pounding like you’ve been hit with a ton of bricks—or, more likely, an electrical charge. Slowly, your vision clears, and you find yourself… staring at an unfamiliar, ornately decorated ceiling.

Where the hell are you?

You sit up with a groan, and that’s when it hits you: the bed. It’s massive, plush, and absurdly luxurious—definitely not your usual ratty mattress. Panic sets in, and you scramble out of bed, only to catch your reflection in a nearby mirror.

It’s not your reflection.

Oh.

Oh, Shit.

Staring back at you is her. The villainess. The sharp-tongued, drama-fueled antagonist of your novel. The one with a penchant for ruining lives and stealing the spotlight. The one you made up.

You gasp, gripping the sides of the mirror. “No. NO.” You stare at the dark hair cascading over your shoulders, the perfectly arched brows, and the terrifyingly intense smirk that seems to have a life of its own. “Why am I her? Why this of all characters?”

You step back from the mirror and slap your cheeks, half hoping that’ll wake you up from this fever dream. It doesn’t. You’re still stuck in the body of the villainess, and with each passing second, reality—or whatever twisted version of it this is—sinks in deeper.

“Of course,” you mutter, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Of course this is my life now. I write the dumbest novel in existence, and this is what I get.” You pace in front of the mirror, ranting to no one in particular. “Who even thinks it’s a good idea to make me the villainess? Me?! I didn’t sign up for this!”

After a few minutes of thoroughly berating yourself—and by extension, the cosmic forces that brought you here—you finally stop, resting your hands on your hips.

“Okay. Fine. FINE. I’ll play your stupid game, universe.” You throw one last glare at your reflection. “But I’m not tormenting the heroine. Nope. She can have her stupid one-sided rivalry for all I care. I want nothing to do with this mess.”

The decision made, you shake your head and take a deep breath. “Alright, what’s next?” You glance around the villainess’s extravagant room, trying to figure out your next move. And then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

Prince Idia.

In your novel, he’s socially awkward, reclusive, and definitely doesn’t deserve to get caught up in this disaster. He’s just collateral damage in your sorry excuse for a plot, and honestly? You feel kinda bad about it.

You snap your fingers. “That’s it. I’ll find Prince Idia. Save him or something. Maybe I can even get a reward for rescuing a royal!” You’re feeling pretty good about this plan—much better than sticking around and causing drama with the heroine, at least.

With a dramatic flourish (you are still the villainess, after all), you head for the door, ready to track down Idia and redeem yourself in whatever twisted way you can manage. Who knows, maybe this whole situation won’t be as bad as you thought.

Or… maybe it’ll be even worse. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

After what feels like hours of arguing with your stubborn, uptight butler—who is absolutely convinced that your decision to head straight for the abandoned palace at the edge of town is the worst idea you’ve ever had—you finally break free.

“If anyone was kidnapped, that’s where they’d be!” you shout over your shoulder as you march toward your carriage, ignoring his protests about "safety" and "reckless behavior."

Butler or not, you’re on a mission. And after a bumpy ride to the palace, here you are, standing at the entrance, waiting for the traps or menacing guards to pounce.

...Nothing.

It’s strangely anticlimactic, actually. You push open the door, expecting maybe a cackle or some ominous fog. But no, just dust and an eerie silence. You frown, stepping cautiously inside.

“What kind of royal abduction is this? Budget cuts?”

Just as you’re about to chalk this whole thing up to a monumental waste of time, you hear it—a low curse, followed by the distinct sound of tinkering. You freeze, listening closer.

Definitely someone messing with something.

Your hand instinctively reaches for your trusty gun (bless past-you for deciding guns belonged in this novel), and with practiced ease, you pull it out and slam open the nearest door.

"Hands up!" you yell, pointing the barrel directly at—

A very, very scared Prince Idia, crouching beside what looks like a half-assembled mechanical gadget. His wide, shocked eyes meet yours, and he lets out a startled yelp, nearly knocking over the tools scattered around him.

"Wh-What the hell?!" you blurt, lowering the gun slightly. This was not the daring rescue scene you imagined.

Idia flinches, awkwardly raising his hands. “I—uh, I don’t know who you are, but how did you even find me?!” he stammers, looking at you like you just kicked his favorite gaming console.

"How did I—? Are you kidding me?" You gesture dramatically with the gun, still in shock. "I’m one of the people you were supposed to choose from! Remember? The whole ‘Battle for the Hand of Prince Idia’ thing?”

He blinks at you, deadpan. “Oh… Oh, no,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “Absolutely not. I’m not going back. I staged this whole thing for a reason.” He crosses his arms, stubborn. “I’ll just stay here with my gadgets. You can go back to… whatever you do.”

You stare at him, flabbergasted. “What do you mean you staged this?” You glance around the dusty, decrepit palace. “This is your brilliant escape plan? Hiding out in the palace equivalent of a haunted IKEA?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s quiet, it’s out of the way, and no one bothers me here. I didn’t get kidnapped, okay? I just—didn’t want to deal with all the royal court nonsense.” He shrugs, as if staging a fake kidnapping is the most logical thing in the world.

“You do realize that Ortho is still at the palace, right? Your little brother? Alone? Without you?” You raise an eyebrow, watching the slow dawning horror creep across Idia’s face.

“Yeah, so?” He huffs. “He’s the Crown Prince now. I’m sure he’s fine—"

“Bro,” you interrupt, “have you seen high society? Ortho’s gonna get eaten alive. Not to mention the other princes aren’t just gonna let him waltz around with a crown on his head without making his life miserable.”

Idia’s eyes go wide, his brain clearly working overtime as the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “Oh… Oh no. I didn’t think of that.”

You nod sagely. “Yeah. Big oops.”

He stares at the ground, looking like he’s physically shrinking under the weight of his own bad decisions. And then—something unthinkable happens.

“Help me,” he says, his voice desperate. He looks up at you with pleading eyes. “Please. I’ll—I’ll make you anything you want, build you gadgets, whatever you need! Just help me navigate high society while I… hide in the shadows or whatever.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you… Are you asking me to pose as your fake fiancée?”

Idia flushes crimson, his hands flailing. “N-No! Well, maybe? Yes. I mean, yeah, but it’s not like I want to—" He groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just… ugh. Yes. Please.”

You cross your arms, tapping your chin. “Hmm. Fake engagement, huh? Alright, but only if you give me a beach house when this farce is over and Ortho officially takes the crown.”

Idia looks up at you, blinking in surprise. “A beach house? That’s your condition?”

You smirk. “Hey, I know what I want. So, do we have a deal?”

He hesitates for a moment, but then sighs, defeated. “Fine. You get the beach house. Just… make sure no one talks to me. Or atleast, you have to handle almost all the talking.”

With a satisfied nod, you extend your hand. “Deal.”

Idia, still red-faced and awkward, shakes your hand. You can’t help but wonder what sort of chaos you’ve just agreed to—but at least you’re getting a beach house out of it.

Sneaking Idia back to your manor wasn’t the most glamorous affair. He insisted on wearing a cloak, “for dramatic effect,” even though the streets were practically empty.

"You know, for a guy who's supposed to be a genius, you're real bad at blending in," you deadpan as he stumbles over his own cloak.

"It’s supposed to make me inconspicuous," Idia mutters, pulling the hood down further. "People see a cloak, they assume you’re some weirdo and leave you alone. It’s basic stealth mechanics."

“Uh-huh. And tripping on it helps too?”

“Shut up.”

Once inside the manor, you sit him down to discuss the details of how you’re going to spin this whole ‘rescue’ thing. Idia, now a little more at ease, starts fiddling with some gadget he pulled from one of his cloak’s hidden pockets. You can't tell if he's actually paying attention, but you figure you’d better get started.

"Okay," you say, leaning in like you’re about to hatch the greatest scheme of your life. "We need a story. Something grand. Heroic. Full of intrigue, mystery—"

“Or we could just say I, uh, got lost?” Idia offers halfheartedly. “And you happened to find me by accident. That sounds more plausible.”

You shoot him a look. "Idia, this is high society. No one ‘just gets lost for 3 months.’ We need something more exciting. Like, I fought off a band of rogue kidnappers—"

“Did you now?”

“And there was this epic battle—"

“With what? Your sense of direction?”

You glare. “Focus. We need an alibi."

Idia sighs. “Fine, whatever. Make it sound cool, but not too cool. If it’s too impressive, people will start thinking I owe you something.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I already have an idea of what you owe me,” you say, smirking.

His eyes narrow in suspicion, but you move on.

"Alright, so I 'bravely' tracked you down to the abandoned palace—"

"Because obviously that's where I'd be hiding," Idia interrupts sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"—and I singlehandedly defeated a gang of ruthless kidnappers, saving you from a life of captivity. You, overwhelmed by my gallantry, are forever in my debt—"

Idia snorts. "Forever in your debt? Yeah, right. You're more likely to find me dead than in your debt."

“Just go with it. It’s a good story.”

Eventually, you both settle on a suitably ridiculous tale where you, after days of tireless investigation, heroically rescued him from an evil plot to overthrow the royal family. It's unnecessarily elaborate, full of conveniently absent witnesses and a dramatic escape from a non-existent dungeon. The whole thing’s so ridiculous, you almost feel bad for making anyone listen to it.

“Right,” you say, standing up. “Now we just need to sell this at court.”

When you arrive at the palace, Idia hangs back while you step forward, playing your part as the "heroic rescuer." Ortho’s the first one to spot you, and when his eyes land on Idia, they widen with shock and excitement.

“Brother!” Ortho shouts, practically flying over to tackle Idia in a hug. “I knew you’d come back!”

Idia, not really one for public displays of affection, awkwardly pats Ortho’s head. “Yeah, yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he grumbles, though you can see the tiny smile tugging at his lips. “I was, uh, working on some top-secret stuff. Y’know, important genius-level projects.”

Ortho beams. “That sounds just like you!”

You have to hold back a snicker. Yeah, real “top-secret.” Like avoiding social interaction at all costs.

Soon, you’re ushered into the royal court. The king—who clearly knows something is up—doesn't look remotely surprised by the "revelation" that Idia was never actually kidnapped. But, because royal politics are weird, he plays along.

“So, Prince Idia,” the king says, raising an eyebrow, “I suppose you’ll want the Crown Prince title back now that you’ve returned?”

Idia freezes, panic flashing in his eyes. "Uh, absolutely not. Hard pass. Nope. Ortho’s got it handled, right? He can keep the whole… crown… thing.”

Ortho nods eagerly from behind him. “I’ve got it covered!”

The king sighs but nods. “Very well. And what about you?” He turns to you. “Surely, a brave soul such as yourself deserves a reward.”

Here it comes. You’ve rehearsed this with Idia, but now that you’re on the spot, you can’t help the dramatic flair in your voice as you clasp your hands together and say, “All I ask… is for Prince Idia’s hand.”

The king looks thoroughly amused, while Idia, beside you, is turning a very interesting shade of red.

“What?” Idia hisses under his breath. “That was not the line.”

You grin, leaning closer. “Yeah, but you have to admit, it’s funnier this way.”

To his credit, Idia doesn’t collapse on the spot, though he does look like he’s reconsidering his life choices.

Meanwhile, from across the room, you catch the third prince—your so-called "male lead"—glaring daggers at you. He looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel, while the heroine next to him is scandalized beyond belief.

“B-but Idia’s hand was supposed to be won!” she protests, clearly flustered.

You tilt your head innocently. “Oh? Not satisfied with the third Prince?” you ask, batting your lashes at her.

Her face goes red, and the Bland Prince—whoever he is—looks equally scandalized.

Next to you, Idia quietly high-fives you behind his back.

“Nice one,” he whispers.

As you both walk away from the court, Idia glances over at you, his usual sarcasm softened by relief. “You know, I really thought I’d end up hating this whole scheme, but you’re not bad at playing the part.”

You chuckle, nudging him. “Told you it’d be fun. And now I get a beach house, so it’s a win-win.”

Idia sighs but can’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make me go to any more parties, okay?”

“Deal.”

You’re sitting across from Idia in the study, supposedly "spending time together" to prove to the world how deeply smitten you both are. In reality, though, you’re plotting out your beach house retirement plan, while Idia is hunched over his latest gadget, muttering like a mad scientist.

"Okay, so if I tweak this—boom, self-repairing AI drone. Easy. The idiots at court would never get it," he whispers to himself, eyes glued to the wires and gears he's fiddling with.

You’re busy doodling floor plans of your dream beach house, adding an extra pool for fun. “Yeah, totally, sweetheart,” you mumble, pretending to listen. This fake relationship thing is going swimmingly.

That’s when the door flies open, and in waltzes the male lead—of course he doesn't knock. The guy practically drips entitlement as he saunters in, admiring himself in the reflection of a spoon he’s for some reason carrying.

Without missing a beat, you and Idia scramble to look like actual lovers. You slide closer to him, casually tossing an arm over his shoulders, and he—already flustered—just stiffens like he’s been caught in a trap.

“I see you two are enjoying each other’s company,” the male lead says, not even looking up from his spoon reflection. “I came to invite you to the tea party. You know, with all the nobles. The whole ‘Idia’s too traumatized to socialize’ excuse isn’t gonna fly anymore. It’s been three months.”

Idia’s eyes widen, and you can practically hear his soul leave his body. You give him a reassuring nudge.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper. “I’ll do all the talking. You just have to sit there, sip tea, maybe nibble on a pastry, and nod at Ortho. I’ve got the rest covered.”

Idia doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway. “Sure, sure, as long as I don’t have to, like, interact.”

The two of you arrive at the tea party, and the moment you step into the garden, you realize you're absolutely screwed. It’s not a tea party at all—it’s some weird medieval Olympics with archery targets set up, and a bunch of nobles are taking turns shooting arrows while their wives cheer them on.

“What… is this?” you whisper, horrified. “Why are there archery targets at a tea party? Is this... a misogyny power trip?”

Idia looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. He’s already backing away slowly, trying to make his great escape, but you grab him by the back of his cloak before he can bolt.

He shoots you a look like you’ve just committed the ultimate betrayal. “This... is not a tea party. You said tea and pastries. Where are the pastries?!”

“I didn’t know!” you hiss back. “I thought we’d just sip tea and gossip about whose cousin married whose horse!”

Before either of you can make another move, the heroine spots you and immediately latches onto your arm, dragging you to the tea table. At the same time, the male lead grabs Idia and hauls him over to the archery side.

"Wait—no—uh—" Idia stammers, but he’s already been thrown into the testosterone-fueled chaos of nobles trying to outdo each other.

Thinking fast, you impulsively declare, “I’ll be the one doing the archery! For my fiancé, of course. You know, because those thugs that kidnapped him? They had bows too!”

Idia, catching on, immediately puts on his best terrified expression. “Y-Yeah! Bows! I’m… I’m still traumatized! Please don’t make me relive it.”

The crowd collectively gasps, and you inwardly pat yourself on the back. Nailed it.

Somehow, despite knowing absolutely nothing about archery, you end up winning the whole thing. Turns out, none of the nobles have actually seen a bow before. You didn’t even hit the bullseye—you just got the arrow near the target, which was apparently enough to impress them.

The prize? A complex-looking mechanical device, something straight out of Idia’s dream workshop. You look at it, completely clueless, before handing it over to him.

“Uh, here. I have no idea what to do with this.”

Idia stares at the device, his eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re… giving it to me?” He looks touched but also suspicious. “You’re not gonna ask for some crazy favor in return?”

You shake your head. “Nah. It’s all yours. Consider it a thank-you for not leaving me to deal with this disaster alone.”

He blinks, clearly not used to receiving gifts without strings attached. “Well… uh, thanks. And… good job on the archery. You, uh, really sold the ‘traumatized fiancé’ bit.”

Before you can respond, the rest of the nobles start talking about "true love," and you can practically feel the heroine’s eyes boring holes into you. She’s fuming, glaring at the male lead—who, by the way, didn’t win—and looks like she’s about five seconds away from tearing out her hair.

You shoot her a smug grin, thoroughly enjoying her frustration. Idia, who’s been watching the whole thing with mild amusement, lightly bumps you with his elbow.

“Thanks for… you know, saving me from whatever that was. And for giving me this… thing,” he says, holding up the device.

“No problem,” you reply, smirking. “I think we’re pulling off this whole ‘smitten lovers’ thing pretty well.”

Idia snorts, trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah, well, if you keep dragging me to ‘tea parties’ like this, we’re gonna need to come up with a better plan. Preferably one where I don’t have to socialize with archery-obsessed nobles.”

“Deal,” you laugh. "Next time, I'll find a real tea party."

"Please don't."

You’re lounging on a comfy chair, lazily chatting with Ortho, who’s happily explaining some new contraption he and Idia worked on. You’re half-listening, more focused on sipping tea and enjoying the rare moment of peace in this chaotic castle.

That is, until Idia suddenly appears in front of you, looking unusually determined. He stands there, awkwardly shifting his weight, before thrusting his hand out in front of you.

Without thinking, you blink up at him and, in your confusion, place your chin on his outstretched palm. You give him a questioning look, waiting for further instruction.

Idia’s face immediately flushes a deep red. “W-What are you doing?! That’s not—I didn’t—gah!”

Ortho’s trying not to laugh, but it’s clear he’s barely holding it together.

“What?” you ask innocently. “You held out your hand, so I thought…”

Idia runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered, before spluttering, “I—no, I was asking for your gun!”

“Oh. Right.” Without hesitation, you hand him the trusty weapon you always keep on hand, because at this point, you’ve learned to never question what Idia needs. It’s always better that way.

“Thanks,” he mutters, grabbing it like he’s on a mission and rushing off to whatever secret lair he retreats to.

You glance at Ortho, who’s giggling to himself. “Do you think I should be worried about that?”

“Nah,” Ortho says with a cheerful shrug. “He’s probably just making modifications. He’ll be fine!”

The next day, your luck runs out. Just when you were hoping for another peaceful afternoon, the heroine arrives for a surprise visit, dragging along her little posse of noble followers. You’re seated in a stiff parlor chair, forced to endure the barrage of small talk and fake smiles, feeling as if the universe is punishing you for all the nonsense you wrote in that novel.

One of the heroine’s cronies leans in with a sickeningly sweet voice, “Oh my, Lady Heroine, I just love your new gown. You look positively radiant. Unlike some people who seem to… dress for comfort, I suppose.”

You shoot her a withering glare, but it’s hard to focus when the heroine herself joins in, adding with a falsely sympathetic tone, “It must be so difficult for you, pretending to fit into high society. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be, keeping up appearances.”

You’re just about to snap back when, suddenly, the door bursts open. In comes Idia, holding your gun, looking both determined and completely out of his element. For a brief, terrifying moment, you wonder what kind of chaos he’s about to unleash.

Before you can ask, he walks straight over to you and hands it to you, his expression serious. “Here. I finished the modifications.”

Your jaw drops as Idia starts rattling off a list of improvements. “So, I increased the firepower by 30%, added a cooling mechanism so it doesn’t overheat, and now it’s got an auto-targeting system that can scan multiple threats at once. Oh, and I swapped the trigger to be more responsive, so you won’t have any lag—”

You can’t help but notice how animated he looks. His usual deadpan expression is replaced by a lively spark in his eyes as he talks about all the intricate details. He’s completely in his element, and you find yourself enchanted by the way he speaks. It’s rare to see him so passionate, so alive.

The moment is shattered when he finally notices the others in the room. His face drains of color, and he gives a forced smile that screams I don't want to be here. Without another word, he turns on his heel and flees the room. But you notice something strange—he had been holding your hand the entire time. His grip, tight and warm, leaves a lingering sensation even after he’s gone.

You’re left holding your newly modified gun, your face heating up as you process what just happened. The heroine's entourage are all staring at you with wide eyes, as if they’ve just witnessed the most romantic moment of the century. Even the butler, who’s usually the epitome of professionalism, is grinning like he’s just uncovered the secret to eternal happiness. The maids nearby are giggling behind their hands, clearly entertained.

You glance down at the gun, then back to where Idia disappeared. Great, you think to yourself. How am I supposed to survive this?

As if reading your mind, the heroine gives you a smug smile. “It seems your fiancé is quite… attached. How charming.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood to your cheeks. “Yeah, he’s a real romantic,” you mutter sarcastically.

But even as you try to brush it off, your thoughts keep returning to that sparkle in Idia’s eyes, the way he had held your hand, and the way his enthusiasm had made your heart skip a beat. Maybe this royal con is going to be more complicated than you expected… but also, maybe not as bad as you feared.

Dragging Idia to get fitted for the imperial ball is like trying to drag a cat into a bathtub. He’s actively resisting, feet planted as you haul him toward the tailor with all the enthusiasm of a man being led to the gallows.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” he groans, leaning back so far you think he might just throw himself on the floor in protest. “An angel loses its wings every time you make me do this. Do you want heaven to be wingless? Is that what you want? To singlehandedly destroy heaven?”

“I’m aiming to open a black market for wings, yes,” you say, deadpan, yanking him forward. “The profits will be incredible.”

“You’re a menace,” he mutters, shuffling along behind you, still resisting like a particularly stubborn mule. “Just put me in a broom closet with a bag of chips and leave me there. I don’t need to go to this ball. No one wants to see me.”

“I do,” you quip. “I’m dragging you into society, one unwilling step at a time.”

By the time you actually manage to get him dressed, you feel like you’ve aged five years. But when you take a step back to admire the result, it’s worth it. Idia looks stunning, even if he’s fidgeting like his clothes are secretly made of fire ants. He’s basically the human version of a rare collectible: usually hidden away, but absolutely jaw-dropping when you finally get to see him.

“Alright, Prince Drama,” you say, exhaling, “I’m going to get dressed. Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone.”

When you return, you immediately notice something’s up. Ortho’s whispering something to Idia, and whatever it is, it’s causing a nuclear-level blush to spread across his face. He’s stiff as a board, and when he turns around and sees you in your ball attire, he goes straight from “mildly panicked” to “catastrophic system error.”

Without warning, he chucks a flower at you. Just full-on throws it like it’s a projectile weapon.

“Here,” he croaks out, his voice cracking halfway through.

You blink, catching the flower mid-air with one hand. “Uh, thanks? Were you... trying to plant this on me?”

Idia’s face somehow manages to get even redder. “No—I mean yes—I mean—” He looks around for help, but Ortho just gives him an unhelpful thumbs up from the corner.

You grin, deciding to help the poor guy out. “Why don’t you pin it in my hair instead?”

His hands shake as he fumbles with the pin, and you’re pretty sure he’s using every ounce of self-control not to stab you in the scalp. You bite your lip, trying not to laugh, but the whole situation is just too funny. Especially when Ortho gives you a conspiratorial wink from behind Idia’s back like he’s this close to winning a bet.

The ball itself is, as expected, a social hellscape. You and Idia survive by sticking together like conjoined twins, fending off the waves of nosy nobles and fake smiles. You can practically see the stress radiating off of Idia, his expression one of pure misery.

And then, the king makes his grand address, signaling the start of the first dance. You feel Idia stiffen beside you.

“Oh no,” he mutters, “Oh no. This is where it all goes downhill. I’ll trip, I’ll break my leg, and then they’ll throw me in the royal dungeon for embarrassing the family.”

“Relax,” you say, squeezing his hand. “It’s just one dance. I’ll lead, you follow. Easy.”

“I hate this,” he mumbles as you drag him onto the floor. “I hate everything about this. I should have just set myself on fire and gotten out of it that way.”

But despite his protests, you manage to lead him through the first few steps of the waltz. To your surprise, he’s not completely hopeless. He stumbles a little at first, but with you guiding him, he starts to get the hang of it.

“You’re doing great,” you say encouragingly.

“Stop lying,” he grumbles. “I’m one misstep away from taking us both out like a bowling ball hitting pins.”

The music continues, and with every turn and spin, you notice the room around you fading into the background. For a moment, it’s just you and Idia, navigating the intricate steps of the dance together. He’s still anxious, but he’s keeping up, and more importantly, you can tell he’s starting to trust you. He’s letting you take the lead, and for someone like Idia, that’s huge.

From Idia’s perspective, this entire ball is a waking nightmare. He’s completely out of his element, surrounded by people he’d normally go to great lengths to avoid. But then there’s you. You’re handling everything with this... ease, this grace that he can’t even begin to comprehend. You’re not just dancing with him, you’re actively navigating the minefield of court politics like it’s no big deal.

And you don’t need to do this. This isn’t your problem—it’s Ortho’s succession, not yours. But you’re here, by his side, going all out to make sure Ortho’s future is secure. Idia’s heart twists in his chest. He doesn’t get it. You’re way too cool for this. Too cool for him. You wink at him mid-spin, and he feels like his brain’s short-circuiting.

"Oh no. I like them. Like, really like them. And soon, they’ll be gone. This whole engagement is just for show. After Ortho’s investiture, we’ll go back to our separate lives, right?"

He swallows hard, trying not to freak out, but it’s too late. He’s in way too deep.

After the dance, you lead him off the floor and start mingling with the other nobles, making alliances and doing your whole “political mastermind” thing. Idia stands awkwardly to the side, trying to blend into the wallpaper, but his eyes keep following you. You don’t have to do all this for Ortho, but you are. And that’s... that’s really cool. He admires you, he can’t help it.

And then—oh no. The lower nobles. They spot him and beeline toward him like sharks smelling blood. Before he can make a break for it, they swarm around him, throwing party invitations at him like confetti.

“Prince Idia, you simply must attend our garden soirée next week,” one of them gushes, eyes sparkling.

“And our evening gala!” another pipes up. “You’ll be the guest of honor, of course!”

Idia’s face goes pale, and he shoots you a look that screams, HELP ME.

You swoop in like a knight in shining armor. “Ah, yes, well, unfortunately, Idia can’t attend. He’s... uh... allergic to sunlight.”

The nobles stare at you, blinking in confusion. Idia stares at you too, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Allergic to... sunlight?” one noble repeats, frowning.

You facepalm. Smooth. “I mean... it’s a joke! Ha! Obviously! What I meant to say is... uh...” You scramble for an excuse. “I need a nap.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I—uh—can’t sleep without him,” you blurt out. “It’s, uh, a couple thing.”

The nobles blink at you again, thoroughly bewildered.

You grab Idia’s arm, muttering, “We’re leaving,” and make a quick exit, practically dragging him behind you.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, you let out a groan. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that. ‘Allergic to sunlight’? Really?”

Idia is doubled over laughing, completely losing it. “You what?!” he howls. “You need a nap? And you can’t sleep without me?!”

“Shut up!” you say, cheeks burning. “I was trying to save you!”

“You saved me? More like doomed me!” He wheezes between laughs, clutching his stomach. “Oh man, you are terrible at this. You make me look good, and that’s saying something.”

You glare at him, but his laughter is so infectious that you can’t stay mad. And honestly? He looks free. Unbridled, even. It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh so openly, so without reservation, that it almost makes you forget how embarrassing the situation was.

Almost.

It's finally time for Ortho's investiture, and to say you feel unprepared would be an understatement. Not for any political reason—you've long since mastered the art of navigating court intrigue. No, the issue is far more personal, far more heart-wrenching. After today, once Ortho is declared Crown Prince, Idia will no longer have any excuse to stay in the spotlight. He'll retreat, back into the shadows, probably even fake his own kidnapping to get out of any future public events. And you?

You'll finally get that peaceful beach house you’ve been dreaming about.

But the thought doesn’t feel like a reward. It feels bitter. You don’t want that beach house—not if it means losing Idia. The man who’s wormed his way into your heart with his sarcasm, awkwardness, and hidden kindness.

But you know he’s not someone you can tie down. Idia doesn’t do well with permanence. And as much as your heart begged to hold on to him, you also know he’d likely slip through your fingers if you tried.

So you do what any self-respecting person would in this situation: put on a brave face, slip into your formal attire, and prepare to smile your way through heartbreak.

When you walk out to greet Idia, he’s already dressed in his formal robes, looking every bit the reluctant royal. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, but he says nothing, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

You muster up the strength to smile and reach for his hand. “Ready?”

He nods, but neither of you can meet the other’s eyes.

From Idia’s perspective, today should feel like a victory. He’s been planning for Ortho’s investiture for months, and now that the day is finally here, he should be feeling nothing but relief. But no—he’s filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. It’s not about Ortho. His little brother is brilliant, and Idia knows the kingdom is in good hands.

No, what he’s not ready for is letting you go.

If someone had told him a year ago that he would care about someone—want someone—so desperately, he would’ve locked them up in a mental facility. But here he is, standing on the precipice of his worst nightmare.

You, who shine in every public setting, who effortlessly charm everyone around you, are going to move on. He knows he can’t tie you down with his reclusive lifestyle, his constant desire to escape from the world. How could he? You’re everything he’s not—bright, resplendent, beloved. He can’t ask you to give up your life for him.

But when you come out and take his hand, his heart skips a beat. Neither of you are able to look each other in the eye, but the gesture says more than any words could.

The investiture itself goes off without a hitch. Ortho’s speech is flawless, full of the hope and wisdom of a ruler who will no doubt lead the kingdom into a golden age. You’re so proud of him—of the boy who’s become like a little brother to you.

But even as you smile and clap with the rest of the court, you feel a heaviness in your chest that has nothing to do with the political spectacle unfolding before you.

A few tears slip down your cheeks, and you don’t even know if they’re from the overwhelming pride you feel for Ortho or the quiet heartbreak you’ve been trying to suppress all day.

Before you can wipe them away, Idia silently hands you his handkerchief. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you, and that just makes the ache in your heart a little worse.

You take it with a quiet, “Thanks,” dabbing at your eyes, and you both stand there in tense silence, watching as the formalities continue around you.

Once the investiture concludes and the guests filter out, you and Idia retreat to a balcony to catch your breath. The sky is darkening, and the cool evening breeze does little to soothe the heaviness you feel in the pit of your stomach.

Idia breaks the silence first. "I've, uh... already arranged the beach house. It’s in your name now."

You blink, looking over at him. His voice cracks slightly, and when you finally turn to face him fully, you realize that he looks like the very picture of heartbreak. He’s not meeting your eyes, staring out into the distance as if it’ll keep him from falling apart.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Idia... do you want me to leave?”

He freezes, still not looking at you. "I... I want you to be happy. I mean, that's the whole point, right? The beach house, everything—you’ve been wanting that for ages."

“I didn’t ask if you wanted me to be happy,” you say quietly. “I asked if you want me to stay or go.”

The silence between you stretches, heavy and suffocating. You hold your breath, waiting for him to answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“I... I don’t know what I’m gonna do if you’re not here anymore.”

That’s all the confirmation you need. Before he can say anything else, you step forward, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. For a split second, he stiffens, shocked, but then he melts into it, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

It’s everything you needed and more—sweet, desperate, and filled with all the words neither of you have been able to say. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily.

“Come with me,” you whisper. “To the beach house. We can... we can figure everything out from there.”

Idia lets out a watery laugh, one that’s half-disbelief, half-relief. “You really want a shut-in like me hanging around your dream house? You’re gonna get sick of me in a week.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of you. So... what do you say?”

He hesitates for a moment, then gives a small nod, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Yeah... okay. I’ll come with you.”

And just like that, the weight that’s been pressing down on your chest all day lifts. It’s not the end—it’s a new beginning. One where you and Idia don’t have to part ways, where you can move forward together.

As you both stand there on the balcony, holding each other close, the world feels a little less daunting, and the future a little brighter.

The grand hall is slowly emptying out, nobles drifting away after offering their congratulations to Ortho. You and Idia maneuver through the lingering crowd, dodging overly-friendly dukes and avoiding eye contact with barons hoping to extend the festivities.

Idia clings to your arm like a cat being dragged to the vet, mumbling, “Please tell me we’re not about to be emotionally ambushed again.”

You smirk. “Relax. It’s just Ortho.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always say before things get sentimental and I have to deal with ‘feelings.’”

You spot Ortho standing near the dais, still wearing the ceremonial robes from his investiture. Despite the long night, he looks bright-eyed, waving cheerfully at some departing courtiers. When he catches sight of you two, his face breaks into the biggest grin, and he hurries over like an eager puppy.

“There you are!” Ortho beams, practically glowing with excitement. “I was worried you left without saying goodbye.”

“Us? Leave without saying goodbye?” you tease. “What kind of villains do you think we are?”

“Exactly the kind who would sneak away in the middle of a banquet,” Idia mutters under his breath. “And you know what? That plan still sounds great.”

Ortho rolls his eyes fondly. “You’re impossible, brother.”

“Only when I’m awake.”

“Anyway,” you cut in, shooting Idia a playful glare before turning back to Ortho, “we wanted to talk to you before we go.”

Ortho’s smile falters, just a bit. “You’re leaving already?”

You nod, squeezing Idia’s arm. “Yeah. We’re heading to the beach house.”

Ortho tilts his head, curious but not upset. “You’re moving there?”

“For a while, yeah,” you explain gently. “Idia and I need a break from all the court politics. But don’t worry. We’ll visit you. Often.”

Idia shifts beside you, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh... It’s not like I’m leaving forever or anything. Just... you know, temporarily escaping society.”

Ortho laughs, but there’s a softness in his gaze now. “I get it. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all this behind for a bit.”

You take a step closer, voice lowering. “And hey... I know you’ve got a lot on your plate now. But we’re still family. If you need anything—anything—we’ll be here for you.”

Ortho’s grin returns, full force. “I know. I’m really glad you two have each other. Honestly, I was worried for a long time that Idia might never find someone willing to put up with him.”

“Gee, thanks,” Idia deadpans. “Glad my personal development arc has been so inspiring for you.”

“But seriously,” Ortho says, his expression softening again. “Thank you. You’ve done more for us than you had to. I know you could have just... gone back to your world or left things as they were. But you stayed. And you helped him.”

Oh no. Not this again. That suspicious prickle starts in your eyes, and you blink rapidly to fend off the tears. Not now. Not in public.

“You’re not... making me cry,” you insist, even as your voice wobbles. “This is just... allergy season.”

“Oh no, it’s happening,” Idia groans dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t cry. If you cry, Ortho’s gonna cry, and if Ortho cries, the nobles will definitely blame me.”

“Shut up, you big baby,” you sniffle, swatting his arm before pulling Ortho into a hug. “Come here, you. Group hug, now.”

Ortho barely has time to react before you’ve wrapped him up in your arms. He laughs, squeezing you back. You reach out blindly and grab Idia’s sleeve, yanking him into the fray.

“Wait—wait, what—!” Idia stumbles forward, sandwiched awkwardly between you and Ortho. “This is... I don’t...”

“Shhh,” you whisper, patting his back. “Feel the love.”

“This is emotional ambush!” Idia protests, voice muffled against your shoulder. “I want it on record that I was forced into this.”

“Noted,” Ortho says with a laugh, hugging both of you tighter. “But you’re not getting out of it.”

For a moment, the three of you just stand there, huddled together in a ridiculous knot of limbs, nobles glancing your way but tactfully avoiding comment.

Idia mutters into your ear, “This... this is basically treason against introverts.”

You grin. “Consider it penance for being emotionally stunted.”

“You’re both the worst,” he grumbles, but his arms stay wrapped around you.

Eventually, you pull back, wiping your eyes with the heel of your hand. “We’ll be back soon, Ortho. I promise.”

“I know.” Ortho smiles warmly, giving you one last squeeze. “And when you do, I’ll make sure you never have to attend another dull court event again.”

Idia perks up at that. “Oh. Now that’s what I call incentive.”

With one last shared laugh, the three of you break apart. Ortho steps back, standing tall and proud in his new role, though his smile still holds all the warmth of a little brother seeing his family off.

“Take care of him,” Ortho says quietly, glancing meaningfully at you.

“I plan to,” you reply, meeting his gaze with a small, reassuring smile.

“And you,” Ortho adds, looking at Idia. “Don’t screw this up.”

Idia gapes, indignant. “I—why does everyone assume I’m the one who’s going to screw it up?!”

You and Ortho exchange amused glances before both of you answer in perfect unison:

“Because you will.”

Idia groans. “Yeah, okay. Fair.”

With that, you bid Ortho one final goodbye, tugging Idia along before anyone else can rope you into small talk. As you leave the grand hall and step out into the cool night air, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter.

Idia sighs in relief. “Well, that’s over. Time to hibernate for the next decade.”

You chuckle, lacing your fingers through his. “Hibernation in the beach house?”

“Hell yeah.”

And with that, the two of you set off into the night, leaving the court behind—for now.

Oh, what happened to the heroine and the male lead, you ask? Let’s rewind a few months before Ortho’s investiture—back when they were still blissfully unaware of the elaborate downfall that awaited them.

You knew that the heroine and the male lead would try to make a spectacle of themselves during Ortho’s rise to power. The way they pranced around, flaunting their superficial charm and good looks like they owned the place—it was insufferable. And, of course, they were always scheming in the background, hoping to secure power and glory for themselves. You couldn’t stand it.

So, you set up the perfect trap.

It began at a lavish gala, one of those unnecessarily extravagant events where nobles gathered to network, gossip, and throw subtle insults at each other. You arrived fashionably late, as any proper duchess would, with Idia reluctantly in tow, mumbling under his breath about how every social event felt like “one of those long quests with zero rewards.”

“The rewards are emotional, Idia,” you whisper, linking arms with him.

“Yeah, emotional damage,” he mutters.

You suppress a smile, but your mind is elsewhere. Tonight is the night. You had planted the seeds weeks ago, a few well-placed rumors, some whispered insinuations, and a letter you’d accidentally left behind in a well-trafficked corridor. It was all coming together like a beautifully chaotic symphony, and now, the climax.

You spot the heroine first, her radiant smile masking the venom beneath. She’s making a grand entrance, arm-in-arm with the male lead, who, as always, looks like he’s stepped straight out of a romance novel. His hair is perfect, his jawline sharp enough to cut through glass. But you know better. They’re both so predictable.

“They’ve arrived,” you murmur to Idia.

He gives you a blank stare. “Yeah, cool, I’m just here to not die of social exhaustion. Whatever you’re planning... don’t tell me. I don’t wanna be involved.”

“Suit yourself,” you reply with a grin.

You watch them mingle, waiting for the right moment. And there it is—the heroine, attempting to cozy up to the king, laughing a little too loudly at one of his mediocre jokes. You slip through the crowd, making your way to where a certain nosy noblewoman is holding court. A noblewoman known for her love of gossip and her even greater love of ruining people’s lives with it.

Perfect.

You lean in, feigning concern. “Oh, My Lady... I probably shouldn’t say this, but I heard the strangest thing about the heroine. You won’t believe it.”

Her eyes gleam with curiosity. “Do tell, my dear.”

“Well,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “there’s talk that the heroine and the male lead are involved in some... unsavory business dealings. Something about embezzling funds from the royal coffers for their own gain? I don’t know how true it is, of course... but it would explain some things, wouldn’t it?”

You leave the rest unsaid, letting her imagination do the rest. The best part? It’s all technically true. You had orchestrated it so well, the heroine and the male lead had no idea that their “private” meetings and “innocent” financial maneuvers were anything but secret.

She gasps, her fan snapping shut. “I knew there was something off about them! Oh, the gall! I must inform the king immediately!”

And just like that, the gossip spreads like wildfire. Within minutes, the entire room is buzzing with scandalous whispers. The heroine and the male lead notice the shift, the way people start looking at them, and for the first time, they’re on the back foot. They try to smile, but their unease is palpable.

You sit back, watching the chaos unfold, sipping your wine as nobles begin to distance themselves from the pair, shooting them suspicious glances.

Idia sidles up next to you, looking around at the suddenly tense atmosphere. “What... what did you do?”

“Who, me?” You bat your eyelashes innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He gives you a side-eye. “You’re terrifying.”

“You knew that when you asked me to be your fake fiancée.”

The next day, official inquiries are launched into the heroine and the male lead’s finances, and though they try to clear their names, it’s no use. The damage is done. Their reputations are ruined beyond repair, and they’re forced to withdraw from court life entirely. A fitting end for their ambitions.

Which brings you to the present...

It’s a peaceful morning in your beach house, and you’re sitting on the veranda, enjoying your coffee while the sun rises over the horizon. The sound of waves crashing against the shore is your only company, and for once, there’s no looming political intrigue or royal drama to worry about.

That is, until Idia stumbles out of the bedroom, his hair a messy blue cloud, his eyes half-closed with sleep. He groans as he sees you, one hand on the wall to steady himself. “Why are you up so early? It’s like... the middle of the night.”

“It’s 10 AM,” you reply with a laugh.

“Exactly,” he grumbles, shuffling over to you. Without another word, he flops down beside you, his head immediately finding its way to your neck. He nuzzles into you, muttering something unintelligible, and you chuckle softly, patting him on the cheek.

“You’re such a big baby in the morning,” you tease, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Despite being married for the past two years, Idia’s face turns tomato-red every time you do something affectionate. He blushes furiously now, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide it.

“Y-You’re unfair,” he mumbles, voice muffled. “Saying stuff like that... it’s embarrassing.”

You grin. “But you’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute. I’m a grown man. And you’re a villain for making me get up before noon.”

You laugh, running your fingers through his messy hair. “Maybe, but I’m your villain. So deal with it.”

Idia groans dramatically but makes no effort to move away, too comfortable where he is. You continue sipping your coffee, enjoying the moment of peace, when he finally speaks again, a little softer this time.

“Y’know... you really did a number on the heroine and the male lead. They’re still laying low, huh?”

“Maybe the rumor I spread was truly a masterpiece,” you say with a smirk, remembering how perfectly everything had gone according to plan.

Idia snorts. “A masterpiece of destruction, maybe.”

You chuckle, pressing another kiss to his forehead. He sighs contentedly, the two of you basking in the quiet comfort of your shared life. It’s moments like this that remind you just how far you’ve come together, from court intrigue and scandal to peaceful mornings at your beach house.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

For the next part,

[evilwizard]

Propaganda:

Gravity - She’s reality’s failgirl. Weaker than the weak force; so pathetic you barely even notice her unless you’ve got a planetary object. But watch out! Unlike electromagnetism, she’s smart enough not to cancel herself out with silly things like “positive and negative charges,” so she has a surprisingly big impact in places like “outer space” and “the inside of black holes.” (What is she doing in there? No one knows!)

Electromagnetism - The most charismatic of the fundamental forces, she can be whatever you want her to be. You want light? She’s on it. Lightning? No problem. She holds molecules together and makes all life on Earth possible—not to mention cookie clicker. And all other computers, I guess. I truly believe she can do anything. She should run for president.

The Strong Force - The name isn’t ironic! Sure, electromagnetism holds molecules together—but who holds atoms together? That’s right, it’s Ms. Strong Force. She’s a real powerhouse, but wildly under-appreciated… mostly because she’s just so good at her job it makes studying her really hard! You’re probably used to forces attracting two objects together—not the strong force! She juggles 3 quarks at a time, and is so good at it she actually gets stronger the farther the quarks get from each other! If and when her hold breaks, you better watch out, because we call that “an atomic blast.”

The Weak Force - Oh, the weak force. Just because she’s not as strong as the strong force, she gets stuck with that silly name! Well, she might not seem as important as the other fundamental forces, but if you’re a fan of [the heavy elements required for life], then you owe her big time! She has the remarkable ability to switch quarks from UP to DOWN, which allows neutrons to decay into protons (and protons into neutrons!) in the hearts of stars. Without all those extra protons, atoms wouldn’t be able to get heavy enough to allow for all the complexity we see in the universe! Everyone say “thank you, weak force!”

[henry7931]

Too Bad For Chad

Poor Chad… when it came time to pick a partner in Chemistry, he made sure to pick the biggest nerd in the class. But no one could have predicted the accident that happened.

You see, right across the hall at his University—

The science department was working on an early experiment to transfer one’s thought to another human. Although all it took was for one of the professors to trip over a wire…

He bumped right into the machine which switched it to its max power and knocked the ray gun directly point at Chad and his lab partner Allen. What are the odds?!?

Well as one would imagine this could be a huge lawsuit, that is if Chad had anything proof of the incident.

You see Allen, is one smart cookie. He saw his opportunity of keeping Chad gorgeous body and took it.

That day, as Chad in Allen’s body began to scream and yell at everyone around him. Allen sat quietly observing the situation. And when asked about the incident by the university he denied everything.

He told them that he felt bad for ‘Allen’ that he seemed like he was going through a lot.

This all happened about a month ago, so how are they doing? Well let’s hear directly from them.

Allen:

Being lab partners with Chad was and is the best thing that ever happened to me. And I feel bad for him one bit!

I’ve dealt with meatheads like Chad my entire life, being pushed around and bullied. I’ve even envied and lusted after guys like him. But now I get to be him. Plus I still have my brains.

Since I’ve became Chad I’ve started to turn his GPA in the right direction, I’ve learned I’m now handsome enough to get away with just about anything, and I get to live out all of my horny fantasies.

With this body’s power and my brains I feel like I can do anything. Especially hook up with any guy on campus.

That’s the thing, all I have to do is turn on the charm with some handsome guy. I already know he’s into me before I make a move. I can tell when someone’s checking me out because I used to do the same thing.

I guess you could say I’m going through my hoe era right now. I’ve probably hooked up with half the guys on campus, including the “straight” ones.

But man, nothing beats a nice jerk session in this bod.

I’ll jerk off before going to sleep just gooning over my massive stinky feet.

I’ll beat one out in the shower right after a work out just hollering up a storm! And I don’t care who hears or sees me.

Like the other day, I was enjoying myself and my roommate popped in and couldn’t believe what he walked in on. I was licking every inch of these size 11 feet while pumping my 10” inch thick dick. But I didn’t stop, I just kept looking up at him and said, “enjoying the show?”

He tried to say something to me out of pocket but I made sure to put him in his place.

He’s now my personal toy, I let him worship my body when I get home. And he loves it!

At the end of the day, I’m still that nerdy gay guy deep down. But I have all of the looks and the power! 😈

[cheriladycl01]

Hey! Your fics are amazing. I couldn't see if you were taking requests but if you are would you be comfortable writing a Pierre Gasly x Leclerc!Reader maybe where the reader is obviously a Leclerc sibling and has known Pierre for years and have also been dating for years and the brothers find out and are not happy about it.

Thank you and keep up the amazing writing!

🐨

You are royally fucked - Pierre Gasly x Leclerc! Reader

Plot: Y/N Leclerc grew up attached to her brothers, being a twin to Arthur and looking up to Charles and Lorenzo meant that you'd always been extremely close to your brothers and you travelled round the world with two of them as much as you could, but your brothers weren't the only reason why you attended races when you got older.

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! Sorry it took me a while to get round to it!

You'd know Pierre since 2010 when you and Arthur followed Charles to karting. Arthur was obsessed as much as his older brother over cars and so all three would kart.

You and Arthur were in the same division but still followed Charles to the higher levels too see him perform which is how you met Pierre.

You were 10 and he was 14, just a kid where you had a crush on your older brothers friend.

It was stupid and went away with time as Pierre was just someone kind to you when you were around your brothers. You saw him every race weekend. You'd bring him cookies you'd baked and he'd bring you a charm for your bracelet which he got you another one off on your 13th birthday as there were too many.

As you got older karting yourself became less and less of an interest and you only would show up to watch your bothers. Arthur continued on like Charles through the feeder series.

But as Charles progressed he became more and more absent. You weren't allowed to travel across the world with Charles unless your parents or Lorenzo were there too look after you, and you started to miss your brother more and more until it took a toll on you.

You started acting up, not going to school and it put a strain on your relationships with all of your family.

Charles wasn't around enough to see it but the rest of your family did.

When Charles finally got to F2, your mum promised you could go more, and it was great until your dad got sick and he couldn't travel anymore.

You were angry, not at anyone in particular but at the world for everything it was throwing at you. And you tried to run away, you ended up outside the casino in Monte Carlo, lost and upset.

It was actually Lewis Hamilton who found you, he couldn't comprehend why this 16 year old girl was alone in the streets of Monaco. You guys talked for ages and he convinced you to go home, you parents were so angry with you they grounded you and you were banned from going to any of Charles races.

Then your dad passed away, and you were devastated and were even more angry. You were 16 and had so much hate for the world, Arthur, Lorenzo and Pascale had no idea what to do with you. So they sent you to boarding school for a year until you were 18 and could make up your own mind.

While you were there you clicked with a group of people who all were influencers of some sort, and having Charles as a brother and him being announced into F1 for 2018 it wasn't hard to accumulate a following.

You stayed in the UK until you were 21, all you friends from boarding school went to university so you decided you'd stay with them and get a degree. Despite missing lots of school you were actually a very smart girl and had excellent grades.

Once you were 18, Arthur started to invite you to more of his races. And Lorenzo and your mum were always asking for you to come home... but your Charlie still hadn't realized everything you'd been through.

It wasn't until his 24rd birthday you saw Charlie properly. He noticed how different you were, you weren't the 16 year old he left all those years ago. He just pulled you into a massive hug and it didn't seem like the time to unload everything on him.

You saw Lewis that night, and he recognized you right away coming over and laughing about how he didn't think you'd end up being his competitions little sister when he helped you out all those years ago.

Then, you saw him ...

Pierre and that was night everything changed.

"Pierre?" you asked looking over the taller male, smiling softly not having seen his face in person for a while.

"Y/N?" he asks in shock, cocking his head to the side.

"The one and only" you grin and he just stares, still shell shocked about your presence.

"I haven't seen you for years!" he says pulling you into a tight hug that you melt into, his big arms encasing around you and making you feel safe.

"Where have you been?" he asks, looking over you face.

"Argh i just obviously got so sick of seeing you and Charlie all the time!" you smirk, taking a sip of the Negroni in your hand.

"Mmmmm, and to think. I thought you used to have a crush on me" he chuckles looking down and laughing.

The few drinks you'd had brought for you by your brother and all the drivers who recognized you had got to that confident place in your mind.

"Oh i did, hard core" you say with a straight face making him squint his eyes at you seeing if you were telling the truth.

"You sound ... different" he offers leaning in and tucking some hair behind your ear. If Pierre was being honest he'd never seen you as anything but a little sister, that was how he treated you when you guys were younger.

He didn't know if it was the club lights, the alcohol, your changed accent and looks, or a mix of all of them but he was looking at you like you were the only girl in the world for him.

And you noticed.

"That's what years of schooling in the UK will do for you and having friends who love to take the mick when you butcher the pronunciation of something" you giggle.

"You still sound Monegasque though" he grins, still hearing that twang.

The rest of the conversation was history as you went back to Pierre's hotel room, spending the night with him.

At this point you'd been dating Pierre for 4 years. Everyone noticed since 2021 how much more common your appearance in the garage was. Obviously your twin was there as a development driver for Ferrari, and Charles as a Ferrari driver also meant that people knew you were there for your brothers.

But little did they know you were sneaking off to the Alpine garage in search or your boyfriend.

“Hey baby” you grinned to Pierre, happy to see his face and plant kisses all over it.

“Ahhhh, how are you cherie” he mumbles into your neck. 2024 hadn’t been a great season for Alpine, and 2025 hadn’t started off great either. So you being there in the garage to cheer him up or calm him down was a must.

Charles never really questioned where you left too, he assumed it was to see Logan and Oscar who would often be found teasing Arthur all still being relatively close from their F2 days in Prema.

“Im good, just a little tired” you smile cuddling up to him on the little sofa in his drivers room.

“Mmmmm” he says and he seems like he isn’t fully there with you.

“What’s wrong, somethings on your mind” you ask, looking over him.

“I’ve been thinking” he says looking down at you.

“That’s never good” you joke but his face tells you that this will be a pretty serious conversation. One that you could tell had been playing on his mind.

"What is it what's wrong?" you ask, taking his hand in your own.

"We need to tell your family soon... it's been 4 years of being a secret and I want to show you off. I want to be able to take you out for a nice dinner in public and not fear getting caught. I want you to move in with me, and I just think it's time we tell them!" he admits, all very quickly and he watches as you take the time to process what he has just admitted.

"You want to tell my brothers?" you ask making sure you weren't jumping the gun.

"Yes, I cant help but feel ... guilty is not the right word but do you get what i mean?" he asks and you nod.

"Yeah, why don't I ask maman... she can make us a nice dinner tonight after the race and I'll say I'm bringing my boyfriend?" you smile and he nods.

You walk away to call your mum, leaving Pierre to leave his drivers room and walk to the garage where he would be starting the race soon.

"Maman?" you ask into the phone as it connects.

"Y/N darling where are you. We've all been in the garage waiting for you!" you hear in French and you chuckle.

"I've been, somewhere else. Maman i need to ask you something!" you ask as you exit the Alpine hospitality, trying to go as unnoticed as possible.

"What is it?" she asks, concern washing over her voice.

"I want to introduce you all to my boyfriend tonight..." you say although it comes out as more of a question that anything.

"WHAT?" she yells down the phone and you visibly cringe.

"Y/N Leclerc, get back to the Ferrari garage now!" she chides before hanging up the phone making you bite your lip anxiously.

You walk back to Ferrari as slowly as possible not wanting to feel that wrath of your mother who has probably already told Lorenzo and Arthur.

"Hey..." you say awkwardly as you go to where they are sat in the garage with all their headphones on.

"You have a boyfriend?" Lorenzo asks

"And you didn't tell me... us i mean!" Arthur cries out as Lorenzo elbow his side hearing him talk about himself.

"Maman! You told them!" you exclaim, not in shock as it was highly likely she would spill the beans to your brothers, but more in frustration that she did.

"Y/N! Why would you not tell your family about this... how long has this relationship been for?" your mum asks making you bite your lip and look down.

"4 years" you mumble and you mother huffs asking you to speak up before you say it in French, turning away not wanting to see their reactions.

"You've been with a man for 4 years and not told any of us! Not even Arthur! You tell everything to your twin!" You mum exclaims in shock.

"Obviously not everything ..." Arthur says sounding really upset before walking off, making tears fill in your eyes.

"I'm, we're ... happy for you. Really! But you know we worry about you... especially Charles. I dread to think how he's going to react when we tell him!" he laughs.

It was just you and Lorenzo right now, your mum having gone off to find Arthur.

"Loz, can i tell you something that you cant tell anyone?" you ask looking at him. Your oldest brother was always the best at knowing when you really really wanted his attention and that it was something serious.

"Go on!" he says, looking over you.

"You promise you wont say anything!" you look over at him and he nods, holding up his pinky which you swiftly take with your pinky too.

"I promise!" he sighs.

"It's Pierre" you blurt out, an eyebrow of Lorenzo's raising.

"What's Pierre?" he asks.

"The person who I'm dating... it's Pierre!" you admit and his eyes widen.

"Oh... you are royally fucked!"

And that you were. When Pierre entered the house all hell broke loose. Charles was yelling, Arthur too, Lorenzo was trying to calm everyone down. Maman was being quiet just watching the chaos erupt. Alex and Charlotte didn't know what to do. Pierre was just listening to everything that Charles was yelling at him.

It wasn't until you started sobbing that Charles stopped and looked over at you.

"Y/N... I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of that!" he exclaims looking over between you and Pierre.

"I guess I'm just shocked... we were all friends and I didn't expect it!" he admits and you look down.

"Please, Charlie. I love him... just like you love Alex and how Loz loves Charlotte. He makes me happy, the happiest I've been probably ever!" you sigh and he nods.

"God, i cant believe your growing up!" he sniffles and you pull Charlie into a hug.

"It happens!" you chuckle.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

[nqmonarch]

Genuinely wanna hear more regarding the No Wish SAHSRAU (Is that how it's spelled?) especially with all the new events that's happened.

Including the Dr Ratio that slid into our DMs.

First, apologies for the wait I took a while doing this request and then also decided not to post anything during the Palestine strike period because free Palestine.

And man, I don't know how it's spelled. I'd assume that's right it's so long though. Also YES Dr. Ratio sliding into our DMs except bro waltzes in and calls us an idiot ;-;

But first! Let's catch up with some of the current crew who is currently in Penacony!

Warning Penacony Spoilers

For the Trailblazer Penacony's been rough... Shortly after the death of their new closest friend, they'd been coerced into talking with Aventurine, and now had to make a decision without consulting any of the Astral Express beforehand. Sure, they were a seasoned adventurer with two missions under their belt but they still have no idea about their past or if they could trust such sketchy people.

"Aventurine, that little rat..." Their ears perked up when they suddenly heard the voice of this presumed Aeon. "I want to knock my fist against his forehead and see if there's a brain in there." The Trailblazer wouldn't try that.

But if you were acting like this maybe Aventurine and Black Swan could be trusted. The Trailblazer forced themselves to relax and tried to show confidence in their eyes. They could do this. It was good you were still by their side in the dreamscape, otherwise... what would they do?

Herta has found it's more difficult to communicate with you than the Aeons. While the Aeons simply didn't want to communicate it was as if there was some sort of wall separating her from you. It was beyond fascinating but it irked her, she wanted to get into contact with you right away. Then, as she was working to implement a simulated version of you into the simulated universe as an Aeon she had a revelation. What if... this was all a game?

Natasha had done it. Recently the eyes glanced off her more often, something she couldn't help but feel disappointed at. But upon one instance when they glanced upon her, she'd taken their warmth in full, and decided to set out. It seemed when these eyes were on her, she improved in nearly every aspect, so maybe her luck would improve as well? Even though it had been a dead end many times before she investigated Vache's worn down laboratory covered by snow searching for research. Except this time, she found something. This Aeon... was strangely benevolent and caring towards mortals.

That's all the updates we have for now on the current characters, in terms of progress. Herta is one smart cookie but who else is one smart cookie? Dr. Ratio!!! That man I love him so much. Sampo is also a potential worrying addition.

Given in the current event you can get either Sampo, Guinaifen, Asta, or Yukong for free, so let's see how they react.

Dr. Ratio

...This was interesting. The plot unfurling behind the scenes of Penacony was to be expected, Aventurine was being a pain in his ass also to be expected, but an Aeon looking at him? A smart Aeon. One who also must hope to purge the world of ignorance! A noble pursuit. Or perhaps, they'd realized their own ignorance and sought to rectify it some of the Aeons were rather lackluster in this manner after all. But they'd likely never change in their ways.

And you're no longer looking at him, that's fine. Is it a bit more chilly in here or is it just him? An interesting side effect of your gaze then, the feeling of warmth. He wondered why that happened, the look of Nanook was dangerous and suffocating, near fatal for any mortal. That of Yaoshi's was said to be sickeningly sweet and suffocating as well. Nous' was cold and calculating, judging your every asset and whether or not you had potential. Everyone had potential, they just had to choose to rid themselves of their ignorance. If the gaze wasn't suffocating maybe... you were a weak Aeon? One that had just formed or had been thought to have died.

Interesting. Aeons, the topic no scholar knew completely about. Herta was researching deeply into them, Dr. Ratio supposed he could always ask her yet he didn't want to feed into her ego. There were other ways to get the information though.

Guinaifen

"Hello, hello! Can you all hear me? Good morning fam! And welcome to Little Gui's stream!"

It was then when Guinaifen suddenly felt warmth wash over her. Oh, maybe it was because this stream was her first normal one after all the ghost catching business but she found herself getting flustered...? Flattered...? She wasn't sure exactly how to describe it yet she felt even more energetic than usual! As if she could go on for hours! When she ended her stream, the warmth was still there and she still felt as if she was being watched.

Wait-- wasn't this how people said they felt when they were being watched by an Aeon? Something similar to this right?! If even an Aeon was watching her, she was definitely going to be famous! When Guinaifen went to tell Sushang about this news, she found Sushang had run into the same thing! Weren't the two of them an impressive pair? :)

E1 Asta

Research had been going smoothly, partly thanks to the eyes always observing Asta. With them came the warmth that brought confidence and innovation she felt she wouldn't feel otherwise. But, she could feel the warmth all the time now. She doubted an Aeon would be able to watch her all of the time so had she been blessed? That was good, she was able to focus on all the stars and her research more now and learn more in less time!

But... why did she feel so forlorn? As if she had been deserted? Had you just blessed her and moved on your way? Herta... Herta knew a lot about Aeons maybe she would know something about what had happened to her, maybe she would know if you're still around.

E1 Yukong

Even after it all Yukong wished to return to the skies. Despite failing her comrades, despite all those around her who she'd cared for yet failed to stop their death, despite the burning wreckage she'd had to painstakingly crawl out of. Yukong wished to fly. In this long life where even the things she'd once loved had dulled, the longing to fly was forever there.

The warmth was on her constantly now, she completed her paperwork faster, she created ingenious plans, but what did it matter?

"I want to go back," Yukong had spoken one day out to the silence of the world and when the warmth remained she realized, perhaps she could go back and fly. Maybe... it would be okay. But for now her fear remained, albeit comforted by the sight of an Aeon.

What a strange Aeon, to care so much for a mortal.

Sampo (spoiler warning for Black Swan quest, although I was kind of confused the whole time so some information may be incorrect)

Now this would be fun! Sampo had known he was right, this was only another clue in the right direction! And this Aeon, watcher, player, reader, whomever you were appeared at the perfect time! Whenever your gaze fell upon him, he could feel his speed increase as well as the rest of, if this were to be a game, his "stats." He knew he wasn't crazy, of course he'd never had that idea in the first place! He'd be able to retrieve his mask much easier now, he could deal with you later.

It wouldn't be anything bad, don't worry, Sampo Koski is always happy to have a new business partner and friend :) !

If there's anything else you wanna hear about it I'd be more than happy for ideas cause I love these little guys (the characters) . It's just them living their life except they're stronger and feel as if they can enact their dreams! And maybe they gain a friend or a small crush on the way but hey that doesn't mean anything until Penacony comes out with some tech they worked on with Herta that allows you to visit in your dreams but no way something like that will happen, right?

Also trailblazer is genuinely so stressed like imagine having to make the decisions to save an ENTIRE FUCKING PLANET and you don't even know who the you are or what you've been through, you're genuinely so lost but hey you're alive, somehow.

[writeshite]

would you write more of the smart cookie fic? im just very very into it and would love a part 2 🫶🏻

Love You To The Moon & Back

Summary:

“Good morning to you, too,” you kiss his forehead, and he mumbles something else, snuggling deeper into your arms. “What happened to the early bird catches the worm, hmm?” “....not a bird…no worms please….” he mumbles. “Hmm,” you respond, rubbing circles along his back, “How about pancakes? I think I might have some blueberries or chocolate chips,” you muse; Spencer peeks up at you. “Ah, I see I’ve piqued your interest.”

Pairings:

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Tags:

Tattooed Reader (Because I Don’t See Enough Of That) | Fluff | A Wee Bit Of Angst | Developing Relationship | I Shook Spencer & Insecurities Fell Out | Inaccurate Laws & Profiling Probably (Take What I Write With A Grain Of Salt :)

Words: 4690

Author's Note:

Yes, you may 😌. I've been thinking of doing some more stuff for the AUs I make, cause it's fun, and I think male & gender-neutral readers need more AUs. Sorry for making this long 💀.

Previous

I found the experience of falling in love or being in love was a death: a death of everything. You kind of watch yourself die in a wonderful way, and you experience for the briefest moment - if you see yourself for a moment through their eyes - everything you believed about yourself gone. In a death-and-rebirth sense.

- Hozier

Around Spencer, the kitchen felt like a world away as he took in the feeling he was experiencing; with light, frivolous laughter, he hid his face in your chest to stop himself from falling into giddy hysterics. You were equally as giddy, chuckling when Spencer met your eye, “So…what now?” he asked.

“Well, we’ve got a few more hours of work,” you respond, chuckling when his face scrunched up in mock irritation, “but after, we could go on a date,” you suggest.

“Date?”

“Hmm, you know,” you respond, “that thing people do when they want to pursue a romantic relationship.” He smiles; admittedly, he hadn’t thought past the kiss, now surprised to find you wanted to cultivate something along the lines of an actual romantic relationship with him. 

“Yeah, I know,” he responds, “what do you have in mind?”

“Well, the museum has a new Classics exhibit,” you reply, and Spencer is amazed that you’d genuinely been paying attention when he’d dumped his knowledge of 15th Century literature on you. “What do you say?”

“Yes,” he nods enthusiastically, excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet. The hours left at work breeze through fast, and Spencer spends most of it with dancing hands, a wide smile on his face - your date is set to 9:30 AM, Saturday morning. He goes home with a prep in his step, and when the weekend comes around, his enthusiasm soars; Saturday morning sees few clouds in the sky and the promise of sun. Spencer kept to his usual attire of casualness; the streets were averagely busy, and he twists the strap of his satchel on his way there, quelling any anxieties that manage to break past the excitement. Said anxieties are set aside when he notes how well your leather jacket hugs your arms. 

“Hey, cookie,” you greet, hand reaching out to hold his.

“Hey,” he threads his fingers with yours, thumb rubbing circles on your skin as you make your way through the museum. The Classics exhibit displayed several kraters from c. 520-500 BCE, Etruscan figurines, Greek and Roman sculptures, and various other artifacts. Classics isn’t as interesting a topic it seems, as the crowd is relatively small, but Spencer is thankful for that - the overcrowded dinosaur exhibit you’d passed came to mind, and he shuddered at the thought of being caught up in that. 

“Etruscan tomb painting….” You read off one of the displays before turning to him with a knowing smile.

“Oh, the Etruscans were a civilization that flourished in Central Italy between the 8th and 3rd Century BCE, renowned in antiquity for their rich mineral resources and as a major Mediterranean trading power,” he speaks easily, basking in the fondness you directed towards his rambling. “Much of their history and culture was either destroyed or assimilated into the conquering Roman Empire. Tomb painting is considered one of the Etruscans' greatest legacies, with beautifully painted tombs in Tarquinia, Cerveteri, Chiusi, and Vulci.”

The exhibit didn’t have the actual paintings, instead displaying photographic copies with annotations and interactive maps; the sculptures are set up to mimic the inside of a temple, leading to the back where the kraters are set. The other sculptures are scattered about the room, and Spencer beams when you turn to him for information, having spoken more today than he has in a long time. He coughs in the middle of his tangent about pediments; he rubs the back of his neck and apologizes for the scratchy throat.

You chuckle, “Come on, let’s get something for that cough, eh?” The museum’s cafe is surprisingly empty, with a few people milling about here and there and the majority off at the shops. You both get iced teas and take a table away near one of the window walls. Spencer keeps hold of your hand and drums his fingers mindlessly. He is saddened when the date comes to an end. “C —can we do this again?”

You nod enthusiastically in response, and still riding on the coattails of joy, he asks, “Can I kiss you again?”

“As many times as you like, love.” 

He beams, leaning into your space to do just that, his thumb rubs across your skin, and even after you part for the day, Spencer is ecstatic - the joy persisting into tomorrow as he skips with every step. “Well, well, well, someone’s happy,” Derek remarks. “I hope this means you finally said something to loverboy.”

“Yup,” Spencer responds, “we, uh, had a date yesterday.”

Derek pats Spencer’s back with a proud smile, “You know what this means? I, Derek Morgan, was right.” Spencer shakes his head; any attempts to clarify to Derek that this wasn’t exactly an I told you so moment fell on deaf ears as the man smugly waltzed from the elevator with a cheer. Spencer follows after; when you arrive some moments later, it’s with two coffees as usual, and the day begins as the first of many days chasing an unsub through the Appalachian Mountains. 

“It’s almost like some twisted sightseeing event,” Derek mumbles. “The unsub’s earliest activities can be traced in Alabama; they kidnap two people, and from what the surviving witnesses have said, make both victims fight to the death, the winner gets to live.”

“Ties get both killed, and refusal to fight does the same,” you add. “They’re patient, willing to wait for months if need be to strike again. The murders between Kentucky and West Virginia had two years between them; if they are following the mountains, then there’s a chance they’ll cross over into Canada and most likely out of our hands.”

“Alright, then, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen,” Gideon says, “What else do we know?”

“They’re also meticulous, the locations, the methods, the choosing of victims. It’s all so careful, like some form of entertainment,” Spencer responds.

The facts are as follows:

The unsub has little regard for other people, seeing them as pawns for their own amusement.

The victims appear randomly selected, but on closer inspection, all seem to play into their disturbing amusement. Features vary, but all work in the retail industry - the unsub walks through retail stores for hours before picking. They’d do the same company for two states before switching to another, then another, and another.

Victims had a week; after that, survivors were left tied, with a sack over their heads at their place of work, and corpses were left in the same place as well.

The unsub didn’t care for publicity and seemed to want to keep it as something private. 

Pennsylvania is the next destination; the first victim is already chosen by the time of landing, which leaves one of hundreds if not thousands of other potential candidates. Spencer and Gideon stay with the local police department, you split off with Ellle, and Hotch goes off with Derek. Spencer bounces off theories and facts with Gideon; the profile becomes clearer but comes with a few more holes. The unsub seems well-red, familiar with police procedures, not intimately, more so like someone who’s read and heard extensively enough to understand.

“The space between murders suggests they must have traveling involved in their day-to-day life to be able to do so with such ease. Said life must offer them some satisfaction if they’re able to handle their urges so well.“ Gideon pointed to the mapped-out route of the unsub, “They could be in the tourism field, a flight attendant or a business consultant, something that lets them go from state to state easily enough.”

“Business consultants are sought after for their professional advice and services; they locate challenges in businesses and strategize plans to find solutions; they essentially come in and take over control, in the same way the unsub takes power over one’s life from their victims.” Spencer rambles, “but why target retails workers?”

Gideon sighs, “The higher up the chain you go, the less regard you have for your fellow man,” he states, “83% of retail workers report harassment from customers, the higher the social class, the worse the abuse can be. Our unsub’s disregard for human life may also be intrinsically linked to their social class as well as their occupation.”

“So everyone below a certain point is no better than cattle to them?” Gideon nods in response to Spencer’s question. 

“Can I help you folks out?”

The Goodwill of the first victim’s kidnapping was small, residential houses all around; the community around it wasn’t small per se, but close enough to take note when outsiders came about. The manager, Naomi Hughes, is a kind middle-aged woman of relative height, hair in a neat row of braids along her head.

You and Elle introduce yourselves and draw out your badges, “We’re here about Hayden Mullins.”

She nods, “Oh yes…uh…come with me.” She leads you to the back and into her office, “Hayden was working the closing shift when he was abducted, I told him not to work it alone, but he was determined. Home isn’t the happiest place for him,” she explains, “I’d let him sleep here when his dad was making a ruckus, get some food in him. He’s a good kid; I don’t know why anyone would go after him.”

“Did he have any hostile interactions with customers in the days before he was taken?” you ask.

“Who doesn’t? Folks get real snappy when you can’t get them what they want.” She rubs her temple, “I had a customer scream at me 'cause we didn’t carry non-salted water,” she exclaims with quotation marks, “what the hell is non-salted water?”

Elle huffs and shakes her head, “What about friendly customers? Did you notice anyone who didn’t act the way you’d expect? Anyone who stood out for a different reason?”

Naomi purses her lips, “Now that you mention it,” she opens her desk and pulls out a file, “There was this one woman; she was nice, like really nice. She said she’d just come off a four-hour road trip, so we was ready for all sorts of tantrums, but….”

“But what?” Elle asks.

“She was sweet. Smiled at me and said it was alright when we couldn’t get her what she needed,” Naomi’s face scrunched up a little, “I was a little spooked if I’m being honest; I mean, I’ve had nice customers, but she was something else.” She shuddered, passing over the file to you, “I was gonna forget all about her, but….when she looked at Hayden,” she shook her head, “I got a bad feeling.”

Inside the file was a woman’s side profile - hair clipped back into a bun, light makeup from what you can note in the black and white frame, a neatly kept suit - for all intents and purposes, a regular businesswoman. 

“Hayden was stocking the shelves, I think, and she got mad when he couldn’t man a checkout. Had to have her escorted from the premises, but she came back again —oh my god, do you think she—”

“We don’t know that yet, ma’am,” you interject, “this is still an ongoing investigation; we’re just looking into all the facts as of now.”

“Don’t blame yourself for anything that happened,” Elle tells her.

Naomi nods, “Promise me something, if…if anything happens, you’ll tell me before you tell the news, understand?” You both nod to her request and leave with the security footage and any receipts linked back to the woman.

“If this, April Walsh is our unsub,” Elle points to the picture, “it sounds like she doesn’t like to lose control, the ties, the refusal to fight, it was in the hands of the victims, it was anarchy….” 

“....she can’t let it thrive,” you finish. “The store is already out of her comfort zone and control; what if she assigns roles to the people around her, say Naomi? Managers are notorious for allowing bad behavior, but when Naomi didn’t….” You get behind the wheel and drive while throwing around more theories.

“....she got angry. April told Naomi she came off a four-hour drive; how far is the last crime scene?” She pulls out her phone, and minutes later, she cheers, “Four hours, and eighteen minutes, it’s not much, but….”

“It’s something; let’s get back to Spencer and Gideon with the info.” 

“Speaking of Spencer,” Elle chuckles, “a little birdy told me the two of you went out on a date.”

You groan and roll your eyes, “Seriously?”

“Come on, I mean, Derek’s been bragging that he got Mr. Lovebird and the Resident Genius together,” she quips, “plus, you two make a cute couple.”

You smile, “Thanks. At the very least, I know there’s another date somewhere in the future, so good things to come, I hope.”

“Oh, they’re definitely coming,” Elle remarks. You lightly smack her arm and laugh as you pull up to the local precinct. She raises her eyebrows when Spencer greets you laughing when you stick your tongue out at her.

“Hey, cookie.”

“Hey,” he responds, grinning at you, “did you bring me anything?” he quips.

“How does a potential name for our unsub sound?” You give him the file, “and also, a few more details to add to the profile?”

“I’d say it sounds good,” Gideon responds with a small smile. You and Spencer huff, amused and bashful - Elle relays the theories you’d bounced off each other in the car as Spencer pins April’s image on the board, while Gideon does the same to catch you up on what he and Spencer discussed while you were away. “We can brief the officers when Hotch and Derek get back.”

“It’s about two things,” Gideon begins, facing the  “control and entertainment. The unsub does not care for anyone but herself; at best, anyone outside of that is a form of entertainment and, at worst, an annoyance.” He points to April’s security image, “April Kennedy Walsh is a business consultant, highly sought after from what we’ve gathered, and meticulous with just about everything, from her schedule to her wardrobe.”

“Her method of murder calls back to the gladiatorial fights in the Colosseum; the emperor and the people of Rome would watch as gladiators fought with each other or animals,” Spencer adds, “she feels no remorse for her victims and rewards winners with their life. Refusing to fight for her amusement might insult her in some way, as though she were an actual Roman emperor.”

“She fits in easily with the crowd from a distance, but up close, her disregard peeks through during moments of loss of control. She’s not shown any violent behaviors during those times, but it can’t be ruled out,” Derek passes copies of April’s photos, “and judging by how she took little time to disguise herself in any way, she’s not afraid of being caught. In fact, this whole chase could be another form of entertainment for her, the same way you or I sit back and watch TV.”

“The potential want to be caught doesn’t mean she isn’t using an alias and could be a way to challenge us, so be on the lookout,” Gideon finished.

The officers split off after the debrief, and you gather back as a group, “There’s a few other Goodwills from the first and a bunch more in Pennsylvania; we can’t search them all,” Elle points out, “and even if we did, she’s patient, she could just as easily wait until the smoke blows over before coming back.”

“We don’t have much of a choice; handing out her photo to the media could cause her to abandon the hunt too, and then we’d have no easy way of finding Hayden,” you say, “there has to be some kind of pattern between the stores she chooses.”

“She chooses the same two stores for each pair of victims, always employees, never managers; after two pairs, she changes stores,” JJ reiterates, “what if she’s following the road? Picking whatever store she sees on her way?” She looks at the map, hand trailing over the red pins set on the previous stores, “The first incident was in Huntsville, Alabama, from there, and according to her schedule, she had been on a back-to-back business expose.”

You pick up blue pins and place them outside the border of the Appalachian Mountains, “In that two-year break period, she was in Lancaster, Ohio.” You put a pin there, “then Richmond, Virginia. Maybe, the two-year gap wasn’t by choice or lack of available victims.”

“Personal tragedy? But we couldn’t find anything like that,” JJ sighed, “then again, we could barely find anything about her personal life. Her parents are divorced, and when I called and asked about April, they hung up on me really quick.”

“What are you thinking?” You ask.

“Well, what if this disregard for people started early? Her mother was a judge, her father a surgeon; I’d say that’s enough money to cover up any accidents,” JJ theorizes, “both high-pressure jobs might have caused the divorce. But why not speak about their daughter?”

“One or both parents could have felt guilty, argued with the other about covering it up, then,” you shrug, “divorce?”

You dial Garcia’s number and wait as the tone rings, “Mistress of all knowledge, how may I enlighten you today?”

“Hey, gorgeous,” you greet, she scoffs on the other end, and you can imagine she’s rolling her eyes.

“Ah, my favorite work of art,” she greets back.

“We need to know if April has any juvenile records, sealed records, anything like that, and if her mother was involved in having them buried.”

“Okie dokie.” She types fast a few clicks later and, “Wow. I’ve found a couple of things, most of them cited as isolated incidents and common behavior among children, but one sticks out, November 23rd, 1999, the same year Judge Walsh resigned from her post.”

“She give any reason why?” You inquire.

“Nope.”

“Alright, thanks, Garcia.”

“Anytime.”

You relay the information, “The divorce happened the next year,” JJ mumbles, “let’s see if we can get those records open.”

November 23rd, 1999. April K. Walsh attended a camping trip near Lake Michigan; during a scavenger hunt, one of April’s buddies - Sam Goodwin - was found face down in the waters; the leading theory was Sam had gotten distracted and veered off the trail, with little experience swimming, Sam may have slipped into the water, panicked then subsequently drowned. The children had been paired into groups of three; the third child, Emma Chavez, had insisted that April had done it, and one detective had shot in the dark - months of investigation, and it looked like April would be facing time in a juvenile detention facility.

“What juvenile detention facility did she get sent to?” Gideon asks.

“None; close to the trial, the whole case fell apart; the next year, Judge Walsh resigned from her post and got a divorce.”

“Phone calls won’t cut it,” Hotch states, “we need her parents down here now.”

Joshua Walsh - now a retired surgeon- stayed close to Lake Michigan after the divorce and never remarried. Sofia Phillips - previously Sofia Walsh, post-divorce, she moved to Vermont, remarried, and had two more children before returning to work as a judge in a more minor position. Both refused to look each other in the eye; Joshua appeared more saddened, while Sofia was irritated. 

“I’m sure you have a good reason for dragging me all the way here,” Sofia grumbled.

You knew very little of Sofia Phillips, but from what you could gauge, she held herself higher than others and regarded the investigation with about as much regard as buying the wrong flavor of juice.

“Yes, ma’am, we wanted to ask about your daughter, April,” Hotch replied.

“April? Please, I don’t have a daughter called April anymore.”

Joshua scoffed, “Yes, you do, April Kennedy Walsh,” he turned to her, pulling out his wallet with shaky hands; he riffled through it before holding a picture in her face. “She had your eyes, remember?”

“Yes, I also remember her being dead to me, Joshua,” Sofia responds, glancing away. “She was always troubled. I tried to be a good mother, but sometimes you just can’t beat that attitude out of them.” She crosses one leg over the other, “I thank god I was blessed with two wonderful children after her, kind, obedient, nothing like April.”

“Hypocrite much? Where do you think she got it from, huh?”

Sofia rolls her eyes and glances at Hotch, “Are we finished now? My son has a recital in a few hours.” Hotch nods, and she leaves without a second glance; Joshua stays seated, shaking his head with a sigh.

“April…she’s not a bad kid…just lost. Sofia and I didn’t expect to have kids that early…I mean, we coped, but our jobs….” He looks at the photo again, “I tried as best as I could to be there, but Sofia…I wish I did better."

Joshua reluctantly recounts the event of November 23rd, 1999, alongside his divorce and any other moments before and after that point. The Appalachian Mountains had been Joshua’s dream destination, Sofia, to no surprise, had constantly been vocal about instilling the appropriate life goals in April - high grades, top careers, appropriate connections. The stores chosen all had qualities Sofia had cited as detestable, with Pennsylvania’s first Goodwill reminding her too much of her least favorite architecture - brutalist architecture. So going off that, the next Goodwill would have to be similar in style as well. This new detail leads to a few counties over.

April Walsh doesn’t fight when caught; appearing exhausted, the only other emotion she shows is a mix of relief and joy when she sees Mr. Walsh again, but it’s brief. She sits without prompting, crosses a leg over the other, and makes her only demand, “I’d like to speak to my father—”

“Give us Hayden,” Hotch counters.

“Who? Oh, the retail worker,” she scoffs, “he’s perfectly safe, tied and unconscious in room 345, Liberty Hotel. Now, can I please talk to my father?” Hotch nods, leaving for Hayden with everyone but Gideon and Reid. Hayden is unharmed, drowsy, and confused when he awakes.

You slump into your seat on the airplane, Spencer sits by you, and you lean your head against his shoulder. “No one wake me up for anything,” Derek mumbles across from you, lying across two seats to nap. 

“You look bored, cookie.” Spencer glances over at you; the others on the plane have either gone to sleep or relaxed in their seats.

“Maybe, but I’m not sure there’s much to do in an airplane.”

“We could play a game —not that kind,” you remark; he’d raised his eyebrows, and a light blush had dusted his cheeks, “we can do that at a later date, Dr. Reid. Right now, I was thinking of something like the ABC game.”

“ABC game?”

You sit up, “On long car rides, my grandma loved to play it; we choose a topic or theme and go through the alphabet. Say the theme was food, I’d say apricot; then you’d say bread; we can narrow down themes like food to fruits or vegetables.” 

“Ooh, that sounds interesting; ok, what’s the theme?” he asks, turning towards you.

“We can stick with food; it’s pretty easy and fun for a first-timer,” you reply, “We’ve got apricot and bread down, so, C, carrot cake.”

“Ok, donut.”

“Éclair.”

“French onion soup.”

You breeze through the first round, and Spencer picks the next theme - countries - which you manage through a quarter of before landing; you carry on while on the tarmac and finish just before leaving for home. It’s late afternoon in Quantico; Spencer bumps his hand against yours as you walk, smiling when you hold his hand in response. Paperwork is easy enough, and once done, you collectively sigh in relief when no other case comes up. It’s not night yet, and hearing everyone else make plans or detail what they have in mind when they leave has Spencer debating on whether to have that second date now.

“Thinking hard?” You ask, laughing when he comes out of his thoughts to find you standing close to him.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, “do you…uh…can we have that second date now? I know this great Indian restaurant, it’s a bit out of the way, but it has very good chicken tandoori.”

“Sure, lead the way.”

The restaurant is nice, getting there just half an hour after it opens at 5:00 PM; there’s plenty of space to choose from; Spencer leads you to his favorite seat by the fish tank. It’s a nice date; Spencer finds his legs close to yours after you split the bill, leaving just after seven. “Did you like it?”

“Loved it,” you respond. “You sure know how to treat a man, sweetheart.”

Spencer tugs at your arm, smiling into the kiss you give him. “Goodnight, love.”

Spencer is soft.

It’s what you repeatedly note - when he smiles, leans into your space for a kiss, or drums your fingers along your hands. When he snuffles in his sleep, a moment before waking up, “Morning….” he’d mumble before dozing off for a few odd minutes. 

“Good morning to you, too,” you kiss his forehead, and he mumbles something else, snuggling deeper into your arms. “What happened to the early bird catches the worm, hmm?”

“....not a bird…no worms please….” he mumbles.

“Hmm,” you respond, rubbing circles along his back, “How about pancakes? I think I might have some blueberries or chocolate chips,” you muse; Spencer peeks up at you. “Ah, I see I’ve piqued your interest.” You laugh as Spencer ponders between the comfort of the bed and the prospect of pancakes. You leave him to his decision-making; by the time you’ve made the batter, Spencer shuffles from the bedroom - donning one of your hoodies and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Spencer hugs you from the back and pecks the space between your shoulder blades, “Süss,” he says. 

You purse your lips and glance over your shoulder at him, “Süss? Come on; I thought you liked a challenge?” You switch off the stove and turn to face him, “German. Sweet.”

“I wasn’t looking for a challenge today,” he clarifies, “I was stating a fact.” He points at you as he repeats the word. “Mein süss.” 

You grin, “I’d say you’re the sweet one, cookie.” He scrunches his nose, “Mein süßer Keks.” You wink when he stares at you, “You’re not the only one with a knack for languages.” He sticks out his tongue, leaving the kitchen with the pancakes; you join him at the dining table - he sits with his back to the window, soaking in the sun like a cat.

“Fun fact, chocolate chips melt best at temperatures between 104 °F and 113 °F; the melting process starts at 90 °F when the chips’ cocoa butter starts to heat. For milk and white chocolate chips, the temperature shouldn’t exceed 115 °F; for dark chocolate, it’s 120 °F; otherwise, the chocolate will burn.”

You nod, “Which flavor’s your favorite?”

“The classic chips, made from small chunks of sweetened chocolate, I like to eat them in winter when there’s less chance for them to melt in the bag,” he answers. “What about you?”

“I don’t mind, but I suppose I prefer the classic ones too.” The pancakes were long gone by now, and coffees almost finished; Spencer had come previously to visit but never slept over before, “How’d you sleep?” You ask, placing your arm around his shoulders.

“Good,” he yawns, “you’re really comfortable.” You chuckle as Spencer snuggles closer, “Can we go back to bed?” He asks with another yawn.

“Hmm,” you stand, “you head on in; I’ll take care of the dishes.” He nods, shuffling back to the bedroom; you gather the dishes, rinse off the food, place them in the dishwasher, and leave them to clean. You find Spencer nestled comfortably under the blankets; when you slide in alongside him, he latches onto you, not fully asleep and not fully lucid. You comb your fingers through his hair, and when his breath evens out, you close your own eyes and doze off.

End Note:

This turned out a lot longer than I thought it would, and also, not that I think it needs mentioning, but this and the previous fic takes place somewhere in season one. Stay Hydrated.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Character from Bsd Beast gets sent to the Bsd universe but it's Beast Mori. He's a smart cookie he realises what's going on.

It's so bizzare for everyone because Beast Mori is just as smart as Bsd Mori but he's a sweet heart. Just sat drinking tea showing pictures of his kids. Ranpo clocks it immediately that he's no threat.

Beast Mori looks at Atsushi and Kyouka like "I'm glad even world's apart you've stuck together." Maybe even says to Dazai that he looks happier, and Dazai genuinely doesn't know how to respond to that.

"So, I'm guessing that I'm not the Headmaster here?"

"Port Mafia Boss, actually."

Beast Mori hears about his counterpart and not even 5 minutes later he's already grabbing a syringe to go kick his own ass.

No one stops him.

[sarahsmi13s]

Jersey Baby (18+ MDNI)

pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x sarah grant (fem!oc)

characters: sarah grant, jake seresin, bradley and the squad at the end

warnings: 18+ MDNI SMUT, language, breeding kink, pussy slapping, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex, eating out in the kitchen, bradley gets traumatized, sport rivalry (UT vs U of A; Longhorns vs Razorbacks), pregnancy,  i think that’s it

word count: ~4.1k 

a/n: this isn’t really crucial to the story, i just thought it would be fun to write! this is how ever how the finn twins were brought into existance 😂

this story is inspired by ‘His Little Girl’ (bradley bradshaw x reader) by the lovely @roosterscockpit  ( @milesdickpic ) and characters from this story are mentioned. also, yes, the oc is based on me lol (well a fantasy version lol)  

big thank you to mama may ( @mayhemmanaged ) for her help on this

you can find out more about j and s --- here

loose summary: the dagger squad comes up with a game once they see how competitive jake and sarah are when it comes to college football --- let’s just say the loser really becomes the winner

********************

Sarah knew exactly what she did to land her in this position. And she didn’t regret a damn thing.

If anything it was Jake’s fault.

Okay maybe they were both to blame. But Jake chose this punishment, so it’s mostly on him.

******

Last week, Arkansas played Texas. Which means – the Razorbacks played the Longhorns. Which also means – Jake and Sarah were constantly shit talking in the days leading up to it.

The Dagger Squad was concerned for a minute because they thought they were fighting. But Coyote cleared things up for them. “Guys, Sarah’s from Arkansas. She’s a U of A alum. And Jake is from Texas, a Longhorn fan since birth. This is just playful banter, it doesn’t mean much.”

“KJ Jefferson can run circles around Quinn Ewers!” “Not with a concussion he can’t!” “It’s not a concussion!” The squad watched the two stare the other down at the pool table.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now,” Jake said, his voice low to where only she could hear it. “Yeah?” He nodded before pulling her in for a kiss.

Fanboy’s mouth fell open, “What the fuck just happened?” Rooster laughed, “They have been all over each other since they watched Leia this past weekend. I’m surprised they’re even out.”

“Hey guys, Sarah and I are headed home,” Jake said as he passed the table, knocking his knuckles on it as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and took off toward the door.

So much for staying out.

*****

By the time game day rolled around, the squad came up with a game. Whenever one of them has a good burn or comeback, they get a point. And the winner gets to pick a punishment for the loser. But points weren’t revealed until the end of the game.

When they brought this up to the couple, their minds ran wild with ideas and both agreed.

Game time came and the squad made room on the couch for Jake and Sarah to sit by each other. But the couple sat on opposite sides of the room, each in a chair. “Ummm?” The squad looked to Coyote for help in understanding, “You don’t want them next to each other, trust me. I had popcorn in places popcorn should not be.” 

Jake opens his mouth before the game even starts, “Hey, y’all know what it’s called when Arkansas thinks they can take down the Horns? A PIGment of their imagination.” “Nice pun, but it’s a bunch of BULLshit. We’re giving y’all a free ride to the slaughter house.”

Coyote sighed and gave them each a point, “And we’re off..” 

Then the game started and they began watching.

Even though the squad focused more on what the two were saying.

The Longhorns got a pretty good start, getting a good lead pretty early in the game.

“You know, everything’s bigger in Texas,” Jake said, looking at the squad before trailing his eyes over to Sarah. “Even the gap between scores.” Rooster marked Jake down for a point.

Sarah wrinkled her nose and smiled, “Well… not everything.”

Fanboy had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing as he marked her down for a point.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Jake said with a shit-eating grin on his face. Rooster marked him down for another point.

At one point, the Hogs had a good possession, and then threw away the next one.

“Well, that’s just too bad… I guess the ‘natural state’s just naturally bad,” Jake drawled, laying the accent on thick. Sarah just glared at him and huffed before turning back to the game.

The first half was just not looking good for Arkansas, and Jake was thriving.

“Looks like these piggies are gonna be crying ‘boo’ all the way home,” Jake said once halftime started.

“Just wait, we’re gonna make a comeback, just need a good ass chewing,” Sarah said, mumbling the last part. Jake nodded, “Oh sure, yeah, when your pigs fly Sugar. They can’t close this gap.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and threw popcorn at him, “Whatever.”

Jake laughed, picking pieces of the snack off his jersey, “See guys, when you roll with pigs, it’s gonna get dirty. Only problem is, only the pig likes it.” The squad looked at Sarah, scared that Jake just fucked up.

But Sarah just hummed and stood up, grabbing her now empty bowl and putting empty cans and bottles in it.

She walked around Jake, hand slipping under his jersey as she leaned close to his ear, “I thought you liked when I got dirty Jake? Guess I was wrong.” Jake shivered a little and turned his head to catch her lips before she sauntered away to get more drinks.

The squad and Jake watched her leave before the squad brought their eyes back to Jake. He was looking longingly towards the kitchen, shifting a little in his seat. 

“You good, Bagman?” Bradley asked. Jake’s eyes snapped back to the group and he cleared his throat, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

****

The second half was really a turning point for Arkansas, they were getting traction and little errors were made.

“Would you look at that, pigs can fly,” Sarah smirked at Jake as they came back and kept Texas from scoring in the third quarter. Jake just rolled his eyes.

At the beginning of the fourth quarter, a flag was thrown for a false start and she said, “Man, everyone in Texas just seems to go too early.” No one missed her glance towards Jake, and Rooster gave her two points for that.

She was in trouble the minute she said that, and she knew she was in for it that night and a very lazy Sunday the next day. The glint in Jake’s eyes meant he was going to make her cum 10 different ways before he even thought about it.

She winked and went back to the game.

****

By the end, Arkansas came out on top.

While that was great and Sarah could rub the victory in Jake’s face, there were bigger stakes.

“Who won?”

“Yeah, who won?”

The squad looked down at the board, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Sarah. Jake won,” Coyote said, sighing. “It was really close, like a two point difference,” Fanboy pointed out.

Sarah hung her head, “I guess I can’t be too upset, Jake does have a big mouth.” Jake wrapped his arm around her waist, “We both got some pretty good ones in there. I just know how to piss you off.” She huffed out a laugh, “That you do.”

She sighed and stepped away, holding her arms out, “Welp, rules are rules. What’s my punishment?”

Jake smiled and slipped his jersey off, leaving him in a white t-shirt. He slipped it over her head, “You, my darling-” He worked it over her Razorback shirt. “-have to wear Longhorns apparel in public, and around the house, for a week.”

“You’re not serious,” Sarah said, eyes basically pleading for anything else. “Oh, I’m very serious,” Jake said, smirking.

Payback shook his head, “Hold on, that’s it? That’s all she has to do? Wear clothes with a bull on it. Hangman, come on.”

“Oh, she’s gonna be miserable, but look so so cute,” Jake told him. “I look awful in orange,” Sarah huffed out, crossing her arms. “No you don’t, Sugar.”

“I can’t wear this to school, I have to look professional.” Jake sighed, “Okay, you don’t have to wear it to work, but you change before practice, so you have to wear it then.” Sarah huffed again, “Alright.”

They shook hands.

“This is gonna suck.”

****

It was finally over, Sarah’s week of wearing Longhorns apparel was over.

She had to admit, Jake’s clothes were comfy and she loved wearing his sweatpants. But the fact her students and players knew how much she didn’t like the team her boyfriend adored, made it worse.

They teased her about it saying, “You finally caved? Wow Coach, I’m disappointed.” Or anything of the like.

But now it was Saturday and Jake didn’t have weekend duty, but he and Bradley went to go look at deck furniture for Bradley and Alyssa while Sarah stayed home and cleaned.

She had on Longhorn leggings Carter had gotten her as a joke and a sweatshirt of Jake’s; wanting to be comfortable but presentable because she had to go get groceries before Jake got home.

When she got home from the store she had 45 minutes before Jake would be walking through the door.

So she had 45 minutes to put her plan in motion.

She went in and straight to the kitchen to unload the groceries, taking maybe 10 minutes to put away the cold items. Then she went upstairs and freshened up with a quick shower.

Standing in the mirror, Sarah fixed her hair and did her makeup. Once she was done, she went to Jake’s side of the closet and pulled out a custom jersey she had her sister make for him.

As she slipped it on, her phone went off. It was a text from Jake saying that he’d be home soon and that he may or may not have bought her a new desk chair. She smiled at the thought and sent him a thank you and drive safe before she went downstairs to put her plan into motion.

****

When Jake pulls into the driveway, he’s rushing to turn it off, get the box out of the bed and hurry inside. He wanted to show Sarah the new desk chair he got her because the old one was broken and she’d been eyeing the one he just bought.

He gets in the house and immediately goes to put the chair box in the living room.

“Sugar! I’m home!”

“I’m in the kitchen, just putting away some groceries!”

Jake perked up at that and went to the kitchen to help her.

When he turned the corner, Sarah was refilling a cereal container before attempting to put it in its rightful spot on top of the fridge.

“Let me help with that,” he said, coming up behind her to put it up there.

“Thank you honey,” she said, turning to give him a kiss. “You’re so welcome Sugar.”

She laughed when she pulled away and started putting away other items.

This gave Jake time to take in what she was wearing.

And Texas orange never looked so good.

“Is that,” he crossed his arms and leaned on the counter. “Is that my jersey?” Jake knew the answer, his call sign was stamped to the back of it, he just wanted to hear her say it.

She nodded as she restocked the tea bags. “It is.”

Jake’s grin stretched across his face, “Well you look good Sugar.” Sarah smirked, “I am good, Baby, I’m very good.” She winked before bending over the counter to put the container back in its place…

Which gave Jake a perfect view of her bare ass.

And if he was already hard seeing her in the jersey, his jersey, he was painfully hard now.

He audibly groaned and his stomach swooped.

“You alright Honey?” Sarah asked as she stood up straight.

He nodded, “Jus’ fine Sugar.” She nodded and moved around the kitchen.

Jake’s eyes never left her bare legs as his mind concluded that she most likely wasn’t wearing a bra either. “I do have one question though.”

“Shoot.”

“Why aren’t you wearing underwear? Not that I’m complaining because I’m definitely not.”

Sarah giggled before walking over to him. Her arms went around his neck and her eyes trailed up to meet his.

“I realized that I technically didn’t follow the rules,” she said, playing with the hair at the base of his neck. He swallowed, “What do ya mean by that?”

She tilted her head a little and sighed sadly, “I don’t have Longhorn underwear. So, according to the rules…” One of her hands came to rest on his chest. “I shouldn’t be wearing any.”

Jake groaned as his hands found Sarah’s hips. “You’re gonna be the death of me…”

She giggled and moved in closer, “Rules are rules, Lieutenant…”

Growling, he surged forward and claimed her lips in a kiss.

Sarah smiled into the kiss as Jake’s arms snaked around her back and pulled her flush against him. Jake walked them both back to the corner of the counter, caging her in with his legs.

Jake got two handfuls of her ass and squeezed, causing her to gasp and moan against his mouth.

She can feel his hard on against her but as she goes to undo his belt, he stops her. “Not yet, Sugar.” Sarah whines but before she could complain Jake hoists her onto the counter top. She pulls him back to her and presses her lips to his.

He smirks against her lips before kissing her neck as his hands roam her torso, groping and squeezing at her hips and chest over the jersey. “Jake… baby please.” One of his hands cups her cheek, “Is my Razorback impatient?” She pouted and he chuckled, “Typical Hog…”

His unoccupied hand slipped under the jersey and his fingers lightly gracing her ribs before taking the weight of a breast in his palm.

She whimpered slightly and he felt his dick twitch at the sound. “Okay, okay, since you’ve gone through enough torture this week, I’ll spare you some now.”

Jake sank to one knee, his hands going to her calves and trailing up as he kissed her thighs.

He hooked his hands under her knees and pushed up, opening her up to him. “God, you’ve got such a pretty pussy, Sugar.” She moaned as licked his lips before placing a hot kiss to her clit.

“Oh fuck~ In the kitchen Jake?”

“It’s where the best meals come from, Sugar.”

One of Sarah’s hands carded itself into Jake’s hair as he dove back in, his tongue flattening against her cunt. “Oh Jake~”

He groaned against her as she tugged at his hair.

Jake’s lips created a vortex around her clit. “Jake! Oh my~” The long moan that followed her words had him groaning, sending vibrations through her.

She was mewling and letting out high pitched moans, pulling at his hair but the position she had put her in gave her little control. Her toes barely scraped the counter, so she couldn’t grind against his face properly.

Jake looked up at Sarah’s face as he released her clit to catch his breath, “You taste so sweet, Sugar~” He dipped his tongue into her entrance as he nuzzled into her pussy.

Her hand in his hair pulled him closer, making his nose bump her clit. “Please Jake, I need more, I’m so close.” The band in her core was hot and getting pulled tighter and tighter, but it wasn’t enough.

The whimpering and the tugging of his hair, just made him hungrier. Jake’s ears were being blessed with filthy but angelic sounds, and he couldn’t help but growl against his girlfriend’s sopping wet cunt.

He flattened his palms against the backs of her thighs and pushed them towards her chest and farther apart.

Jake pulled back, licking Sarah’s slick off his lips and chin as he watched her pussy twitch and clench around nothing.

“Jake, Darlin’, what the fuck?” She whined as the hand still in his hair tried to bring him back where she needed him most.

He chuckled and looked up and at her, his green eyes met her brown ones as they sparkled. “I’m sorry Sugar. I needed to catch my breath.”

Jake squeezed one of her thighs, “Hold this for me would ya?” Sarah rolled her eyes playfully but hooked her free hand under her knee. “Thank you, Sugar,” Jake said with a smirk.

He leaned in and placed a kiss on her clit before coming back and running his middle and index finger through her folds. He felt her clit twitch and he grinned, “That feel good, pretty girl?” “Yes~” Sarah managed to respond.

All the Texan could do was bite his lip before he brought his hand back and then down against her pussy; a wet slap and the Arkansan’s moan filled the kitchen.

“Fuck, baby~” She managed before yelping when he did it again. “Does my pretty girl like that? Does she like getting her pretty pussy slapped?” Sarah’s head banged against the cabinet, “Yes! Yes, she does! Oooh fuuuck~” In the middle of her answer, Jake had slapped her cunt again.

Jake just grinned and licked what he could off his hand before grabbing her thigh again.

He held eye contact as he dove back in, lapping at the wetness between her thighs.

Obscene sounds echoed in the kitchen. The wet, sloppy noises coming from between Sarah’s thighs and the moans coming from her spit covered lips.

“Jake, fuck! Please~”

“‘Please’ what, Sugar?” Jake hummed, kitten licking her clit.

“Please make me cum! I need to cum~” Sarah whined, panting as she looked down at her boyfriend.

Jake groaned and buried his face in her center. His tongue dipped in and out of her, his nose brushing against her clit.

Sarah moaned out his name, pulling him closer as her thigh fought to close around his head – but of course Jake wasn’t about to let her do that.

He could feel her clench around his tongue before he once again created a vortex around her clit, the wet sounds sending her over the edge.

“Jake Jake Jake~ Fuuuuck!”

Her thighs trembled in his hands and her hand gripped his hair tightly.

Jake brought her down from her orgasm gently, praising her as she calmed down. “You did so good for me Sugar.”

He changed his grip on her thighs as he stood up.

“You okay Darlin’?” Jake asked with a chuckle as she panted.

Sarah nodded, humming softly as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “We’re gonna have to clean the kitchen before guests get here for the game…”

“In due time, Sugar… I need to take you to bed.”

“Lead the way Cowboy~”

Jake captured her lips and picked her up off the counter.

****

Jake didn’t need to see to get to their room, he’d navigated the path blindly plenty of times.

Once they got to their room, Jake dropped her on the bed – going with her because she didn’t want to part.

Sarah kissed down his throat, nails scratching the back of his head.

“Sugar, I’m wearing too many clothes,” he groaned out. “Then take them off,” she told him before kissing his neck again.

He weaved his hand into her hair and pulled her back.

“Ah~” “I can’t do that with you attached to me, Sugar.”

She pouted but let him go so he could undress. Jake smiled and stepped back.

He pulled his shirt off and went to work on his belt quickly. As he got it open and took it off, he saw Sarah reach for the bottom of the jersey.

“Jersey stays on.”

Sarah stopped moving and nodded, “Yes sir.”

Jake smirked and slipped his shoes off before sliding his pants and boxers down his legs.

He walked over and yanked her to the edge of the bed, making her yelp a little in surprise. He leaned down and kissed her deeply as he pushed two fingers inside of her, scissoring them to open her up.

When he removed them, he brought them to her mouth, “Open Sugar, get a taste of how sweet you are.” She did as told and took his digits into her mouth, bobbing her head a little bit.

Jake smiled at her, gently caressing her cheek before gripping the jersey in the valley between her breasts with that same hand.

In a swift, calculated motion he pushed himself to hilt, making her gasp and moan around his fingers.

“Ooooh fuck!~”

He gave her a second before she fluttered around him and he removed his fingers to hold her hand. “You ready? I’m going hard and fast.”

“Fuck me Jake!”

He smirked, “As you wish~”

Jake started pounding into her. His fist balled up in the orange jersey and her tits moved beneath it – the friction of the material doing wonders for her. His thrusts punched moans out of her, and her moans just made him harder.

Her walls clenched and fluttered around him, and her pussy just felt so good. Jake was a southern mess above her, while she was no better underneath him.

“Fuck~ Darlin’ it’s like you was made for me,” he punctuated that with a groan.

“Pussy squeezin’ me so fuckin’ good~ I know you’s fuckin’ close, make a mess of my dick, Sugar~”

She moaned underneath him and pulled him to her lips.

Jake propped his knee up on the bed and let go of the jersey in favor of cradling her head.

“Jake, fuck~ Your cock fills me so perfectly~”

His hips stuttered and he groaned.

Sarah looked into his green eyes, “I love you.” “I love you too.” Jake melded their lips together as she came around him.

She pulled back and let out a guttural moan against his mouth, making him falter in his rhythm.

“Put a baby in me, Jake. Fill me up until it takes. Make me mama~”

The moan Jake let out was deep in core as the tingle in his spine became lightning shooting up his back and he spilled into her.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck–fuuuuck~”

He collapsed on top of her, both panting and sweaty messes.

They laid there for a few minutes, collecting themselves before Jake propped himself up on shaking arms.

“That was…” “Good.”

They laughed together before kissing sweetly.

Sarah sighed and looked over and noticed the time.

“Shit, it’s 5:30…”

“What happens at 5:30?”

“The game starts at 6, Jake.”

In his fuzzy, post-orgasmic brain it didn’t click right away.

“Why does that-”

Then it clicks.

“Shit…. They’ll be here any minute,” he hung his head.

He carefully pulled out, making them both sigh before going to the bathroom to get a rag and clean them both up.

He kissed Sarah on the forehead, “Are you gonna be okay while I go clean the kitchen?” She nodded, “We can cuddle during the game.” He smiled and pecked her lips, “I’ll put your Razorback leggings and sweatshirt out, along with some underwear.”

“Can you put your cologne on the sweatshirt?” He nodded and kissed her again. “I can do that.”

Jake got dressed and put Sarah’s clothes out, spraying his cologne on the pale yellow sweatshirt.

“Call me if you need me Sugar.” “I will.”

****

Jake gets downstairs and goes to the kitchen, immediately getting the spray and a paper towel to clean the surface of the counters.

About halfway through, the doorbell rang and he jogged over to answer it.

“Can I help- Rooster?”

Bradley just waved.

“Why did you ring the bell? You know you can just come in.”

He crossed his arms, “I needed to make sure you and Sarah were done.”

Jake was confused, “Done?”

Bradley’s face went red. “Hangman, I got here about 10 minutes ago and came in. I thought I was loud…”

Jake’s brow was still furrow but then his face dropped in realization. Bradley had heard them.

But he wasn’t embarrassed. No, he thought it was funny.

“Well, I guess that’s payback for what I’ve had to hear.”

The stairs creaked and both men looked up them.

“Oh hey Bradley!” Sarah greeted, voice a little raw. “Hey Sarah.” She looked at his red face, “Everything okay?”

“Oh yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” She nodded at him, not super convinced, “Okay. Um, pizza is getting made, do you think Javy would pick it up on his way?” Jake nodded, “Yeah I’ll text him.”

Jake went back to the kitchen and sent Javy a quick text before finishing the wipe down of the counter.

When 6 rolled around everyone had gotten there and the game started.

Jake had Sarah in his lap, her face buried in his shoulder during commercial breaks. By the end of the game, both had fallen asleep.

*******

A few weeks later, just before Christmas break, Sarah started feeling off.

She was tired, felt sick in the morning, and was getting emotional over everything. She thought it was her period but when she checked, she had missed it for December.

During her lunch she went and got a few tests, taking them just before coaching an away basketball game.

All three were positive.

Sarah smiled, covering her mouth as happy tears sprang to her eyes. She did a little math and the estimated date she had was the day she wore Jake’s jersey.

She couldn’t help but laugh a little bit.

“Woo-pig.”

********************

i hope you guys enjoyed this little piece!

this is just a filler piece that will be in a separate section of the masterlist. (probably titled: backstory idk though) let me know if you want more backstory/side quest pieces!

i’m hoping to get started on the reunion and get it up soon!

I do have a pinterest board set up for this, just to help me get into the vibe (one is to help with future parts, one is only for the current parts)

SO

if you want to check it out and get more of a feel for the dynamic going on---- you can click right --->   here

if you would liked to be tagged in this series, please comment or reblog the masterlist linked at the top! or you can comment here!

j and s tags <333: @milesdickpic @roosterscockpit @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @sebsxphia @mayhemmanaged @nobody7102 @djs8991 @marbledaesthetics @genius2050​ @fangirlbang @penguin876​

thank you my lovelies <33

[sometimesanalice]

In a Place Just Right

Summary: It's your first year hosting Thanksgiving in San Diego for the Daggers and Bradley can tell you're a little nervous about it. But he already knows it's going to be one for the books, because any holiday spent with you better than anything he could have imagined.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5K

Warnings: fluff and allusions to smut (minors dni)

(author's note: this fic is set in the 'Like I Can Universe', but can be read on it's own! Happy Thanksgiving, friends!)

For the last six years Penny has been the one to host Daggersgiving, but this year hostess duties had fallen on your plate. Needless to say, Bradley knew you were more than a little stressed about it.

When you had asked him about his opinion on the merits of canned cranberry sauce versus homemade he’d blinked at you a few times before asking, “Is this a thing people care about?”

He’ll never forget how adorably aghast you looked to learn that he had no preference on the matter. And maybe if you had asked him when the sun was up instead of at 3 AM he might have known better than to give you such a noncommittal answer.

“Both, we’ll have both,” you’d stated resolutely.

“Whatever you want, kid," he’d murmured as he’d pulled you to his chest and wrapped an arm around your stomach. His smart and beautiful wife. "Now go back to sleep, you’re supposed to be dreaming of sugarplums not cranberries."

“Wrong holiday, Bradley,” you’d sighed contentedly, relaxing against him. And it hadn’t taken you long to fall back asleep with that cranberry crisis having been averted.

But now people were due to show up in less than an hour and you are frantically fluttering and huffing around the kitchen like a madwoman in a very pretty green dress, "I knew that quickie was a bad idea. You're never quick, Bradley."

He’d been away and missed many holidays over the years due to his career.

Your mom had always made it clear that he had an open invitation to join in whatever merry festivities were happening with your family, but more often than not it rarely aligned with him being stationed all over the world. But he’d always been happy to get to have a phone call with you and eat the homemade cookies you’d sent him on those years spent apart.

But now Bradley got to look forward to spending every holiday with you in the home you shared with him.

Over the last week the house had slowly but surely transformed into something that was straight out of a magazine.

There was a display of pumpkins, ribbons, and a garland of strung dried orange slices that decorated the fireplace. And overpriced candles from your favorite store flickered cheerfully on every surface that wasn’t a fire hazard to a bunch of enthusiastic Naval aviators. The dining table was dressed up to the nines and everyone spot with their names painstakingly written in your pretty script on a place card sitting in a pinecone.

You had even made some oversized confetti in the shape of oak leaves out of some old books, the copy of ‘Why Men Love Bitches’ that Nat had given him years ago as a joke was finally repurposed and recycled into something more festive over where the beverages had been set up.

The whole house smells amazing. Warm cinnamons and nutmegs mixing with bright citrus and rich vanillas. The kitchen island and countertops were filled with various plates and platters and bowls of dips, charcuterie, fruit and vegetables, nuts, and other savories. All the other dishes were being kept warm in the ovens for when everyone arrived and was ready to settle around the dining table for dinner.

Bradley was positive that no one would leave feeling hungry. He also wasn’t entirely sure where the things his friends are bringing were going to go, but there were worse problems to have.

Penny had taken Amelia with her to visit her family on the East Coast. They’d decided it would probably be better for Mav to hang back in San Diego for the holiday, those tensions with her dad were still a bit strained even though they’d been married for almost four years now.

Which is how the Bradshaw’s were hosting their first Thanksgiving for everyone.

This morning had been organized chaos. Some of the last minute-things had only managed to be checked off with the assistance of strong coffee and a good playlist.

However, he’d still managed to sneak in the opportunity to spin you around the kitchen to your wedding song when it came up on shuffle. After all the cranberries were still popping and boiling down; there was time for it, he'd always make time for it.

But that was then.

Now, you are glaring at him like you’d been personally victimized by him and his cock.

“You complaining, sweet girl?” he asks with a smirk, leaning his hip against the kitchen island watching as you briskly stir the gravy heating up in the copper sauce pot on the stove. “Don’t think that’s what I was hearing thirty minutes ago when we had that pretty green dress of yours bunched around your hips. Sounded something like ‘more, Bradley, more’ to me.”

You shoot him a look that would make a weaker man wither, but he’s built up an immunity to it over a lifetime of having it directed at him.

“I think that’s quite enough out of you,” you reprimand, but he sees the amusement in your eyes even as you fight to keep the annoyed façade on your face. “We’re behind schedule now. I thought I buffered in enough time, just in case-”

“Just in case you begged me to give you an orgasm to, and I quote, ‘help me chill out’?”

“I was kidding,” you say, stopping your agitated whisking to go fluff the stuffing instead.

“All I’m saying is that if my beautiful wife is begging for me, I’m certainly not going to say no. I’m only human,” he says with an all too pleased shrug.

Bradley grabs the can opener and works on opening the canned cranberry sauce. He reaches for a couple plates, holding them up for your approval and you point to the one on the right, the scalloped white one with gold rim.

“For the record, I certainly did not beg,” you say primly, glowering into the homemade stuffing that you’d had him get the bread from the nice bakery across town for.

“Sure, sure,” he drawls, the smirk growing wider on his face as he sets to freeing the jelly from its rippled container.

He knows he shouldn’t tease you right now, but you’re so cute when you get huffy that he can’t help himself. He’s known that petulant raise of your chin his whole life. And sometimes when he looks at you he can so clearly see the little girl he’d been forced to entertain for hours when your moms were hanging out.

You went from being his favorite nuisance to his best friend to his everything.

“Do I still look ok? Or do I need to do a quick refresh before everyone gets here?” you ask. You turn to fully face him, tilting your head one way and then another for his inspection.

He would happily stare at you all day if you’d let him. He loves your pretty eyes and what you’ve done with your hair.

“You’re beautiful,” he grins, “And if anyone asks, we can just say you’re flushed from all the cooking.”

“Bradley,” you whine setting down your wooden spoon down on the counter with a sharp thwack.

“Ok, ok. I’m done, I promise,” he says putting his hands up in surrender with a chuckle.

He pushes off the counter and grabs a glass off of one of the floating shelves and fills it with some ice water.

“Good,” you tut haughtily, as you fiddle with the white and orange striped kitchen towel hanging on the oven door, “I was about to threaten to make you sleep on the couch tonight.”

“You wouldn’t.” Even the thought of it makes his stomach feel unsettled.

After nearly two decades of hard beds on foreign bases and on lumpy carrier mattresses, he’s never slept as well as he did since the two of you found your way to each other.

His peace was found under a fluffy green duvet on a wooden canopy bed with you tucked under his arm.

“No. No, I wouldn’t,” you agree, leaning in to place a soft kiss to his cheek in thanks when he presses the cold glass into your hands.

Bradley tugs you away from the warm stove and you reluctantly follow and sit on the barstool he’s pulled out for you on the other side of the kitchen island.

He runs his hand up and down your back comfortingly as you take a few sips, “We’re in a great place, sweet girl.”

“Mhm, yeah. Sure, of course.” You couldn’t sound less unsure if you tried. “It’s just… I’m nervous about the mushroom and leeks bread pudding. I’ve never made it before. And what if we run out of wine?”

“What’s been our motto?” he asks, taking over the helm at the stove whisking the gravy together as it begins to thicken.

“‘In Ina we trust’,” you say with a serious nod of your head. 

“Atta girl, we sure do. And Nat said she’s is bringing a few bottles she picked up from when she went to Napa, the good shit. It’s going to be great. Trust me,” he says giving you a warm smile. “Will it make you feel better to go over everything again?”

“Yes, please,” you say, anxiously drumming your fingers along the side of your water glass.

He’d stepped up where he could like making sure the house was pristine and cleaning up the yard by blowing off the wrinkled remainders of the yellow Tipuana flowers. He’d even been able to source and rent some more chairs to make sure that everyone would have a seat at the table.

Bradley wasn’t a schlump in the kitchen. He knew his way around a cookbook and a stove. His knife skills were pretty damn good too, if he did say so himself. But he also knew when somethings were out of his wheelhouse. So he’d taken to being your sous chef, and had taken to washing and prepping the ingredients for you so that all you had to do was toss them in whatever shiny pot they were destined for.

He even made his mom’s favorite pie. It had been years since he's had it, and he was excited to share it with everyone.

Your mom had mailed the copy of the original recipe she had that was written in Carole’s rounded, flourished script. You had made a photocopy of it to use so that the original didn’t get ruined, and then pointed out a spot on the wall where you said you’d thought it would look nice in a frame hanging in the kitchen. And he'd fallen a little more in love with you.

“Ok, hit me with it,” he says turning the heat to low for the gravy and putting the lid on.

This was a partnership through and through, he was going to give you all the support you needed.

“The turkey?”

Bradley picks up the fancy digital meat thermometer he’d bought for the occasion to check, “Big Bird has an hour and twenty more minutes to work on his tan and then he’ll rest for another thirty. Giving people time to graze and mingle and get some drinks in them, just like you wanted.”

You nod and hum contemplatively, “I’ve been thinking we need a salad. I don’t feel like we have enough vegetable options.”

He knows better than to point out that you’re currently snacking on snap peas from not one, but three, of the veggie platters the two of you had put together the night before.

“We’ve got the crispy brussels sprouts, the garlic and hazelnut green beans, and the honey glazed carrots with lemon. We’re more than fine on the fiber and beta-carotene. Michelle Obama would be proud, kid.”

That gets a little laugh from you.

“Well, as long as you think Michelle would be happy than we’re probably fine,” you say with a smile around your water glass that tells him you know exactly what he’s doing invoking your favorite First Lady.

“What else are you thinking about?” Bradley asks peering in the lower of their double ovens, where foiled covered dishes are lined up in perfect symmetry are warming away having been prepared in advance.

“Do you think two bags of rolls will be enough? Or should I text Mav and ask him to grab one more?”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes dip down to his ass in his gray slacks. So he might linger as second longer than necessary to let you enjoy the view, since it’s for the female gaze and all.

He’s never understood wearing the most restrictive clothing on the holiday that involves the most eating, but that was Penny’s tradition to have everyone dressed in their nicest and you had insisted on keeping it going even if she was on the other side of the country.

You’d teased him earlier when you’d seen him emerge from the bedroom wearing the short-sleeved green cashmere polo you’d gotten him a couple years ago. It fit a little more snug that he remembered it, but he thought he still pulled it off well.

“When did we become the couple that matches?” you’d asked gesturing to your dress as you gave him an appreciative onceover.

If the past was anything to go off of, you would be running your hands over the soft material covering his chest and back all night.

“I just like reminding people who I belong with, sweet girl.”

He might have had something else in mind to wear for the evening before he saw you in that dress, had ironed the shirt the night before and everything, but last-minute pivot it was well worth it when you looked at him like that.

When he stands back up, he gives you knowing wink.

And in return you throw a baby carrot at him with a laugh.

Bradley isn’t surprised in the least to hear the quick clack-clack-clack of nails on the wood floors as their fluffy black and white Portuguese Water Dog rounds the corner. Having been summoned by the sound of food hitting the floor from where he had been dozing near the fireplace in the living room.

The carrot is gone in an instant and he comes to sit at Bradley's feet by the stove, looking up at him from under his curly eyebrows clearly hoping he'll get another snack.

“Nah, bud. You’re barking up the wrong tree over here,” he says leaning down to scratch his floppy ears.

“Ah, come here, Duck,” you croon, calling him over to your side of the island. “He’s so mean for a man who claimed he just saw God not too long ago, isn’t he?”

Bradley snorts and shakes his head at you amused.

He still doesn’t know how he ended up with a dog named Duck.

At the dog park, more often than not people mistook it for ‘Buck’. And you were usually off to the side more than happy to let him take the lead, biting your lip to keep from laughing at his less than enthusiastic expression when he’d have to warily explain yet again It’s Duck like quack.

You’re not even subtle about the piece of cheese you pull from the charcuterie board to feed him.

“I saw that,” he says, giving you a pointed lift of his eyebrow, “You know Bob is going to be spoiling him all night.”

“It was just a little piece of cheese. Plus, I don’t know who you think you’re fooling. I saw you go over there and deliver him his own little veggie platter with some of the leftovers we had while I was making the apple cider sangria.”

“That’s different, that’s good for him,” he says rounding the island, reaching over and snagging his own slice of cheese to snack on.

“And cheese is a protein. He’s just a baby, Bradley, what am I supposed to do? Not give him a piece of swiss?” You slide off your chair to squat down and rub Duck’s belly, you’ve always been his favorite.

“He’s almost five,” he replies flatly.

“A youth!” you exclaim, “He’s a growing boy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bradley says affectionately with a little roll of his eyes. He knows a losing battle when he sees one.

He offers you his hand to help you stand back up, but you wave him off and pull yourself up using the edge of the island. You take a moment to readjust your dress before making your way to the sink by the big windows that look out into the backyard.

“Speaking of Bob, do you know if he’s bringing his fiancée?” you ask from over your shoulder as you wash your hands.

“Not this time, sweetheart. I guess she volunteered to cover a shift in the NICU when she heard they were short staffed.”

“Oh that’s too bad, I was excited to see her ring in person,” you say drying off your hands and heading to the pantry.

“It’s all he can talk about at work. I guess they’re thinking about a Spring wedding next year. They don’t want to wait too long to get married.”

“I’m so happy for them,” you say, digging around for a moment and then emerge with a stack of some sturdy plastic plates and set them on the last free spot on the countertop. “Don’t let me forget to make them up a couple plates that he can bring home for her, before Fanboy declares it time for ‘second dinner’ and eats all the yams like he did last year.”

“I won’t forget, promise,” he says fondly.

If you were facing him, he knows you’d probably tease him for the look on his face and just how gone he is for you.

You’ve always been so generous, it’s one of the things that he loves most about you.

You were always good about hustling him out of his well-earned money from is part time job scooping ice cream in high school, like with the fundraiser you did for the local soup kitchen and the one for the elementary school summer arts program.

He’s always been wrapped around your finger, it just took him awhile to realize why.

It’s the same reason why there’s been a donation that comes out of his bank account every month for the last five years for one of the San Diego animal shelters.

Bradley had made a rather sizable donation and then set up a smaller reoccurring monthly one after the chaos that was the time Bob had set you up with his friend who worked at the shelter, back before the two of you had gotten together.

Even after all these years, he still can’t help but get a little irritated every time he sees that guy’s face in the monthly newsletter that comes to his email. He’s pretty sure Casey still might have a little crush on you, but Bradley can’t blame him. He’d have a hard time getting over you too, so it’s a good thing he’ll never have to.

On newsletter day, Bradley always finds himself giving Duck extra treats.

You are his wife. And Duck is his dog. Ridiculous name and all.

He couldn’t wait to surprise you with the golden tennis ball that the shelter sends out as a thank you after a decade of donations.

Only five more years to go.

You’re over by the bar that’s been set up off to the side, straightening the already very straight rows of gleaming wine glasses when he hears you suck in a sharp gasp.

Bradley drops the dish cloth he had in his hands as he attempted to give what little counter space there was left a final wipe down and is in front of you in half a heartbeat. Was there a fluke with some faulty stemware? Are you bleeding? There’s a reason Thanksgiving is one of the busiest days at the hospital.

“The butter!” you cry out as you whirl around, your pretty eyes welling up with tears, “I let you fuck me and I forgot to pull the butter from the fridge. It’s going to be too hard for people to spread now!”

He knows it’s more than just hosting jitters that’s got you like this, but it still catches him by surprise sometimes.

“Woah, woah,” he says as he catches you on the way to the fridge and pulls you to his chest, “C’mere, my sweet girl.”

You make a distressed noise but allow him to keep his hold on you, “But the butter…”

“I already pulled the butter, see?” He points to the sticks that are already softening away on the counter. “This place looks and smells amazing. We did good, baby. Will you take a couple slow breaths for me, please?”

Bradley takes in a couple measured breathes with you, and feels the moment your body relaxes into his.

He presses a kiss to the side of your temple as he smooths his hands down your soft, pretty green velvet dress and the warm, firm curve of your rounded stomach soothingly.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s the hormones,” you sigh, as you lean your head back against his shoulder.

He hums empathically as he sways gently side to side with you in his arms.

“I would like to go on the record saying that I like pregnancy hormones, especially the ones from earlier,” he jokes lightly.

“That makes one of us,” you say with a watery laugh, “Just wait until I am waking you up at 4 AM because I am craving something from a drive-thru that’s not open.”

“Mm, can’t wait,” he murmurs before dropping a few kisses along the soft line of your jaw.

Bradley still can’t believe he gets to be this lucky in life.

He doesn’t want to forget a single moment of this. With you, with his family.

“We did a really good job with this one,” he whispers into your ear, still stroking your stomach and enjoying this moment of calm with you.

“We really did, da--” Bradley groans and cuts you off with a kiss. He can feel the impish smile plastered on your lips as he kisses you. His favorite menace.

He knows you’re pretty sure it was the spontaneous hook up in the storage closet at the Hard Deck on the Fourth of July that’s responsible for the noticeable bump you’re sporting. Call him a romantic, but he likes to think it was that night in the Bronco overlooking the ocean when he’d taken the long way back home.   

You pull away all too soon for his liking to grab his left hand. He sees the flash of the two diamonds on your engagement ring, one from his mom and one from yours, as you take it and press it to a spot near your bellybutton.

The feeling of the fluttering under his palm will never get old. He’s not too proud to say he’d shed a tear or two the first time he’d felt it.

You hum in contentment, your finger lightly tracing over the shiny gold band of his wedding ring.

Bradley lets himself bask in this moment as the two of you stand there in the kitchen of your dream house.

There are a few pops from the wood in the fireplace, the refrigerator is humming away in the background, and he can just hear the sounds of a melodic piano from the playlist he queued up earlier playing over the speaker.

Of all the delicious scents that waft through the house, the smell the floral and musk notes in you perfume is still his favorite.

There are times in the soft quiet of night, usually when you are asleep and his mind won’t quite settle, that he sometimes thinks he was put on this Earth to hold you.

It’s the only reason he can think of that explains why you fit so perfectly against his body.

Why his palms can fit so perfectly over your rounded stomach.

Why it’s his hands that you have trusted to protect your heart.

And he’s still holding you in the warmth of the kitchen when he hears the front door open.

Bradley knows he’s going to have to play host soon and he just wants to keep you in his arms for just a little longer.

“Hey kids, I brought the turkey,” Mav calls out from the entry.

You spin in his arms, looking at him wide eyed and confused as you two exchange a look. He presses one last kiss to your cheek before letting you go.

“Thought you were going to bring the rolls, Mav,” Bradley calls out just in time to see him round the corner.

Pete stands there proudly grinning holding a few bags of bakery rolls in one hand and a turkey in the other.

The sound of your delighted laughter makes his heart swell in his chest as he takes in the sight.

“Cooper Mitchell Ford Bradshaw, you are without a doubt the cutest turkey I have ever seen,” you gush as you go to greet Mav with a warm hug and a kiss on his cheek. Your son’s chubby arms reaching out for you.

Mav has dressed your almost two-year-old son in a soft, plush turkey costume that is complete with tailfeathers and a beak. He’s clearly a fan of the outfit too because he is grinning widely, showing of the more of the baby teeth that have come in over the last few months.

Mav had swung by early this morning to take him off your hands to get ready for Daggersgiving without chasing an almost-toddler around. While it was nice to have some time just the two of you while you got the place in order and took care of the last-minute things, like that homemade cranberry sauce, but he’d missed not having his son around.

The sweet sound of Cooper’s giggles and your coos fill up the kitchen as he watches you pepper his face with kisses. You bounce him a little and do a little spin, making the little boy laugh even more. The two of you in your own little bubble.

“You doin’ ok over there, kid?” Mav asks. A soft, knowing grin on his face as he sets the rolls on the counter to pull him in for a hug.

The two men had made their way back to each other over the last few years, just another thing that Bradley was grateful for in his life. The man had always been his father in everything but name. That is until he’d seen the man who helped raised him hold his son for the first time.

“Yeah, Dad,” Bradley says, clearing his throat a bit, “Everything’s perfect.”

From there it’s a flurry of activity as people start to arrive.

Nat comes with her longtime girlfriend and the extra bottles of the fancy Napa wine she promised to bring. Only handing it over once he promised to give her the name of the contractor the two of you had worked with and the exact shade of green that was used on the lower cabinets during your kitchen renovation.

Payback and Fanboy and their wives show up wearing oversized turkey hats on their heads each carrying a bakery box of pie.

Bradley isn’t surprised when Duck ditches the attention that Coyote was giving him the second Bob shows up with the famous Floyd family scalloped potatoes. Bob has always been a sucker for a pair of puppy dog eyes.

And in between checking on people’s glasses, swapping out empty appetizer trays for fuller ones, and making sure Jake doesn’t tamper with his perfectly cooked turkey, he’s got his eyes trained on you.

There are no words for the pride and love that washes over him every time he looks over and sees you with his son propped up on your hip and the way your pretty dress stretches around your growing family.

He had missed this stage of your pregnancy when he was deployed and you were pregnant with Cooper. He was determined to savor every second of this one. Every butter related freak out and every late-night milkshake run.

Being in his house surrounded with all the people he loves, minus a couple who are here in spirit, isn’t something he could ever take for granted. It’s more blessings than he ever hoped to receive in this lifetime.

You look over your shoulder at him and everything about the way you’re looking at him is picture perfect.

Your smile sunshine gold and just for him as you hold his gaze for a moment as time ticks on around the two of you. You send him a little wink before turning back to Mav who has his phone held up for a FaceTime call with Penny and Amelia.

Bradley sees his son peek his head up from where it had been nestled into your neck. Cooper grins when he sees him, his tiny hand reaching out for his dad. For him.

As he makes his way over to the two of you with his heart full, he makes a mental note to ask Mav later where he got that costume. He’s already planning on running out tomorrow to see if they have any more in stock now that it seems they have a new Bradshaw tradition on their hands.

He’s going to have three little turkeys running around this time next year and he couldn’t wait.

Twins.

Bradley sometimes still couldn’t believe it. When the tech has announced that you were cooking not one, but two future Bradshaw’s, his heart had nearly burst from his chest from the shock and joy. A gift from his late father’s side of the family.

Cooper and him were going to be outnumbered soon.

The two of you had found out earlier in the month that Everly Wren Bradshaw and Millie Lark Bradshaw were going to be the newest members to join your little family.

His girls.

It was an announcement the two of you were excited to share later tonight with everyone else when the slices of pies were being passed around.

He scoops up Cooper from you with one arm, dropping a kiss onto his little boy’s perfect curls as his small fist clutches as the soft fabric of his shirt. And then Bradley kisses the crown of your head as he wraps his other arm around you, his thumb stroking the swell of your belly.

With you- because of you- he gets to have it all.

The wife. The family. The house. The dog. The life. The dream.

He’s right where he wants to be.

He’s right where he’s supposed to be.

Happy Thanksgiving! This was such a joy to write, thank you for reading!

It might not be Carole Bradshaw's famous pie, but it's one of my favorites! And who better to share it with than you! Cranberry-Lime Pie

If you haven't read the 'Like I Can' series you can read it here!

You can read my other stories here!

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