#thanks for the request! I hope you like it!!!

[sakuraszn]

in love with you writhing babe💖

Is it okay to request headcannons about the mha Boys+Hawks reacting to their child clinging more to them than to reader, which makes reader a bit sad ?

awww thank you babes! I actually appreciate it sm, sorry that I’m just now seeing this I hope your still here to read it😅 !

request/summary: MHA characters reacting to their child clinging more to them than to reader, which makes reader a bit sad.

ft. ejirou kirishima, katsuki bakugo, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki and keigo takami (hawks)

Eijiro Kirishima | The Ultimate Soft Dad

𖥔 Kirishima is hands down the biggest softie when it comes to his kid. The moment they were born, he swore to be the most present, reliable dad ever. (+ and he cried the loudest once he cradled them in his arms)

𖥔 He’s the fun parent—always down to play, wrestle, and go on little adventures around the house.

𖥔 His kid sees him as a walking jungle gym, constantly climbing onto his shoulders or clinging to his arm like a baby koala. especially when he’s doing home workouts.

𖥔 He doesn’t realize at first that his little one favors him over you because he just assumes they love you both equally.

𖥔 Once he notices, though, and sees the sad look on your face when your child turns away from your hugs in favor of his, he immediately wants to fix it.

You sigh, watching as your toddler scrambles out of your lap the second Kirishima enters the room. The second your little one sees him, they light up like fireworks.

“DADDY!!” they yell, tiny feet padding as fast as they run toward him with their arms wide open.

Kirishima grins, scooping them up easily and throwing them in the air just enough to make them giggle before catching them securely. “Hey, Little Rock! Missed me?”

They nod rapidly, wrapping their tiny arms around his neck and burying their face into his shoulder. Your smile falters just slightly.

You weren’t mad—how could you be? Kirishima was a wonderful dad. scratch that, he was an incredible dad! But lately, it seemed like no matter how much you tried, your child always wanted him over you. If you reached for them, they’d whine and scramble to Kirishima instead.

Kirishima notices your expression, his smile dimming. “Hey, why don’t you give Mama some hugs too, huh?” He gently pulls them back so they can look at him. “Mama has the warmest hugs ever! Look.” He says as he pulls you in by the waist and brings you into a family hug and of course, you hug him back.

Your child fidgets, looking between the two of you, before shyly reaching for you. You brighten up immediately, taking them into your arms.

Kirishima wraps his arms around both of you, kissing the side of your head. “See? Now we’re a team hug.”

You laugh softly, leaning into him as your little one relaxes in your arms. “A team hug, huh?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re just as important as I am, babe. We’ll make sure they know that.” He kisses your lips.

“ewwww!” your child exclaims covering their eyes in disgust.

You and kirishima laughed loudly.

God, you just loved your husband.

Katsuki Bakugo | The Unintentional Favorite

𖥔 Bakugo never expected to be the favorite parent—he thought for sure it’d be you.

* he struggled with parenting at first because he wasn’t too good with kids but gradually become decent at it.

𖥔 He’s gruff, not overly affectionate, and doesn’t baby his kid, yet for some reason, they cling to him like he’s their whole world.

𖥔 It’s probably because they see him as strong and reliable (plus, he’s a human heater, which helps with nap time).

𖥔 He pretends to be annoyed by their clinginess, but everyone can tell he secretly loves it.

𖥔 The moment he realizes you’re feeling a little left out, he goes into full damage control mode—though in his own Bakugo way.

“Tch, what do ya mean you don’t want Mommy?” Bakugo scowls down at your toddler, who’s gripping onto his pant leg like their life depends on it.

They shake their head stubbornly, burying their face against his leg. You sit on the couch, trying not to let it get to you. It wasn’t like you didn’t spend time with your child—you did. But lately, they only wanted your husband.

“You little brat,” he mutters, bending down to scoop them up effortlessly. “What, am I just your personal ride now?”

Your child giggles, clearly taking that as a yes.

You sigh softly, getting up from the couch. “I’m gonna go clean up the kitchen—”

Before you can walk away, Bakugo suddenly grabs your wrist. You blink in surprise as he pulls you in and shifts your child to one arm, freeing the other so he can tug you against his chest.

“The hell ya think you’re goin’?” he grumbles. “We’re a package deal, dumbass.”

You blink, then feel the small arms of your toddler wrap around your neck. Hesitantly, you hold them, and for once, they don’t try to escape.

Bakugo scoffs. “See? They just need to be reminded you’re just as awesome as me.”

You smile, leaning into him as your cheeks warm up from the compliment. “Thanks, Katsu.”

He grunts. “Yeah, yeah. Now, let’s go and make dinner. We’re all eating together, got it?”

“Got it!” your baby yelled out in your arms

A laugh bubbles up in your throat. Even if he wouldn’t say it outright, you knew he cared.

Izuku Midoriya | The Overthinker Dad

𖥔 Midoriya is so proud to be a dad—he litterally documents everything, from their first words to their first steps.

𖥔 He’s a mix between playful and gentle, making him the perfect comfort parent.

𖥔 He also the good cop between you two

𖥔 His child sticks to him like glue, always holding onto his fingers when walking places or snuggling into his chest when it’s time to go to sleep.

𖥔 He panics the moment he realizes they favor him over you, feeling immense guilt.

𖥔 He actively tries to push them towards you more, but it backfires sometimes..

Midoriya watches as your toddler scurries away from your arms, straight into his once he gets back from the store. He chuckles nervously, picking them up, but when he glances at you, he sees the sadness in your eyes.

His heart drops.

That night, when the baby is asleep, he turns to you, wringing his hands. “I think—I think I did something wrong.”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

He gestures wildly. “They—They always want to be around me! What if I’m taking up too much space? What if I—”

You grab his cheeks, squeezing them making him stop his rambling and look up at you with his big green eyes.

“Izuku, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“But it makes you upset,” he murmurs, looking guilty.

You smile softly. “Yeah, a little. But they love me too.”

His brows furrow before he suddenly pulls you into a hug. “I’ll make sure they show it more. You’re their mom, you deserve all the love.”

You laugh gently knowing he will do his best to keep that promise.

Shoto Todoroki | The Unbothered but Observant Dad

𖥔 Obviously, Todoroki is the calmest, gentlest dad—his child sees him as a source of warmth and safety naturally.

𖥔 He doesn’t mind being clung to, though he finds it fascinating because he isn’t to fond o

𖥔 He’s very observant, so he notices immediately when you feel left out. a little too quickly..

𖥔 Without making a big deal, he starts nudging your child toward you in small ways.

You sigh as your toddler once again chooses Todoroki’s arms over yours. Not trying to make a big deal out of it you don’t say anything, but he notices.

That night, as your child fights sleep, Todoroki gently whispers, “Mama gives the best goodnight kisses.”

Your toddler looks up, curious. “Really?”

He nods. “Mhm. Better than mine.”

Hesitantly, they turn to you. You blink in surprise before pressing a soft kiss to their forehead. They giggle, snuggling into you.

Todoroki watches, a small, satisfied smile on his lips.

Mission success !

Keigo Takami | The Playful but Protective Dad

𖥔 You cannot tell me Hawks isn’t the ultimate fun dad, his child sees him as the cool, flying hero.

𖥔 because of that they cling to him constantly, loving the thrill of being in his beefy arms.

𖥔 He doesn’t realize you feel left out at first but immediately takes action once he does.

𖥔 He starts making it a game—turning their attention to you in fun ways. [love him for that]

“Alright, little bird,” Hawks coos, “time for Mama cuddles.”

Your toddler pouts. “But Dada flies!”

Hawks grins, then suddenly scoops you both up with his wings. “Then let’s all fly.”

You yelp as he effortlessly lifts you, his wings keeping you steady. Your child giggles, clinging to you now instead.

Hawks smirks. “See? Mama’s way more fun than me.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart feels full.

Hawks winks. “Team effort, babe.” He says as he gives you a quick peck to the cheek and smiles.

And just like that, things feel balanced again.

©sakuraszn! xoxo

[monstersflashlight]

Magic dick

A/N: It's been a while since I posted something non-request or commissioned, so here. Also, what’s more romantic than a glory hole?

Non-identified monster x fem!reader || glory hole, free use (kinda?), oral sex, dirty talk

Ending Valentine’s Day on a monster club isn’t what you were expecting, but definitely welcomed. The dance floor is great, and you talked and almost humped a couple monsters. You are keyed up and ready to ask one of them to bring you home for the night, but when your friend asks for a bathroom break, you follow her.

That’s when you see it.

There’s a door at the back, a black door with only one sign in the front that says “Let a magic dick decide your destiny”. You turn to your friend with a smile, she’s already shaking her head.

“No,” she cuts your overexcited self. "Let's go, come on," your friend says, pulling you away from the door. But you dig your heels on the floor.

"Dude, come on! It says Let a magic dick decide your destiny. We need to try it!" You know it’s very unlikely she would say yes, but you want to. You want to end your Valentine’s on a high note, and what a better note than a monster dick.

"I don't wanna try a magic dick," she says, almost exasperated.

You look at her, clasping your hands and begging her: "But I do! Come on, pleaseee!" You try to sound as annoying as possible.

"Ugh, okay, I'll wait here. Go in, have fun, if you aren't out in 30 min I'm coming in, though." She rests her back against the wall and takes her phone out, dismissing your very happy-self.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you say as you kiss her cheek loudly and open the door.

Your excitement and anticipation can’t barely keep up with the instant joy that fills your insides. You don’t have time to process why do you feel like that, though.

At the other side there’s a colorful wall with all kinds of genitals painted in pastel colors: human, monster, alien, robot… There’s so many and in so many shapes and colors that it looks almost cozy, like something you could see in a Monstagram post or something. But you don’t focus on that for very long, because in the middle of all of that, there are three holes… and one of them is occupied.

It’s in a pretty combination of purple and green, and it has ridges under the tip, forming almost a crown that looks like it could drive you into oblivion if they rubbed against your G-spot. You lick your lips, your mouth salivating at the idea of tasting him. You don’t know what kind of monster he is, but you can almost picture him with his head thrown back and maybe… maybe horns. Yeah, you’d like if he had horns.

You approach slowly, measuring your steps so he’s at least surprised when you touch him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He starts cursing as soon as you wrap your hands around his shaft.

You aren’t expecting such strong reaction, but it ignites something inside of you that drives you a bit insane with desire. You always preferred partners that were vocal, and the monster on the other side of the wall definitely is.

He’s so big, bigger than any dick you’ve ever seen before, and it’s making you all kinds of hot and bothered. “Hi there, I hope you don’t mind if I help myself here,” you tell the monster, not expecting him to say anything else, but being surprised when he does.

“Are you... who are you?” He sounds choked out, almost as if he’s holding back already and you have only touched him.

“A human,” you simply say, amusement clear in your voice. You don’t know much about glory hole etiquette, but asking for somebody’s identity is probably not it.

He takes a deep breath, sniffing the air audibly. “You smell… Fuck, you smell so good.” He groans, as if your smell is good enough to give him pleasure. His dick twitches in your hand, and well… Maybe your arousal is clear to him? You aren’t sure, but you don’t really mind it, you want to suck his cock and get out of there.

You chuckle, not the first time somebody said that to you tonight. “You can smell me from there?” You ask back, spitting on his dick and using it as lube as he whimpers pitifully.

“Yes. Fuck, yes.” You go faster, your hands working in tandem over his shaft as he bulks against the thin wall.

The sounds he’s making are desperate, and you can feel your pussy tingling as you fall to your knees in front of the hole. You think about saying something, but you end up just leaning forward and taking his tip on your mouth, your tongue softly touching the ridges at the crown until he’s begging you to take him deeper, to move faster, until he’s crying so loud you are sure even the people on the dance floor can hear him. But you don’t even care about it.

You only care about the dick in your mouth and the pathetic sounds he’s making, bulking against the wall as if he’s trying to get as far as possible down your throat. But he can’t. You have all the power, and that excites you. That drives your desire higher and higher until you are drenched and your clit is mirroring the pulses of your heartbeat.

“You are great. Fuck. You are doing perfect. You are perfect. Such a pretty mouth, such good tongue over my shaft. Holy fuck…” He’s chanting all kinds of nonsense, but you don’t answer, too busy swallowing around the shaft in your mouth. You hum a response, making the monster groan very loudly. “Goddess, darling, that feels so good…” His voice breaks in another groan, one that makes your insides twitch and your free hand travels down.

You rub your clit over your panties, thanking the universe for wearing the cute little dress that allows you to touch yourself easily. “Are you touching yourself? Fuck, that’s so hot! Get yourself there, darling, please.” You don’t even question how he knows, but knowing he’s aware of your hand in your panties makes you swallow around him, groaning around his shaft. “Finger that pretty pussy for me. Make yourself come with my dick in your mouth.” His words are exhilarating, you’ve never been with somebody who didn’t make dirty talk sound corny, but good damn it if he isn’t helping you out with that dirty mouth.

You do as he says, rubbing your clit at the same time you jerk him off, your mouth too little to take all of him, not even half. He doesn’t seem to care, cursing and screaming for the Goddess as you drive him crazy with your mouth and hand. You push two fingers inside your welcoming pussy, rubbing the heel of your hand against your clit.

The combined sensation between your hand and the cock in your mouth is enough to make your eyes roll back into your head, the symphony of your mixed moans ascending you to heaven. Your back and knees hurt, but you don’t care, you can’t care. You are so close. So, so close…

“I’m… I’m coming. Goddess, fuck. Holy fuck. Come with me, darling, please, let me smell your orgasm…” His words mean nothing, but they are enough to drive you over the edge.

You clench around your fingers at the same time he screams and your throat is filled with his seed. He tastes sweet, almost like pie (the joke in there isn’t missed). You hum around his shaft until he’s begging and crying out, pulling back as you smile and run your tongue over your lips, catching the last drops of his release. You lick your own fingers as you get up, humming happily and sated.

“Wait there,” he grunts across the wall, the dick disappearing completely as you wipe your mouth and get your dress down.

You chuckle, walking to the door and opening to find your friend looking over your shoulder. You turn around just in time to see a very big, very scary purple and green monster barreling down the hallway, dick still wet and hanging out his open pants.

Turns out the magic dick could predict who would be your soulmate, and nobody was expecting for you to be the mate of the dick in question… Not even him.

[seungfl0wer]

ੈ♡Falling For | Minho

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

A/N: This was super cute to make I hope you guys enjoy this one! Also the tiniest tiny tiny bit of suggestive in the 8th text

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💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

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[totalswag]

Hi, Hope you are doing well ! :)

Can you do a famous #singer!reader where she just broke up with someone other minor celebrity that was using her 6 months ago. Another male famous celebrity comes to her concert, wanting to check her out and ends up dating her ? (The famous celebrity could be Drew Starkey, Austin Butler,etc.)

locking eyes for the first time ⎯ DREW STARKEY!

authors note thank you for giving me this request. this was so much fun to write. i'm using feather by sabrina carpenter for the "revenge song." request are open again.

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary after getting heartbroken by a guy you were talking to six months later you perform at your sold out show and meet drew starkey for the first time.

warning(s) betrayal, breakup, cursing, music, and dating drew starkey.

Six months ago.

You've been talking to this guy⎯he's been the spotlight for quite some time. You found out he was using you for more "fame" and recognition connections. This shattered your heart but confronted him about it⎯he denied it first then admitted at the very end before you kicked him out your house.

His dad is a producer in the music industry. You met at an after party one night and hit it off. He made you fall for him as if he casted a spell on you. He knew what he was doing the entire five months you were together.

"So all of this was a lie, Adam?" You ask, crossing your hands over your chest in disbelief⎯staring at him like he was trash sitting in front of you.

Adam runs his hands down his thighs, sighing, "Look, Y/N, I don't know where you got that information," he pauses looking around, "It's not true," his voice trying to come off convincing.

You scoff, sarcastically nodding, "oh okay, so, Josh, you, and the rest of the guys weren't hanging out and you didn't say you've been using me?" your voice raises, emphasizing using.

"Who told you that?" He questions you in an almost panicked tone. The look on his face said it all: he'd been caught. 

You nod, frustrated. "doesn't matter, is it true you've been using me?" Your voice rises, pointing at yourself.

"Yup," was all he could say.

You huff, "Dude, fuck you," chuckle, "Get out of my face and leave my house," and motion to the front door.

As the months continued to pass, you focused on yourself, surrounded yourself who those who bring you comfort, wrote music to let it all out on pen. You began to feel like yourself again.

Recently came out with a single for your music. This song is based on your experience with Adam. Let's be honest, he tried coming back with all these apologies to come back. You weren't having it.

You're on tour performing your new album and singing one of your popular songs⎯it's about what happened between Adam and you. Everyone knew about the breakup after they saw Adam with a new girl two weeks after.

The first show will be held at the Inglewood Forum. Tonight, your good friends are coming to support you. Madelyn, one of your good friends, will be joining with a few of her Outer Banks co-stars. You were taken aback by how many people were coming from your inner circle.

Madelyn mentioned one of her co stars, Drew Starkey, wanted to come see you perform after listening to your music. You've heard about him⎯good things.

After the show was over, you thanked your fans for coming out for the first show of tour, and cannot wait for the upcoming shows.

"Y/N, you did fantastic out there," Maddie grinned as you turned the corner where everyone else was waiting. 

"Thank you, mama; I'm glad you guys came to watch," you grin, moving away from Maddie and indicating to the rest of the cast. Drew Starkey stood out to you the most.

Everyone is having discussions while showering and changing. When you emerge feeling refreshed and clean, you approach Drew and introduce yourself. 

"You're Drew right?" You ask him abruptly, "My name is Y/N," with your hand out.

Drew turns around, amused to see you. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. My name is Drew," he smiles, gently shaking your hand, "and you did an amazing job tonight."

Drew and you get to talking for a bit until you exchanged socials and numbers. You two began hanging out in private⎯getting to know one another. Learned so much about him and grew to form feelings for him⎯he felt the same way.

Two months later, Drew and you are happily together. Never felt this way about someone in a long time. Feels like he was sent to you for a reason. When you soft launched your relationship to the media, fans were nuts over it⎯even Adam.

Adam: so you're dating someone?

Y/N: and why do you care if you used me? goodbye.

Blocked.

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[witchywithwhiskey]

For your Sweethearts Game: Johnny Storm and Let's Kiss 🥰

light up the night

pairing: best friend!johnny storm x female reader

summary: at the valentine's day carnival, your best friend makes a wild suggestion that leads to both of you confessing your real feelings.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, brief dry humping, piv sex, protected sex/condoms, kissing—like SO much kissing, semi-public sex (in johnny's truck in an empty field), dirty talk, praise kink, aftercare, love confessions, friends to lovers, pet names (firefly), happy ending

word count: 3.0k

a/n: ahhh i was so happy to get this request, Jaqui!! i haven't really written/posted anything for Johnny Storm before, and i've been wanting to ever since i saw Deadpool & Wolverine, so this was a fun excuse to try it out! and i'm really happy with how sweet and fluffy this turned out (with just a little bit of spice 🤭). thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

“Let’s kiss.”

The words, said by your best friend, Johnny Storm, were so unexpected that they startled a laugh from your lips. 

“Johnny…what?” you spluttered, pushing yourself back from your best friend’s chest, where you’d been burrowing into his thick winter coat to ward off the February chill. 

You were all too aware of the fact that you could only put so much distance between you and him since you were strapped into the metal seat of a ferris wheel, which was slowly lifting you and your best friend toward the gunmetal gray clouds in the sky. 

It had been Johnny’s idea to go to the Valentine’s Day carnival together, and though you’d tried to tell him that he must have women lining up around the block to be his date, he’d insisted on taking you. 

You supposed you should be grateful to your best friend for not wanting to let you wallow in misery alone on the holiday meant for couples while you were hopelessly single. But there was a special kind of torture in going to a Valentine’s Day carnival with the best friend you had secret feelings for and pretend it wasn’t killing you that it wasn’t a real date.

“C’mon, firefly, haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like?” Johnny was asking, dragging your attention back to your handsome best friend. His voice was low and earnest, and sounding nothing like the playful tone he had when he was teasing you. 

You swallowed and bit your lip, looking out across the carnival to give yourself time to try to think up something, anything to say that wasn’t the truth. Which was that of course you’d wondered what it would be like to kiss Johnny Storm. You’d laid awake too many nights in your life wondering exactly that. 

But you couldn’t say that. So you looked out at the expanse of red and white striped booths, the other carnival rides lit up in bright neon in shades ranging from flamingo pink to flaming fuchsia, and all the people milling about. 

A light snow was falling from the dark sky, making the scene even more magical. But you couldn’t enjoy it, not with Johnny’s question hanging around your shoulders like an impossible weight.

“Have you?” you found yourself asking, cutting your eyes to Johnny without turning your head and finding him watching you intently. 

Having all of your best friend’s attention on you was a heady feeling and you nearly lept into his lap and kissed him, just to sate the curiosity that had burning in your soul for years. But you managed to hold yourself back with all your practiced self-control.

A grin spread across Johnny’s face at your question and he wrapped an arm around your front, the other snaking between your back and the metal seat to haul you closer until you were tucked into his side. The position put your face very close to Johnny’s, and instead of pushing away like you knew you should, you found yourself drifting even closer. 

“I didn’t,” Johnny admitted, and the bluntness of his statement made you reel back. 

Your best friend was quick, though, and he cupped your cheek in his hand. His palm was so warm against your chilled skin that you couldn’t help the happy little chirp you made as you leaned into his touch. He was always so warm, and always so willing to share his warmth with you. How could you possibly not fall for him?

“But then I did,” your best friend murmured, staring deep into your eyes, nothing but genuine affection in his gaze. “And now I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

Your eyes widened and you sucked in a soft gasp of surprise at Johnny’s revelation. Of their own accord, your eyes drifted down to his mouth, taking in the plump lower lip framed by the rough stubble decorating his jaw. 

Johnny’s sister Sue was always on him about shaving, and cutting his slightly shaggy brown hair, but you hoped he never did. You liked his scruff—you wanted to feel it against your cheeks…and other places.

“You can’t stop thinking about kissing me?” you asked, your voice barely a wisp on the wind. But that didn’t seem to stop Johnny from hearing you. He always managed to hear you. 

Your best friend’s eyes softened, pure affection—and something deeper, something even warmer—in the curve of his mouth as he smiled at you. 

“Yeah, firefly,” he rumbled, ducking his head until his forehead was pressed to yours. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

“Oh.”

It was all you could think to say, and yet it sounded so insufficient for everything you were feeling. There was excitement, bright and unmistakable, burning in your heart. But there was also cold fear churning uneasily in your belly. You were afraid of kissing Johnny and it leading to more, and then something happening to ruin your relationship. 

He was your best friend, the person you always counted on. The stakes couldn’t possibly be higher because you simply could not lose him. 

And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him either. Especially not with the way you could taste the peppermint hot chocolate on his breath as he shifted even closer. The warmth of his exhales fanned across your lips and you felt a pull toward him like a physical tether that you were growing tired of resisting.

“Let’s kiss,” Johnny said again, his words low and pleading. “Please, firefly, I need to…” His words were bitten off by a sound of pure need and emotion low in his throat. The fierceness in his tone had your body lighting up, coming alive beneath the layers of your winter clothes despite the chill in the air.

“Johnny.” His name was the softest of sighs slipping from your lips. 

Suddenly, you knew, with absolute certainty, that you couldn’t possibly step off that ferris wheel without kissing your best friend. So you whispered the words that would seal your fate, a challange to the universe to try to ruin your relationship with Johnny. You’d like to see the universe try. 

“Do it.”

The brash, confident Johnny Storm didn’t need to be told twice. 

Your best friend’s mouth crashed down on yours, not giving you a chance to take back your words—not that you would’ve wanted to. 

The moment’s Johnny’s lips sealed against yours, you knew you were done for. He was the man you’d wanted to kiss for so long, and you quickly realized he was the only man you ever wanted to kiss again for the rest of your life.

Johnny’s mouth was ravenous as he devoured yours. It felt like the first touch of your lips had opened the floodgates on the emotions both of you had been burying for years, and there was no stemming the tide of affection that surged forward and swirled around your heart. 

You could feel the hunger in every sweep of Johnny’s tongue, in every pull of his mouth as he sucked on your lower lip, in the greedy handfuls he helped himself to through your winter coat. And you were just as voracious with your kisses, nipping at his mouth and twining your tongue with his, your fingers twisting in his fluffy brown hair and yanking him closer until there wasn’t any space left between your bodies.

It wasn’t until a loud cough sounded close by that the two of you broke apart. Your exhales puffed out of you in white little clouds in the cold February night, and it made you giggle to see them mingling with Johnny’s as you tried to catch your breath. 

When you tried to extricate yourself a little from his hold, Johnny’s arms tightened around your waist and it was only then that you realized the ferris wheel had come to a stop. The metal bar that had been locked into place over your laps was rising and a bored-looking teenager was standing by the controls, waiting for you and your best friend to exit while a line of people looked ready to board.

“Aren’t you guys a little old to be making out on the ferris wheel?” the teen muttered as you scrambled out of the ferris wheel car, making your face flame with embarrassment. 

“You’re never too old to mack on your girl, kid,” Johnny replied easily, clapping a hand on the teen’s shoulder as he passed. Your best friend threw his other arm around your shoulders and tucked you into his side as he led you away from the ferris wheel. 

A light, giddy laugh fell from your lips and you buried your face in Johnny’s chest until you’d gotten ahold of yourself. And until you’d left the ferris wheel and everyone who’d caught you making out with your best friend behind.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said to him, your voice thick with affection as you pushed up onto your toes to press a kiss to the scruffy underside of your best friend’s jaw. “Who even says ‘mack on’ anymore?”

“Me, obviously,” Johnny teased, pulling you closer and cupping your cheek. He nipped at your lower lip playfully, all while still walking through the crowded fairgrounds and making sure neither of you bumped into anyone. “You love it.”

His voice was low and husky and it sent a shiver racing down your spine, heat gathering between your thighs despite the chill in the air. Your fingers curled into the softness of Johnny’s jacket, clinging to him as you walked together, unable to pull away and look at the sights of the carnival around you.

“I do,” you agreed with a smile. He ducked down and kissed you, making your body light up and an ache to throb between your thighs. There was a desperate feeling in your chest, and you had the undeniable urge to get closer to Johnny, to feel him everywhere. So before you could think better of it, you asked, “Can we get out of here?”

A grin spread across Johnny’s face, having that edge of arrogance you associated with your best friend. But there was also a hunger in his eyes, one that matched the feeling burning in your chest, and you were thankful when all he said was, “Absolutely.”

The two of you couldn’t possibly be expected to keep your hands to yourselves, even on the short walk out of the carnival to Johnny’s truck, and you drew plenty more aggrieved coughs and clearing of throats before you finally broke free from the crowd. Your hands kept slipping beneath Johnny’s coat, tugging on the belt loops of his jeans to pull him closer, while his palms seemed to be glued to your ass and hips. 

It was all you could do to make it to your best friend’s truck without a public indecency charge, and even then, it was a near thing. But you couldn’t seem to stop touching him, kissing him, trying to get closer to him. 

For a long, blissful moment, Johnny pinned you against the passenger side door of his truck, kissing you deeply while his hands groped greedily at your ass and thighs, hiking your leg up so he could grind into your center. It was only when you tossed your head back against the truck and let out a loud moan that he seemed to remember where the two of you were. 

Johnny made quick work out of opening the door to his truck and helping you up into the passenger seat. You had to bite your kiss-swollen lip hard not to whine when he pulled away to walk around the front of the truck and hop in. As soon as he was inside, you slid across the bench seat, curling around his bicep while he cranked the engine and pulled out of the parking spot.

Carefully—extra carefully, since your lips were fastened to his neck and he was gripping your thigh tightly in one hand—Johnny maneuvered the truck into a desolate corner of the field being used as the parking lot for the carnival. It was shrouded in shadows from the tall trees surrounding the field, and so far from the crowd that you knew no one would interrupt the two of you again.

As soon as Johnny put the truck in park, leaving the heater on and cracking the windows to make sure it didn’t get too hot or too cold in the cab, it felt like the two of you were in a race to see who could undress the other faster. Coats and sweaters and boots and pants were strewn haphazardly across the dashboard and the steering wheel in your excitement to get naked. 

But when Johnny lay you down, the leather bench seat warm and smooth against your back, he slowed to a pause. His narrow hips were slotted perfectly between your thighs, a condom already wrapped around his hard cock, but he took a moment to cup your face in his big hands and stare at you.

“You’re it for me, firefly,” he murmured, staring deeply into your eyes and letting you see the love and devotion plainly in his dark sapphire gaze. “I didn’t know….” Johnny trailed off, swallowing thickly. 

You could see him struggling and you squeezed his arm reassuringly. He smiled faintly, ducking his head to kiss your knuckles and then gathered himself enough to continue on.

“I didn’t understand what it meant to always want to be near you, to be out and always wanting to come home to you,” Johnny confessed, his voice husky with emotion. His bright blue eyes stared at you carefully, watching you absorb what he was saying. “I thought that was just friendship, but then I started thinking about kissing you, and I realized it was something more.”

“Oh Johnny,” you said, your voice thick with tears, but you blinked them back, not wanting to go a moment without seeing his handsome face hovering above yours. “I’ve loved you for ages,” you admitted, laughing giddily at the relief that came from finally confessing your feelings. 

“And you didn’t tell me?” Johnny acted affronted, ducking down and nipping at your lip in a way you knew was meant to be playfully chastising. “You shoulda smacked me upside the head and told me to stop being an idiot, firefly, to see what was right in front of me.”

“You got there eventually,” you said, teasing him a little since you couldn’t help it. Your laugh was cut off by his kiss, Johnny growling good-naturedly while he licked into your mouth, tasting your happiness straight from your tongue. It was blissful and indulgent, getting to kiss your best friend whenever you wanted, and you melted even further for him.

Then the urgency returned and Johnny was wrapping his fist around his cock and guiding the tip to your dripping entrance. He pushed inside your aching, needy hole, and the time for confessions was over. Johnny buried himself inside your body to the hilt, and you let out a little sob of pleasure at finally being joined with your best friend in the most intimate way possible.

He cooed at you sweetly, whispering filthy words in your ear about how good you felt and how perfectly your pussy felt wrapped around his cock. You muffled your whimpers and whines in his scruffy jaw, your teeth scraping over his warm skin as he told you what a good girl you were, how perfectly you were taking his cock. 

Johnny fucked you slowly, with deep, firm thrusts that made you feel every inch of his cock. Your ankles hooked around the backs of his thighs, pulling him in even deeper, your pussy gripping him tightly as you clung to his body and moaned your pleasure into his mouth. 

You were the first to shatter, Johnny’s hips grinding the base of his cock against your clit until you were shaking and crying through your release. He followed you over the edge right after, your squeezing pussy wringing every drop of cum from his hard length. 

Johnny murmured his love and affection in your ear, brushing sweet, bristly kisses to your cheeks and lips as he eased his softening length from your body and made quick work of disposing of the condom. Tenderly, he cleaned you up as best he could in his truck and helped you get dressed again. Only once your winter coat was all zipped up did he pull on his jeans and sweater.

You curled up against his arm while he drove you home, your body warm and loose and sated—for the moment. 

He parked in your driveway, getting out to open your door for you and help you down from the truck. Johnny walked you to your door and paused beneath the porch light, pulling you in for a kiss while he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Do you know why I call you firefly?” he asked in a soft, sweet tone that you were coming to associate with the boyfriend version of your best friend.

“No, why?” you answered breathlessly, pushing up onto your tiptoes and nuzzling your face into Johnny’s scruffy cheek. You were already making a mental note to make sure he never shaved it again—even if the thought of rubbing your face against his smooth skin also held a certain kind of appeal…

“Because you always light up the night,” Johnny said, his voice filled with affection as he turned his face into yours, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. “No matter what is going right or wrong in my life, you’re always the brightest, most beautiful thing about it.”

“Oh Johnny,” you breathed on a soft, happy sigh. A part of you might’ve thought it was too soon, but, for the life of you, you couldn’t bite back the words even if you’d wanted to. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too, firefly.” 

Johnny’s smile melted as he kissed you, long and hard, until your nose grew cold in the chilly February air. Then, he helped you fish your keys from your pockets and fitted them into the lock on your door. 

On the arm of your boyfriend, Johnny Storm, you pushed inside your home, and spent the rest of Valentine’s Day showing him your love with kisses and words and everything in between, while he showed you his love in return.

Together, you lit up the night.

sweethearts game masterlist

[kiwriteswords]

So I have another request 🥸☝️

I had this idea about a 5+1 story and this is definitely your thing so I guess it’s the perfect moment to tell you about it and of course feel free to do it or not (I promise I won’t be sad if you don’t)

The thing was “5 times reader took Hotch on a date and one time he did” and in my head it was something like he hasn’t been on date for a long date or he always went on “simple” dates and doesn’t have anything special to tell or another amazing reason you’ll find because your brain is beautiful and reader decide to take him and of course the last one he’s the one who does

Not sure if it’s clear and maybe it’s not even a good idea 😂 but here it is and thank you for being amazing 💖

Everybody Knows You're All I've Got [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 5.3k|| AN: Ahh, I love this! Thank YOU for being amazing and always so kind! I really appreciate all of the support and requests! I hope this is what you were looking for! <3

Tags/Warnings: female reader, 5 +1, best friends to lovers, Oblivious Hotch, Grumpy x Sunshine, Reader has an ex-boyfriend, reader hints at being bisexual? (easy to miss tbh), fake dating, first dates, slow burn, Jack Hotchner TW (for those who don't like him included 🤷‍♀️) Hotch is a rusty boyfriend, Reader takes care of hotch bc he sucks at caring for himself

Summary: Five times you took Hotch on a date and the one time he takes you on one.

I. 

When you started at the BAU, it wasn't just the beginning of a new job but the start of an unlikely friendship with Aaron Hotchner. 

To many, Hotch was a mystery wrapped in a suit, always reserved and meticulously professional. But to you, he was a puzzle waiting to be understood, a person who just needed a bit of sunlight in the often shadowy world of the BAU.

You were everything Hotch wasn't outwardly: bubbly, openly kind, and radiating empathy like warmth from a fireplace. Where the weight of the job furrowed his brow, your smile seemed to light up the room, often bringing a much-needed lift to the team's spirits. 

It didn’t take long for you to notice the little things that could bring a momentary smile to Hotch’s often impassive face--a perfectly timed cup of coffee after a long night, a gentle tease to crack his professional veneer, or a supportive word after a tough case.

One chilly October afternoon, as the leaves painted the world in hues of fire and gold, you approached Hotch with an extra ticket in hand. There had been a buzz about the new play in town, something about it transforming the mundane into magic, and you thought it would be the perfect escape from the reality you both faced daily.

You had heard Hotch speak here and there about theater-related things. On the outside, looking in, he didn’t appear to be a theater geek at heart, but the subtle notes and references he made or picked up on had him found out by you fairly quickly. 

"Hotch, you're coming with me to the play tonight," you declared with a grin, waving the ticket like a magic wand.

He looked up from his paperwork, the corners of his eyes crinkling just so, a sign you had come to recognize as intrigue mixed with resistance. "You should take a friend...or perhaps a date," he suggested, his voice steady but his gaze flickering away momentarily.

Hotch had always been a fortress of solitude, his emotions guarded like the secrets of the cases you worked on together. But over time, you'd learned to read the subtle shifts in his expression as if they were confessions.

You leaned against his office door, your smile unwavering. 

"But I am taking a friend, and honestly, I can't think of anyone else I’d rather have as my date tonight. You deserve a night off, to be wined and dined and just...have fun." You shrugged. You knew this man, out of anyone in this building, likely hadn’t had a night out of fun since 1997. “How long has it been since you've done something just for the joy of it?”

Hotch paused, the word 'date' hanging between you like a challenge. His jaw set, a classic Hotchner move before surrendering to a situation outside his control. "I'm not sure I'm the best company for something like that," he countered softly, almost vulnerable.

"Which is exactly why you should come," you insisted. "You spend so much time taking care of everyone else here, Hotch. Tonight, let someone take care of you. Plus, I love your company, whether it’s here dealing with unsubs or outside where we can actually enjoy ourselves." You paused, “And you know me,” You smirked, “I’m really not going to let this go.” 

There was a long pause, a silent conversation passing through the air as he considered your words. Finally, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, he accepted. "Alright, I'll go."

The theater was an antique jewel in the heart of the city, its walls lined with velvety red curtains and golden lights that cast a warm glow over the buzzing audience. As the curtain rose, the stage transformed into a magical realm, pulling you both away from the grim realities of your daily work.

The play was a vibrant affair, with actors breathing life into their roles with a passion that made you forget the world outside. Throughout the evening, you watched Hotch, too, seeing him genuinely engaged, a softness in his eyes that you seldom saw at work. 

During intermission, over glasses of wine, you shared light, easy conversation that danced around personal edges, revealing layers of each other previously tucked away behind professional facades.

"Thank you for bringing me," Hotch said as you walked out under the canopy of stars. His voice was low, sincere. "It’s been...more enjoyable than I anticipated."

"You're welcome!" you beamed, feeling a swell of happiness at his admission. "See? The world outside the BAU isn’t so bad, is it?"

He allowed himself a small chuckle, the sound mingling with the crisp night air. "No, it isn’t. Especially not with the right company."

The evening ended with a promise of similar outings, an unspoken agreement that both of you would take turns pulling each other away from the shadows of your job into the light of life outside it. It was simple, an easy friendship blossoming quietly into something that neither of you had expected but both secretly hoped would continue to grow.

II. 

You burst into Hotch's office with a flair that would rival any stage performance, immediately drawing a rare smile from him despite the obvious panic etched across your face. He set aside his paperwork, an unspoken signal that he was all ears, and patiently waited for you to gather your thoughts.

Despite the clear panic struck on your face…it was amusing to Hotch. Cute even. Your typical calm, cool, and collected personality seemingly faded now. Your flustered state was something that Hotch found endearingly human, a contrast to your usual composed demeanor. 

"Hotch, I have a...a situation," you gasped, struggling for breath as you stopped in front of his desk. The rare sight of your disarray pulled a smile from him, a softening around his eyes that encouraged you to continue.

Catching your breath, you finally blurted out, "My ex-fiancé is coming to town, and he's...he's engaged now!" You paced a small circle before facing Hotch again, your hands animatedly moving as you spoke. "And, of course, he wants to meet for drinks to introduce me to his fiancée."

Hotch's eyebrows raised slightly, a silent prompt for you to continue.

You exhaled sharply, the words tumbling out. Complete and utter word vomit. Word salad. Word soup…all over Aaron Hotchner’s perfectly perfected office. "I might have, sort of, told him I was seeing someone too--just to sound less...pathetic." You met Hotch's gaze, a mix of embarrassment and mischief in your eyes. "And I said it was you. It had to be you."

"Me?" Hotch's voice was calm, but his surprise was evident.

You nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I mean, it couldn’t be Derek; he’s all action-hero, way too macho. And Spencer? He’d inadvertently make me look dumb with all his factoids. And Rossi...well," you chuckled nervously, "he’s great, but he could practically be my dad!"

You paused, a playful glint appearing in your eyes. "I even thought about taking Emily, you know, referring back to my experimental college days," you joked, watching Hotch’s reaction carefully.

There was a moment of stillness as Hotch processed your train of thought. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth twitching into an almost imperceptible smile. "So, I'm the safest choice for a fake boyfriend, is that it?"

"Exactly!" you exclaimed, relieved he wasn't upset. "You’re respectable, you’re responsible, and let’s be honest, you can scare him a little if you do that...stern FBI look.” You paused, trying to convey the other reason behind this…this choice. Hotch had become someone you deeply cared for. It was evident to everyone. “And not just safe," you corrected, your tone earnest. "You're...you make me feel secure. You're the one person here who always has my back."

Hotch considered this for a moment; then his expression softened--a new understanding dawning between you. "When is this drink supposed to happen?"

"Tomorrow night," you replied, your voice a mixture of hope and anxiety. The relief in your voice mirrored the relief in your stance.

Hotch nodded slowly, then stood up from his desk, a decisive look replacing his initial surprise. "Alright, then. It seems I’m your...boyfriend for the evening. We might as well make sure your ex realizes what he’s missed out on."

Your relief was palpable, and a genuine smile spread across your face. "Thank you, Hotch. Really, I...this means a lot to me."

“I’ll be there--not just as your fake boyfriend, but as your friend."

Your heart fluttered unexpectedly at his words, warmth spreading through you at the thought of him standing by your side. "Thank you, really, Hotch. Really…honestly, this means everything to me."

The rest of the day, you found yourself catching Hotch's eye a few times, each glance exchanged, building a silent, mutual understanding. It was an odd, unexpected partnership, but as the hours passed, a curious anticipation grew within both of you about the role you were about to play.

The following evening at the bar was like stepping into another world. The dim lighting cast a warm glow that softened the sharp edges of Hotch's usually stark features. He stood there, not as the BAU chief, but as someone altogether more approachable, dressed in a smart casual jacket that hinted at the man beneath the badge.

"You look...not like Agent Hotchner," you commented with a teasing tone as you approached.

"And you look like someone who definitely isn’t nursing a broken heart," Hotch replied, offering his arm in a gentlemanly gesture that you didn’t expect but appreciated.

The night unfolded with an ease that surprised you both. Hotch played the part perfectly, charming yet subtly protective, casting doubtful glances from your ex that you couldn't help but feel satisfied to provoke. With every laugh and shared glance, the line between pretense and reality blurred.

As you left the bar, Hotch’s hand brushed against yours, a touch that lingered longer than necessary. "You know," he said quietly, stopping to face you under the soft glow of the streetlamp, "you don’t need to pretend to be anything you're not--not with me."

Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his gaze. "Maybe next time, we won’t have to pretend," you suggested, the words hanging between you like a promise waiting to be kept.

Hotch studied you for a moment, his usual reserve giving way to a tender sincerity. "I’d like that," he admitted, and in his eyes, you saw not just the stoic chief but a man who had begun to see you in a new light, just as you were seeing him.

As you walked away together, the city around you faded into the background, leaving only the possibilities of what might come next--a future neither of you had anticipated, but both silently hoped to explore.

III. 

On a brisk morning, as the case stretched on and lunchtime approached, you could feel the gnawing emptiness in your stomach. Seated beside Hotch in the car, an hour away from the rest of the team, you were certain he must be just as hungry--even if he never complained. From what you'd observed, Hotch often neglected his own needs, always focused on the job or caring for his team.

He was the kind of man who seemed to subsist on sheer willpower--and far too much coffee, which, as you often joked.

Coffee shouldn’t count as a meal. 

Dessert? Maybe. With extra whipped topping and mocha drizzle. Lunch? Never. 

You wished somedays you’d just pack him a sandwich. It was hard to picture the man devouring a peanut butter and jelly, but a grown man’s got to eat! And from the looks of it, he rarely prioritizes that. The thought made you smile, a brief respite from the growling of your stomach.

The world outside painted a stark contrast to the warmth inside the car. Bare trees stood sentinel along the frost-lined road, their branches swaying in the cold wind that whispered promises of an impending winter. The car's heater hummed softly, a counterpoint to the rhythm of the road beneath the tires.

Glancing over at him as he drove, you noticed his focus was unwavering, his hands steady on the wheel. The rumbling of your stomach broke the silence, making it impossible to ignore any longer. Without a word, you leaned over the console and started typing into the GPS.

Hotch shot you a curious look. One eyebrow raised before darting back toward the open road. "What are you doing?"

"We need food, Hotch. I’m starving, and I know you haven’t eaten either," you said, inputting the address of a nearby diner you’d quickly looked up. The promise of a simple but comforting meal seemed like the perfect break from the stresses of the case.

He briefly glanced at the screen before returning his eyes to the road. "We should really get back to the precinct, join the team," he argued, his voice steady but lacking conviction. 

"Hotch, we’re no good to them if we’re hungry and irritable," you countered, meeting his gaze with a playful yet firm look. "And I’m about to get very irritable if I don’t eat something soon."

"I don’t get irritable," Hotch said, a faint smile playing on his lips despite his attempt to seem annoyed.

"You will be if you don’t eat," you teased. "Now, follow the GPS. I’m ordering us cheeseburgers and fries. And if you’re good," you added with a cheeky grin, "I might even treat you to a milkshake."

That seemed to amuse him, a spark of warmth lighting up his usually reserved eyes. With a resigned chuckle, Hotch finally nodded and turned the car in the direction of the diner.

As you both walked into the diner, the shift in atmosphere was palpable. The cozy warmth, the smell of coffee and fried food, offered a much-needed respite. 

You slid into a booth, the red vinyl squeaking under you, and Hotch took the seat across, his body language relaxing as he perused the menu you handed him. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in amusement at your noticeable relief.

"See, isn’t this better than a cold sandwich in the precinct?" you asked as you handed him a menu, your tone light and teasing.

"It is," he admitted, his gaze lingering on yours a moment longer than necessary. "Thanks for taking care of me."

The conversation flowed easily as you waited for your food, touching on light topics that didn’t involve work. It was a side of Hotch you rarely saw--relaxed, even a bit playful, especially when you joked about how he deserved a day off now and then.

When the food arrived, Hotch seemed genuinely pleased with the hearty meal, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction in seeing him so. As you both ate, the playful banter continued, and you teased him about his choice of milkshake flavor--classic vanilla, to match his no-nonsense personality.

"You know, for someone who claims to be all business, you sure enjoy vanilla quite a bit," you quipped, taking a sip of your own, more adventurous, chocolate shake.

Hotch looked up, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Maybe I just appreciate the simpler things," he retorted, his voice low and teasing in a way that sent a thrill through you. “And the company isn’t bad.” 

You caught the twinkle in his eye, and it sparked something bold within you. "Well, if it's the simple things you appreciate," you started, a playful edge to your voice, "I might just have to take you on more 'simple' dates like this. I mean, if the company isn't bad..."

Hotch's smile broadened a rare and full grin that reached his eyes, softening the usually stern lines of his face. "I wouldn't object to that," he admitted, his tone suggesting he was more pleased by the idea than he let on. "It seems I've been missing out on quite a few simple pleasures."

The light banter, mixed with the warm glow of the diner and the comfort of the meal, wove a moment of connection that felt both exhilarating and natural. As you both laughed, the air between you filled with a sense of possibility, a hint that this could be the beginning of exploring not just crime scenes together but something much deeper and personally rewarding.

The meal ended too soon, but the light-hearted mood lingered as you both headed back to the car. As Hotch drove back to the precinct, the playful ease between you felt like a silent acknowledgment of something deeper, something neither of you had expected to find in the midst of a tough case.

The ride back was quiet but comfortable, filled with shared glances and an unspoken agreement that this, whatever it was that was blooming between you, was something worth exploring, no matter how cautiously. The seeds planted during that fake date had started to sprout, and as the landscape rolled by outside the car windows, so too did the possibilities of what might come next.

IV. 

The evolution of your relationship with Hotch had been as subtle as the change of seasons, marked not by grand gestures but by shared glances and small touches that lingered a bit longer than necessary. These were the silent confirmations of a deepening bond, one that had maturely navigated the boundaries of professionalism and his life as a dedicated father.

Recognizing the significance of his role as a father and wanting to affirm your respect for this vital part of his life, you planned an outing that would comfortably include his son, Jack. The idea was simple yet thoughtful--a paint day at a local studio, a space vibrant with color and creativity, perfect for Jack, whose love for painting Hotch had mentioned in passing.

When you shared the plan with Hotch, his response was unexpectedly moving. His eyes, usually guarded and holding the weight of his responsibilities, softened remarkably. "This is really thoughtful of you," he said, his voice tinged with a sincerity that resonated deeply within you. "Jack will love this, and honestly, it means a lot to me too."

As you entered the studio, the warmth inside was a stark contrast to the chill outside. The walls were adorned with splashes of color and shelves lined with ceramics and canvases added to the eclectic charm. Jack's excitement was infectious; his energy seemed to fill the room as he dashed about, choosing his materials with serious cconsideration

You picked a mug to paint, selecting colors with a playful eye, while Hotch chose a plate, his attempts at painting it more comical than artistic.

"You might stick to profiling, Hotchner," you teased gently, watching him struggle with a paintbrush.

Hotch looked up, amusement flickering across his face. "I think you might be right," he conceded, and even Jack chimed in with a giggle, enjoying the sight of his dad out of his usual element.

Jack, inspired by the day's activities, decided to paint a canvas depicting the three of you playing soccer--a scene from his imagination that warmed your heart. It was touching to see how he included you in his artwork, a sign that he was accepting you into their little world.

Throughout the day, the chemistry between you and Hotch was more apparent than ever. Every shared smile, every light touch while passing paint jars, seemed to underline the deepening connection. It was clear that something more was there, something neither of you had fully acknowledged yet. There was a comfort and ease between you, a natural fit that felt like it could seamlessly extend beyond these shared moments into something lasting.

As the day wound down, you looked at your finished mug, Hotch’s humorously bad plate, and Jack’s heartfelt canvas. There was a profound sense of accomplishment and happiness. Jack’s energy never waned, and his chatter about where he would hang his painting in his room filled the space with joy.

Driving back, the car was filled with a comfortable silence before Hotch finally spoke, his voice laden with emotion. "Today was perfect," he said sincerely. "Thank you for setting this up. It's...it's not often we get to do something so normal, so fun."

"It was my pleasure, really," you responded, your voice soft, conveying the genuine joy you felt. "I loved every minute of it, Hotch. Seeing you and Jack like this, it’s...it's wonderful."

Hotch glanced over, his expression thoughtful, the setting sun casting shadows that played across his features. "It's new for me," he confessed, "letting someone into our world this way. But it feels right...with you."

Your heart fluttered at his words, the weight of them carrying a promise of something deeper, something that was slowly taking shape between you. "I'm glad," you murmured, reaching over to squeeze his hand briefly, an affirmation of the bond forming among the three of you.

The drive back was quiet but filled with an unspoken acknowledgment of the budding relationship that was no longer just a possibility but a burgeoning reality. As you watched the scenery blur by, you realized that this day hadn’t just been about painting or playing--it was a canvas for what was to come, a beautifully unfolding story that you were all painting together.

V. 

Navigating the intricacies of your evolving relationship with Hotch had been like reading a novel written in a familiar yet indecipherable script. 

You weren't someone who needed everything spelled out,who required every emotion or intention to be neatly labeled like items in a catalog.

However, as your interactions deepened--marked by those unmistakably boyfriend-like gestures, from the way he'd casually touch your back guiding you through a doorway, to how he'd drop a coffee on your desk exactly the way you liked it--questions began to surface in your mind.

What exactly were you to each other?

Sure, he acted like your boyfriend, did things that a boyfriend would do. 

There were those long drives from crime scenes where you'd debrief not just on the case but about life, hopes, fears. 

He was there, always somehow there, in ways that mattered. But without the explicit affirmation, a tiny part of you lingered in doubt. It wasn't that you thought he might be seeing other people--Hotch barely had time to eat properly, let alone date multiple people. But clarity was something you craved, even as you thrived in the gray areas of life.

Deciding to address these swirling thoughts directly, you leveraged your day off--an all-too-rare occurrence that felt like the universe’s nod to take action. With your usual blend of brightness and empathy, you picked up your phone and dialed Hotch’s number. 

The call was quick; the invitation straightforward but imbued with all the significance of stepping into new, uncharted territory.

"Hi, Hotch, it’s me," you began, your voice carrying a cheerful lilt that belied the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. "I was thinking, since we both actually have a free evening, maybe we could go out for dinner? I’ve made reservations at that new place we’ve both been curious about. If you’re up for it?"

There was a brief pause, and for a second, you wondered if you’d stepped over an unseen line. But then his response came, warm and unmistakably pleased. "That sounds great, I’d love to. What time should I pick you up?"

The simplicity of his acceptance, the ease with which he stepped into the space you’d opened, lifted a weight off your shoulders you hadn’t fully realized you'd been carrying. 

As you hung up, a smile played on your lips, mirrored by a warmth that spread through your chest. This dinner would be different; it wasn't just about enjoying good food or making casual conversation. It was about defining what was between you, about giving shape to the connection that had grown, subtly but significantly, over the countless shared moments.

That evening, as you prepared for the date, every choice--from the dress you wore to the perfume you dabbed behind your ears--felt imbued with intention. Meeting him outside your place, you noticed the effort he’d put into his appearance as well. Gone was the standard FBI suit, replaced by something softer, yet equally compelling. His smile when he saw you was enough to set your heart racing.

From the moment he opened the car door for you, everything felt right--effortlessly falling into a pattern that seemed to have existed for years, not just the recent weeks of growing closeness. The conversation flowed freely as you drove to the restaurant, filled with the usual banter and warmth that had become a hallmark of your interactions.

At the restaurant, your dynamic was unmistakably couple-like, drawing knowing smiles from the servers as you laughed and shared food across the table. It was remarkably natural, the ease between you, as if all your prior interactions had been rehearsals for this very moment.

Midway through the meal, buoyed by the comfort that had defined the evening, you decided to address the ambiguity that had lightly clouded your relationship. "Hotch, I’ve been wondering," you started, your voice soft but direct, "what exactly is this for us? I mean, we’ve been spending so much time together, and it feels like…well, like we’re a couple. But we’ve never really talked about it."

Hotch paused, a forkful of dinner halfway to his mouth, and his expression shifted to one of mild embarrassment. Setting his utensil down, he met your gaze; his cheeks tinged with a rare flush. 

"I...I’m sorry; I suppose I should have brought it up," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of chagrin. "I’m not very experienced with how this is supposed to go. Things have been going so well, I didn’t think to...well, make it official or ask properly. You know, the whole…dating protocol."

You reached across the table, covering his hand with yours, squeezing it reassuringly. "Hotch, I don’t need any grand gestures or formal declarations," you said warmly. "But I think some clarity would be helpful, just…so we’re on the same page. Clarity is comforting, especially with something as important as this."

Hotch smiled a genuine, relieved smile. "Then let’s be clear: I’d like nothing more than to be considered your boyfriend if you feel the same way.” He paused, his eyes locking with yours, "How about you let me take you on a real first date after tonight? And I promise, it won’t be like the casual outings we’ve had before."

"You mean all those times we grabbed a coffee or had those long drives weren’t dates?" you teased,your voice light, trying to ease the intensity of the moment.

"They were...unofficial dates. Practice, if you will," Hotch replied with a laugh. "But from now on, I promise, nothing but the real thing."

The promise of a 'proper' date, laden with Hotch’s earnest intentions, filled you with a delightful anticipation. It wasn’t just the thrill of formalizing your relationship but the realization that you were both navigating this new terrain together, equally invested and open.

+1

As the evening approached, the flutter of anticipation was palpable. You had been on dates before, but the buildup to this particular outing with Hotch had an entirely different tenor. 

His promise of a "real first date" had left you curious and, admittedly, a bit exhilarated. Despite his claim of being rusty, the effort he put into planning the evening suggested otherwise.

Hotch arrived right on time, looking every bit the part of a gentleman set to impress. His usual dark, work-appropriate suits were replaced by a tailored charcoal blazer that complemented his stern features, softened tonight by the hint of a smile as he greeted you. 

As Hotch presented you with the bouquet of lilies and wildflowers, their scent subtly mingling with the evening air, it was the perfect prelude to an evening that promised to be anything but ordinary. 

His eyes held a gleam of anticipation as he asked, "Ready for an adventure?" His voice was light, but beneath it, you could detect a current of genuine excitement--a hint that tonight was about more than just dinner.

The drive led you away from the familiar lights of the city to a more secluded bistro overlooking the water, known for its privacy and exquisite views. The table was set in a quiet corner of the terrace, draped in soft white linen and lit by a single, flickering candle that cast a warm glow over the setting. The backdrop of the slowly setting sun, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, made the scene almost too picturesque to be real.

Throughout dinner, Hotch was both attentive and charming, effortlessly leading the conversation through laughter and deeper, more introspective topics. 

"I’ve been out of the game for a long time," he admitted as you both looked over the bay, "but I wanted tonight to be special. I wanted to show you how much I appreciate everything you do, not just for me, but for Jack as well." His words warmed you more than the evening air. "You see me in ways I didn't realize were visible," he continued, his gaze holding yours. "The way you care for those around you, especially Jack and I, it’s more than just empathy--it's genuine love."

Your hands touched as you both reached for your wine glasses, a spark of connection in the simple gesture. “I see the same in you, Hotch. The way you balance everything, yet still manage to make us feel...important,” you replied, your voice soft but clear over the gentle lapping of the water below.

Dinner unfolded beautifully, each course a delight not just to the palate but as a discovery of shared tastes and preferences. With each dish, you learned something new about each other--preferences hidden beneath daily routines, stories from the past that had shaped your tastes.

As you shared a dessert, Hotch pointed at your plate with his fork. "Are you sure you’re ready to share that? It looks too good to split fifty-fifty."

You eyed the last piece of chocolate mousse, then back at him with a playful challenge in your eyes. "Maybe I’ll reconsider based on your performance review of this date."

Hotch leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "In that case, I’d better ensure the evening ends on a high note." His light-hearted tone matched the sparkle in his gaze, making the simple act of sharing dessert feel like flirtatious banter.

As you walked along the port after dinner, the moon casting shimmering trails across the water, Hotch nudged you gently with his elbow. "So, do I get bonus points for choosing a place with a view?"

"Maybe just a few," you conceded, nudging him back. "But only because you seem to know the way to my heart--through scenic views and excellent food."

The laughter that followed was easy and genuine, drifting into the night air and mixing with the rhythmic sounds of the waves. "You know, I think I’m getting the hang of this dating thing again," Hotch said, a note of mock pride in his voice.

"Just keep up with me, Hotch. I have high standards for second dates, remember?" you teased, your smile reflecting the joy of the evening.

Hotch's laugh echoed softly in the quiet night. "Is that a challenge?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

"It might just be," you replied, matching his tone. "I’m curious to see what you’ll come up with next.

The night ended with a promise of more to come, not just another date, but more moments like these--shared, special, and sincere.

As Hotch drove you home, you were indeed head over heels, not just for the man who had meticulously planned this perfect first date, but for the one who had shown you his heart, beautifully open and invitingly warm. It was clear that whatever lay ahead, it would be a journey worth taking, together.

[bratbarzal]

for ur valentines blurb pretty please these prompts with quinn hughes ☺️😘

¹⁾ “you really planned this?! remind me how you’re single, again?”

⁴⁾ “c’mon, like i need an excuse to spend time with you.”

⁵⁾ “i can’t help but think that this is a little more effort than someone would normally put in for their friend.”

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

idk why I give prompts and then continue to go off script but I honestly think I have a problem with being told what to do lmao. something about scripted sentence cuts a creative wire in my brain. THE SENTIMENT OF WHAT I WROTE IS THE SAME!!!!! I promise. also I like this one lmao!! I hope you like it too thanks for requesting!! and stacking the prompts is very cool gave me a nice little story to follow I love it!!! I wrote this whole thing and realised I didn't mention valentines once, but it's belated, so..... we're going to pretend it's okay I've decided on your behalf thanks love you

this ended up at 3.4k words lol - warnings for fade to black type smut, slightly angsty

Quinn: you coming over tonight?

A text from him has never filled you with anxiety like this.

But then again, for as long as the two of you have been friends, you've never actively avoided Quinn until now.

Monday had been one word answers, Tuesday had been emojis, Wednesday had been reactions, and Thursday had been radio silence, because he hadn't texted you, anyway.

It's not that you're mad at him. You wish you could be mad - wish you had any reason other than your own shame to be turning down all attempts at contact. But instead, all you can think when you see his name is how much you had fucked everything up the last time you saw him.

You: idk

And only because you feel instantly bad about how short that is, you immediately follow up with:

You: work has kicked my ass this week

You see the little dots keep popping up, and you're only torturing yourself to watch them come and go as he figures out what to say - how to salvage what you'd so carelessly made a gigantic mess of only last weekend.

You should really just say yes, you think - be the bigger person. Fridays have been your thing, all season. The day of the week he most frequently has the night off, and an end to your usually-hectic work-week, it has just made sense for the two of you to hang out, to make a routine of doing so.

Bailing on him is harsh, you know that. And with such a weak excuse too - you've had much worse times in your job, and it's never come between the two of you before.

And you know that he knows what you're doing. It's obvious. It's just whether he's in any mood to try and recover whatever scraps of your friendship still remain. Whether he even cares, anymore.

Quinn: please?

The two minutes it took for him to type just one word dragged longer than they ever have in your life, and you blink at your phone screen as you see the dots jump up again.

You chew nervously at your lip and wait, tapping your foot against the side of your desk and watching this time as it stays.

Quinn: I've already bought enough to cook for us both

He's such a guilt tripper.

You sigh, typing back and sending an immediate response, figuring a week of the bare minimum is punishment enough without blanking him or making him wait.

You: okay

A heart pops up below your message almost immediately, the reaction only worsening your anxiety at the thought of how hard keeping your distance is.

You: I'm finishing later than usual, should be there around 8

Quinn: ok I'll have dinner ready for then!

--

You knock on Quinn's door a little after 8pm - still in your work clothes, although that is usually how you come over, in your defence. Quinn loans you something comfy, and you usually change, but changing means staying over, and you're kind of trying to avoid all that again.

So when he welcomes you in, you awkwardly pat at his back as he tries to embrace you, before hovering around the kitchen instead of making your way back to his room.

He frowns a little as he watches you - he's in a hoodie and sweats, settled in now for the night with no intentions of getting back up once the two of you have eventually sunk down into the couch together - and waits a second to see if you're just on a delay, if you're just beat from work, like you said.

"I left a change of clothes for you on my bed," he says once he realises you aren't shifting, glancing quickly at you before he starts to busy himself with dishing up dinner.

"I'm good," you tell him, short, with a tight lipped smile sent his way when his eyes meet yours, narrowed in curiosity.

You're wearing a skirt and heels, for Christ's sake, and a blouse that's a little too restrictive around your shoulders. You've been in them all day, too. Of course you aren't good, and of course he knows that, but he drops it, a resigned nod and an awkward shift of his gaze back to the task at hand, spooning an assortment of green vegetables beside the rice on your plate.

You chance a good look at him while he's distracted - his hair soft, pushed back messily in a way that makes it flop straight back into place, and he looks a little tired, but he's had a long week, too. Back in training, pushing himself, dealing with a best friend who isn't reciprocating his energy. He's probably exhausted.

His jaw is clenched as he finishes the meal off, clattering utensils a little louder the longer you're quiet, and letting out heavy sighs when he's clearly growing more frustrated with how little you're giving back.

"How was work?" he tries, reaching into the draw and retrieving a knife and fork for the two of you.

"Long," you sigh, offering a small smile when he looks over to let him know that this particular instance of a short response isn't personal. You are genuinely exhausted - you'd worked an extra long day, just to get a major project finished, and, if you're honest, you're just ready for bed. "Glad it's the weekend, I'm probably gonna hit my pillow tonight and not see tomorrow."

The initial spark that lit up in his eyes when you started speaking a full sentence to him dulled immediately when he realised that you had all intentions of going home.

"You're not staying over?"

"I can hardly sleep here until Sunday, Quinn, that would be insane." Like you haven't spent consecutive days around his apartment, before. Like you haven't spent weeks with him back at his lake house in Michigan in the summer. Like the two of you didn't isolate together when you both got covid, probably from each other.

He nods, brief and sharp, jaw tensing again as he mutters out a bitter, "Right."

God, this is hard.

"Do you want me to carry anything?" You ask, trying to be helpful, just to make yourself feel better.

He wordlessly hands over the cutlery before turning to grab both plates on his own, nodding for you to make your way out of the kitchen for him to follow.

You do as he asks, holding the door for him so he doesn't struggle, stepping nervously behind him as he guides you through to where he's set the dining table up.

His curtains are drawn, a picturesque view of the nightlife of downtown Vancouver, twinkling city lights and the distant flash of vehicles passing by below stands as the most perfect backdrop to his set-up - the table candle-lit, a vase of fresh flowers in the middle, wine glasses and a salad bowl situated around the nice placemats you'd made him buy the last time the two of you went shopping together.

You hesitate when you get a little closer, eyeing up the setting reluctantly as Quinn places the plates in your retrospective places.

He's usually neat when it comes to his dinner table - usually likes to set things up so that they look nice, placemats, coasters. cutlery and napkins - but it's never like this.

"What's all this?" You ask, meeting his eye as he leans across the table to place down the knives and forks you hand to him.

"You said you had a bad week," he shrugs, "Wanted to do something nice."

He shuffles around you, the light placement of his hand on your hip as he does so jolting you toward the table, head swivelling to watch him disappear back toward the kitchen.

"You planned this?" you call after him, turning to look down at everything - a meal that he cooked, something nutritious and filling, knowing you wouldn't have the energy to make as much yourself, pretty flowers, and a calm, ambient atmosphere flooding the room. Your fingers poke softly at the petals on the flowers, lifting them a little to get a better look, mindful of the roses in the arrangement, careful not to be pricked by their thorns. "And you said you didn't think you'd be a good boyfriend,"

The latter sentence is muttered to yourself more than anything, a remembrance of something he'd said a while ago now - something that had always been in the back of your mind when you considered anything more - but your heart drops when you hear him chuckle from not too far behind, spinning on your heels to look at him, wide-eyed and apologetic. "I didnt-,"

“It’s fine,” he assures you, dipping his head but still keeping his gaze on yours, “Wine?”

He holds the bottle up in one hand, and your mouth goes a little dry at the sight of the label, mind going straight back to this time last week, when you had shared a few glasses with him. When things had gone too far.

Quinn's hands were holding you in place on his lap, soft fingers slipping under the hem of his sweatshirt that you wore, sliding up to press into the warm skin of your back, rocking you on his lap as his tongue swiped languidly against your own.

You couldn't quite tell whose mouth the taste of plummy Malbec sat within, but at that point, you didn't care - you'd both drunk enough of it to find yourselves in such a situation, you were at equal fault.

Not that any of it felt wrong in the moment, his hips bucking up as you straddled his thighs, your fingers clutching where his hair grew thick at the back of his neck. Quinn was humming soft, delicious groans straight between your lips, his own closing around your tongue as he sucked on it - all other bodily movements frantic and stuttered until he was repositioning the two of you, laying you back on the couch and gripping the elastic waist of your sweatpants.

It can't have been wrong - not with how easy it all unfolded, your hips lifting until he slid your bottoms off, his fingertips sneaking their beneath the hem of your panties - too drunk to care how sexy they might have been, never expecting to have to even consider such a thing around Quinn - all the while his mouth pressing firm, bruising kisses to your own.

"I shouldn't, I'm driving," you mumble, a soft shake of your head supposed to let him down easy, and to bring your senses back to the present, but his frown just deepens, the crease between his eyebrows now almost a fold.

"You can stay, you know," he tells you, pouring his own glass. "I don't care if you sleep until Sunday, it's not like you haven't spent the weekend before."

"I don't know," You sit cautiously in your seat, watching as he lowers into his own, face morphing into a hard scowl before he lets out a heavy sigh. "What?"

"It's like you've been making excuses not to hang out."

"Or maybe you've been making excuses to hang out," you retort, cringing yourself at how stupid it sounds, looking down into your lap as you place your napkin there so that he can't see the visible curl of your features.

"That doesn't even make sense," you know that, obviously, but you've been avoiding him for a reason - you don't want to have this conversation. You're not ready. "I don't need an excuse, we're friends, it's what friends do."

And God, you wish he'd just stop saying it. It's getting annoying now, your jaw tensing as you huff a short breath out, still keeping your head down to avoid him reading you like an open book - a book that may as well be pictures, at this point, or written for children with the most basic reading comprehension, one sentence per page and clear as day.

"What friends do," you mutter, in disbelief. He's one to talk about what friends do.

Friends don't do what you did last week.

Quinn's body had pretty much completely flopped onto yours, his chest rising and falling in heavy pants, but still careful enough not to bare all his weight on you so that yours could do the same.

Your skin felt clammy all over, baby hairs sticking to the back of your neck and your forehead, your neck slick from where his lips had been pressing all into it, sucking and nipping and you swear you'd even felt the glorious scratch of teeth at one point, and the heat of him above you was doing little to remedy the feeling.

You brought a hand up, almost absent-mindedly, to scratch softly at the back of his head as he came down, an overwhelming dizziness gripping at your eyelids, pulling you down as you felt him follow.

"You're making me feel like I'm going crazy," you sigh, "You can't seriously set all this up and not realise that it's way more effort than anyone would normally put in for someone that's just a friend,"

"You're not just anything," he counters, "When did I say you were just anything?"

He looks annoyed, that much is obvious - and yeah, you've technically been avoiding him, just like he assumes, but he was the one who made you feel like you had to.

A soft, sleepy groan was the first sound that brought you into consciousness the next morning - raspy and thick, and so close to your ear that the feeling of it buzzed the whole way down to your toes.

Then came unassuming movements, a twist of his torso, a shuffle of his hips, the stretch of his legs, all of which had been pressed right against all the same parts of your body - the sticky warmth of him catching your skin and rousing you fully from your sleep.

His arms tightened their hold around you before you really thought he knew what he was doing - a lethargic sigh huffing from his nostrils as he got comfortable again - and you had maybe a solid minute in his embrace until he fully came to.

The two of you were naked, one of the throws from the back of the couch draped lazily over your modesty, but that didn't really matter when you could feel the heavy press of him all over - your chest, your stomach, your hips, your thighs.

His fingers tightened, pressing a little into your waist before his touch disappeared completely. Before he was retreating, untangling himself from your body and sitting up. You felt the couch move as he shuffled around doing God-knows-what - felt the soft drape of the throw back over your body, and the whoosh of cold that followed and refused to leave.

When you dared to open your eyes, he was sat on the other side, leaning over, head in his hands after shrugging his boxers back on.

"Quinn?" you asked, your own voice thick with sleep, straightening to face him properly and rubbing at your eyes until they focused. "What's going on?"

"How much did we have to drink last night?"

Your heart dropped at the question, but your eyes floated over to the coffee table, two empty bottles standing on the other side. "A lot, I guess."

"Shit," he cursed, pushing himself up and pacing in front of the couch, refusing to look at you. "Fuck."

"Q, you're making me dizzy."

"I just," he stopped in place and scratched at the back of his neck, eyes lowering down your body in a way that made heat creep back up your neck, and your shoulders practically fold in on themselves consciously. "I didn't mean for it to go that far."

Your lips parted, although you didn't really know what to say to that. All you could do was nod, stuttered and slow, your gaze shifting too until it landed on the carpeted rug in front of him, focusing too hard on the pattern. "It's fine."

You could feel the weight of his stormy stare, but you couldn't look up - too afraid of rejection, too afraid of regret.

"We're friends, you know, you're-,"

"I know," you confirmed, not needing to hear how he didn't ever intend to be anything more. "We were drunk, Q, it's fine."

Your attempt at a reassuring smile probably looked a little more like a grimace, but you were saved probably by the fact that the two of you had had a lot to drink, and you were honestly a little queasy.

And maybe it had been the cold hard slap of rejection you woke up to that made you feel that way - after years of wanting more with Quinn - but he didn't need to know that. Not if he was already 10 toes deep into a regret spiral so soon after opening his eyes.

"We're friends."

"You said it last Saturday," you frown, "Saturday morning."

"No, you said we were drunk. I said we were friends, but you cut me off-,"

"Yeah, 'cause I didn't really want the first thing you said to me that morning to be that you made a mistake!"

"And here you are again, cutting me off!" his voice is a little raised now - so unlike the soft-spoken Quinn you're used to - easy going and well natured. "I can't win with you, you're either avoiding me like the plague, or you're not letting me speak, either way, I can't clear all this up!"

"What's there to clear up?" you scoff, "I don't need you to hold my hand and give me the full speech, okay, I get it, you don't want to be anything more than-," your body is jolted quickly by the sudden scrape of your chair across the floor, Quinn's grip firm on the leg as he pulls, "Hey, what are you-,"

And he's at the perfect height, then, to meet your lips once you're close enough, his hand leaving the chair to grip at your face - hold you in place so that you can't protest, can't cut him off in this, too, like you have been doing with every other way he's tried to communicate his feelings for you.

His kiss feels familiar, achingly so, the swipe of his tongue soft at the parting of your lips, his own mouth closing in a soft pressure against yours, over and over at a disorienting intensity - all thoughts melting away at his endeavour.

When he pulls away, he keeps his hands in place, watching intently as your eyes flutter open, and you slowly sink back into consciousness, pupils blown when they meet his, intense in their focus on you.

"You're really important to me."

You frown, because your brain will only allow you to process that as the start of rejection - followed by, which is why we can't go further - but that's not the direction Quinn is taking this.

"I wanted to do all of this right. That's why I freaked out last week. I didn't want you to think it was a drunken mistake."

Oh.

You're still a little dazed from the kiss, if you're honest, and so you find yourself blinking slowly back at him, mouth bopping open and closed while you figure out what to say.

"What?" Is all that comes out when you find your voice, watching as he rolls his eyes - part exasperated, part amused.

"Now you have nothing to say?" He scoffs, thumb swiping gently at your cheek as if to show you he's kidding. "I like you. I have for a while, and I want to be more than friends. I want you to stay at my place whenever you come over, and wear my clothes, and eat my food, and drink my wine," he lists, dipping his head closer and closer until you're face to face, a mere inch or two from him kissing you again. "And I want you to sleep here until Sunday. Maybe even after."

"Okay." you respond - the kind of one word answer you've been throwing his way to avoid getting hurt all week. And because you feel guilty, you add, "I want all that, too."

He breathes out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and smiling slowly - an infectious kind of smile, that has you doing it right back, noses just brushing before you kiss him, again.

Stone cold sober, no longer looking to avoid your feelings, with the intention of being so much more than his friend.

[satellite-evans]

all I need

Pairing: Lando Norris x driver!reader

Summary: Lando gets furiuos when you get fined for swearing after your crash.

Word count: 2.9k+

Warnings: fluff, swearing, injuries, angry lando

Request : Hi could I please request a lando x reader fic where the reader is a driver and she gets in a big crash and the team radio is like asking if she is okay and shes like answers after a bit and is in pain because she just CRASHED and then she accidentally swears on radio and she gets fined and the media is going crazy and like lando is just being a good protective boyfriend and is defending her in interviews and stuff? Thanks!! xoxo - anon 🍟

A/N:

Hi love, thank you so much for sending in a request and trusting me enough to write your idea!! I hope I did it justice xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

One moment, everything is fine—you’re fighting for position, pushing the car to its absolute limit, heart pounding with adrenaline as you navigate the treacherous corners. The next, it all goes horribly wrong.

The rear tires lose grip. A sharp twitch, then a full spin. Time slows, but your mind races. Your hands react on instinct, desperately trying to correct, but it’s too late. The world outside the cockpit blurs in a sickening whirl of colors—track, barriers, sky. Then nothing but gut-wrenching weightlessness as the car lifts off the ground.

The impact is catastrophic. Metal shrieks against metal, carbon fiber shatters like glass. The force slams through your body, rattling bones, squeezing air from your lungs. Pain flares—sharp, immediate—radiating from your ribs, your shoulders, your skull as the cockpit jolts to a brutal stop. Static crackles in your helmet.

For a moment, everything is eerily still. Your pulse roars in your ears, drowning out the stunned gasps from the crowd, the commentary scrambling to make sense of what just happened. Your breath is ragged, shallow. The world tilts nauseatingly around you.

Then, the radio buzzes to life.

"Y/N, Y/N, are you okay?!" David's voice is urgent, bordering on frantic. There’s a tightness to it you’ve never heard before, and that alone terrifies you more than the crash itself.

You try to respond, but pain flares when you shift. A groan escapes before you can stop it. Your fingers fumble for the radio button, and when you finally manage to press it, your voice comes out weak, breathless.

"Fuck—yeah, I think so." A cough, a wince. "That hurt."

Across the track, in his car, Lando watches it all unfold in real-time. His stomach drops, breath catching as he sees your car crumple against the barriers. His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, heart hammering painfully against his ribs. The images flash across the big screens, slow-motion replays dissecting the crash from every angle. He can’t tear his eyes away.

Is she okay? Is she responding?!" His voice is laced with panic, the desperation evident.

His race engineer hesitates. "We're waiting on confirmation, Lando. Focus on the race."

But how the hell is he supposed to do that? The car, the track, the championship—all of it fades. Right now, none of it matters except you.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens. "Please—can you keep me updated? I need to know if she's okay." His voice wavers just slightly, the emotion threatening to spill over.

A pause. Then, softer, "We will, Lando. Just focus for now."

He exhales sharply, forcing himself to keep driving, but his eyes keep flicking to the screens around the circuit, searching for any sign of movement from you. His heart pounds as he waits—praying to hear your voice again.

A beat of silence stretches after your message. Then, Race Control’s voice cuts through.

"Y/N, reminder that all radio transmissions are broadcasted live. Watch the language."

Despite everything, a strained, breathy laugh escapes you. "Yeah, yeah, noted. Ow."

The medical car is already pulling up, orange lights flashing, marshals swarming the wreckage. You can hear them shouting, their voices urgent but professional. Someone taps on the side of your cockpit, checking for a response. Your fingers twitch, slow and uncoordinated, but you give them a thumbs-up.

The crowd, stunned into silence, exhales as one. The commentators try to fill the dead air with reassurances, but the tension is thick. On social media, the crash is already going viral—clips looping endlessly, speculation running rampant.

The straps of your harness dig into your bruised shoulders as the adrenaline begins to wear off, replaced by a dull, spreading ache that makes every breath feel like a struggle. The world around you is a cacophony of noise—sirens wailing, the frantic chatter of the marshals, the dull roar of the crowd beyond the barriers—but it all feels distant, muffled by the ringing in your ears.

"Try not to move too much," one of the medical staff instructs gently, his gloved hands already working to unbuckle you from the mangled remains of your car. "Can you feel everything?"

You give a small, shaky nod. "Yeah," you breathe, wincing as you shift slightly. "Just sore. Really sore."

The relief on his face is immediate, but the tension in the air remains. They move carefully, extracting you from the cockpit as gingerly as possible. As soon as you're free, your knees threaten to buckle, but strong arms catch you before you hit the ground.

"You’re alright, we’ve got you," another voice reassures, steadying you as they guide you toward the waiting medical car. The flash of cameras in the distance, the low hum of anxious murmurs from the pit lane—it all feels surreal.

The moment the checkered flag waves, Lando doesn’t care about anything else. Not the debrief, not the podium celebrations—none of it matters. His car screeches to a halt in parc fermé, barely lined up properly, but he’s already halfway out before the engine even fully shuts down. His hands rip off his steering wheel, then his helmet, tossing it aside as he breaks into a full sprint toward the medical center.

His lungs burn, but he doesn’t slow down. The only thing driving him forward is the sheer panic gripping his chest. His mind replays the crash on an agonizing loop—the way your car crumpled, how long it took for you to respond, the thought of losing you was eating him alive. He pushes past team personnel, ignoring their calls, shoving the medical center doors open with enough force to make them slam against the walls.

"Where is she?" His voice is sharp, almost desperate.

A nurse barely has time to react before he spots you. Sitting on the edge of the examination bed, bruised and battered, your race suit scuffed with streaks of dirt and dried blood. Your arm is wrapped around your ribs, and there’s a gash just below your glove, crimson seeping through the fabric. Your right knee is swollen, and every inhale looks like it stings.

But you’re alive.

Lando exhales a shuddering breath, his entire body sagging with relief. He crosses the room in seconds, reaching you like you might disappear if he doesn’t move fast enough. Without hesitation, he takes your hand, gripping it tightly like an anchor. His fingers ghost over your bruised knuckles, his touch impossibly gentle.

"Jesus, Y/N…" His voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of the fear still clinging to him.

You manage a small, tired smile despite the pain. "I’m fine. Trust me, it’s not as bad as it looks."

His jaw clenches, eyes scanning you like he doesn’t quite believe you. "Not as bad as it looks? You scared the hell out of me. Don’t do that again. Ever."

The intensity of his words makes your chest tighten—not just from the bruises, but from the raw emotion behind them. You squeeze his hand, grounding him.

Later, after the doctors clear you—bruised ribs, mild concussion, but nothing broken—you limp out of the medical center, Lando’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist. Every step sends a dull ache through your body, but at least you’re standing.

David intercepts you, shifting awkwardly on his feet. "So, uh… don’t shoot the messenger, but you’re getting a fine for the team radio."

You blink. "You’re kidding, right?"

Before David can even answer, Lando scoffs, disbelief flashing across his face. "She just survived a high-speed crash, and they’re fining her for swearing? Seriously?"

David sighs, handing over the paperwork with an apologetic shrug. "Yeah… FIA wasn’t too happy. Regulations and all."

You stare at the notice for a beat before letting out a tired, incredulous laugh. "Yeah, okay. Next time I crash at 200 mph, I’ll be sure to say ‘gosh darn it’ instead."

Lando shakes his head, jaw tight with frustration. "Unbelievable."

But instead of dwelling on it, he just pulls you in closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The warmth of his embrace eases some of the lingering tension in your body. "Don’t worry about it, love. If they want to fine you for being human, let them. You’re still the toughest person I know."

You smile, leaning into him, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. Because at the end of the day, a fine means nothing when you still have Lando by your side.

And, as expected, the media goes absolutely wild.

"Formula 1 Driver Y/N Y/L/N Fined After Shocking Radio Message Post-Crash!"

"Did Y/N Deserve Her FIA Penalty? Fans Debate Over Radio Outburst!"

"Y/N’s Crash Sparks Controversy: Was the Fine Justified?"

The headlines flood every social platform within minutes. Slow-motion replays of the crash loop endlessly on TV screens, side-by-side with grainy images of you wincing as you climbed out of the wreckage. Every angle is analyzed, every expression dissected.

Your post-race hospital visit is barely over when reporters start circling like vultures, bombarding you with questions before you even have the strength to face them, but Lando was having none of it.

Seated in front of the media, still in his race suit, Lando’s jaw is tight, hands clenched on the table as microphones are shoved toward him.

"Lando, there's been a lot of discussion about Y/N’s penalty for language over the team radio. Do you think the FIA was justified in issuing the fine?"

He scoffs, jaw tightening. "Are we seriously focusing on a fine when she just survived a massive crash?" His voice is sharp, edged with barely restrained anger. "She was in pain. She was shaken up. And she swore—who wouldn’t? It's ridiculous."

The journalists shift uncomfortably, but another one presses on. "Rules are rules, though. FIA has strict guidelines about profanity on public transmissions. Do you think it sets a bad precedent if they don’t enforce them?"

Lando lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Mate, if your first thought after seeing a crash like that is to talk about a penalty, maybe rethink your priorities."

Another journalist jumps in. "But don’t you think it’s important to maintain professionalism on the radio? A lot of young fans look up to drivers."

Lando rolls his eyes. "Right, because what’s really damaging to young fans isn’t the fact that someone just had a life-threatening accident, but the fact that she said ‘fuck’ while trying to breathe properly again." He leans forward, voice lower but no less cutting. "If we’re talking role models, maybe start by making sure the sport actually supports its drivers instead of fining them for reacting like a human being."

His words are already making waves, clips spreading across social media.

And while you’re still exhausted, still aching from the crash, there’s something about seeing him so openly, fiercely in your corner that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Even after the official interviews, the media frenzy doesn’t stop. Paparazzi crowd outside the paddock, desperate for a statement. Team members act as buffers, but there’s only so much they can do.

As you slowly make your way out of the motorhome, Lando’s arm firmly around your waist, cameras flash, voices overlapping as reporters shout over each other.

"Y/N, do you think the FIA’s decision was fair?"

"Do you regret your words on the radio?"

"Lando, how did it feel watching the crash happen live?"

He tenses beside you. "How do you think it felt?" His voice is sharp, protective. "I watched someone I love crash at full speed. So no, I don’t really give a damn about some radio penalty right now."

You squeeze his hand in silent gratitude. He doesn’t have to be this involved, but he is. Always.

Another journalist turns to you, voice softer but no less intrusive. "Y/N, how are you feeling after the accident?"

You exhale, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the lingering pain. "Sore, obviously. But I’m okay."

"Will you be racing in the next Grand Prix?"

Lando answers before you can. "She’s focusing on recovery first. That’s the priority."

It’s not a direct confirmation, but it’s enough to hold off the speculation—at least for now.

The chaos of the day finally starts to feel like a distant memory as you curl up on the couch in Lando’s apartment. An ice pack rests gently on your ribs, offering some comfort against the bruising, but it’s Lando’s presence that truly calms you. His arm drapes protectively around you, pulling you in close like he never wants to let go, his warmth surrounding you in a way that makes you feel safe. His thumb moves in slow, soothing circles on your arm, the rhythm gentle and steady.

It’s such a contrast to the frantic energy of the day—the flashing cameras, the endless questions, the tension in the air—but now, in this moment, all of that feels like it belongs to another world. This is where you’re grounded.

You sigh, resting your head against his shoulder, letting the quietness of the room wrap around you like a soft blanket. But there’s something still heavy in the pit of your stomach, a lingering feeling that something was unsettled. You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes tracing the faint lines of worry still etched across his face, the tension that’s only now starting to ease from his features.

"You didn’t have to go that hard for me," you murmur, your voice soft, though you know the words don’t quite do justice to what you’re feeling. You had been overwhelmed by everything that happened, but he—he had been beside you every step of the way, his every move showing how deeply he cared.

He scoffs, shaking his head slowly like the idea is completely foreign to him. "Of course I did. It’s bullshit," he mutters, his voice laced with frustration that hasn’t quite gone away. "You should be getting support, not fined for a stupid word." The words come out with a little more heat than he intends, but it’s the underlying softness in his voice, the way he’s speaking to you like he wants to protect you from the world’s unfairness, that makes your heart flutter.

You chuckle softly, a tired sound that makes his grip on you tighten just a fraction, like he’s afraid you might slip away. "Guess I owe you, huh?" you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Lando’s response is immediate—he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. His hands shift, cradling you with a tenderness that almost feels too gentle, like you’re something precious he’s afraid to break. "Just don’t scare me like that again," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath, as though the thought of you being hurt again is more than he can bear. "And we’ll call it even."

You smile up at him, heart full of warmth for this man who always seems to put your well-being before his own. But you can’t promise him that. You know how the sport works, how unpredictable it is. You’ll never be able to give him that guarantee.

But there’s something you can promise him, something more important. You squeeze his hand, the simple act grounding you both in this moment. Your voice is steady as you look up into his eyes, locking your gaze with his. "No matter what happens," you say, the words firm but soft, a promise from the deepest part of you, "you’ll always have me. I’ll always have you."

His expression softens in a way that makes you think he’s heard every unspoken word in your statement, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The air between you feels full—full of shared understanding, full of the love you have for each other, full of the promise that no matter the challenges, no matter the risks, you’ll face it all side by side.

For a long moment, Lando is quiet, his thumb still brushing over your skin in slow, absentminded strokes. But then his breath catches slightly, and when you glance up, you see it—the way his eyes shimmer with unshed tears. His jaw tenses as if he’s trying to hold it all back, but the emotion is too heavy, too raw.

"I thought I lost you," he admits, his voice breaking just enough to reveal the fear he’s been holding in. "When everything was happening, and I couldn’t reach you..." He trails off, shaking his head as if trying to push the memory away, but his grip on you tightens like he never wants to let go again. "I don’t know what I would’ve done if—"

"Hey," you interrupt softly, your hand moving to cup his face, your thumb brushing against the dampness on his cheek. "I’m here. I’m okay. And I’m not going anywhere."

That seems to break whatever wall he was trying to hold up. Lando lets out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping against yours as he closes his eyes. "I just... I can’t lose you," he confesses, the words raw and vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache. "Not you."

You press a soft kiss to his lips, hoping it conveys everything words can’t. "You won’t," you promise against his mouth, your voice unwavering. "I’m right here."

He nods slightly, like he’s trying to believe it, and when he pulls you into his arms again, it’s with a desperation that speaks to how close he felt to losing you. But in this moment, with his heart laid bare and your arms wrapped tightly around each other, there’s nothing else that matters.

Lando kisses you gently on the forehead, his lips lingering there for just a second longer. "That’s all I need," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. Then, his arms pull you even closer, his warmth radiating through your bones.

[caitified]

Hello! I absolutely love your family series so much. I love Caitlin’s family but can you please do Paige next?

Can it be like Paige introduces their baby to Geno and CD after Paige’s game (she’s in Dallas already) and idk just cute interactions and fans are eating it up. I hope you give this a shot. Thank you!

INTRODUCTION

PAIGE BUECKERS X FAMILY READER

notes: finally…after literally 100 requests i’m properly starting my paige family series. enjoy! (p.s i think i changed this a bit from the req, sry)

requests are open for this.

packing for any trip with a baby was always a process. no matter how much you tried to pack light, you always ended up with more than you needed.

“paige, we’re not moving to connecticut.” you glanced at her over your shoulder as you zipped up one of eva’s bags. “why does she have like four different pairs of sneakers in here?”

paige, sitting on the floor with eva in her lap, looked up sheepishly. “because she’s gotta look fresh?”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile. “she’s not even walking yet.”

paige turned eva toward her, gently bouncing her. “tell mama you need options, baby.”

eva, six months old with bright blue eyes just like her mom’s, blew a spit bubble.

paige gasped dramatically. “see? she agrees.”

you laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed the last of your things. “fine. whatever. let’s just go before we miss the flight.”

—

the flight from dallas to connecticut wasn’t too bad.

eva, thankfully, was a pretty easy baby. after some snacks, a few rounds of peekaboo with paige, and a little bit of fighting sleep, she finally passed out in your arms.

paige, sitting next to you, smiled down at her before looking at you. “this is so weird,” she murmured.

you shifted slightly to look at her. “what is?”

her lips curled slightly. “going back to uconn. with you. with eva.”

your heart softened. “you’re excited, though, right?”

she nodded. “of course. but, like…” she exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “when i left, i never thought i’d be coming back like this, y’know? like, yeah, i knew i’d visit, but—” she looked down at eva again, voice dropping slightly. “now i have a family.”

you reached for her hand, squeezing gently. “it’s a full-circle moment.”

she nodded, exhaling. “yeah. it really is.”

—

the game itself was electric.

stepping into gampel pavilion again felt like stepping into a time capsule. the energy, the fans, the love—it was all still there.

but this time, instead of sitting courtside just as paige’s girlfriend, you had eva in your lap.

instead of fangirling over paige as the uconn superstar, you were watching her experience the game as a wnba player, an alumni, a legend in her own right.

and, of course, you were just trying to keep eva from throwing her pacifier onto the court.

“baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her head as she wiggled. “no throwing things.”

she cooed back at you, completely ignoring your request.

the fans ate her up.

anytime she clapped her little hands? cheers.

every time she got excited when the crowd got loud? adorable gasps.

by halftime, there were already tweets circulating about how paige’s baby was a uconn legend in the making.

you glanced at paige, who was beaming, filming eva on her phone.

“she’s gonna steal your thunder,” you teased.

paige smirked. “i’d let her.”

—

after the game, it was time for introductions.

geno and cd were already waiting in the tunnel, and the moment paige stepped forward with eva, their faces lit up.

“there’s the real superstar,” geno said, grinning as he looked at eva.

cd, beside him, immediately reached for her. “oh, let me see her!”

eva blinked at them, big blue eyes full of curiosity, before reaching her arms out for cd.

paige gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “i can’t believe this. my own daughter is betraying me.”

you laughed, nudging her. “relax, babe. she just knows good people.”

cd beamed, adjusting eva in her arms. “she’s beautiful, paige.” she glanced at you, smiling warmly. “you two did good.”

geno crossed his arms, tilting his head. “i dunno… she kinda looks too much like paige. are we sure she’s not already stubborn?”

paige gasped. “coach!”

you smirked, shrugging. “i mean, she is kind of a diva.”

geno nodded knowingly. “oh, she definitely got that from her mom.”

eva babbled happily in cd’s arms, clearly enjoying the attention.

paige sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her forehead. “i can’t believe i came back here to get roasted.”

geno clapped a hand on her shoulder. “it’s what we do, kid.”

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile.

you squeezed her hand, grinning.

back home. but better.

i’m in now. keep the paige family requests coming

[rootedinrevisions]

Yours, Finally

Summary: Bradley and you were never just friends, but you were never more than that either. Caught somewhere between nights together and unspoken feelings, you both built something complicated that neither of you were ready to define. You and Bradley are both left shattered after you breakup, if that’s what you can even call it. When given one last chance by you, Bradley is determined to show you that he can be the man you want him to be.

Warnings: Some Alcohol Use. Other than that this is just a lot of angst sandwiched between some fluff.

Word Count: 10,259

Tags: I don't have a ton of writing for Bradley, but I tagged the people I have listed on the Bradley Tag List. If you'd like to be added in future Bradley stuff just let me know!

A/N: Thank you to those of you that sent in requests for this. This ended up being three or four requests all combined into one. I really hope you guys like this. This one has been a work in progress for over a month, but I really like how it came out and hope you guys do too! 

The first thing you register is warmth. Bradley is wrapped around you, his arm draped heavily over your waist, his chest a solid wall of heat against your back. His breath tickles the nape of your neck, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was still asleep. But you know better. You know he’s laying there, enjoying the last few minutes before he has to get up.

Your fingers toy with the hem of the old Navy tee you’re wearing. His old Navy tee, soft and worn from years of wash and wear. It smells like him. Like sea salt, faded cologne, and something that’s just Bradley.

You shift just enough to roll onto your side and face him. His arm over you tightens instinctively, pulling you closer. It makes your heart ache in a way you don’t know what to do with.

Bradley Bradshaw is unfairly beautiful like this. Barely awake, and still the most breathtaking thing you’ve ever seen. His hair is a tousled mess of curls crushed against the pillow, sun kissed skin warm under the morning light spilling in through the half open blinds.

For a moment you just look at him. Commit this moment to memory. Because this…waking up in his arms, in his bed, wearing his clothes…it feels like something more than it is.

His eyes blink open slowly, soft with sleep as they land on you. A lazy smile tugs at his lips, and then, with a quiet, gravelly voice, he mumbles, “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

God, he makes this so easy. Makes you want to fall. Makes you want to believe this is more than what it is.

He tugs you closer, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You sigh as his arm flexes around you, like he’s anchoring himself to you.

Now’s your chance. Just say it. What are we Bradley? Four little words. But the words stay trapped in your throat.

Instead you just bury your fingers in his curls, and let your nails lightly scratch his scalp the way you know he loves. His body relaxes even more against yours, a soft hum vibrating against your skin.

You don’t ask about what you guys are. Not right now anyway.

Instead you close your eyes, and let yourself sink into the moment a little longer pretending this is something it isn’t.

You start to shift, muscles stretching as you prepare to slip out of bed, but before you can even lift the sheets, a strong arm tightens around your waist pulling you back in.

“Mm-mm,” Bradley mumbles, voice thick with sleep as he buries his face against your shoulder. “Five more minutes.”

You huff a quiet laugh. “Bradley—”

“Five minutes,” he repeats, the words muffled against your skin. His grip is loose but stubborn, like he’s holding onto the last bit of sleep and you at the same time.

And honestly? You can’t tell him no.

So you sigh, sinking back into the warmth of the bed, letting him pull you closer. His body is solid and warm behind you, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you right back into a hazy state of comfort.

For a few minutes, you just lay there, letting yourself exist in this moment and be wrapped up in him. But it doesn’t last.

Eventually, Bradley’s breaths even out, turning deeper and slower. Then soft snores start falling from his lips. You shake your head with a quiet smile. Of course he’s already asleep again.

Carefully, you ease out of his hold, slipping from the bed without waking him this time. You know it’s been a long week of training for him. Long days, late nights, constant exhaustion. He needs the rest.

So you let him have it. And as you pull on a pair of his sweatpants and pad toward the kitchen, you decide you’ll let him wake up to coffee and breakfast in a little bit.

You pad down the hallway to the kitchen, not bothering to flip on the light. The early morning sunlight filtering through the blinds is enough light for you to work, casting everything in soft hues.

You know exactly where everything is. The coffee grinds are where he keeps them on the counter right by the sink. The mugs are in the cabinet above the dishwasher. As you reach up for one you realize your fingers don’t have to stretch quite as far as usual. The mugs have been moved down a shelf. Bradley must have moved them lower recently. You pause, glancing at the shelf that's just a little higher than your reach where he used to keep them. He knew you’d want them closer. You grin to yourself, quietly shaking your head as you pull one down.

With easy familiarity you fill the coffee pot and get it started, then crack the eggs for breakfast, turning the stove on without a second thought. You can’t help the small smile that pulls at your lips as you work, feeling more at home here than you’ve ever let yourself admit.

“Didn’t even wake me up,” Bradley’s voice is thick with sleep as he comes up behind you, pressing his warm palm to the small of your back.

You glance at him over your shoulder, amusement tugging at the corners of your lips. “Thought I’d let you sleep.”

He hums, stepping past you toward the coffee maker. “Could’ve at least kissed me awake.”

Your stomach flips at the ease of his words, but you push past it, rolling your eyes as you turn back to the stove. “I’ll make it up to you,” you tease.

Bradley chuckles, low and warm, as he starts to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Damn right, you will.”

A comfortable silence settles between you as you both fall into a familiar rhythm. He pours some coffee into your mug and then gets his daily protein shake going while you handle breakfast, moving around each other like you’ve done this a hundred times before…because you have.

The smell of fresh coffee fills the air, mingling with the scent of butter and eggs. Sunlight spills through the window, casting a golden glow over the small kitchen. It’s quiet, peaceful.

You grab your phone, flicking through playlists before landing on something easy and old school. Music filters through the speakers, something slow with a good rhythm, something that makes you sway your hips slightly as you focus on the eggs.

Bradley notices immediately. Before you can react his arms slip around your waist, his broad chest pressing up against your back as he pulls you into him. His chin comes to rest on your shoulder, his body fitting seamlessly against yours.

You let out a soft laugh, leaning your head back against him. “I take it you approve of the song choice?”

“I approve of you dancin’ in my kitchen,” he says, voice warm, laced with amusement.

He sways you slightly, moving with the rhythm, a slow, lazy kind of dance that isn’t really a dance at all. It's just him holding you, and moving with you like it’s second nature.

You close your eyes for a second, soaking it in. It’s moments like this that make you want to believe. That make you want to ask him when you guys will be official.

But you don’t. Instead, you let him hold you and enjoy the moment.

For now, you let yourself pretend. And for now, that’s enough.

Once the eggs are finished you step out of Bradley’s hold and perch yourself on one of the stools at the island, stirring your coffee as Bradley stands on the opposite side, casually picking at his breakfast with a fork. There’s an easy quiet between you both, comfortable in its silence. There's no real need for conversation.

But then he hesitates, the fork hovering between his plate and his mouth. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. You watch as he scratches the back of his head. It’s a nervous habit of his when he’s about to ask something, but doesn’t quite know how to say it.

“So…” he begins, voice low and thoughtful, his gaze flicking between you and the counter, like he’s trying to weigh whether or not he should say the words. “You doing anything later tonight?”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back against the stool. “Not sure. Why?”

He shrugs, his usual nonchalant mask falling back into place, even though his words don’t quite match the ease of the motion. “We’re hitting up The Hard Deck. Some of the squad’s gonna be there. You wanna come?”

There’s a long pause as you process it, and then a realization settles over you. He didn’t say anything about it being a date. But the way he said it, like you’re already expected to come along with him, and the slight tension in his voice make it feel like something more than just friends getting drinks.

You glance over at him, but his eyes are focused on his plate now, his expression cool again. Your heart does a little flip. 

He looks up, catching your gaze. That signature smirk of his pulls at the corner of his mouth. "You really gonna turn down free drinks?"

You roll your eyes and sigh, knowing exactly what that means. He’s been picking up your tab for the last few weeks. And while it’s generous, it also comes with a slightly awkward weight that makes you question what it means

“Fine,” you say, shaking your head and trying to keep it light, even though something in the back of your mind tugs at you. “I’ll go. But I’m holding you to buying my drinks tonight if you’re going to make me put up with Hangman all night.”

He just smirks wider, though you try not to read into the way he smiles just a little too softly when you agree.

Later that evening the familiar thrum of music and chatter greets you as you step into The Hard Deck. You scan the room, eyes landing on the back corner, the usual gathering place for Bradley and the rest of the squad. You spot them right away. Bob, Hangman, Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy, all of them leaning casually around the pool tables. The laughter and clinking glasses fill the air, creating a vibe that’s both laid back and familiar.

And then you find him. Bradley. He’s standing by the bar with Phoenix. His back is to you. His broad shoulders are relaxed as he talks, laughing at something she’s saying. For a moment, it feels like everything slows down around you. You’re standing there, trying to act casual, but inside there’s a weird twist in your stomach.

Bradley’s gaze flicks toward you. His eyes find yours instantly, and there’s a moment of recognition like he’s been waiting for you to arrive all night. His lips curl up in that easy smile of his, the one that always makes your heart do a little somersault.

He nods toward you in a silent greeting. Without missing a beat, he sets his beer down on the bar top, pushes past the others, and strides toward you.

Before you can even fully react, he’s there. His arms wrapping around you in a bear hug, lifting you off the ground slightly as he pulls you in tight. The familiar scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body are like a magnet, drawing you closer despite your efforts to keep things casual.

“Hey, you made it,” he says, his voice low and warm with a hint of something more. 

When he sets you down, his hands linger on your shoulders, the brief touch sending a small jolt through you.

Phoenix and the others are watching, some with smirks playing on their faces, but Bradley doesn’t seem to care. He’s got you in his orbit now, and nothing else matters.

You try to shrug it off, offering a smile that’s more confident than you feel. “You think I was gonna turn down a free drink?”

Bradley laughs, that full, throaty sound that always makes your pulse pick up. “You never turn down free drinks when I’m paying for them.” His voice drops a little lower, and for a split second,you almost think he’s not talking about just the drinks anymore.

The awkwardness of the moment is briefly swept away as he leads you over to the group. Phoenix elbows Hangman who’s snickering at the way Bradley’s being a little too touchy with you already.

Bradley pulls out a chair for you to sit next to him, and he casually rests his hand on the back of your chair, still close enough to feel the heat of his touch.

The group is in the middle of a heated pool game when the door swings open. A tall woman with dark hair and an unmistakable confidence strides in, her eyes scanning the room as if she already owns it.

She’s young, attractive, and radiates the kind of self-assurance that makes even Hangman do a double take. Her uniform is impeccably tailored, and there’s something almost cocky in the way she holds herself.

As she walks toward the bar, her gaze lands on Bradley. She struts over to him with a smile that’s too confident, a laugh that’s a little too loud. You watch as she slips right into the conversation Bradley and Bob are having, leaning in just a bit too close to him, her hand brushing against his arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Bradley appears caught off guard. His usual ease with everyone faltering slightly under her persistent energy. She touches his arm again as she laughs a little too hard at something he said. The joke wasn’t even that funny. You know this because you’ve heard him tell that same joke a dozen times. But somehow, she finds it hilarious.

Her name’s Blaze, you hear someone mention. Apparently it wasn’t just your attention she had captured. She’s a new pilot at Top Gun. She’s already drawing attention from the ones in charge of the training, and she knows it. 

You can see the way her eyes flicker over Bradley, the way she holds his gaze longer than necessary. Then her gaze meets yours and you feel the shift immediately. It’s as if she’s realized your place in the group and is ready to take it from you. She’s speaking to him like she’s the center of his universe, and you’re left standing on the edge of it, a quiet observer in the background.

Bradley’s laughing now, a little too much, almost like he’s enjoying the attention, though it’s hard to tell if it’s because of her or the fact that she’s making an effort to stay glued to his side.

Your stomach tightens as a knot forms in your gut. It feels like you’re not even there anymore. Blaze’s eyes are on Bradley in a way that makes it feel like you’ve already lost your spot beside him, like you’re some afterthought.

You remind yourself that you’re leaving with him tonight. This girl is nothing. She’s just a new face in the crowd, a momentary distraction. You're the one that will be wrapped in his arms as he falls asleep tonight.

You sip your drink, trying to keep your cool. Don’t let her get to you, you tell yourself. You’ve been doing this long enough with Bradley to know how to keep your composure. She’s not the first girl that’s flirted with him since you two started hooking up. You also remind yourself that the whole point of this thing with Bradley was to keep things casual. You can't be the jealous girlfriend when you aren't even the girlfriend.

You glance at Bradley. He catches your eye for a split second, and the moment passes quickly. But something’s different. He’s caught up in this new energy, and it stings more than you want to admit.

Blaze is relentless. It’s like she has a radar for Bradley’s every move, every word. She doesn’t just laugh at his jokes. Now she leans in, her eyes locked on his.

“I have to say, Bradley,” she purrs, her voice just a little too smooth, “I’ve seen some impressive moves in the air, but yours? Seriously, you’re on another level.”

Bradley chuckles, shifting slightly under her gaze, but the words don’t seem to make him uncomfortable. If anything, they make him look... pleased.

“Thanks, Blaze,” he responds with that easy smile of his. It’s the kind of smile you’ve seen him give a thousand times, but tonight, for some reason, it feels different. Warmer?

She smirks, her eyes glinting with that cocky confidence. “Maybe one day I could be your wingman. Bet we’d tear it up together.”

Bradley laughs again, his shoulders relaxing as he leans back into the conversation. The sound is so light, so easy, that it hits you in a way that makes your chest tighten. It stings, like something cold sinking deep into your stomach. 

This isn't what you were expecting when Bradley invited you out tonight. You weren’t expecting to feel... left out.

You don’t want to make a scene. You don’t want to be the jealous girl at the bar. But damn it, it’s hard not to notice that Bradley isn’t pulling away from her. He isn’t shutting her down.

You swallow thickly and grab your drink, nearly draining a quarter of it in one go. The burn of the alcohol isn’t enough to ease the sudden tightness in your chest. You close your eyes for a second, trying to push down the discomfort, to steady yourself.

Don’t overthink it. Don’t read into this. It’s just a girl, just some random girl, right? You’re fine. You’re fine.

But then your eyes meet Phoenix’s from across the table, and for a second you wonder if maybe she can feel it too. The way Blaze is practically clinging to Bradley, the way he doesn’t seem to mind it. Phoenix gives you a small, knowing look. She doesn’t have to say anything. Her eyes say it all. She sees it too.

Your stomach drops, the weight of her silent confirmation crashing over you. It’s not just you. Which means you aren't being irrational.

Bradley’s laugh rings out again, louder this time. And for the first time, you realize tht this thing between you and him? Maybe it’s not as solid as you thought. Maybe he doesn’t see you the way you’ve been pretending to see him.

"Another round?" Penny asks, noticing your empty glass. You quickly nod.

Her eyes flicker between you and Bradley, and you know damn well she’s seen the dynamic. She’s seen how Bradley’s been picking up your tab all month. She’s also seen how he’s been so damn chill with Blaze tonight.

You don’t know if it’s her knowing look or the way Bradley is standing just a little too close, but something feels off. 

“Put it on mine, Penny.” Bradley says as he steps beside you.

"No, I got it," you say, brushing him off more sharply than you mean to.

You hand Penny your card, trying to act like you’re fine. She takes it from you without a word, but there’s a shift in the air now. 

You hear him sigh under his breath, but you don’t let it get to you. You’re already thinking about leaving. No need to cause a scene with him.

He turns to Phoenix, his back to you. You don’t mean to overhear, but the bar isn’t that loud, and he’s standing just behind you.

"Why’s she acting so pissy tonight?" Bradley asks, his voice casual, like it’s just a passing thought.

You feel the words sink into you like a stone. It’s like a punch to the gut. You know he’s talking about you, but hearing him say it like that...so unbothered, so detached...it makes everything feel so much worse.

Phoenix rolls her eyes. "Seriously, Bradshaw? Blaze has been all over you. She’s been flirting with you all night."

Bradley’s frown is immediate, but it’s confused. “So? What’s that got to do with anything?” He sounds genuinely puzzled, like he doesn’t understand.

Phoenix scoffs, and you feel the heat in her words hit you like a slap. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“What do you mean? Why would she care if Blaze flirts with me? We are just friends.”

Just friends. That’s it. Just friends.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your ears. You try to swallow past the lump in your throat, but you can’t. You can’t let this go on any longer. You’ve been pretending you’re fine, pretending you’re okay with this casual thing, this “no strings” arrangement. But hearing Bradley’s words, so damn casual, like nothing about the two of you matters to him…like you’ve been nothing but a friend all along.

You’re done. 

“Penny can you just close out my tab instead,” you say, your voice tight, barely holding it together.

She gives you a confused look, but she doesn’t question it. She pulls your receipt from the register and slides it across the bar to you.

You don’t even glance at it as you add a tip and then scribble your signature at the bottom.

You grab your purse in a hurry, trying to ignore the sting in your chest. Bob looks up as you move past the pool table, his brows furrowed in concern.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low, but you can’t handle it. Not now. Not after hearing Bradley’s words.

“Can you tell Bradley I went home?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, but you know he hears it.

You know he sees the pain flickering behind your eyes. Bob hesitates, but he nods slowly, unsure of what to do with the situation.

You don’t wait for him to reply. You head for the exit, your heart heavy with each step, the door of The Hard Deck swinging closed behind you.

You can feel the cool night air against your skin, the weight of everything that’s just happened crushing down on you with every step toward your car. Your mind is a blur of frustration, confusion, and hurt—hurt that Bradley still doesn’t get it. Doesn’t see you. Not the way you see him. 

And then you hear his voice, the sound of his footsteps following close behind you.

“Why did you leave like that back there?” Bradley calls out, his tone a mixture of confusion and perhaps concern?

You don’t stop walking. You can’t. You don’t trust yourself to speak without breaking.

“Because,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, hoping he’ll take the hint. 

But of course, he doesn’t.

“Because why?” Bradley asks again, his frustration growing.

But you feel the tightness in your chest pulling you back, the anger building with every step he takes. And then it bursts out of you, everything you've been holding back, all the hurt you've been swallowing for so long. You spin on your heel, your eyes glassy with unshed tears. Your heart pounds in your ears. You’ve had enough. You can't hold back anymore.

“Because your dumbass can’t figure out how much it hurts me when you say we’re just friends!” The words are sharp like glass shattering, and you feel the floodgates open as everything you’ve been feeling pours out.

Bradley stares at you, the confusion in his eyes clear, but you can’t hold it in. Not now.

“Friends don’t fall asleep wrapped around each other, Bradley. Friends don’t wake up tangled in bed, making coffee and pretending it doesn’t mean anything. Friends don’t—”

You cut yourself off, your voice breaking in a way you can’t stop. You swallow hard, feeling like you’re drowning in the weight of the truth. You’ve been holding onto these moments, these tiny, intimate things you’ve shared, and it’s killing you to realize he doesn’t see it the way you do.

Bradley’s eyes flicker, and you can see the gears turning in his head, but it’s like he still doesn’t get it. Not fully.

“Why are you so mad about Blaze?” he asks, that typical confusion marking his features again.

You feel the switch flip inside you, like a damn finally breaking. His words are the last straw, and you snap.

“She was flirting with you, and you didn’t do anything! That’s why I’m mad!” Your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, your words coming out faster now.

You turn to leave, your fists clenched at your sides, but then you feel his hand on your wrist. It’s gentle, but firm. Just enough to stop you from walking away.

“Wait—” His voice cracks, but you’re already too far gone.

You whip around to face him, the sting of unshed tears still burning in your eyes, your heart thundering in your chest.

“No. I’m done.”

His breath catches in his throat, and you can see the realization hitting him, but it’s too late.

“What do you mean, done?” His voice drops, the panic in his tone rising.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the words spill out before you can stop them. “I’m done, Bradley. I can’t keep doing this...whatever this is between us...Not when it’s so clear that I don’t mean anything to you.” The lump in your throat grows heavier with each word, but you push through.

Bradley’s expression falters, his eyes widening in disbelief, and he takes a step toward you, his hand reaching out like he’s trying to hold onto something that’s slipping away. “Wait, just—”

You shake your head, the finality of your words tasting bitter on your tongue. “Let me go, Bradley.”

But he doesn’t let you go. His grip is firm now, desperate, almost like he’s trying to hold you in place, as though if he just holds on tight enough, he can undo all the damage.

“Do you understand how much it would hurt me?” His voice cracks, raw with emotion. “How much it would kill me to see you go?”

You laugh, but it’s bitter, cutting through the space between you. “I’m sure your little friend in there will give you a shoulder to cry on tonight if you need one.”

The words hang in the air between you like a knife. It stings. The thought of anyone comforting Bradley eats at you. It stings more than you care to admit, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much. You pull away, yanking your wrist from his grasp, the movement sharp and deliberate.

You turn and continue walking to your car, your legs feeling heavier with each step. The sound of his breath catches behind you, but you don’t turn back. You can’t. The hurt is too much, the ache in your chest is too sharp.

You get into the car, slamming the door behind you, and the engine roars to life. As you pull away from the parking lot, you glance in the rearview mirror, just for a second.

There he stands, hands on his hips, looking absolutely wrecked. His shoulders slump as he watches you drive away, the night swallowing you both whole.

And as you drive off, the tears finally break free.

BRADLEY’S P.O.V.

Bradley stands there, rooted to the spot, his mind replaying your words over and over. "When it's so clear I don't mean anything to you."

The weight of it hits him like a punch to the gut. Is that really how he’s made you feel? His stomach twists with a sickening realization. He’s been too afraid to put a label on what you two had, too afraid to risk anything. And now? Now he’s lost you.

He doesn’t even think about it. He walks toward the Bronco, barely even aware of what he’s doing. He’ll settle his tab with Penny later. He has to fix this.

As he pulls up to your place, his hands grip the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turn white. His heart pounds in his chest. He parks, throws the door open, and hurries toward your front door. He knocks once, twice, three times hoping you’ll answer. He silently prays that you’ll open that door, that maybe this is all just a bad dream he can wake up from.

When you open the door the sight of your red face, your puffy eyes, makes something inside him crack. The guilt rushes over him like a flood. He never meant to make you cry. Never meant to hurt you.

“I—” He takes a shaky breath, stepping forward, but you don’t move. You stand there, silent, eyes wary. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to make you feel like...like you didn’t mean anything to me. I was just scared. I didn’t know how to...how to make sense of what we were. I didn’t want to screw it up.”

He pauses, searching your face for something anything that might show you still care, that maybe he isn’t too late.

“I like you. A lot. And I don’t want to lose you.” 

The words tumble out of him before he can stop them, raw and unfiltered. He watches your expression, trying to read you, but you don’t say anything. You just stare at him, exhausted. He hates the way you look, so defeated. He wishes he could erase all of it—the confusion, the hesitation, the fear that kept him from being honest with you sooner.

You break the silence, your voice quiet, almost hollow. “I need space, Rooster.”

The words land like a slap, and his breath hitches. The use of his callsign stabs at him harder than anything else could. You’ve never called him that—never. It’s always been Bradley or Roo, something personal, something that felt like it was just for the two of you. And now, hearing you say “Rooster,” it feels like a barrier between you, like he’s just another guy on the base to you.

He flinches, the sting of it cutting deep.

Then there’s that word. Space. That’s the last thing he wants. Space. Distance. He doesn’t want that.

He wants to fix this, to make everything right. But as he looks at you, he sees the exhaustion in your eyes. The weight of everything that’s happened tonight is all over your face, and it stops him in his tracks.

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to fix it. Everything inside him tells him to argue, to fight for you, to make you see that he’s not going anywhere, but he knows the exhaustion in your eyes. The last thing he wants to do is push you further away.

“If space is what you need, I’ll give it to you,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

The words hang between you, and for a long moment, neither of you move. He doesn’t want to leave you like this, but he knows he has to give you time.

And so, he does what he has to do. He turns and walks away, his heart still heavy in his chest, but he holds onto that last promise: I’m not going anywhere.

The Next Few Weeks

The silence between you and Bradley stretches out like an endless aching void. Every day that passes without you feels like a weight he can’t shake off. He tries to keep himself busy. Whether it’s work, training, the endless stream of flights and meetings. But every day, every hour, he catches himself reaching for his phone, hovering over your name, his thumb just a fraction away from pressing send. But he never does. He can’t. He promised you space.

Still, the urge gnaws at him. There’s so much he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how to start. He doesn’t know how to fix this. So he keeps his phone locked, not allowing himself to type out the words that he knows will just make everything worse.

At the Hard Deck it’s the same routine he’s always had, but everything feels different. He still walks in, his eyes automatically searching for you, expecting you to be there, sitting at the bar or talking to Phoenix. But every time the disappointment hits him like a physical blow when he doesn’t see you.

Phoenix notices. Of course she does. She’s always been able to read him like an open book. She leans over to him one night, a smirk on her lips, but her eyes softening when she sees how bad he really looks. 

“You look like hell,” she observes, her voice low, a little concerned beneath the teasing.

Bradley just shrugs, not willing to admit anything. Not willing to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much this is killing him. 

“Haven’t been sleeping,” he mutters, his gaze drifting to the door again, just in case you might show up. But you don’t.

Phoenix doesn’t need to ask why he hasn’t been sleeping. She knows. She just lets it go, her gaze following his for a moment before she focuses back on her drink, but the unspoken understanding hangs between them. Bradley’s heart aches with the weight of it. Every time she says something like that, it’s a reminder of how different everything feels now, how much quieter the Hard Deck is without you.

The silence is suffocating. It creeps into his thoughts, his every moment. There’s a constant hum in the back of his mind, a reminder of the space you needed, the space he had no choice but to give you. But he hates it. Every second of it. He wants to fix it. He wants to call you, show up at your door, beg you to talk to him, but he knows he can’t. Not when you asked for this. Not when you told him to leave you alone.

The silence eats at him more than anything. The quiet where there used to be laughter, light-hearted teasing, late-night talks. It’s like he’s holding his breath, waiting for something to change, but there’s no sign of it.

Every time he sees someone in the bar whispering or laughing, he wonders if they’re talking about him. The idiot who messed up the best thing he ever had.

Days pass. Weeks. The longing to reach out only grows, but Bradley keeps pushing it down. The empty space between you two is consuming, and while he respects your wishes, he doesn’t know how much longer he can live with not seeing or talking to you.

A Month Later

It’s been a month since the last time Bradley heard from you. A month of sleepless nights, restless days, and a gnawing feeling in his gut that refuses to go away. He’s tried to keep his focus, really he has. But every time he thinks he’s putting it all behind him, something pulls him back—his phone, the Hard Deck, the air hanging heavy with unsaid words. The silence suffocates him.

Today was no different. A grueling day of training with Simpson riding him hard. His head’s been everywhere but in the cockpit, and Simpson’s sharp eyes saw it. The admiral had no patience for distractions today, and it showed. Bradley’s body is exhausted, drained from the tension in his chest and the weight of everything unresolved. He’s spent the entire day pretending to have it together, but the truth is, his head hasn’t had it together since the night he let you walk away.

Now, in the locker room, the sound of water running off his body is almost soothing as he scrubs at his skin, trying to wash away the weight of the past month. But he’s still carrying it. Always carrying it.

Bradley’s just stepping out of the shower, toweling off his hair when another pilot, a guy from another squadron, walks up to him. He doesn’t seem to notice Bradley’s mood. It's different from the casual way in the way pilots usually are with each other. But what he says next hits Bradley like a gut punch.

“So, I asked her out,” the guy says, clearly not aware of the storm he’s about to cause. “Wasn’t sure if you two had a thing or not, but she said you weren’t anything.”

Bradley freezes. His hand tightens around the towel, his heart skipping a beat. "She said that?" His voice comes out tight, controlled, but inside, a thousand thoughts are already spiraling.

The pilot nods, completely oblivious to the fury building inside Bradley. “Yeah. She said you guys were just friends, no big deal. So, it’s cool if I take her out, right?”

Bradley doesn’t even answer. The words are stuck in his throat, his mind spinning with disbelief. She said that? The way she’d made him feel, how much he’d tried to give her space, and now this? Now some other guy thinks he can just walk in and pick up where Bradley left off?

He doesn’t even think about it. Without saying another word, he quickly pulls on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and grabs his bag, slings it over his shoulder. He walks out of the locker room, leaving the pilot still talking, unaware of what he’s just set into motion.

Bradley’s entire body is tense as he heads straight for the Bronco. He can feel the anger bubbling up, but beneath it, there’s fear. Fear that it’s too late, fear that you’ve moved on, fear that he’s lost you forever.

But he’s done waiting. He can’t keep pretending like this, not when he knows what he wants. Not when he knows how much he needs you.

He speeds through traffic, his hands gripping the wheel as he tries to steady himself, but nothing helps. His mind is already picturing you with that guy—seeing him take you out, laughing with you, getting close to you in ways he used to. And the thought rips him apart.

Bradley doesn’t know if he’ll have time to make it to you, but he’s sure as hell going to try. Because if it’s not already too late, he’s not going to let you slip through his fingers without fighting for you.

Your POV

The knock at the door startles you. You weren't expecting anyone. But when you open the door, there he stands. Bradley. The last person you thought you'd see.

He looks like hell. His jaw is tight, his eyes wild with something you've seen before. Desperation. Before you can say anything, he speaks.

"Are you really going out with him?" His voice is tight, controlled, but you can hear the edge of pain in it, like he's trying to hold it all together.

You cross your arms, trying to shield yourself from whatever he's about to throw at you. "I don’t see why it matters to you, Rooster. You said we were just friends."

A sharp breath escapes his lungs, and then he steps closer, closing the distance between you two in an instant. His eyes never leave yours, burning with something deep. "I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong."

You take a step back, but he follows you. "Why are you here, Rooster?" you ask, your voice low, unsure if you're ready to hear whatever he’s about to say.

He doesn’t hesitate. His voice cracks slightly as he pours his heart out. The words coming out fast, like he’s been holding them back for too long. "No label could ever define what you mean to me. I love you. I need you. Losing you made me realize I don’t want to live in a world where I’m just your friend. I want to be your everything."

Your chest tightens, and a bitter laugh escapes before you can stop it. "You broke my heart, Bradley," you say quietly, your voice cracking.

He nods, his eyes full of remorse. "And if it takes me the rest of my life to earn you back, then that’s exactly what I’ll do."

You search his face. His expression is raw, desperate. He’s not just saying these things; you can feel that he means them in his every word, his every movement. But can you trust it? Can you trust him?

"Bradley..." You sigh, rubbing your temples, the weight of everything you’ve been through crashing down on you. You hate that you still love him. That no matter how much he’s hurt you, he can still get to you like this. You look at him, heart torn between wanting to protect yourself and wanting to give in to the love you still feel. "I don’t know if I can just forget everything, but…if you really mean this, if you’re really all in….then you’re going to have to show me."

His entire face softens at your words. The tension in his shoulders eases, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you see the man who used to make you feel like the most important person in the world. 

"I swear, sweetheart," he says, voice low and steady, full of conviction. "I’ll spend every damn day proving to you that you’re the only one I want."

You’re still hesitant, your mind racing. But there’s something in his eyes, something that tells you this isn’t just another empty promise. This is real. He’s all in.

Then, without thinking, you pull him in. The kiss is desperate, hungry, a release of everything you’ve both been holding back for so long. His arms wrap around you, lifting you slightly off the ground, pulling you closer, like he’s afraid to ever let go again. His lips are frantic, needy, and it’s everything you’ve missed. Every inch of him, the warmth of his touch, the weight of his love, the way he makes you feel like you’re home.

For a moment, everything else disappears. It’s just the two of you, and everything you’ve been fighting for, everything you’ve been missing, everything you’ve been afraid to admit. It’s all in this kiss. And you know, deep down, that maybe you’re both ready to start over.

Bradley pulls away first, his breath heavy, his chest rising and falling as he looks at you, eyes filled with determination and something softer now like he’s finally letting himself believe that he might get another chance with you.

"Tomorrow night," he says, voice firm but gentle. "Let me take you out. A real date. No bullshit, no hesitation. Just you and me."

You hesitate, your heart still torn between wanting to trust him and not wanting to be hurt again. But there’s something in the way he’s looking at you now. There’s no games, no empty promises. Just Bradley, stripped down to his most honest self.

Finally, you nod. "One date, Bradley. Don’t mess it up."

His grin spreads, wide and genuine, and relief floods his face. It’s like the weight of the world lifts off his shoulders. 

"Sweetheart," he says, his voice low and warm with affection, "you have no idea how much I’ve been waiting to do this right."

You almost laugh at the way he says it, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. But there’s a spark of hope in you now too. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something real.

"Just one," you remind him, though a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, betraying the mix of wariness and excitement you feel.

Bradley steps back, taking a deep breath as if he’s grounding himself, but there’s still that spark of joy in his eyes. 

"One date," he agrees, nodding firmly. "You and me. Let’s do this the right way."

You watch him for a moment, your heart pounding. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this uncertain but hopeful. And for the first time in a while, you're not afraid to take that chance with him.

He hesitates for a moment, as if he wants to say something more, but then turns toward the door. "I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven," he says, his voice softer now. "Wear something nice. I’m making this one count."

You watch him leave, standing there for a moment longer than necessary, before finally letting out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. 

Tomorrow. A real date.

The Next Day

The clock on your wall reads 6:58 when there’s a soft knock at the door. Your heart skips a beat, nerves and excitement mixing together as you walk over and open it.

And there he is. Bradley. Looking way too handsome in a cream colored linen button down shirt, his sleeves rolled up just enough to show the forearms you’ve memorized. His dark hair is perfectly messy, the way you like it. And for all the bravado and cocky confidence you’re used to seeing, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes now, nerves, even. 

In his hand is a single yellow rose. You glance at it and raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips. 

"Yellow?" you tease, though the soft gesture makes your chest tighten in a way you didn’t expect.

Bradley’s gaze flicks down to the rose, a nervous chuckle escaping him. "I remember you said you hated red ones," he says, his voice quieter now, a little unsure, but still so sincere.

You don’t say anything right away. Instead, you take the flower from his hand and bring it to your nose, inhaling its sweet fragrance. 

"It’s beautiful," you say, looking up at him, and for a moment, you both just stand there.

His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s about to do something, but he stops himself. "Are you ready to go?" he asks softly, offering his hand to you.

You look at his hand, the way he’s holding it out to you is gentle, asking for trust. It takes a moment for your heart to catch up, but then, almost instinctively, you take his hand.

"I guess so," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bradley’s face softens in relief, and without another word, he leads you out the door, that same sweet smile lingering on his lips, his grip warm around your hand.

For the first time in a long time, everything feels just right.

The soft jingle of the café door opens, and you walk inside with Bradley. It’s the same quaint little café he frequented with Hangman and Coyote whenever they were in town. There’s a cozy feel to it,plenty of wood and mismatched tables, with the comforting aroma of fresh coffee in the air.

Bradley stops in his tracks for a moment, and you look at him, curious.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He hesitates for just a second, then gestures toward the booth in the back. "I want to sit there," he says quietly.

You follow his gaze, and immediately something clicks. That booth…it’s the one you were sitting in the day you and Bradley met. Your heart skips a beat.

Bradley steps toward the booth, but as you settle in, he lingers, his hand resting lightly on the back of the seat, a little lost in the memory.

“Do you ever think about that day?” he asks, looking out the window as if trying to capture the moment again. “I do. I was hungover as hell. Hangman and Coyote dragged me out for breakfast. I didn’t want to be there. But then I heard your laugh.”

You smile at the memory. You remember that Sunday. You were with a couple of friends, laughing, enjoying a lazy weekend morning. 

But when Bradley looks at you now, you see something else in his eyes. A depth, a sincerity you hadn’t fully noticed before.

His voice drops, softer now. “I knew I had to come say something. But I was nervous. You...you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and I didn’t know what to do.”

You study him for a moment, realizing how much that memory must’ve meant to him. He’s always seemed confident, but in this moment, you see the vulnerability in him, the way that day affected him.

“I kept staring at you,” he admits, shaking his head, almost laughing at himself. “And I was trying to come up with some kind of excuse to talk to you. But you were with your friends, and I didn’t want to be that guy.”

You chuckle softly, remembering how he seemed so out of place with the guys in that moment.

“I remember looking at you and thinking, ‘I should just go over there.’ But I didn’t. Instead, I sat there like a damn idiot, trying to figure out if I could somehow get you to notice me without seeming like an idiot.” He pauses, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It didn’t work.”

You laugh, enjoying this glimpse into the past, into the Bradley that wasn’t quite as sure of himself back then.

“So,” you tease, leaning back against the booth, “what stopped you from saying hi?”

Bradley shrugs, a little sheepish. “I don’t know. I guess I was hoping you’d somehow come over to us. You know, like some kind of miracle.”

“Lucky for you,” you reply, smirking, “it was only the beginning of the miracles you’d get from me.”

Bradley meets your eyes, the smile on his face softening as he reaches for your hand across the table. “You don’t know how much that moment meant to me.”

You both sit there for a few moments, taking in the memory of that first time you saw each other, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. It's just easy. The waitress comes by to take your order, and Bradley’s already got a half smile on his face.

“I’ll have the classic cheeseburger, fries on the side,” he says, looking over at you.

You grin. “I’ll have the same, but make it a double cheeseburger. And don’t forget the milkshake.”

Bradley raises an eyebrow. “Milkshake, huh? What flavor?”

“Vanilla,” you reply with a shrug.

He laughs, shaking his head. “Vanilla. I swear, you’re the most basic person I’ve ever met. But fine, vanilla it is.”

The waitress gives a nod and walks off to put in your order. You look back at Bradley, catching the playful twinkle in his eyes.

“You know, I’m not surprised you went for vanilla,” he teases. “It’s a safe choice.”

“Hey,” you protest, raising an eyebrow, “it’s not safe. It's a classic. I’m just not into all those crazy flavors.”

“I don’t know,” he grins, “I think you could be into some wild flavors if you wanted.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t suppress the smile that creeps up. Bradley, the ever charming confident guy that always knows how to make you laugh.

The waitress returns with your orders, setting down the burgers in front of both of you. You each dive in, enjoying the food in that comfortable silence that’s becoming so familiar between you two. After a few bites, Bradley sets down his burger, his hand stretching over to the milkshake in the middle of the table.

“You ready for this?” he asks with a grin, already pulling one of the straws out and offering it to you.

You smirk, playing along. “It’s so cliche, Bradley. We’re not in a black and white movie.”

But as you take the straw and sip, you both know exactly how much you secretly love it. The milkshake is sweet, cold, and the intimacy of sharing it in such a simple, silly way feels easy.

“I don’t care if it’s cliche,” Bradley says, his voice a little quieter now as he leans in, sipping from his own straw. “Sometimes the cliches are the best part.”

You glance at him over the rim of your straw. 

This feels more right than anything you’ve had in a while. For all the teasing and sarcasm, there’s no denying the connection between you two. No pretenses. Just you, him, a shared milkshake, and the feeling that something deeper is starting to grow again.

You sigh dramatically, leaning back in the booth. “I hate that you’re right.”

Bradley chuckles, tapping his straw against the glass. “I think I could start getting used to that,” he says with a teasing glint in his eyes. “You admitting I’m right about things?”

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t get cocky, Bradley. I’m just saying I don’t mind the occasional cliché. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to start watching rom-coms with you anytime soon.”

His grin widens. “Baby steps,” he replies, sipping the milkshake again.

As you both continue to share the milkshake, you find yourself enjoying it more than you expected. It’s like all those walls you had built up are slowly falling, brick by brick.

“I’ve always thought you’d be the type of person to watch rom-coms,” Bradley adds, leaning back in his seat, a little smug. “You definitely give off that vibe.”

You scoff, but there’s no real bite to it. “I do not,” you insist, but you can’t help but laugh a little. “And I hate that you’re still so good at reading me.”

Bradley’s eyes soften as he watches you, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his glass. “I don’t know about that,” he says quietly, “but I do know this feels like the easiest thing I’ve done in a long time.”

You freeze for a moment, not expecting the sudden sincerity in his words. Your gaze meets his, and for a second, it feels like time slows down.

“I don’t want to mess this up again,” he adds softly, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

You swallow, your heart tightening in your chest. 

“Well lucky for you I’m not planning on going anywhere,” you reply quietly, taking a sip of the milkshake again.

Bradley nods, his smile returning, but this time, there’s a depth to it. One that you haven’t seen before.

After leaving the diner you and Bradley get back into the Bronco. Fifteen minutes later Bradley pulls up to a quiet little arcade tucked just off base, nestled between a couple of shops. It’s the kind of place you might walk by and never think twice about, but there’s something cozy about it, like a hidden gem that only locals know. The neon lights flicker warmly as you step inside, and the sounds of video games and the hum of the air conditioner greet you.

You pause at the door, glancing around in confusion. “Uh, Bradley? What are we doing here?”

He grins, stepping in and looking around with a nostalgic smile. “I thought you might like a little trip down memory lane.”

Your eyes narrow slightly as it clicks. “Wait…is this the arcade from my birthday?”

Bradley nods, glancing over at you with a knowing look. “Yep. The very one. Thought we could have a rematch.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a playful edge to your voice. “You really think you’re going to win? Didn’t I win the first four games last time?”

He laughs, a little sheepish. “Well, I was going to let you win a couple more times tonight..."

You cross your arms, pretending to be offended. “Let me win? Excuse me, but I don’t remember you being such a pushover last time.”

Bradley smirks and steps closer, dropping his voice into that teasing, low register you know so well. “I mean, I was just being a gentleman. But hey, if you want me to take you down this time, I’m game.”

You raise an eyebrow, your competitive side kicking in. “Oh, trust me, Bradley. I’m going to destroy you.”

He laughs again, shaking his head as he leads you further into the arcade. The lights blink and flash as you walk past the old school machines, and the whole place has a vibe of comfort and fun. It’s not flashy or high-tech, but it’s real. It feels authentic.

Bradley stops in front of a classic Pac Man machine, looking at you with a grin. “Let’s start here. Think you can handle a game of Pac Man with me?”

You smirk and grab the joystick. “I’ll make you regret that, Bradley.”

As you both start playing, the sounds of the arcade fade into the background, and for a few moments, it’s just the two of you, and the buzz of the machines. The game starts off lighthearted, but as the score climbs, it gets more intense. Bradley’s eyes flick to you every so often, watching your focus, and you catch him smirking when you miss a turn.

“You know, I’m pretty sure I was better at this game when we were here before,” you say, your voice playful but with just a hint of challenge.

Bradley raises an eyebrow, leaning in. “Oh, really? I must’ve been too distracted last time by, I don’t know…your adorable victory dance when you won. You going to show me that move again?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That was a one time thing, Bradley. You’d know that if you weren’t so busy letting me win.”

He grins and shakes his head. “Maybe…But alright, no more Mr. Nice Guy.” He hits the joystick harder, making his character zoom around the maze. “You’re going down now this round.”

The playful competitiveness builds between you two, and with every little win or near loss, there’s an energy between you that feels effortless. It’s not just about the game, it’s about how the two of you just fit together in these moments. The way you make each other laugh, the gentle teasing, and the way you both push each other, even in something as silly as an arcade game.

As you finish the round, you glance over at him, a mischievous smile creeping up on your lips. “Rematch?”

Bradley tilts his head and shoots you a look that says he’s definitely up for the challenge, but there’s a softness behind it too…like he’s loving every minute of it. “You’re on, sweetheart.”

After leaving the arcade, Bradley leads you down the winding path of the pier, the soft sound of the water lapping against the posts below. The sun is beginning to dip beneath the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. It’s quiet here. Peaceful. The hustle and bustle of the shops nearby, the noise of the city, fades into the background. It’s just you and him now, walking side by side, hand in hand, a comfortable silence between you as you take in the view.

He guides you to the edge of the pier, where the view of the water stretches out before you. The faint light from the setting sun glimmers on the surface, making it look almost like the world is glowing.

You lean against the railing, letting the cool evening air brush past you. Bradley stands behind you for a moment, as if taking in the same scene, before his arms find their way around you, pulling you closer. You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against you, grounding you in this moment.

There’s a shift in the air, a quiet tension. His voice, low and serious, breaks the silence. “I don’t want to mess this up again,” he says, his words almost lost in the wind. “I don’t want any gray areas. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine.”

You smile softly but tease, not ready to let go of the playful energy you’ve shared all night. “You asking me to be your girlfriend, Roo?”

His lips twitch into a smile, and you can hear the hesitation in his voice, but also the sincerity. “Yeah, sweetheart. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

You pause for a moment, letting the weight of the words sit between you. The air seems thicker now, heavier with unspoken promises and the vulnerability in his confession. He’s not running away anymore, not backing down. He’s all in.

Finally, you nod, your gaze softening as you turn to look up at him. “Okay. But if you pull any of that ‘just friends’ crap again, I swear to God—”

Before you can finish your threat, he cuts you off with a kiss. It’s slow, sweet, and full of all the things you’ve both held back. It’s everything you’ve wanted, everything you’ve been too afraid to admit, and in this moment, it feels like everything is falling into place.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and he smiles, eyes glinting in the soft light. “I promise, sweetheart. I’ll never mess this up again.”

You take a breath, letting the calm settle over you, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around you like a blanket. The night stretches out before you, full of possibilities, and you can feel your heart beating just a little faster now, knowing that this is only the beginning.

And as the two of you stand there, watching the sunset fade into twilight, the quiet understanding between you both speaks volumes. And you are his and he is yours, finally.

[aangelinakii]

SECRET LOVER LOVER.

— an inquiry for mr drake.

summary : tim's family pay you a visit to find out what's got their brother so laidback at home, without knowing you're what's got him so smitten.

note : a very rare part two to this post !! i loved the idea for this second part so much i couldn't resist,, i wanted to stay with the taylor swift theme but couldn't find a song i felt fit this so i ditched it,,,, anyways here it is i hope you enjoy, it's a little cracky / jokey but i jope it's good anyway thanks for the request <33

when a knock came at your office door that afternoon, you hadn't expected it to open to reveal two men you'd never seen. at that, you hadn't expected their strange alikeness to your boss.

from the stark raven hair dusting their eyebrows to the light piercing eyes, although both of them were quite a lot larger in their build than his, of which you'd gotten to know quite well after the last few months.

if you didn't know any better, you might think you're about to get beat up in your own office.

"how may i help you?" you had asked them, peering up from your papers, pushing your voice in an effort to not sound too suspicious, or even afraid.

one was taller, almost built like a human juggernaut, with large muscles although it was evident he tried to hide them beneath a huge hoodie over his frame; the soot-black was broken at a section where flecks of white had seemed to grow in.

the other was more lean, more confident about his physique, allowing a polo shirt to define it; his skin was tan, glistening in what sunlight spilled in through the window behind you. he was the one to speak first, stepping past the threshold. "we have a question about tim— mr drake? he said anything we have to ask him we can come to you."

judging by the way the taller one lingered by the door, you were getting more and more sure that the mafia had come knocking on wayne enterprise doors.

"um, sure, what's your query?" you asked, sitting up straighter and plucking a pen from its holder to scribble something down on the edge of a paper to show tim later.

despite the smile the polo shirt one had pushed upon his lips, the heavy uncertainty in your chest had remained, gaining weight as he stepped up to your desk and perched himself down at the single chair on the other side of it. "just so you don't think you're about to be attacked, i think it'd be best if we introduced ourselves; i'm dick, and back there is jason, we grew up with tim." he glanced back at the one by the door. "we're his brothers."

"that explains it," you attempted to chuckle, the weight on your shoulders slowly evaporating.

"not by blood or anything," the tall cross-armed one huffed. "i think i'd rather die than have tim be my actual brother by blood."

your gaze silently travelled to him, and dick craned his head around to stare at him.

in return, jason shrugged his shoulders up to his ears, and his arms seemed to tighten their loop over his chest. "don't worry about it..."

when dick finally turned back to you, he owned a curious glint in his eye, that shone as a cloud passed the sun behind you, and another crossed over it in an instant. "you haven't noticed tim acting different lately, have you?"

he was leaning forward slightly, a soft crease in between his brows, eyes narrowed a little bit.

not that you could think of...

"well, not to speak ill of my boss or your brother, but he's been quite stressed with this start-up that keeps asking for funding," you explained. you knew quite well the extent of his stress, for you'd been the person to help him relieve it each night when every other computer screen was black, the only sounds throughout the building that you both shared.

but these two guys didn't need to know that.

a beat passed, you looking between the two of them. "why? is everything okay at home?"

this time when dick glanced back at jason, it wasn't out of judgement — it was a shared expression of knowing.

"we think he's met someone," jason was the first to speak now, glancing behind him and stepping further into the room, closing the door.

met someone?

well, assuming that someone was you, you had to decide how to respond.

should you explain that you've actually been seeing him, even though you'd agreed not to tell anybody in the office? these two weren't colleagues, maybe they didn't count. after a second longer's thought, you decided it would be better to keep things secret until you properly discussed it with tim.

if he wanted his brothers knowing, he would have told them, wouldn't he?

shaking your head softly, you gave a shrug. "i'm sorry, i haven't noticed anybody coming in or out of his office." not when you're the one doing it.

but just because you couldn't tell them what was going on with tim, didn't mean you couldn't find out.

"how has he been acting anyway?" you continued, earning the two boys to look back up at you from their silent brainstorming. "you know, just so i can keep an eye out on any weird behaviour."

dick's bottom lip jutted out and he took a few beats to recall. "i don't know, he's just been a lot happier lately. if someone — jason — tries to get a rise out of him, he'll just brush it off, act totally different to normal."

"yeah, he's getting boring now," jason piped up, which earned a smile from you.

"and he's been buying new cologne," dick added. "which we noticed, because he used to wear lynx but now he's wearing expensive stuff, i can tell."

expensive stuff, huh? you could certainly tell. sounds like a big jump from lynx just to impress a subordinate.

you were about to open your mouth to respond when the door creaked open once again, causing jason beside it to flinch.

this time, the person entering was a familiar face; that of tim drake himself, the man of the conversation.

"have you got those— oh."

he fell still, looking between his two brothers, one seated, one standing; both just as in shock-horror as the other.

"didn't i tell you to leave?" tim scowled, his knuckles paling on the doorknob as he gripped it.

mouth agape, you glanced around at the men. "didn't you say anything they wanted to know, bring them to me?"

tim's expression faltered for a moment, his jaw setting in place as he continued to stare down his brothers, gaze lingering on one for a few beats before turning to the other. "i did say that. before i told them to leave the building because they were beginning to piss me off."

now, dick was quick to stand. "and we'll leave right now!" he exclaimed. "just trying to get to the bottom of your smite."

he flashed tim a cheeky smile and began to move past him out the room, clapping a hand on his shoulder on the way. jason, on the other hand, sent you a pointed look before following.

as soon as jason's backside was out the door, tim was closing it on him with a sigh.

"never knew how to keep their noses out of people's business," he grumbled, stepping towards the chair dick had been sitting in and slumping down into it.

unable to contain a soft, sappy smile, you stood from your desk and stepped around it, perching along the edge of the wood, knees brushing against tim's thigh. a hand came up to run itself through his gelled hair, and you leaned carefully forward to press a small peck to the forehead exposed by the action.

"your cologne smells amazing," you sighed against his hair, just barely catching a whiff of it as you moved against him. "much nicer than lynx."

what had been him leaning into your touch, sighing quietly beneath his breath grew rigid and still.

"what did they tell you?" tim's voice came cold, but in a way it was difficult to hold in a laugh.

when you didn't respond, tim pulled away quickly and jumped to his feet, racing to the door. although he closed it behind him, you could hear a combination of boyish laughter and little brother whines that practically painted the picture for you, loud and clear — and you could imagine tim would have to run a board meeting to make sure none of what was heard was spoken of again.

[yourmomsfavouritegirl]

Paige Bueckers x Reader

Warnings; smut, pure filth, strap, subpaige, domreader,

A/N; our valentine's day special is here!! A bit late...but here! It is a bit long because i am late so i figured you might want a long ass chapter. I hope y'all enjoy this and if you want anything different requests are open!!

Reader's pov

I was walking around in the mall trying to find my last present for Paige since today is valentine's day. I already have bought many stuff to decorate our dorm before she gets home from the team hangout. We have been dating for two years now and honestly they are probably the best years of my life. I finally made my way to the shop i was looking for the past hour and went inside. Me and Paige had...quite an interesting sex life and we may or may not have talked about upgrading things a little. Spice them up. I made my way around the store searching for the toy she has been talking about nonstop and once i found it even though it was in a pretty big size i took it and made my way to the cashier. I had no problem with paying it myself i am not a shy person.

Once my job here was done i quickly left seeing i had one hour left before paige returned. I opened the door and entered the dorm before getting right to work. I placed the roses allover the living room and bedroom and made sure the food was practically ready for when paige got here.

I placed the box with the toy in the bedroom and changed into a long black dress that hugged my curves perfectly. It was a new dress and i had bought it a few days ago just for this day along with the black lingerie i wore underneath. I smiled to myself already knowing that paige loved to see me in black.

I sprayed some of Paige's favourite perfumes before i went back to the living room getting two glasses of wine set on table and sat there waiting for her scrolling through my Instagram feed. A couple of minutes pass by when i heard her keys jingle before the door opened revealing a Paige who had a white pair of pants and button up shirt with a black blazer.

Her eyes wandered around looking at the atmosphere i had created making a smile appear on her face before her eyes landed on mine. She studied me closely as she pushed the door to close behind her not daring to look away. She looked at me from head to toe as her eyes darkened. "Happy valentine's day baby" i said sweetly before standing up and making my way towards her. "Happy valentine's day beautiful" she replied bringing her other hand in front of me handing me a big bouquet of orchids. I gasped at her gesture before pressing my lips against hers softly before saying 'thank you' in the crook of her neck.

"Wait for me here. I'll go put this in water and I'll be back" i said and she nodded making her way to the couch. Once i had the roses settled i returned to the living room staying just a bit behind to look at her reaction. She was studying the room with a huge grin on her face.

"You like the atmosphere baby?" I asked as i walked in making her jump a bit drom her surprise. We both laughed at her reaction before ahe extended her hands to rake a hold of me. "I love it. I love you" she whispered before pulling me in for a soft kiss. "I love you too baby" i breathed before kissing her once again.

Although the soft kiss turned into a deeper one. I circled my hands around her neck before pushing my tongue deeper trying to taste her better. She let out a soft groan before we pulled away dor air. We sat down and i gave her the glass of wine. We both smiled at eachother and took a sip before placing them back on the table.

Her hands were back on my hips as she studied my appearance. "You look beautiful" she muttered her eyes getting lost in mine. "And you haven't seen nothing yet baby" i whispered back at her making her blush. I placed my hand on her cheek caressing it softly before i kissed her again. Only now both mine and Paige's hunger for one another was much deeper. Much stronger than what we cared to admit.

She slowly guided my hips on top of her lap before i was completely on top of her. My dress riding up a bit revealing much more surface of my thighs. Paige's hand held onto my thigh tightly as i bit her lip pulling it back with me. A soft moan escaped from her lips turning me on even more.

I pulled away slightly studying her features biting my lip at the thoughts of what would happen in a bit. "Don't stop. Please just do something. Please" she whined breathlessly. A smile tugged at my lips as my palm circled her throat. I always loved how submissive she would get for me. Adorable.

I pushed her back before i got up slowly heading to our bedroom. Midway i stopped and turned around seeing she hadn't gotten up yet. "Come on baby. Be a good girl and follow me". She didn't need to be told twice. She shot up and with a couple of long strides she had come up behind me. I giggled as i felt her hands cup my ass before i grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and made her follow me further. I sat her down on the bed and straddled her before slowly lifted up her shirt tossing it somewhere in the room. A gasp left my mouth at the sight of her breathtaking body. I leaned down and peppered kisses allover her leaving her a whiny mess. I got back up to her lips kissing her deeply making her moan at the kiss. Her hands made their way on my ass tightening their grip on it making me yelp a bit. I sat back up and turned so she would face my back. "Help me with this" i said knowing that she would do as I said. And i was right. She sat up and slowly undid my dress helping me slip off of it. She threw it somewhere else while her eyes were devouring me whole. A smirk stayed on my lips as i saw her looking at the lingerie. "I love you in black. You know i do" she muttered standing up now towering over me. "I have one more present for you. And it is in the bathroom. I'm sure you'll love it" i whispered in her ear before i laid on the bed steadying myself on my elbows.

"You did not.." i heard her say from the bathroom making a smile come to my face. She run out shocked looking at me and the toy. "You want me ..to use this?" She asked and i nodded biting my lip. Her eyes darkened even more if that was possible. She slowly put it on after she discarded her clothes. She bit her lip as her hands roamed throughout my body studying every curve and every muscle. I straddled her as she attacked my neck leaving bites and kisses everywhere. "Oh fuck baby" i breathed as she placed her fingers at my entrance. A smirk was placed on her face not daring to come off. She slowly inserted them inside me making me go feral "OH mh fuck-" i whimpered as she slowly pumped them inside me creating a chaos inside me.

"Yes baby just like that. So good for me" i praised Paige as my hand cupped her cheek while knowing damn well what my complements did to her. She looked at me pleading to go faster. With a quick nod she started going faster and faster not letting me take a breath. "Oh yes. Yesyesyes fuck Paige" i moaned out feeling my high coms closer and closer. "Cum for me ma" she husked and needless to say that i didn't need anything else. I felt the string tightening in my stomach finally snap making me see stars. "Oh yes Paige. I'm cumming fuck". A bunch of moans left my lungs trying to make me come down to the face of earth after my first orgasm of the night.

As she slowly pulled them out of me she brought them up to my lips making me suck my cum off of her fingers. I kept eye contact as i licked them off of her letting out a moan at the taste. I slowly turned us around making her lay down. "Sit down baby. Let mommy do the work" i said and straddled her. She bit her lip at how i sat on her stomach. A shaky breath left my lings as i felt the clear ups and downs of her abs. "So fucking pretty all for me hm?" I asked her to which she nodded rapidly. I chuckled at her reaction before i lined up my hole with the toy that was fixated on her waist. "Are you ready baby?" She asked looking as impatient as ever. I nodded as she slipped the toy slowly inside me. My mouth hung open as a loud moan left my lips. "Oh my- Fuck" i groaned as i felt the vibrator at the other side of the strap. Paige placed her hands on my hips slowly making me grind against her. I started going up and down on her as my hands circled her neck for stability as I kissed her passionately.

My eagerness to reach my high got the best of me making me move faster and faster. "Oh yes fuck. So tight for me mommy" Paige moaned in the crook of my neck. I was too stunned to speak so i just took a hold of her face before i smashed my lips against hers. Moans and groans could be heard as we kissed. Only the sounds paige let out made me hornier by the second. I could feel by the impatience of her moves that she was getting closer to reaching her orgasm and so was i.

I pulled away gasping for air as breathy moans left my lips. "I'm so so close baby. Fucking me so good" i whine and almost immediately her movements sped up. Doubling her efforts. "Fuck me too. I'm gonna cum mommy. Please let me cum with you" she pleaded her voice raspy. How could i say no to her?

"Cum with me baby. Let go for me" i breathed and after i said it i felt my whole world crush upon me. "Oh my GOD" I screamed at the top of my lungs closing my eyes not being able to concentrate in anything else other than my orgasm. Paige followed suit letting out the cuntiest moans i have ever heard. My movements started to slow down before we finally stopped trying to regain our breath. Paige's lips left tons of kisses allover my neck and breasts as her quick breath hit my skin sending goosebumps allover my body.

I made her look up at me and felt a lazy and tired smile come up to my face looking at how cute and tired she looked like. "You good baby?" I asked softly caressing her cheek. She smiled at me before giving me a quick peck on the lips. "I'm feeling a lot more than just okay. This was the best present ever" she said making a blush come up to my cheeks. "Well I'm glad. I knew you would love this" i replied motioning to the toy that was still inside me.

She slowly made me sit up sliding the toy out of me and placing it on the bathroom telling me she would clean it later. She came back and held me on top of her. Paige always loved skin to skin contact. "You hungry?" I asked hearing her stomach growl basically. She laughed before nodding. "Great cause i had prepared us a really nice and romantic dinner for before this act but someone got carried away.." i said side eyeing her making her laugh. "I mean come on! Can you blame me? You looked-and still do- like a literal goddess" she said making me laugh and burry my head in the crook of her neck. "Okay superstar let's get you to eat. Them muscles ain't gonna stay strong if I don't feed you" i said slowly getting up still feeling a little weak in the legs.

We got changed into comfortable clothes and made our way to the kitchen. We sat down and ate dinner holding each others hands from time to time. Stealing soft kisses from one another. It was perfect. She is perfect. I can't imagine my life without her.

[strwberri-milk]

Good Day dear and I hope this message finds you well; Let me first thank you for the Fanfics and time you dedicated to each one, trust that I read most of your content and feel very grateful for it.

I hope you get to have times of ample rests, roof over your head, heartiest of meals and warm kind-hearted souls come your way.

I am not one to boldly ask but for this once I shall; May you perhaps write and angst for the love and deepspace boys about a reader who has died in line of duty as Tara presents them a burial flag from the Hunter’s Association?

I read your terms prior requesting and hope I was able to abide by it; You may decline should you find it distasteful, if it does make the cut please take your time crafting it should it pique your fancy.

🥹🥹 I love you dear and hope for your best wellbeing.

thank you!! im glad you like mt stuff that much <333 very flattered

He will never forgive himself. Even if he knows logically (Rafayel, Sylus, Zayne) there was nothing he could have done to save you from your death just the fact that he wasn't there will always haunt him. Xavier takes your death hard as well, constantly replaying the day over and over in his mind.

When a flag is presented at his door, Tara's face tearstreaked as she mumbles the softest apology she can manage he definitely feels his knees go weak. He doesn't say anything at all at first, simply staring at the fabric that was meant to be some poor facsimile for you before looking back up at Tara in sheer disbelief.

Denial hits him hard. He can't help plan your funeral or even acknowledge the fact that you've died. Instead, he stays in your bed all day and tries to rationalise the hell he's living in, convincing himself that this is all just a bad dream. The funeral itself is awful for him. He doesn't really respond, staring despondently as they lower your casket into the ground. He can barely speak as people try to offer him their condolences, focused more on just how...cold he feels.

Xavier and Rafayel respond with anger. Xavier shuts down even more, becoming incredibly anti-social and honestly, might just quit being a formal Hunter totally. He doesn't need the team to achieve his goal after all and now he's basically waiting out his days until his body gives in to the strain of life. He hunts Wanderers with a vengeance, totally AWOL as he tries to honour your memory through sweeps of his blade.

Rafayel has always been cold and aloof but after your death even more so. Thomas can't talk to him, people can't even enter his exhibitions - he stops hosting them. He'll just waste away in his home, painting your likeness over and over as he tells Thomas to just leave him alone. He fully isolates himself, devoting his entire being to his goal of saving Lemuria because thinking of you hurts far too much. He almost acts like you've never existed but it's a lie - his entire being burns with need for you and every time he looks at his chest he sobs with the memory that his bond will never light up again.

Zayne and Sylus will never stop mourning. Zayne throws himself back into work, doing nothing but research and surgeries. He casually pulls 72 hour days, not bothering to sleep because whenever he closes his eyes, all he sees is your body being lowered. He seems calm and collected on the outside but his normally immaculate office is a mess, papers strewn about as various pills and drinks meant to help him stay away litter every surface.

Sylus gets more brutal with his means, not caring what people say or do. There's no more begging for his forgiveness or asking if he'll go easy on you. Nothing in his life matters anymore because you aren't there to hold his hand. He's cold and callous, and nothing is spared from the sadness that leeches his entire being. The N109 Zone is more terrified than ever, knowing that there's nothing sparing anybody from certain death if they come face to face with Sylus.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hiiii love your work <3

Was having a bad day so I was wondering if u could write a headcanon about Simon or any of the 141 comforting you because college is difficult 🙇🏾‍♀️

If you don’t feel like it or don’t wanna write about this prompt, no worries <3 hope u have a great day :)

Hello! I can absolutely do a few headcanons about this!

@/desert-fern also requested this so I’m going to combine yours with theirs. I’ll also be covering all the 141 in this! Thanks for sending it in!!

written w/ gn!reader

John Price

Incredibly supportive but keeps a respectful distance.

Does not have your schedule save in his phone but he has it memorized.

He knows not to bother you during class (or lab or technical, etc.) and keeps to the promise until you’re available again.

He won’t force you to take breaks, but he will heavily suggest that you do until it become an annoying pestering that you can’t ignore.

If the two of you are married, John is happy to carry the financial load as well as pick up some of the domestic labor if it alleviates stress.

If you’re working on your PhD, John will insist on introducing you as “Doctor” to everyone.

If you’re going to school for something more hands on, John is happy to be your guinea pig. Need to practice a blood draw for nursing school? John will offer his arm with zero hesitation.

If college is starting to feel incredibly overwhelming and like you can’t handle it, he’s the reassuring voice that calms you down and emphasizes how important this journey means to you.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Has your schedule saved in his phone.

Goes out of his way to bring you breakfast and coffee (or matcha or chai) in the morning because he understands the importance of starting the day with a fueled body.

If you’re someone who is sometimes disorganized, Kyle doesn’t mind dropping in a reminder about when you need to go to class or when something needs to be completed.

Will hold you accountable if you think you need someone else to keep you committed.

Doesn’t care if he has to rearrange plans last minute or cancel plans entirely if you have a last-minute assignment or exam to study for.

Forces you to take breaks and will physically remove you from what you’re working on if you don’t.

If everything feels a bit too overwhelming, Kyle is right there with a warm embrace and comforting words to help soothe the stress and anxiety.

John “Soap” MacTavish

Supportive but is a bit hopeless about how to help you.

Doesn’t have your schedule in his phone and doesn’t have your schedule memorized.

Absolutely calls and texts during class/lab/clinicals/etc. because he knows you’ll see it eventually. You’ve had to put your phone on Do Not Disturb because it’s nearly nonstop.

Never tells you to take a break because he’s so used to just pushing through stress that he doesn’t always recognize it in you.

Confuses bachelors, masters, and doctorate, but absolutely knows what you’re majoring in. Same goes for technical school.

Will take up the financial burden if married. Won’t even blink or bat an eye over it.

Absolutely treats you to gifts, dinner, or something special after a test, exam, or practical. He enjoys celebrating each accomplishment.

When it comes to feeling overwhelmed, Johnny doesn’t see the breakdown coming. One moment you’re fine, and the next you’re not. At first, he’s surprised, and not sure how to help.

If anything, Johnny is reassuring and gentle with you if you’re struggling with the responsibility that comes with college life. Lots of hugging and affirmations.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Has your schedule memorized and has it in his phone. Simon knows where you are at all times.

Completely supportive of your desire for pursuing higher education or even a technical trade. He joined the military as soon as he could and never had the opportunity to try out either.

Whether you’re dating or married, Simon is covering the financial cost of life while you take care of business. Now, he’s not paying for your schooling (unless married), but he’s covering the mortgage/rent, groceries, and everything else so that you can completely focus on getting your degree or certification.

While he’s not always one to give compliments, he does brag endlessly at work about you and how proud he is.

Absolutely forces you to take breaks while studying. If he’s not there, or away because of work, bet on the fact that he’s texting or calling or something to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

Sometimes he’s blunt or overly honest, and when you complain about stress or feeling overwhelmed, he might offer you a suggestion about how to manage it instead of simply listening.

When he’s off work, he will insist on driving you to and from campus.

If things prove too much, and you breakdown over the stress, Simon will completely shift gears. If all you need is to be held, he’ll hold you, and if you need to talk, he’ll listen. After the tears have dried, Simon will do his best to cheer you up, having an evening with just the two of you.

main masterlist

[norrisainz33]

fun fair || ls18

☆ summary: lance rents out one of your favorite places for valentine’s day

☆ pairing: lance stroll x reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: yes!! thank you for your request and your patience xxoo

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

liked by lance_stroll, estebanocon, astonmartinf1, fernandoalo_oficial, yourbff, iamrebeccad, and 213,385 others

ynuser: a wild lance and y/n caught in their natural habitat. so lucky to have spent the last month in our happy place!!! now back home 🤍

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user1: and the cutest couple award goes to y/nlance

astonmartinf1: king and queen of the snow! we miss you both!! 💚

ynuser: miss you more admin!! looking forward to seeing you soon ❤️🥹

user2: everyone thank y/n for the lance crumbs

user5: thank you y/n for the sign of life

user6: ty y/n! we are eternally grateful

lance_stroll: love you princess 😘

ynuser: love you too handsome 🫶🏻

iamrebeccad: pretty girl 🤍

ynuser: counting down the days till we are reunited

user3: my most favorite unproblematic duo

yourbff: selfishly over joyed that you’re home

ynuser: and that’s valid

user4: brb buying a fuzzy bucket hat as we speak you have influenced me

ynuser has posted to their story

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user7: crying at the effort he put in to make them himself and not buy them im

cholestroll: i’m not sobbing.. YOU ARE

ynuser: no bc you’re right i did fully cry

user9: lance once again setting the bar high for men

flavy.barla: why is this the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen

ynuser: girl i know 😭😭😭 i think we may be the 2 luckiest girls in whole world

flavy.barla: confirmed yes

user10: MAY THIS TYPE OF LOVE FIND ME

lance_stroll: i’m glad you liked them gorgeous

ynuser: i LOVED them!!!!!

lance_stroll: good!! but that’s not it! get excited for valentine’s day. i’m cooking up something even better

ynuser: lance 😭 stop 😭 you’re perfect 😭

user18: lance boyfriend content will literally never get old

lance_stroll has posted to their story

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user3: this called me single in so many different languages

chloestroll: eeeek today is the dayyyyyyy

lance_stroll: yes yes yes!!!!!

chloestroll: i can’t wait to have a little sister im gonna explode

user7: i love love so much

ynuser: you are a dream come true

lance_stroll: that’s you baby

ynuser: 😭🫶🏻

user8: i just looked at my partner and sighed

estebanocon: you better call me and flavy after 😉

lance_stroll: you know she’ll call flavy immediately

astonmartinf1: beautiful 💚

lance_stroll: 💚

user12: why are you so thoughtful and perfect?! where is MY lance

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user8: happy for you (laying in the street)

yourbff: you guys are sickening

ynuser: stfu you love us

yourbff: well obviously

user9: so you guys where the reason why the fair was closed today huh

chloestroll: 🫶🏻 hope you are having the best day

ynuser: i very much am!! literally a perfect day

chloestroll: i think it’s going to just keep getting better 😘

ynuser: do you know something 👀

chloestroll: nope! not a chance!

ynuser: you’re a horrible liar

lance_stroll: happy valentine’s day my forever valentine

ynuser: happy valentines my perfect lancey boy

iamrebeccad: adorable 😭

ynuser: right?????

user12: i might have to do something drastic if my future man don’t do this for me

lance_stroll has made a post

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lance_stroll: an unforgettable day. here’s to forever 🥂❤️

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user18: i just fell to my knees

estebanocon: félicitations mes amis [congratulations my friends]

lance_stroll: merci esteban 🤍

user12: war is over! my favorite people are getting married!

ynuser: how lucky i am to get to spend the rest of my life loving you

lance_stroll: till forever mrs stroll 😘

chloestroll: best day of my life

lance_stroll: you and me both chloe

flavy.barla: same!!!!

user16: stood up in my room and applauded

user19: something abt seeing lance in love and happy despite that tractor they force him to drive has healed me

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: pls pretend i posted this on valentine’s day like i intended to 🤪 likes and reblogs appreciated! thank you for reading 🧡

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[awhhayden]

Hiiii !!! I want to read something like this. We are innocently cute and Anakin is all protective of his princess adores us 🩷.

It may be like we fell down and we are looking for him to comfort us but he is training with Obi Wan , we find him in the training room he sees us with the torn dress from the blow we took to our knee.

He immediately runs to us hugging us tightly and being the sweet man he is.

[ ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ Hii, tysm for the ask! I hope you like it! ]

you had been careless. Anakin had always told you not the climb the shelves in the library. You just couldn’t help yourself, the book was just out of reach.

Now you sat on the floor in the library clutching your thigh, your white nightgown torn and disheveled, with stain of crimson.

you internally cursed yourself, you winced as you grabbed the table to stand, still clutching your leg. You stumbled out into the hallway. “Ani?” you softly called into the darkness. It was late, he’d still be training with Obiwan.

The ship was quiet. Mostly everyone had retreated to their own quarters for the night. You were supposed to be in bed yourself, but insomnia and the urge to indulge in a new book got the better of you. You shook your head, you should have requested a droid for help, an officer, anyone really. But you had always been stubborn.

you quietly dragged yourself through the halls towards the training wing. As you drew closer a feeling of anxiety dawned on you, “was Anakin going to be upset with me?” you thought to yourself.

you finally made it to near the door when you looked down and gasped, you had left a tiny trail of dots of blood, you looked down the hall as far as you could see and it was there, trailing you. Now you really started to panic.

You leaned against the wall and slowly sat down clutching your leg, heart racing. Just then the door to the training wing swung open and a laughing Anakin and Obiwan stepped out.

you gasped and Anakin’s head turned at the sound. His eyes widened at the sight of you, Teary eyed and clutching your leg, all it took was the crimson covering your hands and dress for him to be kneeling by your side within a second. “Darling what happened?!” he asked his brows furrowing. “I..I fell in the library” you wearily admitted, “Were you climbing the shelves again?” he asked tone hinted in something you couldn’t put your finger on.

You nodded, he sighed softly and scooped you up in his arms. Obiwan cleared his throat, “I’ll send a driod to clean this up” He said hesitating slightly, Anakin nodded as Obiwan walked away.

Anakin began walking towards your shared quarters. “Are you mad Ani?” you whispered softly. He looked down at you arching a brow “Mad? Princess I’m not mad, I’m just worried” he said shaking his head. He walked through the doors and gently sat you down on the counter. He kneeled down and began cleaning your cut and bandaging you up. “I’m sorry Ani” you whispered regretfully.

he looked up at you and stood up cupping your face, “you don’t need to be sorry darling, but you could have broken a bone or seriously hurt yourself, Promise me you won’t do that again? you have to be serious this time” he gently joked stroking your hair. You smiled slightly and nodded, he leaned in and kissed your lips softly. As he pulled away he laughed and ruffled your hair, “My clumsy girl” you giggled as he picked you up and spun you around.

The next day, after lunch Anakin told you he had a surprise for you. You arched a brow as he led you through the halls and you were suddenly standing outside the library. “Okay close your eyes” Anakin ordered, You did so and he held your hand leading you blindly into the library. “Okay…open!” you opened your eyes and gasped. There at the first row of towering shelves was a beautiful golden ladder with engraved roses. “I had a rolling ladder installed so you can always reach your books, safely” he teased. “Anakin it’s beautiful…Thank you” you reached out for his hand. “Your always welcome princess” he whispered before putting his soft lips on yours.

TAGLIST : @anakinstwinklebunny @divineani @malinadbbdh @haydensheartt @fredswrite | ask to be added ! <3