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imagine-you · 3 days ago

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If I Open the Door To Heaven Or Hell 4/? [Wally Clark/Reader]

Summary: You confront your scar. Word Count: 2k Author's Note: This chapter contains bullying and how reader died as a result of that bullying. Read On AO3 // Part One // Part Two // Part Three

You hesitated once you stepped into the bathroom, keeping your back pressed to the closed door behind you. Everything was washed in a red glow that lent an eeriness to the scene before you.

You gripped your jacket tight in your hands before slipping it on. You figured you didn't want to risk dropping it even if it would make things harder on you later. You took a deep breath and forced yourself forward.

The smell of cigarette smoke stopped you in your tracks.

"What are you doing in here, freak?"

You closed your eyes, taking a moment to try to center yourself. You hadn't heard that voice since you were alive.

"Well? You going to stand there all day with that stupid look on your face?"

You shook your head, taking another step into the bathroom. It gave you a better view of her. The one who had killed you. The one who had ripped everything away from you, leaving you to haunt the school forever.

You knew how this was all going to play out. The girl who had bullied you mercilessly for years would end up being your downfall. You should have never stepped foot in this bathroom.

She was leaning against the wall by the window. She had managed to crack it open and was letting smoke drift outside. It did nothing to cover the smell.

"God, look at you. What a fucking idiot," she sneered before tapping her cigarette against the windowsill.

You could feel panic building inside you. Your hands were shaking and you felt like you were frozen to the spot.

After you died, she had been expelled. You never had to see her again. But now here she was, ready to kill you all over again.

"You're such a waste of space, you know that? It'd be better if you never existed."

You didn't know how to react to the words. Those weren't the same ones she spat at you the day you died. She was going off-script, which terrified you even more. Anything could happen now.

"You can't even speak, huh?" She asked, finally dropping her cigarette to the floor and crushing it beneath her boot heel. "Got nothing to say to me?"

You didn't know how to speak. All you could think about was where this confrontation was heading and you didn't want to experience it all over again. You had been stupid to let your jealousy and insecurity drive you into this.

She started approaching you and you felt like you were going to throw up.

"Y/N!" You heard a faint voice call your name. "Can you hear me?"

You briefly turned towards the bathroom door, shocked to hear the muffled voice of Wally. He sounded far away and not like he was right on the other side of the door. But you could still hear him.

Turning your attention away from her had been a mistake. Before you knew it, there was a harsh grip on your arm and you were being backed up into the wall beside the sinks.

"I think," she started before popping a piece of gum into her mouth. "That this place would be a lot better without you here." She reached out and gripped your face tight, leaving the sting of her nails biting into your skin. She smacked her gum and grinned at you. "You got anything to say to that, freak? Or are you just going to stare at me?"

You wanted to say or do anything, but you felt like you were frozen with fear.

"Y/N, get out of there! Just come on. Please," you heard Wally beg.

"You paying attention to me?" She wondered, pulling her hand back and slapping you.

It jarred you out of your daze, leaving you to bring a hand up to cover your cheek.

"I don't know why you wanted to do this, but please just come out. I'm right here for you. I'm not going anywhere."

"You're so pathetic. No one's ever going to want such a freak, you know that, right? You're gonna be alone forever."

"Please, babe," Wally pleaded, his voice wavering. "You don't need to do this. You don't need to relive it."

You couldn't help but think about how Wally only pulled out the 'babe' pet name when he was really stressed about something.

Another slap before she gripped your chin again, forcing you to look at her.

"I should have made you eat that cigarette. Got a light? Maybe I can put this one out on that stupid jacket you love so much."

You could hear someone pounding on the door now. It sounded as if someone was throwing themselves against it, attempting to break it down.

"Whatever's going on in there, it's not real. You are real. You don't deserve whatever's happening," Wally continued to try to get through to you. He was out there doing his damnedest to break into your scar just to save you. You didn't know how you could have ever thought that Wally didn't want you anymore.

"Or maybe," she continued, voice low, "I can stick it in your eye. Maybe that way you won't have to see how much we all hate you."

You felt stuck between her disdain and Wally's desperation. It wasn't until you noticed her reaching for her pocket and slipping out a cigarette that you knew things were about to get worse.

Suddenly, all you wanted was Wally and the promise of safety he offered. You used her distraction of lighting up again to rush past her, making for the bathroom door.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" She growled before you felt a hand tuck into the back collar of your jacket and pull.

You knew what happened next, but you still weren't prepared for the fall. It felt endless as you struggled to stay upright, helpless against the pull of gravity. And then your head connected with the edge of the sink and you were on the floor.

You stared up at the ceiling in a daze, because you didn't make it this far the first time. It was over before you could even hit the tiles. This was new territory and you didn’t know how to continue from here.

You managed to push yourself to your feet and glanced down.

Your body was on the floor. You were staring up at the ceiling, but you weren't blinking. You weren't even moving. There was a pool of blood forming beneath your head and your neck was bent at an unnatural angle and you couldn't take it anymore.

You felt like there was something sharp twisting in your gut. You had never thought about what you might have looked like on that bathroom floor. Dead. Unresponsive. Gone forever.

"What are you doing in here, freak?" She asked again and when you looked up, she was back over by the window, smoking.

You glanced down at the floor, but your body was still there. The scene had reset, but the reminder of how all of this played out was staring sightlessly up at you.

"Babe? Babe!" Wally was calling, still trying to break down the door.

You felt a sob catch in your throat before you were throwing yourself at the bathroom door. You were so sure she was chasing you, intent on dragging you back down into the depths of your personal hell, but you didn't dare look back. You managed to open the door and slam it closed behind you.

Wally was standing just in front of you. You weren't sure what he saw on your face, but the way his expression twisted from concern to horror had you feeling like someone had reached right inside your chest and was trying to tear out your heart. You ripped your denim jacket off and flung it down the hallway, never wanting to see it again.

You threw yourself at Wally, taking both of you down to the floor. Wally had managed to sit up and you clung to him like he was your own personal savior. Your face was pressed to the crook of his neck and your arms were wrapped tight around his waist.

He brought a hand up and smoothed it down your back.

"I'm here," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere. You're safe. You're out."

You weren't sure how long you sat there on the floor with Wally. At some point, he had begun to gently rock the both of you from side to side, his touch attempting to calm you as he whispered soothing words in your ear. His lips were brushing the shell of your ear and his hands were running along your back and sides and any part of you he could reach like he was trying to convince himself you were really there.

"It was horrible," you finally muttered into his skin. "I was so stupid."

"You're not stupid," Wally argued. "But why did you do that? You know how terrified I was seeing you walk in there?"

"So stupid," you repeated before finally pulling away enough to meet Wally's eyes. "I saw you and Maddie in the pool."

Wally's brow furrowed in confusion. "And that made you want to visit your scar?"

"I thought you and Maddie...," you trailed off, not knowing how to continue. "I was jealous," you finally confessed. "And hurt. And stupid," you reiterated.

"Oh," Wally said before he seemed to realize what you weren't saying. "Oh," he breathed. "Maddie and I were just goofing off. She needed a friend and I was being a friend. I didn’t mean it any other way."

"I think I get that now," you sheepishly admitted. Wally had been trying to break into your scar just to drag you out. He was holding on to you now like you were the most important person to him and he was afraid you were going to slip away again. He looked at you like you were his everything.

"No, look," he insisted, bringing his hands up to frame your face in them. You nearly flinched, thinking about the last person who had held your face. She had only touched you with malice, but Wally’s touch only made you feel loved. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. I would never in a million years ever want that and what we have is nothing like what I've got going on with Maddie or any of the others. You're the only one I've been kissing," he promised, his lips ticking up in a grin.

"Okay," you agreed with a small nod of your head.

"And I never want you to ever have to go back in there," he continued, glancing briefly at the bathroom door just over your shoulder.

“Even if it helps Maddie?” You couldn’t help but check.

“Never again,” Wally insisted, shaking his head. “You don’t know what that did to me. Seeing you walk in there. God, babe, I was so scared.”

Wally was looking at you like he thought you had died all over again. In some ways, you supposed that was true.

"I'm never going back in there," you promised him, hoping it was true. "It was--," you stopped before starting again. "And she--," you cut yourself off again. "It hurt," you finally settled on. It had also put things into perspective for you.

"It'll get better," Wally promised. "I'm here for you and our friends are here for you too. I'm not saying you won't ever think about it again, but I'll do my best to distract you."

You let your forehead rest against Wally's, taking a moment to simply look at him. The whole night had been a real rollercoaster of emotion and now you felt exhausted. There was really only one thing you wanted at the moment and that was Wally.

So, you moved to stand up, reaching down to help him to his feet.

"Want to pay another visit to the tech booth?" You asked, hoping he knew what you were really asking.

The tech booth offered privacy and a comfortable couch and a place to revisit better memories. All it needed now was you and Wally.

Wally grinned before placing a brief kiss to your lips.

"Hell yeah," he agreed, reaching down and taking your hand in his. "I go where you go. Let's get the hell out of here." Taglist: @morallygrayboys @loudtalehologram @hey-its-roseaurum @doves1120 @benjiiiisstuff

Author's Note: So, the next chapter is already written! It's this chapter but from Wally's POV, because I wanted to show what he was going through during this. It'll be posted next Wednesday or Thursday! If you want to be tagged, just let me know!

#wally clark #school spirits #wally clark x reader #wally clark imagine #school spirits x reader #school spirits imagine #wally clark x you #reader insert #imagine #fic #ao3 #my fic #heaven or hell verse

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bytemee · 2 days ago

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extra content (chapter eight) | WHERE DO YOU SLEEP? — YU JIMIN.

𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 — y/n, a rising music producer, has built her dream career while keeping her personal life under wraps. karina, aespa’s leader, is preparing for a huge comeback with a mini album produced and written by the one and only y/n.

karina knows this is the opportunity of a lifetime, and she has to nail it. the only problem is, she may be a bit distracted by her producer.

something about their connection feels different—like maybe it's worth the risk of prying eyes. but how much will they give up to chase after what they want?

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — read chapter eight before this, social media only chap, my silly humour, youtube & twitter themed, suggestive jokes, and let me know if there's more.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 — 1.9k

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲— um tried something different

taglist (open) — @sunshinez4 @gtfoiydlyj @yuyuy90 @liaponderstings @rinapomu @bimkayd @minaripenguu

series masterlist. main masterlist. chapter eight.

Y/N in Milan | PRADA S/S 2025 Womenswear Show behind

1.1M views | 367.2k likes | Nov 20, 2024

[the vlog begins]

(about to get on the plane headed to milan)

the camera focuses on your face as you wait in line to board the plane, headphones slung around your neck, a hat pulled low over your head. you're standing there, feeling a little bit in awe of how far you've come. "guess what popped into my head today?" you say, tilting your head toward the lens with a small smile.

"i thought about my first world tour and all of a sudden i was just like... am i getting old?" you laugh a little, shaking your head. "the world tour for she was over four years ago, and i was so young, but it feels like only yesterday."

(nostalgia creeping in)

"it's crazy, right? time flies by so fast, and you don't even realize how much has changed until you stop and think about it. i mean, a lot has happened in the last four years."

the line starts moving, and you take a step forward, thoughts floating through your mind. it's wild to think about how much has changed in just a few years—things you used to only dream about are happening now, and it all feels like it came out of nowhere.

(fond)

"but i guess it's normal, isn't it? to look back at your younger self and see how much you've changed, or how much you haven't."

[cut scene]

(need to board the plane soon)

"it's crazy," you say, chuckling and shaking your head, "i'm nervous to take off my hat," the line is getting shorter and shorter, and you are closer and closer to boarding the plane. "it's surprise under here. you'll see it soon enough when i'm all the way in milan," the line moves, and you follow suit, throwing up a peace sign.

(*^-^)V

[cut scene]

(stepping off the plane, arriving in milan)

the camera catches you walking through the airport, your energy high as you adjust your bag over your shoulder. "okay, milan, let's do this," you say, looking around as you walk. "i feel like i've missed you more than you've missed me probably," the camera is now facing you as you walk, your voice slightly shaky from the plane ride.

(excited)

"we're here in milan for prada's 2025 womenswear show. im pretty excited, i've been to a few menswear and womenswear shows before, and they're always so unique. each year is just something new, and i'm happy that i'm able to go."

(smiling so hard it's starting to hurt)

"okay, where's the nearest gelato shop?"

[cut scene: you holding a gelato cone, the camera zooming in on the treat.]

"this is literally the best thing i've ever tasted. like, what the...flip." you say, taking another lick of the gelato. the camera is still trained on the gelato, and you laugh at the zoom-in, moving the camera to face you again. "we should stop this," you say, laughing, "it's getting a bit weird, isn't it?"

(still eating gelato, a bit of chocolate at the corner of y/n's mouth)

(is completely oblivious)

(manager is cruel for not telling her)

"milan's gelato is next level, and i'm not even exaggerating," you say, holding up the cone like it's a prized trophy. "this is literally heaven in a cone. like, i could live here and eat this every single day, no problem."

the camera shifts to focus on the gelato, chocolate starting to drip down the side, a messy but beautiful masterpiece.

"i'm not kidding, this might inspire a song," you say, almost to yourself, eyes glued to the cone. "seriously, i'm thinking about writing something. i mean, look at it. how could i not?"

(is very serious)

(the chocolate is still on her face)

softly, you start singing under your breath, voice low and smooth: "i see you when i sleep at night. dwibakkwin natgo bam... you know i dream you, right?"

your eyes flutter closed for a moment as you take another bite, the melody lingering in the air. the camera pans back to your face, chocolate smudged at the corner of your mouth. your eyes suddenly pop open, and you grin wide, realizing what you've just done.

"oh, whoops. i think i just leaked an unreleased song," you say with zero regret, your smile growing wider. behind the camera, jamie groans dramatically.

"it's called 'gelato,'" you announce, licking the cone confidently as the camera zooms in on your face. "don't even think about stealing the title, i mean it."

(a few minutes later)

"okay, real talk, this might be the best thing i've eaten," you pause, contemplating. "or at least top three. yeah, definitely top three." the camera pans down to your now-empty cone as you lick the melted chocolate off your fingers, clearly satisfied.

you toss the cone into a nearby trash bin, wiping your hands on a napkin. "and now, i'm officially ready for the show." with a playful grin, you throw up two peace signs.

V(￣∇￣)V

[cut scene to hotel room]

the camera opens to your hotel room, a perfect blend of cozy luxury, with sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. you're perched in front of a vanity, dressed in a fluffy white robe, while your team is already in full swing. one stylist adds the finishing touches to your makeup, blending highlighter along your cheekbones, while another carefully adjusts your wig—its blonde strands so flawless, it looks like you were born with them.

(dun dun dun)

(hair reveal!!!)

you smile into the mirror as the hair stylist combs through the strands, adding a few pins here and there. you turn to look at the camera, eyes bright and smile wide, the most natural expression ever.

(still feeling out the new color)

"so, we've reached the big reveal, haven't we?" you say, your fingers lightly run through your hair.

[cut scene: quick photoshoot before leaving the hotel]

the next part of the vlog shows a mini-photoshoot happening right in the hotel lobby. there's a portable backdrop and a couple of lights set up, nothing too fancy, but it gets the job done. you're standing in front of it, fully in your outfit now, looking like you just walked out of a magazine.

you move through a bunch of easy poses—hands in your pockets, leaning slightly to the side, tilting your head a little. at one point, you flash a grin, and it feels so natural it might've been unplanned. the photographer keeps snapping away, hyping you up with stuff like, "that's perfect!" and "just one more shot!"

(a quick spin to show off the fit)

you even throw in a little playful spin, laughing because you almost trip, but it ends up looking cool in the footage.

after a few more photos, you call it a wrap, giving the camera a peace sign before heading out the door.

[cut scene: arriving at the event]

the scene cuts to the outside of the car as it pulls up to the event. the second the door cracks open, you hear it—the screams. like, actual screams.

you step out, looking cool but trying not to trip on the way. you adjust your jacket, give the crowd a little smile, and wave. then you wave again. and again. and again, because everywhere you turn, people are shouting your name.

(camera flashes everywhere)

you pause on the red carpet, cameras clicking furiously as you strike a few poised yet approachable poses. you remain composed, but inside, your heart is beating wildly. it doesn't matter how many red carpets you walk, there's something about the excitement, the anticipation, that makes you want to jump out of your skin.

[cut scene: entering the showroom]

the camera follows you as you step into the showroom, and immediately, it's like you've walked into another world. everything feels grand—high ceilings, soft lighting that makes everything look like a movie, and rows of perfectly set chairs with the runway in the middle.

but before you even get a second to take it all in, the cameras are back.

(flashes everywhere again)

photographers are everywhere, snapping pics like it's a competition. you're barely two steps inside, but they already want your attention. you try not to blink, but the flashes are so intense, and they won't stop going off.

(finally got seated) (is just happy to sit for a second)

the camera catches you pulling your phone up, using it as a makeshift mirror while your tongue pokes out in concentration.

(silver-haired y/n, inspecting their look) (not sure yet?)

"it looks better in person," you mutter, mostly to yourself, a small smile tugging at your lips. the silver strands are a bold choice, but it fits. the color looks like it was made for you, and the way the strands catch the light makes your head shimmer.

"it's a change," you admit with a soft laugh, tilting your head as if that'll give you a better view. "but i like it. plus, it's temporary, so no pressure, right?"

[cut scene: still fixing your hair]

a few seconds later, you're back at it, smoothing down the flyaways.

[cut scene: and again]

this time, you frown slightly, brushing the strands down with more focus.

"she'd yell at me if she saw this," you joke quietly, clearly talking about your stylist.

(camera catches y/n looking very serious about this hair thing)

after one last adjustment, you sit back and sigh, smoothing your outfit while flashing the camera an exaggerated frown.

[cut scene]

you stop fussing with your hair, finally sitting back in your seat, waiting for the show to start. you look around, taking in the glamorous atmosphere of the showroom—people chatting, cameras flashing, and everyone looking polished and chic.

as you scan the room, your eyes meet Karina's for a split second. you freeze, almost caught off guard, before quickly looking away, your heart rate picking up a bit. you pause for a second, remembering where you are and the eyes on you.

(AESPAS KARINA 💙💙💙)

with a soft smile, you look back at her, offering a small wave and saying, "hey."

she smiles back, motioning to the camera behind you. you follow her cue and turn the camera with a small smile on your face.

^_^

picking up your your seat indicator card, the one with your name on it, you pose with it like it's the most natural thing in the world.

(so photogenic)

(so natural)

(no awkwardness here)

(just a very cool and talented musician)

[cut scene] the show starts, and you're just sitting back, soaking it all in. the lights dim, the music kicks in, and models start strutting down the runway in all kinds of crazy cool outfits. it's all so surreal, and you can't help but smile, staring at everything happening in front of you.

you pull out your phone, snapping a few pics and trying to keep up with everything without looking like a total tourist.

(snapping a few pictures)

you glance at the camera once more, shrugging a little as if to say, "what can i say, this is really cool."

[cut scene: after the show]

the show's done, and you're walking out of the showroom, still buzzing from the experience. fans are all lined up outside, screaming and waving, and you make sure to wave back, giving them the attention they deserve.

(still waving and smiling)

you blow a few kisses and throw up a peace sign, grinning the entire time.

you keep waving, your energy infectious, and soon, everyone around you is doing the same.

(is so kind to everyone)

(so grateful)

[cut scene]

cut to you, now back in your hotel room, finally alone. you sit down in front of the mirror, letting out a small sigh as you brush your hand through your hair that was now your natural hair color.

(a quiet moment)

"today was a long day," you admit, letting your hands fall in your lap. it was so cool though," you add, nodding. "the glasses and the accessories were just—so cool. and the way they used metal in the outfits? it was everything. so futuristic but still wearable, you know?"

you start to get more excited, gesturing with your hands as you talk. "there were so many different elements used, like a mix of hard and soft textures. so many contrasts, but it all worked together. definitely one of the most fun shows I've ever watched."

(knock knock knock)

you jump a little, pausing, then quickly add, "i'll head out now, bye." you give the camera a small wave.

[end of video]

series masterlist. main masterlist. chapter eight.

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sometimesanalice · 11 hours ago

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Morgannn!! 💖 oh I’m so, so happy you liked this! Fluffy, fun, and flirty vibes for days!

I’m so happy that it was something that made you smile! 🥰🥰

More for you!!

Oh, this was absolutely delightful and fun and exactly what I needed after this week! I broke into giggles and a smile more times than I could count! I love everything you write, but sometimes you pop off with the best little details and phrasings and it's such a joy to read your writing!—🥹🥹🥹

And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place.

Quite literally the vibe for modern dating, and especially with how many men always forget Feb 14th is a holiday!!!!!— I just imagined her being like “are you sure??” like five times and this guy being like “it’s a Wednesday like yeah”. But truly, the amount of me not utilizing the notifications on their built in calendar is a CRIME. But especially on international hearts day!

And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Men don't appreciate good fashion. That's why we dress for the group chat and ourselves!— the girlies(gn) just want to look and feel cute! But also, you know that group chat was popping off with the🔥 emoji, lol

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

This visual this gave me! A beacon of pink! Get her a drink!— goodness knows miss ma’am needs one! She was just trying to go with the flow and have fun! But I loved trying to find ways to highlight just how out of place she was there, not only like with how she felt but also the setting!

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

STOP, THIS GOT ME!— I MEAN CAN YOU IMAGINEEEEE

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

Snaps for Selleck mention.— the OG mustache man!

Oh.

AN ITALICIZED OH, SO YOU KNOW IT'S GOOD!!!— ITALICIZED OH SUPREMACY!! (Also I’m so endlessly tickled by the amount of support the italicized oh has gotten 😂 I know I posted about it specifically, but I love how much love we all have for those two little letters!)

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

This was entirely too relatable. Those jeans are too slutty and the group chat must know! (nothing wrong with taking a lil pic either 🤫) — I was so obsessed with the idea of her being like “you guys won’t believe what happened” and her phone just blowing up the other night of her best babes wanting allll the tea! You know the brunch talk is going to be popping! (But the slutty beans and that cock walks are a lethal combo!!)

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

This whole pool scene was so fun! You captured Jake and Bradley's game with so much descriptive detail, it made me want to watch the movie again! Jake would absolutely get hustled, that man has too much ego to not get played.— ahhhh!! This is the best thing you could have said because Morgan I know nothing about pool lmaooooo 😂 I was reading as much as I could and snooping on r/billiards to figure out what was going on hahaha! All the while cursing myself for deciding her ace needed to be her sneaky pool shark skills. He would SO get played, he wouldn’t be able to help himself!

In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold.

This is quite literally one of my favourite ways a kiss has been described. So visual, yet you can feel it. It's going to be rolling through my brain for a bit, I love it!— stopppp!!!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰 there’s always so much pressure to try and get a first kiss right, so that makes me so happy that it landed well with you!! 🫶🏻

For the Plot

Summary: Things aren't looking too good for you, sitting alone at the Hard Deck waiting for a man who might not show. Until Bradley Bradshaw sits down across from you and turns your entire night upside down.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Length: 7.7k

Warnings: fluff, so much flirting, and an italicized oh

Going on a first date on Valentine’s Day is unarguably the worst possible idea that anyone has ever had.And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place.

The guy you were planning to meet tonight was cute enough, even if you were still undecided about the mustache. And while the chats between the two of you had been pretty good as far as it goes getting to know a literal stranger, you were hopeful that it could be even better in person. The fact he was in the Navy was still a bit of a consideration for you, but not a deal breaker.

In retrospect, the name of the bar should have been your first clue and the location paired with the causal beachy exterior covered in planes should have been the second.

You had been expecting to see more than one girl all done up in pinks and reds tonight, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. And you swear to god, somewhere you hear a record scratch as you step into the Hard Deck, because you are surrounded by nothing but a sea of olive green and khaki and denim.

And you have never been so clearly out of place in your entire life.

There was nothing about your ensemble that was even remotely fitting for the literal Navy bar you’d found yourself in.

The ice pink mini slip dress you’d dug out of your closet was admittedly a little much for a first date, but since it was Valentine’s Day you figured why not lean into it a bit. And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Or so you’d thought at the time, because now it was a decidedly you problem.

The silhouette was simple enough, with the gentle drape of the cowl neck and the barely-there spaghetti straps, but the shiny sheen of the fabric made a statement of its own. It wasn’t something you got to wear very often for as much as you loved it.

But then you’d gone ahead and paired it with the tallest, most ostentation heels you had. The effort had been worth it though because the pearl encrusted block heels made your legs look like they went on for days. Even if it had been a feat trying to get the dainty buckle done with the way you’d been rushing out of the house with your beaded bag in tow.

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. And even though there were civilians- like yourself- scattered about the bar, none were anywhere near as dressed up as you.

There are more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you stand there with your feet glued to the uneven wooden floors, as the door with its porthole-shaped window slowly closes behind you with a squeaky creak. The twinkle lights above your head felt more like a spotlight, illuminating how out of place you are in this moment.

Your hand is still clutched on the handle unsure whether you’re going to make a run for it or not. You are more than a little tempted to hightail it back to the parking lot and text your date to claim a bout of food poisoning from the safety of the driver’s seat in your car.

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, trying not to panic. Officially a victim of your own bad decision making.

You take a quick scan of the room, trying to decide what your next move should be. There’s a woman behind the bar with kind but clearly inquisitive eyes. A blonde with a wolfish smile eyes you from where he stands next to a man with broad shoulders bent over what must be the pool table, hidden behind the paneled half wall. By a dart board, there are a couple men with their heads turned towards you, the game seemingly forgotten as they discuss the spectacle that is you.

There are hundreds of planes dangling over the bar, patches and plaques littering the walls and rafters, rounders suspended from the ceiling laden with too many ceramic mugs to count. It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances.

When you spot an open table tucked away in the corner of the room it feels like life raft to the iceberg of a situation you’ve put yourself in. Mindful of the scuffed, uneven floors- because the last thing you need is to eat shit or twist an ankle in front of room full of curious onlookers- you hustle over to the spot in hopes of having a moment to regroup.

Once you’re situated- shrugging off the ivory cardigan you’d topped your outfit, trying to keep the nervous sweat that wanted to break out over your body at bay- you pull out your phone and check the time only to realize you’re devastatingly on time. Five minutes early, to be specific.

So you wait.

And check your phone again and the notifications in the dating app, just in case you missed something.

And wait.

You try to play it cool, skimming posts on Instagram and replying to some overdue texts. Finding anything you can to keep yourself occupied to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach the longer you sit there. Alone.

Now you’re not just simply embarrassed, you’re mortified.

You can still feel the eyes, the energy steadily shifting from curiosity to sympathy over the last thirty minutes you’ve been waiting all alone in the corner of a Navy bar you had no business being in for a man who clearly wasn’t going to show.

So much for doing it for the plot, you think to yourself with a shake of your head.

Another minute ticks by with no message and you decide you’re more than ready to hightail it out of there. Fully aware that you’re about to become a topic of conversation that won’t have to be restricted to only covert glances and muffled whispers. But hopefully, they’ll at least wait until the door closes behind you before the chatter starts up for real.

With a sigh, you reach for your beaded bag, just as a large body slips into the chair across from you, with an ease that is in contrast to the bulk of muscles you catch in your peripheral vision.

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

It’s the smile that you catch first. Not quite a grin, but something familiar and friendly and charming in the way it crookedly pulled to the left. Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. But what surprised you the most was the way he was sitting in the stool across from you just as comfortably as if he was supposed to be there all along.

There was no way you could have prepared yourself for the sheer level of attractiveness of this man.

He was in a league of his own with those curls and wide shoulders. The white and olive green stripped crochet shirt he was wearing didn’t hurt either, especially the way the top buttons were undone giving you glimpse of a chain around his neck and the chest underneath it. He didn’t need to be in uniform- or even in a Navy bar- for you to tell he was a military man. Not with the confident way he held himself.

Even if the mustache he was sporting made it feel like the universe was playing tricks on you, but he more than wore it well.

You huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “What gave it away?” you ask. “The way I’ve been watching the door? Or just the general look of regret and embarrassment?”

“Embarrassed? What do you have to be embarrassed about?” His eyebrows pull together, perplexed. He shakes his head like he disagrees with even the suggestion of it. “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is the guy who is missing out on sitting across from you right now.”

You give him a soft smile of your own in return for the cinnamon sweet words. There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release.

“That’s kind of you, but I think I’m going to head out,” you say, nodding to the door you never should have stepped through in the first place.

He gives you a teasing tsk. “And let a dress like that go to waste? Now that would be a shame.”

The appreciative look in his gaze that sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. And then his eyebrow ticks up, just a little. Part invitation, part dare. And you can’t say you’re not intrigued.

There’s a decision to make.

You could leave now and cut your losses. There was a reason you had a back-up pizza in the fridge and had left you well-loved copy of You’ve Got Mail sitting out on your coffee table.

Or you could stick around and see what happens next.

You tilt your head at him, just as teasing. “Would it now?”

“It would,” he states, sincerely.

Before you can reply, your phone lights up with a new notification, pulling you out of the whisky haze you’d found yourself in.

His eyes dip down to your illuminated screen. “Is that him?”

“It is,” you confirm, almost regretfully. You open the app and skim the message. And then read it again.

There’s no sorry, no apology for cancelling a half an hour after the time for the date that had been his idea in the first place. And then he’d even had the audacity to tack on a cavalier maybe another time at the end.

Unbelievable.

He lets out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

“Apparently, I should have been the one to remind him that the fourteenth of February is a calendar holiday and a fan favorite day of the greeting card companies.” It’s so ridiculous you’d laugh if you weren’t so annoyed by the lack of consideration and the not-so-subtle blame he’d tried to shift on you. “Even though I did double check if he was sure about meeting up today, I guess I didn’t realize I actually needed to spell out ‘Valentine’s Day’ for him.”

The man across from you doesn’t bother holding back the less than impressed look on his face. And you decide you like that about him, that he wears his thoughts so openly. It’s refreshing.

“Do you mind if I take a look at his profile?”

You shrug and pass your phone over. You were planning on blocking West the second you had a moment anyways. You see him roll his eyes and guess it has something to do with the amount of shirtless gym selfies.

He snorts as he scrolls, “Please, his mustache has nothing on mine.”

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes good-naturedly, as he hands you back your phone. “But am I at least a close second?” There’s no mistaking the flirtatious tone in his voice.

You hum and take full advantage of the opportunity to look at him unabashedly, mapping the contours of his face because you can.

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.

The way the golden light of the sunset is hitting him you catch some sunkissed strands in those soft looking waves of his hair. There’s the beginning of some crinkles around the edges of his eyes. You notice the scars on his face, some that look long healed and others that are still a light pink- like the one on the side of his neck and beneath is ear. And that mustache on him worked for you, one hundred percent.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he lets you assess him that leaves no question as to whether or not he’s been flirting with you. You like the way he’s looking at you and the way he’s easily made you forget about being overdressed and how uncomfortable you were even just five minutes ago. You’re having fun. And while you still haven’t answered his question from earlier, you have no doubt that he’d show you a good time if you let him.

“Maybe not a close second, but yours is certainly up there,” you tease.

He grins. “I can work with that.” There’s something about the way he adds on for now that has a spark dancing up along your spine. And then he sticks out his hand, “I’m Bradley.”

It’s a good name. It suits him. It’s one you think you’ll enjoy the way your tongue will curl around the letters of it in your mouth.

When you give him yours in return, he sits up straighter in his seat, like he’s won a small victory.

You don’t doubt that he’s the chivalrous type, the fact that he’s gone out of his way to come over to try and turn this evening around for you says more about him than any dating profile with nonsense questions and overthought answers ever could. But with a man like him, one who’d swoop in to save the night of a stranger because she looks like a damsel in distress, there’s an answer to a question you need to hear first.

“Bradley, this isn’t a pity thing, is it?” You were right, you like the way saying his name feels. You drop your hands into your lap, as you search his eyes. “Because if it is, that’ll make me feel worse than being stood up did.”

The way the words were sitting out and open on the table between the two of you made you feel vulnerable in a way you didn’t like. But you’d rather know now before anything goes further. Doing it for the plot or not, your ego could only take so much bruising in one evening.

He pins you with a look so serious that you feel it down to your toes. “Trust me, this is furthest thing from a ‘pity thing’, as you put it,” Bradley says, his tone slipping down a few gravelly notes. “Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.”

Oh.

A thrilling rush of warmth courses through you as your cheeks heat up.

You nod, trying to not look as affected as you feel. “Ok, I believe you.”

“Good,” he smirks, his gaze dropping down and lingering on your lips. You didn’t realize you’d trapped your lower lip between your teeth, you release it immediately. “Because you should know, I would have come over sooner- the second I saw you, actually- if I’d known. That’s some dress, sweetheart,” Bradley continues, “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.”

You couldn’t help but be curious, so you lean in closer. “Oh, how so?”

Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret.

For the first time all night, you don’t regret wearing the dress. You don’t regret the ostentatious shoes or the glimmering beaded bag. You don’t regret walking through that creaky door. You don’t regret showing up tonight.

How could you when you’ve just been served the best plot twist you’ve possibly ever experienced? A meetcute you never could have seen coming.

You realize just how close your faces have gotten and lean back in your seat, from fear of thinking you might do something stupid, like kiss him. “Will you stop with the big cow eyes, if I agree?”

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.”

You press your lips together trying to hide your smile, all too thoroughly charmed, but the corners of your mouth curl up all the same.

“Trust me, you have plenty.”

And Bradley’s own smile gets even wider.

Anyone in the bar can see how pleased with himself he is at your words. It rolls off of him in steady waves and swirls around your shins and ankles.

He makes a show of settling further into his seat, now that it is officially his seat. “What’re we thinking? One milkshake, two straws?”

You play along and pretend to ponder the offer for a moment. “That seems more like a second date type of activity, does it not?”

“You’re right, something to look forward to for next time,” he responds, not missing a beat. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

There wasn’t a menu or anything on the table when you sat down, so you aren’t sure what all is offered here. You thought you might have caught a glimpse of a laminated stack near register when you’d first walked in, but you hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to yourself at the time by getting up again and wandering around and reminding people just how out of place you’d been.

You look around and see a mix of ceramic steins, pint glasses, beer bottles, and a few stems of wine on tabletops and in the hands of the other patrons.

The noise of the bar had become a faint white noise in your ears as the two of you talked, but it comes back in full force now.

“If they have rosé, I’d take a glass of that.” It isn’t hard to miss the hesitation in your voice, feeling a little silly defaulting to your usual go-to. You don’t imagine they go through a ton of pink wine here. “But, uhm, anything on tap would be fine too, if they don’t.”

Bradley’s lips twitch up. Not in a smirk, but something caught between amused and something else you can’t quite describe.

You try not to fidget under his warm gaze, “What?”

He slides out of his stool and rounds the table, setting a big hand on the armrest near your elbow, “There’s something you should know about me, sweetheart.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, more than a little breathlessly. Feeling a little high off of the smell of his leather and vanilla cologne, and something underneath that that reminds you of kerosene in a way that makes you want to breathe him in even more.

Bradley dips down close, his lips just a whisper from your ear, and murmurs, “Pink is my favorite color.”

Your head tips back on its own as you laugh. Its unabashedly loud and bright and delighted thing that fills the nooks and crannies of the corner you’d tucked yourself away into. And if a few heads turn your way because of it, that’s alright with you.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. The back and forth, the flirting, the banter, the teasing. He’s so quickly turned this night around for you, you already know your cheeks are going to hurt by the end of it.

The sound of Bradley’s own laughter chases after yours. It’s warm and raspy and boyish, and you like the sound of it. You like him.

“One rosé, coming up,” he says, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he steps out of your space. “There’s nothing I like more than a girl who commits to a theme.”

You catch his wrist, his skin warm under your palm. “Wait, what’s it really?”

“Red,” Bradley says, then gives you a slow once over, making your pulse spark in your veins. “But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar.

When he comes back, only a few minutes later, he has glass of familiar pink wine in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. And oddly enough, a straw tucked into the pocket on his shirt.

“It’s almost a perfect match,” he notes, when he sets it in front of you.

“At least I won’t have to worry about staining if I end up spilling on myself.”

Bradley chuckles and moves his stool in closer to yours, sitting back down with more smooth grace than a man with his build has any right to move. He tips the neck of his beer towards you, and you lightly tap your wine glass against it.

You take a sweet sip. “So.”

“So,” he repeats, with a teasing lift of his eyebrow.

“What’s your move?” you ask, running a glossy tipped finger around the rim of your wineglass.

“My move?” And there’s that grin again, one he doesn’t try to hide as he takes a sip of his own. “‘m pretty sure I’ve been showing you my moves since I sat down. I’ve never been good at being subtle.”

Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until it’s pulled taut against itself.

You set an elbow on the edge, resting your chin on your hand as you study him. “But what’s the big move? I know you have one,” you press further.

His hands are big, calloused and rough, but capable. You want to know the story behind the scar that’s near the base of his thumb. You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left, and you pocket that new discovery for yourself the way a kid enthusiastically collects rocks in a park.

Bradley takes that piece of paper and folds it in half before twisting it again.

You watch in fascination as that pleased grin transforms into a confident smirk, like he’s enjoying even just the thought of showing you his big move. He looks like good trouble.

Bradley’s eyes slowly lift to yours, his hands pausing whatever he’s doing with that wrapper. He shoots a thumb to the left towards the end of the oval shaped bar. “You see that piano over there?”

“Mhm.” It’s an almost purr.

“That’s my big move.”

You feel your eyebrows lift in surprise. Bradley gave off such hometown golden boy vibes, you’d never have expected that he’d be the musical type too. The idea of seeing those hands fly over a set of black and white piano keys made your stomach tighten deliciously in anticipation.

“Am I going to get to see it?”

His gaze is steady on you when he replies, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll show you my move.”

A grin stretches across your face and you feel downright giddy, as you wiggle your shoulders in triumph.

Bradley shakes his head amused, and then refocuses his efforts on the task he’d started with the straw wrapper. He struggles only for a moment- those large fingers getting in the way- as he tries to open the end just enough to slip the tail though. He gives it one more final twist, securing the loop, before inspecting his handiwork.

“Now, since we’re valentines and all, it seemed only fitting that I get you- well, make you- a little something.” Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.”

The words escape you for a moment at the sheer sweetness of the gesture.

Gently, you take it from his outstretched hand, and slip it onto the pointer finger of your right hand, adjusting it with care until you have it situated just right.

“I usually wouldn’t be able to accept something so grand on a first date. But for you, I’ll make an exception,” you say, liltingly. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You look down to appreciate it again, more than a little tempted to take it off and tuck it securely into your purse for safekeeping. For as much as you liked your dress and bag and your shoes, that little paper ring was now your favorite piece of the outfit you were wearing.

When you glance back up at him, his cheeks have the faintest pink hue to them. The little nonchalant shrug he tries to give you does nothing to hide how pleased he looks. “I make a mean daisy chain too. We might have to wait a couple months for Spring, but I’m good for it.”

Your mind flashes with an image of you and him in a park with a picnic basket sat between the two of you, and those large hands of his threading celery green stems together. It’s a pretty picture.

“Well, aren’t you just a regular modern day Renaissance man.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he rasps, silky smooth. It makes goosebumps raise along your arms. “Now, I’ve told you mine. Can’t say I’m not dying to know what your big move is. Am I going to get to see it, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse, lifting your glass to take another sip, “If you’re good.”

Bradley hooks a foot under you stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. “Just out of curiosity, what’s your position on kissing on a first date?”

You bend forward towards him and think you hear his breath hitch, you smile. “I’ll keep you posted.”

You’re still looking at his lips when a shout from across the bar startles you both.

“Bradshaw!”

Bradley mutters a string of curses and then blows out a breath, giving you a smoldering look that tells you that the conversation is far from over. You’re more than willing to let him try and change your mind about where he lands in the mustache rankings.

You look over your shoulder to see the with the sharp smile from earlier waving your date over to the pool table. “I take it you know, Malibu Ken?”

“Unfortunately.” A mischievous look coasts over his face. “But I’ll get you all the Ring Pops you could ever want if you say that to his face.”

You laugh. “I’m holding out for that daisy chain.”

Another holler rings out from across the room, the same Southern drawl as before.

“Seems like he wants your attention. Is he a Leo?”

He snorts. “You know what, he just might be. But more like he’s been waiting for the right moment to annoy me since I ditched him to come talk to a pretty girl instead.”

You try not to preen at the compliment.

“The relentless type, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. There’s a story there and you want to know more. “I know I still owe you the big move, but is it alright if I try to show off a little for you now? Just to get off my back for the rest of the night, then I’m all yours.”

You feel like you’ve just pulled an ace from your pocket.

“What are the stakes?” you ask, intrigued.

“Two hundred dollars and a whiskey,” Bradley replies.

You let out a low whistle, trying to school the catlike grin that wants to overtake your face. “That’s a lot of Ring Pops.”

The corners of his mouth curl up. “I was thinking dinner for our third date,” he says. “I’m buying for our second, of course. But it’s only right that we split the spoils of war.”

The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. You playfully pat his shoulder in faux commiseration.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, but you already know your answer. “Okay,” you agree, “Just as long as you’re okay with a little respectful ogling. You like my dress, and I like those jeans you’re wearing.”

He laughs, it’s a throaty rich sound. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. It’s a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you don’t mind at all.

Bradley offers you his hand and you take it in yours; his fingers slip between yours easily like the two of you have already done this before.

The two of you only make it a few steps before you tug on his hand, waiting until he looks at you from over his shoulder before asking, with a lifted brow, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

He huffs out a not-so-exasperated sigh, “I blame it on the 80’s.”

“Whatever you say, Brad-Brad.” It’s the one and only time you’re ever going to say it, you decide. You like saying his name too much to shorten it. And his back may be turned to you now, but that now familiar chuckle still makes its way to your ears.

Bradley leads you to the bar first, where he buys another glass of rosé and a beer for himself. When you try to pass your credit card to the woman behind the counter, he takes it, and rasps into your ear, “Let me.”

He tucks it right back into your purse as the sound of brass instruments starts up yet again.

“Like a dog with a goddamn bone,” you hear him mumble. And you press your lips together to keep from laughing. Sure, you’d rather be seeing his big move, but you can’t claim not to be amused by all of this.

He nods to a group of people in the corner near the popcorn machine when the two of you enter the alcove with pool table. Some of his other friends of his you assume.

You send them a little wave, one that they return in greeting. You can tell they’re curious, but you’re grateful when they resume their conversation instead of making you feel like your date with Bradley had become a spectator sport for their viewing entertainment.

The first thing Bradley does is introduce you to his friend. It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. You appreciate the way he is still prioritizing your comfort the way he’s been doing it since he first sat down across from you.

The second thing he does is pull out a chair for you. Not with a fanfare, not with a flourish. But like it’s something that’s innately ingrained in him. You get the sense that the gentleman thing isn’t an act with him, it’s who he is.

Jake rests a hip against the table. “Sorry to interrupt your date, but Bradshaw and I had some unfinished business.”

You wave him off, it’s not a big deal. Not when you’ll have the rest of the night with Bradley. Plus, you’re eager to watch this play out between them, curious about their gameplay.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with,” Bradley rumbles, as he arranges the balls in the rack. And you wonder if he lost the lag before he’d made his way over to your table for one.

He comes back over to you, and leans on the ledge next to you as he chalks his cue. You’d thought about slipping your sweater back on, with the outside chill pressing against the line of glass windows at your back, but Bradley had more than enough warmth radiating off of him that you didn’t need to.

“You that eager to be out a couple hundred, Bradshaw?” Jake grins, as he leans over the side of the table. He turns his gaze to you and sends you a wink right before he breaks, sending the cue ball barreling into the others with a resounding clack, scattering them across the table.

And then they’re off.

It’s a rapid fire of back-and-forth banter between the men as they take their shots. Mostly good natured, but undeniably competitive. Smirking when they land their shots, and snarking over fouls. Clear that neither of them wants to lose.

Jake is all confident posturing, playing low over the cue with a lightly too tight grip. It’s the only thing that gives him away that he’s not the easygoing player as he wants people to think he is. Choosing higher risk shots that would highlight his ability versus some of the more straightforward options laid out for him, and skilled enough that it pays off most of the time. But after a couple rounds you note he’s too quick to stand up after taking his shot, not enough follow through because he’s too eager to see if his gamble pays off.

Bradley is all loose-limbed ease, clearly comfortable in both his skin and at the table. You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. Although he does take his time as he positions himself around the table, only adjusting his bridge every now and then. Always with a 1-2 shot, a warm-up stroke followed by a steady hit. Watching him you catch his tendency to throw out his elbow of the follow through.

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

When Bradley’s not up to play, he’s by your side, right at your elbow. And when he is, it’s your eyes he’s looking into the moment he stands back up, seeking out your reaction. But more than once you feel his eyes on you as you watch them play.

True to your word, you to admire him in those snug fitting jeans. And when he catches your appreciative gaze, he sends you a wink before lining up his next shot.

Jake sinks another solid into the pocket he’d called only moments ago, and turns his dimpled smile at you, “You still sure about your date with the old man, chickadee? I bet I could show him up in that department too.”

The way he says it, you know he’s just teasing, probably just to rile you date up and get a reaction from him.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I have a thing for mustaches now,” you toss back, unbothered. And Bradley smiles into his drink.

You watch as Jake lines up his next shot and hits the white with a compact stroke.

“Double hit,” you declare.

“Dammit,” Jake curses.

You look over to see Bradley looking at you with a focused look on his face. Like there’s a theory clicking into place, one he needs the answer to. Wordlessly, he hands you the cue.

“You sure?” you ask.

“Two hundred dollars sure,” he states.

You take it from him with a sly grin.

Bradley’s thighs brush against the front of your knees, you know if you parted them even a couple inches, that he’d fit just right between them. His hands landing on your waist again as he assists you off the stool you’ve been perched on. And you’re starting to think he just likes an excuse to touch you, not that he needs one because you already more than like the feel of his hands on your body.

You walk the pool table, running a finger around the rails as you do. Evaluating the balls on the table like they’re chess pieces. The slow clip of your heels on the floor like the tick of a clock as you take your time deciding your approach.

“You’re the stripes,” Jake offers helpfully. “Don’t worry, I’ll even let you have a free shot.”

And you can’t help but laugh because this is going to be fun.

“Bradley?” you ask, leisurely chalking your cue.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you mind?” You gesture to the spot behind you, and he catches on quick with a not-so-subtle glance at the short hem of your skirt.

He sets his beer down and comes to stand behind you, there’s just enough space between the two of you that you don’t have to worry about hitting him with the cue, his broad from proving you the coverage you needed to bend over the table. While you don’t think you’d mind Bradley seeing the silk thong you had on underneath your dress, you weren’t exactly up for flashing the whole bar.

You haven’t played in a while, but it’s a muscle memory at this point, as you map out your moves. Seeing the lines and angles and arcs in your mind’s eye before anchoring your bridge.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. A tendril of smokey gratification curls its way along your spine. You turn your head back to the pool table looking between the cue, target, cue ball, target.

It’s a smooth stroke with a satisfying crack. A clean three-rail shot that lands the striped five into the pock you’d intended for it.

“Damn” is all Jake says. His eyes you up, clearly impressed.

“You sure about that free shot, Jake?” You stand up and smooth out your dress, just for the show of it. “Or do you want to make it double or nothing instead, Malibu Ken?” You hear Bradley snort from behind you.

And just like you thought, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, “Deal.” Jake turns to Bradley. “I just let your girl hustle me, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Bradley says with a grin, but his eyes are on you.

Neither are surprised when you sink your next shot too. The six sailing into the left corner pocket.

On your next shot, you may or may not deliberately foul. A tactical choice that sets Jake up with a less than ideal position on the table, knowing it’ll be a difficult shot for him to make.

“Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?” Jake grouses.

You just smile and take a sip of the rosé that Bradley hands you, neither confirming or denying.

Surprisingly, he banks it. But his good luck only lasting through that one play. Because on his next, the ball glances off the side rail at too acute an angle to reach the intended pocket and he groans.

Not quite ready to be done, you ease off a little. Enough that they both know you’re going easy on him to extend the game longer, just so that he can catch up to you.

But soon enough, soon there’s only your eight ball left on the table.

“Looks like you’re about to be out four hundred dollars, Jake,” you say with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Just put me out of my misery already.”

You turn to Bradley, who has been carefully positioning himself behind you the whole time. You hold out the cue to him and ask, “Do you want the honors?”

He shakes his head. “Go on, finish him off, sweetheart. I’m enjoying the show.”

And when your final ball tips into the side pocket, Jakes resounding groan is drown out by the whistle Bradley lets loose between his thumb and pointer finger, as you turn towards him beaming.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you.

You look over his wide shoulder, “As for the whiskey, something expensive please, Malibu Ken.”

Jake huffs a grumble but nods all the same as he goes to round up your winnings.

“Scored four hundred dollars and a valentine, that’s not too shabby, if I do say so myself,” you preen to Bradley.

“Think that might have been the best thing I’ve seen all year,” Bradley announces. “The hottest too, if I’m being honest.” You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze. His finger slips under the thin strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder somewhere along the way. He slides it back up and into place, treating it like some delicate thing the same way he did that paper wrapper. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

Normally, this is when you’d rerack, but you’ve never had a Bradley Bradshaw looking at you before.

“I took a class in college over the summer as an elective credit, and it turns out I had a knack for it,” you explain with a playful little shrug.

“I’ll say.” He takes another step closer. “Did you just show me your move, sweetheart?”

“One of them,” you grin.

You don’t have to press up to his height, not with your pearly heels.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. You feel the curve of a smile before his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer.

The scrape of his mustache against your upper lip sends electricity racing along every nerve ending in your body. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. It’s unhurried, like he’s been waiting to savor the feel of your mouth against his. Exciting and new as you learn the taste and touch of him. You knew it was going to be good, but even so, it’s better than you could have expected.

“Think you just snagged that number one spot of my list of favorite mustached men,” you say against his lips.

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps.

You inhale the amusement of his light chuckle, letting it go to your head like champagne bubbles, before he slips a hand around the base of your neck and pulling you in close once again.

A couple hours later, you find yourself at home on the couch. Your cheeks a little sore from how much smiling you’d done tonight, as Tom and Meg trade words over a plate of caviar on screen.

It was only much later that night you’d gotten to see Bradley’s big move.

He’d surprised you with his voice and the talented way his fingers glided over the white and black keys. An expensive glass of amber colored liquor sitting atop the old piano as he played, and four hundred dollars tucked safely away in your purse.

You’d given him your number when he’d walked you to your car, only distracting you for a few extra minutes with his mouth, before you’d left for the night, hoping that you’d hear from him soon.

A notification lights up your phone, and a ribbon of thrill unspools through you.

You sigh when you see that it’s a notification from your dating app. You’re wary to open it, not wanting anything to color your night, but you figure now is as good of time as any to block the guy who had nothing on the one you’d spent your evening with.

When you see the name of the person who’d sent you a message, you click into his profile with lightning-fast fingers, skimming all the details to things you hadn’t had a chance to learn yet.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟑𝟓

𝐉𝐨𝐛 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

There is a picture of him in uniform, grinning to someone out of the frame. And another one of him shirtless on the beach, surrounded by some of the faces you’d seen tonight at the Hard Deck.

But it’s the answers to the prompts that he’d picked, that set your heart fluttering.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬: 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬.

That one makes you laugh.

You open the message from him, one that had been sent with a rose.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞? 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧? 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐩.

You don’t even have to think.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝?

And you can’t help but grin to yourself as look at that paper ring still on your finger. Because you know, this app won’t be on your phone for much longer.

Not now that you’ve met him.

Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!

And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#thank you for reading and reblogging!#I’m just so happy you liked it!! 🫶🏻#the babe with the big move

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fireinmoonshot · 4 hours ago

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touchy | joaquin torres x reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader Summary: Joaquin has a thing where he always likes to have a hand on you whenever you're together – holding your waist, holding your hand, a hand resting on your thigh. You finally decide to confront him about why. Warnings: Mentions of food, a kind of spicy make-out scene. Word Count: 1.6k A/N: I had this idea and I just had to write it. It's shorter than my other Joaquin fics but I had so much fun writing it and I really just wanted to get something else for Joaquin out for you guys! Please send in requests for him if you have any! 💗

One thing you never expected when you started dating Joaquin Torres was how touchy the man was – there was barely any time when the two of you were together when he wasn’t touching you in some way.

It surprised you at first. He never came across as that kind of person. He was the definition of a Golden Retriever boyfriend. But then you’d be standing with him at a party and you’d feel his hand wrap around your waist, or whenever you had to cross the road, he’d hold your hand (not unlike your parents used to do when you were a child), or when you were at home watching a movie on the couch, his hand would rest on your thigh.

After several months of this, you finally decided to ask him why.

“Joaquin, can I ask you something?” You call from where you’re sitting in the living room, your eyes flickering up from the book that was on your lap – the one you’ve been trying to read and failing, owing to the fact that your boyfriend has been strutting around your apartment shirtless ever since he got out of the shower.

“Course you can, angel,” he calls back from the kitchen.

Out of the two of you, Joaquin is the cook of the family. You hadn’t trusted him in the kitchen at first – he had always seemed the type of person to accidentally chop off a finger because he was too distracted. But so far, no such accidents had occured and he was much better at making a delicious meal than you were.

You were quick to close your book and get up from the couch, padding through the hallway into the kitchen to see him standing at the bench, chopping something up on a cutting board in front of him – still irritatingly shirtless.

“Cooking shirtless is dangerous, you know,” you say, announcing your presence.

His eyes flicker up towards you. “For you or for me?”

You give him a look. “For you, pretty boy. I’m not the one holding the knife.”

Joaquin grins at you before putting the knife down, wiping his hands on the cloth on the bench beside him and grabbing the apron hanging over the back of one of your bar stools. “Should I put this on then? Someone clearly isn’t enjoying the show.”

“Baby,” you roll your eyes at him jokingly, crossing the room and snatching the apron out of his hands. “You know that’s not what I meant. I meant you could get burned by oil or slip and cut yourself or… well… there are plenty of dangers to cooking shirtless.”

Joaquin smirks, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his chest so you’re pressed together. “Angel, all those things you just listed are also things that could happen to me if I were wearing a shirt. You know that, right?”

You can’t help the way you pout at him. “Not my point, Joaquin.”

He grins and presses a quick peck to your lips. “Was that what you were coming in here to talk about?” He asks, his thumb swiping gently back and forth over your waist.

“No, actually,” you hum. “I was coming here to talk about this.” You motion in-between the two of you, at the contact between your bodies. You’re not not a fan of it – of course you love it – but it does amuse you, the fact that your boyfriend always wants to have a hand on you at all times.

Joaquin raises his eyebrows. “We playin’ charades? Am I meant to guess?”

You laugh a little. “No, silly. This. The way I walked into the kitchen and you swept me up into your arms immediately. The way you always have a hand on my back when we walk somewhere. The way you put your hand on my thigh when we’re on the couch. The way you’re touching me all the time.”

Irritatingly, your words have the opposite effect than intended and Joaquin steps away from you, removing his hand from your waist. You immediately miss the warmth of his body, the feeling of his hand on your waist, and almost reach back out for him.

“You don’t like it?” Joaquin asks, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

You hate the look on his face – the way he looks like a wounded puppy. His usually playful eyes look sad, full of fear and you can read his expression immediately. He thinks that by doing these things, he’s made you uncomfortable.

“Baby, no – I love it!” You attempt to rectify the situation. “I just was curious about why.”

Unable to keep looking at his sad puppy dog eyes anymore, you step forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands gently. His hands tentatively rest on your waist, as if he’s afraid you’re going to move away at any second but he simply can’t help but to touch you, just a little.

“You’re so touchy and I love it, Joaquin. I love having your hands on me all the time, I swear. Just now when you took your hands off my waist it was like… like it was suddenly winter and I was freezing cold without them. I just wanna know why you do it,” you explain further, making sure you keep eye contact with him.

Joaquin frowns a little. “I guess I never really thought about it,” he replies. “I think I kinda just do it without meaning to. I just love the feeling of having my hands on you, feeling your warmth, reminding myself that you’re beside me. And I mean…” He clears his throat. “Have you seen yourself, angel? Why would I not wanna touch you at any given opportunity?”

It’s like his confidence makes a return to his body, then. His grip on your waist gets tighter and he pulls you closer, forcing you to drop your hands from his face. They rest on his shoulders instead as he backs you up a little so you’re leaning against the counter. His body is pressed against yours again, like it was only minutes ago. The warmth you’d missed before falls over you like a sheet of pure comfort.

You can’t keep the smile off your face at his words and actions. “That’s kinda cute, Joaquin,” you admit. “That you do it without thinking about it. Like I said, I love the feeling of you having your hands on me too.”

“Cute?” Joaquin looks at you with raised eyebrows. “You think I’m cute?”

It’s hard not to smile at his tone. “Yeah, adorable. You’re like a little puppy. You were looking at me before with the most puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen on a person. You looked so sad, I just wanted to pick you up and–”

Before you can finish speaking, Joaquin cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours. You moan at the sudden feeling of his lips, the feeling of his tongue swiping against your bottom lip. The way that his hands grip your waist tighter, one of them roaming up your back to grasp at the back of your neck so he can kiss you deeper.

The edge of the counter digs into your back but you barely even notice the feeling. One of your hands moves to run through Joaquin’s hair – it’s short, but long enough for you to grip, the other on his back. The feeling of his muscles against your palm only makes you want to kiss him more. The last thing you want to do is break apart for air.

Your breath hitches as he squeezes your waist again, forcing your lips apart. Both of you are breathing heavily, though the break doesn’t last long. Joaquin wastes no time in kissing you again, but this time his lips move from yours to your jaw. He presses soft, gentle kisses along the side of your jaw and down your neck. You tilt your head backwards, giving him better access. When your hand grasps onto his hip, he gasps a little and you can’t help but smile at the sound.

“See?” You mutter breathlessly, tilting your head forward again to meet his eyes. “I told you that cooking while shirtless was dangerous.”

Joaquin laughs at that, a gorgeous smile finding its way onto his face. You look at him, at the sweat on his forehead, the look of lust and love in his eyes, the way his chest moves up and down quickly, his breath still heavy from your small make out session. He’s easily the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes on… and he’s all yours.

He moves his hands down to your waist again and before you can do anything about it, he’s lifting you up so you’re sitting on the counter and pushing your legs apart so he can stand in-between them. At this angle, you’re basically the same height.

“I see no problems here, angel,” he flashes that gorgeous grin again before messily pressing his lips to yours again. He pulls away quickly though, much to your disappointment. “Now that we’ve established that I’m not cute, I am going to continue cooking you dinner. I’ll let you go back to your book.”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, turning to watch him as he returns to the cutting board. “I have a much better view right here than I do in the living room, baby. Besides, someone has to supervise you to make sure you stay safe while cooking like that… it’s bound to be a hard job but I’m pretty certain I’m up to the challenge...”

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #captain america brave new world #captain america brave new world x reader #joaquin torres x you

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la-gotica-fantasma · 3 days ago

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8 realistic situations to add to your writing -

Disclaimers: I cannot stress enough that I am not at all trying to tell you what to write, these are just some concepts / prompts. - My title does not mean that your more lovey-dovey scenes are unrealistic, I just couldn't think of how to title this - Some of these are scenes that have been used in my writing, so if by the off chance you are using any of these, please don’t copy the dialogue word for word. :}

ROMANTIC -

1) When both of them are cuddling / holding hands and one of them starts sweating.

★ “Ugh! I love you, but I don’t love all this sweat you produce!” “But it’s my love for you seeping out of my pores!” “I couldn't care less what it is. Off!” “Fine, your majesty.”

2) Each character hating their mother in law / partners mother

★ “Mom is asking to visit.” “And do what?” “I’m not sure, check up on everyone?” “She can check up her own ass for the stick I know she’s lost up there.”

★ “Well, your mother is no saint.” “She never claimed to be!” “Uh-huh, and when has mine?” “Circa-” “Okay! Truce?” “Truce.”

3) Character X bringing up a pet peeve they have with Character Y at a family gathering.

★ “Character Y does this one thing when they eat- they never scoop up their food with their fork, they’ll just attack it! Sometimes I can’t stand it.” “You never told me that bothered you?” “It didn’t bother me enough to mention it.” “Not until a family dinner?” “I didn’t mean anything negative by it-” **cue Character Y aggressively attacking their food with their fork** “Okay, I get it! We’ll talk later.”

4) Character X and Character Y bake with each other, except realistically.

★ “Character X, why are your arms wrapped around me?” “Because I love you.” “I love you too but I also love being able to actually mix the ingredients together.”

★ “Get the eggs!” “You told me to stop buying eggs because ‘inflation will kill us all’.” “I wasn’t wrong but, UGH-! I need eggs!” “Well I got them anyway, but still.”

★ “Stop touching things!” “How am I supposed to bake without touching anything?!” “You aren’t!”

5) Planning lies they'll tell in 5 years when people ask how they met.

★ "What if we say that we were playing bumper cars and I hit you so hard I fell into your car?" "Hmm.. how about we say that I was going to my best friends wedding and I was all down and glum, but a friend of mine told me to 'have some fun' and that maybe I'd meet someone special at the wedding, and that's when I saw you. You and a little yellow umbrella that I've seen in so many places before, and we just talked about our past together?" "I think that's been done before." "By who?" "One of the most popular rom-coms ever aired."

★ "We could say I saved you from-" "I'm gonna stop you right there." "Fine. What's your idea then, if you're so smart?" "We tell them we met in a psychiatric ward." "Wow. Exquisite thinking." "Just imagine the looks on their faces!"

PLATONIC / ROMANTIC -

6) Those moments where neither party can decide on something so they do nothing, only for them both to yell out what they want and it coincidentally be an agreement.

★ “What do you want for dinner?” “I’m not sure, what do you want?” “I dunno.” **cue them both lazing around, doing nothing for minutes** “Spaghetti.” “It’s like you can read my mind.”

7) Character X asking Character Y how their day went, and Character Y just breaks down in tears- not because their day was bad, but just because Character X asked.

★ “Hi, how was work?” **cue ‘ugly’ sobbing** “Oh no, was it really that bad?” “No- It just- It was just- sweet to- ask-”

8) Stuff that should be awkward really not being awkward at all.

★ “Did you just fart?” “Yeah.” “Okay, good.” “‘Good’?” “Good that it’s not a gas leak.” “Yeah, I had to force it out a little bit.” "So definitely not a leak." "Definitely not."

p.s. Your writing is captivating as always suga, and I am abidingly proud of you and your work. <3

Morbid affection,

- Tipsy ᓚᘏᗢ

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jelliewrites · 3 days ago

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Rec List — The Adult Industry Edition!

That's right, all the below fics feature Harry or Draco (mostly Draco tbf) working in the sex industry. Please mind the tags for any fic you click on.

You always open (petal by petal) by birdsofshore

Explicit | 65 214

Summary: Harry’s not the kind of person who pays for sex. He really isn’t. Until he is.

This is one of my favourite ever fics featuring Down and Out Draco and an obsessed but delightfully oblivious Harry.

Fantastic Flip Fuck with Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy! by @hoko-onchi-writes

Explicit | 10 898

Summary: Draco fucks Harry. Harry fucks Draco. They are porn stars. That's it.

This is a hugely fun fic where Harry and Draco are porn stars.

Another Mask Behind You by @letteredlettered

Explicit | 116 557

Summary: Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him. And then there is porn, questions about identity, domestic bliss, more porn, and truth as seen through a web of lies. (And then more porn. Seriously, if you don’t want sex scene after sex scene you probably shouldn’t read this. And please read the warnings.)

Another of my absolute favourites, Draco is an escort in disguise hired by Harry. Draco is a fantastically unreliable narrator and the smut is epic.

Nonymity by @shewhomustnotbenamed

Explicit | 11 304

Summary: Anonymity and Harry Potter rarely went hand-in-hand. When he learned about a sex club that hid both the patron's and the sex workers' identities, he knew he had to try. Little did he know that the club had a dark secret.

I came across this little gem while compiling this rec list. It's refreshing to read a first person fic and it handles consent really well.

Freedom to be by @quicksilvermaid

Explicit | 169 560

Summary: Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived.

12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends.

Only nothing feels perfect.

Until one day he stumbles across a club called Release and begins a journey of self-discovery that takes him to a very different place.

Don't want to give any spoilers on this one but there's a BDSM club!

Unhook the Stars by Jad

Explicit | 70 587

Summary: For HP Sexstars 2012. - "Love is like a Rubix Cube: there are countless wrong twists and turns, but once you get it right, it's perfect no matter how you look at it." Seventy-thousand words of pornographic discourse between two boys-turned-men that still haven't learned how to communicate like normal people – with words. Guest appearances by Pansy Parkinson, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Teddy Lupin, Gregory Goyle, the Weird Sisters, ex-wives, several Weasleys, a Boggart, and a Honey Badger.

Another of my top favourite fics and an absolute classic, Draco is an escort hired by Harry.

Camboy Draco by A_LoveUnlaced

Mature | Art

Summary: Draco is living in the muggle world, working as a cam boy. And he's very, very good at his job.

Some top quality art next. Sadly the fic it is inspired by is no longer in A03, but it kind of reminds me of...

Come As You Are by @its-the-allure

Explicit | 35 016

Summary: When Harry Potter visits a sexy internet chatroom site, he does so with the hope of answering a niggling question: Am I interested in men? He finds more than he anticipated when he stumbles upon a free strip show starring a very familiar person. Just what is Draco Malfoy doing on a Muggle pay-per-view site? And when did he get so fucking fit?

... this super fic which also featured Draco on webcam and stunning art by @itsphantasmagoria

I'm in Love with a Stripper by @kbrick

Explicit | 79 576

Summary: Harry's life is a bit of a disaster across the board, but it's particularly messy when it comes to love. Because Harry might have feelings for his best friend, and he definitely has feelings for his best friend's brother, and he sometimes sleeps with his other friend, for whom he has no feelings whatsoever. Then things somehow manage to get even more complicated when Draco Malfoy twerks his way back into Harry's life one night at a muggle strip club.

Because as it turns out, Draco's a stripper. And he's gotten really, really fit. And his sugar daddy is a married club owner.

What could possibly go wrong?

Draco Malfoy is a stripper! Nuff said 🩷

Embers by @shiftylinguini

Explicit | 25 195

Summary: Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice.

Of course it turns out to be bloody Potter.

This time it's Harry providing his services to Werewolf Draco 🐺

I'm looking for a man in finance. 6'5". Grey eyes by @vukovich

Explicit | 7 728

Summary: Harry's a part-time sex worker. Draco's a piece of shit.

I will read anything this author writes, even a shopping list. This is a great fic which constantly challenges the readers' expectations.

In the Red by @bixgirl1

Explicit | 45 629

When Harry goes looking for a vampire at a Creature club, the second-to-last thing Harry expects is to find Malfoy working there.

The last thing he expects is to fall in love with him.

And finally we have Vampire Draco working in a creature club.

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #hp fanfic #hp fandom #fic rec #adult themes

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mootmuse · 2 days ago

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Legitimately this is exactly how this scene went. And instead of doing the stuff I should be I ended up rambling about that. Here goes:

I managed a rewatch recently and as genuinely funny as it is to talk about, this scene was kind of chilling. Like the way Crozier just Turned as soon as someone who would/could stand up to him walked in. (Or someone who - like Jopson - he associates with feeling good and having his addiction fed.) Like the way he was in one moment like 'oh of course you're right it's dangerous to send the men outside' when Blanky stood up to him, and in the very next moment once Blanky wasn't around to see, coldly ordering Little outside again. And the contrast with how he treated someone (Jopson) who was never in a position to have to tell him 'I don't have any whiskey for you'. Genuinely excellent illustration of how far he'd spiralled to and how bad it'd got.

Like the show doesn't spend any extra time hammering anything into your head, but the way Crozier was at that point lying to the people around him based on whether he could push them around, and how that was all centered around the goal of getting more to drink was very much there.

I also think Little and Crozier's earlier dynamic here is interesting in terms of how people under that kind of stress interact with different personalities. There's more than just this at play but, even without it coming up in terms of words or actions, in the way Little and Jopson both speak and carry themselves it's obvious that one is a much stronger personality than the other, and someone in the mindset Crozier was in then is going to respond to that instinctively.

Also, while I do think rank and class were at play there - if Jopson was the type of person to tell Crozier anything he didn't want to hear just then I think he might have been on thinner ice than Blanky was, because Crozier's so used to him being a servant and perfectly obedient in everything. But Blanky did very much get away with pushing back a little bit, and Blanky is lower in rank and class than Crozier is too. According to Wikipedia historical-Little (and so probably his fictional counterpart) is a first lieutenant, which I assume (knowing nothing about any kind of military) makes him the man on the spot when the Captain wants to give a direct order, so that's probably a big part of why he becomes the target of Crozier's addiction-feeding at that point, but the show I think makes a good case that personality is a part of it as well.

The only thing that gets me is when people act like this is Crozier and Little's ENTIRE dynamic. Like with a lot of Crozier's early show behavior that often gets taken for his entire default personality this side of him came out in specific circumstances for specific reasons, and changing those circumstances changes Crozier's behavior and dynamic with the other characters, like Little. Crozier's not soulbonded besties with Little the way he is with Jopson, but when it comes down to it all these guys are just Adventure Coworkers who signed up to bunk together for a few years. His relationship with Jopson is weirder than his relationship with Little, which reads to me as a very normal one; when it comes down to it Crozier is ultimately just Little's boss (although interestingly the script does note I think at the promoting Jopson scene that at that point Little sees Crozier as an admirable person, so- a boss that Little maybe looks up to).

I'm not getting at anything, I just think it's all pretty interesting, the way the show handled this part of things, and I needed something fun to do.

edward i need you to walk a mile in the freezing cold to bring me more liquor. yes it is so cold you could literally die. chop chop. JOPSONNN YAY how are you my sweetiepie sparkle jumprope queen. i will never let anything happen to you. my perfect baby boy. EDWARD where the FUCK is my whiskey

#the terror #addiction cw #addiction #long post #here's to hoping OP already has enough notes on this that they pay this no attention I just needed an emotional support ramble

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delight-angelsbliss · 2 days ago

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Hi, this is the same anon who question what not to ask about! Thanks again for the reply, I feel so much more calmer asking knowing that I won't ask for something you not comfortable with!! I just had one thought in my head, how would Metal Sonic react if at one moment he was saved by a reader despite the fact that they are on different sides (I leave it up to you to choose the situation, maybe he will refuse the help or something but I just really will be interested read something like this :] ) and then, for example, the reader needed help!

Precis: metal sonic getting saved by reader and repaying the favor

Warnings: near death experience!!

Notes: oo this is a cute one!! It was really interesting to write and I'm glad you asked me to make this<3 ok but lowkey metal sonic is kinda fascinating, like, does he think or not? I'm fighting every urge in my body to not make reader have magical girl powers grbfxioslwkrnc metal sonic is a silly little thing confirmed by me😛 edit: I thought I'd make the tag lost generally and not only for the valentines posts lol

Metal sonic tag list: @eternallykokomi @francistimefranche

I have talked about how I view metal sonic many times; a robot who's loyal, proving he can destroy his body many times purely out of loyalty, choosing to stay with his maker until his end, the only times he falls in love is when his code shows faulty. His feelings, if he even has any, are a mystery. A huge mystery. What are his thoughts? There are so many questions that race your mind everyday, when you fight, when you stare, when you think of him. It's so much. Metal sonic is so fascinating

Let's say you're on Sonic's side, or maybe even on your own, nonetheless you're found to get into a fight with Metal sonic if you're against Eggman! When a fight did break out, all hell broke loose. There was a lot of damage, but on particular home, the roof fell off, leaving rubble and more falling straight on metal. In an act of your hero complex, or maybe just stupidity, you push (the disaster reference) Metal sonic out of harm's way. The landing was rough, but it wasn't that bad seeing as you landed on metal. Did you just save him? Metal sonic was bewildered, why would you save him? The robot immediately pushes you off and makes a run for it. What ever needed to be done could wait!

That little scene replayed in Metal sonics head over and over, during fighting, while on patrol. Everywhere. The way your panicked voice asked if he was ok, the fearful look in your eyes... It made him feel all warm inside. Maybe he was glitched? Even after virus scans, checkups, system repairs, anything and everything... You wouldn't leave his mind, something inside him bloomed, bloomed into something amazing. So this is love? So this is the love that everyone raves over everywhere he goes? It felt so nice, yet, it hurt knowing he could probably never love you. You didn't even like Eggman for crying out loud! So why should metal sonic like you?

When Metal sonic finally went back into the battlefield, it felt empty, nothing felt right. He could only watch you, think of you, yearn for you. His non existent soul thirsts for your contact after you've left. He knew the clock was ticking, maybe he could never confess? He couldn't even talk, what a silly little thing metal was. When metal sonic entered another mission, he knew there was a high chance of seeing you. It sounded like something made for you, he didn't know whether that was good or bad. When He saw you again, he first noticed how tired you looked. Have you not been getting sleep? Are you doing too much? He felt like he was gonna short circuit from worry. Your fighting was sloppy, your body looked spent and tired from fighting. You should take a break. The evidence of your tiredness showed when you didn't realize how a badnik was about to pounce on you, the eyes looking blood thirsty and out for its prey. Metal sonic knew in the moment he had to do something. Suddenly, when you turn around, you saw metal sonic, his sharp claws full of the oil of the badnik, eyes looking straight at you; lovesick. It's a small way of repaying the favor, maybe, just maybe, he could help a bit more.

#x reader #sonic x reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic reader insert #metal sonic x reader #metal sonic #🦢﹒⁺﹒◍﹒ Rita's works ꒷ ₊ ˚#fluff headcanons #fluff #hcs #headcanons

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lozeyart · 2 days ago

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What am I doing in the year of our lord 2025 drawing Junjou Romantica fanart

Goodness me, I got into JJR back in 2008 when the anime aired and then I got into the manga that same year. At the time, I wasn't really drawing people, I was drawing animals, but I was OBSESSED with this yaoi with my whole heart and wanted so badly to draw fanart for it. So now here it is! 17 years in the making! Btw, trying to interpret anime hair logic with my style is easier said than done, but I did my best lol. All just colored sketches and then some scribbles for funsies.

But I definitely have some complicated feelings about this manga/anime. More below the cut (its A LOT, I'm so sorry).

JJR was one of the first yaois I ever got into, and back in 2008 when I didn't realize being gay was an option, this silly little manga/anime felt like an escape for me. Well, it's now 17 years later and upon rereading this manga (I still have volume 1-12, I could never get rid of them, they mean to much to me) I realize that it has aged POORLY.

This yaoi is definitely a product of its time (2002/2003) and it SHOWS. I find myself disappointed in the dynamic between Usagi-san and Misaki and wish that Misaki would show Usagi-san SOME sort of affection outside of the bare minimum (cooking and cleaning for Usagi) and Usagi definitely has some... Issues of his own. Now, I'm an adult, and I can see that consensual non-consent (CNC) can be fun and exciting for a couple (you know, if agreed upon beforehand), and it can be fun for your partner to initiate things out of the blue, but Usagi definitely toes the line of what that is. Now, I know that this was the early 2000s and yaoi relationships tended to have that dynamic (One being the seme who didn't listen to "no" and the uke who said "no" constantly but actually secretly liked what was happening), like I said, this series is definitely a product of its time. But I don't know man, its not fun (for me) reading sex scenes where one of them is constantly telling the other one to stop over and over again. (I also think it'd be cute as fuck if Usagi-san asked Misaki if he could kiss him and Misaki shyly said yes instead of yelling at him like he always does).

I even went online to read up to volume 27, but all I can express is that same disappointment. Misaki rarely even likes to acknowledge that he's in love with Usagi-san, or is dating the man, or even likes him (it seems to be only under duress that he admits these things STILL. IN 2022 when that volume was released!)

I wish there had been more character development in the years since I stopped reading the manga, I wish we could see Misaki and Usagi-san acting like they actually like each other outside of when they have sex (yes there are small moments between the two, and a bickering couple can be a fun dynamic, but dear lord lets shake things up A LITTLE. I'M BEGGING).

Lets not even get started on the sketchyness that is (at the start of the manga) a 28 year old falling in love with an 18 year old (And we're not even going to TALK about Miyagi and Shinobu) -don't bring up the age of consent in Japan, I do NOT wanna hear it-.

Listen, I'm 29, and I would NEVER even DREAM about dating an 18 year old (or 19 year old) at my age. (Fuck, the youngest I'll date is MAYBE 23 but even THATS pushing it for me).

All of that to say is that I still can't help but have an extreme soft spot for this series, and there are still moments that I love from this (Volume 9, the Christmas chapter, am I right? Gets me EVERY time), and fuck, Shungiku Nakamura is probably still making bank with this series so who the fuck am I to say anything lol. I'm just a rando online with an opinion, you don't have to agree, and you can think that whatever Misaki and Usagi have is fuckin' AWESOME. I'm just an old fart

But, I dunno, I think it'd be interesting to explore Misaki's internalized homophobia, and Misaki slowly but surely growing more and more comfortable with not only accepting Usagi-san's affections and even reciprocating and initiating on his own, but also accepting HIMSELF and being happy with who he is instead of the constant self shame he puts himself through for being with a man. Let's be so real, he is gay, he can't stop looking at other attractive men and FAWNING over how hot they are (Nowaki, Todo, Injuin Sensei, the list goes on).

But who am I to complain, I went and drew fanart of these two anyway. Rock, meet glass house.

Unrelated, I love the art style in volume 3-6 a lot because its very "late 90s early 2000s" art and I think the art peaked in volume 9. And now its unpeaking. Bring back Usagi-san's yaoi chin so help me god.

I do have yaoi I prefer over this one a lot more, and involve older couples (which I find that I prefer), and have fun, cute stories. If anyone has read this far and wants those recs, lemme know (dear god I'm so sorry, this has gone on so long.)

Anyway I do want to redraw some of the sex scenes and post it to my bluesky.

#art #fanart #junjo romantica #junjou romantica #misaki takahashi #usagi-san #akihiko usami #junjou romantica fanart #jjr #jjr fanart #Misaki #usagi san

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intrepidacious · 2 days ago

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melting snow

summary: Andy finally meets his upstairs neighbor

pairing: andy barber x f!reader

word count: 992

warnings: divorced andy's pov; florist!reader; snow if that counts as a warning lmao; first meetings fluff 🫶🏼 please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: i'm literally on my way out of the house but i wanted to post this little ficlet while we're still firmly in february because it feels so wintery to me hahah 😌 also @writing-for-marvel you sent this gif to me one and a half years ago so shout-out to you being the most patient person on the planet ily

masterlist | read on ao3

Here's what Andy knows about his new neighbor:

She lives in the apartment right above his, and even though he barely heard her moving in, just a couple of weeks after he signed his own lease, she seems to love rearranging her furniture in the middle of the night. The music she listens to is loud and annoying and keeps getting stuck in his head when he's supposed to focus on paperwork.

And right now, she's struggling to get her groceries out of her car.

It's way too early for a day off, but he's not been sleeping well on the new mattress. He’s missing the perfectly broken in softness of his old bed, and combined with the incessant noise of the cars and the sirens outside, he can count the hours of sleep he’s been getting with one hand.

There’s been a lot of change in his life after years in the suburbs, and he's frankly too old for all of this. But he needed the fresh start.

So he's on his third cup of coffee as he looks out of the window, watching the new neighbor in her bright winter jacket as she tries to balance another plastic bag on top of the stack of boxes she's compiled in the trunk.

She's pretty, his brain supplies, but he swallows the thought down with his coffee. The divorce has only just gone through. It's way too early for anything like that. Besides; there's such a thing as too much baggage.

One of the bags rips open and the neighbor curses so loud Andy can hear it through the closed window. He waits for a beat, takes in the scene unfolding on the parking lot outside, and then his mug clanks against the metal of the sink and he's grabbing his keys and his coat and pulling the door closed behind him.

"D'you need help?"

Her head swivels around, her eyes widening slightly as she sees him coming towards her, groceries still spilled all over the car and the melting snow. Like a breadcrumb trail of canned beans and tofu.

"That's alright," she says with a huff of air that forms a steam cloud in front of her face. "I don't have far."

"I know," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I’m 3B."

"Oh. Hi. Sorry, I meant to introduce myself properly once I'm all moved in, but then …" She trails off, but he gets it. He's only introduced herself to Mrs Hernández down the hall because he kept bumping into her at the elevator and it got awkward.

"That's alright. I'm Andy."

She says her name with a smile and he has to remind himself that he still has a tan line on his ring finger; even though it's starting to blur in the cool winter sun, blending into his skin quicker than he'd thought possible.

"Let me get that," he offers again, and this time she doesn't protest. Two pairs of hands and eyes are far quicker than one, after all. "Are you having a party or something?" he asks once everything is packed up in plastic bags again and they each carry two inside.

"Uhm, no. I have a dog, though, and some friends coming over on Saturday. But we'll try to keep it down!"

"Don't worry about it. It's good you're christening the place. I mean—" He coughs uncomfortably. "I'll be out of town anyway. Work conference."

"Oh, really. What do you do?" Bright, keen eyes study him like he’s being flayed layer by layer, a particularly interesting specimen.

He swallows and holds the elevator door open. "I'm a lawyer."

It's not that he particularly misses the stress of being district attorney; still, it'd been everything he'd worked for for most of his professional life. And then, just like that, within a single year both his job and his family were ancient history.

Anyway. A couple of weeks of retraining courses and now it's back to low-stakes cases of insurance fraud and tax evasion. It's better this way.

That’s what he tells himself in those long hours when he’s supposed to be sleeping.

"Very fancy," she says, and he supposes it sounds that way if you leave out all the important bits of backstory. "I could never. Not smart enough for that kind of stuff."

"I highly doubt that," he says without really knowing why. It earns him a smile. "What do you do?"

"I'm a florist. My best friend and I own Letters and Leaves on—"

"Arlington Street."

That gets him another, brighter smile. "You know it?"

He does. He's often wondered about it actually, a small shop selling books and flowers that's nestled between a chain restaurant and a pharmacy. There's always fresh bouquets out on the window sills, and a handwritten sign promoting new releases and book talks.

"It's on my way to the office."

"Well, you should come by sometime. I'll give you a neighbor discount."

"How much's that?"

A moment’s hesitation as her eyes flit down his body and meet his gaze again. "Depends on what you buy."

The elevator dings for his stop, and he wants to curse it.

"Thanks for your help, Andy," she says and suddenly the bags are out of his hands and he’s been dismissed.

He clears his throat. "My pleasure."

With a nod, he steps out of the elevator and she gives him a small, friendly wink as the doors close. There's something odd happening to the inside of his chest as he returns to his still-too-empty apartment and picks up his cup of coffee again.

It's gone cold.

He looks out the window again, at the two trails of footprints in the snow outside. The sun’s come out now, and they’re already beginning to melt together until it’s impossible to tell them apart at all.

A couple of minutes later, the music is turned on upstairs. He can't help it: It makes him smile.

thank you so much for reading!! see, i will save every ask i get, i'm just very, very slow when it comes to actually writing them lmao

if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 🫶🏼

#andy barber x reader #andy barber fic #andy barber x you #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber oneshot #defending jacob fanfic #em 🌿#melting snow

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theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming · 3 days ago

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Nicole Reads A Lot of Fanfiction (and she's gonna share it with you): Week 8

Weeks [1] [2] [3] [4/5/6] [7]

Hello this weeks fic reading brought to you by the fact that I haven't "worked" since 2/18. Anyway.. if you notice a sudden trend in the Sterek fics I'm not sure what to say. I tripped into the "Firefighter Derek Hale" tag and haven't seen the light of day since oops.

Buddie: 14 Sterek: 15

that timelines chat by disasterbuck, Veronae | @disasterbuck | @veronae-buddie (2025•T•32.6K)

On a seemingly ordinary night in 2022, Buck receives a text from what he assumes is a wrong number and goes along with it for lack of anything better to do. But it quickly becomes evident that nothing about this night is ordinary, as he finds himself texting an Eddie Diaz five years in the past, before he's moved to LA and joined the 118. What happens during the next twenty-four hours will change Buck's and Eddie's lives forever. Eddie: like I said, I just wanted to update my phone Eddie: maybe I did something to it 👀 Buck: of course YOU would try to update your phone and end up texting the future 🤣 Eddie: hey! Buck: technology really doesn’t like you, does it? Buck: 😇

Was I even on your way? by rangerdanger (mxgicxltrxgedy) | @call-me-medusa (2025•M•3K)

A soft knock starts on the door. “Buck?” It’s Eddie. Of course it’s Eddie. “Are you feeling okay?” Buck feels like he’s going to throw up. “No." “Can I come in?” Buck closes his eyes. He tries to take another deep breath, trying to remind himself he’s in Eddie’s bathroom, in Eddie’s house, probably the safest place he’s ever been in L.A, and that he’s not in an office trying to talk about a kid’s death. He scoots closer to the toilet, resting his back on the edge of the tub, “Yeah.” - Or, Buck gets reminded of something that happened he'd rather forget.

come ride on me (i mean camaraderie) by heygirltimeformorning | @heygirltimeformorning (2025•E•4.5K)

“Eddie, this isn’t -- casual for me,” Buck says finally, like he’s cutting the wires to a bomb. “I can’t -- I don’t do casual anymore.” He looks up at Eddie, open and bleeding, totally disarmed. He’s the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen. Buck takes a breath, looks down, shakes his head. “I mean,” he says, “I can’t do casual with you.” “Who,” Eddie asks, very quietly, “said anything about casual?”

Cheeseburger in Paradise by Bookworm0303 | @insertlovelyperson (2025•E•20.2K)

“Swingers,” Buck gasped, eyes wide and mouth agape, “Eddie, they’re swingers.” Immediately, Eddie blanked, fork clattering against his dish as he ran through every possible way he could try to deny it. More or less recovered, he eventually shook his head and laughed, “What? No. No, they’re not.” “Yes,” the other gritted out, frantically gesturing back at the two couples at the bar, “they are.” Turning in his seat, Eddie watched as the pair of husbands quite literally swapped wives, getting rather cozy with their new partner for the evening. And... ok, damn. Sure. Clearing his throat as he turned back around, he was willing to make a partial concession, “Ok. Fine. Maybe those four are, but—” That’s when Buck got to pointing: “And them. And them. And definitely them.” Each assessment more damning than the last. --- or Eddie plans a vacation for the first (and likely last) time in his life.

Second date update by kyote_ugly | @kyoteugly (2025•T•1.9K)

The story takes place between the 1st and 2nd seasons, different first meeting. Buck's friends convince him to go on a blind date to get over Abby, and Eddie, well, Eddie is training to be a firefighter - he's divorced, new in town, and of course his friend from the academy wants to help him navigate the LA dating scene. And you, my dear reader, you're sitting in traffic on your way to work, listening to the radio...

The Blondie Theory by facewithoutheart | @facewithoutheart (2025•T•5.7K)

Grace hates running into people from high school. But she always kind of wondered about Eddie Diaz. So when Eddie moves back to El Paso, Grace finally gets a chance to prove a theory, make a new friend, meet her long distance girlfriend, and end a ship war. AKA 5 times Grace Matthews runs into her former classmate, Eddie Diaz, and 1 time she runs into one of those two nurses, Evan Buckley.

do you believe in magic? by Tizniz | @tizniz (2025•GA•5.6K)

Buck’s magic has been infatuated with Eddie since the moment Buck laid eyes on the man. It didn’t matter that Buck himself had less than pleasant feelings towards Eddie, his magic decided that Eddie was the love of its life and it was going to do anything it could to be near him. This went against Buck’s own feelings because of the whole not liking Eddie for exactly two days and also because Buck has always been told to keep his magic a secret.

reeling with the feeling by dykeries | @buddiesbian (2025•E•3.7K)

“We are not calling 911.” Eddie groans into Buck’s shoulder. “I don’t want to either. But I think we have to.” Buck shakes his head and then regrets it. He’s like, eighty percent sure there’s a bleeding cut on the back of his head and he’s gotten blood on the shower tile. “We’ll figure something else out.” “Like what?” Eddie tries to shift his weight off Buck again and immediately flops back down. “Ugh.” “I don’t know. Dying here. We had a pretty good run.” “They’ll put it on our tombstone,” Eddie says mournfully. “Here lie Buck and Eddie: too old for shower sex.” “Aw, babe,” Buck says, oddly touched. “You’d want a joint tombstone?”

No one can ever know about this. Except for Hen.

Eddie and the bee-tee-dubs by telldebatz | @singitforthegirls (2025•GA•1.6K)

Eddie didn't expect this once he got back from Texas with Chris, but somehow, he's not that surprised either. Buck acquires a cat in Eddie's absence, which is fine, but it shares Eddie's name, and that might become a problem. (It's a short, cute fic about Buddie and a cat. Enjoy.)

Inside Keeps Building by Minalover | @minalover (2024•E•34.4K)

"“My luggage got delayed coming in from Phoenix but it should be in tomorrow.” Eddie is, of course, not fine. He hasn’t been fine since he left for El Paso yesterday. He suspects he wasn’t fine long before that, but he was able to keep it beaten back with a stick. Not so much anymore. “That sucks.” They’ve been different since Eddie made the decision to move to El Paso a few weeks back. He could have sworn Buck was okay. He was okay in the kitchen that day, when he flipped the iPad over and unearthed Eddie’s tender familial burns. He was okay on the couch, the couch Eddie had to leave behind, the couch he mourns for reasons too complicated to think about. He was okay on the virtual call with the real estate agent. He was okay. They were okay. “Yeah, it really does. All of my underwear was in that luggage.” They don’t feel okay." or: Eddie follows Christopher to El Paso or or: the sexting fic I promised myself

i wanna feel you from the inside by shortndiaz (2025•E•4.2K)

Starts with ‘wanna go for the title?’ and ends in some blood and sex

Feeding by pickdotter (2025•E•2.4K)

Everything needs sustenance; matter, weaving into movement. Hunger is a passion for life. Eddie hungers, while Buck’s pulse thumps with it, blood. *** Vampire!Eddie shows up at Buck's front door.

forever is the sweetest con by becausebuckley | @becausebuckley (2025•E•37.9K)

“Buck,” Eddie says, a small smile curving at the edge of his mouth, “wanna get married? For our honeymoon, we’ll scam your parents out of some money and make Ravi’s accountant do our taxes.” “Well,” Buck says drily, “that sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.” “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, in his very best – meaning very bad – impression of Buck when he gets his hands on a clipboard. “What was that?” “Yes, Eddie,” Buck says, putting on an air of suffering despite the butterflies making themselves at home in his stomach. Man, whoever Eddie ends up proposing to for realsies is gonna be so lucky. “I’ll marry you.” or: buck is invited to a family reunion and realises that there's a good chunk of money waiting for him. there’s one issue, though: he has to be married to claim it, and right now, he’s painfully single. it’s a good thing he has such a great best friend in eddie, right?

H-E-A-T-A/B/O: A Buddie Anthology by Bucksbelly (drarryweasley) | @bucksbelly [WIP] (2025•E•41.2K)

An anthology of Buddie one-shots based in omegaverse settings. These stories are NOT connected; they each have slightly different lore and can be read in any order!Brought to you by I wanted to write my favorite trope but couldn't decide how to do it so I wrote a bunch of them

I don't want the world, but I'll take this city (2025•E•9.5K)

"Let. Him. Go." Eddie demands, deathly still so he doesn't pounce. "Why? Because he smells like yours?" The second prisoner taunts. "I bet you haven't even told him yet." "Told me what?" Buck snaps, slightly breathless. At least he's not choking. "Come on, Dom, stop fucking around," Mitchell agrees, rolling his eyes at the display. "We're on the clock, here." But Dom hasn't taken his gaze off of Eddie, and vice versa. His smirk grows. "You'll thank me for this one day," he says, and before anyone can move, he sinks his teeth into Buck's neck.

Thank You by JoMouse | @josjournal (2019•T•12.3K)

Stiles is a firefighter with BHFD Ladder 30. He hates the new guy...until he doesn't. For Sterek Week 2019 Scene Stealers - basically Sterek as Buddie from 9-1-1.

Anchoring by rororowyourboat | @rosieposiepuddingnpie (2025•T•3.1K)

Stiles is Derek's anchor, but Derek deserves so much more than one person as an anchor. Stiles decides to help Derek find joy in life again.

Champagne Problems by fairytalesandfolklore | @fairytales-and-folklore (2021•T•1.7K)

Stiles has got champagne problems. No, really. He's had way too many mimosas. A game of tipsy truth or dare at a New Year's Eve pack party ends with Stiles accidentally blurting out that he's in love with Derek…right in front of the sourwolf himself.

"Alright, fine," Erica simpers. "I dare you to tell us who you've got a crush on." "Because we all know there's someone," Lydia insists, giving him a pointed look. "Someone you've clearly been pining after for years now," Danny agrees. "So just come clean, Stilinski. Tell us who it is." Stiles, who is absolutely smashed off his ass at this point in the game, rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars. "Nice try, assholes," he teases with a sing-song lilt and a self-satisfied smile. "But there's no way in hell I'm ever gonna tell you I'm in love with Derek, so you can just—" Somewhere in the distance, a champagne flute shatters, and suddenly, Derek is just there, looming in the distance, eyebrows arched so high they practically straddle his hairline.

nonchalant about your own mortality by honestlydarkprincess | @honestlydarkprincess (2025•T•1.1K)

Derek gets hurt after sacrificing himself for the pack yet again and Stiles is angry about it.

He's Not Mine by Sunnee (2013•E•68.5K)

Derek comes home to find an abandoned werebaby on his front porch and Stiles volunteers to help him out. Surprisingly, that is just the beginning of his problems.

Stuck on Repeat by pyrrhical (anoyo) | @approximatelytrue (2017•M•77.2K)

Twelve years after leaving Beacon Hills, and everything it represented, Stiles is a well-respected analyst at the CIA. Unfortunately, life likes its irony, and Stiles finds his pretty fabulous CIA career turned on its side when an asset-turned-mark turns out to be a little less than human.

can't be trusted to treasure your heart like i do by honestlydarkprincess | @honestlydarkprincess (2025•T•1.3K)

Derek chases after Stiles and they make up.

Safe by Hedwig221b | @hedwig221b (2023•NR•976)

“Where is he?” Stiles rumbled, glancing at each member of the pack in front of him, before settling his incinerating gaze on one person he once considered a brother. “Tell me, Scott, where is my husband?”

The Faded Line by GrimReaperlover11 (2022•T•31K)

Stiles sometimes hated being an omega, always being treated like the low man on the totem pole. His ideology is only proven to be correct one night on his way home from a night out with Scott when an alpha tries to take advantage of him. however before he can be defiled, he finds a savior in another alpha, one that has his omega howling with want. when his hero takes him home and cares for him, Stiles doesn't want him to leave. Maybe he won't.

The Outstation by CabbageOriley (2020•GA•23K)

Stiles is the newest hire at the Beacon Hills Fire Department. What will happen when he gets stationed at the outstation referred to as the Hale Hole? He's going to die, that's what. He's going to die and… fall in love?

this loving could save me by hot_damn_louis | @bisexualagenda (2020•NR•16.9K)

“Someone put shaving cream in my helmet again,” Derek growled, his arms tense. “And who could that be?” Stiles asked, feigning innocence. He elbowed Derek playfully as he half jogged over to the rig, hopping into the passenger seat. aka Stiles and Derek have been working in the same firehouse for a while, and they might be a little more obvious about their feelings than they think.

Emergency Love by Kedreeva | @kedreeva (2012•E•13.5K)

Wherein Derek is a firefighter and Stiles is a paramedic, and they just keep meeting.

stop, drop, and roll by thepsychicclam | @thepsychicclam (2014•M•12.2K)

Stiles knows he's in trouble when he invites the Beacon Hills Fire Department into his third grade classroom and he can't stop staring at a certain scruffy fireman. But after the third graders take a field trip to the fire station and participate in the fire department's holiday canned food drive, Stiles can't ignore his crush any longer.

a glimpse of you and me by Winchesterek | @sterekbros (2023•E•12.1K)

“You write about soulmates?” Derek asked, sounding curious as he leaned in. “I didn't know there was a market for children’s books about that.” “Yeah, it’s starting to pick up traction the last few years. I know there weren't many books like this when I was a kid, but maybe things would’ve been different if there had been.” Stiles shrugged. Then he paused, wetting his lips as he tried to control his breathing. “Do…you believe in soulmates?”

A drag queen and a cop walk into an apartment building... by DropsOfAddiction (2020•E•16.4K)

Stiles tries not to whimper as Derek gets closer. Stiles had forgotten just how intense space invader Derek could be. If Derek was boner inducing when Stiles knew him before, equal parts terrifying and sexy, back at the age of twenty four, well... it’s not a patch on what thirty year old Derek’s got going for him. Derek’s still got a stupid leather jacket and his black hair is slightly longer than Stiles remembers. The stubble is longer too, not quite a beard but still neatly shaped in a way that makes his cheekbones stand out. And the eyes, shit, the eyes. He’s staring at Stiles with this stormy mix of grey, blue and about a thousand other colours thrown in and Stiles couldn’t break eye contact if he wanted to. Derek fucking Hale, ladies and gentlemen.

#Sterek #Buddie #stiles stilinski x derek hale #evan buckey x eddie diaz #2025 Fic Rec List #Sterek Fic Rec #Buddie Fic Rec #did I technically finish the beautiful Marriage of Convenience fic 17 minutes past midnight last night.. yes shhhhhhhhh #i should not have done the math and saw this is 458K words LOL

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