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mackeydoodledoo · 5 months ago

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She Wears Short Skirts, I wear T-shirts: Chapter 4

Pairing: Bridget (Cheerleader AU) x (Fem!)Reader

Chapter Summary: Winterbreak has come. The both of you hang out whenever you can. Even inviting each other to your family's holiday gatherings. The both of you begin talking about what'll come at the end of the year for the both of you.

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, Light NSFW

Chapter Key: Italics = Thoughts, +*+ = Time Skip, F/n = Friend's name, B/n = Band Name, Bold/Italic = Flashback

Chapter Theme: Lover - Taylor Swift

A/n: Might be a little bit of a short read :) But, cooking date with Bridget? Big Plus!

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*Y/n's POV* You finish setting up extra Christmas decor in your living room.

Halfway through Senior year... Finally...

But, you had no idea where you want to take your life. Certainly you wanted to go to college like the traditional high-school graduate. But then there was your life being a musician.

You really enjoyed it... But your parents worried that you wouldn't be able to make a living solely being a musician, especially the fact that your band was still attempting to make it out onto the bigger stages.

You hear a knock on the door and you go to answer it.

"Bridget!" You smile

"Hey! Where's your parents?" Bridget asks

"After Christmas, they went up north for a secluded new years," You answer, "I'm kinda doing the same thing."

She comes in and sheds her warm, outerwear. The both of you sit on the couch as the both of you munch on holiday cookies.

"What are you planning to do once the year is over?" You ask

"Go to college, join their cheer team there," Bridget says, "I might study culinary."

"I knew you had a knack for baking, but cooking. I have yet to see you do it," You say

"Well then, come on, let's cook dinner together," She says, "Have you eaten yet?"

"As a matter of fact, not yet," You answer

You get up and follow her into the kitchen.

"Just, please don't burn my house down," You chuckle, grabbing some pans

"Are you already doubting my cooking skills?" She asks, smirking

"Not at all," You reply, reaching over and connecting your speaker to your phone, "Just tell me what to do chef."

She grabs some pasta and begins searching your pantry for any other food related ingredients.

"Get us started by cutting up onions please," She says

You reach over and grab an onion and begin cutting it up.

"Any song requests?" You ask

"Anything but hard rock, or whatever," She answers, "Only because it doesn't fit the mood."

You chuckle as you put on the first artist you see that's recommended.

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January And this is our place, we make the rules

"Oh I love Taylor Swift!" Bridget sighs into your shoulder, "I'm lucky enough to see her before she decided to take a break."

"She isn't my cup of tea, but there are a small handful of songs I'm game to listen to," You confess, "Albeit majority of them you've heard on the radio..."

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

"Even though your parents instantly welcomed me into your house, it still feels awkward," You confess

"Are my parents doing too much?" She asks, "I can let them know and-"

"No it's not that," You say, beginning to cut up some onions, "It's just I've never been accepted by non-band parents. Majority of my life, most parents have been band parents. You parents are cheer parents. Yet, they've accepted somebody like me."

"Just because the student body doesn't favor the band kids, doesn't meant the parents don't," She says

"Oh I'm aware of that," You say, "You of all people should know I don't care what the other students think of the band. I'm not going to remember them well enough."

"That's true," She says, "But, you really only interacted with your band people."

"Yeah, because they understand my sense of humor," You chuckle, "Even if someone were to plan the 10-year reunion, I'd skip it."

"Why?" She asks

"I may be on tour," You answer, "Or elsewhere."

She nods.

"Are you going to miss me?" You ask, with a little playful tone

"I miss you when you're in the band room during lunch," She confesses, "I know you hate it but it would be nice for you to stay in the cafeteria..."

"you can always drop by the band room though, it's right next door," You say, placing the onions in the pan as Bridget begins to sauté it

"Yeah but the assistant principal cracks down people leaving the lunchroom early..." She sighs

"Well, he's an ass," You say, "Just head to the band room before you hit the cafeteria. That way, he won't catch you."

"I'll try to remember that when we go back," She says

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever) You're my, my, my, my Lover

You finish washing up all of the utensils that both you and Bridget used as she adds the finishing touches to the pasta.

"Ah! It's done. Y/n come sit!" Bridget calls you over

You heed her call and sit in the chair right next to her.

You take a bite of the food... Your eyes light up.

"Holy shit! Where has this been all my life?!" You ask, digging into the meal like a slop

Bridget only looks on as you indulge in the meal.

"You made the sauce yourself?" You ask

She nods.

"Man, any high-end kitchen would be lucky to have you," You say

"Actually, this might sound stupid coming from a cheerleader, but I might want to open up my own cafe..." She says

"Really?" You ask, "Well, keep me informed. I might just be your first customer."

+*+

Bridget lays against your side as the both of you lay in dark silence, attempting to spend the last few moments together.

"When are you leaving for your indoor camp thing?" Bridget asks, breaking the silence

"Tomorrow afternoon," You answer, "I'm going to be staying there past new years to hang out with my friends that are down there. My friend is going to look after my cat while we're all out."

"Hmm," Bridget sighs

"Something wrong?" You ask

"I kinda wish I was going with you," She says

"Then why don't you?" You suggest, "Despite you'd be chilling on the sideline most of the time, you'd get to meet all of my out-of-state friends. They're a really chill group of people. You'd also get a first look at our show. Only thing is you can't speak of it until after the first performance: secrecy purposes."

"I trust your word but my family is going up north for new years as well," She says, "I should be getting a text from my mom soon for her to tell me to come home... So, I've been trying to milk out whatever time we have left."

"Well, you can always text me," You suggest, "It isn't that hard."

"It isn't the same as seeing you in person," She says, "I have something for you."

"Oh, you didn't have to get me anything," You say

"Oh, but I wanted to," She says, sitting up

You sit up after her. She immediately holds up mistletoe above your heads. Your body stiffens and your mouth hangs agape as Bridget slowly brings the gap between your faces to a close.

"If... If you don't want to... I'll leave right now," She states

You didn't want her to leave, in the moment anyway: you wanted every moment you could get with her. Your brain couldn't process the fact that Bridget could have talked to anyone in the entire school... Here she is, with you.

She gasps as you lurch forward, kissing her first. Your arm wraps around her hips as the both of you continue to kiss.

The both of you pull away when Bridget's phone goes off. She sighs in frustration.

"I gotta go..." She sighs, "I'm leaving with my family for our new years trip..."

you nearly groan in frustration as she gets up off of your lap. You get up and follow her out of the door.

"Do you want me to walk you?" You offer

"That'd be nice actually," She smiles

You quickly throw on some warm clothing and follow her out the door. However gives you one last quick kiss before the both of you walk back to her house.

Chapter 5

#bridget x reader #bridget #bridget descendants #descendants #female reader #ruby rose turner

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darlingshane · 2 years ago

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Let it rip, Coach

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: Searching for a new sponsor for the soccer team you coach leads you to meet and quickly fall in love with Michael.

Content/Warnings: Friends to lovers, Fluff, Crack, Alcohol, Eating, Kissing.

Word Count: 3,2k

— You can read below or at AO3.

“Hey, Cousin!” Richie taps on the frame of Michael's office door. “There's a woman here to see you.”

“Oh? Is she a health inspector or something?” He swivels in his chair, putting a pen down on the desk.

“No. Though, if she’s looking to inspect something, I’d be the perfect specimen to study.”

“That hot?”

“Smokin’ hot. Total knockout. Banging body,” his track suited friend remarks frivolously. “But as usual, she didn't want to do anything with me, cause I'll never stand a chance against the great Mikey Bear.”

“Don't be so hard on yourself, Cousin. Girls love those baby blues. It's when you open your mouth what makes them run in the other direction,” Michael taunts. “What does she want? Did she ask for me specifically?”

“She didn’t mention your name exactly. She requested an audience with the proprietor of this fine establishment.”

“Wow, those are big words, Cousin.” Michael rises from his chair, adjusting the waistband of his jeans.

“Well, I'm a big guy… If you know what I mean.”

“Unfortunately, I do know what you mean.” Scoffing, Michael palms his friend's back and walks out of the office.

They both head out of the kitchen, and Richie points him to the table with the woman, you, who asked to talk to the owner of the sandwich joint.

As he rounds the counter, he counts four young girls sitting around the table with you, ready to dig into the food they just got served.

“Hi, I'm Michael, the owner of this place,” he gestures vaguely with one hand in the air. “What can I do for you, ladies?”

After introducing yourself and the four pre-teens that came with you, one of them being your niece, you explain to Michael that you're the coach of the girls' soccer team. The reason for your visit is that you’re searching for a new sponsor for the team after losing the one you had.

Michael listens closely as you add a little more information, telling him that grew up in this neighborhood, and thought of asking a few businesses of the North River area.

“I dunno, girls… I don't know the first thing about soccer,” he runs a palm over his beard and then pushes his hair back.

“That’s okay, you don't really need to. You'd only have to cover uniforms. Think about your name being on every jersey. And I promise to bring the whole team here after every game. Right girls?”

They all respond in unison positively with mouths full of food.

“See? They love your food already. Think about the publicity. The games are always packed, let me tell you. Women's leagues are booming right now.”

“I don’t doubt that. What's your team's name?”

“The comets,” one of the girls responds.

“That's a great name. Are you guys good?”

“The best,” your niece boasts.

They're actually pretty good. Most of them have been playing for a couple of years before you started coaching them, and the new additions are quickly catching up.

“Okay, let me think about it.”

Michael goes back into his office, crunches some numbers, and by the time you've finished your food he's made out his mind. He accepts your offer, and you exchange numbers to stay in contact.

Two days later, you return to the restaurant to finalize the details. You show him a handful of the designs the girls, and you came up with, and go over a list of print shops in the area to choose one that meets your needs. You type all the details in your phone and head up together to the shop.

It's surprising to see him so invested in just a few days. When you place the final order for the jerseys, he adds one more to the bulk in his size, so he can wear his own to support the team.

You text occasionally for updates, but in between you've found yourself texting back and forth casually talking about your day, the restaurant, your other job… Michael is easy to talk to and quite the charmer, you’ve realized. It has made you wonder at times if he’s hitting on you or not, especially face to face. He’s always flashing a smile, or an innocent wink when you leave, that utterly dismantles you in ways you never thought possible.

When the new jerseys arrive, you make sure Michael gets his. You deliver it personally to the restaurant one night after he’s closed shop.

Your new friendship is strangely familiar. Michael slips into your life as if he'd always belonged there. He has an open heart. A big, contagious laugh; and a sweet smile that could make what's left of the poles completely melt. He's easy on the eyes, too, regardless of what he says. Much as everyone else on the planet, he has his faults too and one of them is the self-deprecating jokes he makes about his appearance, which are completely unfounded. The sharp angles of his face might not be up to classic beauty standards, and that's what actually makes him stand out in the crowd.

You adore his passion about food and his business, and how much confidence oozes out of every pore of his body. It's really disarming. And despite the fact that he almost never shuts up, he's a great listener too when it’s your turn to share.

Quiet has settled after everyone has left the restaurant, all the lights are down except for the ones coming from the neon sign above the counter and the vending machine. He sits backwards on the chair across from yours and slides a beer along the table. You stay right there, swapping life stories, sap anecdotes, fun moments of your life, anything, and everything in between like two old friends hanging out.

A couple of hours go by like nothing, while the table collects empty bottles.

“Last one,” you pick up your third beer, hold it to your lips and take a long swig as the chef timidly nods at your statement.

“Can I ask you something?” his tone mellows from its usual volume.

“Shoot.”

“Would it be unprofessional to ask you out?”

“No, I don't think so,” the corners of your mouth curl up nervously as your nails try to remove the sticker on the glass of your beer. “We don't really work together.”

“That's right. Would you say yes if I asked you out, though?”

“Hm, maybe.”

“Don't give me — maybe. Yes or no only, sweetheart,” his head tilts to the side, trying to capture the truth behind your eyes in the faint neon lighting striking across your face.

“I guess I wouldn't mind if you did.”

“I guess — is not an answer either.”

You take a deep breath and let him hang for a second while you put a couple of thoughts together.

“Not everyone is as confident and decisive as you are, Berzatto. Some people need a little time to process things,” you pause to gather some insight. “And you already know that I like you and wouldn't be asking if I didn't. So yeah… If you asked, I'd say yes.”

“That's all I needed to hear,” a grin splits his face as he tilts his beer up to take a gulp.

“Sooo… are you going to ask me now?”

“Eh, not right now. I just needed to know,” he quips.

“Suit yourself, but don't wait too long,” you say casually, as if it didn’t care as much whether he asks you out or not. You do. And it’s a relief to find out that he likes you back and that he's open to pursue something more than a friendship. It's hard to click with people that fast, but with Michael, it has felt too easy. They say you find love in the most unexpected places. You definitely weren’t looking for it when you came into his joint just a few weeks ago, and now it’s hard to imagine your life without him.

When you pull your phone out of your pocket to look at the time, it's way later than you thought.

Michael walks you to the L, and before the train arrives, he asks you right on the platform if you'd like to have dinner with him sometime.

Obviously, you say yes.

As the train slips into the station, you lean in and kiss his cheek goodnight, letting your lips meet the edge of his beard. His mouth takes the form of a pleased grin, and as you step inside the car, he tucks his hands in his pockets and watches you occupy a seat by the window. You stare at him for a long moment behind the glass as the doors slide close until the train is set in motion.

Texting the next day, you set up your date for the following week on a day you’re both free.

Before that day comes, you have also a very important event on your schedule that is the first game of the season.

Though the chef initially wasn’t going to come, Michael decides to surprise you by showing up on that day.

“Hey, Coach,” you hear his lively voice from behind while the girls warm up on the field.

You turn your head to see him wearing his jersey, and a blue baseball cap set backwards that shows his hair sticking out behind his ears. It’s impossible to stop the corners of your mouth from pointing out automatically as he walks up to you.

“Hey, Chef. Didn't know you were coming.”

“Yeah, it was last minute. You made it sound so good, I wanted to see you in action.”

“What about the shop?”

“Left Richie in charge for a couple of hours.”

“Are you sure that was a good idea?”

He balances his head from side to side, “as long as he doesn't burn it, I think it'll be fine.”

“Well, I'm glad you came. You should take a seat before it's too late,” you gesture at the bleachers, almost packed.

“Yeah, I’ll leave you to it. Let it rip, Coach,” he winks at you, and takes a seat in one of the middle rows on the bleachers.

You still have a dopey smile plastered on your face when the game starts. On occasion, you glance over your shoulder to see him cheer and root for the girls when they have the ball. His enthusiasm, and voice, increases during the second half when the team dominates the game, earning their first victory of the season.

As promised, you take the whole team to The Beef for a celebratory meal afterward.

During Michael's absence, Richie has set up a few tables together to fit the full team, and while they eat their food you park your butt on a stool at the counter, so you can chat with Michael.

“I need to run something by you,” he's on the other side of the counter, propped on his forearms.

“What?”

“It's about our date. I was thinking that I could make you dinner instead of going to a restaurant.”

“Here?”

“No, we already spent too much time here. I thought maybe you could come over to my place, or I could go to yours and just… chill.”

“Chill, huh?” you lift a french fry from your plate and take a bite.

“Yeah, but not like that,” he bashfully scratches his neck. “It’d be just dinner with no strings or expectations. Maybe it’s unusual for a first date, but just wanna spend a nice time alone with you and cook something you’d love. Have a couple of ideas that you’d… but if you wanna do something else…”

You stare at him while he rambles. It's refreshing to see him nervous for once.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

“What if I had some expectations other than dinner?” you playfully raise an eyebrow.

“I guess I wouldn't be opposed to that.”

“You guess? That's not an answer,” you echo back his own words from when you gave him a similar response.

He presses his teeth on his bottom lip for a beat, “no, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to take it farther.”

“Which it's what you wanted all along,” you tease.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Coach. My intentions are just making you dinner. That's it. Anything that happens after, it's really up to you.”

“Say, Richie,” you call for his friend's attention as he comes out of the kitchen. “What would you think if a guy invited you for dinner at his house on a first date?”

“I’d say he’d only be interested in wetting his whistle. Why? Are you going on a date with this puto?” Richie claps Michael’s shoulder.

“Uh-huh.”

“Wow, you must be special. He hardly ever invites anyone to his place. Last time he did, it was-”

“Shut up, Cousin,” Michael cuts him off, annoyed by the fact that's actually true. It's been a long time since he's wanted to actually bring someone home that felt right.

“Like I said, I never stood a chance against Mikey Berzzato,” Richie nods at you and circles outside the counter to check on the tables.

“Aww, am I that special?” you wonder once Richie is out of hearing range.

His gaze falls to look at his hands, as he tentatively extends one to caress your fingertips with his,“I think you are really, really special.”

You stare at those fingers, brushing softly the inside of your hand, making your stomach flutter.

“Did it bother you that I involved Richie in this?”

“No, sweetheart. It didn't. Well… Maybe a little.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. It's just… I love Richie, but he knows a lot of stuff about me that could change your opinion about me, and I don't want you to get the wrong impression, you know?”

“Michael, I already got a pretty good impression of you. Especially after showing up like you did today. There's nothing he can say that would ruin that.”

He lets out a small snort, “give him time.”

“You know what? I'd love to have dinner at your place.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

You don't have many rules when it comes to dating. Common sense and your gut are what guide you most of the time. When something feels muddy, you back up immediately. And when something feels good, nothing can stop you from pursuing that, you're off to the races. The latter hasn't happened that often, admittedly. Hopefully, this is one of those times.

In the short time you've known Michael, you've only gotten a deep sense of longing for him, growing eager every passing day. It's hard to ignore it anymore.

Following that desire, you dress up, do your hair, put some makeup on, and take the train to Michael's apartment with no hesitation. There is some natural anxiousness rumbling in your stomach, of course, but that doesn’t stop you from chasing that thrill.

When you knock on his door, Michael welcomes you with the most beautiful smile you've ever seen, splitting his freshly-groomed beard. He’s out of his usual work clothes and has chosen a casual outfit that consists of a dress black shirt, half unbuttoned, and a pair of jeans.

“Shall we?” he offers his hand, inviting you in. You take it and let him walk you inside.

As he closes the door, you take off your jacket, scanning every detail of the modest apartment. The lights are dimmed, and he's set up the dining table with two lit candles in red-tinted glasses, and a small centerpiece of flowers. There's light music playing on his phone that's hooked to a speaker system next to the TV. The delicious smell of the food incites your appetite as he moves your chair back, like a gentleman, so you can sit.

“Fancy,” you hum as you take your seat.

“Glad you like it, sweetheart.”

He then leaves for a moment to collect the food from the kitchen and returns with two plates filled with paella. As appetizing as it looks, it tastes vastly better. He really has absorbed a lot of information about you during those casual hang-outs. Not only knows how to please your stomach with Mediterranean food, but you're also granted the best conversationalist, as usual, he's a downright delight to be around.

For dessert, he keeps outdoing himself by bringing out a homemade tiramisu he made earlier. He serves one big serving on a plate, and lays it down in the middle of the table to share with you.

“Do you like it?”

“Hm, this is the best thing I've ever had in my mouth. You'll have to teach me how to make it someday,” you request, picking another spoonful. “Would you?”

“Sure.”

“I'm torn,” you say, enjoying the delectable alcohol-soaked bottom layer on your tongue.

“How so?”

“Because – I really want to kiss you right now for making all this, but I don’t think your mouth can’t top this.”

“You’ll have to try me,” he snorts, scooping his way through the other half of the tiramisu.

“Hm, we’ll see,” you grin. “You really outdid yourself here, Chef. You shouldn't have made something so delicious.”

“I'll take it down a notch next time.”

When dessert is over, you make a quick trip to the bathroom to empty your bladder while he puts the dishes away to wash later.

He has sat down on the couch when you come out, and you stop for a beat in the middle of the hallway before deciding to sit sideways right on his lap.

“Excuse me, Sir. Is this seat taken?” you ask right after plopping your ass on his thighs.

“It is, now,” scoffing, he links an arm around your waist. “Is it comfortable, ma'am?”

“Best seat in the house,” you can’t fight the smile taking over your lips.

“You're really something else, sweetheart,” he hushes oh so softly, as his free palm lands on your denim-clad leg.

“So are you,” your head leans forward, touching his forehead.

Biting your bottom lip, eyes locked, you both go silent for a long moment while you get used to feeling his hands on you, and vice versa. His thumb absentmindedly draws circles on your leg while you play with the hair of his beautiful beard.

“I think I wanna make out now,” you whisper.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Drawing a breath, he brings one hand to frame your jaw, letting a thumb swipe across your lip slowly. Then, his tongue juts out to wet his lips, his face leans an inch closer to capture your mouth. Your stomach flutters and your skin buzzes at the firm grip of his hand on your hip while you taste the waters without fully diving into the deep end. You let your mouths bounce together and get used to that little intimacy you’ve just created with him. When you’re ready to fully dip further, he opens his mouth wider, and so do you, and before you realize it, you're devouring each other's faces. Firmly but sweetly, your tongues play together with ease as the tight seal of your lips shuts every change for air to escape or intrude. You close your eyes and free yourself of any thought, so you can enjoy this right here, right now, with him.

#michael berzatto #michael berzatto x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear #the bear fx #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #darlingwrites #fluff

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shutupineedtothink · 9 months ago

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Ok so my friend and I just recorded 4 HOURS of raw audio breaking down the OUAT pilot, season 1 finale, and discussing the show in general for our new podcast where we make each other watch episodes of our favorite shows and talk about them together. It’s exactly as fun as you would imagine. :)

But even after all that, I still have things I forgot to say or didn’t get to. So here’s a few of them:

1. “Evil” as addiction: the OUAT writers treat the concept of being evil like addiction/substance abuse which is really interesting and kind of a bold choice for a 2011 show about fairytales. Then within that structure they show basically the two choices you have when facing addiction: choose not to use and become a better, healed version of yourself (Regina) or keep using and stay stuck in your patterns and hurt everyone you love forever (Rumple). As a child of an alcoholic who has chosen the latter, I loved watching Regina’s journey in this context and while she stumbles a lot, she keeps striving to be good even though she gets the short end of the stick most of the time. And her North Star is always Henry, which I think is important to show that you don’t just change because you feel like it, there usually has to be the threat of something worse happening if you don’t change (in this case, losing Henry physically and emotionally).

2. Regina Mills might be the most psychologically complex and interesting character on prime time tv in the 2010s? Period??

3. I rambled a good bit in the podcast about the costumes and color symbolism but here’s a bit more for you: Once Regina is on team heroes she often wears some kind of red top (the hero’s color) with a black jacket/coat over it showing that she’s changed on the inside but she still *looks* like the evil queen on the outside and can now use that persona/power to her advantage instead of being consumed by it. By the end of S5 this contrasts with Emma who wears her signature red jacket but a black/white/gray sweater underneath, showing that she’s a little more of a mix of good and evil these days post-dark one. In a color sense, they’re almost mirror images of each other at this point, and it’s really cool.

4. I know a lot of people are really salty about how Emma’s light kind of dims toward S4, 5, 6, and I’m right there with you. Her character feels flatter, and honestly kind of depressed. Now idk if this was a real choice on the writers’/JMo’s part, if she was going through some stuff at this time and it just showed up in the character, or what. That said, it does track for me in a way, especially post-dark one. She should be kind of thrown off by everything that’s happened! She should be changed! I just wish they had done something with it instead of pretending it was normal. If Regina’s struggle with evil is analogous to addiction, why can’t Emma’s struggle with evil be analogous to depression? It would have been an interesting take. Somebody write the fic.

I could keep going but I’ll stop here for now. Stay tuned for the podcast!

#OUAT #Regina mills #Emma swan #swan queen #Henry mills #once upon a time #analysis

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cailinsblog · 9 months ago

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Scared to Say It

Connor bedard x reader

Connor Bedard felt like he was on top of the world. At just 19 years old, he was a rising star in the NHL, playing for the Chicago Blackhawks. But as successful as he was on the ice, he couldn't help feeling a bit of envy that had nothing to do with hockey.

It was the night of a big game against the Toronto Maple Leafs, and Connor's team was trailing by a goal. He sat on the bench, helmet off, staring out at the sea of red and black jerseys in the stands. Somewhere out there was his best friend, Y/N, who had been a constant in his life for years. He'd known her since they were kids, growing up in the same neighborhood in North Vancouver. They'd done everything together: playing street hockey, biking, going to the beach. She was his rock, his confidante, his best friend. And he was in love with her.

The problem was, he didn't know how to tell her.

Connor glanced over at the Maple Leafs section, and that's when he saw it: Y/N wearing a Leafs jersey. Not just any jerseyâ€”it was Auston Matthews', one of the league's top players. A wave of jealousy surged through him, and he felt a tightness in his chest. Why was she wearing that jersey? Had she met Matthews? Did she like him?

"Hey, man, you okay?" asked his teammate, Lukas Reichel, who noticed his brooding expression.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Connor lied, trying to focus on the game. But his eyes kept drifting back to where he knew Y/N was sitting. The jealousy wouldn't go away. He was angry at himself for feeling this way, but he couldn't help it.

"Looks like someone got under your skin," said Taylor Raddysh, another teammate, who'd followed Connor's gaze. "Isn't that your friend over there?"

Connor nodded. "Yeah, that's Y/N," he said, feeling his stomach twist.

"Why's she wearing a Leafs jersey?" Taylor asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought she was a Blackhawks fan."

Connor shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe she just likes Matthews," he said, trying to sound indifferent, but it came out as a grumble.

The other guys on the bench started to pick up on his mood. They'd seen Connor and Y/N together enough times to know there was something more than friendship between them, even if Connor couldn't admit it. Taylor gave him a nudge. "You should talk to her, man. Tell her how you feel."

"I can't," Connor said, shaking his head. "What if it ruins our friendship?"

Lukas rolled his eyes. "Dude, everyone can see you two are into each other. Just go for it. Life's too short to be scared."

Before Connor could respond, the coach called the team back to the ice. The game resumed, but Connor was distracted. His mind kept racing back to Y/N in that blue jersey. He knew he shouldn't care so much, but he couldn't help it. He was afraid of losing her, afraid of the change that might come if he confessed his feelings.

As the game went on, things didn't get much better for the Blackhawks. They fell behind by two goals, and the crowd grew restless. Connor felt the pressure mounting. He played hard, trying to focus on the game, but his heart wasn't in it.

During the intermission, the team returned to the locker room. The coach laid into them, demanding more effort and focus, but Connor barely heard him. He sat at his locker, his head down, feeling the weight of uncertainty.

Suddenly, the locker room door creaked open, and he looked up to see Y/N slipping inside. "Connor?" she said, her voice soft.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" he asked, surprised to see her. The rest of the team had gone back out for warm-ups, so it was just the two of them.

"I wanted to check on you," she said, walking over to him. She held out a bundle of fabricâ€”a Blackhawks jersey. "I changed into this because I didn't want you to be upset. I know the Leafs jersey was a bad choice. It was a friend's joke, and I thought it would be funny, but I didn't realize you'd be so bothered by it."

Connor felt a surge of relief, but also a pang of guilt for feeling so jealous. He stood up, his heart racing. "It's okay," he said, taking the jersey from her. "I'm glad you came to see me."

Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his. "Is something wrong, Connor? You seem... different tonight."

He hesitated, feeling the words on the tip of his tongue. The moment felt right, and he knew he had to take the risk. "Y/N, Iâ€”"

"You're back on in five!" one of the coaches shouted, interrupting them.

Connor felt the urgency of the moment slipping away. He couldn't wait any longer. He took a deep breath and stepped closer to her. "Y/N, I need to tell you something," he said, his voice low and intense. "I like you. I mean, I really like you. More than just a friend. I've been too scared to say it, but I can't keep pretending."

Y/N's eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed. "Connor, Iâ€”"

But before she could finish, Connor leaned in and kissed her. It was gentle and hesitant, yet filled with emotion. It felt like everything he'd been holding back finally broke free, and for a moment, the world faded away.

When they broke apart, Y/N's eyes sparkled with surprise and happiness. "Connor, I've liked you for a long time," she said, smiling. "I just didn't know if you felt the same."

Connor couldn't believe his ears. "You do? Why didn't you say something?"

"I was scared," she said, shrugging. "I didn't want to ruin our friendship."

Connor laughed, feeling a wave of relief. "Me too," he said, pulling her into a hug. "I guess we've both been scared for no reason."

Their embrace was interrupted by the coach's voice. "Bedard! Get back on the ice!"

Connor sighed and kissed Y/N's forehead. "I'll see you after the game, okay?"

"Good luck," she said, watching him as he left the locker room with a huge smile on his face.

The game turned around for the Blackhawks after that. Connor played with renewed energy, scoring two goals and leading his team to a thrilling comeback victory. As the final horn sounded and the crowd erupted in cheers, he skated over to where Y/N was sitting, wearing his jersey and cheering him on.

He pointed to her and grinned, his heart swelling with happiness. She blew him a kiss and waved, her excitement as palpable as the rest of the fans'. The game was a success, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of finally being honest about his feelings.

After the game, Connor and Y/N went back to his place, where they cuddled on the couch, watching a movie and enjoying the simple comfort of each other's company. It was a happy ending that felt like a new beginningâ€”a beginning where fear and uncertainty no longer stood in the way of their love

#nhl #nhl x reader #hockey #connor bedard x reader #connor x reader #chicago blackhawks #connor bedard

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tyrantisterror · 3 months ago

Text

At Sea Without a Map pt. 24

Despite the imminent peril something catches your eye, and the more you look at it, the more focused on it you become. Because your eyes do not deceive you...

...that is a fucking pirate ship. And, being a ship, it would follow that there are in fact people on it, perhaps - dare you hope to dream? - humans. You jump and wave your arms in an attempt to get the ship's attention, hoping that maybe they'll spot you and lend some much needed assistance.

The dolphin's fin comes closer and closer, snapping you back to the reality of your situation. You see its head crest out of the water, its long jaws open in a cruel giggle, and watch as its sinuous body leaps out for another deadly slam against your boat...

Thunder booms and seconds later the dolphin is hit straight in the cheek by a massive cannonball. Its shrill laughter rises in pitch to a wretched shriek, and then, in defiance of physics as you understand it, its body is sent not forward, but straight up into the sky by the blow, twisting and turning in the air until it disappears in a tiny glint of light hundreds of feet above your ship.

"Holy shit," you say as you watch the dolphin go blasting off into the sky like Team fucking Rocket. "It worked? It actually worked?!?" You leap up into the air and wave at the pirate ship. "Thank you! Thank you so much! Thank you!"

As if hearing your words, the ship moves towards your boat, giving you a better view of its stranger details. The main sail bears an emblem that looks like a cat's pawprint, the figurehead is a sort of half fish, half-panther creature, and the "stairs" to the upper level where the steering wheel sits are less stairs and more a sort of jagged ramp. You begin to wonder how eccentric the owner must be when he walks down to the main deck and looks you in the eye.

...

It's a tiger.

It's a fucking tiger.

As your ships come together, you find yourself staring at, well, a tiger wearing a pirate hat, a pirate coat, an eyepatch, and a hook on the tip of its tail. All of these would make it seem pretty silly if it weren't also a big fucking tiger, complete with sharp teeth and claws with which to rend your flesh. It levels a pant-shittingly terrifying glare at you before opening its mouth and releasing a bone-shaking roar from deep within its massive tiger lungs.

"He says he's Captain Peter," Calibani says as she sidles up next to you. "And that we have the privelge of being rescued by his ship, the Great Growl-Tiger."

You stop, blink, and stare at Calibani for a moment. "You can speak... tiger-ese?"

"Oh, no, I actually speak sea-lion," she says with a humble smile. "But they're very similar dialects." She roars out some... words? you don't understand at the tiger, who growls back in what could pass for a conversation if it weren't completely batshit to consider it such. "I thanked him on our behalf. He'd like to know if we need any further assistance - apparently it's been a long since he's seen a human out here."

At a loss, you consult your compass.

(Once again, you may submit questions/discussion topics for this next update based on the four directions of our poll. The more that are received, the more informative the interaction will be.)

#At Sea Without a Map

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galaxyedging · 2 years ago

Text

Joel Miller x f!reader (no age gap)

Summary: Tommy has an ulterior motive for pairing his brother up with you for an errand.

WC:1.9k

Warnings: Smut. Anal. Vaginal fingering. A touch of male masturbation.

Less Of An Ass

Joel had, understandably, been pissed at Tommy when he finally stumbled upon him in Jackson. The crushing weight of letting another family member down had been on his shoulders for months, and here Tommy was. Alive. Well. Married. Thriving. Part of Joel wanted to punch him once the relief of finding him had worn off. Right now, Joel didn't just want to punch his brother. He wanted to kill him. Fair's fair and all. His brother seemed to be intent on killing him. Why else would he send him on this errand with you of all people?

Jackson was pretty self-sustaining at this point but every now and then they needed something important. Something they couldn't fabricate or improvise. With the baby coming, Tommy was extra concerned about their medical equipment. One piece was looking a little worse for wear and was in need of a new part. That's how this job came about. Get to the nearest hospital to the north, retrieve a new part, gather anything else useful, get the hell home. Getting out here hadn't been too bad. The snow had melted enough to get through, but not so much that the infected had swarmed this way. There were a few pockets of them on the way through town that you cleared easily. The infected weren't what Joel felt his biggest threat was on this mission. It was climbing through this goddamn hospital. Climbing up stairs, crawling through vents and holes in walls, climbing up to the next floor with the stairs collapsed. At your ages, people might think it was the physical activity that Joel was worried about. No, the thing that Joel was convinced was going to kill him, the reason he was definitely going to punch his brother in the face, was you. More specifically, having your ass in full view at every step.

Since you were stubborn as a mule, you wanted to lead, Joel had Ellie waiting, you had no one. Better you get the brunt of any surprises. It went against everything Joel stood for but he knew not to argue with you. He also became the softest man on the planet for you. Not that he tried to let it show outwardly. Only Tommy had picked up on it so far. Tommy who insisted that you were the only person for the job since you used to be a lab tech. Tommy who will burn in hell for making him climb an entire fucking hospital with a throbbing hard on.

It wasn't the first time you'd had that effect on him. There was a night at the bar, some flirting, an almost kiss, interrupted by a few drunk neighbours. That had been two nights before you left. Neither one of you had mentioned it. Watching your ass sway in front of him that's all Joel could think about. What if he had kissed you? What if you had tumbled into bed with him? What if he had gotten to lay his hands on your ass as he watched it jiggle from the rough fucking he gave you? With that thought in his head, he swears he nearly came when he finally boosted you up to the right floor, your perfect ass inches from his face as he did so.

"I'll get the part, you search for anything useful." You told him, already taking the back off the machine.

"Yes, Ma'am." You wondered if he knew how much that got under your skin. If he knew how much he got under you skin. There was the almost kiss, but you were both a little drunk. People act out when alcohol is involved. It doesn't mean he is actually attracted to you.

The two of you worked quietly. There was always a comfortable silence between you and Joel when you worked together. You made quite a team. It always made you wonder in what other ways you would make quite a team.

"Is this anything?" Joel held up a piece of equipment.

"Yeah, it could be useful. Unplug it and pack it." A wicked thought crossed your mind. It was always fun to tease Joel. "I wouldn't have held it by that end, though."

A deep crease spread between Joel's eyebrows as he furrowed them.

"It's used to do an internal scan. That's been in some random woman's vagina."

Joel dropped the offending item on the bed before quickly pumping out a load of hand sanitiser. Or what he thought was hand sanitiser.

"What the….?" Joel realised that something was wrong when the damn stuff just wouldn't rub in.

Since you couldn't breathe for laughing, you simply turned the bottle around. Joel's face fell when he saw that he'd just generously cover his hands in lube.

"Oh, this is funny to you. Here." He made a grab for you. One you were too slow to dodge while you were still laughing at him. His arm wrapped around you, grabbing your hands as best he could in one large slick hand. Then his other hand came up to your face, smearing your cheek with the gloppy substance.

"Joel!" You laughed. "You shouldn't waste that stuff. From the feeling against my hip you could use it more productivity."

An honest to goodness blush rose on Joel Miller's cheeks. "I'm sorry. I…"

"Don't be, I'm not. " At the end of the world, it seemed stupid not to be honest and go for what you want. Right, now what you wanted was pressing into your side. Thick and heavy.

The hand that had been smearing your cheek came to grip your chin and pull you in for a kiss. Turning in his arms, you deepened it. His arms pulled you closer. Yours wrapped around his neck. The kiss was everything you'd been yearning for all these lonely years. The comfort and tenderness of it were quickly overtaken by your other needs.

"Joel?" You asked against his lips. He hummed before moving to kiss down your neck, allowing you to speak. "You wanna put that lube to good use?"

As you moved to sit on the examination room bed, Joel followed you with a smirk.

"Come here." Grabbing his belt, you pulled him to stand in between your legs. It didn't take long to undo his belt and get his hard length free. "Why don't you get yourself all lubed up for me?"

"Are you looking for a little show, Darlin'?" Joel coated himself before pumping himself slowly for you.

"Well, considering it was everywhere in our day, porn is surprisingly hard to find. I did used to have a thing for the videos of guys jerking off. You would have been at the top of my playlist."

"Really?"

"Really. What was your thing?"

"I don't know."

"Don't go shy on me, Miller. There must have been something that got you there quicker. What did you type into that search bar?"

"Cream pie."

"Mmmm. I miss that."

"Yeah?"

"I swear it's the only thing that is getting me through this menopause bullshit. The thought that soon I'll be able to be filled up with no consequences."

"Fuck. I always enjoy your honesty but you're gonna make me come sooner than I'd like."

"When would you like to come?"

"After I've been inside you."

"Or you could come inside me." Taking your hand out from your jeans, you made a show of turning around and bending over the bed. "We do have plenty of lube."

"Well, you just found my second most popular search." Joel stopped stroking himself to pull your jeans down.

The ass that he'd been obsessing over since you shrugged off your winter coat and left it by your horse, giving him a good view of it in your jeans, was even better bare to him. Before he could stop himself his large hands slide up each cheek parting them for him. As soon as your tight hole was on display for him, he dripped his spit on it.

"Fuck. Joel." You groaned underneath him. Sliding his lubed fingers inside of you it was his turn to groan deeply at the feel of you being stretched by his fingers. Soon he'd been stretching you with his cock. He'd be inching in, pushing his fat cockhead past every ridge of tight muscle. Feeling your heat envelop him as your body jerks him off.

The feeling of slipping inside you was even better than he anticipated. It was coupled with your blissed out moans and the feeling of your tits in his hands. He wished that he could say he was fucking you like you deserved. That he was giving you as much pleasure as he could but if he was honest, he was just on autopilot. All he could think about was stuffing his cock in and dragging it back out. His hips smacked against your ass every time. Fortunately, each thrust drove you into the edge of the bed, rubbing your clit against the mattress driving you to your release. He could feel your walls convulsing. The sensation rippled over his sensitive cock. After the years of being alone and the months of wanting you, it was all too much.

"I'm gonna come. Inside…?" The desperate tone in his voice drove home just how close he was. He was holding back for your answer.

"Inside. Fill me up, Joel." It wasn't just his come that heated you from the inside out. The feral groan from him made heat flare in your pussy. Even after Joel's hips stilled as he fucked you through his release, your kept moving, seeking more of the much needed friction the edge of the bed had provided.

"Do you need to come again? You sound so fucking good when you do." As he spoke Joel pulled his cock out and began to press his fingers inside you. "Lean right over, Baby."

One large hand pushed you flat onto the bed while Joel searched your insides for a spot to make you feel as good as you made him feel. When he did he felt you clench around him, the twitch of your muscles was enough to make his come drip from your pink hole. Spreading your cheeks he watched his creamy release run from your intimate area. Pride filled him along with some sort of primal desire to fill you again.

"Oh, Joel." Too lost in watching how he had marked you, he didn't realise how close you were to coming. A few more swipes of his finger and you were clawing at the bed beneath you. His name was whined out as you came again.

When you finally arrived back in Jackson, both in need of a good shower after ticking off some other porn search results on the way, Joel laid eyes on Tommy again. First, he handed his brother the pack containing the spare part and supplies, then he landed a blow to his arm hard enough to deaden it.

"Ow. What the fuck?!" Tommy hissed.

"Consider yourself lucky. I wanted to do worse. Just be thankful I didn't find the hand sanitiser."

"What?" Tommy stood there looking bemused as you and Joel shared a smile at your private joke.

Tommy watched the two of you walk off side by side. Joel's knuckle skimming the back of your hand as you did. He thought Joel might be a little less grumpy once he got laid. Considering the feeling was already returning to his fingers he figured he was right.

Tags: @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #no age gap

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blacklegsanjiii · 11 months ago

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Trafalgar!Sanji + ASL+S childhood friends (Acesan Childhood Friends to Lovers trope)...

Sanji goes with Baratie at Foosha and meets this chaotic trio of brothers, quickly befriending them. They are his first friends (since Law is his big brother) and even if he adores them, Sanji still never tells anything about his past or the scars he has.

And the blond goes to Foosha every couple of months, so he's not in the island when everything with Sabo happens, he just discovers about this the day the Baratie docks on the village again and he sees his friend with a scar on the face. And after knowing he almost lose his friend, it's like something tells him he shouldn't keep this, because he don't know if he will have them forever.

Sanji still don't tells his brother's name, because Law's "death" was still pretty recently but he still talk about him. The trio likes to hear about he saying moments he had with his brother (mostly Ace and Luffy, because they almost lost their brother).

So live goes on, Ace and Sanji start to date some time before Ace set sail, then Sabo also set sail and after 3 years Luffy do it. But the rubber boy finds Baratie and he goes with him in Luffy's adventure so Sanji can find the All Blue.

Everything we know happens, until Marineford where Sanji go to help to save his boyfriend because he knows how being punished/haunted by your family line is horrible. And they save Ace and Whitebeard.

So, the timeskip happens, and then Punk Hazard also happens and Ace is there (because he asks pops if he can stay with the StrawHats for some time since, y'know, he wants to be with Luffy and Sanji), but he notices his boyfriend is very close with the Trafalgar, that he is always with him and things like that.

Ace end up becoming a little jealous, bc Sanji never telled his big brother name so no one can make the connection. Until one night Ace asks Sanji about it and then the blond notices he never said Law's name to the ASL brothers. So y'know, he explains everything and the next morning Sanji talks with Ace and Law together, where the siblings tell the Portgas about everything they had gone through from both their points of view.

And after, Law decides to gave Ace a "little" shovel talk, since y'know, big brother worried about his young brother (Ace completely understands bc he IS a big sibling himself but still, being threatened by the Surgeon of Death is scary)

Love this, ASL+Trafalgar!S. A horrific set of people you never want to meet as a marine. Also yeah, we have to push the times back a teensy bit for most things but Sanji being twelve when he meets and befriends them shortly after Baratie opens and starts hanging out with them. He doesn't say where he's from or anything about any of his family. His scars hidden by the clothes he wears and the front he puts up.

Eventually he starts considering them closer than friends but he doesn't want to put a name to it. Not after everything he's been through. When Sanji comes back after the Grey Terminal Fires and finds out Sabo will be leaving soon with the Revolutionary Army. So Sanji breaks down and tells them he lost his brother in the North Blue with some friends(Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin) and he's scared to lose others. Sanji starts talking more about his brother, his spots on his skin.

When Sanji and Ace start dating Sanji comes ashore one day basically bouncing because Sabo's there but also his brother is alive and he got to talk to him!! Turns out they thought each other were dead, but they figured out they're not dead because of the paper. ASL still do not ask for the brother's name. Then Ace sets sail, and then a couple years later Luffy does and takes Sanji with him.

Sanji just barely making it to Marineford after Luffy and the Impel Down team make it out and the war is already raging. Sanji helping however he can and shocking a lot of people with his fire legs. They save Ace and White Beard and Sanji gets a good look at Teach as they leave. He gets a good look at Law too who is taking his captain to treat him after the punch from Akainu got him and Jinbei. Marco has Ace and White Beard. Sanji thanks them both and leaves for Kamabakka to train. He saved them. That's what matters.

After the TS Ace says Pops is retiring and Marco gave him permission to travel with the Straw hats. Luffy and Sanji are happy to be spending time with Ace and Luffy even has Franky fix up the Captain's quarters so that Ace and Sanji can have privacy. When they pick up Law in Punk Hazard Sanji is suddenly spending a lot of time with the warlord who saved Luffy. Law is allowed in the kitchen when Ace and Luffy aren't, they speak in a language no one else speaks, Robin keeps sending them looks Ace really doesn't like. So he asks Sanji about it when they're alone on deck one night headed to Dressrosa.

"Oh, shit. I never told you my brother's name." Sanji says with a sudden realization.

"Huh? What does your brother have to do with any of this?" Ace asks.

"My brother is Law. The shitty surgeon on the ship with us." Sanji replies.

"Oh." Ace says with wide eyes. "Oh shit, does he know we're dating?"

"I don't know." Sanji groans. "Oh shit, the bastard's gonna kill me."

"I think he's more likely to kill me than you." Ace deadpans and pulls the cook close who keeps mumbling apologies and leans into him. The next morning Ace is allowed in the kitchen for coffee with Law and Sanji even though it's ungodly early and no one should be awake. Law is somehow reading medical jargon at the table which is wild to Ace.

"So we need to have a talk." Sanji says.

"I figured that's why Fire Fist was in the galley. What about?" Law asks as marks his book and closes the book.

"He just found out you're my brother." Sanji answers sheepishly and Law takes off his hat, runs his hand into hair and groans.

"Does anyone else not know?" Law asks in dismay.

"Robin knows, Luffy might?" Sanji questions and then sees the look Law is giving him. "I didn't ask you to send a hundred marine hearts to Navy HQ! This is your dumb revenge plan!"

"Yeah, and when I get your birth family's name they're next!" Law orders.

"Wait, even he doesn't know that? How did you two even meet?" Ace asks in a confused and whiny tone. Sanji laughs and gets breakfast in the oven and brings the coffee set up to the table. Law and Sanji explain almost everything, how Law found Sanji but doesn't mention the helmet, Bepo joining and Shachi and Penguin shortly after. The storm that separated them and then the rock and Zeff. The phone calls between them until he joined Luffy's crew. They go back and forth, trading their sides of the story and Law thinking Sanji died again on Sabaody when the crew got separated after Kuma and Sanji rubs his neck and apologizes to the eldest.

Later Ace and Law are alone for some reason on deck, everyone else is doing something and Law isn't in the galley for some reason. Ace looks at him with confusion as Law leans over the railing next to him. Law pulls a heart out of his pocket and Ace's eyes widen as he watches it beat.

"It's just my heart, calm down." Law tells him. "One of the first things I learned with my fruit, I don't do a lot of killing since I'm a doctor. The marines' hearts are all just fine at their head quarters."

"That really calms me down." Ace deadpans and Law laughs lightly.

"I just wanted to talk to you, about Sanji." Law says.

"I get it, Akainu is at the top of my list for what he did to Luffy, you'll kill me, I got it." Ace replies.

"Once again, doctor, I don't do a lot of murdering," Law points out, "I'm not a kind doctor of course, I save those who would die by any other doctor and I'm not kind. I will do anything to protect Sanji, no matter who gets in my way. So if you can't or won't, I'll sink the worst generation and more to get to him." Law says as puts his heart back in his pocket and stands straight. "But you understand that."

"All too well, are you going to put that back?" Ace asks.

"Nah, this one is going into hiding. I have a different one." Law smirks and taps his chest.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ace asks as Law walks away and laughs. "What the fuck does that mean, Trafalgar!?"

#black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #fire fist ace #portgas d ace #sanji x ace #ace x sanji #acesan #sanace #asl+s #trafalgar!sanji #answers

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jbuffyangel · 8 months ago

Text

The Canary: Arrow 2x05 Review (League of Assassins)

Yeesh there is a lot of Lance drama in the beginning of Season 2. We finally get the backstory on Sara, but it’s the spectacular Oliver and Laurel scene that has me cackling.

Let's dig in...

Sara Lance

They reshot the whole pilot scene between Oliver and Sara only this time, we see what happens to Sara after the boat sinks and she’s swept out to sea. How this woman did not get hypothermia from only wearing a bra and underwear in the North China Sea is beyond me.

This scene just incenses me. It irks the absolute crap out of me when Sara says, “Laurel is gonna kill me.” Sara says it like she’s borrowing Laurel’s sweater without asking. YOU ARE SLEEPING WITH HER BOYFRIEND. This destroys a relationship. She’s not going to kill you, but she will absolutely cut contact with you, Sara.

I know he’s pre-island Ollie and he’s just the absolute worst, but the smarmy “Your sister will never know” as he climbs on top of Sara is just so disgusting. I cannot fathom why people would ever want Laurel to be with Oliver after what he did. Forgive him, fine. Date him? Absolutely not.

Okay, the rage is dying down. Hopefully this is the last time we have to watch this scene.

Sara is staying at the Queen mansion, which doesn’t see very covert, but with Moira in jail and Thea sleeping at Roy’s all the time it actually is a good place for Sara to crash. Better than a clock tower at least.

Oliver is still trying to convince Sara to let her family know that she’s alive, but she’s not convinced all family members *cough*Laurel*cough* will be happy to see her. Sara asks Oliver if he ever got back together with Laurel after he returned home.

Oliver: We tried. It’s too much.

Sara: Some things are better left in the past.

After The Gambit sinks, Sara is floating on a door similar to Rose in Titanic when she’s picked up by the freighter.

Source: saralances

We’re all going to pretend the canary landing right next to Sara is not the most obvious foreshadowing in the world. For anyone questioning if Arrow is making Sara their OG Canary – there’s your answer. You know - if the suit, wicked fight skills and sonic weapon didn’t answer it for you already.

The color of the Canary is important though. It’s yellow. Not black. Arrow is drawing a clear distinction between the two. This is an origin story. It’s not Green Arrow and Black Canary. It’s The Arrow and The Canary.

Sara is thrown in a cage on the freighter, similar to Oliver’s current predicament, but Dr. Ivo protects her from the crew members. He tells Sara he is going to save the human race and invites her to help, so I can only conclude we’re going with Stockholm syndrome in the flashbacks. A twenty something college kid would have very little to offer a mad scientist.

However, Sara’s reticence to return to her family is not related to whatever happened on the island, but rather who she became and what she did to survive AFTER the island. We’re just about to get some details when a man dressed exactly like Malcolm Merlyn comes crashing through a window. Oliver and Sara fight him, but before we can get any answers the man disappears. This is getting annoying. WILL SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN SOMETHING?

Oliver introduces Sara to his team and we get the iconic first meeting between Sara and Felicity.

Source: oliversmoak

Sara does not want Team Arrow to find the assailant however. She knows exactly who he is.

Sara: He’s called Al Ow-al, “The First.” And he’s a member of the League of Assassins.

Oliver has a very strong reaction to this revelation so we can deduce Sara didn’t join the Girl Scouts. The League is, you guessed it, a bunch of assassins who kill and vanish like ghost - previously thought to be an urban legend by Diggle. The League rescued Sara after the island, remade her into an assassin and she swore them her allegiance.

Sara left after she killed a local diplomat in Guyana and his children found his body the next morning. She didn’t want to be a murderer anymore, but now The League is coming after her.

Source: laurelscanary

Felicity’s humor and compassion put Sara at ease after her horrifying confession and this is why I love this character. There’s no judgment from Felicity. She sees Sara for what she is – a person in pain, even if Sara doesn’t see herself that way. Not unlike how Felicity looks at Oliver. And just like Oliver, Sara Lance is SMOAKED.

Source: smoakamell

After Felicity finds Al Ow-al, Sara and Oliver argue about whose fight it is. Sara isn't used to playing with others, but you'd think she'd understand basic strength in numbers. This is the guy who trained Malcolm Merlyn. He stops an arrow with his bare hand while his back was turned!

Al Ow-al: The child of Ra’s Al Ghul awaits your return.

I know who Ra’s Al Ghul is from my Batman days, but in Arrow's world he has a kid. A kid who sent Al Ow-al to collect Sara alive or dead. This is getting complicated. Is there like an employment flow chart we can follow for the League of Assassins?

Oliver: The League of Assassins. Why wouldn’t she tell me what happened to her all those years?

Diggle: Probably the same reason you didn’t tell us what happened to you on the island.

Wow. This is stunning lack of self awareness. Oliver, in case you haven’t noticed, Sara is the girl version of you.

The League has threatened Sara’s family, so Oliver keeps watch over Laurel. Felicity calls Detective Lance to convince him to leave town - while promising Sara to not reveal she's alive.

Source: @noone-seesyou-likeido

Unfortunately, Lance does not listen to Felicity, so Sara decides her secret is not more important than her father’s life. Finally, she is seeing some sense. Diggle, ever the loyal solider, offers to go with as back up, but Sara continues to have this thing about fighting on her own. I guess being an assassin is a solitary job. This does give us one of the best bad ass Sara Lance speeches ever, however.

Sara: Dig, you may be a three tour Special Forces veteran, but I was trained by the people that make the Special Forces look like a kindergarten class. So step aside or get put down.

The reunion between Lance and Sara is all we hoped it could be. It’s not every day your kid comes back from the dead, but Paul Blackthorne does a phenomenal job of moving from shock and disbelief to overwhelming joy.

Source: laurelscanary

Quentin wants answers, but he’s careful not to spook Sara who is still reticent to give details. They go through the nuclear bomb that was set off in their family (the divorce, the alcoholism). Sara apologizes for the damage she caused, but Quentin insists he was to blame, which is more proof he is a really good dad.

He can clearly see his daughter has changed. She speaks Chinese now and is ready to fight to the death with a butter knife. He pieces together Sara is the woman in black; she knows Felicity, The Arrow and is wrapped up in this League that’s after both of them. How this man has not put together Oliver Queen is The Arrow I will never understand.

Quentin: If these assassins, if they hadn't shown up, would you have ever let us know that you were alive?

Sara: No.

Well, at least she’s honest. Sara promises Lance that she never forgot who she was or him despite staying away for so many years.

Source: OILVERSQUEEN

She takes her father to the clock tower which she’s outfitted with booby traps for when the League comes for them both. Sara and Lance hold their own against the assassins, but when The Arrow arrives they achieve the upper hand. Sara has no problem breaking Al Ow-al’s neck, but allows one assassin to live to warn Ra’s Al Ghul.

Sara: Tell Ra’s Al Ghul that my family is off limits. His quarrel is with me.

She is ashamed to show Quentin who she has become – a killer.

Source: sohpiabush

But Quentin feels only pride. How little children understand the depth of a parent’s love. We have already forgiven anything you’ve done or may do the moment you are born.

Quentin: I think you’re a survivor. I think you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever known. You’re my daughter.

Sara leaves town to lead the League away from her family and Quentin agrees to keep her secret. He will not tell either Laurel or Dinah that Sara is alive because it would get them killed… or something. The logic is not logical, but I don’t really care. They’ll hold the “Laurel finds out Sara is alive” card for May sweeps.

Source: @laurelscanary

This is not the last we will see of Sara Lance. The Canary’s story is just getting started.

Oliver and Diggle

Despite Oliver's spectacularly hypocritical statement about Sara and honesty, there is serious emotional growth this episode. Oliver making this statement about forgiveness a year ago would have been unthinkable. He did not return home with any hope of being forgiven or even welcomed back. I'm going to give the Lance family a shoutout because they had the most to be angry about with Oliver. He asked both Laurel and Quentin for forgiveness and they each have extended olive branches at various time. Hell, Laurel was ready to get back together with him. So, the fact he's able to offer the same hope to Sara is really a full circle moment.

Source: anissagraces

Oliver beginning to believe he is worthy of forgiveness is a direct result of the many hours of therapy with Diggle and Felicity. He is finally starting to really hear them. That's why this moment with Diggle at the end of the episode is truly note worthy.

Source: NUGETAE

Diggle should have this date embroidered on a pillow because it's not often Oliver will admit he was right. But Oliver is not done yet.

Source: COPHINES

He breaks out some Russian vodka and confesses to Diggle he was not always on the island the five years he was gone. Oliver is ready to unburden some of the secrets he works so hard to keep buried.

Source: laurelscanary

Oliver is able to see his own demons reflected in Sara and it finally connects the dots for him. He doesn't have to remain isolated in the world like Sara. Oliver can see Diggle (and Felicity) reaching out to him and he FINALLY reaches back. This is monumental character growth.

Sara: You three are quite the team.

Diggle: We have our moments.

Why Diggle and not Felicity? I think it's easier for Oliver to tell his war stories to another solider. He also doesn't have any fuzzy bunny feelings towards John, which makes things simpler between them. But every time Oliver opens the door to the past, and shares his pain, he is one step closer to the future he truly deserves.

Laurel Lance

Laurel is sitting second chair in Moira Queen’s prosecution, which is actually an INSANE CONFLICT OF INTEREST. Marc Guggenheim, you are a lawyer sir. What is this nonsense?

Never fear! Laurel has used all her pull to get Moira a plea deal - life with the possibility of parole. Understandably the Queen family isn’t thrilled. It’s either life or the death penalty. Laurel even discussing Moira’s case with Oliver is improper ex parte contact. She should be excluded from the case and sanctioned, but this is Arrow and that’s never going to happen.

In the middle of all of this, Oliver continues to ask if Laurel is okay. She is trying to kill your mother, Oliver. I feel how this is impacting Laurel shouldn’t really be your top concern. He is so exhausting around her. Take the hint, my dude. She doesn’t want your help and I’m tired of you two having the same fight episode after episode.

But this episode is not just another round of the same old some old. No, my friends this is a very special episode because it contains one of the best Laurel and Oliver scenes to ever grace our television. Oliver needs to protect Laurel from the League of Assassins, so he takes her out to dinner. Then he walks Laurel back to her apartment (because assassins) but she thinks he’s come up for a very different reason.

And OLIVER REJECTS HER. The way I cackled.

I’m going straight to hell, but I don’t care. This moment is glorious. First of all, Laurel did not have a drink at dinner, so she can’t blame the booze and pills. She just flat out reads the situation wrong. Oliver apologizes for sending a mix signal, but he’s a bit confused. Didn’t they decide they shouldn’t be together out of respect for Tommy? Yes, Oliver. Yes you did. WHAT ABOUT TOMMY, LAUREL?!! This woman did not deserve that man.

Source: ILOVEKCASSIDY

Me:

Oliver promises Laurel he will never leave her and has certainly made every effort to help her, but it is the capacity in which he will stay in her life that is really in question. This moment is HUGE in terms of where Oliver is at emotionally. He is drawing a firm line in the sand. There was a time when Oliver would’ve welcomed Laurel trying to climb him like a tree no matter the circumstance, but not anymore. He clearly states that he cares about Laurel but only as a friend. His concern has no romantic undertone to it.

The balance of power in their relationship has always been tipped toward Laurel. This is the first time it feels like a more even playing field. Instead of Laurel rejecting Oliver – he is rejecting her and for a very good reason. Oliver is not stoned on pills and he remembers they don’t work. They tried to go back and it failed. Oliver has not interest in trying again. For the first time, Oliver is looking forward.

And Laurel, cemented in the past and alone her in apartment, takes some pills.

Stray Thoughts

This secret Moira is keeping is a real humdinger if she’s ok with life with the possibility of parole.

Oliver and Thea promise Moira that she will not lose them no matter the secret. Sure Jan.

"Gee I didn't get you a bag of dirt." Bless this cupcake.

Where did Sara get her suit?

Malcolm Merlyn is also a member of The League of Assassins.

"Oliver’s lucky to have you both as friends. He hasn’t always had the best of luck in that area." Sara’s not so casual remarks about Slade and Shado are friggin ominous. It’s time to get real nervous about the flashbacks.

“You think because you are the beloved that you will be granted your freedom?” We all know who Sara’s beloved is and I’m very much looking forward to her arrival.

"Pain and I came to a little understanding a few years back." Sara takes a licking but keeps on kicking. This is such a bad ass line. The episode is chalk full of them. I love the OG Canary.

Listen to the Watchover podcast reaction to 2x05!!

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me!

#arrow #arrow 2x05 #arrow season 2 #arrow review #arrow reviews #oliver queen #sara lance #the canary #anti laurel lance #john diggle #felicity smoak #olicity #arrow episode review #season 2 episode review #season 2 episode reviews #league of assassins

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years ago

Text

Safe Zone | 0.9 | Bradley Bradshaw and Jake Seresin x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: A team of elite naval aviators holding down the fort at the North Island Air Base while they wait for reinforcements after a virus sweeps the continental U.S. - only, it’s been three months and no one has shown up.

Warnings: Warnings: gore, death, violence and pretty graphic mentions of all things zombie related, love triangle, smut (18+, minors dni), angst etc. smut, unprotected pinv

…

You’re woken by three gentle knocks on the door. Eyes flying open, you remember that this isn’t your bed that you’re cosied up in, or your pillows that you’re hugging tight. You shoot upright and launch yourself out of the sheets, stumbling as your legs struggle to keep up with you.

You twist the lock and tug the door open, “Sorry, I—“

You close your mouth quickly, locking eyes with Jake over Rooster’s shoulder. He rests his hand against the door handle opposite and quirks a brow just slightly. You swallow dryly as the memories come flooding back. His teeth grazing over your jugular, taut and hard abs pressed into your back. The gravel of his tone as he muttered against your earlobe that he was so fucking close.

Remembering quickly that the door is halfway open and you’re blocking Rooster from entering his own room, your body burns an uncomfortable, humiliation-fuelled heat as you look back at him.

“… Overslept.”

Jake almost grins. All flustered like this, glancing across at him periodically as you pull the door the rest of the way open and let Rooster in. Wearing just a tank top and a men’s pair of gym shorts, ill-fitting but more comfortable than your tactical pants. Jake’s eyes, green and cunning, flick downwards to the sliver of visible skin between the bottom of your shirt and the waistband of your shorts. He looks back up at you silently.

“You’re good,” Rooster shrugs as he steps past you, his shoulder grazing yours. Jake’s lips tug at the corners, almost smiling at you. It’s mocking, almost sympathetic, before he turns and lets himself into his room. His door closes behind him without a word. Rooster’s already peeling his shirt off behind you. “Did you sleep alright?”

You close his door behind him and nod, trying to comb your fingers over your head. There’s no point in trying to comb through it, but the least you can do is smooth it down a bit.

“Um, yeah,” You swallow and turn back to face him as he leans down to take his boots off. He’s dirty again, fingers dusted with a layer of dry dirt, blood at the tips. You don’t ask what he has been up to. “Better than I have in a while.”

His lips quirk up into a real smile as he glances towards the mess that you’ve made of his previously neatly made bed. Not that he minds a bit. “Comfy, right?”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Yeah. I guess.” It would be too easy to play into the trap that he’s setting. To fawn all over him and his cozy room. You’ve already got a safe place to stay and it isn’t here. But fuck, his bed is comfy.

“You can sleep some more, if you want,” He reaches down and starts to unlace his boots. The light catches his face, illuminating his swollen cheek, and the small, jagged cut along his cheekbone. “I’ll wake you up before your shift.”

You give a soft shake of your head, “I’m alright.”

Rooster shrugs, kicking his boots off and nudging them towards his closet with his foot, then popping open the button on his pants. “I promise you won’t wake up with me spooning you or something — I’m gonna be in the shower for a while.”

“How’d you get that cut?” So abrupt that you’ve almost interrupted him, manners mean nothing as you walk towards him and cock your head to the side.

Rooster’s eyes lift, landing on yours. He studies you, unmoving as you reach out and touch the puffy skin below the cut. Your brows knit together. It’s too barbed to be from a knife of from glass, something else entirely.

“Diamond,” Rooster answers you calmly, his voice low, soft still. “Wedding ring caught me right there.”

Your lips tug at the corners, smoothing the dirt off of his cheek with your thumb. It’s nice, that he’s making a point of not lying to you. Jake still hasn’t said a word to you since he zipped his pants back up.

“Did she find out you had another girl in your bed?” You tease him. Rooster’s face softens into an amused smile as he tugs his zippers down. Broad shoulders raise and fall into an aloof shrug, his dog tags settling between his pecs.

“One night in here and you’re already getting off at the thought of making other girls jealous, huh?”

You scoff. The first thought to cross your mind is that he would be jealous if he knew. The second thought is to doubt that. He steps out of his pants, still shaking his head with that amused little smile on his face. You’re not so sure that he would be jealous of your quick, dirty fuck against a shelving unit with Hangman.

Actually, you think that he might laugh at you for it.

“Did you wanna shower here before I get mud all over it?” Rooster offers, standing upright and craning his neck from side to side. Turns out, being hunched over, digging a shallow grave for a couple of hours, isn’t the best for your spine health. You lift your brows at him. “It’s warm.”

Standing there in nothing but a pair of black boxers and his tags, he stares at you, waiting for his response. His entire body aches; three days of fucking chaos around this place and barely a break inbetween it all. But, he’s acutely aware of the fact you haven’t had warm water in almost four months, and he’s willing to wait.

“I’m starting to understand how you get girls around here to go so crazy for you,” There’s no way that you can stand here and sincerely thank him for being so nice to you, when you’ve been consistently stepping on his toes for about a month now, so the playful taunting continues. “Do you give every girl the spa treatment?”

Again, his lips quirk just softly, but he shakes his head. “No, we aren’t supposed to let civilians see our spaces. You’re my first overnight guest, actually.”

Your nod is small, he can tell that you’re just trying to figure him out. He’s pretty sure that he already has you figured. You’re just like Jake.

“C’mere, I’ll show you how it works.” He nods his head for you to follow him and pushes open the bathroom door. It’s bigger than the shower in your room, and he has more than just generic shampoo and soap. Two big, fluffy grey towels are hung up on the back of the door. He gets the water running and leaves you to it without question.

You almost instinctively hiss as you step under the stream of water, expecting that same stinging chill that you would normally get. Instead, it’s just the right side of warm, bordering hot. You exhale slowly and let it soak your muscles. Shampoo comes next, it’s something citrusy and basic, but anything scented feels nice after this long.

Rooster almost jumps when you step back out. He’s putting his dirty clothes into his laundry hamper, his bed is made again — all that Navy training still counts for something, even now. His eyes land on you, still wet, droplets of water skimming your skin, wrapped in one of those grey towels.

“Thought you would’ve taken longer,” He comments, eyes darting down and then back up. He grabs his watch from his bedside table and checks the time. “Maybe next time, huh?”

Your lips quirk as you step out of your way and let him move around you. “Maybe.” He’s never seen you so coy. You’re kind of sweet when your hackles aren’t up like a damn animal. He shoots you a quick wink.

“Alright, I’m gonna shower and try to sleep for a sec. I’ll come get you from your room tonight?” He offers, leaning up against the bathroom doorframe. You smile, giving him a small nod. He hums in agreement, tells you to have a good day and then shuts the door behind him.

You dress yourself quickly and leave before he has a chance to return, walking softly so that your boots don’t draw any attention as you leave. Your first rotation is the west wall with Yale. His real name’s Logan, and he’s about as beige as a man can be. That three hour shift drags. He says maybe four words to you the entire time.

After that, you’re by the mess hall for lunch with a couple of other volunteers and some low level ensigns. Nothing important enough here for the higher ups to concern themselves with, they have bigger problems.

“You’re not making sense, Floyd.” Cyclone scoffs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index and thumb, rubbing circles like it will force this persistent migraine out of his brain. Gray is taking over his roots now, growing at an accelerated rate. These last few months feel like they have aged him more than the rest of his life. Especially these last twenty-four hours.

“If you listened to me, you’d get it,” Bob bites back, venom dripping from his tongue as he leans forwards across the table. “Utah. Colorado. They’re both gone. Communication stopped completely like Washington.”

Bradley presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and spreads his knees a little further. It freaks him out how much Bob worries about this stuff. If Bob’s worried, there’s reason to be scared.

“Okay — well, what do you suggest we do about it?”

“Wait, why are they disappearing? — I’d like to focus on that.” Phoenix interrupts, her chin propped up on her fist, barely awake after three consecutive nights on the front gate.

“I think they’re getting overrun.” Bob’s voice is serious and low. He tucks his hair behind his ears, already growing bothered by how long it’s getting without his wife here to cut it. “They all had problems like ours. Dead wandering out of the cities, build ups at the perimeters. They all cut out without warning — it’s not an energy issue because I can still see them on the board.”

Jake leaves the meeting with an even bigger headache than the one he went in with. He runs his fingers through his hair, settled into the fact that the world has ended and that there’s nothing to be done about it. Staying alive for as long as is convenient is fine in his books. His shift is with you, now.

He already knows that it’s going to be complicated. You’re mad at him for the quarantine, he could probably be mad at you for running off to Rooster about it, if he cared enough to be. That argument’s over fast enough anyway. Ten minutes before you realize that he isn’t going to say sorry and finally decide to start ignoring him. He’s alright with that for a while. But silence doesn’t make a four hour long shift go any faster.

“So, you’re fucking Rooster.” It’s a casual comment, accompanied by a soft grunt as Jake hoists the canister off of the ground. You’re already looking over at him. Watching the muscles in his arms as he moves them from point A to B.

It’s shit work. Designed to keep the worker bees busy. You’re not too sure what kind of shit hit the fan last night that today’s work is clearing out an old, dust-covered hangar. Beyond the breach at the south wall, obviously.

Something bigger happened last night. But Jake won’t tell you anything; it’s no use pestering him. You trail your index finger through the dust on a box to your left and give a small shrug of your shoulders. You knew that he would bring up what he had seen this morning.

“You gonna cry about it, Hangman?”

He lifts his head, green eyes staring right at you. God, it’s like lightning strikes when he does that. You stare back at him wordlessly, waiting for your answer, letting the heels of your shoes knock into the box that you’re sitting on.

Jake means forwards, palms open against the boxes in front of him. His head tilts a quarter of an inch to the right. Something wolfish — predator, prey. You lean back and brace your weight on your hands. Mimicking him, you cock your head a fraction to the left.

Finally, he gives a soft shake of his head.

“Cry over you, baby? — Pretty arrogant thing to just assume.”

“Yeah, I see the way you look at me.” You answer back, feeling that familiar pulse between your legs and tiny little itch in the back of your brain. It’s a bad idea, but the world ended — bad ideas now don’t mean as much as they did back then.

He sets the canister that he’s holding down and flexes his fists. His shoes leave footprints in the dust, one in front of the other as he stalks towards you.

“How’s that?”

Instead of answering, you end the game a beat earlier. Fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt, you tug it slowly up and out from its neat spot in your waistband.

Jake continues towards you, reaching out and grabbing the backs of your knees. Parting your legs swiftly, he steps between them and watches as you pull the black fabric over your head.

His palms flex around the backs of your thighs, squeezing softly at your legs over the fabric of your cargo pants. You lift your chin, eyes steadily on his intoxicating green stare as you reach back and unclasp your bra. The straps fall from your shoulders, the garment is quickly discarded and dropped beside your shirt.

Still watching you, Jake’s hands leave your thighs and go for his own belt. Tugging the khaki material from the loops, the buckle clatters loudly as he works it open in front of you. Sunlight pouring through every window, the tin walls insulating the space. Droplets of sweat beading down your back, saliva pooling on your tongue.

Jake pops open the button on his pants and drags his zipper down. Reaching out tentatively, your fingertips beach the bottom of his black shirt. Skimming slowly along his furiously warm skin, you rake your nails gently along the muscled ridges on his abdomen.

“Off.” Your voice is low, calm but with no intention of being quiet about it. Jake curls a fist into the shirt and peels it over his head without protest, dropping it down beside yours. His dog tags move with the material and drop back down against his chest.

You lean slowly forwards and press your lips to his navel. Salt on his skin, his hand comes to rest against the back of your head as you work open-mouthed kisses along his toned stomach.

His fingers curl into your hair and keep you there, letting his head lull back to stare at the old tin roof as your teeth nip at his hip bone.

“I didn’t fuck him,” You decide to admit as your hands grab at Jake’s hips, keeping him still as you lick the salt from his skin. Jake looks down at you, unreadable. You graze your bite gently at the exposed skin above his waistband. “I might, though.”

You lift your gaze, looking at him through your lashes, pressing an almost romantic kiss against his stomach. Jake can’t hold it back anymore, letting his lips quirk up amusedly. You’re a trip.

“Free country.” Jake replies, cupping his palm over your breast and trailing his thumb in a circle around your nipple. You intoxicate yourself on all the eye contact that he’ll give you as he pinches the sensitive bud between his index and thumb, almost enough for it to be mean. “Now stand up and turn around.”

You smile up at him. Jake knows he just picked the correct answer. He gets you like that. Standing up, you turn around and unbutton your pants. Jake grabs the material and tugs it swiftly down your legs, leaving you in just a plain black pair of underwear in front of him.

His hand dips between your legs, index and middle pressing the fabric into your cunt and feeling your excitement soak through it.

“Bend over.”

You do as he says, pressing your ass into his crotch and wriggling your hips, feeling the tent in his boxers grind perfectly against your core.

He palms over the curve of your ass and grabs at your underwear, pushing it down your legs. You jolt softly as you feel his mouth between your legs. Kissing softly at your folds, your thighs. You shiver, afternoon sun still warming your skin, as his tongue maps the way from your hole to your clit.

It’s more for himself than for your benefit, you know that. Just allowing himself a taste of you rather than bothering to get you off with his tongue. Annoyingly, it only spurs you on more to know that he’s arrogant enough that he’s so confident that he can make you cum that he doesn’t even bother.

Teasing him by telling him you’re going to fuck his — whatever Rooster is — friend, maybe, it doesn’t warrant the best that he can give you. No, he already knows that you’ll take whatever he gives you.

You flinch as he spits harshly between your legs and stands up.

“Fuck.” You breathe out as he spins you back around to face him. He didn’t get to see your face last time. Pushed back so that you’re half-sitting on the boxes, you lips part as he guides the tip of his cock between your legs. He gathers his spit and your excitement over his swollen head, and presses into you at once. “O-Oh — fuck.”

You whine at the stretch, leaning back on your palms. You part your legs further and hook them around his hips. Jake catches hold of your jaw, angling it to face him, exhaling slowly.

His green eyes study you, hips rocking just slowly. It’s intimate, affectionate — and all too fucking much for the middle of the day in an out of use airplane hangar.

“Jake — christ, this isn’t our wedding night, you don’t have to be so gentle.”

His lips quirk softly at the idea. Trailing his thumb gently along your cheek, then swiping it across your bottom lip. Slow, intimate. Not what this is supposed to be. You gasp as he drives sharply into you, his nose scrunching just slightly as your walls flex around him.

“You know a lot about wedding nights, sweetheart?” His fingers curl tighter around your jaw as he tips your chin back so that you’re looking at him.

Your heart stops. Jake doesn’t, fucking into you, uniformed and rough enough to drive a breathless grunt from your lips. Blinking up at him, your brows furrowed just slightly and he knows he has hit the nail on the head. It was a shot in the dark, but Jake has always known how to ruffle feathers, and he just did it. So successfully, too. You stare at him, pupils blown wide.

There isn’t a ring on your finger now, and there’s no jilted husband looking to murder Jake, that’s all that matters in his eyes.

Jake squeezes your jaw and kisses you hard, nipping at the tip of your tongue. He’s quick in tearing you back out of the state of shock that he had just knocked you into. It should worry you, that your husband’s face doesn’t even cross your mind. You barely think of Michael — still too shocked that Jake could’ve said that — too caught up in how good it feels for Jake to be touching you.

“Gone awfully quiet, sweetheart.” Jake reminds you, tipping your chin back so that he can look you in the eye. God, he’s even more intoxicating up close. You narrow your eyes at him and grab the back of his neck.

“Shut your mouth.” You demand, pressing your heel into the small of his back and leaning back on your palm with your free hand, arching your chest upwards. “Or put it to good use, fuck.”

Jake chuckles, lowering his head to kiss at your tits. He nips at the skin, eyes on you like it’s a threat that he might mark your skin. You’ll get your own back, you’re good at this game too, it’s just the last thing on your mind when your orgasm is winding tight in your stomach. Tension, growing tighter and tighter. Jake’s tongue flicking over your sensitive nipple, his thumb working rough but uniformed circles on your clit and his cock, hitting you at exactly the right angle.

You’re both silent as you dress yourselves again, tugging your shirt back into place while he buckles his belt.

“So, are you gonna have another sleepover with your boyfriend tonight?” Jake asks you, his voice teetering on the meaner side of playful. You look at him over your shoulder and nod slowly, giving him a calm mhm in response. Jake chuckles dryly, then nods as he starts to walk towards you. “Tell Bradshaw I said hi, alright, honey?”

He kisses your jaw, then turns back to the work that he was doing.

As promised, Rooster collects you from the room that you’re forced into sharing just after sundown. He has the night off and so do you. So do most of the volunteers. You’ve noticed that, since the quarantine, the only people out after dark seem to be the senior staff.

That’s a question for another time. As you’re settled down onto Rooster’s couch, in your actual pyjamas this time, playing a low stakes game of blackjack, you’ve got a much more prevalent question on your mind.

“So, what was up with Mrs. Hewitt? — Was she bit?” You’ve already got your theories, but you can trust Rooster to provide you with the truth more than anyone else. He glances up at you, honey-coloured eyes even warmer under the amber glow of his lamp.

“Mm, I shouldn’t be telling you.” He gives a soft shake of his head and glances back towards the cards. You’re sitting with a king, and an unturned card. He looks towards you, “Are you gonna hit?”

You glance towards your cards, then back to him, then nod. “Yeah. I’ll hit.”

Rooster sets the card down, facing up. A six. He looks towards you, serious as he flips over his other card at the same time as you turn yours. He’s got a twelve. After you’re hit, you’re sitting pretty with a twenty-one.

“I can keep a secret.” You tell him calmly, knees tucked up to your chest as the two of you sit at opposite sides of the couch. He nods.

“She wasn’t bit, she was just infected,” Rooster explains calmly. He figures that there’s no harm in you knowing. Everyone will know eventually, whether they’re told or if they figure it out on their own. “She just died, then turned.”

You stretch your legs out a little towards him, not shocked. It’s exactly what you already thought. You still remember your neighbour picking himself up off of the floor now, turning towards you, every blood vessel in both of his eyes popped to make them an especially sinister red, snarling lowly at you.

“What? — You’ve seen this before?” Rooster catches on, the cards forgotten as he rests his arm against the back of the couch. You swallow softly, then nod.

“I mean… I thought that he must’ve been bit, or scratched, and I just hadn’t seen it, but — he was like ninety. I think he just died. He lived across the hall from me, and I went to check on him that first night.” That’s a lie. Just a small one. It had been your idea to go and check on him, but it hadn’t been you who had used the spare key to get into his apartment. You shiver at the thought.

Bradley studies your face, watching it change into something different. Something more vulnerable than you’ve ever let him see before. He knits his brows together slightly and reaches out for you, resting his hand against your forearm.

“Can… could we go to sleep? — It’s been a long day.” You ask him. You both hear it, that small tremble at the end. Neither one of you mentions it. He nods his head quickly and sets the cards down on the end table. You silently brush your teeth in his bathroom, glancing up at each other periodically. Then, you both settle down into his bed.

Side by side, not touching, just staring at the ceiling.

You close your eyes and you see your neighbour again, bloodshot eyes, snarling. When you open them, there’s nothing but white paint. Closing them once more, you see Michael. Laying on that kitchen floor with his throat torn open, choking.

“G’night.” Rooster whispers to you. You swallow, nodding softly as you turn onto your side, facing the wall and echo the word back to him.

…

@momc95 @shawnsblue @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @zbeez-outlet @harper1666 @abaker74 @xhangmanlover @bl6o6dy @alliethedaydreamer @xoxabs88xox @cowboybarbie @shanimallina87 @ohtobeleah @top-gun-rooster @blue-aconite @laracrofted @bioodforbiood

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #glen powell #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw au #jake seresin au #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin

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brighter-by-the-daly · 2 years ago

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Erin Cuthburt x Reader

Road Back Home

Part of the Beth McCarthy mini song series

What Do You Call It?

Can't help overthinking

Every, "What if, is it a phase? Will I get over it?"

Like, "What if things change, what if I'm fake?

What if it's all just for the hell of it?"

But I'm in it, I admit it, I wanted this, ayy

I'm in it, I admit it, I'm different

Driving back up to Scotland all the memories came flooding back. Your childhood best friend Erin was in the passenger seat singing along very badly to the radio. Scotland had qualified for the World Cup and you were making the long drive up north from London together. Erin was the type of person to be able to make everyone in the room laugh and cared deeply about people she loved. You’d grown up together since primary school and was the reason you got into football. She was always playing at lunch time with the boys and needed a goalie, she convinced you that you wouldn’t have to do much - just stand there. That’s when your love of diving in the mud and throwing yourself on the ground was born, much to your mam’s disapproval. You’ve been through every stage of your careers together - from academy to climbing the national team ranks to pro. But that’s when you grew apart, you were signed to Arsenal while Erin got signed to Chelsea. Although you both live in London, you rarely get time to meet up and your friendship now consists of extremely quick catch ups after derby days.

Erin knew her sexuality from a very young age but you, yours was a bit more blurry. In the past you’d always dated men but ever since you could remember your feelings about Erin were always a little bit more honest than any previous relationship you’d had. You both had grown apart but now she’s sat in your car about to fly to Australia for two months all those feelings had come flooding back. She was still making you laugh and still showing signs that she cared about you deeply. While you were in the toilet at the service station she’d bought all your favourite snacks in your favourite flavours. Specifically the Wispa Gold or the purple Nik Naks or the vanilla Coke you barely even see anymore. Starting the car back up ready for the last stretch she handed you a cup of tea, taking a sip to taste the exact number of sugars you like for long drives caused a sound of pleasure to exit your mouth. “6 sugars because those sachets aren’t full spoons, I remember!” she chimed pleased with herself as she kicked off her shoes and placed her feet on the dashboard. “If I crash you’ll lose your legs” you scolded, hitting her legs so she took them down. “Where’d you learn that, Grey Sloan?” she was joking but she was right. You were always butting in on medical situations with your knowledge earned from binging hundreds of hours of Grey’s Anatomy. Proceeding to recite the episode of a pregnant woman breaking her legs because her feet were on the dashboard, she laughed at you. “I think you should be our medic rather than our goalie!” she remarked as you joined back onto the M6 heading for Glasgow.

Dropping her off at her mum’s house you headed back to yours for a few days before you met up with the rest of the team. Your bedroom hadn’t changed since you left home at 17 for Arsenal and still had football posters on the wall. Your bed still hoarded the shoe box of all your childhood memories, including the friendship bracelet Erin gave you in Year 6. Flicking through the photos of you both as children you laughed at some of the outfits you were made to wear. Old boyfriends were amongst them which you quickly passed by before finding the day you both got signed professionally. Proudly wearing your clubs shirts and holding hands, vowing to stay friends forever.

Except, was just friends enough for me? Would telling her the truth ruin everything? What if we could be something amazing and I never tried? I’d famously dated male players my whole career, would I be seen as fake? As an attention seeker? Does this mean I’m gay? Is there a word for only fancying your best friend? The second I say anything everything changes. If I admit that I like her, I admit that I’m different. All the questions running through your head went on for days, you were distracted the entire time by thoughts of how you’re going to have to pretend for two months.

“What ya thinking about?” Erin asked, you’d been staring out of the plane window since you boarded, unable to look her in the eyes since you picked her up this morning. “The fact there’s probably still a desk with your name etched into it back at school” you mumbled. “What, why?” You turned to look at her but you could tell she knew what you meant the second your eyes locked together. Feeling the whirl of the engine power the plane as you rumbled along the runway distracted you from the awkward silence. Grabbing your arm rests tightly to prepare for take off, you hated flying, it always made you feel sick. The nauseating feeling was lessened by Erin clawing your hand away from the plastic and into her lap. “I got you” she said resting her head on your shoulder, “I got you”.

#erin cuthbert #erin cuthbert x reader #woso x reader #woso masterlist #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso community #chelsea wfc #Scotland wnt #Spotify

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busycucumbermelon · 1 year ago

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Come on, just paint one thing for me?…please love.

Summary: The man was determined to have a painting no matter what, and once he received one, he would always cherish it no matter the meaning. It would be a true treasure to him and a reminder of his ownership of the girl who created it.

Warning: obsessive, delusional

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmen gave you the north wing of his house, which is comprised of four rooms: a kitchen, a bathroom, an art room, and a bedroom. Carmen gave you a few days to make these rooms your own before sharing everything with him. Obviously, your room would always be exclusively yours, but he could enter at his discretion.

He made sure that every window would be bulletproof, making it impossible for anyone to open them, both from the inside and outside. Occasionally, he would take you out of the room and air it out, knowing that your request to do so was likely just a ploy. It's a method he would have used if he was in the same situation, assuming that he was as innocent as you were in such a scenario.

But after the first time you asked him to air out the room, you decided not to do it for around two weeks. Anytime Carmen came in, you would either be sitting in bed or cooking food in the kitchen, making Carmen sad as you never painted anything for him. However, as you were still adjusting to your new environment, he felt it would be rude if he rushed you with a request to paint something for him, as he was sure it would eventually happen once you noticed how in love the two of you are, even though you already were well in Carmen’s mind at least

Except at first, nothing significant really happens except for an increase in the amount of time you stay in your room and starting to go into a bit of a depression. This prompts Carmen to start spending nights in bed with you, initially just laying on the other side of the bed and picking up after you. But as time goes on and his patience begins to wear out, he starts doing small things like taking you out of your room to watch a movie together or have a day out. He even goes as far as hiring a team of professional cleaners to help tidy up your room.

During that time he’d show you how much the two of you were really in love.

Instead of the two of you sitting apart with snacks in between, you sit pressed up close together and have snacks in front of you. If anything is out of your reach, Carmen will quickly grab it for you. He likes to be in control, which makes him feel like he can protect you better. In addition to that, Carmen also pushed you a bit more every day. After one week of movie nights and cuddling, he decided that he needed more attention and you weren't allowed to sleep in your own bed. This meant that you had to walk across the house to Carmen‘s room if you wanted to take a nap or anything. Unless you wanted to spend time with Carmen. that meant the only other room you could relax and let your guard down was in was your art room.

Carmen got the best of the best art supplies - various paintbrushes, canvases, easels, and sketchbooks. He knew that some artists don't use sketchbooks, but he got them just in case. As time went on, his bodyguards began to report that you were spending more and more time in your room, Carmen got super excited at this news.

Even though Carmen has gained a deep appreciation for art, there's still a slightly bitter taste in his mouth whenever he thinks about it. Although he enjoys it, he won't personally pick up a paint brush or a pencil to create it himself, since it brings him back to his childhood - a time which wasn't bad, but it still had its ups and downs. Despite that, right now, he's happy to have you, his sweet little dove, to provide for and live a lavish life with.

To avoid boredom, Carmen would sometimes spar with you or work on paperwork, never telling you what it was about. Instead, he would tell you that your fragile mind "shouldn't be burdened with such scary things like that." He even went as far as to say, "Who knows what would happen to you if you knew, but if you're really that worried, you could paint me something, for my legacy. You know, just in case."

After your brief conversation about his work, Carmen grew more and more hooked on you and your art. Whenever he came into the art room to find you sitting on the floor or mixing paint, he would ask if you're painting something for him. Even during your movie nights together, he'd occasionally ask if you are painting something for him. Eventually, you got annoyed at this constant question and finally decided to paint something, not for him, but for yourself.

Every time the question of your painting was brought up, every time you remembered your scenario, every time Carmen held you down for a movie, or curled up against you in bed, you decided to paint something - anything - to help you remember, remember before this. You decided on your painting being inspired by one of the places you wished to travel to so badly. It was an attempt to not forget and to create something you could cherish, even if only for a moment.

There was a castle in the background, with a greenhouse near the front, which was surrounded by lush trees and various flowers. Everything seemed to have grown to the fullest extent, except for a fog that floated through the area. Inside the greenhouse was a woman, with her hand pressed against the glass, desperately trying to escape. This was how you felt for nearly every moment, except when you were painting. In that moment, you felt truly free, perhaps even happier than anything else you had experienced.

Carmen knew what the purpose the painting served: it was meant to be a slap in his face. However, he still chose to hang it up in his office.

He would approach you from behind, hugging you whenever you were unaware. He laid his head on your shoulder and slowly rock back and forth as you both did various activities. He wished for you to open up to him and explain to him what your piece of art meant and why it was so significant.

“Hello my love," he would often hum lightly in your ear. You would attempt to respond firmly and tell him to leave you be, but your voice would always crack. Carmen would always respond with a chuckle and claim that he just wanted to know what you were painting or hear you speak. You would insist on being left alone to continue working but Carmen constantly attempting to persuade you to explain the meaning of your paintings. Carmen would claim that perhaps this next piece would be displayed in the dining room so you two could see it together during dinner.

Every day, Carmen would approach you in your art room, intent on hearing every explanation you gave regarding your paintings. It was clear that he was obsessive about you. He never allowed you to venture beyond your space on that floor, making your art room your whole world. Although painting was your precious escape, Carmen's obsession gradually intruded on that space. In time, you would come to realize your love for him. Carmen knew he needed time to wear you down until you were aware of your affection for him.

At some point, your resolve might break, particularly with the constant pressure from those around you, claiming how perfect Carmen is. They believed that you two are a perfect match together. For now, Carmen could deal with what he currently had with you, but he was confident that eventually, you would come to realize your feelings for him and love him as much as he loved you.

#port mafia #mafia #alphabet mafia #mafia au #yandere #fem y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #mafia rp #mafia romance #y/n x character #yandere imagines #yande.re #mafia 2

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hotchs-bitch · 2 years ago

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Fluffy Feb Day 27- Snow

Warnings: getting together, only one bed trope except I as the author provided 2 beds and they do it to themselves, Canada (which was supposed to be realistic but comes across as satire. No judging me unless you are also Canadian), some 18+ implications but nothing happens

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1k (i went crazy :/)

A/N: Honestly I've either made up or researched everything I've put in a fic about America so it was a nice change to just Know Things (although I am not from the province where this takes place). Also in my mind this is a continuation to Day 9- Pine

Once again, bonus points if you can figure out which Taylor Swift song I was listening to when writing this

Cases have taken you all over the country, face to face with some of the worst serial killers that America has ever seen. Much less often, they take you to Canada.

Specifically, in the case of a psychopath who skipped borders after killing in two states almost a decade ago and resumed his killing spree further north now, they occasionally take you to the middle of Nowheresville, Saskatchewan, Canada. In the dead of winter.

“Hey, folks.” The chief of police greets you all- well, most of you, since Rossi and Prentiss are already out on the field- with a friendly wave, shaking Hotch’s hand. “Chief McCartney. Sorry to make y’all take a trip up here, but we sure can use the help.”

“The FBI has been searching for the unsub for some time,” Hotch answers as their hands part. “The case has been assumed cold for several years by the Bureau, so we’re grateful you reached out. Two of my agents are at the latest crime scene already.”

“Where should we set up?” JJ asks, and the chief leads you to a conference room. “And, er, speaking of cold…”

You’re all very cold, just from the drive from the airstrip to the station. You’d seen people snowmobiling past the road, and JJ had marvelled aloud wondering how they could bear to be out in this weather. It’s not surprising that she’s the first one to bring up the chilly air in the precinct with her parka still zipped up to her chin.

McCartney snaps his fingers like he’s remembered something important. “Y’all must be freezing, eh? Let me rustle up a space heater, get you nice and toasty.”

The fact that he’s wearing a button-down shirt and a light jacket isn’t lost on any of the experienced profilers in the room. “You’re not cold?” Derek asks, half in disbelief. “Man, I grew up in Chicago and I can’t feel my toes right now.”

“We hit minus 30’s a few weeks back,” McCartney says, wincing. “Sorry, I didn’t even think of it. Guess we’re all used to it around here by now.”

“Minus…” You glance at Spencer, who’s locked and loaded with an answer.

“Negative 30 degrees Celsius is about negative 22, Fahrenheit,” he reports. “I’d estimate we’re closer to negative 31 degrees Farenheit, though.”

“He’s smart. Windchill’s pushing us a little under,” McCartney confirms. “I’ll go get that space heater. Y’all settle in, and I’ll have one of my officers bring over the files ASAP.”

You ‘settle in’ as best you can, poring over the case with your team while wrapped in thick sweaters and cradling to-go cups of coffee. They’re branded with the Tim Hortons logo from the traveller case that one of the officers brings for you along with the files and a box of donut holes labelled ‘Timbits’. The space heater sits in the corner of the room, slowly bringing the space to a temperature that you’re all used to.

Hotch takes the first sip of his coffee without adding anything into it, his face screwing up at the taste. “It’s not too good when it’s black,” the officer tells him. “Sorry, should’ve warned you. Try a double double, it’s way better.”

“Here, I’ve got it.” You take Hotch’s coffee from him, adding in two little packets of sugar and two creamer cups while he watches you. “Better?” He stirs it and takes a sip, deliberating.

The second sip must be miles better than the first. “It’s not as bitter. I think that’s all I can ask for,” he murmurs while he takes a seat next to you, and you smirk.

He’s wearing the same quarter-zip that made an appearance when you went to Alaska, and he seems relatively warm. Lucky him. The less-built members of your team, particularly JJ and Spencer, have rosy cheeks and keep sticking their hands in their pockets to warm them. Poor Spencer goes through several cups of coffee in mere hours, a weak attempt to warm himself from the inside out.

Nearing the end of the day, you all pack up your things. There haven’t been any more murders today, but the information gleaned from the crime scenes helps you add to the profile. The unsub has a pattern of striking each week, probably to gauge how close the investigation is to catching him during the cooldown period, and he hasn’t strayed from the pattern since resurfacing.

You trudge to the hotel across the street from the police station- this town is so tiny that you don’t think it’s made up of anything other than a main street and rows of suburbia housing- in the pitch-black, wind whistling by your ears and freezing them. The sun went down several hours ago even though it’s only nearing seven PM, and the dark doesn’t lift anyone’s spirits.

“Get some rest,” Hotch says while he hands out room keys in the hotel lobby, speaking over the sound of chattering teeth. It’s more of an order than a request. “We’re at the station bright and early tomorrow, and I want you all rested and ready to work.”

The room key in your hands leads you down a hallway to a door that you unlock right as Hotch turns the corner. “119, right?” He clarifies, and you nod. “Alright. You’re with me.”

“Sounds good.” Your voice sounds cool and even, and you’re sort of proud of yourself for keeping it together after finding out that you’re sharing a hotel room with your very kind, very attractive boss. You’ve shared a room with him before, but it’s a battle of willpower to appear normal every time.

The hotel room is decently nice, and it’s warmer than you expected. Two queen-sized beds share a nightstand, and there’s a desk with a coffeemaker on it pressed up to the wall next to the TV. It’s a standard hotel room, a setup you’re familiar with. The heater under the window is whirring, filling the room with blissfully warm air- almost too warm- that has you shedding your jacket as Hotch sets his go bag on one bed and his briefcase on the desk.

“No working,” you remind him, your tone as scolding as it is light-hearted. “Bright and early, remember?”

Hotch snorts at that, then takes off his quarter-zip sweater. “We’ll be six bitter coffees deep before the sun comes up,” he says, but you struggle to hear a single word out of his mouth when you see his biceps through the thin white material of his shirt. He’s been covered up all day, and you haven’t hit your daily quota of staring at his arms.

It’s been a hard day, particularly for that reason.

“I’m going to shower,” Hotch says after a moment, discarding his fleece on the desk chair. He picks up his go bag, and the bathroom door closes behind him a moment later.

By the time he re-enters, wearing flannel pajamas pants and a white shirt, you’re fiddling with the heater. It seems to be broken, and when you turn the dial to blow cold air in the room it only seems to come out a few degrees cooler.

“The blanket’s really heavy,” you warn as he gets into his own bed. You can’t believe you’re overheating at negative-a-million degrees, but the combined weight of the duvet and warm air blowing steadily into the room is reminiscent of falling asleep in Arizona rather than the snowy north. “Something’s wrong with the heater.”

“I’ll try to manage,” he responds with a dry smile before pulling the blanket over himself. It lands on him with a solid sound, thick duvet against chest, and a soft ‘oof’, and you count to three in your head before he says, “Okay, you were right.’

“Aren’t I always?” You pull your own duvet down when you get into bed, leaving yourself covered with the top sheet of the bedspread. He stays underneath his blankets, not shifting them while you reach out and turn the lamp off.

Falling asleep has never been so difficult. Without the thick duvet, you’re curled into a ball within five minutes when the slightly colder air fills the room. With it, you’re sweating so much that it’s a wonder you aren’t sliding right off the bed. One leg pokes out from under the heavy covers, but it feels like the only part of your body that’s at a closer-to-normal temperature while the rest of you overheats. You toss and turn, falling asleep briefly every once in a while for maybe ten minutes at a time.

It’s a little embarrassing, actually. Your blanket and sheet are lifted and shifted so many times that you have to hope you aren’t waking Hotch up, even when you move as quietly as possible. The only sound in the air is the wind whistling and fabric shifting, louder than you thought possible.

Around 1 AM, hours after trying to fall asleep, you’ve all but given up. You’re considering getting to work on the file by lamplight, or just stripping down naked under the thick blankets. What other option do you have?

That’s when you hear a grunt from the other bed, and Hotch’s outline shifts in bed. You can see him move around, lifting up like he’s flipping over his pillow. In the barely-there lighting from a streetlamp, you notice that his duvet is ruffled and partially folded over itself. It looks like he’s been tossing and turning, just like you.

“Aaron,” you whisper once he’s still. It’s quiet; he can pretend not to hear you if he’s close to falling asleep, and you won’t be offended.

When he responds, his voice is gruff and just as loud as it was in the precinct today. “Yeah?”

“Can’t sleep?” It’s a stupid question, you realize as soon as it leaves your mouth. He isn’t sleeptalking, after all.

He doesn’t call you out on it, but just sighs instead. “No. It’s not working too well for me. I’m really hot.”

Yeah, you are, you want to say, but the logical side of your brain beats the sentence back with a stick before you can say it out loud. “Me too. How do you think everyone else is doing?

“Better than us, I hope.” He sits up in bed slightly; you can tell from the rustling and the dim outline. “I’m sure Dave has some kind of temperature-controllable blanket with him.”

“Spencer probably researched the best kind of pajamas to bring,” you joke back, and Aaron chuckles at that.

“Morgan probably worked out before bed and didn’t need any blankets,” he murmurs, and you snicker.

“JJ and Emily are probably cuddling for warmth.”

Why did you say that? The high altitude- the provincial average is roughly 1700 feet above sea-level, Spencer would tell you- combined with the restlessness is probably getting to you.

Aaron clears his throat, and you cough. Neither of you seems to know what to say, so he speaks first. “As long as they don’t tell me anything. It’s a lot of paperwork, for that sort of… fraternization.”

“Well, I mean. If they’re just doing it to keep warm, that’s got to be an exception,” you point out.

“I.. suppose so, yes. As long as nothing further were to happen, two agents just trying to keep each other warm isn’t inappropriate. They… we all need to be professional.”

He sounds hesitant now, speaking carefully like he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. You wonder if he’s dancing around the same thought as you. If he is, is he trying to avoid it? Or does he not want to say it first?

“So, by that logic…” you trail off, waiting for Aaron to say something. He can say anything now. He can cut you off, bid you goodnight again, or even ask you to go bunk with Rossi, but he doesn’t.

The fact that he also isn’t exactly not encouraging you doesn’t disembolden you at all. “Yes?”

“Well. You know,” you murmur. “I’m just saying that if it’s completely professional… and if it’s helping them sleep, and therefore be more well-rested to catch a serial killer tomorrow…”

“What are you saying?” He isn’t really asking. You can hear his smirk as clearly as wind whistling through the trees outside your window. “I think you need to clarify for me.”

Your huff of annoyance is more forced than it sounds. “I’m saying that if we sleep in the same bed we might be able to actually sleep. Body heat, and all that.”

Aaron’s voice is softer now, less sure than when he teased you just a minute ago. “Are you comfortable with that?”

“If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me,” you promise. The only sound in the room for a moment is both of you breathing, and you wonder if he can hear your heart thumping against your ribcage. What are you doing?

“Alright,” Aaron agrees after a long moment, pushing the duvet down to the foot of his bed. “Does it matter what side you sleep on?”

You get out of your own bed, and murmur, “No,” as he rolls over to make room for you. He lifts the top sheet up and you slide in under it, curling up. There’s still some distance between you, and you try to maintain it; he’s the one who’s concerned about things being ‘inappropriate’, after all. There’s no need for him to know that your heart is beating so fast that it feels like it’s about to jackhammer out of your chest.

“Goodnight,” you mumble as soon as your head hits the pillow. His body heat is like a furnace, warming you up perfectly from a foot away, and the thin sheet is warm like it’s been waiting for you to climb in. He says something under his breath- ‘goodnight’, maybe- but it’s been such a long day that you fall asleep in what feels like seconds without responding.

When you wake up to the sound of Aaron’s phone alarm, you’re much less than a foot away from each other in the warmest bed you’ve ever known. He’s curled up against your back, one of his arms slung around your waist to hold you to his chest. Previous experience with room-sharing tells you that he doesn’t wake up at the first alarm- he usually sets two or three, a few minutes apart- and you’ve got a couple of minutes to just be.

The sound of the alarm grates on you, but it must be on a timer because it stops ringing after a minute or so, and you relax back into Aaron. His cheek is resting against the back of your head, and you can hear his steady breaths in time with the rise and fall of his chest against you. It feels good, it feels right to wake up like this. You don’t want it to end, but you know that it has to.

When the second alarm goes off, he rouses with a little startle, like he doesn’t remember where he is. The arm around your waist tightens, just for a moment, as his body relaxes into yours. Soft as a whisper, you could swear that you feel warm lips brush the shell of your ear before he pulls his arm away and sits up.

The room is just as dark now as it was a few hours ago, and Aaron manages to fumble for his phone and quiet the alarm before he speaks. His voice is raspier than it was in the middle of the night when he checks the time and then says, “It’s almost a quarter to seven. Er, did you sleep well?”

“Very.” You yawn as you sit up, stretching both arms above your head. “I wouldn’t complain about a couple more hours, though. That whole same-bed thing works wonders.”

Aaron yawns too, turning away to grab his go-bag as he stands up. “I’m glad to hear it. You can go shower. I’ll change out here.”

“Deal.” You gather your own things when you get to your feet, disappearing into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Your mind is already on the case, pushing aside all thoughts of sleep arrangements and large arms holding you close in favour of your job. When you exit the bathroom, Aaron is already gone.

When you meet with the team in the lobby, you find out that he headed to the station right away to get ahead on the case. Everyone bundles up before walking back to the precinct; the walk is no warmer than it was last night, and fresh snow begins to fall just as you get to the doors of the precinct.

Once you find your way to the same room as yesterday, you find Hotch already there, dressed in yesterday’s fleece. He’s got a Tim Horton’s cup in one hand, and he sips it while staring, perplexed, at the geographic profile. “Good morning,” he greets everyone at once. “Reid, I was thinking. If we intersect his old hideout parameters from Minnesota and Georgia with his murders here, then…” their chatter fades into white noise as you turn your attention to the files lining the tables.

The first hour passes in a blur, the conference room lit only by harsh overhead fluorescents as you trade theories and examine new evidence provided by the local officers. The clock is just announcing the arrival of 9 AM, the sky beginning to brighten slightly, when you realize that you need coffee.

You’ve got the same setup as yesterday in that regard, too. One of the officers must have picked up a fresh traveller for you, evidenced by the steam rolling off of the coffee that Hotch is pouring for himself. “How’s it going?” He asks, stirring two creams and two sugars into his coffee.

“No big break yet, but I’m sure we’re close. We’re going to get this guy soon,” you promise, and Hotch nods at that. “I wanted to thank you again. For, you know. Helping me sleep last night.”

“It was no trouble,” he assures you, fiddling with the stir stick in his hand. “It was helpful for me, too.”

“And, hey.” You lower your voice a bit, and Hotch leans in to hear you better. “Maybe we can do it again tonight. You know, if that’s okay with you.”

He gives you a smile, that tight-lipped one you’re used to seeing around the office. “It’s alright with me. I just don’t want to… well, I’m your boss. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. It has no impact on my views of your professionalism.”

There’s that word again. You wish he could be a little less professional, for once. But he’s right, he’s your boss, and there are certain things he can’t say first. Your profiling skills tell you that he still wants to say them though. “Well, what happens in Canada can stay in Canada,” you half-jest.

“It can, if you want it to,” he murmurs. He still hasn’t taken a sip of his coffee, and he hands the cup to you while he pours a second one. “The sun will be coming up, soon.”

He’s right. Pale orange is streaking the sky through the large conference room window, tracing pink lines around the edge of the sun that’s just starting to peek up into the prairie sky. The snow is still falling, painting a picturesque image in the sky “It’s gorgeous,” you comment, taking a sip of your coffee. Without taking your eyes off the sky, you step a little closer to Hotch.

“Yes,” he agrees, holding his coffee in his right hand. His left rests on the table that your back is against, and it might be wishful thinking, but you think that he would wrap that arm around you again if there were no one else around. “It certainly is.”

----

“Longest week of my life,” Emily complains as soon as you’re airborne, a mere three days later. The unsub has been apprehended and is in federal custody of the country you’re returning home to. “But those beds were insanely comfortable. I haven’t slept that well in months.”

You and Aaron exchange a glance, a double-layered inside joke about why Emily slept so well and why exactly you both slept so well for several nights in a row.

The last four nights have brought with them some of the best rest of your life. You’ve grown familiar with the feeling of Aaron’s arms around you in the morning, and by day three he stopped jerking them away as soon as he woke up.

That was the same day he asked you out, his gaze averted while he fiddled with a gold-coloured coin that he had received as change when he went out to buy a coffee. You had agreed, of course, and had assured him more than once that it didn’t matter that he’s your boss. You want him, and you have for ages.

On the fourth day, just this morning, he had held you a little tighter when he woke up and rumbled, “Morning, baby,” against your ear. If he hadn’t felt your heart beating around in your chest before, he had certainly felt it then.

Despite the fact that you’ve got a date planned with the man you’ve been cuddling for the better part of a week, you’re ready to tease Emily for cuddling JJ, before Spencer chimes in.

“I thought that the beds were quite comfortable, also. According to Sheriff McCartney, they’re primarily a transit town, which runs on a completely different economic structure than a transit village. The economy depends on truckers and people on road trips or similar travel to sleep in their hotels and eat at their restaurants,” he explains. “It’s fascinating, actually; transit towns pour the majority of their resources into making sure travellers making one-night stays enjoy themselves enough that they take the same route on the way home, thus giving the town more business.”

“The only business I want from that town is the name of whoever supplies those blankets,” Derek says, grinning. “That thing was so heavy, it was like getting crushed to sleep. Exactly what I needed with all that cool air blowing in.”

“Your room wasn’t too hot?” You ask, your nose scrunching up. “I think the heat was broken in mine. It was just hot air the whole time, every night. Way too hot to sleep.”

“Ours was like that on the first night,” JJ recalls, and Emily nods in agreement. “It was awful.”

“Right?” You complain, sinking further down into your seat. Hotch is sitting to your right, his face an impassive mask while he watches the exchange. “Let me guess, you guys shared a… uh…”

Your teasing falters when the look on both JJ's and Emily’s faces tells you that, no, they did not share a bed, and you’ve just implied your solution to the heater problem. “We used the other blankets,” Emily says slowly, her eyes narrowing. “Didn’t you?”

“Oh! Oh, the other blankets. Yeah, the ones in the nightstand.” You nod along, your mortification growing in time with JJ’s smirk.

“They were in the closet,” she corrects you, obviously trying not to laugh. “I guess we know how you and Hotch stayed warm.”

You don’t need to look at your boss’- boss? Friend? Lover? You aren’t too sure right now- face to know that his cheeks are dusted rosy pink. “It wasn’t like that,” you protest to deaf ears as Derek whoops and high-fives Emily.

“About time,” he snickers at the look on your face. “So, when’s the first date?”

“It’s not-” you start to say, but Hotch speaks before you can.

“Friday.”

Your eyes widen and you turn to him. He raises one shoulder and smiles, like What was I supposed to say? “Friday,” you relent a moment later.

Derek is still grinning ear to ear like a maniac, and even Spencer cracks a smile when Aaron snakes one arm slowly around your waist. The sun is rising on one side of the jet, and the orange glow illuminates his face.

For one suspended moment, everything is perfect. You’ve got a date for this Friday, you’re more well-rested than you’ve felt in ages, and your team doesn’t seem to care that you and your boss are much closer than you were a couple of weeks ago. It’s a blissful moment to you, and it’s only broken by Emily’s gleeful not-quite-a whisper to JJ. “Penelope is going to be pissed that she missed this.”

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bronx-bomber87 · 1 year ago

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Happy Saturday lovely Fandom. Zero Chenford in this one but it is very good ep overall regardless. They’ve got good separate moments. Still a good ep for them as characters. This will probably be way way shorter than usual ha. We haven’t had this small of content since the Fed eps in S4 which were meh af ha Let us get started.

5x15 The Con

We start out with Lucy and Aaron doing some leg work for Angela's OP on Elijah. This entire ep centers around it and everyone's part in it. I do love how Aaron fits in with both Lucy and Tim. Fun to see them work this OP together to take down Elijah. Lucy moving like a skilled bad ass planting the bug on his car. Aaron being the decoy pretending to be a clueless bystander. I adore her ‘Tell your dog I said Hi’ Feels like a Melissa shirt and I love that. I recall her wearing it in 4x03 as well. Always enjoy seeing pieces of Melissa appear on the show. Anyways fun to see her being a BAMF in the field. They work well together.

19 minutes into an episode to see my boy isn’t acceptable LOL Mmm but what a shot it is though my god. Metro Tim in his tight shirt, can see his badge near his hip, and his gun also hanging out on display. Mmm yummy. That duty belt is doing thing to me clearly haha *ahem* Back to the SL though... They’ve captured Elijah’s top lieutenants. Trying to give the illusion Abril has captured them. Trying to get Elijah to spook for their OP tonight.

I do love the crossed arms. One of my favs Tim positions. Those sexy biceps will be the death of me. But then so will this entire ensemble of his. Then we get a nice shot of him staring into interrogation as Garza leaves. ‘Metro Police’ Stretched deliciously across his back. Man is fine af. Oozes sex just standing there.

Aaron and Lucy are still following Elijah around. Listening into his phone calls. Seeing if their spooking is working. It would appear that it is. He is in a panic since his Lieutenants have been snatched and now his lawyer. It is fun to watch Lucy in her element in the field. Her and Aaron make a solid pairing to watch. We needed this since her and Tim can’t always be together on job now for most part.

Elijah calls for Angela. Earlier in the cold open she offered him a deal. To help him take out Abril’s heavy hitters in exchange for her family’s safety. He scoffed at her offer and passed. Now he’s in a panic and wants the deal. Angela telling Elijah her hitters are at a house in North Hollywood. That he can take them out tonight. It’s a smart trap to set for him and he’s taking the bait.

Celina is involved in this OP as well. Nice to see all hands on deck for this. She is being used as decoy for Elijah’s guys to see. Make them look like they’re distracted and weak before they move in. Mmmm love Tim leaning against that door frame. Sexy beast of a man. Just waiting with his team to spring into action. I love watching Tim in the field. See how his mind works. Always have because he's just so damn good at what he does. Watching him in full tactical gear doing same thing? *fans self* I'll take Metro Tim in the field all damn day.

I also love watching Lucy in field as well. They’re both in their element in this OP. It’s really fun to watch them do what they do best. They're both so good at their jobs and this episode is a good reflection of that. I'm just so proud watching Lucy in these scenes with Aaron. Getting to see Lucy command her portion of the OP. Directing Aaron on what to do. Making calls for them on the fly like above. I know Tim would be so very impressed just watching her handle herself like this. I know I am.

The tension leading up to Elijah getting up to the house is immense. They can’t arrest him unless he is physically on the premises. Not only that but has break into the house with their illegals firearms. If they do anything before then it won't stick. It'll look like more retaliation from Angela and nothing more. Tim and his team waiting inside for him to enter guns at the ready. Yum.

Lucy and Aaron coming in as backup. They’re entering the perimeter when Aaron kicks a bottle…loudly ….It ruins the entire OP. Elijah bails on the attack. They head back to their cars. They spent the entire day setting this up and it's ruined in an instant because Aaron wasn't looking where he was going. Oof.

The angry glare Lucy gives Aaron. Phew Lord. Man if looks could kill.... This is my favorite part of the episode. She learned that disapproving glare from her man. Aaron is feeling the weight of it as he follows her. Deflated and knowing he is the one who blew this OP. It's a rough night to be Aaron.

Also i’m just continuously proud of the bad ass Lucy's become. Running her own side of this OP like a boss. Aaron following her without question. It’s why he’s feeling crushed she is disappointed in him. That look said more than she could ever yell at him in this moment. LOVING her hair in a pony tail for this OP too BTW. Fantastic.

That’s all she wrote for this one. Zero content but still good field moments. Watching them both in their element always fun to watch IMO.

No side notes since this was basically all non Chenford ha

Thank you thank you to all who like, comment and reblog these reviews. Insane we're barreling towards the end of this season. You all have made this so much fun. I shall see you in 5x16 :)

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le-trash-prince · 6 months ago

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....apologies in advance for how unhinged this is probably gonna be.

no real need to talk about what kinks babe and charlie have since the show did it for us 😌

North and Sonic, in the bedroom, with a camera. it's canon to me. also when they're even just hanging out with the rest of x hunter they'll send each other ~sexy~ photos. my headcanon is that before they even got together they'd like. review/critique each other's thirst traps, and more risque photos.

ALSO I like to think that they think as the young cool hip members of the team they should be having wild freaky sex all the time but most often they end up having sweet vanilla sex. they're like we bought all those toys/outfits/paraphernalia for NOTHING.

since rewatching the show I've been having A LOT of peteway feelings. service! top! Pete!!!! sorry but that scene where Way is all whiny and pouty and Pete just takes care of him is printed indelibly into my mind. Pete has almost kind of a saviour complex - he clearly still thinks of Kenta as his responsibility even all those years later - which works very well with a Way who needs someone to build him back up from being broken. (and Pete also makes Way get a therapist)

I think they both like using - or specifically Not using - their powers in bed. Way for sure likes that he doesn't HAVE to say what he wants, Pete can just know. but definitely sometimes Pete makes him say it. and to make sure Way doesn't get frustrated and use his powers on Pete his hands have to be tied up you know?

also have NOT stopped thinking about body worship and Way getting overwhelmed by it since you mentioned it.... GOD.

anyway hot rich housewife Way😌as he deserves😌no chance Way can cook BUT as demonstrated in the show he very clearly understands food as love SO. consider Way (more atticwife than housewife in this s2 AU scenario but Way would love it) checking exactly when Pete is getting home - of course Pete is always hurrying home these days, but what can you expect, he's heartbroken obviously he doesn't want to hang out - and making sure he's either ordered dinner or put together the pre-prepped meals Pete gets delivered from a variety of different services so nobody notices he's going through twice as much food as he should, and has it ready and waiting on the table for when Pete gets home. and maybe as a thank you Pete rails Way over the table too. just as a sign of gratitude, you know.

okay I know we've talked about the polycule and kinks but all over the place so let's try and consolidate lol.

Winner likes it when people pay attention to him (obviously!!) but turns out he also gets a little hot when people ignore him completely. also he likes to use his height/size to his advantage (also just to be a little bit of a dick you know for fun) like instead of leaning down he'll make the other person go up on their toes.

do you think Winner's into being gagged. I don't think he's into being tied up but he can certainly appreciate it when someone else is EVEN THOUGH it means they can't touch him back. thought about humiliation but does Winner have the ability to feel that.

is giving blowjobs a kink because it's like Dean's favourite thing (consider the different ways the other three treat him when he's on his knees <- I have thoughts but this is already so long lol) aside from the OBVIOUS FROM SPACE praise kink. <- genuinely my brain derailed for a bit here thinking about Dean's praise kink I'm coming back now I'm normal. Dean would also be down to be a hot rich housewife I think as long as everyone tells him how pretty he looks and how well he did whatever housework.

Kenta ALSO has a praise kink and - as you have delightfully talked about - very much enjoys being tied up. more than anything Kenta likes doing a Good Job and being told he's doing a good job. also. body worship but they have to walk a fine line and not lean into objectification. also I think Kenta should pick Kim up. maybe while Kenta's wearing pretty lingerie and his collar!

Kim likes to collar all his boys!! and they love it too. we love gentle dom Kim 😌 who sometimes likes to just get wrecked as well. he likes to take care of his boys! I still very much enjoy the headcanon that he demonstrates that it's okay to like something by having it done for him first. he likes tying people up and driving them out of their minds with how good they feel.

all four of them are stupidly possessive over each other idk if it's a kink so much as they're all just a little unhinged. well it's a kink if they're Into It I guess and for suuuure at least one of them is.

uhhh also since Winner and Dean hooked up a bunch of times pre-canon in the bar bathroom the first few times they sleep together sober feels kinky. okay I'm stopping now.

first of all i'm obviously seconding everything we've talked about before

yes, i think the whole world is aware of charlie and babe's kinks by now ^^

oh north and sonic absoLUTELY have a cam kink. north probably goes through ten levels of crisis wondering if it's okay to jack off to a picture of your bro in lingerie except he can't STOP thinking about it. also i feel like north would be a crier.

ldfgdfg they WOULD be into experimentation just for the principle of it, but mostly they just want skin to skin contact and giggles and cute outfits

pete is 100% a service top and he spoils way both in the bedroom and outside of it, but i also think that further down the road, he would admit to wanting way to use his power on pete in the bedroom sometimes, just so he can stop having to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

i really need to see way in an apron and nothing but an apron if he can't cook he can be the dinner please and thanks

i think winner is maybe a little into being gagged. i feel like he runs his mouth so much he's asking for someone to shut him up. also i think he does experience humiliation, which is part of why he hates babe so much bc he doesn't know where to direct that energy. (edit: also i think winner would look great in a muzzle)

dean giving blowjobs and being told how pretty he looks and how good he's doing is probably his favorite thing in the world. i bet he'd have to goad kenta into being rough with him bc kenta would be so restrained unless he's properly pissed at dean

yes i think kenta should pick kim up and oh, sorry, my brain is derailing thinking about benz riding garfield. uh yeah anyways something something he's not allowed to come until kim does

kim deserves all the doggies 😌😌😌

the foundation of this ship in my mind was them being a little bit terrible and unbalanced. i just know dean is into getting down with strangers on the dance floor just so at least one of his boys can drag him off and mark him

"sober feels kinky" gdfgdfg FOR THEM IT WOULD LMFAO

also i think alan also has a praise kink and jeff loves to exploit this. he'd also be into cuffing alan's wrists to the bed. i can't picture alan suggesting anything that wasn't vanilla, but i feel like every single time jeff suggests trying something, alan is so absolutely into even just the thought of it.

#asks #bad gays #pit babe polyshipping #pit babe HCs #pit babe #pit babe the series #smutty HCs #em post #long post

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