#this is what happens at 4:30am when i can’t sleep

[honestlydarkprincess]

[Image ID: picture of Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz and a tweet that says ship dynamic: two best friends raise a kid together. End ID.]

[sturn1olo-ffics]

- HIDDEN (a series) -

pt. 1 | pt. 2

- Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader (she/her pronouns used)

- Warnings: angst, Matt and reader high key hate each other, making out, use of y/n, profanity, alcohol use, I think that’s it??; NOT PROOFREAD

- About: Y/n and Matt aren’t very fond of each other on the outside, but on the inside, what really are they?

- Note: orange text=Chris, purple text=Nick, blue text=Matt, pink text=you

—————————————————————————————

(Y/N’s POV):

I look down at my phone to a text from Chris.

“Hey did you happen to see Matt earlier?”

“Yeah, he stopped by to get something. Why what’s up?”

“Oh don’t worry about it, I was just wondering fr.”

“Okay…”

Chris had always been suspicious about Matt and I. He had always been confused why we hated each other so much even though it seems like we’d get along so well.

I ignored Chris’ text and continued on talking to my friends at the party.

I soon grew tired but I couldn’t drive home because I had a few drinks, so I called Larray to Uber over because I trusted him to drive my car home for me.

Upon arriving to my house, I thanked Larray and walked in.

Then, I started to feel my phone buzz in my pocket.

“Hello?”

It was Nick calling me.

“Hey girl I was just on the phone with Larray when you called and wanted to make sure you got home alright.”

“Yeah! I did. Thank you for checking on me. How was filming the car video? Any fights between you and Chris this time?”

“What? Oh no we didn’t have a video planned to film tonight, we did it last night. But I can’t spoil it, you’ll have to wait to watch.”

“Oh- well Imma go. I need sleep really bad.”

“Alright, good night y/n”

“Night!”

Why would Matt lie and tell me they were filming a video? I mean it’s not like it was even that big of a deal, he could have just said he didn’t want to go with me.

I turned my playlist on and hopped in the shower, still intoxicated. I managed to take a quick shower, take off my makeup, and brush my teeth before clocking out in my bed for the night.

3:30am.

Four knocks on my window.

I knew it was Matt. Only Matt knocked 4 times in that pattern.

I opened my curtain to reveal his tired expression and signaled for him to come in.

If I were sober and in my right mind right then, I would not have let him in, but I wasn’t.

“Hi” he said, opening the window.

Almost immediately I pressed my lips to his, forming an unspoken language between us.

His hands roamed my body as he kicked his shoes off, allowing them to fall on the floor.

The cool, fall breeze filled the air as the window was left at a crack, leaving chill bumps across my skin.

Not a word was said between us, but the deepened kiss was all that was needed.

“Matt-” I mustered out.

“Shh baby.” He whispered, closing the gap between our lips once more.

His cologne filled my nose as he placed soft and rough kisses to my neck.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said between kisses.

A soft smile spread across my lips before meeting his again.

5:45am

I must have blacked out or fallen asleep because next thing I know, I was woken up next to Matt in his bed at their house.

“Matt” I said, lightly tapping his shoulder.

“Hm?” He questioned softly.

“What happened?” I sat up, feeling sick.

“When I went down stairs to get you some medicine, you blacked out from the amount of alcohol you drank, so I brought you here to take care of you.” He turned his body toward me.

“Take care of me?” I looked down and giggled.

“I know, I know.” He giggled back.

“You could have done that at my house though-” I continued laughing.

“Shhh I wasn’t thinking.” He whispered with a smile.

“I should actually really get home before Nick and Chris realize I’m here.” I stood up, immediately falling back down onto the bed.

“No no baby, they won’t even know, I’ll get you home without them seeing. Just lay back down.” He whined and pulled me into him.

I fell back asleep to Matt rubbing my back with one hand and brushing my hair with the other.

I could stay like that forever. That is, until Chris unexpectedly walked in the room at 7:00 in the morning.

—————————————————————————————

A/N: I kinda hate this part but whatever, it’s really just filler. Love you guys 😭

Tag list:

@cupidsturniolo

(Comment if you wanna be added lmao)

[izzielizzie93]

High School Sweethearts Part 3-J Burrow

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Part 3! Thank you everyone that has liked, shared, and commented! Part 4 is going to be the last :)

Wordcount: 1.2K

College!JoeBurrow x College!Reader

Happy Reading :)

----

Waking up the next morning, I kept my eyes closed for as long as possible hoping sleep would find me again. When I realized that wasn’t going to happen, I opened my eyes and froze at the sight before me. Star Wars memorabilia was scattered on the shelves and men’s clothing was strewn about on a chair and the floor. 

Breathing deeply to try to calm myself down, I lifted the blanket to confirm that I was naked. Panicking, I didn’t dare move a muscle as my eyes searched the bedside table for my phone. Once I spotted it, I slowly reached out and brought it to me. I looked back through texts from the night before from Kasey and Sarah. 

11:00PM

~Where are you?~ 

~Hellooo, you went out for air and disappeared??~

11:30PM

~Joe isn’t here anymore!~

~Stop hiding and get out here!~

11:45PM

~Image: Bonfire~

12:30AM

~OMG Trent said you left with Joe?!~

~Girl you’d better stop playing & text us back!~

I then spotted a reply I don’t remember making… 

1:30AM

~Image: Joe sleeping with his back facing me~

~Holy shit! YESSSSS~

~You fucking didn’t omg~

~Details tomorrow!~

“Morning,” I froze and turned my screen off as Joe rolled over and wrapped his arms around me. “Uh, morning.” I mumbled. “Do you need water or Tylenol?” He asked, pressing a kiss to my neck. “Uh, water would be good.” I whispered, not trusting my voice. 

Joe rolled over and shuffled around, coming into my view a moment later in a pair of sweats. He turned back and gave me a wink before exiting his bedroom. I took the time to hastily pull on my jeans and top and throw my hair up into a bun. 

“Leaving already?” Joe pouted when he came back in. I just stared at him, not knowing what to say. “Joe!” We both turned toward the door at the sound of Robin’s voice. Did they see me come home with him? Do they know I’m still up here? “Relax, they were out late. Passed out when we got here.” He said, handing me the water and pill bottle before exiting. 

Not waiting for him to come back, I grabbed my phone and ran across the hallway to the bathroom. With trembling fingers, I called my older sister. “Lindsey!” I breathed a sigh of relief when she answered. “What’s up?” She asked. “I am like 100% sure I slept with Joe last night after we went to a party.” I slid down onto the floor. “Y/N!” She scolded. “I know, I know.” I dropped my head, “I’m also still here and I don’t know how to escape without his parents seeing me. I cannot believe this is happening.” 

She let out a bemused sound; but then someone knocked at the door. “Y/N, are you in there?” Joe called. “Fuck, I have to go.” I whispered. “Good luck dumbass.” My sister laughed and hung up. “Be right out!” I called back. I rifled around and found makeup wipes to clean up my face. I redid my hair to make it more presentable and I opened the door. 

Joe was back in his room, still in the sweatpants and sitting on the bed. “Do they know I’m here?” I asked and he shook his head. “How the hell am I supposed to get out of here without being caught?” I crossed my arms and remained standing. “You can just say you stopped by this morning. It’s already noon so…” He shrugged. “This is not an outfit I would wear to stop by and I can’t even find my bra.” I huffed. 

He laughed and leaned over to the side of his bed and pulled out my bra. Tossing it over, he continued to watch me until I told him to turn around. After putting the bra on, I sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“You remember last night, right? I didn’t take advantage of you did I?” Joe asked nervously. Once I had fully woken up, the memories all came back to me. “No, I remember.” I said quietly.

“Do you regret it?” He asked, and I could feel his eyes locked on me. “I don’t know.” I sighed, focusing on the floor. 

“I don’t,” It was so quiet I almost missed it. My heart began to race and I felt my cheeks burn. “So now what, do we ignore each other and then sleep together when we come home for the holidays?” The words came out without me even thinking. “I don’t want that.” Joe shuffled down to the end of the bed and sat next to me. 

“Then what the hell do you want?” I spat. “I’ve fucking missed you so much.” He admitted. “Well, you made the decision to break up and swore up and down it would never work, so…” I trailed off. 

“Have you dated anyone at LSU?” He asked and I shook my head. “I haven’t dated anyone either.” He added. “Ok, and?” I asked, keeping the anger right at the forefront of my emotions. “I don’t want to date anyone else and I don’t want you to either.” He reached over and took one of my hands in his. I almost pulled away but the butterflies in my stomach surprised me. 

“Joe, you can’t just expect this to all get better because we slept together last night.” I began, “I can’t stand the idea of going back to school and worrying that I’ll get a text saying ‘sorry I changed my mind’, I literally fucking just went through all of those feelings and I’m finally feeling normal again.” It felt good to get all of these feelings off of my chest as I sat there in a bedroom I used to feel so comfortable in. 

“I fucked up Y/N, I know I did. I’m sorry for everything, I almost called and texted you so many times when you left and I chickened out.” Joe explained evenly. It made me feel worse knowing I was trying so hard to fight back tears and Joe was so composed. 

“I want to show you that I’m all in. I don’t care that we’re not at the same school. I promise to call and text you every single day.” Joe continued, “I’ll stand here and beg you if I have to. Please.” Joe’s calm demeanor cracked, his voice faltering at the last word, please. 

“I need time to think, Joe. Right now, I really just need to go home and sleep off this hangover.” Joe gingerly placed my hand back in my lap and I had to fight the urge not to take hold of his again. I had too many feelings swirling around and I needed to leave before I made a decision I might regret.

Once I’d safely gotten home, I ran up to my room and threw myself onto my bed. 

“I’m so fucked.” 

—-------------------------------

Ok so I never expected to drag this out, I’m having too much fun with it… (Also the GIF is exactly the face I pictured Joe making when the reader is leaving & he didn't get what he wanted)

Thank you everyone that has stuck around for my overindulgent writing.

Please comment, feedback is appreciated. Anything from awesome to this is the worst thing you've ever read...

[wa-royal-tea]

Previous | Beginning | Next

(Transcript & Translations under the cut & here - Click Pics for HQ Version!)

@thebrixtons​​​

Symphony Manor, Holan (8:30am)

*alarm rings*

Alfie: Good morning, cutie.

Catalina: Mhm, morning.

Alfie: Go back to sleep, it’s still early.

Catalina: Nuh-uh. I’ve been sleeping a lot lately.

*light switch clicks*

Alfie: You should be resting a lot, Lina. You’re still recovering from your injuries.

Catalina: I’m fine. You’re overreacting.

Alfie: Am I though?

Catalina: Yes, you are. It’s been two weeks. I feel better now. I can walk too.

Catalina: And I can do more than walk. If you know what I mean.

Alfie: Tempting, but, I don’t want to take the risk of hurting you. So, I’ll keep my hands to myself until I’m sure you’re fine.

Catalina: Urgh, you suck.

Alfie: *chuckles* Stay in bed. I’ll bring breakfast to you.

Catalina: You’re treating me like a child again.

Alfie: This time, for a good reason. I don’t want you to tire yourself out. And the doctors said that it’s going to take a while before you can make a full recovery.

Alfie: Please listen to me, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt again.

Catalina: *groans* Fine.

Alfie: Good girl.

*door opens and closes*

Tweet 1: an INTRUDER AT THE PALACE ?? fr ?? they got into a whole fight with alfie and #trashlina

Reply to tweet 1: they prob tried to put her in her place💀the bitch deserves it

Reply to tweet 1′s reply: stfu stop being a hater

Tweet 2: I feel sorry for the guests that already arrived. Ppl are dying around the world and they wasted their money on a wedding only for it to be postponed.

Tweet 3: LMAOOO THEY CANCELED THEIR WEDDING !!!! move over #trashlina, its marie’s time to shine ✨

Tweet 4: wait? they postponed their wedding? why?

Reply to tweet 4: the palace hasnt said anything … pelik (weird)

Tweet 5: atp i’m anti-monarchy, because what the hell is even going on?

Tweet 6: idc what everyone else says, i’m standing by alfie and lina 😔 nobody deserves what they’re going through

Tweet 7: how much do u guys wanna bet that they’re lying about the intruder? 👁👁

Reply to tweet 7: i saw a tweet from a former staff and they said nothing even happened … let’s put our tin foil hats on 😬

Reply to tweet 7′s reply: korg ckp ni boleh pakai otak tak? (ppl, can we pls think with our heads for 2 seconds?) stop jumping to conclusions you guys annoy the hell out of me.

Tweet 8: The hate she’s getting rn is unfair. Why’d you guys assume the worse of her?

Reply to tweet 8: Are you fcking fr? Did you forget what she did the other day?

Tweet 8′s OP replies: The apology thingy? You’re mad at her for that? I didn’t realize the marie stans are brain dead when it comes to Lina. She was doing the right thing by apologizing for something she didn’t even do. I bet if it was your fav who did this, you’d be praising her to the skies. Be serious.

*door opens and closes*

Alfie: What are you doing?

Catalina: N-nothing.

Alfie: Are you reading tweets on twister again? Stop reading those. It’s full of shit.

Catalina: I can’t help it. Last week was supposed to be our wedding day but it got postponed because of me.

Alfie: You didn’t ask for this to happen. And those people don’t know what actually happened. They’re just talking out of their asses right now.

Catalina: *sighs* Whatever. It already happened. Did your mum said anything about the wedding date?

Alfie: She said the wedding has been postponed to next month. The latest it would be is in two.

Catalina: But what are we gonna do until then? Don’t tell me you expect me to be in bed everyday?

Alfie: Mum said she’ll give us a new schedule to make up for the tour. She wants us to do joint engagements to build your reputation again. Right now the people are divided in half when it comes to you.

Catalina: Not surprised.

Alfie: Don’t think too much about it. You have me and the others to support you. And this time, if you did mess up, I will tell you. No sugarcoating. But, I won’t be an asshole about it.

Catalina: I’m a bit scared to hear what you’re going to say but thanks for listening to me.

Alfie: It’s no big deal.

Catalina: Oh, I forgot to ask. Did your mum said anything about my assistant? Since, y’know, Rowena’s not really in the picture anymore?

Alfie: She’s considering Anna to be your permanent assistant. The accusations against her has been dropped because Rowena confessed that she lied.

Catalina: Thank god. I liked Anna. I knew she won’t do it.

Alfie: Yeah. I’m just glad Anna still want to work with us. I heard mum said that she was a student Auntie Athy sponsored back in Cordelia. So she’s trusted.

Catalina: Is she a spellcaster like Lucy too?

Alfie: Nope. She’s a normal human. Like us.

Catalina: Oh, that’s cool. But what happens to Rowena now?

Alfie: She’s still under investigation. Your mama thinks it’s impossible for her to work alone. There must be someone helping her out and they’re trying to pry the answers out from her.

Catalina: Hmm...

*phone rings*

Alfie (to the phone): Hello, mum? Yeah, I’m at home.

Alfie: What? Are you serious?

Alfie: I...I see. Okay, I’ll tell her later. Keep me updated. Bye. Take care too.

Catalina: What was it? Did something happen?

Alfie: It’s Rowena.

Catalina: What’s wrong with her?

Alfie: She’s...she’s dead.

[wolfjessedragon]

Prompt: Two mornings in Sunguel’s apartment

(Note: this takes place in the time gap between parts 2 and 3)

Warning: Lots of domestic fluff and a couple being adorable

On a weekday

6:00am

Sunny: *Wakes as sunlight peaks through the windows, looks up and smiles at seeing her Miguel sound asleep, gently plants a kiss on his lips and carefully finesses her way out of his embrace without waking him.*

6:30am

Miguel: *Wakes to the smell of something good and heads to the kitchen. He sees his Soleada and the stove, and grins mischievously.*

Sunny: *Humming “Bacon Pancakes” while finishing making turkey bacon pancakes, her spider sense goes off.* I’m kinda handling hot grease right now Carino, do you really want to sneak up on me?

Miguel: *Rushes at Sunny and wraps his arms around her.*

Sunny: *Laughs as Miguel suddenly embraces and kisses her face frantically.*

Miguel: Worth it, Buenos días Soleada, *kisses her once more before lifting her onto the counter and kissing her abdomen* Buenos días bebé.

Sunny: *giggles* Morning Miguel, hungry? *offers him some turkey bacon pancakes*

7:00am

Sunny: Hey Miguel, which sweater do you think for today? The violet or the indigo?

Miguel: Hmm, go for the indigo, cause indigo is the way to go.

Sunny: Thanks *puts sweater over suit*

Miguel: Hey, do you think I need to shave?

Sunny: Nah you’ll be good for a few more days.

7:15am

Miguel: Ready?

Sunny: *coming out of bathroom* Yep

*They both smiled once more at one another before walking out the door.*

On a weekend

9:00am

Sunny: *Giggles as Miguel holds her to him in bed while kissing her face and neck.*

Miguel: Y’know what I like most about weekends?

Sunny: Other than sleeping in?

Miguel: I get you all to myself

Sunny: *laughs* You say that now but wait till I’m at eight or nine months then you might change your mind.

Miguel: Oh absolutely not mi Soleada, if anything when that happens I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.

Sunny: Seriously? Big belly, stretch marks, spider veins and everything else?

Miguel: Dead serious *He kisses down her chest to her abdomen* hear that baby? I’m always gonna want your momma and you.

Sunny: *laughs kisses Miguel back passionately*

(Note, Still working on part 4 but my ADHD and Autism having ass can’t focus on finishing just one thing and when I get inspired. FYI my grad school semester is gonna be starting soon so if there’s gaps in time, that’s why. I hope you guys are enjoying these prompts, lore bits, and all, and that it’ll keep y’all satisfied till part 4 comes out.)

[intriguingpeoplebyangelafloyd]

CRAIG FOLBIGG

CRAIG FOLBIGG

4 March 2024

Craig Folbigg has sadly died at the age of 55 after suffering a heart attack. Folbigg was the ex-husband of Kathleen Folbigg and the father of the four children, Caleb, Patrick, Sarah and Laura who all died between 1989 and 1999.

            Kathleen spent 20 years behind bars after being found guilty of killing her children. She was released in 2023 due to doubt about how their children died. It was suggested that the children may have died from natural causes due to a rare genetic factor.

            Craig always believed that his wife had killed their children; this was due to what she wrote in her diary, which were disturbing (which I’ve posted here last year) and many other factors.

            On the night Sarah died, Craig woke up and looked at the time; it was 1:10 am. He noticed his wife and daughter were no longer in the room. He drifted back to sleep and woke up when Kathleen returned to bed. Twenty minutes later she got out of bed, and alerted Craig to tell him that Sarah wasn’t breathing. Kathleen wrote on the calendar ‘Sarah left us at 1am’.

            Kathleen suffered from depression and stress, and became incredibly frustrated with her four children. On the Monday morning that Laura died, Kathleen was frustrated with her and screamed at Laura so forcefully that Craig ran to see what was going on. Kathleen was trying to force-feed Laura her breakfast and Craig suggest not to feed her if she doesn’t want it right now and Kathleen told him to ‘fuck off’. Kathleen grabbed Laura and put her on the ground, Laura started darting around and Craig said that Kathleen roared and screamed, ‘I can’t handle her when she’s like this!’ Laura was afraid of Kathleen and Craig was trying to comfort her, Kathleen stormed into the room and told him to give her the baby and for him to go to work.  

            At 8:30am Kathleen called him at work and told him that he was ‘too soft on her’ [Laura]. Craig suggested that the two come in to visit him at work, which they did. Not long after they left, Laura would be dead.

            After Laura’s death, Craig asked Kathleen what happened. He noticed various holes in her story and things weren’t adding up. Doubt formed.

#craigfolbigg #kathleenfolbigg           

[dunkzillla]

A Place to Call Home (2/4)

Honestly I can’t tell you what happened here. I had this whole thing planned out and then I just kinda word vommed onto the document and this ended up being this long. I am completely rotted in my brain about these two, so strap in!

Title: A Place to Call Home

Pairings: Nigel McGuinness/Bryan Danielson, mentioned and implied — Bryan Danielson/William Regal, Bryan Danielson/Jon Moxley/Claudio Castagnoli/Wheeler Yuta

Ratings: Mature — Language, Mentions of Sex.

Word Count: 10,027

Summary: It’s been a decade and a half of nothing, of burying what could have been, and now suddenly Bryan’s here again, his heart deciding it’s had enough, bringing him back to what could have been to give it one last shot. Losing to MJF was the switch, the igniter of an old flame. He went to bed that night broken-hearted and he woke up knowing who could fix it.

Parts: ONE

AO3

Feels like we buried alive something that never died. — The Exit, Conan Gray

X

Bryan wakes up way earlier than he normally likes to, thanks to jet lag and his out of whack body clock. The sun isn’t even up, and the house is silent, so Bryan knows that Nigel isn’t up yet.

He checks the time. 4:30am. An ungodly hour, even for him, but his eyes are wide open and sleep feels like the last thing he wants to do. He creeps to the bathroom to pee, not wanting to wake Nigel up before he needs to be for work. Then, in just his sleep pants, Bryan makes his way downstairs and into the kitchen. He makes himself a coffee, staring out of the kitchen window into the backyard. It’s dark so Bryan can’t see everything, but it looks decently sized, with a nice patch of grass that looks like it’s well maintained, and there’s a bench against the side fence. One look at the back door tells Bryan that he doesn’t need a key to unlock it, it’s one of those latches where you pull the handle up and twist the little knob. So he unlocks it and steps out onto the cold, damp concrete slabs. His feet are bare and the cold seeps into his skin, but it’s nice.

It’s that type of cold that Bryan likes, a crisp, clean cold, the air getting right deep down into your lungs every time you take a breath. He makes sure to shut the back door behind him so that he doesn’t make the kitchen cold, and cradles the coffee mug in his hands. Steam rises from the mug, warming the tip of his nose as he holds it close to his face.

Birds chirp, and Bryan swears he sees a fox stick it’s head through a hole in the fence before ducking away upon seeing Bryan. He’s always liked the UK, he’s enjoyed every time he’s ever come over here, it’s just, it’s not home.

The sky starts to lighten, just slightly, and Bryan’s almost finished his coffee when the back door swings open.

“Are you bloody mental? You’ll catch your death sitting out there like that.” Nigel quiet-shouts to him. He’s — Nigel’s got on a dressing robe on, one like Regal always likes to wear because no one needs to see all my lumps and bumps in a morning, darling, and a pair of slippers. His hair is a mess on top of his head and he looks, he looks tired. Bryan can see the age lines in his face from the warm glow of the kitchen light behind him. He looks so much older now, but Bryan knows he does too, and it only highlights the length of time they’ve been apart.

“Come inside, if I have to come out there and get you I won’t be happy.” He grumbles, before turning back inside.

Bryan has almost finished the coffee, and it is cold, and he doesn’t want to make Nigel mad by being stubborn, even though Nigel’s the most stubborn man he knows, so he stands up from the bench and heads inside, feeling the warmth instantly hit him as he steps back into the kitchen.

The kettles boiling again, and there’s bread on the counter, ready to be put in the toaster.

Nigel’s hand touches his shoulder and he makes a disgruntled noise. “You’re bloody freezing, god you’re just as annoying as you were before.” He says, and he slips the robe off of his shoulders — his bare shoulders — and puts it around Bryan.

“I’m fine—“

“You’re not going back to Tony Khan with pneumonia and blaming me for it, Dragon,” He says, voice still a little thick with sleep. “You want toast?”

“Thanks.” Bryan says, both to the robe around his shoulders that smells of Nigel and is soft like a cloud and to the offer of the toast. He sits down on one of the bistro chairs and watches Nigel.

He puts four slices of bread in the big toaster he’s got, and starts to walk around the kitchen, collecting butter and jam for the toast, milk for his tea. Now that he’s ditched the robe and given it to Bryan, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of well worn shorts, and they’re sitting low on his hips, showing the dips and lines down to his groin, and the expanse of his shoulders and back. Bryan feels a little bit like a deer in headlights, like he did the first time Yuta had a sleepwalking episode and ended up in Bryan’s room stark naked before they’d become a thing. He was all long limbs and soft skin — it was mouth watering. And right now, it’s the same. All of Nigel is on show to him, and Bryan’s barely resisting reaching out to touch him.

The bulk Nigel’s lost is significant, though it’s not bad, it’s just different. The way Nigel carries himself is different, before he was always high shoulders, puffed out chest. Now he’s relaxed. There’s no puffing of the chest, no dangerous smirk on his face. He’s just, Nigel, with the volume turned all the way down to zero.

Bryan wonders whether that disappeared all at once or whether it was slow. Did he start out in the dealership as the Nigel he knew? Did he walk around with that arrogant step to his walk, that hard sneer at the people below him? Or did he just turn it off as soon as he retired? Bryan wants to know, he wishes he had a tape he could play of everything that Nigel’s done since retiring. He wants to dissect it, he wants to see how Nigel turned into the Nigel he is today.

Bryan wraps the robe tighter around him, taking in the scent and letting it rub across his beard. If Bryan didn’t know any better, if he was looking through that back kitchen window at the two of them, he’d think that they were a couple, enjoying breakfast together before the day starts.

Lately Bryan’s been alone when having breakfast, because Regal’s been busy and he hasn’t been with Mox, Claudio and Yuta overnight for… a long time. And he misses it, Bryan is lonely, he likes to have people around even if they’re not talking. He likes how Yuta will shuffle into the kitchen still half asleep, slump into the chair next to Bryan making little grumbling noises about being tired and needing coffee, and how that coffee will materialise in front of him thanks to Claudio and Yuta’s favourite pastry set down in front of him by Mox. He likes how Claudio puts the little stereo that they’ve got on and tunes it to a station that plays nothing but slow, smooth music.

And right now, he likes the quiet. He likes that all he can hear is Nigel’s slow breathing, the clinking of plates and spoons and the murmur of the kettle and toaster.

Nigel comes over, impressively carrying two mugs and two plates of toast, and sits in the chair opposite him.

“So,” Nigel says, voice still a little gravelly, “What’s next? You done wrestling, or?”

Bryan shrugs. “Not done, there’s still so much for me to do. But I need to… switch gears. So what happens next, well, it all depends.”

Nigel spreads far too much butter onto a slice of toast and looks at him with a raised brow, “On?”

On you, and whether you come home with me. But Bryan doesn’t say that yet. He hasn’t — they’re nowhere near that. Bryan can’t ask yet.

“On what the others say,” Bryan says instead. “We might be a family but they’re doing pretty good with what they’ve got right now, so maybe they’ll just want to keep on doing what they’re doing. We’ll see.”

Nigel takes a bite of the now soggy toast. “I still don’t get why you’re here instead of there. If I had three guys who looked like that at home, especially that little Wheeler Yuta, I wouldn’t be thousands of miles away in sodding Liverpool with a washed up retired wrestler who I don’t even like.”

Bryan stops spreading marmalade on his own toast to look at Nigel for any hint of a joke, or sarcastic self depreciation. He’s serious, mouth chewing and fixing Bryan with a questioning.

“Firstly, don’t hit on my young boy when I’m right in front of you,”

“Why does—“

“Secondly,” Bryan interrupts a little harshly, “Is that what you really think? That you’re washed up and I don’t like you?”

Nigel looks away, and he chews almost angrily, like he thinks he’s said too much already, like he’s opened a can of worms and now they won’t stop crawling out. But Bryan’s glad. Whatever idea Nigel’s got inside of him that they’re not, something, anything, to each other, just because knocking seven bells out of each other was their favourite thing to do, he wants it gone. If Nigel really has thought for all these years that Bryan didn’t even like him, then what did the years they had together even mean? We’re they even real? They clearly didn’t live the same years.

“I am washed up,” Nigel says, picking up his tea. “And you don’t like me, you can’t, not after everything you’ve done to me over the years.”

“You — you know I hate using this word but stop being a fucking mark for one second, and use the brain I know you have to think about what you’re saying.”

“I am not a mark!”

“You're acting like one! You’re saying because we got into it in the ring and didn’t always agree on everything that we just don’t like each other? Colt kicked you in the nuts a dozen times, Aries split your fucking head open by being a dangerous prick, you called Joe fat so many times that I think anymore and he was going to murder you, you’ve ripped muscles off bones and popped shoulders out and spilled enough blood to fill a fucking pool, and you think no one can like you because of that? Do you not like any of them, because of that?”

Nigel looks down at the mug in his hand, and he mumbles something that’s most likely a smart retort.

“You’ve been watching haven't you? All these years? Seen Mox doing your rebound lariat as a tribute to you? Seen everyone who’s come after you taking little pieces of you and making them their own because not only do they miss you but because you’re one of the best pure professional wrestlers there’s ever been?”

Nigel shifts in his seat, but he still doesn’t say anything.

“And how, after everything between us, you could think that I don’t like you.” Bryan says. There’s too much of the everything to get out. Too much to say. But Bryan knows Nigel knows deep down, that they’re not just acquaintances, not just friends, that they’ve always been something more.

“You should know… you’ve seen the battles I’ve had with Mox, even most recently, I’ll beat him until he’s unconscious but I still love him. He’s still everything to me. I’d do the same to Claudio, and to Yuta. I put Yuta through hell when we’re training, and I’d put him through hell in the ring. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love him. You think just because we make great enemies that I don’t—“

“I have to get ready for work.” Nigel says suddenly, cutting off Bryan before he can finish. And Bryan was going to say it, he was, he was going to say that he loves Nigel. That he always has.

Nigel walks past him, leaving his half eaten breakfast and barely finished tea on the table as he heads upstairs. Bryan sighs, setting down his own barely eaten breakfast and running a hand through his hair that’s wild from sleeping. Bryan knew this wasn’t going to be easy because of how stubborn Nigel is, how set in his ways he can be. He just didn’t think the first hurdle he’d encounter would be Nigel not even thinking that they’re even friends. How is he going to convince Nigel to come back to wrestling if he doesn’t even think they’re friends?

Bryan clears up from breakfast, hearing Nigel walking around upstairs, and he tries to pretend like that went well, that Nigel’s just Nigel getting ready for work, and not that the Nigel that got up and left before Bryan could tell him he loves him. That he knew it was coming and avoided it.

He rinses the plates and cups and watches out the kitchen window as the sun starts peeking up over the fence line, the garden bathed in that early dawn light that he finds so beautiful.

He’s still staring out into the backyard by the time he hears Nigel stepping back into the kitchen, and when he turns he sees a much more put together man than the one that left the kitchen. He’s back in a suit, navy blue with a white shirt and blue tie, the zip up jacket is over the top and again, there’s a laptop bag hooked over his shoulder. His hair’s been styled and he looks awake now.

“Here, spare key. If you leave and don’t plan on coming back, post it through the letterbox.”

“I’ll be here when you get back.” Bryan says.

Nigel raises his eyebrows, like he’s not sure whether to believe him, like he doesn’t know what to say to that. “Alright, guess I’ll see you later, then. Try not to get lost if you do go out.”

“That was one time.”

“And it was a day of my life I’ll never get back, Bryan. Don’t get lost.”

“Asshole.”

“Bye honey!” Nigel sings as he leaves the kitchen and heads out of the front door to work. Bryan’s left standing in the kitchen holding the spare key, wrapped up in Nigel’s dressing robe, feeling like the stay at home wife waiting for her husband to come home.

He turns the key over in his palm, and lets his mind wander back to what Nigel was referring to, that time they got lost on the way to a show. It was his fault, though he didn’t want to admit it for a long time. He was reading the map and he told Nigel the wrong exit, which meant they ended in some town buttfuck nowhere that didn’t appear on the map, that didn’t have phone reception or seemingly even a gas station to ask for directions, or anyone even around to help them. It had taken Nigel’s sense of direction and a good few hours to get them back on to a main highway that Bryan could find on the map. Nigel’s never let him live it down.

Bryan remembers it, because even though Nigel had been effing and blinding at him for managing to get them lost, they’d come up with a whole new life together. Every single town they passed through as they tried to find their way onto the highway again they picked out a house they’d move into if they never found their way out. They picked out their dog and its name, he got Nigel to agree to let him keep chickens and ducks and they’d argued about carpet or hardwood floors in the bedroom.

Bryan remembers it all so clearly, he remembers how much he’d been grinning as Nigel vehemently argued that hardwood floor in the bedroom was an abomination and carpet was the only right answer, because when Nigel was worked up about something so trivial it was the most beautiful thing to see. His accent came out so much stronger, his hands waving around him as he gesticulated his points. Nigel was the single most argumentative person Bryan had ever met but it made him want to kiss him just as much as it made him want to punch him.

Which is why Bryan can’t understand how Nigel can think they weren’t friends, that because he’d retired they were no longer friends, that they weren’t anything to each other. It was all a silly joke, a way to pass the time, but Bryan wouldn’t have minded all that much if they’d have never made it out of that town they got lost in. He would have missed wrestling, and the modern world, but living with Nigel, a dog and some chickens and ducks wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world — far from it. And maybe he’s not expecting Nigel to feel the same, to want to run away with him and the hoard of animals they’d made up, but to not even believe that anything they ever shared with each other was real, all became when it came to wrestling they preferred to tear each other limb from limb. He just can’t believe that. Nigel isn’t stupid. Nigel’s never mixed the ring with outside relationships, so why with Bryan? What’s different with them?

Bryan sets the key on the table and heads upstairs to shower and change. He needs to get out for a bit, he can’t sit in Nigel’s house for hours until the man gets back.

The sun is fully up by the time Bryan leaves, and it’s cold and raining again but Bryan leaves the car where it is and uses the maps on his phone to direct him to the nearest shops. He doesn’t get lost, thankfully, and the place isn’t too far from Nigel’s house, so he doesn’t get too wet walking there.

He picks up some sweats and t-shirts and some pullovers, boxers and some jeans to see him through, and some oat milk and some dinner ingredients because the grocery store is right next door.

It’s late in the afternoon when Bryan finally makes it back to Nigel’s place, and he takes a bit of time to put what he’d brought into the chest drawers that are in the room he’s staying in. He puts the groceries away, and then after half an hour of sitting and staring at the wall wondering what to do, he goes out for a run. He puts the tracker on his phone so he knows which way to come back, because he’s not going to give Nigel the satisfaction of getting lost and having to call him.

It’s pouring with rain by the time Bryan finishes his run and finds his way back to Nigel’s, and he tries to shake off most of the water from himself before he lets himself back into the house.

It’s a little bit of a selfish, indulgent thing, when he gets out of the shower and puts on the robe that Nigel had given him this morning. It smells like him, and he likes the way it feels against his skin, and for a moment he’s transported back to the times when he’d steal a shirt from Nigel’s bag and hope that he wouldn’t notice.

It’s funny, Bryan thinks, that the minute he’s back around Nigel he starts acting like he’s twenty four again, young and dumb and in love. Acting like a kid with a crush that isn’t reciprocated but is desperately trying to make the other person see. He hasn’t been like this since then. With Regal it’s easy, they’ve always just been and they’ve never done this dance. With Mox it’s easy too, they’ve always just fallen in and out of each other, friends to lovers to friends and enemies and back to lovers. He and Claudio might not have had that type of relationship before, but it was just as easy to fall into it with him as it was breathing. And Yuta, well Yuta took him by surprise. He was never looking to be involved with a young man, but Yuta had the ability to get inside his heart, make himself a place there.

But with Nigel, it’s never been easy with Nigel. Nigel who’s held him at arms length while simultaneously holding him tight against him. It’s like he’s always been trying, trying to get Nigel to see how he feels without ruining what they have, and Nigel’s been purposely looking the other way so as not to see any of it.

It’s been a decade and a half of nothing, of burying what could have been, and now suddenly Bryan’s here again, his heart deciding it’s had enough, bringing him back to what could have been to give it one last shot. Losing to MJF was the switch, the igniter of an old flame. He went to bed that night broken-hearted and he woke up knowing who could fix it.

“Dragon! You still here? I don’t see a key on my floor!” Bryan hadn’t noticed the front door opening, and he sticks his head out of the bedroom door to see Nigel sliding off his shoes and hanging up his jacket.

“I told you I would be.” He says, stepping out of the room. Nigel looks up the stairs at him, fingers going to his tie to loosen it and undo the top couple of buttons on his shirt.

“Yeah, well, forgive me for not believing you— wait, have you even left the house today?”

Bryan glares at him. “Yes, I went—“

“Then why are you wearing what I left you in?”

Bryan looks down. He’s still wearing the robe, and he’s naked save for his boxers underneath. That’s not embarrassing at all.

“I went exploring and then for a run and it rained so I had to change.” Bryan says, like it explains why he’s wearing the robe and not his own clothes. He really is twenty four again.

“Un-be-bloody-lievable. You’ve always been a thief.”

“I have not! I have never stolen in my life.”

“So where is my Oasis shirt from the gig I went to in 2005 that I wore about three times before it disappeared? Where is my black McGuinness shirt? Why do I not have a full selection of shirts that I remember making?” Nigel says, and Bryan feels himself freeze. He didn’t think that Nigel noticed that any of those had gone missing all those years ago.

“Why didn’t you ask for them back if you knew where they were?”

Nigel scoffs at him and dumps the laptop bag at the bottom of the stairs. “Because they always looked better on you, Dragon.” He says, voice trailing away as he disappears into the front room.

Oh. Well that’s, that’s not what Bryan was expecting Nigel to say. He wasn’t expecting to be called out for stealing his shirts and he wasn’t expecting to find out that the reason he never asked for them back was because he thought Bryan looked good in his clothes.

Was that why he gave him the robe this morning? Was it truly because he was worried about Bryan being cold or was it because he wanted to see it on him? Either way, both of those options directly counter his whole idea that they’re not friends. Either Nigel cares about him enough to stop him from being cold, or he likes him enough to want him to see him in his clothes.

A little flustered, Bryan ducks back into the guest bedroom and changes into some actual clothes, and pulls his still damp hair back into a bun. He leaves the robe on his bed, because if Nigel wants it back, well he’s going to have to come and get it.

When he gets downstairs Nigel’s in the kitchen, boiling the kettle and putting a tea bag into his mug. He’d forgotten just how much tea Nigel actually drinks. The stash of tea bags that Nigel always had on him was a running joke in the Ring of Honor locker room, when he’d produce them out of the stupid little Union Jack tin he kept in his bag, everyone would laugh and say that one day he was going to be stopped by the TSA.

“How was work?”

Nigel looks at him, like he can’t believe that Bryan’s asking him that question, before he shrugs. “Alright. Sold a few cars, chased a few late payments. Nothing special.”

“I don’t know, not every day you get a call from Nigel McGuinness because you haven’t paid for your car.”

“Some of these people I do have to call every day. My useless coworkers are not checking credit properly before signing people up for finance.”

Nigel gets a mug out for Bryan, holding up the coffee in a silent you want one? To him. Bryan gives a nod, and leans against the kitchen counter watching him.

“Sounds boring.”

“It’s no championship win but, pays the bills.”

He hands Bryan the coffee before stepping over to the fridge and opening it.

“Did you go shopping?”

“Mhm. I’m gonna make us dinner.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. I noticed your fridge is full of meals you heat up in the microwave. You know how bad for you those are? They’re full of chemicals.”

“You really haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

“Nope. Still your Dragon.”

Something passes over Nigel’s face, but it’s gone in an instant.

“Well, as long as I’m not eating fermented tofu or some shit, go ahead, cook your little heart out.”

“I’m allergic to soy.”

Nigel looks at him blank.

“Never mind. Go change, I’ll get started.”

Nigel shuts the fridge and makes a little humming noise before striding past him to go and do what he said, squeezing Bryan’s shoulder as he does. It leaves a warm tingle down Bryan’s arm, but he tries to shake himself into focusing on what he’s doing.

He takes the ingredients he’d bought at the grocery store earlier out and lines them all up on the counter, and starts opening cupboards and looking for what he needs. It’s not the most stocked kitchen in the world, there’s only a couple of pots and pans and the knives are blunt and useless, but Bryan makes do. He can tell Nigel doesn’t cook much, and there’s something about being able to hear Nigel upstairs, taking off the layers of his work day while Bryan cooks for him downstairs. Claudio likes to do this for all of them, always turning down Bryan’s offers to help, not letting Yuta clean up afterwards. He likes to take care of them at least one night a week, and Bryan can see why.

“Smells good,” Nigel’s voice comes from the doorway, and Bryan looks over to see that he’s changed into a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. “What is it?”

“Stir fry, Yuta’s family recipe.”

“Swapping family recipes so soon? My my it must be serious.” Nigel says, and he slumps himself down into the chair, and rests his head against the wall, getting comfortable enough to watch him.

“It’s not really a secret, how to make a good stir fry. It’s not like he’s broken a family code by giving it to me.”

Nigel smirks, “Good, young lad like him shouldn’t be giving any secrets to you, you can’t be trusted.”

“Hey,” Bryan says as he plates up. “I’m cooking you dinner and you’re being rude.”

“It’s the truth, though. Never trust a dragon.”

“Because you’re so trustworthy.” Bryan jabs back, setting a plate down in front of Nigel and sitting opposite him.

“Never said I was.” And Nigel grins, like all of a sudden he’s having the best time in the world picking fun at Bryan. He tucks into the food despite the fact that it’s steaming in his face, and makes an appreciative noise while chewing.

“That’s good.” He says around a mouthful.

“You still have no manners.”

Nigel sticks a finger up at him and shovels another forkful of the food into his mouth. It’s disgusting but it’s Nigel and it makes Bryan so insanely happy and nostalgic that he has to hide his own smile behind a fork of buckwheat noodles and veggies.

“How’s your sister? And the sprog?” Nigel suddenly asks, thankfully having swallowed the mouthful of food he was chewing.

“She’s great, actually, and so is my nephew. He’s fourteen and taller than me.”

“Well that’s not hard.”

“Fuck you, Nigel.” Bryan says as a shit eating grin spreads it’s way across Nigel’s face, the same one that always did when Nigel was ribbing and making fun of him.

“Is he really fourteen?” Nigel asks then.

Bryan nods. It is hard to believe, really. He was born in 2009, the last year he and Nigel were in the same company. They’d all visited her one night that year when they were passing through his hometown, and she was heavily pregnant, but still insisting on cooking them all a huge dinner. His nephew had been born not long after, he and Nigel being together the moment he got the text from her that just said IM IN LABOR. Nigel had offered to drive him home to be there but it was something he didn’t need to see, so they took a detour on their way to the next town a day later to see him.

And that was really one of the last things they did together, other than being each other's last match in Ring of Honor. Nigel went to TNA and Bryan went to WWE, then back to the independent circuit before going back to WWE. There was no more travelling together, no more rooming together. They both got caught up in what life was giving them that what they had together just got buried underneath it all. Bryan did text him when he found out through the grapevine that Nigel had gotten Hep B, asked how he was doing and offered help if he needed it. Nigel had never gotten back to him, and then he’d returned to the ring, and Bryan thought that seeing as he was wrestling again, he was okay. He should have been more stubborn.

“Yeah. Fourteen. I thought he’d get a kick out of telling all his friends who his uncle is but he prefers football and thinks I’m lame.”

“You are.”

“I walked into that one.”

Nigel grins again and keeps eating. It’s comfortable between them as they do so, Bryan doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence, doesn’t need to do anything but enjoy his food and watch Nigel enjoy it.

“I usually go to the pub on Wednesdays, meet up with some friends. You wanna tag along?”

Bryan looks up in surprise. He wasn’t expecting to be invited out with Nigel and his friends.

“Yeah, sure.” Bryan says, because he might not be all that into going out to bars, or pubs or whatever they’re called, and he doesn’t drink, but he’s not going to sit here while Nigel goes out, he’s not going to pass up the opportunity to go out with him.

“It’s low key, so you don’t have to worry about getting recognised. And none of my friends even know that I was a wrestler.”

“Why not?”

“Well it’s weird, innit? Introducing yourself as a retired pro wrestler. It’s not like I made it to the top of the mountain. None of them knew who I was when we met, why tell them?”

“Because you were the longest Pure champion in Ring of Honor history? You were World champion for over a year? You’ve wrestled all over the world?”

“And what does that mean to any of them? Absolutely fucking nothing, Bryan. In my old world, yeah, that meant something, but in this world, the outside world, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I just don’t know why you’d hide that part of you from people you call friends. What about when they come over and they see that bookcase?”

Nigel huffs, “I forgot you were a snooper,” He says, setting his knife and fork down. Bryan had hoped Nigel had at least a couple of pairs of chopsticks, but he barely even had a full set of cutlery, so knives and forks it was. “They don’t really come over. And anyone who does come over, well they don't look closely at that kind of stuff.”

“So you’ve really just… thrown everything you did in the ring for twelve years away?”

“No, it still exists, I just don’t tell anyone about it. Life’s easier that way. I never wanted to be that guy that clung on to what he used to be. I retired because I just knew that it wasn’t ever going to happen for me the way I wanted it to. My arms, the Hep B, the concussions. All of it just — I wasn’t ever going to be you, Dragon. Not all of us can make come back after come back and be the poster child for every company he works for.”

“No, but you could.”

Nigel scoffs. “Fuck off Bryan, no one wants to see me anywhere near a ring.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not joking. And even if I was, even if people did want me back, I’m forty seven years old. I had my time, it passed, here we are. Sometimes you just have to let sleeping dogs lie, Dragon.” Nigel stands up and collects both of their plates, throwing away the scraps left on the plate and starting to swill them in the sink.

“Sting is sixty four!”

“Yeah, and he’s fucking Sting, Bryan. I’m not Sting.”

“No, you’re Nigel McGuinness, one of the most stubborn men I’ve ever met. So I don’t understand why you just gave up, why you didn’t lie like we all did?”

“Because I thought it would be better, alright? I thought they’d fucking help me fix my arms because they wanted to sign me. I didn’t expect them to pull it unless I got surgery.” Nigel raises his voice, the plates clattering together as he washes them. Bryan doesn’t flinch. This is when they’re at their most honest with each other, when they’re screaming and angry. When he pushes Nigel he gets the best Nigel. The real Nigel.

“Why didn’t you ever—“

“Try again? The door was closed, Bryan. They didn’t want me anymore. After the hepatitis and everything, they never offered me anything else. I was thirty five and falling to pieces, why would they?”

Because you’re Nigel McGuinness, Bryan wants to say, but he doesn’t, because he’s said it so many times already and Nigel seems to have lost that self assured cocky attitude that he always had. He doesn’t want to hear what Bryan’s got to say about the man he was, because he doesn’t believe he’s that man anymore.

Bryan stands up and nudges Nigel out of the way, taking a towel to the dishes that he’s already washed.

“Why are you here, Bryan?”

Bryan doesn’t answer, he just looks at Nigel as he dries the plate with the towel, because Nigel’s not ready to hear what he has to say, yet.

Nigel looks down at him with an expectant look on his face, waiting for Bryan to answer. And there was a time when Nigel would get in his face, press their foreheads together and drop his voice low, repeating what he’d said, and Bryan would stare right on back refusing to answer, and they’d be locked in that exchange until Nigel would laugh in his face and saunter away, muttering about how Bryan was an annoying little brat. And Bryan would squeeze his thighs together and try and pretend like he wasn’t screaming inside of his head for Nigel to kiss him or punch him.

But Nigel’s not doing that now, Nigel’s got his hip resting against the counter and his arms crossed over his chest, looking like a school teacher telling off a naughty child. Because Nigel’s not home, Nigel isn’t Nigel here.

In the end, Nigel breaks first, letting out a sigh before saying, “Gonna leave soon, be ready to go in half an hour.” He says, and then he’s gone, out of the kitchen and his feet thumping up the stairs.

Bryan puts the dried up dishes away and follows Nigel up the stairs, ducking into his bedroom to grab his wash bag before going for the bathroom.

Nigel’s door is open just slightly, and Bryan’s eyes can’t help but look through the gap, where he can see Nigel sitting on his bed.

In his hands is the Pure championship, the retired belt that Bryan gave to him when they had their two out of three falls match the night it was being retired. That night is hazy, Nigel knocked him out just as the bell rang to signal time on the match, and he doesn’t remember much from it at all, other than feeling like he wanted to puke his guts up right onto the mat, Nigel cradling him and telling him to just be sick, and the hours they spent in the emergency room afterwards because Nigel refused to let Bryan leave until they got the all clear. But he does remember picking the Pure title back up, and a microphone, and telling the room that the title should stay with the man who made it. Remembers handing it over to Nigel, and his own arm being raised. Nigel spoke and it made no sense because Bryan’s head was swimming and he could barely remember what day it was, what city he was in.

And now Nigel’s holding that very title again. Bryan watches through the gap in the door, and he swears he sees Nigel transform in front of his eyes. Swears he sees bright blonde spikes sprout from the top of his head, Union Jack knee pads curling over his knees. Holding the Pure title in his hands turns whatever Nigel this is, car salesman Nigel, into the Nigel that he’s always known. Nigel McGuinness, greatest enemy, soulmate, and one of the best wrestlers he’s ever known. The real Nigel. Nigel’s at home with the Pure title in his hands.

So as not to get caught, Bryan steps into the bathroom and closes the door. He doesn’t need Nigel knowing that he was watching him, that he’s seen him starting to remember what it was like. He’s just happy to know that he’s thinking about it, remembering what it was like to be Nigel McGuinness.

He brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face, and hears Nigel moving around the bedroom again, putting the Pure title back wherever it sits. He wonders how Nigel’s sat and watched wrestling, the creation of AEW, and not gotten that feeling in his gut, that desperate itch inside of you to get back into the ring. Every single time Bryan’s been sidelined, or put in retirement he’s gone stir crazy. How Nigel could walk away and then torture himself watching the product baffles him, really. Because as much as he’d loved his time in WWE, watching some of his best friends having the time of their life in a new company, it got that itch going inside of him. He was wrestling but he felt it, the burning itch to go and do something different. To go back to being the man he was when he was having the most fun. When he was the happiest. And that was being the real Bryan Danielson.

Nigel’s back downstairs when Bryan gets out of the bathroom and he quickly throws his wash bag in his room and makes his way down to him. He’s putting on a leather jacket that’s actually not too dissimilar to the one Mox loves to wear, except Nigel’s is in much better condition.

“Ready?” Nigel asks, and it’s like their conversation not ten minutes ago didn’t happen, like he wasn’t just sat up stairs on his bed staring at the old Pure title belt.

“Ready.” Bryan agrees, picking his own coat off the coat rack.

Nigel leads him out of the door and lets Bryan pass him as he locks up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. They walk past both of their cars, so Bryan guesses it’s not far away, and falls into an easy pace next to Nigel.

“So, are these friends from work, or people you’ve met since living here?”

“People I met through living here. Wouldn’t want to drink with the people I work with, bunch of snobby pricks.”

“You don’t like them? Your coworkers?”

“Like them? I’d sooner have Aries knock me clean out three times on that guard rail than be friends with those tossers. I work with them, that’s enough.”

Bryan’s eyebrows raise a little at that. He won’t claim to like every single person he’s ever worked with, but he’s never had that kind of disdain for such a large group of people. To have to go to work every day with people that you’d rather get knocked out than be around is… sad and depressing.

Instead of commenting on the relationships with his coworkers Bryan says, “I still remember watching it happen in the back. Watching your head bounce off that guardrail. And then when you came behind the curtain, and you looked at me like you didn’t know who I was or where you were. It was horrible at the time but finding out it broke your nose on top of the concussion that you continued wrestling with for like, twenty minutes?”

“Yeah well, I’m a tough old bastard, aren't I?”

“Tough and stupid.”

“You can hardly talk, you smacked your head off a table and knocked yourself out cold and you carried on against Aries.”

Guilty as charged. Bryan did that. He’s done it so many times he can’t even count them all.

“And, if we’re gonna’ talk about stupid, wrestling with more concussions than I’ve got fingers and giving yourself seizures and a fucking lesion to the brain, that’s stupid.”

Bryan shudders at the reminder of where he was when he had to retire. The numbness in his arm, the seizures, not knowing if he’d ever wrestle again.

“I didn’t know I’d had that many concussions,” Bryan says weakly, because he didn’t, not really. He’d never counted them, they all kind of blur into one after a while. “And anyway, if you know all that you know that I fought and fought and fought to get better and I did and I’ve been clear of that since I returned. By literally every doctor and neurologist I could find. I’m more careful now, that’s why I didn’t wrestle Zack at Forbidden Door.”

Nigel looks at him like he wants to argue, but doesn’t, because he knows Bryan’s right. Because he’s been keeping up with the product and has watched it all and taken an interest in Bryan’s health, Nigel who drove him to the hospital and stayed with him for hours after knocking him out in the ring, taking care of him the following days because Bryan was seeing double for a week. But they’re not even friends. Never were, according to Nigel.

Nigel’s shoulder bumps into his as they turn the corner, and he looks back at him as they get onto a street that’s lined with shops and takeaways. Sometimes, back when they were wrestling together, Bryan would forget just how handsome Nigel was, and then it would hit him all at once, and it would only take one look, taking the air out of his lungs as he looked at him. It’s happening now, as Nigel steers him up some steps and through the door of the pub, his hand grazing the small of his back as he follows behind him. He’s realising just how handsome he is, the stubble gracing his jaw is something Nigel only ever used to grow when he couldn’t be bothered to shave, and the style of his hair, shaved at the sides and longer on top, similar to before but without the dodgy blonde or spikes. It suits him. He looks good. He looks so good it keeps making Bryan’s belly flip.

A warm rush of air hits Bryan in the face, and the thick smell of beer soaked wood seeps into his nose. Bryan hates the smell of beer, of alcohol, too many bad childhood memories associated with the it, but Nigel’s steering him towards a group of people surrounding a table.

“Nigel! You brought a friend!”

“Yeah, this is Bryan, he’s my—“ and then Nigel pauses for a brief moment, looking at him and Bryan wonders what he’s going to say before he smiles, “An old family friend from America. He’s over to visit for a bit. Bryan, this is George, Robbie, Tom and Jenny.”

Nigel introduces him to his friends, and each of them shaking his head, Jenny, the only woman in the group, engulfs him in a hug, her hands squeezing at his arms. “Trust Nigel to hide his handsome friend from me for all this time.” She says, not letting him go and tugging him down to sit next to her on the bench seat.

“Down Jen, he’s got someone at home.” Nigel says, and he’s hovering instead of sitting down. And then he’s disappearing off to the bar, leaving Bryan alone with four people he’s never met that are looking at him like he’s a piece of meat, especially Jenny, who’s so close to him she may as well just sit in his lap, for all the subtlety she’s showing.

“So Bryan,” She says, “What brings you over here?”

“I haven’t been over to the UK in a while so I thought I’d make the trip, dropped in on Nigel on my way through.” Only half a lie, really. He hasn’t been to the UK in quite a few years, and he did just drop in on Nigel unannounced.

“What do you do?”

It takes Bryan a split second to decide what he’s doing, “I’m a personal trainer.” He lies. He’s not about to out himself as a wrestler, or bring anything on Nigel as his friends ask how he knows him, so he lies, because Nigel is right, annoyingly. It’s easier.

“That explains these, then.” Jenny says, and her delicate hand squeezes his thigh. Bryan laughs awkwardly, about to politely decline her advances when Nigel comes back, two drinks in hand.

“Jesus Christ Jen, he’s spoken for, take your hands off him, he’s too nice to tell you to fuck off.”

Jenny all but pouts, removing her hand from Bryan’s thigh. “You’re such an arsehole Nigel.”

“Not news to you, is it sweetheart?” He says, placing a drink down in front of Bryan. Nigel hadn’t bothered to ask him what he wanted, but the soda water with lime, ice and a straw because of his sensitive teeth shows him that Nigel still knows him as good as he did back then.

“Thanks.” Bryan says as Nigel sits opposite him in a chair. He’s got his own drink in front of him, a pint of some ale if Bryan’s guessing correctly, and he’s slipping the leather jacket off and hanging it on the back of the chair, leaning back and stretching himself out.

After a few more probing questions from Nigel’s friends, the conversation turns to soccer, and though Bryan doesn’t know anything about soccer, he listens along, hums and laughs in all the right places, knocking his foot into Nigel’s for something to do every so often.

Eventually, after more drinks have been brought, someone produces a pack of cards, and they end up playing a few rounds of poker, which thankfully Bryan knows how to play.

Bryan wins a round, then George, and then Nigel wins two consecutive games and Jenny slams her card down in a huff when he wins the third.

“He’s cheating, I just know he’s cheating.”

“How? How am I cheating Jen?”

“You and your stupid magic tricks!”

“Oh come off it, you’re just a sore loser darlin’.”

“Whatever, I’m going to the loo.” She says, and Bryan has exactly two seconds to sit backwards as she climbs over him, her ass nearly brushing his face as she slides past him. She’s a beautiful woman, and she’s clearly very sweet, but she’s not very good at picking up on cues of when to stop flirting with a man that isn’t interested in her.

“Show Bryan your magic tricks, Nigel.” Tom says, scooping up all the cards from the table and handing them to him. They’re a little damp from beer that’s spilled on the table, and the middles are bent from how they’ve been held.

“He’s already—“

“Show me. It’s been a while.” Bryan says when Nigel starts to protest. He hasn’t seen Nigel perform a magic trick in years. Not since around 2009 when they both had their last matches with Ring of Honor. Nigel used to practise for hours in their downtime, making Bryan and anyone who was around pick cards out of his hand, working at the trick until he got it right. If he couldn’t sleep he’d be reading a book he’d picked up about different tricks, highlighting the important bits with a crappy hotel pen he’d found in the drawer. He loved watching the smile spread across Nigel’s face when he realised he’d mastered something, and he loved pretending that the trick had failed to watch Nigel stutter and grab his card only to realise Bryan was lying, grabbing him in a headlock and wrestling him around until Bryan begged him to stop.

Nigel fans the deck out a little bit and holds them out to Bryan, motioning for him to take a card. Bryan takes one, pulls it close to his chest and looks at it. It’s an ace of spades, and nods at Nigel, letting him know what it is.

He lets Nigel walk him through the trick, moving the cards and listening to him talk, and he watches Nigel’s face. He can see the scar above his eyebrow, the one that came from hitting his face on the guard rail, and the slope of his nose where it’s been broken a couple of times.

“This your card?” Nigel says, holding up the ace of spades, and when Bryan nods, the others whoop and cheer like it’s the best thing in the world.

Bryan can’t help but smile along with them. There’s something about Nigel McGuinness, something about him that means that no matter what they do to each other, what happens to either of them, that makes him the only person that Bryan truly feels himself around.

“Doing your silly little tricks again, Nigel?” Jenny says as she comes back from the bathroom, and Bryan’s more ready this time, shifting himself fully to the side to let her squeeze past him, so that he doesn’t get a face full of ass as she goes to her seat.

“You’re just jealous you don’t know how to do it.” Robbie says to her, and she sticks her finger up at him as she sucks down the rest of her drink through her straw.

Nigel gets up and gets her another one, bringing back himself and Bryan one too, and that makes her happy, apparently, so Bryan adds a cherry on top by showing her a way to beat Nigel at poker. They play another game, and she puts his teachings to the test, and when she finally wins a game she flings her arms around him.

“You should come over here more often, I’ve spent far too long being bullied by these four. I need you to look after me.”

“Oh good grief.” Nigel mutters, and Bryan smiles politely at her, trying to untangle himself from her arms.

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I think you’re doing alright by yourself, Jen.” Bryan says, and she shakes her head, launching into a story about how one time they left her stranded at a soccer stadium because she was taking too long in the toilet, and George jumps in to add that that’s not how the story goes, telling Bryan the real story of how they’d all separately texted her where they were going and to meet them there, that they were only a few doors down, in line for food, and it wasn’t their fault that she didn’t check her phone to see if they’d text her.

The story prompts Jenny to find another instance of where they’ve bullied her, only to have George, Robbie and Tom set the record straight that they have in fact, not bullied her. Nigel stays quiet, sipping on his drink and laughing at all the right moments. Bryan wonders if he’s thinking what Bryan’s thinking.

That Bryan can’t tell a single one of his stories about the times that Nigel had indeed bullied him, because how would they explain Nigel locking him in a closet at a ROH taping and telling everyone that no, he hadn’t seen Bryan, are you sure he turned up? And not letting him out until Colt started threatening to report Bryan missing. How would they explain Nigel writing Bryan’s phone number on a gas station bathroom stall wall with the message ‘call for a sexy wrestler blowjob’ underneath, and Bryan was getting calls and texts for months until he finally bothered to change his number. They can’t explain their stories because none of these people know who they are, who they really are, and the life they’ve had together.

Jenny talks the others into buying her another drink to say sorry for everything they’ve put her through, and that seems to get her to stop bringing up any little thing they’ve done that she doesn’t like, and the guys go back to talking about soccer.

It’s pretty late when George and the others decide to call it a night, even though Jenny — who’s started slurring her words — doesn’t want to.

“Come on you lightweight, let's get you home.” Nigel says, and he helps her put her jacket on before he puts his own on.

The guys offer their help, but Nigel waves them off, and recruits Bryan to help him steer Jenny out of the door and onto the street. She’s not super drunk, just heavily tipsy, but she decides that she needs to hold onto both of them as they walk her home. She’s the only one that talks the whole way there, Nigel humming along and Bryan doing he’s best just to understand her accent now that she’s slurring.

Her house isn’t far from the pub, and isn’t that far from Nigel’s either, so it doesn’t take that long to get there, and they stand next to her, making sure that she doesn’t topple over as she searches for her keys in her bag.

“Coming in for a night cap?” Jenny says when she finally gets the keys out of her bag and the door open.

“No, Jen. Go to bed.” Nigel says, but Jenny doesn’t take no for an answer, wrapping her arms around Nigel’s neck and clinging onto him.

“Come on Nigel, just one! It’s a special occasion, Bryan’s here and everything, please?”

Nigel pries himself out of her grasp and steps away from her, getting a hand in the back of Bryan’s jacket and pulling him with him. “Go to bed, Jen, or you’re gonna’ regret this in the morning.”

Bryan follows Nigel easily, stepping back onto the sidewalk away from the house. Jenny doesn’t take too kindly to the rejection, and she steps into the house and slams the door shut behind her.

“She seems… mature.” Bryan says as they start walking away.

Nigel huffs out a laugh, “She’s harmless, really. A handful but harmless.”

“Does she always get like that?”

“By that do you mean drunk, or trying to get men she’s just met to sleep with her?”

“Both?”

Nigel shakes his head, “Yeah. She’s a lightweight and she’s been trying to get me to sleep with her since we met.”

Bryan’s eyes shoot up as they round the corner, walking past the pub they’ve just come out of and back towards Nigel’s house.

“And you haven’t?” Because Bryan’s not blind, or stupid, Jenny is a beautiful woman, and from what he can remember about the couple hook ups Nigel used to have when they were on the road, she seems like his type.

“God no.”

Bryan’s not sure what makes him say “Why not?” Because he’s not really sure he wants to know about why Nigel hasn���t slept with her.

“Because I don’t like women.”

They get to the steps of Nigel’s house, and Bryan stops dead in his tracks at the information that has just tumbled out of Nigel’s mouth like he was asking him what he wanted for breakfast.

“But you… we, even, we slept—“

“I did that because you were nervous and if I hadn’t stepped in you weren’t going to pull.” Nigel says, unlocking the door. He’s smirking, and Bryan feels himself get irritated and confused all in one second, as he rushes up the steps to follow him into the house.

“I was not nervous! I was just talking to her until you came and inserted yourself into our conversation. I wasn’t even planning on sleeping with her!”

He follows Nigel through to the kitchen, where he fills himself a glass with water. He can remember the night they both slept with the same woman much, much clearer than he can remember any of their other memories. He remembers Nigel coming over to him and the girl that had been talking to him all night, using that British charm to get her to swoon. It had gone from the three of them stood in a bar to suddenly being back at their hotel, in Nigel’s room, Nigel getting head from her while Bryan fucked her from behind. He’d been looking at Nigel the whole time, the way his face contorted in pleasure, how his fingers curled in her hair and controlled the pace. Bryan doesn’t really have much of a preference, and he doesn’t put any labels on his sexuality, but he knows that on that night, the only reason he came was because Nigel did, cursing in that deep, accented growl of his. The woman thankfully didn’t try and overstay her welcome, and when she’d cleaned up she left the room to go and rejoin her friends at the bar, and Bryan had laid in bed next to Nigel who had fallen asleep, and wished that he could pluck up the courage to say how much he wanted to suck Nigel’s dick just like she did.

“Then why did you? Hm? Why did you sleep with her if you weren’t trying to before I came along?”

Bryan steps closer to Nigel, who stays backed up against the kitchen sink, sipping his water.

“It wasn’t her I wanted to sleep with.”

“No?”

“Why did you sleep with her, if you didn’t like women? You seemed to have a nice time.”

“Heads head, Dragon.” He says, but his voice seems to waver as Bryan steps closer to him again, their chests almost touching. He can smell Nigel’s cologne, and the faint hint of alcohol on his breath.

“Nigel.” Bryan says, because he can tell, he can tell that Nigel’s not telling him something about that night, about why he stepped in, and it’s not because he was trying to help Bryan sleep with a girl.

“You know,” Nigel says as he swallows a mouthful of water, “I can’t believe you grew a beard like this. It covers up your cute little chin.” He says, and then he sets the half full glass of water down on the counter, and he runs his fingers through Bryan’s beard, a quick little tug before his fingers vanish, and he steps past him.

“Night, Bryan.”

“Nigel, you can’t just—“ But Nigel isn’t listening, he’s just walking up the stairs, ignoring every attempt of Bryan trying to get him to stop and talk to him. The conversation is completely over when Nigel shuts his bedroom door in Bryan’s face.

That — that is the Nigel Bryan knows. Evasive. Annoying. Beautiful. Infuriating.

That is Bryan Danielson’s Nigel McGuinness.

[imashoe69420]

Those Eyes: Rise! Leo x OC

Chapter 4

^^ A quick sketch of Lala and her “cabbage” hoodie lmfao

Warning ⚠️: mild language, parental manipulation

Recap:

He sighs, annoyed. “Fine. I will give you a reward if you complete this mission.” The man points at my neck where the metal ring around it glistens in the moonlight.

“If you complete this mission, I will take that thing off. For good.”

• • •

I try to remain stoic, but I can’t help but bug my eyes out.

Taking this thing off… for good? I’m not even sure what it does or why it’s there in the first place. Do I even want to know what happens? What if nothing happens at all?

“Wait, seriously?” I furrow my eyebrows.

The Lieutenant nods. “When you bug them, our mission will be nearly complete. We will have all the armor pieces and we will need you at your fullest potential.”

“What even is my ‘fullest potential’? I’ve had this thing on since I was little and no one has ever told me why it’s there.” I stare up at him, hoping to receive the answers I’ve been wanting for years.

Once again, I don’t get them.

“It’s the reason why you’re my best asset. You will know when you complete your mission. Will you do it?”

“I…” Is this really worth it…? Am I willing to be let down again? But maybe the Lieutenant is right and I do have some sort of power.

I hope he’s telling me the truth.

* * *

6:30AM

The next morning, I can barely keep my eyes open to turn off my alarm. I returned to my apartment at about 3AM with school being five (5) hours later.

I’m an idiot for that, but I don’t have anything big going on today anyways.

Crawling out of my bed, I take a step onto the floor and instantly recoil in pain. “God fuckin’…”

I look down at the floor and see the one thing I didn’t want to see first thing in the morning:

The Bug.

It must’ve fallen out of my jacket pocket when I threw it on the floor last night.

I pick it up and place it on my night stand before throwing off my sheets and getting ready for eight (8) hours of hell.

* * *

First and second period are blurs. I tried to brush it off this morning, but I can’t stop thinking about the Bug.

And Leo.

Everything about this feels so wrong. Like, I feel grimy like I haven’t showered in weeks. Why is this eating at me the way it is? Leo—and the other turtles—are supposed to be our enemies. But when I think of enemies, I think of my 5th grade class: pathetic people who can’t own their shit in fear of taking responsibility for their actions. Not Leo.

At least in our exchange last night, he was pleasant. When I punched him on accident, he wasn’t angry at me.

“God, you have a hellva right hook.”

Not even a groan or swearing. He was sarcastic, funny. Almost everything I said, he had a quip or joke or light tease for. I’ve never met anybody like that.

But I don’t know him. That was our only interaction, so why do I feel like I’ve known him forever? Like I’m betraying him?

“Lala,” my science teacher whom I haven’t bothered to remember the name of taps my shoulder, “class is dismissed.”

I look around to see an empty classroom and a few students trickle in for their third period class. I scoop up my backpack and speed-walk out of the classroom, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Third and fourth period fly by like I had wished they would. Now I can go to the library and finally focus on something other than Foot Clan bullshit. I’ve been reading a series about space lesbians. I wouldn’t characterize myself as such, but they are interesting to read about.

Soon, I feel myself begin to drift in and out of the middle place between being awake and sleep, barely able to keep my place. I cross my arms on the desk and rest my head against them prepared to just rest my eyes for a bit.

~~~~~

I walked down the street on my way home texting the Lieutenant of my location. My phone dings loudly, causing my ears to ring. I fumble the phone until it lands face down on the ground.

When I turn it over, it’s shattered, but somehow I already knew it was.

What shocked me was the caller ID had changed.

It was Leo.

I try to answer his call, but I have no bars.

“A mountain…” I said slowly before looking around and spotting a hill. I climbed on top of it and held my phone into the air.

Suddenly, the Leo’s caller ID popped up again.

I answered it. “Leo! I’ve been trying to call you but you—”

“Lala, don’t turn around.” A voice said, but it wasn’t Leo’s voice. “Don’t turn around!” He said this over and over again before the call dropped.

Despite his warning, I turned around and saw a future, but I didn’t know which.

It was me.

But it wasn’t… me.

I was in a Foot uniform with Foot soldiers by my side. I had a wide smirk on my face, and point towards the present me.

My heart began pounding as we stared at each other before the floor beneath me opened and I fell through into a dark pit of nothingness.

~~~~~~

I shoot awake, my heart still pounding.

What the hell was that…?

It’s been a while since I’ve had a dream like that in years, but it was different. The “future” me was lit by blue fire and my eyes radiated a light blue as well. I don’t remember what happened after that, but I wasn’t afraid of her like I was with the Foot one.

And why would Leo call me? I don’t even have his number or any sort of communication with him. Why is he even in my dreams?

I shake my head as the lunch bell rings and I head to the cafeteria.

* * *

Thank-fuckin’-god this day is over! I couldn’t stand those preppy kids their mocks toward me for being a freshman for much longer.

At my apartment, I enter my bedroom and crash onto my bed, sleep quickly overcoming me. I wake up about five (5) hours later and notice The Lieutenant had pinged me an hour or so ago, then thirty (30) minutes ago, and then fifteen (15) minutes.

He’s probably gonna make me patrol the city to look for the turtles as he had said he would last night, but for some reason, I feel hesitant about going for the first time in a while.

*Third Person POV*

Leo sat up and yawned loudly as he awoke from his twelve (12) hour slumber. He was hungry, so he sluggishly made his way to the kitchen.

As he was walking, he heard commotion going on in his destination and decided to ear-hustle.

“I mean, who would he even see? We don’t know anybody else besides April.” He heard his oldest brother, Raph, say.

“Yeah, but what if he knows someone we don’t? I mean, none of us have gone out alone for that long. What else could he be doing?” Mikey snitched Leo out.

“Mikey, I think you’re overthinking this.” Raph denied him. “If Leo was talking to someone else besides us or April, he would let his brothers know… right?”

Donnie sighed, exasperated by the conversation. “Why are we even talking about this? Whatever Leo is doing shouldn’t concern us. Besides, we should be worrying about this thing.” The purple clad turtle opened his hand to reveal the armor piece they’d stolen from The Foot two (2) days before. “It’s energy levels are impeccable; I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Leo retreated back to his bedroom after his brothers stopped talking about him. At least he knew that Raph and Donnie didn’t believe Mikey. The last thing he wanted was all his brothers interrogating him. What would he even say? “Hey, guys, you remember that girl I saved oh-so bravely two (2) days ago? Yeah, I went all over the city looking for her and talked to her for all of ten (10) seconds before she ran off.” Of course not, he’d look like a stalker. Or an idiot. Or an idiot-stalker. All of those he didn’t want to be.

“Leo!” Raph seemed to always yell for him at an unreasonably long distance. “We’re on the move. Come to the Turtle Tank.”

The blue clad turtle quickly made his way over to his brothers to go on another mission.

• • •

L͟a͟l͟a͟’̲s͟ P͟.̲O͟.̲V͟.̲

As I had originally thought, the Lieutenant wants me to patrol. Not for the turtles, though. He wants me to scout a building to make sure it’s closed and everybody has left. Is it for the armor or paper again? I have no clue. I didn’t have the energy to fight for an answer from him today.

I stay posted on a rooftop a couple buildings away after I had cleared the building in question. The street lights cast onto the empty street below, but the alleys stay as pitch black as the night. They remind me of my dream earlier today, and I swear I see the “future” me staring up at me in the corner of my eye. I focus onto the alley, but there’s no one there.

The dream has left me in my head all day. That and the Bug. I had looked up what my dream meant while coming over here. Apparently my communication is stunted and I haven’t been listening to myself. In my opinion, there isn’t any room for that.

I don’t remember my life before The Foot. As I’ve said before, I only remember the fifth (5th) grade incident. The Lieutenant had told me I’d been with them since I was a toddler, but nothing more than that. I often fantasized about what my parents would’ve been like. What if I had siblings? Aunts? Uncles? Cousins? I get the feeling that I will never know.

I say this to day that I’ve been under someone’s control for my whole life. I am only a child in the Lieutenant’s eyes, therefore I must listen to him and never trust my adolescent mind. The more I think about it, the more I realize just how much I sound like him sometimes. I’ve never seen the Lieutenant as my father or any sort of father figure, but he’s been the constant in my life. He taught me how to fight, steal, and manipulate others into getting what I wanted. I had briefly admired him… maybe I still kinda do…? But more than anything, he’s been scaring me lately.

I feel like I owe him my loyalty. If what he says is true, he could’ve left me to starve. Bad things could’ve happened to me if he and The Foot hadn’t taken me in. Not only that, but he constantly reminds me of it; constantly accusing me of trying to betray him. If I was bold enough I would, but where would I go? The Foot pays for my apartment, my schooling, they train me, they know everything I know and more. Where would I run and who would I run to?

These thoughts diminish when I hear a loud engine revving. I look towards the building and see a large round vehicle turn off it’s headlights as individuals hidden by the shadows exit through a hole in the top of it and sprint towards the building.

I leap from my post to the back entrance and quietly push the door open.

• • •

Another Lala centered chapter, but I swear this is the last one for a while! Stay safe!

-ℍ𝕒𝕟𝟟𝕒

[seancamerons]

I have reason to believe something is going on that is kind of weird.

I’ve been waking up early lately for the past couple of weeks. I go to bed late, and don't feel tired with or without coffee. My eyes are burning, tingling as well as my cheeks. Idk if its because I started wearing my prescription glasses 2 years ago because my eyes have been hurting for several days lately. My eyes tear all the time. I believe I could be allergic to ingredients in some mascaras, I end up looking like a racoon or have to constantly wipe away fallout and prevent my eyes from burning. I’ve been putting more effort into my appearance, make up, hair and dress. I have all these ideas buzzing around my brain, I want to make xmas cards and such but I feel weird about all of this. I’m always avoiding being depressed or trying to keep my mind upbeat but Im feeling like this, in my gut is scary and possibly a potential warning. No naps the past couple of weeks. No depression, feeling ‘good’.

I just assume everything is fine but I feel like there’s warning signs happening when I had that bad time in 2015. One of the hardest things. I had to become more self-aware. Going forward from there, I had no experiences after my hospital stay. I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to have problems. I usually get depressed near the holidays, now I feel good about them and excited, which I also fear getting bad again. I take my meds. Why am I feeling like this?

But yesterday, I woke up at 3:30am after going to sleep at 930-10 pm and I have stayed awake. I got tired around 4-5:00 pm and laid down and calmed down without my phone, without my computer and simply cleaned while listening to music. I’ve been non-stop for days. Very motivated, but I also feel unproductive.

It is currently 1 in the morning, overwhelmed, overloaded, not tired at all whatsoever. I’m trying to figure out what is going on. I think I’m suffering from stress related anxiety,adhd side-effects, and it’s affecting my mood. I honestly hope I am not having a relapse of mania. I haven’t had any issues in a long time. I hope it improves and doesn’t get bad. I desperately don’t want to ruin my life again. I have been doing so good for the time being and I thought I was doing good. I’m constantly over-thinking. I constantly have to feel like being mindful of what I say in any and all situations. I take so long to respond to friends and such. I feel like I’m constantly afraid of improvisational interpersonal difficulty.

I’ve been stressed financially for a long time, at least a few years. In the back of my mind I’m always thinking the worst. Outside I’m fine but inside I’m always a walking contradiction, my mind says one thing, my heart wants another and my brain too wants something completely different sometimes. I have trouble making some decisions. I don’t want to go back to therapy. I want to find a way to combat this before it gets out of control though. I don’t even know what the first steps are to start this.

Sometimes I wish I got therapy in college because I struggled badly through those years. I was absolutely miserable and I’m a nervous wreck at my own graduation. I hate making mistakes and shit I regret a lot about that time. I struggle now because of those decisions.

When I did get help it wasn’t until recently that I started feeling weird. I can’t calm down. I feel like I want to do fifty million things at once. This is really rough and bad. I’m going to try to calm down, wind down, get off the computer and get a little bit of sleep. Am I ok?

[suckitsurveys]

Will you be single over winter? Nope.

Are you mad at anyone right now? Everyone and everything.

Do you add random questions into surveys when you take them? No. I’ll sometimes delete ones if I can’t figure out to reply to them though lol.

Where do you wanna live when you grow up? I am “grown up” and living in Chicago is fine.

Are you wearing jeans, shorts, sweatpants, or pajama pants? I’m wearing jeans.

Would you get married if you could right now? I am married.

Do you consider yourself spoiled? Yes, but not in a bratty way. I am spoiled with love and being able to afford nice things or having help getting nice things.

Do you get annoyed when you see someone you don’t like? Yes I do.

Could you see yourself dropping out of high school? I've been done with high school for a while.

Is there anyone you want to see right now? Not at this very moment. I’d like to be home though.

What were you doing 12 a.m. last night? I was asleep.

Would you go out in public looking like you do now? Yes, I already left the house.

Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 months from now? Yes.

How was your weekend? It was okay! Saturday Mark and I went to his mom’s house and Sunday was very chill; just did errands and a couple chores and Mark and I went to get his hair done and grabbed lunch.

Are you a mean person? No. I can be, but not overall.

What woke you up today? My alarms.

What is something you disliked about your day? It’s only 9:30am, not a lot has happened.

Have you kissed anyone whose name started with a T? Nope.

Did you date anyone last summer? I’m married.

Where will you be twelve hours from now? At home. I don’t have to work tomorrow so I’m going to stay up a lil later than usual.

Do you remember the first time you kissed the last person you kissed? Yes.

Have you ever slept on a couch with that person? Yes, several times.

Have you written a letter to a soldier? Nope.

Ever been in a perfect relationship? The one I am in now is pretty perfect.

Is the last person you kissed mad at you? He’s a lil disappointed I spent so much money on Sabrina Carpenter tickets, but I don’t think he’s mad at me lol.

How do you feel about the person who texted you last? I love him more than life itself.

What are you looking forward to? This weekend! I took off tomorrow and we’re going to the apple orchard and then Saturday is SNL!!!!!!!!!!! and then Sunday is Mark’s birthday and we’re going camping into Monday, which I also took off. Happy 4 day weekend to me!!! I’m also looking forward to Novemeber; I’m seeing Sabrina Carpenter AND Billie Eilish within two weeks of each other. One in SLC, the other in Chicago. Both with my best friend!!!!!!!!

Do you think you are an argumentative person? Nope.

How did you feel when you woke up today? Tired and in pain. My back hurts.

Have you ever had a best friend who was of the opposite sex? Yeah.

What time did you go to sleep last night? Around 11:00pm.

Where did you buy the shirt you’re wearing now? Torrid.

What color are your eyes? Green.

The last song you listened to? I don’t remember.

Do you believe change is always good? I mean, change is constant and we are all adaptable.

Where are the majority of your clothes from? Places that sell clothes.

[gretagerwigsmuse]

i was absolutely cheesing the entire time i was reading! i used to read the outline to this all the time after you shared it with me on docs 🤭 the idea of an older bradley is a slightly tight college t-shirt is enough to send anyone (but mainly me) into a spiral, so it is MUCH appreciated! also the fact that they’re boston based!?! i love it, i can picture it so clearly!!! ugh this is going to be such a comfort reread i can already tell 💕 more below

She looks over at Bradley sprawled in the uncomfortable café chair in his navy suit, his arm slung over the back of her chair. He’s down to just his crisp, white button-up, jacket, and tie abandoned within the first ten minutes of the call. - jesus christ right out of the gate (no pun intended)! i love a navy suit with a white button down and brown shoes ughhhh he’s so gorg

“Well, Sean, as Sherrie explained before…” - i can just HEAR the way he says sean lol. and i like that even though he’s done this a bunch of times for her, she’s still surprised and flattered? but it’s true, she said all this before, why shouldn’t she get the credit/praise?

“Come on, it’s a long flight; you can sleep on the plane. Just be thankful you’re not wearing an underwire bra and heels.” - first that’s a long flight! i’m bummed they aren’t sitting next to each other BUTTTTT as a fussy traveler, i completely get it because i might be (lovingly) tired of the other person by then and need a break haha. and also!?! miss girl, underwire!?!! no no no!

After packing, going to bed late, and having to get up at 3:30AM to get to the airport, she was exhausted. - i’ve never had to travel for work, but it always sounds SO exhausting?!! especially since everything, even the dinners etc, is about WORK!? say what you will about big 4 consultants etc but i don’t envy the travel

This happens everywhere they go. - i like that they both have similar thoughts and never think the people are also staring at them?

Their decade-long friendship allowing her to thoroughly analyze how well their personalities would mesh. They share the same beliefs and have the same interests; they even have overlapping friend groups. They’re made for each other. On paper. In reality, it will never happen. She won’t let it. - ughhhhhhhhhh sherrie!!!!!!!! sweet girl! i get you so much, i really do! it’s so sad that she has to look out for it and be cognizant of it, since it wouldn’t cross most of her (male) colleagues’ minds? like even when it was mentioned at orientation, it was mentioned to HER! (also her thinking about this WEEKLY!?! girl’s down so bad)

He peels open his eyes to see the flight attendant holding out two packets of Biscoff cookies. - the only good part about flying american airlines, but they carry them at star market so really there’s no incentive to fly aa for me now (also ginger ale ☺️🥺 he’s so cute) and then the cute seatmate!?! you know he’s craning his neck to try and see them!! (but also he’s so right she doesn’t seem the type to do so) and then the repeated “Sherrie” with no punctuation!!

He had told Danny it’s because she’s so much shorter than him, but it’s really because he wasn't paying attention. // He’s surprised to learn that she knows his name. - NERDDDDDDD but also him knowing exactly when they met even tho they didn’t talk then!?!! bradley…

It’s been twelve years since they became friends, and he still feels like that 20-year-old kid who was nervous to talk to the pretty red-headed girl he had a crush on. - i love seeing this side of bradley! i can totally picture him staring at her in class for a year before actually talking to her 1:1

It doesn’t bother him because she never reciprocates, and he’s always the one to give her a ride back to her apartment. - glimpse of lil possessive bradley (in a cute way, not a gross possessive way!)

He knows it won’t happen. Can’t happen. - can’t happen in the present circumstances!

His puppy dog eyes are vicious, and she has the urge to slap her hand over her eyes so she doesn’t succumb to their power. “You didn’t come to the party!” - lieutenant commander cow eyes strikes in any universe!!!

the annual Sigma Chi Easter Bash - universal headcanon that bradley was in sigma chi 🫡 and also easter bash and the fact that it’s ANNUAL is hilarious. do they reenact the stations of the cross?

but she’s not strong enough to deny Bradley’s big brown eyes two times in a row - are any of us?

“Besides, I really didn’t think you would notice I wasn’t there, Mr. Popular.” “You’re the only person I invited; of course, I noticed when you didn’t show up.” - get out of here with this right now. i can picture his earnest lil face saying it too ☺️🥺

“Mav isn’t my dad.” - i mean but like he IS tho ☺️

Sherrie’s fingers run over his hair. Gently stroking the sun-streaked waves as a few tears escape down his cheeks and she scoots closer, letting her body press into his side and hoping the proximity helps. - STOP THIS!!! it’s so cute!! i can totally picture her absentmindedly doing this when they do get to sit together on planes

She’s always liked Bradley, probably more than she should, but it’s hard not to like him. He’s considerate, smart, and funny, not to mention handsome. - probably more than she should 🥺☺️🤭 godddddd i know this feeling!!! i love it!

The gate was still packed, but they had found a prime location with outlets; the only downside was having to sit on the floor, something that is getting harder the older they get. - see this is the point in which i’d charge an admirals club day pass to the company card haha

“We were supposed to be halfway home by now, and I’m so uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Bradley, I’m just so tired.” She whimpers, hiding against his bicep. - overwhelmed, overtired tears are the WORST! they just keep coming and you’re basically powerless against them. i wanna rest my head on his shoulder and have him tell me it’ll be okay next time i have them 🥺

“…Would you prefer a t-shirt or a sweatshirt? Actually, you’re definitely gonna get cold, sweatshirt for you.” - when will it be my turn? it’s so sweet how he just automatically goes into action mode to make her comfortable

“C’mon, honey, they changed the gate again — we gotta go!” - HONEY!!!

Bradley’s head drops back in disbelief, wrapping his arm around Sherrie when her head thunks against his chest. - ENOUGH OF THIS!!!!!! the exasperation on both parts but also NO PERSONAL SPACE

Bradley’s words are encouraging, but he doesn’t know how difficult her internship was last summer. The older engineers she shadowed treated her like a glorified coffee girl and secretary. - as a woman, we’ve all had that internship 😑

Sherrie feels the blood drain from her already pale face as her brand new supervisor stares at her the entire time he speaks, ignoring Bradley completely. - i genuinely don’t know what i’d do in this situation? i’d be so thrown and overwhelmed and then embarrassed and mad?

Sherrie blinks when a bottle of Diet Coke and a small bag of Skittles is set on the table in front of her. “What’s this?” “Your favorite snack.” - he noticed 🥺 ughhhh he’s so sweet

“I don’t know, the Bradley flying into Bradley joke was pretty funny.” - it is and you already know i think about it every time i see the sign

“That’s what you wear to bed?” “Bradley!” - i LOVE whenever this happens in one room/one bed type scenarios, like yes! when i think im gonna be alone i wear short shorts and a tank top to bed okay! it’s like in the proposal

“We have to talk about it again.” “No, we don’t.” “Sherrie -“ “No, Bradley. We talked about this two weeks ago. Nothing has changed since then.” - i like that they frequently bring it up amongst themselves? and i know we chatted about how they definitely have dated over people over the course of 13(?) years, but like the other person is always there? the one constant all these years

“Oh, Sherrie…” He slips out of his bed and into hers, wrapping the woman he loves in his arms. He lets her cry, knowing she’s frustrated and exhausted, only speaking up again when she’s calmed down. “I’m sorry, honey.” - this broke my heart 🥺 sherrie! what i got from this part and the whole “woman he loves” bit was just that he’s never made her uncomfortable or pressured her to make them a thing? like they’ve both been so patient and it’s just not fair? they deserve a break, flight issues included

“And I love you, so I don’t mind waiting until we’re in a position that you’re confident won’t jeopardize your career. So, we’ll wait to hear about the job, and once you hear that you’ve gotten it, I’m treating you to the nicest dinner in Boston.” - this is the sweetest most lovely thing a man has ever said ☺️🥺 they go to prima or no. 9 park 🫡

“I know, but it doesn’t matter, whatever it is — we’ll figure it out.” - he’s so sure of it, that’s what makes it turn true!

Her nose wrinkles in frustration, and suddenly it’s 2003 again, and he’s trying to get the attention of the red-haired girl whose table has the only empty chair left, something he desperately needs since this book can’t leave the library. - it’s giving charlie brown and the little red haired girl (i just finished my peanuts puzzle…)

Bradley was expecting this question and smoothly fibs. “I worked the hours out with Martin for this week so I could run a few last-minute errands. Do you want me to grab snacks?” - it’s to pick up the ring isn’t it 🤭🤭🤭

Would it be cheesy to quietly propose in the airport that was a catalyst in their relationship? - maybe, but they’re flying delta this time so they’re guaranteed a good flight 🤭

change your ticket home

a top gun maverick AU

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Sherrie McHone (fem!OC)

summary: After a successful business trip on the West Coast, two Wells Corporation engineers have problems getting back home. Thank god for Bradley Bradshaw, a man who is determined to make their hours waiting in the terminal as enjoyable as possible. And if he and his pretty travel companion (and colleague) get closer along the way? Well that’s just a bonus.

warnings: difficulties of being a woman in a male-dominated field, minor misogyny from coworkers, yearning, pining, Bradley being an absolute sweetheart, it's vaguely alluded to but Sherrie is named after the Steve Perry song, American Airlines bashing bc this fic is based on a real and horrible experience I had a few years ago. and yes, the title is from the one direction song.

word count: 9.8k | masterlist

note: happy saturday! this has been in the works for almost a year and I'm so thrilled to finally be sharing it! this is dedicated to @gretagerwigsmuse, who gave so many wonderful ideas and has continually been a cheerleader for this fic. happy birthday!

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 06:36 AM PST | San Diego, CA

“If I fake a heart attack, we can get out of this meeting, right?”

She looks over at Bradley sprawled in the uncomfortable café chair in his navy suit, his arm slung over the back of her chair. He’s down to just his crisp, white button-up, jacket, and tie abandoned within the first ten minutes of the call.

“Suck it up, we’re almost done.” She rolls her eyes. “And Martin knows you’re a supremely healthy thirty-two-year-old, so no, I don’t think that will work.”

“Sherrie…” His whine is cut off by her hand covering his mouth as she unmutes her microphone and mentally praises his decision to sit so close to her. Not having to pull out both laptops was just an additional perk on top of her ability to silence him.

“That’s correct, Sean. We got them to agree to a small batch trail run for the connectors. We’ll be working together on running them through environmental testing before committing to a full contract.”

“And why are they agreeing to that? Because frankly, it makes no sense to me why they would want to do that.”

Bradley straightens up, his eyes narrowing at the Teams box showing the older man’s initials. “Well, Sean, as Sherrie explained before. Harris hasn’t produced connectors like this before, and they’re interested in the test results, specifically the shock data. So they agreed to take on half the burden so they can use the information for their own use. If this works how we think it will, this will be a huge boost for their business, even if the patent is shared.”

She looks at him, half admonishment and half appreciation, always a little bit amazed when he had her back, no matter how many times he had done it. “The contracts team is drawing up the final agreements and negotiating with their team next week, so best case scenario is we have reports with usable data by the end of the summer. Worst case, it’ll drift into the middle of Q1.”

“That’s great work you guys did out there, thank you. Alright, I think that covers everything we had to talk about today. McHone, Bradshaw - have a safe flight back, and everyone have a good weekend!” Martin ends the call before anyone can add anything.

Bradley laughs. “God, he’s just as sick of Sean as I am. I can’t wait until he retires.”

“He’s not that bad; you’re just grumpy because you had to dress up for the staff meeting, and then Martin said cameras off today.”

“I am upset about that! I will be logging yet another suggestion that we should have casual Fridays and casual travel policy. But I’m more upset because he talks down to you all the time! Like you haven’t been carrying this department on your back since we started ten years ago!”

“Carrying is an exaggeration, Bradley.” She looks up from where she’s putting her laptop away. “I think you have time to change into something comfy before we board.”

“American Airlines Flight 2307 from San Diego to Charlotte, Boarding Group A can now board.”

“Or not.” She giggles as he groans, reaching over to pull her other air pod out of his ear. “Come on, it’s a long flight; you can sleep on the plane. Just be thankful you’re not wearing an underwire bra and heels.”

“I don’t know how you do that.” He mutters, shooing her away when she tries to pick up her carry-on, throwing it over his shoulder alongside his own.

“I don’t either. I’m going to get a massage when we get back to Boston.”

“Ohhh, a massage sounds nice.” He subtly sticks his elbow out for her grab, which she gratefully does, letting his tall frame guide her to their gate. “You know you didn’t have to wear heels, right?”

“You should shut up while I’m still thankful you yelled at Sean for me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sherrie leans her head on his arm as they wait in the priority boarding line, one of the perks of traveling on the company’s dime. Normally, she would worry about being more professional while carrying her work bag that had the Wells Corporation logo embroidered on it, but she can’t bring herself to care. Yesterday’s meetings ran late, and the following client dinner had kept them out until almost midnight. After packing, going to bed late, and having to get up at 3:30AM to get to the airport, she was exhausted.

She takes her bag before they scan their tickets, not fighting when he grabs it again on their walk down the jet bridge.

“Where are you sitting again?”

“I’m in 16C.” She snorts at Bradley’s pout. “What? You knew we weren’t going to be sitting together.”

“But I’m going to be bored all the way back in 21D by myself.”

“Bud, you’re going to fall asleep in the first 30 minutes like you always do, and then I would be stuck for the next four hours with you leaning and drooling on me.”

Bradley whips his head around, “That is a baseless accusation. I do not drool!”

“You 100% definitely do drool, I’ve seen it.” Her smirk widens when his attempt to fight back is cut off by the flight attendants greeting them.

He ushers Sherrie on first, politely nodding to the flight crew before following her down the aisle, ducking down to whisper. “I do not drool.”

“You absolutely do drool. You also snore.”

She can feel eyes on them as they shuffle down the aisle, making eye contact with an older woman who raises her eyebrows in appreciation at the hunk of a man behind her.

This happens everywhere they go.

Bradley is such a gentleman, always opening doors and carrying her bags, that people never believe the two are just friends and coworkers. She’s had complete strangers fight with her when she says there’s nothing between them. Unable to accept that it’s just platonic.

As much as she wishes it could be more.

After years of learning all the little details of each other, she knows they would be good together. Their decade-long friendship allowing her to thoroughly analyze how well their personalities would mesh. They share the same beliefs and have the same interests; they even have overlapping friend groups. They’re made for each other.

On paper.

In reality, it will never happen.

She won’t let it.

“Is this good here?” Bradley’s question interrupts her weekly internal spiral; his big brown eyes blink at her over his shoulder as he puts her bag into the overhead compartment.

“That’s fine. Can you grab my water bottle out of the side pocket?

“Here ya go, ma’am. I’ll meet you by the water foundation when we land, okay?”

She nods, smiling as he hustles back to his seat to avoid a family almost flattening him in their haste to get to their assigned seats.

Her seat neighbors haven’t arrived yet, so Sherrie sits down without bothering to buckle, tucking her work bag under the row in front of her after pulling out her plane kit. Her pencil case from college that she’s repurposed to hold her headphones, phone charger, gum, hand sanitizer, and a few other small necessities.

Her phone buzzes as she’s storing her water bottle and the little bag away in the pocket of the seat in front of her.

Bradley is woken up by his seat neighbor hitting his arm as he reaches to grab a drink, nodding at the guy’s apologetic face before trying to get comfortable again. Alan talked way too much at dinner last night, and it was a struggle to stay awake during the project manager’s third round of gushing over how brilliant and profitable Sherrie’s proposal would be for both companies.

“Sir? This is for you, do you want it?” The muffled question is accompanied by someone shaking his shoulder. He peels open his eyes to see the flight attendant holding out two packets of Biscoff cookies.

His face must be confused enough for the short woman to take pity on him. “Your friend up there said these are your favorite and asked me to give hers to you.”

His heart warms up, taking the treats and saying thank you. He enjoys the cookies, washing them down with the ginger ale he also got, thinking about how well Sherrie knows him. He forces himself to wait for them to finish snack service before he gets up to use the restroom.

“Thank you.” Bradley revels in the way Sherrie jumps when he pops her headphone out, purposefully brushing his lips against her ear. “Hmmm, you were right, your seatmate is cute.”

She glares up at him, a smile threatening to break through. “Isn’t he? He fell asleep five minutes after take off, just like you.”

“Yet, another baseless accusation!”

“I heard you snoring.”

“You shouldn’t lie in front of small children.”

“His mom said he’s seven months old; I don’t think we have to be concerned about teaching him to lie while he’s still in a car seat.”

“Probably shouldn’t chance it, though. Say I don’t snore.”

“You just said I shouldn’t lie. Should probably go to the bathroom before you start holding up traffic.” She puts her headphone back in, wiggling her fingers at him before going back to reading on her phone.

It gives him the strangest sense of déjà vu.

Tuesday, March 25, 2005 | 10:43 AM EST | Charlottesville, VA

“…and he said you had already-” Bradley cuts himself off, realizing she can’t hear him. He chuckles; he should have known better than to just walk up and start talking.

He doesn’t know Sherrie McHone very well. They had taken all the freshman intro to engineering requirements together, and this year their classes had split into their chosen disciplines. His mechanical, hers electrical. But he knows her well enough to know that she can pretty much only be found without her headphones during class.

He remembers the first time they spoke last semester after he accidentally walked right into her. He had told Danny it’s because she’s so much shorter than him, but it’s really because he wasn't paying attention.

Sherrie had only taken one earpiece out to make sure he was okay before continuing onto her class, seamlessly weaving between upperclassmen as she shoved her headphone back in.

“Sherrie?” No response.

He lets out a tiny huff and checks his watch. Normally, he wouldn’t care that she’s clueless to his existence even as he’s right beside her, but he’s got a class soon, and he’s still two buildings away. So he does the only thing he can.

He pops her headphones out and steps back for fear of getting smacked.

Her head whips up, narrowing in on him freakishly fast. “What the fuck, Bradshaw?”

He’s surprised to learn that she knows his name.

“Sorry, Sherrie! I’ve been trying to talk to you for like five minutes, and you somehow haven’t noticed, but I’ve got class in 15 minutes, so I needed to get your attention.”

“Oh…” Her green eyes widen in surprise, the apples of her cheeks turning a light pink. “Sorry about that. What did you need? Wait. How did you find me?”

A fair question.

“Khondker told me where you sit.” He partially fibs.

All semester he had been watching her disappear after EE221, the one class they shared. It had taken him a while, but he was pretty sure he had found her secret study nook in the electrical engineering wing of the building. Their TA had only confirmed Bradley’s theory of where he could find his fellow sophomore.

“I don’t understand this last section we’ve been learning, and Khondker said you had already finished the homework and could help me. So could you?”

“He didn’t help you?” Sherrie raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

“He tried.” Bradley scratches the back of his head, remembering how frustrated the patient man had been after his third attempt at explaining. “I just really don’t understand circuit loops. And he thought having a classmate explain it to me would make it stick. That or he was just so sick of me, he’s pawning me off.”

He watches her think, her pencil rapidly tapping against her notebook, making him nervous.

“I don’t want to be rude, but if you don’t understand current loops, I’m not sure how much help I can be. I understand the material, but I’m not a miracle worker.”

Her bluntness makes him smile. “I’m not expecting miracles, just help with the homework. If you have time.”

“Okay, just as long as you don’t get your hopes up too much.” She grabs a bright pink notebook and opens it up. “So, I’m usually free-”

“I don't want to interrupt, but I do have to get to class, so could we figure out a time later today?”

“Sure, I’ll be here until my class at four. Feel free to sit down if I’m not here; it just means I’m grabbing food.” He nods, backing away. “Wait! Bradley! Go down this hall and out the side door. You’ll be like halfway there already.”

“Awesome, thanks!” He starts to jog down the hallway, looking back to see her putting her headphones back in. Waving back when she smiles and wiggles her fingers at him before going back to her homework.

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 3:16 PM EST | Charlotte, NC

“Our flight got delayed, and I’m hungry.”

Sherrie jumps, not expecting Bradley to get that close to her face three seconds after she exited the bathroom.

“Okay, I could eat. Where do you wan-”

“Auntie Anne’s.”

He’s walking away before she can even process what he said. She allows herself one second to appreciate the way he looks, walking through the concourse - navy slacks fitting his legs perfectly and all their bags thrown over his broad shoulders - before she’s clicking along after him.

“Bradshaw!” He freezes and turns, almost taking a lanky teenager out with her backpack. “Oh my god, Bradley! Be careful! You almost took that kid’s head off.”

His smile is sheepish as she shuffles them over to the wall. “I did not do that on purpose.”

She giggles and takes her backpack from his shoulder. “Yeah, I kinda figured. But you should have seen his face. His life flashed before his eyes. All sixteen years.”

“I can carry that Sherrie.”

“That’s okay, I got it. No! Bradley!”

He ignores her, smiling at her frustrated little stomp when he hands over her tan, cross-body purse out of her work bag. “You just carry that and make sure I don’t take out any toddlers or old ladies.”

“How am I supposed to do that if I’m ahead of you?” She snarks as he steers them toward the food stands.

“You’re smart; I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Bradley laughs when she mocks him under her breath. “I can hear you, smartass.”

“You were meant to, Bradley.”

His heart flutters at the teasing wink she sends over her shoulder. It’s been twelve years since they became friends, and he still feels like that 20-year-old kid who was nervous to talk to the pretty red-headed girl he had a crush on.

He can feel eyes on them as her heels catch people’s attention, and he finds himself glaring at men who are shamelessly staring. Her shoes aren’t loud as they click along on the tile floor, but it’s hard to ignore the beautiful woman striding along in business casual.

It happens everywhere they go.

Sherrie has always been beautiful and painfully unaware of her effect on men. It never matters where they are - at work, the rare baseball game he forces her to attend, happy hour with their friends from school - she always catches attention. It doesn’t bother him because she never reciprocates, and he’s always the one to give her a ride back to her apartment.

Even if he wishes it was their apartment they were going to.

He’s watched her change over the last decade, seen her grow as a person. He’s risen through the ranks with her professionally, the two of them matching each other step for step with each promotion and raise. He’s publicly assured her that her hair still looks good as it’s deepened color with age, now less red and more auburn. He’s privately appreciated the way her body has changed, softer and curvier than when they were kids. Her wide hips are a frequent star in his daydreams.

It's the only place where they’ll ever be in a relationship.

He knows they’d be perfect together. Old friends who know each other so well they don’t even have to talk to communicate sometimes. Whose attitudes fit together like puzzle pieces, perfectly in sync with each other. He knows it won’t happen. Can’t happen.

“Grab us a table, and I’ll get the food.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t fight her about paying, knowing this will be covered under their per diem. “Don’t forget my-”

“You’re frozen lemonade, I know!”

Bradley rolls his eyes at the hand that waves over her shoulder, settling their bags at a table and keeping an eye on Sherrie while sending an update to Mav.

His thumbs hover over the keyboard. He wants to tell his uncle the whole situation - that he’s not afraid to flirt with Sherrie.

“Everything okay?”

Bradley looks up to find her eyebrows furrowed as she sets a tray down.

“All good. Just sending my family an update that we’re delayed.”

She nods, sitting in the chair across from him. “Here’s your mini pretzel dogs, with mustard and a frozen lemonade. This is my pretzel nuggets, cheese sauce, and Diet Coke. Oh! And I got us these cinnamon sugar pretzels to share!”

“Thank you for remembering the mustard.”

“Bradley, when have I ever forgotten the mustard? Here, take some napkins.”

He shoves an entire mini pretzel dog in his mouth in lieu of answering her question, which they both know the answer to. Never. She has never forgotten his love for pretzels with mustard.

They eat in comfortable silence, the way only two friends can, occasionally dunking into each other's sauces as they scroll through their phones.

“Hey, how is your da- oh Bradley! You got mustard on your shirt!” His head snaps down to his shirt, groaning when he sees the yellow blob on his white button-up.

“Fuck! This is new, too!”

Sherrie dives into her bag, muttering about a stain stick, a triumphant noise escaping when she comes up successful. Scooting closer to him, she’s hit with a wave of nostalgia as she helps him clean his shirt.

Friday, April 6, 2007 | 10:12 PM EST | Charlottesville, VA

“You should’ve been gone, knowing how I made you feel!”

Sherrie’s head pops up from the lab reports she’s grading.

“And I should've been gone, after all your words of steel!”

She knows that voice.

“Oh, I must've been a dreamer! And I must've been someone else!”

She knows that voice very well.

“And we should've been over!”

She rushes for the front door, hoping and praying that the idiot she’s become close friends with this year isn’t actually outside her townhouse.

“Oh! Sherrie, our love holds on! Holds on!”

She whips the door open and, sure enough, drunkenly singing to her neighbor's house is Bradley Bradshaw.

“Bradley!” She hisses at him, ignoring the flutters in her stomach when he points his big, goofy grin towards her and not the tulips the soccer girls next door planted in front of their bay window. “What are you doing? It’s 10 PM!”

“You didn’t come.”

“First man to ever care about that.” She mutters, snorting at her joke.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing. What are you doing here?”

His puppy dog eyes are vicious, and she has the urge to slap her hand over her eyes so she doesn’t succumb to their power. “You didn’t come to the party!”

Sherrie sighs, she thought he might be disappointed she didn’t come to the annual Sigma Chi Easter Bash, but she never thought he would actually notice her absence. Or that it would result in a drunken serenade.

“Bradley, I told you I had a lot of grading and might not make it tonight.” She gently reminds him, stifling a laugh when he trips over his own feet while standing still. “You okay?”

“I have to pee. Can I come in?”

She’s pretty sure he’s just making excuses but lets him in any way; she doesn’t need to deal with him getting a public indecency charge on top of everything else. “Shoes off, Bradshaw. Bathroom is right here; I’ll be in the dining room.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He sloppily salutes her, losing his balance and thunking against the wall, one shoe still on.

Sherrie just blinks at him before returning to her spot at the dining room table, holding in the laugh threatening to escape. She settles in her chair, focusing on the mediocre reports her students had turned in.

“I washed my hands!” Bradley’s abrupt entrance startles her. “Can we have a snack? I’m hungry?

She watches in amusement as he shuffles to her fridge, riffling through the shelves before opening the freezer and gasping.

“I love pretzels. Can we make these? Please?”

The box of pretzels belongs to her roommate, but she’s not strong enough to deny Bradley’s big brown eyes two times in a row so she makes a mental note to buy Amna a new box the next time she goes to the store. “Yeah, we can. But no touching the oven when you’re drunk. Go sit down.”

“I’m not drunk!” He argues even as he follows her directions, plopping himself at the table and nosily leafing through her done pile. “Wow, lots of red here.”

“Bradley! Don’t look at those!”

“Why not?”

“Would you want some random student looking through your homework?”

His rebuttal gets cut off by the oven beeping, announcing it’s up to temp. After she pops the tray in the oven, she turns and catches him appreciating the pj shorts riding up her shapely legs.

“What?” Her head cocks in confusion.

“Nothin'… cute shorts.”

“Thank you.” He watches in fascination as she snips at him even while her cheeks turn pink. “It’s almost like I was dressed for comfort and not planning on being interrupted.”

“But you’re glad I’m here, right?”

“I’ve had worse company on a Friday night.” She nudges him out of her chair. “While those are baking, go find something to watch, and I’m going to finish grading this report.”

“Such a responsible TA.”

Pride fills his chest as Sherrie snorts at his joke and goes back to work. They’ve officially been friends since last year, but he still tries his hardest to make her laugh. She's always so busy and stressed, and she does the cutest little snort-laugh when he catches her off guard.

He puts on a random movie, just grabbing a VHS case with the Disney logo on the side, before plopping on the couch. “Is there a reason you have so many kids movies?”

“Those are Jayla’s, she collects them.” Sherrie answers, never looking up from the table. “What did you choose?”

“It’s a surprise!”

“You don’t remember, huh?”

“Nope! I’ll be quiet now.”

She hums a thank you in his direction, and Bradley keeps his promise, watching her work and staying quiet until the timer goes off. His chin hooked on the back of the couch; he follows her movement through the kitchen as she pulls the pretzels out and transfers them to a plate.

“Can I have mustard, please?”

“Sure can.” Sherrie smiles at his dopey smile as she makes her way to the couch. “Here, take these, then we can eat.”

He gulps down the painkillers she drops in his hand, chugging the rest of the apple juice after they’re gone, smiling when she absentmindedly praises him for listening. He shoves a bite of pretzel in his mouth and mashes the play button, and is pleasantly surprised to find A Bug’s Life was the mystery choice.

“I love this movie,” he garbles through a pretzel. “I love how Flick wins over the princess just by getting a chance to show off his true self.”

“That was shockingly wise for the drunk man sprawled on my couch.”

Bradley thanks her, already a bit more sober but not enough to pick up on her teasing. “So, why didn’t you come? Grading really couldn’t wait?”

“It probably could have, but I’m not a partier, Bradley. You know that.” She dips a piece of pretzel in the mustard. “Besides, I really didn’t think you would notice I wasn’t there, Mr. Popular.”

“You’re the only person I invited; of course, I noticed when you didn’t show up.”

“Really? No one else? Why?”

“I know it’s almost finals, but I wanted to hang out without any books in front of us; that’s all we do lately. Study. Plus, you’ve been extra stressed about something that you don’t want to talk about, and I just wanted you to relax since you won’t talk to me about whatever is bothering you.”

“That’s sweet of you, Bradley. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you; it’s just that my family has been…” She waves a hand through the air, a deep sigh escaping. “It’s complicated. I’m trying not to think about it too much.”

“Well, I’m here if you do want to talk.”

“Thanks bud. How about you? How’re your parents?” She takes one last chunk before nudging the plate in his direction and settling back into the corner.

“Mom is good; she’s close to being considered cancer-free. I think we’re gonna throw a party when she gets there.”

“That’s awesome, Bradley! I’m glad she’s doing so well. How’s your dad?”

“Mav isn’t my dad.”

A record scratch plays in Sherrie’s head as she freezes. She knows she’s heard Bradley talk about his dad, and she’d seen photos of his parents the one time she had visited his frat house last year. He had specifically pointed the photo out, telling her it was his parents. She had even been next to him when he was on the phone when he said “dad” to the person on the other end.

“My dad died when I was three. Mav is- was his best friend. I call him dad sometimes because he’s the closest thing I’ve got.”

Sherrie feels her heart break as Bradley sniffles and sadly shoves a mustard-covered pretzel in his mouth, unshed tears clumping his eyelashes. She’s never seen her friend like this before; she’s experienced many other emotions - frustration, joy, confusion - but the pain creasing his brow is new.

Comforting crying people has never been her forte, but instinctively - almost like they moved without her permission - Sherrie’s fingers run over his hair. Gently stroking the sun-streaked waves as a few tears escape down his cheeks and she scoots closer, letting her body press into his side and hoping the proximity helps.

“I’m sorry for crying on you.” He quietly apologizes after a few minutes of tears.

“S’okay. Family can be hard sometimes.”

“Complicated.”

“That too.” She hums, not moving as he swipes at his eyes and leans against her more, his head resting on her shoulder in a slouched position that can’t be comfortable.

“I love Mav; he’s my dad in all the ways it matters. It just sucks that my actual dad won’t be here for graduation. Like, I know he’s missed so much of my life already, but something about him missing college graduation is worse than everything else. It’s just so unfair; I barely remember him, but I just- I just miss him so much, Sherrie.”

Her heart cracks in half at the whispered confession. She can’t even imagine the pain of losing a parent at such a young age. The inability to remember one of the people responsible for giving you life, all memories fuzzy and most built from second-hand recollections of those who can remember. So she says the one thing she would want to hear.

“Tell me about him.”

Sherrie knows she said the right thing when his red-rimmed eyes brighten, and he immediately launches into a beloved story detailing his father’s love of pranks. She listens dutifully — laughing at the right moments and asking questions when Bradley gets carried away, forgetting that she doesn’t know all the people in his story — and feels her heart warm more and more. She’s always liked Bradley, probably more than she should, but it’s hard not to like him. He’s considerate, smart, and funny, not to mention handsome.

Thankfully, before she gets lost in thoughts of broad shoulders and strong jawlines, a big glob of mustard drops on Bradley’s t-shirt, abruptly cutting him off. The two stare in silence at the yellow condiment sitting on the black cotton shirt, somehow surprised at its appearance, before breaking down into giggles.

“C’mon Bradshaw,” Sherrie grabs his hand, pulling him off the couch. “I have a Tide pen we can use on that mess.”

Bradley follows her up the stairs and into the bathroom, teasing Sherrie about the way her tongue pokes out when she focuses. She takes the gentle taunts, grateful he’s focusing on that and not on her pink cheeks or the way her eyes keep darting to his toned stomach. She’s not sure it was completely necessary for him to strip his shirt off, but she won’t be complaining.

“Well,” A few minutes later, she interrupts his rambling story about a slip and slide. Or she thinks that’s what it’s about; she missed the first part. “I think this is as good as I can get it.”

“That’s okay; it’s not like it’s new or anything. Thanks, Sherrie.”

She steadfastly ignores the pounding heart in her chest as miles of golden skin gets covered back up, trying to not feel too disappointed by its disappearance.

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 3:56 PM EST | Charlotte, NC

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Bradley complains a bit too loudly, ears going hot when several pairs of eyes curiously dart toward him, but his focus doesn’t stay on that for very long when he catches the face Sherrie makes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”

He squints suspiciously as she avoids eye contact. He usually takes her at her word and doesn’t push, but the frown pulling down the corners of her pink lips sets off bells in his head. “Sherrie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Bradley. I’m fine.”

He grumbles at her lack of response but settles again in the spot they had claimed after finishing their snack. The gate was still packed, but they had found a prime location with outlets; the only downside was having to sit on the floor, something that is getting harder the older they get.

Bradley scans the area, trying to scout out some open chairs for them to grab, while Sherrie goes back to the movie they’ve been watching on his phone. His eyes drop away from the chairs in surprise when she scoots closer and leans on his shoulder. It’s not uncommon for them to sit close like this at home in Boston, sides pressed together, but she makes a point to be professional when they’re on travel.

“Hey,” he gently nudges her side, concern rising when she doesn’t lift her head, choosing to tilt her neck back, looking up at him with tired eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Panic grips his chest when tears start forming, clouding her green eyes. “Sherrie?! What’s wrong?”

“We were supposed to be halfway home by now, and I’m so uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Bradley, I’m just so tired.” She whimpers, hiding against his bicep.

It hits him like a glass of cold water. Of course, she’s uncomfortable. She’s been walking around in heels and her pantsuit since 4AM California time after getting maybe three hours of sleep. His suit and shoes are comfortable and easily wearable for twelve-plus hours, not to mention the jacket and tie that were ditched sometime after the mustard incident.

“Oh, Sherrie, it’s okay. Let’s go change, yeah? Then we’ll find a quieter place so you can close your eyes and maybe get some sleep.”

“But the policy…”

Bradley resists the urge to roll his eyes at her insistence on rule-following. “In the nicest way possible, Sher, fuck the policy. You’re uncomfortable, and I care about that way more than I could ever care about a stupid, archaic policy.”

He stands, unplugging their phones and gathering their bags on his shoulder before turning to his best friend, who is still on the floor. “C’mon, we’re putting comfy clothes on.”

“But Bradley-”

“No arguing.” He interrupts, helping her off the ground and directing them back towards the restrooms. “We’re not going to sit in our suits for god knows how much longer.”

“But Bradley, I don’t have anything to change into. We had such a packed schedule I didn’t bother to bring normal clothes.” He ignores the thumping of his heart when her hand grabs his forearm, warm fingers slipping under the edge of the rolled-up sleeve as she tugs to slow his pace. At that information, he slides them out of the flow of traffic and over to the wall, Bradley pressing her against one of the columns lining the concourse atrium.

“You don’t have any regular clothes? What about your pajamas?”

“I have a pair of leggings because I was going to do a training run in the gym last night, but that’s it. I can’t wear my pjs because… well, they’re not appropriate for public.”

“Your leggings are clean, though, right?” He asks, ignoring the thoughts of what non-public appropriate pajamas might look like.

“Well, yeah, dinner went so late I barely had time to sleep before we had to be up. I guess I could buy a shirt at one of the SmartShop- what are you doing?”

Bradley peers up from his knees, where he had started digging in his bag. “I’m grabbing one of my shirts for you. Would you prefer a t-shirt or a sweatshirt? Actually, you’re definitely gonna get cold, sweatshirt for you.”

He pulls the worn, gray crew neck out, shaking it out before handing it over.

“You still have this?” The disbelief in her voice makes him laugh.

“Of course, I still have that! Relay was always my favorite event of the year. And that year was my favorite one.”

As the philanthropy chair of Sigma Chi, part of his job was to sign the brothers up for volunteer events and fundraisers. With his mom’s diagnosis, he ensured their schedule included the campus’ annual Relay for Life event, pouring as many resources as he could into the fundraiser that directly helped advance cancer research.

“Wait, but why was junior year your favorite?” She asks, brushing her fingers over the cracked, screen-printed logo.

“Because that’s the reason we became friends, Sher.”

Surprised green eyes meet sincere brown eyes, a thousand words said in the silence of their stares, both remembering the lead-up to that day in April so many years ago.

Bradley’s eyes widen in panic as everyone at the gate starts moving as a herd. They had finally found seats to relax in after changing, the group of passengers waiting with them shrinking as time went on. And now, with only ten minutes until boarding, their gate has changed again.

“Sherrie, wake up!” He feels bad shaking the snoozing woman off, but they have to move with the group to make it to the new part of Terminal A in time for their flight. “C’mon, honey, they changed the gate again — we gotta go!”

“What are you- again?! Shit!” She wipes the bleariness from her eyes, slinging her bags over her shoulder and grabbing the hand he holds out.

The two coworkers, along with fifty of their fellow passengers who have stuck this out, speed walk down the first branch of the terminal. The entire group picking up the pace when turning the corner towards the second branch where the new gate lives. By the time they hit the second branch, everyone is practically running — time ticking down to boarding — no one wanting to miss this flight.

As if the blob of Flight 1121 passengers racing toward the end of the terminal didn’t garner attention from other gates, the entire terminal is staring by the time they reach gate A28, and several people start yelling in frustration.

“This is unbelievable!” An older gentleman’s unhappiness is interrupted by three simultaneous updates pinging everyone’s phones.

Bradley’s head drops back in disbelief, wrapping his arm around Sherrie when her head thunks against his chest. He doesn’t even get a chance to comfort her before the gate agents are making announcements about getting people on other flights, providing hotel rooms, and the vouchers that will be shared.

“Again, we apologize, but if you have flexible travel plans, we ask that you please go to the end of the line so those with time constraints can be taken care of first. Thank you for your cooperation, folks!”

“Well, that’s us, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sherrie blows air out of her lips, a mischievous smile taking over her face. “Hey, at least this means extra per diem money.”

Bradley laughs as they move to the back of the squiggly line that’s forming, letting her take the bags so he can step away to call to update their supervisor and then his pet sitter. It only takes a few rings for his boss to pick up. “Bradshaw! What’s up? You okay?”

“Hey Martin, all good. Just wanted to let you know that our flight has gotten supremely delayed. We won’t be home until tomorrow morning sometime.”

“Jesus, do you guys need anything?”

“Nah, we’re good. The airline is putting us up in a hotel for the night and giving vouchers for a bunch of stuff. Just called to let you know and for a heads up on the expense report.”

“Well, that is the most important part!” Martin’s honking laugh makes Bradley chuckle as he glances to check on Sherrie’s progress in line. “How’s Sherrie? She good?”

“Yeah, she’s good. She’s holding our spot in line for getting new tickets and stuff.” And it looks like she’s made friends already, he silently adds, smiling at her interacting with the elderly couple in front of her.

“Good. Alright then, I’ll see you on Monday, but let me know if you guys need anything. And hey! If you two end up in the same hotel room — remember what I said on your first day!”

The line goes dead, and so does Bradley’s smile, his stomach churning like it does every time he remembers his first day at the Wells Corporation.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007 | 11:15 AM EST | Boston, MA

“Will you calm down?”

“I can’t, Bradley. What if no one likes me? What if I fuck up?!” She hisses, working to appear calm as they wait for their supervisor to show up, but failing.

“First of all, we’re starting together, so you have at least one person that likes you. And you’re great, everyone will like you. Second, there will be mistakes, but we just graduated — they’re not going to let us do anything alone because we don’t know anything yet.”

Sherrie nods, tucking her hands under her legs and trying to breathe. Bradley’s words are encouraging, but he doesn’t know how difficult her internship was last summer. The older engineers she shadowed treated her like a glorified coffee girl and secretary. Even when she had pointed out a mistake they all had missed, there was no change — just the addition of making her type their reports to see if she could catch something the non-engineer tech writers would miss.

This is a brand new company, but misogyny wasn’t unique to Waite Green Construction. Every woman has to work twice as hard to prove her worth and intellect, no matter her age or experience. She’s just hoping her onboarding mentor will be the only other woman in the department; it would be the perfect way to gain a professional mentor once she’s out of the probation period.

“Good morning, kids! How was orientation?” Mr. Teresi walks into the conference room.

Bradley shakes his hand first, “It was good, sir. Nice to see you again.”

“Good to hear! Learn lots of new things.”

“Yes, I think we can be considered experts on trade secrets now.” Sherrie jokes, focusing on making sure her handshake is firm but not too firm.

“Wonderful. So, I’m guessing you two have been introduced, but just in case you haven’t. Bradley, this is Sherrie McHone; she’s an electrical engineer. And Sherrie, this is Bradley Bradshaw, a mechanical engineer.”

“We actually went to school together, sir.”

“We’re friends,” Bradley adds, the two of them exchanging small smiles.

“Oh, great! Well, that makes things easier getting started. Now let’s go over my plan for the two of you, and then we’ll get lunch, my treat for your first day.”

Their supervisor talks for half an hour, going over things they’ll need to be trained in and their first assignments. By the time he’s done, several notebook pages have been filled and highlighted with things that need to be looked up.

“Alright!” The older engineer claps, rubbing his hands together. “I’m sure your brains are overloaded with information, so go drop your things at your desks, and we’ll head to lunch.”

The recent graduates gather their notes and head for the door, quietly talking about a training they’ll be attending next week when he stops them. “One more thing, guys. They never mention it during R&D orientation, but I feel it’s necessary to mention it to new people. Here at Wells, there isn’t a fraternization policy among non-management coworkers or between any employees in different divisions. But we are a fairly small department, so keep in mind who you interact with and what impacts that may have at work.”

Sherrie feels the blood drain from her already pale face as her brand new supervisor stares at her the entire time he speaks, ignoring Bradley completely. She’s going to be sick. Less than four hours into the first professional role of her career, and it’s already happening.

This is the moment it starts, she thinks, her heart pounding in her throat as she robotically nods. It’s never the men that get these warnings. It’s always the women. Always us. Always me.

“I don’t care about that. But there are some people who will, even though they shouldn’t. And I want you guys to have the best experience here you possibly can. You’re both extremely bright, and I’m excited about your futures. I don’t want you to get bogged down by the opinions of others. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” They answer in unison before filing out of the conference room.

“Sherrie, don’t worry about that. He’s just-”

“Trust me, Bradley. I know exactly what he was saying. I’m going to use the restroom, and then I’ll meet you guys at the elevator.”

“Sherrie…”

But she ignores her friend, shrugging her purse over her shoulder and keeping her face neutral as she heads for the single-stall ladies’ room. Fighting to hold the tears back until she’s inside for fear of being perceived as emotional. A quality no woman can afford to have in a professional setting.

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 8:05 PM EST | Charlotte, NC

“Hey, everything? Martin says hi.”

“We’re good! This is Mr. and Mrs. Ludden; they’re going to visit their newest granddaughter. How’re Sophie and Louis?” Bradley smiles at the excited way she introduces them, putting a steadying hand on her back when she bounces up on her toes.

“Oh, congrats! They’re good; Marie can watch’em one more day, problem.”

“Good, we’ll have to get her a thank you present for the short notice.”

“You didn’t tell us you guys had kids!”

Bradley and Sherrie freeze in place, eyes widening in surprise at the older woman’s words.

“Oh- uh- we-” Sherrie giggles awkwardly. “Sophie and Louis are our cats; we don’t have kids.”

“I’m so sorry!” Mrs. Ludden gasps, hand covering her mouth in shock while her husband groans her name.

“Louise, how many times do we have to do this before you stop making assumptions?”

“It’s okay, innocent mistake,” Bradley assures them.

“Well, they’re such a cute couple. I just thought they would have adorable children, too!”

“Actually… we’re not…”

“Oh, lord. Let me guess. You’re not dating. You’re just friends.”

“Coworkers too, but we were friends first.” Sherrie suppresses a laugh when the older gentleman rubs a hand over his eyes in exasperation.

“Don’t even start, Clayton!”

“I wasn’t going to, dear.”

Bradley can’t help the laugh that escapes at the comfortable ribbing they give each other; it reminds him of his friendship with Sherrie. The easy way they tease, never going too far.

“Would you two like to join us after we get rebooked?” Bradley asks. “We’re going to use our food vouchers tonight to grab dinner before we head to whatever hotel they put us up in.”

The four adults move through the line, chatting about small things and comparing pictures of grandkids and cats. It’s a nice way to spend the time, especially when they get to share judging looks when a woman throws a tantrum and yells at the gate agent. But soon enough, they’re walking back to the main concourse and deciding what food to get.

“No, stop. You just sit here with the bags, and I’ll grab the food.” Bradley gently pushes Sherrie back into her chair, rolling his eyes as he talks over her protests. “I know. You want mac and cheese, Diet Coke, and whatever pulled pork flavor looks best.”

“He’s sweet,” Louise says, watching the two men make their way over to the BBQ place.

“He’s annoying.” Which makes her companion laugh. “Yes, he’s very sweet. I’m lucky to be such good friends with him.”

“Can I ask why the two of you aren’t together? He even knows what food to bring you.”

“It’s just never been like that between us. We’ve always just been friends. And he’s annoyingly smart, so he always remembers what I order.” Sherrie half smiles, pushing down the pain in her chest at the harmless curiosity, watching Bradley laugh at something Clayton says as she remembers the first time he remembered one of her favorites.

Saturday, March 4, 2006 | 1:34 PM EST | Charlottesville, VA

“Thanks for meeting me on a Saturday, Bradshaw. It’s just such a busy semester.”

“No problem. You know you can call me Bradley, right?”

“Oh, sorry. Do you not like being called Bradshaw?” Sherrie blinks when a bottle of Diet Coke and a small bag of Skittles is set on the table in front of her. “What’s this?”

“Your favorite snack.”

“Right… but why?”

“Because you have that about 50% of the time when we meet up to work on this project. Now, I finished transcribing the interview with Commander Buck last night. Did you want to- Sherrie?”

She shifts her focus from the food to the boy across from her in the study nook they’ve claimed as theirs for the semester. “Why do you remember my favorite snack?”

“Because we’re friends?” Brown eyes look into hers, equally confused.

“We’re friends?”

“I hope so; otherwise, this is gonna get awkward when you hug me in a minute.”

“Why am I going to hug you?!”

Bradley laughs at her flabbergasted expression, but it doesn’t hurt her feelings like it does when other people laugh at her. Something about the tone of the laugh makes it feel like he’s laughing at her, but rather with her, and she just doesn’t know the joke yet.

“Because as team captain, I am happy to announce to the Relay Chair that Sigma Chi has officially raised $5,000 thanks to your idea.”

“Bradley, that’s incredible!” She doesn’t feel silly when she bounces around the table to hug his neck, rocking them back and forth in excitement.

“Well, if you think that’s good - let me show you what we’re anticipating to raise this month…”

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 10:12 PM EST | Charlotte, NC

“I just don’t understand how we’re having such bad luck!”

Sherrie rolls her eyes as he unlocks the door. “Bradley, breathe. You’re being very dramatic right now.”

“How is “we’re out of rooms” a legitimate reason for the hotel to give? Not that I mind sharing with you, but like how is that possible? The airline specifically works with them to book rooms for things like this! And the airline! That gate agent who wanted to book us to fly into Hartford and then drive the rest of the way to Boston! That's insane!”

“I don’t know, the Bradley flying into Bradley joke was pretty funny.” She mutters, clicking the lights on as she checks the cleanliness of the room.

“It wasn’t.” Bradley pouts, flopping onto the bed closest to the door. “Do you want to shower first?”

“No, go ahead, but I’m going to wash my face first so I can do a face mask. I’m so dry from the airport air.” He listens to the sounds of water running and the quiet humming as she carefully applies the drenched sheet to her skin. “All yours!”

“Thanks, Sher. I won’t be long.”

He showers quickly but takes extra time cleaning his teeth, his mouth feeling gross after the long travel day. When he comes out, he’s surprised at how cozy the room feels. With only one lamp on, the air conditioning set low to keep the fan running, and an old movie on the TV, it almost feels like they could be at home in his living room. They silently move around each other, Sherrie heading to the bathroom with a pile of things while Bradley organizes his things for the morning, wanting to get as much rest as possible before their early alarm.

He scrolls through emails and texts while he waits for her to shower, turning the television off since he knows there’s a small chance of either of them making it five minutes after they kill the lights. He's updating Mav on tomorrow’s travel plans when Sherrie comes out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel. Bradley sees her packing things out of the corner of his eye, not fully paying attention until he plugs his phone in.

“That’s what you wear to bed?”

“Bradley!” He laughs at how she jumps, her hands coming down to cover her shorts.

“What? They’re cute! Very pink.”

Her face goes as pink as the pajama set she’s wearing. “Stop making fun of me!”

“I’m not! You know, I love strawberries.” He can’t help the way his eyes roam up and down her body, admiring from the spaghetti straps on her smooth shoulders to the scalloped edge of her shorts. “I see why you didn’t want to change into those at the airport.”

“Oh my god…” She huffs, climbing into her own queen bed and stuffing herself under the sheets. “You set an alarm, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. Want me to turn the light off?”

“Please. God, this day cannot be over soon enough.”

He chuckles and turns the lamp off, listening to her shuffle around in the sheets as she gets comfortable. It’s quiet for a few minutes, and he can hear her breathing leveling out, but he can’t keep quiet; the conversation at the airport running through his mind.

“Sher?” It takes a second, but she quietly hums in response. “We have to talk about it again.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Sherrie-”

“No, Bradley. We talked about this two weeks ago. Nothing has changed since then.”

“Yes, things have changed since then. You interviewed for that principal engineer position. Which if you get-”

“I’m not going to get it. They’re going to pick Trevor.”

“They’re going to pick you. You’re the best person for the job!”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it.”

He’s silent, the crushing weight on his chest feeling heavier when he hears her sniffle.

“Oh, Sherrie…” He slips out of his bed and into hers, wrapping the woman he loves in his arms. He lets her cry, knowing she’s frustrated and exhausted, only speaking up again when she’s calmed down. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“No, I’m sorry, Bradley. It’s not fair that we’ve been dancing around this for so many years, and I keep saying no. You deserve someone who isn’t afraid to be with you. Not a coward like me.”

“You’re not a coward; you’re one of the bravest people I know, Sherrie Anne McHone. I know how critical people are of women, in this field especially. And I love you, so I don’t mind waiting until we’re in a position that you’re confident won’t jeopardize your career. So, we’ll wait to hear about the job, and once you hear that you’ve gotten it, I’m treating you to the nicest dinner in Boston.”

“Bradley, we don’t know-”

“I know we don’t know. But think about how it would be if it does. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

“But what about-”

“Doesn’t matter, honey.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.” Sherrie mumbles, cuddling further into his side, making it clear that he wasn’t allowed to leave.

“I know, but it doesn’t matter, whatever it is — we’ll figure it out.”

Saturday, July 16, 2016 | 10:32 AM EST | Somewhere over Virginia

“She’ll take a ginger ale; thank you so much.” Bradley balances his apple juice, the two packets of Biscoff cookies, and the bubbling soda he got for Sherrie. The smiling flight attendant moves past their row as he turns to his row companion.

They’re finally on their way home after waking up to more delay announcements. The additional time meant there was time to get coffee and some fruit from the hotel before their taxi back to the airport arrived, and the Luddens had even stopped to chat for a second at the gate, excited that they had gotten bumped up to first class since the flight was nearly empty.

All things considered, it had been a good morning even though Sherrie was insisting on working during the flight. Bradley is sure it’s an attempt to ignore their talk from last night, not wanting to dwell on the emotional moment when things are still so up in the air.

He looks over at the woman he’s known since he was eighteen, overwhelmed for a moment by how little things have changed since the first time he ever noticed her. Bradley fondly watches as she furiously types, hunched over her laptop with headphones, playing what he knows is eighties hair bands.

Her nose wrinkles in frustration, and suddenly it’s 2003 again, and he’s trying to get the attention of the red-haired girl whose table has the only empty chair left, something he desperately needs since this book can’t leave the library. He’s unable to get her attention and resorts to knocking on the table, heart skipping a beat when the prettiest green eyes he’s ever seen blink up at him. Bradley gestures at the empty chair, silently asking if he can sit, and is grateful when she nods because her smile is making his knees wobble. For the next hour, he tries to take notes for his paper, but he keeps getting distracted by the beautiful girl across from him. Bradley isn’t sure if he’s upset or happy when she packs up her stuff and leaves, giving him a little wave when she notices him watching her.

That had been thirteen years ago, and her intense focus still distracts him, but he’s not afraid to interrupt her this time. Fingers rub her arm that is covered in his sweatshirt again, but this time, he knows it smells like her shampoo instead of his cologne. Her smile still sends his heart skipping when she looks up at him, her pretty eyes widening in joy when she catches sight of the red snack packaging and the plastic cup holding her second favorite soda.

“Thank you!” She whispers, leaning across the empty middle seat in their row to kiss his cheek. “Oh, and we should go out to lunch when we get back! I want to try that new noodle place that opened in Southie.”

He just smiles when she immediately gets back to work; cheek puffed out from the cookie she stuffed in her mouth.

Maybe she’s not avoiding their talk from last night.

Thursday, August 11, 2017 | 2:15 PM EST | Boston, MA

“You got a minute?” Bradley knocks on the edge of her cubicle. It may be a different floor of their building, but all of the office space is the same dated stuff from decades ago.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“First of all…” He ducks down and presses a swift kiss to her plush mouth, still trying to make up for all those years he couldn’t. “And don’t say anything because I already checked before I did because I wanted to kiss my girl.”

He chuckles at the pink spots that shine on her cheeks. It’s been a year since Sherrie snagged the promotion, and they officially became an item, but she still turns a little red whenever he says something sweet.

“Second, you are all packed, right?”

“Yes, why?”

“I was gonna swing by the apartment and get our bags so we can head straight to the airport after work.”

“You took the afternoon off? Why?”

Bradley was expecting this question and smoothly fibs. “I worked the hours out with Martin for this week so I could run a few last-minute errands. Do you want me to grab snacks?”

“Okay, Mr. Secrets. When you’re at home, could you water the ivy? I forgot this morning, and I don’t want it to die while we’re gone.”

“Of course! Need me to do anything else?”

Sherrie hums, staring at the ceiling as she thinks. “One more kiss?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bradley happily complies with her request.

“Okay, now you have to go. I have to finish prepping for this meeting where I get to yell at Sean.”

“That’s my girl. I’ll pick you up later. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Have fun with your mysterious errands.” Sherrie teases, and Bradley smirks back, knowing how much she would be freaking out if he knew what he would be doing while she professionally reamed out their least favorite colleague.

“Thanks, honey. Text me if you think of something.” Sherrie waves over her shoulder, already zoned back into her work.

Bradley doesn’t dare look at his buzzing phone until he’s safely on the elevator, pleased to see confirmation texts from their hotel and the airline. Would it be cheesy to quietly propose in the airport that was a catalyst in their relationship? Maybe, but he knew Sherrie would love it. He’s just hoping the TSA didn’t call out the ring that would be hiding in his carry-on.

#deltasupremacy I also want to give a special thanks to @sometimesanalice, who gave so much encouragement through the texts despite having no idea what I was writing - you're the best! tagged some friends and most those who interacted with the original announcement post for this fic all those months ago!

tagging: @gretagerwigsmuse @sometimesanalice @laracrofted @theharddeck @hangmanbrainrot @hangmanssunnies @thesewordsareallihavetogive @princessphilly @katieshook02 @atarmychick007 @kmc1989 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @misfitpeach @luckyladycreator2 @scarlettwidow19 @mini-bee-bee @midnightstarqueen @shamelessghostwagonwobbler

divider credit

[cartasparadani]

Monday, August 21, 2023 @ 11:29am in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

Oi amor

I am sitting now in the airport in Jeddah waiting to board my flight to Riyadh, the capital city of Saudi Arabia. Last night I told you, but I went to a shisha lounge with my tour manager and we smoked for a while, talked, and had a good time; he dropped me off to the hotel ~1:30am and I spent the rest of the night packing my things before going to bed ~3am.

I woke up this morning, got breakfast at 7:30am, and went back to sleep before being slightly late for my ride to the airport at 8:30am (I arrived with my roommate ~8:43am; we both fell asleep haha)

Thank you for continuing to commit to working on our relationship. I told you it hurts to think you truly give up on us, so I am happy to see you continue putting in effort, I think all our efforts will be worth it as time goes on.

I am half way through my tour in the Middle East: I completed the tours in Oman and Jeddah, now I just have Riyadh (10 days) and Abu Dhabi (4 days) to go before I am back home and I have you in my arms once again. When I am back, let’s spend time up in New Hampshire again for the Monday night to Wednesday morning stretch again. If the water in New Hampshire is still nice I would like to spend time relaxing by the beach with you, taking it easy, and enjoying ourselves; let’s save the hikes and exercise activities for another time.

While in the mall in Jeddah I bought you this nice piece of clothing I thought would look great on you. I can’t wait to see you wearing my gift for me, I know you’ll look lovely.

My computer is at 3% and my flight boards soon, so I will be ending this letter shortly, but I’ll write until that comes.

I love you.

I want to learn how your mind works. I want to help you feel comfortable and safe. I know I bring up things that cause you anxiety and stress, and I never intend for these reactions to happen, I am sorry, and thank you for enduring the pain I unintentionally cause you.

All I want is a happy life together. I want a happy life where we are a team and work together to address the issues and concerns that arise in one another. We will never have conflict with each other, it will never be us against one another. Always and forever we will be a team and it will be us against the concerns and problems we have.

I appreciate that you’ve made the “cartasparasean” Tumblr page. I appreciate this page because I am able to understand your mind better. I also appreciate this page because we will have this thread of thoughts and letters for a lifetime to come and maybe one day we can show our children.

Let this letter be the first in a long line of letters to come of my own, written only for you, men amor, my love, minha mulher, minha bebe.

I love you

I love you today I love you tomorrow I love you for every day to come

Thank you for loving me. Thank you for putting energy and attention into me and into our relationship.

Let us set goals together, explore the world, and live life to all extents, until we are long gone, and even then, let us stay together for what comes next. I love this.

I love you I love you I love you

Forever and always these word will be true, but just in case, I’ll remind you for as long as I can speak, and even if I cannot speak another word, I will write it out. If I can no longer write, I will wink at you, and know that this means that I love you. I love you. I love you. If I can no longer wink at you, I will look at you. Know that when my eyes rest on your lovely figure, I love you. With every second I see you I love you more. With every shifting of my gaze I am seeing you anew and falling in love with you all over again, and again, and again, for eternity.

The image of my grandfather and my grandmother comes to mind as I write this. I can see him now in his last days, ill and weak, leaning into my grandmother, closing his eyes, and loving her more and more even then. Seeing how much he cared, seeing how much love, appreciation, and care he had for her, I only hope we can recreate something similar. That was love. That was a life spent building together. That was a love and a life that will never die. Let that be us

I love you amor 
I love you

I love you

I love you all the more

Thank you for loving me.

If I’m not asking too much, please love me forever. I want this. I want you. Para sempre. I love you

[oceanstarsvoyager]

20th of Jan 2023. I have completed my type rating on the Airbus A320. That is the new floating on the surface. Let me tell you how I got here.

A week before this i was sick, forcing myself to wake up and trained at 6 in the morning on a consecutive day. Of course my brain got a tantrum and i couldn’t function well. I had five days off and while that was happening I had a lot of stress that causes me to sleep just 4-6 hours per night. I called my family during those time because they have a different time zone and thank goodness they are awake most of the time. The fact that i got stressed is theres no exact date that i could prepare for so i constantly overthink of how the plan would fall out if one doesn’t work. My mind most of the time is me reviewing my procedures and the light and switches and everything thing I have to prepare for my Checkride. As a pilot when you are not flying you will need to remember those procedures because spending extra on the simulator would cause you more money. With good memory and imagination i was able to be up at night and overthink. Here’s the fun part.

They called me up a day and a half before the Checkride and said its going to be at 4 a.m. I wouldn’t have a problem with it if I haven’t heard what the check instructor is like. People who had a check with him including the upgrade said he shouted and it is the worst check in his life.I don’t know if luck is on my side or I’ve been studying and impressed him on the oral but he is not like everyone said at all! Yes he is intimidating at first, it might be too early or the internet is down and he is fed up. The part where the Checkride start is when he is a completely different person. The night before, i studied with my partner who just got back from Virginia so he helped with the oral because you need someone to cross check your answers. From 12-7 pm we were studying. The scheduler, he called to confirm if I am still ok with that 4 am schedule and its a system go situation by that time even if i was about to collapsed. I said yes.

By 7 pm i crashed into bed with 2 alarms setting for 1 am. At first I couldn’t sleep because i still have those procedures running around in my head so I took a pill. Yeah don’t do it if you’re don’t need it i do! at least i get a few hours of sleep since I haven’t for so many days now. Guess what i woke up before the alarm. 12 i am so grateful for my sim partner he is able to wake up and take me to school.

Alright here we go 3:30am we arrived at the classroom no one was there obvi. Then a few mins later, the check is here i got in. Still fazing. The other person who also suppose to check isn’t here he was at the hangar so he have to go get him. Got back he checked for my documents and he said I couldn’t check because i required a ATP written exam so he sent me home. I said i had friends who can do the check without the written because this is a type rating check. He said he’s not sure so.. he can’t do the check. So my sim partner was able to come back and pick me up of course disappointed so we went to McDonald to burn off steam.The check instructor called me back to do the check while he was ordering at the drive thru. I got back we started the check. The other person from Lebanon started the check first so i was sent to the other room. It was about 12 mins and then i starting to hear him begging for a second chance on the check. Crying. Yeah. Look he has 2700 hrs on the actual aircraft. If he failed on the oral. What am I. Barely touch the exterior of the plane while i boarded it.

Turns out he didn’t study he said he is confident he knows everything already and he is the best in his company. Lesson learned that day ego will not pass your check. Period.

Ok then its my turn, the check instructor calls out my name. I went in the other person still don’t want to leave the room. Harsh day for him.

I told myself Rita give it your best shot here we go. It’s like a ping pong. He asked i answered he asked i answered trying not to miss the ball. He seems to be impressed he started to become more calming we got into the walk around part of the check. You haven’t got a clue how many videos and time i spent on watching that video on youtube. Thank you captain joe you saved my life. He asked i answered boom boom boom. I got to the part where he asked about the safety pin i said that should be removed before flight. Correcto. Then he asked so we as pilot removed it ? I said yes. Too quick Rita too quick. Sooo that not quite the answer he want. He gave me the look. Shit. Shit. Second chance Rita. Before you speak what is the answer. GRound crew. He nod thats right someone might put it there for maintenance purposes if something is wrong you don’t just do it it will be your responsibility. So he taught me during the check. Surprised, nervous and thankful. From that onward he adds additional information. It’s around 5-6 we have to switch to the hangar, someone might need the room. He have to drive me there i don’t have car. Lol. Sitting with the check instructor . Anyways we got to the hangar he started with the light and switches . Spend five days on that particular subject you better not messed this up Rita. It was very relaxing at that point. There’s a woman from accounting coming to talk to us during the check. He told her i was doing great so far yo. Let’s just say if i had emotion then i would be jumping already, but i just smiled to the nice lady. We got to the Adirs. I got all the points right. Then i know I understand that shit . I got all the point right but do i even understand it, so of course he had to ask about the point again and then he started to explain to me and I just realized i know this shit but I couldn’t quite remember how to explain it. Although t it was really helpful and i like how he explained it also. He said the aircraft was asleep and then some guy decided to move it during the shutdown and when she wakes up she’s lost. Lol same plane. Same.

I learned so much for the oral check to be honest. Okiedoks the Checkride. The nice lady came in said that my payment hasn’t been recieved so I can’t continue the check i said oh hell naw. But i said ok thats fine. I’ll wait till next week. Mr Dave Santo came and he needed to do an opc check. So he asked me to be his seat support obvi what else am i going to do for the rest of the day. He said get in the aircraft start it up and put my flight plan in. I said say less. So i ran up to the simulator alone and set everything up for him. I got to practice my mcdu set up but at the same time i better not screw this up because it is his check not mine. He came in sit in the left seat and start checking. Approved! 2 jet blue captains in the simulator and a baby pilot. Great. Here we go. Check started. He speaks and tell me every time he do something i like that. Doing my seat support job. Reminding him of the correction he need to make. I don’t know how i did to be honest during that time. He is a captain he would have so many better f/o then me along his years of flying. I did my best though. He passed his check. So.. he went back into the the briefing room. I thought I would go home but he started talking with each other and then he looked at me and said we will get you done. Still no idea what it meant. Like i said its lagging my brain she’s trying her best. So i went into the sim again. Got everything set up and there i go doing my check. Look. It’s more of a lesson to me Mr Dave santo was my seat support who else better i would i asked for? He’s a gift i would say.He’s correcting me. I would bust my minimum and fail if he didn’t. Do i have have a pressure with two captain in the sim and me acting as captain in command. No. I was too focused trying not to f* up its my check but looking back. Holy smoke. I am the captain of that flight . Overall, it was quick learned so much and got so much feedback after that check. After the Rejected take off. Mr Dave Santo asked Mr Charles my check instructor we want the answer does she pass and he said yes, then and there i got jolly but couldn’t really expressed it. Then Mr santo gave me a feedback on my flight during the check. I am super grateful and honored to have a Checkride with JetBlue captains. As a baby pilot that is a core memory.

So hello, my name is Tithsocheata and I am an Airbus 320 rated pilot.

[tasteleeknow-remade]

— addicted to you: one week

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, angst, established relationship. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 1.2k

summary: minho has been on tour for weeks, he can't sleep, so you send him an audio message to help him relax aka minho humps a pillow.

profanity. afab!reader. frottage. obsessiveness. hints of possessiveness. pet names. dirty talk. grinding. dry humping. breeding kink. size kink. mutual masturbation.

Minho had never been away from you for this long. Three weeks so far, another week to go. He called you each night before he went to sleep but often it was the middle of the work day for you and you couldn’t talk. He missed you more than he ever knew he could. You’d cried the morning he left and he’d promised it would go faster than you thought; he’d be home before you knew it. He’d been the comforting, calm one and now he felt like you were coping fine and he was the one on the brink of a meltdown. He’d considered many times missing a concert and coming home to see you, but he knew he’d be letting a lot of people down. If he was honest the main reason he’d held back was because when he’d mentioned the idea to you, you’d insisted he stayed. Made him promise he would. 

He was attempting to sleep now, tossing back and forth in the bed that was far too big and empty. He was used to wrapping himself around you, smelling your hair, cupping one of your tits with his hand as he spooned you. The body pillow he brought with him couldn’t compare. The clock on the nightstand flashed 3:30am, you should be off work. He reached over to grab his phone. 

    2 new messages 

    im guessing you are probably sleeping now but just letting you know i love you and i miss you

    can’t wait to see you

He quickly typed a reply. 

    can i call you

After what felt like 20 minutes of staring at the ceiling, phone grasped in his hand, it started vibrating. 

“Baby??”

“Why are you still awake? Isn’t it really late over there? I didn’t wake you did I?” The sounds of traffic in the background sounded so foreign after lying in silence for so many hours. 

“I couldn’t sleep, I miss you.” 

“I miss you too but you have to get some sleep; you’re so busy everyday.” You sounded slightly out of breath. 

“I can’t do this again.” 

“Do what? The tour? Aren’t you having fun? You were so excited- Sorry can I just get past you..” You were talking to someone else now. He assumed you were rushing for your train. 

“Being away from you.” 

“What happened to time would pass fast, huh? It’s only a week now, I'll see you soon.” 

“I- I know… one week… I'll see you soon…” 

“I love you, very much. Get some sleep.”

“Me, too. Yeah, yeah I will. Don’t worry.”

“Goodnight, love.”

“Night.”

Minho threw his phone over the side of the bed. He couldn’t do this. He felt like he could cry. 

Just as he was getting ready to submit to the tears his phone buzzed from the floor. He crawled the edge and leaned over, reaching to grab it and then pushing himself back up onto the bed, nearly falling off in the process. 

    4 new messages

    (audio) 

    i recorded this the other night when i was missing you very much

    i was too embarrassed to send it at the time but i think maybe you might need it now

    love u

He hit play right away and within a few seconds it was clear what you’d sent him. Your quiet whimpers filled the hotel room. Oh god, you were perfect. “Minho…. baby… I need you.” Your breathy voice reminded him of the way you’d sounded in the call; winded from rushing for your train. Fuck. “Miss you so much….” He could hear you shifting in your bed. “Been touching myself every night to the thought of you… wish you were here… so bad..” 

Minho rolled over and grabbed the body pillow, throwing one leg over it and putting the phone on one of the other pillows so he could listen to your pretty sounds. He often slept naked but tonight he was wearing his boxers. Most nights he would stroke himself to the thought of you, picturing your thighs wrapped around him, holding you up against the wall as he fucked you full.  

“I miss feeling you inside me,” you sounded so needy. “filling me up.” Minho’s hips started rolling against the pillow, holding it against him tightly. He loved having you against him like this. Sometimes in the middle of the night he���d wake up pressed up against you, your ass pressed into his crotch. When he’d grab you and pull you even tighter against his chest sometimes you’d wake up and sleepily murmer his name. How the fuck was he supposed to sleep in an empty hotel bed when he’d gotten used to that. 

“Feel so empty without you.” Fuck he wished you were under him instead of the pillow. You’d be so warm… soft. He rolled completely on top of it. Palms on the bed, giving himself enough leverage to fuck himself into the pillow like it was you, begging him to keep you nice and full. You always felt so small under him. He loved holding himself up on his forearms, each one on either side of your head, caging you in under his body. He was obsessed with you, he knew it wasn’t healthy. The way he wanted to keep you with him all the time. But fuck he loved it; feeling you under him like that, all his. Made him feel like you were all for him. His sweet little angel. 

He was muttering to himself now, “Need you too, baby…so soft for me….pretty baby… yeah….”. Your moans were getting louder and he could hear the sound of your wet pussy as you touched yourself. God he was gonna keep you locked up for days when he got back. Just keep you sitting on his cock, feeling that wet little pussy around him for hours. How the fuck had he gone without you for so long. He couldn’t do this again, he wouldn’t. He needed you. He groaned into the pillow. Precum was probably leaking through his boxers, he was making a mess. Just like you. He needed to slow down, make it last. He could only hear this audio for the first time once. By the end of the week he’d memorise it, each word you whimper, every pretty sound. 

You were chanting his name. “Minho… baby…. please…. Minho…” He started rutting faster into the pillow, panting as he struggled to hold himself back. You’d come any second, then he could follow you. You were so good for him, touching yourself while he was gone. Needy little thing. So sweet. He couldn’t stop himself, his cock throbbing as his thrusts became erratic. “Oh.. fuck,” He groaned as he felt the first pulse of cum wet his boxers. He heard you make the prettiest sound, finishing along with him. Grinding himself into the pillow as he rode out his orgasm he imagined your pretty face as you came. One week and he’d be seeing it again. He listened to your small giggle as he caught his breath, “I hope-I hope you liked it, baby. Miss you.” The audio ended. Minho rolled onto his back. He needed a shower. 

One week. 

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

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[numinous-queer]

so uh

it feels super weird not to speak about the big thing that’s been happening in my life because it’s absolutely dominating my time and energy, so whenever I keep posting as though things are the same it feels disingenuous! So, uh. As of Sept 12, my wife and I have been parenting a toddler with us through our state foster system. S--- is a a wonderful child who just turned 3 last month, and is preoccupied with the important things in life like Finding Nemo, Halloween, and hugging our big labrador. We don’t know whether she will be with us forever, because it’s early days in her court case, but we hope that we will be a positive force in her life for as long as she is with us.

Our biggest wish right now is for everyone to settle into a new, peaceful equilibrium at home together, and there has been a LOT of progress towards that goal! Bathtime has been transformed from a screaming match to only a handful of tears during the critical moment of washing off shampoo then followed by happy playing and splashing, and she has felt safe enough to begin pushing her boundaries and accepting redirection well (most of the time). Oh, and we have almost 100% mastered going #1 on the potty, which is a huge win in the buying-fewer-diapers arena. The biggest struggle has been navigating bedtime  and wakeup routines, so if anyone knows how to get a toddler to sleep past 4am CALL ME IMMEDIATELY SO I CAN GIVE YOU ALL MY MONEY. Kiddo doesn’t want to go to bed at night, and really lets her feelings be known about it, which I think overtires her and makes her sleep worse, leading to early mornings. (The last few days have been between 4:20-4:30am and I want to set myself on fire, burn into embers, and let the wind carry the ashes away. Anyone awake in the 4-5am hour in the PST time zone - know I am there with you, wishing for death.)

bellyaching about my lack of sleep aside, this really has been a tremendously joyful experience. Since the 12th, I’ve been experiencing every human emotion simultaneously and unlocked a new one - fearjoypain, which gets dialed up to 11 and can’t be turned off. Kiddo has started running to us and shrieking with giggles whenever she reunites with either me or my wife, and there is nothing like the feeling of a little hand holding yours. She is so excited about the world and it’s amazing to see her world (and vocabulary) exploding. She loves anything spooky-pumpkin-skeleton, space, the ocean, and naming every vegetable that exists. Every single day she learns something new, or shows us how much she is observing and remembering. S--- has survived a lot of early trauma, and we are aiming for nothing less than to help her feel safe again. This has already been the most difficult thing that we’ve ever undertaken and it may get harder before it gets easier, but she’s worth it, and we’re going to keep choosing her again and again.

(even when, like right now, I wish I could replace my blood with espresso)

If anyone has sleep training tips for toddlers, resources for parenting children with early trauma/ACEs, queer parenting ideas, or good wishes, please share them! It can be easy to feel alone and afraid when we don’t know what’s going to happen, and we could use whatever pep talks you’ve got. Plus I really do believe it takes a village, so I’m going to crowd-source all the knowledge I possibly can.

[ronnieiswriting]

Sweet Dreams- Boxer!Paz x Baker!Freader

Inspired by the events of Foul (following straight after) and the Boxer Din AU created and written by the wonderful, amazing, brilliantly talented @djarinsbeskar! WC: 1,641 Tags: 18+, mentions of smut, its a smutty AU ya'll know the drill, sickeningly sweet fluff I have been driven to write this to deal with all my Paz thots- it will become very clear that I make up for the fact that I can't write hot smut by writing the softest shit. Excuse the lack of editing, also, its quite the mess x

After Din had stormed off with his “not-girlfriend” at Avika, Paz was more than ready to go home right then and there, thoroughly unwanting to deal with the feral frenzy that Din had stirred up in and out the ring. But there was no doubt that there would be more calls for blood. And even if that weren’t the case- even if Din wasn’t on the lists tonight- Paz had to stay.

It was his job after all. And one he enjoyed more often than not.

But when he thought about you, Paz’s priorities became trivial- like dust in the wind.

He hadn’t been dating you for long but he already knew that he was in deep. To Paz, you were the one that hung the stars in the sky; you, a hardworking baker with a smile that made his heart ache and hips that made his cock twitch. It was love, the realest he’d ever found, and every day he swore his gratitude to whatever force had sent him to you.

It was almost a taunt to watch Din leave Avika with his “not-girlfriend” tucked into his side- he’d been disqualified from any more fights that night but he couldn’t look any less content about it- when Paz had to stay behind with nothing but the thoughts of you waiting for him back at his place to keep him company.

To pass a bit of time between the words that were being exchanged between Boba and Din’s opponent’s trainer, Paz checked his phone- his mood instantly brightened when he saw a notification from you.

From: Sugar Cookie💖

Hey babe, I just got home. Did you feed Kitty yet? He’s begging me for food rn but I know he’s probs got a full belly and is just being a little gobble guts lol. sent 4:13am

I gave him a tinyyy bit of kibble to hold him over in case you didn’t. Kitty knows I can’t resist him. Sorry for messaging you at work btw. I know you’re busy xx Love you xx sent 4:19am

Paz checked the current time. 5:30am. Shit. He must’ve missed the buzz of the notification amidst the chaos. Usually, your shifts at the bakery ended closer to midnight but he knew you to be a hard worker, proud of the bakery you ran by yourself, and always likely to get caught up in a task until it was done to a high standard. It was just another thing for Paz to love about you.

His thumbs hovered over the reply box; you had probably already gone to bed, exhausted from your own long day of work. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb you but he pushed past that doubt a second later, typing out a response, softened when he reread your messages about his kitten.

“Vizsla!” Boba’s voice pulled him back into reality. “Are you listening at all? This does concern you.”

Paz managed an easy half-lie, fingers tapping away as he switched contacts and began typing another message, “I’m sending Din a text- trying to figure out what started all this.”

…

When Paz finally did get home it was pushing 8am. Expecting to find you curled up in his bed, comfortably asleep, he was shocked to see you as soon as he opened the door to his apartment. You were propped up against a wall of cushions on his couch with a book resting in your lap and his kitten snoozing on your chest. Head thrown back and peacefully still, he could tell you were fast asleep.

Just the sight of you, the shape of your body outlined by the drape of the blanket that was thrown over you, your features illuminated by the warm light of the lamp, the splay of your hair over the pillows- just looking at you relieved him of so much of the stress he had carried home. His eyes traced over your form, picking out the dip and curve of your hips, and he was struck again with the amount of love he had for you. He still couldn’t believe how quickly he had developed such deep feelings for you but that fact made them no less sincere. The softness and simple intimacy (whether that be primarily sexual or emotional) that your company alone promised never ceased to amaze him.

Trying to be as quiet as he could manage, Paz shut the door behind him, put his backpack down by the door, and crossed the room to kneel down at your side. He considered leaving you there for the rest of the night- if he did he could go take a nap and then come back and wake you up by eating you out before making you breakfast- but ultimately he wanted to, needed to sleep next to you… and he couldn’t manage that on the couch.

He got the best sleep when you stayed the night, your chest made a far better pillow and your arms though relatively small provided him with so much warmth that he would be more than content to sleep without any covers (which happened sometimes when you hoarded the blankets).

Paz let out a silent sigh and reached out to stroke the hair away from your face. You stirred in response and he leaned in to press a kiss to your nose, “Hey, baby, it’s just me.”

You let out a soft moan, eyes scrunching up before blinking open, looking up at him blearily, “Paz~”

His heart could have burst at the sound of your gentle voice laden with sleep. Carefully so as not to disturb your place, Paz eased the book from your fingers. The exhaustion was palpable on your face, the weight of many hours of work pulling at the edges of your eyes. “I thought you’d be in bed by now.”

You eased yourself up on the cushions, one hand bracing the kitten against your chest. “I wanted to stay up for you. I didn’t mean to doze off.” Fuck. Paz was slipping his arms under you faster than you could process and when he stood you were tucked against his chest, kitten, blanket and all. You didn’t even seem bothered by the shift, curling your fingers into the neckline of his shirt. The simple touch drove him wild- the burn of your warm skin against his throat like a blowtorch- and the fact that you seemed oblivious to that only made him ache for you more.

When he had gotten you halfway to the bedroom you spoke again in that voice that threatened sleep, “I would've been able to stay up for you if I didn’t have to spend three hours on a last minute order for a wedding cake.”

Paz opened the door with his hip. “You don’t have to say yes to every job you know.”

“I know- but the couple was so sweet, I couldn’t say no. Plus they paid me double and half on top because of the short notice.”

He laid you out on the bed and replaced the throw blanket with his thick quilt, kitten moving to curl up beside your head on the pillow. The comfortable setting was luring you quickly to sleep again but you were still determined to see him next to you before you shut your eyes again fully. When he didn’t immediately join you, you frowned.

Paz eased the crease in your brow with a kiss there, “Don’t pout, sweetheart. I just gotta take a shower.” He could have skipped one for now, knowing you wouldn’t protest his sweaty skin, but he wanted to be rid of the flecks of blood that had stuck to him, everything that had stuck to him from that ring, before he touched you. You started to protest but Paz silenced you with a searing kiss to your lips, “I won’t be long, I promise.”

If he had thought you would be back asleep by the time he finished he was fooling himself. You scooched backwards on the mattress and petted the space you made in front, “come here.”

Paz went willingly, instantly. He eased back the covers and shuffled in next to you, clad only in a pair of boxers, hands instantly finding your skin to greedily palm the warmth that radiated from you. You cozied up to him just as naturally, arms wrapping around his neck so that he could tuck his face against the crook of your neck. With the covers pulled over the both of you, Paz felt surrounded by your presence and it calmed any remaining stress he had.

Although he had reprimanded Din for taking a violent approach to defending a woman’s honor, Paz couldn’t deny the fact that he’d be just as likely to take a similar action if anyone spoke about you like that- just thinking about those vile, entitled words directed at you made his jaw clench subconsciously. And yet just as soon as that anger stirred up in him, it dissipated again, soothed by the thump of your heart against his chest and the delicate fan of air you puffed over his damp skin.

He was reminded of the first time he told you he loved you; not long ago, in the middle of a good hard fuck when he had you by the hip, lost in the emotion of your eyes to the point where his confession had come out as a babble that became a mantra that he punctuated with each thrust of his hips. You had been on the verge of tears then, overstimulated and shaking, when you returned the words to him from your own lips: I love you too.

“I love you.” Paz whispered.

You snuggled against him tighter, a sleepy sigh escaping you when his hands ran up and down your sides. “I love you too.”