#yeah so we lost it in a completely different directions sorry? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

geminiwritten · 2 months ago

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karaoke friday ; bradley 'rooster' bradshaw

fandom: top gun

pairing: bradley x reader

summary: you're a bartender at the hard deck with a huge crush on rooster, and rooster (very cheesily) uses karaoke friday to confess his own feelings to you

notes: this goes in SO many different directions and i'm so sorry about that, but i still had so much fun writing it! i hope y'all enjoy even though it is super cheesy (but i tried really hard not to make it cringe) and kinda, super long... please let me know what you think! i really love feedback

warnings: swearing, very poor us navy knowledge (as usual), lots of drinking and drinking on the job, SUPER CHEESY, italics, switching povs (kinda), there's a little bit of 'mean-girl-ness', and it's pretty fucking horny in some places so 18+ PLEASE!!!

word count: 11336

“Do I need to add ‘putting your ass on my bar’ to the sign?” Penny emerges from the bar’s back of house door, her arms wrapped around a case of beer and her best disapproving mum glare painted on her face.

You smile sheepishly and push yourself off the bar, landing on tingly feet from how long your legs had been dangling as you chatted with Maverick. “Sorry Pen.”

“It’s my fault,” Maverick pipes up. “She was replacing a light bulb, and I distracted her.”

Penny heaves the case onto the bar with a huff before looking back at you. “What are you doing replacing my lights on your day off?”

“I noticed it was out the other night, and I knew I had a spare at home so I thought I might as well donate it.” You pick up the busted lightbulb by the bayonet and toss it into the bin behind the bar. “Also, it’s not my day off.”

Penny frowns, tipping her chin forward as she takes a moment to think. You wait patiently, because you’ve worked almost every Friday night for the past three years, and you know she’s probably just forgotten what day of the week it is.

“Well, anyway.” Mav slides off the stool on the other side of the bar. “I better get back to work.”

You turn to him with a frown. “Isn't everyone at their advanced first aid training today, or something?”

“Yeah, but I have a meeting.” He rolls his eyes as he says the last word, as if doing anything in his job description except for flying is just unimaginable. “A lieutenant from another squadron wants a chance to join my squad but won’t take no for an answer until I meet with her.”

Your frown slowly morphs into a scowl as you connect the dots. “Are you talking about-”

“Her callsign is Giggles.”

The next noise that leaves your lips is a mix between a groan and a gag.

Maverick raises a brow. “Not a fan?”

“She’s horrendous, Mav, and she only wants to join your squad to get closer to Rooster.”

“Wait a minute,” Penny pipes up. “Are we talking about that bottle blonde that comes in every Friday night and follows Rooster around like a lost puppy?”

You nod. “Yup.”

Mav chuckles as he slides his aviators up his nose. “Well, regardless of her ulterior motives, she’s not joining the squad. My hands are full as it is and I’m not sure she could cut it.”

You can’t help the small, satisfied smirk that lifts the corner of your lips as you turn toward Penny and her half-empty case of beer. You already know Giggles isn't good enough for Bradley, but hearing Mav say that she isn’t good enough for the squad is a small piece of validation that might help get you through tonight’s shift.

“Anyway,” Maverick says as he moves toward the door. “I’ll see you both later tonight.”

You look back over your shoulder at him. “Are you coming back for a drink?”

He nods, his lips tugging into a grin. “I would never miss watching my godson embarrass himself on karaoke night.”

Realisation hits you and you groan, dropping your head into both of your hands as you crouch down beside the case of beers. “Fucking karaoke Friday.”

Penny laughs softly. “That’s right, it’s the last Friday of the month. I completely forgot.”

It’s not that you hate karaoke, you just hate sober karaoke. If you were seven tequila shots deep and on the other side of the bar, you’d no doubt have the microphone and be attempting to sing some overplayed ABBA song with one of your friends. But no, you’re sober and behind the bar. Watching in horror as wasted patrons embarrass themselves in a hot and crowded room full of sweaty bodies.

Now that you think about it, maybe half your hatred for karaoke Fridays stems from the fact that it is almost always the busiest night of the month.

“Guess you’re not getting out early tonight,” you tell Penny as you slide the last of the beers into the fridge.

She sighs and shakes her head. “Not a chance.”

You often encourage Penny not to stay until close on weekends, because she deserves a little time to herself. Whenever possible, she’ll help you with the evening rush before ducking out for a late dinner or adult sleepover with Maverick. You don’t mind being left to close on your own, because you’re never really alone.

On the nights when you’re the last one behind the bar, Bradley is always the last one on the other side of it. Most of the time, the squad will stay until last call, but then Bradley will bid them goodbye and sit himself in the same stool at the end of the bar. Almost like he's guarding the swinging wooden doors that separate you from your patrons. He usually just asks for tea or water, and when you’re not serving, he talks to you about anything and everything. Then at the end of the night, he waits for you to lock the doors and make it safely to your car before he walks to his.

You’re not sure why he does it. You assume it’s because he has literally been trained to keep people safe, but sometimes you let yourself read more into it. You imagine that he might fancy you, not pity you, and he stays because he likes getting a little bit of alone time with you.

You can still remember the night you first met Bradley like it was yesterday, not nearly four years ago. He had just graduated the Top Gun programme and was celebrating with what felt like every naval officer based on North Island. He was very drunk and hardcore flirting, but only with you. There were throngs of women practically begging him to look at them, but his eyes stayed on you.

You stole his keys out of his pocket that night, not trusting him after the number of drinks you’d watched him sling back. He eventually passed out in a booth, and at the end of the night a couple of his friends stuffed him into a cab. You forgot all about his keys until the next morning when you returned to clean the bar. He was waiting by the door, looking very hungover and very sheepish.

He apologised for everything except the flirting, which he wanted to make abundantly clear. You blushed and waved him off before making him a greasy breakfast and telling him to sit at the bar while you started cleaning. After his nausea wore off, he started helping you despite your protests. You talked and flirted all morning until he announced that he had to go to the Top Gun graduation ceremony.

After that, he spent every night at The Hard Deck until he left North Island, and once he was gone, you had a hard time convincing yourself you hadn’t imagined the whole thing. You were so young at the time and Bradley was older, his career was just taking off. Why would he be interested in a bartender who has no idea where her life is going?

So, despite having exchanged numbers to stay in touch, you resisted the urge to text him. You saw a couple of updates on his social media that you followed, but they were very vague and mostly just signs of life every few months. You let yourself file Bradley away in your brain as something too good to be true, because there was no way someone that perfect really existed.

Years, boyfriends, heartbreaks, and a lot of shifts at The Hard Deck later, Bradley Bradshaw walked back into your bar. Your heart floundered as it tried to break free from your chest and deliver itself to the boy who claimed it all those years ago. He looked fucking good.

You picked up exactly where you’d left off, and so routine became ritual. Every Friday night, Bradley and his friends came to The Hard Deck, waited until last call, and then Bradley would guard you like a K9 Unit German Shepherd until you closed the bar. Eventually, you got to know his friends too, and finally found a group of people you could be yourself with.

After their mission, the squad were asked to stay on North Island as a special operations unit, training under Maverick for specialised assignments. You hang out with them when you can, but it isn’t easy with such conflicting schedules, which is why your late-night closes with Bradley are so precious. The only thing nagging at you these days is your future; what it holds and who will be in it. But you do your best not to think about it, to live in the moment and appreciate every second you get to spend staring at Bradley Bradshaw’s gorgeous face.

“Are you alright if I duck out for a bit?” Penny asks, her voice dragging you out of your thoughts.

You nod. “No worries. I’ll getting everything stocked up.”

“You’re the best.” She slings her purse over your shoulder. “I should be back in about two hours.”

Once she’s out the door, you find your own purse under the bar and grab your headphones. You slip them on, crank the volume on your phone, and start bopping along to the music while you haul cases of alcoholic beverages from the back of house to behind the bar.

- Bradley -

Twenty naval officers file out of the conference room, down the hall, and out into the Friday afternoon sun. Their postures relax the moment they’re out of sight from their superiors, and they all slowly separate into their squads, moving in different directions across the base.

“Well,” Jake sighs as he stretches his arms above his head. “That’s a day I’ll never get back.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Yes. Because learning vital skills that could save lives, including our own, is such a waste of time.”

Jake smirks. “My sentiments exactly.”

Bradley slides his sunglasses up his nose as he walks a little faster to get in between the two aviators glaring at each other. “So, are we going to-”

“The Hard Deck,” Reuben interrupts, a smirk stretched across his face.

“For beers,” Mickey adds with a dramatic wink.

“No other reason, of course,” Natasha joins in the teasing. “Right, Rooster?”

Bradley takes a deep breath of warm, ocean-scented air before sighing it out as his friends snicker around him. “When are you lot ever going to leave me alone?”

“When you grow a pair and ask the girl out,” Jake replies, and Bradley doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s smirking. “Before I do.”

There’s a chorus of oohs from the squad, but Bradley simply rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses. Jake might be a flirt, but he’s not a full-blown idiot, and he knows better than to hit on you.

“Maybe I will tonight,” Bradley says with a shrug, trying to seem nonchalant.

Natasha scoffs. “That’ll be the day.”

“Willing to bet on it?” Reuben asks, stepping up beside Bradley with a grin stretched from ear to ear. This boy loves a bet.

Bradley’s eyes narrow as he considers his friend’s outstretched hand, his heart thumping faster than usual within his chest. Maybe it is time he makes a real move on you. Afterall, you’re only getting more gorgeous with every passing day and if he doesn’t act soon... well, he doesn’t want to think about what might happen.

He grips Reuben’s hand in his own, shaking it once. “Deal.”

“Oh, shit,” Mickey giggles. “Tonight is going to be good.”

“And it’s karaoke night,” Bob points out.

Mickey shakes his fists excitedly. “I fucking love karaoke night.”

They all launch into an animated discussion about what songs they should perform tonight, and even Bob makes a few suggestions, but Bradley isn’t paying much attention. He can see his Bronco up ahead, and he is itching to get to the bar. To get to you.

“Rooster!”

A voice that he doesn’t recognise makes his head snap to the left, and there’s a collective groan amongst the dagger squad as a grinning blonde bounces toward them.

“Hey Giggles,” Bradley says, trying not to sound as unenthusiastic as he feels about her presence.

“Did you just finish your first aid refresher?”

He nods, offering her a half-assed smile as he realises that he doesn’t actually remember what her given name is. His brows furrow as he tries to picture the letters stamped on the side of her jet, but then he realises that he can’t remember the last time he saw her in a jet. Up close, at least. The dagger squad train almost exclusively on their own. They rarely interact with other squadrons.

“I did mine last week,” she says. “If I knew which day you were scheduled, I would have definitely tried to join today’s group.”

Bradley nods once, unsure what to say to that but still lost in his thoughts trying to figure out what her actual name is.

“Anyway.” She flips her hair off her shoulder. “I just had a meeting with Maverick.”

“Oh,” is all Bradley responds with.

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to work with him for– like –ever. He’s just legendary, you know?”

Bradley’s lips tip up into a smirk. “I think notorious would be more accurate.”

She giggles, because that’s what she does. “Well, he said I could fly for him and try out for your squad.”

Bradley freezes, and the whole squad comes to a screeching halt.

“Try out?” Jake echoes, before snorting a laugh. “This isn’t a cheerleading squad. We were selected and trained as a specialised unit. This isn’t something you can try out for.”

“Hangman,” Natasha warns. “Don’t be rude.”

“I’m not being rude, she’s being delusional.”

“Excuse me?” Giggles props her hands on her hips.

Bradley turns to Natasha with a quizzical frown, but she just shrugs. He looks back at Giggles. “Look, I’m sure whatever you spoke with Mav about will be great for your career. So, good luck.”

He offers her one last clipped smile before continuing toward the parking lot. Jake winks at the angry blonde before Javy puts a hand on either of his shoulders and steers him away.

Natasha quickens her pace to match Bradley’s. “You don’t think Mav would really consider-”

“No.” Bradley shakes his head. “There’s no way.”

It’s not only that the squad are not particularly fond of Giggles, but it’s also the fact that none of them are keen on the idea of adding to the team. They’re all too close and too comfortable, and they work exceptionally well together. Changing that dynamic could seriously impact their functionality and in turn, damage any one of their careers that they’ve worked so hard to achieve. They’re all exactly where they want to be, and they don’t want their positions to be challenged by anyone.

Bradley pauses before breaking away from the group. “Six o’clock?”

They all nod and mumble their agreeance.

“Does anyone need a lift?”

“You’re driving?” Reuben asks. “I thought you were going to ask your girl out tonight.”

Bradley frowns. “I can’t do both?”

Reuben chuckles. “Well, you’ve had plenty of sober chances to ask her out, so I assumed you’d need a little liquid courage to actually do it.”

Mickey laughs so suddenly that he snorts.

Bradley rolls his eyes playfully and points a finger at Reuben. “You just lost your ride privileges.”

Reuben groans in protest and Mickey laughs even harder as Bradley turns on his heel and walks toward the Bronco. He pops the door and falls into the driver’s seat, jamming the key into the ignition. As he drives home, his left knee bounces nervously. He’s always thought about asking you out, but actually doing it? He has no idea how he’s supposed to muster that kind of courage.

- You -

The clock on the wall opposite the bar taunts you. Its hands move slowly, creeping around its face at a painfully slow pace. You know exactly what time Bradley and your friends usually get here on a Friday night, and it’s still forty-five whole minutes away.

“You know,” Penny says, “staring at it won’t make it go any faster.”

You drop your gaze down to the glass you’ve been drying for at least a couple of minutes now. “I know, but if I don’t try then I’ll never know if I’ve magically developed superpowers.”

She laughs softly and takes the glass from your hands. “Why don’t you see if you have super lime slicing powers, hm?”

You roll your eyes playfully and tuck the tea towel into the back pocket of your jeans – the ones you know make your butt look incredible – before turning toward the small cardboard box of limes on the bench. You take a chopping board out from under the bar and a pairing knife. You set up a little station where the box of limes is on the right of the chopping board, and a bowl for the slices is to your left.

“Why don’t you just ask Rooster out?” Penny asks right as you cut the first lime in half.

Your cutting hand slips but you’re quick enough to flinch away before the knife slices your fingers. “Jesus, Pen. Could you learn a thing or two about timing, please?”

She rushes toward you, her brows crease with worry. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “I’m fine.”

She relaxes once she sees that your fingers are unharmed, taking a step back and casually leaning her hip against the bar, waiting. Her gaze bores into the side of your face, but you stubbornly focus on the limes.

She waits until you drop the slices into the bowl to ask again. “So, why don’t you?”

You sigh. “If it was an easy thing to do, I would have done it a while ago.”

“What’s so difficult about it?”

You put the next lime on the chopping board and hesitate, frowning down at the little green fruit as if willing it to give you an answer that doesn’t sound as whiny as what you’re about to say. “Because he’s him, and I’m me.”

She quirks one brow, silently asking you to elaborate.

“He’s just”– you wave the knife in the air, at which her eyes widen slightly –“you know? He’s gorgeous and successful. He’s got every chance in the world and every damn woman on this island after him. Then there’s me, and I’m just” – you gesture down at the short black apron tied around your waist –“this.”

Penny’s brows pinch together, a mixture of confusion and curiosity painting her face. “What’s wrong with this?”

You sigh again. “I’m a bartender, Pen.”

“So am I.”

“No.” You drop the freshly sliced lime into the bowl. “You own a bar. There’s a difference.”

“Honey.” She pushes her hip off the bar and takes half a step toward you. “That boy doesn’t look at you like a bartender. He doesn’t see the girl who pours his beer. He looks at you like you hung the moon just for him.”

You feel the bridge of your nose pinch and your eyes sting, but you decide to blame it on the citrus instead of your own emotions.

She sighs and bends down to take a shot glass out from under the bar. “Here,” she says, pouring tequila into the small glass. “I know you’d rather be on the other side of the bar, but try to have a little fun tonight. On me.”

Your eyes widen as you look at the shot and then at Penny, who’s lips are pulled into a smirk. Without a second thought, you snatch the shot glass off the bar and tip it to your lips, grimacing as the liquid burns down your throat.

“You know what,” she says as she fills the glass up again, “I think I’d like to have a little fun too.”

You can’t help the laughter that bubbles from your lips as she tips the tequila into her mouth and winces. You don’t necessarily want to be a bartender forever, but you find it hard to think about the day you’ll have to hand your resignation in to Penny. She’s a pretty cool boss.

You continue cutting limes while Penny serves an influx of customers. Once the whole box of limes has been sliced, you cover the bowl in plastic wrap and place it at the bottom of one of the fridges. The bar is filling up slowly but surely, and you start pouring drinks while Penny handles the cash.

After you hand a beer to the last customer of a small rush, the light overhead – the one you replaced earlier – blinks and dies out. “Shit,” you mutter, staring up at it. “Maybe I didn’t screw it in properly? Mav kind of distracted me before, I didn’t double check it.”

Before Penny can protest, you kick the small, folding stool toward where you need it and step onto it. You brace your hands on the bar and bring one foot up, focusing all your balance and coordination on standing up straight and getting your other foot planted on the bar.

“Please be careful,” Penny says, her voice laced with worry.

“I’m fine, don’t stress.”

More voices join the chatter in the bar, and you can hear Penny greet the new patrons as you crane your neck to look up at the dead bulb. You reach up, silently praying to any god who might listen that you don’t get electrocuted. Your fingers gently grab the bulb and twist, it blinks back to life and delivers a small shock of electricity to your hand. It’s nothing more than a zap, but that’s enough to make you startle. You shift your feet without thinking and the heel of your boot comes off the edge of the bar. You quickly lose balance and fall.

You yelp, but you don’t hit the floor. A strong pair of arms catches you – one around your back and the other behind your knees. Your saviour makes a soft ooft noise as he takes all your weight and holds you against his chest. When you look up and see the stupid grin stretched across Bradley Bradshaw’s face, it feels like every inch of your skin has been lit on fire.

The bar erupts into cheers and claps as Bradley chuckles. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you breathe out.

You stare into his eyes for a moment, appreciating every fleck of brown and gold as he stares back. Then he clears his throat and gently lowers your legs, his other arm helping you stand upright.

“Thanks,” you say as you right your skewed apron.

“Anytime.” He chuckles again. “Like, seriously. Anytime you want to fall for me, I’m right-”

You roll your eyes and swat a hand at his broad chest. “Oh, shut up.”

You turn to the rest of your friends and greet each of them, taking every sarcastic comment that they throw at you. Once you’ve given them each a hug or a high five, you walk the rest of the way around the bar to get back through the swinging wooden doors.

Penny looks at you with her mum glare. The unimpressed one.

“Sorry?” you offer sheepishly.

“Next time, leave it.”

You roll your lips to hide your smile as you bring your fingers to your forehead in a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

She shakes her head and turns toward the other side of the bar to serve someone that isn’t your friends, knowing you would prefer to serve them. You take a few short strides toward the beer taps, dust your hands on your denim-clad butt, and pick up a glass in each hand. You know their orders, you don’t have to ask.

“How was first aid?” you ask Natasha, because she’s the one right in front of you now.

Bradley is a step back from the bar, leaning toward Reuben and speaking too low for you to discern.

“It was fine,” Natasha replies. “Although, Hangman had some other thoughts.”

Jake drops a forearm on the bar and leans in. “I’m not saying it was totally useless, but a whole day to teach us what should already be common sense?”

“Something which you have very little of,” Natasha retorts.

You snort a laugh as you slide their drinks across the bar. “I’m not going to lie, Seresin. If you think first aid training is useless, then you’re my last pick to be stranded on a desert island with.”

Instead of acting offended, his smirk curls a little further and the mischievous glint in his eye twinkles. “Oh, come on. You know we’d have some fun.”

Bradley clears his throat and steps into Natasha’s place as she scoops her drink up and vacates with an amused grin on her lips.

“What kind of fun are we talking, Hangman?” Bradley asks, his brows raised in question.

Jake draws a long sip of foamy beer before turning his body toward Rooster. “Come on, Bradshaw. Use your imagination. There are a lot of things for two people to do when they’re alone.”

Your eyes bounce between the two men as they stare each other down. Jake’s lips are still pulled into a smirk, but Bradley’s are set in a firm line beneath his moustache, and the outline of his clenched jaw is more defined than usual.

“Well,” Jake sits his beer back on the bar, “we could-”

“Play Hangman!” you interrupt excitedly, deciding to cut the imaginary tether of tension that had been pulled taught between them.

Jake’s smirk breaks into a soft laugh. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.”

He winks at you, and you roll your eyes playfully before turning your attention down to the glass you just finished filling with beer. It’s a little too full, the foam on top threatening to overflow as you raise it up to place on the bar in front of Bradley. When the heavy bottom of the glass hits the hardwood bar top, the froth spills and drips down over your fingers.

“Oops, sorry,” you say, eyes flicking up to meet Bradley’s.

His usual soft brown gaze is so much darker than usual, and something about it is making the little hairs rise on the back of your neck.

“That’s alright,” he says, his voice low and a little raspy.

His fingers brush yours as he takes the glass, and when you pull your hand back, you suck your middle finger between your lips to clean the beer off. You’re not sure why you do it, and you don’t even realise what you’ve done until you drag your finger out of your mouth. All the while, keeping your eyes locked with Bradley’s.

“Really?” Jake’s voice slices through the tension. “You two are unbelievable.”

You blink a few times and the noise of the bar returns, as if getting lost in Bradley’s eyes had silenced the rest of the world. You can feel the apples of your cheeks burn, and you quickly dust your knuckles on your apron before picking up another glass.

Bradley clears his throat and opens his mouth to say something, but he stops. You hear Jake chuckle and Bradley sigh, but you don’t let yourself look up again. By the time you finish pouring two more beers, Mickey and Reuben are standing in front of you with ear-to-ear grins.

- Bradley -

Jake slides into the booth beside Natasha while Bradley slides in next to Bob, but his eyes are still trained on the bar. Or more specifically, the bartender.

“Oh, my God.” Jake smacks a hand against the table. “You two should have seen what I just had to witness.”

Bradley sighs and drops his head, staring at the swirls and knots in the wood tabletop.

“I have never experienced such blatant eye-fucking!” Jake exclaims, a little too loudly. “I mean, seriously. That felt more explicit than watching porn on a public bus.”

Natasha, despite the amusement on her face, nudges Jake in his ribs. “Keep your voice down, Bagman.”

Bob chuckles and turns to Bradley. “Did you ask her out?”

“No!” Jake replies before Bradley can.

“Well, you better do it quick.” Natasha says. “It looks like you’re not the only interested party here tonight.”

Bradley’s eyes snap back toward the bar, narrowing on the man standing in front of you at the beer taps. He’s tall and broad, with close cropped blond hair and a smug smile painted on his face. His thick forearms are resting on the top of the bar, and he’s leaning so far forward that if he turns too abruptly, he might smack his nose on one of the taps.

“Is that Romeo?” Bob asks.

Bradley doesn’t respond, but he can see Natasha nod from the corner of his eye. No, this guy’s parents didn’t hate him so much that they gave him some lame Shakespearean name. It’s his callsign, and it's not too hard to guess how he got it.

Bradley doesn’t like the way you’re smiling at the blond man. In fact, he hates it. He doesn’t like the way your cheeks turn pink when he leans in a little further in, or the way you shyly tuck an imaginary piece of hair behind your ear. He does, however, very much like the way your eyes flit toward him every couple of seconds, as if checking that he’s still there.

He realises after a minute that you’re not acting shy, you’re uncomfortable with this guy, and that makes him feel a little less explosive. The pink in your cheeks and the timid movements aren’t because you’re feeling bashful, but because you feel awkward. Bradley is your security, your guard dog, and all you’d have to do is nod for him to leap out of his seat.

“Down boy.” Reuben chuckles as he slides into the booth beside Bradley. “He’s trying to flirt but she’s shutting him down.”

Javy takes a seat in the booth beside Jake while Mickey steals a chair from another table and sits himself at the head of the group.

“You know,” Mickey says thoughtfully, “I’ve always thought that Romeo and Giggles would make a good couple.”

Natasha snorts a laugh. “Yeah, maybe they can produce one braincell between the two of them.”

Jake gasps dramatically. “Phoenix! Don’t be rude.”

She rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t count when they can’t hear.” She then turns her attention to Bradley, who is taking a very generous sip of his beer. “Speaking of Giggles, did you talk to Mav?”

Bradley sculls half his drink before plonking it back down on the table. “No. I was going to call him, but he texted me to say he’d drop by the bar tonight. Thought I’d just ask him then.”

“Good.” She nods. “I have enough shit to stress about. I don’t need to worry about that airhead joining the team and blowing up everything we’ve worked for.”

The group start a half-hushed discussion about what Maverick could have possibly told Giggles to make her think she’d have a chance at joining the squad. Bradley hardly listens though, aside from giving the occasional head nod or chuckle when he catches a word or two. He keeps his eyes trained on you. The way you move around the bar, performing your job effortlessly. Everything is muscle memory; from the way you pour a beer to the way you shake the cocktail shaker.

When the crowd at the bar dies down, you say something to Penny before turning around and walking through the swinging wooden doors. He can’t help but ogle your ass in those jeans; the way it moves as you walk and bend toward tables, collecting empty glasses. The jeans hug you in such a way that makes him jealous – yeah, he’s jealous of denim now. They pinch into the crease between your cheeks and your thighs before stretching down your legs – those legs that would look perfect thrown over his shoulders as he buries himself inside of you.

The cuffs of those mouth-watering jeans are tucked into boots. Big black boots with scuffed toes and frayed laces. Bradley has never seen you wear any other shoes at the bar. They’re your chosen uniform, and he’s thought way too much about fucking you in nothing but those boots.

An idea pops into Bradley’s head as he watches your booted foot shove an unoccupied chair out of your way. He nudges Reuben. “Move, I need to check something.”

Reuben frowns as he slides out of the booth, freeing Bradley.

“Get another round while you’re up, would you, darling?” Jake calls after him.

Bradley waves a hand in acknowledgement as he beelines toward the other side of the bar where the karaoke machine is. There’s a thick, tattered binder sitting atop the machine that lists every song available to be sung. He flips it open and starts searching.

It only takes about ten seconds to find the song he’s looking for, and his heart starts pumping a little faster. He’s going to need a lot more drinks to pull this off.

“Bit early to start that, isn’t it?”

Bradley flips the binder shut and turns to Maverick, who is standing beside him wearing that signature smirk. He drops the binder back atop the machine. “I need to talk to you.”

Maverick sighs. “What have I done now?”

Bradley leans an arm on the top of the karaoke machine as he explains the squad’s earlier interaction with Giggles. Maverick doesn’t look shocked or sheepish, he looks exasperated by the time Bradley finishes.

“This woman is relentless.” Mav presses two fingers against his temple.

“So, she’s not trying out for-”

“Of course not.” Maverick says. “That’s not even something she could do. This is an elite unit of specially selected and trained aviators. Giggles barely graduated TOPGUN. I’m not even sure how she qualified for the programme.”

Bradley tips his head curiously. “Then what did you tell her?”

“She wouldn’t let up unless I gave her something, so I said I’d fly with her. One weekend, we’d do a quick drill and I could give her some pointers. Maybe give her a reference if she impressed me.”

Bradley chuckles. “You really have an excellent way of communicating with women.”

Mav scowls at his godson, though it’s much less intimidating than he’d like given the height difference. “I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear.”

“Obviously not.”

Mav sighs again. “Obviously.”

At that moment, the devil herself walks into the bar. Her blonde locks bounce as she walks, her eyes scanning every face in the room as she searches for something. Or someone.

“Maybe you should talk to her now,” Bradley says quietly to Mav. “Better to set things straight before she tells every naval officer on North Island that the elite dagger squad is holding try outs.”

Maverick chuckles. “Good idea, Rooster. I think you should join me. Maybe you can clear something else up for her too.”

Bradley’s brows pinch into a frown, but before he can protest, Giggles has spotted the two of them and Mav is waving her over.

- You -

It’s almost like your body is connected to Bradley’s in some intrinsic way. You can’t not be aware of him, his presence and where he is. You’re the North to his South, like two magnets being held close enough to make each other move but not yet close enough to snap together. Though you’re not sure how much longer you can resist his pull.

“In the next lull, I’m going to grab some more vodka.” Penny’s hip bumps yours as she fills a glass of beer beside you.

You nod. “Grab an extra bottle for me, yeah?”

She laughs softly as she leans forward and places the beer on the bar. You dance around each other easily, having worked together for so long that you know exactly how the other is going to move. You feel at peace behind the bar, despite how busy the place is getting. Your movements are easy and familiar. You fill beer glasses, you pour shots, you fill short and tall glasses with ice and soda, and you take cash and swipe cards.

You’re so in tune with the bar that you almost feel the main door swing open, revealing a gorgeous blonde bombshell wearing a tiny pink sundress. Your stomach sinks and your feet freeze. You’d have to be an idiot not to think she’s attractive – albeit a little annoying – and you don’t blame anyone in the bar for craning their necks to stare at the Barbie doll that just entered.

“Here.” Penny slides a shot glass across the bench below the bar. “I’m going to get some more bottles. Are you good?”

You lift the shot to your lips, not caring who sees, and swallow the tequila without so much as wincing. You drop the little glass into the sink. “I’m good.”

You try hard not to watch Giggles approach Bradley and Mav, but it’s hard when you don’t have anyone to serve. The rush has died down, and most people are now seated with their friends, chatting and sipping happily. You wipe down the bar top and the bench, you fill the dishwasher and start a cycle, and you restock the napkins and straws, but your eyes still wander back over to Bradley. You need a distraction.

“Hey, beautiful,” Romeo – you have no clue what his real name is – says, leaning forward on the bar.

You take a deep breath. Not that distraction.

“Another one?”

He nods, sliding his empty glass toward you.

“Same?”

He nods again as you take the empty glass, put it in the sink, and grab a fresh one.

“Saw you sink that shot just now,” he says, lips pulled into a smirk. “Do you get off early tonight? Maybe we can have some fun.”

You shake your head, eyes glued to the golden liquid filling the glass. “No. Just trying to get through the night.”

“That’s a shame.” He leans forward even further, and you worry for a moment that he might actually climb over the bar. “What time do you get off?”

“Late.”

He remains undeterred by your clear disinterest. “How late? Maybe I could give you a lift home.”

You plonk the beer on the bar in front of him. “Too late.”

You hear a shrill giggle, and you can’t help it. Your eyes snap toward Bradley, and you see Giggles’ perfectly manicured hand wrapped around his bicep as she leans in way too close to him. Your stomach ties itself in another knot.

“I see.” Romeo pushes himself off the bar and grabs his beer. “You’ve got a thing for birds.”

You turn back to him, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. “What does that even mean?”

He rolls his eyes as if you exasperate him. “Just so you know, she’s joining his squad. They’re going to be together every day while you work your flat ass off for minimum wage every night. So, good luck competing with that.”

“Excuse me?” Penny snaps, appearing beside you with a box full of large liquor bottles. “You better apologise before I kick your ass out of here.”

Romeo scoffs, his mouth popping open to retort when two other patrons step up to the bar.

“Got a problem here, ladies?” Jake asks, a challenging smirk stretched across his lips as he turns to face the blond idiot whose face is getting redder by the second.

Penny raises her brows at Romeo. “Do we?”

He takes a deep breath, eyes bouncing between Penny, Jake, and Javy. “No, we don’t.” He looks at you and mumbles, “Sorry.”

The four of you watch as he turns and stalks toward his table of friends, not daring to look back.

Penny shakes her head. “I can’t believe that asshole said-”

“It’s okay, Pen,” you quickly interrupt. “He was just throwing a tantrum because I turned him down.”

Javy chuckles. “I don’t think Romeo ever has been turned down. Might have to give him a new callsign.”

You grab two clean glasses and start pouring your friends another drink each. “I think ‘assface’ sounds good, and it’s definitely more fitting.”

Jake nods. “His face does resemble an ass. A bad one.”

The corner of your lips tip up as you slide the two beers across the bar. When Jake tries to hand you his card, Penny pushes it away. “This one’s on the house.”

“Penny, my dear,” Jake says. “You are too kind.”

Javy tips his head in thanks as they both turn and head back toward the booth where the rest of your friends are.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Penny asks as you start unloading the box of liquor.

You nod once. “Yeah, fine.”

You know it isn’t convincing, but she doesn't have time to press you as another wave of thirsty patrons approaches. You let her serve and handle the payment while you make the drinks, silently sliding them across the bar until the small rush dies down. When you both have another moment to catch your breath, Penny turns to you, hand on hip and mouth poised to speak, but she stops. Her eyes move to something behind you.

You glance over your shoulder and your stomach flips up into your throat. How is it fair that Bradley can elicit such responses from your body simply by standing there?

You turn to face him. “Another drink?”

He nods. “Yes, please.”

Always so polite. You wonder for a second if he’s that polite in bed, or if he- Nope. Stop that.

You pick up a clean glass and start filling it, watching the golden liquid even though you can feel his eyes boring into you. When you look up, he’s wearing the same dark expression as before.

Your fingers brush his as you take his card, and your tongue darts across your bottom lip. You turn to the machine, ring up the drink, swipe the card, and turn back to him. You almost drop the card from the way you’re handing it to him, trying to avoid his touch.

Another shrill giggle makes you flinch, and you instinctively look over to where Mav is stuck in conversation with Giggles. He looks tired and like he needs saving.

You can’t help yourself when you turn back to Bradley. “I hear you’ve got a shiny new teammate.”

His brows pinch. “Where did you hear that?”

You shrug one shoulder, not really wanting to explain your earlier altercation with Romeo. “The grapevine.”

“Well, the grapevine is very wrong.”

You frown at him. “What?”

He takes a long sip of his beer, draining almost a third of it. “She got a little confused with what Mav said earlier today. To be honest, I’m not sure she’s even heard what he’s said to try and clear things up. She just keeps giggling.”

You laugh softly, rolling your lips to stop yourself from giggling. “Well, she certainly lives up to the name.”

He nods. “That’s for sure.”

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth and press both palms on the bench beneath the bar, leaning forward. “Do you live up to yours, Rooster?”

He tips his head curiously, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “How do you mean?”

You shrug again and relax your weight back onto your feet. “You tell me. How did you get the callsign?”

He hesitates, and you can hear the dishwasher beep to signal it’s finished cycle. You step toward it, not too far from Bradley, and pop the door open.

He still hasn’t replied, so you decide to prompt him. “Are you an early riser? Do you like to sing in the mornings?” You pull out a rack of glasses and carry it to the bench right in front of him. You place it down and lean forward again. “Are you particularly vain? Or do you just have a massive cock?”

“Excuse me.” An older woman standing to the side of the bar calls for your attention. “Where are the toilets?”

Bradley’s cheeks are flaming, his eyes like saucers, and you have to control your laughter as you turn to face the woman. “Just that way.” You point at the very obvious sign.

Two more patrons step up to the bar, and you turn to Bradley with a wink. “Saved by the bell.”

You leave the stunned man to serve the other customers, and when Penny returns with armfuls of empty glasses, another rush kicks in. It’s that time of the night when everyone starts to stock up on liquid courage, slinging back drinks and shots and getting themselves ready for the karaoke.

You’re not sure how much time passes as you pour drinks and make jokes with Penny. You’re feeling a lot lighter about being on this side of the bar with a bit of tequila in your system, and you honestly feel like it’s making you even better at your job. You’re more bubbly, more willing to talk nonsense with chatty patrons, and you’re actually looking forward to seeing your friends perform some embarrassing karaoke.

“Okay, gorgeous.” Jake thrums his hands against the bar. “We’re going to need a round of shots to get Fanboy up there kicking the night off.”

You smile at him and nod. “Go sit down, I’ll bring it over.”

Penny is already arranging a tray with a bunch of shot glasses on it. You count them. “Eight?”

She nods. “I’m turning a blind eye tonight.”

You wedge a bottle of tequila under one arm and take the tray with both hands. “You know what, Pen? I think you would have been an absolute blast in your twenties.”

She rolls her eyes playfully and places a hand on each of your shoulders. “Trust me, I was.”

You can’t help the giggles that bubble from your lips as she turns you around and steers you toward the swinging wooden doors. You carefully make your way weaving through the groups of people toward your friends, who all cheer when you drop the tray of shot glasses on their table.

Bradley is sitting on the end of the booth seat to your right, and your knee brushes against the outside of his thigh as you bend over to start pouring the tequila. You can feel his eyes on your profile, but you don’t dare look his way. You’re too close and he’s had too many drinks. You lost count about half an hour ago and made a mental note to swipe his keys as soon as you get the chance.

“Alright, boys and girls.” You slide the tray into the middle of the table. “No funny faces. I want you all to swallow like Seresin on a Saturday night.” You pick up your own shot, shoot a wink at Jake, and tip it to your lips. The liquor hits the back of your throat and burns all the way down before sizzling in your empty stomach. You should really try and eat something soon.

When you look back at the group, they’ve all got their heads tipped back and the little glasses pressed to their lips. Your eyes fall immediately to the man beside you, watching the column of his tan throat as he swallows. With the tequila swirling through your body, you’re starting to feel a little feral, like you could just sink your teeth into him right here. Right now.

“Okay, one more!” Mickey exclaims, slamming the shot glass back on the table. “Then I’m doing Dancing Queen.”

There’s a mixture of groans and laughter from the squad.

“Dancing Queen?” Jake echoes. “That’s so overdone.”

Mickey throws him a scowl. “I don’t care. I’m feeling young and sweet, only seventeen.”

You laugh through your nose as you concentrate on pouring another round, leaving yourself out this time. You have to lean a little further over the table, and thanks to the most recent nip of tequila rushing to your head, you almost lose balance. But before you can fall forward, a warm hand grabs the back of your thigh, just above your knee. It squeezes tight, almost too tight, and holds you steady.

All the air leaves your lungs in one quick whoosh. You know who’s hand it is, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. He’s too delicious right now. A little drunk, hair mussed, sunglasses perched low on his nose, and that stupid, gorgeous grin tugging at his lips. Yeah. If you turn around, you might not be able to stop yourself from mounting him right here in front of everyone.

“Here you go.” You stand back up straight, but his hand doesn’t move. Not even as he reaches forward, picks up a shot, clinks it with the others, and tips it into his mouth.

The squad, now very well lubricated, launch back into discussion about whether or not Dancing Queen is a good enough debut song for Mickey tonight. You laugh along with them as you gather the glasses onto the tray, but when you go to wedge the tequila bottle under your arm again, Bradley stops you.

He grabs the bottle and stands up, forcing you back a step from the table. “I’ll give you a hand.”

You nod and turn on your heel. You’ll let him give you a hand, however he wants to lend a hand. Literally, any way he wants to give you a hand, you’re willing.

As you walk back toward the bar, you internally scold yourself for letting your thoughts run rampant. Part of you blames the tequila, and another part blames Bradley for how downright sinful he is looking tonight. But you know it’s mostly yourself who’s to blame. Your own stupid brain that too often fantasises about what it’d be like if Bradley felt the same way about you that you feel about him.

You stop at the back end of the bar, away from where Penny is serving, and put the tray of glasses down before turning to Bradley. “Thanks for that.”

He nods. “Anything for you.”

You take the bottle and put it on the bar. “Anything?”

He nods again, his eyes half hooded behind his sunglasses. You roll your lips and let your eyes trail down the front of him, appreciating the deep neckline of the singlet beneath his open Hawaiian shirt, and the smattering of hair that peaks out just below his clavicle.

You take half a step forward, eyes trailing back up. “Anything at all?”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and his head drops to look at you. “Anything.”

“Well...” you sigh, your voice barely above a whisper. “What to pick.”

There’s less than two inches of space between your bodies, and you have to concentrate to stop your hand from trembling as your fingertips dance along his belt. His chest is starting to rise and fall a little faster, and you can’t help the smirk that stretches across your lips as you dip your hand into his pocket.

He draws a quick, sharp breath, and you pull your hand back out with his keys pinched between your fingers. “Looks like you’re catching a cab tonight, Bradshaw.”

He lets go of that breath and chuckles, his whole body relaxing. “You wanted my keys?"

You nod and take a step back, trying to ignore how hot your cheeks are.

“You could have just asked."

You shrug one shoulder as you turn to walk away. “I like getting you all flustered.”

You can feel his eyes on you as you retreat toward the doors that lead behind the bar, so you let your hips sway a little extra from side to side. You don’t know it yet, but you’re definitely going to pay for that little stunt later.

You step up beside Penny and immediately start serving, keeping your focus on the customers in front of you rather than thinking about the way Bradley had just practically melted under your touch. It’s only because he’s drunk, right?

After a minute or so, you see Mickey stand up and walk across the bar. The squad are all cheering and gathering their drinks to follow him. He doesn’t look apprehensive or worried, he looks excited. You watch him turn on the karaoke machine and don’t bother going to help, because he’s done this over a dozen times before. Jake walks past his friend toward the jukebox and unplugs it. The music cuts out and every head in the room turns to Mickey. He grins, clears his throat into the microphone, and then the iconic opening to ABBA’s Dancing Queen blasts through the speakers.

It barely takes ten words for the rest of the bar to start chanting along, and you realise that this might have been his plan all along. He’s not stupid, he knows the drunks can’t resist ABBA, and what better way to break the ice than to get the whole room singing along.

The song eventually ends with Jake and Reuben up beside him, all shouting into the microphone without an ounce of talent. You make a mental note to tease Jake about this later. Overdone, my ass.

You lose yourself to pouring beer once again as people demand more drinks so they can get up and embarrass themselves too. The squad practically man the karaoke machine, and more often than not end up alongside the singer toward the end of the songs. They’re all so drunk and so happy, you can’t help but laugh.

Mickey and Natasha sing Bonnie Tyler’s Holding Out for a Hero, and then Jake and Javy sing Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten. There’s a lot of ABBA and Queen from patrons you don’t recognise, and then the squad cause a huge scene trying to get Maverick up for a song. He refuses until they drag him up to the bar for another round of shots, and then they all perform Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me.

After that, Mickey, Natasha, and an adorably drunk Bob sing Cherry Bomb by The Runaways. You’re not sure you’ve seen Bob drunk more than once before, but it’s possibly the cutest thing in the world to see him red-faced and stumbling over words while bopping his head to the beat of the song.

You’re cleaning a glass and giggling when Bradley and Reuben step up to the bar. “Beer or tequila?”

Reuben chuckles, his grin looking strangely conspiratorial. “Both.”

You tip your lips into a downward smile and nod your head. “Trying not to lose momentum?”

“Rooster has a big number coming up.” Reuben elbows a very sheepish looking Bradley. “He needs his liquid courage.”

You nod, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “I was wondering when I was going to see you up there. You’re usually one of the first.”

He chuckles, but you can sense that he’s nervous. About what, you have no idea. Bradley is one of the only ones with a modicum of talent. He’s that charming guy with a decent voice who everyone regrets inviting to karaoke night because he actually sounds decent.

“Well,” you say, sliding two shots across the bar, “good luck.”

They both sink the shots and scoop up their beers. Reuben pays, winks at you, and clasps Bradley on the shoulder as they walk back over to the group. You want to wonder more about why Bradley could possibly be so anxious, but you don’t have any time before Penny hands you a slip of paper for an order of cocktails.

Another two songs pass while you make the drinks and deliver them to the table where Giggles and her friends are waiting. She has a twisted smirk on her face as you place the glass in front of her, and a part of you wishes you’d known so you could have spit it one of the cocktails.

You give her your widest, cheesiest smile before turning around and walking back toward the bar. You’re about halfway there when you see Reuben shove the microphone into Bradley’s hand and push him toward the front of the crowd. He doesn’t look so nervous anymore – he still looks like sex on legs – and he’s laughing as the sound of tambourines fill the speakers.

You cheer along with the crowd, holding the empty drinks tray under one arm so you can clap. You’re only a few feet from the front of the bar, so you look at Penny with raised brows as if to ask if she needs you, but she shakes her head and waves a dismissive hand, silently telling you to watch the show. But the smirk on her lips makes you think she might know something you don’t.

When you look back at Bradley, he’s got Natasha up on one side and Mickey on the other. They’re dancing like loons as the drumbeat kicks in, and then they all start playing the air guitar as soon as the familiar riff blares through the speakers.

Bradley’s glasses are perched low on his nose, his grin so wide you can’t help but grin too, and as he brings the microphone up to his lips, you wonder if this man might have been a rockstar in another life. “So one, two, three, take my hand and come with me, because you look so fine, that I really wanna make you mine.”

Something between a giggle and a shriek leaves your lips when Jake and Reuben pop up beside you. Reuben grabs your wrist and drags you forward into the crowd, while Jake yanks the drinks tray from under arm. You go with them willingly, dancing and laughing with your friends who you’ve never seen so carefree. You could definitely get used to being on this side of the bar.

The rest of the squad are up beside Bradley now, playing the air guitar and banging their heads like maniacs. You stop right in front of him, staring up at him like he’s a god, and he turns to look right at you as he sings. “Now you don’t need the money, when you look like that, do ya, honey?”

Another shriek splits from your lips when he grabs your hand and yanks you toward him. You almost crash into him, but he’s too smooth to let that happen. He lets go of your hand and wraps an arm around your waist, catching you and holding you against him.

“Big black boots.” He tips his head and winks at you over his sunglasses. “Long brown hair.” He leans back as Javy leans over his shoulder, and they sing together. “She’s so sweet with her get-back stare.”

The others crowd around as the chorus kicks in, and you all shout the lyrics along with the rest of the bar. But Bradley doesn’t let you go. He keeps his arm around you, still allowing you to dance but not without rubbing a part of your body against his.

The chorus finishes and the room goes quiet except for the backing track. Bradley drops his head forward again, watching you over the frame of his sunglasses as he sings. “I said, are you gonna be my girl?”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you know your cheeks are redder than a maraschino cherry. The room cheers and Bradley chuckles. Everyone starts dancing and playing the air guitar again, and Mickey and Reuben lean toward the microphone to sing the start of the next verse with Bradley.

There’s another quick guitar break where Bradley turns back to you, a light sheen of sweat covering his exposed skin. “I say you look so fine, that I really wanna make you mine.”

Your head spins. If it weren’t for his arm, you’re almost positive you’d be passed out on the floor.

Mickey and Reuben join back in for the next verse, but their voices are lost in the sea of singing from the whole bar. You don’t dare look out at the crowd though, you’re already nervous enough being held against a very sweaty and very delicious man.

When the verse ends, the whole squad turn to you, point at your feet, and shout-sing. “Big black boots!”

You roll your eyes and laugh before joining in on the chorus. But just like before, when the chorus finishes, everyone stops singing along as if they’ve been told to. Bradley squeezes you even closer, sounding a little out of breath as he sings, “I said, are you gonna be my girl?”

The guitar returns almost immediately, and Bradley finally lets you go to clap along with the song. The squad all clap too, and the whole bar claps and stomps their feet to the beat. You can feel the floor shaking.

Bradley holds the microphone up to Mickey and he shouts, “Oh, yeah!”

Bradley then moves it along the line to Reuben. “C’mon!”

The clapping and stomping doesn’t stop. The energy is so high, you’ve never experienced a karaoke Friday like this, and you know it’s not just the tequila to blame. Something about tonight is a little bit electric.

For the final chorus, everyone shouts as loud as they can. Bradley holds the microphone, but it's useless at this point. The only reason you can hear him is because he’s right next to you, an arm wrapped around your waist again.

“Be my girl,” the room shouts.

Bradley winks at you, and everyone echoes again, “Be my girl!”

He holds the microphone above his head as everyone screams the final line of the song. “Are you gonna be my girl, yeah!”

The backing track fades and everyone cheers, louder than you’ve ever heard. You can’t stop giggling, and you can’t look at anything except the gorgeous man grinning down at you. The noise from the rest of the bar fades away as you stare at him, tracing the lines on his face and licking your lips when you see a small droplet of sweat fall from his hairline.

Then the noise slowly returns. It’s different from before, louder somehow. Organised. It’s a chant. The whole bar is chanting. At you.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Your heart is beating so violently against your ribcage, it’s making your whole skeleton shake. Your eyes are wide and your cheeks are red. You’re paralysed. You want to reach up, but you can’t. You want to kiss him, but you can’t make yourself for the fear of rejection.

Bradley chuckles, his voice raspy from singing. “I like getting you all flustered too.”

Then his lips are on yours, hard and soft all at once. He urges against you and then eases back, letting you fall into him. He tastes like beer and sweat, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted in your whole life. His other arm wraps around your body to pull you impossibly close. There’s cheering, but you can barely hear it over the thrum of your pulse in your ears.

Your hands find their way up his body and into his hair, threading your fingers through his locks. He pushes forward again, forcing you to tip your head back so he can deepen the kiss. His tongue slips past your lips and you moan softly. But then he’s gone. He stands up straight and chuckles again, because you’re wearing the most indignant frown. To him, you look adorable.

“As much as I’d love to keep going,” he rasps, “maybe not in front of the whole bar.”

The reality of where you are comes crashing down, and you quickly pull yourself out of his arms. He catches your hand though, linking your fingers together as he follows you out of the spotlight. He stops you before you can slip through the bar’s wooden doors, tugging on your arm so you turn to face him.

“So,” he says, brows raised. “What’s your answer?”

You frown. “Answer to what?”

He nods back toward where you’d just been singing your hearts out, and your eyes go wide.

“Wait, you were-”

Before you can finish, he surges forward and captures your lips again. You stumble but he catches you, one large hand on either side of your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before, stealing your breath and making your stomach do a whole gymnastics routine.

When he pulls back, your head spins. All you can do is blink at up with a confused frown. “You meant all that?”

He shrugs, his smile turning sheepish. “Why do you think I was so nervous?”

You tip your head back and stare at one of the model planes hanging from the ceiling. “So that’s why you drank so much tonight.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, sober Bradley couldn’t ask you out.”

You nod slowly, your lips tipping up into a smirk. “Is that so?"

He nods.

“Well then, which Bradley do I need to ask to fuck my brains out? Drunk Bradley? Or do I have to wait until-”

“Both,” he interrupts, his voice low and his eyes dark.

His expression is dead serious now, aside from the pink in his cheeks. He almost looks feral as he towers over you, pupils blown with lust and lips puffy.

“Good.” You pat a hand on his chest. “Then if you stick around, I’ll drive you home.”

You turn and step through the doors into the bar, feeling his eyes burning into your backside as you sway your hips. You work the rest of the night with a smirk on your lips and an ache between your legs. Your friends come and go with teasing comments, but you let them, because all you can think about is Bradley’s predatory stare. He doesn’t let you out of his sight all night, and he looks even deadlier when Romeo approaches for another round of drinks. But the rest of the night passes without incident, and when it finally comes time to close, you actually have to kick a few patrons out.

Bradley waits leaning against the passenger door of your car as Penny locks up. You promise her you’ll be there in the morning to help clean, but the knowing smirk on her lips when she sees Bradley at your car definitely means that she doesn’t believe you.

You give her a little wave as she heads off toward her car and you walk toward yours. When you walk past Bradley, he reaches out and grabs your wrist, tugging you toward him.

“Hey,” he says quickly, before kissing you again.

You push up onto your toes as you kiss him back.

“You know,” he murmurs against your mouth, “this isn’t just one night.”

Your heart kicks into overdrive again, trying to crack your sternum.

“I want you. All of you. I have for God knows how long, and I’ve been too chickenshit to do anything about it. But I need you to know that this isn’t a onetime thing and it’s not just because I’ve had a few drinks. This is it. You and me.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to convince yourself that you’re not dreaming. When you open your eyes and look up at him, your heart swells so much it feels like it might burst.

“I want you too. All of you.”

He grins and swoops down to kiss you again, only quickly. “Good. Now let’s go, I have to fuck your brains out, remember?”

You roll your eyes despite your burning cheeks. “Yeah, you do.”

As you walk around the front of your car on wobbly legs, he adds, “Oh, and you should probably tell Penny that you won’t be here in the morning. You’ll still be getting your brains fucked out.”

END.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster #rooster x reader #miles teller #top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #one shot #jake seresin #hangman #maverick

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temiizpalace · 3 months ago

Text

☆┊HEAR ME OUT CAKE

SUMMARY: the first years try out the hear me out cake challenge.. it doesn’t go exactly to plan.

CHARACTERS: first years (-sebek) [mostly jack x reader centered]

GENRE: crackfic

WARNINGS: cursing

NOTES: this was funnier in my head

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

✧˙∘

jack stares at the messily frosted cake on the table.

“so sebek isn’t here.. because?” he asks, glancing at ace. “because sebek is a buzzkill and will probably blab on and on about how we didn’t put his liege on this cake.” ace retorts, adjusting the camera.

“right.. how do we play?” deuce asks, raising a brow. “you basically just state a crush that you have and put their cutout on the cake. we don’t have cutouts, so im not sure why we have a cake..” epel shrugs, glancing at the cake.

“not just any crush! it must be completely ridiculous. that’s the fun in it all.” ace exclaims, his signature smirk discomforting the rest of the group. “ridiculous.. like how?” jack asks.

“just play.” ace huffs, fed up with this game of 20 questions. “i’ll start! judy hopps.” ace grins confidently, crossing his arms while receiving strange looks. “..she’s a rabbit.” deuce frowns, already judging heavily.

“yeah? and jack here is a wolf.” ace retorts, receiving a nasty look from jack. “that’s completely different.”

“whatever, whatever, my turn.” epel snickers, laughing to himself. “barry b. benson.” he cackles, getting even worse looks than ace. “THE BEE?” deuce exclaims, slamming his hands on the table. “isn’t he in a relationship..?” jack adds. “and you guys thought mine was bad?” ace pouts, glancing in their direction.

“that’s the joke! it’s supposed to be absolutely insane, forbidden. what’s the fun in takin’ it seriously if we’re supposed to hear each other out?” epel explains, earning a nod from ace. “..this is stupid.” deuce scowls.

“fine! you’re skipped! jack?” the wolf boy remains silent. “isn’t this.. morally wrong? i mean, you guys are talking about literal animals, married individuals..” he asks, getting a dead stare from ace and epel.

“i forgot he wasn’t just a jock, but a goody goody too.” ace sighs, shaking his head. “i’ll go again!” he chimes, seeming suddenly enthusiastic. leaning on the table, ace stares deuce dead in the eyes. “dilla spade.”

the boy opposite of him flinches, not wasting time to slam the table with more force than he had before. “THATS MY MOM.” he shouts as ace cackles in the background. epel erupted into a fit of laughter, earning a nasty look from deuce. lunging forward, he grabs ace by the collar and is now fully in delinquent mode.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YA, HAH?”

sitting in silence, jack finds himself lost in thought. insane.. ridiculous..

jack sits up, readjusting his position. “[MC].”

the room freezes, exchanging looks with each other before glancing at jack. “..[MC]? like, the prefect [MC]?” epel raises a brow, looking at everyone else in the room. "insane and ridiculous, right?" jack repeats, his expression deadpanned.

deuce lets go of ace's collar and stays silent, unable to find the proper words. "you have no idea how rude your statement sounds right now.." ace sighs, unsure as to what expression he should make.

"jack, please elaborate more on this hear me out.." epel asks, pitting jack as the center of attention.

"how about we never talk about this again." jack grumbles, hiding his face in shame.

looks like they won't be playing this again anytime soon.

A/N: filler fic!11!1!1! sorry for being missing during february, exams are starting again and i really need to prioritize right now. that being said, as an apology for missing valentines, im working on white day fics rn! please enjoy this filler before it finally gets posted!

date published: 03/11/25

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland fluff #twst fluff #twst x reader #ace trappola x reader #epel felmier x reader #deuce spade x reader #jack howl x reader #crack fic #hear me out #filler post #can i stop disappearing actually #i just want to write #it’s ok #not proofread

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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

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💫 Starry-Eyed 💫

Pairing: Porn Star! Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Summary: For work experience, you take a job working the cameras on a porn shoot, but after becoming suddenly attracted to a new coworker, you shortly find yourself as a fluffer, the person whose job it is to keep the "talent" aroused between takes.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Porn AU, College AU kinda, exhibitionism, oral sex (f receiving), consensual voyeurism, masturbation (male), blow job, deep throating, messy orgasm.

A/N: Well, look at where we are. I think this actually counts as my first Alternate Universe fic, which is crazy all things considered. I'm really enjoying the Kink Bingo Challenge as it's leading me to so many new ideas for fics!! I hope you all enjoy this one 🥰

Masterlist || Bingo Board

Being a college student still at age 25 meant many things, but mostly, it meant you had friends at many different stages of their lives. Some were fresh out of high school halls, enjoying their first taste of freedom, some were enjoying their first drops of alcohol. Some were giving up alcohol for good and starting families.

Some of them were successful porn stars who'd funded their own start-up porn production company. It certainly was one way to use a film degree. You knew a professor or two who would enjoy her work more than half your syllabus as well.

Candi Rapper had become famous doing cam shows in her first year of college and had gone all-in after graduation. You'd shared a few classes in the early days, before you took a break from college for financial reasons, of course. By the time you'd gone back, she was a big time and now in the position to offer you a job.

“One of my crews is down a cameraman this weekend. If you're open to it, I pay a fair wage?” she'd offed at your weekly brunch.

“Will you be the star?” You joked back with her.

“You wish.”

You took the job, of course, along with a ride from Candi (her name was Kate, but you'd let her pretend) and pulled up on site bright and alert at 7am.

The set was a large mansion - typical, Candi said - and you'd be mostly shooting in the living room - typical, Candi said. You'd had to tell her after her second typical that you were, in fact, an adult and had seen at least one porno before until she cut out pornsplaining everything to you. She introduced you to the key staff and the director, and they got you set up at your camera.

“The shoot today is going to be around 5 hours. You'll be on camera three. The papers in front have your cues and directions. You can have some free time until we start. There's a breakfast spread in the kitchen, help yourself.”

Not one to turn down free food, you bee-lined there and stood awkwardly in line for the coffee with the dozen or so other crew members, eyeing up the take-out pancakes organised across the granite surface.

“Your first time?” An older man asked from behind you, smiling in a friendly manner.

“You can tell?”

“You're thinking about eating the pancakes, and the rest of us are remembering the scene filmed there last weekend," as if on queue, a shiver ran down his spine. "Yeah, we can tell.” You laughed along with the man's joke and finally grabbed your coffee.

Luck just wasn't on your side, though, as you turned and immediately ran into someone immediately sloshing the coffee onto your shirt.

“Oh my god, I am so - I'm so sorry, I need to watch where I'm going.”

You'd run into 6’3” of lanky, awkward male perfection. He looked young, your age or younger most likely, and was fidgeting as he stood, the most obviously uncomfortable person in the building.

Your first thought was “Is he lost?” closely followed by “Can I beg him to get lost in a linen closet somewhere with me?”

He grabbed a handful of tissues from the counter nearby and began attempting to wipe away the coffee you'd spilt down yourself, completely unaware that he was fondling your breasts in his haste to do so.

“Slow down there, tiger, shoot doesn't start for another half hour,” you said, winking at him as you took the tissues from his panicked hands and dried yourself as best you could.

“I know, I memorised the call sheet. Who are you?” His question was blunt, but you weren't taken aback at all, your smile even deepening as you enjoyed his subtle attention.

“I'm Y/N. It's my first time.”

He spluttered, coming up with an answer to that, and you immediately cursed yourself for the slip.

“My first time on set, not my- I'm 25. Not that age determines experience per say but-”

“I'm 22. And my name is Spencer,” he said, grasping your hand and shaking it.

“So, it's your first time on set?” He asked, relaxing more into the conversation as he stepped closer to you, letting the other staff members come and go from the kitchen.

“Yeah. My friend offered me the job, you know Candi?”

He nodded but didn't speak, so you continued.

“She thought the experience would be good for me. And the cash. Gotta put myself through college somehow, and it was this or stripping.”

He laughed, and you felt a flash of warmth in your stomach, a familiar hunger spreading across your lower body. Maybe it was just the atmosphere of the set, but the air was charged with arousal.

“Well, you're certainly attractive enough to do both jobs. I'm sure the camera is going to love you,” he said, sounding so genuine and enthusiastic that you almost felt bad you had to correct him.

“Oh! Oh, no, Spencer, I'm not - I'm, uh, I'm going to be behind the camera. Behind camera number two.”

His face instantly flushed, and you thought you saw a pang of disappointment there for a second, too. The thought of him being disappointed made your skin heat, that he'd been looking forward somehow to watching you get fucked? Your cunt throbbed and suddenly, you found you did wish to display yourself, to let everyone see if it meant that he got to.

“I am so sorry. I didn't - I thought… No, I didn't think, I… I'll shut up now, please excuse me-”

“No, Spencer, wait-”

You tried to call after him, but he sent you an embarrassed smile and walked off in haste, leaving you behind as the director called people to their places.

You were still flushed with arousal as you moved to your station, getting your camera ready for filming. You were distracted even as the scene started, and the female actress came on set, already stripped down to her underwear and touching herself, teasing the camera.

Surprisingly, you found the work easy enough, too busy focusing on the settings and the gaze of the camera to even care about what was going on down the lens. She was moaning and writhing and gasping sure, to the benefit of the cameras, and although strangely intimate, nobody in the room seemed bothered, so neither did you.

Or neither did you until the actual scenario started, and your actress got ‘caught’ doing the dirty by the needy boy next door. You hadn't looked at the call sheet closely enough as Spencer peeped through the door to the bedroom, entering the scene not by accident but as a scripted part of the show.

Your eyes bulged out of your head as you immediately looked down to your prompt sheet to find his name there.

LEAD ACTOR: SPENCER REID

His stage name was scribbled next to that, but you paid it no attention as you steadied your camera again and got to filming seriously again.

The actress had pulled his glasses off and led him to the bed, letting him keep on his sweater vest and tie as she pulled his head between her legs, and he started doing his job.

Even from your view to the side of him, you could tell this wasn't his first time doing that. His tongue spread across the expanse of her heat, first, letting her grind into his face, getting comfortable before he snaked a hand up to her stomach and held her in place for as long as he so desired.

Then, he rolled her clit into his mouth and sucked. The fake moans and whimpers suddenly became real as you saw the sheer skill of his tongue ripple through the woman's body.

You couldn't even be jealous at this point, despite how much you sorely wished that were you on the bed. Surely no girl had resorted to porn out of pure horny desire before, right?

After a while of letting her gasp and moan under his tongue, Spencer's fingers curled inside the other woman as well. The director called cut, and he kept his fingers there, even as they walked him through the next few shots, and instructed him to unzip his pants in the next few clips.

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself as the cameras started rolling again, and he did finally free himself from his tight khakis.

You knew you'd probably sign up for whatever was on offer at this company next to see that gift again. Spencer wasn't an impressive size or girth, nothing so alien or out of the ordinary that it only belonged in porn. It was just that his cock looked so… pretty.

He was an inch or two longer than any man you'd ever been with, you were sure, but his cock seemed to have an air of dignity about it.

You had to stop yourself at that thought. Dignity? Really? You were working part-time on a porn set, and there was suddenly dignity involved?

You rolled your shoulders back and tried to find your earlier unbothered attitude. But with his cock in his hands and his face slick with female arousal, you really couldn't bring yourself to think about anything less than his fingers roughly finger-fucking you.

You tried to close your eyes to it, to be blind, but the wet, sticky sounds only distracted you and you found yourself soon swaying, swaying, swaying until you had to catch yourself before the camera dropped.

With a shout of “yes, baby, yes,” the female star came on his face, sending up a furret of fluids as he just kept diligently stroking his cock, only stopping at the director's final yell of “CUT.”

“Perfect guys, let's get her up and drinking water again. You need to stay hydrated after all that,” he joked, a PA walking over to pass the actress a robe and a bottle of water as she walked off set.

You relaxed for a second, trying to find your quickest route out of the room so you wouldn't have to drool over the man's cock so obviously any more.

“FLUFFER? Where's the fluffer?” The director yelled, looking around for someone who obviously wasn't there yet.

“Well?”

Still, no one arrived to do whatever job they needed doing, and you felt desperate for escape.

“New girl, would you mind?” Some crew member called out from the sidelines, nodding at you.

“Oh, uh, sure,” you said, hoping that whatever job you agreed to would get you far enough from this room and the heat between your legs as possible. You were not a prude, and you would not bolt from your very first film shoot.

“Great, get on the bed and keep the boy company,” the director said before exiting the room.

You were absolutely on board with becoming a prude and bolting the scene as fast as your legs could carry you. Unfortunately, eight people still sat around, monitoring equipment and chatting on their breaks, and so you were forced to comply with the task.

“We meet again,” you greeted the man stiffly as you found him on the bed, an apprehensive, tight smile on his own face.

“You don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable, I can keep myself… occupied.”

You noticed then that his hand was still wrapped around his cock, giving it slow strokes, not enough to tip him over the edge, but just enough to maintain the erection.

“So the fluffer….?”

“Prepares the actors for the next scene? I need to stay- let say in shape.”

His face flushed crimson as your gaze slipped down to his cock in his hand.

“So you want me to-”

“NO. No, I usually only talk to the Fluffers. Look at them, you know?”

You nodded and found yourself suddenly going still, watching his face contort with pleasure as his eyes raked over your chest and legs.

You couldn't help but let your eyes dart south again, and fuck did you wish you hadn't. His spare hand fisted the sheets as he stroked himself gently, practically taunting himself with the light touch.

“You do this often?” you asked, trying to pretend you were open to having a normal conversation even while your brain begged you to climb into his lap and sink down as fast as you could.

“You mean maaturbate or the porn thing?”

“Porn.”

“No. No, I come in for a shoot every few months. One of these shoots tends to fund another semester of my PhD, so-”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were impressed by that admission, but your predominate thought was still “shit, shit, shit, shit.”

“That's impressive,” you said, only catching your words as they tripped out of your mouth. “THE PHD! The PhD, I mean not your… penis? Not that it isn’t appealing, or- or-.”

You tried your hardest to use the most clinical word you could, distancing yourself from the honeyed words you so wanted to drop in his ear to get him to crawl further up the bed and entice him to make his own scene with you.

“Thank you. It's my third,” he said, slightly more relaxed now that you were the flustered one.

“PhD that is. Not cock. I only have one of these.”

“One is enough,” you say, unable to stop the words tumbling out as your eyes again find themselves following each pump of his hand up and down his cock. Inwardly, you curse your friend for starting up her stupid business and paying you to simply exist in the same hemisphere as this man without being able to ride him.

“Do you want to touch it?” He asked, blurting the words out suddenly. As if God had answered your prayers, your heart leapt up into your throat, your pussy clenching around nothing as you shifted your hips closer to him.

You'd thought then that you'd quite enjoy bouncing on that thing yourself, but a handshake would have to do.

“So you have to stay hard, but-”

“But it's best I don't cum, yeah.”

“Okay. Noted.”

Slowly, you reached out a hand and gently wrapped each finger around the tip of his cock. He released himself and wrapped his now free hand around yours, setting the pace for you quickly as he engaged you in conversation again.

“So, where are you from?” He asked, as inept at small talk as you felt in that second.

You answered him without a fuss and returned the question. Las Vegas. That seemed to check out with how easily he'd broken into porn. There was always something happening in that city.

"How'd you get into the business?"

"Well, Vegas, you know. A producer saw a group of... street ladies offer me a freebie and gave me his card."

You went back and forth on questions like that for a few minutes before you noticed he was coughing every few seconds to mask moans and groans, evidently too into this to request you stop.

“Is it okay to…Can I touch you?” He asked, sounding very afraid of rejection at that second.

“Oh, um, yes. That'd only be fair, right?”

He ran a hand up your waist to the curve of your breast and pressed his fingers into one, digging into the skin as though it were a pillow, and he was testing it before he fell head first into it.

Maybe that was just wishful thinking, though.

Temporarily, you let go of him, popping the front buttons of your blouse until he could freely see all of your black and red bra, and feast on the tops of your dusty nipples, peaking out just above each cup.

You heard him inhale sharply, even as he tried to hide it, but you didn't care, too transfixed on the precum decorating his tip.

“Would you mind-” You started, but cut yourself off quickly, biting your lower lip.

“Mind?”

“Can I suck it?”

You didn't know where it came from because there were probably half a dozen other people still in the room, and mostly men. But dear god, he looked delicious, and you wanted just a little sample.

“Fuck yes,” he said, finally giving in and letting out a whole gust of breath as he slumped down a bit further, no longer holding himself rigid. “No, no, actually, please do. I'm begging, I'll beg-”

You cut him off by pushing yourself to your knees and crawling in between his, and seconds later, you were licking the length of his cock from the base of his balls all the way to that precious drop of precum.

Hard, but no cumming. You could do that. You'd never done it before, preferring to fully pleasure sexual partners any chance you got, but there was no time like the present to start learning.

Slowly, you wrapped your lips around his tip and sank down, taking one inch, then another, and then another. When you reached the base of his cock, you pushed that little bit further down, calming yourself and going slowly so you didn't gag, nose pushing into his neat public hair before pulling away just as slowly and doing it again.

You took him as deep down your throat as you could manage, and suddenly, it was like everything that kept your conversation casual and civil earlier had flown out the door. He threw his head back, fisted his hand in your hair, and moaned deep.

The sound shook you so much you almost pushed a hand into your own underwear and started fucking yourself, needing to prepare yourself for him like a good girl.

Around you, you could hear signs of the shoot starting back up again, people finding their places, still all but ignoring you deep-throating a porn star.

Spencer's breaths grew more rapid as you sucked him, hips becoming restless as he tried to lift up into your mouth, hand in your hair tightening as you realised your mistake.

You pulled off his cock and grasped it again, stroking it slowly, but it was too late. With a sharp moan and a twitch of his hips, Spencer so prettily decorated your chin and chest. His cum dripped down your face, hitting your cleavage and pushing further down to stain your nice black laced underwear white.

“Fuck! Sorry, I wasn't meant to do that, let me get some - Can I get a towel please? A baby wipe? Some tissue, anything?” His voice was panicked, but his hand on your head relaxed, and he brushed your hair gently behind your ear, as if comforting you.

He was panicked, for sure, but the crew calmly handed him everything he needed, as if they'd been in anticipation of just this thing happening. You supposed they probably were, this being a porn set. You were sure you were supposed to clean yourself up, but instead, he grabbed a wet tissue, leaving the pack just out of your reach.

He managed to clean your face off a bit before the director returned to the room with a laugh. Running a hand through his hair and messing it up slightly, the director turned back to you.

“We're five minutes out from shoot time,” he said, shaking his head. You started to apologise, but he stopped you with a hand.

“New girl, work whatever magic you just did and get him hard again. Five minutes.”

“W-What?” You spluttered, trying your best to rise from your knees, but ultimately failing. You were either stiff from the position or just weak with arousal.

“He just came, I don't think I can-”

“10 pictures I've done with that kid, and I haven't seen him cum that quickly ever before in my life. And certainly not just for some kitten licks. Do it.”

You turned back to Spencer, his cum still trickling down your chest, creating an almost uncomfortable stiffness as it dried up.

“Pleasure working with you?” You said, not-so-secretly ecstatic that you got to sample him once more.

“I'll be in your care,” he replied, as you begin softly kissing the head of his cock again, tipping his head back again and losing himself in the pleasure or your tongue.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #reiderslibrary #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #cmkinkbingo2024

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cup1drul3z · 21 days ago

Text

★ — SPARE PARTS

ᴄᴜᴘɪᴅꜱ ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ!

ꜰᴇᴍᴍᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴇᴄʜᴀɴɪᴄ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ | 5.3ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

TAGS : Size Difference, Cheating, Semi-Public sex, strap on, begging, degration, praise, sevika rides a motorcycle, porn with plot

A/N : i thought of this when i was i was watching the new final destination movie

SUMMARY : When your car breaks down on the edge of a crumbling marriage, the last person you expect to help is a grease-covered mechanic with a smart mouth and a cigarette tucked behind her ear. One scenic detour, one hell of a ride—and suddenly, you're not so sure going home is the right direction after all.

You pulled into the lot with a quiet, anxious curse, your car wheezing like it was on its last breath. The check engine light blinked mockingly on the dash. Gravel crunched under the tires as you rolled to a stop outside the garage—a squat, sun-faded building with an open bay door and the scent of burnt oil drifting through the thick afternoon heat.

You weren’t supposed to be here.

This wasn’t your kind of place.

But the brakes had slipped again, and your husband… hadn’t listened.

You stepped out slowly, heels wobbling as they met uneven rock. Your pink dress swished around your knees, delicate against the grit and sweat of the shop. You looked completely out of place—clean, pastel, pretty. Like a flower planted in concrete.

And then you tripped.

Your ankle wobbled, and you pitched forward with a startled gasp. You caught yourself before you hit the ground, but the embarrassment was already blooming red across your cheeks.

“Damn,” a voice drawled behind you, amused and low like smoke. “Didn’t know we were gettin’ royalty today.”

You looked up and met her eyes for the first time.

Tall. Grease-slicked skin. Black tank clinging to her thick frame, broad shoulders flexing as she wiped her hands on a dirty rag. Cargo pants stained with years of work. Her hair was tied back, her arm—one of them, mechanical—gleamed faintly in the light.

She wasn’t smiling with kindness. She was smirking like she knew things about you she shouldn’t. Like she’d already seen beneath the surface.

“I—sorry,” you stammered, brushing imaginary dust off your dress. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You lost?” she asked, stepping closer, the smirk still tugging at her lips.

“My car—brakes are weird. Light came on. I just… I needed someone to look at it.”

“First time here?” she asked, eyes dropping—slowly, shamelessly—to your legs, your dress, the clutch in your hand. Her gaze flicked back up to your face, then dipped to your left hand.

She spotted the ring instantly.

Of course she did.

You hesitated. “Yeah.”

Sevika—though you didn’t know her name yet—cocked her head, arching a brow.

“Figures.” Her tone was teasing, not unkind. “You don’t look like the usual crowd. Bit more… delicate.”

“I can leave,” you said, maybe a little too quick.

She chuckled, deep and rich. “Nah. You’re here. Might as well let me take a look.” She gestured toward the hood. “Pop it.”

You walked back to the driver’s seat, heat crawling up your neck as her eyes followed you. This wasn’t how your day was supposed to go. But when you hit the latch and heard her lift the hood with a low grunt, something inside you shifted.

You hadn’t even caught her name yet.

But something told you—you’d remember her for a long time.

Sevika leaned over the open hood, muscles flexing under her oil-slicked tank as she poked around with practiced fingers. The sound of her muttering lowly under her breath—half curses, half mechanical jargon—blended with the occasional metallic clink of tools.

You stood to the side, clutching your purse to your chest like it might shield you from the weight of her presence. The sun caught her jaw just right, highlighting the scar that cut through her cheek. She looked like she belonged here. Big, intimidating, covered in grease.

And yet, for some reason, her eyes had been on you more than the engine.

“Alright, sugar,” she finally said, pulling back and wiping her hands on the rag again. “Your brake line’s lookin’ real suspect. Engine’s runnin’ too hot, too. Probably the thermostat. Could be worse, but… it’s gonna cost you.”

You tensed. “How much?”

She gave you a number. One that made your stomach twist.

“Oh…” you said, unable to hide the drop in your voice.

Her gaze flicked up immediately. She caught it—the disappointment, the way your shoulders sagged just slightly, the way your lips parted but didn’t form words.

Her head tilted.

“…Tell you what,” she said suddenly, voice low and smooth, “we’ve got a real exclusive deal today.”

You blinked. “What kind of deal?”

She didn’t skip a beat. “If you’re wearin’ pink, you get half off.”

You stared at her. “Wait. Seriously?”

“Dead serious, sweetheart.” Her grin widened, cocky as hell. “Shop rule. I don’t make the rules, I just enforce ‘em.”

A snort came from the back of the shop. You glanced past her shoulder to see two of her coworkers—one of them elbowing the other, both clearly eavesdropping and thoroughly entertained. One mouthed “pink discount?” like he could barely hold in a laugh.

You turned back to Sevika, raising an eyebrow. “Is that a real thing, or are you just making it up to flirt with me?”

She leaned in just slightly, lowering her voice so only you could hear. “Maybe both.”

Your breath hitched.

“And,” she added with a lazy smirk, “looks real good on you, baby. Would’ve been a shame to let you leave without showin’ some appreciation.”

You opened your mouth—maybe to thank her, maybe to push back—but the words tangled somewhere in your throat. All you could do was look at her, taller than you, completely at ease, the heat of her body and the scent of engine oil clouding your head.

“Half off,” you repeated softly.

“Mm-hmm.” She winked. “Special customer service.”

Behind her, one of the guys fake-gagged. The other held up a wrench like it was a pretend trophy.

Sevika shot them a look over her shoulder. “Y’all got somethin’ to say?”

They immediately turned around like they hadn’t been listening. You swore one of them whispered, “She’s gonna make that poor girl combust.”

And honestly?

You were already halfway there.

The back room of the shop smelled like sawdust and old coffee. There was a crooked fan in the corner clicking with every spin and a faded poster of a pin-up girl taped above a dented filing cabinet. You stood near the wall, phone pressed to your ear, one heel kicked off because your ankle was starting to throb.

Voicemail.

Again.

You lowered the phone, staring at the screen like it might suddenly change, like he might call back with some half-hearted apology or excuse. But it just stayed blank. Quiet.

You swallowed hard and blinked up at the ceiling, willing the sting behind your eyes to go away.

It didn’t.

Tears slid hot down your cheeks before you could stop them, dragging streaks of mascara with them. You wiped at your face quickly, angrily, but it only made the smudging worse. Your lip quivered, and a soft sob escaped—small, like a secret.

“Hey.”

You turned sharply.

Sevika was standing in the doorway, one hand still wiping at a rag, the other pushing her hair back from her face. She took one look at you and the smirk she’d been wearing earlier softened instantly.

“You okay, doll?” she asked, stepping in slowly like she was afraid you’d bolt.

You turned your face away, embarrassed. “I’m fine. I just… I called him. I thought maybe—maybe he could come get me.”

Sevika didn’t say anything right away.

“He didn’t answer,” you added, voice cracking.

When you looked back at her, she was closer. Her eyes were on your face, lingering on the smeared black under your lashes. Her voice dropped, low and rough, gentle in a way that almost didn’t suit her.

“You’re cryin’, sweetheart.”

You laughed weakly, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. “I didn’t mean to. God, this is so stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

She tossed the rag onto a nearby workbench and leaned back against it, folding her arms. “You don’t gotta be sorry for feelin’ let down. Sounds like that’s somethin’ you’ve had to get used to.”

You looked up at her then, chest tight.

“I don’t wanna go home,” you admitted quietly. “Can I just… stay here? While you work? I’ll be quiet.”

Her brow lifted, surprised—but only for a second.

“Yeah, sugar,” she said softly, nodding. “You can stay as long as you want.”

You exhaled, a shaky breath of relief.

“It’s gonna be awhile,” Sevika added, voice dipping again into that teasing warmth. “Hope you don’t mind a little noise. And a lotta grease.”

“I don’t mind.”

You didn’t know what would come next, but right now… this felt like the first place all day that didn’t feel lonely.

The couch in the back room was barely more than a sunken rectangle of cracked faux leather, but after a few hours of waiting, your body had melted into it like it was a king-sized bed. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep—you’d just closed your eyes for a second. The hum of power tools had faded somewhere in the background, the scent of engine oil and warm metal oddly comforting.

Then you felt it—warm fingertips brushing your shoulder.

“Hey.”

You stirred, a hand instinctively rubbing at your eyes as you blinked up at the figure crouched in front of you.

Sevika.

Her dark brows were drawn together, hair a little messier than before, a new smudge of grease on her jaw. She looked tired but still solid, grounded, calm.

“You were out cold, baby,” she murmured, voice soft, almost fond. “Didn’t wanna wake you, but…”

You sat up slowly, blinking the haze away. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to—”

She waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. But… your car’s gonna take longer than I thought. One of the parts is shot. I’ve gotta order it in.”

Your brain took a second to catch up. “Wait, so… it’s not done?”

She tilted her head. “Not tonight, sweetheart.”

You turned your head toward the window behind you, parting the crooked blinds with your fingers—and froze.

Your jaw dropped. “It’s night?!”

The sky outside was inky, the street lamps buzzing faintly against the glass. You’d been here for hours.

“Y’been snorin’ through sunset,” Sevika said, rising to her full height with a teasing smirk. “Missed my best flirting, too.”

You groaned, rubbing your face with both hands. “God, I didn’t think it was that late…”

She chuckled and reached a hand out toward you, palm open. “C’mon. You need a ride home or what?”

You hesitated for just a breath, then nodded.

Your smaller hand slipped into hers, warm and calloused and strong. She pulled you up gently, steadying you when your heel wobbled again.

“Still wearin’ those things?” she teased, glancing down.

“I wasn’t exactly planning on a full day in a mechanic’s waiting room,” you muttered, lips twitching despite yourself.

Sevika didn’t let go of your hand right away.

And you… didn’t pull away either.

You followed her out the back, your fingers still loosely curled around hers until she let go with a quiet grunt, pushing open the metal door. It creaked on its hinges and let out a gust of cooler night air, the scent of rain on pavement lingering somewhere in the distance.

Then you saw it.

“No.”

Sevika stepped aside, motioning casually with one hand. “Your chariot awaits.”

“No,” you said again, this time more forcefully, clutching your little purse to your chest like a shield.

Sitting in the glow of the security light was a black motorcycle. Sleek, loud-looking even while silent. The chrome gleamed like fangs, and the seat was clearly built for someone who didn’t own a single pink dress.

You shook your head, heels digging into the gravel. “Absolutely not. Nope. No way.”

Sevika was already swinging a leg over, the leather seat creaking under her as she settled into place, boots planted firmly. “She’s cleaner than your car, princess. Safer, too.”

“That thing doesn’t even have seatbelts.”

“Don’t need ‘em,” she said, tugging a helmet down over her head. She patted the seat behind her. “You’ll hold on to me.”

You made a strangled sound in the back of your throat and squeezed your purse tighter, like that would somehow make the machine in front of you less real. “I’m wearing heels. And a dress. I’ll fall off and die.”

“I’ll catch you,” she said, that cocky grin in her voice. “Promise.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. “This is insane.”

“Little bit,” she agreed. “But I’m tellin’ you, it’s either this… or walkin’ in those pretty shoes for five miles.”

You groaned and looked up at the sky like maybe the universe would smite you before you had to make a decision. But no lightning came. Just Sevika, leaning slightly to one side, flexing her arm as she reached behind to pat the seat again.

“C’mon, baby,” she coaxed, voice low and gravelly. “You trust me?”

That shouldn’t have made your stomach flutter—but it did.

You took one cautious step forward, heels wobbling on the loose gravel. “I swear to God, if I die—”

“You won’t.” She was already grinning behind the helmet, cocky and assured.

You swung your leg over the bike with a little whimper, your dress riding up just a bit as you settled behind her. Your arms hesitated—until the engine turned over with a roar and you instinctively wrapped them tight around her waist, pressing close to her back.

She laughed. “See? Told you. You hold on real sweet.”

You didn’t answer. Your heart was already pounding.

And Sevika hadn’t even touched the throttle yet.

You kept your eyes clamped shut the entire time the bike moved, your arms locked tight around Sevika’s middle, cheek pressed against the bare skin of her shoulder where her tank had slipped slightly. The wind roared past you, your hair whipping wildly behind, and your heart thudded so loud you could barely hear the engine.

Every bump in the dirt road made your stomach lurch. Every turn had you tensing, legs gripping her thighs like your life depended on it.

And maybe it did.

But then you felt it—the shift. The change in direction. The bike curved instead of cutting straight. You knew your neighborhood, and this wasn’t it.

Your brows pulled together. “This… this isn’t the way to my house,” you said, voice muffled against her.

She didn’t slow down. “Relax, sweetheart. Just takin’ the scenic route.”

“The what?”

“Open your eyes.”

“I’m scared.”

A beat passed. Then her voice, low and a little softer this time: “Do you trust me?”

You hesitated.

Your fingers curled into her shirt tighter as you bit your lip. Then, slowly, you cracked one eye open—and turned your head.

Your breath caught.

You guys were higher up than you realized. A narrow dirt road twisted along the side of a hill, the drop steep but not dangerous. Below, the ocean stretched out like black silk, the moon hanging low and bright above it, silver light shimmering across the waves. The wind pulled at your dress, tugged at your curls, and for a second, the world felt… still.

Your lips parted, your gaze stuck on the glow of the water, the way it moved like it was breathing.

“Sevika,” you said suddenly, voice louder than you meant it. “Pull over.”

Her helmet shifted toward you, tone confused. “What? You gonna throw up?”

You shook your head fast. “No—just… please. Pull over.”

Without another word, she slowed the bike, gravel crunching as she rolled to a stop at the edge of the overlook. The engine purred for a moment, then cut off with a soft click.

The sudden silence was deafening.

Sevika turned slightly toward you, one gloved hand still on the handlebar. “You alright?”

You swung a leg off the bike carefully, boots crunching the dirt, and stood up. Your dress fluttered around your thighs, the cool night air licking your skin.

You didn’t answer her.

You were still staring at the moonlight—your heart thudding for a very different reason now.

You stood near the edge, arms folded tight under your chest, heart still racing from the ride—but now, for different reasons.

The ocean stretched below like a secret, glittering and vast, the wind tugging at your dress, sending goosebumps down your bare arms. You could hear Sevika’s boots crunch over the dirt behind you, slow and deliberate. No words. Just the heavy silence of everything unsaid.

She stopped just behind you.

Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her.

You turned.

Your eyes traveled up her chest, her neck, and finally to her face—grease-smeared, moonlit, those sharp, dark eyes already on yours. You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to.

Your breath hitched.

Then—

You both moved at once.

Mouths crashing together with a hunger neither of you had dared admit until now. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t shy. It was desperate—your hands flying to her shoulders, gripping tight as her lips slanted over yours again and again. Her mouth was warm and rough and so real, tasting faintly of smoke and sweat and something dark you couldn’t name.

Sevika’s hands found your waist, pulling you flush against her as she groaned low in her throat. Her grip was firm, bordering on possessive, and you melted under it like you’d been waiting for this—craving this.

You gasped softly when her teeth grazed your bottom lip, and she took the opening to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth with a practiced ease that made your knees tremble.

Your fingers curled in the front of her tank, tugging her closer, greedy for the weight of her, the warmth of her, the way she kissed like it was a challenge and a promise all in one.

She tilted her head, one hand slipping up your back, cupping the nape of your neck, the other pressing you in by your hip like she couldn’t stand to leave any space between you.

The sound of your breath mixing with hers, the ocean crashing below, the wind in your hair—it all blurred together.

You forgot about your husband.

You forgot the broken car.

All you could think about was Sevika’s lips on yours, and how you never wanted her to stop.

You pulled away from her lips, breathless, lips tingling, heart pounding so loud it was all you could hear.

Then you turned, breath catching as you pointed. “The beach,” you said, voice light, a little wild. “Let’s go down there.”

Sevika blinked, still dazed from the kiss. “Wait—what?”

But you were already grabbing her hand, warm fingers curling around her calloused ones. You gave one firm tug and started heading down the trail like you weren’t in a dress and heels, like you weren’t about to descend a rickety set of wooden stairs clinging to the side of a cliff.

“Baby,” Sevika laughed, jogging to keep up, “Your in heels, remember?”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t slow down.

You didn’t even hesitate when your heels clicked on the warped old steps, the wood creaking beneath your weight. You barely noticed. All you could feel was the buzz under your skin, the ocean breeze in your face, and Sevika’s hand warm in yours.

You reached the bottom breathless, the sand cool and soft under your feet, and kicked off your shoes without a thought. The hem of your dress swirled around your knees as you walked straight into the water, giggling when it soaked the fabric and lapped against your thighs.

The moon shimmered on the surface, the waves glowing silver, and you turned around to see her just standing there at the shoreline—wet boot prints in the sand, arms crossed over her chest, expression unreadable.

“C’mon,” you whispered, holding your arms out toward her. “It’s warm.”

She hesitated only a second longer before muttering something under her breath—probably about how crazy you were—and stepping into the tide. Her pants soaked almost immediately, sticking to her thighs as she reached you.

And you didn’t wait.

You surged into her arms and caught her mouth in another kiss.

It was messier this time, wetter, your hands sliding up into her hair as the waves curled around your calves. Sevika’s arms locked tight around your waist, lifting you slightly so the water wouldn’t knock you off your feet.

You gasped as she walked you backward, lips still fused with yours, the ocean swirling around you both. Your soaked dress clung to your skin, your nipples tight against the fabric, and you felt her groan into your mouth at the contact.

One of her hands slid down to grip the back of your thigh, hoisting it up over her hip as the kiss deepened, and suddenly you weren’t thinking about anything but her tongue, her hands, the way her body felt between your legs.

The ocean roared, the moonlight bathed you in silver, and her name slipped from your mouth like a prayer.

Her hands were everywhere.

The tide pushed around your thighs, the water warm, but not as warm as the heat building between your legs with every slide of Sevika’s fingers across your soaked dress. She kissed you like she owned the air in your lungs, teeth grazing your bottom lip, her hand still gripping your thigh tight where it was hooked around her hip.

You moaned into her mouth as she rocked you gently against her body, the wet fabric of your dress riding up with every little movement. The waves swirled around your waist, but Sevika’s hands were far more dangerous than the ocean.

One of them trailed up your side, dragging the hem of your dress with it, exposing more skin to the cool night air—and to her. You shivered, but not from cold.

"That’s it," she muttered, lips brushing your jaw, her breath hot against your skin. “Look at you, baby… dress stickin’ to every curve. Bet you didn’t think you’d end up in the water with someone like me, huh?”

You whimpered when her hand slid down, fingertips grazing between your legs through the fabric. The water had your dress clinging like a second skin, and she rubbed slow, deliberate circles with her knuckles where she knew you were aching.

“Sevika—” you gasped, your voice cracking when her thumb pressed against your clit through the fabric, dragging back and forth with maddening pressure.

“Shh,” she purred, nipping at your throat. “You want me to stop?”

You shook your head fast, legs trembling even as the waves splashed against you both.

She chuckled darkly. “Didn’t think so.”

Her hand slipped under your dress, finally touching bare skin—fingertips dancing up the inside of your thigh until they reached your center. The pad of her finger dragged along your slit, and she groaned low at how wet you were, even beyond the ocean.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” she muttered, fingers teasing you with the lightest touch. “You’re so ready for me.”

You gasped again, rocking your hips against her hand, your head falling back as her fingers finally slipped between your folds, slow and deliberate, stroking up and down with devastating control.

The ocean rocked around you, but you only felt her—her breath, her hands, her body flush against yours.

Her lips found yours again, tongue slipping into your mouth as two fingers pushed inside you—slow, firm, stretching you just enough to make your knees buckle.

She held you there, arm strong around your waist as she fucked you with slow, purposeful thrusts, her thumb still circling your clit. Each movement pulled another moan from your throat, your back arching, hips chasing her hand like you couldn’t get close enough.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ sound,” she growled against your mouth. “You gonna come for me, right here in the water?”

You nodded helplessly, fingers digging into her shoulders, thighs trembling as the pressure built—wave after wave, just like the ocean around you.

The waves lapped higher around your waist, but you barely noticed—too lost in the rhythm of Sevika’s fingers, the burn curling low in your belly, the way her mouth never left your skin for long.

You whimpered against her shoulder, thighs beginning to shake, and that’s when she pulled back, just a little.

“Mm-mm,” she murmured, smirking as she withdrew her fingers slow, dragging them through your folds one last time before lifting you effortlessly with both hands under your thighs. “We’re not finishin’ this in the ocean, sweetheart. Sand’s softer.”

You let her carry you the few steps up the beach, the cool wind wrapping around your dripping body, dress clinging to your skin as you half-laughed, half-gasped against her shoulder. When she finally laid you down, the sand was warm beneath you—coarse, but comforting. Safe.

You barely had time to breathe before she was on her knees between your legs, pushing your soaked dress higher up your hips, her eyes dark with want as she took you in.

"You're beautiful like this," she rasped, voice wrecked, thick with hunger.

You went to speak, but the words got lost somewhere in your throat as she leaned in—mouth grazing your inner thigh, just shy of where you needed her. Her breath was hot against your wet underwear.

Then—

Without breaking eye contact, Sevika dipped her head, lips latching onto the edge of the fabric.

You gasped, watching her teeth tug the damp cloth down slowly, inch by inch. Her mouth brushed against the inside of your thigh as she worked, dragging the soaked underwear off with her teeth in one slow, maddening motion. She let the ruined fabric fall somewhere to the side, and then… her hands pushed your knees apart gently, reverently.

“Hold still, baby,” she whispered, licking a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance up to your clit. “Gonna make you forget every single thing but me.”

Your head dropped back into the sand with a soft cry, fingers already finding their way into her hair.

Her tongue moved slow at first, savoring every inch, teasing circles around your clit before latching on with enough suction to make your hips jerk. Her grip on your thighs tightened—not to stop you, but to keep you open for her.

She groaned against your pussy like you were her first drink in days, eating you like she needed it—like she deserved it. She switched between long, flat licks and gentle sucks, her tongue working you apart with practiced ease.

"Fuck—Sevika," you gasped, fingers tangled tight in her hair now, your thighs trembling around her shoulders.

She didn’t stop.

She didn’t want to.

The ocean crashed nearby, the moon glowed above, and her mouth on you was the only thing grounding you as the pressure coiled tighter and tighter in your gut—ready to snap.

Your thighs were trembling, muscles tight, breath catching in your throat as Sevika’s tongue flicked just right—again, and again, and again.

And then it hit you.

Your back arched off the sand with a choked moan, fingers clawing at her shoulders as heat snapped through your core like a firework, blinding and all-consuming. Your thighs clenched around her head, and you barely noticed her holding you open, keeping her mouth on you through every wave of release. You cried out, hips bucking, legs shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm ripped through you, soaking her lips, the sand, your own thighs.

Sevika finally pulled back, her chin wet, her mouth glistening.

“Fuck,” you gasped, breathless, your voice a broken whisper. “Fuck—”

Your chest heaved, dress pushed up, skin flushed, mascara still faintly smudged under your eyes. You looked wrecked in the best way—glowing, dizzy, strands of hair stuck to your damp face.

Sevika grinned down at you, licking her lips and dragging her tongue slowly across her teeth.

“Pretty little thing,” she murmured, letting her hand glide up your thigh possessively. “But we’re not done yet.”

You blinked through the haze, pushing yourself up weakly on your elbows—just in time to see her reach into one of the big side pockets of her cargo pants.

And pull out… a full-on strap.

You blinked again. “Is that—?”

She held it up casually, the harness already half buckled, her tone completely unfazed. “Just in case. Never know when someone needs a good lay.”

Your jaw dropped a little as you stared between her and the toy. “You carry that around with you?”

Sevika just shrugged, smirking as she started strapping it on, muscles flexing with every tug. “Let’s just say I like to be prepared, baby.”

You bit your lip hard, still flushed and pulsing from your orgasm, but suddenly aching again at the sight of her—hair tousled, strap-on slung low over her hips, eyes locked on you like she was already imagining what you’d sound like screaming her name again.

And when she crawled back over you, settling between your thighs, you didn’t even think to protest.

You just opened up for her.

Sevika knelt between your spread legs, the weight of her frame casting a shadow over you as she stroked one hand along the inside of your thigh, slow and possessive. Her other hand gripped the base of the strap, the thick shaft lined up perfectly between your folds.

“Look at you,” she muttered, voice low and ragged, dragging the head through your slick with deliberate slowness. “Already soaked. Didn’t even need prep, did you, baby?”

You whimpered, hips twitching, back arching as she teased your entrance. “Please…”

“Please what?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she leaned over you, the tip just nudging against you without pushing in. “Gotta use your words if you want something, sweetheart.”

“Please fuck me,” you gasped, shame and heat climbing up your throat. “I—I need it, Sevika, I—”

“Oh, needy little thing,” she growled, and then she slammed her hips forward.

You cried out, body jerking as the strap filled you in one hard thrust—stretching you wide, forcing a broken moan from your lips. Sevika didn’t stop to let you adjust. She set a brutal pace immediately, driving into you with deep, rough strokes, the sand shifting beneath your body with every thrust.

Your moans turned to choked gasps, hands clawing at her back, her arms, anything you could reach. She was everywhere—her body against yours, her cock slamming into your dripping cunt, her breath hot on your ear as she leaned down close.

“This what you needed, huh?” she snarled, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand. “A real fuckin’ lay? Not that lazy excuse of a man you’ve got at home.”

You whined under her, overwhelmed, overstimulated, completely split open beneath her. “Yes—yes, please—don’t stop—”

��Fuck, you sound so good when you beg,” she groaned, teeth grazing your jaw. “So fuckin’ wet. Bet he’s never even made you come like that.”

“He hasn’t,” you admitted breathlessly, broken between moans. “No one—no one ever has—fuck—”

Sevika’s hand snaked between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, brutal circles in rhythm with her thrusts. “Then take it, baby. Take what I’m givin’ you.”

You sobbed her name, legs trembling as the pressure built again—so fast it felt like you were going to explode.

“Greedy little slut,” she whispered in your ear, hips slamming into you, her cock bottoming out with every thrust. “You like gettin’ used like this, don’t you?”

You nodded frantically, gasping, “Yes—yes, Sevika, please—I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna come—”

“That’s it,” she growled. “Come on my cock. Show me who you really belong to.”

The orgasm hit like a freight train—white-hot and blinding. You screamed, body arching off the sand as your walls clenched tight around the strap, your vision going hazy at the edges. Your release soaked down your thighs, mixing with the saltwater and sweat and sand clinging to your skin.

Sevika didn’t stop right away—thrusting through it, drawing out every last spasm until you were writhing under her, begging her to slow down, your voice wrecked and raw.

Finally, she pulled out slow, her cock glistening, your body trembling in the moonlight.

Sevika looked down at you—sweaty, fucked-out, barely breathing.

She smirked.

“Yeah,” she murmured, brushing your messy hair off your face with a surprisingly soft touch. “That’s what I thought.”

You were still trembling, your body sinking into the sand, when Sevika’s hands gripped your hips again.

You whined, breath hitching as she hauled you up onto your knees, flipping you over like you weighed nothing. Your cheek pressed to the sand, hands digging into it for leverage as she guided your ass back toward her with a low growl of approval.

“Not done with you yet,” she muttered, lining the strap up against your entrance again. “Still got some fight in you. I can feel it.”

“Sevika—” you gasped, voice shaky. “I can’t—”

“You will.” Her hand came down hard on your ass, a sharp slap that made you cry out, the sting blooming warm across your skin. “Be a good girl. Take it.”

You whimpered but arched for her, your body betraying your words as your thighs parted wider in the sand.

“That’s it,” she said, low and smug, her hand dragging over your ass as she pressed the head of the strap against your dripping cunt. “Knew you were filthy underneath all that pink.”

She slammed into you in one hard thrust, burying herself to the hilt with a groan. You screamed—raw, helpless—fingers clawing at the sand as she set a brutal rhythm, hips smacking against your ass over and over, the sound echoing under the moonlight.

Your moans came in gasps, high and wrecked, your body jerking with every thrust. “F-fuck—Sevika—deeper—!”

“You got it, baby,” she growled, one hand gripping your hair and tugging your head back so your cries spilled into the night air. “Look at you. Taking cock like you were made for it.”

You sobbed something incoherent, stars dancing in your vision.

Her other hand slid under your body, fingers curling back around your clit—ruthless, fast. The pressure snapped again almost instantly, your orgasm crashing down on you so hard it punched the air from your lungs. You screamed into the sand as you came, body convulsing, legs shaking violently under her.

Sevika fucked you through it—rough and unrelenting—until your body collapsed, trembling and boneless in the surf-warmed sand.

She finally slowed, breath heavy, palm smoothing over your spine as she pulled out and let you fall into her lap, both of you soaked, breathless, wild.

The waves curled around your feet again. Your dress was bunched at your waist. Your legs were coated in sweat, slick, and seawater.

You blinked blearily over your shoulder at her. “You’re insane.”

Sevika grinned down at you, eyes dark and satisfied. “Told you I like to be prepared.”

You let out a breathless, wrecked laugh and mumbled, “What else is in those damn pockets?”

She smirked, reached down, and pulled out a cigarette.

Lit it with one hand and took a long drag.

“Guess you’ll have to find out next time.”

#arcane #arcane sevika #sevika #lesbian #sevika x reader #wlw #wuh luh wuh #sissormetimbers

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lovelysmutswriter · 1 month ago

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Special Gym Exercise Pt. 1

This isn’t your average fitness center—it’s a private, ultra-exclusive gym reserved for the wealthy elite. Lavish interiors, state-of-the-art equipment, and a serene atmosphere define this hidden haven. But hey, life isn’t so bad when a generous rich friend slips you a guest pass to this luxury workout paradise. Most of the time, this exclusive gym feels like your own private gym, silent, spotless, and completely empty. But one day, you walked in and someone had already beaten you to it. Just one person: a girl in a white gym top and black leggings with a nice ass, quietly focused in the corner. You both mind your own workouts inside, at least for some time. You have done Barbell Squats, Kettlebell Swing, Romanian Deadlifts and Curtsy Lunge. Now it's a turn for some Hip Thrusts. While doing Hip Thrusts, you saw how amazed she was. She went for some Back Squat workout. But... While doing Back Squat her ass faces in your direction where you can clearly see the form. Big and juicy, must be tasty. Doing Back Squat with almost no weight, yet she is making lewd sound. "AAAAH, OOOOH, YES AAAH" - almost like she was seducing you. She got your attention, and you lost focus by looking at her ass. She knew she got your attention and looked at you with a lewd face and continued with the lewd screams. Now moving towards you. "Hey you like what you see?" with a teasing voice

"Uhm yeah its beautiful, but I'm so sorry if this made your uncomfortable" You stuttered "I'm just joking, you can keep looking." - She winked and continued and then asked "Whats your name?"

You introduced yourself and she introduced herself. "I'm Imane Anys, you come here often?" "Only lately, how about you?" - You two asked questions back and forth. "I workout here from time to time, so what do you do? Here is quite an exclusive gym, usually only rich people can access it, I'm a streamer myself alias Pokimane but you can call me Poki if you like." "Oh, I'm just a student at the moment, I got this card from my rich friend" "Well anyways, you look strong, maybe you can help out with my workout?" - Poki indicates something you couldn't imagine. "Yeah yeah sure sure, how can I help?" She leads you to a workout bench, where you sit down and her kneeling down. Baffled and confused as you are, but follows her lead. She pulls off your pants "Wow you're big and this is not even hard yet" - Amazed Poki as she has a little sniff of a strong mans cock. She continued saying you better show how strong you are. Indeed you have to show her what you are capable of, you grabbed her white top and ripped it off, this should show enough how strong you are. "Oh fuck yes you are strong, now I will explain my rules of workout, ok?" You nodding as she explains more detail. "We are gonna do different workout positions and usually it in sets and reps, so this position will have 5 sets with 10 reps" "GURP ONE...GURP TOWWOOWOO...GURP THWEEE....GAWK GAWK FFFFOORR...G....GAWK FIIII....." - Poki deepthroated the whole cock while you were grabbing both her tits and played with them until the sets was done. The first workout positions done, she was panting heavily "Wow this was amazing...and now into another position" - She stood up with excitement and wiggled her ass in front of you. "You know what to do" - Wiggle wiggle wiggle You ripped off into some holes of her tight black leggings, enough for her asshole and pussy to be used for the next workout position. You are still sitting down as she takes your cock and leads into her pussy. Down up down up down up. This workout position has 10 sets 10 reps. Down up down up down up. Luckily there is still no one in the gym, her moans and screams are so loud from the pleasure. Last two sets you showed her what real workouts are for, you were thrusting upwards while she was moving down. "FUCK YES AAAAH YOU ARE USING MY HOLE CORRECTLY YESS FUCK" - Screaming from pleasure while her pussy juices are dripping. Workout position 3 - She stands up and leans on the workout bench, a standing doggy position. 10 sets and 10 reps per set. You grabbed her thick hips and pounded at a fast pace, firm and rough. You realize because it's 10 per set, you last so much longer. For hours you two workout in many different fun positions. But you two understand this has to an end soon, now last workout position, Pokimane's favorite and this doesn't have any set or reps, just pure workout. She leads you to a yoga mat on the floor, and in front a mirror. Her face is down and her juice ass is up, her hands pointing to her asshole and saying. - "Rough, fast, no mercy, no pauses, and cum inside" You inserted into her tight asshole and as she wished. Her moans and her face showed in the mirror reflection, eye rolled up and lip biting, she is totally lost in euphoria state. After non stop of pounding her asshole you are finally going to burst "NNNNGGGGH TAKE IT!!!" . You are such a good sport listen to what she says. ROUGH, FAST, NO MERCY, NO PAUSES and CUM INSIDE, indeed. Both of you are exhausted from the workouts, sweaty but happy. "Hey, lets "workout" together every friday here from now on" - Poki said with a lewd seducing way. Well you can't say no to free pussy and ass.

#otv smut #poki smut

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laufeyslegacy · 3 months ago

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Roar

Summary: A dare for a YouTube video changed Sharky's life forever

Song: Pink and White · Frank Ocean

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 3.0k

Sharky, whose real name was lost to the annals of time and teenage bravado, felt a cold dread prickle his skin. He stood with Chunks and Kenny, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the bustling boardwalk.

They were filming a dare video for their YouTube channel, a tradition that usually involved eating questionable substances or performing mildly embarrassing public stunts. But this… this felt different.

He pulled the folded slip of paper from the box, the flimsy paper feeling suddenly heavy in his hand.

He cleared his throat, the microphone amplifying the sound, and read aloud, his voice wavering slightly, "Go do your roar to the nearest prettiest girl you see."

Chunks and Kenny exploded with laughter. "Ooh, Sharky's gonna get some!" Chunks yelled, slapping him on the back hard enough to make him stumble.

Sharky, despite his nickname, wasn't exactly known for his confidence, especially not with girls. The 'roar' was a stupid, self-deprecating gimmick he used in their videos – a terrible imitation of a shark’s rawr, usually deployed for comedic effect.

The thought of directing it at an actual girl, a pretty one no less, made his stomach churn.

"Come on, Sharky! You gotta do it so we can win this video!" Chunks urged, his face alight with mischievous glee. "Think of the views!"

He knew they were right. This video had the potential to go viral. He just had to swallow his pride, and a whole lot of awkwardness. "Alright," he muttered, the word barely audible. He scanned the crowd, his eyes darting nervously. He already knew who he was going to choose, though. He'd been subtly, almost unconsciously, eyeing her ever since they’d set up their cameras.

She was standing alone near the pier entrance, a figure of quiet composure amidst the chaos of the boardwalk. She had her back to him, but he could see the way the sun caught the highlights in her hair, the delicate curve of her neck.

She was wearing a simple sundress, and the way it moved in the gentle breeze was mesmerizing. She looked like she was waiting for someone, which meant he had to be quick.

Taking a deep breath, Sharky detached himself from the group and started to walk towards her, each step feeling heavier than the last.

His palms were sweating, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face. He could hear Chunks and Kenny's encouraging shouts behind him, but they were fading into a muffled background buzz.

As he got closer, he could see her face. She was even more beautiful than he’d imagined. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed lost in thought.

He almost froze, the absurdity of his mission hitting him full force. He was about to ruin this girl's peaceful afternoon with his stupid 'roar' for the sake of a YouTube video.

He was close enough now. He could smell the faint scent of sunscreen and something floral, and in that moment, he almost turned back. But then he remembered the pressure, the expectation, the chance for viral fame.

He stopped a few feet behind her, cleared his throat again, and launched into his cringeworthy routine. He puffed out his chest, widened his eyes, and let out the most ridiculous, exaggerated "Rawr!" he could muster, complete with flailing arms and a goofy grin.

The girl jumped, startled, and spun around, her eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, she just stared at him, her expression unreadable. Sharky braced himself for the inevitable ridicule.

"I… I'm so sorry," he stammered, his face burning. "It was a dare. For a video. I know it was stupid."

She blinked, then a slow smile spread across her face. "That was… unexpected," she said, her voice soft and melodic.

Sharky couldn't believe it. She wasn't angry? She wasn't laughing at him?

"Yeah, well, sorry about that," he mumbled, shuffling his feet. "I should probably go." He started to turn away, eager to escape the awkwardness he'd created.

"Wait," she said, her hand lightly touching his arm. He froze, his heart pounding in his chest. "What kind of video?"

He hesitated, then explained, "We're Beta Squad. We do stupid challenges and stuff. It's… it's dumb, I know."

Her smile widened. "No, it sounds kind of fun. I'm [Your Name], by the way."

He couldn't believe this was happening. He'd just ruined this girl's afternoon with his ridiculous 'roar,' and now she was introducing herself.

"[Your Name]," he repeated, the name feeling foreign and beautiful on his tongue. "I'm Sharky. Well, not really. It's just a nickname."

"I figured," she said, her eyes twinkling. "So, Sharky, what other ridiculous dares are you going to do today?"

He chuckled, surprised at how easily he was talking to her. "Hopefully none as embarrassing as that one. Unless you want to hear another 'roar'?"

"Maybe later," she said playfully. "So, what were you guys doing here anyway?"

He explained about the dare video, about Beta Squad, about their aspirations for YouTube fame. She listened intently, her eyes never leaving his. He found himself talking more freely than he ever usually did, the initial awkwardness melting away under her genuine interest.

He learned that she was waiting for a friend, who was running late. She was an artist, she told him, and she drew inspiration from the ocean, the people, the vibrant energy of the boardwalk.

As they talked, Sharky forgot all about the cameras, about Chunks and Kenny, about the pressure of the video. He was simply captivated by her presence, by her intelligence, by her kind eyes.

Finally, her friend arrived, a whirlwind of apologies and hurried greetings. [Your Name] turned to Sharky. "It was really nice meeting you, Sharky," she said, her smile genuine. "Good luck with your video."

"You too, [Your Name]," he replied, his heart sinking slightly as she turned to leave. "Maybe… maybe I'll see you around?"

"Maybe," she said, and then she was gone, swallowed by the crowd.

Sharky stood there for a moment, dazed, the boardwalk noises suddenly seeming louder, more intrusive. He walked back to where Chunks and Kenny were waiting, their faces alight with anticipation.

"Dude, what happened?" Chunks asked, clapping him on the shoulder. "You were gone for ages! Did you get her number?"

Sharky shook his head. "No," he said, his voice distracted. "But… I talked to her. For a while."

Kenny grinned. "Well, did you get the shot? Let's see the footage!"

Sharky nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He knew the footage would be gold for their channel, a moment of pure, unadulterated cringe. But all he could think about was [Your Name], her smile, her voice, the way she had made him feel.

The video went viral, as expected. The 'roar' clip was endlessly shared and memed, bringing Beta Squad a surge of new subscribers.

Sharky was initially thrilled, but as the views climbed, a sense of unease began to settle in. He felt like he had exploited [Your Name], reduced her to a punchline in his stupid online persona.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to apologize, to explain himself properly. He started frequenting the boardwalk, hoping to run into her again. He walked past the pier entrance countless times, his eyes scanning the crowd, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Weeks turned into months, and Sharky began to lose hope. He started avoiding the boardwalk, the memories of his encounter with [Your Name] too painful to bear.

He felt like he had missed his chance, ruined a potential connection for the sake of fleeting online fame.

Sharky adjusted the microphone clipped to his Clean Heartz t-shirt, a nervous energy thrumming through him. On camera, he projected his usual goofy charm, but underneath, his heart hammered against his ribs.

He was doing a solo video, a comedic take on a dating show called “Finding Love,” where he’d supposedly choose a partner based on… well, based on increasingly ridiculous criteria.

The flimsy curtain separating him from the five unseen contestants rustled. He cleared his throat. “Alright, ladies! Welcome to ‘Finding Love with Sharky!’ I’m your host, your future husband, your… well, you get the picture. Let the introductions begin!”

He gestured dramatically. “Contestant Number One, tell us about yourself!”

A clear, confident voice responded, “Hi, I’m Emily, and I’m a doctor.”

“Ooh, a doctor! Impressive!” Sharky quipped, playing to the imagined audience. The Beta Squad boys were probably howling with laughter back in the control room. He could practically hear Chunkz’s booming guffaws.

“Number Two?”

“Hi, I’m Sarah, and I’m a teacher,” came the reply, equally bright and cheerful.

“Teachers are amazing! Shaping the minds of tomorrow!” Sharky exclaimed, laying it on thick. He was a natural showman, even when the show was utter nonsense.

“Number Three?”

“Hi, I’m Catherine, and I’m an entrepreneur,” a slightly more sophisticated voice declared.

Sharky raised an eyebrow. “Entrepreneur, eh? Business savvy! I like it!” He winked at the camera, pretending to be intrigued.

Then came the fourth voice, a melodic, hesitant sound that sent a jolt through him. “Hi, I’m Y/N, and I’m an artist.”

His breath caught in his throat. Y/N? Could it be? The Y/N he’d been searching for, the one who'd haunted his thoughts for months since that chance encounter at the art gallery?

He felt a wave of heat creep up his neck. He could practically feel the laughter bubbling in his earpiece. Chunkz, Niko, and Kenny would be having an absolute field day with his reaction. They knew. They had to know.

It couldn't be her, right? The odds were astronomical. But the voice… the way she said “artist,” with a delicate vibrato… it was undeniably familiar.

He forced himself to focus, reminding himself this was a video, a performance. He needed to keep the charade going, at least for now.

“And finally, Number Five?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Hi, I’m Olivia, and I’m a personal trainer,” the last contestant announced.

Sharky went through the motions, pretending to weigh his options. He asked silly questions about their favourite colours, their opinions on pineapple on pizza, and whether they preferred cats or dogs.

He gave each woman a polite, if somewhat vacant, response. He even unveiled snippets of their clothing, revealing a brightly coloured scarf for Emily, a sensible cardigan for Sarah, a power suit jacket for Catherine, and a… paint-splattered overall strap for Number Four.

He was dying inside. The glimpse of the overall strap only deepened the possibility. Y/N was an artist; overalls were practically part of the uniform.

He had to know.

“Okay, ladies, before we move on to the next round, I have a question for one particular contestant,” he said, trying to sound casual. He could feel the weight of the camera lens boring into him.

He looked directly at the curtain, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst. “Number Four, Y/N… have we met before?”

The studio went silent. He could practically hear the collective breath-holding in the control room.

A pause, stretched out and agonizing, followed. Then, a soft, uncertain reply. “Umm… no, I don’t think so.”

The air deflated from Sharky's lungs like a punctured balloon. Disappointment washed over him, a cold and bitter wave. He'd allowed hope to bloom, and now it withered before his eyes.

He plastered a fake smile on his face. “Okay! Just thought I recognized your voice. Maybe I’m just psychic!” He forced a laugh that died in his throat.

The video continued, a blur of ridiculous challenges and manufactured drama. He asked them to impersonate animals, to describe their ideal dates.

He went through the motions, asking the questions, making the obligatory jokes, but his mind was elsewhere, replaying the conversation, searching for any hint that he was wrong.

Was he really just imagining it? Had he built up this encounter in his head to something it wasn’t?

Chunks, Kenny, and Niko dutifully played their parts, chiming in with commentary, roasting his fashion choices, and occasionally offering their own questionable dating advice. He zoned out, only vaguely aware of their banter.

Round and round they went, the reveals became a little more revealing, the challenges a little sillier.

Chunks eliminated Number One, who had insisted on communicating exclusively through animal noises.

Kenny sent Number Three packing after her insistence that her ideal date involved taxidermy.

Niko, with a look of pure disgust, eliminated Number Two, who confessed to eating pizza with a fork and knife.

Finally, it was down to Number Four, Y/N, and Number Five, Olivia. He barely registered Olivia's presence, his focus entirely consumed by the hope that maybe, just maybe, he had been right about Y/N.

"Okay, can you two ladies come out and stand with me," Sharky asked, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his voice.

He watched their shoes walk around the curtain, the small scuff marks on Y/N’s worn sneakers sending a jolt of recognition through him. He saw Olivia first, a bubbly blonde with bright blue eyes and a practiced smile. Then…

His heart jumped. It was you. Y/N. He recognized the curve of your jaw, the way your hair framed your face, the subtle freckles dusting your nose. It was definitely you.

He couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. He went to hug Olivia, offering a quick, polite squeeze.

Then he turned to you, and the hug lingered. Just a little longer than necessary, a silent acknowledgment of something unspoken.

"First thing I have to ask, Y/N, didn't we meet before?" he asked, unable to contain the excitement bubbling inside him.

You hesitated, your eyes darting towards the crew. “Yeah, we have, but…” you stopped, pointing at your earpiece, "your friends made me lie so it wasn't obvious."

"No way! I genuinely thought I was losing my mind," Sharky said, laughing, the sound genuine and relieved. "So, what, they set this up?"

"Pretty much," you said, a small, apologetic smile playing on your lips. "Sorry!"

"Sorry?" Sharky exclaimed, feigning offense. "This is the best thing that's happened all day! I thought I was going crazy!" He looked over at the crew, shaking his head in disbelief. "They actually pulled it off."

He still had to play the game, to maintain the illusion of choice. He asked you and Olivia two more questions, innocuous things about your hobbies and aspirations, trying to gauge how well you would fit into his life.

You answered perfectly, your responses witty, insightful, and surprisingly genuine.

Olivia answered well too, but his mind was already made up.

"Well now I have to pick the winner of the 'Finding Love with Sharky'," he said, drawing out the words for dramatic effect. He looked from Olivia to you, pretending to weigh his options. "This is a tough one. Both of you are amazing. You're funny, intelligent…" he paused, glancing at you again, a silent promise in his eyes.

"But… I have to be honest. There's something… a connection, maybe, that I feel with one of you. And that person is…" he paused again, milking the moment for all it was worth. "Y/N!"

A collective gasp rippled through the crew. Olivia managed a gracious smile, but he could see the disappointment in her eyes.

He felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly overshadowed by the warmth spreading through him as you looked at him, a hint of surprise and something akin to intrigue flickering in your eyes.

He hugged Olivia quickly, offering a few words of thanks and encouragement before she left the set, leaving you and him standing awkwardly in the artificial glow of the studio lights.

He stepped forward and hugged you again, a proper hug this time, a hug that conveyed relief, excitement, and a burgeoning sense of… something more. He pulled back slightly, searching your face.

"Well this is the end of ‘Finding Love with Sharky’," he said, the words feeling strangely inadequate. "Y/N? Is there anything you want to say?"

You pointed towards the camera, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Play the trailer!"

The screen went black. The lights came back up. Sharky was staring at you, a mixture of amusement and utter bewilderment etched on his face.

"So," he said, turning to face you, "tell me everything. How long have they been planning this? Did they bribe you with free pizza?"

You laughed, the sound lighter and more musical than he remembered. "It's been in the works for a few weeks. They tracked me down through the coffee shop where we met. And yes, there was pizza involved."

"Clever bastards," Sharky said, shaking his head, still amazed by the elaborate scheme. "But… why? Why go through all this trouble?"

You hesitated, looking down at your hands. "They said… they said you've been a bit down lately. And they thought… well, they thought maybe this would cheer you up. And maybe… maybe they saw something between us at the coffee shop that we didn't."

Sharky stared at you, the realization dawning. His friends, despite their constant teasing and ridiculous antics, genuinely cared about him. And maybe, just maybe, they were right.

"What did you think?" he asked, his voice suddenly low, almost vulnerable.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. "About the free pizza? Amazing. About the show? Utter chaos. About you?" You paused, a slow smile spreading across your face. "Intriguing."

He chuckled, a genuine, heartfelt sound. "Intriguing, huh? That's… better than I expected. So, intriguing enough to… I don't know… grab another pizza? Without the cameras?"

"Intriguing enough," you confirmed, your eyes sparkling.

A collective cheer erupted from the crew, breaking the intimate bubble that had formed between you and Sharky. His best friend, Liam, came bounding over, slapping him on the back.

"See, Sharky? We told you! We're matchmakers extraordinaire!"

"You're manipulative puppeteers who probably broke several labor laws," Sharky retorted, but the affection in his voice was unmistakable. He turned back to you. "So, pizza? Tonight?"

"I'd love that."

#beta squad #sharky #sharky beta squad #sharky x reader #sharky x you #sharky oneshots #sharky imagines #niko omilana #king kenny #aj shabeel #chunkz #beta squad x reader

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dreamwritesimagines · 1 year ago

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The Eye of the Hurricane [1] - A Night Out

A.N: Here we go my loves, the first chapter! ❤️ I hope you'll like it, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤️

Summary: A night out with an old friend can lead to surprises.

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don't condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to have a normal life.

Granted that was never in the cards but you liked to pretend from time to time. You knew it was selfish and incredibly dangerous as everyone kept reminding you, yet you didn’t care. After all, it was one of the very few luxuries you couldn’t afford and you were nothing if not determined.

Besides, considering since you were expected not to be a part of the family business, you figured you could enjoy the benefits for the time being.

So far, there was no sign of any bodyguards your father always made sure to put on your tail which meant he was blissfully unaware of where you were or what you were doing. If it were any other time, you would have been surprised by that alone but surprises seemed to be the theme of the week. To be completely honest, you had your doubts when your ex from college had contacted you to say he was moving to the city and wanted to catch up with you. Even though he was one of the very few ex-boyfriends you had broken up with on good terms, he still had an inkling about your family and most of the time, people were too intimidated by that to catch up with you.

With good reason.

But tonight was going to be different. Setting up a casual dinner and drinks night outside your father’s territory was a great first step for in your opinion, for a couple of hours you could pretend you were a normal girl who was having a normal night out with a normal guy.

You even drove your own car to the bar, something you hadn’t done in a long time.

“So yeah, let’s just say that it wasn’t the wisest decision.”

You let out a laugh, tilting your head.

“I don’t know Ethan,” you said. “Taking a girl to a horror themed corn maze? You get an A for effort.”

“In my defense, it was like two weeks after you broke up with me so I wasn’t thinking straight,” he said. “Besides, she said she liked horror movies.”

You hummed. “And how did that go?”

“Terribly,” he pointed out with a grin. “We got lost, and then I had this bright idea of finding the guide myself and we went in different directions, and she got out and I ended up getting even more lost.”

You pressed your palm on your mouth to hide your laugh.

“Then she sent the guide to find me,” he said and you cleared your throat, trying to keep a serious expression.

“You do realize you are the type of person who wouldn’t last an hour in a horror movie, right?”

“People who are trying to survive in horror movies have too much ambition if you ask me,” he said and sipped his drink. “How about you? Any terrible dates since our uh…fairytale romance?”

“We dated for like three months during sophomore year Ethan,” you said with a laugh and he nodded with a grin.

“They were good three months though.”

“Oh please,” you said. “I’m not even sure I could call that dating, I basically had to beg you to spend time with me.”

“We spent a lot of time—”

“In daylight,” you corrected yourself. “You had no problem finding time for me at night.”

He scrunched up his face, then nodded his head.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Yeah I’m…I’m sorry about that. I was an ass.”

“Water under the bridge,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “College is the perfect time for relationship mistakes, and to be honest I was kind of an idiot.”

“Oh come on Y/N,” he said with a chuckle. “I was the idiot. You were perfect, you still are.”

You scoffed.

“Not even close, trust me,” you said and raised your hand at the bartender, motioning for another drink. The bar wasn’t crowded by any means, only another couple by another booth and three men playing pool. A silence fell upon you and Ethan shifted his weight.

“So uh—can I ask you something?”

Your heart skipped a nervous beat but you made sure it didn’t show on your face. “Sure.”

“Was it…” he paused and took a deep breath. “Was it true?”

The waitress brought you your drink and you thanked her, then turned to Ethan again. “Hm?”

“You know, back in college there were all these rumors,” he stammered. “About your family and you never really said— whether they were true or not.”

Ah. Back to that, of course.

You had practiced this calmness way too many times for it to falter even for a moment, and you sipped your drink.

“I totally forgot,” you said. “Remind me what those rumors were?”

“People used to say your father—he and his business partners, I mean,” he said with a nervous laugh. “My friends used to say the city was divided between them.”

“Sounds quite medieval,” you pointed out, leaning back as a couple of men walked in, chattering. Ethan thought for a moment, then scoffed a laugh.

“Right,” he said. “I don’t know why I…don’t mind me. It does sound unreal, I mean—what are the chances that a couple of families rule the entire city, right?”

“I don’t know, I hear it was a thing in the 18th century,” you stated, catching the gaze of the man who had just walked up to the bar and ordered a drink. You eyed him up and down and by the time your gaze fell on the shape of the gun tucked underneath his jacket, you had already straightened your back, your whole body going tense.

“Jesus you should’ve heard the things they said. To be honest with you, I actually believed that whole underworld thing for some time,” Ethan said as the man said something to his friends while your eyes darted around the room, your heartbeat getting faster as you reached for the knife beside your plate.

Great.

This was not your ideal night out alright.

“Now to think about it, it’s not—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence when you threw the knife at one of the men and kicked the chair under Ethan, making him lose his balance before you flipped the table so that you could use it as a cover for you both as soon as the shooting started. The bullets wheezed past you, the couple by the other booth screaming while you pushed Ethan’s head down.

“What the hell is going on?!” he asked as you looked over the table for a second and turned to him, your heart beating in your ears, adrenaline rushing through you so fast that it made your head spin.

“I can explain later, do you have a gun with you?”

“What?!”

“I don’t think I should be repeating myself right now Ethan!” you hissed as shots echoed through the bar and he shook his head.

“No of course not!”

“The one time I ditch the bodyguards,” you grumbled “This is unbelievable…”

“Miss Y/N!” the man’s voice rang over the bar and you gritted your teeth. “The infamous princess. Such a surprise meeting you here, where are your daddy’s men?”

“On their way here I’m guessing but before they get here, I just have one question,” you called out. “Are you guys fucking idiots?”

He tsk tsked.

“That daddy of yours spoiled you too much,” he said. “Has anyone told you that?”

“Yeah, multiple men,” you retorted. “Didn’t end well for them I’ll tell you that.”

“I’d say it looks like it’ll end well for me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure buddy,” you said. “I’ll be surprised if you last the night.”

Several gunshots came from the corners of the bar, and you took cover again but before you could say anything else, you felt someone grab you and pull you upright. You grabbed the gun from him and fired it right at his knee, making him let out a scream of anguish and fall to the floor. The door of the kitchen was kicked open right before more guns were fired in the chaos which made it clear that it wasn’t Steve’s men who were trying to shoot you considering it was his territory, this was his one of many bars and these new people, whoever they were, were shooting at his men as well. It made absolutely zero sense that someone would attack you like this, especially since—

“Everyone stop or the next bullet goes through his head!”

You turned to point the pistol at the owner of the voice but as soon as you did, your heart dropped to your stomach. The man –probably the leader— holding the gun at Ethan’s head smirked and motioned at you.

“Drop the gun sweetheart.”

“Y/N, don’t!” Ethan said, trying to get out of his grip but the man fired the gun through his shoulder, making him yell out in pain and you gritted your teeth. The headlights of a car flashed outside, capturing your attention for a moment before you lowered the gun, someone hastily grabbing it from you. The leader pushed Ethan to one of his friends and stepped closer to you, now aiming the gun at your face but you were way too good at keeping your fear under control in situations like these to flinch at it.

You’d had a lifetime of practice after all.

“So what do you say we take a little trip outside huh?” he asked and you arched a brow.

“What do you say you go fuck yourself?”

He cocked the gun and you rolled your eyes.

“Oh no, a gun,” you deadpanned, checking your fingernails. “Am I supposed to be scared now?”

“This is not your daddy’s territory, girl.”

You scoffed a laugh and lifted your glances from your nails. “Doesn’t matter, you idiot. The truce has been going on for years now, and anyone who breaks it will pay for that mistake with their lives. What is this, your first day on the job?”

“No one taught you not to smart mouth the man holding the gun?”

“No one taught you not to sign your own death sentence?” you asked back and he gave you a dry chuckle, taking a step towards you, still holding the gun.

“Keep talking like that,” he said. “Maybe I’ll take my time with you before handing you over to the boss.”

You opened your mouth to retort but before you could say anything, a deafening shot echoed through the room and blood splattered all over your face and your dress. The leader’s lifeless body dropped to the floor and you wiped at your face with a grimace before you turned to glare at your savior who looked almost amused at your annoyed expression.

“Bucky,” you gritted out and he winked at you, that arrogant grin you knew so well pulling at his lips.

“Hi Charm.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob! bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mob bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob boss!bucky #mob bucky barnes x reader

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0alix0 · 1 month ago

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veilguard armor slander №2 Helmets

ngl DA didn't really had super cool helmets but those we had previously were, at worst, just kinda goofy (mage cowls my beloveds) yet still believable for a dark fantasy setting

............ now, this garbage, on the other hand

okok i'll star with something more or less serviceable. nice colors and unique shape, but............... honey i love you but how the hell do you see anything in this???

one of the few helmets in the game that look like they can at least somewhat protect your head. YET the scale mail looks awful. straight up awful. it's too big. too thick. the blue feathers look idiotic and like they're held in place by a duct tape and hope, because no sane person would place them on the forehead and as a comparison, here's almost the same helmet in inquisition

the only somewhat good helmets belong to veiljumpers and (partially) minrathous. but even here we have problems like these horns. looks cool, ngl, but these horns are just way too large (they're almost intertwined with the bow) the other one is just woody

I actually liked the idea* of the headwrap BUT why doesn't it match the icon????? where's the golden jewelry that look like loop earrings? where's the golden chains(?) coming from that forehead pearl?? could've been great, unfortunately isn't, still one of my favorite helmets of the game

and as you can see the icon/3d model inconsistencies just go downhill from there this one isn't nearly as bad as some others but it's still sad how it lost its cool cape/hood the golden texture too! what happened bioware???? i know some people made fun of inquisition for being too sparkly but making everything look plastic-y is clearly not the way

i'll never shut up about how much bioware fucked up kal-sharok in EVERY direction

why are the colors completely different from the ones in the picture???

why so little chainmail??? why doesn't it cover her heck?? you have fabric/material physics bioware, it's not 2010, literally nothing can stop you from

and heres a problem you might've already noticed on previous pictures....

THE HEADSOCK HEADSOCK EVERYWHERE WHY??? yeah you have long hair but so what??? it has physics don't bullshit me as if you can't make it work cuz modders can or you could've just make more realistic battle-suited how about that, huh???????

.............................................i am at a loss of words ok, ok, this shit.... i never in my goddamn life would've guessed what setting it belongs to, let alone the game, let alone the faction IN that game (minrathous) why it so ugly? why is it blue and looks like a chewed plastic? what is that sigil in the center? how can you even see wearing it? why it's levitating? oh shit i'm sorry, apparently everything is levitating in Tevinter now, how could i forgot.........

and you know what i probably forgot some

#datv critical #veilguard critical #dragon age #bioware critical #dav

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vioartemis · 2 years ago

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Mrs Ortega

(Jenna Ortega x fem! reader)

Summary: Wednesday made Jenna famous, and put in danger your relationship Warnings: angst :)) (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

You had known Jenna since forever, as you were neighbors back in the days. Naturally you became friends, and eventually started dating in 2020. You spent most of the pandemic together, as no one could really work at the time, and after that you tried to accompany her as much as possible on her shootings.

She had tried to convince you not to, aware that it was a huge sacrifice you were making for her, but you didn’t listen. You took online classes while she was working, and when she came back, you would spend the night together.

Your girlfriend had been busy with the shooting of Wednesday for the past few months. You had traveled to Romania with her and befriended her castmates.

The series was about to have its premiere, and Jenna wanted you to accompany her to the event. And of course you said yes, because how could you deny her?

“How do I look?” she asked, stepping out of the bathroom

“Stunning, as always” you replied with a bright smile, looking her up and down

You took her hands in yours, pulling her a bit closer, and pressing your lips on hers in a tender kiss.

“You rock that look Jen, seriously” you smiled “The black dress and veil… everything is perfect”

“Yeah? Well I hope one day I will wear it in white with you waiting for me down the aisle” she said with a little smirk

You felt your cheeks burn at the thought.

“A-are you talking about… getting married?”

She nodded with a smile.

“I know you’re the one, Y/n. You’re my soulmate, I’m sure of that. Don’t you want to become Mrs Ortega?”

“Y-yeah I-I mean- of course! I’d love to marry you” you kissed her softly “I just wasn’t expecting you to talk about that right now”

“So it’s a yes?”

“Of course it is”

The series had been released a month ago, and it was a success. Wednesday’s popularity was worldwide, and so was Jenna’s. She wasn’t unknown before that, but now she really was famous.

You were happy for her, seeing her career take a new turn like that, but you had to admit she was acting weird lately. You tried to talk about it, but every time she assured you she was fine. You ended up thinking she was just getting used to be super popular.

Jenna had finished her day and you were waiting for her, swimming in the hotel’s pool. She texted you a few minutes ago, telling you she would be here soon but that her agent wanted to talk to her first.

You wondered what her agent could be telling her, imagining different scenarios, before your attention was caught by footsteps coming towards you.

You swam in her direction, a big smile on your face, as she sat on the edge of the pool, legs in the water. You put your hands on the ground, ‘trapping’ her between your arms, and lifted yourself up to kiss her lips.

She kissed back, but you could feel something was off.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, back in the water

Jenna wasn’t looking at you, but you could see on her face that she was not okay.

“Jen, you can talk to me… I’m here, I’ll always-”

“Y/n.” she cut you off “I- I’m sorry I… We can’t continue…”

“What…?” you frowned, completely lost

She took a deep breath.

“My agent… He told me that being with a… a ‘nobody’ wasn’t good for my career, now that I start to be more famous…”

You couldn’t believe your ears. The words were stuck in your throat; it took you a minute to be able to say something.

“Are you serious…? Y-you’re ready to throw everything away because your agent told you it wasn’t good for you career?”

“Y/n-”

“But nobody cares who you’re in a relationship with…!” your voice broke as you tried to hold back a cry “Jenna please… Y-you can’t do that… I- you’re everything to me, I can’t lose you… I-if it’s really a problem w-we can see each other in secret or… or…”

Your eyes were filled with tears, and it was taking you all your strength not to break down in front of her.

“W-we can’t, the paparazzi would find out eventually… I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would end this way… I- I love you so much… But I have to…”

You could hear that she didn’t want to do it either.

“Jen please… There has to be another way… I… We were talking about getting married and… and now we would just stop like that…? No, please… I-I’ll do anything…”

She finally looked at you. You saw the tears in her eyes, the look on her face, the way her bottom lip shivered. You knew nothing you would say would change anything.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered

The ache in your throat only grew stronger, preventing you from speaking.

Jenna stood up, and gave you one last look before walking away, leaving you alone in the pool with your broken heart, tears flooding down your cheeks.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

A few months had passed since the forced breakup, and you were still not doing okay. You felt empty, as if a part of you left with her that day.

And the pain… The pain never left. Sometimes it was so high you felt like you would throw up on the spot. Seeing her happy during interviews or events, or even on TikTok or Pinterest felt like a stab to the heart.

You honestly didn’t know how you were going to live without her. She was the love of your life, your soulmate…

Sometimes you wished she never became famous. Then you felt guilty for thinking about that. But again, if she never became famous you would still be together. Happy.

Your phone rang. It was your best friend, worried, as always since it happened. You picked up with no energy.

“Hey… how are you feeling?”

“… I don’t wanna talk right now…”

“Okay um… Do you want me to come over? We can play some games or-”

“I just wanna watch TV…”

You could ear her sigh on the phone.

“I understand what you’re feeling but… staying alone isn’t going to help you… I’m always here if you need me, call me when you feel like talking”

With that, she hung up.

You put your phone down, turning your attention back on the TV. You were changing the channels, trying to find something you actually wanted to see, when you saw her.

A part of you wanted to change the channel. The other told you to stay. To stay, and try to see if she showed any sign of missing you. Of being sad. Of anything that could prove she cared about you and regretted breaking up.

She was beautiful, as always. She was being interviewed by a random journalist, a smile on her face. The same smile that sent butterflies in your stomach every time you saw it. The same smile that made you fall in love with her all over again. The same smile that was hurting you so badly at the moment.

You couldn’t help but have flashbacks of the moments you spent together; your first dates, first kiss, nights cuddling comfortably, laughs at the stupidest things possible, playful fights while playing video games, discussions about eventually getting married… and when she told you it had to end.

You didn’t realize you were crying until your eyes started to hurt. You didn’t even bother whipping your tears away.

“… I should’ve stayed in the pool and drowned so I didn’t have to watch you leave…”

You thought you would never be happy again. It just hurt too much.

If she looked happy on screen, as soon as she was alone and away from the cameras, Jenna let her mask fall. She was as devastated as you if not more, knowing that she was the one to hurt you.

She never wanted that. All she wanted was to be with you.

She really meant it when she said she wanted to marry you. But her agent and her family put so much pressure on her, to do anything for her career, that she had to leave the most important person in her life.

She thought about you all the time. She even tried to message you multiple times. But she never seemed to find the right way to do so.

“I don’t know where you are right now…”

That sounded weird.

“Did you see me on TV?”

That sounded pretentious, and made it look like she didn’t care about what happened.

“I try not to hate myself just because you’re mad at me…”

That sounded like she was trying to make herself the only victim in the situation.

But she did hate herself. She fucked everything up.

It was destroying her from the inside, taking all her energy. She just wanted to sleep with you in her arms, like you used to.

She wanted everything back. Your laugh, your smile, your voice, your shitty jokes, your kisses, your hugs… You.

She wasn’t happy without you.

She found no pleasure in anything, no joy in things that used to make her happy. Her favorite food didn’t taste good anymore, her favorite song didn’t sound good anymore…

Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t broken up with you. Maybe you would be married by now. She could call you her wife. You would be happy together.

These thoughts only hurt her more and made her feel like more of an asshole than she already felt.

She just wished she could go back in time and tell you that even if everyone was telling her to leave you and think of her career, she was choosing you. Tell you how much you meant to her. How you made her life better. How she couldn’t be happy without you.

But she couldn’t. And she would forever regret what she did that day.

a/n: this was highly inspired by that TikTok :))

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader

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just-jordie-things · 2 years ago

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Hiii love it's me again your writing only keeps getting better I am amazed sooo love can we get a 67 and a 69 with Megumi since we love the spicee 🥰🥰🥰

67: when one stops the kiss to whisper "i'm sorry, are you sure you-" and they answer by kissing them more 69: following a kiss with a series of kisses down the neck

**aged up characters!!**

a/n: pining besties that finally give in is the best kind of spiceee ___

"god, what i would give to get kissed like that"

you say it so easily, probably not even thinking twice about it as you tear a gummy worm in half between your teeth. megumi tears his eyes away from the small television that was currently displaying a rather steamy make out session. the scene had escalated quickly as the main protagonists finally confessed their feelings and in the same breath began to devour each other.

megumi knows he should just laugh off the comment, or ignore it completely, like you apparently had, going right back into your snack while you watched the movie.

but he can't help but suddenly realize that you're both here, cramped together on his small bed that was barely big enough for his tall frame so he has one leg hanging off the mattress while you're half under his arm, half propped up by the headboard. you're alone, yuuji was off with nanami and nobara was bothering maki-

and you're alone.

you make this little comment with a small sigh, your eyes longingly watching the screen as you hold a gummy worm between your teeth by the green side, the red side held between your fingers, tugging on the gelatin snack absentmindedly. you're clearly infatuated, and now that megumi's peeking down at you more closely, something warm floods his chest.

you're in a hoodie too ridiculously large to be yours- it isn't, it's his, you stole it last week and he had to pretend not to notice when you wore it today- and it's so long on your frame that it's covering the little sleep shorts that you also seemed to wear without a second thought. not that megumi would complain about something like that, having your bare leg pressed up against his while you're lounging together in his bed is... nice

really nice.

nice enough that the last few times you've hung out in his room to watch a movie or scroll aimlessly on your phone while he reads, his mind had been wandering. and it was probably due to those damn shorts.

and was he really going to be the kind of the guy that lost his mind over some skin showing? was that really fair to you? you- who was so much more than a pretty face? you were quick witted, especially in battle, which made you strong and so, so capable. you were funny, which made you fun to be around, and was part of the reason why megumi had started seeking you out to spend time together in the first place. he liked hearing your little quips and teases, even when they were directed at him. yeah, you were pretty, you were drop dead fucking gorgeous actually, one of the prettiest people megumi had ever laid eyes on.

but you were more than beautiful and sometimes megumi felt like a bad friend for losing his mind over some shorts that revealed a delicious amount of your thighs.

today was different.

today it wasn't just the shorts. well, the shorts were definitely a factor, especially when his arm rested between the both of you and the back of his knuckles just barely grazed over your leg. no, it wasn't just that. it was the sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, enveloping you like a blanket. you seemed to enjoy it thoroughly, with your fingers just barely peeking out of the sleeves so you could enjoy your snack, and the hood was even half-up. it had been fully up when you first made your way to his room, but after relaxing on the bed for long enough it had started to slip off.

and then it was this comment. that dumb, thoughtless little comment you threw out there about kissing that spun his mind into thinking about kissing and now megumi's feeling hot. the bed feels smaller. the room feels darker. and you look so, so beautiful right now that he thinks this could be a delusion and he's going to blink and be surrounded by padded walls.

he blinks at you. you're still there, eyes watching every sensual movement made by the lust driven characters on the tv. you've still got the gummy worm between your teeth, likely forgotten as you got lost in your own thoughts, presumably also about kissing, and megumi clears his throat.

"if you ask nicely, i'd do it for a gummy worm"

it's half a joke, at least he means it to be as he reaches for the bag in your other hand. your eyes are on him right away, an amused smirk tugging at your lips in your surprise, but you find yourself tilting the bag of worms towards him so he could help himself to one. he plucks out a yellow and orange one, keeping it in his hold while he looks at you, clearly waiting.

"you'll make out with me for a gummy worm?" you ask, a small laugh escaping you, but you can't tell if he's joking, so you shut up quickly as your heart beat races up into your throat.

perhaps you get too eager too quick. your eyes widen and you're biting down on your cheek to keep from grinning, but the idea of kissing megumi has your head feeling twirly and reason drifting away at an alarming rate.

you've always sorta wondered if these one-on-one movie nights in his bed would ever lead anywhere. you were too anxious yourself to initiate anything, but you weren't stupid. he always closed the door behind you when you arrived, and being alone, on a bed, just the two of you, well, that was just so easy wasn't it? the thought had crossed your mind more than once, often when you felt his eyes on you when he thought you wouldn't notice, or when he pulled you closer to him so 'you wouldn't fall off the mattress'. but it had always been a brief little daydream that you brushed off.

this was as close to the real thing as you've ever gotten.

"you drive a hard bargain," you mumble, finally ripping your worm in half to eat the strawberry flavored gummy. megumi chuckles as you finish the other half. "what's the catch?"

"catch?" he repeats.

he turns to face you better, laying on his side, completely ignoring the movie. you swallow the lump in your throat as he rests his elbow on the pile of pillows behind you both, leaning his head into his hand.

"yeah," you nod. "you're messing with me?" you question skeptically. "you have a bet with nobara?"

this time when he chuckles, he smiles, his teeth flashing with delighted amusement. he'd given you a pretty straightforward offer, and here you were pressing for more details.

"not messin' with you," he murmurs, leaning closer to you.

at first you start to pull away, but you pause just as quickly as your eyes flicker down to his lips, which are a mere few inches away from yours now. you don't notice that he drops his gummy worm back into the bag before he pulls it out of your hand, dropping it on the night stand behind him without even looking.

as soon as the candy is no longer an obstacle, it's like you've become the most powerful magnet in the world.

his hand wraps around the nape of your neck, the hood on your head falling the rest of the way as he pulls you forward and slants his lips over yours. they're soft, and a little sticky from the candy, but they're so, so sweet that he can't help himself. he kisses you again and again and again, getting lost in the way your lips lock against his with eagerness.

he kisses you fast, like you're on borrowed time, like he's insatiable. you're both heaving between kisses, panting through your noses as you rush to explore the new sensation, again and again and again. it's not until he realizes his hand is traveling with a mind of it's own towards the inviting skin of your bare leg that megumi's snapping out of his dazed state, and pulling away from you with hooded eyes.

he's still trying to catch his breath, his lips are already swollen and his pupils are blown wide as he looks at you, and you give him a lazy smile as you admire his pretty features. you like this look on him, you realize. you'd like to make him look like this all the time.

"i'm sorry," he breathes, eyes flickering between yours. "are you sure you-"

before he can ask his silly question, you're grabbing him by the collar of his tee shirt and yanking him forward, crashing your lips into his again with fervor, as if you couldn't possibly wait another second.

your lips are soft, and he could've easily mistaken you for gentle if your hands weren't wandering into his hair and beginning to tug. not that the feeling bothered him- not in a bad way anyway. he's quite responsive to it, humming into your mouth and finally sinking his fingers into the plush of your thigh.

he pulls you closer with ease, swiftly pressing you close to him, while you get lost in a series of hurried kisses. your touch grows more tender as you release your hold on his messy locks of hair. they wander down his neck, along his shoulders and then sliding back together over his collarbones, your movements slow as you explore the hard planes of lean muscle down his chest.

he's only just pulled you into him, but now he's pushing you back. his movements are smooth, trying not to be too rough on you, but the urge to push you into the sheets and climb overtop of you outweighs the repercussions of what was going to come of the two of you once you'd satiated this desire.

consequences are far from your mind as you happily get comfortable on your back, your lips not leaving his for even a second. oxygen was overrated. you could breathe through your nose. well, you could when megumi wasn't pushing so close to you that your nose smushed into his cheek, but you quite enjoyed the messy kisses, so you wouldn't dare complain.

his breath his hot as his mouth begins to work it's way aways from yours. you finally gasp for the precious air, or maybe you're just winded as soft lips trace down your chin and across your jaw.

your hands are back in his hair, carding through and getting lost in dark tresses. when his trail of kisses begins to make it's way towards your neck, you're craning your head back on instinct, giving him all the access he wanted. you can feel his lips curl into a smile over the sensitive skin of your throat.

your fingers tighten in his hair as his wet mouth hungrily peppers sweet kisses across the expanse of skin you'd so willingly displayed for him. his name falls from your mouth in a small, shy whisper, but there's nothing bashful about the way your legs hike up around his hips, drawing him even closer to you.

the hand that isn't bracing himself next to your head is quick to reach down and grab onto your leg, pulling it up further until you've properly locked it over his hip. his fingers dig roughly into your heated skin, before smoothing over the spot in soothing caresses. he touches everywhere he can reach, just as his lips are kissing everywhere they can reach. he's getting ahead of himself, the room is getting hotter and your soft pants are turning into whimpers and moans and he should really slow it down before he can't turn back.

your friendship could still come back from this, couldn't it?

as if answering his unspoken question, you're pulling his hair until he lifts his head from where it had been buried in the crook of your neck. he catches sight of a blossoming red and purple mark in the shape of his mouth before you're guiding his face towards yours.

you're eyes are gleaming with excitement, and your lazy little smile turns into a full grin when you finally meet his gaze. you give him a chaste kiss before you whisper to him with enthusiasm.

"take off your shirt"

so your friendship probably couldn't come back from this, but it was definitely headed in a much better direction. ___

a/n: i know ppl complain about there being too much jjk smut and i know a lot of ppl have followed me for my writing bcuz i don't write smut but. damn. not for a lack of trying. i wish i was good at writing smut. this could've been so much better >:/ enjoy the cliffhanger ig

xoxo ~ jordie

#fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #megumi brainrot #fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro imagine #fushiguro megumi imagine #megumi imagine #fushiguro imagine #fushiguro megumi scenario #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine

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boobabietch · 15 days ago

Text

Chapter VIII: “August 17, 2018. Blind Item #13” | Diana Taurasi x OC

Warnings: mention of a slightly not cool age gap relationship, Ireland

A/N: Okay, I'm not even gonna excuse myself. I know this chapter took way too long to be posted, but I promise you, I didn't know what the fuck I was doing with my life. I rewrote this chapter like 10,000 times, I swear. And honestly, it took a completely different direction than the one I had in my head, but I am really proud of this. And yeah, basically I wanted to give y'all guys some of Victoria's backstory, a little bit of her life, so y'all get to know her a little bit better. But I don't want to spoil anything, so just read. That's it. Per usual, English is not my first language so if you find something wrong tell me so I can change it ASAP. Likes, reblogs and comments(!!!) are highly welcomed, feel free to tell me or ask me anything my ask box is always open. My semester is finally done and I’ll try to be much more consistent, sorry for the long wait but without anything else to say, enjoy! Love, Sof :)

Making headlines masterlist

I was a big baby.

22 inches

9 pounds

My poor mother’s vagina…

And the name I was given? Victoria Siobhan O’Hara.

Never really knew where Victoria came from, but I liked it. It’s better than Siobhan, nobody knows how to pronounce it right, my fucking name isn’t Zeeovan, or Zaiobhan, so don’t, just don’t.

I was born on August 30, 1994 in Cork, Ireland to an Irish dad and an American mom. Don’t ask me about life in Ireland cause I don’t know how life is there, we moved when I was three cause we had some issues (that’s a nice way of saying we where fucking broke and there was no way my parents could afford 4 kids in that country). Anyway we moved to Chicago when my dad got his immigrant visa approved.

My life has been good, about as good as it gets when you're living with three older brothers and you're a lesbian woman with an Irish father. But it was fine. I can’t complain.

I was 6 when I started playing basketball. It was an all boys team cause there weren’t enough girls to make a team just for us.

At 8 I had a spiderman themed birthday party. My parents thought it was because of my brothers’ influence but I don’t think so.

It was 2006 when I first saw She’s the Man with Amanda Bynes, and I got weirdly into Viola. My mom said Channing Tatum was hot and that’s why I kept watching it over and over. I said Viola was 'it for me' and my old man thought it was just because she was pretending to be a guy. But now I know, it was because I’ve always been into mascs.

My first kiss was gross, I was 13 and it was with a boy playing spin the bottle with an empty Fanta.

When I was 15 I saw Santana Lopez make out with a girl on TV and I realized I could actually get turned on the way my friends used to talk about when we saw Twilight and Edward started glowing.

Freshman year was when people started taking me seriously with basketball. I was already 5’11, and my dad kept muttering, “What the fuck do they feed kids in this country?” like I was being raised on radioactive cornflakes.

And that same year I met the love of my life, Maddison. She was two years older than me, but only a grade above me, played ball too, and smelled the baby lesbian energy on me the second she transferred to our high school.

She was my first everything. First kiss that didn’t make me wanna wipe my mouth after.

First slow dance in a dimly-lit gym that somehow felt like the center of the universe.

First time I said “I love you” and meant it like it was the only truth I’d ever known.

First time I understood what heartbreak might feel like if I ever lost her.

And, well. I did.

Not right away. We dated all through high school. Everyone called us “the basketball lesbians,” like it was some kind of sitcom. But we didn’t care. We were in it. The kind of in it that makes you write her last name after yours on notebooks. The kind of in it that makes you think you're gonna marry your high school girlfriend and live in a cute apartment with a crooked painting and a cat named after a WNBA legend.

When I got into USC, we promised we’d make it work. Long distance was gonna be rough, but we were tough. We’d made it through two seasons of high school drama, a concussion, and her getting benched during regionals. What was 300 miles gonna do to us?

Freshman year of college was actually... good. I mean, I was exhausted 24/7 and constantly sore and lowkey spiraling academically, but we were good. FaceTimes, late-night voice memos, and phone sex. She even visited once, and it felt like I could breathe again.

That summer before my sophomore year? Fuck, it was perfect. We stayed at her parents’ beach house for a week. I swear it felt like we were 16 again, only with less acne and way better sex. I kept thinking, we’re gonna be the rare ones. The ones that make it.

Sophomore year hit, and shit just shifted.

At first I thought it was just the season starting. We were both busy. But the texts got shorter. The calls less frequent. Something was off, but I didn’t want to admit it.

Then she called me.

Said she couldn’t do it anymore. That long distance wasn’t working. That it wasn’t fair to either of us. That she still loved me, but we were growing apart.

I cried. Like a lot. Like embarrassing amounts. I remember hanging up and just staring at the wall for maybe an hour straight.

But I got it. I mean, it sucked, but I got it.

Until a week later, one of our mutual friends texted me.

And I’ll never forget the screenshot.

“So excited to finally call you my girlfriend 💛”

Different girl. Different campus. A girl Maddison had apparently been dating for four fucking months while she was still telling me “I miss you, baby” on FaceTime and asking for pictures of my boobs on a daily basis.

It felt like someone had shoved their whole fist into my ribcage and yanked something out.

I spiraled. Not in the cute rom-com way. In the full-blown, destroy-everything-that-moves way.

A’ja had just gotten to USC. Freshman. Bright-eyed. Unaware that her sophomore teammate was about to go feral. She watched it happen in real time.

At first, it was just parties.

Then it was making out with strangers.

Then it was hooking up with strangers.

Then it was… well.

I was tired of being in love. I just wanted to feel nothing. So I fucked. A lot. Girls in my classes. Girls I met at parties. Girls who came to our games and looked at me funny.

Some nights I didn’t even remember their names. Didn’t care.

That went on until I graduated.

And when I got drafted, first pick, WNBA, I looked at myself in the mirror and said, You’re done. Grow the fuck up.

And I did. For a while. I stopped. I kept it clean. Focused. Celibate, even. Not in a religious way, just in a I’ve seen enough of the lesbian nightlife to last a lifetime way.

And then came Diana motherfucking Taurasi.

And you know what happened there.

But what happened after? I broke my own rule. One night with her flipped a switch I thought I’d permanently shut off. I started spiraling again, but cleaner this time. No drugs. No partying. Just… sex. A lot of it.

The thing about being 6’3”, hot, and very obviously gay in the WNBA? There is so much pussy. Like, unreal amounts.

And I took it. I took it all.

Not because I was trying to prove something. But because that one night with Diana woke up all the fear I’d buried. The fear of getting attached. The fear of being soft again. The fear of loving somebody enough to let them hurt me.

So I did what I do best.

Played ball.

And fucked.

And made sure no one ever got too close.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 17, 2018

Blind item #13:

This WNBA darling spent years building a squeaky-clean reputation, first pick, focused, polished, and celibate. But the past few weeks, this foreign born athlete has been making up for lost time. Word is, if you’re in her city and breathing, you might just get the invite. Friends say she’s in her second era, but this time, it’s private planes instead of frat basements.

Turns out a girl cannot be a fucking whore in peace anymore

Requests are Open!

Masterlist

#lesbian #fanfic #wnba x reader #wnba basketball #diana taurasi #diana taurasi x reader #paige bueckers #boowrites★#uconn #las vegas aces #wnba

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alkaline-wtr · 3 months ago

Text

WE WILL SURVIVE

- - CHAPTER 7 - -

Ghost x reader

Description: Graves and reader run into a familiar group of survivors on their search for the sanctuary. Genre/Warnings: zombie apocalypse AU, Graves x reader, Ghost x fem!reader, survivor!reader,angst, explicit language, weapons, mentions of death, gore, blood, and violence. WC: 3.4k

My Masterlist

** Wow, where to start... I'M SORRY... I lost motivation to write for a bit. My cat passed away which completely halted anything that wasn't absolutely necessary for my survival. So, yeah... the chapter is really late. I've been awaiting this chapter for so long because, I included one of my favorite Soap quotes that lives in my head rent free. Which I've pretty much been planning to do since chapter one, lol. It took a different direction than I originally planned but, I think it's still a decent one! It's also a longer one so, hopefully that'll make up for my hiatus. I already have plans for the ending. So, the story may not be much longer but, I am leaving the journey to the ending open and am just feeling it out as I go. Lastly, Ghost girlies please do not panic!! I know the Graves fluff seems scary right now but, I promise it isn't what it seems. Enjoy.

If you'd like to be added/removed from the taglist please, let me know.

<< PART 1 / << PART 6

The dull morning sun seeps through the windshield, and you stretch out, back stiff from being curled up on the seat all night.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,”

Phillip said in his typical cheery tone. The endearing nickname causes a small smile to form on your face.

You sit up with a yawn.

“You should get out and stretch your legs a bit, we’ll be doing a lot more driving today.”

You glanced at Phillip's lap. In it was the crumpled map the man had given you yesterday.

You couldn’t seem to get the images out of your head, the gushing of blood from his wife’s body as the infected broke her skin with their jagged teeth. The man’s glassy eyes looked up to the heavens as he held the gun to his temple.

You squeezed your eyes closed and pinched the bridge of your nose to expel the memories. Was that just the fate of everyone who manages to survive this world? Watching everyone you love torn, unforgivingly, to pieces until there is nothing left for you to do but take your own life?

“Do you really think there's a sanctuary?”

You ask. Although you didn't feel like talking, you hoped that starting up a conversation would redirect your thoughts. You were in much need of a distraction after the events of yesterday. Phillip scans the map.

“I think... It’s possible. Besides, we don’t have anywhere else to go. Right?”

The question seemed genuine as if Phillip wanted to know if you had anywhere in mind. You considered it for a moment. Was there anywhere you'd want to go? With the state of the world traveling for pleasure just seemed pointless. At least heading to the sanctuary, bullshit or not, is better than an aimless trip to nowhere.

“No. I guess you're right.”

You respond softly. He sighs looking ahead for a moment almost as if contemplating his own suggestion. You wondered if Phillip had the same nagging sense of hope about this place as you did. As much as you wanted to dismiss the thought of some actual good coming from such tragedy, it was in your nature as people to cling to the curiosity.

“Well… let’s get some food in us, stretch our legs, and then we’ll be on our way.”

The way he spoke it seemed so obvious. Like you were just a couple friends on a casual road trip. You couldn’t quite decide if you liked that about Phillip. His attempts at making the day-to-day feel like it had been, were appreciated. It wasn’t wrong to enjoy these slower moments, it was just the reality setting in that made it feel unacceptable. The truth was, things would never return to how they were, and it was hard to feel like you were allowed to still enjoy life despite that fact.

You sat on the open tailgate drinking a can of chunky soup. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, but you certainly missed your microwave.

Phillip ate in silence, his focus fixed on the map as he planned the route ahead.

The next hours were quiet again. The engine lightly vibrated through the truck as you watched out the window. You'd almost wished you could stop at a library and stock up on books. Really anything to stimulate your mind. Without it, there was nothing to shoo away the thoughts that crept in reminding you of the ruin and suffering. You guessed that had never really changed from the world before.

But, even with books, there was nothing that could distract you enough from the heavy feeling in your stomach. Like the weight of the world was anchoring you to this tired state. You were torn from your thoughts when Phillip spoke.

"What the hell."

Phillip muttered to himself. You lifted your head, straightening up to look at whatever it was Phillip had seen. Your chest tightened in both anxiety and excitement at the sight of people. Survivors, three of them.

Of all the weeks you'd spent walking through empty streets focused on nothing but survival, this one had proved that there were more survivors than you'd thought.

Phillip slowed, and you began to get nervous. In a world where every encounter could mean life or death, trusting strangers was a gamble, and one you weren't so lucky with. Yet, Phillip didn't seem worried.

So far, most encounters you'd had with others since the outbreak were unpleasant but, Phillip gave you hope. His actions and personality were a stark contrast from those, and if against all odds, you'd found one good person, then there had to be more. Maybe these three men on the side of the road were some of them.

"Well, look who we have here,"

Phillip says, rolling the window down with a cocky smile. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned through it. The three take a defensive stance. As would anyone in their situation. It takes them a moment, they're all clearly on high alert as they eye the truck. Finally, a sense of recognition sets in, and one of them scowls.

"Graves? What the fuck!"

He exclaimed in an accent that sounded like it could be Scottish. Graves? Right. That's Phillip... But how do they know him? Who are these people?

"What's going on?"

You asked as he parked the truck. Phillip didn't even bother to answer you as he got out, a wide smile plastered on his face. The men, however, didn't seem to be as glad as he was to see him.

Hesitantly, you unbuckled your seatbelt and got out too, torn between following him or staying back.

There was an air of hostility and anger from the men. They all seemed to be strong and fit. Not that Phillip wasn't as well, but if it came down to it, you were outnumbered, and your few hours of target practice weren't going to mean anything if these men pulled weapons.

As your feet reached the pavement you took a deep breath. This probably wasn't a good idea but, if he seemed comfortable enough with them you shouldn't worry too much, should you?

"I can't believe it."

He laughs. His hands going to rest on his hips.

"1-4-1. As I live and breathe. How're ya holding up Captain?"

Phillip reaches out a hand enthusiastically in an attempt to shake hands with one of the men. You observe the interaction from the other side of the truck. Not yet sure if you wanted to find your way to Phillips's side.

The man he'd referred to as 'Captain' keeps his stance. Head tilted, chest puffed out, fingers intertwined and resting in front of him. Judging by his angry expression, he didn't seem like one for pleasantries.

"What do you want?"

The angry Scottish one says stepping forward with an aggressive snarl. Was he looking for a fight?

You glanced to the truck where your bag was debating whether or not you should arm yourself. On one hand, you wanted to be prepared if things went south. Though, no one had them out they still had quicker access to their weapons than you or Phillip.

Ultimately, you decided against it trusting Phillip to de-escalate to situation with his charismatic nature. Besides, if you were to reach for a gun now it would only give them more reason to take the defensive.

"Stand down Soap."

The captain says. His sultry British tone contrasted the unapproachable demeanor.

The third man between them just stood tall. His expression is unreadable behind the sunglasses and baseball cap he had on. Based on the tension alone you could assume it wasn't a pleasant one either.

Phillip throws his hands up in defense, his smile never wavering despite the surrounding hostility. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Look fellas, I know we've had our disagreements but, this is a dog-eat-dog world, and you know just as well as I do Captain, that there is strength in numbers... Let's help each other out here."

Although you'd always been aware of Phillips's arrogance, this was the most you'd seen it in action. You weren't even sure what Phillip could possibly need from these men anyway. You had a truck, gas, food, and water. As far as you were concerned you were rich in this fight for survival.

"Right... Disagreements."

The Scotsman scoffed. Soap. You thought, committing the name to memory. It was the best you could do to piece together the relationship between the four.

"Seems you're missin' one. Where's Ghost?"

Phillip asks the men. Everyone stiffened, followed by a tense silence. Soap's angry demeanor mixed with a hint of sorrow.

"Don't know."

The captain responds.

You felt a tightness in your chest. Had you heard them correctly? Ghost... There had only ever been one man you'd known to go by a name like that, it had to be the same one, right? I mean what are the chances of multiple people on the same continent being named something so obscure? Especially with the global population being at an all-time low.

Considering the hostility, you were a little scared to speak up. Though, clearly Ghost was someone of importance to these men and if you could offer them information maybe they would be more welcoming to the pair of you.

"D-did you say Ghost?"

You asked, feeling embarrassed as everyone turned their attention to you.

"Like... Tall, mask, not much of a people person..."

You continued a hint of annoyance coating your words. All eyes remained on you and even Phillip looked at you with a hint of surprise. Your attempt to ease the tension seemingly failed.

"You know him?"

The man in the glasses spoke up.

You nod. Maybe not as much of a failure as you thought?

"He was with me... well, only for a bit. He left."

This piqued Soap's interest the most of the three men. The captain steps forward dropping his arms to his sides.

"How long ago did you last see him?"

You shrugged.

"Maybe about 3 days ago?"

The men all share surprised glances.

"Holy... He's alive."

Soap mutters. Okay, tension eased. You look at Phillip for confirmation. His eyes are on you, a hint of questioning behind them. Had he known who Ghost was this entire time?

You silently cursed yourself for not mentioning him sooner.

"Where is he?"

The captain asked you desperately.

"He... I'm not sure. We were in a suburban area just outside the city. That's where he left me."

Soap's movements were animated as he turned away with a frustrated sigh, one hand resting on his hip while the other dragged across his stubble.

Judging by that reaction the tension was back.

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help."

You say starting to feel guilty for even bringing it up now. The captain raises his palm, almost as a gesture of thanks, acknowledging that the information was appreciated before turning to Soap.

"Alright, alright."

The captain says trying to soothe the obviously irritable Scott.

"We know he's alive. So..."

His words trail off, but you can see the cogwheels in his head turning.

"We'll set up camp for the night. In the morning a couple of us will head back to the city and look for him."

Soap nods.

"Aye, I'll go."

The captain shakes his head.

"You'll stay here with the girl. Gaz and I will drive out with Graves."

"Are ye kidding me?!"

Soap exclaimed clearly not happy about that plan.

"Cap you aren't really trusting Graves on this are you?"

The man in the sunglasses finally speaks. His tone remains skeptical.

"I mean come on Price, after everything you really think Graves is going to be any help to us?"

Price. That must be the captain, the man in charge. What did he mean though 'after everything?' What kind of history does Phillip have with them? Why are they so angry and distrustful? And most importantly, why are you the only one who isn't?

"No Gaz. I don't. That's why he's going with us. So, we can keep an eye on him."

Price says coldly. There was a lot of unspoken anger radiating in the air, and it was all directed at one man. You side-eyed Phillip cautiously. Whatever he'd done to them must have been bad if this was their reaction. Until you figured it out maybe it was best if you stayed more alert around him too.

But wait... No. He'd never been anything but kind to you. He helped you when Ghost left. He did more to help you than Ghost had even considered and in less time.

"I'm right here you know."

Phillip interjects in his usual smart-ass way. His voice broke you from your thoughts and you shoot him a look. One that says, 'Stop poking the bear'. Clearly, these men weren't fond of him, and considering you were his company, they may feel inclined to attach the same disdain to you.

"You shut up!"

Soap growled stepping towards Graves daringly.

Price slaps a hand to his broad chest to hold him back.

"Let's just focus right now on finding Ghost. We get off this road, rest, and make a plan after."

Price's voice remains calm and authoritative as he tries to reel in Soap's whirlwind of emotions. He glanced around, his eyebrow raised as if half-excepting someone to object. When no one does, he nods to Soap, who's still death glaring Phillip.

"Alright then. Let's go."

By sundown, Phillip is backing the truck between a couple trees. Enough to keep it concealed but, leaving space in case we have to leave in a hurry. The engine shuts off abruptly and he gets out sighing as he stands beside you leaning against the trunk of the tree you were sitting under. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the three men convene around a small fire pit.

"Philip?"

Your soft voice cut through the tense silence.

He keeps his eyes trained forward and doesn't respond but, somehow you knew you had his attention.

"How do you know them? And why do they... hate you so much?"

Your voice faltered at the end. Hopefully, it wasn't a sore subject but, by the longing gaze he gave the trio, your hope fell short.

He takes a moment to find his words before turning to you.

"I've worked with Captain Prices team before. Let's just say... we had a difference in opinion when it came to directing our teams and following orders."

You stayed quiet expecting him to continue but, it seemed that that was as much explanation as you would get.

Phillip pushes off the tree and reaches out to help you up.

"Come on. Let's eat."

The rest of the evening was awkward, to say the least. You sat off to the side with Graves while Price and Gaz went over a map likely planning out their search for Ghost. Soap shot Graves glares every so often from across the fire.

"Looks like he wants to kill you or something."

You mutter looking down at your feet. The sound of Phillip's knife cutting into a tin soup can sent a shiver through you. You scrunch your nose in disgust, practically tasting the metal with each high-pitched scrape.

"Yeah, well... He' s probably imagining a hundred different ways he could."

Phillip says handing you the open can. Your shoulders slumped in disappointment. More soup? Great...

As Phillip reached for another can he glanced over at Soap catching his eye. Smiling in amusement. He seemed unbothered by the situation perhaps even enjoying how he was getting under Soaps skin.

"Should I be worried about being here alone with him tomorrow?"

Phillip shakes his head as he opens his own can.

"Soap is one of the good ones... one of the best. Besides, their feelings are mine to shoulder."

You nod glancing over at them. Soap is now turned to Price as he speaks to his team. It was strange to you how Phillip was brushing off the tension between him and the men. Even the way he spoke about Soap despite his malice. He was choosing to see the good in them and it was clear he held Price in high regards. That was the trait of a much more likable man than the three were making him out to be.

But the question still stands, if Phillip respects Price and his team so much, then why do they hold so much hatred towards him? What is it that you aren't seeing?

The next morning everyone was up early packing for their trip back to the city. Soap was still adamant about helping search for Ghost. He didn't seem to be the type who enjoyed sitting back while everyone else got in on the action.

"I know you, Johnny. And right now, your energy is best directed elsewhere. So, you'll stay here and watch the girl while we search for Ghost. That's final."

Soap opens his mouth to object but is halted with one last look from Price. He had had enough arguing. Soap seemed eager for Ghost's return. You wondered how you would feel if they really did find him. How would it be to face the man who abandoned you after promising his help?

You had a lot of things to say to him but, you weren't holding your breath. From what you'd seen Ghost was a difficult man to find and after three days who knows where he could be by now.

You stood a couple feet away your arms crossed over your body in a self-soothing manner. You push away the thought of Ghost and stuff down the rising anger, as you look back at Phillip.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. Phillip would be gone, and he was asking you to trust a stranger, one who proved to be nothing but, angry, argumentative, and borderline murderous.

Phillip swung his bag through the open truck window before walking over to you. He tilted his head sympathetically; you might as well have had your feelings tattooed on your forehead with how easily he read you.

"You'll be alright. We'll only be gone a couple days."

Phillip's hands come to your shoulders in reassurance. You nod looking over at the men. Gaz climbs into the truck finding his place in the middle of the front seat while Price stands on the driver's side giving his last instructions to Soap.

"Hey."

Phillip says attempting to gain your attention again. Your eyes snap back to him.

"We'll be fine. Just hang out here, rest for a bit and before you know it, I'll be back. And when I am we'll search the map for somewhere cool to go, huh?"

You couldn't help but smile at that. Phillip was good at remaining optimistic. He made things easy.

You didn't know him well and may have only just met days prior but, you have come to care for him. Even enough to consider him a friend. Which is important in a world like this.

Despite this, you still couldn't calm the gnawing pit of anxiety in your stomach.

"What about the sanctuary?"

You ask hugging your arms tighter to your chest.

"If there really is a sanctuary, it's not going anywhere. So, we can afford to take a couple detours for adventure, right?"

You only smile in return. Phillip was right. What was the point in rushing towards something that wasn't even guaranteed?

"Come on, sweetheart."

Phillip says pulling you into a hug. His chin rests on the top of your head.

"Don't declare me dead just yet."

He jokes. You returned the hug loosely. The affection was new to you but not unwelcome. After a few moments, the sound of the truck horn beeps shortly, and he pulls away. Price starts up the truck from his place in the driver's seat. His elbow resting through the opened window. Soap steps back and glances at Phillip as well still glaring daggers at him.

"Duty calls."

Phillip mumbles and you chuckle in response. He turns away his hand lingering on your shoulder as long as his arm's length would allow as he heads to the passenger side.

Your anxiety tightened its hold on you. Soap was here so, no matter the outcome, you wouldn't be alone. But what was company if you didn't trust them? If they didn't make you feel safe? Somehow the thought of that scared you even more. The worry settled deep in your chest. If Phillip didn't return, you would just be abandoned once again.

PART 8 >>

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