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sturniolopepsi · 7 months

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‘tis the season…for seasonal depression (C.S)

cw: talks seasonal depression/anxiety/ED (LIGHTLY) (read at own risk please!) use of y/n ¿ANGST i think¿

req: no i was listening to “Can’t catch me now” by Olivia Rodrigo and we got here. enjoy!

A/N: please don’t read if your triggered by the topic! your mental health is more important and this fic will always be here to come back to when you’re in a better headspace love! MY DM’S ARE ALWAYS OPEN!

~what i write is completely fictional, these are just ideas in my head. i understand the people i write about do not and may not act like this in these situations ITS FICTIONAL BABES!~

NOT PROOF READ. AND JUST A JUMBLE OF THOUGHTS

***

y/n’s phone buzzes on the night stand, she debates answering it but taking the covers off her head to face the world around her seems to be to big of a daunting task at the moment. it buzzes again but she chooses to ignore it, snuggling deeper in her safe place under the covers.

she hasn’t actually spoken to anyone in about two days… but this depression episode started about a week ago, y/n slowly started to drift away. her boyfriend and his brothers busy with meetings and their lives hardly noticing her absence.

***

the triplets getting home from their meeting, chris tries calling and texting y/n. with no successful attempts he goes downstairs into the kitchen where his brothers are sitting planning the next wednesday baking video.

“has anyone heard from y/n?” chris asks his brothers both of them having a confused look on their faces. “no actually not for a few days.” matt responds, “not since the day we brought her mcdonalds. which was monday i think” it was now Thursday. “last time i heard from her was tuesday she put a short response in the girls group chat but that was itttt.” nick adds now matching chris’ horrified expression.

chris knew of her seasonal depression but it only being november he didn’t expect it to hit this early and this fast. “yeah, i didn’t get to message her yesterday i passed out before i could” he starts walking out of the kitchen. the boys could hear his voice breaking knowing he’s blaming this all on himself. before chris knows it he has his beanie on and shoes on.

“chris, where are you going?” nick asks standing in the hallway looking out towards the door. matt starts to grab his keys knowing his brother is about to ask for a ride to y/n’s house.

“too her”

chris opens the door disappearing out into the cold winter boston night.

***

hearing the front door open and closing downstairs startles the poor girl awake. before the panic attack can start she hears his voice. “y/n where are you?” she would answer him. but she doesn’t want him to see her like this. so if she pretends she’s not here maybe he will think she’s at her parents house. though, knowing him he’d try there too if he didn’t find her here. causing her parents to then worry about her whereabouts and well being as well as chris. she hears his footsteps coming up the stairs.

“in here chris… i’m okay just not feeling good i wouldn’t come in” her voice cracking after not being used in a while. she hears his pace picking up over the stairs and a little knock on the bedroom door before he slowly opening it to the dark room. seeing her poke her head out of the covers tears instantly threatening to fall at the sight of him “i’m sorry” her voice breaks. “oh baby” is all he can whisper walking over to the edge of her bed.

that’s when the tears start, she can’t control them and she doesn’t even know why she’s crying every doubt every fear RUNNING to her head at once. he climbs in bed with her instantly pulling her into his arms. whispering, “i’m sorry baby… it’s okay… shhh… i’m here… i’m here pretty girl… you’re not alone anymore…” softly kissing her on the top of the head. her face shoved into his chest and her body rattling with each sob, which only makes him hold her a little closer and keep whispering sweet things to her.

after some time she calms, chris still holding her as close as before. “i’m sorry… i’m so sorry chris” she states again her voice stuffy from the crying. “don’t apologize, pretty girl. don’t ever apologize for this.” she looks towards him, her face red from the crying, her eyes soft and tired, hair a mess from being in her bed. that’s when he hears her stomach growl. “baby when was the last time you had something to eat?” he asks looking at her, her face going from this soft sad to a confused state. the fact she’s trying to remember when her last meal was let’s chris know it’s been to long. “umm mcdonald’s, with you” she responds. his face drops… “y/n… that was monday night kid, it’s thursday.” her face looks confused clearly not realizing what day it was. “oh my sweet girl… am i able to go and get you a bath ready or a shower depending on what one you feel comfortable with. if you want i’ll call matt once you’re done he can come get us we can get something to eat, stop and get some snacks, and you come back to our house? i want you to be close to me so i can make sure you’re okay” he understands that he can’t just 1. force her to leave her bed if she’s not ready yet hence why he asked if she was comfortable with that. and 2. he knows he can’t just tell her everything will be okay and she will be perfect and happy again. he knows depression works on its own time but, at least if she’s with him he will be able to keep an eye on her.

she slowly nods processing the information and making her decision. she also really doesn’t want to be alone so, it seems like a good idea. “yeah. that sounds okay… just will you sit in the bathroom with me please?” laying her head back down on his chest seeming silly asking him if that request. “of course. anything you need sweetheart. you just tell me when you’re ready to get up okay?” giving her a light squeeze kissing the top of her head once more.

“we will get through this y/n… no matter when, no matter where… i love you.”

“i know… i love you too chris”

A/N: IM SOBBING IM SO SORRY

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo headcanons #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo headcanons #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo

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harryforvogue · 9 months

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i’d DIE for the hurt/comfort trope would you pleaseee feed us some yasmine and harry hurt comfort?? like it’s even easier than for other couples because poor yasmine is hurting 80% of the time 😭😭 if you don’t wanna do it for them because it’s too obvious save the idea for another couples night please!!!

Harry eyes Yasmine holding her fork with a death grip. Normally, he’d laugh about it and ask her what's wrong, but by the way she refuses to take her eyes off her food, he thinks it’s a little more serious than that. Best not to make a joke about her wanting to kill him.

So he puts his own utensils down and waits for her to say something herself. It takes some time, but when it happens, it happens very quickly. One second Yasmine’s cutting into the steak Harry’s prepared for her, and the next, her knife and fork are clattering on the plate and she’s pressing her hands into her eyes, her shoulders shaking. "Fuck!" she whispers.

Harry immediately stands and rounds the table to get to her. “Hey.” He sits beside her, cradling her head. “Yasmine. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

She cries softly as Harry pulls her into an embrace. Despite her moodiness and frustration, it’s rare to actually see her cry. And if she does end up crying it’s out of pain. That is something Harry can handle – it’s fixable. This? This is still new territory.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, kissing her hair. “Whatever it is. We’ll do something about it.”

When she finally starts mumbling what’s bothering her, it takes him a while to piece everything together. He understands that she’s upset at herself for canceling a dinner with her friends and that it’s not the first time. And because she’s done it so many times, she thinks her friend hates her. It’s also that friend’s birthday, which makes it all the worse.

He holds her tighter, bringing his chair so close, she’s practically in his lap. “It’s not your fault,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on her head. “Oh, Yasmine. You can’t control that.”

“It’s just that she always reschedules the dinner for a weekday. If she did it on a weekend, I’d have enough time to feel better between therapy and all, but first she chose a Wednesday.” Yasmine suddenly raises her head. Harry’s heart breaks at the sight of her red eyes. “Wednesday! I need Wednesday to relax! I already hate going to work Wednesday morning, you know?”

“Yes, baby, I know,” Harry murmurs. He runs the heels of his palms over her eyes. She sniffles. "Take a breath, please."

“And then she picked Tuesday. Which is when I go to therapy.”

“Yes.”

“And then last Friday but…” she trails off.

“You went out with me that night,” he recalls.

“And she probably thinks I hate her. And this is how I lost all my other friends. I never saw them. And all my excuses were so stupid and I didn’t want to tell them what was really happening because then people treat me differently and you know I hate when people do that.”

“I know.” He cups her face, tilting it upwards. He presses a few kisses to her cheek. “But, Yasmine, like I said, this isn’t something you can control.”

“I can control it if I take like 5 Advils before I go out.”

“Which I don’t want you to do.”

“I don’t want to either but now it’s been three weeks since her birthday and I haven’t seen her and I’ve only given her excuses, and–”

Harry shakes his head. “That’s okay. You come first.”

“It’s her birthday!” Yasmine argues, tears spilling down her face again. Harry never sees her like this. It’s so difficult to look at her face. “She comes first!”

“I understand it’s her birthday,” he soothes. “But I’m also sure she wouldn’t like it if you had to leave the dinner early because you weren’t feeling well. Wouldn’t it be worse that way?”

Yasmine’s brown eyes remain glossy and utterly devastated. Her eyelashes stick to each other. “If she reschedules, Harry, I don’t think she’ll invite me.”

“Then that’s completely on her.”

She doesn't say anything, letting Harry pull her back into his chest. She wraps her arms around him and cries softly into his shoulder, Harry’s hand rubbing her back gently.

“I hate it so much,” she says between breaths. “I hate this. I hate it all. I want to be normal and have friends again. I don't want to hurt anymore."

Harry’s jaw tightens and he closes his eyes, fearing they’ll begin to tear up as well. Her voice breaks, long hair unraveling from her usual bun, sticking to her face. He holds her tight as if he’s the glue keeping her together from breaking. She trembles in his arms, and Harry decides that he hates this feeling the most in the world. It’s as if he’s being torn apart from the inside, a brief twinge in his chest.

“Yasmine,” he whispers, pushing her hair off her face. “It won’t always be like this.” He forces himself to look down at her wet face. “Just this morning you were telling me about how much stronger you feel. How usually you get tired by 4, but recently you’ve been making it until 6. That’s progress.”

“I can’t wait for it to get better,” she says, a desperate whimper emerging from her throat. “It’s been years. I can’t take more years of this. Harry. Before you…before you it was so–” She balls her hands into fists. “I can’t do that again.”

“You can,” Harry says. He wipes her face again, his entire palm drenches with the residue. “And when you look back, you’ll see how brave you were. How strong. I tell you all the time, don’t I? You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” He gives her a small shake. “I can only dream of being half as strong as you.”

To his horror, Yasmine only cries harder, hiding her face again. He swears under his breath and holds her wrists, trying to see her face again.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–! Fuck!” He pulls her back into a hug. “I’m the worst at this. I’m sorry!”

Yasmine only shakes her head, throwing her arms around his shoulders. “I love you,” she says into his neck. “And I hate you for that.”

“For what?” He clutches her so tight, she squeaks. “For loving you so bad? Unfortunately I can’t regret that. You’ll have to suffer for it, it seems.”

“For making me cry again!”

“I was trying to comfort you!”

“You did!” She sniffles, taking several deep breaths to calm herself down. Harry could stay here for days, just holding her – minus the crying of course. He could do the rest of his life without seeing a single tear shed by his baby. He wants her to laugh at him. He’ll happily take her brooding over this. He’ll even take her anger. Anything over this.

So to fix it, Harry does the only thing he knows that will make her stop crying. He dramatically clears his throat. “I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new–”

Yasmine groans, melting into his chest. “Please no.”

Their dinner has gone cold. Harry reaches for her plate, about to tell her that he’ll go reheat it for her.

Her phone on the table suddenly begins to ring. Slowly, she unwinds herself from around Harry and reaches for her phone. She returns back to him, crawling into his lap. He loves her weight on him.

“It’s her,” she whispers, panic in her eyes. “Should I pick up?”

“Yes.” Harry tucks her hair behind her ear. “Let’s hear her out.”

Yasmine nods several times, swallowing. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” She answers it, putting it on speaker. “Hi.”

Yasmine’s friend says, “Hi Yas! Good news. I was able to reschedule the dinner plans without being charged so how’s Friday for you? I thought before I made the new reservation that I should ask you.”

Yasmine glances up at Harry. “This Friday?”

“Yup!”

Harry smiles encouragingly and nods. He takes her hand and kisses her palm.

“Give me one second, I’m going to check my schedule.” She scrambles to put the phone on hold. Harry raises his eyebrows mid kiss.

“We made a plan to go out with your family on Friday,” Yasmine whispers, worrying her lower lip. “I can’t go to this dinner. I’d rather–”

“Baby,” Harry laughs softly, holding her chin. “Tell the bloody woman you’ll come.”

“But I promised you–”

“It doesn’t matter. I see you every day and I can’t take you away from your friends.” He runs his knuckles over her cheek. “Go on. It’s okay.”

“Will you be upset with me?”

“Not even in the slightest.”

“Will your parents?”

“No, baby, they’ll be fine.”

She swallows. Then nods. Takes a few breaths. “Hi,” she says when she unmutes the call, “that sounds great. I promise I’ll be there.”

“Great!” her friend chirps. “And hey. You can talk to me about anything, you know?”

Tears form in Yasmine’s eyes again. She pulls the phone away from her to sniffle. “Yeah.”

“I’m just assuming you’re going through something, and I want you to know that even if I can’t help you, I’ll always listen.”

Yasmine’s lower lip begins to wobble again. “Thank you.”

Harry leans in and kisses the corner of her mouth. She then softly says goodbye and ends the call. She shifts her head down and kisses Harry properly. His lips are warm, his kiss the sweetest it can be, and his arms are around her, making her the safest person in the world.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his mouth. The tears slide down her cheeks. “Thank you so much.”

Harry doesn’t have it in him to tell her off for thanking him. Instead, he lets the love he feels for her take over, and he brings her back for another kiss.

#one thing about harry is that he WILL be quoting star wars when yasmine is crying #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry and yasmine #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles hurt/comfort

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spoilmesweetieforficssake · 1 year

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Another little foray into the Larissa x Reader world. This is a little fluffy oneshot that fits in the same universe as my previous series of oneshots.

Take A Break

You sigh on hearing the frantic knock at your door. You were comfortably curled up with on the couch in your quarters, blazing fire in front, the warmth of Larissa behind you and a glass of wine in hand. Offering an apologetic smile, you slip out of the loose embrace the taller woman had you in and head towards the door, Larissa merely offering an understanding smile of her own as she took your wine glass from you.

Opening the door, you come face to face with Enid. Seeing her in a panic, you immediately glanced behind her, expecting Wednesday. It seemed, however, that the young werewolf was alone.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Principal Weems? Only, she’s not in her office.”

At almost eleven o’clock on a Friday night you would rather hope not. Not when you had been trying to give her ever more reasons to step away from her desk. You made sure to keep the door wedged, blocking the rest of your room from view, hoping to diffuse the situation quickly and return to the warm embrace of a certain Principal. “Well, it’s late, Enid. She’s probably in her rooms, thinking of heading to bed. As you should be.”

“She’s not, I checked,” came the quickfire response from the young student.

“She’s maybe already asleep?” You paused, seeing Enid fidget and shift from foot to foot, and not in her usual excited manner. “Are you okay, Enid?”

“I’m fine,” she was quick to reply. “Just a little flustered, I guess?”

“About?” you prompted gently. You were aware that she faced pressure from her parents with regards to her not having ‘wolfed out’ yet and hoped this wasn’t the cause of her current panic.

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to her feet, which still shifted nervously. “Exams are just around the corner and there’s just so much I haven’t even started revising and I just feel like I’m so behind and-”

You reached out, placing a hand on the young woman’s arm and halting her mid flow. “Enid? Enid! You need to take a moment and breathe.” You gripped her arm a little more firmly. “Come here. Come on,” you said, guiding her into your rooms. As much as you wanted your evening with Larissa to go uninterrupted you weren’t about to turn the poor girl away when she was on the brink of a panic attack.

Closing the door behind you both you expected to find Larissa on the couch, but instead were met with the sight of a familiar feline perched on the armrest. With a smile at Larissa, you gently guided Enid to take a seat. “You need to breathe, Enid. Just take a moment and take some nice deep breaths for me, okay?”

She nodded, but you could see she was still struggling. You watched as Larissa, in her cat form, approached the struggling student, nudging her gently with her head. The unexpected contact seemed to break through to the young woman, who gingerly reached out a hand to stroke soft fur, a small smile finally finding her face.

“You’re a bright girl and a good student, and exams are a way off yet,” you say softly. “You have time.”

“But I’m so behind!” she said, tearing her eyes away from Larissa to look at you.

You shake your head. “No, you’re not. You handed in your last assignment to me a week early. Some of your classmates still haven’t handed it in.”

She frowned. “But it was due on Tuesday.”

“Exactly,” you smirk. “You have time, Enid. I've seen your notes in class and they’re excellent. If you keep up half as well in your other classes you’re ahead of most.”

A blush spread across the blonde’s cheeks at the praise.

“I tell you what,” you start. “How about Monday after classes you stop by my room and you can bring your revision things and we can make up a study schedule? Maybe seeing it all out on paper will help you see you have more than enough time? And if you’re still worried, we can go and see Principal Weems together?”

You smile as Larissa slinks across the couch, coming to rub against your leg in agreement.

Enid also watched the progress of the feline form. “You have such a cute cat!”

“Oh she’s not mine,” you’re quick to disagree. “But I do like that she keeps coming back to visit me. So, what do you think about my plan?”

Blush still lightly straining her cheeks, the young woman ducked her head. “If you’re sure you don’t mind, that sounds like it would be really helpful.”

“Excellent,” you smile, pushing yourself to your feet, Enid following suit. “Now, in the meantime, I want you to go back to your room and relax. Do something fun. And absolutely no studying!”

“But!”

“But nothing!” you reply. “You have time, Enid, but your brain isn’t going to take anything else in if you’re all in a panic.” You place a hand on her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “You need to give yourself some time to relax too, to recharge?”

“I’ll try,” she offers shyly.

You smile, pleased to see she looks a little more like herself. “Ask Wednesday, I’m sure she’ll find some mischief to get into.” You ignore the yowl of disapproval from the cat still perched on your couch.

“Oh, one more thing,” you say, as you start to guide her towards the door. Quickly retreating to your small kitchen, you rifle through your tea caddies before finding the right one and picking out a few bags. “Ty these. It’s all herbal, just designed to help you calm down and sleep better,” you offer with a smile, tucking them into her pocket. “If they work I can make up more.”

Smiling broadly now, Enid lets you walk her to the door, but doesn’t leave without wrapping you in a fierce hug. “Thank you!”

“Anytime, Enid,” you smile, hugging her back. “Now I mean it, all fun, no studying this weekend. That’s what Monday is for.”

In the time it takes for you to say goodbye and close the door Larissa has transformed back into your preferred form; herself.

“Should I be concerned about what’s in that tea?” she asks, picking up her wine glass once more and handing you yours as you come back to her.

“A little bit of witchcraft 101,” you smile, curling up next to her on the couch again. “All herbal, like I said. Though I’m not sure how well it’ll work with her wolf metabolism. Anyway, who knows, even if it doesn’t have any physical effect maybe she’ll get some sort of placebo effect from it.”

An arm curls around your shoulders as you lean into her side and you feel her absentmindedly stroke the top of your arm as she stared off into the flames, a slight frown marking her features.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, Pussycat?” you ask.

“You said I wasn’t yours.”

It was your turn to frown.

“When Enid asked you,” she elaborated.

Turning to better face her on the couch, you can’t help but smile a little. “Technically, I didn’t claim ownership of what to Enid was a random cat. A cute cat, but a random cat nonetheless. But what I meant, was that you are your own woman, Larissa. Do I enjoy every minute we spend together? Yes. Do I think that I’m incredibly lucky you choose to spend your time with me? Goddess yes. But you’re not something that can be owned.”

She looks at you for a long moment, her eyes awash with emotions you couldn’t quite fathom. She reached to carefully take your wine glass, placing it along with her own on the table before taking your face in her hands and kissing you. It started slowly, tenderly before her tongue swept across your lower lip. You granted her access to your mouth without hesitation, a whimper leaving your throat as she proceeding to kiss you deeply, angling your head just so with the hands still cupping your cheeks. You were quite sure you’d never been kissed quite so thoroughly in your life.

“What if I wanted to give myself to you?” the words came in a whisper as she rested her forehead against your own.

If you head hadn’t already been spinning from her kiss, those words would most certainly have done it.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems

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i-like-turkey · 3 months

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I announced on Twitter that I was taking a step back from social media and fandom to deal with a personal matter. That’s still true. I just need to barf some feelings into the universe. I’m putting them under a cut. This is NOT an easy read and I’m NOT holding back details. Don’t feel compelled or obligated to share my pain. TW: Pet death & grief.

I said goodbye to my little girl on Thursday. She’s been my world since I took her home at the end of July 2012. It was both sudden and not sudden. So I’m in shock, but I’m also not really surprised. There were signs that something bad was looming and I had this gut feeling as early as January that this wasn’t gonna be a good year for us.

This likely all started a long time ago. I took her to the vet in August of 2022 right before we moved east. The vet told me that her heart didn’t sound 100%, but it wasn’t something that needed immediate intervention. She had a little murmur that could indicate heart disease and if it got worse, then I’d need to get her to a specialist to take pictures and then we’d likely get her on some medicine to deal with whatever the problem was.

So I heeded the advice to take a wait and see approach. My baby was acting fine. She made it across the country well. She had energy and life. Not quite her puppy energy, but she was 10, so that was normal. I took her to the vet again this last August and I heard the same thing. She has a murmur. It’s not quite bad enough to get images. If it gets worse, we’ll refer you to a specialist. Ok. Great.

We keep living our life. She still has energy. Lunging at cars and barking at other dogs and trying to get endless pets from all of the strangers we’d encounter while walking in our neighborhood and riding our building’s elevators. I can’t tell y’all how many people would ask how old she was and be surprised when I told them 11.

So we get to January and she’s coughing a bit more than she usually does. Background: for the last few years of her life, she’d occasionally have coughing fits when she got super excited about something or barked too hard at a car. Worrying. But something I’d disclosed to all of the vets we’d seen and they didn’t seem perturbed by it. But now the coughing was every few days instead of a couple times a month or three days of coughing followed by months without a single damn cough.

It got really bad mid January. I took her into the vet. The same one who’d listened to her heart in August. He listened again. Nothing out of the ordinary. She didn’t have fluid in her lungs. Her energy was fine. He sent me home with antibiotics and a cough suppressant and told me to come back if she didn’t improve after a few days of treatment. She improved. Not right away. There were scary times where her breathing was all labored, but after a few days of the meds, she was doing better, and by the end she seemed fine.

And then we get to last Sunday and I hear a cough and that wasn’t good. And then Monday she’s coughing a bit more and I’m getting nervous. I talk to my parents and we agree to not do anything yet because illnesses can linger and her energy was fine. My mom came over that night and we were standing by the laundry closet doors and my pup pulled a toy out of her toy basket and was just running all over the living room with it. She was shaking her head and growling and having an absolute blast flinging that thing everywhere for the entire lengthy time my mom and I were chatting. She didn’t look sick. She looked like a puppy with lots of gray hair.

Then my mom leaves and we sit on the couch and she rolls over for belly rubs and immediately has to roll back over to cough. Then she cuddles up to me and we sit there and watch TV and I pet her and then I take her out and we go through our nighttime routine. She seemed fine.

Tuesday was a good day. She had energy. We played a bit with one of her favorite toys. We had some good cuddles. I only heard a few coughs.

Wednesday morning she seemed ok energy wise. She coughed when she rolled over for belly rubs right after I got home from my morning walk (solo cause it’s long & hilly. She also got one every morning). I didn’t notice anything abnormal during the day. Then we go out for our evening walk and she’s sluggish. That also wasn’t abnormal cause her energy had been fading for the last few years. Sometimes she’d race through our walks. Sometimes she liked to take a leisurely pace. I never worried cause if a car zoomed past she’d lunge and bark and if she saw a dog, she’d lose her mind. But we passed a couple dogs that night and nothing. That had me on edge. But then we get inside and I put on her favorite TV show, Person of Interest, and she was barking up a storm at Bear and seemed fine. I take that as a positive sign and relax a little.

I make dinner. We go to the couch for nightly cuddles. She rolls over for belly rubs. Starts coughing immediately. I pet her through it. Then she cuddles into my side and coughs a couple more times as we sit there. I put her to bed at her usual bedtime. I hear her coughing a few times as I’m struggling to fall asleep. Then I wake up Thursday and she’s in bad shape. I don’t wanna describe it cause it’s too fucking tough to type and traumatic. But I get us scheduled with the nearby vet asap* and I keep an eye on my girl and her scary symptoms. The symptoms subside a bit. Then my mom comes over to help keep me calm as we wait for our appointment time. My baby perks up when she hears my mom knock. She runs from the couch to the door. She’s wagging her tail and barking and jumping on my mom. She goes and chugs half her bowl of water. We sit there with her for over an hour petting her as we talk. She’s breathing ok. Her tail is between her legs, so that’s a sign something isn’t right. But she’s getting all the love from us and seemed happy.

Then we leave. She pees and poops on the way (I didn’t take her out first thing that morning cause part of the scary badness that I’m skipping is that she peed inside). The vet comes in and listens to her. I show a video I took of her that morning. The vet’s reaction said it all. She snapped into action. Took my baby out of the room for x-rays. As that was happening we were going over pricing options with a tech and then shit kinda really hit the fan cause the x-rays were bad. No specialty review necessary. She had fluid around her heart. So we start talking about transporting her to a specialist. They bring my girl back in. The tech just kinda drops the leash and steps away as soon as my girl is through the door. She starts racing directly to me and she collapses. My mom runs for help. They take her away again. The vet ends up doing the procedure she would have sent us elsewhere to do. Basically draining the fluid. It’s blood. They get her stable and hooked up on oxygen and give me the option of trying to get her to the animal hospital for further intervention. But the vet was clear that she’d probably die on the way and it was VERY clear at that point that she wasn’t gonna get better from this. It was a heart tumor. Something had ruptured and started bleeding. There was no fix. So I made the call to let her go. We got my dad and my brother on the line and told them to get their asses over to us. We stood there petting my baby as we waited. Then we said goodbye.

*In hindsight I maybe should have gotten her in the car and driven her to an emergency hospital. But the closest one ISN’T close. And that wouldn’t have changed the outcome. She hated the car enough that she would pant during two minute drives. 40 minutes (assuming relatively light rush hour traffic which is probably a bad assumption so more like 60 min) of that while she was already in breathing distress might have killed her. But assuming we made it, they could have intervened and maybe bought her a day or two. But this wasn’t something she was gonna get better from. That extra time would have been full of pain. So I made the right call. She got more loves from me and my mom at home and got to pass peacefully nearby while she was surrounded by everyone who loved her.

So I’m devastated and completely out of my mind at the moment. I don’t know what’s up or down. I’m keeping myself occupied between sobbing fits by going through all the pictures I’ve taken over the years. It’s a pain in the ass because my storage habits are terrible and my screenshotting habits are worse so I have hundreds of thousands of images scattered everywhere and now I have to dig through them to find my girl.

Here are some painful lessons I’ve learned from this:

Don’t store 77k images in a single folder on an external hard drive. You won’t be able to copy them all over to the iCloud at a single time unless you have a fuckton of available disk space on your Mac. And trying to scroll through the images will push your computer dangerously close to the limits (I really need a new machine 😬)

Don’t rely too heavily on Snapchat to takes pics. It’s fun in the moment, but 5-6 years later you’re gonna cringe & regret that all your cute dogs pics from that era are plastered over with weird graphics. A Happy Mother’s Day pic with my dog on the couch behind me, hearts all above us, and a damn Wookie filter plastered over my face? jfc 🤦🏼‍♀️

Do give yourself a refresher on how Snapchat works lest you go through and favorite a bunch of memories, see a pop up flash about them getting added to a story, and then have a full on panic attack in front of your parents about how you might have accidentally shared semi-naked pics of yourself with the few people that still follow you 😅 (Yes, I’ve been been known to take and share some risqué pics. Yes, I wanted to download them before deleting them. I might be grieving, but I can still see a pic of my 2018 back muscles and think “Damn!” 🫣🤣)

Don’t be so lax and sloppy about your picture storage habits that you’re forced to keyword search your text messages for pictures cause it’s a good way to find out just how many women you’ve texted dog pics to throughout the years 🥴 She was a great wing woman, but she also loved to clam jam me cause she thought she was the one who should be getting kisses when I’d sit on my couch with a woman 😂

Do find a balance between taking pictures of every damn thing and living in the moment. I stopped taking lots of pics since my east coast move cause I wanted to get away from my compulsive snapping. Now I regret not taking at least one daily shot of her sleeping on the couch.

Do have other people take pictures of you and your dog. So far I’ve only found two different occasions on which someone else took a picture of me and my baby together. All other pics of us are terrible selfies or feature just my hand/arm/legs. I have memories of all those moments that I spent with her, but it hurts to not have a father away perspective on them. Part of this is my fault for living thousands of miles from my family, being fairly closed off to human connections aside from shallow hookups and activity buddies, and viewing my home as a sacred domain accessible to people only if there wasn’t another option for where we could hang out.

Thank you anyone who has made it this far. Please go hug your pets and tell them that you love them. If you would like to leave me a note, that’s very welcome. I don’t have the energy to engage, so it’s unlikely I will respond until the day my energy returns. Idk when that will be. Right now I’m still in the sobbing hysterically as I process my new reality phase. I need to get through that before I’ll be ready to start communicating normally. I’m hopeful that I’ll only need a week or two in this phase. But who knows. Grief is hard to predict. All I can do now is stay patient and work through it.

#personal #dog death tw #pet death tw #grief #the ao3 author's curse is undefeated #I really wrote chapter 17 into existence #ugh #I'm finding the lolz where I can

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year

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Force of Habit Part Four

Previous Part | Masterlist

Pairing: Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only

Notes: Hi welcome to the final part enjoy thank you for reaaaaadiiiiing

Warnings: Mentions/descriptions of anxiety; fluff; explicit sexual content—oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex

Summary: Maybe your dry run of the dishes should’ve given you some indication of this, but there’s a little part of you that’s unnerved by how…Easy this all feels. You won’t deny that there’s still some low-level of swirling anxiety in your belly, but it’s assuaged by the fact that whatever happens tonight, you’ve been through way worse. You’re certain that by the end of the night, you and Berzatto will both be a thousand dollars richer, and neither of you will cover yourselves in cold Au Jus and go running into the walk-in.

“Can you help? I’m like—I am so screwed it’s not even funny.”

Emma’s voice is tinny and desperate as it comes through your phone. You’re still looking at the menu that she’d sent over before calling. You bite your lip as you consider it. You could swing it, but it would be tight. You can either implore Crispy’s owner to close up early on a Saturday, or leave Steph in charge for the evening. You’re not sure which would be worse. Besides, you can’t cater a gourmet dinner service by yourself.

“I’ll give you two thousand for the night,” Emma adds, “All cash, under the table.”

“Christ, Em. Who the hell are you working with?”

“Oh my god, yes or no, babe, I’m desperate here.”

“Okay—okay, lemme make one other call, and I will get back to you in—” You glance at the time on your phone before raising it back to your ear, “Like, an hour, okay?”

“Ugh, fine.”

You roll your eyes, hanging up and lowering your phone again. You swipe through your texts, tapping on Carmy’s contact and raising it to your ear again. It rings three times, and you think it’ll go to voicemail until he answers—

“Yeah?”

“Hey. Can you pull a job with me this Saturday? I know it’s super short-notice,” You hurry to add, “But my friend needs a favor. It’s a small wedding service for twenty at this fuckin' bougie hotel. Two thousand, all cash, even split.”

There’s a pause on the other end; you can hear the slight scritch of him scratching his head.

“Menu?”

“Pre-selected. I can send it to you now,” You add, pulling the phone back from your ear and putting it on speaker. You pull up your email, tapping on the menu and forwarding it to him.

“Time?” He asks.

“We’d be let in for prep would start at four, service would start at five-thirty.”

“...Even split, all cash.”

“Yep.”

“...Caviar-topped canapes…Grains salad…Duck confit spring rolls…Skirt steak with paprika butter…” He mutters, reading some of the menu to himself. He pauses before speaking up again: “…We springing for ingredients?”

“Nope. Already ordered and paid for.”

“The hell happened?”

“The chef has some family emergency. My friend didn’t go into all the details.” You bite your lip. “Like I said, I know it’s super short-notice, but I need an answer like, ASAP—”

“I’ll do it.”

“...For real?”

“Yeah. Are we meeting there, or do you wanna do a dry run, agree on plating?”

“That’s probably a good idea. Crispy’s is closed on Tuesdays, so if you wanna come by some time then.”

“You’re closed?”

“It’s been our slowest day. We don’t even get delivery orders. I usually come in to do a deep clean and inventory.”

“Okay, Tuesday. Is it gonna fuck you up for Wednesday if we do it kinda late?”

“Pffft, please, Berzatto. On holiday weekends, we used to get, what, three hours of sleep from leaving for close to going in for prep? I can handle it.”

“Hey, sorry for askin’.”

“Forgiven. Lemme know what time is good for you and I’ll circle back with Emma, let her know there’s gonna be two of us.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.”

“Thank you.”

You hang up, drawing in a deep breath and pushing out a long, slow breath through your lips as you look down at your phone. You feel a vague queasiness wash over you—and you’re not sure if it’s the cuisine, or the thought of being in the kitchen with Carmy again, or both.

“Where’s the gremolata for the, uh—”

“Halibat?” You fill in. "Working on it."

“How long?”

“Thirty seconds, chef.”

He doesn’t gripe with your use of chef this time; it’s right in this context, at least. You walk around to Carmy’s side, setting the bowl down beside his elbow before walking to the stove to turn the skirt steak. You glance back at Carmy, unable to help yourself. You watch him lower a clean spoon into the bowl and raise it to his lips, taking a taste—and then dip his head in a nod. Some little part of you that had gone dormant goes warm, vindicated.

“Skirt steak?” He asks.

“Just turned. Two minutes out, chef.”

“Heard, thank you, chef.”

You nod a bit to yourself, drawing in a deep breath and turning back to the pan. You can hear the scratch of Carmy’s pen on the printed menu by his station, no doubt taking stock of how long it’s taking you.

“Paprika butter?” You ask.

“One minute out, chef.”

“Heard, thank you, chef.”

The kitchen smells fucking delicious. With the restaurant closed, there are no other sounds besides the bubbling, sizzling, and crackling of food being cooked. It’s almost calming—almost. You just have the skirt steak to plate—and then you’re set.

“Skirt steak is ready, chef,” You announce.

“I’ve got the sauce. Walking.”

“Heard.” You wrap a dishcloth around the handle of your pan, walking the skirt steak up to the station and setting it down. Carmy takes the steak up, cutting it and eyeing the inside. Your stomach roils with nerves, eyes darting between the steak and his face.

“This is perfect, chef,” He says, plating it. You have to fight back a grin, mumbling a, “Thank you, chef,” As Carmy spoons the paprika butter over the steak. He jots one more note down on his menu before he stops the digital timer that you keep in the kitchen. The two of you look over the six plates in the window—three appetizers and three entrees.

“Wanna do the tasting in here?” He asks, glancing over at you.

“Nah, no point when there’s an empty dining room. C’mon,” You nod, taking up two of the appetizers and one of the entrees. “We can put it out on the bar.”

It’s a little surreal, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Carmy and taking bits and bites from the plates of food that you just cooked. In New York, you only ever took small samples of what you’d made to ensure quality. Now, you get to eat the whole damn thing.

“Should probably make the paprika butter first,” You comment, pushing some chicken onto your fork. “It can stand for, what—Four hours? It won’t be there for nearly that long.”

“Mhm,” Carmy nods, still chewing. “Prep the spring rolls, drop them as people get in…Put the farro on right after we make the paprika butter.”

“Give it time to drain and cool. And the gremolata after that.”

“Yeah.” Carmy reaches out, snagging his beer and taking a pull from it to wash down the caviar. “I think the chicken scarpariello’s gonna be the biggest hurdle.”

“Agreed,” You nod. “It needs the most handling.”

“Garnishes should be easy. Oven-roasted vegetables and sauteed spinach—”

“Just need the odd look-in and turn.” You reach across him, plucking up the last spring rolls and biting into it with a sigh. “These are fuckin’ good,” You mutter around the mouthful as you set the second half down on your plate.

“You know the chef that canceled?”

“Nn-nn,” You shake your head. “I think they’re a friend of Emma’s.”

“How do you know Emma?”

“We went to college together. She was a business major. She started her own event planning business, like, right as Covid hit.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. She’s keeping her head above water,” You shrug. “But it was touch and go there for a while.”

“...Why’d you ask me for help?”

“Because I needed it.”

“Why me instead of one of the other chefs you know?”

You glance over to find Carmy’s eyes wandering you, though he doesn’t meet your gaze when you look at him. You shrug, turning back to your plate.

“I knew you’d take to the menu quickly,” You admit. “It’s the kind of stuff you’re used to.”

“The kind of stuff we’re used to.”

You smile a little. “I don’t know if I’m that used to it anymore.”

“The skirt steak and I both disagree with you. Your instincts are still there.”

Your smile widens, unable to help the bubbling of your flattery.

“Well. Thank you to you and the skirt steak.”

Carmy’s smile widens as he straightens up and reaches out, taking the last of the duck confit spring roll off of your plate and popping it into his mouth.

“Dick,” You grumble. Carmy grunts in agreement, sitting up and plucking the last piece of skirt steak with his fingers. Before you can stop yourself, you lean in, catching hold of it in your teeth and slurping it into your mouth. Your lips, tongue and teeth brush against the swell of his fingertips as you lean away again. You raise your thumb to your lips, swiping away the stray sauce as you lean back. You swallow your embarrassment along with the steak, swiping your tongue over your lips.

“Payback,” You slide off of the barstool and begin to gather up the dirty plates. “Never steal my fucking spring roll again.”

“Heard,” Carmy chuckles. You try not to overthink the way he smiles—or the fact that he raises those same fingertips to his lips to lick off the remainder of the sauce.

On the day of the wedding, you half-expect Carmy to turn up with his hair slicked back, like you used to see—slicked back hair, and a pristine white uniform. But Carmy is in the clothing that you’re slowly becoming more accustomed to seeing him in: dark jeans, a white t-shirt, and a blue apron. Between the two of you, prep goes smoothly. You speak little, save for asking what one or the other is doing, or may need help with. By the time service starts, you’re beginning to tingle with nerves. But Carmy’s call of, “I need two orders of spring rolls, one grain salad, one order of canapes,” Starts your engine.

“Heard,” You call back, rounding to the frier.

“How long on the spring rolls?”

“Eight minutes, chef.”

“Heard, thank you, chef.”

Maybe your dry run of the dishes should’ve given you some indication of this, but there’s a little part of you that’s unnerved by how…Easy this all feels. You won’t deny that there’s still some low-level of swirling anxiety in your belly, but it’s assuaged by the fact that whatever happens tonight, you’ve been through way worse. You’re certain that by the end of the night, you and Berzatto will both be a thousand dollars richer, and neither of you will cover yourselves in cold Au Jus and go running into the walk-in.

By the time the last appetizers have gone out, you feel yourself beginning to settle into an easy rhythm with Carmy. You’re each flurrying around the kitchen, in near-perfect sync. Sure, now and again you’ll get in your own head about something, but Carmy usually snaps you back out, asking for a time on an item, or murmuring, “Behind,” and resting his hand on your lower back to keep you steady as he passes.

That’s new. Carmy has the same officious speed and manner in the kitchen, but there’s never been a consistent level of close proximity. And you’ve never felt so calm in a kitchen with him before—well, not a professional kitchen, anyway. Your personal kitchen is another matter.

By the time the two of you send out the last round of entrees (three halibut, two steak, two chicken scarpariello), you shut the burner under the cast iron skillet off and sigh softly. You scrub the heels of your palms over your eyes, loosing a sigh that turns into a yawn.

“...Doin’ alright over there, chef?” You hear.

“Yep. Just taking a breath before we start clearing up.” You tip your chin up, lowering your hands and giving him a small smile. “You go ahead and have your cigarette,” You add, nodding to the back door. “I’ll get started in here.”

Carmy seems to consider for a moment, glancing over in the door’s direction as he fiddles with the tasting spoon in his hand.

“I’ll wait,” He finally says. “I’ll get started with the sauce station if you start with garnishes.”

You’re surprised, but you nod, straightening up and turning.

“Heard.”

“...Think we’ll get any cake?”

“Fuck, I hope so. Did you see it when it came in? It looked fuckin’ good.”

“You gonna gripe at me if I want a drag of that?”

Carmy chuckles, pushing the smoke out as he does.

“No,” He shakes his head, holding the cigarette out. You plop down beside him on the bench outside of the venue, taking it from him and drawing in a drag. You damn near groan as you tip your head forward, smoke pushed out through your nostrils.

“Haven’t gotten a new rubber band yet?” He asks. You smile.

“I have, but…I don’t know. This was always kinda our thing, right?”

Carmy doesn’t answer right away, leaving you to stare at the smoldering tip of the cigarette in silence. But after a few nerve wracking moments of quiet, he offers, “...Yeah. Was.” He reaches out, fingers pressing against yours as he gently pries the cigarette from your fingers. You bite your lip, looking down at your empty hand and wiggling your fingers a touch. “Could work out a new thing if you’re tryin’ to quit, though.”

“New thing like what?”

You see Carmy flick the cigarette away. You frown, watching the half-finished butt fall to the ground.

“Dude, what the hell, that was a perfectly good—” As you turn your head, your argument kicking up, Carmy’s hand raises to cup your cheek. The way he draws you in feels so effortless—like every action you’ve ever seen him make in the kitchen. His hands are warm, and smell like smoke and garlic—there’s a hint of the cake icing as he slips his tongue between your lips. Your eyes blink in surprise once before sliding shut. You lift a hand to hook in the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer. The two of you scooch closer on the bench, knees knocking as your kisses deepen.

You lean back first, tongue brushing against Carmy’s lip as you lick your lips. You give a short dazed nod, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah,” You manage. “Yeah, that could work.”

You feel tired as hell. Usually after a service like this, all you want to do is take a long, hot shower and curl up in bed. Now, nothing of the sort is on your mind. Your hands fumble with your keys as Carmy presses up against your back.

“Having some trouble there, chef?” Carmy teases, nose nudging against the hinge of your jaw. You let out a shaky laugh, shaking your head. You force yourself to focus up, looking down at the keys.

“No trouble at all, chef,” You bat back, finally slotting your key into your apartment door lock and shoving it open. It whacks back against the wall with a bang that’ll surely annoy or alarm your neighbors, but you can’t bring yourself to give a shit. You half-stumble into the room, turning and pulling the key from the lock as you turn to grip Carmy’s shirt. He wraps his arms around your middle, just managing to keep you from toppling over. You slide your hands up into his hair, curling your fingers in the strands. Carmy tips his chin up a touch, catching your lower lip between his teeth and giving it a tug. You whine softly at the sting. You reach back ,unwilling to let go of Carmy or break your kiss, absently whacking at walls to find your bedroom doorway.

You lean back just enough to kick your shoes off and tug off your shirt. You reach for Carmy’s shirt, too, but he takes hold of your wrists before you can pull his shirt up and off. Your breath catches in your throat as Carmy tucks your arms behind your back, holding them there and forcing your chest against his. You shiver as his thumbs sweep tenderly across your wrists. Carmy tips his head from side to side, giving you darting, quick kisses. You lower your eyes to his lips, tracking their movement, as if you can anticipate which way he’ll lean next. Carmy intertwines your fingers as he dips his head, pressing a kiss to your jaw before slipping his lips down further. You close your eyes, tipping your head, as if you need to entice him further. The shifting sensation of his tender brush of kisses blooms into a sharp heat as Carmy nips and tugs at the skin there.

“Fuck,” You shiver, fingers twitching around his. Carmy grunts against your skin, pulling away with a final kiss before he lifts his head. He rests his chin atop yours, lowering your heads and guiding your gaze back to his.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” he murmurs, “You pull any’a that yes chef shit in here and you’re gonna get it.”

The warning sends an intrigued chill down your spine, and makes you smile wide.

“Well sorry in advance, chef,” You murmur. “Force’a habit.”

Carmy groans low in his chest. He teases his tongue across your lips before he lets go of your hands. You can feel him working at pulling off your bra, but you’re more focused on taking off his shirt. You scrabble at the fabric, nails scratching slightly over his side as you pull. He moans, sinking his teeth into your shoulder before he tugs and snaps your bra strap against your back. You wince, reaching back with one hand and deftly undoing the clasp before leaning back to shrug it off. Carmy doesn’t gripe at the assistance, just tugs his shirt up and over his head before flinging it aside.

Carmy shoves at your hips, pushing you back to the bed. When your knees hit the mattress, you sit almost obediently. You lean in, pressing gentle kisses along his belly, and over the thin trail of hair tracking down to his pants as you undo his belt, button and zip. Your hands smooth down, massaging his hardening cock through his jeans.

You grin as you hear Carmy hiss a swear out under his breath. You shove at his waistband, grasping his cock as it bobs into view. Taking him in hand, you tip your chin up, peering at him from beneath your lashes as you swipe your tongue along the underside of his cock. Carmy draws his lower lip between his teeth, his hand lowering to rest on the back of your head. You fight off a smile, focusing on bobbing your head and teasing him with your tongue.

Carmy’s fingers flex against the back of your head as you hum around his length. Your hands shift away from him, pushing his pants further down around his thighs. Carmy wriggles a touch as he stepped out of his shoes, nudging them aside. You draw off just enough for Carmy to shove his pants down the rest of the way before he steps up between your legs again, his hand back on your head. You begin to bob your head, taking hold of the base of his shaft and twisting your wrist.

“Fuck, just like that—Don’t say it,” He warns as you turn a mischievous eye up toward him. You grin wide, drawing off of him and lapping at the head of his cock. He pushes out a shaky laugh, eyes bright as he watches you. You lean up, pressing a kiss beneath his belly button before you tip your head up, your hand still working over Carmy’s length.

“Lean back,” He urges, nodding you toward the mattress before crouching down and gripping at your leggings, “And get these off.”

You scooch back, wriggling out of your leggings and undies and kicking them off. You squeeze your thighs together, honing in on the slick throbbing between your legs. He slides his hands up your legs, pushing your thighs apart as he kneels down on the bed. You groan softly as he shoves your leg up to bend at the knee. You let your thighs splay, elbows propping yourself up to watch as Carmy slots himself between your thighs.

He trails his knuckles over your wet, plumped cunt. Your pussy throbs as he leans in and teases the tip of his nose along your slit, then tracks the same path with his tongue. You want to tip your head back, to sink back into the mattress, but you keep your eyes on Carmy. He meets your gaze so rarely, but now he holds his eyes steady on yours. Your gut swoops at the sight—at the way his eyes are bright in the dark room. Carmy parts his lips, lapping broadly along your cunt.

You bite your lip, quieting a moan as you push your hips down against his lips. Carmy flicks his tongue against your pulsing clit. He groans against you, tipping his head to and fro, laving your lips. You hiss softly, reaching down and sliding your fingers through his hair. You give his hair a harsh yank, pushing your hips down against his questing lips and tongue. Carmy’s eyelids flutter at the pressure and sting. His groan muffles against your skin before he draws off with a slick suck. He raises two of his fingers, teasing them along your opening. He takes your clit between his lips, sucking it harshly as he sinks the fingers down to the knuckle. You whimper, back arching up off of the bed. You slide one of your hands from his hair, thumbing and tweaking your hardening nipples.

“Oh, my god,” You breathe. You roll your hips down into his mouth and hand, cunt fluttering as he stretches your aching hole. Carmy pumps his arm steadily as he swirls his tongue teasingly around your pussy. Carmy presses impossibly closer, sloppily sucking and lapping your pussy as his nose pushes against your mound. You can feel a familiar coiling sensation in your belly—one that you want to chase—but you reach down, gently pushing at his forehead. Carmy leans back, blinking up at you. You push yourself up and lean down, nudging your nose against his.

“You gonna fuck me?” You murmur, and grin as Carmy hurriedly pushes himself up to kneel over you.

“Condom?” He asks. You twist to the side, reaching into the drawer of your bedside table and rummaging around for a moment. Carmy’s hand lowers between your thighs, thumb teasing gently over your clit. You lean back with the foil packet. You rip the packet open with your teeth, taking the condom out and rolling it down over his throbbing cock. You grin as he twitches in your hand, your eyes lifting to his. Before you can tease or sass him, Carmy cradles your jaw in his hands, catching your lips with his. The two of you groan as he slips his hot tongue against yours, sharing the taste of you. You lower yourself down onto the bed slowly, a tingle running down your spine as you feel the head of Carmy’s cock brush against your tender pussy.

Carmy breaks your kiss as he lowers his head, mouthing and sucking kisses to your breasts. He takes himself in hand, tapping the head against your clit. You whine, wriggling down against him.

“Cut it out,” Carmy murmurs, slapping your hip.

“Fuck me.”

“So fuckin’ impatient—”

“You’re right there, Berzatto, c’mon, just fu—”

Your demands go quiet as Carmy shoves his hips forward. Your lips, parted from complaining, push into an o at feeling of him filling you so completely.

Oh my god, and, move, and right there all sit on your tongue, but you can’t bring yourself to say a damn word. You just heave in a deep breath, eyelids fluttering as Carmy lowers himself down over you. His chest brushes against your sensitive breasts; his hips press flush against yours.

“Nothin’ to say now, huh?” He murmurs against your jaw. You huff out a harsh breath, cunt fluttering as Carmy shallowly rolls his hips. “Smartest fuckin’ mouth off the line, quickest fuckin’ hands in the kitchen and you got nothin’ to say?”

You whimper, turning your head into Carmy’s shoulder as he begins to fuck you with short, harsh thrusts. Your hands curl around his shoulders, nails sinking into his skin. Carmy slides his hands beneath your head, cradling your head. You press your chest up against his, tipping your head back into his warm, steady hands.

“Hmm?” He hums, right up against your ear. “Still nothin’?”

You curl your legs around his, a hand sliding up into his hair as you give it a tug.

“Harder.”

Carmy’s expression goes stony at your order, and a smile flickers across your lips for just a moment before his hips snap harshly against yours.

You sigh softly, shifting your head on your arms. You’re belly down in bed, sleepy, and sore. You smile as you feel Carmy slowly trail a finger down your spine before he palms one of your ass cheeks. You give a little wiggle, and grin when you hear Carmy chuckle. He presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder before nuzzling the same spot tenderly.

“So, just so I know,” You mumble, turning your head toward him, “Is the post-job tradition just gonna be the making out, or all’a this?”

“All of it,” Carmy answered steadfastly, lips brushing your skin. “You do a real good job, we’ll do it twice.”

You scoff a laugh, rolling onto your side.

“You telling me I didn’t do a really good job tonight?”

“‘Course not,” Carmy coos, palming your hip and easing you back onto the bed as he covers your body with his. “I’m giving you a heads up for round two.”

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce

#Carmy Berzatto x Reader #Carmy Berzatto x You #Carmy Berzatto/Reader #Carmy Berzatto/You #Carmy Berzatto fic #Carmy Berzatto imagine #Force of Habit

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jazz-bazz · 3 months

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a fluffy raindrop inspired by my first synthesis step that didn't work because of the same reason it doesn't work for rain... the difference being i didn't get a picnic under the stars... also instead of getting a day off, i skipped half a lab day to get to band practice for an event... the luck these ghouls get *sigh* im jealous...

creds to @sexy-sea-basss for the lake picnic idea! 🖤

didnt plan on posting this today but after the heartbreak that is @alwaysjustmina ‘s whispers (love it so much) 😭… @webbyghoul and i figured we’d need raindrop fluff asap

The Day Off

The week can’t get any longer if you ask Rain, and it’s only Tuesday. He’s been working on just this one step since Wednesday last week, which is already ridiculous, especially the 3 days spent trying to isolate a product, or at least something. They’ve got to have something because on Friday Mist will ask for a weekly report. They’ve been losing sleep and surviving on energy drinks and protein bars, though sometimes Dew would stop by with ‘healthier’ snacks.

The problem is not with synthesizing the substance, he thinks, although they wouldn’t know, they haven’t taken any spectrums yet, because the substance just don’t want to be isolated from the rest of the shit. They’ve tried all sorts of of solvents, n-Pentane, ethylacetate, diethylether, in various ratios, but nothing is working. The fucking polar nitro group they have in their substance is making it harder to isolate, even if they manage to do it the yield wouldn’t be good. They could change the starting material and methods, but they need to talk about it with Mist first when she’s back from her work trip, probably sometime later today. But damn if he isn’t going to wear themself out by trying their hardest.

They’ve talked with Mountain and Swiss too, asking for ideas and opinions, even chatted a bit with Cumulus. But none of their suggestions work, it got closer with the ratio of solvents that Cumulus suggested, they could already see a bit of difference in the TLC he did earlier, but it’s still not separated enough for the column chromatography. Now they’re just sitting at his desk fidgeting with Bap, sometimes bringing it close to his nose so they get Dew’s calming scent.

“I have returned from the hell known as human science convention with old men who has no respect for women!” Rain suddenly hears, Mist is back, there may be a light at the end of the tunnel.

“Mist! Hi, how was the trip?” Rain asks, to be nice and even though he’s dying to ask her about their problem.

“Rainy, darling! It was annoying, they keep not believing me when I said I’m a participant in the convention and not the catering staff, ughhh. But enough about me, you seem down, what happened?” Mist sees the tired look in Rain’s face, the dark circles under their eyes, and the slump in his shoulder, not to mention the way they were staring into space clutching that crochet plushie of his when she first came in.

“Oh, Mist, nothing is working, I’ve been trying to isolate my product but none of the solvent ratios I tried worked, I even asked Cumulus and Mountain and Swiss and they have no idea either. Could I maybe get permission to redo the reaction with a different starting material? I can even propose to you a new reaction mechanism to get the same result right now, I have thought a lot about this, it just doesn’t work with this one. Or even if it works, the yield would be bad, and-“

“Rain, Rain, stop for a second. Take a deep breath, come on,” Mist smiles softly at her protegee, “Okay. You’re good?”

“Yeah, maybe, I don’t know,” Rain sighs.

“Here’s my decision, you are hereby dismissed for today, and also tomorrow, go get some rest, spend a day in bed, go swim, whatever, you’re far too stressed. You can show me your idea on Thursday. And because I know you’re just gonna stay here and stress some more. I will get Omega to let Dew off early and distract you, maybe you’ll even get your first kiss from him today. Got it?”

“Wait, what? No I can do it, we can discuss it now and because it needs to be cooked overnight I can do it today and tomorrow start with the work up, I’m fine Mist,” Rain pointedly ignores the last part.

“No, you’re not. You need sleep and to eat more than coffee and candy bars. My decision is final, you are hereby banned from this room and the labs for the rest of today and tomorrow, go pack your things,” Mist says while gently pushing on Rain’s shoulders to get them to their desk and start packing up, “Meanwhile I’m going to call Omega. Your things better be already in your bag when I get back.”

With a sigh (so much sighing today) Rain starts to save all the documents on his computer and shut it down, stuffing their journal and tablet and the rest of his things into their rucksack. And then he waits for Mist.

“Your knight in shining armour will be coming in about 15 minutes!”

“More like in hoodies and ripped jeans,” Rain mutters.

“Aw don’t be so glum, Rainy darling, your project will be fine if you take a 1.5 days rest, you know. Then Thursday you can start with a fresh brain!”

“I guess… Thank you Mist, best boss I could’ve ask for,” Rain goes to hug their mentor.

“Hello my dearest loveliest bestest friend ever in the whole wide world both here and below! Thank you for the day off because Aether’s been getting all up my business today, and I am half a second away from burning his journals,” Dew announces as he barges into the office, “I have plans that involve a lake and snacks from the diner with no chemical reactions in the vicinity. Up and at it, bestie!”

“Fucking hell Dew, how can you still have this much energy?”

“By sleeping on time and eating enough food to sustain myself through a day full of quantum equations, which you should’ve done by the way, would be wonderful on those eyebags.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Nah, you’re stuck with me because we are besties and you can’t live without me, literally, because we are roommates. Let’s go!”

They stop by the diner to get some food to go, and then their apartment to drop of their things and freshen up, Dew also gets his picnic blankets and a couple of towels and change of clothes for when Rain inevitably jumps into the lake and splash him.

There’s this one secluded lake on the edge of the town that Dew found on accident. Usually they just go to the lake at the Abbey complex, but he feels like this one would be perfect for Rain to wind down without anyone watching, the way to this lake is a bit complicated and requires a bit of hiking, which neither of them minds, they both love to be in nature no matter what.

After parking the car and hiking, Dew asks Rain to put on a blindfold just before the bend that would reveal the lake. It’s because he wants to set up the picnic blankets with food and tea lights he brings for a romantic date under the stars, as it was already getting dark, they got to watch the sunset at the parking lot.

Rain agrees with a bit of grumbling, and with Dew’s guidance they walk together to the edge of the trail heading to the beach, where Dew then leaves Rain for a bit while he sets things up. He talks with Rain the whole time, to reassure Rain that he’s still there, just random chatters mostly, like Aether being annoying that day, the plans the pack has this weekend to go to Zenith because it’s bingo night, the last hockey game they watched, and whatnots. Rain has to admit, it is relaxing to just chill like this, even without being able to see anything, he can already feel the stress seeping out from their body.

“Okay, Rainy, you can take off the blindfold.”

When they take it off, the first thing they see was Dew holding a bouquet of lilies (who knows where he got it from) with a big smile on his face, and then behind him the picnic he set up, complete with a background of the lake and the starry night sky.

They spend a few hours there, snacking on the food while talking, kissing a bit (more like a lot) because there’s no one here and they can forget their running joke of not dating (they are both very serious about keeping up with it), taking a dip in the lake (Rain), and admiring the view of an unglamoured water ghoul in their natural habitat (Dew) before being pulled in by said water ghoul for underwater kisses (best thing ever if you ask Dew).

Then at about midnight they both get out of the water and dry up using the towels Dew had packed, and after finishing the snacks they pack up the blanket and tea lights and knick knacks they bring.

“Thanks for today, Dew,” Rain smiles while leaning in for a kiss, which lasts awhile, before they both pull back and rest their foreheads against the other’s.

“Anything for you, baby,” Dew smiles back, “Now, you ready to go home? We need to get some sleep, I know you have tomorrow off but I still need to come in after lunch for a bit. And you are not allowed to come with me, in fact I am ordering you to stay away from campus, go sleep in, swim, read, whatever, as long as it’s outside of a 5 km radius of the campus. Got it?”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Rain smirks, ”Let’s go, I need cuddles in my bed with you.”

#bex keysmash #ghost fics #lab coat au #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #mist ghoulette #raindrop

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justice4billiam · 3 months

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Math Class

So there was this one moment in time in high school where I actually liked a guy (I know, weird concept, just go with it) who sat in front of me in my math class.

Something you should know about me, I fucking suck at math.

Another thing you should know about me, I was kind of a dick in high school.

Okay, I’m still kind of a dick, but a nice one.

However in high school, I was extra dick-ish (I’m sure it had to do with all raging teenage hormones and a shit childhood)

Anyway.

I fucking sucked at math.

And what happens when you suck at math?

Your teacher assigns you a tutor to help “guide you to the path of success” or whatever she said.

Cool.

No big deal, right?

Wrong.

She assigned me to the nearest person to me.

The fucking guy I had a crush on.

Who thought I was the fucking worst.

Now you’re probably thinking nooo, he couldn’t possibly think that way about you. I’m sure it was all in your head

Well, you’re wrong. The guy hated me.

BUT for good reason.

He just so happened to be the brother of the girl I beat up half a week earlier in gym class.

NOW.

I didn't beat her up just because…no. She was an absolute terror to this disabled girl in said gym class.

She would verbally bully her to the point of tears.

But that one particular day she physically shoved her to the ground while we were all running the mile.

Remember how I said I was a dick?

Well, I used my powers for good. (mostly)

I watched that shit happen.

Then came strolling up to her while she was shooting the shit with her friends and shoved that bish so hard.

Her stupid unblended orange face (this was the early 2010s guys, no one wore the right makeup shade or blended their foundation into their damn necks) bounced off the concrete floor.

Let me just tell you…it was satisfying as hell.

It started a full on fight of which resulted in her getting her ass handed to her.

So you see, her brother hated me

And I didn't blame him

A sister is a sister.

You stand by your siblings, I get it.

BUT.

I had a big fat crush on him and now he was to tutor me.

Let me tell you, he was NOT happy about it.

I distinctly remember the look on his face the second the teacher called his name out to work with me.

It was the kind of face you make when you smell roadkill wafting through your car vents because you have outside air circulating while you're going 65mph(that's 96.56kmph) on a back road.

The look fueled the need to make him like me.

Those who know me now, know I'm a cheeky, flirty little shit.

So not to toot my own horn but it's hard NOT to like me.

(Is that my god-complex talking? Probably)

I can get along with just about anyone.

Not so surprisingly after about 30 minutes of flirting my way into his heart, I had him FLUSTERED.

I'm talking man giggling.

Blushed cheeks.

Couldn't even make eye contact with me.

FLUSTERED.

Don't like who?

Not me.

I'm sure you're probably wondering where I'm going with this.

Well, after class ended he invited me over to his house after school.

A normal person probably wouldn't go to the house of the girl you beat up and meet her parents while on her brother's arm.

I did.

I went.

I wish I had taken a picture of her face when I walked into her house. (she had stayed home the rest of that week because I beat her ass)

Honestly, it was a core memory.

The best part was her parents didn't know it was me who did it.

It was such an eventful week for me.

Monday: bully the bully

Tuesday: ice my hand from bullying the bully

Wednesday: suck at math

Thursday: rizz the bully's brother and come home with him to have dinner with bully and her family.

Friday: DATE THE BULLYS BROTHER.

Yep. You heard me.

That dinner went so well that the guy asked me out.

And I said yes.

I then proceeded to date him the whole year and become best friends with her mom.

Oh yeah, and I still failed math.

I'm gonna make this a series 🤭

@voyeurmunson im sure you'd get a giggle out of this. 😅🤭

#welcome to my blog #T journal series #i'm a mess #i like it that way #there's more where that came from #hi #im unhinged #high school #trending #this is my life

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study-with-aura · 4 months

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Monday, January 22, 2024

I am posting this a bit early since I will not have time to post later tonight. My Mondays will now be as packed as my Tuesdays and Wednesdays because they started the volunteer group back up at the library that I love working with. I still miss Ambassadors, but depending on the time, maybe I can do it again next year. I want to find a leadership position somewhere for more experience. It's very important to me. I would love for it to be at the library, but timing is everything.

Tasks Completed:

Geometry - Reviewed theorems + proved all circles are similar + proof practice + honors work

Lit and Comp II - Reviewed units 13-15 vocabulary + reviewed MLA format + started writing on my biography assignment

Spanish 2 - Reviewed vocabulary + listened to a story in Spanish + read about Mireia Belmonte Garcia for my writing assignment

Bible I - Read Deuteronomy 9-10

World History - Read over notes on China and Japan + read unit introduction + watched a presentation on Imperialist Japan and the decline of Tokugawa + answered questions

Biology with Lab - Read about genetic engineering + read about genetic engineering from a Christian perspective + wrote a paragraph about my personal thoughts on genetic engineering while arguing both sides of the debate

Foundations - Read more on meekness + completed Lumosity daily brain workout + read an introduction to informative speaking + read about informational speeches + watched a video on how to pick an informational speech topic + chose a topic for my information speech (Impact of Technology on Teenagers' Mental Health)

Piano - Practiced for one hour

Khan Academy - Completed World History Unit 5: Lesson 7 + completed High School Biology Unit 6: Lesson 3

CLEP - Completed Module 3.0-4.3 lecture videos (no new readings)

Duolingo - Completed at least one lesson each in Spanish, French, and Chinese

Reading - Read pages 163-207 of We Deserve Monuments by Jas Hammonds

Chores - Cleaned windows in my bedroom and in the study + took the trash and recycling out

Activities of the Day:

Volunteered for two hours at the library

Ballet

Contemporary

Journal/Mindfulness

What I’m Grateful for Today:

I am grateful for my fuzzamallow. (pictured above)

Quote of the Day:

It’s not a big thing, but I guess it’s true – big things are often just small things that are noticed.

-I Am the Messenger, Markus Zusak

🎧Piano Trio in E-Flat Major, Op.16 - Richard Stöhr

#study community #study blog #study inspiration #study motivation #studyblr #studyblr community #study-with-aura

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borahaerhy · 2 years

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Love and Sarcasm (1) - knj

Summary: The second semester of your sophomore year in college has started and there are only two people in your creative writing class that have published works: You, and Kim Namjoon; a pretentious know-it-all that just so happens to be in the same frat as your best friend.

Pairing: Fuckboy!Namjoon x Demi!Chubby!Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, College! au, eventual smut

Warnings: Namjoon is toxic, Jimin drinks some wine before driving but he's not intoxicated, College parties, the entirety of bts being in a frat, Y/n has a caffeine addiction, references to Jimin and Y/n partying a lot while underage.

Word count: 5.6k

Previous | Next

Note: Hey guys! I decided to make it a mini series, It should be 4-5 parts because I wasn't even half done and we were almost at 15k words so I decided I should split it up xD. I hope you enjoy :))

“There’s my favorite librarian,” You looked up from the cart of books you had been organizing and at your best friend of almost 10 years, holding a large coffee that you desperately hoped was for you.

“Did you get me the good stuff?” You asked as he handed you the cup, rolling his eyes as your eyes rolled back into your head as the hot bitter liquid met your tongue.

“Of course, I also got you a donut because coffee isn’t breakfast,” you gasp at his bold statement clutching your chest as exaggeratedly as you could muster.

“Says who?” You question as you gently set your coffee down on your desk, features still exaggerated

“Most people, I’m pretty sure. Eat the damn thing; and next time you wake up late ask someone else to get your coffee for you, I have shit to do,” he dropped the bag with the donut in it on your desk as you resumed organizing the books.

“Where have you got to be before 4pm?” You scoff, eyeing your friend out of the corner of your eye as he yawns.

“I’ll have you know,” he speaks through his yawn, “That my classes are early this semester. My first ones at 10,” You give a slight smirk as you shake your head lightly.

“Wow, look at you up and out of the house a whole 2 hours before you have to be anywhere – if I didn’t see it I wouldn’t believe it,” he narrows his eyes at you even though you weren’t even close to facing him.

“Haha, very funny. When are your classes for this semester?” He questions, sliding his hands into the pockets of his winter jacket.

“Uh, my Monday, Wednesday, Friday classes start at 9, so I should actually probably leave here soon. I have creative writing then at 2, I have one of the 40 English classes I have to take. Tuesdays and Thursdays are just Child Development which starts at noon,” You furrow your eyebrows, struggling to remember your new schedule off the top of your head.

“That English class, is it with Duncan?” You look over at him before nodding, picking up your coffee with one hand and placing the other on your hip as you take a sip. “Thank god, you know I hate reading, you’re going to be my lifeline, my little nerdy friend,” You cock an eyebrow at his mention of the word little.

“Jimin, we’re the same height, and I think I’ve got a few pounds on you, please stop calling me little,” you set down your coffee and look down at the sheet for the books that are due back today and start crossing off a few that had already been returned.

“I meant more figuratively. You’re emotionally 5’2,” You roll your eyes, a small smile creeping through you try to hide. “I need to get going, I have to meet up with the frat before I get to classes today,”

“Still can’t believe they let you into a frat,” you stood up straight again, taking one last sip of your coffee before you pushed the cart of books out from behind your desk.

“Still can’t believe you refuse to come to my frat parties.”

“Can you seriously see me going to a frat party?” You asked, almost laughing at the thought. Jimin nodded.

“I have actually physically seen you at several frat parties, Y/n,”

“Yeah, in high school,” He shrugged as he started walking backwards toward the front door.

“I’m just saying, I’ve seen the party girl in you, babe. Don’t pretend she doesn’t exist anymore – she was hot,” you rolled your eyes as he pulled his hat back down over his ears before stepping out into the cold.

You made your way to the back of the large lecture room, sitting in the back row next to a very large window that overlooked the snow-covered campus. You placed your 2nd coffee of the day down on your desk before sitting down, satisfied with your view of the board in front of you. It wasn’t a large class, so by the time everyone else had made their way in, you were still the only person in the back row.

“Good morning class, my name is Helen Swain, and I’ll be your professor for this semester,” She went on for a few more minutes, talking about what was going to be covered in the class and what to expect, even handing out a paper syllabus before announcing that she expected physical copies of all of your assignments. Looks like it’s time to invest in a printer.

“And I just have one more thing to announce before we get started. As this is a creative writing class, I thought it would be nice to highlight some of your classmates that have their very own published works! To the two who have their work published, would you please stand and tell us a little bit about it?” Your heart sunk as you reluctantly stood up, one other student a few rows ahead of you standing up as well. All eyes fell to him first.

“Young man in the front, why don’t you tell us a bit about yours?” He nodded and clasped his hands together.

“Yes, of course. It was a deep and very meaningful poem I wrote when I lost someone who was very close to me. My high school English teacher actually turned it in to a competition where it won first prize and got published,” The professor smiled widely as she began to clap, the rest of the class joining awkwardly as he sat down.

“That sounds wonderful, I’m glad you had a teacher in high school that saw your talent,” she paused for a moment, turning her gaze to meet you, your hands awkwardly shoved into the pocket of your oversized hoodie. “And what about you, in the back?” All eyes were now on you, but thankfully you were seated much higher up than all of them, so you could largely ignore them.

“Um, it’s called Sarcastic, and it’s an acrostic of the word sarcastic, that I wrote when I was 15 and turned in to a competition because I had to for a grade, and apparently it was just edgy enough to make the cut,” A couple of the students laughed, not that you minded – it’s hardly impressive and extremely funny that it had even happened. The boy who went first seemed to think it was absolutely hilarious, though.

“Well, you must’ve been extremely talented to have written something so well at such a young age,” You smirked lightly and gave a thumbs up as you sat down, without any applause.

She continued on with teaching, the class relatively uneventful as it was only the first day, but you still had an assignment due on Friday: a fictional piece of at least 5,000 words. You wrote down the assignment in your planner that you only ever used the first week or so of new classes, then completely disregarded the rest of the semester, before getting up and walking out of class with everyone else, tossing your long empty cup in the trash on the way out.

With the hour you had between classes, you decided to go to the schools café and get yourself an iced coffee to have a little variety. From there, you made your way to where you knew Jimin would be getting out of his lecture shortly and want to rant about something before he had to go sit through another 4-hour lecture.

“Looks like people will probably come to me for help,” you turn behind you, feet still moving in the general direction of when you needed to go before you turned back around as he caught up to you. “No offense, I just think my poem seemed a little more impressive than yours,” You hummed in agreement as you nodded, taking a sip of your coffee as you watched the smirk on his face grow confused.

“No, that’s good, actually, because I really hate it when random people come up to me and start talking about thing’s they generally know nothing about,” you both stopped walking, now turned to face one another as you took another sip of your coffee before slapping him on the shoulder. “So, thanks for that, bud.”

You turned and continued walking to Jimin’s classroom, which thankfully was right down the hallway from where your next class was going to be. “Oh my god I almost fell asleep like 20 times, who knew philosophy was so boring?” Jimin whined the second he was out of the classroom, causing you to snicker.

“Literally everyone, Jiminie,” you smiled as he linked arms with yours as you started slowly walking down the hall to your next subject.

“You like it,” he shot back as you shrugged.

“Because I’m boring Jimin, c’mon man, wake up!” You snapped in front of his face as you aggressively told him to wake up, sipping your coffee before he noticed you had a new coffee in your hands.

“That’s not the same coffee I bought you this morning, Y/n, and did you even eat your donut?” You scoffed.

“Of course I ate my donut that you so graciously bought me, what kind of a person only drinks coffee all day and has their first meal at 7pm?”

His expression fell as you turned to face each other outside of your class, his arms now folded across his chest. “You, asshole, that’s why I asked,” Granted, you had thrown the donut away after only having one bite; it was way too sweet too early in the morning. And he most certainly did not have the right to judge you on your coffee habits.

“Well, new year new me, Jiminie. I'll have you know I'll be eating food along with my ten cups of coffee a day,” you smiled, entering the classroom.

“Can you at least narrow it down to seven cups?” He followed you to the back of the room, the only acceptable place to sit.

“Never.”

After class, Jimin walked you home and then invited himself inside of your quaint apartment, plopping himself down on your couch before you could even finish getting your winter jacket off.

“So, what’re you going to wear to my party on Friday?” you scowl at him as you kick your shoes off, dropping your bag next to them before you cross your arms, moving over to where he’d occupied a large amount of your sofa before you squeeze in next to him.

“Who says I’m going to your party?” You retort, Jimin’s smirk never fading from his face.

“Me,” he spoke proudly, as if he’d just found a loophole in the system that forced you out of your house. He has not.

“Friday you said?” you ask, narrowing your eyes as he nodded as if in deep thought, pondering your options, before you shook your head and moved your eyes back to meet his. “Sorry, can’t, that cuts into my brooding time. Maybe if it were on a Tuesday–”

“You’re hilarious, you know?” He asked sarcastically after rolling his eyes. You nod.

“Duh,” his face softened as he turned to face you, grabbing your hand in the process.

“Seriously, Y/n, I think you might actually have fun if you come,” he elongated his words as he tugged on your hand slightly, his bottom lip jutted out as he begged. You rolled your eyes, trying to pull your hand back out of his grasp but he wouldn’t let you. “C’mon, babe, I've been trying to not push you, but you seriously need to get laid,” You immediately pull the pillow that you had been resting on out from behind your back before hitting Jimin as hard as you could with it, causing him to let go of you and chuckle, hands hiding his face as you swung a second time before propping the pillow back behind your back.

“Asshole,” You started, gaining his attention, “You know I’m an emotional bitch that can only sleep with people I’m in love with, we can’t all be sluts,” he chuckled softly at your words, rubbing the arm you hit as if it was a serious wound.

“Well then you need to go make out with someone or at least, I don’t know, get drunk and relax. I can’t remember the last time you just chilled the fuck out and had fun, ” his face became more somber as he spoke, trying not to sound like he was worried but still wanted you to know that he cared.

“If you wont come for you then come for me, the only people I hang out with at these things are fuckboys and they’re not near as fun as you. I promise I won’t leave you halfway through the night to be slutty either, I’m all yours if you agree to be my arm candy for the night,” You groaned loudly as he finished his sentence, making him stop because you know he would keep talking if you didn’t stop him.

“Can we find a new topic of conversation if I agree to think about it?”

“Only if you agree to think about what you’ll be wearing to the party you’ll definitely be coming to,” he smiled, his round cheeks hiding his eyes as his grin spread across his face. You sighed, sitting back up before grabbing the remote.

“Fine, I’ll go to your frat party, Jimin. Now, do you want to watch Harry Potter with me or not?” You asked, turning the tv on.

“Of course, I’ll order the pizza.”

The week went by much faster than you would’ve liked it to, between working and getting used to the long class hours. You had finished the writing assignment due for your creative writing class on Wednesday; you had always been an overachiever when it came to writing assignments that you had free reign on, so it’s a bit longer than necessary as well, but you figured that would help your grade, if anything.

You thankfully didn’t have to go into the library this morning, so you were able to get an extra couple of hours of sleep before you decided to walk to campus, seeing as it had snowed last night and it was beautiful outside. You, obviously, picked a hot black coffee on your way, the hot cup warming the fingertips your fingerless gloves neglected before you finally made your way to the large building your lecture was in.

Having an extra few minutes before your professor would even open the door, you slid your bag off your shoulder and set it down on a bench near the entrance of the building. You opened it, putting your coffee down next to it as you realized opening a zipper is hard to do with one hand, and pulled out your assignment, wanting to be able to hand it to her before you even took your seat.

You absentmindedly scrolled through your phone for a few minutes before you started to notice a few of your classmates walking in the building. You put your phone away, picked up your things before you went along with them.

“Ah, Ms. Y/l/n and Mr. Kim, the two paper’s I'm most excited to read,” You turned and realized that Namjoon was right behind you, smile wide as he held his paper out at the same time you did. You both took notice of the fact yours was longer, by at least a few pages, before you both started walking to your seats.

“Quality over quantity, Y/l/n,” he spoke lowly as he stepped quickly to keep up with you. You smirked.

“Hmm,” you hummed, taking a sip of your coffee before turning, facing him as he threw his bag down on the table. “Hasn’t anyone told you, Kim? Size always matters,” you turned on your heal and walked up to your seat that overlooked the class, satisfied with the baffled look that was on his face when you left.

“Okay, I know I'm basically forcing you to come to this party, but that doesn’t mean you can just wear your work clothes,” It was 30 seconds after you had walked into your apartment after taking some overtime in at the library, and Jimin was already in your apartment, drinking a glass of wine with his hand on his hip as he looked at you judgmentally.

“Did you bring your own wine glass to wait for me in my apartment to get off work so that you can scold me for not being ready 4 seconds after I walk in the door?” You cocked an eyebrow as you cross your arms across your chest, but Jimin only looks at you and nods as if that’s obvious and completely normal. You rolled your eyes as you put your things down, shedding yourself of your winter coat, gloves and hat before you walked past Jimin, taking the glass of wine from his hand and taking a sip as you walked back to your bedroom. “Besides, what’s wrong with looking like a librarian?”

“We’re going to a frat party, not a book sale,” He scoffs, following you into your room and taking his wine back from you as you open your closet and begin to think, piecing different things together.

“No shit, Jiminie. You just have to give me a second to get ready,” you pause, pulling a mini skirt out of your closet, looking around to see if there was any way you could pair this with something without freezing your tits off. “If someone drugs my drink it’s entirely your fault for making me look hot,” You pulled out a tight cropped sweater with a zipper down the front, holding them up together to see if they went well together. They did.

“If someone drugs your drink, I’ll murder them,” he said nonchalantly as you heard him opening your dresser drawer. “And if you’re wearing that, you’ll need these,” He throws a pair of fishnets over the hanger of the top before he begins rifling through your shoes.

“Well, while you figure out my outfit for me, I’ll go do my makeup,” he merely grunted and waved you off as he set his wine next to him, throwing your converse across the room.

“You’re going to catch a cold without a jacket, babe,” Jimin walked you out of your apartment and down to the street, where you had to then try to find his car in the snow-covered and cramped parking lot with your arm linked with his. You were now at least a good few centimeters taller than him, your chunky knee-high heels barely giving you enough traction to stay vertical as you walked through the ice.

“That’s what the coffee’s for, Jimin. It makes my heart beat so fast my body temperature never drops below 100 degrees,” you smiled as you walked unaffected by the temperature to his car, which was conveniently parked at the end of the lot. He opened the door for you before racing to the driver’s side and jumped in.

“Joking about your coffee addiction isn’t making me feel much better about it, Y/n,” you only smiled as he started the car and drove the short distance between your apartment and his house. It was massive. You’ve never been inside, but you’ve seen the outside of it many times. Between Jimin being overprotective of you and you not really liking to party anymore, he just always came over to your place when you wanted to hang out.

But now as you looked up at the large house that was already blaring music with people pouring into it, you started to get intimidated, almost wishing you’d gone to at least one of these things before so this didn’t seem so daunting.

Before you could even unbuckle your seatbelt, Jimin had your door open, hand extended to help you get out. You quickly unbuckled yourself and stood, taking Jimin’s arm as you walked up to the house, walking right in the front door into the living room swimming with already drunk people dancing on each other.

You made your way through the sea of people and found a space between the living room (dance floor) and kitchen (bar) that had fewer individuals.

“Jimin, why didn’t you tell us you had a foxy girlfriend?” You turned around along with Jimin to see what was probably the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. He extended his hand, waiting for you to take it as his smile spread sweetly across his face. You gave him your hand, to which he turned it up and gently placed a kiss on your knuckles, not letting his eyes leave yours. No wonder he didn’t trust these guys, I would give this man whatever he wanted no questions asked.

“Because I knew you’d try to take her away from me. You know, like you’re doing now?” Jimin pulled you back slightly by your hips, wrapping a protective arm around you as the handsome one smiled.

“Not his girlfriend. I’m Y/n,” his eyes widened slightly as he looked back and forth between the two of you.

“I take it you’re single then, Y/n?” He asks. Jimin tries to step on his foot, but he moves it away quickly, eyes still boring into yours with so much intensity you almost forget how to speak. Almost.

“That I am,” you smile, ignoring Jimin’s attempts to get you to stop talking.

“Well you, miss Y/n, are welcome here anytime,”

“DRINKS, lets go get drinks, Y/n, you must be parched,” Jimin pushed you away from the pretty man giving you attention and into the kitchen where there were alcoholic drinks and mixers scattered over every surface.

“Which one was that?” You ask as Jimin finally let’s go of you, grabbing a red solo cup from where they’re stacked neatly in the corner.

“That was Jin, you’re not allowed to date him no matter how good at talking he is. Tequila?” Jimin asks, holding up the bottle he’s already poured a shot from into his own cup.

“I’ll take a beer, thanks,” Jimin rolled his eyes, grabbing you a beer and uncapping it before he still grabs another solo cup and fills it with a shot.

“You still have to take a shot with me, it’s for good luck,” he takes the beer from your hand as you sip it and puts it on the counter, shoving the cup in your hand to replace it. He holds out his arm, waiting for you to link yours around it so you can take your shots together. As you roll your eyes and comply, Jin stood at the bottom of the stairs watching you and Jimin before a large hand landed on his back, bringing him back to reality.

“You didn’t get drunk without me, I hope,” Namjoon smiled as he followed Jin’s gaze. His eyes landed on you, arms linked with Jimin, your curves on full display as you knocked your head back, letting the liquor fall smoothly down your throat before you separated, Jimin wrapping an arm around your back, resting on your hip casually as he filled his cup up once more, this time with much more than a shot. “How the fuck did Jimin pull that ass?” He questioned, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for his older friend to reply.

“He didn’t. That’s Y/n.” Namjoon's eyes widened as he looked at Jin.

“Y/n? As in the childhood best friend he never brings around?” Jin nods, looking back over at you. Namjoon thinks for a second before patting Jin’s shoulder again. “Dibs,” He doesn’t wait for him to respond before he makes his way over to you, walking past you to grab a beer before turning again, looking you up and down. You looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“Who's your friend, Jimin?” he spoke, grabbing both you and Jimin's attention as he took a swig of his beer. Jimin sighed.

“Namjoon, with is Y/n. Y/n, Namjoon–”

“Oh hey, size doesn’t matter guy! How’s that working out for you?” You smirked widely as you took a small swig of your own beer. Jimin started laughing at your comment, not having any idea of the context but not needing any. Namjoon’s face fell as realization set in.

“You know, you look a lot different without the baggy hoodie and the coffee cup glued to your hand,” Namjoon smirks as he takes another sip of his beer, now much more intrigued by you.

“Okay wait, what am I missing here?” Jimin interjected as he finally stopped laughing, trying to figure out how you and his friend know one another.

“Remember the asshole I told you about from my creative writing class?” your eyes never left Namjoon’s, your head only shifting slightly to the side to face Jimin, who looked at Namjoon with you, mouth open. Namjoon moved his hand over his chest, faking hurt.

“Asshole? Wow, Y/l/n. That hurts, even from you,” the smug smirk never left his face, nor yours. You shrugged.

“I’m sure you’ve been called worse. C’mon, Jiminie,” you looked away from Namjoon for the first time since he’d arrived, pulling Jimin and his now very full cup of tequila that you were 90% positive he didn’t add a mixer to. “I wanna dance.”

“I’m not that drunk, I will be fine,” it was probably somewhere close to 3 in the morning, and you were ready to get out of here and go to bed. Jimin was probably about as drunk as you could be without completely blacking out.

“You’re not going to walk home or take the subway in the middle of the night looking like that in the dead of winter, getting buried in a pile of snow is a best-case scenario. Just come up to bed with me,” Jimin’s eyes were barely open as he leaned against the front door, trying his best to look stable by relying all his weight onto something to hold him up.

“I don’t want to put you out, plus you live with like 20 dudes, several of whom tried to grab my ass at some point,” He pushed himself off the door, putting both his hands on your shoulders before he turned you around and pushed you toward the stairs, now relying on you to remain upright.

“Then I’ll lock the door. I won’t be responsible for your death and I’m too tired to worry about you,” You rolled your eyes as you accepted defeat, helping Jimin up the stairs and into his bedroom at the end of the hall. He made sure he locked the door after you both got in the room. He hastily peeled off his shirt and threw it on the floor before falling onto his bed face first.

You pulled off your shoes, your feet thanking you as they felt flat ground again. You pulled down your skirt and fishnets, leaving them on his dresser before you slid under the covers beside Jimin, who instinctively wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into him, nuzzling himself into your neck as you both drifted off to sleep comfortably in each other’s embrace.

It truly was a good thing you worked in a library, because on days you were hungover the quietness of it all made your head hurt less as you readjusted back to normalcy. Not that you were hungover often, especially at work, but on days you were, you knew it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as it was when you worked in a McDonalds.

You finished putting away yesterday's returns and walked back up to your desk, stopping the cart beside you as you sat down, drinking your hot coffee, begging the caffeine to take away your headache.

“Was that you I saw sneaking out of my house at seven in the morning?” You looked up from a pile of paperwork to see Namjoon with a wide smirk on his face and a book tucked under his arm as he strolled up to your desk. You looked back down at the papers on your desk that seemed to be multiplying, words evading your vision as you tried to read them.

“I wasn’t sneaking, I just didn’t want to wake anyone,” he dropped the book down in front of you, leaning his elbows on the taller portion of the desk as you scanned over the book. The Forgotten Fire by Adam Bagdasarian. Interesting book for a frat boy.

“Whose room were you coming out of?” You wrote the title of the book down on the sign out log, before inputting the same information into the computer.

“Why don’t you ask your buddies, I’m sure whoever it was would love to brag about the encounter,” You wrote the date on a card and put it back into the book.

“Ah, did you get burned, Y/l/n?” You ignored his question, handing him back his book, your sarcastic customer service smile taking over.

“It’s due back in two weeks,” You extend your hand with the book in it cover pointed out to face him as he glances down at it, smug smile still playing on his lips before he takes it from your hand. You let your gaze fall back to your desk as you continued to look over your papers.

“See you then, Y/l/n, try not to miss me too much,”

“Only in your wet dreams, Kim,” your comment conned a genuine smile out of him as he walked out the door to the library. He didn’t know why, but Namjoon needed to know who you were with, and you gave him a pretty good suggestion. He made it not even 10 steps away from the building before he pulled out his phone, opening the group chat that all the members of his frat were in.

Namjoon slid his phone back in his pocket before he could read Yoongi’s complaints.

No one had ever really stood up to him, especially when it came to his intelligence. Namjoon had prided himself on being the smartest person back in his high school, and even while he knew he had no hope of being the smartest person in the college, he’d at least hoped to be smarter than most of the people he came across.

When he saw you walking on campus on the first day of class, he thought he might try his luck at flirting with you. While he didn’t think you seemed to be the most attractive based of the over-sized sweater and hair definitely not done, but you were the shy one. Face red as you spoke allowed about your poem is a self-deprecating manner, sitting as far away from others as possible. You kept away from people for the entirety of class, and then walked by yourself to get a coffee.

You seemed easy. He’d tease you before throwing a compliment or two at your feet, and you’d be all over him. Instead, he got to the teasing part, and you’d shot back at him. You’d shot back good. He didn’t even know how to respond, so he didn’t. That’s when he decided it’d be fun to have a little rivalry with you. You didn’t talk unless someone spoke to you, but God when you did speak? It’s never something he’s expecting; and he can’t get enough.

He hated losing, and you were the only competition he’d have this semester, all his other classes seemed to go by like a breeze. But your confidence alone would make you the most fun person to go up against.

Then he saw you at the party – saw what you could really look like if you put effort into yourself and knew the feud he’d started with you was probably going to be the hardest one he’d have to overcome.

There were two ways he could win: Get better grades, get better at comebacks, and prove that he was the smartest.

He could ruin you.

He’d never seen you at any parties before, so the likelihood of you being someone who liked to sleep around was low. That, and the fact Jimin wouldn’t even let you come to meet them meant he didn’t trust you around them; scared they’d break your heart or try to. So, you were probably emotional when it came to sex. If he could get you under him, he’d always come out on top.

Note: I TOLD YOU NAMJOON WAS TOXIC BUT I PROMISE IT'S NOT PERMANENT

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allie-campbell-bradshaw · 8 months

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Chapter 6: Bet

A/N: I’m BACK! Welcome to the sixth chapter of Top Gun: Baby, a love story following Bradley Bradshaw and Allie Campbell. This story is sequential, so if you have not already read the first few chapters, please go back and do so! All links to chapters and their mood boards can be found on my masterlist. I mention this in my notes for every chapter, but just in case you missed it– I do not give permission for my work to be re-posted without credibility. If you do want to post this story to your page, please be sure that you tag my account or at least mention its original source in your post. Again, thank you for being here and I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of nudity

BRADLEY’S POV

Thank God for Sunday! Not long after she left, Emmett texted me that he was going to need the room for a few hours, which didn’t actually end up mattering because I stayed on the Bay until sunrise with some other midshipmen.

When I got back to our dorm room, Emmett was passed out naked on his bed, bare ass completely exposed as he laid on his stomach. There were 3 empty condom wrappers on his desk, and the whole room gifted the aroma of sex.

He laid there snoring as I sunk down onto my bed, finally feeling the exhaustion of pulling an all-nighter overwhelm my being. Never again! I’m not young enough for this shit anymore. Luckily for me, I was able to quickly shut my mind off, falling into a deep sleep. The best part about being this exhausted…No nightmares!

I spent most of the day sleeping. Although, Emmett was convinced I was hung over. He tried to give me a rundown of everything that happened on Saturday, but I interrupted him, claiming that I didn’t need to hear it.

Before I knew it, we were waking up to the alarm that we set early on Monday. The training we underwent in the summer allowed us to quickly spring out of bed and change into our workout wear. Another benefit of having Plebe Summer over with was that we got to wear our own workout clothes whenever we were on the track doing our own personal workouts in the gym.

Emmett and I were on the track as the sun was rising, pushing ourselves more and more each day. We decided that Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays would be track days and Tuesdays and Thursdays were muscle days.

The objective of the first year in the academy is to get big, and because of that, first year students did not have a limit in the cafeteria. They encouraged us to consume way more calories than normal, promising that by the end of your 4th year, you would be ripped. Well, that was if you were as conditioned as Emmett and I were, which almost everyone was.

Natasha promised to join us in our workouts once she gets the “all clear” from the doctors on campus. During the last week of plebe, she fucked up her knee on a hurdle, letting her exhaustion get the better of her focus as she attempted to leap over the wooden bar. For that, she was no longer the top runner for ability at the end of Plebe (a friendly competition where we see who has the best record–which she was smoking me at), having to settle for second place…She was pissed about it all!

Emmett and I were changed into our navy working uniforms and in the cafeteria by 7:30. It was flooded with people and the line to get food was nearly 20 minutes. I was modest, still allowing my appetite to catch up with my exhaustion that I haven’t fully recovered from. Emmett on the other hand was stuffing his face, claiming that he was still starving after giving a “stunning brunette” all of his energy on Saturday night.

Natasha and Javy saved us seats. They were getting a lot of shit from two upperclassmen who were standing by our two chairs, wanting them, but my two friends were spread out, their legs and feet resting on the two chairs. They sat up when they saw us and the two others rolled their eyes and walked away. I think we were all surprised to see so many people.

Our conversation started with showing each other our schedules and making a pact to sit together when we could:

Mathematics: Calculus I

M,W,F: 9:00am-10:10am

Chemistry: Modern Chemistry

T,R: 8:00am-10:30am

English: Practical Writing

T,R: 7:00pm-9:00pm

Government: U.S. Government and Constitutional Development

M: 6:00pm-9:00pm

Cyber Security: Introduction to Cyber Security

W: 6:30pm-9:30pm

Flight Training I

M,T,W,R: 10:45am-1:00pm

Natasha and I had Calculus together, the other guys opting into taking the easier math course. Same went for chemistry. All four of us were together for English and Government. I was alone for cyber security, the others deciding to take that in the spring. Of course, Natasha and Javy would join me for flight training, which doesn’t start until the second week of school. Our first week is lecture based, where we discuss the anatomy of the cessna that we would be flying as well as going over safety procedures. This would most definitely be my favorite class, and the one I was looking most forward to.

I was very anxious for the pre-assessment that we would take on Thursday. It was going to be on the cessna in the simulation room. All of us had to take it in order for the Academy to determine how they would group us in flying lessons. I’m not going to lie, I’m very fucking anxious for this exam! Since I had quite an amount of background knowledge over the cessna that he let me fly when we were younger, I felt as though the pressure to be a top candidate was on!

“Now what’s the number one rule?” Maverick said as he made his way to the left side of the airplane, Bradley walking over to the right.

“Don’t tell mom.” Bradley stated, obviously hearing this over and over again.

“Good!” Maverick exclaimed as he climbed into his white cessna.

Bradley, who was entering the 7th grade, had been begging Pete for years to let him fly his airplane. It wasn’t until that very summer when Pete gave into his adopted son’s pleas.

Pete would tell his mom that he was taking him to batting practice, when in actuality they would be in the air. Bradley loved to be in the air with his “dad”, but was aching to get his hands on the controls.

Bradley climbed in next to him and paid attention to everything Pete was saying, explaining how to take off, how to glide, how to hold steady, how to land, etc. The young boy memorized every movement Pete did with the control sticks, not wanting to make a mistake on the first day.

Eventually, the two had swapped places on the runway, with Bradley sitting in the pilot's spot, staying quiet as Pete spoke with the control tower, under the pretense that Pete was in control of the airplane.

“Copy, clear for takeoff” Pete said, giving Bradley a nod as the little boy rumbled the engine and took off on the runway. Pete only had to reach over once, to help him get the plane in the air as they got closer to the end of the runway.

It was like this almost every day from May to September, Pete not willing to let him fly during the school year when he needed to focus on his studies. It was like this every year until Bradley was a sophomore going into his junior year, when his mom’s doctor gave them news that would change their lives forever. He would spend his free time taking care of her, watching as she deteriorated until there was nothing left for the cancer to take away from him.

Pete never took young Bradley in the air after that, but they always kept the secret from his mom, not wanting her to be any more disappointed or saddened than she already was.

“Bradshaw?!” Natasha yelled from the table. “You with us?”

I looked up at her when she called me out, realizing that I had been deep in my thoughts, reliving memories of flying when I was younger…

“I-um…,” I began, struggling to find words without sounding too cocky, “I’ve flown a cessna before”.

Natasha looked at me impressed, raising her eyebrow as her eyes began to light up.

“Bullshit!” Javy interjected.

“No really man,” I began, “I did. Many times when I was younger.”

“With who?” He asked in a tone that made it seem like he was still skeptical.

My face froze as I thought of him. His eyes looking down at me and smiling as I grew up. His coaching in the airplane as I learned various maneuvers. His soothing voice assuring me that everything would be okay when he caught me in moments of mental weakness, mainly when we would talk about my dad.

I didn’t know everything I wanted to about him, but enough that I was content with the information that I had. He was born and raised in Texas, went to the naval academy, met my mom at Virginia Beach during a weekend getaway with other academy students, met his best friend and pilot of his F-14 when he was in flight school, married my mom right after he got his license, and loved being a father. When he was home, he changed every diaper, fed me every bottle, gave me a bath every night, and sang to me as he rocked me to sleep. He loved being a dad, and had planned to request a leave of absence after Top Gun so he could make up for missing the last few months of my life. I was turning three on the day of the graduation, so mom worked extra hours and came to visit him for his last 3 weeks of classes so we could be together on my birthday. That’s why we were there. A decision that was both a blessing and a curse.

“It doesn’t matter” I ended up muttering to the group, before breaking their conversation again and grazing across the room, taking in the looks of all of the upperclassmen that were now filtering out of the room as they made their way to various classes.

My eyes froze on the table that was in the far right corner, right to my 11 O’Clock…She was there. Sitting with the same two friends whose backs were to me. I could tell they were the same from their hair colors. The brunette was in a set of deep purple scrubs and the other one had her hair pulled back in the same way she did the other day, wearing light green pastel scrubs. She was the only one in a different color. Her once curly flowing hair was now pulled up in a high ponytail, she had a pink headband in her hair that pleasantly matched the navy scrubs that she had on. She reached up and gently scratched her nose, sporting a light pink fitbit that matched the color of her headband.

“Who’s she?” I asked the table, keeping my eyes on her so they knew who I was talking about.

Natasha looked over to follow my gaze and then back at me, smiling widely. I dropped my eyes from the girl to meet Natasha’s, wanting to have complete focus on the information that I could tell she had, and was willing, to communicate with me.

“Allison Campbell,” Natasha answered, “Goes by Allie. She’s a nurse on base, I briefly met her when I fucked up my knee. She just applied to medical school.”

“Oh” was all I could manage to mutter, looking up at her again. She was laughing with her friends, a clear white smile was painted across her face as she enjoyed the conversation that was occurring with her friends. Watching her facial expressions made me crack into an admiring side smirk. Her smile was captivating.

“Don’t even think about it.” Natasha stated, noting my face. I looked back at her and furrowed my eyebrows, not understanding what she was saying, “She doesn’t date midshipmen. She’s notorious for rejecting all of them that try to come after her.”

I looked back at her, with slight disappointment in my eyes.

“Sounds like a challenge to me!” Emmett yelled out.

Natasha burst into a laugh at what Emmett said, “Yeah like you think she would settle for you!”

“Not me!” Emmett responded, “Him!” He yelled, motioning over to me.

“Me?” I asked him.

“No dick head, the air,” He responded sarcastically. “Of course you! Who the fuck do you think I’m talking about?!”

I smirked at him as I stole another peak at her, before bringing my eyes back to Emmett.

“What do you think Bradshaw?” Emmett asked me, “You up for it?” There was silence as I processed what he said, thinking about all of my options. I now knew that Allison, Allie, was a hot target in the eyes of the midshipmen, and she was not interested in any of them. On the other hand, there was a part of me that wanted to take a shot. I didn’t want to be another statistic, another identity that she added to her long list of names of men she had rejected, but I also didn’t want to live the rest of my life wondering if my life would've been different had I talked to her. Wooed her. Played with her a little.

“Need some motivation?” Emmett asked, taking note of my silence, “100 dollars. I bet you 100 dollars that you can get Allie Campbell in bed with you by the time we graduate”.

I let out an airy laugh at Emmetts challenge, mentally rolling my eyes. Natasha and Javy were eyeing me eagerly. I knew it would be difficult. I knew it was nearly impossible, but what was the harm in trying? She has rejected THEM, not me. I was a different story. A different person. I am sure I had the ability to achieve something that no one else has.

I smirked over at Emmett, who had his hand extended to mine. He was smiling from ear to ear and lit up when I firmly put my hand in his, giving a little shake, sealing our newfound gamble.

#naval aviator #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #javy machado fic #rooster fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun #rooster imagine #maverick imagine #jake seresin #love strories #pete mitchell #natasha trace #natasha x reader #writers on tumblr

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akaridream · 1 year

Text

after dark pt. 5: handoff (hawks x reader)

tags: hawks x reader

cw: cursing, afab reader, hawks appetite for flirting is insatiable

taglist: @inkthgoat @pnsduck @animedreamworlds @melxdig @mizvaun @mysideeffectsofyou @thecityofspareparts @soleilandpeaches @theycallme-becky @escapingjune @erissco @chrisrue15

masterlist

Tuesday night’s surveillance was uneventful, other than your private entertainment. Hawks’ singing was goofy and over-the-top, all to elicit a reaction from you. Across town, his face lit up each time he heard your laughter. The music filled the silence between you like a good wingman. He even caught you humming to a few of your favorite tracks. But boy, was Hawks a hopeless flirt. Not that you minded.

Wednesday proceeded much the same, with you arriving at your office in the early afternoon to scour databases and police records for anything juicy. Your surveillance was again rather boring, so you played a few rounds of twenty questions. Hawks burned several questions by asking about you instead of the intended topic. Again, you didn’t mind. He was sincere in his attempts at learning you, and question by question, you let him into your life. He didn’t like to talk about himself much, but you listened intently when he did. Between Hawks’ laid-back personality and your penchant for a snappy comeback, you built rapport easily. It was like reconnecting with a long lost friend: something just clicked.

The day of the Trigger hand-off, you felt on edge from the start. A static in the air kept you from relaxing, even with lavender oil in your diffuser. Unsettled and annoyed, you had trouble focusing and took several breaks to pace around the small office, mindlessly drawing one of your feathers between your fingers. The sensation was nostalgic, a self-soothing mechanism you developed early in life, but it did little to ease your anxiety.

The clock finally made its way around to your scheduled surveillance time after dragging for the past few hours. A bundle of tense muscles, you connected your ear piece and began shutting down your office when your phone buzzed, displaying three hawk emojis as the contact name.

“Hey, your timing is impeccable. I was just about to head out. How’s it going at the Safety Commission?” you asked.

“I’m headed back there right now, but I spent a couple hours poking around earlier and figured I’d give you the update. I overheard Yamamoto on the phone, and he’s heading uptown to pick up the Trigger just before the hand-off to Officer Mori,” said Hawks.

“Hm, alright. Probably wants to minimize the time he has it in his possession.”

“Yeah, seems smart. What’s not smart is saying incriminating crap like that out loud when I’m around,” he said.

You laughed, a bit of tension easing. “Right? When will they learn? But I guess it makes more sense to speak over the phone, since texts leave behind evidence.”

“Damn, I didn’t even think about that. You sure you’re not a criminal too? You seem to know them inside and out.” Hawks joked.

“I went to school for this, remember bird brain?”

“All the more reason why you’d make a great hero! I could always make room for another sidekick.”

You snorted. “Never gonna happen.”

“You might learn to love it, and I’d be proud to have you by my side,” he said.

“As a sidekick or a side piece?”

He cracked up. “Oh damn! I’m not a player like that!”

“Can you imagine if the press got wind of ‘Wing Hero Hawks’ taking one of his sidekicks on a date? Sheesh, I’d never have privacy again,” you said.

“Hey now, I may be a chart topper, but I know how to handle private matters!” he rebutted.

“I can see the headlines now,” you continued. “Sooo many of your fans would be heartbroken to see you with a lady friend.”

“You are roasting me like a rotisserie chicken today! Am I gonna have to teach you some manners?” he asked in a dangerously sensual voice.

You blushed and bit your lip. “Easy, Lover Boy. We’re still on the job.”

“Ugh, fine,” he pouted.

The sun’s journey across the evening sky was agonizingly slow. Surveillance of normal activities was boring, and your nervous stomach was stealing your focus. Why the hell am I so anxious? It’s not like I haven’t done this kind of thing before. I’ve watched drug deals go down just a few feet from me, so why does this one feel different?

You each tailed your intended targets, only stopping for quick konbini dinner while the action was slow. Finally, Hawks followed Yamamoto to pick up the Trigger. You snacked on some chocolate crackers, silently watching Officer Mori give directions to a passerby.

“What are you eating?” he asked.

“Choco mochi. Want me to save you some?”

“Nah, I’ll grab something for myself later. You don’t usually snack though.”

“No I don’t, I’m trying to keep my stomach from turning inside out. Not sure they’re really helping to be honest.”

“You getting sick or something?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“No, just feeling… I don’t know, something about this has me kind of twisted up.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, angel. Once Mori and Yamamoto meet up, I’ll be right there with you.”

You chuckled and pocketed your snack. “You’re awfully sweet, Hawks. You’re making my teeth rot more than this chocolate.”

“Eh, I’m just soft on you, I guess. You’re like a little baby birdie and I have to make sure the flock is well taken care of, right?”

You grinned and held your cheek, growing warm. “I’m not a helpless baby, silly. Just a little anxious.”

“Oh, I know damn well you aren’t helpless. Offer still stands to become a sidekick, anytime you want.”

Hawks soared across the sky, sun long departed. City street lights sparkled beneath him as he raced over rooftops, just out of sight of the sidewalks below. His target had spent the past half hour in an alley bar and was heading to the nearby park to meet his supplier. Once there, Yamamoto sat on a bench, mindlessly scrolling on his phone and smoking a cigarette until a smartly dressed salaryman sat down next to him with a friendly greeting. Yamamoto offered him a cigarette, which he obliged.

“Dude’s name is Tanaka, and it sounds like they’ve known each other for a while,” Hawks said over your ear piece. “They’re just shooting the breeze and smoking.”

“You were right then, this supply link has been around for some time,” you replied.

The pair then took a casual stroll around the park and over to a side street. Tanaka popped the trunk of an old luxury car, revealing an inconspicuous briefcase inside. He handed it to Yamamoto, who pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and counted some out.

“Just right out in the open with all this, like they’re not doing anything wrong at all,” Hawks remarked.

“Acting like that draws less suspicion, I suppose.”

“Just bugs me how casual this all is. Looks like we’re headed your way now.”

You and the officer arrived at the riverside docks at 9:50 PM where you perched on top of a quiet warehouse to await your partner. Officer Mori had driven an unmarked police sedan and sat with all the lights off far from the main street. A black SUV, lights also off, pulled up right alongside the officer. You laid on your stomach at the edge of the roof and started snapping photos.

“Shouldn’t you be here? Your target just pulled up,” you said into your ear piece.

“Pulled up? Yamamoto’s on foot. Someone else is there?” he asked.

You zoomed in with your camera and two figures exited the black SUV. One had a feminine figure and black hair pulled into a bun, while the other was a substantially taller man, but with upright, dog-like ears and a prominent snout. Mori then got out of his police vehicle and gave a polite bow.

“Two new targets. One male, one female,” you whispered into your ear piece.

“Be there soon,” Hawks said.

Over the clicking shutter of your camera, your sharp ears could make out their conversation, even hundreds of yards away.

“Nice to meet you, Yamamoto has already told me you’ve been an instrumental help in community relations,” Officer Mori said.

“Yes, nice to meet you as well, Officer,” said the man with canine features. “Sorry to hear about the media firestorm, but it had to be done this time.”

“Oh yes, I understand,” More replied.

“Our boss was pretty pissed,” the woman chuckled. “But every now and then when the media catches wind of things, its good for the public to think we’re on top of things. Looks good for the police overall, even if you have to take part of the blame.”

“Why was your boss upset?” Mori asked. “It’s not like the media knew the PSC was involved in it.”

The woman crossed her arms proudly. “Thanks to us, of course! You have no idea the amount of phone calls and bribes we have to organize before we let the media go public with their stories.”

Mori laughed. “Hey, I’m sure all of our paychecks are well worth it.”

“Holy shit. Hawks, I think these people are from the Public Safety Commission,” you whispered, heart racing.

“You’re kidding! I’ll be there ASAP, we’re just around the corner.”

Your stomach clenched as the canine man looked over his shoulder, right in your direction. You snapped a photo of his face, clear and uninhibited even in the dim light. But one of his radar-like ears twitched. Can he hear the shutter? All the way down there?

A small rush of wind next to you made you tense, and Hawks lightly touched down beside you.

“So what’s the deal?” he asked, positioning snugly next to you on his stomach.

“Stay as quiet as possible. The dog guy might be able to hear us,” you warned.

Hawks eyes grew large and his head whipped to the group of people below. “Dog guy? Inumagi?”

He watched them with intense focus and sent a small feather floating on the wind in an attempt to hear their conversation for himself.

Yamamoto emerged from the shadows beside the warehouse. “Well well, look what the dog dragged in!” he said.

The trio laughed as Yamamoto approached them and friendly greetings were given. “How was Tanaka?” the canine man asked.

“Oh, mostly fine. He and his daughter had a bit of a fight. She wants to pursue art, he says medicine is a better choice, you get it,” Yamamoto replied.

“Ah, poor Tanaka,” said the woman. “I’d heard he wanted her to be a doctor. Perhaps she’ll change her mind.”

“They’re all so familiar with each other,” you breathed. Hawks hummed in response.

“Before I forget, of course,” Yamamoto said, handing over the briefcase.

“Yes, thank you,” Officer Mori said and took the case. You took a quick photo and the dog man’s eyes flicked in your direction. Shit, he really can hear it, you thought and placed your camera aside. “So, now that we’re all here,to what do I owe the pleasure of meeting Mr. Inumagi and Miss Ito?”

“Just a small chat on the matter of security,” Miss Ito said.

The canine man, Mr. Inumagi, cleared his throat. “Yes, we have reason to believe it’s been compromised. It could be nothing but we thought a briefing might be in order.”

Officer Mori crossed his arms. “I hope it’s nothing on the police’s end this time.”

“We don’t know much yet, but it certainly could be,” explained Miss Ito. “Someone has been accessing police documents this week, all with a pattern. Trigger-related incidents with PD employees and the chief have been searched for several times, and from a handful of different IP addresses. We’re hoping it’s nothing, but the IPs were masked, likely with a VPN. Not much reason for someone in Slovakia to be looking at Fukuoka police records.”

A painful lump formed in your throat. They must have their records flagged! Are we done for?

Hawks placed his hand on yours and gently squeezed, but his eyes remained fixed on the group below. You tried to keep your breathing steady as you listened intently.

Officer Mori chuckled with a nod. “Yes, very true. I’ll do some digging and see if anyone in the department has been poking around. I’ll let the chief know, too.”

“Good,” said Ito. “I understand you’re in the drug crimes division, but anyone looking into the matter independently should be discretely asked to let it go. There are bigger forces at work here than some rogue officer looking for their big break.”

“Of course, Miss. Understood,” Mori said.

“If you don’t have anyone own up to it, I wouldn’t worry too much,” said Inumagi. “I actually have a hunch at who is sticking their beak in where it doesn’t belong.”

Yamamoto lifted an eyebrow. “Oh really? That’s news to me.”

Inumagi nodded and placed his arms behind his back. “Indeed. In fact, if my nose can be trusted, our little spy is watching us right now. And he’s with a friend.”

Your black claws dug into Hawks’ hand. He instinctively flattened himself further against the warehouse roof. You bottom lip began to tremble.

“It’s no matter though,” Inumagi continued. “He’s essentially a pawn for the Commission. If he or his friend get in our way, we will deal with them accordingly.”

Officer Mori looked around. “Spy? I can’t afford to get exposed in the media again!”

“Don’t bother looking for him, Mori,” said Yamamoto. “You won’t spot him, especially at ground level. Anyway, we’re a government entity. If our little spy thinks we won’t get rid of him and anyone helping him just because he’s special, he is sorely mistaken. And we will make sure to extinguish anything the media tries to get away with.”

Officer Mori swallowed and nodded.

“Well, I think that about covers it here, wouldn’t you say, gentlemen?” Ito asked.

The group dispersed in good spirits and went their separate ways, but you and Hawks remained stone still. Even after the cars pulled away and were long gone, you stayed motionless. Your heart pounded erratically, panic searing through your mind. Your grip on each others’ hand did not relent. He could feel you shaking. His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand, but it did little to calm you.

Hawks took a deep breath and sighed. “Well… That sucks.”

You couldn’t find words. Your breaths came in strangled huffs. You had always been a predator. It was terrifying to be prey.

“It’s gonna be okay, angel,” Hawks said, gentleness in his voice.

Fear flooded you and tears formed at the corners of your eyes. You tore your hand away from his and stood, pacing around the roof. “How? They know you’re onto them, and they know you’re not alone. What the hell am I gonna do if they catch me? And what the hell are they gonna do to me?”

He eyed you, brows pitched upward in concern. “I know you’re scared, and you have every right to be,” he started. “But I can handle them. I promise you.”

“We can’t go against a government agency, plus the police too!” How the hell are we gonna get out of this?”

He stood and rushed to you, clutching your hands and bringing them to his chest. “Listen. I’ve dealt with this kind of shit before. Trust me, I-”

You shook your head. “This is way bigger than I thought it was. It’s the drug crimes division of the police, working with higher up’s at the PSC. These are people who know you and have authority over you! You can’t just out them and expect to get away with it!”

“No, I can’t,” he admitted, eyes begging you. “But I will find a way to navigate this. Please, just trust me.”

You tried to pull away from him, a tear escaping down your cheek. “I don’t know if I can trust you! I’m starting to think you knew far more than you were leading on!”

He held you close, brows furrowing but voice staying calm. “I promise you, we’re finding out all this together. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“How do I know you wouldn’t?” you cried, still pushing against him to create distance. “I’ve known you for a week and you’ve done nothing but try to charm me into believing everything you say! How do I know any of that is genuine?”

Hurt, Hawks grip on your hands grew painfully tight. “Stop it! Do you really think that? What could I possibly have to gain by lying to you?”

You trembled in his grasp. “I- I don’t know! But I can’t afford my business to come crashing to the ground! I’d be nothing without it!”

“I won’t let that happen! I won’t let them find you! I’ll protect you with my life!” he said, fire in his eyes.

“Your life?” you asked, marveling up at him. “How can you say that? You barely even know-”

“Because it’s my duty as a hero! The only reason I exist is to protect people! Especially when I’m the reason they’re in danger!” He pulled you against his muscled chest and cradled the back of your head.

“Please let me protect you,” he begged, nuzzling his cheek into your hair. You blinked, startled by the unexpected affection.

“I know you didn’t ask to get pulled into all this,” he whispered as he wrapped his wings around you. “And I know it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry, angel. But I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

You blinked into his chest in stunned silence.

“It’s just- This is all happening so fast,” you whimpered, resting your forehead against his collarbone and breathing in his scent.

“I know, I know.” He gently stroked one of your wings. You allowed your eyes to flutter closed and leaned into him further.

“I-” you started. “Just… How do I know I can trust you?”

Hawks leaned back and tilted your jaw up to look at him. “It’s your decision whether to trust me or not, but just know that every word I’ve said to you has been from my heart. It’s funny really, there aren’t a lot of people I feel like I can truly be myself around. But almost immediately I knew we just understood each other. Or… Am I wrong about that?”

You gazed up at his gorgeous face, heart aching. “No, you’re- I mean, we do… But I’m scared, Hawks.”

He nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. “I know you are. But I promise, I won’t let a damn thing happen to you, angel. You have my word.”

Head spinning, you snuggled into his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist. His wings enveloped you both, their supple fibers tickling your skin. He held you silently as you closed your eyes, willing your breathing to normalize. Fear and tension melted from your muscles. His touch was intoxicating and you drank deep. You were hopelessly, willingly, truly under his spell.

pt. 6: date

#hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x y/n #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami #bnha hawks

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