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roosterforme · 1 year

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Batting Practice Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley realizes why you started running hot and then cold with him. He makes sure he remedies the situation with you.

Warnings: Fluff, angst and swearing (eventually 18+)

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley was counting down the minutes until he could leave work on Monday. The sporadic, slightly flirtatious texts between you and him Saturday night and all day Sunday were driving him wild.

He couldn't fucking wait to see you. He kept imagining how you would react to him in person now, especially after what you texted him this morning.

You should wear your hat backwards later today. That looked good on you.

Really, nothing about that was dirty, but it seemed to have that type of effect on him. Plus it meant that you were thinking about him, which left him grinning.

"Rooster, look alive, man," Jake told him, slapping him in the chest with a copy of the newest F/A-18 flight manual. Bradley grunted as the massive book made contact, and he glared at Jake. "What's got you distracted? Excited about all the MILFs you're going to see later? I wish Bob had asked me to coach with him."

Bradley just shook his head. "Moms aren't my type. Too complicated." He just wished he still believed himself when he said it.

Then he settled into the seat next to Nat, ready for a long lecture about his aircraft, his imagination drifted to you. He imagined the three of you at the Phillies game, all in matching backwards hats. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd like the way you looked with a hat that way, too.

Maverick's voice droned on in the background, and Bradley was pretty sure the information he was giving would be useful to know, so he forced his mind back to the present.

Once they were all dismissed, Bradley headed to the locker room to change out of his khaki uniform. When he glanced over at Bob, he chuckled.

"You know, we could wear our uniforms to practice one day. Drive the moms wild," Bradley said as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Bob just shook his head. "None of them know I'm in the Navy, and I don't plan on telling them."

"Oh," Bradley said as he unzipped his pants. "I did tell one of them that we're aviators."

Bob laughed lightly. "Let me guess, Everett's mom?"

Bradley decided not to reply. He just shrugged and pulled on his Tiny Eagles tee shirt and gym shorts. Then he pulled his worn out Phillies cap onto his head. Backwards.

"I'll see you over at the ballfield," he told Bob as he exited the locker room and headed for the Bronco.

There was just something about you. Yeah, you were pretty. But lots of women were pretty. Yeah, he liked the way your body looked. But the female form was something that never failed to get him going.

He wanted to flirt with you. He wanted to make you warm. He wanted to wear his ratty, old Phillies hat the way you liked it. Which was just a terrible idea, since dating a mom was not on his agenda. Even sleeping with someone who came with baggage was something he avoided at all costs, whenever he could.

Bradley mentally scolded himself for even briefly believing that a sweet kid like Everett could be considered baggage. He wasn't quite that shallow. But he liked his life simple.

Perhaps he should have kept the phone number of that woman from the bar.

He coasted into his usual parking spot and made his way toward the ballfield. He stretched and ran the bases a few times, basking in the early evening sunlight. When Bob arrived, they tossed a ball back and forth for a few minutes until the kids started to arrive.

"You miss playing," Bob said with a smile. "Why don't you play with the officers rec league?"

Bradley shrugged after he threw the ball to Bob one last time and removed his glove. "Because, no offense, but they suck."

Bob laughed loudly. "I resent that! I play center field!"

Bradley just grinned. "I know you do. Listen, I wanted to play pro ball until I was twenty-one years old. And while I love being an aviator, I am still good at baseball."

"Coach Bradley!" called Everett as he came streaking across the field.

"Hey, kiddo. You get lots of rest over the weekend? Ready to play?" he asked the kid, tugging down the bill of his cap and making him laugh.

But then Bradley saw you.

Okay, this was a problem. The whole text thread between the two of you was playing in his mind now as he watched you walk across the grass, hopping on one foot as you changed out of your high heels as you went. You were wearing a plain gray suit and trying to talk on the phone while you juggled your shoes and Everett's gear bag.

You looked complicated as hell at the moment. This was a problem, because Bradley's mind was telling him he suddenly liked complicated.

"Start warming up with Coach Bob," Bradley told Everett as he patted him on the head. That same warm sunlight that had felt so perfect on Bradley's skin was illuminating your face and hair, and he was already looking at you when he saw your eyes catch on him.

"I need to go, Frank. We can figure it out later," you said, pulling your phone away from your ear and ending the call.

"Hi." Bradley's voice was laced with everything he really wanted to say to you in person but didn't think he should.

"Coach," you replied softly, your long lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you closed your eyes for a beat.

"You give any more thought to the merits of sitting behind home plate versus sitting in the outfield?" Bradley asked softly, just for you to hear.

The way your lips parted wordlessly as you played with your hair had him grinning. You crinkled up your nose in that way he already loved as you looked down at the field. "Are you really serious about going to the game with Ev and I?"

He wasn't actually completely sure before this moment, but now he was. "Yeah. Of course I'm serious. Should I ask Everett where he wants to sit? Since you don't seem to care? And since I'll have an equally good view of you from any seat?"

This time when you raised your eyes to meet his, he could feel them examine every inch of his chest and arms and the scars along his neck. Your gaze didn't move from his mouth as you whispered, "You're making me flustered." Then your eyes met his, and Bradley could feel your hesitation that wasn't evident through texting.

"I'd love to be responsible for that. You look cute when you're flustered."

Your eyes went wide as you muttered, "And you look cute with your hat like that."

The sound of Bob's whistle had both of you jumping so that you almost collided. Bradley could hear you mutter, "Oh shit," as you pressed your hand to your forehead and turned away from him to find a seat on the bleachers. And try as he may, he couldn't seem to catch your eye at all during practice.

-----------------------

You were embarrassed. Coach Bradley and all of his flirty text messages were making you silly.

He really seemed to want to take you and Ev to a baseball game. He had told you twice that the best seat in the house would be one where he was looking at you.

Nothing was ever going to be that easy for you though. As soon as Everett spent a Sunday afternoon watching baseball and eating ice cream with his coach, he was going to want that to happen all the time.

You were afraid you were going to want it all the time too. You were so attracted to Bradley. The way he flirted with you was subtle and yet intentional, and it left you craving more from him already.

How much was he willing to give? How available was he? How available were you? Frank wanted to get together with you again this week, but you didn't know if you'd be able to get a sitter for Everett. You didn't know if you wanted to see Frank outside of work anymore either.

But you could imagine sitting at Petco Park eating nachos and drinking a beer with Bradley while Ev ate ice cream out of a tiny plastic helmet.

"Fuck," you groaned, forcing your attention to remain on Everett even though you could practically feel Bradley's eyes on you.

Everett was better at tee ball than you had expected him to be. He managed to hit the ball over Bob's head pretty consistently, and you cheered for him when he turned and looked toward you. This is what he needed; an outlet for all of this energy and some male role models.

When practice ended and Bob announced that each child could come up and get their jersey for Saturday's game against the Tiny Hawks, Everett was practically vibrating with excitement.

"Mommy, I get a jersey just like the ones the coaches wear!"

You chuckled and kissed his cheek. "You sure do. Listen for your name."

When Bradley called his name, Everett went sprinting up to get his jersey, and you watched Bradley help him put it on over his shirt. Then he sprinted back to you and hugged you around your middle.

"Let's get going, sweetie. You must be hungry," you said, tossing his equipment into the bag, trying to make a hasty exit. You didn't want to continue your conversation with Bradley, because you were so mixed up at the moment.

And that's when you heard him talking to Henry's mom.

"Coach Bradley. I was hoping we could exchange phone numbers, just in case you ever needed any extra help with anything."

"Uh, sure, Sandra. Our Team Mom probably has everything under control, but what's your number?"

You shoved Everett's cleats into the bag and rushed him through getting his sneakers on. And all the while you heard Sandra offering her help with anything he might need. The worst part was the way she was rubbing Bradley's arm when you decided to glance in their direction.

"Let's go," you told Everett, ready to make a run for your car. How embarrassing! You'd flirted with your kid's tee ball coach over text all weekend, and now he was lining up Sandra, who was of course fucking gorgeous.

Gross. You felt jealous. You never felt jealous. Danny had been cheating on you for the last year or so of your marriage, and you'd never felt this way! You'd been mostly content knowing that you had Everett to make it all worth it.

So this felt wrong. The cold envious feeling seeping under your skin. Just wrong.

The two of you almost made it to your car, and of course, like an idiot, you had parked next to the Bronco again.

"Hey!" Bradley called, closing the distance as he jogged up. "I didn't get to say goodbye." He high fived Everett next to your car, and then you ushered Ev into the backseat.

"So, I'll see you on Thursday?" Bradley asked, ducking his head a little bit, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

"Yes," you told him, grasping your door handle. But he only let it swing open a few inches before he caught it in his massive hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked you softly.

You sighed and met his eyes. "I thought we originally exchanged numbers just to talk about team business."

Bradley cocked his head to the side. "Yeah... we can make it just team business, if you want. But I obviously wanted you to be the Team Mom. And I was kind of enjoying the more...personal chit chat."

You scoffed. "I get it. I do. But if you want to exchange numbers and have personal chit chat with all of the moms who are clearly interested in you, then maybe you and I should keep it businesslike."

When you wrenched the door open another foot, he didn't stop you this time. But he still gently closed it for you.

------------------------

The next morning, you felt a lot better. Bradley hadn't texted you, and you weren't about to text him. It was honestly better this way. He could flirt with Sandra as much as he wanted to, and now you didn't have to worry about anything except whatever was strictly required of the Team Mom.

When Frank knocked on your door at lunchtime, you had just finished up a project. So you let him come in, and soon he was kissing you. It felt pretty good, so you let him unbutton your shirt as well.

"Baby, how about a quickie?" he whispered next to your ear before kissing your neck.

That didn't sound too bad. Now that you had rid your system of yearning for Coach Bradley.

"Okay," you whispered when he started kissing the tops of your breasts and caressing your sides. You unzipped your suit pants and slid them down your hips along with your underwear while Frank pulled a condom out of his wallet and locked your door.

Bent over your desk with your cheek pressed to the smooth wood surface, you let your eyes drift closed. And that was a big mistake. Because it was too easy to imagine a backward cap, a mustache and a deep, raspy voice in your ear.

You felt him slide inside you, stretching your pussy in the process. It felt so much better than it usually did, you had to bite your lip to suppress a moan. Then he was moving, and you could practically smell sweat, spicy deodorant, and the freshly watered grass of the infield. Is this how it would feel to be bent over the wooden bleachers and fucked by Bradley? His mustache grazing the back of your neck as he whispered those flirtatious text messages to you?

Hands gripped your hips, squeezing you tight as your pussy was filled over and over. He would love taking you from the back like this, quick and dirty. Unrelenting.

You were gasping now, your lungs tight with each breath as you imagined his voice. You look cute when you're flustered.

"Oh," you groaned, and the pressure increased bit by bit. "Oh!"

He'd fuck you so good. He'd take care of everything you wanted. He'd press his mustache to your pussy, rubbing you until you cried. He'd finger you while he drove you around in his Bronco. You could picture it all so clearly. Feel it seamlessly.

Legs shaking, you fucked yourself back against him, wanting as much pressure as you could get. Then you felt it, and you knew it was going to be good. Your orgasm washed over you quickly, and you lifted your head off your desk, suddenly alert.

You were with Frank. You were coming so fucking hard on Frank's dick while you thought about another man.

"Oh! Fuck! Ohhhh," you moaned, completely shocked, totally stunned. It felt like you had been with Bradley. And now you were conscious of all the noises Frank was making as he blew his load into the condom.

You stood with your back to him and quickly started to get your clothes in order with shaking hands.

"Sounded like you really enjoyed that, baby," Frank said, and you could hear the smug smile in his voice.

Hell yes, you had enjoyed it, but not because of him.

"I have a lot of work to do," you muttered, rubbing your hands along your burning hot neck.

"Let's do this again later this week," Frank told you, kissing your cheek before he left.

You dropped into your seat and spent the entire afternoon thinking about what you had done.

-------------------------

It took Bradley until Tuesday to realize what he had done wrong. You must have heard or seen Sandra with him. Fuck. He was just trying to be as accommodating as he could without telling Henry's mom to back off; he'd have to see her multiple times per week for eight more weeks!

But you'd gone from a simmering warmth with him to frosty cold on a dime. And that must have been why.

He didn't know how to make it up to you, and he didn't want to text you since you'd told him no more personal talk.

So he waited until Thursday at practice. When you pulled into the parking lot, you avoided the spot next to his Bronco. And you and Everett stayed in your car until practice was about to start, hustling across the grass at the last possible minute.

You were not going to make this easy for him.

Everett came running over to join the rest of the team just as Bob was dividing the kids into two groups. But Bradley could only focus on you. Your hair was swept up today, exposing your graceful neck, and you were wearing a black pencil skirt with a tight blouse tucked into it. You seem to have forgotten your beat up sneakers today, because you were walking around the field on tiptoes so your heels wouldn't get ruined.

You looked smoking hot, and you were not sparing a single glance in his direction.

"Bradley!" Bob called. "Focus."

"Right, sorry," Bradley replied, reluctantly taking his spot behind home plate where he couldn't spend the next hour looking at you.

He watched the kids go through the batting order, and then had them start practicing in the field. They were actually pretty good, and Bob was always such a calm presence that they responded really well to him. Bradley thought they would do well against the Tiny Hawks in two days.

Once the kids were dismissed, Bradley followed Everett to the bleachers, and on the way he asked, "Is it cool if I walk you and your mom to the car again, kiddo?"

"Yeah! My mom would like that too!"

Bradley wasn't so sure, but now at least he had his in with you.

"Hi," you said as Bradley approached, and he watched you kneel down in that tight skirt, his mind going to the filthiest places imaginable. If you turned and looked at him over his shoulder, he would probably end up embarrassing himself.

"Hi," he rasped, pressing his lips together as you helped your son change his shoes. "Everett said it would be cool if I walked with you two up to the parking lot."

"Whatever," you said without looking at him. So Bradley walked up with Everett between you and him as usual.

"What do you do in the Navy?" the kid asked him.

"I fly airplanes," Bradley told him. "And I wear all these cool pins so people know I'm a Lieutenant."

"What's a loo-tent?" Everett asked, and Bradley saw you trying to hide your grin.

"Nothing, really. It's just a fancy word for someone who still has to salute to pretty much everybody else."

Now you were biting your lip as Everett tried to pronounce Bradley's rank over and over again until the three of you reached your car. Bradley opened the back door and placed the gear back on the floor as Everett scampered in, but then he put a firm hand against the driver's door so you couldn't open it.

"Hear me out?" Bradley asked, and your eyes finally met his. Your eye makeup made them look impossibly big, and he could feel the saliva pooling at the back of his tongue.

"About what?" you asked softly, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I think I gave you the wrong impression about who I have and have not been talking to in my free time. Sandra did give me her number, but I will only text her back if she needs information directly related to the Tiny Eagles."

Your lips parted, but you didn't say anything so he continued.

"And yeah, as soon as you volunteered to be Team Mom, I was jumping at the chance to get your number. But can you blame me?"

"You were?" you asked, a look of disbelief on your face. But when he ducked down to meet your eyes and nodded, you ducked to the side and crinkled your nose.

"Yeah, Kitten. I was. So you can put your claws away now."

You sucked in a breath, and your arms fell loosely to your sides as you looked at him. All embarrassment was gone as your expression softened and your pupils went wide. "Did you just call me Kitten?"

"Mmhmm. You've got some claws on you, yeah? And you scrunch your nose up like a cat. Cutest thing I've ever seen."

Bradley's body was humming, and the look of pure desire on your face as you inched closer to him had him aching.

"Are you going to keep calling me Kitten?" you whispered, your eyes lazily taking in his lips and mustache.

"You liked that." He was telling you, not asking.

You were the one nodding this time, and Bradley bit back a groan as your fingers teased the back of his hand. "And which would you prefer I call you? Coach Bradley or Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

Bradley did audibly groan this time. "You're trouble, Kitten."

"You didn't answer my question." You were smirking now, desire mixing with boldness in your eyes.

"You can call me anything you want."

You nodded up at him, such a smug look on your face as you reached behind you and opened your car door. Bradley watched you gracefully ease yourself onto your seat.

"I'll see you on Saturday," he whispered, and then he cleared his throat. "Can't wait for our first game, kiddo," he added a bit louder, smiling at Everett in the backseat.

"Bye, coach!" he called to Bradley.

"Yeah, bye, coach," you added, and Bradley closed your door softly.

As you pulled away, he started to make the long walk back to the bleachers to grab his own gear with a smile on his face.

-----------------------

Coach and Kitten! Ahhh! Big thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 4

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1K notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 9 months

Note

I finished watched Top Gun yesterday, and I promised myself I wouldn’t fall in love with a certain cocky dirty blond guy with beautiful eyes but I did 😔

So can I ask for ceo au with Jake Seresin who hits on secretary!reader each single day since she started working for him? Please 💕

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

we all say we won't fall for hangman but we all do <333

"What can I do for you, sir?"

Every day you ask Mr. Seresin the same question, and every day, he gives you the same answer.

"Sit there and look pretty, darlin'." He grins, the expression welcoming despite the teasing glint in his eyes, "Was wonderin' when you'd show up today."

"I'm here on time, sir." Your palms sweat as you rub them against your pressed pants, glancing nervously at the clock on his wall. 7:30 AM, not a second late.

"Yesterday you came early," He muses, and you set your bag down on the floor beside your desk, "You were here before me, and I saw you yawning even after two cups of coffee. I'm glad you slept in today."

"I'm sorry, sir." You cringe at the mention of your less-than-stellar presence the day before, "It won't happen again. I'll be more alert from now on."

He groans lightly, "Can't you see I'm not berating you? You think everything that comes out of my mouth is a criticism."

You're only made more nervous by his harsh tone, and you peer nervously at him, "And that's... not?"

He seems to recognize the hypocrisy he'd spoken with, chiding you for feeling chided; "That was the one and only time I've ever criticized you, Y/N."

"You said I was too tired yesterday."

"I said I'm glad you got enough sleep today."

"You told me my shoes weren't office-appropriate."

"I asked you how you could manage walking on heels all day without breaking your ankle on the stairs."

"You told me not to wear a skirt."

"I told you it was casual Friday, and you could swap it for a pair of sweatpants if that would make you more comfortable."

"You told me I park too close to the building."

"I said it would be nice to have more time to talk with you when I walk you to your car."

"Sir," Your shoulders slump in defeat, "I can't do anything right."

"You can't do anything wrong," He insists, leaning forwards across his desk, "Y/N, you really think I was insulting you all those times? Getting on your back? Bossing you around?"

"That's your job," You supply meekly, shuffling papers around so as not to have to look him in the eyes, "You're the boss."

"Then I order you to look at me." He decides, and your chest seizes up at the command. You do so, throat running dry as you try swallowing with it.

"I've never meant any insult towards you," His eyes pierce you where you sit, stuck tight on your face, "I meant them all as compliments. I meant for you to understand that I cared about you. That I wanted you to like it here. That we were friends, Y/N, are we not friends?"

"You're the boss," You repeat, "Bosses aren't supposed to be friends with the people beneath them."

"Says who?" He raises a brow, "The boss? That's me, Y/N, and I decide who I'm friends with."

"And you say you're mine?"

Jake nods, holding your curious stare with an intense one of his own. The apprehension on your face is equal parts heartbreaking and flattering to him; he doesn't want you to be scared of him but he's almost proud that you are. Heartbreak wins out, and he adds; "I'm not gonna bite your head off, darlin'. You can relax a bit."

You let out a sigh as you follow his instructions, shoulder tension leaking out of your muscles as you settle into your seat. You drop your eyes to shuffle more through files you're supposed to attend to, but this time it doesn't feel evasive on your end, it feels comfortable. He's not sure whether you feel his prolonged stare even after you've glanced away, but you don't re-engage your own, if you do.

Jake takes it as a personal win when you check your phone in front of him an hour later. It's only for a fleeting moment, but before you'd have the device stashed away like he was going to rip if from your hands, and now you'd had the confidence to glance at the screen in plain sight.

However, Jake takes it as a loss that you grin at the screen, the smile lingering even as you turn back to the computer. His fingers itch to look at the device himself - maybe he really would rip it from your hands - just to see who'd made you smile like that. He makes it his personal mission to produce the same expression on your face twice before the end of the day, just to prove himself better than whatever bore had your attention for that split second.

He won't ever find out that you'd been grinning at a picture of your newborn niece, but you'll enjoy laughing at his cheesy jokes three times before noon.

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shotmrmiller · 5 months

Text

A chance encounter.

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F! Reader

TW: none other than TOOTH ROTTING CUTE FLUFF

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

You have had a bad week but today has been horrific. You had awoken 15 minutes before the alarm, get up to shower, and the water had gone ice cold when you had shampoo in your hair.Stumbling out after a freezing shower, you were pulling on a tank top when the back of it twisted because you didn't fully dry yourself so that had you fighting it for 10 minutes and you still had to squeeze into an office skirt and button up. You ran as fast as you could in heels to your car and drove at an illegal speed to try and get to work on time— only to have your boss drown you in paperwork before snapping at you about a lack of coffee on his desk. Your only reprieve is that it's Friday and you don't work Monday. Fuck this job, fuck this week, and fuck whoever jammed the paper printer and left it like that.

Looking at the clock, you see the end of your shift has come— and you couldn't grab your keys and sprint out of the door fast enough. All you could think about was going to a grocery store and getting a bottle of wine before going home and ordering some Mexican food.

----

Standing in the alcohol section, you're biting the tip of your thumb as you try to pick which brand of cheap wine would give you the least painful hangover when a baritone voice from behind you interrupts your train of thought.

"I wouldn't recommend you a two-buck chuck for a Friday evening."

Without facing him, you say, "I'm sorry?"

With a lovely British accent, he translates. "A box of red Moscato will serve you in nothing but a terrible headache."

Scoffing, you turn to tell him to piss off— but your retort is caught in your throat. A beautiful man is the owner of that voice. Bronze complexion and tall like a runway model with a cap that had the U.K. flag on it. Chocolate eyes, straight nose, sculpted jaw, lush lips and a 5 o'clock shadow. He looked like a man out of a romance movie.

Your cheeks redden and stammer, "I— uh, don't want to pay for a good bottle I plan on getting drunk on."

He lets out a laugh, straight white teeth with pointy canines— you curse your weakness for mythical creatures— and extends his hand.

"Gaz. Gaz Garrick."

Shaking his hand, you give him your name.

"Well, speaking of wine, I'd love to personally recommend you a bottle over dinner."

'This isn't real,' you think. 'What could a man carved by Michaelangelo himself want with someone like you?'

He takes in your gaping mouth and widened eyes as a response.

"If you want, of course," he falters, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfo—"

"No!" you interrupt, "I mean yes! I'd love to go out to dinner with you, Kyle."

He relaxes his shoulders before letting out another entrancing laugh.

"Right, well, if you like— since I know you've got plans tonight— we exchange cell numbers and we can plan a date when it's the most convenient for you. I'll be in America for a bit."

You're too excited to wonder at what he meant by that and take out your phone, nodding eagerly. You're about to ask him what his number is when he shoves his unlocked phone into your hand and takes yours. Exchanging phones again, you look down at his contact page. Kyle with a blue heart next to it.

You're blushing furiously but look up at him and smile.

"Alrighty, Gaz. I gotta get goin', I got a couch and take-out calling my name. But I will text you."

"I hope you do, love. Otherwise, I'll be gutted."

Grabbing the box of wine, your heels click as you walk down to the register— and you can feel the burn of his gaze on your back. Someone somewhere was looking out for you because you just happened to be wearing the most flattering office skirt you own. Paying and grabbing the receipt, you leave the store with a pep in your step and a silly little smile on your face. You couldn't wait to see him again.

---

Finally at home in an oversized tee and sweatpants, you're lounging on your sofa. Fluffy socked feet up on your coffee table with a full wine glass in your one hand, you're changing the TV from Youtube to the Netflix you never use. Taking a sip as you scroll through the popular on Netflix list when you see a recognizable face.

You shoot up from the couch, spine ramrod straight as you squint your eyes at the screen.

No. Fucking. Way.

"Gaz?"

'Last letter from your lover' starring up-and-coming british star Kyle Garrick---- The letters after that blur together. No shot he's ACTUALLY from a movie!

Slamming your plastic wine glass down on the table, you scramble to your phone before sending 'Gaz' a text.

You: Hey.

Gaz: Hey, love. I didn't think you'd reach out so soon. Can't say I'm not glad though.

You: Yeah well, I just happened to come across something peculiar and I thought of you.

Gaz: Oh? I'm flattered I made such an impression.

You: Yeah! I just saw the preview to 'Last letter from your lover'. You wouldn't happen to be Kyle Garrick?

Gaz: Ah— right. Listen, my name IS Gaz. It's what friends and loved ones call me. You not recognizing me from the get-go was a breath of fresh air. I understand if this could be an issue for you.

You: It just took me by surprise. How about you make it up to me tomorrow evening? You've set high expectations for your choices in wine.

Gaz: Absolutely, love. I promise I won't disappoint. Tomorrow then, at 7.

You grab your sofa cushion and smush your face into it before screaming at the top of your lungs. Grabbing the box of wine, you store it in the fridge and get ready for bed. No hangover for you, after all—You've got a date!

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #gaz cod #gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you

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bellaxgiornata · 6 months

Text

Falling For the Devil [Part ninety: "The Ring"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: Matt takes Foggy with him to finally buy an engagement ring for you.

Or You continually almost stumble onto Matt's hiding places for the ring in the apartment.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut, violence

a/n: One of the updates y'all have been waiting for! It's mostly in Matt's POV but that alternates near the end. Also, this installment means the proposal is now fair game to appear at ANY TIME. Feedback is always appreciated! Also, how am I at NINETY of these now??

Tag List: @ninacottee @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @mascamp02 @1988-fiend @linmarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment

Monday

“Alright, Matt,” Foggy said with a sigh.

Matt heard the way Foggy stepped inside his office and leant up against the doorframe before loosening his tie. The sound of fabric fibers rubbing against each other was sharp and loud as it met Matt’s ears. His head rose up from his work, his fingers pausing on the braille before him as he focused on Foggy in the doorway, sending him a tight smile.

“What is this super secret thing you wanted to do with me after work today that absolutely could not wait for another day?” Foggy asked.

Matt's brows drew together as he reached over, his fingers pushing up the sleeve of his shirtt as he felt for the time on his watch. “It’s already five?” he asked, double-checking for himself.

“Yup, buddy,” Foggy answered, running a hand through his hair. “The day dragged on, but alas, it is finally over. Or, at least, the work day is. Though my day is not, since, you know, you practically begged me to assist you this evening with something that you would tell me nothing about."

Internally Matt disagreed with the sentiment about the day dragging on as he began to gather up the papers scattered along his desk. For him, it felt like the day had flown by. He'd been trying to focus on his work all day today, but truthfully all he could think about was finding the perfect engagement ring later once he'd finished at the office. He had absolutely no clue what the first thing was when it came to picking an engagement ring.

And if Matt was being honest, this was the first time in a long time that he found himself feeling self-conscious about being blind. Because it wasn't like he could see all the different styles and options of rings to find the one he wanted–the perfect one that you'd hopefully wear on your finger for years to come. The one that felt like it fit you . The one you'd say yes to. Admittedly it pained him to ask for help with something so personal and intimate, even if Foggy was like a brother to him. He desperately wished this was something he could do on his own.

"So are you going to tell me what we're doing?" Foggy questioned again. "Is it something to do with Daredevil? Because I'll be honest, buddy, I'm not so sure I want to get involved in anything illegal. I'd like to retain my ability to practice law after all the hard work I put into getting that degree."

Matt laughed lightly, sliding his chair back from his desk. "It's nothing illegal. And it's nothing to do with…that aspect of my life."

"Okay, so then why the cloak and dagger?" Foggy pressed. "If it's not about Daredevil then I don't get what's with–"

Matt's head tilted to the side, his dark brows pinching together the moment he heard Foggy suck in a sharp breath. He abruptly crossed the room, planting both of his hands firmly on Matt's desk.

"Matthew Michael Murdock are you doing what I think you're doing?" Foggy asked, his question hushed and fast.

"I suppose that depends on what you think I'm doing," Matt countered slowly, rising to his feet.

"Are you–" Foggy leaned in closer to him, "– proposing ?"

A grin drew itself onto Matt’s face, one that he couldn’t possibly fight back. Not as the memory of you calling him family from the other day flashed through his mind.

"Well, I need a ring first," he answered.

Foggy’s right hand curled into a fist before he pumped it up and into the air so abruptly that it took Matt by surprise. The loud whoop he emitted next had managed to last a duration of two seconds before Matt had thrown his hand forward, waving it frantically at Foggy and quickly trying to calm him down as panic shot through him.

"Fog, relax," Matt said in a hushed tone, already hearing the clicking of Karen's heels heading towards his office. "I'd like to keep this between us for now so it can remain a surprise."

"Sorry, you just don't know how excited I am right now," Foggy replied in an excited rush. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this moment, man. I just–"

"What're you so excited about that you're shouting in here without me?" Karen asked, cutting Foggy off. “What moment have you been waiting for?”

Matt could hear the hard swallow from Foggy, noticing the way his friend’s palms had begun to sweat. He was nervous. Which meant Matt probably needed to come up with a fast lie to get Karen off this topic as quick as possible, especially because he was certain that subtle shift in the air was from her gaze curiously dancing back and forth between the pair of them.

“For that new bakery opening up near his apartment,” Matt said, straightening his tie. “He’s been talking about it all week.”

Karen’s eyes narrowed, her head tilting to the side. “He has?” she asked.

Foggy let out a nervous laugh, the sound of which had Matt struggling not to wince. If he kept it up, she’d figure out what was going on in no time. Karen was far too smart and perceptive.

“Suppose it was only to me then,” Matt replied, cutting Fog off before he could speak. “Consider yourself lucky. If I have to hear about bear claws again I might stuff tissues in my ears.”

“Mmm,” Karen hummed out. “Well, I suppose I’m heading home for the night. Unless either of you need anything?”

“No, Karen, we’re just about to head out, too,” Matt said quickly, shooting her a wide smile. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”

“Right,” she replied slowly, dragging the word out.

There was a brief pause before she said goodbye, and then both Matt and Foggy remained absolutely silent until they’d heard the main office door shut and her heels clicking down the hallway. Foggy exhaled an audible breath, rubbing a hand across his forehead.

“Sorry, Matt,” he apologized. “I forgot she was even here for a moment. It's just–you're going to ask your girl to marry you! This is fantastic news!"

“It’s alright,” Matt assured him with a grin. “But can we just keep this between the pair of us? I’m not sure exactly when I’m proposing, but I’d like it to be a surprise for her. So I’d prefer Karen and Marci not finding out ahead of time–especially Marci. We both know she can’t keep a secret.”

Foggy laughed lightly, shaking his head. “No, that she absolutely cannot do,” he agreed. “So do you know where you want to go to look, or–”

“I know exactly where I want to go,” Matt replied, cutting Foggy off as he made his way around his desk. “I just don’t know exactly what to get.”

“Well you’re in luck, buddy,” Foggy told him. “Because I’ve done this before and it resulted in a positive outcome, so I’d like to think that makes me an expert when it comes to engagement ring shopping.”

Matt chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m counting on it, Foggy.”

Matt’s fingers ran over the ring in his hand, his lips pursed as he tried to focus on the feel of it. Bringing Foggy with shopping for an engagement ring had proved helpful, he had to admit, but the final decision ultimately came down to him. And picking out a ring hadn’t been easy so far, either.

Currently he had narrowed his choices down to two, but he was torn between them. One was a yellow gold ring with a solitaire pear-shaped diamond, and the other was a white gold ring with a round solitaire diamond surrounded by a series of smaller ones–apparently called a ‘halo.’ He’d eventually concluded that the ring styles with multitudes of diamonds just didn’t suit you. Because you were not flashy and loud, but rather delicate and understated yourself. He figured he wanted a ring that reflected that, one you’d feel comfortable wearing.

But he was also torn between something he thought you’d like–because the woman helping him had assured Matt that solitaire pear-shaped diamond engagement rings were definitely in right now–or something he thought reflected the relationship you both had. The round solitaire with the halo of diamonds was the one he’d been leaning towards; as tacky as it sounded, the circular shape of the diamond did signify that there was no beginning or end to his love for you, plus it was classic and timeless. And the idea of a halo suited you, after all.

His thumb ran over the pear-shaped diamond again, the tip of it pricking the pad of his finger each time. A frown settled on Matt’s lips.

“What is it?” Foggy asked quietly, leaning in towards him. “You look deep in thought.”

“This one just doesn’t feel right,” Matt murmured, the tip of the diamond sharply catching on his finger again. “In more way than one.”

“Then it’s not the one,” Foggy said simply, plucking it out of Matt’s fingers. "What about the other one? What's that one making you feel?"

Foggy placed the round cut ring into Matt's upturned palm. He could feel the weight of the woman's eyes on him from behind the counter, clearly hoping for a sale. He tried to ignore it as he ran his fingers over the shape of it. Nothing caught his skin uncomfortably as he did, not like the other ring.

For a moment he stood there, feeling the ring in his hand. He imagined it on your finger as he held your hand–the pair of you out at dinner, sitting on the couch together, or after he'd come home from his night out as Daredevil. He imagined running his thumb along it as he called you his fiancé, hearing the way the muscles would shift in your face as you smiled. Gradually a small smile slid onto his lips at the thought, his thumb running over the diamonds again as he imagined feeling it on your finger with a second band, finally being able to call you his wife.

"It feels like it's for her," he whispered to Foggy. "This is the one. This is her ring."

"Yes!" Foggy exclaimed, clapping Matt excitedly on the back. "I think I'm shaking in excitement over here, man! I can't believe this is finally happening!"

Matt's smiling face focused back down on the ring in his hand. "I can," he told him. "Because it was always going to be her for me. Knew it from the moment she first stumbled into Josie's."

"Now you just need to propose," Foggy told him, patting him on the back again.

Nerves swirled in Matt’s stomach at the thought of finally asking you that life altering question. He'd had an idea planned for that moment for quite a long time now and he only hoped you liked it when he did finally ask.

"I just hope she says yes," Matt whispered.

"Of course she will," Foggy said, nudging him with his elbow. "Don't overthink it. She’s crazy in love with you, too. Anyone can see it just by looking at her face, Matt."

Tuesday

You awkwardly unlocked the apartment door while trying not to spill the contents of the takeout bag in your hands. Tonight had been a late night at the office for you, having been busy working on meeting a deadline for Ellison before you left. You'd called Matt at his office earlier, telling him that you'd be the one running late tonight and that you'd grab dinner from the Thai restaurant around the corner before you came home so that he didn’t have to worry about cooking.

Opening the door and stepping inside, you were surprised to be met with silence. Confusion washing over you, you wondered if maybe something had happened in Hell’s Kitchen and Matt had gone out early. As you took your shoes off, placing them under the bench and out of the way so no one would trip on them, you noticed the doors to the closet where Matt kept the trunk of his father's things and his Daredevil suit was partially ajar.

Brows knitting together, you made your way down the entryway hall towards it. If Matt had gone out, he'd have fully shut the doors after getting dressed. It seemed odd he'd have been in that much of a hurry to forget that.

Though when you neared the closet, you spotted one of his red gloves lying on the floor just behind one of the chairs. Frowning, you stepped over towards it and bent down to pick it up–which was when you finally found Matt.

Dressed in a black-tee shirt and gray sweatpants, his large body was curled up on the leather couch under the plush blanket you'd replaced his plaid one with. He was fast asleep, looking absolutely peaceful, but your heart nearly melted when you spotted Mittens' dark gray body curled into a tight ball against Matt’s chest. Nestled in between Matt's muscular arms, the cat looked even smaller than usual.

A smile gradually made its way onto your lips as you watched the pair of them for a moment. They both looked comfortable and content sleeping as they cuddled up together. Despite Matt’s attempts to tell you he wasn't a cat person–or a pet person of any sort–you'd noticed how often he was usually talking to or playing with the cat. Often when he passed by Mittens laying in his cat tree that you’d recently gotten him, Matt would always stop to pet him. It was such a common occurrence that even Mittens expected it, usually raising his head and softly mewing at Matt whenever he neared.

Glancing down at the glove in your hand, you figured Mittens must have gotten into Matt’s trunk while he was asleep. You knew some nights Matt came home exhausted and didn't fully shut and lock the trunk after himself. Mittens must have opened the closet with his little paws and somehow pushed the lid open. Though how the cat had somehow managed to pull his glove out from under that false bottom was an absolute mystery to you.

Quietly you crossed the living room, making your way over towards the kitchen table to set down the bag of takeout. When you turned, intending to put away Matt's glove, you spotted him groggily sitting up awake on the couch.

"Hey, Matty," you said, making your way back across the living room. "I just got home. I grabbed dinner–it's on the table. I'm just picking up quick if you want to get started on dinner."

"Picking up?" he asked drowsily. “Picking up what?”

His head was tracking your movements across the apartment, his expression switching from drowsy to alert suddenly.

"Yeah, it looks like Mittens got into your trunk again," you told him. "Pulled out a glove. I was just going to–"

"I got it," he said in a rush.

You hadn't even had a chance to open your mouth to respond before Matt was at your side, removing the glove from your hand. He sent you a tense smile before he gestured his head towards the kitchen.

"You had a long day," he continued. "Why don't you go start on dinner? I can put this away."

You stood there confused, blinking at him and his odd behavior for a moment. After a few seconds, when he urged you a second time to go get some food, you finally nodded and turned. Heading back towards the kitchen to get everything plated for dinner, you briefly wondered what that had been about.

Wednesday

"Uncle Matt! Uncle Matt!"

The sound of his name ringing out so enthusiastically in the apartment by your now almost four year old nephew easily put the biggest smile onto Matt’s face. He'd barely managed to exit the entryway hall after taking his shoes off before he heard Hudson racing across the apartment. The boy nearly knocked him over when he threw his arms around Matt’s leg, clinging to him in an excited hug.

"Hey, Huds," Matt said with a warm chuckle. "Your aunt told me you might still be here when I got home and I was hoping she was right. I missed you, buddy."

Matt reached his hand down, affectionately ruffling the boy's hair. Hudson giggled, releasing Matt’s leg only long enough to grab onto his hand instead. Matt could hear the way your smile grew from your place on the couch in the living room, watching as Hudson began to drag him into the room further. His heart swelled–he loved you and your family, even if he could still feel Amber occasionally giving him the side-eye when she was around.

“Huds, why don’t we let Matt have a minute to relax?” you suggested. “He just got in the door from work, bud. He might want to get changed.”

Hudson didn’t remotely let up his hold at your suggestion, continuing to drag Matt around the couch. His little hand had a surprisingly strong grip for a toddler.

Matt shook his head at you, the smile still spread wide over his face. “That’s alright, sweetheart,” he assured you. “I don’t mind at all.”

“I finally got to meet Mittens, Uncle Matt!” Hudson exclaimed, finally dragging Matt to a stop beside the coffee table–though he didn’t relinquish his hold on Matt’s hand. “Hes so soft and cute! And he really liked my dinosaurs!”

“He did?” Matt asked curiously, head tilting to the side.

“Yeah!” Hudson replied. “Momma got me some new ones. Mittens was running around playing with them. It was silly, wasn’t it, auntie?”

Matt heard the way you pushed yourself up from the couch, his attention curiously shifting towards you.

“Yeah, he definitely was having a blast with them,” you agreed, lowering down to your knees before the couch. “And I think he might’ve knocked a couple under here, actually. Ahh, yeah, here they are.”

“There was another one over there,” Hudson said.

Matt’s heart sped up in his chest when he noticed Hudson was pointing near the other side of the apartment. A sharp spike of adrenaline shot through him because he’d moved your engagement ring from the trunk with his suit to behind the radiator after you almost found it last night when he’d been napping on the couch.

“Where’d it go again?” you asked. “Behind the radiator?”

Matt heard the way the air shifted as Hudson nodded his head. The moment he heard you making your way over there he panicked. If you looked back there you’d surely see the ring box he’d tried to hide and he didn’t want to propose to you right here and now, not like this. He had something more planned for that.

“You know what?” Matt said quickly, shooting you a nervous smile as he began walking swiftly towards the radiator. “I can grab it. Don’t worry about it.”

He heard the way you paused, one of your brows raising onto your forehead. He could practically hear you thinking about how weird he was being right now.

“You’ve had a tough week at the office,” Matt continued, turning and heading over towards the radiator while you were still hesitating. “Just enjoy the time with Hudson.”

“I mean it’s…not that hard to grab something from behind there, Matt,” you said slowly.

His mouth went dry when he heard the strange tone to your voice. Like you thought he was acting off.

Because admittedly he was.

“Exactly!” he exclaimed.

He shot you a smile over his shoulder as he bent down, sticking his hand behind the radiator. Your eyes were watching him so carefully that he could feel your stare as his fingers brushed over the velvet box. Still smiling at you, he deftly managed to grab both the box and the little dinosaur, pocketing the box discreetly into his suit pocket as he held up the dinosaur in his other hand.

“Found it!” he called out, palms sweating.

Thursday

Stacking your clean bras in the top drawer of the dresser, you overheard the apartment door opening and closing. You smiled to yourself as you made your way back to the bed, grabbing a stack of your clean socks next. You’d loved living with Matt, adjusting a little faster than you’d anticipated despite some of the small mishaps the pair of you had had over the past couple weeks.

Glancing up as you headed back to your dresser drawer, you caught sight of Mittens. He’d followed you into the bedroom a bit ago when you’d brought in the load of clean laundry and began to sort through it. He’d long since fallen asleep in his little hammock by the window when you’d started folding the laundry, but the sound of Matt shuffling through the living room had caused him to stir awake. His green eyes were blinking tired and slow, focused on the bedroom door as if he expected Matt to step through.

And sure enough, as you were closing the drawer of the dresser, you felt a pair of hands slip around your waist. The smile on your mouth only grew wider when he leaned over your shoulder, planting a kiss to your cheek.

“Missed you today, sweetheart,” Matt murmured.

“I missed you, too,” you said, turning in his arms. “But we did talk on the phone through part of lunch today, if you remember.”

He hummed in response, nodding his head. “Ahh yes, how could I forget? Katy had some very detailed things to tell you about her date the other night even though she knew you were on the phone with me.”

“Yeah,” you said with a laugh. “She has no shame, that one.”

“Mmm, no, but I’m glad she’s fixated on someone else’s cake for now,” Matt said.

“Ahh yes,” you replied, making your way back towards the bed when Matt released you from his hold. “I’ve heard her talk about that a little too much today, actually. Though she did still say yours is superior, so do not fret, Matt.”

You giggled at the sound of Matt’s groan as you picked up his stack of boxers. Turning, you made your way back towards the dresser, though you noticed the way Matt tensed. Before you could even reach out and open the drawer, Matt had tossed an arm out in front of you, blocking you from the dresser. Taken by surprise, you stopped abruptly and pulled a face.

“What’re you doing?” you asked him.

“I should ask you that as well,” Matt quickly shot back.

You glanced down at the stack of freshly laundered black boxers in your hands. Slowly your attention shifted back up to Matt. One of your brows rose up onto your forehead, your eyes narrowing suspiciously at him.

“Putting away your clean laundry,” you replied. “Obviously.”

Matt’s hands flew forward, taking you yet again by surprise when he grabbed the stack from your hands. The smile on his face looked forced, which only had your eyes narrowing further.

“How about I finish putting away my laundry and you can start the oven?” he asked. “I’ll finish taking care of dinner once I get changed.”

Your eyes gradually slid down towards the dresser, noticing how Matt was now blocking it more fully with his body. Which was…odd.

“Is there something in there you don’t want me to see?” you asked him curiously. “Because I–”

“No!” Matt replied quickly, his smile growing even wider as he shook his head. “No, not at all,” he added, his voice an octave higher than usual. “I just want you to–”

“Relax?” you cut in. “Yeah, you’ve been saying that all week. It’s getting kind of weird, actually.”

“Well you’ve just been so stressed at the Bulletin and dealing with me home most of the week,” Matt told you. “I figured since I’m here I can try to give you some breaks, right? So why don’t you start the oven and relax your pretty little self on the couch with one of your shows, sweetheart. Let me finish this.”

For a moment you stood there, eyeing Matt suspiciously. He was up to something, that much was obvious. But what remained a mystery to you.

Figuring it had something to do with Daredevil, you sighed and nodded before heading out of the bedroom.

Sunday

Matt could hear the tension in Foggy’s muscles as he slid the living room window open. From his place on the fire escape, Matt could still hear Marci in their bathroom presumably washing the makeup off of her face.

"What the hell are you doing here, Matt?" Foggy hissed through the opening. "You know you can stop by dressed in normal clothes using the front door, right? Not popping up on the fire escape dressed like that ."

Foggy dramatically waved his hand, gesturing at Matt’s Daredevil suit. Matt sighed before holding up the box in his hand, hearing the way Foggy gasped the moment he noticed it.

"Wait, are you proposing to her?" Foggy asked in shock. "Oh buddy, please tell me you're not doing it in the suit. Because as much as I'm sure you think she might enjoy it, I don't think she'd actually want you–"

"Fog, stop," Matt said, waving his hand at him. "Of course I'm not proposing to her in the suit. I'm not proposing tonight, I just came to ask you a huge favor."

He heard the way Foggy’s eyes narrowed, his head tilting curiously to the side. In the other room, Marci was still thankfully washing her face.

"What sort of favor are we talking about?" he asked slowly.

"Can you keep this here?" Matt practically begged, holding the box with the ring in it higher. "Preferably somewhere Marci can't find it and spoil the surprise? Because I have been going insane this week, Fog. Every time I hide it somewhere I think she'd never go–the radiator, next to my suit in the trunk, my damn shoes–she keeps almost finding it. And Fog, buddy, I can't take the anxiety anymore. I swear she must already think something is going on."

"Okay, yeah, sure," Foggy replied, accepting the box Matt practically shoved at him. "I can keep it safe here until you need it."

"Oh thank God," Matt said with a relieved sigh. "You have no idea how grateful I am. I owe you one."

"Think you owe me more than one, Matt," Foggy countered.

Matt sent Foggy a sheepish smile. He was about to respond when he heard the faucet turn off in the bathroom.

"Marci is about done, I got to go," Matt said in a rush. "Hide that somewhere good, please. But…don't forget where, either."

As Matt turned and hopped over the fire escape railing, he caught Foggy’s promise to safeguard his ring, considering it his first duty as Best Man. The comment had Matt grinning as he continued to make his way down the side of the building.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock series #matt murdock #daredevil

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asimperingswannsong · 6 months

Note

Request: fluff with Larissa where Rissie is having sad girl minutes and Reader cheers her up, please

🤗 Thank you for the ask! I can certainly try! This was my first attempt at a Reader insert. It was a fun challenge. Hope you like it! 🙃

Another Dismal Dance

Larissa Weems x Reader

Notes/Summary/Warnings: Just fluffy stuff. Larissa has another disappointing Rave'N and reader tries to make it better.

--------------------

You were standing with Ms. Ingram, the other rookie teacher, by the punch bowl at the Rave'N chaperoning the students as they arrived. She was busy mindlessly speculating on who might be dating who and whether any of the speculative couples would be making an appearance together as official items, but your attention was elsewhere. You were trying to be subtle about it, but it was difficult because the object of your affection was positively radiant this evening.

From the moment you'd interviewed with her and bonded over your shared interest in Outcast History, her former subject, you'd been enamoured by Principal Weems. This was your first teaching job and she had been an amazing mentor, always ready with words of encouragement or offering an ear for you to vent. And when she'd begun to confide in you during your fireside chats in her office, you couldn't have been happier. She'd been having a tough time this year with the monster attacks and Wednesday's constant need to solve the mystery surrounding them. You'd become increasingly worried about her as you could see from the windows of your rooms how many evenings, she'd been working late into the night doing damage control for Wednesday's latest antics.

But you'd been able to cheer her up anytime she expressed frustration with things just by mentioning the Rave'N. She was so excited about the preparations. She wanted everything just right for her students to have a memorable experience and her enthusiasm was one more thing about her that you found so endearing. You'd been having little cautionary chats with yourself lately just to check in and remind yourself to respect boundaries since this was your boss and making an unwanted advance toward her could be a huge mistake but it was hard to keep your resolve everytime you saw her flitting through the halls. She was so beautiful and so elegantly put together. And her personality matched her appearance, charming and perfect. It was a struggle not to be a complete simp.

Especially right now, she was stunning in her knee length silver dress, and she looked so happy seeing all of her hard work come to fruition. She had done an incredible job on the themed decor. It was nice to see her have this perfect evening after all the stress she'd dealt with recently. Now, if only you could work up the courage to go over and tell her as much. "Right?" Your eyes widened as your realized you'd become so engrossed in Principal Weems that you'd completely checked out of the conversation with Ms. Ingram.

"Sorry?" "Coach Vlad." She was met with a look of confusion. "I said he thinks his track suit is formal wear apparently. Crazy huh? Are you alright, Y/N?" "Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about Monday's lesson plan and whether to include a pop quiz," you lied trying to cover for the actual reason behind your inattentiveness. Ms. Ingram rolled her eyes dramatically and grabbed you by the arm shaking it, "We're off work. It's a dance. Loosen up and have a little fun, Y/N." "Yeah, I'll try…"

You managed to excuse yourself from Ms. Ingram's gossip train and finally made your way to Larissa. "Ms. L/N! You look lovely this evening darling. That dress is so pretty!" she greeted you happily. You blushed noticeably at her compliment. "This is amazing Principal Weems. You should be so proud. And you are a vision. Perfection." "Really?" her turn to blush noticeably. "I love it. And the gloves, the jewelry, and the hair, they're all absolutely beautiful." She smiled still blushing, "Flatterer." "Just facts." "Ms. L/N?" You heard Ms. Ranier, the other history teacher, call from behind you.

You reluctantly started to turn away from Larissa to acknowledge Ms. Ranier, but she reached out gently and took your hand to draw your attention back to her for a moment. "Ms. L/N?" You turned back with a look of inquiry. "Before you go…" "Yes?" "I just wanted to ask if you'd like to stop by my office later? Maybe for a celebratory drink? I'm so happy with how everything came together." "I would love to. That sounds fun," you said beaming at her. She smiled in return and winked at you, "See you then, Y/N." The wink has caused your stomach to abruptly relocate within your body. You turned and floated away.

Everything was going so well…until it wasn't.

You were standing against the wall with two other teachers deeply engaged in a terrible dance battle with each of you showcasing your cringest of moves when you felt a droplet land on your shoulder.As you looked around trying to find the source of the leak you noticed the droplet was red. "What the hell?" And then there was two, three, four. "What's going…" And then the sprinklers opened fully and rained down red.

People started to scream as their formal attire they'd spent weeks choosing became stained all over. Then they started to try to get away and began slipping in the mess. You immediately started trying to help students up and direct them to the exit, but it was chaos. And then you heard a loud scream and you turned to see Larissa having a full-blown meltdown in the center of the room and your heart broke in two.

She'd wanted this to be perfect so badly and she'd already dealt with so much this year and now she and her beautiful dress were stained from top to bottom. She was breathing deeply and shaking. She seemed to be having a panic attack or hyperventilating. You tried to make your way toward her, but you kept getting caught up in the on rush of the exiting crowd. Over and over again you were thwarted from getting to her. Eventually you were pulled along by your fellow teachers who all just wanted out.

In the aftermath you stood and looked frantically around for Larissa. You just wanted to make sure she was okay. Unable to find her, you hugged and comforted crying students encouraging them gently to return to their rooms and get cleaned up and apologizing for their dance being ruined. Finally you spotted her, but she rushed by on her phone and you heard her addressing Sheriff Galpin. She'd recovered from her earlier panic and now she sounded furious.

Realizing this was not an ideal time to try and speak to her you returned to your own rooms and cleaned yourself up. You paced your room using baby wipes to clean the stains from your face and out of your hair as much as possible before changing out of your ruined dress. You could see Larissa pacing furiously in her office and gesticulating wildly at the other occupants.

You determined when you had a chance you would try to intervene and do what you could to comfort her in some way. You grabbed a large basket and began filling it with items, baby wipes, cloths, a blanket, a candle, a bottle of red wine you'd bought after trying it in Larissa's office one evening, and finally a small bouquet from your pink hellebores. You made your way over to the main building and saw Sheriff Galpin and Mayor Walker leaving as you entered. You made your way upstairs.

As you entered while knocking you saw Larissa hastily try to wipe the tears from the corners of her eyes as she stood from her desk. "Y/N? Are you alright? I'm so sorry for what happened?" You came in and placed the basket on the couch. "Am I alright? I came to check on you. I know how much you were looking forward to this. I'm the one who's sorry for the way it turned out." She'd been making a valiant effort not to cry but she lost the battle and started to weep openly. You rushed over and hugged her tightly. "Oh no sweetheart. Don't cry. I'm so sorry."

She clung tightly to you and sobbed loudly. You held her tightly in return and rubbed soothingly on her back trying to bring her some comfort. As her sobs lessened slightly you placed your arm around her lower back. "Come here, sweetheart," you said gently leading her toward the couch in front of the fire, "let's sit down together for a minute." You brought her around to the couch but she hesitated. "I don't want to stain it," she sniffled still wearing her ruined dress. You moved quickly over to your basket and removed the blanket, unfolding it and holding it open like a towel. She continued to hesitate.

You wiggled it at her invitingly, "Come on. I brought it just for you. Feel free to stain it all you like." Larissa smiled through her next sniffle and moved closer to you. You wrapped her up into a red burrito and hugged her once more before encouraging her to sit. She did and you removed the candle and flowers placing them on the table and lighting the wick. Larissa smiled and wiped a strand of stained loose hair from her eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked curiously.

"Me? I'm currently in the middle of an impromptu and somewhat desperate attempt to provide some small modicum of comfort to you after what was an unmitigated disaster perpetrated on the most undeserving of creatures." Finishing your quick mood setting decor, you reached over producing the bottle of wine and holding it out to her. "May I interest the madam in a glass of the house's finest Beaujolais Nouveau?" you said in your corniest French waitress impression. Mercifully she chuckled as you poured her a glass.

Darling, you didn't have to do any of this." "I wanted to. I felt terrible seeing you crushed like that." You held up a baby wipe. "May I?" "Please." You placed a knee on the couch beside her and bent forward over her wiping the stains from her face gently. She gazed up into your eyes with a look of gratitude that made you weak. "Thank you," she whispered as you continued to wipe away the red. "Of course, sweetheart."

When you finished cleaning as many of the streaks from her face as you could, you sat down next to her on the sofa and poured yourself a glass. She held hers out for a refill and you both sat and stared into the fire for a while. You felt her hand lay over the top of yours and you turned yours over. She entwined your fingers together and you continued to watch the flames. "Are you going to be alright?" you whispered. "Yes, darling, don't worry about me." "But I do," you said after a pause. She caressed your hand gently and smiled.

#my fic #fluff #gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principal weems #larissa weems x reader

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 8 months

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Whatever You Like - Lewis Hamilton

Tonight was going to be your first gala with the Mercedes team, and you were panicking. Big time. "I have nothing to wear. Literally nothing," you complained to one of the friends you had made, Alice. "Surely you have dresses or something," she said.

"I do, but they are nowhere near nice enough for this kind of thing," you said, knowing you would have to go shopping before you went. "Tomorrow, I'm going to the mall, and I am going to throw something together,"

"You'll be fine, you're stunning, so you can wear whatever. Who else is going?" Alice asked, kind of wishing it was her going. "Me, Lewis and George. Toto said I was randomly selected since they had an extra space to fill," you said, already feeling nervous.

"Have you even spoken to either of them, ever?" she asked, also feeling quite smug. It would be entertaining to hear about this on Monday. "Yeah, a couple of times, but I'm pretty sure they will have plenty of other people to talk to,"

"You'll be fine, just talk to anyone you see. Now, I've got to go, send me as many pictures as you can take," she smiled, walking away and leaving you sat at the lunch table by yourself. You finished your lunch, before retreating to your desk to finish off your work for the day.

The gala was tomorrow night, and you were going to spend as much time as possible finding the best outfit you could. For a moment, you heard people stop typing on their keyboards and watch who was walking through the office.

Looking up from your computer, you spotted Lewis strutting through the office. You caught his eye as you looked, so you glanced away and focused your attention back onto your computer. You heard his footsteps approach your desk, but you just assumed he was walking by.

"Y/N, you're the one going to the gala tomorrow, right?" he asked, leaning against the filing cabinet next to your desk. "Yeah, I am," you said, swiveling your chair around to face him. "Would you mind telling me what you're wearing?" he questioned, keeping his voice down so he didn't distract everyone.

"I'll be honest, I don't have a clue right now. I'm going shopping tomorrow," you explained to Lewis, and his face told you that he had an idea. "Let me take you shopping, I can get you gala ready," he smiled, and you were speechless.

Lewis Hamilton had just asked if he could take you shopping. "Please, it'll be fun and I will make sure you look incredible," he said, and something in his eyes willed you to say yes to him. I mean, it's not everyday Lewis Hamilton offers to take you shopping.

"Yeah, sure. Sounds fun. I will warn you, I am very picky," you laughed, trying to contain the excitement you felt. "I'll take that as a challenge. I'll pick you up, yeah?" he asked, walking backwards as he walked away from your desk.

"But you don't know where I live?" you said, but he just put his thumbs up to you and carried on walking. You gave yourself a second to calm down, and then returned to your work. You didn't know what time he would be getting to your house, or even if he would be able to get to your house.

But you were sure he had a way, so you figured he would take care of it. You woke up earlier the next morning, just in case Lewis showed up at a random time. Eventually, you spotted a Mercedes pulling up outside of your house, and you figured it must be him.

"Are you ready for the best shopping trip of your life?" He asked, opening the car door for you as you locked your house. "Are you ready for the most difficult shopping trip of your life? Getting me to look good for these things is going to be hard,"

"It'll be easier than you think," he smiled as you stepped into his car. It was by far the nicest car you had ever been in, and it still wasn't sinking in that this as what you were doing. "So where are we going first?" you asked out of curiosity.

"I am taking you to the best shops I know," he said as he pulled away from your house. For a moment, you panicked. There was no doubt that the places Lewis shopped were expensive, and you didn't earn nearly as much as he did obviously.

Finally, the car stopped and everything looked so... Luxurious. All of the shop signs were shining and golden and it just smelt like money as you walked. You felt really out of place amongst all of the people that were shopping here.

They all walked around, their heads held high. You, on the other hand, just tried to blend in as you walked beside Lewis. "This might not be completely your style, but we might as well try, you might see something you like," he explained as he opened the door for you.

Inside, there were tall ceilings and racks of clothes. There was only one of each piece, and that was when you knew you were shopping high-end. The floors were marble, with floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the empty walls.

"Wait here," Lewis said, walking over to the counter. You could see the recognition in the cashier's eyes - he shopped here often. He talked to one of the ladies and pointed at you. He was probably explaining the situation.

Lewis motioned you over, and you joined him beside the sales lady. "This is Monica, and she is going to be helping you out," he told you, as the lady held her hand out for you to shake. You shook it and smiled.

"Follow me and I'll see what we can do for you," she said, walking through a curtain beside the check out desk. When you walked through, it was like something straight out of a movie. There was a platform with mirrors all around it, and a couple of seats just in front.

Lewis went and sat on a plush, cream couch right in front, and you were guided into the small room beside the platform. "I'll be waiting," he smiled, looking forward to what they would put you in.

Monica told you to stand there while she walked around the shop, picking colours that would fit your skin and eyes, while selecting the perfect sizes for you. "Put these on with this," she said, pointing to some pants and a blazer, "And let me know if you need any help getting anything on," she said, leaving you to get changed.

"Thank you," you said, putting the pants on first. They were pretty low-waisted, and they hugged your legs until the knee, where the black fabric flared out. They fit you perfectly, and you quite liked them.

The blazer was a bright, sapphire, but there was no shirt with it. You pulled it over your shoulders, and buttoned up the golden buttons on the front. But, you thought you had done something wrong.

The neckline plunged down to your stomach, showing off a lot, and you were sure there was something missing. "Monica?" you called, and she was quickly in the room with you.

"You alright?" she asked, looking at your figure.

"Have I got this on right?" you queried, looking at yourself in the mirror. Monica stepped up to you and hovered her hands around your midriff. "Can I?" she asked, and you nodded to give her your permission.

She adjusted the placement of the blazer on your body, and it definitely looked better. She turned you so you were facing the mirror, and pinched the fabric at your back to cinch the waist slightly. "I'll just pin it here, and it will give you the full effect," she said, and the fabric stayed in place as she pinned it.

"OK," you said, walking out of the room and stepping onto the platform in front of Lewis. "What do you think?" you asked, not sure how to stand.

"Wow, you look incredible," he smiled, gazing at the outfit. "But what do you think? That's what's most important," he said, and you felt like he could sense your reservations with the outfit. "I don't know, it's nice, don't get me wrong, but it's not really my style," you explained, not really able to pinpoint what you didn't like.

"That's fine, do you want to try something else?"

"Yeah, I think I will," you said, walking back into the small room. Monica unpinned it for you and handed you the next outfit. It was one piece this time, and it was in a deep, rich burgundy. She left you to get it on, and you already liked it much more than the blazer.

It fit you like a glove, and legs being loose and floaty, while it clung to your curves on the top half. Just as you were about to leave, Monica came back and handed you a pair of patent, black stilettos. You slipped them on your feet and wobbled back out onto the platform.

"That is already better than the last one," he smiled, looking at the expression on your face. He could already tell you like it more. "I like it, like, I really like it," you giggled, gazing at yourself in the mirror. "I feel like there's a 'but' after that, Y/N," he pressed.

"It's just not... The one, y'know?" you said, wishing you like it. It was really nice, it made your figure look impeccable. "Yeah, I get it. We aren't stopping until we find something that you adore, alright?"

"Yeah," you said, walking back into the room and putting on your normal clothes. You didn't want to be the one to ruin the fun, but the other reason you didn't get any of the clothes you had tried on was the price tag. These were expensive, and way out of your price range.

"The next store will be more your style, guaranteed," he said, leading you down the street and into another shop. This one was automatically more down your alley. The fabrics were light, some of them were glittery, and all you could see were dresses and heels lining the walls.

You took a dress down off one of the racks, and your hands immediately found the price tag. There was no way you were getting one of these. "Lewis, I can't, it's too much," you said, nudging him and showing him the price.

He understood what you were saying, but he had already decided what he was going to do when he offered to bring you shopping. "Mr Hamilton, what can we do for you today?" a cheerful lady approached you.

"My friend here needs an outfit for a gala we're going to tonight, don't hold back. Just make her look mesmerizing," he explained, as if he was completely ignoring what you had just said.

"Are we adding this to your account?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him. You couldn't blame her, Lewis was nothing short of gorgeous and his fashion sense just added to it. He was a presence wherever he went.

"Yeah," he nodded, without missing a beat.

"Lewis, I can't let you-" you started as the girl walked off, expecting you to follow her.

"Just let me take care of it, OK?" he softly said, and it sounded like an instruction rather than a request. "My treat," he smiled, and the look in his eyes was couldn't fail to convince you to just let him. "Fine," you sighed, following the sales lady.

You tried on two dresses, and you had two more to go. You didn't like the other two for numerous reasons. They just weren't the one. As you were trying on the third one, the sales girl went to talk to Lewis. "She's a very pretty girl, Mr Hamilton," she smiled.

"She really is, and she would look perfect no matter what she's wearing," he smiled, thinking about you. Little did they know, you could hear their every word, and a light blush tinted your cheeks. "I also just wanted to ask if there is any limit on the price? I have a dress in the back and it would suit her perfectly, but it's one of the most expensive items we have in-store at the moment,"

Lewis didn't even have to think before answering, "Oh no, you have an unlimited budget. Give her the works. Dress, shoes, accessories, the lot," he told her.

"OK," she smiled, scurrying off to collect the dress she had told Lewis about. The minute you set eyes on it, you had a feeling that it was the one. When you were stood in front of Lewis, he could see the glint in your eye. "This one is nice, but the one that I've just been brought is beautiful," you said, itching to put the other one on.

"Well go and try that one on then," he chuckled, adoring the excitement that you were showing at the thought of the other dress. He had never gotten to see this side of you before, since this was the first time you had had a proper conversation.

He couldn't shake off the feelings that he was experiencing right now. You were just too cute for it to be ignored. You stood in the changing room for a second and just gazed at the garment. The second you put it on, you fell in love.

The skirt was just a waterfall of glitter and crystals that pooled at your feet, and the fabric was a dark, midnight blue. The section from your waist to your chest was a skin-coloured mesh, and the chest area was the same, bejewelled fabric.

The top half hugged your figure and clung to all the right places, and the length of the skirt made you look taller. To top it off, there were shoes made specifically to match the dress. You walked out of the room, the material trailing out behind you.

"You are stunning, I-. Wow," he fumbled over his words, unable to articulate how he felt. The huge grin on your face made his heart melt. "It's just exquisite, isn't it?" you said, unable to tear your eyes away from your reflection. "You're exquisite," he muttered, and you overheard.

"I'm guessing that's the one?" he asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Yeah, without a doubt," you nodded. You took it off in the changing room, and the assistant took the shoes and dress to put them in the box. By the time you had gotten outside, Lewis had already paid for everything, and you didn't even want to ask how much it cost.

"Thank you, so much. I don't know how I'm going to repay you," you gushed, walking out of the store with a big bag in your hand. "You repay me by looking indescribably stunning in that dress," he flirted, playfully winking at you.

The butterflies that you had were unlike anything you had ever felt before. Checking the time, you realised you only had an hour and a half until you needed to be at the gala. "We really need to go, I need to get ready!" you rushed, showing Lewis the time.

"I have everything under control, relax," he said, walking past the car and continuing down the street. At the end of the street, there was a set of studios, and Lewis buzzed on the intercom. "Val? It's Lewis," he said, and received a very zealous reply.

"Lewis! Come on up," she said. Val seemed like a cheerful lady right off the bat. The door swung open, and Lewis stepped aside to let you in. "You will love Val, she is wonderful," he said, walking up the stairs.

Letting yourself into the studio, you saw a huge makeup table, with dividers that people got changed behind. There were also a few hair stations as well. "Lewis, I haven't seen you in-" a woman, who you assumed was Val, started, but stopped talking when she saw you.

She was a round lady, with bright ginger hair and a very eccentric colour scheme for her clothing. She was a typical artist. "Oh she is just as beautiful as you said she was!" she exclaimed, wide eyed. She put her hands on your arms and span you around a few times.

"She is, isn't she," he smiled, loving the sight of Val peering at your every feature. He knew she'd love you, since she had been begging him to bring her one of his lady friends for her to doll up. And now, he had finally followed through with his promise.

"So what are you wearing, honey?" She asked, wanting to plan what she was going to do with your hair and makeup. "This," you said, opening the bag and the box, pulling the dress out and holding against yourself.

"Now that is a dress fit for a gala," she smiled, the perfect look popping into her brain. "OK, you sit down there, honey, and I will be right with you. Lewis, you can get dressed first, then I'll be right with you," she instructed.

You sat in a chair, the table in front of you had every inch of it covered in different makeup products and a huge mirror with lights built into it. "Is there anything you want me to do, or do you just want me to go for it?" she asked, playing with your hair as she looked at you in the mirror.

"Just do whatever you think will make me look fabulous," you laughed, fully trusting Val. If Lewis did, that meant she was good. "OK, honey, OK," she chuckled, getting started on brushing your hair. She slicked it back with the products she had, and you were surprised with how much you liked it.

Next, she moved onto your makeup. She went with a smoky eye in the same midnight blue that your dress was, and a light pink on your lips. She powdered a soft, silver shimmer on your cheeks and swiped a blush for that rosy look.

"You go and get your dress on, and I'll get your accessories ready," she excitedly clapped, letting you go to get dressed. "Hey Val? You there?" you called, but you didn't receive the answer you were expecting.

"Val isn't, but I am. What do you need?" Lewis responded. You came out, holding the bodice to you, "Could you zip me up?" you asked, trying not to be rendered speechless by how good he looked. A suit could make any man look better, but it just enhanced all the right things on Lewis.

"Sure," he said. You turned your back to him, and you felt his fingers lightly brush the skin on your back as he moved your hair over your shoulder. He placed one hand firmly on your waist as he tugged the zip up to the top.

"There you go," he smiled, reluctant to pull his hand away from your waist. At heart, he was a hopeless romantic, and it took every fibre of his body not to pull you close and kiss your cheek. "Thanks," you said as Val walked back in.

"Alright then honey, come here," Val said, motioning for you to go over to her. She made sure jewels were dangling off of every part of you that they could, you were practically dripping in the things. Your ears, neck and wrists were sparkling and glittering under the lights of the studio.

"And one final touch," she said, taking your hands and slipping some rings down them. "Oh Lewis isn't she just the prettiest thing you've ever seen?" Val smiled, taking a step back to admire you. Lewis' eyes raked over your figure, and he couldn't believe that the girl who sat at the desk near Toto's office was stood here, looking breathtaking.

Well, he always thought you were pretty, but this was beyond anything he had ever seen. He was around supermodels and the like at these events, but he was certain that none of them would compare to you.

"She is Val, she really is," he agreed, looking into your eyes.

"You have to bring her back for me, OK?" Val asked. She had so many different ideas that she wanted to try on you, and only seeing you once was not enough. "Oh I'll be back Val, whether Lewis brings me or not," you laughed, causing her to smile.

Finally, you got back into Lewis' car, and he drove you to where the two of you and George were going to be picked up. This was going to be one hell of a night.

A/N - I'm thinking a part 2 when they're at the gala? Let me know!

389 notes · View notes

simpxxstan · 7 months

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perfect complements (ch. 1)

pairing: professor!seungcheol x professor!f.reader

genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, angst, slight smut

series summary: four and a half years of working together breeds familiarity, resentment, and everything in between. it's almost like living together.

chapter word count: 2.1k

warnings: bickering (will be a major feature in this story, so please do not read if verbal fights are not your cup of tea), seungcheol smokes.

a/n: seventeen is my new addiction and i'm not backing off! this is inspired from my dream life (hehe i want to be an econ prof). the series title is an econ term lolol sorry if it's too geeky. i think this series will have multiple spinoffs, maybe you can guess for which characters? all i can hope for is that i'll be able to pull through the plot till the very end and not get writers' block midway :(

slight heads up? seungcheol is 32 here, and the f. reader y/n is 33 here. wonwoo is 35-36, and minghao is slightly younger than seungcheol, probably 30. chan is 24-25 years old. y/n is shorter than seungcheol, and wears glasses. not much other physical description of y/n. also, this fic will probably have different povs, so this chapter is from seungcheol's pov.

thank you so much for reading! your reblogs, likes and comments mean sooo much honestly. i know every content creator says this, and i know we all mean it from our hearts.

enjoy some of my ult svt bias, seungcheollie!

series masterlist

With four and a half years of working together comes a ton of familiarity. Choi Seungcheol knows it annoyingly well: annoying because he’s greeted by the sight of your coat on his chair again, and well because this is a sight he sees nearly every Monday. Four years ago, he would have tried to explain to you that it’s a Monday morning, he didn’t want to come to take classes this early, and his patience is running thin, so it would be very nice if you could remember which chair was yours every morning when you came and took off your coat. Three years ago, he would have shrieked out, irritation burning through his veins. Two years ago, he would walk up to your desk, and spill your coffee all over the term paper you were currently checking. One year ago, he would purposely ruin your day even if it increased his headache tenfold just thinking about ways to annoy you.

But not any more. Choi Seungcheol has decided you are not worth a penny of his hard earned money, a moment of his precious time, and a nano atom of his genius brain cells. He simply picks your coat and dumps it on the ground, deliciously close to the dustbin. He knows his ears shouldn’t perk up, but they do, and when they hear your reaction, it is so gratifying, it feels like he has won a World War.

“Prof. Choi, if you feel you cannot respect the personal property of others, feel free to accompany me to the Dean’s Office.” You have somehow stomped up to him, standing right before him, as he pulls out the chair to his desk, taking in the endless papers and books that are arranged neatly before him. Your attitude never ceases to surprise him, given that you’re an entire head shorter than him, and even if you’re wearing heels, he can tower over you whenever you stomp up to him in these little furies. It makes you look like a little furry puppy, your hands on your hips, and Seungcheol thrives off the fire burning in your eyes. “There, there. I’d actually love to, but it seems that you need to remember how to respect public property and not hog over the space of others.”

You’re staring at him above your glasses, which have slipped down to the middle of your nose, and god, Seungcheol finds it hilarious. He wants to burst out laughing, the only thing holding him on is his determination to not break character and push you further.

“And if your routine morning tantrums are over, Seungcheol and Y/N, please settle down in your seats. It seems like I have to send you both to college again.”

Said Dean’s voice booms out behind you, and although his voice is surprisingly firm, there’s a shit-eating grin on his face, and he walks towards the two of you. He picks up the coat, lying on the floor, and hands it to Y/N. Jeon Wonwoo does not miss out on how flustered you both look on getting caught during your little lovers’ quarrel, as Wonwoo likes to call it in his mind, all alone in the Economics Department Staffroom.

“Morning Wonwoo! Enlighten me why no one else is here. Why am I stuck with this lady through this sad Monday morning?”

Seungcheol leans back on his chair, casual now that Wonwoo has calmed down the mood. You walk back to your desk, which unfortunately is right opposite Seungcheol’s, but he’s used to your ugly face to stay unfazed by it now. It’s like a terrible gift from a nosy relative you’ve hung up on the wall for long enough that it doesn’t catch the eye anymore and is just… there. But he’s quick to take note of how you’re smiling at Wonwoo, your glasses have been pushed to the top of your head, revealing your forehead and the same tiny pair of diamond hoops you wear every day.

It is, like he knows well, a scene of familiarity. And he really despises that fact.

“Minghao has a conference, he’s in the States. This is in preparation for his exchange program thing.”

“Oh yeah, he texted me on Saturday that he’s leaving soon… wasn’t aware it’s today.” You speak softly, already opening your laptop to get started with your work for the day.

“And Minhee is in the Girls’ Hostel.”

“Why?” You both ask, confused. “I thought Prof. Kim from History is the warden?” “Yes, but they’ve recently gone on their maternity leave. Minhee has to take over. And, bad luck for her, but on the very first day, there’s been a kind of emergency. Some punches were thrown while drunk, and now Minhee’s lecturing them.” “As if anyone’s gonna take her seriously,” Seungcheol scoffs, since everyone knew Minhee to be one of the coolest professors in the university.

“Hey! They took me very seriously, thank you. This is the problem with men. Give them a woman with good tits and a kind face and they think she’s a dumb bitch to run over.” Minhee walks into the small Staffroom, looking very much exhausted but she’s never going to admit it. She plops down on your desk, pushing away the laptop. “Is the situation better now?” you ask, holding out your coffee to Minhee, asking her silently to take a sip. “Yes, thankfully. I’ll have to go and check again after classes get over for the day.”

“Well then, you’re all up to date. Don’t forget the meeting with the Faculty Coordinator today at 5 pm!” “Yes Sir,” you all echo unenthusiastically, as Wonwoo chuckles and walks out of the room. It’s going to be a long day and Seungcheol can already feel his temples buzzing.

Six classes down, and he’s feeling the Monday blues wear off into a blissful exhaustion. At the end of the day, this is a profession he has not once regretted choosing. He absolutely adores spending time with his students- mostly. There’s always going to be a black sheep, like Lee Chan from his Advanced Game Theory course. Chan isn’t a bad guy, per se. He’s just over-enthusiastic and is always looking to impress: which results in him reading texts beyond his level just to try and make Seungcheol happy and end up confusing the entire concept.

But at least dealing with the well-meaning Chan is better than going to the faculty counselling meeting with you. Well, not just with you. But he knows very well what he’s going to hear at the meeting, and he’s absolutely dreading it. He has nearly the same look on his face as his students do when they get the term results, he’s just better at masking it.

As he walks into the Faculty Coordinator’s office, he sees you’re already sitting in a corner, staring outside the window, while Minhee is chatting with the Coordinator. He notices you glancing his way once, before turning your eyes towards the sky again. “Good Afternoon Prof. Choi! How are you doing?” Ms. Song looks at Seungcheol with warm eyes as he takes a seat. “I’m fine, thank you, and you?” It seems that nervousness has rendered Seungcheol incapable of forming sentences beyond nursery-level, and both Minhee and Ms. Song let out a small laugh at his childish response. “I’m sure you know why you’re here, Prof. Choi, as does Prof. Y/L/N. I’ll spare you the intro.” Minhee asks, “Am I really needed to be here?” Ms. Song says, “Prof. Jeon, unless you seriously want me to be alone with this pair who want to murder each other, I would really prefer if you could be here.” Seungcheol is blushing now, embarrassed to the toe. He can hear you groan, and Minhee somehow finds it all funny enough to smile. “If it's so amusing to you, Minhee, you can leave. We swear we won’t kill each other today, if we’ve been able to control ourselves all this time.” Seungcheol’s not even looking at you, but the sarcasm is biting his skin.

“Alright, alright. Calm down, Prof. Y/L/N. Remember, aggression is not the key. We’re here for resolutions.”

“Well then, could we please proceed to the point directly?”

“You’re in a rush on a Monday? You play baseball with the kids after class-” you ask him, staring into his face.

“I have a date today after class.”

That shuts you up for good, and Seungcheol feels queasy. It’s one thing trying to get the last word in, and it’s another to hit your weak point just to get the last word in. He wants to explain but Ms. Song interrupts. “I’ll cut the chase. From what I can see now, and from all the reports I’ve received in the last three months, there’s been not much improvement from the situation we had observed earlier. In fact, it’s only gotten more alarming-”

“Ever since I’ve turned thirty-three,” you sigh, but Ms. Song ignores you.

“I’ve spoken to the Dean, Dr. Wonwoo, and also to some of the other faculty members you share your classes and university space with. We collectively think it’s only fair to say that your interpersonal relationship is harming the kind of environment we want to foster in our university. It is, by no means, a new development, and students of several batches have noticed this relationship of yours as well. This kind of banter, which includes quite serious threats at times-” she raises a hand to quieten Seungcheol’s attempt to interrupt, “is not conducive to a healthy academic environment.”

You both sigh, you whisper something along the lines of it’s not that serious, and although Seungcheol hates to say it out loud, he agrees with you.

“I would recommend you both to go to the University Counsellor and take a few… bonding sessions over the next semester. We think this kind of banter is not too serious, we’re extremely hopeful of a resolution. It’s just not happening right now, because you’re not aware of the efforts to be taken. Once you sit with a counsellor, the path will be clearer-”

Seungcheol doesn’t even realise when he’s stood up. It feels stuffy. He had thought he was long past the age of getting reprimanded for fighting with his peers.

“I really have to leave now. Thank you for the talk, Ms. Song. I’ll get back to you with my schedule and we can set up the meetings with the counsellor.”

“Prof. Choi.” The voice is stern, and Seungcheol holds up. He needs a cigarette, or fresh air. Neither is really available right now, so he grips on to the chair to steady himself. “I will mail you the meetings and Plan of Action, and you shall adjust your schedule accordingly. You know the consequences-” Seungcheol nods before the threat gets completed. Wonwoo has explained the consequences several times to him.

“I will do so. Don’t worry, Ms. Song. You shall get nothing but my best efforts.” “I hope so. Really.”

Seungcheol finally steps out of the room, and heaves deep breaths to get his brain working again. His phone rings, as he walks down the stairs to get away from the building. He picks it up while lighting the cigarette between his lips as he leaves the campus-

“Hello Cheollie! Should I come over to your place to pick you up or-”

“Hyerin?”

“What? Did you forget about our date? Yah! Oppa!”

“No no, I just-” he realises that you’ve just left the campus walking past him, not even sparing him a glance. He watches you as you walk farther away from him, your car blinking in the distance, and the tap-tap of your heels fading out amidst the sounds of the wind. The campus is remarkably quiet for this time of the day, or maybe he’s just too out of it all.

“I’ll meet you at the cafe. We can go to your place later, right?”

“Yes yes, I’ve talked to my roommate already, but why not Oppa’s place this time?” the sickly sweet voice from the other end of the phone irritates him, but he knows she’s acting cute just for fun.

“You know why-”

“Oppa, Kkuma doesn’t care about the girls you bring over.” “She does! She’s a very sensitive princess.” “Cheol-ah, you can just say you don’t care enough about me, and I’ll get it. Don’t bring the poor baby into this.” Seungcheol sighs. This is why he likes Hyerin, she can be mature when she wants to.

But it seems like now is not the time.

“I’ll see you later then, Oppa! Maybe tonight will change your mind!” “Hmm!” Seungcheol hears the call get cut, and he finally drags a puff from his cigarette. You’ve disappeared out of sight, and Seungcheol’s mind is clear now.

#choi seungcheol #s.coups #s.coups x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fluff #seventeen series #s.coups series #s.coups fluff #s.coups fanfiction #seungcheol fanfiction #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol series #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x reader #seventeen fanfic #perfect complements series #simpxxstan

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unknown--author · 2 months

Text

Sewing Clothes and Drinking Tea

I apologize for being gone so long, life got busy. I finished this WIP while in science class because I hate science and decided to post it.

Feedback and criticism are welcome! Just please be nice about it.

QUICK SYNOPSIS or whatever it's called: Professor Crewel and Prefect Yuu bonding over sewing and tea because of a secret influence (you'll know by the end).

CW: Yuu is anxious (probably, it's just my thought process, they might just come off as nervous), I don't know how to describe tea or sewing, this takes place before Book 5 (VDC is referenced but Yuu doesn't know what it is)

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

It's the day of my people :D

Yuu trudged toward the school store, their messenger bag shrugged over their shoulder. Ace and Deuce had torn holes into their uniforms by getting into a scrap with Octavinelle students (read: Floyd). Not only that, but Grim had a spat with Leona, tearing his bow.

Now the trio was employing the prefect to fix their clothes. Yuu sighed and pinched the bridge of their nose. They were going to end up in debt because of their idiots.

As soon as they entered the store, Mr. S was at their side, an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry, little devil. We just ran out.”

Yuu had learned not to question how he knew these things. Though, they suspected the shadows had something to do with it. “Really?” Sam always had what they needed in stock. “Did a delivery not come in?”

He shook his head. “No, Divus bought the last of the sewing materials. From how much he got, he’s either working on a new project or a large group of imps wrecked their clothes.”

“Oh.” The prefect clicked their tongue. Dammit, tomorrow was Monday. If Grim didn’t have his bow fixed, Crowley wouldn’t be pleased with them. And while Ace and Deuce weren’t in Ramshackle and, technically, weren’t their responsibility, Yuu would rather not let their friends down. Also, hearing Ace whine about a collar for a week sounded like hell.

“Well, little devil, I’m sure if you asked politely enough, Divus would lend you some.” Sam had obviously noticed their downcast expression.

Yuu perked up. “Do you think?”

“Yes, yes.” Sam went back to stocking behind the counter.

“Wait.” They deflated a bit. “Won’t Professor Crewel be at home? It is the weekend, Mr. S.”

"He keeps all his projects and sewing materials at his school office."

"Why?"

Sam shot a small smile their way. "He works on them in between classes and after school."

"Doesn't he have paperwork to do during those times?" Yuu asked, feeling bemused.

His small smile turned into a cheeky one. "Maybe," he shrugged.

They shook their head in amusement. "Thank you, Mr. S." They turned to leave. "I'll tell you how it goes!"

"There's no need; I'll know," Sam chuckled.

~~~~~~~~~~~

As Yuu walked through the desolate halls, some doubts filled their mind. What if Professor Crewel wasn't there? And if he was, would he listen to them? Would he help? Or would he turn them away with the flick of his wrist? The prefect was quite intimidated by the fur-coat-wearing teacher. And for good reason!

Divus Crewel had a strict way of teaching. He never stood for tardiness or horsing around. Any student who went against him would be punished severely. He taught with a whip and a terrifying glare. And last but not least, he reminded Yuu of Cruella De Vil. She had scared them shitless as a kid. With her freaky design and her intent to kill puppies and skin them for their coats, how could she not have?

They hesitated outside the alchemy classroom door. If they wanted, they could turn back now. They could buy a new bow for Grim. Ace and Deuce aren't precisely their problems, the duo have a housewarden and should know how to care for themselves.

A voice cut off their thoughts. "Come in, pup!" It called through the door.

Yuu creaked the door open at the invitation. The infamous Professor Crewel sat at a desk at the front of the room. He had a needle in his hand while fabric floated around him. "Hello, professor."

"Sam told me you were coming." The shadows seemed to dance when he said that. "What is it that you need?"

"Um, well..." Yuu looked at his forehead, avoiding eye contact. "Uh, you see, Grim and my friends tore a few stitches in their clothing and asked me to fix it up, again. I ran out of the thread and patches I needed, so I went to Mr. S's shop. And, well, you got the last of it.

"Mr. S then said that you maybe, probably, might let me borrow some of the materials?" Their rambling got quicker and quieter the more they went on.

Divus quirked an eyebrow. It was obvious that the prefect was nervous around him. It was no wonder considering his reputation with the student body. "Let me take a look at the damage those pups have done."

Yuu fumbled with their bag before pulling the torn clothing out. They walked over and handed it over to the teacher. He inspected the tears.

Most of Grim's vow was now shredded ribbons, Leona had got him good. Ace had gotten the brunt of Floyd's attack; Deuce's uniform wasn't as bad. Their clothes were torn from a force pulling at them and there were claw marks here and there.

Divus sighed. These pups were always so reckless. "I'll mend these. Pull up a chair." He waved his hand to the side, gesturing toward a seat.

Yuu immediately grabbed one, bringing it over to the side of the teacher's desk. They sat down, watching Professor Crewel work silently.

Some of the black fabric overhead floated down and scissors cut patches out of it. Magic threaded the needle for Divus. He grabbed it out of the air and began sewing the uniforms back into their proper form. The Ramshackle prefect watched in awe at the teacher's skill, but they felt a bit confused.

"Professor," they said, pulling his concentration away from his work. "Why don't you just use magic to sew?"

He sighed, expecting this question. "I don't want to build up too much blot."

"But you're making the fabrics and material float?"

"It's easier to organize them if they're not all dumped on my desk," he answered, a loud snip coming from his scissors. One patch down.

The prefect was about to ask another question but Crewel interrupted them. "Would you like some tea, pup?"

Yuu, caught off-guard by the sudden question, takes a moment to answer. "Um, yes please." After the whole Azul fiasco, they were suspicious of any free things offered to them.

Divus opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a teapot and two teacups seemingly out of nowhere. From Yuu's perspective, the drawer looked like a void. "How did you do that?" they blurted out, amazement on their face.

The teacher stifled a chuckle. "It's an enchantment so the drawer has unlimited space. I cast it back when I started teaching here." He poured tea into the two cups and pushed one toward the teen.

The smell wafted up to their nostrils. They could've died happy then and there; it smelt so wonderful. They couldn't quite put their finger on it even though it was familiar. "What type of tea is this? It smells fantastic!"

"It's a walnut and almond green tea. I had it imported from the Queendom of Roses," Divus said proudly, taking a sip before going back to work.

Yuu took a sip as well, humming in delight. "Is it specially made there?"

He nods, focusing on the needle in his hand. "It's said that the Mad Hatter drank it at his unbirthday parties. Only the people of the queendom know how to brew it."

They muttered something about Riddle and his mother before speaking again. "Hmm, green tea's quite common back home. It's easy to get; you don't need to import it from another country."

"How interesting, pup." Two more loud snips sounded through the room. Two more patches done.

After his indifferent response, Yuu goes quiet. They take a sip of their tea and inspect the cup for something to do. It was plain white with little green leaves attached to thin vines. Each leaf was different in shape and size, but still similar. As they examined the teacup, they realized it looked authentic.

"Professor Crewel, is this handmade?" They held the teacup up so he knew what they were talking about.

Snip. Snip. Snip. Three patches and two uniforms done. "Yes, this set was handmade by an old friend of mine," he said as he grabbed his magic pen. The black fabric floated back up into the air. In its place, strips of grey and white fabric dropped onto the professor's desk.

Yuu watched with fascination as Divus lined up the material meticulously. "Who was the friend?"

"A friend from college, Ansel. He actually went to RSA. We met when I was in my second year and he was in his first." He sounded nostalgic as he spoke. "We met at that year's VDC. Ansel was performing for his team while I was a costume for mine. We went all out that year," he chuckled, now sewing the strips together.

"VDC?" the prefect mumbled before shaking their head. They'll ask about what that is later. "Were you good friends with him? Do you both still talk?"

The man sighed. "Yes, we were good friends. No, I don't talk with him much anymore, pup. We still text every once in a while. Before you ask, the last time we actually talked was at his wedding." He had finished fashioning the strips into a grey and white striped ribbon. Instead of fixing Grim's old bow, he had made a new one.

Yuu quickly downed the rest of their tea before they were handed the new and improved school uniforms. "Ah, thank you, sir."

Divus nodded curtly. "You're welcome, pup. Now run along." He got right back to work mending other clothing articles.

The prefect was about to walk out the door when he called out to them. "Pu- Prefect Yuu?"

They turned around to face him. "Yeah?"

"My door is always open if you need anything." He shot them a small, warm smile.

"Okay, thank you," they said, smiling brightly back at him before leaving.

Unbeknownst to the two, a certain shadow darted out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was closing up shop when a shadow appeared next to him. It looked lively as it waved its arms around and seemingly danced.

Same glanced at it every now and then, wiping the store's front counter as he "heard" what took place in the alchemy teacher's classroom.

He chuckled afterward. "I knew they'd get along!"

The shadow shook its head in response.

"Look, I know it was bad to lie to the little devil, but hey, it ended up benefitting them. Now they have someone responsible that they can rely on." The shopkeeper bent under his counter and pulled out sewing materials.

"I better go put these back now, huh?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! I'm sorry for any OOC behavior and anything I get wrong about the slight mention of VDC. I haven't made it past book 4 yet. This is my second time writing an actual fic for this fandom and my first time actually posting one! On Sunday, I might post a drawing/painting that goes with this fic. I don't have my sketchbook on me right now.

Belongs to @unknown--author

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ON TUMBLR, AO3, WATTPAD, OR ANY OTHER SITES (yes, I'm this cocky that my work could be stolen)

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twst mc #twst yuu #divus crewel #twst crewel #twst fanfic #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland yuu #twst sam #twisted wonderland sam #unknown--author's fic #first fic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

If You Can't Dance 3

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, other possible triggers. Proceed with caution.

Note: this is what you get when you encourage me. Please leave any and all feedback! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Part of The Club AU

You login for the day with your usual set up. A mug of peppermint tea, your favourite sweater, and your gaming chair set to the most ergonomic setting. You connect to the company's shared server and go through the verification. It's tedious but necessary. You're certain there will be many tedious tasks to come as the merger looms heavy over the newly absorbed startup.

As your Teams pops up, you scroll through your tasks and prepare to start your usual squinting hunch at the screen. You grab your glasses and put them on. You really need to start wearing those.

Bing! You have a message. Oh, jeez, it's Jensen. Your manager, at least for the time being. You don't know what his new job will be in the unified structure. So many questions but you're more concerned with the backend.

'Morning, how's it going?'

He's casual and approachable. At least, from what you can tell over virtual text and the occasional video call. He checks in now and then so you assume this is just the same.

'Alright. Getting started for the day.'

The three dots pop up then disappear, then a new message appears.

'Did you enjoy last night? Didn't get to say hi, you looked like you had fun tho.'

'Oh. I guess.'

'It was nice to see everyone. Anyway, business. Meeting at nine for coders. Invite coming.'

You stare at the screen. Great. You hate team meetings. You always have to give and update but you don't have much to say. You do your work and it's right there for them to see. Why do you need to explain it?

'Got it.'

You send your response and ignore his reaction; a thumbs up. You put a timer on, knowing better than to trust yourself. You go back to your usual, trying to settle in with your minty brew. Last night has put everything off-balance.

Slightly agitated by the spontaneity of the event, you join the Teams meeting and try not to look at yourself among the five rectangles on the screen. Jensen's glasses glare in the camera and you take your own off, hoping to escape behind the blur of your vision. G is there too, the only other coder you've worked with in the company. He's a strange guy, quiet, and no one knows his full name. The other two, Marc and Dharshi round out the group. All of you sit silent, waiting.

"Oh, uh," Jensen unmutes as he seems to remember he's on a call, "alright, guys, I'll try to keep this short. There's a lot to do but I really didn't think that this message should come through an email."

You check your mug, cold and empty. You have a bad feeling about whatever message he's referring to.

"So, I know we've been doing work from home for a while, but, uh, with the new company, we're being asked to consider a more hybrid model. No decision has been made yet but next week, you are all required to report to the new headquarters so that we can meet our new coworkers."

"What?" Dharshi exclaims as Marc scowls. G just stares blankly, you think, it's hard to make out clearly. You probably look just as dull.

"I know, I know, I'm trying to get us down to only a couple days a week in office," Jensen explains, "right now, there's no decision made but we do have to try. There's a different culture with Blue Forest but I think we'll be okay."

G hangs up and Jensen sputters. Dharshi and Marc let out odd noises and you just sit there.

"Oh, must be a bad connection," Jensen laughs nervously, "so... uh, I'll follow-up with G and see you all Monday."

No response. Jensen fills the void with his usual managerial spiel; let me know if you need anything, yada yada. The call ends and you're left deflating in fractured safehold of your home office. Maybe you will all be too awkward and they'll just decide to keep you hidden away. You can only hope.

Oh and don't forget, you still have to go get your car after work.

🐞

Monday comes too fast, your weekend fading into a marathon of Fortnight and nature documentaries. You pull out your most acceptable outfit. Another long skirt and a turtle neck with oxford boots. Hmm, it's more Anne Shirley than business casual.

You drive into the heart of the city, the GPS guiding you to the modern office building with its transparent walls and sleek black structure. You grab your laptop bag, a messenger with butterfly patches sewn onto it. At the door, you're stopped and let in after verifying your Employee ID. You're told to go to the front desk to get your new credentials.

After you get sorted, you're sent down the hall to a conference room. You pass several offices and people you don't know. Your new coworkers. You grip the strap of your bag as a woman pops out of Room 1161B, the very one you were told to go to. You stop short as she smiles at you, her frilly blouse tucked into a sleek white skirt.

"Oh, you must be a new one, I'm Catarina," she offers her hand and you just stare at it. "You'll be in here for the Tech Orientation. There's tea and coffee, some pastries, and full catering will be available at lunch."

"Thanks," you mutter and peek into the empty room.

"You're so early," she praises, "sorry, I didn't catch your name. I need to check you off the list."

You enunciate the syllables clearly so you won't have to repeat yourself then turn into the room. You look around at the tables. Not the traditional long intimidating tabletop but several throughout the space. You don't know where to sit, if you should choose a particular seat, so you go to the waiting urns by the far wall.

You peruse the collection of tea bags. Chamomile, green, Earl Gray...

"Ah, pardon, could I trouble you for English Breakfast if they have it?" A voice nears before the footsteps reach you. The shadow stops beside you, the voice frighteningly familiar. You grab a bag of the English Breakfast and hold it out without looking over. It can't be, what are the odds? "Oh..." he says your name. The accent, the recognition, he knows you and you vaguely know him. Jonathan.

"You work here?" You wonder as you continue to shuffle through the packets.

"Yes, and I assume... you do too. Now. You are among the newly acquired?"

You nod and put down the box of teas.

"Is there something wrong? You don't like the selection?"

"No peppermint," you shrug.

You sidle along and grab a paper cup, instead pressing the spout for the large jug of cold water. The man fills his cup with hot water before tugging on the string of the tea bag, steeping it as he nears you again.

"It's rather a coincidence," he preens, "are you excited to start?"

You know you shouldn't be honest so you do your best to lie, "yeah."

"You certainly sound it," he laughs, "well, please, have a dessert... and a seat. We'll be all out before you know it."

"Thanks," you surpass the plate of tarts and croissants. You sit at the table nearest the corner and stare at the cup of clear water. You should've known to bring your own tea.

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #drabble #au #if you can't dance #series #the club #the night manager

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roosterforme · 1 year

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The Deployment Diaries Part 16 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley talks to Mav, and it helps him see things a little clearer. And you know exactly how to make Bradley feel special on his birthday.

Warnings: Smut, swearing, fuff

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! Check my masterlist for the reading order!

The weekend trip to La Jolla had been one of your best ideas ever, if Bradley's opinion counted for anything. He kept thinking about how much fun the arcade had been and how good you looked playing skee-ball in your bathing suit. Plus, you and he had fucked almost nonstop all weekend long, to the point of exhaustion.

He had woken you up late on Sunday morning and told you it was almost time to check out of the hotel. You'd responded by riding his face until you came and then getting on all fours for him. When you finally checked out of the hotel, looking like two disheveled messes, the woman at the front desk just smirked.

You had both slept most of the afternoon at home on Sunday, only waking up in time to take Tramp for a nice long walk before dinner. Bradley and Tramp were perhaps a little too similar; the way they both looked forward to family walks was a bit ridiculous. Your laugh in response to he and Tramp both running to get the leash lit Bradley up from the inside.

On Monday afternoon, Bradley got flagged at work to test out the software update that your team had patched for the Super Hornet fleet. He got to take notes and attend a meeting which included you and a bunch of other engineers.

He was so good about keeping his hands to himself at work. He'd been a model citizen, really. Except for that one time in your office. And that other time in the storage closet in the tower. But that didn't prevent him from needing to adjust himself a bit when you gave a thirty minute presentation to everyone in attendance.

Bradley was trying his best to pay attention, but there were two problems. First of all, you were way smarter than him when it came to the technical stuff about his aircraft. He was trying his best to follow along, but you lost him a few times when it came to software calculations.

And second, he knew which bra and underwear set you were wearing under your uniform, because you had gotten dressed right next to him this morning. It was a light pink set that he was particularly fond of. He adjusted himself again. He couldn't wait to get home.

But that's when the trouble started. When he parked the Bronco in the driveway and walked up the porch steps, you were coming out the door with two huge shopping bags full of stuff. Your hair and makeup were done up and you were wearing a dress and heels.

"Where are you going, Sweetheart?" he asked, brow scrunched up.

You kissed him hurriedly on his cheek. "I need to go to Oceanside for a few hours. I'll be back in a little bit," you told him, rushing to your car and throwing the bags in the trunk. "You can have leftovers for dinner, or maybe see if Mav is around? Bye, Roo!"

Bradley was still standing on the porch steps as he watched you pull out of the driveway. What the hell was up in Oceanside? And why were you all dressed up?

Bradley found himself bored and lonely after about twenty minutes in the house. He changed and tried to watch a show with Tramp, but he ended up calling Maverick, who was still on base and agreed to swing by with a pizza.

"Where's the missus?" Mav asked when he arrived. "I got the toppings she likes. Assumed she would be here."

Bradley shrugged and made a face. "She ran to Oceanside for some kind of errand or something. I'm not sure." He grabbed two beers from the fridge and opened the pizza box on the island.

"Everything okay?" Maverick asked, accepting a beer.

"Yeah, I think so?" Bradley said before taking a bite of pizza, but it was more of a question than an answer.

Maverick hummed. "I know you said she had an incident with that guy while you were deployed and I was away with Penny. I wish I'd been here, Bradley. I really do."

"Nah, don't say that. You were on vacation! And things have been good since we talked. This past weekend was... it was great, actually," he said, thinking back to pouring champagne all over you and cuddling in bed with you while you giggled. Bradley tossed his half eaten slice of pizza onto his plate. "How do I know if it's too soon to propose?"

Maverick looked at him, completely gobsmacked. "I....well, Bradley, I don't know if you're asking the right person, actually. I've been on and off with Penny for decades."

Bradley ran his fingers through his hair. "But you're serious with Penny now. You have been since Halloween. I just don't know how to do this shit correctly half the time. I never really dated anyone too seriously, I just messed around. And I never intended to fall in love, because it was so distressing to me as a kid, the way my mom was lonely for twelve years. But like how the fuck am I supposed to live like this?" Bradley held his hands up in the air before letting them drop back to his sides. "Part of me is terrified of marrying her and having kids with her, knowing I could burn in one day. Every time I think about that, I convince myself to wait a little longer. But the other part of me, the part that is obsessed with the way she makes me feel.... well, that part thinks we should get married tomorrow."

Maverick studied Bradley, took a sip of beer, and studied him some more. "I wish I could be of more help here, I really do. All I can tell you is that your dad was set on marrying your mom the same day he met her. He said those exact words to me. And they got married after six months together. Six months to the day, actually. And I have no doubt they would still be married now. So no, I don't think it's too soon for you. And if fear is what's holding you back, then you need to decide if you love her enough to trust that she's all in, no matter the outcome."

Bradley felt his eyes stinging. "Fuck. This is so hard, Mav. My mom would have loved her though, I know that much. And I can't run the risk of hesitating and losing her, but that's selfish when she's more likely to lose me. I just wish this was easier."

"Me too," Maverick replied. "It's not fair that Goose isn't here for this conversation. He would have known exactly what to say. But it sounds to me like you're ready, and she is too." Bradley let Maverick pull him in for a quick hug before they returned to the box of pizza.

-------------------------------------------

"Where the fuck is mommy?" Bradley asked Tramp. He kept checking the time on his phone. It was nearing 11 o'clock, and Bradley was getting a little worried. When he had texted to make sure everything was okay, you simply replied with Yep!

He had also been looking up flights from San Diego to Norfolk and eating cold pizza. God, this house was just sad without you in it. Did you feel this way when he was deployed? Shit. If so, he was never going to leave again, because this was awful.

He channel surfed and fed pizza crust to Tramp, and about twenty minutes later, he finally heard your car in the driveway.

"She's home!" Bradley and Tramp both ran to the door to greet you. Your hair was a mess now, and you were wearing different clothes than when you left. "Where did you go, Baby Girl? We missed you."

You hugged him around his waist. "I just needed to take care of something. I'm sorry it took so long. Let's get ready for bed." And that's all you would say about it.

Bradley pushed it from his mind. He focused on work during the day and spending time with you at night. When he brought the mail inside on Friday evening, he opened a thick, cream colored envelope with his name on it. He smiled as he took it over to where you were currently making pancakes for dinner in your tight yoga pants and one of his shirts.

"Feel like buying a fancy dress, Baby Girl?"

"For what?" you asked, turning the music down on your phone.

Bradley held up the invitation to the ceremony and reception at which he would be promoted to lieutenant commander. "It's in four weeks, and I'm allowed to bring a date. Please don't make me take Tramp."

You laughed. "Tramp would look adorable in a little tuxedo! But I'm going. I'm definitely going! It's going to be fancy as hell! Better than a wedding! You lieutenant commanders and captains and admirals get all the good stuff."

Bradley wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed your cheek. "You could just wear your dress whites like me, if you want to."

"No!" you shouted, scandalized. "Absolutely not, Roo! I'm buying something fancy! I can wear my uniform for my own promotion. Maybe I'll go shopping for a dress when I go back to Oceanside tomorrow morning."

Bradley frowned. "Why do you have to go back to Oceanside? I thought we were going to spend the day together."

"I'll be home in the afternoon," you told him, flipping over the pancakes. "We can do whatever you want. And then Sunday is your birthday!"

Bradley let go of you so you could plate the food. "Can I come with you in the morning? I can help you look at dresses."

You frowned. "I'd rather you didn't. I promise I'll be back right after lunchtime."

-----------------------------------

Trying to get out of the house on Saturday morning was made very difficult by Bradley who was actively trying to keep you in bed. "One orgasm isn't enough for my girl. Let me give you another one," he said in his raspy morning voice from where he had his head between your legs. You were still riding out the first one when he looked up at you with hopeful eyes.

You had told the photographer you would be there at 9:30, but thankfully the photographer was Maria's sister's roommate, and she would probably understand why you were running late if you showed her a photo of your boyfriend without a shirt on.

"Two would be nice," you told him as you tried to catch your breath, and he was immediately grinning and crawling up your body. He was too good at this now. You'd been having sex with him for more than nine months, and he could read you like a book. You wanted him slow and steady right now, and you knew you wouldn't have to tell him that. He would just do it, exactly how you wanted him to.

And that was how he got orgasm number two to come screaming out of you after twenty minutes of slow fucking and a little dirty talk.

Bradley looked pretty smug as he strode into the bathroom behind you on your wobbly legs. He kissed your neck while you brushed your teeth, and then you pulled your hair up as neatly as you could. "You definitely made me late," you informed his reflection in the mirror as you put on some lip gloss and mascara.

"Well, since you won't tell me where you're going, I don't feel bad about it. I also gave you a nice hickey right here, so I hope that's not going to be a problem," he said, running one beautiful finger along the side of your neck.

You turned your face to the side to check out the pink mark he had given you. "Naughty. Don't make me withhold birthday sex."

Bradley's eyes went wide. "You wouldn't."

You just smirked and walked back into the bedroom.

"Sweetheart! I'll be good the rest of the day!"

You ran your fingers along his abs and nodded. "I know you will be."

-----------------------------------------

An hour later you were apologizing to the photographer, Flora, as she handed you Bradley's birthday present. You opened the calendar up to January and almost dropped it as you slammed it shut again.

"Oh, my God. I can't give this to him! I just... oh, my God!"

Flora just laughed softly and gently took the calendar from your hands as you shook your head. "I get that a lot with this kind of photoshoot. But I can guarantee your boyfriend is going to go bananas over this," she promised, tapping the calendar with one finger. "Here, start with September. You've got a good amount of clothing on in that one, and it's taken from behind."

You took a deep breath and looked at the glossy photo of yourself. In it, you were turning back to look over your shoulder. You were wearing a tiny black skirt and black stockings with seams up the backs of your legs. You had on red heels and one of Bradley's white dress shirts, pushed down to reveal your bare shoulders and upper back.

"Oh, that looks pretty good," you agreed. Then Flora flipped to April, and it was the photo of you wearing cutoff jean shorts with Bradley's aviators. You were covering your breasts with your hands.

"This one is great, because your smile is so genuine," she told you.

"I was almost laughing in it, because he had no idea I took his sunglasses with me."

Flora flipped through the entire pin-up calendar with you. You saw the photo of you wearing the red bustier and matching thong that Bradley favored. There was also one of you on your knees with your hands on your thighs, pulling up the hem of your white nightie. One of you in your own flight suit had made it in there, and so had one with garters, stocking and lots of lace.

Then there was one of you laying on the bed with your back arched. It looked a lot like the photo you had sent to him that one time you and he were out to dinner with the other aviators. That evening had resulted in back seat Bronco sex, so perhaps you didn't have anything to be scared about.

The photo for next June was perhaps the most intimate one. Your hair was purposefully messy, and you were completely nude, tangled up in a sheet with your left breast just peaking out. And your golden necklace charms were visible in almost all of the shots.

"Okay, I think you're right. I think he'll like it." Flora just laughed as you added, "You did a great job, honestly. You can barely see the cellulite!"

"Oh stop, I hardly had to do any touch ups. Some of them just needed a little color saturation. I'll tell you what, if your man doesn't lose his mind, come back and I'll give you a refund."

So with that, you took the calendar to your car and went to find a formal gown.

------------------------------------

As soon as you got home, Bradley was snooping in the garment bag. "What does your dress look like? Are you going to try it on for me?"

"Maybe," you replied with a wink. But you did try it on for him, and he stood in front of you speechless, rubbing his chin.

"Shit," he rasped.

You looked down at yourself and back up at him. The form fitting, dark blue satin dress was insanely formal for most things, but it seemed perfect for his big day. Plus you figured he would appreciate the slit up your left leg and the low cut front. "Do you like it?"

He nodded his head vigorously. "You look amazing. I can't believe I get to have you there with me." He started reaching for you, but you backed away.

"This dress is delicate, Bradshaw! Delicate!"

"I can be delicate," he whispered, running his fingers along the enticing fabric as you started to undress.

You rolled your eyes good naturedly. "I'm saying your birthday weekend starts right now. So what do you want to do for the rest of the day?"

He helped you out of your dress as he told you, "Have sex with my girlfriend, walk our adorable dog to the ice cream place that gives out doggie treats, eat dinner, and have sex with my girlfriend again."

"You're going to give me more orgasms today? Is it your birthday or mine?"

------------------------------------

Bradley couldn't believe he deserved you in his life. That perfect weekend away with you in La Jolla had been enough for him. More than enough, really. But here you were, on his actual birthday, waking him up with a blowjob. He felt your wet, hot mouth on his length, and he opened his eyes to the most glorious sight.

"Oh, hey," he rasped, smiling at you as he propped himself up on his elbows.

You popped him out of your mouth, kissed his tip and said, "Happy birthday, Roo," in your sweet voice before sliding him between your pretty lips again. He watched your tits swaying, just getting harder and harder for you. He was aching in your hands and mouth as you sucked and licked him so well.

When he was almost there, you opened your mouth wide and set him down on your plush tongue. He watched himself paint your mouth with his cum while you gently squeezed his balls in your soft hand.

"Shit, sweetheart. You look so pretty like that," he told you, caressing your cheek. He really wanted to take a picture of you with his dick in your mouth and his cum everywhere, but he didn't know how to ask you for that.

Bradley watched you swallow him down and lick your lips. Then you crawled up his body and kissed him. "I'm going to make you breakfast, birthday boy."

Bradley followed you into the kitchen and watched you put on your I Love Meat apron over your naked body. He stood behind you as you cut up vegetables and cracked eggs into a bowl, squeezing your bare ass and kissing your shoulders.

"This is already the best birthday I have ever had," he mumbled against your skin. He so badly wanted to be selfish. Marry you and be with you forever. The deployments sucked, but if that was the worst thing you had to deal with, you'd both manage. He couldn't control anything beyond that.

"I love you, Roo," you told him, turning your head to kiss him briefly while you made him an omelet. That was it, he would buy a ticket to Norfolk tomorrow.

-------------------------------------

You took Bradley on a lunchtime hike and picnic that ended at the cliffside beach where you and he had played dogfight football so many months before. You ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and laid out on your beach towel, and Bradley tried to convince you to take a week off this year and take a vacation with him. In theory that sounded great, but work was going so well for you right now, it would be hard to take any time off.

After baking in the sun for a while, Bradley said, "It's fucking hot out now. Feel like jumping in the water to cool off?"

"In our clothes?" you asked, but he was already taking his tee shirt off and pulling his shorts down.

"In our underwear, Baby Girl."

You glanced around the beach, which wasn't crowded at all. You bit your lip before unbuttoning your jean shorts and sliding them down over your hips. The smile on your boyfriend's face was instantaneous. You glanced around again before pulling your tank top off and leaving it on the towel. You hoped your blue sports bra and green underwear were providing enough coverage for that old guy walking his dog to refrain from yelling at you.

Bradley pulled you to your feet and you ran into the water with him. "It's cold!" you complained, but he had already scooped you up into his arms. You clung on to the front of him, legs around his waist and arms around his neck. "Oh my God, don't go out any further! It's freezing!" But Bradley walked out until the waves were crashing against your back. "Bradley!"

He just chuckled and kissed you. "We'll get used to it."

You threaded your fingers through his hair and kissed him back. His hands splayed along your back, keeping you warm against the onslaught of the Pacific Ocean. You thought about how many millions of times you must have kissed him since that first time in this beach parking lot. Thought about everything that had happened since that day. Falling in love, and almost losing him, and Tramp, and Josh, and how much you loved Bradley.

"I love you," you whispered against his mouth as he devoured you. "I love you so much."

--------------------------------

It took a bit of coaxing, but you finally agreed to let Bradley carry you up the rocks for old time's sake, even though you were wearing perfectly sensible shoes this time. Bradley listened to your laughter as he climbed with you on his back. Your wet underwear had soaked through your clothing, and so had his. You were both a sandy, sweaty mess by the time you got home.

Wordlessly, you led him to the master bathroom and turned on the shower. Tramp came to investigate what was going on as you peeled Bradley's damp shirt off and let it fall to the floor. The fabric was replaced by your hands and lips on his chest and abs, and Bradley's head tipped back. Your hands were gritty with sand as they worked down to his shorts, and the sensation had him panting for you. Soon he was naked and you were stroking him.

"Baby Girl," he whispered, and you looked up at him expectantly. He kissed you hard, both of his hands in your messy hair, his front pressed to yours. He lived for these moments. Everything with you was so pure, it was almost painful. "You're mine, Baby Girl," he told you, and you moaned.

Bradley ripped your clothing off, tossing it across the room and scaring Tramp back into the bedroom. You both stumbled into the steamy shower, hands and mouths everywhere. He had you pinned against the tile wall, one hand wrapped around your neck, the other thrusting two fingers into your pussy until you were soaking wet for him. The steam swirled around your bodies, and the little noises you made were echoing inside the glass shower.

Then he thrust his cock into you, running his thumb up and down along the side of your neck. He could feel your shallow breaths and gasps as he sped up. When you wrapped your leg up around his hip and whispered his name, he was too close to the edge. He pulled out of your pussy and sprayed your belly and hips with his cum before dropping to his knees in front of you.

"Mmm," you moaned when his mouth met your clit and you started grinding against his face. He worked his tongue, steadily getting you there as his cum mixed with the water from the shower and trailed down your body. You were his birthday present. He wanted the same present every year for the rest of his life.

You were still leaning against the wall catching your breath when Bradley got the soap and started to wash your body. You let him do your hair too, because now you were exhausted from all of the day's activities, and you still had to make his dinner.

A few hours later, you were perched on Bradley's lap eating Marry Me Rooster and listening to some music. "Thank you," he whispered, and it struck you once again that probably nobody ever did anything special, just for him, from the time his mom died until he met you. It made you want to keep doing it and doing it.

You checked the time on your phone as Bradley happily twirled his second serving of chicken and pasta into his fork. "I hope you're almost ready for dessert," you told him and he just grinned at you.

"Oh, I know what that means." But then he jumped a bit when someone started pounding on the front door.

The smile on your face gave you away. "What did you do?" he asked, but you just laughed and told him to go open the front door.

"Holy shit," Bradley said, as Phoenix thrust a dozen balloons into his hands and made her way inside. She was followed by Fanboy, Payback, Bob, Hangman, Maverick and Penny. Coyote was missing, as he was currently deployed, but everyone else greeted Bradley while you put a pie and a chocolate chip cookie tower on the dining room table. Penny popped a few bottles of champagne, and everyone started eating dessert.

When you stuck a glittery pink candle into the top cookie and everyone sang happy birthday to him, Bradley pulled you against his side. And when Fanboy told him to make a wish, Bradley grinned at you before blowing the candle out.

-----------------------------------------

After everyone finally left, it was pretty late. Tramp was already in his bed, exhausted from all of the attention he got. Bradley had watched Nat feed him four treats in a row, and when he said something about it, she told him, "Mind your own business, birthday boy. This is between me and my god-pup."

So by the time Bradley noticed you shifting nervously around the kitchen, cleaning up after everyone, he had already had an epically wonderful day.

"Leave it, Sweetheart. I'll clean in the morning before work," he told you, gently taking your hands in his. "Now tell me why you're being weird."

You sighed. "I got you a birthday present. It's in my dresser drawer." you said, staring at his chest.

"That was nice of you. Can I have it?"

"Yeah...." you trailed off, heading for the bedroom and rooting around in your drawer. "But I'm really nervous to give this to you, so please be kind." You thrust a wrapped box into his hand and backed away a few steps, chewing on your lip.

Bradley started to unwrap and open the box, brow furrowed about what could be making you apprehensive. But then he dropped the wrapping paper and box to the floor as he read the front of the calendar in his hands.

Rooster's Calendar starring Baby Girl

"No fucking way," he whispered, meeting your guarded eyes before flipping it open to January. He almost fell over. "Oh my God," he almost yelled, briefly waking up Tramp.

There was a high quality photo of you wearing a sheer champagne colored lingerie set, and you were laying on your back with your legs up in the air. You had on your bright red high heels with your ankles crossed and you looked like a fucking dream, your tits practically spilling out of the sheer top.

Bradley's jaw was hanging open as he flipped to February. He didn't know how things could have possibly improved, but somehow they did. You were wearing his favorite color, the red bustier and thong. "Shit, Baby Girl," he whined. His dick was plainly hard in his jeans, and he was gasping for air, but you looked nervous as hell now.

"Do you like it?" you asked softly, eyes wide, chewing on your thumbnail.

He just stared at you with his mouth open, blinking, trying to formulate words. He glanced down briefly at March to see you in a black string bikini he had no idea you owned. You looked sinfully good, and now Bradley was throbbing.

"Don't look at that one. You can see my love handles," you told him, reaching for the calendar, but he held it up high, out of your reach. Then he tossed it softly onto the dresser and grabbed you.

"Don't talk about my future wife that way," he growled, baking you up to the bed. "She's perfect." He reached down and yanked your shirt off and then your bra. "That calendar is the fucking hottest thing in the world, and I only saw three months," he groaned, grinding against you. "It's safe to say, yes, I like it."

You moaned as he touched you. "You said you wanted it."

"Yeah, I did. Thank you, Sweetheart," he whispered against your neck, placing kiss after kiss there as he worked his hand down to the front of your shorts. "Best gift ever."

"How are you going to thank me for this wonderful idea?" you asked, running your fingertips along his scarred cheek.

Bradley pushed you down on the bed, and you rolled over onto your belly to make room for him. He eased himself onto the bed and straddled your ass, rubbing his hands down the smooth planes of your naked back, making you arch your spine. You moaned and ground your ass up into his dick and balls. He was picturing your nipples straining against lacy fabric, and he was so hard he thought he might explode. And here you were writhing and moaning under him after a few touches.

"I'm going to thank you like this," he told you, grabbing you by both hips and popping your rear end up into the air. He pulled your jean shorts down your legs and tossed them aside, and he ran his finger over your thong before removing that as well. He kissed along your ass cheeks and listened to you moan as he palmed you with his hands. He eased his face down to your pussy and gave you a nice long lick, collecting your sweetness on his tongue.

"I love it when you do that," you huffed between groaning and whining his name, face buried in a pillow.

He teased your clit and ran his fingers through your soaking wet slit, pumping them into your pussy a few times until you were thrusting back again. Then he let his fingers trail up a bit further until he was gently caressing your other hole.

"Oh!" you gasped and froze.

Bradley placed a soft kiss on your thigh and then one on your lower back. "Is this okay?" he asked, and he stopped moving his hand until he heard you gasp out an answer.

"Yes, I think so."

Bradley groaned as he let his fingers trail along once more, the moisture from your pussy making everything look slick and even prettier. "Can I lick you here?"

"Okay," you whispered, and Bradley ran his tongue back and forth across your asshole a few times, fisting his cock in his hand. He'd never done this before, and it sounded like you hadn't either.

"Do you like this, Baby Girl?" he asked before pressing a little harder with his tongue, licking up all of your essence that he had brought there with his fingers. You were wiggling your ass a little bit for him as he placed another kiss there.

"I don't hate it. God, your mustache feels good everywhere. I think it made my pussy even wetter for you, Roo," you gasped, and Bradley was immediately in position, thrusting his dick into your warm pussy. He could feel your walls gripping him almost immediately. Everything felt too good. You turned him on beyond belief.

And when you were both ready for bed, and you had yourself draped across his body, you whispered, "I love you, birthday boy."

You yawned as he wrapped his arms around you. "Can I have this same day every year for my birthday? Just like this, me and you?"

"Absolutely, Roo," you muttered, snuggling against him and dozing off to sleep.

-----------------------------

Happy birthday, Roo! SO MANY OF YOU ASKED FOR BUTT STUFF, SO HERE IS A BIT OF THAT FOR YOU! Thanks for reading!

PART 17

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kitashousewife · 1 year

Text

Here Comes Trouble

an: chapter one to my lover of mine series! i'll add the tag list in the comments.

A few weeks after the year anniversary of your coronation as the princess of Sendon, things are finally starting to feel real. Unfortunately for you, an afternoon of eavesdropping proves to be much messier than you thought

warnings: angst, food and drink mentions, reader wears dresses and makeup, royal AU and attitudes, misogynic behavior, swearing, tension

wc: 3.1k

Late spring meant for a lot of changes. New fabrics and decorations around the palace, new floral arrangements brought in at the start of each week, as well as many festivals and fundraisers to be planned. Aside from the smaller details, there were a lot of changes to your schedule as well.

Since becoming princess of Sendon, you've gained more responsibilities. Instead of sitting in on meetings, you've been asked to lead them. Appearances were no longer few and far between; your schedule is packed with them, constantly being arranged to fit just a few more. The newfound trust has been exciting, but tiring nonetheless. Thankfully your Grandmother, the Queen, has been extremely kind and involved in this strange transition.

You're grateful of course, as this has never been in your plans.

One year and a few short weeks ago, you stood front and center in the palace cathedral as the country cheered your name and you accepted your new role. Having a very mundane upbringing in the suburbs, graduating from public school and then college, you had never in million years thought you would receive this sort of news. Sure, you had read in books and heard bizarre stories about people across the world suddenly becoming famous, but they always seemed as if they would be just that; stories.

But now, as you sip your tea from the kitchen counter of the palace kitchen, those stories are very much your reality.

"Remember, you have a meeting with the queen right before lunch today," your secretary Utahime reminds you as she quickly walks into the kitchen, dropping off what you assume is a menu to the chef with a smile.

"I remember," you nod, slipping off of the marble to place your dishes near the sink. "Her office?"

Utahime nods, eyes skimming the calendar in her arms. "Maki and Mai have some outfit options in your room."

You hum. One of the best parts of your new role.

"Alright," you sigh. The clock over your very diligent secretary's shoulder reads about 10:00 AM. "I'll be there." She only nods in response once more, quickly shuffling out the door with a small wave.

You thank the kitchen staff with a smile before making your way upstairs. It's Monday morning, meaning your Grandmother is in and out of meetings with different departments, so you feel a little special that she has made time for you in your busy schedule.

The marble staircase in the middle of the palace is empty, save for a couple men who work to dust it. Come to think of it, you've seen more people than usual around this morning.

"Princess,"

"Maki, Mai, how are you two today?"

Maki comes around the corner from your bathroom and into your room. "Annoyed, and you?"

You snort. "Intrigued. What happened?"

Mai grabs three garment bags from their resting spot on your bed and hangs them from rolling wardrobe in the middle of your room. You lean against the mattress as the two girls work to unzip the bags.

"The Queen's assistants sent these up this morning," Mai grunts as she struggles with the zipper of one of the outfits. "and they have got to be the worst ones yet."

Each outfit is the exact same, just different colors. An A-line dress, just below the knee, with a matching coat, as well as a pair of plain white heels. At least you have the option between pale pink, blue, or yellow.

"They're not that bad," you stand up, feeling the fabric between your fingers. Most of the outfits you are provided are simple and clean: Princess Attire as your Grandmother calls it. "Blue is fine for today."

Maki and Mai share a glance, knowing you would pick that one. Mai trots off to your closet with the dress and shoes, while Maki zips up the remaining outfits.

"What are you meeting with the Queen about today?"

You follow Mai into the closet, grabbing a simple linen dress from the small section of clothes that actually belong to you. Slipping off your pajamas, you shrug.

"I actually have no clue. Normally, she fills me in but it's anyone's guess this time," the linen hits just above your knees, perfect for the sudden heat wave the kingdom is experiencing. Maki appears behind you suddenly, placing a pair of socks and shoes next to you. One thing the Queen has not been able to change, much to her dismay, is the way you dress in your free time.

"Thanks," Maki nods before grabbing the laundry. "Have you two heard anything?"

Your very loyal chambermaids share a look, before going back to what they were doing.

"So you have,"

"No!" They say in unison. Mai coughs.

"Well-"

"Mai."

Your eyebrows scrunch together while you do your hair quickly. The two rarely keep secrets from you, which means this must be something big.

"Please!" You exit the closet to find the two girls whispering to each other before jumping back to look at you. "C'mon, just tell me."

They stare at you with empathetic looks on their faces. You let out a defeated sigh before heading out the door.

"Fine, fine. I'll find out soon enough I suppose. I'll see you two in a bit," you wave and walk out the door, wracking your brain as to what today could be about. Your Grandmother is very close to you, sharing almost everything that goes on in the meetings you aren't invited to. She hasn't said a word though, which makes you anxious.

You decide to spend your free morning in the garden, checking on the different flowers the gardeners so kindly planted at your request. Right before you make it to the entrance of the garden, you hear the muffled voices of men from an open window. Shuffling over as quiet as you can, you crouch beneath the window and listen.

"It is possible, and it will have to be possible. She will not be without a spouse. She will be more respected that way." A few hums of agreement follow.

"That rule is old, and with all due respect Sir, that's why we haven't practiced it in what, 50 years? At least?" The voice of your Grandma comes through the window. She seems irritated, to say the least. The other voice wasn't as familiar.

"Your Highness, it's still in the law. And you of all people must know that we can't change it." That voice is much more familiar. Someone in parliament maybe?

"But, I don't think it's necessary. Shouldn't I of all people have the option to change that?"

A silence falls over the room, before someone clears their throat.

"I'm afraid you can't. Section three of the law states-"

"Okay, fine," the Queen walks over to the window. The way it creaks above your head, she must be leaning against the windowsill. You hold your breath, realizing your position for a moment. "Then she must wed."

Who's "she"?

"I say we give her a week."

"A week?" Your Grandmother shrieks, pushing off of the windowsill. Her heels click against the floor. "Absolutely not. Six months at lea-"

"Two months!"

"Ninety days!"

Arguments fill the air until a gavel strikes three times.

"Your Majesty," an elderly man speaks. "The law states that she will have thirty days. If she doesn't find someone in one month," his voice trails off. "She cannot be a princess anymore."

Your stomach sinks and your heart launches up into your throat. Your head spins and you feel sick. There's no way that-

"Then it will be done. I will bring this up to her today. We're meeting in an hour."

Your hands slam against the brick behind you and you start running. You rush through the gardens as fast as your legs will carry you, chest heaving. You could scream. You round the gates and slip through one of the side entrances and into the castle, dress in your fists as you hustle up the stairs.

"What the fuck," you slam your door, entering your chambers with labored breaths. You could scream. The sharp sound of your name fills the room.

"We don't have a lot of time, shower off quickly please," Utahime gives you a pointed look before rushing into your closet. You kick your shoes off at the entrance, throw your dress off and walk into the shower. It takes everything inside of you to not sink to the floor.

"You knew you had-"

"Not now Utahime, I really can't handle any lecturing," you flick the shower off and grab the towel that Mai holds for you outside of the shower walls. She gives you a sad, but understanding look.

"What happened?"

Your secretary can come off as quite severe, but she really is a sister to you. Only a couple years apart from each other meant you had a lot in common.

You huff as you dress quickly, forgoing the matching coat at the moment. As soon as the dress is zipped up, you plop into the vanity chair.

"While I was in the garden, I heard some talking going on from one of the meeting room windows. I stopped to listen and-"

Utahime cuts you off with a sigh. She sits down on the loveseat in the middle of your closet and glances over at you.

"You heard?"

You nod. Nobara comes in quickly, giving you a polite smile before beginning to brush your hair. She gives a glance to Maki and Mai who sit next to Utahime in a couple of chairs.

"God, you knew too? Why does everyone know me getting married before I do?"

Nobara shakes her head, grabbing a few things from the vanity before continuing with your hair. You groan. The entire time you've been a princess, your wishes have been respected. You've never been forced to an event you don't want to go to, you've always had the choice on your schedule for the day. This is new, and unwelcome.

You look at yourself in the mirror and frown. Being a wife was not something that was on your to-do list, and you are not looking forward to finding a husband.

"I'm sorry, I wish I could have told you. I didn't think you would find out this way." Utahime brings you your phone, and you shrug.

"Not your fault. I feel sick," you put your head in your hands. "I bet they have someone lined up for me. Some old royal from who knows where," you close your eyes as Nobara moves on to your makeup, working quickly as you don't have a lot of time. Maki hums in agreement.

The minutes pass in silence, only the sounds of Nobara's quick hands and your chambermaids picking things up fill the room. By the time you're ready to go, you are at a loss. Emotionally and verbally. You look in the mirror one last time. Nobara did a light makeup look and a simple low bun. You thank her before slipping on your heels and heading out the door.

"Good luck," Mai sighs as she leans against one of your bedposts. Maki stands by her side with an apologetic smile.

"Thanks you two. Hopefully, I'll see the two of you at lunch?"

They nod as you and Utahime begin your walk to the Queen's office. You don't say anything at first, and either does she, until her phone chimes.

"The Queen is running late," she mumbles, typing a response while the two of you go down the stairs. "She said she will be there in about thirty minutes and sends her apologies." You roll your eyes.

"I'm going to the garden," Utahime raises her eyebrows. "I'll be on time, I promise. I just need some air." She nods and you walk down the hallway and out the side door. As soon as you walk into the garden, you feel like you can breathe again. Your mind is racing, thoughts of what on earth your Grandma is thinking, mixed with anger at every stupid male in parliament stir in your brain. As you turn to follow the path to the fountain, you run into something.

Or, someone.

"Oh! I'm so sorry,"

"Princess! My apologies, I am so sorry. I should have been looking where I was going."

Before you is a man, much taller than you, with hair white as snow. He's wearing navy slacks, a white button-up, and expensive-looking tan leather shoes. His eyes are wide, and you are sure you've never seen eyes so blue. He's fit, looks about your age, and he's gorgeous. Not only that, but you've never seen him before.

"I'm fine, are you okay? No need to apologize!" You wave him off and smile. He lets out a sigh of relief and gives you a smile of his own. You almost swoon, and you would have if a royal gardener in the corner of your eye wasn't there to remind you of your situation.

"How rude of me. My name's Satoru. I am so honored to meet you, Princess," he bows, grabbing your hand in his before mumbling your name in a sweet voice. He places a kiss to the back of your hand and you nod. You're buzzing, but the months of practice your Grandmother put you through a year ago have you trained to not show it.

Almost.

"S-Satoru! It's nice to meet you. I don't think I've seen you before," your head tilts, and he smirks.

"No, I don't think we've ever met. I'm not from here, actually."

You stand in silence for a second, trying to figure out what to say. He truly was taking your breath away. Your mouth opens to speak, but your sentence dies on your tongue.

"Princess, she's ready for you!"

Your head whips around to where Utahime stands at the entrance of the garden, waving you down. Satoru nods at her, before bowing slightly at you.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. It was lovely to meet you Satoru. I hope you enjoy the garden!" You wince and walk away, looking at him over your shoulder.

"You as well, Princess. I hope we can see each other again."

You follow behind Utahime, and the two of you speed walking into your Grandma's office. She sits at her desk, looking over a few forms with her own secretary and someone else from the palace, you're not sure who.

"There she is!" she beams up at you once she looks away from the forms, nodding at her secretary before they shuffle out the doors. As soon as the heavy wood shuts behind you, you give her a blank stare.

"Nice to see you too," she states sarcastically, throwing the papers on her desk. You continue to stand. "Are you going to have a seat, or continue to throw a fit standing there?"

You huff and sit down. "Do you have something to say to me?"

She looks at you, confused, and shakes her head.

"You don't? Not even something about a wedding?" Utahime says your name under her breath, but you ignore her. She may be afraid of the Queen, rightfully so, but you aren't. Your grandma closes her eyes and sighs.

"Who told you?"

"I heard it myself. This morning, in fact." You're fuming. If you could see yourself, you'd be positive you would have steam coming out of your ears.

"I tried, sweetheart. I really did. I can't fight the law, you heard me! If I could I would, and you know that." She stands up and walks towards you, standing in front of you to lean against her desk. "I don't know what else to say, other than I'm sorry. I only want what's best for you."

You look up at her with tears in your eyes, unsure if they're from anger or sadness. She clicks her tongue and crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"Bastards, all of them. I don't understand why I, the Queen, can't change the rules. But you know, you don't have to go through with this."

You look up at her and furrow your brows.

"This kingdom means the world to me. I can't just abandon everyone like that. I may be young, but I'm not a coward." Your Grandma smiles at you. You stand up and walk towards the window, looking out at the area of the kingdom in view. "I don't want to stop being Princess, just because of some stupid rule that a bunch of old men won't change." You turn to her and take a deep breath.

"If finding someone to marry is what it takes, then I'll do it. As long as I get to pick who."

Your Grandma laughs and walks over to you, pulling you into a hug.

"I admire your strength and commitment, it's inspiring," when she pulls away she holds your arms. "But that doesn't mean I don't want what's best for you. If at any point you don't want to do this, tell me. I know I can get something figured out." You nod, tears threatening to spill from your eyes once more. After a few moments of collecting yourself, you follow your Grandma back to her desk.

"So, what did you want to meet about today?"

She laughs. "Besides the obvious, I wanted to fill you in on something going on at the palace."

You nod and reclaim your seat. "Sure, what's going on?"

"We are having our Summer's Eve ball in a month, so preparations for that have already begun. Utahime will be coordinating with Ms. Kugisaki and yourself about a dress this week. I think that would be a perfect opportunity for you and your," she pauses, giving you a sympathetic look. "new husband to make your debut to the kingdom. I won't advertise it as such, but I want you to be aware of that." You nod distastefully, and she continues.

"Besides the excitement, we have a guest staying at the palace this summer, starting today."

Your ears perk up. The only time guests have ever stayed at the palace since you've been here was your own family and friends for the holidays.

"Who is it?" You lean forward, grinning with excitement. Your Grandma shares your attitude, clapping her hands together.

"He's the son of one of the members of parliament, actually. He's spending the summer with us to see how the castle is run, the day-to-day operations, and everything like that," she opens her mouth to continue, but she's interrupted.

"Madam, he's ready if you are." Her bodyguard, Masamichi calls from the doors of her office. She nods at him, motioning for you to stand up.

"Grandma, I don't understand, who-"

"Your majesty, it's so good to see you again."

Your eyes shoot up, and your jaw drops to the floor. From the other side of the doorway, Utahime looks at you, palms to the ceiling and a shocked look on her face.

"Sweetheart, I would like you to meet Sir Gojo Satoru, our guest for the summer."

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader imagine #gojo x reader fic #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #satoru gojo fluff #jjk fluff #royal jjk #jjk imagine #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #satoru gojo x you

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safficranger · 22 days

Text

Fake scenarios in my head #4

It’s Friday, Casey comes home from work and is a little surprised to find Alex already lounging on the couch. She is reading through a few files, scribbling away on her pad, obviously working. The lights are dim, there is a huge cup of tea on the table, and a pack of tissues.

"Hey, are you okay?" Casey asks, concerned, feeling her forehead with the back of her hand. "If you're sick, you should rest, honey."

"Just a little cold. I need to get this done, but the office lights give me a headache," Alex replies.

"Okay, I'll make something light for dinner. You're allowed to work until dinner, after which you rest," Casey says.

Alex gives a small smile. "Yes, Ma'am."

After dinner, Alex cuddles in a warm blanket and switches on the TV for some background noise. Casey cleans the kitchen and takes a quick shower. Dressed in comfortable clothes, she comes back to the living room and slips under the blanket with Alex.

"Maybe we shouldn't... I don't want you to get sick too," Alex says.

Casey kisses her hair and pulls her closer. "Don't worry. I'm a big girl and I grew up in a military family. I don`t get sick."

"That makes no kind of sense." Alex mumbles half asleep, not denying that the warmth of Caseys embrace really helps to make her feel better.

"Stop arguing, counselor, and get some rest." Casey whispers while Alex falls asleep in her arms.

~•~

Early Monday morning, Alex is getting ready for work, prepping their coffee to go cups in the kitchen. Casey emerges from the bedroom, still wearing her pyjamas and a fluffy bathrobe, her hair ruffled, and looking even paler than usual.

"I want to file an official complaint," Casey announces.

"A complaint?" Alex is a little stunned.

"Yes!" Casey sneezes. "My girlfriend uses her knowledge about my big, warm heart and the fact that I can't stand to see her hurting to lure me into cuddling with her, making me sick with the flu in the process."

"Those are some serious accusations," Alex says, trying to keep a professional face.

"I am seriously sick!"

"How about your girlfriend brings you back to bed, brings you some medicine, and takes on your caseload for the day so you can rest?" Alex proposes, "for compensation."

Casey thinks for a minute and sniffs a little. "Throw in some ice cream for dinner, and we have a deal."

#alex cabot #casey novak #it's all in my head

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ddejavvu · 2 years

Note

wait okayokay hear me out

sugar daddy hotch

the team wonders why he's suddenly a little happier

yn's friends wonder where she's suddenly getting this nice shit from

(maybe garcia sees his credit card history too?? idk bro)

have a fantastic day i love your work :D

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

"Sir," Penelope's brow is furrowed, and that never means anything good. She hands Hotch the stack of papers in her hands, already apologizing before he can read them.

"Now- Now okay, I know I promised to stop snooping through your guys' lives, I swear! It's just that when I charged the extra room in the hotel to your card, it looked.. weird, right?" She shifts on her heels, praying she isn't fired, "And I realized it was because there was a lot less money in your account than there usually is, so I grabbed a quick copy of your bank statements to make sure you hadn't made any large purchases or something, but this," She jabs a finger accusatorily at the papers, "-looks like textbook fraud. See, the payments start out small, but then they get bigger and bigger and more consistent. I just wanted you to know, sir, I swear I won't snoop again."

Hotch stares down at the papers in his hand with growing horror, an expression the bubbly blonde has never seen on him. His eyes trace the numbers, each one exponentially larger than the rest, his weekly spending habits finally revealed.

"Uh, I- thank you, Garcia." He flounders, his hand gripping the paper so tight it wrinkles, "No further action will be necessary."

She pauses, taken aback, "But sir, they're just going to continue stealing from you, it's really easy to-"

"Garcia." Hotch nearly lets a smile escape his tight frown, and now Penelope's really worried, "It's alright. It's not fraud, I spent the money."

"Oh." She stands there, blinking bewilderedly at her boss, "Um, okay. Well I hope you're.. enjoying your new.. lifestyle."

"I am," He nods at her, "Thank you for your concern."

"Mhm," She nods, still baffled by the fact that her ever-sensible boss is now spending thousands of dollars at stores she'd only ever seen from the outside, "I'll just- I'll head out."

She hears him mumble something from behind her, a sendoff that's probably as awkward as the rest of their interaction. But she keeps her head down, running into a new intern as a result.

"Oh! I'm sorry," You held stabilize her, the tennis bracelet on your wrist sparkling under the lights of the bullpen, "i didn't mean to run into you! Are you okay?"

"I'm- I think so! Pretty," She points at the bracelet, "Looks fancy!" She shakes the weird interaction from her mind, "I think there's something weird going on with Hotch, though. He's spending money."

"Oh! Wow," You let go of her, tucking your hands behind your back and keeping the bracelet out of her sight, "Weird."

"I know!" She glances back up at his office, "Are you heading in?"

"Yes," You nod, brandishing papers in your non-jeweled hand, "He asked me for a copy of a recent report."

"Hey, maybe you can figure it out," She pokes you in the side, "Practice those profiling skills!"

"I will," You laugh awkwardly, already trekking up the low staircase to Hotch's office, "I'll tell you what I know!"

The second you step through the threshold of Hotch's office, you shut the door behind you, backing against it and letting your head thunk against the wood. Hotch wears a similar mildly alarmed expression, the two of you speaking in unison.

"She knows."

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alienaiver · 11 months

Text

"that's it. i'm removing you from the roster until you've stopped by the doctor."

you look at midoriya in disbelief. unable to keep yourself poised at his final decision, your shoulders slump and the exhaustion washes over you like a wave. he's seen through you.

it's been a year since your near-death experience with an all-too-powerful villain and while shinsou took great care of you during your recovery, something's been off ever since - you haven't been able to put a finger on it, though, so you decided to do what every self-sacrificing hero does: you powered through. until there was no power left to muscle your way out of it. and now it's become visible to others too. you have a feeling shinsou might've ratted you out, but you don't blame him. you'd done the same if it were him.

you get home in a daze and fall face first onto the bed. you don't wake up until you feel the weight shift and the warmth of shinsou's lips touches your cheek. but you don't have the energy to react with more than a hum. your eyelids are so heavy. there's a ringing in your ears but it's so constant that it just feels like a persistent buzz. shinsou says something as he settles behind you, arms wrapping themselves around you. for a while, you think there's silence but he says your name sternly in a voice he only uses when he knows you're not entirely listening to him. huh. you're mostly used to hearing it on the battlefield.

"i'm worried about you."

you sigh and hum, pushing yourself weakly back onto him, "'ve got a doc's appointment..... tomorrow."

he kisses the crown of your head, "okay... okay, good."

he's drawing soft circles into your arm and you drift away again. he wakes you when there's dinner and you perk up again slightly, but not enough to make him stop worrying his lip between his teeth. you fall asleep fifteen minutes into a movie later that night.

you put on your shoes and lock the door behind you, putting the keys in your pocket as you turn for the stairs at the end of the hall. you really wish there'd been an elevator in your building right now. as you walk down the steps, your feet feels heavier but you chalk it up to be your shoes. it's the sneakers you don't wear that often, but it's too cold for sandals today. you shrug it off and just concentrate more on walking.

the doctor goes through your symptoms with you but there's hardly any, you reassure her. you're just so exhausted no matter how many hours you sleep. she warns you that you may be sleeping too much. you agree with a laugh - you don't remember ever sleeping so many hours, having been an insomniac your entire youth. she does some blood tests and sends you home, saying you'll be called in when the answers are back.

the days that pass are all a blur. without your shifts at the agency, time becomes fuzzy around the edges. you don't have to get up, so you just stay in bed, since you've been told you need to rest anyways. on the third day you wake up to several notes on the bedside table, the bathroom mirror and the kitchen counter and fridge from shinsou with various reminders about eating and drinking properly and where he's stocked some snacks and prepped some food for you to reheat easily. you chuckle and shake your head at his antics. you're just tired, is all. the headaches comes with the job, you remind yourself as you try to gently massage out the tension in your neck to relieve your pounding head. he might be right about the water intake - you grab the cold bottle he's put in the fridge for you and brings it with you to the bed.

"i think you should call and ask if they've gotten the answers yet." shinsou says matter-of-factly and you nod, "yeah, it has been a few days. but it's the weekend, right? i'll call on monday." and that ends the conversation.

monday comes but you forget to call, even if you've been determined to do so. by the time you remember, the office is closed for the day. you sigh heavily and fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. you prepare the apology for shinsou on your tongue before you drift off.

tuesday morning your phone rings - several times. you finally reach out and pick up, thinking it's shinsou.

"i do apologize for the wait. the doctor unfortunately had to take some time off last week, but we have your results. will you be able to come in today?"

you agree, dragging yourself up. there's more energy in you today, but it should've been way more given the intense rest you've been having. you put on one of shinsou's hoodies and a pair of sweats before you drag yourself to the kitchen to grab a bite.

turns out, you suffer from anemia. an intense, prolonged form and need medication as soon as possible. shinsou's livid when he comes home and gets the news, angry that it has been missed when the agency periodically keeps an eye on their heroes' health. you sit on the chair with your hands folded like a child being scolded and try to laugh it off, "come on now, hito. i just need to take some medication and i'll be fine. the usual blood tests the past year haven't covered that - even if they should, i know," you hurry to add, "but i'll be fine, i promise."

shinsou sighs and his whole body slumps, leaning against the table you're sitting by. you take his hand, "i'm okay."

he visibly relaxes but there's something he's holding back. you've been together since high school, so you can read him like a book. you squeeze his hand, "open up."

he clicks his tongue with furrowed brows before he opens his mouth, "you've had these symptoms for months. why didn't you tell me?"

you look at the ground, guilt written on your face. mostly, because you don't have a proper answer to give him. you don't know why you didn't - the symptoms had all been sneaking up on you, snaking their way into your body quietly and suddenly it'd just become so chronic that you'd normalized it. you let out an apology and he squeeze your hand back, "it's okay to not have an answer. but please, can we be mindful of things like this in the future?"

you smile at him, "only if you continue to make the little post-it notes. they're adorable - especially your small doodles of dogs."

shinsou hides his face in his hands with a groan, "they were cats."

#target audience? me. i just got diagnosed w some kind of long term anemia and its all adding up lmao #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi fluff #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha fluff #TBH! im disabled! theres so much wrong w my body to begin w idk where the symptoms begin and end!#this is written etc on my phone. idk the wordcount rn sorry <3 #ill add that when im home !! im currently babysitting my beloved niece #edit my nieces making tiktoks abt her bunny right now so i counted on an app THIS IS 1K HELLO!!!?????#i just wrote it on a whim after the docs appointment KSKSKSKSSKSKKSKSKS #also this is partly why ive been inactibe i think. the doc thing took me OUT

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