THE FRECKLES THE MESSY HAIR THE EYES HIS CHEST THE BODY HAIR THE CHAIN THE EYELINER OH GOD OH FUCK OH

Blow by Blow | 0.6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au

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Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big. Boxing au.

Warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni, oral (m receiving)

“He’s in a good mood this morning.” You comment. Bradley’s grinning, light on his feet as he dances around the ring. He lets Jake draw closer to him and steps quickly out of the way, taunting him in his every move. Your lips quirk up slightly.

He’s not even trying. If he wanted to, he could’ve caught Jake in the ribs just there. Instead, he quick-steps back and sways his body to the music in the background. Steve Winwood’s Higher Love is blasting over the speakers, filling the gym with upbeat lyrics. Bradley dances, unfazed as Jake puts his guard back up and steps towards him — he sidesteps, slams his glove into Jake’s ribs and continues to sway, mouthing the words.

Jake rolls his eyes and steps into Rooster’s space just as quickly.

“Uhg… help.” Mickey grunts under you.

Your eyes widen, looking down quickly and remembering yourself all of a sudden. A soft gasp slips your lips as you catch the bar seconds before it hits his chest. Your combined strength is enough to lift the bar and set it back on the rack, saving him from being crushed.

“Shit, sorry.”

Mickey sits up quickly, brows furrowed, dark curls sticking to his forehead, mock-betrayal on his face. Your cheeks burn as you shoot a quick glance back to Rooster and find him looking right at you. Shit, he absolutely caught that exchange.

“Who, Rooster?” Mickey pants, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his arm. You turn your gaze away and give a small nod. “Yeah, he got a fight confirmed this morning. It’s his first gig in like eight months — that’s why he’s showing off.”

Mickey rolls his shoulders back and grabs his water bottle from the ground.

“Why hasn’t he fought in eight months?” You ask, leaning forwards to rest your hands against the bar, tilting your head as you watch Rooster and Jake sparring. Nat always takes it easy on you, which you should probably appreciate, but it’s interesting seeing Jake and Rooster fight — because neither one of them is taking it easy on the other.

Mickey gulps down around half of his bottle’s worth of water and then settles down with a sigh, his skin glistening and sticky under the gloomy white overhead lighting. He pushes himself up from the bench and glances across at Rooster, then grimaces.

“Mm… I probably shouldn’t say. Ask him, he might tell you.” He shrugs his shoulders and then lifts his arms out, flexing his biceps. “So, do you see a difference?”

You smile at him and nod, patting his side as you step past him. “I see that your fly is down.”

He looks down quickly, smile faltering — then realizes that he’s wearing gym shorts, there isn’t a fly for it to even be down. He groans and turns to tell you off. You’re already wandering away, walking over to the ring and resting your hands against the ropes.

“Ugh, fuck.” Bradley grunts as Jake catches him in the stomach.

“Keep dancing, bird boy.” Jake taunts, stepping back to put some space between them again. Now doubled-over, Bradley is at your eye level. His eyes glint mischievously as he catches sight of you, smiling at him from the ringside.

“What’s up, Bambi? — Wanna jump in?” Bradley offers, lips quirking up into a confident smirk as he stands upright again, running his fingers over the affected area of his toned stomach. He begins towards you, Jake turns in interest to watch the conversation.

You smile softly up at him. “I wanted to ask if you were free later.

Jake’s brows raise slightly, he glances across at Bradley and then back at you. Bradley wets his lips with his tongue and takes a step closer, leaning onto the ropes.

“Like a date?”

Jake almost scoffs at the certainty in Rooster’s voice. He knows that he’s cockiness embodied himself, but he still finds himself amused at how sure Rooster is.

You smile softly, then shake your head. “Like the interview that you owe me — you’re the only one I’m waiting for.”

He almost sighs. Instead, he glances quickly back at Jake and shrugs his shoulders, then checks the clock on the wall. “Uh — if you let me finish up down here, I can stop by upstairs when I’m done?”

Jake does scoff this time. He has said some pretty forward stuff to girls in his time, but watching Bradley invite himself up to your apartment is just embarrassing.

“Well, are you busy right now?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes as he stands on the canvas. His brows furrow.

“Kinda.” He answers back, adjusting the gloves on his wrists. You frown at him.

“Mav said that you have to do the interview before tomorrow, he wants the website to—“

“Mav isn’t my boss.” Bradley reminds you. It’s swift, calm and it shuts you down in four syllables. You close your mouth, still looking up at him. “I said I’ll stop by later.”

Swallowing softly, you nod your head. A few sheepish steps back away from the ring, you’re still nodding at him dumbly. Perhaps you should apologise. You don’t. “Okay. Thanks.”

Jake watches you turn and walk away, shaking his head softly.

“What?” Rooster frowns.

“I just don’t get how you can look at that sweet face and be such an ass,” Jake answers amusedly, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. He takes a step back and brings up his guard as they get ready to go again. “It’s like being mean to—“

“I said I’d do her interview!” Bradley defends himself, taking stance and shrugging his shoulders. They should really be focusing more than this with the fight coming up, but he really doesn’t see what he did wrong.

Bradley takes his time finishing up his training. Fashionably late or whatever. He knocks on your apartment door and waits, clearly learning from his past experiences with Tank.

You answer the door in another cute patterned sundress, having ditched the workout gear after your shower.

“Bob asked if Tank could come downstairs to play.” Rooster explains, trying to finger through the mess of his curls. Headgear always fucks up his hair.

“Oh. Sure — let me just-“

“He’s at the bottom of the stairs waiting. She said it’s okay!” Rooster relays back.

You smile and lean past Bradley to look at your friend. He grins and waves as Tank brushes past Bradley with a small growl, and then pads happily down the stairs towards him.

Rooster settles down onto the couch, you sit directly in front of him, resting on the coffee table. The interview begins.

“How would you describe yourself in three words?” You ask.

He takes a while to consider it. You stretch your legs out in front of the coffee table and look up at the dust on the ceiling fan — you should clean that. Even after eleven full rotations of the ceiling fan, he still hasn’t presented you with the slightest hint of answer.

“Is there a right answer to this?” He asks back, his eyes on you. One of his arms is draped along the back of the couch, the other resting against his thigh. He nudges his foot into yours and pretends that it’s an accident.

“I guess not.” You shrug. His lips quirk as he raises his brows at you.

“You guess not?”

“Well, there are good answers and bad answers, don’t you think?” You reply, not really feeding into his game as much as he would like you to. Parting his knees further, his body mass stretches over more of your couch unapologetically.

“So, what are the good answers?” Rooster challenges you.

“I can’t tell you that until you’ve answered, otherwise it won’t be genuine.” Professional, polite, holding back from just calling him an ass and making him answer — you probably have a future in journalism.

“What’s this for, again?” He taunts. You both know that he knows exactly what this is for. He’s just being pedantic.

“A meet the staff page. I want people to know your faces, know who they’re coming in to see. It’ll make this place seem less… scary.”

“This place is scary?” He’s outright avoiding the question at this point. You sigh, giving a small shrug of your shoulders.

“It can be.”

He nods his head. He doesn’t understand what you mean — he was raised in this place and the only thing scary about it is that he’ll probably be here for the rest of his life too.

“So… three words?” You remind him gently.

Rooster sits at a crossroads in your living room. He has two options before him, to sit in the afternoon sun and annoy you further, or to just give in and answer your silly little questions.

“Organised, loyal… handsome.” He decides finally, smiling across at you. The second time, perhaps another accident, he nudges his foot into yours.

“Jake said the same thing.” You answer immediately, giving a soft chuckle as you turn your attention towards your notepad.

This goes on for a while. The back and forth. The excessive way he spreads his limbs out over the couch just to remind you that he’s a big guy. The bullshit answers.

You check the time on your phone, then squint at him seriously. An hour has passed and you’ve gotten him to answer only four out of your ten questions.

“Why haven’t you fought in eight months?”

His eyebrows raise calmly, biceps flexing as he crosses them over his chest. He stares back at you. “Is this part of the interview?”

You shrug your shoulders, “Yeah.”

“Who said I haven’t fought in eight months?” He asks you, sitting forward in the seat and leaning closer to you.

“Couple of people, actually,” You lie to him, which isn’t untrue, they would have let it slip eventually. It doesn’t seem to be a secret. “What’s up with that?”

His eyes are russet under the afternoon sun streaming in through the window to his right, bright and shining. Somehow colder under this warm light than they had been the other night by the arena.

His eyes trail, slowly looking down and then back up over your form. He sits closer again, leaning his broad form forwards and resting his hands against his knees.

You know instantly that you’ve probably overstepped, but he was being an asshole too.

“I got suspended from competing for six months.” Sitting so close that every breath you take is the cedarwood, cypress and nutmeg of his cologne, you’ve got a front row seat to how he feels about that.

He doesn’t give much away, but you can tell that he accepts the judgment. He knows that he did something wrong — that’s good, right? — that he knows he screwed up and maybe feels bad about it.

“Then after that, no one would fight me for two months because of what happened before.” He doesn’t have to reach far to be touching you, his arm barely stretches before his hand is tucked around your knee, stroking at the curve of the joint with his thumb.

You keep your eyes on him, studying his features, looking for a crack in that exterior for just a moment.

“What did you do to get suspended?” You shift closer with him, his fingertips smoothing against your skin, staying below the thigh, near the knee.

His lips quirk softly. It’s clear that he’s not going to answer you from the get go.

“You ask a lot of questions.” He comments.

“This is an interview.” You quip. His eyes roll as he throws himself back against the couch, chuckling dryly — bested again. When he looks at you again, you’re smiling softly.

You probably wouldn’t be if he told you what he had done. With the way you’re looking at him, he debates not keeping it from you. His thumb strokes softly over your bare skin, eyes on yours.

He thinks he’s got you right where he wants you, you can see it in that mischievous look In his eye. You reach out and rest your hand against his knee.

This time, instead of looking at each other, you both watch your fingers move along his skin. At first, tracing small patterns on his knee, similar to what he’s doing to you. Innocent enough.

His eyes dart up to your face, then back down, as your fingertips smooth along his skin, brushing well past his knee and dangerously close to the hem of his shorts. His brows scrunch softly.

Kissing him down by the marina two days ago, that was one thing — he doesn’t think that you’re bold enough to do this. So, he calls your bluff. He parts his knees further and sits back comfortably against the couch.

Rooster is an attractive guy and he knows it. More attractive than Jett was, undeniably. Tanned skin, broad shoulders — but a soft smirk on his face that just makes you want to prove him wrong.

“Everyone else knows why you were suspended?” You ask, raising your brows at him as your nails skim along the inside of his thigh. Rooster watches your fingers move, feeling the delicate touch on his warm skin.

“Sure, but I didn’t tell them.” He answers calmly. It would be easy enough to tell you the full truth right now, it’s just a couple of words. I beat the shit out of a guy who wouldn’t shut his mouth. But, your ex-boyfriend was a violent prick and Bradley doesn’t want you to look at him like that.

The others were all at the fight that night, Rooster doesn’t really have a choice about them knowing or not knowing. You’re different.

You tilt your head just slightly. He looks at you again. You pout your lips in consideration, watching your fingers breach under the grey confines of the left leg of his shorts. Bradley glances down and then back up.

“Is this the first time you’ve been suspended?” The question seems to come out of nowhere, and Bradley almost winces when you ask it because he knows that his chances are getting lower and lower. He sighs softly and shakes his head.

“No, not the first time.” He replies calmly.

You lift your gaze to look at him through your lashes, fingers stilling against his skin. “Then, I think I should probably know what you did. Right?”

“Broke the rules,” He shrugs his shoulders softly, hoping that you’ll accept that answer but knowing that you won’t. Your lips purse, hinting at a slight frown. “It’s a long story, but my last fight kind of turned into a real fight instead of a boxing match, it was a mess. That’s all.”

“Did you hurt him?” You ask.

Rooster’s hand skims from your knee to the edge of the coffee table that you’re sitting on, fingers curling around the underside of it. “Yeah.”

“Badly?”

He shrugs his shoulders once more, “He recovered, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why?” You press.

“If you ask Nat, she’ll tell you it’s because I was dropped on my head too much as a baby.” Bradley tries to spin this back, make it light hearted again. The meekness in your voice worries him.

Your face doesn’t soften. “I’m asking you.”

“He said some stuff that I didn’t like and I got angry.” Bradley says quietly. You sit back, straightening your spine and crossing your ankles. It’s not quite a recoil, it’s something much more low-key than that, but it has the same effect.

Bradley’s brows knit together as he opens his mouth to defend himself.

“Okay — it’s deeper than him just saying something I didn’t like, I want you to know that,” Bradley rushes out, he can tell that the suddenness of it surprises you. There it is, the gap in that hard exterior. He wants you to like him.

He rubs a hand over his jaw, his eyes soft as he looks at you. “There’s kind of a history with this place, y’know, some stuff that went down between my dad and Mav and some of the guys in the circuit. People giving me a hard time for stuff that happened before I was born. It’s — just, complicated.”

“Did it make you feel better after you hurt him?” You ask softly, fingertips coming to life on his skin. He glances down as you trail your fingers back along the curve of his knee.

It takes him a moment to consider what you have asked. At a base level, yes, it felt good to make that asshole finally stop running his mouth. He definitely didn’t like the consequences that came after, but that’s not what you’re asking him. Did he feel better after he beat that guy up? — No.

He remembers the bruising around his knuckles. He sees it every day in the way that Mav looks at him know — Mav has barely spoken to him since it happened.

“No. Didn’t solve anything, really.” Bradley mumbles.

Just like with the first question you had asked him, there were good and bad answers to this question. The answer he gave is satisfying enough.

He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forwards, head hung slightly to watch your fingers on his thigh. You sit forwards slowly, leaning in and pressing a delicate kiss to his warm cheek.

He looks up, you’ve surprised him again. He was sure you were going to ask him to leave.

You kiss his lips. He rushes, reaching for your skin, ready to pull you against him. Instead, you stay where you are, both perched on the edges of your seat, leaning forwards to kiss. Fingers smoothing softly over the scar on his cheek, you hum gently against his lips, contented.

Impatient, fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. He’s pulling you forwards, urging you closer until you’re on the couch, straddling his hips. Knees on either side of his clothed torso, you match his energy, curling your fists into his shirt and pulling him into you. Deepening the kiss, his hands in your hair, your tongue running rampant against his own.

The taste of mint passes between the two of you. His is spearmint, yours is peppermint. It’s a quick and shocking revelation that you had both been planning for this kiss to happen.

His fingers curl around your hips, tugging you forwards, grinding himself up against your core. The second that the bulge in his shorts touched you, you stiffen. It’s hard to miss.

“You alright?” Rooster murmurs, pulling back brows scrunching in slight concern. You look over his features, then nod hurriedly. His brows scrunch tighter together as you push yourself up and away from his lap.

There’s a calm silence as you settle between his legs, pressing your plush lips to the inside of his knee. His tongue darts out to wet his lips with his tongue as he settles back against the couch. You just keep on surprising him.

Surprise after surprise as you tease your mouth along the inside of his thighs until he’s rock hard and straining against the inside of his gym shorts. Even after that, when his shorts are down by his ankles and his eyes are closed in anticipation, you don’t give him what he wants.

Instead, your nails rake softly along his sensitive skin, followed by your lips. Open-mouthed, gentle kisses onto the most tender parts of his skin.

When you finally work up the confidence to curl your fingers into the sides of his boxers and pull them down, your breathing shudders. So relieved that his sigh almost becomes a whine, he readily lifts his hips for you to guide his boxers down. Both his boxers and his shorts pool around his ankles as he tugs his shirt up and over his head.

He’s so hard it seems painful, the head of his dick flushed the same way that his cheeks do when he gets embarrassed.

You’ve talked a lot with your girl friends, and you had known that Jett was around average — nothing special, but Bradley is. Before now, you’ve never seen a dick that looks heavy in the same way his does.

Admittedly, you’ve thought about this a couple of times since you had come across Bradley on the floor of your apartment in those damn near sheer white boxers of his.

Sitting nestled between strong legs, warm, tanned skin. He rests his arm along the back of the couch, letting you look as much as you’d like. It’s been a long time since he was insecure about his body.

You sit forwards and look up at him. Rooster considers for a moment whether he should stop you or not. The second your fingers curl around the base of his cock, his mind is made up.

Your warm tongue tracing his dick up and down, eyes on him for reassurance as his thumb strokes in time against your cheek. Your lips wrap expertly around the tip, sucking on it like a lollipop, the tip of your tongue tracing over the slit.

His breathing quietens, brows furrowing as he watches you. It’s good, it feels good — he’s had better, but he probably shouldn’t have been expecting too much from a meek little mouse like you anyway.

Rooster hums softly in approval when you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft. Testing the waters, you skim your hand along his thigh. His head rests back against the couch as your main focus shifts to his balls.

Your tongue lingers on the head, darting over his slit to collect the precum that had seeped out. It makes him dizzy, the needy way you lick at his cock, the experienced way that you touch him.

Everything after becomes less about what you should be doing, and more about his response to it. He pants hard when you pull back and pepper kisses along his shaft. He groans loudly when your nose brushes his pelvis and you’re looking up at uk with those doe-eyes, all brimming with tears. He jolts when your nose presses into his thigh as you tease open-mouthed kisses along his balls.

It’s good. So fucking good. He’s lost track of what he’s saying in his head and what he’s saying out loud, unsure of if he should slide a hand into your hair. He doesn’t need to, somehow you’re right where he needs you, right when he needs it.

Rooster shudders, fingers curling into the couch cushion as he involuntarily bucks his hips, feeling your throat squeeze around him. “Shit, fuck —- I’m gonna cum, I’m — I’m—“

You look up at him, drool-soaked lips quirking at the corners. He’s pretty when he’s right on the edge like this. Knuckles whitening, muscles shaking under the intensity. Head thrown back, lips parted, deep groans spilling from his lips.

His body jolts, fists curling hard into the sheets. Every aching muscle in his body contracts, tightening and trembling as his orgasm tears through his nerves. He comes with a strained groan. His dick twitches against your tongue before releasing his load down your throat, leaving you with little choice but to swallow. Luckily for him, that was the plan anyway.

You guide him through his high, not stopping until he’s a trembling wreck under your fingertips. Rooster grunts, mouth hanging open, brows furrowed tightly as the aftershocks of his orgasm tear through his nerves.

Finally, you sit back on your knees and wipe the spit from your chin with the back of your hand.

He swallows, taking in a shaking breath and pushing the base of his palm into his eye socket, trying to make those white splotches in his vision go away. You wipe the smudged mascara from under your eyes.

His legs are still shaking as he pulls his shorts and boxers back up in one move, draping an arm over his eyes. “Fuck, where did you learn how to do that?” — it’s a stupid question, but he just can’t imagine that this kind of expertise came from your ex.

“I read about it.” You answer softly, smoothing your fingers tenderly along the hair on his thighs. His brows furrow as he feels you move to sit down beside him.

He turns his head. Every line on his face deepens as he scrunches his features up, lost. “You… read about it? — Like in a book?”

“Something like that,” You answer him, trailing your fingers over the ridges in his bicep. Your gaze flickers up to meet his. “Was it okay?”

Rooster’s brows lift. He chuckles breathlessly and pulls the covers up over his waist, then brings his hand up to rub at his eye. “Okay? — It was — that… Wow.”

You smile softly at him. “Can I ask you for a favour?”

“Trust me, sweetheart, I’m going to take care of you. Just, let my hands stop shaking.” Rooster breathes out, still recovering as he squeezes your knee. You press your knees together and shift back.

“Oh, no, not that. I’d prefer it if we left it at that today.”

He turns his head and frowns — Bradley has never not reciprocated in his life, and he doesn’t intend to start now. “But…”

“You can make it up to me another time, just not today… if that’s okay.” There she is again. That meek little mouse. As if you didn’t just give him the most earth-shattering blowjob. He shakes his head and sits up.

“So what’s the favour?” He asks calmly.

“I want to do a fight like you guys do. Like a real one.”

….

X

Proofs that Pedro Pascal and Y/n Y/l/n are dating (part 2)

I think I could do this every week, like a series, I like the idea! But actually doing it, is something different, especially because I tend to lose it at some point and forget to publish or I don’t have time 🤷🏻‍♀️ also, if you have any ideas for those, because I am already running out of them but I like doing them.. so, I’m open! And for the last pic, I feel like he would do this face like a shocked face but funny, I don’t really know how to explain it 😂

1) 12.04.2023, 3:57pm

A fan posted a video on Instagram. First we could see a woman, laughing with another person, another woman we assume. They were in a car. We can hear off camera “is that him?”, the other woman says yes, then turns the camera. Next to her car, there he was, Pedro. They were actually at a red light. He was driving. He did not see the women next to him yet. In the video, we could see another person next to him, but we don’t know who (yet). Then this person moves their position, lightly turning to the left, that’s when we see that it is actually Y/n Y/l/n, and that’s when she notices the woman filming them. At that moment, we could see that Pedro leaned a little towards y/n, but she pointed to the ladies before he could go further, which made him turn. He waved at them, but were quickly interrupted by a car honking at them. The light turned green. The video shows the car leaving. One woman said “what was he doing?” The other said “was he about to kiss her?”, then the video ends.

2) 14.04.2023, around 4pm

Pedro and y/n were seen leaving the gym together. Walking next to each other they were laughing a lot. Y/n was wearing a yellow sports bra and a dark grey short, holding a water bottle. Pedro was in shorts too and wearing his famous yellow lakers shirt, his shorts were also grey. They surprisingly had matching outfits.

3) 15.04.2023, 2:36am

Y/n posted a video on her story. She was in a club. The video started with her in a crowd, dancing. Next to her was a friend, coming to kiss her cheek for the video. Right behind y/n, a familiar face, Pedro Pascal. He absolutely did not see that y/n was making a video and was enjoying himself, dancing a little but mostly drinking his cocktail. Then y/n turned towards Pedro and said “say hi!”. As he didn’t hear her, he screamed “what?” Then looked at her phone. She came very close to him, whispering the same sentence to his ear. Then he came closer to the phone, looked straight at the camera, and said hi, and waved. “Who is it for?” He asked her. “I’m posting it on Instagram!” They looked at each other. He was giving her a look that said “that is not a good idea” and she gave him a look that said “I know but I’ll do it anyway”, then the video stopped as they were laughing.

4) 17.04.2023, 10am (ish)

Pedro and y/n were seeing grocery shopping together. Some fans posted pictures during the day, with the two of them together (and the fan of course). One fan stated that they saw Pedro kiss y/n’s forehead but there were no pictures nor videos.

5) 19.04.2023, 6:13pm

Pedro posted a video on his Instagram story. First we could see him, and we could see he was in a car, but not driving. Then, he turned the camera to his legs, and we could see a hand on his thigh. He moved the camera towards the driver, and it was y/n, looking ahead. When she saw that he was filming, she took her hand away, and put it in front of her mouth, pretending to be shocked. Then she smiled, her eyes switching from the road to the phone. Then Pedro turned the camera back to his face, making a weird shocking face before laughing. We could hear y/n laughing too. Then the video ended. Y/n reposted it on her story later too, adding : “got to give attention to my passenger princess”

I don't need any analysis of these photos.

The conclusion is Jure is hot as fuck and gets all the bitches and I want him in ways I cannot begin to describe.

Jure the perfect slut i love him. No wonder they saved him till last

looking delicious

lee jeno x fem!reader (idol AU)

IMAGINE: you keep your relationship as private as possible

• he comes to pick you up every chance he gets when you have closing shift.

• you only do home dates, mostly at yours.

• lots of movie nights and take away dinners.

• cuddles are your night routine fr.

• "you're so warm and soft"

• during comeback season you don't hangout as much and he suffers the lack of your touch.

• "i miss you so much i think i'm gonna die" "you won't die, baby"

• shower sex is his thing. he loves it for some reason.

• "your skin is something else, i swear"

• he LOVES watching you getting ready in the morning, he knows your skin-care steps by heart.

• "you're very creepy, just there staring at me" "i'm very in love with you"

• a lot of skin-ship, he loves to touch and caress you.

• you're his comfort place.

• he doesn't speak a lot when you hangout but when he does, his deep and lazy voice never fails to turn you on.

• he's very good at using his hands and his tongue.

• when you complain about him going to the gym instead of spending time with you, he records himself doing some exercise and send you the video. you shut your mouth immediately.

• "you're the sexiest thing i ever saw in my life, istg" "(.◜◡◝)"

Blow by Blow | 0.1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Prologue | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big.

Warnings: references to domestic violence in this chapter — no graphic scenes, but mention of injury.

…

The sound of the plate hitting the wall behind your head still echoes in your ears. Buying tempered glass plates had sounded like a good idea nine months ago. Under a dollar per plate. A short term solution to furnish your first place. They had worked just fine, nothing special. But, it turns out that tempered glass shatters just like you’d expect it to.

There’s a slight limp to the way you’re walking. You don’t feel the pain, but your body still can’t function at full capacity. You know that can’t be good.

Blood spills out onto your skin as quickly as the warm, summer rain can wash it away. The cuts are small, you won’t need medical attention for them. Except for maybe the one on your foot. Walking barefoot in downtown San Diego can’t be doing you any favours there.

You breathe out, a choked whimper as you step barefoot onto a metal bottle cap. Your foot is sore and bloodied, but most importantly — bare. You hadn’t bothered to grab shoes.

Things with Jett had always been fiery. He was so passionate. You were stupid for thinking that that was a good thing.

“Hey!”

Stumbling back a few steps from the edge of the curb, your eyes go wide as you back away from the approaching car. You glance down quickly at your feet, then back up. There’s probably enough adrenaline in your system for you to start running, you’re just not sure how far.

It’s not his car. The realisation is sudden and uplifting, you stop moving and squint as it pulls up to the curb, blinded by its white headlights. The window rolls down and you’re met by a faintly familiar face.

She has dark hair and she’s frowning at you, clearly concerned. Your mind races, trying to determine if she’s safe or not. Jett will come looking and you can’t risk one of his friends —

You take another step back as you realise where you know her from. Bradshaw’s. She works there. Your mouth goes dry as you ready yourself to run again. She reaches for the radio and turns it all the way down, silencing the upbeat pop rock coming from her stereo. Her face scrunches further.

“Are you okay? — Can I call someone for you?”

Natasha stares ahead of her, her heart sinking. You’re wearing pyjama shorts and a t-shirt, both soaked through, your hair sticking to your skin. There’s an edginess to the way you’re looking at her, you’re flighty — terrified. All explained by the blood on your arms, small scratches and bloodied footprints behind you.

You slowly shake your head. Standing on the edge of a busy road, all that you can hear is your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Jett. She’s going to call Jett.

You take a few steps. Her eyes widen. Downtown isn’t the most walkable — or safe — area, and you’re about to take off.

“Hey, hey — it’s okay. I won’t call anyone. I promise.” She calls out. You see her mouth move, but it’s useless trying to understand what she says. You feel nauseous and tired and wide awake all at the same time. A few more stumbling steps back.

She grabs her door handle and slips out of the car, rounding the hood with her palms open and outstretched in front of her, moving slowly. You’re a deer in headlights, heart racing as she slowly approaches you.

The last thing she wants is to lose you down here. This can be a bad spot at night, especially in your condition.

“You’re drenched,” Natasha says softly, brows knitting together in concern. You blink, staring ahead at her. She offers her hand out slowly towards you. “Why don’t you get in the car, okay? — We can figure this out.”

You jolt the second her fingers graze your skin. She doesn’t pull back, not wanting to spook you. Instead, she brushes her thumb gently across the back of your hand and slides her palm loosely into yours.

“Please?”

Next, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of Natasha’s classic mustang, shivering. Out of the cold, it all hits you all at once. The pain in your foot, in your head, in your chest. Natasha exhales softly as you begin to sob. She has a good idea of what must have happened without needing to ask.

Turning the heat up, she turns her head towards you, her features soft.

“Do you need somewhere to stay tonight?”

Natasha is one of three girls, and she has been mocked her entire life for being the least caring, the least maternal of all of them. Her sisters already have kids and husbands who they adore taking care of. Natasha’s a semi-pro female boxer — they’ve never understood her.

But, considering that you know none of that, you’re impressed at how she cares for you. A stranger. She barely even knows your name — only from hearing Jett scream it. You don’t know hers until you’re sitting on the floor in her living room as she digs through her first aid kit for you.

You wake up early the next morning, curled up into a throw pillow on her couch, wearing some clothes that she fished out of the very back of her closet. Your clothes should be dry by now after she had washed them last night.

You lie there for a while, facing her television, thinking of what comes next.

This makes you homeless, you suppose. You’re miles away from family, and you know that Jett will be periodically stopping at your friends’ homes looking for you.

Pushing yourself so that you’re sitting, you exhale softly.

Sitting in her room with a stranger on her couch and the overwhelming need to do something, Phoenix has laid awake most of the night thinking of what to do. By morning, she has decided.

“Hey, Rooster — I need a favour.”

You wipe your cheeks quickly, sniffling at the sound of her feet padding along the hallway towards her living room. Her apartment is small, but you really like it. It’s more feminine than you would have expected for her.

A plush white couch, with a red wine stain hidden under a throw pillow. Courtesy of Javy, who you’ll meet soon enough. Pictures of her, and her friends and family all around. A knitted cat plushy on the corner of the couch. A gift from Bob’s mom.

A white and green theme, with splashes of other colour, passes through the apartment. It’s tidy and meticulously organised. She seems to be kind of a perfectionist. She rounds the corner and slows, reminding herself not to spook you, even though she’s excited by her genius idea.

“Morning, how are you feeling?” She asks softly, stopping in the archway. You offer her a sheepish smile and blink hard, trying to make the tears stop.

“Um, embarrassed.” You breathe out, voice still trembling. Normally you aren’t the kind of person who would be out in the street at two in the morning, barefoot and wild.

Every other emotion remains under the surface. Aching, heartbroken, wounded in more ways than one. Embarrassed is all that you say.

Natasha nods understandingly, pushing her fingers through her hair as she moves to sit on the arm of the couch, crossing her legs under her. “I know you don’t, like, really know me — but, um… I’m not going to be able to sleep if I let you go back to Jett’s place.”

Not after seeing what she saw last night.

“So, I, uh… I talked to Rooster, at the gym, and there’s an apartment above it that… you could stay in for a while. If you wanted.”

Still cut and bruised from last night, your body finally hurts. You’re left with the reality of what happened, and the only option in sight is to lean on a stranger. This isn’t how you pictured things.

You raise your eyebrows, “That’s so kind, but… I can’t. If Jett saw me, or-“

“He’s not welcome in that place. The guys all know it. He won’t be able to come within twenty feet of it without someone sending him packing.”

You don’t have many options. Still, this one sounds risky. She watches as your features scrunch up with uncertainty. Natasha smiles softly and rests her hand against your knee.

“How about you come see it with me? — Just take a look.” She suggests. Staring into her warm brown eyes, you already know that this kind of kindness is a debt you can never repay, and that she is a friend you would be lucky to have.

Again, you’re blinking back tears as you slowly nod your head at her. This time, not because of Jett.

Bradley whistles as he strolls through the door to the gym, an hour late for his shift but not hungover this time. Phoenix is sitting on the counter top by the front desk, talking away with Mickey.

“Children.” Bradley greets calmly, swinging his gym bag off of his shoulder and dropping it behind the desk. He leans his forearms on the counter, in no rush to start working.

“D-Bag.” Fanboy greets playfully, making Natasha laugh.

“Your Mommy still not letting you say real swear words yet, Mick?” Rooster teases, raising his eyebrows. Phoenix laughs again. As much as she could train in places with better reputations, she would miss her boys too much if she left this place.

But she’ll never admit that, their egos are big enough already.

Mickey grins, then flips off Rooster. Rooster winks at him, then turns his attention to Natasha.

“And you — what did I tell you about bringing home strays?” He jokes, referring to the damaged girl sitting alone upstairs in a dusty apartment. Phoenix softens immediately and shakes her head.

“Seriously, you should’ve seen her last night…” She says quietly, shaking her head. Rooster’s brows furrow slightly. “I couldn’t leave her.”

Bradley nods his head. “She’s moving in, then?”

“I’m not sure, she—“ Natasha stops speaking as the door behind the desk opens. Her and Mickey turn quickly. Bradley’s already facing you. You’re wearing clothes that might have been Natasha’s ex-boyfriends, cheeks blotchy from crying, legs covered in scrapes and shoes that are a size too big. You swallow softly.

“Hi…” You whisper. Mickey’s the first to offer you a shy smile. The other two nod in acknowledgement. “Um, Nat, I don’t know if—“

“Take it. Please.” Natasha rushes out. She gets really cranky when she can’t sleep, she’s got a fight coming up and she just really can’t take her nerves being shot like this right now.

You look towards Rooster, unsure. He simply shrugs, not really knowing what you’d like him to say. He’s already in trouble for losing Jett as a client, Mav is going to freak out about them banning him permanently.

“I’ll pay rent.” You decide.

Rooster shrugs his broad shoulders again, “Don’t have to — no one’s been up there since the eighties. It’s a dump.” Mickey turns his head and frowns at his boss. Rooster would make an awful realtor.

“No, I-I’ll pay. And I can help out here, I just — I need to thank you for being so kind to me.” You look at Natasha, sincere. It’s almost a sweet moment. Until Bradley laughs. Every head turns to look at him. Phoenix scowls at him disapprovingly.

He pats the counter and shakes his head, still laughing. “Sorry. Just the thought of you tryin’ to train someone. Don’t worry about that, we’ll take care of things down here.” He doesn’t mean to sound like a douchebag, and somehow he still manages. Mickey wants to kick him.

You swallow, embarrassment burning through you as you nod slowly.

“I’ll get you the keys.” Phoenix decides finally, drawing the attention away from how clueless Bradley has become over the past year. “Come on.”

She didn’t give him the full details, so he doesn’t know what you’ve been through. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t have just laughed in your face and fatally wounded your already crushed confidence. Even then, he might have — Nat isn’t sure.

Rooster hasn’t been in a good place for a while now. For a while, he seemed to be getting better. It fluctuates — this week, he’s an asshole again.

Your new apartment has two entrances. One, the door behind the front desk. This leads you directly into the gym. Your second, is the back door by the kitchen, a set of steel steps that lead down to the back of the building. Behind that is a locked gate that leads out towards the marina. You now have keys for both of those, but not the gym. That seems fair.

It’s mostly exposed brick up there, like the rest of the gym. A few wallpapered walls. Outdated, but you’re not in the space to be picky. Furnished, but also cluttered with the staff’s belongings.

You sit alone on the floor of the place for a while.

The door opens behind you, making you flinch and hurry to your feet. A short, older man with brown hair stands in the doorway with a frown on his face. Maverick. Natasha told you about him.

“Hello.” He says softly, uncertainty in his tone. You echo back a quiet greeting. “You live here now?”

Apparently it’s that simple. You give a small nod.

“Look, you don’t have to pay rent but—“

“I want to.” You interrupt. “Please. I can’t stay here for free.”

Maverick folds his arms over his chest. “Nat said that you’re good with computers.” You squint slightly. You’ve had an office job before, if that means you’re good with computers. Still, you nod.

“Call it a hundred a week if you’ll help me put this place on the line.”

“Online?” You ask gently. Maverick shrugs. It’s all the same to him. Still, four hundred a month — he’s insane. You nod quickly. “Of course. Sure.”

He smiles.

“Nice to meet you. Sorry for busting in, do you mind if I grab my jacket?”

You step quickly out of his way and let him in. So, this is happening.

…

Can't stop looking at this

I’m literally so down bad for haechan it’s 😧😫😵‍💫

being very normal about my fellow finn don’t worry about it

Behind Closed Doors

Bojan Cvjetićanin x fem!reader

masterlist

Chapter One:

A/N: Apologies if I got some of the timeline wrong I'm trying lol. I used Käärijä and his real name Jere interchangeably so if you get confused that's why. Also when they're talking they're obviously talking Finnish irl but I only know some sentences so just pretend 🥴 (Definitions of Finnish words I may use are at the end of the chapter) I still don't know whether to turn this fanfic into a Bojan x reader x Käärijä...help me pls, comment below (I am deranged for them both I'm not sorry)

Being one of Käärijä's dancers for Eurovision 2023 was the best job you could ask for. You and Käärijä, or should I say, Jere, grew up together and have been through thick and thin. Nonetheless, you are still just as close as you were when you were younger.

To say you and Jere were friends would be an understatement. Best friends, sometimes slightly more if you had too much alcohol...It seemed either way Jere would always be the protective one, constantly looking out for you and prioritising your needs (and everyone else's) rather than his own. You would tell him that he had a habit of doing that, yet he would simply shrug it off.

You had the chance to meet a couple of the other contestants before arriving in Liverpool at a pre-party, specifically two nights ago at the Nordic Party, but unfortunately, or fortunately, you cannot remember a single thing from it. Thank you Finnish drinking culture! (Seriously, drink responsibly.)

Currently, the turquoise carpet was happening and Käärijä had finished his short interview which was the cue for you and the other three dancers to join him on the small make-shift stage to pose for the camera.

As soon as he saw you his eyes lit up, finding someone he was familiar with amongst the chaos of not only the carpet event but later on in the entire competition was comforting, and with having to mostly talk English (which he wasn't hugely knowledgeable on) in interviews and with the competitors, only made it more difficult. Despite this he had you and that's the only thing that mattered, and doing well in his performances, of course. You knowing slightly more English helped too...

Embracing you in a side hug was his way of showing he cared for you, for now, words are for later. While you hugged you turned to each other and smiled, both still not believing that you were in this together, at Eurovision!  At this, the camera took its last snap of you two like that. You could certainly foresee it being featured in a video titled "Fave moments of Käärijä and Y/n" or something along those lines.

Once you all began making your way to the carpet your nerves kicked in, something which Jere picked up on and whispered you some words of comfort making you struggle to shake the fuzzy feeling he gave you. Now is not the time to fixate on whether you have feelings for your best friend...

You all moved along the carpet, which consisted of talking to fans and more posing for different cameras.  While Käärijä was distracted with a fan you and the dancers decided to have a mini 'Cha Cha Cha dance moment' in the middle of the carpet for the cameraman to film. He was shifting his attention to you when he heard loud cheering. seeing you leading the dancers at the front, Cha cha cha-ing away, as he does. A laugh escaped you as you noticed him giggling at you out the corner of your eye so you dragged him by the arm to join in before embarrassment kicked in.

"You're already trying to replace me?!" Jere joked as he brought his hands on his hips.

"Maybe. I think I'll make a great Käärijä."

"I think you'll be more of a Juoppo, or better, Kalsarikänni" He teased back resulting in you playfully punching his chest, huffing, crossing your arms and facing away from him. From the corner of your eye, you thought you noticed him gazing at you for a little longer than normal but you brushed it off...

Of course, the cameras couldn't get enough of this. Another moment to add to that video!

****

After the carpet event, a few contestants were at a small bar table nearby, wanting to meet some other contestants.

You all had been there for around twenty minutes and the dancers had already left to get another drink leaving you and Käärijä to enjoy the last of your drinks together before planning on joining conversations with fellow opponents around you when a band had come over to the bar t order drinks.

"I think that's the guy I saw at the party!" Jere turned to you with a glimmer in his eye before waving and catching the man in question's attention. You followed his gaze and your heart skipped a beat. He had a black sequined flowing shirt on that made him sparkle in the light and complimented his dark blond locks, and you had to admit, he was nice to look at. Most importantly he was very familiar. Had you seen him at the party? You couldn't quite remember...

You hadn't had time to think about anything else as you noticed the man striding over, forcing you to take a sharp breath in, primarily because you were worried you were going to make a fool of yourself which left you to also mentally curse Jere for putting you in these ridiculous neon pink outfits and blinding white fake teeth and orange tan that gave uncanny valley to anyone who looked at you for longer than five seconds.

"Hey, I'm Bojan, singer of the Slovenian act, 'Joker Out'...We saw each other at the party!" He smiled at you both as you started to just about recognise him from the first time you and Jere met him at the party.

"Yes yes, Joker-man!" Jere joked in remembrance, making Bojan laugh and at that moment you thought you were dreaming. Hearing his voice again without the loud party music was nice but hearing his laugh? That was heavenly.

Jere finally (officially) introduced you to him. "This is Y/n, remember?" The man shook your hand. Your nerves were slightly eased when none of your fake tan left any marking on him, although they came right back as he spoke. Now you knew he was not only hot but had a pleasant voice too. All you had left was to hear his singing voice...

"Yes! I remember!" Bojan eagerly replied. You noticed a tinge of redness appear on his cheeks and hoped he was just feeling hot, as he physically does anyway, and not because of a recollection of something embarrassing at the party (that you still could not remember any major details of...) Deep down you knew the latter was probably true yet tried to keep yourself calm and collected.

"Good to see you again," You lied, wishing you were saying the right thing. What if you had done something stupid and now you're saying it's good to see him again? What if this isn't good?! Is it good? It must be. He is being nice to you after all...

Your thoughts were interrupted as the rest of Joker Out came over and once again said how great the party was...Even they had memories of it and they weren't even invited!

Leaving you and Bojan alone, Käärijä and the other boys began steering away, closer to a table by some other contestants the boys wanted to introduce Käärijä to.

"Hey, remember that drinking game we played at the party? That was fun..." Bojan trailed off, speaking of a moment that must have happened at the party.

"Oh...yeah! That was so fun!" You lied again, having no idea what he was talking about. Oh god, what if you had kissed him and not remembered...

Almost like an angel, Jere began walking back over with two drinks in hand, clearly seeing what you needed. Or he was sabotaging you because at this point you were ready to leave your Finnish roots behind and vow never to drink again, seeing the circumstances.

Before leaving to join the others Bojan leaned over and whispered into your ear.  "You don't remember anything at all, do you?" At that, he simply walked away, leaving you standing there even more confused...and concerned.

"Smooth." Jere had obviously heard the last of your conversation with Bojan and sent a smug smile your way.

You weren't sure but had Jere sensed the tension or were you going crazy?  Guilt was filling you up now. How could you not remember the Nordic party? You Nordics are known for liking a drink but not remembering anything, at all, is a new low even for you. Even in Käärijä's view. That hasn't happened since you were a teenager, he would know.

You felt like Jere was not telling you something or maybe he thought you had remembered what happened already... Again, you had no time to think, which was a typical thing lately much to your hatred, because a young woman around your age approached you. "Hi, I'm Alessandra! You're Y/n, right? I saw you at the Nordic party!" She smiled. Ah, yes, the party you barely could remember. As if you needed any more reminding.

"Hi! Good to see you again." You could lie for the whole world at this rate.

Alessandra introduced you and brought you over to the table where Joker Out and Käärijä were as well as the last few people who were at the bar; Luke Black who was representing Serbia and Alika who was representing Estonia. You got along well with them and you all decided to plan a get-together where tomorrow you'd all hang out at a café nearby and everyone was so excited about it! You were too, but, after that interesting interaction with Bojan, you were nervous to say the least.

As time passed the bar became quieter and quieter as they began leaving to go site-seeing, and back at the hotel, the day turned into night.

Even though you were sad to do so, even with Jere protesting otherwise, you both knew you leaving him to have an early night was for the best. To him, he assumed you were tired but you knew the only way you could escape from all the confusing and slightly flirty looks from Jere and Bojan was the comfort of your hotel room which was overwhelming at this point.

Taking a nice hot bath would surely do the trick of ridding your mind of not only them but also the stress of the competition...Until you had a vision, of yourself in a sauna. Kaarija's sauna. A pleasant steaming sauna with two other figures sat close to you. Bojan and Jere. Then it vanished away like a dream.

What was that supposed to mean?

****

While you clambered into bed for the night in your hotel room you tried to rest but something was keeping you awake, or someone, orrather two people. That bath did nothing but further confuse you!

Maybe watching Joker Out's interview from the carpet event would (worsen) help you... At that, you flipped over to your right side where your bedside table was and grabbed your phone, opened Youtube and the first thing to come up was the video in question. Seems like even your phone knows something's up.

The first was the official interview by the two hosts of the Turquoise Carpet. It opened with the usual questions like "How are you finding it all?" and "Do you like Liverpool?"    Although, as the interview progressed it built up to "Have you been anywhere you like?"

The band responded with site-seeing places like The Cavern Club where The Beatles performed but to you, the most important place was the Nordic Party..."Okay, that wasn't too bad," you thought to yourself.

The next video was by one of the reporters who was one of many along the Turquoise carpet and you thought it couldn't get any worse...but it did. The question that stuck out the most to you was "Which contestant would you rather get stuck in a sauna with?" which caused the band to erupt in laughter.

Luckily, while the video was being recorded earlier that day, you and Käärijä and the other dancers were further along or had left the carpet by then, otherwise, the answer they gave would have probably provoked anyone within reach to ask you about: "I think I've already done that already..."  Bojan hesitated yet finished the sentence; "...with two people here already..."

He then had the cheek to mutter under his breath: "Someone close to Käärijä." Bojansmirked and the rest of the band giggled. If you weren't slick you wouldn't have caught it but it looked like Jan said something under his breath to Bojan...something that looked to be your name.

So, in conclusion, that 'vision' you had in the bath was in fact, a memory.

Well, fuck.

****

A/N:

Juoppo = drunkard.

Kalsarikänni = getting drunk in your underwear at home. (I still find it so funny they have a  word for this...I love Finnish😭)

ALSO THE DRAMA, GUYS, THE DRAMAAAA!!!

Please reblog if you enjoyed! Thanks!