itsyassbitch

[itsyassbitch]

peter hayes x former amity????? love your writing btw!!

too | peter hayes

you kept your distance because you knew you couldn't have him.

peter hayes. a name that dripped with trouble and cruelty, someone most people either feared or hated, and yet, your heart continued to betray you. you were born in amity, raised to be peaceful, taught to love without complication, and customed to avoid conflict. yet here you were, falling for a boy who represented against everything you were taught to avoid.

it was irrational. stupid, even. you told yourself that every day. this is wrong. he's wrong for you. but there was something about the way he moved, how he spoke so confidently, and maybe the shade of his hair that drew you in. you hated that about yourself. it was like watching a storm from the safety of your home—dangerous and destructive, yet oddly mesmerising. you thought it was ridiculous how some aesthetic attraction you had for a boy could lead you to question everything you were brought up on.

"you're being an idiot, you know," christina had said once, not unkindly, but blunt as always. you were sitting in the cafeteria with her and tris, the two of them chatting about training, gossip, the usual. you, of course, had been caught staring at peter again from across the room. you couldn't help it; even when you tried. your eyes always found him without effort.

tris nudged you lightly, her small smile sympathetic but cautious. "yeah, she's right. you should just... let it go. it's peter. he's not worth it."

and you knew that. logically, they were right. peter wasn't the kind of guy you should want. but you believed that logic never had anything to do with the heart. logic didn't stop your heart from racing every time he glanced your way, or your stomach from fluttering when his lips quirked into that sly grin of his.

regardless, you listened to them—tris and christina. you kept your distance and kept quiet. but while your mind understood that peter hayes was off-limits, it didn't stop your heart from dreaming about all the ways you could have had him.

choosing dauntless had come with its own set of challenges. other than peter hayes. your kindness, your softness, wasn't something people there valued. dauntless celebrated strength, ferocity, and bravery. and sure, you had learned how to fight, how to defend yourself, but your core remained the same. soft. caring.

people noticed, of course. it wasn't hard to ignore the way you'd check up on others after a particualrly rough sparring session, or the way you'd always seem to hold back any time you had to fight anyone competitively.

you rarely fought back during petty arguments, never raised your voice. you didn't fit in the way you were supposed to, but that didn't mean you weren't respected. people admired you quietly, in their own way. you knew it wasn't loud praise or direct acknowledgment, but you caught the way some of the others softened when they spoke to you, or how they didn't mind standing by your side during sessions. many must have thought you were too gentle for dauntless, but that gentleness had earned you a quiet kind of respect.

peter was one of those people. or at least, you thought he was. it was hard to tell with him. he never outright said anything to you—never mocked you like he did with others. but then again, he never talked to you in general. more than anything, he avoided you. it was subtle, the way he slipped out of rooms when you entered or how he always seemed to position himself at the far end of the group. he wasn't cruel to you the way he was to others, but he wasn't kind either.

however, it hurt the most when you overheard al saying that peter was always adamant about changing the subject whenever you were brought up.

you hadn't meant to eavesdrop. it wasn't something you normally did, but you were passing by the dormitory when you heard al's voice, low and serious, drifting from the open door. you paused, half-hidden behind the wall, just out of sight, when you caught your name.

"yeah, i don't get it," al was saying, sounding confused. "every time we talk about her, peter shuts it down. like, he doesn't want to hear it. gets all weird about it, like he doesn't care or something."

your stomach twisted, a sharp ache settling in your chest. you pressed your back against the wall, trying to steady your breath. he didn't care. you had suspected it before, of course, but hearing it confirmed like this—so casual, like it was just a known fact—hurt more than you wanted to admit.

you figured it was because he saw you as a non—threat. someone too soft, too insignificant to bother with. and maybe that was for the best. keeping your distance meant you could admire him from afar without getting hurt.

"he's staring at you again," christina muttered one day, her voice low as she leaned across the table, her eyes flicking over to where peter sat with a group of initiates. you were about to protest, thinking you misheard her and that she meant that you were staring again. but you hadn't been looking his way this time—not intentionally—but the moment she said it. you felt the familiar pull in your chest. a stupid, traitorous part of you wanted to glance back, to see if it was true. that he was looking at you.

but you didn't. you kept your eyes fixed on your plate, stabbing at the food in front of you like it was suddenly very interesting. "he's probably just plotting something," you said, trying to keep your tone light, dismissive.

"yeah, well, if he is, it must be takin' him quite some time," christina laughed. she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, a curious glint in her eyes. "he's been doing that a lot lately."

tris, ever observant, raised an eyebrow. "you noticed that too?"

your heart skipped a beat.

"it's probably nothing," you mumbled, a little too quickly. "peter doesn't care about me. he barely even looks at me."

"uh-huh," christina smirked, clearly not buying it. "sure. keep telling yourself that."

you didn't reply. what could you even say? you knew for a fact that peter didn't like you. he couldn't. not with the way he acted, the way he seemed to avoid being near you. if anything, he was probably just irritated by your presence. you were an anomaly to him, someone who didn't fit neatly into the world he created for himself. an annoyance that he couldn't get rid of.

still, a small, foolish part of you couldn't help but wonder what if. what if peter wasn't avoiding you because he disliked you? what if it was something else entirely?

days passed, and you continued to keep your distance. it wasn't hard. peter made sure of that. he rarely spoke to you, and when he did, it was curt, to the point. he never lingered, never allowed for more than necessary. but there was something strange in the way his eyes flicked toward you when he thought you weren't looking, how he stiffened slightly when your shoulders brushed by accident during training, how his eyes would dart between yours and your lips when you spoke.

you told yourself it didn't matter. even if there was something more behind his actions, it wasn't your place to find out. not when you knew how dangerous he could be, not just to others, but to yourself. because the truth was, if you let him in, he had the potential to destroy you in ways you couldn't even fathom.

and then, one night, everything changed.

you were in the training room late, the others having already left for the night. it was quiet, the dim lighting casting shadows across the floor. you liked the solitude, the peace that came from being alone in a place that was usually full of noise and chaos. it reminded you of your old home, of the calmness that amity had offered. dauntless was far from it.

you didn't expect anyone else to be there. least of all peter.

you had just finished practicing a round of punches against the bag when you heard the door creak open. you froze, your breath catching in your throat as you turned. there he was, standing in the doorway, his dark eyes locking onto yours the moment he stepped inside.

your heart thudded painfully in your chest. "peter," you breathed, the sound of his name foreign and shaky on your tongue. you hadn't been alone with him in... you couldn't even remember how long. and now, with no one else around, the tension in the air felt suffocating.

he didn't say anything at first, just stared at you, his expression unreadable, almost debating. then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

"why are you here?"

his tone wasn't accusatory, but it wasn't friendly either. you wiped the sweat from your brow, trying to keep your voice steady. "just... practising. why are you here?"

he shrugged, his gaze flicking away from you for a brief moment before settling back. "same."

there was an awkward silence that followed. you didn't know what to do, didn't know how to handle being alone with him. you had always been so careful, so diligent about avoiding moments like this. but now, with no one else around, you could feel every suppressed feeling bubbling up inside you.

and then, out of nowhere, peter's voice cut through the quiet.

"why do you look at me like that?"

you blinked, caught off guard by the question. "what?"

"don't play dumb," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "you think i don't notice? every time. you look at me like..." he trailed off, his jaw tightening, like he was angry at himself for even bringing it up.

your stomach dropped. you had tried so hard to be subtle, to hide it. but of course, peter had noticed. he noticed everything. "i don't—" you began to deny it, but the words felt hollow, false.

peter took a step closer, his voice low, as if he were sharing a secret meant only for you. "i didn't want to love you, you know." his eyes locked onto yours, intense and unwavering, holding you in place.

"isn't that what this is about?" he asked, his tone sharper now, frustration creeping in. "if you don't like me, you don't have to be all amity about it."

the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet, his words crackling in the air like electricity. your breath caught in your throat, heart pounding as your mind raced to catch up. love? you could barely process anything beyond that.

"w-what?" you stammered, feeling foolish for not hearing anything else he'd said. the butterflies in your stomach fluttered wildly, your pulse quickening as his closeness made everything else fade away. nothing seemed real except for him—standing just inches from you, his words still echoing in your ears.

he ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, like he was fighting some internal battle he couldn't win. his jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might just turn and leave. but instead, he continued, his voice rougher, more raw. "it's not like i wanted to like you," he said, his words stumbling out like he'd been holding them back for too long. "but then you smiled at me. and—holy shit, i blew it."

you blinked, trying to take in what he was saying, but before you could respond, he barreled on, clearly on edge. "and now you look at me like you hate me. i mean, why wouldn't you? everyone else does. i've been a total asshole, but at least they've got the guts to show it. but you—you're too... too nice to show it." his voice softened for a moment, the vulnerability in his eyes surprising you. "so, now you're just pretending to be nice, pretending to not hate me by staying away from me. but i need you to know, i didn't want this. i didn't want to like you, but now—"

he broke off, frustration radiating off him, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "now i can't stop thinking about you, and it's driving me crazy." he really didn't want you to hate him.

you stood there, your heart swelling at the sight of him—peter hayes, always so tough and unfeeling—so undone in front of you. he thought you hated him? the idea almost made you laugh, but instead, a warmth spread through you, something gentle and tender.

without thinking, you let out a soft laugh, the sound surprising even you. his eyes snapped to yours, confusion flashing across his face. "what? what's so funny?"

"you," you said softly, stepping closer, your fingers hesitantly reaching up to cup his face, the warmth of his skin against your palms making your heart race. his breath hitched, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his defensive walls—he was flustered.

his eyes widened, his tough demeanor faltering as he stood frozen under your touch. instinctively, he brought his hands to your hips, shy and uncertain.

you smiled, feeling more at ease now, more sure of yourself. "i love you too, hayes," you whispered, keeping him close, your thumbs brushing lightly across his cheeks and you couldn't help but admire the way his eyes smile before his lips.

for a moment, he just stared at you, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased, his lips parting slightly as he exhaled a shaky breath.

"you do?" he asked, his voice almost vulnerable, the usual bite gone.

and just like that, the walls he'd built so high around himself crumbled.

you nodded, your voice soft. "i do."

[itsyassbitch]

I'm not just a bitch, I'm a bitch with a backstory

[itsyassbitch]

Heart Of Texas - J.Seresin

Synopsis: While in Texas for your best friends bachelorette trip, the last thing you expect to find is the green eyed cowboy in the bar. Or to find him again months later.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader.

Warnings: 18+, swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of the deed, soft jake(warning in himself really) , uh drunk marriage? not sure what to label that.

Authors Note: hi! i'm alive! I have had this draft for... MONTHS! I have not had much motiviation but upon it being hot glen summer. I'm here with my favorite green eyed boo.

The sun was shining bright through the soft gray curtains, causing you to squint. The silk sheets were soft against your skin. Rolling over in the King sized bed, you groan.

A night of bar hopping in the heart of Austin was probably not the smartest idea but the bride to be got what she wanted for her bachelorette party, her words playing on loop,

“I want to go to Austin and have a good time before I’m a married woman” .

The groan beside you pulls you from your thoughts, looking over beside you, gasping. You pull the sheet to cover your body, pulling yourself away from him and against the wall. “Oh my god” you whisper with a shake of your head.

Moving further against the wall and away from the man as he slowly woke up. Looking him up and down you take him in, he was tall, his feet hung off the bed slightly. His tanned skin and the small freckles adorned his chest, soft blonde hairs residing there. Once he opens his eyes, you note the soft green of his irises.

“What the hell?” he groans, hand falling to his forehead.

Then he looks over at you. You look like a deer in the headlights looking at him. Under his gaze, you can’t help but to pull the sheet tighter against your chest, less of his body being covered.

“Who are you?!” you whisper-yell. “Uh- My name's Jake” he chuckles, sitting up to push his body against the headboard. “Okay but why are you in my hotel room?” you ask.

He looks around the room, noticing the clothes scattered on the floor. "I think um” he rubs the back of his neck.

“I think we may have slept together Sugar” his drawl was soft, his voice deep and still riddled with sleep. 

“I think I can gather that '' you mumble, rubbing your eyes. The coldness of metal against your face pulls your hand away. “Oh-” looking down at your hand, then back at the man in front of you, who you now know is Jake. “what is it?” he asks from the end of the bed, looking back at you over his shoulder.

Holding your left hand up to him, you wiggle the small dainty band on your ring finger.

“Oh shit” his face pales, looking down at his own left hand, a simple band adored his own ring finger. “We’re fucking married” you mumble, pushing the sheet off your body to stand.

Grabbing your panties, you begin to pace the hotel room. “Dude, how the hell did we get married?!” you ask, looking at Jake. He chuckles with a shake of his head, hands on his knees. “FIrst of all, please put your tits away” rolling your eyes, you grab the first shirt in sight, buttoning it to look at him. “Please explain! What do you remember?” with your hands on your hips, he sighs. “Not more than you do,” he admits. “Just fuckin dandy” you mumble, pushing a hand through your hair.

“I must say, I do remember alot of shots, '' he admits, it causes you to chuckle. “I can’t believe this is happening right now” pacing infront of Jake, he sighs. “It’s okay, those marriages are never even legit, not legally” he admits, pulling his boxers on, standing infront of you. Stopping your pacing, he grabs your shoulders. “It’s alright Sugar” he smirks.

Rolling your eyes you push his hand off you. “It’s alright to you..” trailing off, you look at the floor infront of you, “Jake” he hums in response. You pick up the piece of paper infront of you.

“Certficate of Marriage'' you hold it out to him.

“Legally, I am now your wife” he rips the paper out of your hands, looking it over. “Oh shit” he looks back up at you then down to the paper. He goes to speak, knocking on the other side of the door stopping him.

Widening your eyes, looking around the room, you sigh. “Okay big guy” he goes to protest as you shove him into the bathroom quickly shutting the door before he can protest.

As the bathroom door shuts, your hotel room door opens. “Why did I think you should have a key?” you sigh. Your best friends are all making their way into the hotel room.

“Safety, I have all the room keys” Laura, bride to be smirks. She sits down on the bed, looking around the room.

“Are you okay?” she asks, looking at you with a smile. “I’m fine” you are lying through your teeth. “Are you okay?” you look at your best friend Wanda as she has a small smile.

“She texted Bradley at least 200 times last night, they’ve talked twice this morning” Laura says, looking between you and her friend with a deadpan look in her eyes.

“She’s in love” you admit with a grin. “I’m the one getting married!” Laura defends with a laugh. Wanda turns her gaze to you, “How are you standing?” she asks, you raise a brow. “What do you mean?” you ask, “You had a wild night” Allison says from beside you.

“What do you mean?” she chuckles, “you were all over that guy, he was so into you” Jake smirks from behind the door, listening to the conversation between you girls.

"oh really?” you ask as she nods. “I don’t remember his name but you guys hit it off..” she smirks looking around the hotel room. “You slept with him!” Wanda stands, pointing at you. “Okay” holding your hands up in surrender, you look between your group of friends.

“I remember nothing, um” you blush, knowing he had to be listening. “The sex was phenomenal okay?” The room cheers, Jake's smirk grows behind the bathroom door.

“You guys really were all over each other '' Laura nods, grinning. “Here, look'' she's pulling her phone out, showing you the photos. The night coming back to you, one photo at a time.

The music pounded through the speakers of the club. “I can’t believe that in two weeks I’ll be married!” Laura yells beside you, dancing with her own drink in hand. You smirk, sipping from your glass.

“In two weeks time we’ll be looking at Mrs.Machado!” you yell, the rest of the group cheering. “Oh! I love this song! C’mon!” You are pushed out onto the dance floor with your best friends. “Get Low” by lil John played through the speakers, singing loudly as you swayed your hips.

“Ohhhh (Y/N)! He is totally eye-fucking you!” looking over at Wanda, who sends a nod to the tall blonde at the bar. The same blonde who bought the drink you were currently nursing. He winks. Being the only single friend in the group made this a common occurrence.

You smirk, pointing to him as he smirks. Pointing to himself, you nod, motioning him over. Pushing your drink into the hands of poor Allison who was just trying to nurse her own hands.

You take his hand, pulling him away from the group of girls. “You know it’s rude to stare” you smirk, he shrugs, hands on your hips as he pulls you into his chest. Back to his chest, you didn't hesitate to grind your hips against his.

You feel his chest rumble, his chuckle against your ear. “Not that I see you complaining Sugar'' resting your hands on top of his, you continuing to grind against him.

“Neither is he!” you smirk, he couldn’t even be embarrassed as he knew you referring to his hard length that continued to poke your ass. 

Laura stopped on the last photo of the two of you, it looked like it was straight from a prono. “Oh” you nod, looking at her with a blush.

“I’m gonna assume that” Allison points at your shirt with a smirk, “is not yours”. The blush now made its way up your cheeks to your ears. “No,” shaking your head, you bite your lip.

“Allison owes me $20” Laura smirks, sitting down on the bed beside your best friends. You gasp, “You placed bets?!” the girls laugh. “I knew you’d go home with him, he couldn’t keep his hands off you” the night was coming back to Jake as he continued to sober up.

“Anyways” Wanda grins, “Get cleaned up and we’ll see you downstairs for brunch in an hour” you nod, smiling. “Okay, I’ll see you guys then” they all send you a wink on their way out of the door, you sigh as the door closes behind them.

“You can come out now” Jake makes his way from the bathroom. “They’re fun,” he smirks. You send him a glare, running a hand through your hair. “Sorry” he smiles. “What are we gonna do?” looking up at him, he can’t help but look you over.

You were gorgeous. The whole reason the night ended the way it did. “Well I have to head back to California in about 4 hours,” he admits, hand on his hips.

“California?” you ask as he nods, looking at you. “We’re from California” he chuckles, a weird coincidence. “Here” he picks his phone up from the floor, holding it out to you.

“Sounds like you will be busy so” he smirks, looking at the deadpand look on your face. “Give me your number and when we both have the time, we can see a lawyer” nodding slowly, you take the phone from his hands. Putting your number in, holding it back out to him.

“I did have a good time, from what I remember” he admits, sending you a quick text so you could save his own phone number. “It was also your idea to get married” gasping, you snap your head up to look at him.

“It was not!” you defend as he shakes his head, pulling his pants on. “It was Sugar” he smirks, hand on his hips.

He stood in just his pants, shirtless in your hotel room. He had a small tattoo on his pec, you just now noticed. “It’s my niece's handwriting,” he admits. You can’t help the smile that makes its way on your lips.

It was the only tattoo Jake Seresin put on his tanned skin.

You are getting yourself dressed, feeling him stare at you. “Can I help you?” he chuckles, “can I have my shirt?” he asks. You blush, unbuttoning the shirt to hold back out to him. “Thanks” you nod, turning back to him as you finish pulling the clothes from the night before back on.

“I’ll give you a call in like, a week or so?” he asks as you nod. “Uh, give me like a month, my best friend get’s married here in a few weeks” he nods, smiling. “No problem, I have a wedding myself” you smile, your own mind drifting to see him in a black tux.

“Okay” he makes his way to the door, “Jake” he stops, looking over his shoulder to you.

“Have a safe flight” he smiles, sending you another wink. “You too” 

+

A week later, you received a text from Jake. You never expected to hear from him until he was ready for a lawyer.

UNKOWN: Hey, You make it back okay?

You had to admit, you originally didn’t want to save his phone number, but you decided then, it was best to save it. You had nicknames for everyone, it was a love language for you, Jake getting his own.

You smirk as you save the nickname “Hungman”, for obvious reasons. 

YOU: I made it okay, how about you?

He smiled, he didn’t truly expect a response. He also saved a nickname for you in his phone, “Sugar” because you were just so sweet.

“Does it fit?!” Laura is knocking on the door, pushing it open to see you in the Lavendar dress she chose for you. “Oh, (Y/N) you look stunning!”  smiling at her in the mirror, turning to face her. “Are you sure?” she nods, helping you out of the room. “I love it” you smile, spinning on the small platform.

The week was leading to wedding preparations for the soon to be Mrs.Machado.

Including dress fittings to be sure the dresses from two months ago still were perfect. “Why are you so smiley?” Allison asks, smirking.  You shrug, looking at yourself in the mirror. “I bet she was texting Mr.Texas” Wanda smirks.

The group had given Jake his own nickname. “Jake just texted to make sure we all made it back okay” she coos, “how sweet,he was concerned about you” you smile.  Maybe he was, you werent sure.

You didn’t want to look into it too much. The way you didn’t want to just yet take the delicate gold band off your left ring finger. They had yet to notice it, you found no harm in keeping it on for the next week.

“The man, the myth , the legend!” Coyote shouts, standing from the chair at The Hard Deck. Jake smirks, holding his hands out in pride. “I’ve arrived” he chuckles, hugging his best friend. “Did you have a good trip home?” Fanboy asks beside him as he sits down. He thinks back, the gold band sitting against his chest. He didn’t want to destory it with work, opting to put it with his dog tags.

“Of course I did,” he smirks. “Back just in time for the wedding” Javy sits across from him, handing him the beer. “Did you get laid?” Payback lets curiosity get the best of him. “Of course he did” his best friend answers for him, Jake smirks. “Bradshaw!” Jake looks up at the mention of Bradley, smiling at him and then his girlfriend, Wanda. “Sorry guys, I had to go pick her up” he smiles at the redhead beside him. She waves, sitting down beside Javy.

“Hey guys” her smile is warm. Jake knew that her and Bradley were made for the other. “I’ll go get drinks baby, I’ll be back” he kisses her head, walking to the bar. “How was the trip?” Coyote asks, she smirks. “So good! I will be going back to Texas again” she smiles, “I missed Brad though so” Payback gags from his seat.

“Stop” Fanboy slaps him. The group all have significant others except Hangman. Javy had his fiance Laura, Bradley had Wanda and Mickey had Allison. Payback had a girlfriend but it was far from being serious.

Phoenix and Bob both had already been married before even coming back to Top Gun. The group had yet to meet their spouses. “Here baby” Rooster sits back down, looking at the group.

“Cap” he nods to Jake, a smirk on his face as he sips his beer. Captain Jake “Hangman” Seresin. He smirks behind his own beer. “Rooster” Wanda smiles at Hangman and the rest of the aviators.

She’s leaning over beside Javy, showing him pictures of his soon to be wife and her friends. He feels his phone buzz in his pocket. Pulling it out, he can’t help but smile.

Sugar: I found this on my phone, thought you may like it. 

Attached was a photo of the two of you, a selfie of cake frosting smeared on both of your faces. He smiles, hearting the photo and saving it to his camera roll.

He didn’t want to admit his “wife” was becoming just that to him.

His wife.

“What’s got you smiling?” Mickey asks, he shrugs. “Is it the girl you slept with?!” Jake sighs, looking at his group of friends. “You slept with somebody?” Rooster asks, as he nods. “I can’t say I’m surprised” he mumbles, Jake sending him a look.

“I did,” he nods, looking at his friends. “And you kept in contact with her?” Javy smirks, looking at his best friend. Well of course I did, we’re married is what he wanted to say, instead he smiles.

“I did,” the group cheers.

“Maybe the hangman is finally getting himself a lady!” he can’t help the blush that makes its way to his ears. The bar began filing in with the rest of the group's spouses, Laura first. “Gentleman” she smiles, sitting down beside Javy. Laura was also a pilot, just now an instructor at Top Gun. Then filed in Allison who sat beside Mickey.

Payback leaving to go pick up his new girlfriend Lily. “I think this is my que to go” Jake sighs, pulling cash from his pocket as he tosses it onto the table. “Oh Hangman” Laura shakes her head, frowning.

“You don’t have to go,” he shakes his head, standing from his seat. “I have some much needed sleep to catch up on” he lies through his teeth. He hated being the odd man out of the group.

He waved goodbye, making his way out of the hard deck, his mind drifting back to you. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he sighs at the text from Javy.

Javy: Don’t let it beat you up man, you will find that someone soon, maybe at the wedding!

The continuous buzzing of your phone causes you to groan.

You knew the minute that group chat was created it was gonna be nothing more than a headache.

Ally: I think (Y/N) should go on a date with Hangman.

Wanz: I agree! The poor guy left because he was the only single one.

Lars: He’s a really down to earth man (Y/N)! Once you get past the cocky exterior. 

Y/N: Can you guys not play matchmakers right now? I did really hit it off with Jake, remember?

Ally: He's in Texas ! You never know, your soulmate is right there, in Hangster. 

Wanz: Bradley said he really is nice and you guys would be so cute together.

You give up then, muting the notifications and tossing the phone back on the counter beside you. They meant well, knowing you just wanted to get back out there after your break up.

You groan at the buzzing of your phone again, picking it up ready to block whoever's number for the night.

Stopping short at the message, the ellipses follow. 

Hungman: Goodnight, Is it weird to text you goodnight? 

Another message following

Hungman: Thought that's what married couples do so why not?

You smile. Jake felt his chest tighten, he was thanking whoever above that you had read receipts on. 

Sugar: Goodnight Jake, We did drunkenly get married remember? My idea apparently. 

A smile on his lips, he replies quickly.

Hungman: I mean, I didn’t have to agree to it. You clearly wanted to marry me though. I mean look at me.

The ellipses follow a few times, going in and out before one final message. 

Sugar: I remember now you felt that way about me Mr. ;). Goodnight. 

-

The week was over before you could blink. Wedding prep was extremely stressful, in ways that made you happy to just be a bridesmaid.

“(Y/N)!” you fix the skirt on your body as you walk to the table, smiling at the group. “Bradley Bradshaw '' you smirk, kissing his cheek and making it around the table. Hugging the group as you sit down beside Allison and Mickey.

You loved the group of Aviators. Bradley was originally your friend first, then the group followed. “What is that?” Mickey asks, pointing to your hand. You look to where he was pointing, your heart dropped.

In the weeks you had been home from Texas, you did the very most to hide the wedding band. “(Y/N)” Javy’s voice is stern, looking at you with curious eyes. “What?” you say, pulling your hand off the table quickly. He’s faster, reaching over the table to stop you.

“Oh my god!” Wanda sits up in her seat. “You married Mr.Texas didnt you?!” she points, looking between the group. Slouching back in the seat, you pull your hand away from Javy. 

“Mr.Texas?” Mickey asks, chuckling. “She met a guy in Texas, they left. I just assumed they slept together but-” Allison smirks, looking at you. “That's where you snuck off to! You guys got married!” She's laughing. “This is not about me” you speak up, looking at Laura. She smiles, winking at you.

“This is about in less than a week, these two” you point to Laura and Javy “will be married!”.

The conversation now shifted to the wedding. You felt your blood pressure finally even out. You knew you should’ve taken the ring off. 

 In the last two weeks you shared lots of photos and texts with your husband, well Jake. He shared his own photos, asking you about your day. It was all things you were not used to.

Dating in a place so full of Naval Pilots was hard, it was not your type as it was your friends.

Having enough Navy friends, you were shunned off piolts. The group continued mumbling between themselves as you sipped your wine. Your phone then rang, furrowing your brows as you pulled it out.

Why was he calling you? Standing, Bradley notices first. He takes the hand closest to him as you pass. “Where you goin?” he asks, a gentle smile on his face.

“Uh, Jake is calling me, I just want to make sure he’s okay” his brain calculated what you said, before he put together Mr.Texas was Jake. “Okay” he smiles, giving your hand a squeeze.

“I’ll be back” you smile, walking outside quickly. “Hello?” he sighs, “thank god”. You frown, “Jake are you alright?” he smiles.

“Yeah, I just wanted to hear your voice” he admits, you can’t help the smile that grows on your lips.

“You know I am having dinner with my friends tonight” he chuckles. “I know I got the photos you sent, I just- I don’t know I wanted to say hi” he smiles.

He didn’t want to admit that he was starting to feel things for you. “Jake” you chuckle, looking in the window at your friends, none the wiser.

“I just wanted to talk to my wife” your heart starts beating harder in your chest. “You wanted to talk to your wife huh?” he smirks, it sounded even better when it came from your lips. “Yeah, I just want to say” he clears his throat.

“Have a fun evening, please text me once you make it home” you chuckle. “That's very Husband-y of you” he smirks. “I am a husband, your husband”  you blush.

“Okay Mr.Seresin, I will text you when I get home” he smirks,  “I also sent you some money if you need, Mrs.Seresin” it felt odd, but in a good way as legally, you were Mrs.Seresin.

“Jake,” he scoffs. “Nope, as a husband I am taking care of my wife, now go have fun” he blows a kiss over the speaker, hanging up before you can protest. You sigh with a smile. Typing out a quick text.

Sugar: Thank you, Husband. I appreciate you <3.

He can’t help the grin on his lips, looking over the text. He wouldn’t hate the idea of actually being a husband. The lawyer was the last thing on his mind. Making your way back inside, smiling at the text.

Hungman: No problem, Wife. Have a fun evening, talk later <3.

-

Wedding day had finally arrived, looking around the room, you sigh. “Where the hell is Laura?” you ask, standing in the suite with Allison and Wanda.

“I have no idea” you sigh, shaking your head. You knew she was not getting cold feet. “I’ll be right back” shutting the door behind you, you walk down the hallway with the bottom of your dress in hand.

Turning the corner you stop. Javy and Laura, both standing on the patio together. You clear your throat, both looking like deer in the headlights.

“This is not tradition” you say, arms crossed and brow raised. “I’m sorry” Laura smiles, hand locking with her now soon to be husband.

“Get back in the room, you have to get ready” she nods, kissing Javy one last time before she’s pushing past you.

Following her down the hallway as she got steps ahead of you. “Can’t believe you pulled me away from my husband” she gruffs, jokingly of course as you smile behind her. “I’m sorry miss, “I want a traditional wedding’” you throw the air quotes out to her.

She shakes her head, pushing into the room accompanied by the rest of your friend group and parents.

“I’ll be right back” you send her a reassuring smile, walking away from the room. It was hitting you a lot harder today that you were again only a bridesmaid and never a bride.

You tried hard not to mess up the makeup the lovely artist did trying to avoid the tears rolling down your cheeks. In the process, you don't notice the person in front of you, running into a hard chest. Soft hands catching you from falling, “woah there”.

Your whole body tenses, you knew that voice.

You look up to meet the same green eyes you had been thinking about for weeks. “Jake?” his hands remain on your shoulders. “(Y/N)?” his voice going up an octave in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as he looks you over, the lavender dress looks beautiful on you, “why are you crying?”.

You sniffle, shaking your head, “no answer my question first” he chuckles at your stubbornness. "My best friend is getting married today to his fiance, Laura” you gasp.

“Oh my god” you move from his arms, chuckling. “You are Hangman!” you point as his smirk grows wider.

“Javy’s best friend from top gun, oh my god” he nods sucking his teeth as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit. “You are Laura’s best friend” you nod, looking at him.

“What the fuck” you whisper, more to yourself than him. “I did not put this together” he nods, walking closer to you.

“Wanda and Allison tried setting me up with you” the words flow faster than you can process you are saying them as he laughs, a full belly laugh.

“Did you tell them that I am already your husband?” he asks as he then notices the ring on your left hand as it's brushing your cheeks. “No, I didn’t because I had no idea you were the same person” you chuckle, shaking your head again.

“I’m happy to see you,” he admits, looking at you. Looking back at him, you finally take him in, the black suit against the lavender shirt he wore under, bowtie tied neatly.

He looked as good as he did the last time you saw him in person. He smiles under your gaze, “I’m happy to see you too” . It's soft but in the large corridor it wasn’t hard to miss. 

“Hey (Y/N)-” Bradley stops short at the end of the hallway, looking between you and Hangman. “Hangman, what did you do?” he starts making his way down the hall to get closer to you. Moving to stand in front of Jake, you stop Bradley.

“Bradley” he stops, looking between the two of you.

“Hangman is Jake” Bradley nods, looking between the two of you, “yes his name is Jake, what does that have to do with what is going on?” you shake your head, chuckling.

“Mr.Texas?” you ask, Bradley stops for a few seconds before he is chuckling. Jake slips a hand to rest on your hip, looking between you and his now friend. “She was the girl you slept with in Texas?!” He points to you, looking at Hangman.

Jake nods, looking at him with a sheepish smile, “Yes”.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe out of all the people in Austin Texas you married Hangman!” he laughs with a shake of his head.  “Can I just say something?” you ask, between both aviators.

“One, I had no idea he was in the Navy until about five minutes ago. Second, he was just Jake in Texas, a southern gentleman” you look at Jake over your shoulder, he smiles down at you.

“Did he get me in his bed and marry him? I mean yes but I am also a grown woman, I had no idea he was the Hangman that you all talk about” Bradley nods slowly.

“I’m still in shock,” you admit, looking between them. “You have to tell the girls,” Bradley smirks, looking at you. “I vouched for you and everything Hangman!” he laughs at his friend, who furrows his brows.

“The text said, and I quote “Bradley says he really is nice and you guys would be so cute together” so I mean he did” you say, nodding between the two of them. “Had I known you already went out and put a ring on it” Bradley mumbles with a grin.

“How did I not recognize the girls' voices when they were in the hotel room?” he asks as you shrug. “We were hungover and barely remembered how we ended up there,” he nodded with a laugh.

“Okay point taken”  you smile, looking between your two friends. “Well anyways, Hangman we are being summoned by the groom” Bradley smiles, “I’ll see you two later” he smirks, laughing as he makes his way back down the hall.

You turn to face Jake with a smile. “Mr.Texas?” he asks, hands resting on your waist. You laugh, nodding, “The girls all nicknamed you Mr.Texas, I reminded them time and time again you were Jake”.

He smiles, looking at you. “Go” you whisper, resting your hand on his arm. “I will see you later okay?” he nods, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“I’ll see you later, Mrs.Seresin” he winks, walking back down the hallway the same way Bradley did.

He doesn’t miss the blush on your cheek. With a deep breath, you make your way back to the bride's suite.

“There you are!” Laura is grinning, holding a hand out to you. “Sorry, I’m here” you make your way to her, taking her hand.

“I want to tell you something” she’s whispering, looking at you.

“What is it?” you ask, squeezing her hand. “I never thought I would be here, marrying such an amazing man” she’s holding back tears as she continues, “I never thought I’d have such amazing friends like I do you and the group, I want you to know first” she’s grinning.

You nod, reaching out to wipe a tear from her face, “I’m having a baby”.

You grin, tears making their way to your eyes. “And I want you to be their god mother, Javy has already decided to ask Hangman to be godfather” you grin, both at the mention of Hangman and of the baby. “I’m honored” you smile, pulling her into a tight hug. 

The wedding kicked off smoothly. You stood beside your best friend, watching as she married the love of her life. Doing your best to avoid crying, failing as they shared vows. You look up from the bouquet in your hand, Jake winks at you from his spot beside Javy. You blush, looking back at the couple.

“I now pronounce you, Mr and Mrs Machado!” the priest cheers as everyone follows suit. Jake waited so he could walk the aisle with you.

Following his best friend as he held an arm out to you. You move beside him and you link your arm through his, following the train of Laura’s dress.

Bradley smirks from his spot at the altar watching the scene in front of him as he was the only one to know.

He’s then looking at his own girlfriend as if she held the world. Following them outside, standing beside the rest of your best friends as you are throwing flower petals at the couple with cheers.

“See you all at the reception!” Javy grins, helping his now wife into the car, following after her.

“Wanna ride with us?” Mickey asks from beside you, smiling. Jake’s hands make their way back to your waist, shaking his head. “I got her” you smile at the look on Mickey's face, looking between the two of you.

“I’ll ride with Jake” you take his hand off your waist, lacing your fingers together. “Okay” He trails off, following Allison as she paid none the wiser of what was happening behind her. 

“I now welcome you, Mr. and Mrs. Javy Machado!” you grin, cheering beside your friends as Laura and Javy make their way into the reception.

Laura looked gorgeous in the dress she chose. Jake beside you as he grins at his best friend. He was happy for them, even more happy having you beside him. You look up at the feeling of a hand on your arm, smiling at Wanda. “We need to talk” you frown, looking at her.

“Are you okay?” you ask, now turning to your best friend. She nods, smiling. “Hi Hangman” he nods, sending her a smile.

“Wanda” he nods and makes his way from the two of you to join his group of friends. You watch as he congratulates his friends, not missing the smile he shared with Laura.

“It’s Hangman?!” she’s whisper-yelling. “Huh?” you look back at Wanda, Allison on her way to join you. “Mr. Texas was Jake Seresin?!” she whispers a grin on her face. You blush, looking at your friends.

“What?!” Allison asks from beside Wanda, looking at you. “Yes, Jake is Mr.Texas aka Hangman” you look at them with a blush. “I can not believe this” Allison is laughing, watching you. “I can’t believe we tried setting you up and he already put a ring on it!” you laugh.

“Don’t be mad, Bradley told me” Wanda says, hand on your arm. Shaking your head, you smile. “I planned on telling you, I just haven’t told Laura because well it’s her day” you say, cutting short at the mention of your friend.

“What haven’t you told me?” she asks, glass in her hand.

“(Y/N) married Hangman!” you gasp, looking at Wanda.

“What?!” Laura  is looking between you and back over at Jake, who stood with her husband. “Mr.Texas?!” she asks as you nod. “It all makes sense now, I mean sure Jake is a common name but in Austin Texas” she grins. “How did we not recognize him?” Laura asks the group, they shrug, “We were drunk and it was dark” Wanda says, they all laugh. 

Making it through the crowd, you approach the group of Aviators. “Gentleman” you smile, looking between them, looking at Javy. “Javy, Congratulations” you smile as he pulls you into a tight hug.

You had grown close to Javy as he was like your big brother. “Thank you (Y/N/N)” you smile, moving back to stand beside Jake who doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you.

“Am I missing something?” Javy asks, looking between the two of you. “They’re married!” Bradley yells from behind him with a smirk.

“What?!” he looks at his best friend, who grins. “I am indeed Mr.Texas” Jake laughs at the nickname, looking at his friend. “And I am the mystery texas girl” you are also laughing.

"Oh my god!" Javy is laughing, hand on his stomach as he looks between the two of you. "And all this time Laura has been trying to set the two of you up!" he points out as his wife joins his side with a grin. "I mean I did if you think about it" the two Machado's grin.

“Are you gonna stay married?” the question was loaded, in the weeks since you returned to San Diego neither you or jake thought about divorce.

“I don’t know” you say, looking up at the man beside you. “We'll see” you wink, moving from his grip and making your way back over to your friends. “I can not believe you two are married and I-” Javy furrows his brows.

“I never saw your ring! None of us did” Jake grins, holding his left hand up, “I wore it on my tags, didn’t want to ruin it, but I whipped it out for today” he shrugs as he sips the beer in his hand. 

The reception continued on with drinks, laughs and speeches. The group all found out slowly you were indeed married to the captain of the squad.

Standing on the balcony of the venue, you close your eyes and take in the breeze.

“You know the party is not out here” you smile, the southern drawl making itself known now that he was a few drinks in. “I know” standing from the railing, you turn to face him.

He smiles, his suit jacket now discarded, now just the lavender button up. “I needed a few minutes,” you admit, looking at him.

He nods, moving to stand beside you. “Can I ask you something?” he asks, looking over at you.

Nodding, he continues. “Do you want to get divorced?” biting your lip, you shrug. “I don’t know,” you admit.

“I don’t” he admits sipping from the beer in his hands.

“What?” you look over at him, looking over his face. “I think I'd like to see where we can go,” he admits. You blush, looking away from him, “Oh” your voice is soft.

“I don’t know, something feels right, it has for the last few weeks” he’s spilling now, he realizes.

“In the nights that we talked, the texting, the photos” he shrugs, looking down at you. “I can’t help but think maybe we could make this marriage work,” he smiles. You bite your lip, nodding slowly.

You had the same feelings, but in the group of your friends you knew the reputation Hangman held.

“Are you ready to be tied down to someone, let alone me?” you ask, he chuckles.

“I haven’t looked another woman's way since you” he admits, looking at you.

“Really?” you ask as he nods. “I realize now what you’ve heard about me, how I sleep around and all but” he shrugs, moving closer to you.

“I am a simple man. I want a wife and a life with someone I love” you look up at him as he continues. “Now, did our marriage start traditionally? Of course not. I want to build it” he smiles, hand reaching out to cup your cheeks. “I want to take you on dates and woo you, be the husband you deserve” leaning into his hand, you kiss his palm.

“I won't lie I didn’t expect you to lay it on so thick” you grin. He chuckles, looking at you.

“What do you say Sugar?” he asks, his voice now deeper and accent thicker.

You nod, leaning up to connect your lips to his. Taking him by surprise as he doesn't kiss back at first but within seconds, kissing you again.

He’s pulling you against his body, hand on the back of your head to pull you and your lips closer. As you kissed him, you realized two things.

Laura was so smart for picking Austin for her bachelorette party. And when you left Texas, you left half your heart there.

The smooth talking green eyed pilot taking a piece of your heart and holding it with him. Traveling back to California with him, and holding it close as he himself was close.

“Can I take you out officially?” he asks softly, "soberly, of course" he nudges your nose. “I think that can be arranged,” he smirks, kissing you again.

God did you love Texas. 

Authors Note part II: I must admit I don't think this is my best work but I think the story is good and kind of hallmark-y? But lawd! did anyone see this fic going where it did? let me know your thoughts! of course, likes, reblogs and comments are always welcomed!

and of course, if you liked this fic you can find more of my work in the library here

⇾ The Library

[itsyassbitch]

Hi welcome to my masterlist! I write only Top Gun: Maverick and Rooster x you. I hope y’all enjoy my page and keep checking to see if I’ve updated, this is just for fun! Happy Reading!

Warning: I do write smut and content that is recommended for readers 18 and older, it is not my job to check if you are said age. So read at your own risk. For I am 18 years old.

Also, I like to update every day so check my blog to see if I’ve updated a chapter or just one shot!

Rooster x reader one shots

Home sweet home - Bradley comes home to his little family

Girl of my dreams - Nat feels bad that Bradley is alone so she signs him up for speed dating

Special chapter! - little moments between Bradley and you growing up

God bless America - You and the dagger squad had decided to take a vacation down to the beach. When Bradley sees you in your USA bikini, he almost gets on his knees and recites the pledge of allegiance.

Hungry eyes - Bradley didn’t seem to understand the term “sundress season”, as Jake called it, until he saw his wife, you, in one. Now he gets it.

Newest member - Bradley is getting home from deployment and has no idea what the baby’s gender is. You surprise him and he is overjoyed with the baby.

Birthday boy - Today is Bradley’s 40th birthday and you show him just how much he means to you.

Office fun - The one where you and your boss, Mr. Bradshaw, get after it in his office.

Rooster x reader multiple part stories

Brothers best friend - Moving in with your big brother Jake and his best friend Bradley

Fun with the groomsman - It was your sisters wedding today and you, as a bridesmaid, and your older sister, as her maid of honor, got ready for the wedding. Her soon to be husband has a friend that catches your eye. And you catch his.

Runaway bride - It’s your wedding day and your best friend, Bradley, tries to talk you out of it.

For old times sake- Bradley hasn’t gotten any action with his wife. They didn’t have kids, not because of their jobs, but because she just didn’t want to anymore. Bradley had a very high sex drive, and his maid that his wife hired might just give him a memory refresh of how good sex is.

I’ll be here for you - the one where you and Bradley cross the boundary of being friends.

Ill show you real love - While trying to fix your relationship with your boyfriend, Derek, you suggest a therapist to help you mend what’s left of the two of you. Things take a turn when you catch feelings for your therapist, Mr. Bradshaw.

[itsyassbitch]

The Other Girl

Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace x Female!Reader (x Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw)

Summary: Bradley is walking a tightrope. He’s living two different lives and engaged to two different women, but, like a puppet master, he has everything under control. Or so he thinks.

One night is all it takes for his carefully constructed charade to come crashing down. You meet Natasha. Natasha meets you. It turns out you both know the truth.

Who's the first? Who's the fool? It doesn't matter. Because the two of you will do anything it takes to make Bradley pay for what he's done. And, amid the destruction, you both discover an addiction to something you never knew you’d been missing; each other.

Warnings: 18+ no minors please. Descriptions of controlling, manipulative and mentally abusive relationships, alcohol, swearing, sexual references and mentions of violence. Smut: Fingering, oral sex (female receiving), spanking, spit kink, degradation, over-stimulation, power switching. The middle section of this is straight-up FILTH. Enjoy!

Disclaimers: I’ve tried to avoid any physical descriptions of the reader; I think the only mention of appearance is that Natasha and the reader don’t fit in the same tailored dress. Please excuse any inaccuracies regarding Naval aviation, Top Gun and the US in general (I am British).

Word Count: 11k

“Of course, Bradley, I understand.”

“I knew you would. It’s just a few more days, that’s all. Debriefings and seminars and… well, I won’t bore you with all that. But I’ll be back before you know it. I miss my gorgeous fiancée.”

You giggled and pressed the phone closer to your cheek. “I miss my gorgeous fiancé too. He left me all on my lonesome for a month and now he’s called to say he’s keeping me waiting for another week,” you teased.

“What an asshole. I’ll set him straight if I see him.”

“Hmm, you’d better Bradley.”

“Five more days, Bunny, then I’ll be home. I’ll show you just how much I missed you. So much that you’ll be sick of me.”

“I could never be sick of you, Bradley,” you said, doing your best to stop your voice from faltering.

Bradley’s end of the line became noisy for a moment, a gaggle of voices passing by.

“You out at that Navy bar tonight?” you asked. “What’s it called - the Hardy Den?”

“Nah. I’m having a quiet one this evening, Maverick’s run me ragged. I’m sitting on the porch outside my apartment, watching the world go by. Probably gonna nurse a bottle of beer in front of the tv later then hit the hay and dream about you.”

“Oh Bradley, you’ll make me cry.”

“I’d never want to do that, Bunny - shit - my phone is on one percent. And I left my charger in my locker. I’m so sorry –“

“That’s ok Bradley. I’m glad we got to talk. You enjoy your quiet evening.”

“We’ll be together soon, Bunny. I -“

And then the line went dead. You sighed and slipped your phone back into your purse.

Bradley was a good liar.

Because he wasn’t on the porch of his apartment, watching the world go by. No. Bradley was at the Hard Deck, and, after stepping out to take your call, he waltzed back into the bar with the trademark swagger of a man who thought he was untouchable. He re-joined his fellow pilots at the pool table, took a swig of whiskey, and reclaimed his place as the centre of attention.

Bradley was a good liar. But you were a good liar too.

Because you weren’t holed up in the house you and Bradley shared back in your home state of West Virginia. You were sitting in a taxi in the Hard Deck parking lot (you knew what it was called all along, you just thought playing dumb would be a nice touch), watching as your fiancé kissed another girl.

Bradley was a good liar. But maybe not good enough.

You glanced at the taxi driver. She was still a few feet away from the car and had just lit up her second cigarette. Seemed like she was happy to give you a couple more minutes before taking you to your next destination. And so she should have been, considering you’d offered to pay her double the usual rate. Not that you would have needed to, as soon as you told her your plan for the evening, she had been all in.

“You just remember this, sweetheart, if you start having second thoughts. He had it coming.”

Never had a truer word been spoken.

Bradley and his companion broke apart and he wrapped a casually possessive arm around her waist. She looked so at home by his side, just like you always did. She gazed up at him adoringly, mesmerised by his aura. You knew only too well what it felt like to be spellbound by Bradley’s charm, enraptured, and caught in a lavender haze after every kiss. You could live off the high of his attention for days. Bradley could make anyone feel like a million dollars, even if he only spent a moment with them. Falling in love with him was as easy as…well, falling. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that somebody else had fallen for him too.

Lieutenant Natasha Trace. Her name and history hadn’t been hard to find once you’d pulled enough of the wool from your eyes. She and Bradley had met a decade ago. They were in the same graduating class of Top Gun. You’d seen the pictures; Bradley with his signature grin and a lighter, fluffier moustache sitting three rows down and nine seats along from Natasha, poised and serious in contrast. They might have been friends back then, you supposed, it was certainly a possibility. Maybe she was a one night stand he could never quite shake. Still, she hadn’t signed his yearbook (you’d checked), she wasn’t in any of Bradley’s Facebook photos (you’d checked) and she’d been stationed on a different base with the Black Aces ever since (you’d triple checked), until last year. She and Bradley were called back to Top Gun for a special mission, and a new expert detachment had been created with the aviators that flew it. Turns out a life-changing life-threatening deployment cultivated the perfect conditions to reconnect with an old flame.

God, you’d been so naïve. It pained you to think of all the times Bradley had talked about her in your presence and you’d been none the wiser. “Phoenix said this” or “Phoenix did that.”

Cocky fucking bastard.

She was looking right through you. Staring out the Hard Deck window as she sipped her martini. You had half a mind to smile back, but you knew the bright lights in the bar meant all she’d see in the glass would be her own reflection.

You took your chance to study her properly for the first time, adding in extra details to the few official Navy photos you’d managed to find.

Hazel eyes and dark brown hair, styled in luscious, sweeping waves that kissed the top of her shoulders, a contrast to the prim slicked back look she sported while in uniform. Her face was small and delicately round, save for her sweetly pointed chin, and her features had an elvish, faerie-like quality. She was petite but unmistakeably toned. You bet she was bold. Smart too. She had to be, to make it in such a male dominated field. You bet she never let Bradley see her cry.

You’d wanted to hate her. The darkest, coldest, least feminist part of you wanted to believe that Bradley would have only cheated on you with some desperate tag-chasing promiscuous whore. But you knew deep down that wasn’t true. There was something about Natasha Trace that kept your loathing at bay.

The red dress she wore fit her just right. That sexy silky corset-bodice number had been the start of the end. Bradley’s fatal mistake.

You would never forget the day he proudly presented you with the ribbon-tied box, and how eagerly you unwrapped it to reveal the most gorgeous garment you had ever laid eyes upon. You squealed and danced with excitement and hugged Bradley so tightly, buzzing with joy, until the time came when he insisted you tried it on. It didn’t fit.

When you checked if the receipt was still in the box, you noticed there was a gift note too.

To my sweetest Birdy, love Bradley.

Birdy.

Birdy.

“Hey Bunny, are you ready? I’m dying out here,” Bradley called from the other side of the bedroom door. “I’ve gotta see you wearing it, or I’m gonna burst.”

Like Emma Thompson in Love Actually, you swept away the tears as quickly as they’d begun and put on the performance of your life. You stayed in your lingerie and told him you were too damn horny in that moment to consider doing anything but letting him fuck you until he was spent. He forgot all about the dress, buying you time to call up the shop and investigate when Bradley next went away for work.

“You’ve reached Duchess Boutique’s customer services; how can I help?”

“Hi, I’m calling on behalf of my fiancé. He placed on order with you last month for a dress, but I think there’s been a mix up – we’ve been sent the wrong size.”

“Ah, my apologies. Let me bring up your order and see what’s gone wrong. Could you give me the full name it was made under?”

You obliged and the customer service rep continued.

“Here we go, Bradley Bradshaw. I can see that two purchases of the same dress were made, with a request to tailor them to different measurements. One was sent to the address you just gave, and the second was sent to a Miss Natasha Trace in San Diego, is that correct?”

You almost choked on your own tongue.

Natasha Trace.

One name turned your whole existence upside down.

“Hello? Ma’am? Are you still there?”

“Yes – sorry, yes. Must be a bad line,” you said, regaining your composure. “Those orders are correct, one to give to my sister, and one for my friend Natasha. They’re bridesmaids’ dresses.” The lie came surprisingly easily.

“I’m sorry ma’am, it looks like the addresses were put in the wrong way around when the order was placed. A simple mistake. If you could send your dress back, we’ll ship out a replacement in the correct size right away.”

“Thank you for your help.”

You had a name. And it didn’t take much internet sleuthing to connect the dots. Natasha Trace was the famous Phoenix. Natasha Trace was Bradley’s ‘sweetest Birdy’.

You got your replacement dress in due course. You were wearing it right now. Bradley was going to get the surprise of his life later tonight. 

You rolled the window of the taxi down and signalled to your driver.

“I’m ready to go.”

-

“You were out talking to that mechanic for quite a while.”

Bradley sipped his drink slowly before answering. “Yeah, he just wanted to double-check the specs for the parts I’m ordering for the Bronco.”

Natasha’s lips were in a thin line, and she toyed with the ring on her finger.

“An odd time of night for him to call, isn’t it?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

His tone was salted with irritation, and his eyes seemed to look right through her.

“Is everything ok?” she asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You just seem a little distant, like you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

He set his drink down and dragged her close. She had his attention now.

“Birdy, the only thing I’m thinking about at this moment is you. My fucking kick ass fiancé, and that drop dead gorgeous dress you’re wearing.”

Natasha sighed and let her face bloom with a soft smile, spurred on by the last few lingering butterflies that still fluttered in her chest. She wasn’t yet immune to his talent for loving, how he could turn on a dime and make her feel like the only thing on his mind. He still affected her so, after all this time, despite everything she now knew.

“There’s that rare smile,” Bradley praised. “I don't like that you hide it from me so much.”

“It wouldn't be rare if I didn't though, would it?” she replied.

Bradley laughed. “You're too fucking smart for me sometimes, you know.”

He leant down for a kiss and Natasha accepted it gladly. She'd never been able to resist him, not really. Not since that drunken heart to heart, make out and haphazard fool around after a night out during their first stint at Top Gun. One fateful evening had given her ten years of hope. She’d been too serious for him back then, and they’d both been too focused on their career vendettas. Her proving herself capable amongst a group of men that were bigger, stronger, and louder, and him, four years older than the rest, using the power of a grudge to help him fight to the top.

Their paths crossed fleetingly over the years. They weren’t friends per se, but they were something. Natasha’s ears always pricked up at the mention of Bradley’s name. And, though she tried to push the truth away, she knew why her relationships with all the other men and women that tried to pierce through her hardened shell always failed. They weren't Bradley.

So, imagine her surprise when, after being called back to Top Gun for a specialist mission (the pinnacle of her entire career), Bradley Bradshaw strutted into the Hard Deck to steal her heart one more time.

A year and an engagement ring later, she thought she'd stolen his heart, too. What a beautiful little fool she'd been.

She held Bradley's face and kept him close, letting the kiss go on for a little too long, eliciting oohs and whistles from the surrounding crowd. Natasha paid them no mind on this occasion. Her only goal was to memorise Bradley's taste, the exact pressure of his tongue, the rugged graze of his moustache against her lips. Last kisses ought to be remembered.

When they broke apart, Bradley slipped an arm around her waist and squeezed her hip while Javy absorbed him in a conversation. Natasha gazed up at his profile and mapped out his scars, one by one, before her gaze travelled over the strong slope of his nose and followed the curls of his lightly tousled hair.

After tonight, she planned on never seeing or speaking to him again. In a few minutes, once she’d finished her martini, she would make her excuses and head back to Bradley's house without him, collect her things (which she’d surreptitiously already bagged up), and walk right out of his life. Leaving him with only the memory of her in the red dress he bought, tainted by what he'd lost.

A month’s worth of leave lay ahead of her, and after 30 days of clearing her head, she was transferring to a new base, never to look back.

It's not like she hadn't given Bradley his chances to come clean. He just didn't take them. The cheating bastard didn't deserve a grace of a goodbye.

Bradley accepted her feigned complaints of a headache with barely a question. He checked that she was OK to drive home, but she insisted she’d be fine. She’d only had one drink, and she didn't want to spoil his night. He let her go without protest. He’d get a taxi and see her in the morning.

Natasha slid into her sleek, silver Corvette and made the journey back to Bradley's apartment in silence. She took in the lights of San Diego, recalling the memories attached to each familiar place she passed. She would miss the city, the beach, her friends (especially Bob). But she had to do this for herself.

She pulled into the driveway next to Bradley's prized Bronco and stepped up to the red painted door. She nudged the wonky welcome mat back into position with her toe then slipped her key into the lock.

Something wasn’t right. A lamp was on in the living room beyond the hall.

Natasha’s brain immediately locked into survival mode, and she scanned the vicinity for something to defend herself with against an intruder. She settled on the vintage Phillie’s baseball bat that Bradley had displayed on the wall, then stepped towards the light.

You were waiting for her.

A vixen in your crimson dress (completely identical to hers), lounging in Bradley’s favourite brown leather armchair like a queen on a throne.

“I know who you are,” Natasha said calmly, masking any fear that might be evident in her voice. She was trained for this, trained to stay measured and composed in the face of war.

Your blood red lips contorted into a gleeful smirk.

“Ditto,” you revealed. “It’s lovely to finally meet you, Birdy. We have so much to catch up about.”

You kicked up your legs and rested your heels on the glass coffee table with. Natasha couldn’t help but wince slightly at clinking noise, remembering how Bradley would react to her putting anything on it in case she caused a scratch. In the beginning, it riled her that he didn’t think she was careful. Yet she had so quickly chosen to appease him, not willing to start a fight. And here you were, treating Bradley’s rule like it was nothing. Or maybe Bradley didn’t have rules when it came to you.

“Tell me, what gave the game away?” you asked.

Natasha couldn’t quite place your tone. She didn’t know what you wanted to hear. Were you goading her? Mocking her for taking so long to realise what you had known all along? Or were you looking for kinship, a reassurance that you weren’t the only one who’d succumbed to wilful ignorance in the name of Bradley Bradshaw.

She decided to tell the truth.

“The dress,” she admitted, gesturing towards the red fabric draped across her body.

You practically squealed with delight at her revelation.

“Let me guess – it was the wrong size?”

Natasha nodded gravely. The day of the dress would always haunt her. It was the point of no return. The moment her previously unfounded suspicions were finally proven. Until then, she’d twisted her logic into knots trying to justify Bradley’s evasiveness and blatant cover ups as innocent. But, once she’d read the note (“my beloved Bunny”), called the boutique, and heard your name, there was no denying the truth anymore.

You were laughing, bright bold and beautiful, utterly exhilarated.

“Oh Bradley, what a man,” you sighed, wiping a tear from your eye. Your tone was almost wistful, Natasha thought. She could hear the softness that still lingered in your voice when you said his name. It reminded her of the reverence she used to give those two syllables every time she said them.

“You’re welcome to him,” Natasha said quietly. “I’m leaving him tonight. He’s all yours now.”

You just scoffed.

“Give me a little more credit, Tasha.”

Something stirred deep inside her at the way you laid claim to her name.

“I’m leaving him too. I just fancied making a spectacle out of it. I’m not one to walk away without a trace.”

A spectacle? Natasha couldn’t remember ever making one. It wasn’t her way. But, then again, had she ever felt truly free enough to do so? She always made sure she didn’t stand out for the wrong reasons. She could never risk being branded as difficult and emotional or bossy and hysterical.

You cocked your head, looking at her intensely.

“Tell me, what do you plan on doing with that baseball bat?”

Natasha had forgotten she was holding it. Suddenly the wood felt as heavy as lead, and she noticed the sweat from her hand that was seeping into the grip.

“I think you want to break something, don’t you Tasha?” you said, deceptively sweetly. “You’re not alone. I want to break something too, just like Bradley chewed up both our hearts and spat them out. I want to hit him where it hurts.”

You stood up and began to stalk around her. Natasha could smell the heady, luxurious perfume you wore, and the proximity of your body made that feeling stir again. She closed her eyes and filled her lungs, letting your silky, seductive words seep into her blood.

“Think of all the lies Bradley told you, the lies he told us both. How he led us on for so long, toying with our hope, believing he was some kind of God. But now we see him for what he really is. A pathetic, two-timing, worthless piece of shit. A coward. Too weak to fucking choose and now he’s going to lose everything he worked so hard to achieve.”

Natasha could sense the rage that simmered and boiled beneath your skin. You were radiant with it. She wated to taste the fire and vitriol that spilled from your tongue.

“I mean, what was he thinking?! Two fiancées? Two weddings? Was he really going to live as a bigot with two wives in two homes on either side of the country?!”

Natasha was jealous of how you seemed to relish in your anger, how you’d allowed the betrayal to consume you and ignite a passion in your soul.

“He’s nothing to us anymore,” you spat. “Just a dumb, tragic, empty shell of a man that deserves every second of hurt that’s coming his way. We’re going to make him pay.”

You rounded on her, your chest heaving and your eyes ablaze with vengeance.

“So, I’ll ask you again Tasha,” you said quietly, voice deadly. “What are you going to do with that baseball bat?”

Natasha’s answer didn’t need any words. She gripped the wood with both hands and summoned every drop of unleashed fury that had been pent up inside her for the past decade. She raised the bat high above her head and pictured Bradley’s smug, taunting, overconfident face, then, with a scream, she slammed the bat down into the coffee table, smashing it to smithereens.

-

The taxi driver had tried to insist that you didn't need to pay her. She was happy to help fellow scorned woman in any way she could. You were a little scared to ask her to elaborate when she mentioned her deadbeat ex-husband, so you pressed the green notes into her hand regardless.

“You make the bastard pay”, she said coldly before speeding away. “And don't feel guilty about enjoying it, neither.”

God you were you enjoying it.

Natasha took you on a house tour like no other, revealing the secrets of Bradley’s hidden second life. You noticed how similar his San Diego home was to the two-bed you shared with him back in Virginia. The Virginia house was yours in name, but little evidence of your life before Bradley remained. The furniture was arranged exactly as he liked it, right down to the inch. The food in the fridge and the snacks in the cupboard were only what he approved of you eating. The surfaces were spotless, the walls painted white, the carpets and floors pristine, not a speck of dust to be found. Bradley had convinced you to turn your once colourful, eclectically decorated home into a whitewashed shell. Like a modern art gallery, but each space was meant only to display Bradley’s treasured possessions (though just half of them, you now realised). Your own collection was deemed unsightly and kept locked away.

Similarly, the only evidence of Natasha’s presence in the rooms you passed through tonight was the destruction she left in her wake.

Once the coffee table had been obliterated, she couldn’t be stopped. Your goading had unleashed a wild beast from the darkest recesses of her psyche, and now she’d sunk her teeth into the possibility of revenge, she’d become addicted.

Ornaments and photo frames, Bradley’s prized baseball memorabilia, the flat screen TV and it’s imposing speakers, the alphabetised display of vintage records; all became victim to Natasha’s glorious rampage.

Then, when she was done, standing in the centre of the carnage, surrounded by the rubble and shards of everything she’d broken, she turned her attention back to you.

She was breathing heavily, and her lips curved into an almost snarl. “You just going to stand there or are you going to join the party?”

You smirked and turned on a spiked heel, striding into the kitchen to retrieve your weapon of choice. Natasha appeared in the doorway in time to see you wielding a menacingly large pair of scissors, the razor-sharp blades gleaming under the clinically bright spotlights.

“Does this answer your question?”

It took barely two minutes to turn the entire room upside down. You ransacked the cupboards, smashed the crockery and tore into each packet and box, deliberately dumping Bradley’s protein powder across the surfaces and grinding his granola bars under your feet. You pulled the power cord from the back of the fridge-freezer then pierced holes into every item you could, praying the food would rot as quickly as your heart did when you’d found out the truth. At the same time, Natasha had battered her way into the locked whiskey cabinet, and you joined her in pouring the contents of each eye-wateringly expensive bottle down the sink, but not before taking searing gulps of the most priceless tipple.

You kept a tight grip on the scissors as you continued your travels, slashing the brown leather of Bradley’s armchair for good measure before letting Natasha drag you up the stairs. She carried on ahead, making a beeline for the bathroom, but you remained in the hallway, transfixed by a framed photo of Bradley’s mother and father.

If Bradley was to be believed, Nick and Carole Bradshaw were saints (he certainly revered them as such). If anything were to happen to this portrait, it would maim Bradley like a dagger to the heart. But you never intended tonight to be a clean kill. So, you allowed the photo to remain, perfect and untouched, a holy relic of Bradley’s past; two angels looking on, trapped behind a frame and forced to watch as you and Natasha tore their precious son’s life apart.

You hoped, when Bradley eventually arrived home, he might find disappointment in his parents’ eyes. You prayed he would be crushed by the weight of their shame and tortured with the knowledge that if they were truly as wholesomely ‘good’ as he claimed, then he was no son of theirs anymore, not after what he’d done.

When you finally slunk into the bathroom, Natasha had already made her mark. Angry swirls of Bradley’s expensive shampoos, lotions and gels had been smeared over the mirror and wall tiles, his toothbrush was floating in the toilet, the shower curtain had been wrenched from its pole and she was dumping the last of his pristine white towels into the tub.

Your nasal passages filled with the nauseating scent of him. The earthy, citrus-spiked fragrance of sandalwood and clementine that you’d once found irresistible. Desire would stir in your loins upon inhaling the mix of bourbon cologne and sunscreen spritzed on the skin of his neck. But now the aroma had developed a new potency; cloying and overbearing, causing the air to thicken like treacle.

“Having second thoughts?” Natasha asked, when she realised you were standing stock still, staring into the distance. There was apprehension in her tone.

“No. Never.”

You didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to let her down.

“Pass me his hair dye,” you demanded, holding out a hand.

“Yes ma’am.”

Fuck. A minor moan passed your lips. Her immediate obedience was so thrilling, but you dared not give yourself time to dwell on what that might mean, of where it might lead. Instead, you uncapped the bottle and squirted every last drop of the permanent, staining colour all over Bradley’s white-and-fluffy-as-a-cloud bath towels.

The bedroom was the final stop. If you weren’t so fuelled by your quest for retribution, you might’ve had visions of Bradley and Natasha locked in a passionate embrace, writhing together in the sheets. You might’ve been haunted by the knowledge that in this most intimate of spaces, Bradley had fucked another woman, whilst you lay alone on the other side of the country dreaming of him, believing with your whole heart that he had been dreaming about you too. But your rage-addled brain led you down a different path.

You stalked towards the wardrobe and almost flung the doors off their hinges. You pulled a mound of Bradley’s ridiculous Hawaiian shirts from their hangers and cut violent slashes into them all, yanking them apart at the seams with your bare hands where you could. A part of you wished Bradley was there in person, so you could rip the fabric clean off his back along with strips of his flesh.

“Fuck,” you grunted, slicing through a particularly ugly floral. “Don’t you just want to tear him limb from limb?”

But Natasha didn’t hear you.

Instead, she was frozen in front of the small vanity table, staring at the Polaroid photos tacked around the mirror. They were all of her. Unnaturally framed poses of different outfits, hairstyles, close ups of her face, her lips and eyes, like the images a make-up artist, hairdresser or stylist would use to advertise the different looks they could offer. You knew instantly that none of the photos had been put up by Natasha herself. This was all Bradley’s doing. His not-so-subtle way of reminding Natasha, every day when she sat down to get ready, what he liked. This was a collage of suggestions - no - instructions, for Natasha to follow and ensure her appearance conformed to Bradley’s sky-high expectations.

You knew all this because there was identical vanity table in your home back in Virginia, surrounded by photos Bradley had taken of you.

“But you look so perfect like this Bunny. I love you so much. Don’t you wanna be perfect for me?”

His insidious ‘encouragements’ were easily recalled.

“Think of it as self-care. That’s what you girls call it, right? I know you’ve been feeling down lately, but trust me, if you look your best, you’ll feel your best.”

“I’m always telling the guys I’ve got the prettiest girl. You wouldn’t want to prove me wrong, would you? Just a little bit of effort, is that really too much to ask?”

Natasha was crying.

“How could I have let him do this to me?” she croaked. “I don’t even know who I am anymore, I’m just whatever he wanted me to be. How could I have been so foolish?”

You rushed to comfort her.

“No Tasha, stop. You’re not foolish. You never have been.” Her face was in your hands. “Bradley is the fool for thinking he could keep you so easily. But he doesn’t deserve any more of your tears. You’re the one with the upper hand now.”

Your voice was silken and seductive again, intent on enticing the wild and uninhibited version of Natasha that you were growing addicted to out from retreat.

“Break it. I know you want to. Break free of him.”

So she did.

The bat swung wildly through the air, and she unleashed a primal scream. The evil mirror exploded into shards and Natasha pummelled the vanity table until all that remained was a pile of splintered wood. You caught her reflection in the jagged shards of glass, the image distorted and off kilter, yet utterly mesmerising.

It felt sacred somehow, to witness the moment disbelief evolved into awestruck wonder as Natasha finally chose to revel in the destruction she had caused. All because of you.

You’d never felt such an electric connection with another person in your entire life.

A desperate yearning thrummed beneath your skin. There was one final act in the tragedy of your relationship with Bradley. It was time to pour gasoline on the remaining bridge.

You kissed her. The baseball bat that was still in her hand crashed to the floor as she flung her arms around your neck, her fingers digging into your scalp and pulling you close. Her lips were demanding and moved unrelentingly against yours with fierce, fiery fervour. The aromatic, slightly medicinal taste of her dry martini still lingered on her tongue, intoxicating you with every smouldering caress.

Already your heart was racing and your breathing shallow. You needed air, to put words to this moment before you willingly drowned.

“I’ve gotta have you, Tasha,” you pleaded desperately, holding her delicate face in your hands once more.

“Then have me,” she commanded. “Make me forget that bastard’s fucking name. Make me scream yours.”

Oh god. You kissed her again.

“Have me,” she hissed against your lips, biting on the bottom one and sucking. “Right here on Bradley’s bed.”

You moaned deeply and your knees almost buckled. The idea was so crazy, so debaucherous, so cosmically wrong that it felt more right than anything in else in your life ever had.

The kiss grew feverish, and you fell onto the king-size, limbs tangled. You rid Natasha of her infamous dress and stripped away her lacy lingerie, leaving her splayed on her back beneath you, her gorgeous figure entirely on display.

She was yours for the taking.

Natasha reached up to yank down the fabric of your bodice and reveal your breasts, but you grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head before she could.

Her eyes blew wide.

“No touching,” you said curtly. “Not yet.”

You wanted to take your time, you wanted to relish in the power that flooded your bloodstream. Now that you’d seized control, you had no intention of relinquishing it, not until you’d got your fill.

Natasha whimpered softly, but she obeyed your orders, keeping her hands away from your body by gripping the corners of the pillow beneath her head. Your core fluttered at her submission, and you were mesmerised by the pleading hazel eyes that gazed back up at you with a yearning you’d never once seen in Bradley’s.

You’d always been a lover of fine dining; and Natasha Trace was the most perfect banquet. You savoured her figure and sampled every fine delicacy her exquisite body had to offer, noting the way she reacted to every teasing touch. Her muscles were firm and taught under your fingers and tongue, and her skin was smooth, soft and smelled like honey. You plucked teasingly at her nipples and adorned her pert breasts with bite marks and kisses. Her abdomen spasmed and she sighed with longing when you finally reached her wet, glistening cunt.

“Oh, look at you,” you cooed.

You slowly swirled your fingers through her folds and coated them in her slick.

“Is this all for me?”

She whimpered and nodded, watching in awe as you traced your fingers across your lips before taking them deep and relishing her sweet heady taste on your tongue.

“Fuck.”

You smirked, then slipped your two fingers from your mouth and sank them into Natasha’s warm, velvet centre.

Never had your name been spoken with such reverence, like a prayer. It only took a couple of passes for you to find the sweet spot that would lead her to the edge. You intended to keep her teetering until you, and only you, deigned to push her over it.

“That’s it, Tasha. You gonna make a mess of Bradley’s nice clean sheets for me? Let him know we were here; show him how much wetter I can make you?”

“Yes, yes! Please!” she cried desperately. Perhaps a different version of you might have taken pity on her.

But you needed to see her fall apart for you. You needed to see her shatter into a thousand pieces in a way only you could put back together again. You wanted her to beg for you because Bradley never did - he always held the cards. He said your suggestions were emasculating and made you feel so wretched and ashamed for merely asking, you never dared broach the subject again. The sex wasn’t bad, it would be a lie to say he left you unsatisfied, but this - what you were sharing with Natasha - was transcendent.

“Tell me what you want Tasha. Is there something you’ve always fantasised about, something he wouldn’t do?”

You could see from her expression that she had an answer. You were determined to draw it out of her.

“It’s something dirty, I can tell. Bradley was so fucking vanilla, so fucking basic. Thought just because he had that pretty cock, he was some kind of God. But he never fucking listened, did he? I’ll listen. I wanna make you come so hard your head spins, Tasha. Whatever it takes.”

Natasha moaned loudly and you switched the movement of your fingers to a torturously languid pace, syrupy and slow.

“I - I want - could you - I – please.”

“It’s ok Tasha, you can tell me. I’m here for you, I’ll do whatever you want,” you promised.

She was so unbelievably wet, slick drooling from her cunt and onto your hand with every drag of your fingers.

“Oh - I want – I-want-you-to-spit-in-my-mouth-and-spank-my-pussy-and-call-me-a-slut.”

Fuck. Her garbled admission made your own mouth so dreadfully dry. You needed to work yourself up to it.

“Oh Tasha, you filthy girl. You want to be dominated, don’t you? You want someone else to take the reins for once. Not just anyone though, you need someone who understands. Someone who knows how much of yourself you always fight to repress, when you’re up in the air or standing your ground against all those men who got just as far by only working half as hard. But I can help you forget all that. I’ll give you permission soon. I’ll let you feel small and delicate and used. You need to float, don’t you, Tasha?”

She nodded dumbly. “Yes, please. Oh please - OH!”

You slipped your fingers from her cunt and struck her pussy with a stinging slap, making her squeal.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” you cooed. “I’ll give you what you need, since you asked so nicely. Even though you’ve been such a bad girl, haven’t you?”

Slap!

“Yes!”

“You’re such a wicked little slut. Look at you. Getting fucked by your fiancé’s other girl. That’s depraved. Slut. Behaviour.”

Slap! Slap! Slap!

The final blow landed perfectly, and Natasha cried out, her pretty tears making her eyes glisten like stars. She whimpered your name, her breathless moans descending into one desperate plea.

More.

You returned your fingers to her silky centre, this time adding the pressure of your thumb to her throbbing clit. Natasha welcomed you eagerly, her pussy clenching and urging you deeper with every rolling wave of desire.

“Feels incredible to let me have you, doesn’t it?” you taunted, leaning closer. “There’s no shame in enjoying yourself. Bradley’s a fool if he ever made you feel like there was. I’m gonna spit in your slutty mouth like I own you now Tasha, just like you asked. And you’re gonna take it. Open up little Birdy.”

You reached out with a commanding hand and Natasha let you prize apart her jaw with no effort at all before presenting you with her tongue. She held your gaze as you let a string of spit fall from your lips and splatter onto the pink muscle. She went to swallow but you stopped her with a squeeze of her neck.

“Don’t move. Not until you’re told.”

She whimpered and her eyelids fluttered but she remained compliant. Natasha was strong. She could hold her nerve. But you could see from the tension in her face how difficult she found it to stay still. Your buried fingers stalled, absorbing every clench of her weeping cunt, and you resorted to teasing her clit, rolling the swollen bud under the pad of your thumb until you sensed Natasha was on the brink of delirium. Then you waited a little longer.

You spat harshly into her open mouth again without warning.

“Now.”

Her eyes blew wide, and you felt her throat constrict under your palm as she swallowed down your taste.

You fucked her into a lust clouded frenzy, relentlessly plunging your fingers into her heat and assaulting her clit. She bucked up against your hand wildly, desperately chasing the mind-numbing orgasm she craved. You knew she was getting close when her breaths became wailing gasps and a sheen of sweat coated her body, heat rising to the surface. The walls of her cunt closed in on your digits, and Natasha was reduced to a pathetic, quivering beggar that only yearned for one thing.

Then it happened.

She screamed as she broke. Her hands curled like claws and her nails pierced through the skin of the goose down pillow, angel white feathers blooming from the gashes. Her legs shook wildly, and her head thrashed from side to side, eyes squeezed shut and her mouth open in shock. Like the fire branded fury you’d enticed her into unleashing earlier, you were sure this release had been buried inside and waiting to be let out for even longer still.

You’d never seen anything more beautiful.

With soothing praise and tender touches, you gently coaxed her down from her high. She clung to your body to ground herself, breathless thank yous spilling from her lips.

Natasha wasn’t the only one floating back to reality, and you held each other close as you dropped.

“It wasn’t too much?” you whispered, running your fingers through her silky hair.

Natasha caressed your face gently. “It was everything I wanted,” she insisted. Her voice was airy, ethereal. “I feel like I’m in a dream. Like I’m flying and there’s nothing holding me down anymore.”

You felt the same. You and Natasha were finally free.

The room became quiet. The night was still, and the air outside grew ever cooler, yet the embers inside your body still glowed from the rush of power that Natasha had bestowed upon you. You closed your eyes and basked in the gentle warmth, listening to her breathing at your side.

It took you a few moments to realise that her delicate hands had begun to unlace the ties at the sides of your dress. She bunched up the ruby red silk and looked at you, those gorgeous orbs of brown pleading. You nodded and she slipped the red dress from your body.

“Let me return the favour,” she begged. She kissed your lips, the slope of your jaw. Her tongue lightly traced the swirls of your ear then she suckled on the lobe. You needed her lips everywhere. You wanted to let her do whatever she desired to you, but a tiny voice of doubt was trying to make itself heard in the dark corners of your mind, even though you had been the one who started it all.

“What if Bradley comes back?” you whispered.

“Let him,” Natasha murmured as she bowed to savour your pulse point. “Let him see what he’s missing. We can tie him to a chair and make him watch. But I’m not stopping until I hear you scream for me.”

-

What began as romantic devotion descended into carnal devouring. She began by sweetly kissing your neck, shoulders and clavicle, before pecking down your sternum, immersing herself in your breasts, familiarising herself with every plane, dip and curve that made you you.

Having Natasha between your thighs was the sweetest of torture. Nothing would ever compare to the pleasure of her sinful mouth worshipping your cunt. She left no part of you uncherished, her lips and tongue eagerly lauding every inch of velvety skin. She gave you her full, undivided attention and remembered how each delicate change of pressure made you buck your hips, clench your muscles or twitch and squirm. She was loud about it too. Warm unabashed moans escaped her lips in response to your taste, only heightening your pleasure by sending delicious vibrations throughout your core.

Her strong hands held you open to be devoured, squeezing possessive finger marks into the flesh of your ass and stopping your hips from flying off the bed as you chased more, more more.

“Tasha, oh Tasha please.”

You weren’t sure what you were begging for. Release? Or the chance to spend eternity at her mercy?

At Natasha’s charge, you were rocketing towards carnal bliss. The only tether that kept you clinging to reality was the fingers you had knotted into her silken hair.

She suckled at your clit, drawing all the blood to the surface, then taunted you with the most delicate swirling kitten licks, each one lighter and fainter than the next until you were mewling pitifully, reduced to tears and pleading her not to stop.

This would never be enough to send you flying, and Natasha knew it.

“No no no please Tasha.”

You could have sworn you heard her giggle. A pretty, sparkling bubble of sound that glittered when it burst.

“Tasha, I need more.”

But she denied you once again.

Her touch was so feather-light it might as well not be there at all.

“Please, you said you’d return the favour. Please.”

Another taunting giggle slipped past her lips. “Oh but I am.”

And then you understood. Natasha intended to break you and rebuild you, just like you had done with her.

“T-Tasha!” you whined pitifully; your words barely coherent. “Tasha p-please – OH FUCK!”

Her tongue was in your cunt, the wet muscle plunging deep; then she sucked harshly on your clit again, before pressing into you once more, repeating the pattern over and over until you burst. Blistering ecstasy consumed your entire being, igniting a cataclysm of electricity centred entirely at your cunt. Your head tipped back, and your mouth hung open, as if you were preparing to shriek like a whoring banshee, but no sound came.

Natasha grinned at you dopily, high on your pleasure. She looked so delighted, proudly wearing the obscene sheen of your slick that coated her lips and chin.

But before you could begin to think about steadying yourself, she delved face first between your thighs again, wedging her shoulders at such an angle that you couldn’t close yourself to her.

“T-Tasha - I can’t,” you whimpered. But your words didn’t reflect what your mind was telling you.

I want more.

“It’s too much”.

I need you.

“I can’t”.

Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

Tormenting teeth nipped at the flesh of your thigh. “Yes, you can, pretty girl. You can give me another one. You have to let me try. I’m addicted to your taste already. And I told you earlier, I’m not stopping until I hear you scream. You wouldn’t want to deny me that, would you? It’s hardly fair.”

You still had power, you still had control. Because you were choosing this. You were choosing to give Tasha the wildest side of you, just like she had.

“Go on,” Natasha urged. “Ask me nicely.”

“Fuck - Tasha - please make me come again. Please make me scream.”

“Good Bunny,” she quipped, branding you with Bradley’s old nickname. The moniker felt filthy and possessive coming from her lips. You weren’t Bradley’s anymore. You were hers. And Tasha was yours, your perfect, formidable, slutty little Birdy who was pleasuring you so well. Everything she was doing was only to please you.

Natasha’s next firm lick through your folds was almost painful, your clit was so sensitive, the nerve endings blindingly alert to even the daintiest of touches. Tears streamed down your face, and you scratched at the bedsheet with rictus fingers, grappling for some way to ground yourself to reality. You felt like some great force might burst through your skin at any moment, but still Natasha did not relent. She wanted to take everything you could possibly give, to ignite every flame and burn all evidence of what you had previously known to be pleasure to the ground. Then, like a phoenix from the ashes, true euphoria would rise.

If your first orgasm was like a flight to heaven, the second was an exorcism. A purging of everything that had come before. Men, women, Bradley; all memories of them incinerated. When the smoke finally cleared, only Natasha would remain.

You barely noticed that you had started screaming.

-

Natasha had never known a taste as divine as yours, and your orgasm was the most marvellous spectacle. You were utterly bewitching; she was entranced by watching the waves of pleasure roll through you. After experiencing it once, she was desperate to witness it again and again. To cause your pleasure to swoop and swell until it became a tsunami, flooding you, consuming you, crashing against the rocks before retreating to softer, calmer waters, lapping gently at the shore. It tasted even sweeter knowing that she had been the one to make you feel like this, that she was the moon controlling your tides. She wanted to be the only person to hear your siren song ever again.

“God, you’re pretty as a picture. I want to remember this, the best night of my life.”

“Then take one,” you breathed, your voice still laced with bliss.

It should have shocked Natasha, the intensity in which she wanted to do what she was told, to please you. Being under Bradley’s boot had stopped feeling like a choice a long time ago. For years, he had been an anchor tying her down, but being with you felt like free sailing on wide open seas; wild and unexpected. Exhilarating. Because you weren’t telling her to do what you wanted, you were telling her to do what she wanted.

She slinked from the bed and reached beneath it, pulling out a box.

You gasped excitedly. “Bradley’s polaroid! Oh, that’s perfect.”

Natasha was careful taking the camera from its pristine confines. Bradley always insisted on preserving the original packaging whenever he bought anything new, and to him, damaging the packaging was just as serious a crime as damaging the item itself. But then she remembered Bradley wasn’t there and took great delight in standing on the box before climbing back onto the bed.

“He never let me use this,” she admitted quietly.

“Me neither.”

Of course he didn’t. Bradley’s control was a wall Natasha had struggled to push against, but it made her even more enraged to know that you had suffered too. She would never say no to you, ever.

You scoffed at Natasha’s emerging scowl and made grabby hands at her thighs, motioning for her to staddle you.  

“He’s nothing to us anymore, remember?”

Natasha allowed herself to find comfort in your words and the gentle brush of your thumbs caressing her skin.

He’s nothing to us.

“We can do whatever we please. Now, how do you want me?”

A grin warmed Natasha’s cheeks in response to your ridiculous pin up model pout, and she found the confidence to volley a quip right back at you. 

“I think I want to eat you out again, get myself an action shot.”

You squirmed and squeezed your eyes shut, your hands moving to cover yourself.

The camera flashed and Natasha let the photo drop onto your bare chest.

“Don’t worry Bunny, I got my fill. You just smile for me now, nice and soft. Gorgeous.”

-

“You look so sexy in this one, Tasha. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Natasha’s cheeks warmed in response to your gushing praise. Was this what it was like to feel truly happy and content? She was already dreaming of a million more nights and the chance of a million mornings spent by your side, curled up against your soft naked body and having you whisper sweet compliments in ear.

“Oh, and this one. There aren’t words to describe how breathtaking you are.”

Natasha was beginning to wonder if she had discovered a hidden talent. It seemed that every photo she had taken was more captivating and titillating than the last. Though, with you as her muse, how could they not be?

The shoot had begun with you as the focus. First was a snap of you blissed out beneath her. Then a close up of your red-tinted lips, glossy and smudged from the evening’s kisses. A montage of your breasts followed; pushing them together, teasing your nipples, arching your back to present them at the best angle. Natasha’s hand appeared in the frame soon after. You were too great a temptation for her to resist. There was a shot of you lewdly sucking on two of her fingers, then a sequence of Natasha’s fingers trailing a wet path down your body, between the valley of your breasts, across your abdomen, swirling around your navel before disappearing from view. A portrait of your face as you gasped in pleasure told the story of where they ended up.

It was then the shoot had become a little more X-rated. Natasha had set the camera on a timer and placed it on the bedside table, aiming the lens towards the bed. You both quickly forgot that the camera was there at all.

Natasha got lost in you, succumbing to your indulgent kiss and floating into a dreamlike state. There had been no transfer of power this time, everything was shared, equal. This was the simple matter of basking in each other’s company, no agenda. Natasha had already proved she could bring you to ecstasy, and there was no question of your own talent in doing the same to her.

Tongues twisting, hands roaming, legs tangling, and cores colliding. Every action was a bid to become interwoven, tied together by destiny and desire.

“This one is my favourite.”

Natasha glanced at the image you held up. She was nuzzling noses with you, and you both bore dizzy smiles and twinkling eyes; spent, sated and satisfied.

“We look so happy,” she breathed.

“Because we are. We deserve to be.”

You reached out to gently tuck a whisp of hair behind Natasha’s ear and the sparkling jewels of your engagement ring caught her eye for the first time all evening. She took hold of your hand to examine it more closely and found a smooth milk-white pearl encircled by a set of tiny crystal-clear diamonds.

“Pearls are my birthstone,” Natasha said quietly. She dropped your wrist and toyed with the silver band that sat on her own finger. The ring she wore was the inverse of yours; a fat, gleaming diamond surrounded by small delicate pearls.

It was clear to Natasha now. Bradley had mixed up the rings. It probably wasn’t even a mistake, he just ordered two that looked similar then tossed a coin to decide which to give to who, there would have been barely a thought behind the decision at all. It’s not as if he ever truly listened when she expressed a preference, his own opinions always trumped hers in the end. What did she have to complain about, after all? He’d say she was being ungrateful. He’d say the ring had cost him a fortune and any other woman would have killed to wear a rock like that on her finger. Besides, he did listen. There were pearls on the ring, weren’t there? What more could she have possibly wanted?

Care. Attention. Thoughtfulness. But apparently that was too much to ask from the man she had planned to marry.

Natasha’s affinity for pearls began in childhood, with hours spent digging through her grandmother’s jewellery box and twirling in front of the mirror with strings of them around her neck. Even now, she believed there was nothing more classically beautiful than a simple pair of pearl droplet earrings. But it wasn’t only the aesthetic she appreciated. In breaks between intensive training and memorising aircraft specs and mission briefs, Natasha often found herself delving into the cultural history of her birthstone. She discovered the famous Ama pearl divers from Japan, all women because of a naturally better capacity to hold their breath. She read how, in some ancient texts, pearls were said to be ‘daughters of the moon’, whereas others claimed them to be the tears of Eve as she left the garden of Eden. The more Natasha learnt, the more she found affiliation to the pearl’s associations, how their true splendour was only revealed when someone cracked open their hard outer shell.

Natasha once thought Bradley would be the one to achieve that feat. She was wrong.

A quote from famed mineralogist, George Kunz, came to Natasha’s mind: “the diamond is to the pearl as the sun is to the moon.”

You were the sun, blazing and radiant. You were the diamond, hardened and resistant, formed under the extreme pressure of Bradley’s thumb. Why had that petulant oaf of a man tried so hard to make you and Natasha the same, when the real magnificence was found in your differences?

Natasha removed her ring and held it out to you. Your expression was quizzical for a moment, but you responded in kind without protest, then allowed Natasha to slip her old ring, the one with the extravagant, clear-cut diamond, onto your finger. You nodded and returned the favour, sliding the brilliant white pearl onto Natasha’s left hand, where it belonged.

“Come out west with me,” Natasha heard you plead. It was time for conversation to turn to the future.

“I own a house in Virginia, it belongs to me, only me. Thank fuck Bradley never bothered to sign on the dotted line. You can help me rip up the rest of his shit and send it to him a casket. We can spend whole days in bed together and do all the things Bradley never let us do; things we probably stopped ourselves from even dreaming about. I’d worship you, Tasha, if you let me. My only desire in life right now is to make you happy.”

It was a thrilling proposition. To do something reckless, completely unplanned and unexpected, to flip her life on its head and run to the other side of the country with a stranger. In just one night, you’d ripped Bradley’s remains from Natasha’s heart and taken his place.

There was only one answer to your question.

“Yes.”

-

The polaroid camera made a deliciously satisfying CRUNCH when it hit the stones beneath Bradley’s bedroom window.

“Oops.”

Your mouth formed a falsely innocent ‘O’ and you touched your fingers to your lips in coquettish mock shock like a real life Betty Boop. A mirthful cackle left your lips and Natasha glimmered with adoration. Nobody had ever excited her as much as this. For the first time in years, she felt true unbridled hope.

You both got re-dressed in your identical red gowns and Natasha retrieved the packed bags she’d hidden away. One suitcase, her khaki deployment holdall and a rucksack was her existence had been reduced to; a striking reminder of how much of her sense of self Bradley had managed to whittle away.

She appreciated the squeeze of her hand you gave before hauling the holdall over your shoulder.

Natasha followed you down the stairs and out of the front door. Neither of you bothered to look back. Bradley’s imposing bronco awaited on the driveway, like an ugly brutish beast squaring up for one final fight in defence of its owner. But Natasha wasn’t scared anymore. She called you to a halt and squared up to the car, primed and ready for battle.

“Tell me you hate this monstrosity as much as I do.”

You replied in the affirmative. “It’s a fucking eyesore. Yet Bradley would probably lick it clean each night if he didn’t think people would judge him.”

“I’ve dreamt about torching it.”

It was true. And, in those dreams, Natasha always made Bradley watch. He would scream in tortured anguish as if he was the one being burned. 

“Well Birdy, I don’t have any matches, but I did keep hold of these…” you grinned, holding up the menacing pair of scissors you’d been wielding for most of night.

Natasha could almost cry with joy. Was this love? Was this what being with Bradley should have felt like the whole time? You were anticipating her most hidden desires before she even realised them herself.

She kissed you again, zealously and ardently, until you moaned against her lips and her knees grew weak. 

In the groping of bodies and tangling of fingers, the scissors found themselves in Natasha’s possession, and she splayed them open before gripping them tight, the blades almost slicing into her palm.

Giddy madness twisted her smile. “Tell me, Bunny, where should we begin?”

-

It was the early hours of the morning when Bradley finally staggered into an Uber. The streets were still silent, but the sky could barely be considered dark anymore, and there would soon be evidence of the sun rearing its head over the horizon.

He’d enjoyed having a rare night out in San Diego alone, not having to keep track of his every move while Natasha was around. He’d allowed himself a few more drinks than usual and given himself permission to let his guard down, confident that his beady-eyed fiancée was miles away. Not that Bradley truly believed she was on to him. He’d slipped up a couple of times, sure, but Natasha had never said a word. She obviously wasn’t as sharp as she liked to think she was.

Bradley had both his girls on a tight leash, of that he was certain. You’d both been so well behaved recently too, not acting up or pushing his limits. He’d finally got you both tamed. Turned out all he’d needed to do was buy two sparkling rings with massive rocks and promise you and Natasha your dream weddings; the pinnacle of every girl’s life, no matter how right on feminist they claimed to be.

He looked forward to what would greet him when he arrived home. The thought of Natasha naked in bed, just the way he liked, and the prospect of draping one girl’s soft body over his and drifting off to sleep whilst fantasising about the other.

The two of you combined were his perfect woman. If only he could build a girlfriend out of each of your parts, it would have been so much simpler than having to mould you both, stamping down the traits he disapproved of and manipulating you and Natasha into behaving. But the chances of such a goddess existing were slim, so for now he’d settled for keeping you both. Besides, he’d worked too hard to throw it all away for anything less than perfection.

He thanked and tipped the Uber driver then flashed him a cocky smile.

“Have a good rest of your night. I know I will.”

In his state of inebriation, it took Bradley a few moments after stepping through his front door to realise something was wrong.

Shit. Had he been robbed?

The entire house was ransacked, as if a freak tornado had sprung from nowhere and wreaked havoc, obliterating everything in its path before disappearing into the ether. Bradley could do nothing but gape at the wreckage, dumfounded and distraught among the carcases of everything he held dear, his kingdom laid to ruin.

It was only after choking down the bile in his throat that Bradley realised; he hadn’t heard a peep out of Phoenix.

“NATASHA!?”

His yells were fuelled by rage, not fear. How the fuck could she have slept through all of this? Why hadn’t she tried to stop the intruders; to fight them off? She was in the Navy for fuck’s sake – hadn’t she at least called the fucking cops?

“NATASHA?!”

He pounded up the stairs, but his alcohol filled body hadn’t caught on to his brain’s sudden surge of clarity. His legs were heavy, and he stumbled, his knees slamming harshly into the top step.

“Fucking shit – FUCK! NATASHA!”

His roars got no answer.

Bradley hauled himself forwards and surged across the landing, practically pulling the bedroom door off his hinges as he flung it open to reveal… an empty bed.

Natasha was nowhere to be found. Instead, Bradley was greeted with yet more annihilation. A wretched pile of ripped shirts, scattered shards of mirror glass and splintered wood, white feathers from burst pillows. The room reeked of sex and some kind of cologne, and Bradley’s vision became clouded with thoughts of Natasha in the throes of pleasure with another man. His supposed rival’s face changed by the second; a Rolodex of every member of the male population Bradley had ever witnessed Natasha speaking to, such was the scale of the feelings of inferiority he tried so hard to repress.

“Cheating fucking bitch.”

But then something caught Bradley’s eye. A polaroid picture lying in the centre of his crumpled sheets. 

He sank to his knees.

It wasn’t cologne he could smell; it was perfume. Your perfume.

This was no random break in, no freak tornado or Natasha’s tryst with another man. And there, captured for all posterity in a neatly framed square of film, was the sordid proof.

But it was the words scribbled in the white space underneath the photo that had sounded the final death knell.

When Birdy met Bunny.

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

😱 This one was so fun to write! I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much. I'd love to know what you thought!

Tagging people who have expressed interest:

@roosterforme @cherrycola27 @sometimesanalice @trickphotography2 @bobfloydsbabe

@jessicab1991 @captainorbust-blog @waltermis @ratcatcher2world @angelbabyyy99

@noob-master-69-1 @itscryptic @je-suis-prest-rachel @jessicab1991 @minnie-rae

@sarahsmi13s @hangmanssunnies @desert-fern @carolina-on-my-mind03 @startrekfangirl2233

@blue-aconite

[itsyassbitch]

[itsyassbitch]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

[itsyassbitch]

just gonna leave this here

[itsyassbitch]

Red, White, and Rooster

Master List

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Eventual smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Red, White, and Rooster Playlist TikTok edit Moodboad

Chapters:

Teaser

Prologue: The Great Debate

Chapter 1: The Election

Chapter 2: First 100 Days

Chapter 3: State of the Union

Chapter 4: A Wedding of Presidental Proportions

Chapter 5: Honeymoon Blues

Chapter 6: House Divided

Chapter 7: Mr. President Will See You Now

Chapter 8: The Man

Chapter 9: Under the Oval

Chapter 10: Happy Birthday, Mr. President

Chapter 11: Mrs. Americana & The Heartthrob Prez

Chapter 12: mirrorball

Chapter 13: What's In a Name?

Chapter 14: A Hen in the Fox House

Chapter 15: The Great War

Chapter 16: Executive Orders

Chapter 17: Safe and Sound

Chapter 18: On the (Campaign) Trail Again

Chapter 19: President Dadshaw

Chapter 20: The First Family

[itsyassbitch]

A Favor Among Friends Masterlist

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, historical inaccuracies. Regency era men and ideals. Eventual Smut. RegencyEra!AU Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Part 1: The First Ball of the Season

Part 2: The Offer

Part 3: The Engagement

More to Come

[itsyassbitch]

(I mean it might fix some things)

[itsyassbitch]

Here's the first video of Glen's grunts, groans and some whimpers while working out

I was burning hot editing this

tagging everyone who interacted with the original post: @boringusername3 @marimiranda1520 @angelbabyyy99 @jessicab1991 @karma-is-my-girl-friend @tgmavericklover @auntiekiki20 @gpsmississippihippie @luckyladycreator2 @djs8891 @downsincejuly @punishereditz @sorchathered @illisea @lilo1471 @loverofallfandoms99 @winters-queen @julieandthe-stan-toms @senawashere

and people who might enjoy that: @roosterforme @mamachasesmayhem @hangmansgbaby @hardballoonlove

[itsyassbitch]

The two extremes of my ideal type: the dilf much older than my dad aaron hotchner, or the nerdy angel face boy spencer reid.

[itsyassbitch]

Complimentary Colors

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WC: 7.3K

Summary: After recently joining the team, you and Spencer could never get along. What started off as you two ignoring each other turned into bickering at work. What happens when a stressful moment for you turns into an opportunity to get to know this fascinating coworker of yours?

tags: enemies to lovers, fluff, brief mentions of crime/murder at the beginning (talking about cases/kidnapping), reader is shy and anxious, reader looks young for her age. (reader might be female but i don’t think i specified)

A/N: I haven’t written anything in years and I’ve been on a criminal minds kick for a while. I had this idea loosely based off a prompt I saw on cai by (ApolloTheBoykisser) so thanks babes ;) also for once I had a fic of mine beta read lol my bestie beta read this for me. This is also posted on my AO3 page.

You had been working at the BAU for the last few weeks. You tried to get to know most of your coworkers and it seemed like you were making great progress. You had heard a lot about the team before you joined and were pretty intimidated by them at first. Okay- you were still pretty intimidated by them. But you pushed through your quiet exterior little by little and slowly but surely tried to get to know them. 

All except for Spencer Reid. It seemed like he was trying to avoid you. He was always very quiet and would barely talk to you. Being a shy person yourself, you thought maybe he was just shy or a quiet guy. However, he continued to ignore you except for when he had to acknowledge you for work. 

His coldness towards you was increasingly annoying as time went on, and your perception of him had slowly warped. The things about him you once found endearing, you now forced yourself to hate about him. If he rambled for too long, it could potentially make your blood boil. However, you could never stop paying attention to when he rambled on about facts or statistics. You didn’t want to admit it, but you found him fascinating.

It didn’t take that long for him to start acknowledging you, but this soon turned into the two of you bickering like children. When you were discussing cases or profiles, you both would argue over motives, victimology, crime scenes- literally anything about the case- you two could turn it into an opportunity to contradict the other. You both still kept a level of professionalism to not let your rivalry affect your job. 

But there was always this tension between the two of you when you were in close quarters for too long. 

And at some point you both reached your boiling point. 

Last week, while the team was on a case, you and Spencer had gotten into a little spat once again. This time it went beyond the slight bickering or contraction. In the middle of the local precinct, you two were at each other's throats. 

“What was that?” You asked after you and Spencer left the interview room that held a victims family. 

“I was working off of the profile . . .” 

“You mean the profile we haven’t finished?” You interrupted. “The one we are still currently working on and have yet to disclose?” 

“That doesn’t mean we can’t work off of the information we already have,” he objected. 

“You told her information we are still unsure about. We don’t know for a fact how long he keeps them alive,” you accused while placing your hands on your hips, trying to conceal your frustration but failing.

“Guys.” Someone tried to tone things down. Neither of you heard who and you weren’t backing down.

“If I remember correctly, I heard you discussing this very subject and inputting your thoughts  . . .” 

“You still shouldn’t have told her! Especially when you don’t know for sure if her daughter could be alive,” you seethed stepping closer.

“Would you rather me hide everything from the mother who’s suffering from the disappearance of her daughter?” He asked, matching your tone and taking a step forward. 

“I didn’t say that!” 

“It sure sounded like it.” 

“Reid. Y/N.” The two of you turned your heads to your boss like two deer caught in headlights. 

“With me, now.” Hotch demanded and led you to an empty interview room. 

You could tell how angry he was- despite the fact that his stoic face represented almost every emotion in the book. But by the tone of his voice, you knew you and Spencer had messed up. 

“You two do not only represent this team, you represent the bureau. These cops are already not pleased with the idea of their boss calling us in and I do not need you arguing in front of them and giving them a reason to take us off this case. You must learn to respect and cooperate with one another or I will take you both off this case. Do I make myself clear?” He lectured. 

You both replied with a monotone “yes.”

“Good” 

Ever since your argument, you both had been relatively quiet towards one another. Like it had been in the beginning when you were ignoring each other. But that didn’t stop you from letting him invade your mind at every waking minute. It almost saddened you in a way there was no more bickering or quick remarks with him. With how much it annoyed you, you never thought you would miss it. 

The team had just finished a case and before everyone packed up and went home, Rossi announced that tomorrow everyone should come over for a little ‘get our minds off work’ get together. Your coworkers all thought it was a great idea to relax after the last few very stressful cases. 

As excited as you were to finally go to one of Rossi’s house parties, you were also scared shitless. Parties with relatively new people in your life were hard. You were so quiet around new people and were scared to approach others; you often waited to be approached. To you, being a profiler was easier than having a social life. 

But, maybe this time would be different. There’s not that many people on the team and you’d already started to familiarize yourself with them. 

The next day, you were pulling up to Rossi’s house. If there was anything else to be intimidated by with this man- besides his years of experience in the BAU- it was this giant house. You were greeted by the man himself at his front door. 

“Y/N, glad you could make it.” He opened the door and welcomed you in. 

He led you inside to where everyone else was gathered. Everyone was cheery at your arrival. Penelope with her clicky heels ran up to you and greeted you with a hug. It was refreshing to be around people who were so welcoming. It made it a little bit easier to really let your walls down. 

Well, almost everyone. Spencer gave you a small wave from where he stood. 

The night continued on and you would occasionally engage in conversation with the team. At this point, you were off to the side- standing in the kitchen and occasionally sipping some wine that Rossi had been bragging about and was just so excited for everyone to try. You were a bit too overwhelmed to go back to talking. The music was getting a bit loud and the lights seemed to be too bright. You opted for sitting on the barstool next to the counter and observing everyone around.  

They were all off in small groups or pairs around the house. All except for you and Spencer. He was another outlier and standing away from all the commotion. You looked over in his direction and he caught your eye. You both glared at each other and you quickly averted your gaze away from him. Your thoughts started to race and you began playing with your hair. 

After a moment, he glanced over in your direction again when you weren’t looking. He was unintentionally profiling you and noticed you getting overstimulated. Your eyes laser focused like you zoned out, your foot tapping against the chair, and your hand anxiously playing with your hair. 

While he wasn’t exactly your friend, he did understand what it felt like when social gatherings got overwhelming. He made his way over to you, careful not to make you more nervous or uncomfortable. 

“You okay?” He asked you. You were pulled away from spacing out. His voice sounded a bit concerned- which took you by surprise. You were partially relieved someone approached you to help bring you back down to earth. That someone noticed something was off. What confused you was the fact that person was Spencer. 

“I’m fine.”

He was well aware of what it meant when someone was “fine” and you were clearly not fine. He felt bad that you were so quick to shut down his attempt to check on you. After all, it was his fault and he knew that. 

“Do you wanna step outside?” He asked. 

You were conflicted. You didn’t want to be outside alone with him, but at the same time, you needed some time away from everything. Maybe it would help calm your nerves. 

“Maybe for a bit.” 

You followed him outside onto the back patio. You took note of the fresh air and the muffled sounds from inside. It all felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. Pretty soon though, you realized how awkward it was to be outside alone with him. 

Spencer cleared his throat and spoke to break the silence, “Sometimes these parties can be . . . a lot.”

“A little bit. I was doing fine for a while but I think my social battery is running low.” You confessed to explain your discomfort. 

“Yeah” he replied. He appreciated the fact that you felt comfortable enough to express this with him. He tried to relate to you. “It’s the same with me. Sometimes I just need a moment to collect myself.” 

“Exactly.” You were relieved to hear that he felt the same way. “Plus it doesn’t help that I'm so new to the team.” You crossed your arms and slightly closed yourself off.

“I was the same way when I first joined.” He told her to try and ease your concerns. You were just like him at some point. The new guy and just trying to figure out how you fit in. 

“It’s difficult at first, but you settle down after a bit. Once you get to know everyone.” 

“Yeah it’s just the whole getting to know them part is a bit . . .” You abruptly stopped, hesitating to reveal too much to him.  

“A bit what?” 

“Intimidating,” you confessed, avoiding his eyes.

He obviously noticed your hesitance and avoided his usual behavior with you. You were always so strong and quick to banter with him. But now you seemed vulnerable, and he didn’t want to take advantage of that. 

“It’s not just you, I promise.” He was being honest. This was the calmest and most genuine conversation the two of you had ever had. “I find them all pretty intimidating.” 

Your eyebrows raised at his confession. How could he possibly be intimidated by these people?

“Really? But you’ve known them for so long. You all are so close.” 

“Close doesn’t mean you can’t be a little intimidated,” he replied. It might not make much sense, but it was the truth. 

“I mean Hotch is always stonewall and silent, no matter what you say to him. And don’t even get me started on Morgan.” He joked, knowing you would understand. 

You lightly chuckled at his joke. “I get what you mean.” You were starting to understand him more. You thought it was ironic that one of the team members you were first intimidated by was also intimidated by the team. Now he was starting to seem less intimidating or annoying and more approachable. You kinda liked seeing this new side of Spencer. 

“I guess I’ve always been like that. Worried to get to know people or open up.” You weren’t entirely sure why you were telling him this, but you knew he would understand. 

"I think when you're afraid of being hurt or judged or misunderstood by people, you try to keep your guard up." He told you, speaking from experience. From a young age until now, he's always felt misunderstood. 

"And I think...maybe that's why you're on edge with me? You're not sure what to expect from me."

“Are you profiling me?” You asked jokingly. Spencer however thought you were serious and you noticed him tense up. 

“I’m kidding.” Your expression softened to let him know you weren’t actually accusing him of profiling you. “I’m gonna be completely honest, I’ve been on edge with you cause I thought you didn’t like me.” 

He was a bit taken off guard by your statement. But at the same time, he couldn't deny it. He didn't dislike you now, but at first, he wasn't exactly fond of you. And now he was ashamed of that.

"I didn't like you." He admitted. "I thought you were pretentious, too eager to be accepted. I think I saw you as competition." 

Spencer’s comment did sting. It was never sunshine and rainbows to hear someone doesn't like you. However, you did take note of his language. He said “didn’t,” “thought” and “saw,” all past tense. Does this mean he doesn’t dislike you now? What you did appreciate was his reciprocated honesty. You both were making some progress in your relationship and you wanted to continue it. 

“I was eager to be accepted. I wanted to feel like I belonged.” 

“I know how you feel.” He expressed his sympathy. “I regret not giving you a chance. You’re not like I thought you were.” He also appreciated seeing this different side of you.

“You’re not like I thought you were.” You admitted. 

A little smirk tugs at his lips, “So I’m not as pretentious and selfish as you thought?” 

You lightly chucked, “I never thought you were selfish, but I did think you were a ‘know-it-all’ and trying to show off.” 

Spencer really didn’t want you to think he was a show off. Sure- he had a vast amount of knowledge, but he never wanted you to think he was bragging or that he knew better than you. “I do know a lot but I promise I’m not trying to show off. I just have all this information in my head and I want to share it with people or I’m really passionate about something and want to talk about it.” 

You understood that feeling all too well. There were so many times you wanted to ramble on about things you cared about or had knowledge on, but for the most part just stayed quiet. Meanwhile, he didn't keep quiet. He would go on and on. And while almost everyone else was either rolling their eyes or trying to shut him up, you were listening intently. You didn’t want to admit it back then, but now you were feeling up to it. 

“I will admit, while I did think of you as a know it all, I found a lot of your tangents interesting.” You admitted. 

His eyebrows raised in surprise. He was so used to people dismissing him. It was nice to hear you often would listen. “Really? You didn't mind me babbling on?" He asked, relieved with your response. 

"I mean, it is something I have trouble with. I tend to talk too much.” 

“Oh Dr. Reid I am very familiar with rambling and being worried about talking too much.” You paused for a moment- considering how much more you wanted to share with him. “I know it may not seem like it because I’m always quiet around the team but.. once I get comfortable around people, I actually get very rambly”

"You do?" He asked, sounding surprised. “About what?”  

“Really anything. Mostly things I’m passionate about like you. I’ll also tend to go on tangents about memories or just things happening in my life.” 

You made your way to a bench on the patio as you spoke. Spencer followed and sat down on a chair adjacent to you. You brought your attention back to him and noticed his focused gaze on you and he quickly licked his lips, a habit you noticed he did all the time.

"You really are a lot like me. You're just quieter at first." He added, teasing you a little. While he was not one for social cues, he had the sudden urge to be bold and make a joke. "Maybe next time I see you rambling, I won't immediately contradict you." 

You dramatically dropped your jaw and placed your hand over your heart. “Wow, you really know how to give a compliment,” you said, pretending to be offended. 

He laughed with a bright grin. "I'm sorry. Let me rephrase. The fact that you're so silent and reserved makes it that much more thrilling when I find out how much of a chatterbox you actually are." He joked, being playful as before.

Your cheeky smile slightly falters for a moment. You hoped he wouldn’t notice but he did. “I think you won’t be so thrilled once I actually turn into a chatterbox around you.”

"Actually I think I would find it intriguing." He told you, looking directly into your eyes. "The quiet ones tend to be the most interesting and complex when they do end up talking."

“I’m not that interesting.”

“I beg to differ. You’re very interesting. Probably the most interesting person on the team.” 

Did he really say that? Did he mean it? Or was he just being nice? You tried not to profile him, but couldn’t help it. His body language expressed he was being honest. Uncrossed legs and arms, open palms, eye contact. The only thing you didn’t notice when studying his body language was his dilated pupils. 

“Thank you,” you smiled at his compliment, “I doubt I’m the most interesting though. You maybe, Mr. Three PHDs and can read 20,000 words per minute.” 

He smiled back at you, “Just because I'm well educated doesn’t mean you can’t be as interesting as me, if not more.” 

You couldn’t believe he was saying such nice things to you. This was the first time you guys were actually making some kind of connection.. and it felt wonderful. 

“I still can’t believe we’ve known each other for this long but are just now talking. And by talking, I mean not getting into a spat after speaking for more than 3 minutes.” You confessed with a hint of playfulness in your voice at your joke. 

“Yeah, I feel like I barely know you.” 

“What would you like to know?” You asked. 

He thought for a moment trying to think of a question to ask. You noticed once again that he licked his lips, trying to concentrate. 

“Let’s start with something simple. What’s your favorite color?” He asked. 

“Wow, I think that’s a bit too personal.” You said, voice laced with sarcasm. You tried your hardest to contain your amusement but started to smile. He smiled back at you. At first, he was always confused with sarcasm and social cues. To be honest, he still was. But he could just tell with you. He knew when you were joking and when you were being serious. He found your sense of humor amusing. 

“Yellow.” You answered. “What’s yours?” 

“Purple.” He replied. 

You intended to leave it inside your head- but a quiet “huh” made it past your lips as an idea came into focus. 

“What? Is it my choice for my favorite color?” He tried to joke with you but was also a little bit serious. 

“Oh no, it's just I thought it was interesting because those are complementary colors. You know how they are opposite on the color wheel?” You asked even though you figured he knew. 

He nodded his head, “Yes! Because they are on opposite ends of the color wheel, when they’re used together it creates a vibrant contrast and enhances visual appeal. The two colors almost balance each other out and support each other's intensity. Complimentary colors are a key component to color theory.” He suddenly noticed how long he was talking and his posture stiffened. He pressed his lips into a thin line and avoided eye contact. “Told you I talk too much.”

“And I told you that I find your rambling interesting.” 

His head perked back up at you. You genuinely wanted to listen to him. It was refreshing to talk to someone that didn’t cut him off or zone out. 

“That’s kinda like us though, don’t you think?” 

“What’s like us?” He asked confused, still thinking about the fact that you actually enjoy listening to what he has to say. 

“How our favorite colors are complimentary colors. Like you said, they support each other's intensity. When you first see them they’re opposites, but the more you look the more they compliment each other.” 

He softly smiles. “That does sound like us. The more we learn about each other, the more we find we have in common.” 

There was a short pause where you both considered his statement. You did want to know more about him. You wanted to know all of him. 

“Can I ask you a question this time?” 

“Of course.” 

“So, you're always reading. Like everywhere you go, you carry a book with you. I wanna know: what’s a book you could read over and over again and never get tired of?” You wanted to know beyond his favorite color. You wanted to get to the various  building blocks that made him the way he was. 

Spencer considered your question for a moment. Trying to go through the near infinite list of books he’s read in his life. You could tell he was concentrating on his answer because licked his lips. “Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens.” 

“Is he one of your favorite authors?” 

“Yes.” He said almost immediately, confident in his answer. 

“How come you like that book so much?” You asked.

You could see this sort of spark enter his eyes the more you asked about it. Giving him the chance to share his passions. ”Oliver Twist was one of the first books that used satire to deliver social commentary. Particularly in this book the social commentary was aimed at poverty in 19th century England. The book also quickly gained attention after its publication due to the scandalous subject matter in which crimes, such as murder, were depicted in detail.” 

Spencer finally stopped rambling and almost looked as if he caught his breath from the endless talking. But what he was met with was your undivided attention.

”That sounds really interesting, maybe one day I should give it a read.” You say with a soft smile.

“You should,” he matched your smile, but it seemed a bit more sheepish due to his brief tangent. “Have you ever read Charles Dickens before?”

You shook your head in response. “I’ve never read anything by him. I actually don’t read much. But I used to in high school.” You revealed. 

“What have you read?” He asked. He leaned slightly forward and unconsciously mirrored your body language and placed his right hand on his leg like you did yours.

“Pretty much the same books everyone else had to read for school.” You paused and tapped your fingers trying to refresh your memory.

“To Kill A Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, 1984, um.. a few Shakespeare books.” You answered with the few books you could remember. 

“Which one did you like the most?” 

“I’m not sure”, you sighed and thought about his question, wanting to give him a genuine answer. “Maybe.. Macbeth. I remember finding the story interesting and I did a group project on Macbeth and Lady Macbeth's descent into madness. Like the scene where she’s hallucinating the blood on her hands.” 

Your voice started to pick up speed and volume ever so slightly. He could tell you were getting more passionate the more you spoke. Subtly displaying how you could ramble once you opened up to someone. He smiled as you continued, happy to see that you felt comfortable enough around him to let a hidden part of yourself out into the open. 

“I guess that kinda explains why I wanted to be a profiler and learn about psychology and forensics. I was interested in how Lady Macbeth's guilt manifested and caused her delusions. I wanted to understand why people did the things they did.”

“I can tell, you have this curiosity. You want to understand. Know the ‘why’. He mentally recalled the times you would express your curiosity during work. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

He pressed his lips in a line. “Is it- is it my turn to ask you something now?” He stuttered slightly. 

“I mean you don’t have to. It’s nobody’s ‘turn’ but you can if you want.” 

“I do.” He replied immediately. The corners of your mouth perked up into a small smile. He mirrored you.

“I may be stealing your previous question. Like you said you don’t read much. But I have noticed you listen to music a lot. I want to know a song you could listen to over and over again.” 

He was right, you often listen to music. Mostly on your way into work or on the jet, you would be wearing your signature headphones and have some playlist on. It was your own way of coping with the stress of your job. You looked down at the ground as you recalled the songs in your favorite playlist. 

“Dreams by The Cranberries.” You brought your eyes back up to face him. But what you saw was confusion in Spencer’s eyes. He tried to hide it but you knew better. “Have you heard that song?”

He did that little sideways pout you often saw him doing when he was in awkward situations.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. Spencer broke eye contact, embarrassed he didn’t know something from pop culture. 

“It’s okay. Remind me next time I have my headphones and I’ll show you.” You spoke calmly to reassure him there was nothing to be embarrassed about. 

He brought his attention back to you. Relieved to hear your gesture instead of a quip about his lack of pop culture knowledge like he was used to. 

“I will.” 

“Alright my turn.” You shifted your weight and brought your legs up to your side so your whole body could face him. “Um, it's kind of a personal question though. I’m curious about something.” 

“Go ahead. What is it?” He asked, giving you his whole undivided attention. 

“Does it ever bother you when people question your age when you say how educated you are?” 

He was somewhat thrown off by your question, but something told him you've wanted to ask him this for a while.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I wouldn’t say it bothers me. Considering I have had such an extensive education so early in my life, it’s completely understandable that someone would question how I did it at a young age.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed in response. He knew that wasn’t the answer you were looking for. 

“Can I ask you something personal?” He asked before asking his real question. He appreciated your concerns about potentially pushing a boundary and he reciprocated it. He didn’t want to break this newfound friendship- if he could call it that- by making you uncomfortable. 

You nodded your head, silently telling him it was okay.

He slightly fidgeted with his hands. “Did you ask me that because people question your age?” 

“Yes,” you answered hesitantly. “I’ve never looked my age.” 

He thought about his next question before asking. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, I’m just trying to understand. Why does that bother you?” 

“It bothers me when people don’t take me seriously. I mean I’m in my late 20s and some people still think I look fresh out of college. It hasn’t happened as often since I joined the BAU but so many people in law enforcement don’t take me seriously. People tend to think I’m too innocent to have a job like this.” You confessed to him as you avoided looking him in the eyes.

"I wouldn't say you're innocent.” His comment brought your eyes back to him. 

“But you do have a soft demeanor. It makes you approachable. If anything, those qualities are an incredible asset to this job whether it be when you're speaking to victims or their family members.” 

Even though he would often throw snarky retorts to you in the past and try to get under your skin, he always admired how good you were at your job. Of course, you were an amazing profiler and had no trouble standing against dangerous unsubs. But the way you handled incredibly sensitive situations with such calmness and comfort with others was admirable. During cases with children, you were able to ease their worries and provide a safe space.

“While you are very sweet and shy, I would never call you innocent.”

“Thanks,” you smiled at his compliments. You felt understood hearing his affirmation. It also warmed your heart to hear that he thought so highly of you. Especially since the last few weeks, you thought he hated your guts. Although- his comment did make you more curious about how you were perceived. “Half the time I don’t realize how shy I am or how I present myself,” you weakly chuckled.

“There were actually a lot of ways to deduce that you're shy,” he matched your lighthearted tone but also kept a sense of seriousness to prove he was being genuine.

“Was it the fact that I was sitting by myself and scared to talk to them?” You half joked as you figured that’s what he was going to imply.

"That was part of it, yes. But besides that, it was the way you often avoid direct eye contact, and the tone of your voice. It's gentle and low, as if you're afraid of coming on too strong.” He was too caught up in his thoughts and observations to realize how much he was divulging. “You keep your distance and your words are always measured or not overly assertive. Almost like if you do come off assertive you will receive backlash." 

When he met your eyes again, he noticed how frozen you were. On the outside you didn't reveal much, simply had a stoic expression. He knew you better than that. He knew that he had hit a nerve and started to panic that he went too far. He had finally wrecked this slowly growing friendship like he thought he would, by being himself. 

“Wow, yeah that sounds pretty spot on,” you agreed. You sounded soft spoken and played with your hair again, of course without your knowledge.      

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He abruptly spattered in a panic.

“No it’s okay really,” you interrupted trying to reassure him. “I just didn’t expect you to be so ... correct.” 

He pressed his lips into a thin line, relieved he didn't mess things up, but still slightly worried he had left you feeling exposed. "I guess I'm just good at noticing things about people,” he shrugged.

“You forget, we get paid to notice things about people,” you joked with him, trying to make him feel better by lightening the situation. Of course, it worked. 

"That's true." He chuckled and paused for a moment to consider. Then he continued with his profile of you. 

"It's just the way your voice softens whenever you become uncomfortable, almost whispering or lowering in tone. Or your nervous habits, like when you play with your hair." It was a gesture he was pretty keen on catching.

You suddenly were very aware of the fact you were playing with your hair. You quickly dropped your hands and crossed your arms. 

"It's not bad that you do that, you know,” his voice had a slight crack in it. “It's just something you do subconsciously." He told her, trying to be comforting.

“Do you wanna know something you do subconsciously?” You asked, your voice with a hint of teasing. You decided that if he was going to profile you, you were going to profile him back. 

He noticed your tone and that you had gained a bit more confidence. "Sure, hit me." He said as he awaited your reply with curiosity and interest.

“You poke your tongue out a lot or lick your lips. Most of the time when you’re concentrating or lost in thought. Which means you definitely need to start using chapstick. I’ve seen you do it a lot since we’ve been out here.” You explained.

"So, are you telling me my lips are dry?" He replied playfully, his grin widening.

“They probably are,” you lightly laughed at the silliness of his question. He laughed along with you and subconsciously went to lick his lips again, but caught himself.

“I'm gonna be thinking about this so much more now,” he confessed. 

“Consider it payback for pointing out how much I play with my hair when I'm anxious. I don’t know what to do with my hands now,” you remarked as you dramatically waved your hands in the air.                                 

“Sorry,” he awkwardly apologized.

“I already told you it’s alright. You're not the only one who analyzes behavior. I’ve noticed plenty of things you do and why you do it.” 

“Like what?” He furrowed his eyebrows, curious what particular things about him you had profiled. He noticed something though. The confidence you once had, had washed away after you collected your thoughts.  

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you stated.

"You won’t make me uncomfortable,” he responded almost immediately. “I promise. I really want to know.”

You took a deep breath before explaining your observations. “You desperately want to be heard. You love to share the endless knowledge you have, but when someone walks away or cuts you off your reaction is almost that of deflating. And when someone does show a bit of interest in what you have to say your voice perks up and almost cracks with excitement. Then you talk a lot faster, probably a mixture of excitement and as a way to keep the other person engaged and to not lose their attention.” 

Spencer carefully listened to every word you said. Not a single deduction was false. You had read him like a book in the short time you knew him. You noticed something about him that most of the team couldn’t pick up on. 

"You're right about everything,” he said with a soft tone. Almost everyone interrupted him, you never did. This got him thinking. Of course everyone on the team made observations about each other, they’re profilers of course. However, he wondered why you had made so many about him. 

"Are you always this observant about everyone? And I mean everyone. Or is it just me that gets the special treatment?" He asked his last question with a hint of a teasing tone.

You scoffed, “yeah right, like you get special treatment.” You thought about your response, not wanting to reveal too much.

“I guess I might have paid attention to you because you were the only one who was so closed off to me. I wanted to know why. I wanted to know who you were even if you weren’t going to tell me.” 

He was right, you were paying him special attention. The fact that you wanted to know who he was despite his closed off nature revealed enough. 

“So you admit it, I get special treatment?" He cheekily asked. 

“Oh shut up,” you retorted. 

“Make me.”

Your lips pursed, holding back a smile. 

Spencer noticed you were trying to hold back a smile and found it endearing. He also noticed something else about your reaction. You were blushing. You blushed as a result of his taunting. He got lost in the thought of you blushing from him. 

“Something you wanna share with the class?” You teased. 

He didn't want to admit it, not yet at least. He wanted to make you sweat just a little bit and get a reaction out of you. 

"I'm curious about something. Could you tell me what would cause someone's cheeks to flush?" He tried to seem genuine but of course he came off with a hint of cheekiness. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. You were completely oblivious to your red face and were confused by his random inquiry. 

“Are you questioning my profiling skills?” You lightly scoffed, not knowing what his true intentions were.

"No, not exactly. I just want to know what you think.”

Your expression changed to one of confusion but also amusement. You decided to play along with his little game.

“Well psychologically blushing could mean a multitude of things. Embarrassment, stress, anxiety, attraction.” While your voice stayed consistent, he noticed the change in your breath and how your eyes darted away from him. It was a brief expression, but he caught it. He got the answer he was looking for.

"And which one of those can explain why you’re blushing?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked as he leaned closer to you.

Your stomach dropped and eyes widened. You shifted your weight in your seat and touched your cheeks. “I’m not blushing..” You ignored his question.

"You are.”

You sighed and stood up, “Well if I am it’s probably because you just pointed it out and I’m embarrassed.” 

"Oh, really?" He taunted and followed you. "I think that you might be blushing for a different reason."

You bit your lip out of frustration and crossed your arms. “Are you profiling me Spencer?” 

"Maybe I am,” he smirked. "I would say that maybe you've been so interested in me that you've been paying a lot of attention. That's why you took note of so many of my habits and behavior." 

Your face got redder and you started playing with your hair again. You huffed, “I told you before, the reason I paid attention to you was because I didn’t know you.”

"Sure, but you pointed out how you kept noticing I licked my lips. Why were you looking at my lips in the first place?"  

You were caught between a rock and a hard place. “Why are you so interested in why I’m blushing or looking at your dumb face anyway? Why do you care so much?” You asked defensively. 

He couldn’t respond, he froze up. 

“I mean, you question why I pay so much attention to you but here you are doing the same thing to me. Trying to read me like a book,” you accused. 

He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I guess we're both curious about each other."

“I guess we are,” you responded. You saw his cheeks turn pink in reaction to your questioning. “Look who’s red now.”

If his face could even get redder, it did. For a man that could probably say a thousand words a minute, it seemed like none of them could fall from his lips. 

It was your turn to smirk. “I can’t believe I’ve managed to leave you speechless. Never thought that would happen.”

"Shut up,” he sheepishly scoffed. 

“Make me.”

Spencer felt his stomach flutter, he smiled bashfully at your mimicking his own teasing. The seconds passed and neither of you spoke, neither of you had words. Both of you in your own heads. In your head, you got a stroke of confidence. You didn't know where it came from, maybe the teasing, maybe the fact that you had him speechless. But you took it and ran with it.

”Maybe the reason you wanted to know why I was blushing so badly, is the same exact reason I was blushing,” you mumbled. 

The realization hit him in waves. You just admitted to the very thing he was trying to get out of you in the first place. He was speechless once again, but this was different. He stared at you with a stunned look, not knowing what to do. 

You took his blank expression as a negative reaction, thinking you came off too strong. You slowly backed away from him, regretting putting yourself out there. 

“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Just forget it.” You turned around to go back inside but felt something on your wrist. You turned around and saw Spencer had grabbed your wrist to stop you. His eyes wide and breath heavy.

"No. Don’t,” he begged. 

"Really?" You whispered softly. 

He smiled, "yes. Please don't take it back."

You smiled back at him bashfully. Spencer’s reaction make your stomach do backflips, but it made you wonder. 

"Can I ask, why did you pay such close attention to me? 

He released his light grasp on your wrist and instead placed your hand in his. "I couldn't stop analyzing every single detail about you. I wanted to know you inside and out. There was something about you that felt intoxicating. After every time I spoke to you, even if it was just us bickering or arguing, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” 

He looked down at your joined hands and started to rub his thumb over your hand. You looked up at him and smiled, glancing at his lips. “Well you definitely must be thinking about something now, you licked your lips.”

He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. You made him feel like he was on full display, like he was a book that only you could read. 

He slightly blushed at your comment. “I am. Can you guess what I'm thinking about?"

You grabbed his other hand with yours as a smirk grew on your face, “How close we are. How it’s probably driving you crazy..” You nearly whispered the last part as you leaned closer to him, “how I’m making you crazy..”

"You do.” Spencer wrapped one of his arms around your waist and placed his hand on the small of your back. A shiver ran down your spine as his hand touched your back. Of course, he could tell and was light headed by the effect you had on him. He’d never felt so intoxicated by someone before. “You’ve made me a mad man ever since I met you.” 

Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest.

“What about you?” He asked. “Do I make you crazy?” 

You glanced between his eyes and his lips. 

“Yes..”

It was like you both were on the exact same wavelength. You both dove in at the same time and slammed your lips together. Both of you just so desperate to get a taste of the other. The kiss was tender and passionate, with no single person in control. You both moved together in synced motions. All of the arguments, all the tension that had been slowly building up could be released.

When you finally parted, Spencer rested his forehead against yours. You felt his airy breath as he tried to come back down to earth. You placed a hand on his face and stroked his cheek with your thumb. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” he breathed. 

“I can tell,” you chuckled. “what’s stopping you from doing it again?”

“Do you want me to?” He asked desperately. 

You placed your other hand on the back of his neck, “I love hearing you talk.. but shut up and kiss me.

Before today he never liked the idea of you telling him what to do. But now, he was at your mercy. He didn’t hesitate and locked your lips with his once again. You both melted together like lovesick teenagers. But moments like these of course don’t last forever. 

The sound of the patio door opening fell deaf on both your ears. It wasn’t until you heard Derek Morgan that you both pulled away from each other. 

”What’s going on out here?” Derek questioned with a smirk. 

You and Spencer couldn’t speak, too frozen to react. 

His grin only grew, “My man,” he chuckled as he glanced at Spencer.

“Don’t kill each other while you're out here.”  Derek left the way he came and closed the patio door. 

You sighed, “He’s gonna tell someone isn’t he?”

“Yup”

~

He made his way back to his coworkers with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “What’s got you all happy?” Emily asked. 

“Looks like our two angry birds are now two love birds,” he answered. 

“What? What are you talking about?” Penelope sprinted over as fast as she could with her heels. 

“How I just caught Reid and Y/N making out.”

The room exploded with chaos at the reactions to his news.

JJ, who was standing off to the side with Hotch, furrowed her eyebrows, “I thought they hated each other?” 

Hotch glanced towards the patio door and saw the light shadow of two figures. “No they don't. Not really.” 

[itsyassbitch]

drunk texting bff!Ateez and accidentally confessing you're into them

author: bvidzsoo

tw: nsfw

a/n: another random one lol kill me atp, these were so not supposed to be nsfw idk what happened, help. perhaps a few of these are...strong, if you know what i mean, lol. don't mind me, enjoy!

⚞ Masterlist ⚟

[itsyassbitch]

Happy Birthday, Miles!!!!! Hoping he gets to celebrate with everyone he loves!!! ♥️🫶🏻 Celebrating his birthday 🎂 I love his parents for bringing this amazing human into the world to share with us!

[itsyassbitch]

Masterlist

I reached 1k followers! Ahhhh! And I thought, what better way to celebrate than to start a master list for my works? Not that I've been putting it off or anything XD

Requests: Open! But please be aware that I won’t be doing every request that is sent in. I can only do so many and I usually stick with ones that I vibe with (unless I’m looking for a challenge haha), so please don’t be disappointed if I don’t get to yours.

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Freefall Series (Tailspin & Altitude)

Tailspin (Complete)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Altitude (see under Rooster for chapters)

Ride of a Lifetime

There Are Rules (Ongoing)

Part 1: There Are Rules

Part 2: There Are Exceptions

Part 3: There Are Consequences

Part 4: There Are Circumstances

Part 5: There Are Limits

Part 6: Final Chapter

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Faking It (Complete)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Show Me

Trying To Study

Movie Nights with Bradley Bradshaw

It Was Always You

No Sex with the Ex

Christmas On Deck

A Little Pinch

Truly, Madly, Deeply

The Zipper Incident

Doctor Doctor, Gimme The News

Rooster's Brood

Part 1

Part 2

The Making of Rooster's Brood

Drabble 1

Drabble 2

Princess Bradshaw

The Secret

Drabble 3

Drabble 4

Altitude (Ongoing)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Rooster’s Guide to the Great Outdoors (Ongoing)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Less Talk (Ongoing)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX: Final Chapter

Practice Baby

Devil in Disguise

Never Meant To See You Again

Ex Appeal

Brother's Best Friend

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Extras

3k Celebration Mini Drabbles

4k Celebration Drabbles