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roosterforme · 1 month ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 26 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley has a plan of action, but he needs to make sure you're a little distracted before he can proceed.

Warnings: fluff, adult language, smut, 18+

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

"Today was exhausting," you whispered, pulling your legs up so you were sitting on Bradley's lap on the couch. His flight suit was a little scratchy, and you were still wearing your dress, but you yawned and nuzzled against his chest in surrender. "Please don't make me move yet."

You could feel and hear his laughter as one big hand came up to squeeze your shoulder before gliding down your side to your waist. "Make you move? I want to keep you with me forever, Gorgeous."

Did he know the extent to which his words excited you every time he said forever? You tried to play it cool, wrapping your arm around his waist, but as soon as his lips met your forehead in a gentle kiss, you whispered, "Forever sounds really good."

His posture stiffened a little bit as his fingers flexed on your waist. You could feel him fighting the urge to jump to his feet with you in his lap.

"What's wrong?" you asked, stifling another yawn.

"Nothing," he replied quickly, but you could tell he was antsy. "Just getting hungry."

"Of course you are," you murmured, letting your hand rest on his flat belly. He only took a quick lunch break earlier during Career Day before pulling off the flyover surprise that had your whole school buzzing with excitement. "I don't think you ate enough today. Let's remedy that."

"No," he insisted, pulling you back down when you tried to stand. "I can wait a bit longer. We were just getting comfortable."

"Mmm," you hummed. "Did you notice Marty and Ms. Masters earlier? I think there might be something there."

"I did notice," he whispered. "There has to be something there. He was looking at her the way I look at you."

With a smile on your lips, you felt yourself succumbing to the warmth of his body and his deep voice and his big hands.

Soon your eyes were closed, and you were drifting to sleep.

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

Bradley's growling stomach was the least of his concerns as you dozed in his arms and drooled on his Golden Warriors patch. You were clearly exhausted from how busy and emotional this week was. He'd only just returned from a mission where you and he hadn't spoken for weeks, and then you hosted Career Day at work. Hell, he was still tired, and he'd taken the week off from work.

He thought he had himself under control. He thought he would be able to bring you home and let you have a relaxing Friday night. After all, he was in no hurry. But as soon as you told him forever sounded really good, he felt his muscles coil with anticipation. His body told him to get up and prove to you that forever was what he needed. All he had to do was walk into the bathroom and get the engagement ring.

You seemed to be able to feel the energy he was trying to reel in even as you started to fall asleep. Tonight was not the night. Truly all he wanted to do was hold you until tomorrow morning and let you rest, but his foot was bouncing gently. There was always the chance you'd say no or that you weren't ready to be engaged yet, and he couldn't stop thinking about it. But previous conversations indicated otherwise, and he knew he was ready for everything.

His head tipped back against the couch in frustration. He should have told Nat that he wanted to propose sooner rather than later, but she didn't even know he actually had his mother's ring. His best friend would have riled him up more before helping him calm down.

After kissing your forehead a few times to test how asleep you were, he unzipped the side pocket of his flight suit and carefully removed his phone. You shifted a bit, and your nose twitched in the most adorable way, but you dozed on while he texted Nat to see if she could help him out tomorrow. She already told him numerous times that she liked hanging out with you.

"Bradley," you mumbled, arching your back and stretching as soon as he set his phone down on the couch. "You need dinner," you told him with a soft kiss before standing and reaching for him. He took your left hand in his right one, hoping this might be the last night that you weren't wearing the ring that would signify to everyone else that you'd be his wife someday.

"I came up with a plan while you napped," he said softly. "Dinner and then a shower together and then we'll get in bed early. You look so tired after nailing Career Day, Gorgeous. You need a little break."

His stomach growled obnoxiously. "And you need to eat," you told him with a laugh. "Come on. I'll make you something."

"Nope," he replied, gripping you tight as he stood up with you in his arms. "I'm going to take care of it."

You held on as you guided your legs around his waist. Your lips on his scarred cheek took him all the way back to the early days of those flirtatious emails. "Okay, handsome," you whispered, kissing him softly. "I'm not going to argue with you tonight. It's our first weekend with you back home, and I've been missing all of this. I'm finally off tomorrow, and we can relax all day."

When Bradley set you down on the kitchen counter with a kiss to your perfect lips, he heard your phone vibrating on the coffee table and tried not to grin as he asked, "Want me to grab that for you?"

"Please," you replied, looking beyond cute perched between the stove and the wilted bouquet in the makeshift Miller High Life vase. When he backtracked and picked up your phone, Bradley saw that the text notification was from Nat, and he knew he was going to have to take her out for another steak dinner soon as a thank you.

"Oh," you said when you tapped your screen. "Natasha texted me."

"Really?" he asked, feigning surprise as he took inventory of what the refrigerator had to offer. It was honestly a little scary how much he'd eaten since Monday.

"Yeah," you murmured, eyes skimming the message. "She thanked me for inviting her to Career Day. And," you added, giving him a cautious look, "she wants to know if I want to hang out with her tomorrow afternoon. We still have money left on the winery gift card."

"You should go," he urged, pulling everything out to make pancakes for dinner. "I love that my girl gets along with my best friend."

You were chewing your lip nervously. "Yeah?" you asked, thumbs poised like you were ready to type back. "Even though I literally just told you I can't wait to relax with you tomorrow?"

Bradley chuckled, knowing he was leading you in the direction he wanted you to go. But of course you'd be in good hands. "Gorgeous, we can still sleep in late. And as soon as you get home, I'm hoping you'll feel so in love, you'll want to cuddle with me for the rest of the night."

"I always feel so in love with you, Bradley."

He abandoned the eggs and butter as he whispered, "Say my name again?"

"Bradley."

It was another hour before the pancakes were ready.

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

"I thought we were going to sleep in," you whispered, lips brushing Bradley's as his hands explored your naked body. It was around the time you usually woke up for work, and you were still tired. But his words had you pushing him onto his back.

"I missed you so much, I'm still making up for lost time."

His hands were big and rough as you took them in yours and pinned them above his head. His body was beautiful in the early light, all muscular angles and ruddy cheeks. You kissed his biceps and then his stubbled cheek and then his lips. He was already hard, you could feel him. Bradley was strong and sexy, and he was yours.

"I'm not going to lie... I love how much you missed me," you told him before kissing your way along the side of his nose. "Because that's how much I missed you, too."

Bradley's kisses were sweet, yet they lingered. Your hips moved slowly against his body, setting the pace exactly how you wanted it. Your reaction to him was always effortless. His wide pupils let you know it was the same for him.

"Baby," he whined as you tightened your hold on his wrists. He was rubbing himself up against you, looking for the friction you needed as well. Slick with arousal, your pussy welcomed the tip of him, and you rolled your hips slowly, taking him inch by inch until you were full. "Oh, fuck, Gorgeous," he rasped, lips parted as he looked up at you with those pretty brown eyes. "You feel so good."

You went slowly, and your hands eventually found their way to his shoulders. Bradley coaxed you closer until you were kissing him as you worked your hips in a steady rhythm that you knew would give you both what you wanted. You thought about every cold morning you woke up here without him while a bead of sweat rolled down along your spine. You got lost in the way he smelled and how his hair felt between your fingers. He was yours.

"I love you," he groaned. "Oh, I love you so much."

You came on his cock as your movements turned jerky, and he filled you with cum as you whimpered his name. Then you eased your body down so you were laying on top of him. "This is how I want to spend the rest of my life," Bradley whispered. "Loving you and fucking you and cuddling."

With a soft laugh, you relaxed enough to fall asleep again while he ran his fingers along your back.

The next time you woke up, it was three hours later, and Bradley wasn't in bed. He wasn't even at home. After you pulled on his sweatshirt, you found a note on top of the sandwich he made for your lunch in the refrigerator.

Out for a quick run with Nat, and then I'm stopping at Home Depot for Edith. I love you.

You enjoyed your sandwich quietly in the kitchen while taking inventory of the grocery situation. Bradley already ate everything which made you smile. It would take a few weeks, but you'd make sure he bulked up again. Maybe you could get him to go shopping with you tomorrow morning.

When you sat down on the couch with your phone, you were pleasantly reminded of how sore you still were from the past few days with Bradley back from deployment. The gentle ache brought with it the memory of how much better your orgasms were with him than alone. You really needed to start getting dressed since you were sure Nat was going to want to head to the winery after they finished their run, but you stayed sprawled out on the couch until Bradley walked back inside.

"Hey, Gorgeous," he rasped, still a little sweaty in his gym clothes and carrying a bag from the hardware store. "You got enough rest?"

"I did," you giggled as he tossed the bag onto the coffee table and straddled your waist. "Do you think we should buy a bigger couch at some point?"

"Nah. This one's more fun," he replied as your fingers threaded through his damp hair. "Means I can get nice and close."

Would this needy feeling for him ever go away? You hoped not. But just as soon as he really kissed you nice and hard, he was pulling away. Bradley smacked you lightly on your rear end where he spanked you the other night.

"You better get ready to go with Nat. And I need to fix Edith's mailbox and get my free piano lesson."

"And then when I get home, we're cuddling and watching a movie right here," you told him firmly, patting the couch cushion.

"As long as you still want to."

You rolled your eyes. Of course that's what you were going to want to do. Maybe you and he could even enjoy some more wine after you had wine with his friend. You were smiling as you thought about the plethora of wine you might be enjoying today as you got dressed in some jeans and an oversized sweater. You skipped makeup, because it was Saturday, and when Natasha arrived, you walked outside with Bradley.

"I love you. Call if you need me," he crooned, kissing you and waving before turning toward Edith's house.

You must have been watching the sexy way he walked for a little too long, because Natasha honked her horn and yelled out the window, "I want some wine!"

"Sorry!" you told her, laughing as you climbed in the passenger seat.

She was pulling away from the curb when she replied, "It's nice to see you so happy again. You seemed to have a good time at Career Day, and now you're all smiles for your boyfriend."

"I missed him so much," you said, watching Bradley get smaller in the side view mirror as she drove. "I felt instantly better when he got home from Norfolk."

"You're going to freak out later," she mumbled, making a left turn.

"What?" You weren't sure you'd heard her correctly.

"Nothing. You ready for some wine?"

"Absolutely. We can finish off the gift card," you told her. "And I found another winery for us to try next time that serves frozen wine slushies."

"That sounds like heaven. Thank god you fell in love with Bradley so we can have girls' days."

That put a permanent smile on your face. Just knowing that Natasha thought you and he were a good match really meant a lot. She'd known him for a long time.

"How was your run earlier?" you asked, settling in for the ride.

"Running in February is always better than running in July or August," she replied easily. "I might have to start bringing headphones again though, because the man will not shut up about you the whole time."

You covered your face with your hands while she laughed. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It was so bad at times before he met you, I used to have to put my earbuds in and pretend I was listening to him complain about his exes. It was always the same thing. Nat, I don't know how to break up with her, but she's kind of mean to me. Nat, I can't keep taking her to the bar, because she flirts with everyone else. Nat, why is she being so selfish? Nat, I feel like she's just using me. Nat. Nat. Nat. Nat. Nat." Her voice softened as she said, "It's not like that with you at all. Now he just wants to know if I think his date ideas sound stupid or romantic. And if I think he's crazy for already having you move in."

"What did you tell him?" you asked immediately.

She grinned as she switched lanes. "Trust me when I say I've given him some solid date ideas. And I told him he would have been miserable if he waited any longer to ask you to live with him. That man is so solidly in love with you, it is disgusting."

"The feeling is mutual," you whispered as your cheeks burned.

"I know. Now let's enjoy some wine while we talk shit about him. I've been way too nice today up to this point."

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

When Natasha dropped you off after four hours of wine and conversation, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. You were already looking forward to hanging out with her again soon.

"Want me to tell Bradley you'll run with him tomorrow morning?" you asked, leaning back in the passenger side door as you stood next to her car.

"Nope," she replied, shaking her head. "There's no way he's going to want to get up and run in the morning. Tell him I'll see him at work."

"Okay," you replied, confused by her thought process. Bradley usually liked getting his cardio workouts in with a partner rather than alone. You'd follow up with him about it in a minute. "Thanks for driving. Wine slushies next time?"

"Wine slushies next time. Enjoy your night," she said with a wink.

You waved as she drove off, the sky getting dark and the air cooling down even further around you. Edith's mailbox next door looked perfect once more, so Bradley must have finished that project. You shivered as you hustled up to your front door ready to get inside and into the warmth of his arms.

The living room was a little darker than usual when you walked in, and then you realized it was because the only light was coming from your candles which had been placed around the room. You were about to call out for Bradley and ask him why he was burning every single candle you brought with you when you moved in, but then you froze.

"Oh my god," you gasped, taking one stumbling step further into the room to get a closer look. The flickering light illuminated dozens and dozens of paper airplanes all folded up and taped to the dark blue wall above the couch. They were arranged beautifully, and you swallowed hard when you realized they spelled out a message.

MARRY ME?

It was just two words, but they took up the whole wall. Your fingers were shaking as you brought them up to your lips, and then you heard Bradley's voice.

"Hey, Gorgeous," came that familiar rasp. You turned to face him as he stood there in one of his tropical print shirts and his worn out jeans with a nervous smile on his face.

"Bradley?" You glanced at the wall and then back at his face. You weren't even sure if your words were intelligible as you muttered, "Paper planes?"

His smile widened. "It's all the letters you and your class sent to me. You know... when you were looking for a Naval aviator to write back and answer a few questions? I guess a few questions turned into a lot more than that. And a simple correspondence with a gorgeous fourth grade teacher soon made me realize that you're the woman of my dreams. My pen pals changed my whole life." He nodded toward the wall. "Your students helped me fold them up yesterday."

"They did?" you managed as he took a step closer until he was right in front of you, and then and sank down onto one knee.

"They did." He was all vulnerable brown eyes and sincerity as he looked up at you and said, "I love you. And I have something for you, Gorgeous." He swallowed hard. "It was my mom's." He held up his right hand, fingers curled in a loose fist. You watched as he carefully unfurled them, revealing a ring resting on his palm. "I want you to have it. Unless you don't like it. It's from 1984, and it's definitely vintage, so I won't be upset if you tell me you'd rather have something more modern." He was rambling, but you could barely breathe from the butterflies which were fluttering hard against your ribcage. "Maverick was holding onto her engagement ring for safekeeping. I had no idea until he heard me talking about how desperately I want to marry you."

"Bradley," you gasped, trying to hold back your tears as you sucked in shallow breaths. "Are you serious?"

You'd known him for less than a year, but you never felt this comfortable or safe around another person before. You never felt so loved. When he raised his hand a little higher like he was ready to hand you the ring along with his heart, he said, "I'm serious. You told me forever sounds good to you. It sounds good to me, too. I think we should do it. Will you marry me?"

There was really only one acceptable answer when you knew he belonged with you. When you were certain your future and his matched up perfectly. When there was no chance you could love anyone else like you loved him.

"Yes."

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

Yes. Yes. Yesss! Thanks kiddos, for making it extra special. I don't think any of them will be surprised to find their teacher sporting some new jewelry at school. Bradley plus Gorgeous equals forever.

PART 27

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 years ago

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The Rubicon, Part 3: Allegory Of The Cave

AKA, the Force-Sensitive-teenager-that-didn't-go-to-the-Jedi-I wrote-flash-fic-of-on-someone-else's-post-and-kept-going-Whoops-AU

Part 1

Part 2

---

The galaxy has had many brilliant philosophers, among them is Platocca, the Wookiee scholar wrote an allegory of prisoners trapped in a cave, shown shadows of objects, people and animals are projected onto the wall by their captors, as a metaphor for the limits of the senses, and how the shadow of a Rancor is not the same thing as a Rancor itself.

Her disappearance does not go unnoticed- it’s hard to miss when the chateau of a locally prominent political family explodes hard enough to cause a major power outage and the body of their ‘reclusive’ daughter is nowhere to be found. A search is organized, and the scent-akks trace her footsteps out of the house and into the desert but lose the trail at the river, like how a vulpire evades the hunt.

The search expands- her holo is circulated on the local planetary networks, The family is interviewed and they, tearful, plead for her safe return. Her little sister’s tears and begging that it won’t Lifeday without her play particularly well. It gets picked up by the regional channels and soon there is a galaxy wide search for the Missing Girl.

Everyone loves to be a Hero.

The desert is searched by police flyover and volunteer foot teams. Hundreds scour the bare rocks for clues. Someone treks a full hundred miles into the labyrinthine canyons in search of her.

Everyone loves a Mystery.

Interviews are conducted with the family, with her mentors, with her caretakers and doctors. People try to reconstruct the final day before she vanished, someone publishes her school essays and more photos are found- of a shy child, cringing in the back of the Science Bowl team, or trying to hide behind a tree in a family reunion photo.

Everyone loves a scandal.

Ten is not that young an age to enter politics in the Galaxy far, far away, especially not for the now-heir to a prominent local political family and the little sister’s announcement that she’s running for the local civic council wouldn’t be terribly noteworthy, save that it’s done at a rally to raise funds for missing children all over the planet in her missing sister’s memory. By that afternoon, medical records are leaked- seven major psychiatric institutions in under five years, involuntary commitments, ‘experimental’ treatments for an ‘undiagnosed’ disorder- she hurt her siblings, it’s said, she was mentally deficient and home alone- abandoned, when the home “mysteriously” exploded and she vanished without a trace.

Tongues wag, and eventually agree that, best case scenario, it’s a family capitalizing on the tragedy to further their political ambitions But best case scenarios are rare in the Galaxy Far, Far away, and the idea that a family might try to get rid of a troublesome daughter before launching the career of another isn’t even a terribly implausible scenario.

Regardless of the situation, the Sister continues to poll well. Or, perhaps, because of it. Everyone loves to think they’re in on a conspiracy, and if this family is ruthless enough to kill a daughter, well, imagine what they’ll do to the opposition?

She first becomes aware of all this at a funeral.

She had gone back to the oxbow to bathe- having worked out podes that are durable enough for the desert and dexterous enough for her needs, and a steady, efficient gait to traverse the vastness of her new home, she was now experimenting with skin, and while the latest thick midnight-violet mammalian hide performed admirably in terms of thermal regulation and protection against the spines every plant and half the animals here had, it had a tendency to get oily and she thought a nice roll in the sand and soak might be in order.

Instead, the far side of the oxbow was crowded with people, all dressed in mourning white and carrying candles. A pyre was set up on the far bank, and a small, closed coffin sat atop it.

Oh hell. A child’s funeral. Who died? Not one of my classmates? or- no, no there are Sis and The Baby, thank fuck. Mom and Dad too. Front row. Hell of a crowd too. And reporters? Yeah, those are definitely holocorders, for the news. She squinted at the logos on the vans parked just up from the riverbank, having to switch spectra and focal distance a few times before the characters became clear. Big networks! We don’t have anyone that famous, do we? Which unfortunate bastard are you all the way out here for?

She stalked closer, using the harsh angle of the setting sun as cover, long ears cocked to listen. Voices sang monotonously through the traditional funeral dirge, her mother blotting at her cheek with a handkerchief. As the assembled tried and largely failed to reach the final note, The local temple priest lowered the funeral torch, lit the pyre, arthritically climbed both stairs to the podium, and tapped the mic.

“Blessings upon us all, on this sad occasion.” He bowed his head. “We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of one who was taken from us too soon.” he gestured to the holo broadcast in front of the pyre. She had to shuffle through the underbrush, until she could make out the flickering image against the flame. A girl, about her age, in fancy dress, grimacing as politely as she could.

Poor thing. Looks wretched even in the best holo her family could find. Would we have been friends, this girl and I? Maybe I knew her-

She squinted at the holo, something about it familiar- Gods, they’d even had the same awful bob haircut and itchy, itchy tule dress she’d been subjected to-

Wait.Is. Is that ME?

“She struggled in life, but was beloved by all who knew her-”

What.

“-She was a champion member of the Science Bowl Team-”

They kicked me off the team for ‘cheating’! It wasn’t my fault I knew the questions before they were asked!

“-and her artworks still adorn the walls of our school.”

WHERE? I got told that they were ‘Too Scary’ and ‘Not School Appropriate’!

“She was always unparalleled in character- you could not find a more, sometimes brutally, honest person, and she clung unfailingly to her personal ethics.”

Oh? Oh, that’s what we’re calling it? Because last month in front of the shrinks you called me ‘tactless and prone to blurting things out’ and said I ‘rigidly conformed to arbitrary standards to the point of insanity’! She seethed, a low rumble of disgust.

“We are all aware of her unfortunate medical history-”

Oh. Oh no.

“-but we can take some solace in the fact that she does not suffer anymore.”

Her mother took this chance to bawl theatrically.

There are no words in all the tongues of the galaxy-

“While ultimately unsuccessful, the efforts to find her- hundreds, if not thousands of volunteer search parties, all across the galaxy as this tragedy has brought us all together in ways I no longer thought possible. She is now one with the Nature she loved so much, and at peace. May this pyre symbolize the light she briefly brought into our lives, and let us reflect on our memories of her.”

The Priest stepped back and the line of mourners stepped forward- classmates, muttering about brief conversations in the hall, except a Longtime Bully, who gushed enthusiastically about how funny she was, with her weird turns of phrase and the way she-

She almost retched at the way her Bully imitated the way her hands would twitch when she was frightened, giggling.

Then her mother stepped up.

“We. We knew She was special, from the very day she was born-”

YEAH YOU SURE FUCKIN’ DID, DIDN’T YOU? She seethed, claws digging into the sand and tail thrashing. WAITING AT THE DOOR FOR ME, YOU SAID. BUT NO- NOT, YOU KNEW HOW TO RAISE ME BEST, YOU LOVED ME TOO MUCH TO GIVE ME AWAY, YOU SAID-

She crumpled, flattening against the ground and sobbing, strained hisses as her mother carried on, trying to hold back the tide of emotion before the Pyre exploded or something. She stared at the hologram instead. The girl depicted is a stranger- no really when the hell did Mom even TAKE that?? Fucking. Dress. When was the last time I even wore that thing? Gods, last Lifeday? No, I was back inside for that. It was… Really? Really? You chose a picture two years out of date?

She remembered the dress well. An awful thing made of tulle that didn’t itch so much as actually shred her skin where it wasn’t dangerously compressing her lungs and intestines. She’d been ‘allowed’ home for the holiday, a probation for Good Behavior and the muscles around her mouths ached at the memory of the practiced smile she held for weeks, lest her Mother change her mind about letting her attend the party. She’d made it a full three months before her hand slipped doing the dishes and even though the cut on her hand was small it was just one thing too many and the smile cracked and she ended up throwing the offending knife across the kitchen in a panic.

She looked down at her ‘hand’ now, the scar still there despite the changes. Some landmarks were stubborn like that- she still had the freckles and that one mole, and the scar from attempting to ride a swoop and crashing into the shrubbery instead. Others vanished from her body and her memory without a trace with the shape-change.

…Not that a more current image would really be more accurate but fucking really? That’s the one you picked? I guess I should be glad you miss me at all, but-

Her tail thrashes, chewing on this emotion and the air around her. Her mother is bent over the podium, sobbing. Her grief seems genuine, really. These are ugly, snotty sobs and the air around her cracks and splinters like bone in the Force.

And yet.

…DID she have more current holos of me? I was usually the one holding the camera, but. No, not from last Lifeday, I was inside. Not from Sis’ birthday, I was in the kitchen all day. Not on the Baby’s nameday either, all the holos are from inside that packed fire hazard of a temple and i refused to go in. Unless she took something between when my last camp ended and before they left for the mountains on the ‘normal vacation, for once’...

That really is the last Holo you have of me isn’t it?

And it’s not even me, just your favorite role I played.

Her father pulls her mother away from the podium, and she latches onto The Baby, cradling him close. The Priest shambles up to the podium again, and starts the final prayers. For peace, for a happy afterlife. The mourners got up and filed by the pyre, setting their candles around it before shuffling past the family, offering their condolences.

They lay hands upon her parents, and shake the hand of her sister, wishing her luck with her campaign.

She watched them file by, shrinking and retreating back, cowering in- in what? Fear? Anger? Grief? Disgust? She clawed at her face, unable to run, unable to stay.

Eventually, the neighbors collect Sis and The Baby, and her parents stay, waiting with the priest for the pyre to blow out, as per tradition. Her father stares off into the distance, mother clutched to his side.

“You. You’ve done this before, right?” he eventually stammers, turning to the priest.

“Fifty years of funerals.” the priest nods.

“And. And children?” He asks.

“Some of them, yes.” the priest sighed. “Children are always the hardest.”

Her father stared into the flames.

“Is. Is it wrong to feel… Relieved?”

Her mother wails again.

“I, I just… I keep thinking I hear her, around the house or out in the yard and I keep thinking she’s not really dead but- but it’s dread. I dread having to be on guard all the time or take her to another doctor or suffer another tantrum. I- I loved her, like any parent would but- but-”

“- We couldn’t live with her.” Her mother sighed. “Not really.“

The priest nodded slowly. “It’s not uncommon to feel relieved that our loved ones are no longer suffering. Or to feel some relief from being free of burden of care, even as we mourn.” he tried, over-optimistically.

“It’s not something you say to a child but. Oh gods. Oh gods what a nightmare.” Her mother sobbed.

“Her spirit may yet be with us!” the Priest pleaded.

“Body and Spirit, Holy Father.”

They all looked up.

She stood on the sandy bank of the river, the thin nervous girl from earlier this summer. She held her arms out, silently asking for a hug.

Her father shrieked, and stepped back, her mother cowering behind him. The priest held his own arms up defensively.

Ah. So that’s how it is.

“Relieved? That’s how you feel? The nightmare is over?” Voice high and tight as she grimaced at them, smiling like a primate baring its teeth before an eye-gouging, face-eating assault. “You know what? I can’t blame you. I have to say, this last month? I’ve been pretty relieved too. No white-knucke social events. No more being abandoned so Sis and The Baby can grow up ‘normal’. No more ‘treatments’- you know the last one involved electrodes, right? Of course you did. You signed the wavier!”

Her mother opened her mouth, but choked on whatever it was she was going to say.

“But the biggest thing? No more pretending. No more playing the sweet, stupid girl for you to pity and be pitied for. No more pretending I’m the crazy one here. No more being something I’m not.” She grinned, and began to change again, skin darkening to midnight again, stretching her spine out until she tipped forward, forelegs splashing in the water and making them jump. She stretched to the height and shape that felt comfortable, A deeper shadow of limbs and muscle and teeth and too many eyes, tapetum lucidum glittering above them in the last of the Pyre-light.

Her mother gagged, her father stared, frozen except for the tears, and the priest crumpled back in revulsion.

“I really can’t blame you.” She rumbled, stereophonic now. “-But I won’t let you delude yourselves. I might be free of you, but you’ll never be free of what you did to me.” She grinned mouths full of teeth at them, before turning and walking into he river, vanishing below the surface with a flick of her tail.

Her mother’s screams echoed in faintly through the water as she made her way downriver. There was a spaceport there, and nothing for her here.

---

Now, Platocca rather famously got in a brawl with another Philosopher named Ogg who posited that while the shadow of the thing is not the thing itself, if there's a moving shadow shaped like a Rancor, it's being cast by SOMETHING, and there are better things to do than standing around philosophizing about it. Like finding out what's casting the shadow from a safe distance, on account of the downright-likely chance that the thing casting the Rancor-shaped shadow is, in fact, a Rancor. You Pedantic Twit.

It doesn’t take long for the carrion beasts to come around.

The scandal embroils the galaxy, and the gruesome details of the child’s history are the gossip of the day.

Some can sniff between the lines, and take notice- if it was any of the more common ailments, something would have worked by now. The details of the ‘explosion’ hit the insurance market- no point of ignition- indeed, no fire at all, like someone had swung a wrecking ball out from inside the home in all directions at once. And they dig a little bit and compare her birth date to the public logs of Jedi deployments and make an educated guess or five.

The only vehicle available for rent was an ugly yellow cargo vehicle, but a make and model with an extremely reliable engine and good mileage, which he decided was a decent tradeoff for its abhorrent color. Alas, to rent! He's already in hot water with the Bounty Hunter’s Guild for ‘retroactively purchasing’ a vehicle the last time he was chasing a mark and while the work was undignified, being a Sith didn’t pay like it used to.

He can hear her miles before he sees her. A low, rumbling thrum in the force, sort of crunchy and guttural, but not unpleasant. He stops the speeder in the blazing white light of late afternoon and cocks his montrals, the physical sensation helping him mentally triangulate the noise. It’s constant, steady drone, like she’s meditating. Or asleep. Either way, a sensible thing to be doing in this disgusting heat. Maybe she does have promise.

The bounty hunter’s guild membership is a convenient source of income, but more than that, it’s an excuse to stick his nose into whatever business the Force demands. Need to get into a secure building? It’s fine to put his boot through a window, he’s after a mark! Need to make some dubious contacts to keep himself appraised of the movements of his fellow force-users? People are much more willing to wag tongues about criminal gossip for some coin than snoop on the Sith, but the relevant details are the same.

And now, when he was trekking into the desert after a teenager- he’s just doing some public service, and certainly not looking for an enraged force-user to take as an apprentice! Besides, if she wasn’t up to snuff, he could always turn her in for the money.

He drives on deeper into the thrum, and eventually spots her location- a grove of massive cacti in a small, depressed ditch. If there is water anywhere out here, its in there. Honestly, did nobody know how to conduct a search these days?

About 100 feet front he grove, he stops, and listens. The thrum is much louder now, but he can’t pick out a specific point of origin inside the grove, which is… peculiar. He hopped down and instantly, the thrum ceased.

“Oh, so you do have some wits about you!” he laughed, strolling closer, hands up and saber tucked behind him, hidden by his coat. “Hey, hey- no reason to panic, I’m just a… well, you and I- we’d be kin, after a fashion.”

No response. No scuttling through the underbrush, no tension from nerves. Cool as a cumcuber fruit, watching him.

“Well, maybe not Kin. I’ve heard all about the bastards that you got stuck with for a family. Most of the galaxy has now!” He shrugged, stepping into the shade of the outermost cacti and squinting into the grove. “They didn’t understand, did they? The connection, the POWER that flows through you- it scared them! And honestly, I can’t blame them, if half of what I’ve read about how you blew up a house is true, why, you’d give some of the elders of my sect a run for their money.”

He can feel her gaze on him, taking in every minute movement. No particular direction, almost as though she were circling him. Good, good! She wouldn’t have lasted long if she was completely without talent, of course. Still, let her circle. Let her come to me.

“My parents never understood either.” He sighed, strolling deeper into the grove. “Always insisting that I was breaking things on purpose, that I was being cruel by telling the truth- but why shouldn’t I? They always said ‘Honesty Is The Best Policy’!” He laughed.

“But my Master? He understood. He understood how big and cruel the galaxy can be, especially for people like us. And it��s not wrong for us to defend ourselves! I’ve got just as much right to exist as a vrelt or a tooka! They can’t make people understand growling, so it’s not wrong for them to bite! So what if I had to resort to force when they couldn’t be made to understand?” He laughed, stopping near the center of the grove. It wasn’t that easy to hide in- the cacti didn’t branch much, and the scub wasn’t that dense. She has to be using the shadows, or keeping her nerve to stay perfectly still and pass herself off as a rock.

“..I suppose it’s fair for you to be cautious.” he nodded, reaching into the pockets of his coat. “I mean, the galaxy is full of hucksters and con-artists that think they know what’s best. I won’t pretend that I do, but I know what it’s like to suffer for having a connection like we do. And well, like how I was taken in, I should return the favor to those in need.” He pulled out a bottle of clean water- still cold even!- and a protein bar.

“Here, a token of my goodwill!” he said, tossing them into the scrub. “I’ll be in the speeder when you’re ready to talk.” he waved, strolling back towards the rental.

“...You have The Force too?” She asked.

He stopped, and couldn’t help grinning a bit. He squinted at where he thought the sound had come from, but only found a plain cactus, and no sign of the frail little girl from the posters.

“That’s right!” He nodded. “That’s how I knew where to find you- belongs like us, we’re all connected.” He explained, tapping his forehead and sitting down on the ground, lekku dragging a bit on the dirt. The circling sensation was back, but he definitely had her interest now. He expanded his perceptions- ah, there it was- she wouldn’t know how to shield yet, of course and he could feel the head-tilting sensation of confusion.

“...Do some people have more Force than others?” she asked, on his other side now.

“Yep!” He laughed. “Good trick, throwing your voice like that! But yes, there’s a huge variation in the capacity people like us have in the force. Don’t worry- it took me years of training to get like this, but with practice-”

A sharp chortle of amusement rang through the grove.

“...What’s so funny?” He asked.

“Years Of Training, you say?” She snickered, and he felt the scales on the back of his neck prickle. He could feel her, close, and moving now, stalking and coiling like a carnivore, but he still didn’t know WHERE-

He was suddenly struck with a vision of himself- sitting, lanky and small, laughably small from her perspective. All the weapons on his person were highlighted, including a dark red throb of the Kyber Crystal in his saber, along with the ache in his back and knees, and the tinnitus in his left montral and his name and his master’s name and- and-

“SHIT!” he snarled, instantly on his feet and glaring up at the tops of the Cacti, lightsaber thrumming in his hand. “Rude little bitch, aren’t you? Sneaking into people’s heads without their permission!” he scolded.

Another amused chuckle. “Better a bitch than a braggart.” she gave the impression of a shrug. “Because I know exactly where and what you are, but you-”

He felt something around his ankles. Midnight violet tendrils, like stalks of mycelium sprouted from the ground and wrapped around his legs. He flipped the saber around in his hand, plunging it into the ground-

“-Don’t even know where to look.” She finished and suddenly the cacti all fell inwards on top of him, as the tendrils yanked down, and he was pulled under the sand, choking and flailing.

He could see her now and-

Oh.

Oh FORCE.

She felt like she’d been all around him because she HAD. She was the cacti and the root system that spanned the grove and dug deep into the underground river system, and hell, even the river itself. Any resemblance to a humanoid form was gone, she was now a companion shadow to the environment around her, a branching form more like a plant or subterranean fungus than anything else.

You were right of course, to head to the only source of water. She conceded, and he felt his skull figuratively pop open like a pocket filing wallet, and the midnight tendrils rifle through his memories with a vague disinterest. But you didn’t know that most of a river is underground, did you? I don’t think any rational search party would have guessed how I’ve been traveling, really-

So, a Sith with a day job? That’s… He felt the mycelium of her body wince in the soil around him as he began to choke on the sand. Pretty embarrassing, actually. But, you’re right, money makes the galaxy go ‘round… memories of The Guild application process, how he’d modified his ID card, His Master back on Korriban, the disciplines of the order, assembling his lightsaber-

His lightsaber!

He swung through the dirt and she flinched away from the blade.

“Well, if you’re going to be like that, I’m going to leave.” she laughed, a mouth forming and unforming from the mycelium ad hoc, and she withdrew from around him. He clawed furiously, reaching up with the force, pulling himself awkwardly up out of the soil, spitting and howling curses as he tried to untangle himself from the roots and the pile of toppled cacti over him-

“So long, and thanks for all the snacks!” She called and he turned-

…to see the yellow rental speeder flooring it into the distance.

He patted his coat and realized that the speeder keys, his wallet, and lightsaber were all missing.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

She was too far to reach now, but he could still feel the crystal in his lightsaber, calling out to them. It’s fine, all I have to do was trust in the force and follow the crystal- She doesn’t know what its capable of-

She set cruise control at just under the speed that made the cheap speeder shudder like it was about to fall apart, and leaned back in the driver’s seat, taking a swig from the water bottle and unscrewed the bottom of the lightsaber.

It was a simple enough device really- a small rechargeable battery that fed energy into the crystal, which was focused through a series of lenses and a magnetic field to create a looping blade of plasma. Basically a more refined version of a Plasma Chainsaw, with a magic rock for a laser.

The magic rock pulsed.

She blinked at it.

It was a pretty thing, the color of really expensive rubies or fresh blood, and sparkled more than either. Not with sunlight. With… Potential.

There was a lot of power in her, and this would let her focus it, to carve the world around her as she saw fit, to conquer all that tormented her- Visions danced, of her on a throne, the dismembered bodies of the doctors and orderlies and her mother at her feet-

“Nah.” She laughed, tossing it over her shoulder and out of the speeder. “I don’t want conquest or to cut throats or whatever.”

“I mean, I do.” She admitted. “I absolutely did fantasize about killing her, more than a few times, just to shut her up. But that’d just leave Sis and The Baby without a parent that genuinely cares for them, and they never did a thing to me.” She shrugged. “It’s a nice fantasy, but it’s not what I want.”

Then what? The natural question followed. I really do have unlimited potential. What Do I Want?

She stared at the shimmering horizon in silence for a while, not so much thinking as listening.

“I want.” She started and paused. “I want to be happy.”

“It’s been a relief, to be away from all the doctors and eggshells, and to be the shapes I want.” She nodded. “But that’s not quite the same as happy.”

“It’s boring too.” She added. “Cacti are all fine and good, but hardly good conversationalists. I want-”

“I’m lonely. And sad, and scared about a lot of stuff.” She admitted, and the truth sat uncomfortably on her breast, but it was better than where it had been sitting inside her, aching, before.

“I want a friend.”

She paused, having picked up a thread in the force. A thin one, feeling like only the finest spun fiber, barely tying her to-

She saw the Apprentice from the documentary again, babbling excitedly about learning about how to conduct diplomacy and the the ins and outs of negotiation, and all the people she was going to meet, and the places she’d see and-

“She looks like she’d be fun to talk with.” She mused.

----

Philosopher Ogg got thrown through a window for arguing with Platocca, but was really the ultimate winner because centuries later, when an excitable and somewhat high-strung Jedi Apprentice got up from her afternoon meditations and saw her shadow finish stretching a full two seconds after she did, she did not write it off as a trick of the light or still being groggy from a meditation session that had accidentally turned into an unplanned nap.

She also, in a demonstration of what an early start learning self-control in an emotionally supportive environment could do for someone, did not immediately panic.

“Alright.” She said, watching her shadow where it stood obediently against the wall in the reflection of the window. “Next we have Saber Practice, and then Rhetoric and then it’s dinner,” She listed off to nobody in particular. The ‘Royal’ We’ they used to call it. Very handy when you couldn’t specify exactly who or what you were talking to.

She walked down the hall, watching her shadow in reflections and when it skipped ahead of her as she turned down the halls, keeping a close eye on when it actually met up with her feet as she walked. It was close, within the margin of error between the complex shadows cast by the architecture of the temple and the shadows of other Jedi but…

When she finally stopped at her place in the lineup to do katas, she could swear she heard herself take another step.

“You seem distracted today, young one.” The saber master frowned as she missed her thrust for the third time that day.

“I- yes, sorry master.” she bowed her head. “It’s going to sound bizarre, but- I don’t know. Does my shadow look weird?”

The master stared at her blankly for a second, then turned his attention to her shadow, which lay on the floor beside her in the expected fashion.

“...No.” He spoke slowly, running his chin with concern. “But that’s my perspective. How does it look to you?”

“Like it’s- lagging? Not quite doing what I am- I stretch, but it stretches for longer. I walk, and it does too, but with a different gait. It’s not much but- I suppose it could be a problem with my peripheral vision? I have been having a lot of migraines lately.”

“Hm.” He nodded. “Well. I do not see any evidence of your shadow behaving in any abnormal way, but you should tell your master and perhaps make an appointment with the ophthalmologist. I promise to tell you if I do see anything out of the ordinary, though.” He smiled gently.

“Thank you master.” She nodded, shoulders drooping a bit. It was, most likely, a trick of the light or her eyes, but it was nice to have an additional perspective.

Her next thrust landed perfectly.

Her shadow was largely out of her line of sight during rhetoric, mostly cast under the desk behind her, and it was easier to focus, but there was the nagging sensation that the usually-empty seat beside her was occupied with someone who kept fidgeting and straining to hear the lecture.

“You okay?” her friend asked, taking her hand as they left class together. “You seem really tense.”

“I don’t know.” the apprentice sighed. “I think I might have a problem with my peripheral vision. I keep seeing my shadow flicker or think there’s someone standing-” She stuck out her free arm and waved it in the air beside her.

“Ick.” Nodded her friend. “Yeah, that’d drive me right up the wall. Hopefully you only need glasses or something?”

“Ugh, glasses.” the Apprentice rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure which would drive me crazier- having to clean the lenses constantly just to be able to see or actually being haunted!”

They laughed, and walked together toward the cafeteria.

“So your master’s away?” her friend asked grabbing trays for both of them.

“Yeah, Mirial, so you understand why the council sent an all-male contingent to the negotiations there.” She nodded, grabbing a pair of allpes fruits. “He’s actually probably back by now but messaged me earlier that he’d been up for three days straight so to finish classes as normal and go see friends if I wanted because he’s going to have the mental faculties of a sofa for a few hours once he lands.”

“Oh nooooo-” her friend giggled. “You don’t worry about him?”

The Apprentice shrugged. “I mean, a bit? But this is pretty normal for him- he’s like a loth-cat, slinks away and hides when he’s not well, but he’ll call if he’s in real trouble. Still, I think I’ll finish dinner here and go back to our rooms, I’ve got so much reading to catch up on-”

It was good to talk and catch up on all the gossip for an hour- She’d been one of the first of her class to be picked for an apprenticeship and as much fun as her new freedoms and responsibilities really were, she sometimes missed the camaraderie of the creche. There were the expected interrogations about off-planet missions and OH FORCE THE PADDWORK and learning one-on-one and the splitting of responsibilities between master and apprentice.

“It’s pretty normal that you don’t go on all the missions early on, I know.” She sighed. “But I did miss him this week. The rooms are too quiet without him taking random calls or doing the dishes at weird hours, you know?”

“Yeah, it’s weird not having you snoring at night.” her crechmate nodded, grinning.

“I DO NOT SNORE”!” she yelped, mock-threatening to throw the spare piece of fruit at him.

“We’re kidding! You whistle a bit, at most.” he friend patted her shoulder affectionately. “Besides, if you get really lonely, you’ve got your little peripheral vision fairy for company!”

The Apprentice rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help a surreptitious glance at her shadow.

“Your WHAT?” her crechemate asked.

“I think I’ve got something wrong with my peripheral vision, and it’s faking me out into thinking my shadow is misbehaving or I’m being followed by some sort of sprite that hates rhetoric class.” She shrugged, waving at her shadow, and it waved along with her. “It only gets more boring- tomorrow is Economics, so you should go haunt someone more exciting.” She told it.

“UUUUGH that sounds so annoying!” her crechmate groaned.

“I don’t know- I suppose it’s not so annoying if I think of it as an invisible friend or something.” The apprentice laughed, and her comm beeped.

>I have returned safely to the bosom of the temple once more. Wretched migraine, grab me a snack? XD

She snorted and showed her friends the message.

“He texts like such an old fart!” her friend giggled. “I thought he was like, really young?”

“He’s only a decade older than me, so practically a kid for a Knight, but damn good at it.” She nodded. “He’s Accumulated Great Wisdom For His Years!” she said in her best esoteric philosopher voice. “So he’s the galaxy’s youngest old fart.”

Her friends cackled as she got up, pocketing the fruit and a few snack bars for him, before waving her goodbyes.

He was curled in bed with a pillow over his head to block the light and noise when she came in, but rolled over and reached out towards her anyway. Her shadow stretched all the way across the room and onto the wall his bed was pushed against in the slice of yellow-orange light cast through the doorway, like the spectre had already joined her master.

“Hello Master.” She smiled, sitting on the bed beside him and pressing a juice pouch into his hand. “I missed you.”

“-and I you.” he replied, slowly sitting up and squinting at the pouch an inch from his face. “Melloon! You remembered my favorite flavor!” he beamed.

“You’ll read with less headache with your glasses.” She sighed, handing the small device to him and watching as he unfolded them and blinked, large dark eyes now appearing twice as large through the prescription lenses. “...How did you know you needed glasses?” She asked as he fiddled with the straw, trying to puncture the pouch.

“Couldn’t see shit.” He grunted. “Well, actually, it was when I couldn’t distinguish the letters on the board back in my very first formal classes. I’ve had them longer than I’ve been able to read.” he said, taking a long sip. “...Why?”

“I’ve- all day my shadow’s looked weird.”

He paused, face still scrunched in discomfort. “...shadows in general, or your shadow specifically?”

“-” She opened her mouth to reply, but stopped. “-just mine, actually. And I thought I could hear someone walking behind me, and all rhetoric class I had the impression someone was sitting next to me-”

Her master was suddenly sitting all the way upright, staring at her with rapt attention. She winced.

“It’s alright.” he soothed, hand on her shoulder. “But please, tell me everything.”

She sighed, slowly recounting- the way her shadow seemed to lag or not quite match her, the ongoing headaches, the sensation that “-I don’t know, like someone’s standing beside me? I mean, I absolutely could be working myself up over nothing-”

“If it’s bothering you this much, it’s not nothing.” her master nodded, still watching her face. “Even if it’s just a flicker brought on by growing pains, it’s not nothing. What was the first lesson you were ever taught?”

“...Trust your instincts?” She tried,

“Trust your instincts.” He nodded, smiling gently. “...Without looking at your shadow- do you have an impression of what this… companion looks like? Are they tall, short? A sapient being? Or maybe an animal?”

“They’re uh…” She unfocused her eyes, concentrating on the sensation of the person that had been beside her all day. “-They’re… A girl, like me, my age- not me though, she’s… thinner. A little frail maybe? Skittish- no, that’s not right. Like she’s hanging back. Not sure when to come into the conversation kind of awkwardness? And thirsty. Like, dehydrated.”

“Alright.” Her master nodded. His voice had shifted, like he’d sat up more and closer to her. “Anything else? Do you know what she looks like? Has she said anything?”

“No.” The Apprentice shook her head. “Quiet. Listening, but not having an easy time of it. Keeps fidgeting. She- she has a shape, but it keeps changing. Like- sometimes people don’t know who they are, like they have blurry edges around their sense of self? She’s got really sharp edges of what is and is not her, but those edges are always moving. The eyes are the same though. Intense focus, and an eyeshine, like an animal.” She started to tremble at the feeling of that terrible gaze fixed on her.

Her master shifted his weight, gently wrapping his arm around her and pulling her to lean into his shoulder.

“...I’ve seen her before.” the Apprentice realized. “I don’t know where but. I remember those eyes, staring right through me. Something- something terrible happened…”

“I’m sorry.” a voice whispered.

Her head snapped up, staring at the shadow on the wall on the other side of the bed- it had changed- still the same size as her, but they sure as hell weren’t the same species and a pair of holes in the shadow, in the shape and location of her eyes, still staring. The shadow flinched and the Apprentice’s heart race, but, gazes locked, neither could move.

Visions- the brilliant night sky of the desert, electrodes on her temples, a map tracing the route of a subterranean river, a wound (and the knowledge she’d caused it), the furious screaming of a bounty hunter who had meant her some malice- arced across their connection like lighting. And visions from her mind- The flowers carved and painted into the bunk bed posts at her creche, the buzz of a training saber, the warp of her Master’s prescription glasses, the weight of his arm across her back- arced back.

“You!” She gasped. “You’re the girl who- who-” She gasped, tears flowing but she refused to blink, if she blinked she’d be gone-

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!!!” She yelped and whimpered, unable to pull back from their connection, fear and despair and-

“It’s alright.” her Master’s voice settled over them like a thick blanket, and he reached out, touching the shadow’s shoulder, fingers curling around it as she seemed to peel off the wall, in three dimensions now, and became her own being, still a shadowy echo, but herself and not the Apprentice’s shadow. “It’s all alright.”

He pulled her closer, translucent form still trembling, until the Apprentice couldn’t hold it back and blinked, throwing herself at the other girl, wrapping her arms around her strange not-doppelganger, and sobbing- “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have- that wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair-”

The shadow screamed, hugging her back and clinging to both of them, smoke-like fingers digging into her robes and hair.

“By The Force.” her master whispered. “Oh no, oh dear-” He stroked their backs as the girls cried in his lap. The shadow girl began to flicker, and his apprentice grabbed at her, trying to keep her with them.

“I- I can’t stay- please- please!” She wailed.

“We will find you.” The Master promised, voice heavy with the seriousness of his pledge. “I don’t care how far we have to go or how long it takes, we will find you.” he promised, clutching the girls close in an embrace, the shadow-girl trying to cling to him hard enough that her fingers drew blood on the side of his face and across the back of his apprentice’s neck, before she succumbed to whatever was pulling her away from them.

The apprentice continued to sob as their connection faded, her Master still holding her.

“...I need to speak to the council about this, and fast.” he spoke, voice still grave. “That- If she was doing what I think she was, he is an immensely powerful force-user.” He swallowed hard, hands trembling. “-A very dangerous thing to be in this galaxy, especially alone. She could fall prey to all sorts with ill intentions…”

She woke up, screaming and clawing at the cheap third-class cabin mattress pad, sobbing, and could only lay there for a second, whimpering and pawing at the blanket that a moment ago had been a robe-

“So uh.” a voice spoke up from the other side of the cabin, pausing to clear his throat.

She looked up realizing she’d gone from a plausibly-normal-but-uncommon humanoid to something three times her regular size with horns, long thrashing tail and covered in spines in her sleep. Pressed firmly to the far wall was the tiny cabin’s other occupant, a man that was actually probably not that old, but looked like he had gone through the garburator of life without the sink running, judging by scars covering his torso and his cautious but strangely calm demeanor as he slowly stood up from where he’d been taking cover behind his mattress, which was now covered with spines.

“-Do you usually sleep-shapeshift?” he asked. “Because if that’s the case we’re gonna need to ask the steward for a lot more bedding.”

“...I was having a nightmare.” She croaked awkwardly, slowly collapsing back to her previous humanoid shape.

He nodded slowly, shaking the spines out of his mattress as they shrank along with her and setting it back on his bunk, opposite hers.

“Not to be entirely self-interested, but that’s an unusual talent you have there, and something I would find immensely helpful in my line of work.” he said, studying her with interest. “Ever considered getting into crime?”

#Star wars #the rubicon #guess it's fic now #fucking dedicated to the bit of not naming or descibing anyone #good luck prospective fanartists

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justinspoliticalcorner · 1 month ago

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LATROBE, Pa. — When fascism finally went mainstream in America, it came hawking a $60 made-in-China Bible and shadowed by a 50-foot American flag braced by construction cranes — and it opened with a story about Arnold Palmer’s private parts. I’d driven nearly five hours into and under the Allegheny ridges of Western Pennsylvania — up and down slopes that got steeper each mile with the volume of Donald Trump flags and yard signs that proclaimed “I’m Voting for the Convict 2024″ — out of a sense that the decline and fall of American civilization has reached a depth that I needed to personally bear witness. It was a fever dream — maybe I could find words that have eluded everyone else. Just six days earlier, Trump came to the Philly suburbs and turned a supposed town hall into a 39-minute dance party as his deeply confused crowd watched a once and wannabe future U.S. president sway awkwardly to Sinead O’Connor and Luciano Pavarotti or look utterly frozen in the bubble of his 78-year-old head. And yet when the alarm goes off the next morning, it’s still Groundhog Day in America, an election with a 50% chance of the music-trance guy winning. Something both incredibly momentous and weird is happening at the same time. Now, the sun was nearly setting over the runway at Arnold Palmer Regional Airport. With the most consequential U.S. presidential election since 1860 just 17 days away, about 3,000 to 4,000 of the most die-hard MAGA Trump fans who weren’t exhausted by the campaign and the GOP candidate’s frequent visits to Steelers’ country had been waiting for hours on a sunbaked tarmac. They’d let out the obligatory whoop for the obligatory flyover of Trump Force One, and then finally the man tasked with bringing their country back was on the podium, filtered by bulletproof glass. Donald Trump’s red meat of mass-deportation camps and R-rated attacks on his opponents would have to wait. Monday’s DJ was now Saturday night’s comedian, with his cult as captive audience. What started out as an obligatory shout-out to Latrobe’s famous native son — Palmer, the late great golfer who brought the sport to your TV screens in the 1960s — went on for five minutes, then 10, then 12. What started as a nice but meandering tale about Palmer’s working-class roots grew into a stone silence during long detours into stuff like types of golf club shafts as the tale grew increasingly instead about Trump — about how his own power and wealth allowed him to claim friendship with this great man. You are standing in the twilight wondering if this could get any stranger when of course it did. The man who bragged in his first campaign that he could shoot somebody on Fifth Avenue and people would still vote for him now wants America to know he can tell a penis joke with the cameras rolling and still get elected as the 47th president. [...] So I came to Latrobe to try and write the 72-point headline that the Times editors can’t — “PHALLUS-JOKE MAN AND DANCING FOOL COULD LEAD THE FREE WORLD AGAIN” — and to scream at the top of my lungs from the bluffs overlooking this tiny airport that this would-be emperor telling the shower story is actually wearing no clothes. Who will shout that Trump’s “closing argument” is the melding of his increasingly public breakdown with how that might lead to an all-too-real domestic war of midnight raids and armored personnel carriers against the fiction of an “Occupied America”? Ironically, Trump’s endless Arnold Palmer bit seemed part of an effort Saturday night to prove that the rambling candidate is not “exhausted,” something that his own aides reportedly said after several recent interviews were canceled. But the Republican nominee — kind of like Madonna’s “Sex” phase and shock photos when her 1980s were ending — also appeared to sense that he needs to get more and more outrageous to get attention, after numbing America to his Hitlerian language that immigrants “will cut your throat.”

Will Bunch at The Philadelphia Inquirer on Donald Trump's Latrobe rally (10.20.2024)

Will Bunch wrote in The Philadelphia Inquirer about Donald Trump’s fascist insultfest in Latrobe, PA in which he infamously obsessed about Arnold Palmer.

#Will Bunch #Donald Trump #Arnold Palmer #2024 Presidential Election #2024 Elections #Opinion #The Philadelphia Inquirer #Trump Rallies #Latrobe Pennsylvania #Pennsylvania

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castiwls · 6 months ago

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so high school - p.d

Paring; poe x reader

Prompt;'you know how to ball, i know Aristotle

Requested; anon

Notes;this song screams poe dameron omg

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

The sound of music pulsed through the small bar. The small room was packed tight full of any and everyone who had their weekend free from the war, all happily conversing over the music.

A hand landed on your thigh causing you to look over at the man beside you. Poe grinned pushing another drink your way before taking a sip of his own. “Relax.” He nodded at the drink. “It’s your day off, enjoy!”

Looking down to the drink you inspected it for a moment before taking a small sip. The alcohol burned slightly as you took another drink. It had been so long since you’d even as much smelled alcohol that you felt the effect almost immediately.

The burn lingered in your throat for a moment before subsiding, allowing you to take another drink. Poe’s arm came to rest around your shoulder as he tucked you into his side. He continued his conversation with another pilot sparing you a quick glance.

Soon enough your drink was empty and you were beginning to feel considerably more relaxed as you rested against his side. “Come on. I wanna show you something.” Poe’s arm slipped from your shoulder as he grabbed your hand.

You waved a quick goodbye to the people at the table before he began guiding you towards the door. You stumbled slightly feeling the room tilt as you drew closer to the door. The night air was cool as you stepped outside into the small clearing.

“Where are we going?” You looked up slowly tracing his face with your eyes. You couldn’t help but think that Poe was maybe one of the most attractive people you had met. It was no surprise he’d quickly begun the poster boy for the Resistance with his dark hair and charming smile.

“You’ll see.” He teased squeezing your hand slightly. Before joining the Resistance you’d done a small stint in the New Republic’s senate. Leia had almost immediately taken a liking to you and had taken you under her wing, something which had ended with you following her to the resistance a few years later.

You’d quickly begun working with her in command and had found that you not only enjoyed the thrill of war but also the more diplomatic side. She’d quickly pushed you into any and all negotiations between the Resistance and other planets and that had been how you’d first crossed paths with Poe Dameron.

It hadn’t taken long for him to steal your heart and for you to steal his.

“Okay, close your eyes.” He paused turning to face you. You tilted your head rasing an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because it’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises, you know that.” You crossed your arms over your chest as he rolled his eyes waving a hand at you. “Yeah well you're gonna like this one, I promise.” You stared at him for a moment before letting out a breath and closing your eyes.

Poe grinned before reaching for your hand. “Keep ahold of my hand alright.”

Before you could respond he began walking again, slower this time as you followed him blindly. As you waked you raked your mind for anything this surprise could be.

“Okay. Open your eyes.” His voice was behind you now. Slowly you opened your eyes. Taking in your surroundings a small gasp left your lips. “How did you find this place?” You turned your head to face him, your eyes wide in wonder.

He smiled down at you, his eyes full of adoration as he wrapped an arm around your waist pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“I was doing a flyover a few days ago and noticed it.” He rested his head on top of yours. The area around you was like nothing you’d seen before. A small stream ran through the area as small firefly bugs quietly buzzed, creating small specs of light. The grass seemed greener somehow and was covered in all types of flowers.

“It’s beautiful,” You said quietly watching the small bugs as they flew around.

Poe’s grin only grew wider as you continued to take in the area. Moments like this made all the stress of war seem slightly more worth it. He’d finally found the girl of his dreams and he’d been on cloud nine ever since.

Seeing you so relaxed as you stood in his arms left him feeling content for the first time in a while. Turning in his arms you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

He smiled before leaning down and connecting your lips again.

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cherrycola27 · 2 years ago

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Red, White, and Rooster

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

Series Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

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Chapter 11: Mrs. Americana & The Heartthrob Prez

"Bradley—are you sure this is safe?" You ask him as he fiddles with your safety equipment.

"Totally safe. I mean, this was my job for fifteen years before I retired." He tells you as he gives you one last look over.

You can't believe you agreed to this. You and Bradley and Jake and Jaycee were in San Diego celebrating the Fourth of July at the Naval base that he used to call home. His entire former squadron, along with him and Jake, were going to do a flyover demonstration and an air show for the holiday. He had been practicing for two weeks with them, and at the last minute, he had conned you into flying with him. Jake had tried to get Jaycee to fly with him, but she quickly told him that he was out of his mind.

Bradley secured a helmet he had specially made for you to your head. It bore the call sign he'd given you, "Mrs. Americana" on it with a red white and blue theme. The flight suit you had on also had the name stitched on a patch on the front of it.

When you'd asked him about it, he said every pilot and WSO had one. He told you that he picked yours because of your "undying love for Taylor Swift and the fact that you were the First Lady." You laughed at him, but thought it was sweet.

You stood across from him as he secured his helmet. You'd couldn't deny how handsome he looked in his flight suit. You felt honored to get to see him in his element. The two of you walked hand in hand towards the F-18 two-seater that you would be flying in today. The press was going crazy over the two of you.

You stopped to pose for a few pictures and answer a couple of questions before Bradley helped you into the jet and made sure you were secure. After that, he climbed in the cockpit and wet over his preflight checks. Soon, it was almost time for take off.

You could hear the chatter of the other pilots. You looked over to your right and saw Jake in his plane. He looked over and saluted at the two of you.

"Hey, Hangman. You look good." Bradley said as he waved to Jake. "I am good, Rooster. I'm very good." Jake shot back. You laughed at the interaction. It was strange hearing them use each other's call signs.

"Hey, Ja—Hangman" you began. Jake's eyes shifted to you. "How do I look?" You asked him with a laugh. "You look too good to be true, Mrs. Americana." Jake replied. You couldn't see his whole face because of the oxygen mask he was wearing, but you knew he was smirking under it.

Moments later, Bradley was heading down the taxiway to the runway. You were nervous but excited for this flight.

"This is Rooster to range control, Dagger Two confirming green range." Rooster spoke. "Rooster, range is green, have a safe flight Mr. President and Mrs. First Lady." The range officer spoke.

Your heart dropped as the two of you took off. You'd flown plenty of times, but nothing like this. You truly felt like you were one with the clouds. It was a magical day in the sky, and you loved sharing it with Bradley.

"This is amazing!" You stated as he inverted his jet. You had the biggest grin plastered across your face the entire time. When it came time to land and leave the plane, you were a little disappointed, but Bradley promised he'd find another way to take you back up again.

July faded into August, and August slipped away into a moment in time. Soon, September and come and gone, and the two of you had made it to October.

You couldn't believe that you and Bradley were getting ready to celebrate your first wedding anniversary. And the two of you were truly going to celebrate it. It wasn't going to be some gala thrown to look good for the cameras. It was going to be a true way to honor the love you had for each other.

It also didn't hurt that the media was head over heels for your two. The summer service tour the two of you had went on stayed on the front pages. People were comparing you to the Kennedys and the Prince and Princess of Wales, stating that America hasn't seen a more handsome or service driven first couple in decades. It made you smile every time you read something positive about the two of you. What started out as a means to survive had truly become something beautiful.

On the morning of October nineteenth, you'd hoped to spend a somewhat lazy and restful Sunday morning in bed with your husband, but Bradley seemed to have other ideas.

It was early. You knew that for sure, and your body was still more asleep than awake. You sighed and settled into your pillows, blindly reaching for Bradley, but unable to find him. You ignored it and tried to drift off, but something was keeping you from fully going back to sleep.

You felt warm all over, a heat building within you. You also felt an ache between your thighs and in your lower belly. You shifted, trying to relieve some of the tension, but something held you firmly in place.

You sighed, deciding to let the feeling take over your body rather than fight it. As you began to wake up more, you felt it, the scruff of Bradley's mustache against you, the drag of his tongue through your wetness, the grip of his hands on your thighs.

"Bra—" you gasped as he sucked on your clit. "G'morning," he whispered, pausing for just a moment to greet you before resuming his work.

He lapped at your core slowly but with a purpose. One of your hands tangled in his hair while the other gripped the sheet. You could feel yourself closing in on an orgasm when there was a sudden knock at the door.

"Bradley! Stop!" You gasped, trying to push him away. His head whipped towards the door, then back at you. "No." He said calmly before doubling down on his efforts. You let out a whine. You were helpless when it came to him.

The knock came again, this time with a voice. "Mr. President, I've got the breakfast you requested." One of the kitchen staff called in. Bradley groaned against your center before pulling off of you.

"Just leave it, I'll get it in a minute." He yelled. You snorted a laugh before he licked you again. "I'd like to finish my dessert before I get to breakfast." He said as he lips wrapped around your clit.

His tongue moved skillfully through your folds, bringing you to a mind-blowing orgasm before eight in the morning. When he was satisfied with his work, he retrieved the breakfast, and the two of you enjoyed it together, before another turn in the sheets. If you had it your way, you would have kept Bradley in bed all day, naked and against you. However, he claimed he had something important to take care of and he would be back in a few hours.

That left you to your own devices. You spent the afternoon catching up on emails and reading your new book, then you took to social media where an article caught your eye.

"Love, Marriage, but no Baby Carriage: When Will We See a Presidental Baby?" The title made your eyes go wide. You clicked on it and read about how people were wondering why a First Baby wasn't on the way yet. It talked about how you and Bradley seemed to be so in love but had nothing to show for it yet. It further speculated that maybe the two of you weren't the perfect couple like everyone thought.

After a quick Google search, you found several other articles all about the same thing. You closed your computer after the seventh one and sighed. You really did love Bradley, and everything was going well between the two of you. It wasn't time for a reelection campaign yet, and his ratings were through the roof. There wasn't necessarily a perfect time to start trying for a baby, but right now seemed pretty good. You decided that after dinner, you'd talk with him about it.

That evening, Bradley had managed to surprise you with a flower arrangement he'd personally went and gotten you as well as a new bracelet and some of your favorite pastries. All in all, it was a wonderful anniversary.

That night, as the two of you lay in bed, you dropped the bomb on him.

"Bradley, what if we had a baby?" You asked him. He stiffened. You could tell your words caught him off guard. "What do you mean, Sweetheart?" He asked you. "I mean, what if we started trying. Like, what if I stopped taking my birth control." You told him.

"What brought this on?" Bradley asked you. "Well—I was reading some news articles—" you began. "Honey, what do you always tell me about reading them." He interjects. "I know, I know, but they really got me thinking. We are in a good place right now. This would be the perfect time to start trying." You tell him.

Bradley sits up and looks at you. He studies your face. "You're serious right now? You want to have a baby with me?" He asks you. "I do, Bradley. Our marriage has been anything but traditional. I want this to be the one thing we choose." You tell him earnestly.

An ear splitting grin breaks out across his face.

"Okay." He tells you. "Okay?" You ask eagerly.

"Yeah, fuck—let's have a baby, Sweetheart." Bradley confirms before crashing his lips to yours.

Everybody stay calm, it's happening!

Also, thank you for all the love and support on this series!

Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @princess76179 @bradshawseresinbabe @sunlightmurdock @lewmagoo @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @mj-l4 @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @gretagerwigsmuse @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis @bradshawsbaby @wkndwlff

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trickphotography2 · 1 year ago

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Overtime

It was just supposed to be a football game. But then Hangman took Syla up on her invitation to watch the Blue Angels perform at the Miramar air show. A month after meeting and facing the last home show of her career, the history making Naval Aviator invited Hangman to visit her in Pensacola. She didn't actually expect him to accept. Payback definitely wasn't happy.

A continuation of First and Goal. This got away from me at 5.1K words. No physical description of the reader, callsign is Syla (pronounced like Cilla) and she's a Florida State fan.

Cross-posted on Ao3.

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

The humidity hit Jake in the face as he exited the Pensacola airport. His eyes darted up and then to the line of cars. “I’m under the Delta sign.”

“Okay, I’m pulling out of the cellphone lot,” Syla said. He heard her humming and felt his lip twitch. Over the month they’d been talking, he’d heard it many, many times, usually when she was focused on something. Once, when they’d done a video call while she was in Oregon, he’d asked her if she hummed while flying and was promptly flipped off. “I...think I see you.” The call disconnected as a blue convertible Mini Cooper stopped in front of him. Payback scowled, elbowing him out of the way as Syla got out and circled the car.

“Reuben!” she squealed. Jake rolled his eyes, grabbing the other man’s bag as he hugged Syla, lifting her off her feet. Payback hadn’t been thrilled to find out he wasn’t the only one who had requested leave to head down to Florida for the Blue Angels homecoming show. Hell, Syla had been surprised when Jake had quickly accepted her half-joking invitation.

Jake had gone to the show in Miramar. It was his first time seeing them since their flyover at his Academy graduation, which he’d only half paid attention to back then. The Blue Angels were good PR for the Navy but had never caught his attention - pilots stuck repeating the same maneuvers every time? Sounded almost as bad as being assigned to desk duty. He'd take dog fighting every time if given the choice between it and the flying equivalent of synchronized swimming. But, after going through flight school and some experience with formation flying, he had a new respect for the Angels.

The way Syla filled out her tight blue flight suit definitely didn’t hurt matters. Jake had managed to get close enough to watch the team march in a line to their jets and climb in, trading out their caps for helmets before taxiing and taking off in formation. For an hour, he watched them execute loops, inversions, pitches, and breaks. After the show, he’d joined the queue for her autograph and grinned at her surprised look. As she signed the team picture, he asked her about not wearing a g-suit that helped keep blood from pooling in the lower extremities and forced it toward the brain. From his estimation, they were pulling at least 7Gs at points.

“Can’t,” Syla had shrugged. “We have our right arm on our thigh for stability and to help with the 40-pound spring tensioned on the stick. Air bladders would inflate at the worst time and ruin the maneuver. ‘Sides, since we fly it constantly, we know when to tense to avoid G-LOC.” Sliding her aviators down her nose, the Blue Angel smirked and slid the picture across the table to him. “Good to see you again, Hangman.”

Her phone number was under her loopy signature.

“Hey,” Jake said when she turned her attention to him, eyebrow raised over her sunglasses. Crossing her arms over her chest, forcing her breasts higher into the tank top she wore, Syla cocked her hip.

“I have so many questions. First - what the hell is with the pornstache?” Grinning, Jake ran a hand over his mustache.

“Don’t like it?”

“You look like the other guy in your squad… um…” she snapped her fingers, glancing at Payback.

“Rooster.”

“Rooster! That’s right. He can pull off a mustache.”

“I make a mustache look good,” he chuckled, dropping the bags into the open trunk. Shaking her head, she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Jury’s out. Also, people are gonna think you’re a Gator or Canes fan in that orange.”

“Hook ‘em, baby.” Over her head, Jake caught Payback’s eye roll.

“Alright,” Syla said, stepping out of his loose embrace and slamming the trunk closed. “Get in so we can go grab dinner. I’m starving.”

“Please tell me we’re getting some seafood,” Payback moaned, beelining for the front seat. Jake rolled his eyes, following Syla around the car and pulling open the door for her before ducking into the back seat. His knees pressed into her seat, and he shifted to try and get more comfortable.

The two aviators chatted while Syla pulled out of the airport and drove through Pensacola. It had been years since Jake had been back. Like many Naval aviators, his career had begun at a local flight school while stationed at NAS Whiting Field, just across the bridge and a couple of miles down I-10 in Milton. While he’d enjoyed his time at Annapolis during the Academy, it had been fun to cut loose and spend weekends on the white sand beaches, flirting with tourists and drinking at dive bars. But after he’d moved on to Intermediate Flight Training, he’d never looked back. North Florida had little appeal for him. If he had to be stationed in the state, he would go for the Keys.

“You good back there, Hangman?” Syla asked, pulling him from his musing. She’d twisted in her seat, strands of hair that had escaped her regulation bun framing her face.

“All good, just looking at how much it’s changed.” She smiled, turning back around when the light turned green.

After grabbing dinner by the beach at a local spot called The Oar House, the trio made their way to Syla’s place. It was a cute little white house with a red - “garnet,” she’d corrected - door. As another condition of his coming, Payback claimed the one guest bedroom while Jake was relegated to the couch.

It helped to know that Payback only had the bed for one night and would join him in sleeping in the living room when Syla’s parents arrived the next day.

So, while Payback went to bed early to call his kid, Jake and Syla hung out. At first, there had been some initial awkwardness, trying to navigate a friendship conducted mainly over the phone. It didn’t take long until Jake found himself itching to tuck her hair, free from the tight bun and damp from her shower, behind her ear.

“Okay, I have to know,” she said, setting her glass on the coffee table before facing him. Propping her elbow against the back of the couch, she buried a hand in her hair and smirked. “What’s with the mustache? You weren’t deployed, so it’s not a deployment ‘stache. Or is this like a normal thing for you?”

“Definitely not a normal thing for me,” he chuckled, setting his beer on the coffee table and turning to mirror her. At her cocked eyebrow, he shrugged. “Payback.”

“Are we talking Reuben or revenge for something?”

“A bit of both. He’s real protective of you and wasn’t happy to hear that we’ve been talking. Or that I was coming here.”

“Oh god, are you telling me you look like that because of me?” She let her head fall back at his shrug while taking a deep breath. The move pulled her sleep shirt tight against her chest, and he could see her pebbled nipples through the material. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“It’s fine.” And it was. It was worth it if this was the penalty for violating the bro code - as the rest of the Daggers had ruled when they found out about his contact with Syla.

“Your pretty face shouldn’t be sacrificed for his petty male ego.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Jake teased. Syla lowered her head and gave him an unimpressed look. With a huff, she ran her thumb over his mustache.

“When you don’t have a fuzzy caterpillar on your face.” Amusement sparkled in his green eyes when Syla raised hers from his mouth to meet his. Her fingers rasped on his stubble as they glided across his jaw. Jake watched, biting back a groan when she played with the hair on the nape of his neck. Gentle pressure guided him closer as her tongue darted to wet her lips. A smirk curved his mouth as his gaze narrowed to hers.

A throat cleared, and Syla jumped, her hand falling to her lap. Payback stood beside the television, arms crossed over his chest. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Syla replied, even as pink dusted her cheeks. Payback’s eyes darted to Jake, who shrugged. “Oh no - this is not… If you have a problem with me talking to Jake, you’ll talk to me about it, Reuben.”

“Okay. I don’t like it. You don’t know Hangman.”

“Cool. Good to know. That’s part of why we’re talking - to get to know one another.” He groaned her name, running a hand down his face.

“He’s got a reputation in Miramar.” Jake flushed with embarrassment. Sure, he enjoyed a one-night stand, but he hadn’t had one in a while. Definitely not since he’d started talking to the pilot beside him.

“So you’re telling me he knows what he’s doing and can probably find the clit. That’s great to know.” Both men sputtered, and Syla laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, Payback, I’m not the 22-year-old girl you met. And as much as I appreciate you looking out for me, I’m a pretty good judge of character. So if I want to talk to Jake, kiss him, and maybe have sex, that’s our decision.” Patting Jake’s shoulder, she stood and gave Payback a sweet smile. “And with that, gentlemen, I’m going to go to bed since I have work in the morning. You know, where I’m a history-making Naval aviator whose judgment is tested and proven every day that I’m in the air flying inches away from other aviators, where one small deviation could mean death for either of us. Night boys.”

The two men watched Syla walk to the hallway, pausing to pat Payback’s chest and closing her bedroom door.

Jake fell a little bit in love.

“Morning,” Jake said, his voice rough with sleep. Syla smiled and waved, continuing towards the kitchen where the coffee pot gurgled. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he joined her, taking the mug she slid across the counter and leaning against the stove, scratching his bare chest.

“How’d you sleep?” she asked.

“Not the worst place I’ve bunked.”

“It’s a step above the carrier.” He smiled over the rim of his mug. He’d never dated a woman in the military and never would have even thought about pursuing another aviator. Sure, he enjoyed flirting with Phoenix to get a rise out of her, but their careers overlapped too much for him to ever think about pursuing anything. Plus, Rooster would kill him if he ever worked up the nerve to admit his feelings about his “best friend.”

But there was something comforting about talking with Syla. Over the last month, he’d enjoyed not having to explain things in his daily life. No explanation was needed when he rescheduled calls because he was doing late maneuvers. Honestly, she was the one doing the rescheduling more often than not. She was also the one who fell asleep when they were on the phone. He’d never admit it, but Jake usually stayed on the line for a few more minutes, listening to her soft breathing and half-heartedly hoping she’d wake before hanging up.

“What’s your day look like?” he asked. Syla frowned and stepped past him to look at the calendar hanging on the refrigerator.

“We’re briefing the show this morning and then going to a middle school. Not sure if we’re doing the interview there or if the camera crew is just getting footage. Then final dress rehearsal over the Gulf.” There was something sad in her eyes when she turned to meet his gaze.

“What?”

“I just…” To his surprise, tears gathered in her eyes as she looked up at the ceiling and swallowed. “Sorry, just kinda hitting me that this is it.” Setting his mug down, he opened his arms. Syla rested her head on his shoulder, palms flat on his chest. Jake's hand ran up the back of her flight suit, tugging her closer as he brushed his lips against her temple. When she lifted her head, he kissed her cheek. But when he tried to do it again, she turned to meet him.

Their first kiss was a sweet one. Syla’s hands drifted up his chest to wrap around the back of his neck and tug him down as she surged onto her toes. He steadied her with hands on her hips, gripping the blue fabric tightly as she licked into his mouth. A groan escaped him as she smiled. The mustache prickled against her skin.

“It’s too early for this.”

“Morning, Reuben,” Syla sighed, dropping back onto her heels and resting her forehead against Jake’s chin. Slowly, she pulled away and looked at her friend. “Sleep well?”

“Other than a nightmare, yeah.” Chuckling, she stepped out of Jake’s arms and grabbed her travel coffee mug.

“Duke is gonna pick me up so you can have my car for the day. I’ll be home around 5:30 or 6:00. My parent should be here around that time, too, so we’ll go out for dinner. I have to have an early night for the show tomorrow, but we can take two cars so you can have fun downtown.” The flight leader was happy to help her with a ride, seeing as he lived down the street.

“An early night sounds good to me,” Jake nodded.

“Great. Duke’s pulling up, so I’m headed out.” With a quick peck to both men’s cheeks, she left.

“You’re an ass,” Payback grumbled while opening the cabinets for a mug. Ignoring him, Jake returned to the couch and grabbed his cell phone, quickly pulling up their text thread.

Can confirm I know where the clit is

A few minutes later came her reply.

Seeing is believing

Syla woke early and pulled on her running gear. It was hard to sneak out of the house with the two aviators crashing in the living room, but she managed it. After slipping her earbuds in, she started her pre-show tradition of a five-mile run while mentally practicing the flight maneuvers. Hands clenched in front of her, she imagined Duke’s voice and positioned the stick and throttle. Deployed the smoke that allowed the crowd to follow them as they climbed. She would have the privilege of a sneak attack on the beach, buzzing the crowd who watched her wingmen fly ahead.

Even after three seasons, every show made her nervous. And performing in front of the hometown crowd, while amazing, brought its own level of pressure. North Florida was the home to a huge military population. These people saw them the most - they practiced over the Naval Aviation Museum twice weekly and signed autographs. Hell, there was a sign as you got into town that said ‘Home of the Blue Angels.’ Pensacola had the Blue Angels, Corry Station, and Whiting Field, where many aviation careers started. The Air Force had three bases just an hour up the road - Hurlburt Field, Duke Field, and Eglin. Eglin had its own place in military aviation history, as it was where the pilots of the Doolittle Raid - the US’s retaliation on Japan following Pearl Harbor, where modified bombers had launched from the USS Hornet with no fighters as backup - had trained. The Air Force had their own fighter and test wings stationed there, and the Army was training special forces.

Further out were the two bases in Panama City - the Naval Support Activity Panama City and Tyndall Air Force Base, which housed their own fighter wing. That wasn’t even considering all of the veterans in the area. Syla had briefly dated someone who worked for the Veteran’s Administration, who had told her that the Gulf Coast was one of the fastest-growing areas for vets.

So yeah, hometown shows made her nervous. And her dumb ass had invited a certain Lieutenant, who made her even more nervous. Who she outranked. As a Lieutenant Commander, she was responsible for ensuring they didn’t break any fraternization rules. And even though Jake wouldn’t be under her command - the Daggers were stationed at Miramar under TOPGUN but were not instructors - they might still get some looks.

Which was presuming that Jake even wanted something other than a fling. Panting, Syla stopped running and bent, wiping away the sweat on her brow. Even this early, the humidity was killer. “Fucking focus,” she ordered herself.

There was nothing like an airshow. From the moment Syla stepped onto the tarmac, the energy was electric. For her last home show, they’d picked the theme of Celebrating Women in Aviation, focusing on the Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASPS) that began in WWII when the US needed pilots. Women could join the military to ferry, test, and deliver planes for repair.

From the civilian aerobatic pilots to the Air Force’s Viper and F-35 demo teams and the explosive Tora Tora Tora reenactment, there was something for everyone. She joined her parents, Reuben, and Jake after the Angels’ morning briefing. While her parents and Reuben stayed in the tent, she and Jake did a quick walk around, pausing so she could sign autographs and take pictures. She was glad her sunglasses were on when a little girl traced over her embroidered wings and said she wanted to be a pilot, too. Jake’s fingers brushed hers as they walked, and she fought a smile.

And then it was show time. Syla forced herself to focus on the moment. Doing anything else would endanger the team and her aircraft. So, she focused on saluting her flight crew and doing her checks. She wasn’t part of the diamond take-off formation but would be doing a high G vertical climb into an inversion. And then she thought about Duke’s final order - “Have fun.”

So she did. She allowed herself to smile as she fought against gravity, admired the beautiful ocean she flew over, and laughed at the startled crowd as she executed the sneak pass.

And yes, she did hum while doing it.

Sunday was harder. Syla woke up early for her run and was surprised to find Jake awake in the kitchen, shirtless and wearing running shorts and sneakers. He joined her, her extra reflective belt wrapped around his bicep. It was still dark, their way lit by streetlights and the occasional passing car. Jake glanced over as she ran through the show, hands at her stomach moving the imaginary stick and throttle.

Everything for her last show needed to be perfect.

“You’ve got this,” he said when they turned back into her cul de sac. Feeling like a teenager sneaking around, she tugged him around the side of the house and pressed him against the siding. His hands wrapped around her hips, holding her tightly as her hands slid up his sweat-slicked skin to wrap around the back of his neck. It was still dark out, the sun not due to rise for another hour. If her neighbors looked out the glass door in their living room or someone drove past, they would easily be spotted. But that didn’t stop her from pressing against him, feeling his heat through her sports bra and running shorts.

Jake pressed teasing kisses to her forehead, nose, and cheek before Syla gripped his hair and kissed him hard. His hand slid to her ass, squeezing and tugging her closer. She could feel his cock through his jogging shorts and dug her nails into his skin to keep from touching him. Nothing in the world would make her jeopardize her career with a public indecency charge.

When his attention shifted to her neck, licking the salt from her skin, Syla forced herself to push against his shoulders and step back. His grip tightened, not letting her go too far. “Everything okay?” he asked. In the semi-darkness, she could barely make out his confused expression.

“I need to know,” she said, biting her kiss-swollen lower lip. “I know we’ve only known each other for a month, but am I pissing off one of my best friends for a fling?”

“A fling?”

“I outrank you, Jake. If there’s blowback, it’s gonna come back on me. Not only because of rank but because I’m a woman. I will always have Blue Angels in my bio, so I will always be held to the highest standard. So I have to know - is this just having fun? Or is this something we want to pursue? Because I’m fine either - ”

Jake’s lips silenced her, his tongue insistently licking into her mouth as he turned them to pin her against the siding with his hips. With his hands braced by her head, he pulled away, smirking when she chased his kiss. One knuckle traced from her temple and swept across her jaw before tilting her head up as he tutted her name. “You think I’d risk pissing off my entire squad for a fling? If I wanted that, I would have just waited for you to get to Miramar instead of coming out here, annoying Payback, and meeting your parents. This is my first vacation in years, and I wanted to spend time alone with you. If you want this to be a fling - ”

“I don’t.”

“Good. Cause I don’t either.” They stood there, smiling at one another for a long moment until they heard a dog bark. Shoving him away, Syla turned and waved at her neighbor as he stepped out of the house across the street, dressed for his own morning run. Taking Jake’s hand, she tugged him back towards the front door, enjoying how he pressed himself against her back as she unlocked it. “Just wait until we’re alone, and I’ll show you just how well I can find your clit,” he growled in her ear as she gripped the doorknob.

“Just out of curiosity,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Did you tell Reuben that you were staying for a week? Or does he think you’re flying out tonight, too?”

“Now, where would the fun be in telling him?” Jake asked. Syla laughed, turning in his embrace to pat his cheek.

“It’s your funeral, Hangman.” His grin was blinding as he leaned down to kiss her.

“What a hell of a reason to go.”

Emotion nearly choked her as Syla drove down Blue Angel Parkway toward the base. She’d left her parents to drive the other aviators in, wanting some time alone that morning. The squad had invited her guests to watch the last briefing of the season so they wouldn’t be too far behind. Reuben or Jake would be able to get her parents on base. While the air show gates didn’t open until 8:00AM, a few cars were already waiting at the Visitor Control building’s parking lot. After flashing her ID to the gate guard, she made her way to the hanger to quickly inspect her plane. Their flight mechanics were among the best in the world, and Syla trusted them with her life, but you could never be too careful. Once assured that everything was fine, she made her way to the briefing room, pausing to talk to some of the other early birds and to grab a shitty cup of coffee from the break room. Rather than take her seat, she took the opportunity to read the plaques that decorated the walls, running her finger over her name engraved on the list of pilots.

“Big day, Syla. You ready for it?” Duke asked, coming into the briefing room and standing beside her. She glanced up at him and rolled her lips together, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat.

“As I’ll ever be,” she replied hoarsely.

“One more flight, and then you’re back in the greens,” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her close.

“I look so much better in blue,” she smirked, glancing down at her flight suit. After three years, going back to a green suit that didn’t have her name and plane number embroidered on her chest, that had a different squadron patch, would be strange. This wasn’t the first time she’d left a squad, but it definitely was the hardest. Their team, from the flight and ground crew to the Marine pilots that flew Fat Albert, the C-130J that carried the crew show to show, spent so much time together. From January to November, they saw each other every day - on Thursdays, they flew out to the show location and returned to Pensacola on Mondays; Tuesdays and Wednesdays were practice days. For three years, Syla had celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, new babies, and graduations with these folks. She’d babysat for their kids and hung out at their houses. They had gotten her drunk to celebrate her promotion before dragging her to the beach and tossing her into the Gulf in her whites - she made sure that they also got drenched - and teased her relentlessly whenever she dated someone.

The other squad members slowly filed in, and Syla was subjected to brotherly teasing. When her guests arrived, she introduced Jake and Reuben by their callsigns. The looks her squad sent her when Hangman shook their hands were priceless - they’d seen his name pop up on her phone more than a few times. The corner of Jake’s eye twitched at every shake, making her wonder if they were squeezing his hand harder than necessary. Payback looked happy at the cooler welcome the other pilot got.

“Alright,” the flight leader said once everyone had taken their seat around the table, him at the head. Crew and her guests sat along the wall. “We’ll leave the sentimental stuff for the boat party later, but as you all know, this is Syla’s last flight with us. And while we’re excited to welcome Lieutenant Commander Reyes in a few months, she will have big shoes to fill. So we’ll be perfect today, not only for Syla but for our hometown crowd. I want the debrief to be short this afternoon so we can go celebrate another successful season and get some downtime. Now, conditions today allow for the high show…” Syla opened her folder and retrieved the aerial map of Pensacola as he read out the wind and view data. The tip of her pen traced the maneuvers they would go through, as he called them.

She could feel eyes on her as they pushed away from the table and did a chair flight, Duke’s comforting cadence helping her block out everything else. Her own eyes remained closed as they talked through the flight, visualizing and practicing the throttles and stick positions, where they would have pull on the stick, tensing to fight the Gs, her calls on the radio, turning to check the alignment of their synchronized ascent into the loop, deploying smoke - every second of the 45-minute show.

And when she opened her eyes, they caught on a pair of green ones that stared at her from across the room. The corner of Jake’s mouth twitched as he gave a curt nod. Beside him, her parents beamed. Payback sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest and grinned.

Syla couldn’t help the tears that fell as she taxied back into position. Even over her engine, she could hear the crowd cheering as they announced her name and thanked her for her years of flying with the Blues. As the canopy rose, she swiped at her face and took a deep breath.

It was over.

After three years, she was now returning to the fleet. She would be assigned a new Super Hornet, grey instead of bright blue, with her name and callsign painted below the canopy. The next few months would be spent reviewing tactical and weapons updates, and she’d have a few weeks to refresh her air combat skills before taking on her first TOPGUN class. She was pretty sure that she'd spend some time with the meatball, the machine that helped baby aviators learn the dimensions of the ship's flight line; she felt rusty even with over 600 carrier landings under her belt.

Thankfully, she was sure there was an active-duty pilot who would be more than happy to help her study.

“You good?” Syla looked up at her crew chief and nodded at the woman. Quickly, she handed over the helmet, realizing it would be one of the last times she wore it. Soon, she would be back in her garnet one with gold arrows - her nod to her alma mater. After smoothing down her hair, she put her cover back on and prepared to exit the cockpit.

Three years. Over 900 days on the road. Hundreds of hours in the air.

It was over.

A Week Later

Fanboy glanced at his phone, frowning at the text from Hangman. The Miami game was on a commercial break, so he quickly opened it and saw it was a video.

He recognized the place immediately - Florida State’s football stadium. Doak Campbell. Fucking Hangman was at the Miami-FSU game. Hangman panned the camera around the stadium, and Fanboy realized he was standing on the field. In the endzone. The announcer’s voice was a bit muffled but became clearer as Hangman refocused the camera on Syla.

“Callsign Syla made history as the first female aviator on the Blue Angels, carrying on the proud FSU tradition of excellence. Let’s give a loud welcome home to Syla!”

The crowd roared, chants of “USA” echoing as Syla held up her hands and waved before doing the tomahawk chop. In the background, he saw that she was being broadcast on the jumbotron. As it cut away, she held her hands up again. She brought her thumbs together to form the University of Miami ‘U’ symbol before dropping all but her middle fingers. The student section started a chant of ‘Fuck U’ as she laughed.

“Fuck Miami!” Syla grinned.

“Fuck Miami!” Hangman echoed, swinging the camera around to show himself flipping off the camera, that god-awful mustache still on his face. For once, he wasn’t wearing Texas gear but had swapped it out for a Seminoles cap and t-shirt.

Oh, Fanboy thought. He was definitely gonna have to deal with way more bro code violations once he got back. Especially after he forgot to turn off the recording before kissing Syla.

Fanboy debated forwarding it to the group chat but decided against it. Having a bit of blackmail was never a bad thing.

The group chat started popping off in the 4th quarter.

What the fuck is this? Payback fired off, sharing a picture of Hangman with his arm around Syla and their back to the field. Her hand rested on his stomach.

Damn, Rooster replied. Phoenix added a gif of Stephen Colbert eating popcorn.

Looks like fun, Bob added.

Fuck the Noles, Fanboy typed out.

Is no one bothered by this??? Payback demanded. The chat went silent until Hangman’s name popped up.

Syla here. Two things - 1) Fuck Miami, and 2) I’m begging you to let the man shave the fucking mustache. Facial hair is not my thing.

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

Note: I didn't expect to write a follow up to First and Goal, but I also didn't expect the engagement with it. Thank you to everyone who read it. A major thank you to @mayhemmanaged for helping talk me through this fic and reading a rough draft of it. And @dreamlandcreations for saying she wanted a part 2.

The North Florida panhandle has a huge military population. I recently moved away from the Gulf Coast, after my dad was stationed at Eglin AFB. That is where I first got to see a jet engine up close and see how beautiful the afterburner could be. It's where I went to my first stateside air show. I completed an internship at the VA in Pensacola, and was able to see the Blue Angels fly every week. Like Jake, I didn't really appreciate the panhandle until I left. There's nothing like shifting from pine trees to an ocean view as you cross the I-10 bridge, going from Whiting Field to Pensacola.

Like Syla, I'm a diehard Seminole, graduating from there a total of 4 times. I actually stole her flight leader's callsign, Duke, from a guy I went to high school and college with, who flies for the Air Force.

So long story short, this fic was inspired by aviation and Lieutenant Commander Amanda 'Stalin' Lee, the first female Blue Angel. Thanks for reading ❤️

Tagging those who reblogged and commented on First and Goal:

kmc1989; gigisimsonmars; starset21; the-slytherin-library-12; ssa-sadboi; fanficfandomlove; shanimallina87; myfaveficrecs; roosterforme; thefandomimagines; dreamlandcreations; topherwrites; roosteraloha; tgmreader; love-in-light; starlightmoon2020; clockworkballerina; bibissparkles; top-hhun; just-in-case-iloveyou; scarlettwidow19; themusingofagothicsoul; milani-marie; rooseresintg; lets-turn-and-burn; bellaireland1981; shanimallina87; sydthekid1518; gspenc; mimi-8793; novagreen04; fulla02reads; alldaysdreamers; atarmychick007; onceupona-happilyeverafter-love; rosiahills22

#hangman fic #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #Jake Seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun x female reader #First and Goal fic

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 1 month ago

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If you could arrange the BRF visits anywhere across the world (not only the Commonwealth nations), who would you choose for where?

And what would be your strategic/historical reasons for the choices?

I'm not going to pick who, as I think they all do a great job on their visits/tours. Certain people do get more attention than others, but that doesn't negate the work they do.

As for where: off the beaten path in flyover land.

They go to a lot of the same places and the same types of places. That's why I admire Sophie's work; she goes to new countries, so things are a little different for her. But in addition to the same places, they also go to the same types of places; the same big metropolitan and cosmopolitan cities with maybe a village or two thrown in if they're on the way.

I would spice it up. Go to different cities than the usual ones or make their itinerary exclusively in little villages and towns.

I'll use the US as an example (because, well, that's what I know very well). When the royals come for a US visit, they primarily go to Washington DC, the Northeast corridor (NYC, Boston, Philly), and California. Sometimes they've ventured out - Harry's been to Chicago; The Queen has been to Texas, Kentucky, and Detroit; and William's been to Tennessee (albeit for a personal trip) - but mostly they stay amongst the coastal elite.

But the US is huge. There are tons of places for them to visit in the US that will let them accomplish the same itineraries but perhaps with a little more impact because they're visiting places that don't see that kind of high-profile traffic. For instance:

I'd take them to a HBCU football game. It'd be the culture shock of their lives but imagine how much good it'd do for children who want to study in the US but don't think they'd fit in because of the color of their skin.

I'd take them to the Civil Rights trail through Atlanta or in Selma and to a plantation. They've often cited Dr. King and his work when they do history timelines (especially the 1966 march), but I want them to understand why Dr. King is important and what his legacy - and the legacy of everyone in the 1960s who fought for civil rights - actually is because sometimes I feel they don't quite understand what his value is and means.

I'd take them to the American prairie to show them America's indigenous population. Everywhere else they go in the world, they have engagements with indigenous peoples, but not in the US. Why? American native history is important. It's just as powerful and beautiful and important to understand. (And personally, if they can acknowledge British influence on American slave trade, they can also acknowledge British influence on colonialism and the oppression of the American indigenous people.)

I'd take them to Alaska so they could see the effects of melting glaciers. I'd take them to the southwest so they can see the effects of drying wells and lost water. I'd take them to the shorelines and the rural coasts so they can see what will be lost in rising seas.

I'd take them to some of our little-known national parks because they're just as important to our ecosystem as the famous ones are.

I'd take them to rural Appalachia. It's one of the poorest areas in the U.S. with some of the lowest education rates and highest addiction rates; their charities would thrive under the boost of attention that someone like Kate would bring. Not to mention the Appalachian Mountains and the Scottish Highlands belong to the same mountain range so being able to showcase the biodiversity of Appalachia as compared to the Scottish Highlands, and they're still discovering new species in Appalachia to this day.

But most importantly of all, for a royal tour/visit in the US, I'd take them for a ride on a school bus because apparently (according to my tiktok fyp) no one believes the yellow school bus really exists but maybe getting William and Kate on a school bus and taking them for a ride will make everyone realize that no, it's not a Hollywood creation.

And there are places like this in every country that the tourists and the politicians don't go to because we don't know they exist because ambassadors like the BRF aren't interested in going to those places - maybe it's because they're not as accessible. Maybe those places lack the infrastructure to support a royal tour. Maybe the BRF don't think "flyover country" is glamorous. Royal tours aren't glamorous because of the places they go - they're glamorous because of the people who go on these trips. And don't we all deserve a little bit of shine and glamor, and not just our coastal elite or our society centers?

#brf #what if

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obsessedbyneon · 4 days ago

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Netherlands Dance Theatre in The Hague, 1987. Designed by Rem Koolhaas (OMA, Office of Metropolitan Architecture).

It was one of his first realised projects. By using low cost materials, he was able to realise the Dance Theatre with a tight budget. The Anton Philipszaal was reknowned for its acoustics.

In 2015, it was decided the Theatre had to be demolished to make room for a new monstrosity by Jo Coenen (that everybody dislikes).

Scan | below: Rem Koolhaas inspecting his work on the roof of the construction site.

Project description:

"The design for the Nederlands Danstheater which has been realized, was preceded by two projects, both for a location in the seaside resort of Scheveningen. In this phase a hall for 800 spectators, as well as studies, offices and artist's quarters were added to the existing circus theatre. The theatre which has been built is on the Spui, an environment which is defined by two office bleeks, a flyover which is to be built over and a 17th century church. In this area, cultural centre functions are to be realized. The dance theatre is joined to a concert hall (architectural firm Van Maurik) and a hotel (architect Carel Weeber) with which it shares an underground car park. A public square forms the fourth component of the location. The flamboyant exterior elements, which dominated the projects in Scheveningen, have been replaced here by formal façades. The theatre hall has 1001 seats. The foyer is in a 7 metres broad space between the concert hall and the dance theatre hall. lt continues under the sloping floor of the latter. In the foyer a half-moon shaped landing and above it an egg-shaped skybar are suspended on cables. Between the hall with the stage and the three story high studies with the offices and dancers' quarters, there are three ballet studies. At right angles to this there is a unit with facilities for the dancers: a sauna, a swimming pool, a massage room and showers. There is a round public restaurant on the square. The outer walls are done in black, grey, white or metallic shades. In the interior, the emphasis is on the use of colour."

#scan #nederlands danstheater #lucent danstheater #den haag #the hague #rem koolhaas #postmodern #postmodernism #architecture #OMA #dutch 80s #jaren 80

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insidecroydon · 2 months ago

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Oxford professor explains Budget in Andrew Fisher Interview

“The austerity period that started in 2010 was a first-year undergraduate mistake.” That’s the view of Oxford economics professor Simon Wren-Lewis in the first of a new podcast strand from Under The Flyover, The Andrew Fisher Interview, available exclusively to paying subscribers of Inside Croydon. Each month, our star columnist will be talking to national and international figures about the…

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#Andrew Fisher #Labour #Mainly Macro #Oxford University #Patreon #Prof Simon Wren-Lewis #Rachel Reeves #Spotify #The Andrew Fisher Interview #The Budget #Under The Flyover #University of Oxford

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talkfastromance4 · 1 year ago

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Watermelon Sugar–Jake Seresin (An Arrangement Series)

An Arrangement Masterlist

Follow here for all updates as I do not have a taglist

word count: 3.3k

warnings: some body insecurity, brief smut scene

Feedback, asks, comments/reblogs mean the world to me!

Enjoy!

Jake told you about the bbq pool party happening on July 4th, he really did, but you were nervous for two reasons; you didn’t have a suit and you were anxious for him to see you in one. While you were having breakfast on the patio the day before, he was going over how he’d be gone shortly in the morning to do a flyover at the base but then he’d be back at eleven with the others. He insisted you invite Brynne, Serena and Dom but Dom always heads back home to spend the holiday weekend with his family.

“I think I’ve got all your favorite foods for tomorrow, and some hard seltzers in the fridge by the bar. Is there anything else you need?” he asked and you bit your lip. “What is it, Sugar?”

“I don’t have a nice suit to wear,” you admitted sheepishly.

“No big deal, let’s go shopping,” he wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin and pulled away from the table.

“No, wait–” you grabbed hold of his forearm, he looked down at you. “Can–can I go by myself?”

He opened his mouth but then closed it. “Sure. I’ll have Reynolds take you. Buy a suit for every day of the week, okay?” He kissed your hand that was on his arm.

So you did, you bought the ones that made you feel good in them and decided to wear a blue two-piece with white stars. You also bought a blue wrap to wear over it as a safety blanket when you were in front of Jake. Jake kissed you goodbye before he left to fly and you slept for another hour before getting up and getting ready.

You’ve just finished putting on red lipstick that matches the red ribbon tied in your hair when Jake gets home. His flight suit is tied around his waist, his hair still a little sweaty and his aviators are hanging off his nose.

“Don’t you look pretty,” he smiles, tossing his keys and wallet on his dresser. You’ve moved all your makeup stuff in his room, he bought a vanity for you to use along with the makeup you use and a bunch of stuff you’ve only dreamt about using.

“You look hot, I mean–” you shake your head, “you’re sweaty.” He smirks at your comment but doesn’t really acknowledge it.

“Yeah, it’s a scorcher out there,” he says, sifting through his drawers for an American flag style swim trunks. “Make sure to put on sunscreen. Everyone should be here in an hour.”

“Okay…do you need my help with anything?”

“All taken care of, Sugar. Too bad you’re all dolled up, was gonna see if you’d want to save on water and take a shower with me.” He stands in front of you, tracing the contour of your face with his fingers until they’re under your chin. He tilts your head up.

You shift in your chair making sure your wrap is covering you. Jake notices, his brows furrowing but again, he doesn’t say anything. You’re thankful for that.

“Maybe next time,” you finally respond coyly.

“Okay, Sugar,” his thumb drags over your bottom lip. “I love this color red on you.”

And then he’s gone heading towards his bathroom singing the chorus to ‘Danger Zone’ before shutting the door.

***

The party is in full swing and you feel a little more at ease when Serena and Brynne arrive. They gushed about your new suit and admired the other ones you bought. As soon as the three of you entered the pool area, Rooster smiled at Serena who quickly went over to him by the pool. He was standing on the first step, beer in hand and a bucket hat on his head.

“He better ask for her number today, or Dom is gonna kick his ass,” Brynne sighs watching your friend flirt with the pilot.

“He hasn’t yet?”

“Nope. And S keeps dropping hints but he’s oblivious.”

“I’ll say something to Jake. I know Rooster’s crazy about her,” you smile then notice Phoenix by the bar. She keeps glancing at Brynne while talking with Bob, her eyes traveling over Brynne’s cherry red suit. “Hey, Brynne, have you met Natasha yet?”

You take Brynne’s hand dragging her around the pool towards the bar and in front of Bob and Natasha.

“Hey guys, this is Brynne. My friend and coworker. Brynne, this is Bob and Natasha,” you introduce. Brynne’s eyes glitter when she meets Natasha’s and they shake hands and Natasha offers to get her a drink.

They move to the other end of the bar initiating small talk and that makes you happy. Warm, strong arms wrap around your waist and hot lips are on your cheek in a kiss.

“Hey Sugar, are you thirsty?”

You nod and he moves behind the bar to get one of your hard seltzers, he pops the tab and slips it inside a coozie. He adds a steel straw then hands it to you.

“Did you put sunscreen on?” he asks taking a pull from his own beer.

“Umm…” you suck on your straw, eyes downcast.

“Let’s put some on before you go in the pool,” he pats the side of your hip affectionately. “C’mon.”

“Jake, I–”

He gives you no choice and tugs you along towards the house. Coyote and Payback say hello to you, they’re seated on the lounge chairs discussing something about football. Fanboy is relaxing in the sun.

The cool air feels good from the dry heat outside as you enter the house, Jake still leading you through the house and into the bathroom on the first floor near the laundry room. He opens the closet grabbing a tube of sunscreen.

“I can put it on myself,” you say quietly, arms crossed over your chest making sure the wrap is still secure around you.

“I can get your back,” he smiles clicking the top open. “And you can rub my back, too.”

“Jake, I don’t–” you cover your face with your hands.

“Woah, hey, what’s going on?”

You shake your head, eyes closed.

“Sugar, talk to me please. What’s wrong?”

“I’m self-conscious,” you mutter.

“Self-conscious of what?” he takes hold of your hands and you let him remove them from your face. You open your eyes to stare at your joined hands between you.

“Of how I look. I’m not tall and toned like Serena is and I don’t have the nice curves like Brynne does…I’m…I’m not–”

“y/n, look at me,” his voice is soft. You force your eyes up, his thumbs are rubbing the backs of your hands. “You’re beautiful, exactly the way you are. Your height, your size, your curves, all of it. I told you you’ve been tempting me since day one and I mean it, you don’t even realize how much. If you don’t want to take off your wrap yet, that’s fine, I’ll get Serena to come and help you.”

“No, she’s busy with Rooster,” you shake your head. You take a deep breath. “You can do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod removing your hands from his. Your eyes stare at his white tank top covered chest as your fingers untie the wrap. You continue to stare at the center of his chest as you pull it off your shoulders and he remains silent.

“Damn,” he breathes and you finally look up at his face. His green eyes are widening as he moves over your suit. “As I live and breathe, darlin’ you sure are a sight for sore eyes.”

Your cheeks are burning from revealing your suit and from his words. He reaches behind you to get the sunscreen and he pops it open again. He starts at your shoulders, making sure to rub it in under the straps and over the hills of your breasts. Your heart is hammering and you wonder if he can feel it. His fingers tickle your stomach as he rubs in lotion there, and goosebumps appear when he gets the sides.

“Can you turn around for me?” he asks softly and you do. He squirts more lotion on his hand and starts at your shoulders.

You watch him in the mirror, his face in concentration and you avoid your own gaze in the mirror. He moves your hair over your shoulder and you feel his hand slip down behind the clasp at the center of your back.

“Here,” you murmur and unhook it so the only thing holding your suit up are your hands cupping it to your breasts. Your eyes meet in the mirror, questions burning in both of your gazes but neither of you voices them as he continues to spread sunscreen on your back.

Did his hands get hotter? You try to concentrate on your breathing, the tips of his fingers dip a little below the waistband of your bottoms. More goosebumps, more heat. Part of you wants to remove your top and see what happens, part of you wants him to do it.

To your surprise, Jake hooks the clasp back together and brings your hair back into place.

“Can you do me now?” he asks your reflection.

You nod as you readjust your breasts in your suit so they’re more fitted and you can see Jake watches your every move. The way he’s looking at you fills you with a bit more confidence each time. When you pick up the lotion bottle he yanks off his tank top and turns around, you choke on the air you’re breathing because he’s so tan and muscular. He has freckles on his shoulders and a small birthmark on the very low part of his back. It looks like a heart.

You squire the lotion in your palm and then swipe your hand over his whole back. His muscles tightened and you were mesmerized by the strength of them as you rub in the sunscreen. You make sure to get his shoulders and up into his neck. Your hand curves with his spine as you go lower and get the sides of his stomach. Without even thinking, your nail traces over that birthmark, Jake takes a deep breath.

“Okay, turn around,” you say.

When he does, he crowds your space, his arms caging you in between him and the counter.

“I already got my stomach, can you put some on my nose?” he asks scrunching his nose in indication.

“Yeah,” you bite your lip and put a little more on your two fingers. You stroke your fingers over his nose and onto his chin, pressing the excess under his eyes and onto his ears. When you’re finished, you keep his face held in your hands.

You stare at each other for a second before lips are on lips and you’re somehow on the counter with your legs wrapped around his waist. His body is hard and hot and muscled against yours, his hands pulling you into him, your back bowing so you’re as close as you can be. Your fingers are in his hair and he moves one hand to cup and squeeze your breast. You moan into his mouth and then he shifts the suit down, his thumb and forefinger tweaking your nipple. You moan again and Jake moves his kisses down your jaw and to your neck and then his mouth is covering your breast.

His mouth is hot and his tongue is slick and wet as it circles over your nipple. His teeth dig into the swell of your breast while his tongue flicks and presses on your bud.

“Jake,” you sigh falling against the mirror watching through hooded eyes as he opens his. He keeps his gaze on you as he shifts to your other breast, his hand yanking the suit down. He doesn’t close his eyes until his mouth is on you again, a contented sigh coming from him and you keep your fingers curled in his hair.

The noises he makes as he suckles on you electrifies your blood cells and you need him closer. It’s when you start to grind your hips against him that you yank on his head. His mouth releases your breast with a pop and his eyes are bright green.

“We haven’t–we shouldn’t–” you’re panting trying to get the words out because so many thoughts are racing through your mind.

You’ve opened up to him more, you’re more comfortable with him, you’re sleeping in his bed more frequently but the paperwork and Betty’s health are at the forefront. This is just an arrangement, he’s said you tempt him and he’s been tempting you a lot more too lately.

“You’re right,” he nods but peppers kisses along your breasts before tucking them back into your suit. “We have guests. I got carried away.”

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“No need to be sorry, Sugar,” he smiles crookedly and shifts on his feet. “I need a few minutes before I can go back out there.”

Your eyes immediately fly down to his waist where you can see a bulge over the stars and stripes of his suit.

“Oh. Oops,” you bite your lip trying to hide your smile.

“Yeah, oops,” he murmurs, tugging your lip from your teeth into a kiss. He groans when you kiss him back excitedly. “Okay, trouble, time to head out before we’re discovered.”

“You’re the troublemaker,” you tease hopping down from the sink. You pick up your wrap and adjust yourself again.

***

You went back outside and stepped into the pool water, you also needed to cool down after what you and Jake did. The rest were in the pool and Jake jumped in with a big splash then took you in his arms. Rooster started to complain he was hungry an hour later. You were the only one left in the pool floating on one of the floaties Jake bought special for the day.

Rooster and Serena were sitting on the pool steps and Brynne and Phoenix were sitting on the edge talking. You watched Jake as he gathered all of the grill stuff, and he even put on an apron that said ‘Kiss the Chef’. You suck on your drink through your straw watching his arms flex as he cleans the grill, a sheen of sweat glistening on his shoulders.

You slip off the floaty and exit the pool just as Serena and Rooster wade in deeper, their fingers loosely linked. Jake’s eyes are on you as you walk towards him, water rolling over your body and when you’re close enough you lean up and peck his lips softly. His eyes flutter and he grins.

“What was that for?”

“Your apron says to kiss the chef, so I did,” you giggle and finish off your drink.

“I’ll kiss you too, Hangman,” Roster makes kissy noises behind you.

“Hard pass, Bradshaw. Go get your kabobs, man,” then he turns his attention back on you. “Did you put more sunscreen on?”

“Yeah, but it won’t work. I’ll still burn,” you shrug then turn around but Jake swats at your ass and you yelp.

You grab another seltzer and the start taking pictures with Serena, Brynne and Phoenix. Jake and Bradley look your way when you all squeal as Coyote does a cannonball in the water. Phoenix and Brynne exit the pool getting cozy at the bar, Brynne even kisses Phoenix’s cheek for a picture.

“That’s good, Brynne is chill compared to the last girl Phoenix was with,” Jake comments.

“Yeah, your Sugar sure is sweetening up our group, ain’t she?” Rooster nudges Jake’s shoulder then goes over to Serena who is struggling with her beer bottle.

When Jake has the food on the grill, he retreats inside to grab the extra plate of watermelon Rhea had cut up for the day. Jake always makes sure she spends holidays with her own family and he brought the plate out to you. You snatch a piece and take a bite, the juice dribbles down your chin and into your cleavage. You hold the piece up to Jake and he takes a bite, juice dribbling down his chin as well.

You giggle then lean on the pool edge to swipe it from his lips. You suck it off your thumb.

“See, you’re trouble,” he cocks his head to the side and starts to stand.

“Leave the watermelon,” you tell him and snatch the floaty. You climb back on and make grabby hands for the plate which he hands you. “Thank you.”

The food is great as you all sit down to eat it and then Rooster runs off to grab the fireworks he brought. He sets them up with the help of Bob. Jake hands you some water because all you’ve had all afternoon are seltzers. The dry heat is really getting to you and your suit is starting to feel uncomfortable which only means one thing.

You’ve got a sun burn.

You sit on Jake’s lap as Bob sets the fireworks off and you start to shiver now that the sun is no longer in the sky. Rooster and Serena were making out as the fireworks lit up the sky. You remember to tell Jake that Serena wants Bradley to ask for her number.

“He’s an idiot, he has no game,” Jake shakes his head, “I’ll tell him.”

Everyone is gone by eleven o’clock and Jake tuts when he sees how red you are as you remove your makeup in his bathroom.

“Sugar, you’re so sunburnt. You didn’t put more on after I did it for you, did you?”

“I did, I swear! But I told you…sunscreen doesn’t work on me for some reason,” you flinch when you dry your face off with the towel.

He sighs heavily. “Take a cool shower and I’ll put aloe on you.”

You do what he says and it hurts when you put on the satin pajama set. The straps are thin but hit your burning skin in just the right way. When you exit the bathroom, Jake is already showered and tugging on the draw strings of his basketball shorts.

“C’mere my little tomato,” he gestures to his bed and you crawl on it delicately. You lay down and lift your shorts up higher on your thighs and the bottom of your shirt. “Sugar…”

“Put it on please,” your body trembles as you shiver some more. Being in the heat all day is finally escaping you as you’re in the controlled temperature of the house.

Jake rubs it on your thighs first, the cooling sensation of the aloe feels wonderful. It’s colder on your stomach, his fingers brush the underside of your boobs but you’re in too much pain to really get excited about it.

“You’re gonna have to take your top off so it doesn’t cling to your skin, that’s not going to feel good,” he shakes his head. “You don’t have to sleep in here if you’re uncomfortable–”

“No, can I please? Your sheets are cooler than mine,” you pout and sit up delicately.

“Of course you can,” he smiles gently. You begin to lift your top off but it pinches at your shoulders and you cry out. “I got it.”

Jake removes it as softly as he can, folds it, places it at the foot of his bed and puts more aloe on his hands. He’s gentle as he rubs it over your shoulders and down your arms. By the time he gets to your back, it’s already dried on your front. He puts some on your hands and more on your chest because that’s where it’s the worst.

“I’m getting you SPF 100 so this doesn’t happen again.” he sets the bottle on his nightstand. Your picture in a small frame.

“It won’t work–” you start to say slipping under his sheets.

“Yes it will. SPF 30 was no help to you, Sugar.”

You sigh as you settle into his sheets, the coolness helps with the aloe but you’re shivering like crazy. Jake grabs your hands and blows on them.

“If you wake up and it still hurts, I’ll put more on you.”

“You don’t mind I’ll be sleeping with my top off?” your teeth chatter.

“Sugar, I wouldn’t mind if you decided to sleep nude,” he kisses your cheek and shuts the lights off.

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