#and I was just trying to figure out the problem

[dear-ao3]

by popular request: how to write an email

a disclaimer that this is the specific kind of email you send when people are absolutely smiting you and you know a phone call or an in person meeting is not possible/will not help. like youre 12 emails deep in an email chain and going in circles. youve been re routed to 13 offices 4 separate times. those kind of emails.

credentials: ive taken something like 13 semesters of college (dont ask) and every single semester have had to fight at least 3 offices for varying reasons in order to take classes. (including one time where i was shorted 5k in financial aid. i ended up getting 200 more dollars than i needed in the end) also my dad taught me everything he knows about emails (hes a tradesman turned corporate man and most of his job consists of telling people (nicely) that what theyre doing sucks and makes absolutely no sense)

Step 1: figure out who the email needs to go go

there is nothing wrong with emailing 11 million people if it gets the job done. if someone isnt helping you and you Know that they Should Be feel free to start to copy their boss on the email. copy your boss on an email. (or advisor or whoever). even if you think the person might only be like Vaguely helpful, sometimes people know people.

also theres nothing wrong with emailing the same email to several departments. sometimes you have to make a lot of noise to get something done (again. as like a last resort. dont email 11 million people right out of the gate)

Step 2: remember to be Polite

a very tempting step to ignore especially when you are 13 thousand emails deep in problems. but! if you are not nice to them! they will probably continue to smite you in the future! you want to make friends! not foes! so no matter how much people are smiting you, try to resist the urge to be an utter dipshit because it will not get the job done. vent to a friend or a coworker and send your polite and nice email

Step 3: articulate the problem Clearly.

a very important step. especially if you are adding more people to your email chain. dont assume they know your exact problem. they probably are dealing with other problems. articulate Clearly what is happening, no matter how long the email may be. its far better to get a long and detailed email rather than a non helpful short one. that will only prolong the process of how long it takes the problem to get solved.

Step 4: cite your reciepts.

wildly important. send your screenshots your attachments your whatever the fucking fuck youve got. its always good to have a paper trail. this is also where you would state any previously attempts to have the problem Sorted (ie i reached out to x person on x y and z days about x problem and it is still not resolved). you would not believe how many people dont scroll down in an email, especially a forwarded/replied one. so summarize whats Down There in your most recent email

Step 5: use the appropriate lingo

you dont have to be Overly Formal but there are a few good Buzz Sentences that usually get the job done. for example:

As Per My Last Email: a great line. emphasizes that youve already mentioned this. and this is not the first time youre mentioning this point. also emphasizes that the Thing has yet to be solved

See Attached/See Below: under utilized. again. people do not open attachments and they do not scroll down. almost had a friend once fail a class because a professor gas lit them in an email chain saying they didnt receive the final paper when the paper itself was attached earlier in the email chain. be Painfully Literal. it pays off.

Help Me To Understand: this is one of my dad's favorite lines. it really shows that you have no fucking idea what the person youre emailing is getting at and youre offering them the opportunity to spell out their nonsense for you. so that you can then be like. well. clearly This is where the miscommunication lies. its a great line. has saved my ass many times. because it is not accusing it is just offering someone to understand. it does not attack. it just is.

Step 6: give a polite sign off.

something along the lines of "thank you in advance for any help" or "i look forward to hearing from you" does the job. something that sends the message you are not pissed to shit at them even if you are.

Step 7: follow up and follow up often.

polite email response time is 48 business hours/2 business days. if it has been longer than that you have every right to email back and say hi x person just following up on this email, have you had the chance to review it yet? again. keep it polite. you actually want them to help you. and if they still dont respond well then maybe its time to loop in a boss or a supervisor or whoever the hell else. dont be afraid to go above them if you need to. nothing wrong with getting shit done when it needs to get done.

and really, if all that fails, as my dad says, a little office bribe in the form of cookies has never hurt anyone :)

so an email. should be formatted something like this:

Greetings/Good Morning (Afternoon) (Person)

I hope this email finds you well (or something similar for a greeting). I am reaching out regarding X incident/problem/whatever the fuck it is. I have previously reached out to X person on X dates and (summary of whatever they did or didnt do). See below/attached emails/pdf/screenshot/document (if applicable)

(explanation of the problem in as simple and detailed terms as possible. have someone re read it to make sure that it cannot be misconstrued)

(explanation of what you are looking for as a solution)

Please help me to understand why this (solution) has not been able to be reached. (explain you are on x timeline if the situation is urgent)

Kind regards/Thank you for any help in advance/I look forward to hearing from you etc,

email signature

go forth and conquer your emails. remember, sometimes you have to be a squeaky wheel. and in my million cases of email sending, it has ALWAYS paid off and i have gotten the problems solved. dont be afraid of the emails they can help you.

[jobean12-blog]

Birds of a Feather

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (friends to lovers)

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: You have to attend a close relative's wedding and there's no one better to bring than your best friend, Bucky.

Author's Note: Seeing so much of happy Seb lately-and looking so good-made me want to write something sexy and fluffy so here we are. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thanks Daisy!🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet, tense and flirty, Bucky is the best in every way!

‘Come on up. Room 322.’

His thumbs hang limply over the phone screen, his brain going blank.

When he sent the text ten seconds earlier to let you know he’s arrived he figured you would meet him down in the lobby or at the hall.

Meeting you in the hotel room is a problem he anticipated when he gave himself a pep talk before leaving.

“She’s your best friend. Don’t do anything stupid…like go to the hotel room.”

His fingers finally start to move over the letters. ‘I can meet you down here…’

But maybe you need help with something?

He deletes the text, now typing, ‘is there anyone with you?,’ but that just sounds weird and possessive.

‘I can see you typing,’ you text. ‘Just come up. I need help.’

With a laugh, he deletes everything again and types simply, ‘be right there doll.’

His long legs carry him quickly to the elevator and when he presses the button for the third floor he takes a deep breath, his pulse climbing it’s way up his throat.

The door to your room is propped open with the dead bolt, but he knocks anyway.

“Come in Buck!”

Pushing it open just enough to peek his head in, he calls out, “I could be anyone, and you just invite me in without checking!”

“You just texted me you were coming up,” you sing from the bathroom, quickly continuing before he can say more, “and most of the people on his floor are friends or relatives here for the wedding.”

“Well, I’m glad to know you take your safety as seriously as I do,” he shouts back.

Your voice gets louder as you walk into the bedroom. “With you around I never have to worr…”

You stop for a breath when you see him, but your next words are lost to the blank void of his brain as he takes in your dress and how you look in it. To put it simply- stunning.

“Bucky?”

He startles, having no idea how long he’d been silent.

“Yeah doll…that’s…I’m here.”

When he finally drags his eyes to your face, you’re fighting a smile. “I asked if you could help me?”

“Oh, right. Sure. With what exactly?”

He cringes but steps closer.

“My dress?”

You turn around to show him the fabric at the back that hangs open, a tiny zipper dangling down at your lower back.

Trying to suppress a groan, but not being entirely successful he swallows hard. “That zipper looks very tiny.”

“It is,” you agree. “I realize I should have asked someone with smaller hands to help me out, but everyone is running around with their own nonsense so here we are.”

He approaches with a casual, “sure, of course doll.”

But then he does something without fully realizing it until the shiver runs along your back: he drags a knuckle down the curve of your spine.

You turn and look at him over your shoulder.

He just blinks and looks down to grab the zipper, mumbling about how small it is.

It’s quiet as he carefully pulls the zipper up and when he reaches the top he lets it fall and gently runs a finger along the top of the dress as he moves around to look at you.

“All set,” he whispers.

You smile and clear your throat before giving him an appreciative once over.

“You look hot.”

“Thanks doll. You…” and he struggles when his voice comes out a bit strangled, “you look breathtaking.”

You reach up and touch his bow tie, pulling at the neatly tied ends as you tell him, “I was hoping you’d arrive a flustered mess over how to tie this so I could do it for you.”

With a grin, he reaches up and tugs the end, untying it in a smooth pull.

“Figure you should do something in return after I battled that zipper,” he teases.

Still smiling, you take a hold of the tie, tugging it to align the ends evenly around his neck. “I didn’t get the impression it was such a hardship.”

His answering smirk is so telling you have to stifle a laugh.

“Are you feeling ready for this? I know these big events aren’t your favorite.”

“I’ll manage just fine doll, thanks. Besides, I’ve got the most beautiful date in the whole place.”

With your focus still on his bow tie he takes the opportunity to openly stare. When you smile at his sweet words he’s mesmerized by the way your soft lips part and his eyes stay glued to your mouth.

You look up to meet his gaze and he quickly lifts his eyes, a light pink sweeping across his cheeks.

You blink away and he looks down at your hands, noting the very little progress you’ve made.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Well…yes. I’m sure I can…”

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“You might be right!,” you quip, “but I’m no quitter.”

He’d be happy to stand there all night.

You finally step back, surveying your work, and frown. “I’m going to be honest, not sure I made it look as good as you did.”

He looks down and undoes the mess and you glower as he handily fixies it.

“Wow, no need to gloat you butthead.”

He lets out a full-bodied laugh, eyes crinkled, and nose scrunched, and you enjoy the sight before he explains, “I’ve done it a million times. I’m always the one in the tux when we go undercover.”

“That’s because you’re the one that looks the best.”

“Thanks doll,” he answers quietly.

“There are so many people here,” you whisper as you lead him through the crowd in the hall.

He let’s out a low whistle, nodding in agreement and aking in the décor.

You greet people as you walk, introducing Bucky to those that don’t already know him. Their eyes follow you, curiosity piqued in their expression as they wonder who he is to you.

You wonder the same. Your favorite person in the world. Your best friend…and so much more?

You take his elbow and guide him forward toward the outside set up where the ceremony will take place. On the way you find your grandmother and introduce him.

Since he can’t take his eyes off you he notices the subtle shift in your demeanor, the softening of your face and the adoration in your eyes.

He expects a gentle handshake but instead gets pulled in for a hug.

“Oh darling, isn’t he a sight,” you grandma says, patting Bucky’s cheek. “And you,” she says, turning her eyes your way. “Gorgeous.”

“Thanks grandma,” you beam.

A woman whizzes by, catching your eye and pointing to her watch.

“Looks like it’s time,” you announce.

Bucky holds out one arm for your grandma and the other for you.

“And a gentleman too,” your grandma gushes as she loops her arm through his. “Definitely a keeper.”

“You can keep grandma company,” you say as you approach the chairs.

“Of course, doll,” he says and leans in to kiss your cheek before helping your grandma into her seat.

“I’ll see you after the ceremony.” You gather your dress and turn to head back inside to meet the wedding party. “Miss me,” you call over your shoulder with a playful smile.

He stares as you walk away, quietly admitting, “I already do.”

Slight nerves take over when you hear the music start but the moment you walk out into the crowd your eyes zero in on Bucky. And what do you know? He’s looking right back at you…and he doesn’t take his eyes off you the whole ceremony.

After the ceremony it takes forever to work your way through the crowd to him, and in between catching up with friends and family or directing someone somewhere, you catch glimpses of him smiling and laughing with your grandma and happily keeping her company.

When you finally do reach him, your grandma has been safely escorted to her seat and now a woman hangs off his arm- Jessica. You know her, an old family friend, and you like her well enough, but you step up behind them right as she asks Bucky if she can steal him for the first dance, and your stomach drops.

You jerk to a stop. He hasn’t seen you. He should accept. You’ll hate it, but you’re not in any position to protest.

But then Bucky says only a gentle, “sorry, no can do. Tonight, I’ve only got one dance partner.”

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest, and you step closer, swallowing down the emotion.

“Hey you two!”

Bucky turns, extracting his arm from Jessica and setting a warm palm at your lower back.

“And here she is. My favorite dancing partner.”

Jessica leans around from his other side and says hello.

“Thanks for coming,” you tell her.

“Oh my god, of course. I wouldn’t miss it. And I was just meeting your friend, James, here.”

She emphasizes the word friend and at her usage of his real name you have to hold back a giggle.

“Isn’t he wonderful,” you hum, sliding your hand up his bicep. “He’s been keeping my grandmother company this whole time.”

She swoons and smiles at Bucky before turning back to you.

“He is. I just wasn’t expecting you to have a date. You’re usually always flying solo at these family events.”

You feel the smile slipping from your face and an uncomfortable laugh escapes.

The simple answer never comes to you, and you feel caught like a deer in the headlights.

“Actually, that’s only because I was away for work,” Bucky steps in smoothly. “I hate to miss any chance to be her date, but my schedule can be pretty demanding sometimes.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” Jessica says. “Work is important of course.”

“Yeah,” he answers, “but not as important as her. So, from now I won’t be missing another event.”

Jessica’s face does a thing. It’s a barely restrained, ‘oh okay, I see.’

Bucky’s smile remains but it doesn’t look entirely natural anymore but when he looks at you, every emotion on his face is genuine.

“Ready to find our seats doll face,” he asks you.

“Sure,” you reply.

“Well, it was nice to meet you Jennifer. Enjoy the party.”

With a firm hand, he leads you away. You allow yourself to be guided up the grassy path and indoors to where a band plays. Bucky grabs you two flutes of champagne off a passing tray and hands you one.

“That was swoony,” you tell him then take a sip.

“All I did was grab it from a tray doll. Time to raise your bar a bit.”

Laughing, you smack his beefy shoulder with your free hand. “Not that! The way you gently let Jennifer have it back there.”

He takes a sip, eyes on you. “She deserved worse, but I didn’t want to start trouble.”

With your brow raised you match his mischievous grin then you take his glass and set it down on one of the small tables, leading him to the dance floor.

He looks confused at first but when your hands slide up his chest and around his neck he circles his arms around your waist.

He relaxes against you, hands warm and strong on your lower back and you rest your cheek to his shoulder.

“You’re always so comfy.”

“Thank you.”

“And you always look out for me.”

He presses a kiss to your temple.

“Of course, doll.”

“You’re my favorite person in the Universe.”

He doesn’t respond at first, not for five or ten or thirty seconds. You keep waiting for the feeling of rejection in his silence but instead it feels like an agreement and finally his words confirm it.

“Mine too, doll.”

Your quiet slow dance is the last moment alone you have for the next few hours because what follows is a whirlwind of a reception.

And the whole time he can’t take his eyes off you.

“Think I’m ready to get out of here,” you say as you slump against his side.

He carefully holds you up as he stands and reaches to take your hand.

“Come on doll face. I’ll take you home.”

When you reach your apartment door your feet are aching, and your legs are tired. You retrieve your key from the hidden pocket in your small purse and slide it into the doorknob.

“I’m going to need you to unzip me,” you say, gesturing casually to your dress.

His silence makes you slowly turn around to face him and when you meet his eyes they’re heavy with heat and desire.

“Bucky?”

“Turn back around,” he says gruffly.

You do as your told and feel his exhaled puff of air against your bare shoulder before he takes your wrists in this hands and places your palms flat against the door. His metal fingers slide down one arm then trace the curve of your shoulder, while his other toys with the small zipper.

He starts to pull it down, so slowly, you feel every brush of his skin against yours and it sends a tremble across your body. For every new inch of your skin that he exposes his breath quickens. You can feel the heat of him so close and your fingers press into the hard wood of the door.

Once the fabric hangs loosely at the sides he stops and slips his hands inside to your waist and turns you back to face him.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “I…”

You drag your fingers along his temple and down his jaw. Your finger falls to his bottom lip, tracing it’s outline.

You can see it in his eyes, the understanding that everything between you is easy and you don’t have to try. It’s too good.

Your gaze drops to his lips again and your mouth goes soft. “Kiss me Bucky.”

The words are just barely out of your mouth and he’s already leaning in, lips on yours, warm and urgent, his hands rising to cup your face. Your instincts send tight, possessive fists to the lapels of his jacket and you melt completely into the domination and tenderness in his touch.

With a quiet groan he tilts his head, deepening the contact into a decadent slide, sending a hungry hand down your body once again and grabbing your ass to press all your softness against the hard planes of his body.

He catches your bottom lip between his teeth, drags slowly away, and you chase the contact, but he stops you, pressing his thumb over your lips.

He stares for what feels like forever, then kisses you again, lingering before he murmurs, “you’re so beautiful,” into the sensitive skin below your ear, and then repeats it quietly into your neck.

“Are you going to stay the night?” you ask breathless.

“If you’ll have m…”

“Yes. Yes Bucky.”

[demisexual-dryad]

Okay, as an American studying to become a botanist I’m about to fire shots in every direction. None of you are safe, not even myself, but there are things about this post that have pissed me off to the point of righteous anger.

American chestnut is functionally extinct yes, except for a few remaining colonies, however, that’s not because of most Americans, just as you, previous person, said your issues are not because of most of the British- as Americans relied on chestnuts as a cultural symbol and a food source as they taste arguably better (or so I’m told) than the European chestnuts that were exported to us carrying chestnut blight that killed our chestnuts. Those same stumps ARE STILL TRYING TO SEND OUT SUCKERS, and are STILL DYING BECAUSE OF AN INTRODUCED BLIGHT BY EUROPEAN NEGLIGENCE.

I understand you’re mad at the lack of education on our side, I am as well- the American education system FAILS at teaching botany on a MULTITUDE of ENORMOUS levels, and you and I both know that plant life is the basis of an ecosystem, but don’t you dare think that this means I’m not infuriated by the same from you- I am. I KNOW FOR A FACT that Europe is no better in its failure to find value in botanical studies, and I’m still pissed about it, but I’ve at least seen a few papers about the subject and written a few essays myself, and at least Europe isn’t the near-dead-static radio silence about botany the way America seems to be. But at least know that this is a two way street, and don’t deflect about that shortcoming when we’re both at fault.

The prairies??? That was misguided science and capitalism instilling laziness. We had rules and laws about rewilding areas post mining expeditions and construction, but those were ignored by greedy corps who figured slapping some trees on an area that didn’t have trees before would solve their problem. And the people in charge weren’t ecologists, but government officials who heard in school that trees give us oxygen and are therefore better than grass, and so with being slid a little extra cash, shrugged their shoulders about it and turned a blind eye to the issue because “well it’s just trees” and BOY, AM I MAD ABOUT THAT TOO, but being MAD, and BEING ABLE TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT are two very different ball parks, babe.

Then there was climate crisis attention in the nineties, and although the intentions of the campaigns were pure-hearted, they were misleading in the idea that planting trees Willy-nilly would solve our problems, and while yes, trees are larger organisms that need more co2 to grow to max size, and therefore absorb more carbon, not all trees are created equal, and while some non-natives might absorb more CO2 or do better in certain regions, more of the people supplying and planting those invasive trees have no ability, much less a concept of even recognizing the potential for something to become invasive. Another failure of our shitty education system, but we already know it’s shit, so that’s besides the point.

The grasses and monocultures of lawns we have are a direct spawn of English colonialism. Lawns were managed by slaves and considered a sign of wealth- and non-natural ornamental landscapes were seen as a sign of knowledge and skill to tend.

American pioneers and natives didn’t give two shits about those things, and though we aren’t blameless for the slew of invasive ravaging our ecosystems, Britain is no saint in this either. Y’all have a government that fears and respects Its people and their voices; do not squander your opportunity, when here in America, trying to get through to a politician bought out by lobbyists to get off their asses and do something is clearly MUCH HARDER than you all seem to think it is because capitalism is unchecked over here.

You have the science. You have the opportunity. Fight the status quo and take a risk while you have a chance to. Right your wrongs. There’s no excuse to not. At least we make an effort and fight, even though every step forward feels like a step backwards because politicians and public figures here usually have their pockets and offices lined so thick with wads of cash they can’t seem to hear us screaming in the streets. So many organizations out here are all desperately scrounging for donations and support individually to step up where our governing bodies ran like cowardly father figures going out for milk and cigarettes and then simply ignoring the issues we’ve being screeching about like it’s not something young people are mad about on the daily. Also, you lost lynxes??? Reintroduce them. Yes you’re on an island, that doesn’t stop animals, and it hasn’t before. They will adapt so long as you let them. You can fix the damage that’s been done, all it takes is effort and time, and a willingness to take a chance to make a change.

Moreover. You ALSO EAT THOSE STOLEN CROPS.

TOMATOES. CORN. SQUASH. BEANS. TOMATILLOS.

YOU EAT THOSE TOO!

And what about the Cinnamon? The Mace? The nutmeg? The British stole those from the people of India. The tea you’ve monopolized as your own? That’s from China and Japan. You don’t even drink it right. You’re suppose to pour out the first steep according to Chinese tea practices. And they sold it for far cheaper to the British at the time. The wheat? Grains? Ethiopia, that’s from the Fertile Crescent. Your very bread is made of a stolen crop.

Your fruits? All of it, stolen. The Mediterranean originally grew mint, oregano, rosemary, olives, and cabbage.

Do you indulge in chocolate? That was stolen by your Spanish neighbors from the Aztecs and Mayans darling. Chewing gum too.

We didn’t even steal half the crops we grow, imperialism did, so don’t even start there. Many of the natives crops are viable solutions to local food, but guess what? WE DONT FREAKING USE THEM!

You wanna get mad at us for something? Get mad that we don’t use acorn and coontie flour instead of wheat. Get mad that we don’t use elderberries and American cherries in jams as much as we should. Get mad that we haven’t cultivated the pawpaw or Florida plum as much as we should. Get mad that we don’t use sumac, or Kentucky coffee. Get mad that blueberries and cranberries aren’t a main staple in our diets, and because of capitalism-caused food deserts and absurd prices. Get mad that we don’t eat local meats, but farm instead of forage when there’s so much we could be eating to cut back on our waste, but we don’t because humans are prissy and don’t want to put the effort into making things taste good by selective breeding like we did when we were nomadic and still figuring out agriculture. Get mad that we could be eating our way through our kudzu problem in the south, but we aren’t because it’s just not something we do culturally.

Get mad about the things we can be faulted for, because at least we can actually try and control those.

The moral of the story here is we should be fucking mad at the GREED OF THE FEW. At the end of the day, that’s what’s caused us the most problems isn’t it? Instead we sit here and we bicker about who’s worse, instead of making each other better. Like you said, let’s not throw stones at each other from our stupid glass houses, and burn down the people who are actually responsible and have the means to do something but instead choose to do nothing.

Actually your society is the freaks for shooting everything that moves and burning half your "nature reserves" every year so that upperclass dandies can eat leaded pheasant. North Americans are the well adjusted ones here, your country has become a desolate suburban lawn in island form

[bitchface24-7]

THE SEDUCTIVE PROFESSOR VIKTOR

synopsis: Professor Viktor, the most sought out and dreamt of professor at Piltover Academy. Luckily for you… you’re his favourite student.

warnings: age gap (viktor’s gotta be anywhere in his 30s-40s to be a professor, reader is in their 20s (early to late I don’t really care) ), power imbalance, dom!viktor, I tried my best to make this gender-neutral, this isn’t gonna be a full on story, just bullet points I come up with, no beta we die like most of the characters in Arcane

genre: m/f, m/m (however you label yourself, I hope you can read this and enjoy it!)

Professor Viktor hasn’t been a professor for very long at the academy. After he and his partner Jayce Talis revolutionized machinery and magic in the form of Hextech, well… the academy and the council wanted their genius shared with the younger generations.

“The Science Behind Magic: HXT101” became a hit. This course had the highest approval ratings, least amount of absences, and highest amount of A students in the history of the academy.

Viktor’s proud of his students work, everyone else sees it as it is. Everyone is doing amazing due to their hot professor.

His attitude, his humour, his accent, his beauty. Professor Viktor is sin incarnate and doesn’t seem to realize it. The dreamy sighs, the lustful gazes. It all goes over his head like water down a ducks back.

Having Jayce come in as a guest speaker doesn’t help in the slightest.

The two men are gorgeous. Jayce with his broad shoulders, messy hair, and wonderful beard. A few strands of grey focused on his temples.

Viktor with his long hair, sultry eyes, lithe frame that’s mostly delectable legs. He dresses wonderfully too. All tailored to fit his frame perfectly. His tiny waist seems almost impossibly small.

Viktor tries his best to be impartial to his students; neutral as a good teacher should be… but there’s something about you.

You’re bright, intelligent, well-spoken. Overall beautiful. He can’t stop looking at you during lectures, he can’t stop thinking about you in the privacy of his own home; in his office as well.

You always pay attention in class, you ask riveting and inspiring questions, you continue the conversation Viktor is desperately trying to create to invigorate the students the way he and Jayce were all those years ago.

Your pretty eyes, soft looking lips, shiny hair. The way the academy uniform compliments your figure in all the right ways. He’s a man obsessed.

He knows you’re at least physically attracted to him. The way you bite your lip when you look at him, when you shyly look down when he compliments your work with a sultry “good job”

How you jolt in your seat from daydreaming when he comes up behind you and whispers in your ear to pay attention.

He wants to see how you react to other stimuli. A practical theory if you will.

Will you be good and listen to Viktor’s every command? Or will you be bratty; needing to be put over Viktor’s lap and your ass reddened to be taught a lesson. Would you prefer his hand, a ruler, or maybe even his cane?

How pretty would you look on your knees, taking his cock down your throat? Would your eyes water? Would you choke? Or are you secretly a slut, who can take it no problem.

Are you a moaner, a whimperer, a screamer, or a crier?

He knows his blatant desires for you are cementing you as his “favourite student” you can do things others can only dream of.

You can come to class late and not need a valid excuse, you can borrow any materials without reasoning, you can stay as late as you want during office hours; when anyone else would be politely but firmly told that their time was up.

People have noticed, everyone but you it seems. The rest of the class can’t help but envy you. How the hell do you have such a drop dead gorgeous man wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even realize it!

You’re going to realize it soon, when Viktor tells you to stay behind after class. That he has a theory he’d like to discuss with you.

That theory leaves you with your face feeling like it’s on fire, your throat sore, your body aching in a delicious way, your legs bowed, and your appearance completely disheveled.

Viktor gets the answers he’s been desperately craving and is not disappointed. He can’t wait for the semester to be over. He wants you, and he can pursue you when he’s no longer your professor.

He just gave you a taste of what he’ll give you everyday if you agree to be his.

(You’ll agree to be his. He rocked your shit)

[wonderjanga]

Swimming Lessons

Billy does not like water. He’ll drink it, but anything like swimming, diving, all around being near large bodies of water is an automatic h-e-double hockey sticks no from Billy. That’s why when he and Aquaman were assigned to the same mission which required them both having to swim, he frowned so hard his mouth almost slipped off his face.

Aquaman: *already in the water* “Dude, just get in.”

Marvel: “Can’t you just go?”

Aquaman: “We’re supposed to be a partners.”

Marvel: *sighs and very reluctantly lets himself wade into the water* “I hate water. I hate water so much.”

Aquaman: “Why? What’d water do to you?”

Marvel: “I can’t swim.”

That wasn’t the only reason, but it was a major one. Under the water, Billy couldn’t breathe nor could he talk, so that meant he couldn’t say Shazam.

Aquaman: “Oh, that’s no problem Cap! Want me to teach you?”

Marvel: “Uh… Yes…?”

Aquaman got a firsthand taste of how bad Marvel was and reaffirmed that he’d be teaching Billy. That’s how bad the Batson was.

Anyways, that’s how like a day later, Billy went to the beach. The day before, he and Mary ended up searching everywhere for some type of life floaties that could fit Cap because neither of them trusted Billy to be able to do this without sinking at least five times. They ended up just taking two life jackets and tying them around Cap’s arms and praying that would work. He showed up to the lesson looking and feeling a little ridiculous. It surprisingly only took about a solid minute of Arthur staring for him to figure out the life vests were supposed to be floaties.

Aquaman: “Cap, I don’t think I’ve seen a child past the age of five wear that.”

Marvel: “I’m sorry some of us struggle, okay?”

Aquaman: “You struggle that bad?”

Marvel: *super serious* “Yes.”

Aquaman: “Oh damn.”

*silence*

Marvel: *frowns*

Aquaman: “Look uh-” *trying not to laugh* “Why don’t you just get in the water and we’ll see how bad you suck at this.”

Arthur tried to use him going over there as a distraction to quell the need to laugh but uh…

Marvel: *tries to wade into the water and somehow comically trips, falls on his back and starts somehow drowning in shallow water*

Aquaman’s never had to lock in so badly until that moment. He knew his friend would be extremely embarrassed if he laughed so he ended straining every muscle in his face to not laugh. (Basically this)

Eventually, Marvel did learn. Granted, it took like four days, but he did it and the two went to get burgers after in celebration.

[clearlyonhere]

I’ve been putting on a lot of weight recently and it’s getting obvious so I think I should go back to the gym. I have noticed I’m blowing up like a balloon with all of the fat piling its way onto my body. I don’t even recognize my body in the mirror anymore. I used to have high sharp cheek bones and a defined jawline, now I have rounded chubby cheeks and what will soon be able to be called a double chin. My neck is thicker. All the definition once visible in my toned arms is disappearing. If I don’t do something soon I know the muscle under the fat will make them look that much fatter. My once small but nice boobs have grown to be hugely round tits the size of cantaloupes…. My toned legs are softening and expanding at a rapid pace. My thighs have begun rubbing together. My ass used to be firm, but now it’s jiggling with every step I take. And my belly is the worst. I used to have defined abs. People would come up all the time and ask how I got my abs to be so defined. My abs have disappear under a thick layer of marshmallow like fat. I’ve had people say I’m so round I look pregnant. I have a roll of fat that hangs over the waist band of all my pants because they are getting FAR too small for my ever growing figure. I’ve gone from such a fit sexy girl into a round chubby piggy. The only problem is, I just tried on some work out clothes to go to the gym and they are all way too small! I can’t even pull them up over my gargantuan belly! They are squeezing my ass and thighs so tight I feel like I’m a bust can of biscuits. The other problem is I don’t know if I can stop eating. My belly is constantly demanding to be stuffed full of fattening foods. My old gym friends haven’t seen me in months. If I go they may comment on just how BIG I’ve gotten. I’m sire if I showed up in this I’d be stared at the whole time. Whispers would start. All the people who used to ask my advice and come talk to me would probably not even speak to me. And if they did they would probably ask when I’d gotten so fat. I can’t imagine even trying to run now. My belly jiggles when I walk. I can even feel my love handles jiggle! I don’t even know how to lose this weight! Maybe I should just accept my fat(e) and accept that I’m meant to be a chubby girl.

If you saw me in the gym now compared to last summer what would you say to me?

The before photo is me from last summer

[melminli]

ex, for a reason

summery - your boyfriend was the sweetest guy in the whole world, but maybe that was the problem.

pairing: kang dae-ho x fem. reader

word count: 1.4k

contains: modern au, angst w/ comfort, fluff

the request.

He really shouldn't worry about it as much as he did right now because the whole thing was just totally stupid, and all the stuff that had been going through his head was irrational. Dae-ho knew that and yet, he just couldn't stop himself from imagining multiple crazy scenarios in which you were breaking up with him - he didn't want any of this, why would he? The only heart that got broken in the process was his and it was all because of nothing.

Well, maybe there was this one thing, and that was that Dae-ho had been feeling a bit - well let’s just say - insecure about your relationship. He was very much aware of the fact that he had zero resemblance to the guys you usually date because he wasn't, well - he wasn't an asshole. You and even most of you’re friends make fun of it now that you two are together and it actually turned into some kind of inside joke that you broke the curse with him. Though, Dae-ho didn’t really feel like laughing about it right now.

This whole thing is so stupid, he thought to himself as he absently watched some show on the TV before he suddenly heard you laughing next to him. He just looked at you shortly and knew that it was probably because of something funny you saw on your cell phone. But, he just couldn’t restrain himself and had to remember the conversation you had a few days ago. He sighed again with a heavy heart at the memory because apparently, your last ex - some guy named Thanos? - had messaged you out of the blue and asked you what you were up to.

"Hey, look who just sent me a text. I thought I had blocked him everywhere?" you exclaimed, laughing as you shoved your cell phone in his face. Dae-ho just looked a bit confused at the message after he read it because he didn’t really get what you were talking about. He read it one more time, though, he was still kind of lost because it honestly just looked like a normal message, how was he supposed to figure out what was going on?

You then decided to reveal the whole thing since your boyfriend just continued to send you confused glances. "It's my ex. You know, I told you about him. The one I dated before we met."

Yeah, he could remember bits and pieces of that. "So, what does he want?" he asked, still not quite sure what was going on.

You sighed at his innocence. "He obviously wants to get back together.“

"Does he?" Dae-ho asked and was seriously surprised. He pointed at your phone while he talked. "But he just asked if you still had his old sweater, that could mean anything."

You waved as you laughed. "Oh, trust me. I know what that means.“ you assured him and thought back to the old days, which was something you didn’t like to do. „We were pretty much on and off in our whole relationship because I always tried to break things off after fighting - but then always take him back afterward. So, it just started to turn into a really bad cycle at some point, I guess.“ you tried to explain. „Anyway, he used to text me about some meaningless thing as soon as he wanted to get back together and this is one of those texts since he's also not the kind of person to send you a message if he doesn't want anything from you. I’m just surprised that he would try this again because I broke things up with him for real the last time, trust me.“

Oh. It felt like Dae-ho should be laughing at your ex's desperate attempt to get back together with you now, but he felt more like ugly crying, to be honest. „Yeah, that is pretty funny.“ he just decided to say with a forced smile on his face.

Since then, the whole situation just wouldn't let him go. No matter how hard he tried to. The way you told it, made it seem like you two got back together a lot and who was to say that maybe a part of you wouldn't want to try again - purely because of muscle memory? He wasn't the type to get irrationally angry over something like that, but he'd be lying if he said that all these negative thoughts didn't make him incredibly depressed the past few days.

"Hey, I know I've asked you this a few times now, but are you sure everything's okay?" you finally asked him when you noticed how he wasn't really paying attention to what was going on in his show. It was unusual for him to be so quiet when usually some comment about what was happening would leave him every minute.

He just nodded under his breath. "Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," he said, feeling guilty again for being the way he was right now.

You moved a little closer to him and hugged him lightly from the side. "You're lying and I'm tired of waiting for you to come to me on your own because, as you know, I'm not the most patient person on earth."

He avoided your gaze guiltily. "It's stupid."

"It's clearly not, because you've been acting like a depressed housewife for days."

He laughed lightly along with you at that little joke of yours. "And how is that supposed to look like?"

You smiled. "You know, you're like you always are - you make dinner, you bring me my favorite tea, but you sigh very loudly every now and then plus you're also a bit distant." you continued to broach the subject in a slightly joking manner to get rid of the heavy air around you two.

Of course, you would be aware of his bad mood. "Well, I just noticed that I'm not like the other guys you've dated before," he whispered casually while playing with the fabric of his shirt. Even though, you both knew that it seemed to be a topic that was bothering him.

You nodded. "So?" you just asked him, thinking something other would follow since you couldn’t see what the problem was. Though, there didn't seem to be anything more coming. "That's all? You’re upset because you're not like my shitty boyfriends in the past?" you repeated a bit in disbelief.

Dae-ho looked to the side, embarrassed. "I told you it was stupid..." he whispered. "I just don’t want you to think that I’m boring or something…"

You just took him in your arms and tried to suppress your laughter so as not to add salt to the wound. "I didn't mean it like that, but I'm telling you this now because you obviously to need to hear it," you said as you placed a kiss on his head. "You're not boring. You’re the sweetest boyfriend in the whole world and I would never trade you for any of my past relationships. I love you and I've never even said those words to any of my exes, did you know that?" you asked him, watching as he slowly looked up to you. "…really?" he asked you shyly, even though you had been together for a while now.

You smiled. "Really," you assured him and were glad to see your boyfriend in his normal happy state again. However, you then remembered the conversation you had a few days ago. "Was this whole thing about Thanos? You don't have to worry about him. I hate that guy, he like probably cheated on me more times than he admitted." you laughed and stopped when something else came to mind. "Besides, I think he also stole some money from me..."

Dae-ho looked at you worriedly as he held you even tighter. "Oh my god, are you serious? You never told me that, is that why you broke up with him?"

You looked away a little embarrassed yourself this time and didn't dare to confess to him that it had unfortunately taken a lot more than that for it to end between the two of you. Those weren't your proudest moments in your life. "Yeah, sure..."

But who cared about all that, right? You were the happiest you could ever be with Dae-ho and that was all that mattered. Maybe you should remind him more of that because he really didn't deserve to feel inferior to someone like that damn Thanos.

[mareastrorum]

Been chewing more on how C3 wound up here. What’s throwing me is the strange shift from the cast’s unflinching “yes, and” game in C2 to a misplaced feeling that they need to choose correctly in C3.

I want to be clear here that this isn’t a criticism post because I genuinely don’t know what’s happening here. It’s just odd behaviors that seem to signal a problem, and I don’t know what solution would resolve it. I’m not going to be so presumptuous as to hypothesize about any cast member’s thoughts.

In the Cooldown for C3E118 (and offhandedly previously), Laura and Ashley expressed some nervousness about making big decisions because they’re worried about making the “wrong” choice. Without more, that attitude alone would explain much of the party’s indecisiveness about key campaign questions. After all, their characters are the two Ruidusborn of most interest to the campaign villains, and other characters (especially Orym, Laudna, and Ashton) have insisted that Imogen and Fearne take the lead on Predathos.

But this isn’t a story in a vacuum. C2 got completely derailed multiple times. The Mighty Nein decided to steal a pirate ship and leave the continent the campaign was set on; shortly after they returned, they decided to reopen a collapsed tunnel to go the opposite side of the continent; then Caleb returned the Luxon Beacon and made themselves heroes of an enemy nation instantly. That’s not even getting into the fact that Molly died before the Nein got to Shadycreek Run (which absolutely would have been all about his backstory) or that Twiggy left an incredible magical artifact that wasn’t supposed to be given to the Nein. Each time, Matt adjusted and made it work. Granted, C2 was more of a sandbox campaign, but Matt demonstrated his flexibility as a DM time and again.

Like, as a general rule of thumb, DMs shouldn’t offer options that would torpedo the campaign. It’s rational to avoid situations that have a genuine possibility of undercutting the game. Matt has been DMing for a long time; he’s done a very good job of finding ways to make the campaign work regardless of the decisions the players make. Even when players do something directly against the signals he threw out (like Ashton trying to absorb a second shard despite consistent, dire warnings that it would kill him), he works with the players to come to a reasonable solution (Ashton survived but the shard wouldn’t take, and he got some character moments out of the failure). We, the audience, know Matt is good at pivoting when he needs to.

In addition to taking the players’ curveballs like a champ, Matt also takes big swings for the sake of the story. In C1, Matt broke his biggest city with a dragon invasion, then made a new god leading an undead titan to go stomp out the world’s oldest civilization. In C2, he let the players go off the map whenever and still made the digression relevant to their character arcs every time. Not to be parasocial, but if we can figure out that that Matt can handle this sort of thing, the players certainly have a better feel for it than us.

So what is going on in C3? We know Matt isn’t scared of breaking Exandria or destroying the pantheon: he set that possibility in motion as the default ending if the players did nothing. CR literally did a mini series about the start of the end of the world with EXU Calamity. Laura and Ashley were also in Downfall and making big choices between the gods and mortals. Breaking stuff is what they do!

Where did this idea that there’s a “wrong” choice come from? That type of thinking kills a lot of great improv, and the whole point of the “yes, and” exercise is to shake it off. While it’s incredibly obvious to say not to think that way, the real issue is sorting out why that mentality has taken hold at all. That’s a problem no amount of fan discussion is going to resolve.

[masterfuldoodler]

ok idea. what if we gave stories a free pass for one or two plot holes. "this story thread had a big hole in it" ok good to know, that must not be the main point of the story since it's got plot holes. they must have put their attention on what they thought was the important part. time to look closer at the other parts

[elfwreck]

I adore Fate, and I have no problem acknowledging that it can't do all kinds of games.

It sucks at mystery/whodunnits, because those are really hard to pull off for a pack of shared-storyteller players. If you're always trying to reach consensus on what the most interesting/awesome/plausible (definitely 3rd choice) result of the situation is... there's not a lot of room for surprises. The characters can be surprised; the players need that data in advance to figure out what they're doing.

(There are some surprises, but the whole "what would a Major Cost look like in this situation?" discussion means the player is often not shocked by weird downturns in the storyline.)

Fate can't do PVP worth a damn. (I don't like PVP, but a lot of people do, or at least want the option open, and Fate really doesn't allow for it.)

Fate does not scale well up or down. 3-6 players is optimal; below that--especially with 1 player--and the rules have problems because that player is supposed to have other resources, and the GM is supposed to have more Fate points available. Over 6, and you run into not only the standard "how do you give everyone time to do stuff" but more Fate points and Aspects being thrown around than the game balance is built for.

(9 D&D players in a room fighting the necromancer: Okay, only 3 of you can get close enough to hit him without tripping on each other; maybe 1 more can cast spells if you're careful. 9 Fate players: EVERYONE has access to all their Aspects + the situation Aspects + whatever stunts they have. The guy in the back has to explain how he's providing a help action to the one swinging the sword but he can definitely come up with something.)

And that's without getting into how both combat and in-game social relationships change if you're constantly making decisions based on the story that the character can't perceive.

I love that combat in Fate is not in game-piece mode. But that doesn't make it a perfect all-genres, all-game-styles game, just one that is missing one of the parts I hate most from D&D.

So what about FATE? How is it not universal as an RPG?

The biggest non-universal dimension of FATE – at least in its modern incarnations – is that it has a very strong set of baked-in assumptions about the relationship between players and player characters.

This is something I've talked about in the past; to somewhat oversimplify, there are roughly four ways for a player in a tabletop RPG to relate to their character:

The Isekai Stance: I am my character, and my character is me. I'll have my character do whatever I myself would do if I happened to be, for example, an elf wizard.

The Actor Stance: I'm an actor, and my character is my role. I'll have my character do what I feel it would be psychologically realistic for them to do under the circumstances.

The Storyteller Stance: I'm a narrator telling a story, and my character is the co-protagonist of that story. I'll have my character do whatever I feel would make for the most interesting story.

The Gamer Stance: I'm a person playing a game, and my character is my playing-piece. I'll do whatever it takes to win.

This generally isn't a useful way to classify either players or games; games typically have weak baked-in assumptions about which stance their players will adopt, and to the extent that these assumptions are present, a game may make different default assumptions for different parts of play. A common set of assumptions is actor mode outside of combat and gamer mode in combat, for example.

FATE is, of course, an exception to the rule, in that it has very strong baked-in assumptions about what stance players will adopt toward their characters, and further assumes that play will occur in this mode at all times. The Fate Point economy that forms the core of the gameplay loop 100% assumes that you're going to be playing in storyteller nearly all of the time – the types of decisions it's asking players to make on a moment-by-moment basis are frequently straight up unintelligible from any other perspective.

This is a big part of why suggesting FATE because it can "do anything" can go over like a lead balloon: the folks making this suggestion aren't taking into account the possibility that a given group's players may not vibe with the system's assumptions about how players relate to their characters. Storyteller-mode-all-the-time is actually a fairly uncommon group play style, and it often seems that FATE fans don't realise this!

[superbat-lmao]

A Jayroy fic where Jade drops off baby Lian and they just.. retire.

There’s a really difficult conversation they have about dating and raising a kid and vigilante work and they decide screw it. It’s not safe to raise a kid around.

And by retire, I mean they disappear. Go to ground.

(Talia knows what it is to want the best for your child even if they have different opinions on what best is. She gets them off the grid and funded in some sort of suburban hellscape that takes the both of them a while to adjust to. They say they have a deep space mission and just, don’t come back.)

Roy works in a rehab clinic and Jason gets a degree in Literature. He becomes a professor at a small college, taking on graduate students and falling into academia.

They go to therapy, the make friends with other parents, they become normal people. And they have an insane security system for their house, and AI that scrapes cameras of their faces, and a modified basement that Roy compares to the Batcave exactly once that has a gym and space to work on equipment and a method of escape should it be necessary to uproot their lives again.

Because they want to be civilians, but that doesn’t mean that if their past lives come knocking, they’ll be caught unaware and too out of the game to defend themselves. In fact, because they don’t go on patrol, they’re at peak performance at all times and rarely injured more than a sprained wrist or paper cut. Gone are the days of concussions, GSWs, and stab wounds.

The superhero community doesn’t know what to do, what to think. Because all of their resources are expended elsewhere. And because space is a big place, and trying to find two humans in its vastness is an exercise in futility.

So Lian grows up normally. She’s a girl whose parents love her. And her problems are ordinary, like homework and sleepovers and playing soccer.

And when she’s in middle school, the same age as Roy and Jason were when they started superhero training, they tell her about their past lives. About the danger it will bring if they’re found. Because they promised never to lie to her, and to never let her get wrapped up in the vigilante scene.

They’re well adjusted people raising a normal daughter.

And they explain to Lian that they came from very large and complicated families. Families that did dangerous work, work that put anyone who knew about it at risk. And that Lian was a baby, and that all of that risk of their jobs, was not worth her life. That they loved her more than their families, their jobs, their previous lives. But that it meant they could be discovered, and that those old lives would be dragged back up again and she could get hurt.

Lian thinks of it like witness protection.

So Lian memorizes code names and pictures of people that may try and approach her. She learns the differences between friendlies and uglies. Between ex-family, and rogues. And she doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t look into things when her parents ask her not to. Because she trusts them to protect her. She trusts them like a well adjusted young girl who could very well ask her parents for more information, but doesn’t care about the answers because she trusts they’re not important. That it doesn’t change how much they love her or what their lives are.

There are a couple of versions of this:

1. Jason, Roy and Lian live out their lives happily and away from their families. They are never again vigilantes or found out by them.

A) Alfred dies and that is the only thing that almost breaks Jason, that he didn’t get to see the man again before he died.

2. The Bats track them down, ask them what they hell they were thinking, that they thought they were dead. To come home, be part of the family again. They’re told no - and the three of them disappear again to somewhere they’ll never be found.

3. Alfred finds them, says nothing to anyone and once a year, on Lian’s birthday, goes to visit. None of the Bats ever figure it out.

4. Alfred knows where they’re going from the beginning, he keeps them updated on their families and helps hide them from everyone. He never once tells a soul that Jason and Roy are alive. He is allowed to visit Lian sometimes and they are all happier for it.

A) When Alfred gets old enough, he tells Bruce he will be retiring. He asks that he is not followed, that no one from the super hero community is allowed to keep tabs on him. He tells him he’s sorry, but that it has to be this way. Alfred goes and lives the end of his life with Jason, they speak about literature every day, about Alfred’s parents about anything he wants to. Jason buries Alfred in England and Bruce Wayne gets an unmarked alert to its location.

5. The Bats find them, and never approach them. Each Bat basically figures out that Jason is alive, doesn’t say anything to the rest of the family, and keeps tabs on him and Roy. Once they realize that Lian exists, none of them ever breach that level of trust, even as they all grow into old age and move on with their lives.

6. Bruce finds them.

A) He waits for Jason in a cafe, watches him realize who he is and turn to look at the Roy Harper, who nods once and walks away. Jason approaches him and sits down. He asks how he found them. Bruce doesn’t say anything, just looks at his son, alive, seemingly happy. Tells him it was an accident, he had genuinely still thought they were in space, maybe dead, until someone plagiarized Jason’s work, submitted it through a Wayne Enterprises competition of some sort, and it flagged the system. It had been entirely work related, pure coincidence. No capes.

B) And Jason laughs and it’s lighter than Bruce has heard it in years. Jason asks how much Bruce knows about him now, how much intel he gathered before approaching him. Bruce says he knows about their marriage, their daughter, their jobs and habits. Jason nods and he’s smiling. Bruce doesn’t know what to do. He had checked the area, and there were no reports of anything approaching vigilantism, no anonymous casework, no decrease in crime, nothing to suggest the presence of the Red Hood and Arsenal. He hasn’t spoken to Jason outside of business in years, isn’t sure he knows how to anymore. And he looks happy, he’s alive, he’s a civilian.

C) He wants to ask him everything, ask him to come home, wants to know the man his son became. He asks Jason why. Why they disappeared. And Jason is still smiling and it’s honest and Bruce can’t stand to look at him and can’t help it either. So Jason tells him that they will never let their daughter into vigilantism. That they quit, and needed it to be absolute. That he and Roy couldn’t do this halfway, that if they loved their daughter they had to do only what was best for her, and that meant burning their old lives entirely, becoming civilians.

D) Their lives had been too complicated, too many people, too much history. So many ways for things to go badly, to leave Lian without parents or get her killed as leverage against them. And for as much as he and Roy had cared about the people in their lives, couldn’t stop caring about them, they knew that they would just drag Lian into all of the emotional problems that come with being a vigilante. That it wasn’t healthy, for any of them. That trying to do so would kill them. So they disappeared. And Bruce thinks of the pain he and his family had gone through over Jason, wondering how he was doing, if he was dead, hearing nothing and trying not to let it eat at them. But right now, his son is in front of him smiling, something he can’t seem to stop doing. Something Bruce never thought he’d see again.

E) And he has a son in law, a granddaughter. His son has a family, one he built himself. He looks healthy, he’s not closed off, he’s more open than Bruce thinks he’s ever seen him. It’s jarring, like Bruce is wrong footed. He doesn’t know what to say. Wants to tell him about everything that’s happened, to his brothers to their family, to Gotham and old contacts. Wants him back in the loop. Wants to ask about their lives, and college, and his wedding and his daughter. Bruce wants to know all of it. And he wants to know how he did it, how he hid himself so well in plain view.

F) And the detective in him will always prioritize the how over everything else. He wouldn’t be Bruce if he didn’t. So Bruce asks how. And Jason laughs, says he’s not going to tell him.

G) You know I can’t tell you that, old man.

H) He can’t let it go, Bruce can never let anything go, that’s his burden to bear. He tries to push old buttons, doesn’t notice he’s doing it. But Jason won’t stop smiling, won’t switch from civilian to vigilante. There is no trace of anger, of the Red Hood. He doesn’t look surprised and Bruce’s arguments, about flaws in his code, software, he’s just smiling. Won’t rise to the bait. And for once, Bruce has a feeling he’s only felt around Clark. A feeling of being outmatched. Jason knows all of his buttons, isn’t pushing a damn one. Isn’t letting Bruce push his either. It’s not even a stalemate. Bruce has no openings.

I) He starts telling him about his brothers, about missions and life developments. He tries to tell Jason everything. And Jason listens, hears everything he has to say. And Bruce asks him about himself, his life, his husband, his daughter. And he hears about NA and AA meetings, about therapy and raising an infant, and being a professor and his students about their friends and neighbors, about Lian’s friends at school. All of it. Except the how. And at some point, it’s been a couple of hours, but not very long at all, Jason gets a text. He doesn’t look at his phone. And Bruce knows that whatever spell had been cast over the cafe, whatever bubble of another universe he had crossed into, he was about to watch it close. Implode on itself with only him inside. Because Jason was about to leave. All of it, the cafe, the conversation, the smiling and the laughter, it was the one distraction that Bruce was liable to. And Jason has him right where he wanted him. It was something that wouldn’t work twice, and they both knew it.

J) And Jason says, I can’t stop you from telling anyone. I can’t stop any of you from looking for us, but this was the third life of mine that you ended. Of the two of us, I would go to greater lengths to protect my daughter. I am asking you not to make me do something you’ll regret. I am asking you not to look for us, not to tell anyone, not to put it in a report. I did not want to hurt you, any of you. And you have made that unavoidable. I know you, Bruce, and I have spent time healing from everything I’ve been through. I cannot allow you to pull me back into it, to pull the three of us back into your world. I know that this conversation won’t stop you, now that you know. So I’m sorry, I didn’t want to have to say this. I know who you are, who all of you are. It was never a question before, that I would keep your secrets. If you look for us, I will go public. It’s not just your life I’ll be placing at risk, it will be the entire league. I will burn every bridge, every alias. I have redundancies in place, you send a super my way you better be sure to send them all. You better be sure you’ve caught all my backups, all of Roy’s backups, everything. We have avoided you for years without triggering any of your, or the league’s, systems. I can’t predict another accident, but if you know what is best for you and everything you’ve built, you will prevent even that from happening. Do not force my hand.

K) Bruce stands, trying to memorize his son’s face. And then Jason is gone. Disappearing down a street and out of sight. And Roy is waiting for him, their house had been cleared of all traces, Talia has new lives set up for them and Lian is asleep in the backseat.

L) Their lives are busy for the next few weeks, traveling and covering their tracks and looking for new methods of being traced. And they change their names, change their lives, are prepared for the upheaval of being new people again. This time, it sticks. They watch Lian graduate school, college, get married, have children of her own. And the media is inescapable - they learn very little about their old families lives, but not nothing. There are funerals and weddings and probably so much more in private, things they will never know, never be part of again. And then they’re just old and together. Their grandkids visit, Lian visits, life is good and long and they are happy.

• Or, it sticks until one day, a spell is cast in Gotham and he’s standing on a rooftop, no mask, identity on full display, surrounded by other vigilantes in mixed states of gear and civilian status. Some being or other from another universe required all hands on deck in this universe and had used a spell to summon them all here.

• Jason spotted Roy appearing near him on the rooftop, both of them stunned. No one had noticed them yet, but their moment of indecisiveness and a moment of pure awareness on the Batfam’s part, meant there would be an inescapable confrontation. Batman seemed to notice them first and looked to Jason, who shook his head. It appeared Batman was trying to talk to the person who had summoned them all here, to argue they should be sent back or ask if it was possible.

• Jason moved himself and Roy towards Batman, doing their best to avoid looking at any of the other vigilantes at all, including but especially family. They walked into a tense conversation.

• You must send them back, they are civilians.

• Batman, you of all people understand the threat we are up against, if the spell believes they are necessary to combat X then they were brought here.

• I understand perfectly well, I am telling you to send them back. Having them here is a security risk, not during the fight, but after. This is not your universe, things are different in ways you can’t know of, this is one of those circumstances.

• Jason and Roy approach, Roy tapping his shoulder in a way that means he’ll follow his lead.

• He announces, You are in violation of the Hempstead agreement. You have one hour to return us to our previous location before we are a security risk.

• They can hear intakes of breath around them, some of the arrow clan and bat clan have approached, uncertain of what exactly is happening, but not comforted by the fact that Batman seems to understand the situation without telling any of them. The argument continues, Jason standing just behind Roy, separating him from the group slowly forming around them, people pushing their way to the center to see their son or brother again. Their friends.

• A decision is reached, It will take me 10 minutes to establish a connection strong enough to send them both through. Do not interrupt me while I prepare, follow me.

• And Jason and Roy are walking away, backs turned to their families. To their friends. There are shouts behind them, their names, other things they choose not to hear. It is all held at bay by Batman.

• They are speaking with the universe hopper, giving him a location to send them while clearly stating that he is not to give out that location to any of the vigilantes here, that violation of these terms will risk the hero community at large. The closer it gets to the ten minute mark, the more the riot behind them frays between silent understanding and desperation. Neither of them turns around, they can’t allow themselves to look. It is excruciating.

• Roy looks Jason in the eye and neither of them are fully able to stand it, but the fact that they’re not alone has to be enough. Jason can see the itch start, the overwhelming feeling that can’t be tolerated, the one that motivates people to seek out something that will just stop. He reaches out his hand, taps it against Roy’s and is met with one of the worst smiles he’s ever seen. It threatens to bring Jason to his knees, but Roy threads their hands together. The portal opens before them and without turning around, they step through.

• There is a shared panic attack, a moment of grief and regret where both of them realize just how greatly they hurt all of the people they used to care about. They break apart together and rebuild each other enough to pick up Lian from school and begin the process of torching their home. Whatever fight they had been summoned for had not happened yet, so they had a larger lead time than they had when Bruce had stumbled across them. But now, the entire hero community, many more points of being able to be convinced, was now aware they were both alive and on Earth.

[doctorho]

Constellations

hiii guys!! i got this ask about the idea of Viktor with a reader who has some visible moles and Viktor gets...curious. About the possibility of there being more of them. so then i wrote this. 2k(ish) words, gender neutral reader, no warnings. alcohol mentioned but only in like a "there's a party and viktor has a cocktail" type of way, no heavy drinking involved. i like writing the fancy academy parties, what can i say. here you go!!

Viktor is nothing if not curious. And – well. Observant. It comes with the territory of navigating life in Piltover as a Zaunite, and doubly so as a disabled Zaunite that was now a semi-public figure deeply involved in the businesses and inner workings of Piltover. 

Being observant was useful, both when working on uncovering the still-veiled mysteries of the universe and when keeping track of social exchanges at formal events. It was as much a carefully wielded tool as it was a well-honed survival skill, developed over the years as someone on the sidelines. 

And being curious – well. That was just a deep-rooted facet of Viktor's existence. The day he'd stop wanting to look at the world just a bit more closely, to understand it a bit more deeply, to turn over one more problem, that would be the day that he'd stop breathing. That was just how he was. 

It's what landed him a place at the Academy in the first place, and it's what kept him going. 

It's also what's landed him in the current mess that he was in. 

(It was, truth be told, what landed him in most of the messes he found himself in. Well, that, or his rather exploratory problem solving habits, but what was a little trial and error without some error? Besides, if you were going to fail at something, it was best to fail fast and hard, as efficiently as possible, for the best results). 

This, however? This was different. This was a mess he hadn't anticipated. 

See, he's - he's at the lab most days. He doesn’t exactly seek out social gatherings, unless presented with a very intriguing premise. He's not anti-social, per se, but he simply stays out of other people's business when he can, he focuses on his work, and that's that. But then – then. 

Then you off-handedly mention that even though most of the people of Piltover seemed to think of moles and freckles as flaws, as imperfections, you were trying to think of yours as the unique markings that they were, but it was difficult to ignore the external pressure to always be on the lookout for another flaw to feel self-conscious over. And then you're turning your arm in the air slowly, examining in the late afternoon light in front of the window at the lab, and Viktor's noticed the moles scattered over your skin before, of course, he's noticed them the same way he's noticed the swirls of ice crystals forming in the windows and the specs of dust glittering in a sunbeam on the floor – the moles are exactly what you say they are, he thinks, unique markings, something that made a person more interesting to look at. And he'd known that the people of Piltover had some...questionable opinions on beauty standards, on imperfections, but… 

Viktor didn't agree with them. 

“Would you consider the stars in the night sky as imperfections?” he asks, lowering the soldering iron he'd been holding, scraping down excess solder residue onto the pad under the heating station, and slowly turning to look at you with a carefully raised eyebrow when you don't immediately respond. 

“That's not really the same thing, is it.” You answer eventually, leaning back on your chair. 

“Isn't it?” 

“I don't illuminate anything, for one.”

“Details,” he counters, with a wave of his hand, then reaches into one of the drawers on his desk to retrieve pliers. “Besides, the sky is often pictured with inverted colors for convenience. With the stars as dark dots.”  

“Really?”

He hums in answer, leaning back over his project, holding his newly formed connection up to his eye level, inspecting it. 

“Huh,” you answer, lifting your arm over to the fading sunlight again. “Yeah, you could probably make a few constellations out of these.” 

And Viktor makes the mistake of looking over, because – while he truly had meant his analogy innocently, as just a supporting honest notion, the golden sunlight is hitting you now and that makes you as luminous as any collection of stars, and he has to force himself to look away before he gets caught staring. He exhales slowly and turns over the piece he was working on, for no particular reason – he already knew the connections were perfect – “Yes,” he agrees, “you probably could.”

He would have no professional explanation for staring, so he turns over the part he was holding one more time. 

This does not mean he won't steal a glance at opportune moments, when you're too busy to notice. Because he is intrigued now, and it's bad enough that he already thought you were beautiful, and worse than that, interesting to look at, and really, that was it. He was doomed. Done for. Utterly, irrevocably hooked, and what else was he supposed to do? Not be curious about this new aspect presented to him? Yeah, not likely. If he'd do that, he wouldn't be Viktor. 

He knew he'd wanted to get closer to you before, to touch you, he'd just…ignored it for convenience, shelved it under figure out later - too complicated for now.

The feeling seemed to have grown in hibernation. 

The metaphor stays in his mind, whirring in the background as he tries to go on with his day. But he keeps noticing it, noticing you, getting stuck watching the little specks on your skin disappear up your sleeves and into the collar of your overshirt, and he is itching to know what kind of constellations he could trace out of them. 

And then– then, the days just keep piling up on top of each other and Viktor keeps stealing glances and having annoyingly, frustratingly vague dreams about removed shirts and whispered sighs and too-light touches, and he keeps showing up to the lab pretending everything was normal and fine and totally under perfect control, all business as usual over on his side. Did the new shipment arrive already?

And then the Academic Year's Open Ceremony comes around, and Viktor did not account for the non-Academy-issued outfit that you would be wearing, even though he probably should have expected it. But foresight was not one of his talents, so when he'd agreed to go, he had not thought about the low lights and deep-cut necklines and what the champagne buzz in his head would do to his self-control. To the rational thinking that was usually his lifeline. To his imagination.

Now that was all he could think about. 

There was a champagne flute in one of his hands, and the other was gripping the handle of his cane slightly too hard. It would make his joints ache soon, but that would be a problem for future him. Perhaps even a nice little distraction from the torture of watching you in your glamorous getup, smiling and talking with someone, while he was merely pretending to be listening to the conversation he was in. 

Viktor nods at what he thinks are the correct moments (or at least, close enough), but his eyes remain glued to where you were standing. 

He hadn't seen you in clothes that revealing before, and he was taking this as a free research opportunity. His eyes trace over your skin, mapping the new-to-him pattern of moles and freckles, and something greedy at the bottom of his stomach wants to trace them with his fingers, too. And he knows that's inappropriate, especially while someone was lecturing him about the future of the Academy, but honestly, he didn't care. His train of thought was currently only about one heartbeat long, and the thing purring at the bottom of his stomach was getting louder, hungrier, needier, it was crawling up his spine, up the back of his neck, making him feel breathless, and he has to close his eyes just to re-calibrate his brain and breathe. 

He could not fathom how the Piltovians could see such marks as imperfections. They were like art, and Viktor would much rather spend his time looking at something interesting than something over-polished any day.

With the patterns he can see on your skin, he has theories about what must be on the parts he can't see, and he likes it. Not so much that he wouldn't like to make sure of his theories one way or the other – he was flexible, and open to being proved wrong, more than willing to gather more information on this. He takes a sip of his drink and his fingers flex over the handle of his cane and he exhales a tense sigh, and forces himself to look at his supposed conversation partner for a moment again as you lean your head back in a sparkling laugh. 

Torture. It was torture, pure and simple. Honey-thick and sweet as molasses, but torture all the same. 

Your skin glistens in the low golden lights of the party, and Viktor stares. You cleaned up nicely, and nothing about your outfit was inappropriate in itself, but his imagination was more than enough to change that. And he is aching to somehow warp the situation so that it was just you and him and just enough of the golden light to see by. The champagne could stay, and the music, but the band was on thin ice - they would have to be in a different room and preferably on the other side of a locked door. Viktor didn't appreciate interruptions, even in his imagination. He didn't like most of the people attending the party on a good day, and he definitely didn't like them now.

He takes a breath, fixes his posture, and takes another breath. Reminds himself of the reality he was in; the role he was playing. Five-year-plan. Yes. The Academy was getting a research grant from the Council. How nice.

The longer the night stretches on, the more his restraint stretches with it, and it was starting to wear thin. The reasoning he'd done with himself earlier about why he should stay away was starting to feel fickle – convenience? Had that really been his best selling point? What had he been thinking? 

It was itching at the back of his mind, the wrongness of forcing himself to pretend he didn't want to get closer, didn't want to go up and compliment you, to see you smile, to steal the privilege of your company for as long as he could, hopefully for the rest of the night. And currently, he was having a hard time convincing himself that the simplicity and convenience of keeping things how they had been before was worth it.

The sun had set hours ago, and the tall windows were starting to let in starlight, and when he finally gets a moment alone with you, it's while you're looking up at the sky, leaning over at a slightly awkward angle to be able to see as much of the sky as possible. 

He looks at you there for a moment, and takes a slow, deep breath. And then he walks to your side. 

If he was going to fail at this, he was going to fail fast and hard. Efficiently. And hopefully with minimal damage.

"Personally," he says calmly, "I prefer the view out there."

You turn to look at him, and he pretends to be totally casual and cool and collected and not nervous at all.

You look out the window again, and then, hum in agreement. "Unfortunately, I prefer the temperature in here." You answer with a small sigh and a half shrug, and now, Viktor turns to look at you.

Because now, now this was a problem that he had a solution for. 

He hmms in answer, and does a little double check in his head; yes, the upper levels of the building should be empty. The working staff was all here and the students were home. Should be vacant.

Viktor smiles a little. “How fortunate, then,” he says quietly, conspiratorially, “that we have an observatory tower.” 

For a single second, you look surprised. And then you blink, and a smile spreads over your lips. 

He raises an eyebrow. 

“I assume you have the keys?” 

Viktor shrugs nonchalantly. 

You grin and grab his hand, already moving towards the exit. “What are we waiting for, then?”

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Early years Caitlyn & Jayce friendship is so funny tho. Because it must have been Caitlyn initiating everything and unilaterally deciding she had a cool older brother now; even if Jayce wasn't a well-sculpted bundle of anxiety I think he is very aware that he is the Kirammans' charity case and not a member of their family. So he would be busy being careful to be a Nice Young Man who is respectful and grateful but not overly familiar; meanwhile Caitlyn is sneaking over to the Academy to unload all her tween girl problems on him while he's trying to study for exams. (She finds him weirdly easy to talk to in a way that many years later she will figure out is the latent queer kid vibes but she's like 13 and hasn't worked that out yet.) And I would say that anyone else at some point would get a vibe of oh no, she has a little crush on me and I need to nip this in the bud and gently distance myself because this is a bad idea on so many levels. But Jayce is famously oblivious to the idea that anyone could be coming on to him ever, and he doesn't think of her in that way at all, so I don't think the idea even occurs to him. He's just like, well I guess I have a kid sister now.

But at some point someone must make a comment about whether it's really appropriate for teenage Young Miss Kiramman to be spending so much time around her family's scholarship kid who's in his early 20s by now and very attractive and Jayce will be like AUGH EW WHAT SHE'S LIKE MY LITTLE SISTER WTF!! And Caitlyn will be like hmm. I think maybe I'm a lesbian.

[goddamnitmahtin]

The Fenton Effect

(Or that one time a few Waynes joined a polycule)

(This got really long)

Danny sighed as he looked out at the rest of the city from Tuckers office. His boyfriend had secured himself a spot at Wayne Enterprises for something something technology and his office was on like the bajillionth floor of the building. It had an amazing view though. If only there wasn’t so much smog in the air it might have been beautiful at night.

“Danny I thought you were picking up the kids today,” Tucker said with surprise as he walked in.

Danny shook his head smiling, “Sam said that she wanted Dante and Ellie to bond with her new girlfriend after school today so she will be picking them up.” He made his way over to Tucker, giving him a kiss on the cheek, “I heard that you had some free time today so I could tell you away for a bit. It’s been a while since the two of us have had some time to ourselves without children running around.”

Tucker eyed him suspiciously, “Did you call my boss and ask to take me out for a bit?”

Danny chuckled, “Maybe…” He sat down in a chair, “Well actually I was going to steal you anyways but I just happened to bump into Mr. Drake. He recognized me and told me that if I were to steal you for a bit he didn’t see anything.”

Tucker sighed, “Danny, you and Sam are always stealing me from work for dates, eventually I’m going to get written up!”

Danny pouted in response, “We only do it when you insist on double shifts for week. It’s almost like we miss our boyfriend. Besides if Me CEO agrees with me that you work too much, that’s saying something hun!”

Tucker thought for a moment and then looked back to Danny, “Okay. Let’s go out for a couple hours.”

Danny hopped out of the chair again, “Yay! There’s this new restaurant I found that is supposed to have amazing steak.” He took Tucker’s hand and led him out of the office.

“Mm you know how to treat a man don’t you?” Tucker said in response, letting Danny pull him along.

“I try,” Danny said back wiggling his eyebrows as they went to the elevator.

…

Jason sat on his bike. He wasn’t in his Red Hood gear at the moment since he was just doing some recon. According to Tim, there was a newer family in town that he needed to look into. Apparently one of his employees had a boyfriend that appeared to be an un registered meta of some kind. Which normally wouldn’t be a problem but there was also the detail that when Tim did a background check on the family, it came up that they had two children neither of which had birth certificates or adoption papers or anything. Like they had appeared out of nowhere. Though Tim doubted it, he had still sent Jason to check it out in the off chance trafficking or some other fishy shit was going on.

He looked at the photos Oracle had provided of the targets he was looking for. Two of the 3 were supposed to be arriving at this restaurant soon. An African American man, the one working for WE, named Tucker Foley. The other… well this was interesting. When Jason went to look at the photo of the other man he was looking for named Daniel Fenton, he noticed the photo was grainy and distorted.

“Babs why does this Fenton guy’s photo look like a horror movie filter?” he said into his comms.

“That’s the best I can provide you with Jason, I’m sorry. All photos anyone takes of him are like that. I tried to clean it up the best I could. The last known photo of this guy without distortion I can find on public domain is from a yearbook photo when he was 14,” she responded.

Well fuck okay. Something was definitely up.

“Could you send that yearbook photo my way? As long as the guy hasn’t made any drastic changes to his appearance like dyed his hair or some sort of Botox I’m sure I’ll be able to figure it out,” he said softly as he didn’t want the car that pulled in next to his bike to hear him.

“On its way,” he heard from Babs before he started to pretend to be scrolling through his phone while the occupants of the car got out and entered the restaurant.

While on his phone he noticed a new message from Cass. She had met up with the woman of the family he was tracking. They had gone to the primary school to pick up the children and was on their way to get ice cream.

The message was followed by a selfie of herself holding hands with a goth woman with purple eyes and black hair. Jason recognized her as Samantha Manson from the third profile Babs had given him. On Samantha’s shoulders was a little girl with dark hair and blue eyes, laughing and reaching for the camera and at the woman’s side holding her hand was a small boy who looked the same age as the little girl who looked almost like a carbon copy of her. Probably twins. He was waving to the camera.

Jason immediatly noticed slight distortion around the children in the photo. Similar to the distortion from the Daniel Fenton file but not nearly as extreme as he could still identify the children in the photo if he were to see them out and about.

He sent Cass a thumbs up in response.

“I’m assuming you got the message too?” He spoke into his comms.

“I did. Looks like the kiddos might be whatever kind of meta this Daniel Fenton is. They do both carry his last name,” she responded.

“And his face…” Jason said as he pulled up the yearbook photo Babs sent him, “Are we sure these aren’t just his kids? Who cares if they weren’t properly documented, that kind of stuff happens all the time in small towns. Have you ever seen Clark’s papers? A fucking mess.”

He heard Oracle sigh, “I have unfortunately. I would be inclined to believe your theory except for the fact that based on their ages, they would have been born when Fenton was 15 but according to my records and from what I can get from Tim, Fenton is more inclined towards men.”

Jason scoffed, “Is that it? That’s not much of a reason at all. People experiment. I’m into guys too but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have a few girlfriends before figuring that out.”

“AND,” Babs continued (Jason had apparently interrupted her), “There’s also the bit where based on the DNA samples Cass has picked up from the kids and Tim has picked up from Fenton, all three of them have 100 percent identical DNA.”

Jason paused. If the DNA was all identical, how is it that two of them are male and the third is female? That wouldn’t be possible without some external fuckery. Not to mention two identical children who only have the DNA of one parent and not the other? This was definitely not right.

“Are you convinced we should look into it now?” He heard Oracle’s voice say into his comms.

“Yeah yeah I’m gonna poke around,” he said while hopping off his bike, “Let me know if anything else comes up.”

Jason ruffled a hand through his hair, took a fucking breath, and walked into the restaurant.

…

Sam wasn’t nervous…. no not at all. She was just taking her kids to get ice cream after school. With a really pretty lady….

Sam had met Cass a few weeks ago at a small cafe when she was stopping by to get Danny a coffee since he was holing himself up in his workshop for two days at that point and she was hoping the smell would tempt him out of his hole. The two of them got to talking, well signing, while waiting in line and they had hung out a few times since then. Danny and Tucker made fun of her crush but who wouldn’t crush on such a beautiful lady?

Now they were standing in line for the ice cream cart in the park. Not many people went to Ivy’s park but that just made it better for Sam because the line was never long. Besides, None of the plants ate you if you respected them and the ice cream was guaranteed to be Ivy Approved which meant it was ethically sourced.

Currently, Dante was signing to Cass (Cass had told Sam that they didn’t need to sign back if they didn’t want to but Sam had told her that signing was an important thing she wanted the kids and herself to get better at) about his new favorite star that Daddy taught him about and Ellie was playing with one of Ivy’s safer sentient plants. Sam kept an eye on her.

“Now what did I say about the plants at Miss Ivy’s park Ellie?” she called.

“I can look but no touch unless Miss Ivy’s says so,” Ellie called back, smiling. She seemed to have made a friend with a rather large flower.

Sam nodded and smiled when the child remembered.

She then felt a tap on her arm and looked to see Cass signing, “Not many people come to this park, you seem to not be afraid of the rogue who has claimed it?”

Sam shrugged and signed back while she spoke, “Poison Ivy may be an extremist but I respect her want to preserve natural flora and fawna. My boyfriends and I have already decided that we want to teach the children to respect those things as well since they are important for the health of the people and the Earth. So we come here since Ivy does not have anything against innocent children but if one of them were to misbehave with a sentient plant, they would have an easier time understanding why it is wrong because Dante and Ellie have higher empathy than most.”

Which was true. But also the reason it worked so well is because since the plants were kind of sentient, Ellie and Dante could tell if they accidentally killed one and it made them sad enough to not want to hurt them. They found that out on accident once and since then the children have been strangely fond of the park. But she wasn’t going to tell Cass that.

Sam was nervous that Cass didn’t like that but honestly they were her children and Cass didn’t seem opposed to the park in the first place when the kids suggested it.

After a few moments Cass nodded in response and signed, “Boyfriends? As in plural?”

That was not what Sam was expecting her to ask and it made her blush in embarrassment that she hadn’t explained it sooner. “I am polyamorous. I have two boyfriends. The three of us raise the children together,” she signed although he had a hard time remembering the sign for polyamorous so she ended up spelling it out.

“You all date each other?” Cass signed, curious.

Sam smiled, she didn’t seem to be judging her lifestyle which was something she didn’t find very often. It was part of the reason they had to leave Amity Park in the first place. It was helpful when Tucker got the Timothy Drake scholarship which was a full ride for Computer Science and Engineering at Gotham University.

When they moved into Gotham after that, they weren’t allowed to live on campus with him so Sam and Danny had to start out in a small apartment near Ivy’s Park so they always kept some plants in the window for protection since they had children of course. Since then, Sam had gotten a job as a personal assistant for some rich woman her family was friends with and Danny was working part time at as a bartender during the night shift and was a stay at home Daddy during the day until the kids were old enough for school.

When Tucker graduated he was immediately hired on at WE and not long after that, they bought their much nicer house in a much nicer neighborhood close to Wayne Manor. Was it mostly Tucker’s salary? Admittedly yes, WE pays very well to ensure the employees live in good neighborhoods. But Sam made quite a bit as well and since Danny got the space to tinker with his gadgets and quit bartending as often (he still did it occasionally when his old boss would ask), he had started making a good amount selling his one of a kind clocks mostly. Sam just knew Clockwork was so proud.

Sam signed as she spoke again, “Yes, Tucker is bisexual and Danny and I prefer the term pansexual. We are all together because we are poly (spells it out), and we are open to any of the three of us dating others as well as long as we all discuss and we are honest. Because we have kids we want to make sure our bond and trust is always strong. We want to be together for a long time. See the littles grow up and all that fun stuff.”

Sam was excited to talk about it with someone other than her boyfriends or Jazzy on the phone. No one ever actually wanted to listen about that stuff because people didn’t like things they didn’t understand right away.

They were at the head of the line now though it was going to have to wait until after they got their sweets. Sam corralled the kiddos and asked them what they wanted. Dante and Ellie decided they wanted to share a sundae and Sam ordered herself the Ivy recommended option of the week. She also offered to pay for whatever Cass ordered but before she could, the woman was already paying for everyone.

Sam lead the kids to a park bench where they all sat down. Ellie and Dante immediately started to rock paper scissors for the cherry on top and it wasn’t long until Dante tried to cheat and Sam confiscated the cherry so they wouldn’t start fighting. She didn’t need them to accidentally use their powers in public.

“You didn’t have to pay,” she said, “But thank you.”

Cass smiled and very softly said, “It’s okay. I like you.”

Sam’s cheeks burned. Cass had told her that she did speak sometimes and that her mutism was selective but she didn’t expect her voice to sound so… pretty.

…

Jason immediately found the targets in a corner table. Most notably a corner table that Fenton had a view of every exit from. Only people who are used to either defending or fleeing at a moment’s notice did that. It wasn’t helping the theory that something was going on.

Fenton hadn’t changed much from the highschool yearbook photo. He looked slightly taller and he had slightly broader shoulders than before but overall the guy was still lanky and thin. His hair was still dark and he still styled it in a similar way. His eyes were still huge and round on his face. The most noticeable difference to the photo though? Danny was much MUCH paler. Almost like a walking corpse. And the eyebags were hard to miss.

Jason sat himself at a table within earshot of the two, ordering himself a beer and some appetizer he didn’t actually read. He was much too focused on listening.

For the most part, it seemed pretty normal stuff. Work, flirting with one another, commenting on the food. But then it got interesting when Foley brought up their supposed children.

“Dante told me you taught him about the dog constellation the other day. He told me Sirius was his new favorite star,” Foley mused.

A chuckle from Fenton, “Yes, he has been super into animals recently so I showed him some constellations like the dog, serpent, eagle, bull. That sort of thing. We used your old PDA to look up where they were in the sky and even pulled up pictures of some of the stars. He was floating with excitement when I showed him the Sirius star. He lost control though and Sam had to help me get him off the ceiling.”

Floating?

“I never thought I would say that I am glad that they don’t have all their tricks yet. Imagine if either of them went intangible when they were infants. I would have had a heart attack,” Foley responded.

Intangibility?

“Tell me about it! Highschool would have been a hell of a time if either of their eyes started glowing. We wouldn’t have had babysitters while we were in class,” Fenton remarked.

Glowing eyes?

“We already hardly had babysitters. I remember taking Ellie to math class,” Foley seemed to chuckle at the memory.

Jason noted all of the strange things the two seemed to be expecting of the children at some point. It was definitely not non meta human type stuff. One thing he did note though was that they seemed to have had the kids since infancy which at least boosts the chances of the children being their own and not trafficked or stolen.

Fenton got up apparently to use the restroom and Foley got up from his seat to sit in Fenton’s while he was gone. More suspicious behavior. But from what Jason could tell, out of the two of them Fenton was the one who would be the first to react. He sat with the view first and only after his leaving did Foley feel the need to take up the same position.

Jason considered leaving right then but he knew that he wasn’t going to get answers that way. The other reason he didn’t leave right away was a message from Cass.

Cass: They are polyamorous.

Jason didn’t know what that meant. He sent back a question mark.

Cass: They are polyamorous. Fenton, Foley, and Manson are all dating each other. They raise the kids together in one household with 3 parents.

Jason thought about it. That would make sense as to why they all shared one address. There was one thing though that it did open up. If Fenton was indeed dating both of the other two, that would mean that he was attracted to women. The kids biologically very well could have been his and he was simply a teen dad.

Jason: Has Manson mentioned carrying them or any mention of a mother?

Cass: No. She treats them as her own but she shows no sign of previous pregnancy. Plus neither of them look like Sam at all.

Jason: Noted. Keep me updated.

If Manson wasn’t the biological mother, it didn’t mean someone else couldn’t have been one. Jason didn’t really know how any of this polyamory stuff worked but from the way Foley was describing it, the relationship had already been established when the children entered their lives. Unless Fenton was unfaithful in some way? Jason sighed, biting his knuckles as he felt the pressure in his chest. The pits were acting up.

Jason looked up from his phone once he felt it calm down just to see blue eyes glaring at him. Fenton was standing a few feet from his table, his eyes staring directly into Jason’s soul. The man looked offended as if Jason had done something to him.

Suddenly he felt the Lazarus pits acting up again. It felt like he was shot through the chest with a spear of ice. Like… he was getting told off for saying something bad. And it felt like… it came from Fenton? Somehow?

Jason tried to make sense of it, looking at the man in front of him but he seemed to be satisfied with whatever the fuck that was and went back to his table, giving Foley a kiss on the cheek.

“You alright Danny? You glitched for a second there,” Foley said.

Fenton scoffed, “Some dead guy’s core let out a signal that pissed me off. Tried to insinuate that I cheated on you and Sam. Fucking prick.”

Jason panicked. How did this fucker know he died? Things were getting weirder and weirder and now this guy knew things about him that he shouldn’t have… he had to keep following these guys.

…

Okay so Jason didn’t get much after that. He followed Fenton and Foley back to WE from a distance. Or at least at a distance that was far enough for the pits to not act up. Ever since Fenton got close to him at the restaurant, the pits were going crazy. It was like the man made it feel different. There was no anger or violent urge. It was like he wanted to do something but he didnt really know what it was. But he knew it wasn’t hitting people like usual.

Nothing much happened and once he and Cass were recalled to the Batcave, he retreated and went to go meet B and the others. Even Tim had taken a lunch break for once to meet up.

“So what are your reports,” Bruce asked.

Before Jason could get a word out, Cass started signing excitedly and very fast. He didn’t catch hardly any of it.

“Cass, slow down a bit,” Bruce said trying his best to sign back what he knew.

Jason paid closer attention this time as Cass signed at a pace everyone could understand.

“I think Sam is really nice and a good mom. We went to the school together to pick up the twins and they were very happy children. Ellie was very bubbly and and Dante was much calmer. Sam took us to the park to get ice cream after and we talked a lot. She, Danny, and Tucker are in a polyamorous relationship and are raising the kids together. They said that they were open as well if any of them wanted to date others. They trust each other a lot and love the kids a lot. Sam had good values and was teaching the kids the same. I think they are unconventional but very happy as a family. Like us.”

Jason watched as the others nodded, some seeming to understand it more than others. Someone was definitely going to have to sit Bruce down and explain it. He was also going to ask for more of a crash course later. Probably from Cass directly. Or maybe Babs if she knew.

After a few moments of processing what he did understand Bruce turned to Jason, “And what did you find out.”

“Shit’s weird with Fenton. I’m going to go back and get more intel,” Jason stated, “But from what I got on the kids? They’ve been taking care of them since infancy. Mentioned parenting them as babies in high school. And they seem to think that they are going to develop powers. Glowing eyes and intangibility. Fenton mentioned the boy Dante being able to float already. Definitely metas.”

“Maybe we are being over paranoid. It sounds like a teen pregnancy situation in a small town where paperwork isn’t always filed properly,” said Steph, putting her hands in her hips.

Jason shook his head, “Nah that Fenton guy is fucking weird. Did shit that Bruce taught us. Made sure the table was seated in a corner where he had a view of every exit. Civilians don’t do that shit.”

“Only people who are expecting a fight do,” Tim agreed.

The entire room knew that was one of the first things Bruce taught them when it came to safety in public. In their line of work they always had to be vigilant for every possibility.

Bruce conceded, “Jason, keep following Fenton. I have some things I need to look up I think.”

…

Danny was fucking PISSED. How fucking dare that guy have the nerve to not only think that but then broadcast the insinuation from his weak ass core? He would never EVER cheat on Sam and Tucker! He would NEVER betray their trust like that!

He fiddled with his newest clock commission angrily, his core feeling personally attacked. There was a fear that wasn’t really working right and he was probably going to have to remake it but honestly he didn’t really care at the moment.

“Danny…” he heard Sam call. Her voice made his core feeling personally the slightest bit better.

Danny leaned up from his clock and looked to see his beautiful girlfriend in the doorway, “Hi Sam.” He sighed, trying to let the anger fall away. How could he ever betray his loves?

Sam must have read his face like a book because she walked over and slid her arms around him from behind.

“You’re brooding baby,” she cooed, leaving a kiss on his cheek.

“I just can’t believe that guy! The fucking nerve,” Danny growled. Though his growl didn’t have any sort of malice behind it at the moment. Sam knew how to calm him down. Physical touch was one of his love languages.

“Danny it’s been a week since you saw him on your date. And you put him in his place. I know you would never do that. Tuck knows. That’s all that matters,” she said softly.

She was right of course. But Danny’s ghost instincts were super protective and he couldn’t help it sometimes. But again, she was right. He let himself take a deep breath mostly for her benefit to show he was trying to get over it.

“Good. Keep taking deep breaths. It’s okay to feel protective and it’s okay to let the feeling subside when the danger is gone,” Sam continued to talk softly, knowing she could talk sweetly to him until he felt better.

It was working. Danny focused on letting his core relax, the danger was gone. The only entities in his haunt were himself, his partners, and his children. No threat.

Next thing Danny heard was whooshing sounds as his kiddos flew into the room, both in their ghost forms. Their hair was white and their eyes glowed. Ellie’s glowed green and Dante’s glowed red.

When Dante first transformed, Danny, Tuck and Sam were unsure if they were going to be red or green since they were red back when he was Dan. When they did glow red, Danny guessed that it was most likely because it was what was familiar to him.

“Dante found a cool rock,” Ellie said excitedly.

Dante then presented the cool rock for Danny and Sam to look at. It was purple and looked like one of the crystals Sam liked to collect.

“Where did you find it,” he asked, just to make sure they didn’t just steal it from the collection Sam kept in her room.

“It was on the floor in Papa’s office,” Dante said proudly. Ah. It must have fallen out of one of Sam’s pockets at some point.

Danny smiled, looking at his son’s pride in finding it, “Good find buddy!” He turned his head to look at Sam, “What kind of rock is it Momma?”

Sam ceremoniously took the rock from Dante and used Danny’s bright work table lamp to get a look at it, “This seems to be a purple amethyst. Good work Dante.” She smiled brightly, encouraging the excitement of the kiddos for the find.

“Purple amythest,” Ellie repeated excitedly.

“It’s really pretty Momma,” Dante said, looking at the small polished stone. Danny could feel his son’s core buzzing happily about it.

“Why don’t you keep it in your room Dante? Then you can look at it whenever you want to,” Sam said smiling and giving it back to the floating red eyed child.

“Really?” Dante asked.

“Of course kiddo,” Danny added. He felt Dante’s core give off a burst of happiness. It made him smile.

“I’ll go put it in my room!” the boy said happily and flew through the wall out of the room.

Ellie then began to pout, “How come I don’t get a pretty rock?”

“When you find one, you’ll get to keep it too,” Sam smiled, “Now I believe your Papa mentioned a Bluey marathon scheduled for tonight. Why don’t you go get your brother and maybe together you can convince Papa to make you some popcorn?”

Danny felt Ellie’s core start to buzz with excitement and determination as she nodded and flew out of the room fast.

Once Ellie was out of the room, Sam gave Danny a kiss on the cheek, “Since Tuck is watching the kids tonight, how about we go get you some more relaxed?”

Danny chuckled, feeling his core buzz. He closed up the clock he had been working on and came to a stand, facing Sam.

“More like wear me out,” he said, giving her a kiss.

“Well of course,” Sam smirked as she took his hand and led him to her bedroom.

…

Jason watched Fenton for like a week. A whole ass week and he got absolutely nothing on the guy. The only times he ever left his house was for dates with either Foley or Manson or to pick up his kids. At this point Jason was positive they were his in some capacity. The DNA proved that much and he seemed like a pretty standard stay home dad. There was one time that week where after school he took Dante and Ellie to an observatory but as long as Jason wasn’t close enough for the pits to react to him he seemed like just some guy.

Jason slumped onto the couch in the first floor living room of the manor. He didn’t like being here but everyone was out busy today and apparantly someone in the family needed to be there to sign off on some sort of delivery. He didn’t understand why Alfred couldn’t just sign it but the butler had refused, insisting that Jason be the one to do it. It was so annoying.

It wasn’t like he had anything to do that day anyways. Periodically he had all his guys in his organization take a day off and he had promised them today. Not to mention he was “on rest” from patrolling after his fucking helmet broke after falling down a fire escape. Embarrassing as fuck. But he still had to wait for a new one because that was his last spare.

He just didn’t understand. On the surface level, Fenton seemed like a normal ass dude. But he knew what he felt. And knew what he heard. The fucker could tell Jason was kind of dead. And he did.. something to him at that restaurant. The pits kept pulling him toward the guy like he was some sort of fucking magnet.

“Master Jason, the delivery is at the front door sir,” Alfred said appearing out of fucking nowhere.

“Thank you Alfred,” he said as he got up to go do the stupid signing thing. Once it was done, he could jet outta there and start following Fenton around again.

Jason made his way to the front door and opened it only to find it was none other than the creepy fucker himself. The pits sparked in his chest making him squeeze the door a little too hard.

“You,” said the pale man, his eyes burning with disgust. The pits didn’t like that. Suddenly, Jason had an urge to make sure the anger on the man’s face went away. At first Jason thought that was fucking stupid but honestly… being nice might be a good plan.

Now that they were face to face in proper lighting, Jason was able to really get a good look at Daniel Fenton. Of course he knew what the guy looked like. Obviously. He had been stalking him. But this was the first time he had been able to really register it.

Like he had noted before, his hair was dark and he was pale as fuck. But what he hadn’t seen before was the way his hair was blacker than anything he had ever seen before, shining in places that the locks caught the light almost like little stars in a night sky. His eyes were big and bold, an icy hue that that sent shivers down the spine. He was pale of course but not in the way that made one think he had never seen sun before, more in the way that dead bodies look during funerals. All the blood drained from the body. His cheekbones were sharp giving his face a sunken in look like he was malnourished even though Jason fucking knew he wasn’t. His stature was lean and lanky but clearly he was hiding some muscle because he was carrying a big ass clock that no doubt weighed a shit ton like it was nothing.

Jason hated to admit it. He really did. However. Daniel Fenton was attractive.

…

Danny couldn’t fucking believe it. That dead motherfucker was a Wayne. His core buzzed with anger and he had to take a breath to calm it.

“Yeah it’s me,” said the asshole.

Danny sighed and maneuvered the clock into one arm and gave paper to the guy, “Just sign it.”

Now after doing this he realized that casually holding a heavy ass clock like a football was not the normal thing to do since the man obviously took note of it as he stared a little too long before taking the sign form. However, he already made the decision and he was gonna have to stick to the bit.

Once this guy signed the paper and took the clock he could just leave. Just fucking go. And he could make a note to never take a commission from this address again so he wouldn’t have to see him again. He could do that.

“Hey, I’m sorry about what happened,” the really fucking large man said as he signed the paper. Danny checked the guy’s core. He was being genuine. And it was also giving off confused vibes. Ancients, why- This guy didn’t even know what he did. Fucking of course. Ughhhh and now because Danny was a good person he was gonna have to explain it to him. Fucking great.

Danny sighed, “It’s… fine. Where do you want me to install the clock?” He wasn’t going to talk about this shit openly. He could do it once they were inside.

The man seemed confused but let him in anyways, “I don’t really know where B wants it. For now I guess you could put it on this table over here.”

Danny noted the small table in the entrance hall and put it down where he was told to. Once his hands were free, he collected the sign form from the man and folded it, storing it away in his back pocket.

“Now, I assume you have a shit ton of questions,” he said.

The tall man nodded, “So fucking many.”

A butler escorted them to a sitting room of sorts and disappeared again without a sound.

“Are you okay with him possibly overhearing any information I give you….” Danny realized he didn’t actually know this guy’s name.

“Yeah that’s fine,” said the man, sitting in a chair. Danny decided to sit across from him on a couch. It was off putting how docile this guy was acting with just how fucked up his core seemed to be.

“My name is Daniel Fenton. You can call me Danny. It seems you were never really explained to about this whole being dead thing,” Danny started. He didn’t really know how to go about this. With Dante and Ellie it had always been free knowledge for them to ask about whenever they needed but there was no sit down conversation where he had to like, reveal their identities or anything.

“No. I wasn’t aware there were rules,” the man said, a smile tugging at his lips at his own joke. Now normally, Danny would laugh at that. Because let’s be honest, he would. But he was a bit caught up in realizing that this guy he spent that last week hating was fucking huge. Tall as fuck. At least 6 foot. And his wingspan had be just fucking outrageous. His shoulders were wider than Danny’s front door at home.

Once he noticed that, Danny took an actual good look at the guy. His hair was black mostly, with a signature white streak in the front, no doubt a side effect of dying. It seemed to be a permanent feature rather than something brought on by transformation like for Danny and his kiddos. His eyes were blue, a solemn almost sad blue but they were still very beautiful. He had eyebags for days, probably didn’t get the proper nutrition very often only eating human food with no ecto in his diet. Sleep was probably not a thing either. He was nothing but muscle all over, no doubt an effect of him dying and then getting better. He was covered in scars as well that looked as though they healed a little too quickly to be proper. All in all, everything pointed to gaining the very sliver of his ghost powers without any of them making it to the finish line. Even so, he was the type of guy anyone with eyeballs would swoon over.

“Mr…… Wayne?” Danny guessed. He immediately felt the man’s core recoil in disgust. Okay so not Wayne.

“Todd. My name is Jason Todd. My dad is Wayne. Not me. Just- just call me Jason,” the man said quickly.

Danny nodded and redirected, “Jason, before I start explaining all this stuff, when did you die and how come that’s not the case anymore?”

He again felt Jason’s core want to pull back but none the less he still answered, “I was… I don’t know? 15-16? I don’t fucking remember it was a while ago. Anyways, apparently I got revived by the Lazarus Pits so I was only dead for like 6 months or something.”

Danny nodded solemnly. He knew what it was like to die young. And of course Jason’s core and ghost powers were all fucked up. Those pits were nothing but a shit ton of toxic, contaminated ecto. He wasn’t surprised that when given the chance to create a halfa they would do it in the shittiest way possible.

“Okay so basically, you’re gonna want to buckle in cuz this is about to be a lot,” Danny said, making himself comfortable. They were gonna be here a while.

…

Tim paced his office. Back and forth back and forth back and forth back and forth back and forth. This was a bad idea. Yes, the Fentons had been cleared but it was still a bad idea. To be honest, he didn’t really want to think about the fact that his favorite employee had been searched by his family for suspicious behavior a month ago.

Yes. His favorite employee. Tucker Foley. Not just his favorite employee but the best one who had never turned in a report late or found a problem he couldn’t fix. Technically his name was Tucker Fenton but the name change wasn’t official yet. Polyamorous marriage was illegal so the family had to send in papers to change their names legally so they would share a last name with their children.

Tim had been eyeing Tucker since he met him which was honestly far too long after he had joined the company. He had been so busy that he had never actually seen the guy face to face until he happened to pass his office and saw the man dutifully typing away at his computer.

He remembered just how immediately he noticed the attractiveness of the man and at first was sad to hear he was in a relationship. He thought he was with a woman named Sam at first. And then a few weeks later he started seeing Danny in the office too. Tucker was poly. Had two partners. And two children with them. A family man.

Then his family started tracking them all and it gave him an excuse to hang around Tucker at the office as much as possible. Of course he only ever got normal vibes from the guy until he noticed some background tabs running on the PDA he used alongside the desktop the company provided.

Of course Tim found time during a date Danny and Tucker went on for lunch to snoop through it. The tabs were all mostly data except one that was in the process of breaking down a government firewall with a prewritten program. Some organization called the GIW. Tim looked through the rest of the computer. There were files on Tim and the rest of his family. Files on WE. Files on the company’s funding and where it all went. He had done his homework before taking the job clearly.

Of course it all looked suspicious at the time. But things had changed since then. Danny Fenton had sat Jason down and explained a lot of things. Who they were, why they were in Gotham. Who they used to be. It made alot of sense.

And it made sense why Danny readily shared the information so freely. After Tim found the files on the PDA, of course he hacked it and sent it over to Babs. After Jason made a fool of himself at the restaurant, the PDA started having files added to it. Of the Bats and the birds. And a very well written and polite file stating that Tucker knew his PDA was fucked with. The vigilante files were his way of telling everyone he knew who they were.

So the Tucker guy was fucking smart and didn’t really give two shits about computer privacy. Now any normal sane person would have found this very concerning but for Tim it only fueled the highly inappropriate crush he had begun to develop on the guy. How hot is it that the guy was cordial enough to write a file detailing that he knew they were watching him and that he was honored to have been hacked?

So… there Tim was in his office. Pacing. He was about to do the craziest shit. He was about to ask out the hot guy from the tech department. Was it a good idea? No. Absolutely not. This guy was about as crazy as he was. Oh but he liked that. He really fucking liked that. He also loved the tracker he found in his shirt after stopping into the guys office to give him some paperwork. It had taken him about a week and a half to find it and since Tim only had 3 shirts he wore to the office, he wore it around alot in that time.

After that, Tim left his own tracker in Tucker’s PDA only for Babs to find a new file on it that simply stated, “Found it.”

How fucking hot was that? He found it in no time even after Tim had taken the time to make sure it was inside the thing. Since then they had been placing trackers on one another whenever they passed, taking turns and making sure the other knew when they had found it. Tucker was always faster. He had yet to take longer than 24 hours to find it no matter where Tim hid it. It was like the hottest kind of flirting Tim could fucking imagine.

So… now that Tucker was cleared of any suspicion, he was free game. When Cass told everyone in the Batcave that the relationship was open to other partners, he nearly had to turn around in order to hide the excitement from his face. He kept his cool though, obviously, he was a professional.

He didn’t mind Tucker Fenton having other partners. He didn’t mind that he had kids. He wasn’t the only one either. He could tell that Cass was crushing hard on Sam and sure enough a week ago, the two of them were official. Now he just had to make his move and ask Tucker out. That was all.

Tim heard a ding on his phone. He looked to see who it was. Barbara.

Babs: New file just got saved to the Fenton PDA.

Tim’s heart raced. Tucker had probably found the tracker he had slid under his collar during their meeting that morning.

Babs: You two really need to bone, this is getting ridiculous.

Tim: WHAT DID THE FILE SAY BABS

Babs: I didn’t open it. The file is literally titled “For Tim Drake (if anyone else opens this I’ll make sure a virus melts your software)”

Hot.

Tim: Pull it up on my desktop.

Babs: On its way you sicko.

Tim rushed to his computer to see a file open on the screen. It was a google doc that Tim was given permission to edit. At first, the doc seemed blank but he knew Tucker well enough now that he knew that there was more to it.

He used his mouse and clicked Select All and sure enough, white writing appeared on the screen. He changed it to black so he could read it properly and he found a series of dashes and dots. Morse code.

Tim felt his heart rate rise at the little game. He had told Tucker in passing that he couldn’t read Morse code but he knew how to sit down and translate it if he wanted to. And the man was so perfect he had remembered.

Tim got out a piece of paper and started decoding the message that looked to be like a poem of sorts. It didn’t take long at all. It turned out to be a series of quotes from media and literature that Tim had at one point brought up enjoying in passing.

“All we can know is that we know nothing. And that is the height of human wisdom.”

“She had an evil face, smoothed by hypocrisy; but her manners were excellent.”

“Knowledge is power.”

“Memory is not what the heart desires. That is only a mirror.”

“Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“O Captain! My Captain!”

“Unless I be relieved by prayer, which pierces so, that it assaults mercy itself, and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon'd be, let your indulgence set me free.”

“To die would be an awfully great adventure.”

Tim stared at the quotes knowing that there was more meaning to them. Knowing Tucker, there was probably a certain letter or word from each phrase he needed. He wasn’t provided with a key to solve it so it must have been pretty simple. Then he got it. And his heart raced.

He responded by calling his secretary to tell one Tucker Fenton (Foley) that he needed to send in in his schedule for the next week.

Not 20 minutes later did he see new writing on the google doc, “I’m free Friday night.” Who cared if it was a bad idea.

Tim smiled wide, texting Babs excitedly.

Tim: TELL B I CANT PATROL ON FRIDAY

Babs: Why?

Tim: IM GOING ON A DATE

Little did Tim know that the moment Barbara saw the message, she breathed a sigh of relief, “Fucking finally.”

…

Okay so here was the deal. After Danny had explained everything (including the pits actually being a core and the fact that Danny’s children were the de-aged results of cloning and timeline fuckery), he had started helping Jason stabilize his core. And Jason was thankful for that but at the same time… as more and more time went on spending his off moments with the guy, his core was acting all kinds of weird. He didn’t really know how to tell Danny about it because the last time he had tried to explain the weird pull and very odd pleased hum his core had whenever he was around Danny, the guy had waved it off as because he was the Ghost King and all that. Jason was trying to believe that was the case but now that he was in the Fenton household sitting across from Danny in his workshop… it was hard to ignore.

“Well Jason, you definitely look a lot better than a week ago,” Danny said while staring into Jason’s chest. He knew that it was because his core was supposedly around that area but with the fact that he was wearing a t shirt that had shrunk in the shutter dryer in his apartment, he was feeling a little exposed.

“That’s good,” he said clenching his fist to try and ignore the almost purring sensation his core made at the compliment.

“Just a few months and you’ve been reconstructing it really well,” Danny said continuing to stare.

Jason nodded, he had been trying to do the things Danny told him to, added pure ecto to his diet and tried being more open to listen to his core. Although most of the work had been done by Danny, placing his hands on Jason’s chest, shuffling his shattered core pieces around and trying to fit them back together. It had been a joke for a long time that he “came back wrong” but according to the literal Ghost King, it was actually fucking true.

Jason noticed Danny was still staring. His core buzzed, liking the attention. He had to try and distract himself.

“So I noticed when I came in it was awfully quiet. Normally Dante and Ellie meet me at the door,” he said, clenching his fist tighter. He had to change the subject.

Danny looked up from his chest, “Oh uh yeah. Sam and Cass are on a date and Tucker took the kids out to an escape room with Tim. So it’s uh… just us at home at the moment.”

Jason wasn’t as good at reading body language as Cass but he knew enough to know that Danny was acting stiff around him which he wasn’t used to since before they started his core reconstruction therapy.

“I get you all to myself then,” he said chuckling trying to be lighthearted. Was Jason normally this civil around other people? Fuck no. But with Danny… he really couldn’t help it. It honestly felt more like the old him before he died. Before he went all… murder psycho because he literally came back wrong.

He watched as the shorter man in front of him began to actually gain some color in his cheeks. Holy hell he didn’t know Danny was capable of that. He thought the dead guy look was a permanent thing. Jason kind of liked it though.

“I guess you do,” Danny said allowing a small smirk onto his face.

Oh. OH. Jason’s core really liked that. And it must have done one of those things where it told all the other dead people around because Danny’s smile grew wider. What Jason didn’t expect was feeling a mutual positive energy from Danny’s core in response.

Jason felt his own cheeks start to burn the slightest bit, not really knowing why.

“Actually Jason… I didn’t ask you here today just to check on your core. Or because I’m technically your king and I can,” Danny said.

Ah yeah that. Jason knew that because he was dead Danny was technically like, royalty to him. But it had never really clicked since he never acted all high and mighty like that whenever they were together. Which was a lot. But now that Danny mentioned it… he technically could have have power over Jason that he could use whenever he wanted.

His cheeks burned a bit more at that, his core reacting the same way it did before. He really needed to get more control over the sending out core vibes thing because Danny reacted to it again.

The Ghost King’s cheeks grew pink, “I didn’t know you were into that,” he said, leaning back in his chair, the motion causing light to reflect off of his hair like stars, “I wanted to talk to you because your core has been flirting with me non stop since we started your reconstruction therapy.”

Ah fuck. Jason knew Danny was hot but his core was really betraying him by telling him that.

He looked away, embarrassed. Admittedly, it wasn’t like the thought to flirt hadn’t ever crossed his mind. After Babs, with come help from Cass, really explained what polyamory was to him, he had entertained the idea once just to see what would happen but Jason very honestly didn’t know if he liked the idea himself or if it was just his core longing to be close to its king. Or at least that what he was telling himself

“Listen I’m not mad Jason,” Danny said. Jason felt cold fingers brush his cheek to turn his head to face the man. His body reacted the same way if always did when Danny touched his chest for reconstruction. Like a very pleasant bolt of lightning had stuck him, the buzz spreading throughout his body.

Jason knew Danny was a touchy kind of person and he had accepted that but god fucking damn it was still a lot of physical feeling from one touch that he wasn’t used to.

Jason had dated other guys before. He had been more than close and personal with a few. But touch was always a dull feeling when it came to anybody. Danny was the only person he could really… feel. Like back when he was alive. Every touch felt real and not disconnected. He could actually feel the pressure of a hand on his skin and the tingle of when skin brushed his own. It was… electrifying for the lack of a better term.

“I just want to talk about it,” Danny said.

Jason didn’t know how to talk. He didn’t even really know how he felt. He was running on pure instinct and LOTS of willpower to fight said instinct.

“Danny, I- don’t know how-,” Jason started, not really knowing how to communicate into words about it. Clearly he didn’t have to as he could tell his core had betrayed him again.

“It’s okay. I can talk. And if I say anything you don’t like or agree with, you can let me know. How’s that?” Danny asked. It was right about now Jason noticed that Danny hadn’t let go of his face and he was really close. His core liked that. And honestly, so did he. Jason didn’t mind staring into those big blue eyes for a bit. He nodded.

“I like you Jason,” Danny started. Jason’s core? Loved that. But Jason’s brain and probably his heart was waiting for the “but.”

“And so does my core. I think you are good for me,” Danny continued. There was no “but.” It made Jason’s innards do a fucking somersault into the splits.

“Wait you do?” Jason asked, studying Danny’s face. He was still blushing which was a good sign but sometimes you just need to be sure and double check you know?

Danny nodded, making Jason’s core buzz excitedly. Now up until this moment, Jason was very much repressing his own thoughts when it came to Danny. He was slow to catch up when it came to, well, feelings. Well let’s just say Jason was all caught up now. And his cheeks were burning as his lips curled into a smirk.

Jason felt a very strong core response from his king, full of flustered and dare he say lustful emotion that made his core and his chest burn with a desire to pull towards him.

Jason was no good with words. Terrible infact. And Danny knew that about him. So if he had any chance of communicating effectively, he had to take his foot off the brake and let his instinct do what it wanted.

“I’m about to do something stupid,” Jason warned. And then he pulled Danny closer into a kiss.

He felt Danny’s core purr in response as Jason’s lips felt like they were dancing on lightning. Everything felt right. He let his core say whatever the hell it wanted because it knew what to do. He just focused on how right right everything felt.

After they broke apart from the kiss, mostly because Jason needed air in a way Danny really didn’t, he locked eyes with the gorgeous man in front of him. Now that he wasn’t restraining himself, he was letting himself take in Danny’s beauty.

“Be my boyfriend,” Danny breathed, an icy sensation tickled Jason’s ear as Danny’s breath left the slightest bit of an icy fog in the air.

“Deal,” Jason responded, his breath catching up.

Jason’s body burned with sensation and he wondered if this was what being alive felt like and Danny pulled him into another deep kiss and hurriedly dragged him to a bedroom.

…

Extra:

Bruce at some point after all this: Where are all of my children?

Alfred: Well sir, almost half of them are at the Fenton household at the moment and the others…

Bruce didn’t even listen to the rest, he just sighed. He should have known. Fentons had that effect. He still remembered Jack from college.

[withahappyrefrain]

First off, this was beautiful. The relationship between Bradley and Smart Aleck is so amazing but also so realistic. Like their conversations are similar to ones I've had with my own husband. The chemistry is off the charts and I simply cannot get enough of them.

Also them being domestic?!?! Getting ready for a vacation?!?! My heart my heart!!

And now for my ramblings below:

But honestly it's so realistic that he fell asleep I don't blame him

Home - where he could finally wake up next to you and have you be right here - not an ocean apart. Bradley already dreaded the next time he’d have to leave you. 

IM ALREADY CRYING 😭

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg. 

SIRRRRRR THE SWITCH??? from needing to cuddle her to THIS? Deceased.

“But I woke up beside you, so I can’t be too angry.” You leaned in to kiss him. “It’d be impossible to be angry now, actually.” 

I love them so much they're too cute your honor 😭😭😭

That tattoo gets me Everytime my heart breaks every time

He groaned. Fuck. He couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend who said stuff like that. It was like something out of a wet dream. “You seriously only took your fingers the entire time I was gone?” You nodded. “Good girl.”

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Him making her an audiobook I'm dead. Not just because that's hot as hell, but also the fact he wants to do research into the dynamic and make it right/good for her????? Like???! Bradley Bradshaw, the man that you are!!!

God, he would love missionary for how close it lets him be. A romantic at heart! I love him. Also love how he's obsessed with her tits like yes girl, get it!

This fic is making me feel much better about gaining some weight, thank you for your service

She's dimming the light?! Baby girl he loves you, he loves your body!!! 😭😭 I feel for her, I feel her so hard. Also I really love that you gave her a struggle that so many of us have gone through. Like your insecurities don't just magically vanish when you're in a loving relationship, it takes time and work and I know Smart Aleck will get there!

Stop shaking the thought away Bradley! God, he's so close, so freaking close to figuring it out!!! And in a way I like that it takes him time because that's realistic but I still want to shake them both

Her not knowing what to wear 😭😭 God this is hitting me so hard. And Bradley is just trying to be supportive!! Honestly surprised I haven't cried yet because I feel her so much

You've also convinced me that yes, Maverick is Bradley's dad. I love that smart Aleck has a relationship with him as well!

Bradley's right, if I met a 30 year old man who went by Teddy, it would be an immediate red flag. Also the way he's so protective of her and Amelia?! My heart can't take much more Jordan 😭😭

THE PHONE SEX?!?!?! JORDAN ELIZABETH (idk your middle name, I'm just inserting one bc holy shit that was hot and entirely too short God, do they need a third??? Asking for a friend).

“Yeah?” Granted, if you kept rutting against each other like this, he’d probably cum in his shorts - there really wasn’t a lot of substance to the running shorts he was wearing - but god. He needed to sink inside you. 

THE WAY HE IS SO DESPERATE AND NEEDY FOR HER JORDAN I AM FERAL. FERAL!

Good. Then he wasn’t going to apologize for what he was about to do. Because Bradley had to fuck you, he had to be inside you right now. Something about you and being off and those tights and that dress and his run and the subsequent endorphin rush. 

OH MY GOD ITS THIS SCENE THE ONE YOU TALKED ABOUT

Idly, he recalled the jibe he had ignored from Hangman the other day regarding his leave: not all of us have rich girlfriends to take us on two week vacations.

Jake, that sounds like a personal problem my dude.

Hi, can I personally slap her mom?? Smart Aleck, Bradley loves your curves!! 😭😭I need the next part, I need Bradley to remind her she is more than her body, that he loves her no matter what size she is!!

rocketman: part iii - Some things Cosmic

Summary: finally back home, bradley can focus on all the things he's missed while he's been gone. there's someone there to properly welcome him home, frantic reunion sex, prepping for an amazing vacation, family dinners, and the casual intimacy he's come to love between the two of you. but there's still something up with you and he can't quite figure it out. it'll be fine, right? catch up with [part 1] and [part 2]

OR sex, s'mores, and secrets

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 18.5k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, body insecurity, suggestive dialogue, suggestive content, and sexual content (oral (f + m receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, dom/sub influence, and praise, rank, and degradation kink). also on ao3!

i want to be naked, i don’t mean my body, i don’t need my body i’m floating away

Bradley startled awake sometime later. It happened sometimes. He had these dreams were it felt like he was falling. Out of his plane, out of the sky, out of your arms. Falling and falling - with no end in sight. 

That wasn’t to say that they were necessarily nightmares or anything. (Because the distinction between the two was glaringly obvious.) 

They just unnerved him a bit. Left him unsettled, untethered. 

He rolled over and stretched his arm out across the bed, until his fingers brushed against something silky. Something warm and silky. He turned his head to find you sprawled out next to him.

You had changed between now and when Bradley had last seen you - he glanced at the clock on his nightstand - seven hours ago. 

Fuck. 

He had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. 

Goddammit, he felt like an asshole. He rubbed his hands over his face, sighing. This was the last thing he had wanted to happen, especially after what you two talked about earlier that evening. 

You’d give us your wild? Of course. Of course, of course, of course he would. 

Like you knew he was thinking about you, you shifted your hips, inching closer towards him. Your body was only half under the thick duvet cover and top sheet, so even in the early morning light he could still see the navy nightie you were wearing. 

Bradley liked to think that you had stowed it away someplace and changed downstairs in order to surprise him in bed. Except now he’d never know because he had fallen asleep on you. God, he was the worst boyfriend. 

Tonight, the night three months in the making, he had missed cuddling and kissing and all the best parts of getting cozy in bed with you because he had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. And sure, he had gotten a taste of what was to come on the couch while you laid underneath him and drew imaginary shapes across his chest with your finger and he held you tight and counted your heartbeats. 

But this was supposed to have been a big deal. It was the first time you both went to bed in the same room without the fear that you’d be leaving in the morning or later in the week to go back to your highrise. You were both home. Really, truly home. 

Home - where he could finally wake up next to you and have you be right here - not an ocean apart. Bradley already dreaded the next time he’d have to leave you. 

There was a future with you. There was that little boy - or little girl - from your dream. The perfect mix of you and Bradley. 

(Don’t ever be a Rocket Man. I mean it. 

When you’re out there you want to be here, and when you’re here you want to be out there. 

Promise me you won’t be like me.)

Suddenly, there was this overwhelming urge inside him that if he didn’t touch you and have you in his arms, that he’d slip away, back to space. Untethered. 

You kept him on the ground. You kept him safe. 

Bradley scooted over towards your side of the bed and wrapped his arms around you, unable to bear another moment untethered. There, that was better. You were soft and warm and felt so precious in his arms. And with your nightie rucked up around your hips and one leg extended out and the other hiked up, your body was on full display. 

Easy access.

Your thighs were so fucking soft and curvy and he desperately wanted to slot himself right between them. Have them bracket his head, while his tongue lapped at your pretty pussy. 

Would he start there? Eat you out until you were begging for his cock? Have you grind on his lap…until you were begging for his cock? Or…just generally begging for his cock? 

They all seemed appealing, but admittedly kissing you until you were breathless and then rocking his body above yours until you were both tumbling over the edge had plenty of merit, too. Bradley wanted to treat you like you were precious first. 

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg. 

But that brought him back to the present. Could he wake you up, now? Bradley knew you’d been stressed and busy ever since your mom had come to town and because of all you’d confessed earlier; so, would it be fair to wake you? You hadn’t woken him up, afterall.

After an indeterminate amount of time of just holding you and watching you breathe, you rolled your bare ass against Bradley’s crotch and let out a pleased hum. He gave your hip a squeeze and you burrowed even deeper in his arms. Your skin was softer than the silk nightie you were wearing and he could feel the heat pouring off your body.

He slipped his hand down to knead your ass and you sighed. “Hmm, da-dley? Bubba?”

“Hey, kid.” He kissed your neck. 

Once you were a little more lucid and opened your eyes, you pulled your nightie down to cover your ass, though that didn’t stop Bradley from playing with the lace hem. 

You rolled over so you were now face to face and wrapped your right leg around his left. 

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

You cupped his cheek. “Wanted you to sleep, you looked so tired. Pretty too.” 

It was dark in the room at five thirty-eight, but not completely pitch black, so Bradley could still make out your soft features. You had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the three months he had been gone. It wasn’t obvious, not at first, and not to anyone who wasn’t really paying attention. 

But it was obvious to Bradley because Bradley always paid attention.

“Well,” he kissed your forehead then your nose, “I’m still sorry, especially after what we talked about earlier, should’ve stayed up for you.” 

“But I woke up beside you, so I can’t be too angry.” You leaned in to kiss him. “It’d be impossible to be angry now, actually.” 

He hitched your right leg higher over his hip and groaned when he could feel your core through his joggers. You squirmed against him, cheeky little thing. But with his joggers and t-shirt still on, Bradley was definitely overheated and the sweat was building at the back of his neck, to say nothing about the heat your body was giving off. 

As if reading his mind, you grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly dragged your fingers up his stomach, stopping at both his happy trail and then the patch of hair in the middle of his chest, before taking the t-shirt off completely. A soft thud rang out when you’d thrown it across the room and it presumably landed on the floor. 

“You gonna take these off, too?” He slipped a finger under the waistband of his joggers. 

“Been dying to all night - hips up, Bradshaw.” 

Bradley arched his back and helped you slide his joggers down his legs, taking his boxer briefs with them. Your gaze lingered on his body for a long moment, but you just gave him a coy little smile. 

“Fuck,” he sighed in relief, “How’d you let me sleep in those?” 

“How’d you fall asleep on me?”

“You got me drunk!” 

“Not my fault you’re suddenly a lightweight - Bradley!” 

He pinched your side and you wiggled away from him with a shriek. “Uh uh, not so fast.” 

Bradley pulled you close again, desperate to be nearer to you. You tangled your legs together and pointed your torso towards his, but remained perched on your elbow, while he was laying down flat.  

Suddenly somber, your eyes were drawn back to his body and he just let you look - drink him in and see what you had missed over the last few months. Every new freckle, scar, bruise, age line. 

Bradley couldn’t wait to do the same. What had he missed? What was different?

He could feel your eyes lingering on his abs. Normally, you remarked on his thighs and shoulders, but tonight it seemed you had a different focus. You appeared hesitant, biting your lip, as you dragged your finger across his stomach. 

Did you like how he looked - how he had changed in your time apart?

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered, almost to yourself. 

Bradley kissed you and returned the compliment. “And you’ve gotten even more beautiful since I’ve been gone.” 

You appeared bashful at the comment, which just let Bradley know he’d have to give you more of them over the next few weeks. “Come ‘ere.” Without waiting for a response, Bradley started pressing kisses all over your face, your cheeks, your neck, your lips. If it was possible at this point, he drew your body even closer.

“Bra-adley! We have an entire bed here, you know?” You giggled when he rubbed his nose into your neck.

“Mmmm, but it’s nice and warm here.”

You scooched down on the bed on your stomach so you were looking up at him. With a smile, you began to press languid kisses across his chest, starting just above his belly-button and creeping up to his pecs, heart, and shoulders. You loved his shoulders, you always managed to notch your head there during sex and press little kisses to the scars dotting them and his neck. Bites, too - marks to prove he was yours.

But tonight, it seemed you had a different path in mind and, while you still nipped at his shoulder, you didn’t stop there and instead went straight to the small tattoo on his bicep. You traced your fingers across the roman numerals:

x x x i x

Thirty-nine. 

As in thirty-nine years old. An age neither of his parents ever got to see. 

Bradley had gotten the tattoo when he was in flight school and a bit of a shit with self destructive tendencies. People never really asked what it meant and he never really wanted to tell anyone. 

He’d told Ezra, right around the time when they first started talking about moving in together, before that spectacularly failed. He also told Nat. However, the latter was only because he was drunk and pissed and he had just made lieutenant, once again surpassing his father in something.

Maverick had seen it about a year ago. He had never asked Bradley what it meant and probably never wanted to have it confirmed what it meant. But to anyone who really knew Bradley, it was easy to put together.

Bradley had told you about it on your fourth date. 

It was the second time you’d slept together. Because while your first time had been frantic and had taken you both by surprise (you, in particular, were freaked out that you’d slept with someone on the first date without a condom), the second time was much slower - softer. 

You had planned the date this time. Bradley had picked you up at your apartment - he even had come upstairs to get you - with flowers - and the two of you had dinner at Callie, followed by a performance at the San Diego Symphony. It was actually thanks to one of Bradley’s fun facts about playing the piano that you had gotten the idea. 

Both of you had gotten dressed up (a big departure from your third date hike in Torrey Pines), the food and drinks had been plentiful and delicious, and listening to Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major and Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 was made all the more romantic by the way Bradley held your hand for the entire first piece and had his hand on your thigh for the entire second.

So, after eating you out on your kitchen counter and going two rounds in bed, Bradley had told you what the tattoo meant and about his parents and Maverick and you had told him about your mom and your accident during your junior year of high school. 

And if you had asked Bradley, it was after that date that he knew he was going to fall in love with you. 

It hadn’t felt scary to tell you any of it. It felt right and natural. Like you wouldn’t judge him or get scared when things got hard. Like he wanted to protect you at all costs. 

And because he had told you what the tattoo meant, it made the moments since when you’d really focus and hone in on it all the more sweeter. During this last deployment, Bradley had often felt like the ink was burning into his skin under his flight-suit. It kept reminding him that he had once thought he had a timeline or a stopwatch on his bicep, slowly ticking down. But with you, it was something to strive towards, to reach beyond and be there for LIX, LXXXIX, and even XCIX. 

“What’s it like flying at night?” Your question snapped him out of his thoughts and you pressed another kiss to his tattoo to calm him. “I kept thinking about it on my flight to London. And how you must see this all the time, is it still a big deal? Can you even stop and think about it? Just endless night with thousands of stars to guide you? Being in the middle of the ocean, nothing around for hundreds of miles.”

(What’s it like, out in space?

It’s the best thing in a lifetime of best things - oh, it’s really nothing at all. 

But you always go back.)

“You’d never thought about it before?” his voice came out thick, hoarse. 

You shrugged a shoulder. “Not in that way, I guess? I couldn’t sleep on the way to London, so I pulled up the shade in the middle of the night. I’ve never really thought to do it before, don’t know why - but then I saw all those stars, endless stars, thousands of them. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Your finger stopped tracing patterns on his arm for a moment before it started again. “And I though to myself this is what Bradley sees. This is why he loves it and for that brief blip in time I got it. I understood. Makes me love you even more in some way.” 

Bradley felt like he was going to cry, the feeling swept over him so suddenly. “I uhh - fuck.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you sounded contrite, “I just wanted you to know.”

Could he tell you? Could he tell you that flying at night with all the stars in the sky simultaneously made him feel closer to and yet farther away from his parents? It was like they were right there, but also so far out of reach. But he didn’t say any of that. He couldn’t say any of that, not now. The words couldn’t come.

Instead, he pulled you closer, putting your face at level with his own. “I love you.”

You smiled and he could’ve sworn there were tears in your eyes, but it was hard to make out in the darkness. “I love you, too. Now please kiss me.”

Bradley let out a chuckle, but leaned in to kiss you without another word. The kiss was sweet, but still had an underlying desperation attached to it that came with being away for months. But unlike every other kiss you’d shared since Bradley had gotten home, there was no need to stop or to prevent it from going further. No, now you were his. He could have you however he wanted.

Not breaking the kiss, you shifted and bracketed your thighs on either side of his hips, allowing him to slide his hands up your body. He’d never get tired of thinking it, but god, you were so fucking soft. Your hips, your thighs, your breasts, your hands, your lips - actually…

His next words were grunted against your neck. “Your lips are really soft - softer than normal,” he finished when you went to interrupt him. 

“Must be my lip mask. I put it on after I saw that you fell asleep on me…”

“Hey, hey,” he tickled your sides and you collapsed on his chest amidst your giggles, “I said you should’ve woken me up!”

“Would you have woken me up?” You had him there. “See? This way I could stare at you uninterrupted and get all moony over you. Plus, now isn’t this better? No more sleepy bubs.”

No. He was definitely awake now. And from where your core was laid on his bare stomach, he could already feel how wet your were and couldn’t wait to slip inside you. 

“‘Could kiss you for hours,” you said against his lips. You kissed him - once, twice, ten times, smiling all the while. He never wanted you to stop. “Bradley,” you whined, “Need you inside me. Gotta get used to you again. ‘m so tight.” You nipped his earlobe. 

He groaned. Fuck. He couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend who said stuff like that. It was like something out of a wet dream. “You seriously only took your fingers the entire time I was gone?” You nodded. “Good girl.”

You preened under the praise. Because it surely had to have been a bit of a challenge. “Yours are so much bigger, though.” Bradley rolled his eyes at your cheeky tone. “What’re you gonna think up for me to do next time you’re gone? Like what you talked about earlier?” You didn’t linger too much on the next time part of your question, so he didn’t either.

“Hmmm. What about tasks?”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, I’d have to do more research, but like you have to wear xyz or send me a picture of you doing something? Whatever we want.”

You nuzzled his neck. “Mmmmm, I like that. Wish we could really talk when you’re gone, though. I’m not sure I could handle every comms officer hearing what I need from you again…”

An idea suddenly struck Bradley. It was amazing he hadn’t thought of it before. “Maybe I can make you an audiobook?”

Your jaw dropped and you contorted your body to look up at him. “You’d do that? Seriously?”

His cheeks colored. “I mean, not like an actual one, but like a voice memo or something?” The idea didn’t sound nearly as good out loud as it did in his head. “If you wanted…”

“Oh my god, yes! I very much do want.”

Without another word, Bradley rolled you both over so now he was on top, knees bracketing your hips so as to not put his full weight on you. Your nightie was still covering your stomach and breasts, but that didn’t stop him from snaking his hands underneath the navy silk to play with them. They felt fuller than normal - not that he was complaining, but he hadn’t noticed earlier and now -

His cock brushed against your stomach in a way that had you bucking up against him, so desperate, so keen, so fucking good. Good girl. Your lips were eager against his as you poured every thought, every email, every Facetime call into your kiss. 

God, it had been so long. Fooling around on the couch earlier in the evening paled in comparison to how plump your lips felt and how keenly your body reacted to his. Because you felt so good. Months, weeks, days had passed and Bradley had never felt anything as good as your body beneath his. 

You sighed and squirmed up the bed so your head was laid across the pillows, all the while Bradley made his way down the bed. 

“More, bubs, please.” 

How could he refuse, especially when you had asked so nicely? He bent forward to give you a sloppy kiss on the lips before working his way down your body, from your neck and collarbones, to your breasts through your nightie, and finally to right below your belly-button. From there, you readily allowed him to bend your knees so your feet were planted firmly on the bed and your core was completely exposed to him. 

Even in the early morning light it was exquisite. You had the prettiest pussy Bradley had ever seen - and it was his, all his.

“Fucking gorgeous.” 

You startled at the first touch of his lips on your thighs, but let out the prettiest little sigh when he sucked on the skin by your birthmark. There was another as he licked along one of your lightning lines. And another as he kissed the hood of your clit. 

God, you smelled so fucking good and were groomed just the way he liked it -  like the perfect, obedient, good girl that you were. And perfect, obedient, good girls got their pussy played with until they were babbling like dumb little sluts.

“- Would have thought this would be your first stop?”

Bradley chuckled, but didn’t stop dragging his fingers across your inner thighs and lower lips. “Yeah? What, d’you think I’d do? Just dive right in? Take you on the kitchen table?”

“I would’ve let you.”

Once the words had sunk in, he stopped teasing you. His elbows gave out beneath him and he groaned with his face pressed against the sheets. Fuck. That was a conversation for another time, but just the thought of you letting Bradley basically use you had him grinding his hips into the mattress.

You were so good. 

He popped his head back up and slapped you - lightly - across your pussy. “You keep saying shit like that and next time I just might.”

In response, you arched your back and tried to close your legs around his head, but Bradley just tutted and spread them further.

“Uh-uh, need to have a look at her, I've gone three months without her.” Your hips jumped off the mattress as his fingers started playing with you, tracing circles over and dipping in and out of your cunt. “‘pretty pussy. She took such good care of you while I was gone, didn’t she? Look at you dripping for me, huh?”

His fingers scissored inside of you, dragging against your walls, while his thumb needled your clit. Your wetness spread across his fingers and he, in turn, spread it across your folds and inner thighs. He liked when you were messy. He liked to feel you all over his face.

“Bradley,” you whined. “Stop teasing.”

Neither of you really wanted that, so it didn’t even merit a response from him. Instead, he kept sliding his fingers inside you in and out, in and out and crooked them ever so slightly before he added a third. Above him, you gasped and jolted. 

“‘Atta girl, arch your back, just like that.” You whimpered at his praise and kept rocking your hips in tandem with his fingers. Fucking glorious, such a good girl for da -

“- Bradley…” He peered up to see that you had one arm over your eyes, while the other was pawing at your breasts through your nightie.

“God, you’re sucking on my fingers so tight, I would believe you’ve taken anything up this pretty pussy in months.”

“‘Want your mouth, please, please…” 

“Where?” his voice was muffled. Bradley sucked his lips around your thigh, right by your labia, but refrained from kissing you were you wanted him most. He wanted to mark you up everywhere, have your thighs and breasts and neck covered in little bites and bruises. 

Mine. Mine. Mine. 

Good. Good. Good. 

You whined. It sounded pathetic and he had barely even started. “My pussy. Please, Bradley? Please?”

Who was he to deny you? Because, god, you tasted so fucking good. It was hard not to absolutely devour you, especially after going for so long without you. Bradley slid his hands down from your hips to grab your ass and rut your cunt deeper against his face. As a reward, he got a slew of pretty little whimpers out of you.

He continued at a steady pace, alternating between probing your clit and slipping his tongue inside you. Above him, you arched your back and he pressed a firm hand on your stomach to keep you down. 

“Bradley,” you cried as you rode his face. 

God, you sounded so pretty now, he couldn’t wait to get you on his cock later. 

Pretty girl. 

Smart girl. 

Good girl. 

His girl with a body like Aphrodite. 

“Ahhh - fuc - ahhh.” You made that sound and he knew, without even looking up, that your head was tipped back in pleasure and you were close. “Bubs,” your voice came out small, “want you - inside me, now.”

“Uh-uh.” Bradley pulled his head back, but continued fingering you. “You need to come first.” 

Come on his face. 

You shook your head frantically against the pillow. “No.” You gasped when he purposely plunged his fingers deeper. “‘wanna with you - ahh inside me.”

Somehow you grabbed the hand he had pressed on your stomach and you dragged it up your body. His knuckles brushed against the silk of your nightie until you eventually pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your interlocked fingers. And all Bradley could do was say your name in censure, which ultimately came out heavy with need.

“Please? Want it to be together our first time back.” You whined pitifully. “Haven’t touched myself in days.”

All you had to do was pout and he was gone. 

“Fine,” he smacked your thigh, “but I’m gonna make you come again after I finish inside you.”

“Yes, yes, anything, Bradley.”

You would be spent and whiny by then, it wouldn’t be hard. 

After swirling his fingers once more around in your cum, Bradley held his fingers up to your mouth for you to clean them off. “That good?” You hummed around the digits before he retracted them and tapped your cheek twice. “Atta girl.”

Next, he shifted up on the bed so his knees were straddling your waist. He was achingly hard at this point and bit back a smile as you made grabby hands for his cock. It pulsed in your grasp and you swiped your thumb over the slit to rub his pre-cum over the head. Fuck, that felt divine. While you may have relished how much larger his fingers were than yours, Bradley loved how large his cock looked in your smaller hands. However, he’d already let your tender touches go on long enough - another minute and he’d come all over that silk nightie you hadn’t taken off yet.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” Your eyes were wide and you nodded. 

Trusting, needy, desperate. Such a perfect girl for him. 

“Wanna be full.”

He brushed the head of his cock against your pussy lips, making sure it was nice and wet and, god, you were fucking soaked and practically sucked him in. You whimpered and muttered something indistinguishable, but wrapped your arms around his shoulders and canted your hips up for more. Then, once Bradley slipped just the tip of his cock inside you, you gasped, but brought him closer. Your nails dug into his shoulders, hopefully pressing little crescents into the skin. He pulled back and slid in again, inch by inch, earning a breathy gasp from you every time. 

Holyfuckingshit. You were so tight. So fucking tight, even after prepping you with his tongue and fingers. 

Yours are so much bigger, though your voice echoed through his head. 

You were so fucking soft and warm and wet and felt perfect around him. With each thrust he’d grunt out your name and you in turn would give a whiny Bradley and eventually wrapped your legs around his hips. And then you were also clenching down on him like you’d spent the entire three months doing kegel exercises. 

“Fuck, you made me so hard - thinking about how much of a good girl you were while I was away, keeping this nice and tight for me,” he barely got the words out. 

“‘do anything for - for you. ‘d let you do anything to - mmhmm - me,” you finished with a whimper. 

Fuck. Your unwavering trust in Bradley always took him aback. Because you meant it. You really would let him do anything to you. If you had the slightest inclination that it would please him, you would do it. He had never had someone who trusted him that much. And that wasn’t something he took lightly. 

With that thought in mind, he snapped his hips against yours in a particularly hard thrust that had you crying out. 

“Mmm harder.”

He bent down to suck on your neck. This - the closeness - was why he liked missionary so much. It was perfect for this exact moment. There was plenty of time to take you hard and fast later.

“Oh, god. Feel so full - Bradley, Bra - Bradley!” With every utterance of his name, he drove deeper inside you. Harder inside you. You’d ride him next time, he’d make sure of it. But for now, breathing each other’s air, gasping against each other’s mouth, and feeling the sweat on each other’s brow, being so impossibly close to each other, it was hard to say where Bradley’s soul ended and yours started. 

Yours and mine are the same. 

He groaned your name and you opened your eyes to gaze up at him with an almost dazed expression. Grabbing the back of your knee, Bradley went in at a different angle, trying to get deeper. “Feel how much your little hole’s dripping? Just needed me to stretch you out again.”

“Mmmmm yes, yes, da-dley - ahhhh,” you cried out, “can I come? Please, please?”

Oh, you were such a good girl for him. Asking so nicely, so prettily. So properly. Thank god he had prepped you, he wasn’t going to last much longer, himself. It was kind of pathetic. Both of you were, to be frank. Obviously, you more than him in this instance, but -

“‘Course. There you go, sweetheart, come on my cock like a good girl.”

When you finally came a few moments later, it was with a strangled cry of his name that Bradley swore was the most beautiful sound he’d heard in months. As the shudder of pleasure swept over you and you tightened your core around him, Bradley hastened to find his own release. The slew of cries and whimpers against his lips as you tried to settle down only spurred him on further. He drove into you again and again and again. 

He had to get there with you - had to. You clung to him and notched your head by his neck, only to graze your lips along the tender skin there and bite. 

“Fuck,” he grunted. “‘You ready for me to come inside you, sweetheart? Know how much you missed it.”

You nodded against his neck. “Yes,” you whispered, “Bradley, please…”

He groaned your name. It sounded so good like that, so perfect. He had to say it again and again and again. With each stroke, your overstimulated pussy fluttered around him, pulling him towards his own orgasm. His jaw clenched and his back muscles tightened and Bradley could barely support his own weight over you for another moment - 

“‘s good, bubs, feel so full.”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was it. That did it. 

With a final moan of your name, Bradley came inside you, painting your pussy with his cum. His cocked twitched one final time as the last streams of cum filled you up. He notched his head against your shoulder and he breathed in your sweet scent. 

Goddamn. 

Once he settled down and caught his breath sometime later, he moved to pull out, knowing that when he did so, both your cum would drip down your thighs. Your gorgeous, thick thighs. He already needed to get lost in them again. And wasn’t that just the thing? Bradley was obsessed with you. He could never get enough of you.

“No, no, not yet,” you whimpered. 

He stopped and pulled you closer, but slightly changed your position. There was some perverse part of him that wanted to make a comment about keeping you on his cock for the rest of the morning so you could get used to him again, but he refrained after thinking about the tone of your voice. You sounded so fucking good and docile and submissive. Such a good girl. 

“Pretty sure you owe me another one…” You burrowed your head against his neck and moaned when he shifted. “How ‘bout I stay inside you? ‘That okay?” You nodded and your pussy tightened against him. “Good girl.”

Keeping you close, Bradley slid one hand in between your bodies to play with your throbbing clit. You arched your back up towards him, trying in vain to get closer, though that was nigh impossible - the two of you were already as close as two people could be. 

Yours and mine are the same.

He needled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it back and forth, trying to get some moans and whines out of you. God, your body felt unreal. Still so warm around him, still so wet for him. All for him. 

Mine, mine, mine. 

As your body shifted, your pebbled nipples brushed against his bare chest and Bradley was remiss for not playing more attention to them earlier. But that could’ve been because you were still wearing that goddamn nightie. You were flustered and warm and your skin was glistening with the slightest sheen of sweat. 

He bent his head down and mouthed at your breasts through the midnight blue silk. They were already hardened to peaks, desperate to be suckled on, especially after noting their new size. There would be time for that later, he had to remind himself. 

For now, he nipped at the top of your cleavage and kept playing with your clit. You were so oversensitive, you were practically shaking in his arms. And in response, you raked your hands through Bradley’s hair, pulling on the strands. Fuck him. That felt divine, especially as he felt you tighten around him. 

“Brad-ley,” you whimpered, “’s too much.”

“Shhh, easy, easy, there’s no rush.” He tipped your chin up. “You want me to stop?” You shook your head. “Take a deep breath. That's it. Good girl.”

Little whimpers kept escaping your mouth, but you burrowed your face against his neck and trusted him to take care of you. You nipped at the skin there and he hoped it would leave a mark; let everyone know that he was yours and only yours for the next few weeks. 

Mine, mine, mine.

“I’ve got to take care of you, you were such a good girl while I was gone. My best girl, huh?”

“Mmmm.”

“So beautiful, so smart. Took such good care of things for me, huh?” He could feel as well as hear your breath hitching, letting him know that you were close. “‘gorgeous girl, so proud of you, sweet g -”

And that did it. 

So proud of you.

You came with a cry and your walls fluttered around his cock once again. A sudden gush of wetness coated both yours and Bradley’s thighs. God, it was beautiful. You were beautiful. Your name kept running through his mind and Bradley realized he was actually muttering it against your lips through kisses. There were tears in your eyes and he thumbed them away before they could slide down your beautiful face.

“Hey, too much?” He kissed your cheeks, which unfortunately only made more tears spring from your eyes. “I didn’t hurt you, right?” 

“No, no,” you shook your head, “I just missed you so much, think I’m overwhelmed,” you finished sheepishly. 

The tension in Bradley’s shoulders eased and he smiled down at you. “Now you’re gonna make me cry, kid.”

“I love you.” The words came out quietly, but it was like they’d only just come out of your mouth before Bradley was saying them back. 

“Love you, too.” The smile he got out of you warmed his heart and he pecked your lips before tucking your head under his chin.

The two of you laid there for some time with Bradley still inside you. In fact, he was pretty certain you may have dozed off at one point, but he didn’t want you to be too uncomfortable when you woke up later. With that in mind, he slowly pulled out and settled you on the bed beside him. You fussed a little, but Bradley kissed your forehead, heading it off. 

He started with your name, “I’ll be right back, okay? Going to the bathroom.” You nodded at him, your eyes wide and trusting. 

It was chilly out of bed, away from you, and Bradley only paused for a brief moment to slip on a pair of his sleep shorts from the dresser, before heading off to the bathroom to get a damp towel for you. He hastened back to the bedroom, now almost fully lit in the early morning light. You made such a pretty picture all tucked under the thick, white duvet. 

“Bradley?” You stretched out underneath the covers and let out a little whimper. “‘m sore.”

“Shit, sorry,” he said with your special nickname tacked on the end. “Come ‘ere.” Despite his words, he came to you and dutifully cleaned you up with the warm cloth. 

“‘s not your fault,” you slurred, “need to get used to it again. Missed you.”

The cloth passed over your thighs once, twice, three times, before Bradley brushed it against your core once, twice, three times. You sighed and gave him a lazy smile, which he easily returned. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Be right back,” he whispered. 

You’d barely managed to get back under the covers by the time he came back from the bathroom. And then, with all the care and love you deserved at the moment, he bundled you up in his arms. You were so warm and smelled so pretty and your nightie felt so soft against his rough fingers. Everything about that moment was perfect. You were so precious. You pressed your cheek against his chest and he hoped you could tell how fast his heart was beating. 

“I missed being with you like this, missed holding you.”

You pressed lazy kisses to his chest for a moment before you eventually tipped your head up to meet his eyes. “Can we stay like this? Just for a while? Don’t wanna get up yet.”

“‘Course,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “go back to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

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

When Bradley woke hours later, he did so slowly. He was pleasantly warm, he was finally sleeping on a true mattress, and you were slotted between his legs sucking his cock. 

Surely, there were few better ways to wake up than to have your sweet lips wrapped around him. It wasn’t something you did often, at least in terms of waking Bradley up this way, but he loved whenever you took the initiative. It showed how eager you were - how desperate. Really, the only thing that could top it would be your pussy sunk deep on his cock as you rode him.

You had to have been at it for a while, for he was achingly hard by this point. His hips bucked up, thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth and you let out a surprised moan, no doubt having thought he was still sleeping, before taking him further. Your tight grip on his thighs left him relatively grounded, else he would have set off a round of those gagging noises from you that he liked so much. That wet mouth that he liked so much - fuck. 

Bradley groaned your name. You peered up at him with those wide, innocent eyes like you weren’t getting him off while he slept. Like your pussy wasn’t soaking. Like you hadn’t been grinding it against his bare thigh for the last however many minutes. 

And you kept at it with Bradley’s hand grabbing your hair and guiding you. You kept working him, forcing him deeper down your throat. He moaned and you responded back in kind. Such a good mouth, such a good girl, taking care of him like this. It took him a moment to realize he was doing it, but he was mumbling your name, almost nonsensically. 

But then he felt, rather than saw, you remove one of your hands from his thighs to presumably put it between your legs to play with your needy pussy. And that just wouldn’t do.

“Fuck. Get up here,” he said and then punctuated it with a growl of your name when you stayed down. The whimper you let out had him bucking his hips up off the mattress. “I’m serious.”

Almost begrudgingly, you eased him out of your mouth and the resulting, wet pop echoed throughout the bedroom. You looked far too pleased with yourself as you sucked on your finger - the one that had definitely been shoved up your pussy only moments ago - and hummed in response. 

“Get up here - now.”

You braced yourself on either side of Bradley’s hips and teasingly brushed your pussy against his aching cock a couple times, practically begging for him to sink inside you. It would be so easy for you to ride him right now, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Bossy, bossy,” you teased and crept up his body, pressing kisses to his happy trail and chest along the way. But just as you were about to kiss him on the lips, he stopped you.

“Uh uh.” He stuck his finger in the air and mimed a circle. “Turn around.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Are you…” Again, just Bradley twirled his finger around and smiled. “F-fine.” 

“But,” at this you relaxed your thighs to press more of your weight on his stomach, “you have to take this off,” he finished by thumbing the navy fabric of your nightie. 

It only took a moment for the smile to creep across your face, but you didn’t take your eyes off Bradley’s as you slid the dainty straps off your shoulders, one at a time. You didn’t take the nightie off, it still covered all of your stomach, but it let Bradley ogle your breasts unimpeded for a moment. 

“Will that be all, lieutenant commander?”

He just shook his head in disbelief. “Cheeky little slut.” 

And then you smiled, looking so proud of yourself for rattling him that he had no choice but to slap the top of your ass. Hard. You huffed.

“Now turn around.” 

You rolled your eyes, but managed to turn around with Bradley’s assistance. The brief awkwardness of limbs strewn about was easily forgotten as soon as you got into position and he was rewarded with the sight of your glistening pussy in front of his face.

Bradley didn’t bother holding back a moan and started kneading your ass and running his fingers along your lower spine. Meanwhile, you wiggled down his body, dragging your breasts against his bare skin for the first time all morning. They were so soft, but your nipples were pebbled as they brushed against his stomach. He hissed when you lingered there for a moment to tease him.

Not one to let you get the upper hand, Bradley grabbed your hips to draw you close to his face and inhaled your sweet scent. Fuck. You were so good. You let out a mewl and startled when he first made contact with his tongue and then attempted to nose at your clit. That always got you going. Same with his mustache against the tender skin at the apex of your thighs. Maybe he would abstain from shaving on vacation, if only you’d ask.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he groaned your name against your skin and then he feasted. 

Meanwhile, the way your hands were playing with his balls right now had him already teetering towards an orgasm. After only being able to fantasize about having your hands on him - your sweet, delicate hands on him - for the last three months, this felt divine. And then you put your mouth on him and he was well and truly done for.

“Fuck.” 

Neither of you lasted much longer after that.

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

After your depravity filled wake up call, the rest of the morning took on a decidedly more chaste tone. The room was filled with giggles and the sounds of kissing as Bradley told you some of the more entertaining stories from the carrier and Australia, while you revealed that you had watched his 60 Minutes segment at least nine times. When he asked you why you’d watched it nine times, you just ducked your head and bashfully said it was because you sounded really smart.

It was finally around noon when Bradley said you two needed a shower and to have breakfast before embarking on the rest of the day’s activities, which included a tour of the house, complete with all the little goodies you’d amassed for him over the last couple months that he had glossed over last night, and getting ready for drinks with Nat, Caroline, and Max at six-thirty. Granted, the latter was six hours away, but Bradley had a feeling you both would be pretty slow to the take that afternoon. Probably would get a little distracted, too.

“‘m gonna take a shower,” his lips brushed kisses up and down your arms and over your once again silk clad breasts and he was rewarded with giggles, “you wanna come with me?”

“Oh!? Uhh - yeah, we could take a shower.” You pecked him on the lips. “Can you warm it up first, please?”

The pout worked - it always did - but Bradley still groaned, totally hamming it up. “Mmmm, I suppose...”

With one final kiss, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way into the bathroom. He flicked the lights on with a snap, going for full brightness on the dimmer, and turned around to give you a cheeky wink, only to see you worrying your lip between your teeth and staring intently down at your clasped hands on top of the duvet. He called your name and your eyes snapped up to meet his gaze.

“You good?”

You nodded and put a smile on your face. “Yeah, be right in.”

Odd. But then again, Bradley could’ve been reading too much into it. He hadn’t seen you since before Christmas, afterall. You were probably just tired. Yesterday had been a long day. And he had run you pretty ragged this morning. 

The water had warmed up while he was going to the bathroom and was the perfect temperature by the time he finally got under the spray. Just as he was about to call out to you again, he heard you enter the bathroom - and promptly dim the lights. 

“Woah, woah - hey!”

“Sorry!” you called out from behind the shower curtain. “I uhh - I just have a headache, don’t want the lights too bright too early in the morning.”

It was twelve-fifteen. 

Bradley frowned and looked at your shadow moving on the other side of the curtain. You were standing up straight - he would almost call it stiff. It was an odd request, to say the least, but it wasn’t exactly pitch black in the bathroom now, just a little darker, especially from the waist down. 

“Okay, just be careful when you get in - here,” he pulled the curtain back and held his hand out for you to step over the lip of the tub. You startled, but nevertheless took his hand. “There you go.”

The two of you stood face to face for a moment, allowing you both to get your fill of the other. It was definitely darker in the shower now, but Bradley could still make out your ample curves. Streams of water dripped down your chest as you tipped your head under the faucet and it was impossible for him to not watch as the droplets cascaded over your breasts. 

They looked fucking glorious by the way - he was slightly put out that he hadn’t gotten a chance to really play with them in bed earlier - you had only given him a glimpse of them for a few moments - but there was always later. Or now? Now was also good.

“Did these get bigger?” The words were out before he could think twice and he cupped a breast in each hand. Your nipples pebbled as his thumbs passed over them, back and forth, back and forth.  

Your eyes flew up to his face before glancing right back down at your breasts. “What? No, I don’t think - no.”

Bradley leaned back to catch your eye. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. They look great, feel even better, they’re just…”

“Oh! I guess I hadn’t noticed.” You turned your back to him. “Here, do you want to do my hair? Or I can do yours? Why don’t I do yours?”

Before he could even process what was happening, you spun back around and grabbed the shampoo bottle from behind Bradley and squirted some Ouai into your hands. He leaned forward so you could lather his hair up with the suds and appreciated your care in keeping them out of his eyes. For someone normally so dominant and in control, Bradley really did love when you fussed over him. He knew it wasn’t something you were comfortable with in every aspect of your relationship - taking charge like that - but it was nice in settings like this. Once the shampoo had set, he crouched down for you to rinse and then repeat the process with the conditioner.  

“I think we need a bench in here.”

“Yeah?” 

You hummed. “Just a little bump out, enough for someone to sit. You’re getting older, I wouldn’t want you to fall or hurt yourself during any rigorous shower activity.”

“Rigorous shower activity?” Bradley chuckled and nudged you with his shoulder before wetting your hair under the faucet. “You know, if I took all my showers with you, I wouldn’t have to worry about that, kid. Here, turn around, ‘s your turn.”

Gently, Bradley lathered up your hair and made sure to massage your scalp the same way you had done for him. You let out a pleased hum and then he repeated the process with the conditioner, though he might’ve used a bit too much. 

Once you were both back under the spray, you rested your palms on his chest and peered up at him with wide eyes. You looked like you were about to cry and he pulled you closer in comfort.

“I haven’t stayed here at the house too much while you were gone, just a night or two - like that night…with the email,” you confessed, “it didn’t feel right. I kept thinking you’d come home any minute.” Bradley pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “But I’d drop stuff off slowly, a couple boxes a week and whatnot.”

You both stood in the silence of the falling water for a few moments before you spoke again. 

“It just doesn’t feel real - all of this. I keep worrying that you’re gonna disappear again tomorrow. Or that I’m going to wake up or something. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that was just the thing: Bradley didn’t know what he’d do without you either. He had never felt this way before; that there was someone else tied to him, someone else living for him, while he in turn lived for them. 

“Hey,” he tipped your chin up, “you’re not the only one worried about that. But I have you with me now and I’m always gonna do my damndest to come home to you, alright, kid?”

“Alright.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, keeping him close, and pressed a kiss to his chest. “Love you, bubs.”

Bradley instantly tightened his arms around you. “Love you, too.” 

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Before long, your kiss on his chest turned into a kiss on the mouth and your hands roved over each other’s bodies as you shared the loofah and soap. “So broad, so strong,” you said in wonder as you roved your hands over his chest and thighs and chased away the bubbles. 

And then, after multiple passes over your breasts at Bradley’s hands - it was unfair how good your breasts looked all sudsed up - it was time for a final rinse. He hopped out of the shower first and had a towel waiting for you when you got out, before you ultimately changed into your fluffy white robe. 

The two of you completed your morning routines side by side in comfortable silence until Bradley went back to the bedroom to put on some running shorts and a t-shirt. 

“You want breakfast?” He snuck up behind you at the bathroom counter and kissed your cheek. 

You smiled at him in the mirror. “Yes, please.”

“Anything in particular.” He kissed you again. “Pancakes? French toast? Ooooo maybe hash browns and bacon, too? The works?”

You had been giggling while he had been kissing your neck, but you suddenly turned sober as he rattled off your options. “Oh, uhh - maybe some eggs?”

Bradley frowned. “Like scrambled?” 

“Or poached? I’ve been eating a lot of egg whites lately…” With the way you were bundled up in your robe and with your hair still wet from the shower, you looked small - young. Egg whites?

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure, I can do some egg whites for you.” 

Egg whites? Since when did you like egg whites? You had always liked your eggs scrambled and a little runny - with ketchup. Idly, Bradley remembered Max eating egg whites and low carb toast for the entire month of May to get in shape for yacht week in Croatia. He shook the thought away.

“Anything you want, kid.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a soft smile and a kiss on the check. “I’ll be down in a bit, okay?”

And with that smile and a promise, Bradley headed off downstairs to make breakfast. 

Egg whites, really?

-----------

Bradley’s homecoming weekend extravaganza - your words - could only be considered truly complete with a family dinner at Maverick and Penny’s on Sunday evening. Penny wouldn’t hear of you two bringing anything to dinner, so all that was needed to do upon returning from a morning hike in Torrey Pines was shower and change. 

You didn’t have to be there until six thirty, but it was already five forty-five and at least a 20 minute drive, so you were both a little more hurried than you were after yesterday’s shower. In fact, when Bradley got out of the shower, he was surprised to see that you were still in your bathrobe and staring at your half of the closet like it contained all of life’s mysteries. Granted, your hair and makeup were done, but you just stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, absentmindedly biting your thumb nail. 

How long had you been standing there?

“If it makes it any easier,” you startled at Bradley’s voice, “I’m sure Mav will just be wearing a t-shirt and jeans.” Barely looking at the shirt he grabbed to go with his chino shorts, Bradley fell into your line of sight. “You good?”

You relaxed your shoulders. “Yeah, just…not sure what to wear.” 

The two of you stood side by side to take in the full array of clothes in the closet. While not all of your clothes - some bulkier items and more formal dresses were in the guest bedroom - there were still dozens of options in front of the two of you. You took a hesitant step forward and eventually took a pair of boyfriend jeans off a shelf and held them to your chest. Just as you were about to grab a boxy oxford, Bradley snatched up a brightly patterned, tiered, sleeveless dress that would hit at the middle of your thighs. The empty hanger rattled against the rod, but it stopped you in your tracks, the oxford momentarily forgotten. 

“This would look nice.” 

Even to Bradley’s own ears, his voice sounded lame, almost a little desperate. But there was something about you choosing an oxford to wear after staring at your closet for ten minutes that gave him pause. You had such pretty clothes, it would be a shame for you not to wear them. 

“It’s not too much?” Bradley shook his head and held the dress up to your body. “I bought it to bring on our trip, but now I’m not sure…”

“It’s perfect, trust me, you’ll look gorgeous. And you better pack it for Mexico, too, okay?”

“Okay.” You appeared a little flustered, but had lost the sad look in your eyes from moments ago, so Bradley considered it a win. 

With a kiss to the side of your head, he told you to finish getting ready and that he would be downstairs when you were done. 

After getting his wallet and car keys together, Bradley made his way to the mudroom to put on his new sneakers. Though you wouldn’t admit it, you had definitely ordered them for Bradley during one of your many Ted Lasso rewatches while he was away. He reminds me of you sometimes, you would demure when pressed. It was cute. 

With one foot propped up on the bench to tie his shoes, Bradley noticed the row of jackets in front of him. He called your name. “You want a jacket?”

“Yes, please,” your voice carried from upstairs.

So, he grabbed your jean jacket, figuring it would look good with your dress, and got himself his oversized grey Navy crewneck sweatshirt. Maverick and Penny always liked to have drinks and dessert out on the back patio, and though it had been a relatively warm day for March, Bradley knew the breeze off the ocean would make it chilly later. Maybe they’d light the firepit and have s’mores? You loved s’mores even more than Bradley did, if you could believe it. 

Just as he had gotten the jackets and threw his sweatshirt on, you appeared beside him. And just like Bradley had thought, the dress looked perfect on you.

“See? You look gorgeous.” You ducked your head and muttered thanks. “Here.” Bradley held your jean jacket open and helped you slip it on while you put on your sandals. And then you set off for Coronado in the Bronco. 

-----------

After a lovely dinner filled with much chatter and laughter, Amelia and Penny dragged you upstairs to show you her dress for the sophomore semi-formal next week. This left Bradley and Maverick to clean up the dinner plates and get things situated outside on the patio.

It was completely beyond Bradley’s comprehension how to get Penny’s fancy fire pit started, but Maverick had a flame roaring in no time. The two sat across from each other - Maverick on one of the cushioned, wicker swivel chairs with Bradley on the matching loveseat - and sipped their beers in comfortable silence for a few moments. The sun had set about fifteen minutes ago, but the sky was still a kaleidoscope of pinks, purples, and oranges. 

“So, how’re you really doing?” Though the question has been asked at dinner already, Bradley had just given a vague answer. But now that it was just him and Maverick, he felt he could be honest.

“Fine, I guess.” Bradley made a face. “‘s always weird doing some stuff again. We went to the store earlier; always takes me back that first time.”

“It’s the cereal. Too many choices.” 

“Yes, thank you!” Bradley exclaimed, glad he had someone who could relate. Every time he brought it up with Nat or the guys, they just looked at him like he had seven heads. They went from having few choices on the carrier, to endless when on land. “And the chips. Too many options and sizes.” Maverick chuckled. “We went on the way back from Torrey Pines to get more Diet Coke and I wandered off like three times just to stare at the oversized boxes of Lucky Charms.”

Maverick smiled wryly and took a sip of his beer. “You don’t look as tired as you did Friday afternoon, that’s for certain.” Though the way he’d said it had been completely innocent, Bradley still blushed.

“Yeah, it’s been amazing. You should’ve seen her Friday night, she was so excited to make dinner and the house just -” he broke off, “it felt nice coming home to someone like that, I guess.”

Nice? I guess? Bradley sounded like an idiot. It had felt more than nice coming home to you. Coming home this time made him never want to leave again. But the real test would come tomorrow when you went to work. And Bradley would be alone for the first time in three months. Alone in your big, quiet, house. It hadn’t been quiet in three months. There was always something else going on around him. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow, he could do things on his own time and make his own food and pick his own clothes. He could have choices. Luckily, Maverick didn’t seem to notice his sudden unease.

“That was all she talked about last week.” 

It took a concerted effort on Bradley’s part not to be jealous that you’d talked to Maverick so much last week when all Bradley had gotten were emails. Beautiful, heartfelt, smutty emails, but emails nonetheless. Before Friday, Bradley hadn’t heard your voice in weeks.

“She did a really good job. The cake was unreal, I had a piece for breakfast this morning.” That got a chuckle out of them both. “It’s nice to see her comfortable doing something outside of her wheelhouse. She kept sending me pictures from her lessons and even cooked for me on Facetime once.”

Just as Maverick appeared to be gearing up for a follow up, probably about how he’d gotten the leftovers from those cooking lessons, Bradley rushed out: “But we really talked Friday night - about a lot of things. It was good, though.”

“What about?” 

“Kids,” the word slipped out before Bradley could think better of it, “family, that kind of stuff.”

Maverick pondered this and took a sip of his beer. “And you didn’t mind talking about that right when you got back? Seems like a lot.”

“No, it was good.” Not looking at Maverick while he was talking made it easier for Bradley. That way he couldn’t see his pity. He shifted in his seat. “I’d rather we talk about it now anyway, that way it isn’t hanging over our heads on vacation and whatnot.” 

The fact that Bradley thought you were keeping something else from him didn’t need to be brought up yet. He wouldn’t even be able to put it into words, it was just a gut feeling at this point. You just seemed a little off. The egg whites, the boxy oxfords, the chocolate cake.

There was hesitancy in Mav’s voice when he spoke next. “So, you looking to get engaged soon? It’s been what? A year?”

“Almost, yeah. But uhh no, no.” The denial was firm in his voice. “Probably still a year off at least. It’s gonna happen - we both want it to - but there’s no need to rush it. I’m excited for it to be just the two of us for a little while, you know in the house and everything.”

“Good, good,” he sounded pleased, “you two have a good thing going, I wouldn’t want -”

“- We’re not going to have kids until I’m out of the Navy.” Bradley said the words in a rush and he really hoped Maverick would ignore how thick his voice sounded. 

But of course he didn’t. Maverick snapped his eyes over to meet Bradley’s, but he was suddenly focused on a loose thread on the upholstery. Shit. Why had he said that?

“Oh.” It was a long time before either of them spoke again. Bradley finished half his beer. “Is that your idea or hers?”

“It’s both of ours.” Bradley winced realizing how defensive he sounded. “Well, I kind of brought it up first, but she was the one who said we’d wait.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Bradley nodded. “Jesus, Bradley, you’ll be at least forty by the time -”

“- Forty-two.” 

Maverick looked sad and Bradley hated it. Because he knew, without Bradley even having to spell it out why you were going to wait. Because Maverick had been there. Because Maverick had held Bradley’s mom as she cried on too many occasions to count. Because Maverick had taken Bradley to all the father/son events in the place of his own father. Because Bradley realized, as he had gotten older, that Maverick thought it was his fault that Bradley grew up without a father. 

“Listen, we both know that a million things can happen between now and then and maybe the timing will be all wrong, but we want to wait. If it gives either of us the slightest peace of mind, we’re going to try and wait.”

The silence was heavy this time around. 

“Well, I guess it’s good you’re talking about it now - even if I don’t entirely agree with it. You should be enjoying your life together, not waiting around…” Maverick seemed to think better of what he was saying and took a sip of his beer. A beat passed until he spoke again. “Also reminds me of some stuff I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

Maverick waved him off. “It can wait until after your trip. Just some estate planning and whatnot, I know the four of us are in a really good place, so figured it was a good time.”

Estate planning? The four of us? The whole family was involved? Bradley’s curiosity was most definitely piqued. 

“Oh, err yeah, sounds good -”

“It’s nothing bad - promise!” he quickly backpedaled, “More paperwork than anything -”

“What’re you ladies gossiping about?” Amelia breezed onto the patio and messed up Bradley’s hair before she plopped down on the other end of the sofa. Naturally, he in turn had to elbow her in the side. Not hard, mind you, but hard enough for her to kick him back. 

“We were actually just talking about the dance coming up next Friday,” Maverick replied smoothly and Bradley stifled a snort. Since when had he become such a good liar? Regardless, Amelia preened. “I was just about to tell Bradley about your date…”

“What?!” Bradley exclaimed.

Amelia pouted, clearly put off that it had been brought up in front of him. He liked Amelia, he was protective of her, fucking shoot him. “Mav likes him!”

Maverick slightly cowed under Bradley and Amelia’s stares. “He’s nice, they’re on the debate team together.”

“Debate team?!” Alright, now he was putting it on a little bit, but as someone who had also been on the debate team in high school, Bradley knew that those guys were also smart, which generally meant they were way more trouble than the typical jocks.

Clearly misconstruing his comment, Amelia frowned. “Listen, I know you were rocking the middle part and puka shell necklace when you were on the debate team, but it’s cool now…”

“Puka shell necklace?” your voice chimed in from the doorway. “Pete never mentioned that when he was telling me of your high school heroics.”

Bradley’s cheeks colored. “Yeah, well, it was the late 90s and I thought Pacey Witter was cool.”

“The 1990s!” Amelia feigned hysterics and got a chuckle out of you and Maverick. “Next you’re going to be talking about where you were on 9/11 -”

“I was in kindergarten, we couldn’t go outside for recess,” you teased.

You sat yourself between Bradley and Amelia on the sofa and he threw his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer. He knew you’d get cold soon, but didn’t want you to run inside to get your jacket or a sweatshirt just yet - he just wanted you beside him. Plus, there was also the fear that you’d get one of Maverick’s sweatshirts from inside if you forwent your jean jacket and that just wouldn’t do.

Amelia groaned, but still turned her attention back on you. “Okay, but you were definitely Joey Potter, breaking hearts left and right. No debate captains for you.” She stuck her tongue out at Bradley for good measure.

“Ha, I wish. No, I was actually kind of lame in high school, very angsty.” Bradley knew why, but Maverick and the Benjamins were still in the dark.

“Really?” Amelia frowned. 

It was easy to understand her confusion since you were just about the coolest person she knew - her words. Amelia had told Bradley so the first night he’d brought you over for dinner. Can you ask her where she got her sneakers? A couple weeks later, you and Bradley had gotten Amelia the very same sneakers for her birthday. She always blushed when you wore them at the same time.

So, the next words out of your mouth clearly surprised her. “Oh, yeah, I was knee deep in Mazzy Star and Vampire Weekend. The dark preppy vibe, if that’s even a thing?”

“Jesus, I wasn’t even that bad.” Bradley squeezed your shoulder and got a smile out of you with his teasing.

Maverick and Penny were talking off on their own, so you turned your full attention towards Amelia. “I was in a car accident my junior year of high school. Kind of set me back with school and then - well, private school kids are kind of vicious so…” 

“What happened? Sorry - that was -”

“- It’s oka -,” you started to say, then seemed to think better of it. Because nothing about that night had been okay. “I was in a car with someone and we got t-boned. I got pretty banged up, broke my right arm and leg. It seemed like I had a perpetual concussion for the next six months. He just broke his arm,” you finished wryly. 

He. 

He just broke his arm.

Bradley pursed his lips at the mention of Teddy Cavanaugh. Fucking prick. To say you’d gotten pretty banged up was putting it way too mildly. Thinking about it again made him just as upset as it had that night all those months ago on your fourth date when you’d told him the entire story. 

And more recently, Bradley had had the unfortunate experience of meeting Teddy over Thanksgiving when Bradley had played golf with your dad one afternoon up in Berkeley. As a rule, Bradley tried not to hate people on sight - at least not anymore. 

But god, he really fucking hated Teddy Cavanaugh. He wanted to fucking deck him on the first tee at Claremont Country Club. He wanted to slam his nine-iron into the Porsche 911 he was driving. And Bradley was pretty sure your dad did too. 

It was such a cunty move to get the same car.

Plus, what self respecting twenty-nine year old still went by Teddy anyway?

But the truth of what happened that night wasn’t exactly appropriate for a post dinner conversation, nevermind the fact that Amelia was only a year younger than you had been that night. 

The realization made Bradley freeze. 

You had only been a year older than Amelia when it happened. Amelia, who still slept with the stuffed cow her grandparents had gotten her for her sixth birthday. Amelia, who still played with her American Girl Dolls when she didn’t get invited to a friend’s house on Friday nights. Amelia, who still made Bradley a new welcome home banner after every deployment. Amelia, who still huffed whenever Bradley ruffled her hair as a hello. Amelia, who Bradley promised he’d teach how to drive that spring.

You were Amelia. You had been that young, that sweet, that trusting and Teddy Cavanaugh had thrown it all back in your face.

Bradley could feel his chest tighten, even as he ignored the chatter around him. Maverick and Penny had joined in whatever conversation you were now having with Amelia, but all Bradley could do was sit there. 

Without a word, he pulled you closer, so you were bundled up in his arms. It was still proper enough in front of his family, but he needed to have you close. Your legs were plastered together alongside Bradley’s right side and you burrowed yourself under the arm he draped across your shoulders. 

Everything was right as it should be. Bradley was with his family, Bradley was with you, here. Not on a carrier in the middle of the Pacific or the passenger seat of Mr. Cavanaugh’s Porsche. 

Here. And nothing bad was going to happen here.  

Soon, the conversation changed to whichever HBO show Amelia and Maverick were excited to watch later that night, while Penny went inside to get the dessert: s’mores. 

“‘You need any help?”

Penny waved you off. “I’m all set, everything’s already measured out.”

Once she was gone, Bradley pressed a light kiss to your shoulder and you shivered. “‘You getting cold, kid?” You nodded. “‘You want my sweatshirt?” 

“Please?”

“I’ve got one in the mudroom if -” 

“No, it’s fine,” Bradley cut off Maverick, “she can have mine.”

Quickly taking off his own sweatshirt and putting it over your head, Bradley didn’t even have the time to linger on how pathetic he sounded. Who did Maverick think he was, offering to let Bradley’s girlfriend borrow a sweatshirt? Didn’t he realize Bradley was more than capable of taking care of you?

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, now cozy and wrapped up in the still warm sweatshirt and Bradley nearly forgot why he had gotten so huffy in the first place. Nearly. 

“So,” Penny popped back out onto the patio with a heaping tray of marshmallows, a bowl of chocolate squares, and stacks of graham crackers, “who wants s’mores?”

“Me, me!” Amelia called, pushing her way towards the tray and subsequently dishing out the marshmallow sticks. 

Little shit gave Bradley the worst one, even knowing Maverick wouldn’t have any and therefore didn’t need one. As payback, he kept putting his marshmallow wherever Amelia’s was. It meant that he didn’t roast a single good marshmallow, but the glare she kept sending him was too funny to make him stop. 

Eventually, after Bradley had to blow out yet another marshmallow - Oh, shit! Not again! - you took over s’more duties. Just as well, really; yours were the best. You turned marshmallow roasting into an art form - a perfectly golden, gooey art form. While you didn’t eat any with graham crackers, you did have one you roasted over the fire with the chocolate already stuffed in the marshmallow. You smiled at Bradley’s shocked expression and then wordlessly made him three exactly like it.

All the while, you answered Penny’s questions about how your dad and Mary were doing and when they were next coming down to San Diego and if they would want to get dinner with her and Pete, just the four of them? But when you started nodding off against Bradley’s shoulder, he knew it was time for you both to head home. 

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

Mon, March 22, 1:43pm

How was your meeting? 

it was fine, but ran over and i didn’t get to have lunch before my one o’clock ☹️

At least have a snack or something, don’t want you wasting away on me, kid. 

i won’t! what’re you up to?

Stopped by the base for a bit, saw the guys and then went to the gym.

I might get a haircut later. 

you can’t get a haircut without me! i don’t trust you not to get it too short! plus i like it a little longer 

Oh yeah? 

i like when it gets curly at the ends, it’s always really soft too. can you wait till after the trip?  please bradley please?

Fine, but only because you begged me…

i’ll make it up to you later, promise and i did not beg you…

Or you could make it up to me now?

Is the office busy today?

no  it’s pretty quiet

You wore that navy skirt, right?

yeah with my white silk blouse 

What’d you wear underneath it?

bradley! i don’t know, boring underwear? 

You wanna show me? Just to check?

you can see when i get home, i’ll even try and sneak out a little early 

Wanna see now

Show me

fine, just give me a sec. i’ll go to the bathroom 

No

At your desk

Now

bradley!

Sweetheart I’m aching

[image: Mr. 7.5 Gs]

fuck holy shit bubs what were you doing before you texted me?

Jerking off, I’m bored

charming

Wanna be inside you

fuck bradley wish i was home to take care of you god you’re so pretty hold on

Keep thinking about you in your office, acting all proper and then I’d barge in and fuck you on that fancy desk of yours

[image: miss ‘the one day i’m wearing plain underwear’]

God such a good girl for me

Are you wet

mmmm  getting there this is so hot unless i get fired

I’d bend you over

Take you from behind

You’re always tighter that way

[Sent with Siri]

bradley

Need your mouth on me

I’d make you get on your knees and suck me off in front of the window

Fuck your throat

[Sent with Siri] 

bradley you’re not playing fair

No you’re not

Need more pictures of you

[Sent with Siri]

What do you want me to do? [Sent with Siri]

Shove your fingers up your cunt

Knuckle deep

[Sent with Siri]

I’d have to use three to feel like yours [Sent with Siri]

Need a video need to hear you too

[Sent with Siri]

[for bradley’s eyes only.mov]

Fuck you’re fucking gorgeous like that 

Always do just what I ask 

Fuck I need you so bad 

[Sent with Siri]

Need you too fuck [Sent with Siri] i can’t believe you got me to do that at work

When are you coming home? 

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

There was something up with you. The thought kept running through Bradley’s head Tuesday evening while he was on his run.

Bradley would never have described you as skittish, but that’s how you had been acting over the last couple days. You were still affectionate and kind and you. And had told him countless times how much you loved him and how happy you were that he was home. 

So, it had to be a physical thing. You were guarded whenever he touched you - whether you were being sexually intimate or he had just grabbed your waist to cuddle you closer on the couch or in bed. It was always your waist or stomach area, really. That was the hot spot.

At first, Bradley thought he’d been too rough with you that first time back, but he knew you trusted him enough to tell him if that was the case, so that was out. Plus, later that morning when you were riding him, you’d asked him to grab your hips so hard he’d leave behind marks. You liked whenever he marked you - and he liked whenever you marked him. And you weren’t shying away from sex with him, not at all. In fact, you were pretty insatiable.

Then, he’d thought you might have hurt yourself while he had been gone and had a scar or something that you hadn’t wanted him to see? But your skin was free of new blemishes, baring the zit on your cheek you’d been complaining about since Saturday night. 

At one point, Bradley had even contemplated that you might be pregnant. He had been gone for three months, an entire first trimester. But something about the theory didn’t sit right with him. 

First, you would’ve fucking told him on Friday night, especially after you both talked about waiting to have kids and how you were on the same page. Because Bradley wasn’t dying in an F-18 with a family at home. 

Then, there was the fact that you had an IUD and the possibility of getting pregnant on an IUD was even less than on the pill (<1% a year - he’d looked it up). And finally, you’d be showing by now, even if only a little bump. But now that he thought about it, in all the days that he’d been home and all the times you’d had sex, Bradley had only seen you completely naked once. One or both of you were always partially clothed. And he would have noticed - right? Your boobs were definitely bigger, but it wasn’t - that wasn’t it, no, he was sure you weren’t pregnant.

It had to be something about your body, your stomach in particular. Because you were still affectionate, still wanted him, were still relatively yourself, your boobs looked great, and you loved him. So, why did you practically jump out of your skin whenever Bradley’s hand grazed your stomach? 

He would give you until Friday to tell him on your own before he asked. That would be a week from when he’d gotten home, more than enough time. Plus, maybe being on vacation would get you to open up a bit? 

Because this just wasn’t you. You didn’t really keep any secrets from Bradley. He wouldn’t be so naive to say that he knew everything about you, but in general you were honest with him. Was there a hint in one of your emails? Some little detail he had glossed over in his haste to read any scrap of news from you, in your voice? Bradley had read all of them at least three times, some even more, but maybe he had missed something?

The run he’d gone on to clear his head left the problem no more clear than when he’d set off forty-five minutes ago. He ran up the back steps to the mudroom and toed off his sneakers before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. You’d be home soon, he needed to start dinner.

Last night, you’d marinated some steak tips and made some rice pilaf, while Bradley roasted some vegetables. There was plenty of leftover steak for dinner tonight, he just had to decide what to make with it. Taking a peek in the fridge, he took a quick inventory of anything you’d need to finish before leaving Thursday morning. A couple peppers laid in the crisper along with an eggplant, which stumped him as neither of you liked eggplant. He could do steak fajitas with those? There were always fresh tortillas around. Content with his plan, Bradley grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino from the side door and poured himself a glass. 

As he put the bottle back, his eyes landed on the chocolate cake, perfectly ensconced in glass snapware, on the top shelf. How the hell was there still leftover chocolate cake? In addition to what you’d had Friday night, the two of you had had some for breakfast Sunday morning - well, Bradley had had some for breakfast Sunday morning and you’d let him feed you a couple bites. He shut the fridge door with a little more force than necessary and started prepping the peppers and onions. 

You loved chocolate cake. And you’d worked so hard on it. Why the fuck weren’t you eating it? Plus, now that he really thought about it, you’d barely had a s’more at Maverick and Penny’s and instead kept yourself occupied by lovingly making Bradley’s for him. And then there were the egg whites.

It would be a lie to say that none of it had seemed off at the time, but looking at all the incidents together just showed how truly off things were. And then coupled with how off you were with other things like your clothes and stomach - oh. 

No way. No fucking way. That could not be it. 

No, no. You couldn’t be worried about how - 

Just as he was finishing up the peppers to go along with the onions he’d already prepped, Bradley heard the back door open.

“Bubs?” you called out, “I’m home!”

“Hey!” 

“How was your run?”

Bradley quickly washed his hands and went over to meet you in the mudroom. And there you were, looking polished and professional in a black tweed, sleeveless dress that he hadn’t gotten a glimpse at before you’d left for work that morning, thanks to the blazer you’d thrown over it. The bodice of the dress was decorated with what he hoped were functional gold buttons that were just begging to be ripped open. And to top it off, you were wearing semi sheer black tights and those black slingbacks he liked so much. 

Actually, you were leaning against the wall trying to unbuckle those slingbacks he liked so much. But all Bradley could focus on as you asked him about his afternoon was the curve of your hip and the fact that your breasts looked unreal in that dress.

His pretty girlfriend. His pretty girlfriend who looked so smart and absolutely fuckable right now. His. His. His. His -

You stopped trying to take off your shoes and shot him a questioning look as you approached. “Bradley?”

“Sorry, I uhh - yeah, it was fine. Saw the Thompsons finished their patio - is that a new dress?” His fingers idly brushed against the fabric and you froze. 

“Oh, uh, no. I’ve had it for a while. Since the move, I’ve been going through my clothes trying to see what I actually wear and - I know it’s a little small now, it keeps riding up my hips a bit, but I still think it looks nice on top…” You ventured out of the mudroom. “Does it look bad?”

No, it very much did not look bad on you. It was definitely tighter than anything you normally wore to work, but it looked good. And weary from the work day with your hair a little mussed and the dress a bit askew from when you tried to take off your shoes, you looked absolutely divine and Bradley had to have you immediately. 

“No! I’m just,” he goaded you further into the kitchen, “surprised you wore it to work - in a good way!” 

The shy look on your face gradually slipped away and you crowded into Bradley’s space. “In a good way, huh?”

His hands found their way to your waist and he waited for a reaction from you. Getting nothing but a smile, his thumbs rubbed circles along your hips and he brought you chest to chest. 

“I gotta ask, though?” You hummed. “Do these really work?” He dragged his fingers up and down the front of your dress, spending the slightest bit more time along the square neckline and your breasts.

“And what if they did?”

Bradley groaned your name and rested his forehead against yours. “Then I’d have to unbutton every last one of them right now.”

You kissed his neck, paying no mind to the stubble he had been growing since Friday night. If you’d asked, he would shave it in a second, but you loved the roughness against your neck and inner thighs. As your lips kept up their targeted attack on his neck and jawline, your right hand slid between your bodies to palm his cock through his athletic shorts. 

“But if you did that, then you’d have to take me right here…”

Barely a beat passed before Bradley grabbed your hips and plopped you down on the kitchen table. It shook under your weight. Your chest was heaving at the sudden action, in turn drawing his attention to your breasts and those tempting buttons. They reminded him of the ones on his old Naval dress coat from Oceana. 

“Lemme help you out there.” 

His nimble fingers made quick work of the four brass buttons that revealed your black lace bra. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell you were pleased he didn’t tear off any of the buttons. Knowing you, his spoiled, prissy girlfriend, the dress was probably expensive. Good.

Next, Bradley pushed the wide straps over your shoulders, leaving your black lace bra as his final impediment. “So pretty,” he muttered into your chest. Your head tipped back and you pulled him closer, deeper.

“You didn’t send me any texts today,” you barely got the words out as Bradley made quick work popping one of your breasts, then the other, out of your bra. It was technically a lie; he had texted you, but it had been a do you know where my Theragun is text, not a show me your pussy right now text. “I even wore pretty underwear for you.”

Bradley tutted against your left breast. “Guess I have to make it up to you now.” 

His mouth latched onto your nipple and he needled the little nub with his tongue. You carded your fingers through his hair and gave the ends the slightest little tug. 

“Thought about you all day, bubs,” you whispered the words against Bradley’s ear before nipping at the lobe. 

“Yeah?” Granted, if you kept rutting against each other like this, he’d probably cum in his shorts - there really wasn’t a lot of substance to the running shorts he was wearing - but god. He needed to sink inside you. 

Today was the first time since he’d gotten home that you hadn’t fucked in the morning. You had had to hustle out of the house for an early meeting and even Bradley had an eight-thirty physical at the Naval Medical Center. There had barely been time for a heated makeout against the refrigerator - to say nothing of a good fuck - before you’d left with your lip gloss slightly mussed.

“Would’ve come home sooner if I knew you were wearing these fucking shorts.” You slipped your hand under the waistband of his compression shorts that were borderline painful at this point and grabbed his cock with an expert touch. 

“Fuck…” Bradley allowed your touches to go on for a few more moments before he pulled back, knowing he’d spend in your hand if you kept this up. “Hold on.” You pulled your hand back and he yanked his t-shirt off over his head and threw it on the breakfast bench. Your hands crept across his chest before they eventually rested on his shoulders. 

But now it was Bradley’s turn to touch you. Your tights felt particularly soft beneath his hands as he inched higher and higher up your thighs. He loved when you wore stuff like this, so prim and proper. Especially when you got all squirmy beneath him. Cheeky little thing. The heat was pouring off you where Bradley was touching you between your thighs, even though your underwear and tights. Your arms wound around his neck to pull him closer and press your lips to his in a bruising kiss. God, he could kiss you for hours; he never tired of it.

“Bradley…” you sighed through his ministrations. “More, bubs.” 

He smiled, of course, anything for you. Anything to be inside you. But first, he had to ask: “These the thick ones?” You froze under him. “The tights? The thick tights? Like from Thanksgiving?” 

They had a more formal name, but he was focused on other things at the moment, namely if he could rip a hole in them to get to you faster. Over Thanksgiving, he’d found out the hard way that your tights were often rip resistant. Which really put a damper on a portion of your wine cellar escapades. 

“Oh?” The furrow between your eyebrows disappeared. “Oh! The tights! No, no, they’re cheap ones from J Crew or something.”

Good. Then he wasn’t going to apologize for what he was about to do. Because Bradley had to fuck you, he had to be inside you right now. Something about you and being off and those tights and that dress and his run and the subsequent endorphin rush. 

He had to have you.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bradley tugged at the seam of your tights and ripped a hole in them large enough for his hands - and his dick - to poke through. You sighed when he broke through the nylon and slid your panties to the side to circle your clit with his thumb.

“So good,” he muttered reverently. 

God, what a pretty picture you made. Dress rucked up around your stomach, chest bare, and pretty pussy on display just for him. 

“More, please, Bradley.” You whimpered while he teased you with one finger, then two. “Anything. Need it - you.”

“You get stressed out at work today?” You nodded and then burrowed your head against his neck, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. “Poor thing, da - I’ll take care of you, yeah. Make you forget.” 

Bradley thrusted his fingers deeper inside you, crooking them just slightly so you’d buck up against him. You bit his neck when he tweaked his fingers just right. There you go, just a little more and you’d be ready for him. God, he was aching. He couldn’t fathom teasing you anymore. He needed you, now. 

“Just need to slip inside you, sweetheart. You made it so perfect for me.” Wet. Hot. Tight. Perfect. His. “There we go, just like that, good girl.” Bradley took a moment to line his cock up and slid inside you in one motion. “Fuck,” he punctuated the word with your name, “good?”

“Yes, yes.” 

You got into a steady rhythm that kept increasing. The table creaked under your combined weight and had anything been on it, it surely would’ve toppled over by now. 

You tightened around his cock and met his hips thrust for thrust. A wave of heat swept over Bradley’s body and he could feel you slipping deeper into a lustful haze. Knowing he was also close and would be near useless in moments, he hiked your left leg higher up on his hip so your heel was digging into the back of his thigh, anchoring you to him. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” Bradley said mindlessly. 

Your faces were so close, you were breathing each other’s air, stealing the word’s off the other’s lips. Yours and mine are the same. You cried out suddenly and snapped your eyes up to meet Bradley’s brown ones. God, you were beautiful. You both were beautiful. This was beautiful. Being together like this was beautiful. It was wet and loud and messy, but it was beautiful. 

Everything about it.

“‘m so close,” he finished with your name on his lips like a plea. “Wanna wait for you.”

“Don’t, ‘ll be right there.”

His thrusts eventually got sloppier and slower, but he could still feel you clenching around him as he spent himself inside you. 

“Fuck,” he panted your name. “That’s it, that’s it.”

“‘s full, bubs.” Your nails dug into his shoulder, centering him so he could turn the focus back on you.

All he needed was a few more shallow thrusts and a punch of your clit to get you there alongside him. You came with a cry, utterly spent, but sated. 

Your legs relaxed their hold against his thighs, but you didn’t totally release him. Meanwhile, he pressed kisses across your cheeks and lips, before finding himself notched along your neck. 

“There you go, good girl. Did such a good job, huh. So beautiful.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a few moments, all Bradley could hear was your breaths panting against his cheek, while your index finger moved lazily across his shoulder blade. But then you started shaking. 

And at first he thought it was from being overstimulated until he realized you were shaking from silent giggles. Bradley picked his head up from where it was buried in your neck and leveled you with a look that had you properly bursting into laughter. He wanted to make some smart comment, something cheeky, but the gorgeous smile on your face had him losing his feigned stoicism and he started laughing right alongside you. 

“So,” you said after your laughter subsided, “what’s for dinner, bubs?”

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

The following morning, Bradley poked his head into the dining room where you’d made up your office for the day. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why you weren’t using the office upstairs, but he held back. He liked that you were downstairs, he liked that you were close to him. 

Of course he’d seen you work from home before. But there was something about seeing you holding meetings and taking calls for the first time in your home that made him smile. 

And though you were taking a half day to prepare for leaving tomorrow, Bradley knew you’d be checking your email and Slack for the rest of the afternoon before officially logging off for the next 10 days. 

10 days in Punta Mita - just the two of you, no distractions, no emails, no training runs, nothing but the sun, sea, sustenance, sleep, and sex. 

Just you and me, kid.

Bradley inched further into the room and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m gonna go for a run, but should be back for lunch.”

You took out your Airpods before responding. “Sounds good, how much are you thinking?”

“Probably a quick 10k?” It had been ages since Bradley had run his usual route through Balboa Park, so these last few days had been a treat.

“‘A quick 10k,’ he says. I should be done by the time you get back?” He nodded. “We can have lunch and then I’ll head out on my errands.”

Errands? “Oh? I didn’t know you were going out?”

You sat up straighter and fully focused on him. “Yeah, I have to get my nails done and then have to pick up a couple things - like your special sunscreen...”

“Can I come?” he asked, completely ignoring the sunscreen comment. It wasn’t special per se, it was just high SPF since he burned easily. 

“Really?” You sounded surprised. “It’ll be pretty boring.”

“No, I wanna come with you.” I wanna spend time with you. 

A bashful smile appeared on your face. “Okay, I’m trying a new salon.”

“Ditching your old stomping grounds?” Bradley asked, referencing your old neighborhood near Gaslamp. 

You nodded your head. “Figured I’d try someplace around here, but the only one that looks promising is way up on 30th?”

“I think we can make due with that,” he pecked your cheek, “alright, I’ll see you in a bit, kid. Don’t work too hard.”

“Har, har, see you soon.”

Bradley shot you a wink and set off. Who knew, maybe he’d set a new PR in his haste to get back home to you?

And sure enough, after his quick 10k through Balboa Park and the surrounding neighborhood, Bradley bounded up the back steps and quickly disposed of his sneakers and his sweat stained grey t-shirt on the mudroom floor. It had been stupid to even wear one in the first place, he’d had to tuck it into his waistband before he hit the first half mile. 

“New personal record!” 

Your face lit up with a smile as Bradley came into the dining room. “See, now, how do I know you just didn’t milk a 3 mile run or something?”

He rolled his eyes and gestured down at his torso, which was gleaming with sweat, even in the soft mid-day lighting currently cloaking the dining room, and showed you his running app for good measure. “Does this look like I milked it?”

“Come ‘ere.” You held your arms out.

“I’m all sweaty, kid…”

“Nope, don’t care, please?”

Hey, if you weren’t going to complain that Bradley was too sweaty or smelled, then he wasn’t about to put you off. He wrapped his arms around you over the back of the chair and put his chin on the top of your head.

“You know, if you like the scent of someone’s sweat that means you’re soulmates…” 

“Is that right?” You sounded amused.

Bradley burrowed his face in your neck, forcing a giggle out of you even before he pressed butterfly kisses everywhere. “Mmmhhmm, yup. You always smell perfect.” 

“That’s just my perfume!” 

“Nope, just you kid.” 

Bradley could feel you relax and let out a sigh. The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, content to just be with each other, until your Mac dinged with an Outlook notification. You stretched your arms out in front of you to reply to the email, but Bradley didn’t let you go. As he watched you type out a response to your coworker about if ESG investments were just virtue signaling or not, his eyes caught a glint of gold on your wrist.

“You really wear that bracelet everyday, huh?”

You turned your head to look up at him and he was pleased to note you looked incredibly flustered. “Of course I do. You got it for me.”

The matter of fact way you responded had him blushing. “Guess I’ll have to get you the necklace for your birthday…”

“You better not!” He just kissed your cheek. “Bradley, I’m serious! That’s too much - especially for just a birthday.”

“Then I’ll get it for you for our anniversary.”

“Bubs…” You were pouting now and it only made him want to get you the necklace more. “It’s too expensive for something like that; I looked it up online.”

“You’re no fun.” 

And so he would continue to be denied the pleasure of seeing you in the matching jewelry - at least until he wore you down. You did have a point, though - the necklace was almost twice as much as the bracelet. But then again, you bought Bradley little (and not so little) things all the time?

Idly, he recalled the jibe he had ignored from Hangman the other day regarding his leave: not all of us have rich girlfriends to take us on two week vacations. Bradley’s reply that it was only for ten days, not two weeks hadn’t exactly done him any favors. 

But it was a points game! It was practically free. (He knew it wasn’t, but…) And you were going dutch for all the incidentals and room charges. It was going to be perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. 

Ten glorious days of no work, no distractions, just the two of you. 

You turned around in your chair so you were properly facing him. “Do you want to get lunch out? Make an afternoon of it? We don’t really have much in the fridge, so it’s either lunch or dinner out and I know you still have to pack.”

A smile crept across his face and he kissed your nose. “I’d love to go to lunch with you. You sure you won’t get sick of me? All this one on one time?”

You just shook your head. “Nope, not that easily. Well, unless you sit next to me at the salon, I’m not very chatty while I’m getting a pedicure.”

“Woah, woah.” Bradley held his hands up and you grabbed one to examine it. “Since when am I getting my nails done?”

“You’re getting a pedicure at the very least. I don’t want to have to look at your weird feet on the beach all week.” 

“Oh-ho, now you’ve done it.” 

He bundled you up in his arms and started tickling your sides. That was your sweet spot. And hopefully if he was tickling you, you’d forget to be jumpy when he touched you there. He hadn’t forgotten about that.

“Bradley! Bradley,” you giggled. “Okay, okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. No pedicure.”

But Bradley did end up getting a pedicure, even if it only entailed getting his feet buffed. If pressed, he would say it was because he wanted to sit in the massage chair and the nail tech told him he could only sit in the chair if he was getting his nails done. That was the only reason why. It wasn’t because of how pretty you looked while you were smiling at him out of the corner of his eye, like you couldn’t believe he was really there.  

Absolutely not.

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

“Do you need any help packing?” 

Bradley nodded, he hoped he didn’t look too sheepish. At thirty-six years old, he absolutely could pack his own clothes, but he liked when you fussed over him and made sure your clothing was complementary to each other. It was sweet. Plus, you always packed stuff he hadn’t thought to bring or wear together.

The two of you were a well oiled machine. Bradley would roll his underwear, pajamas, and gym clothes into his packing cubes while you helped pick out his bathing suits and later his dinner and day clothes. To his great surprise, you managed to fit all his clothes - for ten days, mind you - into his Samsonite carryon. His toiletries and extra pair of shoes and other incidentals would go in his backpack.

Once his suitcase was zipped up and ready to go, Bradley nodded towards your Rimowa stashed by the bedroom door. “‘You need any help? You don’t normally check?”

You normally lived by the carry-on rule, so it seemed out of character for you to check a full-size bag. Which, of course, wasn’t the first thing that seemed out of character for you since Bradley had gotten home. But he promised himself he’d wait until you came to him with your problem. Or till Friday.

“Oh, uhh, yeah, I guess I just have more stuff this time.” You shook your head. “I packed earlier while you were taking a nap, but thanks.”

He clicked his tongue. “Guess it’ll be a surprise then.”

“Hmmm, I’ll let you see my shoes?”

Bradley sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his elbows. “You’d do that? For me?”

You giggled and then mimicked his pose on the bed, except you made sure to snuggle up next to him, all earlier awkwardness gone. “I’d do anything for you actually.”

“Sap.” He kissed you. 

“Nerd.” You kissed him. 

“See, now you’re killing the vibe,” he teased. You giggled and kissed his shoulder through his t-shirt. “You ready for tomorrow?” You nodded. “You’re not gonna get sick of me, right?”

You shook your head. “Never, even if you are a nerd who gets pedicures -”

“- I was coerced! The massage chair!” You giggled. “Alright, alright, walk me through tomorrow.”

At this point, Bradley was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, while you were tucked under his arm, peering up at him. 

“We should leave by six if our flight’s at eight forty-five, especially if we want to go to the lounge beforehand. It’s spring break-ish and I’m not sure if it’ll be crazy in the terminal, so the lounge might be a good idea.”

“Got it, United lounge for breakfast, good.” 

“Flight’s like three hours.”

“Mmmmm, perfect for a nap.”

You chuckled. “I think we get in around one o’clock with the time difference and everything. The hotel’s sending a car and then it’s like an hour drive to Punta Mita.”

“So, if we play our cards right, we could be on the beach by three-o-one?”

“Oh, for sure,” you feigned seriousness, “If anyone can, it’s the two of us.”

And ain’t that the truth? Bradley held his hand up for a high five, which you heartily returned. “Nice job, kid. It’s gonna be great.”

Ten days. You and Bradley at some tony resort in Mexico. No cares, no worries for ten whole days. Fucking perfect. 

Everything was going to be perfect.

-----------

If at all possible, in the three months that he had been gone, Bradley had gotten even more handsome. 

Sure, you’d seen a grainy image of him every two or so weeks over Facetime and had noticed him mentioning going to the gym a lot on the carrier. You’d known he was going to look different. His hair was going to be longer and blonder and his skin darker. He was still your Bradley and you loved him all the same. 

But seeing him on the 16 inch screen of your Macbook compared to all six foot one inches of Bradley Bradshaw in person was an eye opener. 

Because you hadn’t been prepared for how it made you feel in comparison. Because he was so strong and fit and beautiful - and you didn’t think you were any of those things. Not anymore at least. Not after what happened.

Not after how often you’d been skipping pilates to spend some extra time in the office or all the meals you’d eaten on the go or out with clients. You should have taken your mother’s words to heart at lunch two weeks ago when she had told you to watch your figure, boys like Bradley are used to certain standards. 

That afternoon when you’d gotten back to your apartment, you’d gone straight to your walk-in closet and scrutinized every inch of your body in the full length mirror. 

Certain standards.

Why did you let her get in your head? Why did you let any of it get in your head? It wasn’t true, it wasn’t true. None of it was true. 

Certain standards. 

And then, when you finally picked Bradley up on that cloudy, late March day, you wore an oxford of his and a pair of baggy jeans. You still looked cute, you still looked like you put in an effort, but you didn’t look as dolled up as some of the other wives and girlfriends and partners and maybe you should have? Maybe you should have worn a cute little sundress and forgotten your underwear or some other ridiculous thing? Let him fuck you in the back of the car right in the middle of the parking lot? 

That wasn’t you, though. That wasn’t either of you.

But Bradley loved you. He had told you in about 159 different ways (re. emails) while he was gone. He loved you, he wanted you, he was going to live with you, build a life with you. You knew he loved you no matter what you looked like. 

Certain standards.

But when he fucked you softly and slowly that first morning back - only after originally falling asleep on you, which you tried not to be too upset about - and you told him how much you loved him and missed him, you did so with the lights completely off and with your chemise on before snuggling in his arms. 

It was stupid. The entire thing was stupid. You knew that. And you knew you’d feel this way until you confronted Bradley and he ultimately proved you wrong. But doing that wouldn’t fully stop those feelings from brewing inside you either. 

And yeah, for the first few days you’d been too caught up in the ecstasy of him finally being home - in the home that you two finally shared - to really give it much thought. But tomorrow you were going on a ten day long beach vacation to Mexico and you couldn’t help but toss and turn all night wondering if you were up to certain standards. 

-----------

a/n: oops! this was super long, sorry! but there's such an interesting story here and i'm so excited to show how it'll unfold in the next chapter when they're in mexico!

tagging a couple people: @sometimesanalice @withahappyrefrain @cherrycola27 @notroosterbradshaw @gigisimsonmars @pisupsala @dissonannce @laracrofted @heartsofminds @briseisgone

[floweredsoul03]

Hello! I hope I'm sending requests right, because it's rare that I do these. Could you do a Boom!Sonic going on a date with someone who's an introvert and/or has social anxiety? As someone who struggles with this myself, I'm curious to see how that would go; how he'd figure out why they're so quiet and get them out of their shell a bit. I understand if you can't take this request. If you can take your time, no rush! I hope you have a good day/night!💙

Boom!Sonic going on a date with someone who's an introvert / has social anxiety

(Boom!Sonic x Reader)

The first time meeting Sonic:

You decided to stroll around the village to get to know this new place you will now know better as your home. Then you hear screams. Running towards the sound, you see mechanical bees and crabs attacking a burger joint called “Meh Burgers.”

Ready to fight, you unsheathed your katana and used your power to speed it up. One by one, you sliced a crab swiftly with precision.

“What the..!”

You looked up to see a bald, egg-shaped headed man with a mustache way too big not to be considered comical in a floating machine.

“If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Besides, you’re not even Sonic or his other rodent friends.” The man speaking then put a hand on his chin, thinking. “Or are you? Bah! I can’t remember; who cares anyway. If you want to try and be a hero, you can go ahead and die like one. Attack them!” He pointed towards you.

Looking around, the crabs and bees started surrounding you.

“Not so fast, egghead!” Sonic ran in but then started slipping and looked down. “Ice?” His eyes followed the trail, and it ended with you—someone with a scarf covering half their face and a katana in hand. Before he can do anything, he hears you shout, “Falling snow, adorn my night!”

With a slash in the air with your katana, what looked like a snowstorm surrounded you, leaving you unharmed, unlike the robots that were once surrounding you, now being slashed and beaten around. The storm you created calmed and disappeared once all the robots were destroyed. Unaware that Sonic was stumped in place, he had awe on his face as he was still looking at you.

You just did that all on your own. Sonic has seen other people with powers but hasn’t seen anyone do something quite like what you did.

With a shout of frustration, the man you now knew as Egghead went off, “You’ll pay for that! I hope you’re ready to be paranoid for the rest of your life. Shadows in the corner of your eye, a creak in the floorboard, umm.” He scratches his head, but Sonic spin attacks the eggmobile before he can continue. “Can it already.”

“You just became my new enemy!” Egghead yells as he’s sent flying away.

Once he’s out of sight, you sigh, putting away your katana.

The purpose of going out for a walk was to relax and take a break from spending hours settling into your new home. Not even making it past day one being here, you’ve made an enemy. Granted, you’re confident you can take care of yourself, but just because you know how to fight doesn’t mean you want to go around looking for trouble on purpose.

You tense up when you feel someone tap your shoulder. You turn and see the blue hedgehog that got rid of Egghead. “Those were some sick moves there, and I didn’t even need to step in to help you. Name’s Sonic. And what’s the name of the Ice Prince/Princess.”

In retrospect, you knew off the bat he wasn’t an awful person, and he means well, but your mind shows no mercy. The way he has no problem with direct eye contact with you has you looking anywhere but him. His honest compliment gives a perfect opening to strike up a conversation and possibly make a new friend. Still, experiences of the past haunt you, making you fearful of slipping up and regret saying anything at all. And the way he asked for your name has you panicking. Did Sonic mean to make it sound flirtatious? If he did, that makes the pressure of responding even worse. If he didn’t, you’d feel like an absolute fool and start mentally berating yourself for even thinking of that. What if he called you Ice Prince/Princess because you already came across as a cold individual? You’ve had people tell you that on multiple occasions, more than you would like to admit. Even if he didn’t mean it that way, your mind leads you to these pessimistic thoughts.

He may not think that now, but what if he does later?

You knew you accidentally took too long to respond when you heard Sonic. “Umm. Are you okay?”

Great. Now, he probably thinks that something’s wrong with me.

Panicking, you couldn’t take it anymore.

Sonic is taken aback when suddenly you’re gone, but there is a frozen fog where your feet once stood, running away into an alley.

“Wait!” He tries running after you without stepping on the trail of ice. But then he comes to an intersection where a massive mess of ice and snow is left behind, and the trail has ended. It gave Sonic whiplash how every move you made during the fight looked calculated and confident, ruthless with your attacks, with a steeliness in your eyes. Still, once the fight was over, it was as if you became an entirely different person. Eyes shift anywhere but him, your thumb scratching and rubbing the handle of your blade where your hand was placed, and slight sweat begins forming on your forehead that wasn’t there when you were fighting.

Their powers consist of ice; isn’t that supposed to help with heat? Sonic thought to himself.

Disappointed, he looks around one last time before running off.

You’re grateful for this because not even a moment later, the sneeze you were holding comes out on its own. You knew you couldn't outrun him, so you caused the mess on purpose to make it seem you completely vanished when, in reality, you were hiding behind a dumpster.

How you two become friends:

If Sonic thought it would be a one-time thing, he would have been dead wrong. The few times when there was a moment when it seemed an opponent had the upper hand, you’d show up out of nowhere to help and then disappear. Of course, with this happening, Sonic’s whole gang knew about you now.

Most were convinced you were a good person, just not the best at socializing. Sticks, on the other hand, was still on edge.

But that didn’t stop Amy when she saw you coming out of a store with a bag. She instantly lit up; she and the rest of her friends hardly saw you around when they went… well, anywhere. She had a clue that you probably struggled socially, so maybe she can help you and become friends.

So she walked up to you and said, “Hello there.”

You jumped slightly in surprise before turning around, “Hi.” You felt nerves prick your hands slightly, but it seemed like thanks to the fact that you had an idea of how much of a sweetheart Amy is -as long as you didn’t purposely do or say something rude- you weren’t as skittish around her compared to the day when you first encountered Sonic.

“Thanks for helping me and my friends whenever we’re in a rough situation.”

You shook your head, “It’s no problem.”

They seem nervous yet gentle. Sonic must’ve meant this when he said they’re different when not fighting. Amy thought to herself.

“I’m sorry for always running off.” You carefully chose your following words before Amy beat you to it.

“Interacting with others is hard for you?”

Even though she asked, you can tell it was more of a statement than a question. Some of her warmth and gentleness rubbed off and made it easier to look at her as you nodded.

“How about we become friends, and I’ll slowly introduce you to everyone else?”

You’ve made some friends in the past, but sometimes life happens, and you part ways. You’ve met people in the past who you called friends, but as time passed, you noticed it seemed like they invited you into their already tight-knit group out of pity. And you’ve had people you thought were friends but made you feel small in your life.

However, for some reason, it didn’t feel like Amy was asking you out of pity. You knew she was a good person, and you couldn’t help but feel like once you said yes, there was no way she would let you drift away so easily. So you took the leap of faith and said yes.

The day you were forced to have to face Sonic was an accident. You and Amy were sitting on the couch talking about who she should introduce you to when Sonic just barged in, and his sight landed on you, forgetting what he was initially there for.

“It’s you!” He ran and sat next to you. “Talk about a cold shoulder. You’re hanging out with Amy but don’t have enough time to spare for me? I’m hurt.” He says dramatically, his hands clutching the area where his heart is.

“Sonic.” Amy chides. Annoyed already that things aren’t going the way she hoped. She wanted to talk to her friends about your social anxiety and introvert tendencies before they talk to you.

“It’s fine, Amy.” You assured her. If Sonic is still making jokes with you, then maybe that means he didn’t take you running off multiple times as an offense. “I’m sorry for always running away. I’m not the best at talking to people, so please don’t think it’s something personal.”

Sonic waves you off as he lays back with his arms behind his head and his feet propped up on the table. “It’s fine, I get it. You couldn’t look at or talk to me; you started fidgeting with your sword, sweating, and running away. So that means despite being able to produce ice at will, you just couldn’t stay cool enough not to have the hots for me. Am I right, or am I right?”

You swear you felt yourself malfunctioning at that moment, “What?”

Amy smacked Sonic’s feet off the table so hard he almost fell off from where he was sitting.

“Sonic.” Her tone of warning.

“Yes, I heard you the first time; I don’t have amnesia; I know my name, Amy.”

You thank whatever gods are up there that you wear a scarf.

Sonic helping you out of your comfort zone:

Amy would inform him about what she’s learned from you about your social anxiety. He does like you. Even though he tends to be blunt, rude, and shortsighted about others' feelings, being around you might help him become more considerate of others' emotions.

But he is not perfect, so don’t expect him to be 100% a saint.

Sonic decided to take over introductions as his duty as a hero of the people. Or so he says.

Did Amy agree? No.

Does Sonic care? No.

When the day came, you decided you were ready to meet the next person in their group; Sonic was ecstatic for you to meet his best friend, Tails. He told you to wait home, and he’d bring him over. He did not tell you that they were both coming over on hoverboards.

You couldn’t help but notice how much fun they looked.

“You’re (Y/n), yes? Sonic said you’ll be joining us today.” The fox you assume is Tails comes up next to you with a hoverboard in one arm before handing it over to you.

Before you can say that you don’t know how to ride one, Tails continues, “Don’t think that just because you never knew before means you still can’t learn now. I’ll teach you.”

As silly as it may sound, you can’t help but feel like you just gained a younger brother.

And that’s how Sonic was getting you comfortable with meeting more of his friends, making these outings fun enough for you to forget about society and live in the moment.

The moment he knew he was in love with you:

Shadow was attacking you and your friends. Well, now, only you since he knocked out the rest. Amy already sent a request for backup from Sonic before she passed out. You were doing the best you could to hold out. You can parry some attacks and sense when he teleports, but the problem is his speed. You can cloak yourself into a frozen fog when he runs at you, but he can still get a few hits. You’ve only been able to do more defense moves than offense. You can use your ability to go faster, but it’s not super speed like Sonic.

When you were wondering if you might fail your friends, Sonic arrived. And when the battle was over, you stood in silence for a moment when, for some reason, a giggle left your lips. Which then turned into laughter.

Sonic asked if you were okay when he saw how you looked.

Your scarf had fallen off from your fight with Shadow, showing your face for the first time. Your smile was big yet still held a gentleness like your voice.

And your laughter.

Whenever you laughed before, it was usually just a closed-mouth giggle. The most Sonic could get out of you was when you placed your hand over your scarf where your mouth was to keep yourself from bursting out. But now here you are. Laughing out loud unapologetically without holding back.

You looked beautiful even with a messy hairstyle, dirtied clothes, and bruises. There was a sunset with a chaotic mess of ice surrounding you.

An ice-ability user with a warm heart.

“After everything we’ve been through, I have no idea how we’re still alive; it makes no sense!” You laughed. Your laughter started feeling contagious to Sonic, and he joined in.

How he would confess to you:

As much as Sonic makes it seem like he’s not a sappy person when he puts in the work, he’s exposed as actually being a softy. He wants to make this special, and he does.

You feel drained and desperately need to recharge. You care and love your friends, but if you don’t care for yourself when you feel this way, you start getting irritated and feel a bit snappy. You’ve done a good job holding back from doing or saying anything you know you don’t mean, but it still scares you now and then that it might happen one day. Yes, arguments have happened amongst your friends, but you try your best to be the neutral side.

Saying your goodbyes, you head home. However, once you are away from your friends, Sonic runs beside you. “I made plans today for just the two of us.”

“I’m sorry, Sonic, but I’m not in the mood for anything hectic right now.”

Sonic panicked, “You’re going home to rest up, right? Well, it just so happens that my plans involve both of us just slowing down for once.”

You blinked. “Did I hear that correctly? Sonic T. Hedgehog, ‘the fastest being alive,’ Mr. ‘can’t be tamed,’ Mr. ‘can’t slow down’ has made plans to take it easy for once? Is it the end of the world?” You then poked his shoulder. “Is this secretly Metal Sonic with a new upgrade from Dr. Eggman? A new ploy to let our guard down and destroy everything on Seaside Island?”

“Ha ha, very funny. You know, you’re starting to sound like Sticks,” He took your hand to hold in his and started leading you away. “Don’t underestimate me. I can be unpredictable when I want to be—slowing down? No problem. We’ll start by just walking down to Meh Burgers. No running.”

“I look forward to seeing if you can back up your words.”

“Challenge accepted.”

Sure enough, you and Sonic walked to Meh Burgers hand in hand without running. Before you mentally prepare to speak to the cashier, Sonic says, “You can go ahead and find us a table; I’ll order.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s not a problem for me.” He waved, reassuring you before he walked away.

You find a table to sit at and wait for Sonic. Unfortunately, your mind starts to take a cynical path. You chose a table that you hoped seemed inconspicuous, but it still doesn’t change the fact that there’s not really a hiding spot in an open area like this.

Did you stand out negatively? Why does it feel like a giant neon light is pointing at you? Is there someone here talking about how weird you stick out? Are some of them pitying you, thinking you’re eating here alone?

Distracted by your overwhelming thoughts, you don’t sense Sonic arriving with the food. “Everybody else is busy in their own world.” You jump slightly, hearing his voice. “If you listen closely, you can hear them talking about something they got going on.” He says as he places down the tray.

When you listen, you hear conversations about visiting family, going to a theatre, and shopping. Your thoughts and emotions slow, and you feel like you can breathe properly. You miss Sonic's gentle smile before he changes the subject to something he knows makes you happy and allows your mind to drift away from negative thoughts.

You and Sonic are walking hands together to the beach. Sonic has seen more than enough sunsets, but this time, he needs it now more than ever to help ease his nerves and confess to you.

Sitting down, you noticed that something was off with him, but instead of asking immediately, you decided to watch the sunset and wait awhile for him to hopefully feel comfortable enough to talk about it—emphasis on hopefully.

He takes a breath before taking out a Starfruit, “Do you want to share?”

Others may think it's a small gesture; however, you recall reading a story and telling Sonic about a scene where a character mentions that if two people share one, their destinies become intertwined. They will remain a part of each other's lives no matter what.

Your heartbeat quickens, and your face warms up, but not because of anxiety.

He knew you needed to rest and recharge, so the fastest person alive slowed down for you. He also knew how nice-looking restaurants make you paranoid about whether you're overdressed or underdressed and whether you're showing proper etiquette, so he took you to a burger joint. He knows how you rehearse every interaction with a cashier multiple times in your head so you don't screw up and make a fool out of yourself, so he went and did it for you. He noticed that your mind had taken over and nearly drowned you with your thoughts, and he helped pull you out. And right now, in this moment, he remembered a small detail in a story you’ve only talked about once.

“I’m not the best at talking about my feelings, but I hope you know what I’m trying to say.”

For once, without a doubt, you hold Sonic’s free hand by the wrist to gently pull it towards you and use an index finger to draw a heart.

Sonic lets out a breath of relief before whispering, “That’s good.” He had a big smile on his face.

A/N: Did I give the reader similar powers of Kazuha and Ayaka from Genshin Impact? Yes, I did. Did I make reference to The Case Study of Vanitas? Yes, I did. Did I also make a reference to Kingdom Hearts? Yes, I did. Do I regret any of it? No 😈😂