#and to offload space on my phone

[r0semultiverse]

Rose Lalonde Sprites & Edits

Use these for whatever you want, just give credit if you use these for anything!

[shallowseeker]

A year ago, I did not own a laptop or a working keyboard.

After a cuh-razy health year ...and FINALLY bonus at work, I was able to rebuy the tech I had sold a coupla years ago, and it's in the mail!!!

My designated "personal" office space had been collecting dust, and it collected even more dust post-heart wonkiness.

Yesterday and today, I cleaned it out. Joining a fandom for this stupid TV series has cheered me up so much! I'm creating graphics again, and not just in a burnout-hustley way. I even picked up writing, and it seems like it's gonna stick!

Life is wild. Who says fandom can't improve your life???

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Eighteen

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

Notes: Very long-awaited, so I'm sorry for that! But hope you'll still enjoy this update..

taglist: @thelastemzy @helloitsme1223 @geekchic48 @antisocialsocialclub5

Masterlist

“Who knew I had so many big Hollywood friends?” I wondered aloud as I puttered into the kitchen from the back garden. I’d just gotten off the phone with Mila— our third call in less than two hours— only to have found another couple of texts waiting for me, all from sporadic numbers, all claiming to be this person or that.

The door shut behind me with a shudder but the morning sun was beaming strongly through its windows today, brightening the kitchen as well as my mood.

“I mean, that first article sort of just breezed us by– but this second one? Man, it’s like I’ve been bumped up on everyone’s to-do lists.” I added with a snarky sort of grin whilst cocking my hip in wait, “How d’you reckon they got my number anyway? Yellow pages still a thing?”

“You sound real old right now.” Marshall teased as he closed in on me, having padded his way over from the stove the second I walked in. It smelt like he was cooking bacon again, Z would be pleased.

My smile was tight even as he pulled me close, hands trailing my sides whilst I played up my wounded look. “Age jokes coming from you? Be careful there, gramps.”

In retaliation, he just nipped at my shoulder. 

“Funny.”

“It’s why you keep me ’round.” I shot back at him, smirking mostly to myself at the easy way we reacted to one another.

“That, and these legs.” He then murmured against my neck, his hands having slipped low enough around my hips during our short conversation that it was easy for him to drop his arm that much more and trail a finger up my thigh.

I batted his wandering hand away, laughing even as he tried to make another grab for me. “Liar.”

“Never.” Em retorted back just as quickly, his nose dragging along the cut of my jaw now in a slow and teasing manner that warmed my skin. “Keep my eyes from strayin’ whenever you start complainin’.”

I had to roll my eyes at that. “I’ll have you know I don’t complain, I bitch. There’s a difference. And also? Don’t get me started, I’ve never known a man to mutter and obsess over every little thing like you do— it’s as though there’s been a slight to your entire family‘s name.”

He pinched my hip.

So, huffing around another amused smile, I finally managed to pull away from his embrace ever so slightly, putting some space between us just so that I could peer over his shoulder, having smelt the change in the air. “Bacon's burning.”

That caught his attention. 

“Shit.” Marshall swore under his breath before he was skidding back across the hardwood floors, picking up the spatula as he did. I watched him go, trailing behind at a much more sedate pace to take a seat at the island, where I got yet another text message.

“Think I’m more popular today than I was the launch of my last album.” I sighed at the sight and shook my head, before deciding to switch my phone screen off again completely and place it face down on the counter.

“Gotta learn to ignore ‘em, baby.”

“I’m trying! It’s just hard to do that when my phone won’t stop buzzing. Only keeping it on so that I don’t worry Lotts. You know how she gets.” I replied, settling my forearms against the island’s cool top to watch Marshall offload breakfast. 

“Let’s talk about something else.” He suggested after a moment had passed, so I exhaled around a soft smile and nodded at him, very much grateful for it. “Speakin’ of, a friend of mine invited us to a barbecue Sunday. Figure they wanna meet the girl who’s got me down bad enough to have me ignoring ‘em all.”

Although my heart warmed at the notion, the idea that these people could see the visible change in Em and were wanting to meet me, my brow also pinched a tad at the sudden predicament I was met with, “But I’m meant to be leaving Saturday.”

I watched the way Marshall’s shoulders hunched at my words even as he continued to allocate the rest of the food he’d prepared onto three collected plates without a blip. He didn’t really reply though, just gave me a low hum before he placed the frying pan back down onto the stove top and switched it off.

A quiet sigh escaped me as I sat up a little straighter. “Em..” I tried.

His shoulders drooped, “It’s cool, just thought you might wanna stay a little longer. I mean, we just figurin’ this shit out, right? Now you leaving.” 

Bewildered by the accusatory tone he’d seemed to have taken at the end of that sentence, I felt my head tilt on its own accord. “We always knew I would, Marshall. I don’t want to leave—“

“Then don’t.” He quipped right back, turning around to face me this time, his arms crossed over his chest, tea towel in one fist. “Stay longer. Even if it’s only for a couple days.”

I pursed my lips at him and really tried to think it over. On the one hand, I would love any extra time I could find here in Detroit. With Marshall and Rosie both. But London was calling, and I couldn’t just leave Lottie alone. 

Marshall must have seen the apprehension on my face because he crossed the floor to push against the opposing side of the kitchen island in the next moment, his expression imploring. “We can figure it out, you know. Move shit around. Your sister can even come stay here too, if she wants.”

My forehead furrowed further even as I let go of a quiet titter, disbelieving. “How long are you planning to keep me around, Mathers?”

It looked as though Marshall had to bite his tongue in that next moment, to keep the truth from slipping perhaps, but it still made me question what that truth could be exactly. 

“Look. I’m just sayin’ I want you here for a little longer. That so bad?”

My smile was sincere and my eyes softened as I reached out for his hand, he grapsed the silent ask quickly and took mine in his, fingers trailing over the backs of my knuckles. “Never said it was a bad thing, Marsh. If I can stay longer, then I’ll stay longer. You know that. I guess, we’ll have to make it work.”

“Yeah?”

I had to laugh then, he seemed so hopeful and it was a real vivid contrast to the man I’d grown used to, “Yes, honey.”

Marshall’s nose scrunched up at the pet name, which only caused my amusement to brighten. “No to the name then?”

“Call me Epstein before you call me honey.” He sniped back, withdrawing his hand. “Sounds real Britishy.”

I gaped a tad. 

Firstly, ‘Britishy’ was definitely not a fucking word, and secondly, “What’s wrong with that?”

Marshall’s face wrinkled further, deepening each soft wrinkle and deeming my question unworthy of an answer as he stepped over to the intercom by the hallway door t press the buzzer twice, “Z, if your ass still ain’t up and down here in a minute, I’m feedin’ your food to the neighbours chihuahuas.”

He was shaking his head as he turned back around to face me, arm raising to rub his brow, “You’d think the kid was sleep deprived or some shit.”

My snort was quick and breathy as I swivelled my chair around so that I could reach for him as he reproached the counter, hands crowding his neck, “Teenage years are coming in real quick.”

Marshall sighed heavily into my shoulder the second he had his arms wrapped around me, head making a home there. “No talking.” He said grumpily.

I huffed out a soft chuckle, undeterred as I was, then reached up to lay a gentle hand over the back of his head, soothing over the fine hairs the nape of his neck held. “Think about it. Soon enough she’ll be off to high school, driving your cars, shopping for prom, falling in lov—“

Licking the palm of the hand that had jumped up to silence me had Marshall’s face contorting for a split second before he rubbed it across the side of my right cheek, uncaring in the face of my sudden disgust.

“Twat.” I growled at him, scowling as I shoved him away to wipe at my skin. 

Em just laughed his way merrily back on over to the food, so visibly pleased with himself that it almost hurt, although he frowned a moment later before he fell quiet. “‘S cold.” He grunted as he stared down at the three plates he’d briefly forgotten about, “Gone have to warm it up, I guess.”

I went to reassure him that none of us would mind, when “Do I smell bacon?” sounded through the intercom and therefore throughout the entire kitchen, ricocheting off the tiled walls.

Marshall and I shared a fond smile before a horrendous thump of feet came thundering over our heads and down the staircase. A blur of brown hair and pink pyjamas flew past me in a haste to get a quick peek at what was on offer, bypassing her father’s outstretched arm by ducking beneath it.

“Z, you even washed your face yet?” Marshall admonished her, huffing as he swatted one of her wandering hands away from the crispy strips of bacon he’d since prepared. “And what I tell you about swiping food ‘fore it’s ready, aye?”

Rosie’s eye roll could have been heard from across oceans even as she slumped back into the counter behind her to groan, “You were put here to torment me, Dad!”

I hiccuped around a surprised bout of laughter, not having expected the fractious reply, which earned a ‘look’ off of Marshall for my show of amusement and a sneaky smile from the girl in question. I raised my hands in silent apology even as I fought back a stubborn cough, nearly having swallowed my tongue in the process of dimming my giggle. 

“Go grab some forks whilst I reheat this, you gremlin.” Marshall grunted out with a slight shake of head as he gestured his daughter off with the spatula. Rosie did as was told, giving one last forlorn look to the greasy goods as she puttered over to the far drawer.

Meanwhile, I got a start on boiling the kettle so that I could prep a couple brews to go with the fry up Em had graciously made, whilst the man himself shuffled back and forth from microwave to counter.

When the food was, once again, deemed worthy, Marshall and I carried the plates out into the garden, where a lounge area had long since been set up across a long stretch of decking. It was a nice enough day, a little nippy but the sun was shining bright enough that it casted us in a shallow bout of warmth. 

Z was sat there waiting for us impatiently, feet swinging back and forth in her haste for breakfast whilst she sipped at a cold glass of orange juice that Em had granted her. She all but devoured her plate within the first five minutes of us sitting before she then started sneaking bits of both Marshall and I’s food too. 

Em rolled his eyes at his apparently half-starved child, whilst I was perfectly content to give what I had left to the girl who’d been eyeing my bacon with the fervour of a dog at dinner time. 

“So, what’s the plan today then?”

Em shrugged at me, chewing away as he squinted in the morning sunlight. He was much more subdued now that he’d eaten, the phone that had been attached to his hand the last few days long forgotten inside the house and his presence very much here in the moment.

“Still need to wrap up that song?” I suggested to him, raising a brow even though I wasn’t much in the mood for being cooped up in the studio for the remainder of the day.

Marshall appeared to feel a similar way, if the scrunch of his nose didn’t give it away, then the shake of his head did. “Weather’s good.” He acknowledged, slumping further back in his chair so that his shoulders dipped just below its top, “Should do somethin’.”

“Oh yeah?” I found myself chuckling in response, glancing over at Z to share something of an amused look with her, “And what bright idea have you got for us then?”

The question was met by a flick of blue eyes before Em ultimately closed them again, hands coming to rest over his stomach. “What am I, the brains of this operation?” He murmured, before he then continued with, “What, you two can’t figure somethin’ out?”

I flicked his side in retribution, but the man merely smirked in turn.

“Can we go to a game?” Rosie piped up after a second had passed, blinking over at her father with an imploring expression, fingers clinging to the edge of the table. 

Even I couldn’t say that it wasn’t a good idea.

“What, like football?” I still had to wonder.

Marshall was the one to reply to my ask, shaking his head at me in an enamoured sort of way. “None on. Tigers are playin’ though.”

Z practically lit up at that. “That mean I can wear my new jersey then?” She asked, having straightened and turned more towards her father, almost bouncing in her seat. 

Peeling back an eyelid, Marshall spared me a questioning glance that had my lips quirking upwards ever so slightly. “You like baseball?” He questioned me, ignoring Rosie’s buzzing energy for a brief moment.

“Bit like rounders, no?”

The look I was then gifted was full of torment. 

“So, that’s a no then?”

It had to be said– Baseball was a lot like rounders, in actual fact. But the British schoolground game was a hell of a lot simpler. A whole fucking lot, in truth. 

Baseball was all strikes, misses, three hits and you're out! It also would have been dead boring if I hadn’t had my own little commentators giving me all sorts of information throughout, as well as the eighteen men clad in tight trousers that consumed my view.

“Are the mullets mandatory?” I wondered offhandedly as I peered out over the crowd onto the pitch, fiddling with the sunglasses I’d since slotted into my hair to keep the wind from blowing it into my face every few minutes. 

Having been met with silence, I glanced over to my left only to be met by an unimpressed stare. My grin was all too pleased, and obviously something that Em couldn’t just brush off because he answered me anyway, “No.”

His answer was monotone and short, sure. But those sort of replies were always tinged by a layer of fondness, I’d quickly come to realise.

My grin broadened.

“Dad, can we go get a Slurpee at the seventh inning?” Rosie then asked, peering around my shoulder to let her father get a better look at the puppy-like expression she adorned.

Marshall muttered something under his breath as he shook his head softly at the pair of us, but then sighed a second later to nod over at his daughter, “Sure, baby. Jus’ have to wait for the crowd to ease a little first.”

We’d been quite lucky so far, with only a handful of fans having clocked Marshall as we’d entered the stadium and a few more once we’d settled into a small row of reserved seats. But it wasn’t all that hard to tell that the more Em moved about, the more attention he’d soon garner. And that was always the last thing he wanted, especially with Rosie so close. Most of our conversations, whenever the luxuries of fame got brought up, were always centred around keeping the people closest to us safe from the prying eyes of the public, whether their attention was good or bad. But I’d always known that for Marshall it was a road that always stretched farther than most.

“Might be easier if I take Z and weasel our way through, no?” I offered to him with a small shrug, as though I hadn’t thought too deeply over the whole ordeal. 

Marshall knew me better than that though, and even after a scrutinising look that revealed just how much he’d like to take me up on the offer, I could also see the way he was going to decline it, if only to appease Rosie herself.

But to my surprise, the girl spoke up before Em could even get a word in, “Yeah! Can we, Dad?”

Marshall’s mouth popped closed again in slight surprise, before I then watched on as his eyes trailed between the two of us and up over the mountain of stairs just to our right. I gifted him a look which said it was down to him, but after a moment and a too long stare, he acquiesced. Fairly easily, if I might say so. 

So by the time the seventh inning, basically an unofficial but traditional half time, I’d since learned, had rolled around, Marshall sent us off with a ‘be careful’ and another weary look whilst he’d shuffled the brim of his cap down further over his eyes.

Rosie held claim of my hand the entire way up, the swish of her jersey, which fell to the top of her knees, brushing against my leg the whole time as she kept close in an attempt to avoid the rather large hustle and bustle of other patrons wanting to grab a bite or something to drink.

We eventually made it to a food stand, having dipped and dived our way through offending limbs and foam fingers, and Rosie was basically bouncing on the balls of her feet whilst we waited to be served.

“What flavour you gettin”?” I asked her as we stepped further forward in the lengthy queue that had started, the end of it curving around the previous corner.

“Blue.” She hummed in return, gaze caught on the large machine full of icy goodness.

“Sounds like a plan.” I commented with a gentle smile, thinking on what I wanted when someone broke our bubble by tapping my shoulder. 

I startled and swung around, eyes widening as they took in the sight of a young guy wrapped up in a Tigers jersey and brown Stetson, his cheeks lined with either white chalk or just paint. He was in the queue just behind us and appeared to have been the unlucky one out of his few mates that had been forced into getting them all their drinks, seeing as a group of rowdy men dotted just off to the side all whooped for him for a second before they settled for just snickering amongst themselves, eyes lingering.

Rosie’s grip on my hand tightened ever so.

“Sorry, din’t mean to scare ya. I just wanted to say that I liked yer shirt.” The guy spoke up, his accent thick and full of southern delight. It had me blinking for a split second before I let go of a small but huffed chuckle, releasing my previous shock.

“Thank you.” I replied to him, unsure on what else to say, fully prepared to turn back around and not give the short encounter a second thought when the man’s expression washed over with sudden surprise.

“Wow, that accent too! Where ya from?” He wondered, his eyes widening in a way that was almost doe-like and probably would have worked on any woman in a ten-mile radius. He gave off a real Clint Eastwood vibe.e

“London.” I acknowledged, giving him a tightlipped smile as my head dipped in a short nod. I was nothing if not polite, but I was far from oblivious either. 

He nodded away at that too, feigning a slight awe as he worked his teeth over his bottom lip, leaning closer in a way that was supposedly meant to be so that he could be heard over the surrounding crowd. “‘m from Texas maself, only here to see some old friends.” He told me, throwing a thumb over his shoulder to direct my attention to the group I’d spotted a minute earlier, most of whom were either smirking or chuckling between themselves. “They mean well, jus’ a bit too excited, ya know?”

His chuckle was soft, seemed sincere actually, as he shucked his fingers through his belt loops, and I could really see it then, the whole rancher sort of cowboy aesthetic he was going for. I wondered how much of it was real, and how much was put on. 

“Right, well I hope you guys enjoy the game.” I retorted nicely enough, throwing a look backwards and shuffling further down the line when Z did, all but tugging me with her.

“Oh, is this yer daughter?” The man quizzed me, another bright grin taking over his face as he reached out to steady me a tad when I stumbled with the previous movement. I was quick to release myself from his hold, however genuine it had seemed, and then Rosie was between the two of us before I could even think to reply.

“My Daddy brought us to see the game.” She informed him, putting on a smile that was incredibly bright and sweet as she swung our hands back and forth between us obviously. She appeared all too pleasant right then, not that she never was, just… I was able to tell now the differences in her posture and the way she held herself. Her smile was soft and welcoming, sure, full of that ‘look at me I’m so cute’ thing that only kids could pull off, but the tilt to her grin gave her game away, as did the squint of her eyes. She wasn’t impressed by this man, at all.

I could have snorted then and there at the defensive stance she’d taken on, reminding me of the few times Lottie had acted as a buffer to get us out of a few long and dwindling conversations, but then Rosie was speaking again–

“A gift for their anniversary, right Mom?”

I spluttered at her words, almost choking on my own tongue whilst my eyes widened comically.

“Oh! Well, my bad, I’m real sorry to have bothered y'all.” The man smiled politely, taking a small step back as he chuckled, whatever hopes he had having diminished in a simple second. “Hope ya enjoy yer day, too.”

I was left blinking at the entire encounter even as we were called up to the stand by the vendor, an older gent with a thick mustache and toupee? Rosie though, she smiled happily all the while and didn’t even mind prattling off the (far too long) order to the man behind the counter whilst I tried to rewire my brain.

I blinked myself out of the daze by the time the guy had managed to shove two large slurpees, three hot dogs full of sauce, and a bag of pretzels into my arms. But it was only as I stumbled off to the side, struggling to find a way to hold everything, that another voice sounded, causing my head to shoot up and the buzzing in my head to quiet. 

“You gotta learn to say no to the kid.” Marshall laughed at me as he approached us from out of the bustling crowd, moving quickly as he handed Z her drink, stuffed the pretzels into one of his many pockets, and offloaded two of the hotdogs and the remaining slurpee from my hold. I blinked once more, startled by his sudden appearance.

“What are you doing here?” Was all I could think to ask, though I noted the way that his hood was now pulled up over his cap, shielding most of his face from view.

“Needed to piss. ‘Sides, you were takin’ too long, so I figured I’d just come find you.” Em answered, shaking his head at the plethora of food his daughter had gathered for us, the girl in question smirking happily just off to the side.

I swallowed thickly, before I found my feet once more. “You know, your daughter’s a little menace.”

Z’s happy giggle was closer to that of an actual cackle and Marshall could only look between us in slight confusion after it, unable to gouge what had gone down in the time we’d been separated. 

It had to be then, of course, that the guy from just moments ago reentered the fold, ducking around Marshall as he left the foodstand with a half a dozen beers tucked between his elbows.

“‘Squse me there, fella.” He said after almost bowling into Em, his apologetic smile brightening into something other when he caught sight of Rosie and I stood beside him, Z now hanging off her father’s hip. 

“I see you found yer ladies!” He mentioned, eyes dancing between the three of us now, and he looked as though he might have given Em a hearty shoulder clap too if he hadn’t had his hands so full, but I supposed there was a thing such as small mercies. “Yer one lucky man.” He seemed to add just before he slipped away, leaving Marshall more than baffled and Rosie giggling happily away to herself. 

“A menace.” I heard myself repeat, unable to say much else.

[bedlamsbard]

I have gotten, for the first time in eight years, a new phone. I really really needed a new phone, because the previous one was eight years old, dated from the Obama administration, was running out of space literally everyday (despite a microSD chip to offload stuff and daily deletions), overheated if I so much as looked at it funny, and would probably explode if I ever downloaded a new app to it. Which is probably coming soon, since, you know, new university. I then had to go back to the store (not the Verizon store, Fred Meyer) to get headphones with a USB-C connection and a converter so I can continue using my current earbuds because I had completely forgotten that most new phones got rid of the headphone jack, and then back to the store AGAIN when I realized that I didn't have an adapter that would take a USB-C. "Most people find the USB-C more efficient," said the guy at Fred Meyer. Sir until today I had literally zero devices that took a USB-C. My old phone was eight years old. My main computer is ten years old. I only bought a new secondary computer because my six year old Surface, on which I wrote 70% of my doctoral dissertation, would no longer hold a charge and turned off at random intervals, which was extremely inconvenient when I was in Zoom meetings. (I also literally never used it as a tablet. Maybe once in six years. I didn't want a tablet, I wanted a smaller laptop. I treated that damn thing like a laptop.)

[georgiedoodles]

📚Broppy CollegeAU | "Campus Days"

Part 5: Locker #A340

Tuesday, week 3 of 16.

“BRANCH!!” arms quickly wrapped around his shoulders, it’s a pair of pink hands resting under his neck; a certain someone seems to be getting more comfortable with being touched. Branch turned to look over his shoulder and saw Poppy grinning ear to ear with excitement.

“How come you’re in line for the lockers already? Isn’t class about to start in a few minutes?” Poppy peeks over his shoulder to see a long line of students waiting for registration, Branch seemed to be the 20th person in the queue.

Branch faced forward again, “Well, last week the professor said we’re excused from the class to get our lockers, after all we’re doing independent work today, there won’t be a lecture to miss out on.” Branch patted her hands, holding her arms and gently swaying.

Poppy swayed along, it felt nice to be this close to him. Luckily, she left her portfolio and tote bag at their station, so she avoided another trip inside. Soon enough, the queue started to move, and students were getting their lockers. Branch and Poppy sign their names on a card which included the locker number [A340], the locker code [11-4-16] and the building it was at.

“Do you want to check out the locker or go back to class?” Poppy asked while holding the card, taking a photo of it with her phone. Branch gave it a moment and nodded, “No, let’s wait until after the class to drop off our stuff at the locker. I even brought a locker divider to help us utilize more space.” He smiled and walked along side Poppy back to class.

The classroom was quiet, the professor seemed to be late, and everyone was confused. A good 20 minutes after class had begun and there was still no sign of him, not even an email through their school app. Then a student got up, packed up his things and left the class. One by one, everyone followed his example and left, it looks like class is canceled today. Poppy and Branch looked at each other, waiting for one of them to pack up and leave.

“Hey Branch?”

“Yes Poppy?”

“What do we do now?” never breaking eye contact, she was hesitant, she never had this happen to her before. Branch reached under his cart and collected his belongings; Poppy mirrored his actions and they both left together. They made their way to their locker, dropping off some of their work and utensils before they walked toward the café, they had nothing else to do for the time being.

“I’m kinda hungry, did you want coffee and snacks, or did you want actual food to eat?” Poppy brushes out the knots at the end of her ponytail with her fingers, glancing over to Branch.

Branch hummed, thinking about his schedule, they had a few hours to burn, “Let’s get actual food, I have about 3 hours before I need to head to my next class” He adjusted his backpack, it was a lighter now that they offloaded their stuff earlier. Poppy nods and makes their way to the cafeteria, pulling out her wallet from her tote bag at the same time. In the cafeteria, Poppy orders a breakfast curry burrito with a bottle of orange juice, and Branch orders a grilled chicken sandwich with apple juice. Poppy paid for their food and sent Branch to find some seats for them, he carried both of their trays to a table.

“Thank you Branch~, it was super sweet of you to bring my tray aswell.” She patted his shoulder and sat down across from him. Branch smiled and happily took a bite from his sandwich. Halfway through their breakfast, Poppy’s mind started to wander, she was unknowingly staring at Branch when he ate a particularly saucier part of his sandwich, she watched him lick his bottom lip to clean from any sauce running down his chin. She wondered what his lips felt like. When branch reached for his juice, she watched him break open the seal of his apple juice, his jaw is very defined when he tilts his head back to take a sip.

Soon enough, Poppy started to wonder something about him, ‘Does he have a girlfriend? Has he ever had a girlfriend?’ She took another bite, chewing very slowly, thinking deeply about her friend’s personal life a bit more. ‘I wonder what kind of partner he is, maybe he’s soft and clingy? What if he’s the opposite of how he is now?? Like, what if he’s assertive and- ‘

“Poppy? Uhhh hello? Earth to Poppy?” Branch waved his hand in front of her face, trying to bring her back from whatever world she’s in.  

“Huh? OH” Her cheeks burned up and quickly composed herself when she noticed Branch staring at her. “Don’t worry *cough* I’m fine, I just had some… homework on my mind.” She sipped her juice, trying to seem normal.

“Ookaay.” He brings his sandwich up to his mouth, taking a small bite and watching Poppy’s movements carefully. “What kind of homework is it? Did you need help doing it?”

“It’s uhm...” Poppy and Branch lock eyes, he continued to eat and wait for her response. “I can do it myself, don’t worry” She laughs awkwardly, imagining them kissing for an assignment. “What kind of class do you take after our art class?” She changed the subject, she wanted to think about other things instead of what Branch’s lips taste like.

Branch takes another sip of his juice to clear his throat, “Well it’s a prerequisite class that I need for my other history class, it’s just a lecture that I have to sit for twice a week.” He shrugged, taking the last bite. He organized the trash on their table onto his tray. Poppy felt a bit full, so she packed her burrito for later, and cleaned up the rest of their area.

They both stood up to leave “So what now? We have more than an hour before you leave” Poppy threw away their trash and left their tray on top of the bin. "We could always go to the library and finish some of our homework together, maybe some of the study group rooms are available for us to use." Branch thought about Poppy's assignment she was thinking about, this would be a good time for them to get stuff done together. Poppy nodded, and they both made their way to the library. 

Inside the Library was cold and the air felt crisp, Branch walked to the kiosk in front of the librarian's desk to reserve a study group room. Fortunately, one room was open for an hour before the next group reservation. Inside the room, it muffled most noise, so the students using it could talk at a normal level without disturbing the ones studying outside of it. In the middle was a large round desk that Branch and Poppy sat at, and behind them was a large whiteboard that took up the entire wall. Branch set up his laptop and took out his textbook and notebook. Poppy pulled out her iPad and mounted it on her keyboard. They both sat in silence, to Branch it was peaceful and put him in a studious mood. On the other hand, Poppy felt like the silence was too loud, she could hear her heartbeat in her ears and her thoughts seemed louder, so she slipped in her earbuds and played some white noise. 

Poppy was not used to being alone with Branch, she was used to a pair of carts putting some distance between them, but there were no carts, and he felt so far away from him. She stretched out her legs to feel closer to him, at the same time, Branch stretched his out to also feel closer to her. Their shoes touched and Branch apologized, when he was about to pull his legs back under him, Poppy quickly spoke up,

"Actually..." She blushed at the idea, "You can leave your legs out, it feels nice to know I'm not that far away from you." She felt shy and instantly regretted her words.

Branch smiled, reaching his legs out, and touched the noses of their shoes gently, a fuzzy feeling blazed through him. This felt very intimate for both of them. Poppy always held hands, hugged, cuddled, or took naps with her friends. Yet, this felt different, she could tell that they both had some desire buried under their friendship. Poppy and Branch wanted more, but they didn't know what that more was. All Poppy could do was use her legs to link their ankles together, it's as if they were holding hands.

It stopped feeling cold in the room, it felt warm and cozy. Butterflies were swarming in their stomachs. They were entranced by the other's touch, distracting them completely.

Before they knew it, the hour was up, and they were disrupted by the next group that needed the room. Branch and Poppy left the library, and neither got any work done.

Previous Post | Next

[chaletnz]

Ecuador's Last Laugh in Guayaquil

I’d conked out last night and slept soundly until the first plane flew over the city around 6:30am. I lounged for a bit and finally got myself together for a walk down to the old bridge remains and then along the river to the market. I found the smoothie stall and ordered the stress smoothie and a cheese empanada for my breakfast. They told me to sit down at the communal table out front while I waited and then charged me $8.75 for this. I didn’t have the time to seek out a cheaper option so I paid telling myself “they need it more than me”. The empanada was a huge mound of fried dough covered in sugar, not very cheesy so essentially a big breakfast donut. I asked them to give me the smoothie to go so I could drink it on my way to the cafe for my morning coffee. They poured it into a water bottle for me and it tasted really nice like an orange juice, although not worth whatever tourist price they’d charged for it! I walked to Slow Brew for my flat white and to my surprise the same Western guy who was in the cafe yesterday was also in this place! It was a nice cafe so I could drink my smoothie and coffee in peace before heading back to the hostel to get ready to leave for the airport. I was super lucky once I stepped out into the hotel’s quiet side street in my boot that there was a taxi dropping someone off about 4 doors down. I flagged him down and jumped in, providing the address of the shuttle company across town. I gave him $3 for the $2.20 ride to get rid of my coins and he had me arriving right before the check in time. When the shuttle was ready to board, there were somehow already a bunch of bags and jackets on seats to reserve them. I took one by the window in the front as there was a phone charging on the aisle seat beside it but figured that’s fair game. Fight me while I’m in the boot! The shuttle gradually filled up around me and some people got on complaining that they couldn’t sit together but I thought, in this moment I don’t speak Spanish at all. It was a nice scenic drive through the Cajas National Park with a stop at a small cafe although the fog had rolled in so there was nothing to see at their viewpoint. We carried on down through the fog and cloud forest down to some city views and farmland at this lower elevation. As we approached Guayaquil (most dangerous city in Ecuador at the time of writing) the open spaces and regular shops and houses were replaced with caged buildings. The cage would surround their outdoor seating area, or storefront, with a door or a small window to pass money and goods through. Guayaquil’s traffic was insane, everything bumper to bumper with close calls and no giving way! We eventually arrived to what is the worst airport in the world, probably. There were no chairs at all to sit on and they had an aggressive guy on the line to check in for flights that barked at people to stay back until he allowed them to pass through to check their bags in. Once I finally got to the front of the queue to check in, the lady sent my bag into the hold but then noticed my boot and said I couldn’t be flying while wearing it without a doctor’s note. After about 30 minutes of back and forth with her and the manager they came to the conclusion that I would have to be escorted down to a secure area where my bag would be offloaded, I’d have to retrieve my shoes and then walk onto the plane in shoes instead of the boot. The secure area was two officers checking bags for suspicious items with their owner’s present to unzip/unlock the bags. Luckily my escort was familiar with the situation and explained to the officer who watched me like a hawk while I got my shoe and brace out and then passed the bag back to him. When I was taken back up to the boarding gate the sign was flashing “Boarding Closed” so I raced over and quickly scanned through and took my seat. It was one last rigmarole of Ecuador but I made it to Bogotá ready for more fun Colombian adventures!

[moomeecore]

in order to clear up phone space in an attempt to gain the ability to update my app so i can use 90% of tumblrs features again, i have been offloading many photos to my photography blog. making this a great time to self promote. pls look at my photo blog @mossmosss 🥺

[fruitless-vain]

I finally have a phone with enough storage space to have music on it again 😭

I was still using my old iPod until it hit the day that it wouldn’t charge anymore, it just died one day and wouldn’t recharge ever again. I could get it to black screen with the Apple but there was never enough juice to turn on all the way

My last phone that I just replaced didn’t have the space for music on it, I didn’t have any games on it, I kept at max 10 pictures at a time and had to export anything I wanted to keep to the computer or else I’d start getting “storage full” messages all the time. Didn’t matter how many times I factory reset it, cleared caches, or uninstalled apps. Every app I needed (gas points card, two social media apps, the bare bones basics) had to be offloaded when not in use otherwise there would not be enough memory to open Instagram. It’d just freeze. Every insta video played in slow motion out of sync with the audio.

I haven’t had music on the go in 5 years at LEAST

I’m so excited 😭

[readysetjo]

Feeling an emotion and just need to ramble to get it off my chest:

Got a new phone because the charging port on my old one was giving out. I downloaded my WhatsApp that I never use anymore and had offloaded for the storage space. I went to check in on a group message that fizzled out because I had to leave a truly toxic person in the group. It was a dead group as far as I’m aware because we had been more active on snap anyway. Looking in, I noticed that she kicked me out of the group because we were all admins and no one else would have (the other 2 I love but didn’t have the confrontation courage enough to defend me when she hurt me so I know it wasn’t them.)

That’s just the picture of it, though. When I made my separations for the sake of my peace I muted her quietly and added filters of “don’t let this person view my updates” but the changes were all me making decisions about my presence in certain apps. She, on the other hand, kicks me out of a group whose name I came up with long ago.

She wasn’t like a ~“narcissist”~ or anything but she was manipulative and often mean. To the point that my old therapist obviously hated her but remained professional and when I left her behind my mental health started to improve by leaps and bounds because I didn’t worry about what she thought of me anymore.

Writing this because I needed to share with someone who might read to get it off my mind so I can enjoy family time again. This is my electronic journal so I thought it might help. Thanks if you read. 🩷

[oneblackbraid]

On my biannual check-in to radblr I want to say HELLO to:

RADBABIES Welcome! I'm OBB, the ladies on here I talk to in real life call me Braid. I left Radblr a few years ago along with a mass exodus of colored radfems when it got too racist/stupid. It hasn't changed much, but two things to remember:

You don't have to be white to be whitewashed. Some of the worst self-hate comes out of woc. We are WAY not aligned, which is why racism and white-centrism is still rampant.

Some of our best allies are white radfems, particularly lesbians who just get things better than straights and most bi's. These allies are key to fighting when we're too drained.

I'm always open to answering questions, just send an Ask. I'm not available for text-based back and forth because of some disabilities, and also because I hate digital shit. Learn to use your actual voice, that's what it's there for.

OLDIES My phone offloaded our communication app to save space, but if you've left me a message you want me to hear you can send me an Ask, that usually gets to me. I'll only see messages during my biannual check-in.

[aajjks]

Haha, I don't know if this counts as the best version of me, but it's definitely the most real.

I come from a very strict Muslim family, so they all expect me to be so holy all the time. I used to be religious, but I think I've just drifted away over time, so I'm not that pious anymore. I still respect the moral values of Islam, but I don't feel inclined to practice Islam as strictly as I used to. I still think it's a beautiful religion with many beneficial practices, I just don't always want to be a perfect goody-two-shoes all the time. I still love the people in my life, but I guess I'm just scared to cause unnecessary conflict with my family, so I didn't say anything.

If they knew that I like reading stories about yanderes, they'd think I'm a psycho and that I need help, when I feel perfectly fine and not disturbed by fictional violence. I actually like music, I like dance, I like boys, I swear in my head and make dirty jokes, I actually want to scream and cheer and not just sit like a lady with my legs crossed, sometimes I want to make my hair look nice instead of wearing a scarf, etc. But to my family, that's all taboo. I'm not hurting anyone, so it can't be so wrong, right? Everytime I do anything vaguely fun, I get a whole long lecture. I'm not even allowed to put a picture of BTS up in my room or on my phone's lockscreen because it's a picture with faces. They're that superstitious.

I like to think that I'm still a good person because I don't hurt anyone intentionally and I'm still a kind respectful human being even though I may have some impure thoughts. They'd probably say I'm going to hell if they really knew me and they might just be right. I don't know. They'd probably disown me if they knew what I actually think and feel. I hope that someday I'll be comfortable enough to be able to be myself instead of acting like this quiet innocent child even though I'm almost 20.

Someday, I'll build up the courage, but for now, I'm just happy to be here. That's actually one of the reasons why I like hanging out here so much. Not only is there entertaining BTS content, but I feel like this is such a safe space. I don't have a single person in my actual life that I can joke with and feel unreserved with, whereas here, I have no inhibitions whatsoever. Yeah, some of the stuff that I send in here is anonymous, but I still bother to click send whereas I would never say it in real life.

I also appreciate that you're Muslim, so I can relate to you. It makes me feel less bad about being from a Muslim family and reading smut, lol. Where I come from, people would neeeever talk about sex. I'm not perfect. There's no such thing as perfect. That doesn't change that I feel like the most two-faced bitch out there. I feel like someone who's in the closet. I'm not gay, I just mean figuratively, like no one knows how I feel. Sorry, I know this was a bit of a long rant. I just needed to offload. Sometimes I wish I could meet you in person, Alina. Then at least I'd have one real friend that actually knows the real me without judging me. You're the kind of person who stands up for her friends no matter what. I know I call you a princess, but you're truly more like my night in shining armour who saves me from hating myself and from being alone. You have a heart of gold and I love you for it. Thank you for being my friend, even if it's virtual.

P.S., If this sounds off-putting to a non-Muslim about Islam, please don't use this as an example. Islam is a beautiful religion once you get to know it. My family is just a bit... extreme. They're not terrorists or oppressors. They would never force me to do anything serious against my will. I'm willingly like this. I've created this façade for myself and don't know how to get out of it. They're just very morally sound and staunchly religious. They're a little bit condemning and restrictive, but they're still good people.

I’m glad that you feel comfy enough to share your struggles n that’s okay, I’m just blessed enough to have parents who are open minded, I definitely love my religion a lot and i practice it daily but yeah….

Yay!!!! another Muslim!!!!

anytime bae, and I wish I could MEET ALL OF YOU LIKE A LITTKE MEET N GREET OOHHH I WISH I COULD 😭🩷

[galaxywarp]

hallo! can i ask for a rec? i absolutely must offload some pictures + videos off my phone but i still want access to them. do u have any recs for that? i dont mind a monthly subscription (if it isnt wildly high i have 0 doll hairs)

google drive free 15 GB cloud storage :0 you could make multiple accounts. thats what i do lol

you can then use that app to access the clouded versions of your files, while freeing up the physical space on your phone

if you need more than 15 GB , and you want to keep it to just one account, for $1.99 a month you can upgrade to 100 GB

also if you can, i would recommend getting a flash drive of some sort to backup your pictures and videos so you have physical copies somewhere you can keep safe :O data loss is heartbreaking and can happen to everyone. pls backup your important files regularly!! <3

[professorbussywinkle]

I have this idle thought that living in an emotionally and sexually repressive society causes parents to unconsciously literally dominate children, like DOMINATE dominate, lemme explain...

Let's say you have an erotic urge to like...dominate someone, but you've subscribed to religious or moral teachings that make you believe that any erotic desire like that is inherently sinful, wrong, and bad, and evil

and so since believing that your desire to dominate, that is naturally encoded into your soul, that you can't control, should never be indulged or you'll go to hell, these feelings get repressed VERY deeply

When you repress a natural desire into your shadow, the darkness within your shadow contorts, warps, and twists your desires up, fucks it all up, so long as it remains there, and more so the deeper it resides there, the next time that desire should come to light, it will always be UNRECOGNIZABLE in comparison to how your desire was expressed before you made the conscious choice to say no to your desires like that

And so subconsciously, this desire to dominate expresses itself in whatever ways it can, from being controlling and manipulative in relationships and marriages, dominating finances, to seeking out jobs like security or police so you can scratch the erotic urge to dominate and overpower by proxy for your job, placing yourself around doormat type people and lower company so you can easily control them feel superior/domineering over them Etc.

it literally holds great dominion over you and your behavior as long as you deny it in your soul, so long as you say no to it

So when it comes to people with this repressed erotic urge to dominate and corrupt, children are the PERFECT targets to offload their unconscious repressed urges

They have no life experience to give anything proper context and fight back or know they're being wronged

They're easy to lie to and manipulate since they're very naive and trusting

They're easy to boss around due to children's inherent psychological drive to please their parental figures in any way possible

You'll literally have parents up in fucking arms and shitting themselves because their child is expressing their own autonomy and personhood, and that's completely unacceptable if your unconscious desire when you decided to have children in the first place was to exert dominion and control over a whole entire human being

It is normal, based on how deep the repression is, for people to have ZERO awareness of this, and write off these unhealthy unconscious urges with stories that go like...

"well Im just trying to discipline them"

"I can't let my kid just do whatever they want, they'll become spoiled"

"I'm the parent, they're the child, they MUST listen and obey me because I know what's best for them"

Etc. Whatever excuse they can leverage to exert control over a helpless innocent "slave"

My point is that people who have kids aren't having enough kinky, fucked up, disrespectful, nasty, disgusting BDSM sex with their husbands/wives

So dominating their literal children like this by:

removing doors as punishment to control what they do in their own space and remove their privacy and put them under surveillance so you can punish and dominate them if they disobey

taking possessions away as punishment to feel powerful and in control

helicopter parenting to the point where you blow their phone up for going over to a friend's house and getting home 15 minutes after curfew, and diminishing their freedom to have their own social life and friends

is quite literally the next best thing that scratches that erotic itch to control, dominate, and exert power over a helpless person

having a child has taught me that every toddler is completely justified in their frustrations and tantrums because learning how to do something you have literally never encountered or heard of before is insane. and being expected to be completely calm in the face of this constant barrage of overwhelming information is doubly insane.

i got charlie a sticker activity book and it occurred to me i have to TEACH someone how to unpeel stickers. it's SKILL that requires DEXTERITY and FINE MOTOR ABILITY. i thought it was obvious that you have to curl the page a little bit to create a break in the cut so the sticker comes up.

obviously a fucking BABY wouldn't know that because they have no background experience to inform their thought process. OBVIOUSLY. and OBVIOUSLY the LITERAL BABY wouldn't get it right the first few times. it would OBVIOUSLY take practice. lots of it.

i hate this feeling. it's so obvious. why are children treated so badly when they're learning everything for the first fucking time. why do people treat children so horribly and expect so much. they're brand new. why didn't i get the same grace i give to my child? why did no one have patience for me? why, when it's this easy?

it's so easy. it's so fucking easy.

[ummmuhhidk]

just cleared up like ~30 gb of storage on my phone after going crazy offloading apps that i havent used in over 6 months i literally freed up enough space to download a whole one of those games with the big downloads of data after you download the actual app. and i fuckinf am so happy. straight up jumping for joy rn

[the-spaceship-sekai]

So, I didn't have enough space to update my phone, and after deleting photos and offloading apps, I figured the only thing I could do was delete Project Sekai and reinstall it when the update was done. I had the transfer code and everything so it should be fine.

But boy, was the hour-long process agonizing.

It worked. My phone updated and all my data was saved, but was the most stressed I had been in a while. Even more stressed than before finals.

[sometimesanalice]

Oh you absolutely sent me into a full swoon and tizzy with this!! The sheer about of mutual pining nearly did me in!

There were so many lovely soft moments folded in this that made me all kinds of delicate!

I loved the banter and the way they were comfortable around each other! And that ending!! I was ALL CAPSED over it!

I adoreddddd this cozy fic!!

More for you!

The smile on his face grew as he took you in - sweatpants, a baggy sweatshirt dotted with flour, fuzzy socks, and not a stitch of makeup. The difference from your normally put-together appearance was stark. “Morning, Duch.”—- I love that he is clearly so charmed getting to see her in her most casual state of being. Those little domestic moments that most people don't get to experience with each other unless they're roommates or living together! it's probably the most undone he's ever seen her, and it's the best kind of new for them!

“I will throat punch you if you touch me with that.” -- the way I snorted, but also she's so real for this because those innards are foul (or fowl if we go the pun route, lol)

“You’re right. Bob probably has a pretty one.”//Bradley didn’t want to hear that you were thinking about Bob’s dick.-- HUFFY MAN IS MY FAVORITE KIND OF MAN

Bradley leaned against the counter beside you and sipped his coffee while glancing around the kitchen. Seeing him relaxing there, one leg crossed over the other and looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, made something flutter in your chest. — i loved how seamlessly they moved about in that domestic duet in the kitchen (minus a buttery hiccup with that injector) getting the turkey prepped! the way they were moving in sync with one another. I enjoyed that who sequence and how easy it is between them! a little glimpse into how it could be between them! but this bit here, them getting to have a moment of downtime together and the way the yearning comes rushing back in. the want!

“You know, you could have saved a lot of time if you’d just agreed to let Hangman fry the turkey.”//That made you snort. “I just finished my renovations - the last thing I want is for my house to burn down.” — Jake seresin in the kitchen is serving CHAOS. I just know he'd be a whole menace and a half if he was the one in charge of the turkey.

“It looks good, Duch,” he said softly, gaze holding yours for a long moment. You felt those inconvenient butterflies again and shoved them aside, dropping your eyes to the cutting board.— INCONVENIENT BUTTERFLIES!! He's so precious for this. I bet he was the ear who listened whenever she needed to complain or offload about the reno, so he knows all about the effort that went into her creating her space. also, if I had a bradley bradshaw gazing the way he's looking at her, i'd probably melt to the ground.

Bradley wasn’t for you.— ok but this line hurts so much 😭😭😭

You rolled your lips together to keep from smiling when he pulled his phone from his pocket and watched videos of turkey injections before declaring he would be in charge of it.— sweet boy!! he's like trying to win her over with his turkey skills now and it's cute to see. the if he wanted to, he would of it all

“I never got to do this before. My mom and I would always go to my cousin’s for Thanksgiving before she died, and it always seemed kinda fun.” //“Yeah?” he asked, excitement flashing in his eyes. — awh this is so sweet! he’s so precious here! Also my guilty pleasure is Bradley Bradshaw in the kitchen so this is everything to me. And I love that she’s the one who gets to guide him through his first Thanksgiving as a sous chef!

“Did you make these?” he asked, setting the containers beside you as you heated a skillet on the stove.//“I did - family tradition is grilled muffins on Thanksgiving morning. You okay with blueberry?” At his nod, you started slicing muffins in half. Rather than giving you space, Bradley stayed at your elbow.— oh I’m all soft over her sharing some of her family traditions with him!! I just know he was absolutely absorbing every moment of it, and getting to have these special little pieces of her that not everyone gets to have. Like the grilled muffins for breakfast on Thanksgiving!

He sprawled on one end of the couch, plate balanced on a thigh as he sipped his coffee. — what does a girl have to do to get this life

“Mine’s more of a ‘hopeless’ chest,’ though. I guess they finally gave up on me getting married because they gave it to me when they sold their house and moved closer to the grandkids. I figured I’d get it out and use it instead of having it sit in the cardboard boxes it’s been in for over two decades.”— I’m too delicate for this 😭😭 this is such a tender spot for her and I’m aching on her behalf!

He nodded even though he didn’t. Bradley never asked for the time off unless he was dating someone who insisted on it. With no family to visit, he was happy to volunteer when there was reduced manning and allow others to take leave.— catch me crying on the couch

“Turn around, Duch.” After a beat, you stepped back to allow him inside and did as he said.— 🫡🫡🫡🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

“You look fine, too,” he said softly. — oh I’m swooning though, THEIR MUTAL PINING IS GOING TO BE THE END FOR ME

“He’s been here all morning,” you blurted out, flushing when both sets of eyes landed on you. “He’s taking care of the turkey.” —plsss ��😂😂 her just blurting that out is so amusing to me. also we all know another he could be taking care of if you’d let him 💁🏼‍♀️💁🏼‍♀️

“He’s being supervised,” you assured, glancing over your shoulder to see him rolling his eyes. — 🤭🤭

Digging through a drawer, you pulled out an apron and put it on, crossing the strings behind your back before tying them in a bow across your stomach. You thought you heard a murmured ‘Jesus Christ’ when you turned around to see him holding the pot holders. — that man is officially fighting for his lifeeeee lolololol

“Who would have thought the guy who made the barracks evacuate after he burned ramen would make a good turkey,” Nat smirked. Bradley flipped her off, unable to keep the proud grin off his face. — C A C K L I N G, but he had a lady to impress! He wasn’t going to fuck it up!

“You okay, honey?” //The term of endearment caught you off-guard and had clearly slipped out by the flush on Bradley’s cheeks. “Honey?” you echoed, quirking a brow.//“Duchess,” he corrected. — the way I SQUEALED

“Just waiting for something to interrupt.” At your questioning look, he chuckled. “Been trying to kiss you all day, and something always gets in the way.” — AND NOW I AM SCREAMINGGGGG ‼️‼️‼️

“Been thinkin’ about kissing you since that night at the Hard Deck, actually.” — AND HE HAS BEEN YEARNING AND PINING AND LONGING FOR MONTHS?!?!?! I am Certified Unwell™️ and losing my minddd

“When you told me you liked me.” Mortified, you felt a sudden flush of heat and tried to pull away, but he held firm. “But that you didn’t think I was a relationship guy.” — SEND HELP THIS IS AN SOS IM IN A TIZZY THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR ME

“Honey, I’m not interested in her. And she’s not… ask Nat. She’s been on my case about my” - he lifted a hand to make air quotes - “‘hoe phase’ since I got out here.” - L M A O

“As much as this is doin’ things for me,” he said softly, pulling at the apron strings tied at your stomach, “I think we’re done in the kitchen tonight.” — and she had the little apron on all night?!?! Move over Mr Darcy Hand Clench! Bradley Bradshaw undoing some apron strings has swooped in for the most swoon worthy moment of all time.

“Yeah,” you whispered, allowing yourself to reach out and run a hand through his curls. Bradley's eyes closed when you lightly scratched his scalp, and he swayed closer. — this would also be my first order of business 🫡 those curls are EVERYTHING. She’s got her priorities in order

Blushing, you wondered how it would feel on your inner thighs. He chuckled, kissing your cheek, “What’re you thinking that’s got you red?” — AHHHHHH

“Gonna take you on a couple of dates before we get to that.”/“No more ‘hoe phase.’” // “Maybe just one more night?” That made him laugh again as he shook his head.— an officer and a gentleman and a hoe! The holy trinity! I love her for being like “ok but hear me out…” lmao. I wouldn’t want to wait if I had a Bradley Bradshaw under me on the couch too 😂

Author's Note: Do I think that Bradley has a raging domesticity kink? Possibly. — 1000% a certifiable fact lololol

this was everything I needed and more!

Rooster wasn't for you. You were opposites in so many ways - he was an extrovert to your introvert. The center of attention to your wallflower. You weren't interested in a one night stand, and he couldn't offer more. So his volunteering to help with Friendsgiving was just a friendly gesture after you returned from a deployment...right?

Word count: 7.8K

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

“Just a minute!” you called, swiping a strand of hair from your face. The knocking stopped, and you quickly washed the flour from your hands, drying them on the towel thrown over your shoulder while heading to the door.

And there, standing on your front step as the sun started to rise, was Bradley. His normally styled curls were sleep-mussed, his grey t-shirt clinging to his arms and untucked from his Navy PT sweatpants. The smile on his face grew as he took you in - sweatpants, a baggy sweatshirt dotted with flour, fuzzy socks, and not a stitch of makeup. The difference from your normally put-together appearance was stark. “Morning, Duch.”

“You’re late.” Laughing, he held up a bag of microwavable frozen corn.

“Had to turn around when I forgot my contribution.” Rolling your eyes, you stepped back to let him in, watching to ensure he removed his shoes before following you into the kitchen.

“The turkey’s already thawed and in the sink. I just need you to clean it out, and I can take it from there.” Bradley nodded, tossing you the corn before going to the kitchen. You put it in the freezer and walked to the downstairs bathroom to wash your hands before resuming your spot at the counter, picking up your bread lame and staring at the unbaked loaf. A part of you wanted to do a simple score, knowing that it would just be eaten, but the hostess in you demanded a more intricate design. The indecision tore at you. To buy time, you sprinkled the top with more rice flour. 

“Can you get me the trashcan?” Bradley asked, and you nodded, quickly abandoning your project. After you set it beside him and pulled off the cover, he tossed the netting and plastic. You couldn’t help but notice his biceps flex as he shifted the turkey. But you shrunk back when he reached into the cavity and pulled out the giblets and gravy package, shaking your head at his raised eyebrow. He discarded them as you braced yourself, nose scrunching when he removed the neck. “You alright there, Duch?” he teased. 

“Gross.” 

“It’s just a turkey neck,” he said, holding it closer to you. You jumped back.

“I will throat punch you if you touch me with that.” He laughed, edging it closer, and you raised a fist. There was a reason a condition of you hosting everyone for Friendsgiving was someone else cleaning the turkey.

“Didn’t take you for being squeamish.” 

“You would be, too, if your grandpa chased you around the house with it when you were a kid, and you had to lock yourself in a bathroom to escape.” At his barked laugh, you shook your head. “I told that to my ex, and he thought it was funny to put it in his zipper and chase me around the house with it. If floppy dick isn’t attractive, a turkey neck sure as shit isn’t.” 

Bradley choked on a laugh. For as prim and proper as you were at times - hence the callsign Duchess - you sometimes reminded everyone that you also had a military sense of humor. “Maybe you just haven’t seen the right ‘floppy dick,’” he smirked, dropping the neck into the trash. 

Shrugging, you glanced away from him when the oven beeped, alerting that it was preheated. “You’re right. Bob probably has a pretty one.” A rosy flush crept up his cheeks as he turned back to the turkey and forced a laugh. Bradley didn’t want to hear that you were thinking about Bob’s dick. “Put it in this afterward, and I’ll dry it.” After dropping the roasting pan beside him, you rewashed your hands.

Standing in front of your bread, you bit your lip to keep from giggling as you contemplated scoring a dick into the dough but decided to go with a traditional wheat stalk. To your surprise, he grabbed the roll of paper towels by the sink and patted the turkey dry, even the cavity. As you removed the Dutch oven from the preheated oven, he tied up the trash bag and took it out. After putting the bread into the oven, you set the timer and moved to the sink, glancing at Bradley when he came back in. Standing beside you, he reached for the soap and lowered the water temperature before scrubbing his hands. Removing the hand towel from your shoulder, you draped it over his after drying your hands. “Thanks,” he murmured. 

“Thanks for taking care of the turkey.” Standing by the island, you crouched to retrieve a cutting board. The sound of other cabinets closing made you peek over the countertop to see him rooting through the overhead storage. “Are you looking for something?” 

“Coffee mugs.” Biting back a retort about making himself comfortable, you pointed to the right of the stove. You bit your tongue when he grabbed two mugs - including your favorite - and went to the wet bar where the full pot was finished brewing. Placing the cutting board on the counter, you grabbed a knife from the block and were surprised to see a mug of coffee beside your workstation. Murmuring your thanks, you grabbed the creamer from the fridge along with packages of herbs and butter. “What are you making?” Bradley asked.

“A marinade since I didn’t brine the turkey.” 

“You want a hand?” 

“I’ve got it,” you said automatically. “I’ve got a schedule.” He didn’t need to know that you were already behind after falling asleep on the couch early last night and forgetting to set your alarm. And he definitely didn’t need to know that you’d only been awake for 20 minutes before he arrived. If you put your head down and focused, everything would still be ready to eat at the agreed-upon 3:00 PM. Some of your time to get yourself ready would just have to be sacrificed. For some reason, you’d insisted that everyone dress nicely for Friendsgiving. Wearing a uniform almost every day didn’t give you any opportunities to dress up, and sometimes it felt nice to wear something other than jeans and a t-shirt. 

Setting your tablet up, you navigated through the bookmarked recipes and rinsed the herbs before pulling them from the stems. Bradley leaned against the counter beside you and sipped his coffee while glancing around the kitchen. Seeing him relaxing there, one leg crossed over the other and looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, made something flutter in your chest. 

“You know, you could have saved a lot of time if you’d just agreed to let Hangman fry the turkey.”

That made you snort. “I just finished my renovations - the last thing I want is for my house to burn down.” It had taken months to get your home exactly how you wanted it. After twelve years in the Navy, you were ready to put down some roots, and buying a home had seemed like the smart thing to do. Living in a construction zone for the last year hadn’t been fun, but a well-timed deployment meant you weren’t there for the worst of it. The results were worth the pain, and you’d jumped at the chance to host when you got back and realized most of the squad had no plans for Thanksgiving. You couldn’t wait for them to see the changes in the Craftsman that had been a definite fixer-upper when you purchased it. The kitchen had been completely gutted and replaced with double ovens and quartz countertops, and the smaller kitchen island had been moved and changed to a wet bar with a wine fridge, replaced with an oversized one. The popcorn texture was scraped from the ceiling throughout the house, the floors redone, and the walls painted. The primary bath had been updated with a large soaker tub and walk-in shower, and you loved the giant closet. The guest bathrooms still needed work, as did the yard, but those were projects for later. 

“It looks good, Duch,” he said softly, gaze holding yours for a long moment. You felt those inconvenient butterflies again and shoved them aside, dropping your eyes to the cutting board. Bradley wasn’t for you. You were too different - he enjoyed nights out at the bar, while you liked to spend time at home. He liked being the center of attention while you preferred to blend into the background. Besides, he didn’t seem much like a relationship guy, given the number of flings he had at the Hard Deck, while the idea of casual dating gave you hives. Pushing away from the counter, Bradley reached under the sink for a trashbag, putting it into the can before washing his hands. He moved closer, nose twitching slightly at the scent of rosemary, and braced his big hands on the countertop beside you. “Alright, what can I do?” 

“You don’t - ”

“Lemme help.” His eyes met yours, smiling when you sighed. 

“Fine. The meat injector is in here,” you said, bumping one of the drawer handles with your hip. “And I’ll need the chicken stock from the pantry.” Pouring the stock, herbs, and a couple of sticks of butter into a stockpan, you handed Bradley a silicone spatula and told him to stir. You rolled your lips together to keep from smiling when he pulled his phone from his pocket and watched videos of turkey injections before declaring he would be in charge of it. Reluctantly, you agreed. Once the marinade had cooled, the bird was given a second drying, you had finished the coffee, and Bradley had rewatched the video three times, it was time. He studied the turkey through narrowed eyes as you tried not to laugh. “You want to - ”

“Ah!”

“The breast and thighs - ”

“I’m doing it, Duch,” he cut you off. 

“Well, remember that if it turns out dry.” The unimpressed look Bradley shot you made you grin as you put your chin in your hand and motioned for him to proceed. The tip of his tongue poked through his lips as he filled the injector and hovered the needle over the turkey. His eyes darted to you, and you raised an eyebrow. “You can tap out at any time, Rooster.” Instead of replying, he pierced the meat and pushed down on the plunger. You couldn’t help but laugh when he yelped, marinade spraying in his face after pushing too hard. But when he reached to wipe it away, you caught his hands. “Don’t put turkey germs all over your face,” you scoffed, towing him toward the sink. You held his chin while cleaning his face with wet paper towels. 

“Now you’re just messing with me,” he chuckled when you scrubbed his mustache, but he didn’t pull away. His breath was hot on your hand, and his smile soft when you reached up to dab away a speck of garlic in his eyebrow. Balling up the paper towel, you shook your head. 

“Wash your face with soap to make sure you don’t get salmonella. Cyclone’ll kill me if you’re out with food poisoning.” Turning on the water, you ensured it was warm before getting a clean washcloth. The oven timer beeped as you dug through the linen closet, and you hurried back into the kitchen, throwing the towel on the sink beside him and grabbing the pot holders to take out your bread. Once it was on the wire rack to cool, you moved to the turkey. 

“What’re you doing?” Bradley demanded, turning while drying his face. 

“Taking over.” You gasped when he closed the space between you in a few strides, wrapped his arm around your waist, and lifted you away from the counter. “Bradshaw! What the hell?”

“Told you I’m doing it,” he chuckled in your ear. Once back on your feet, you spun in his hold and stared at him. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his cocky smirk. 

“Fine, but if you waste more of my marinade, you’re out of my kitchen.”

“Deal.” 

Thankfully, there were no further incidents, but you kept a close eye on him while slicing up a loaf of bread you’d baked two days before and let go stale for stuffing. After covering the roasting tray with tin foil, the bird went back into the fridge to rest for a few hours. “Thanks, Rooster. I guess I’ll see you later?”

“What else can I do?” 

“You don’t - ” 

“I want to help. I haven’t…” his eyes dropped to the floor as he shrugged. “I never got to do this before. My mom and I would always go to my cousin’s for Thanksgiving before she died, and it always seemed kinda fun.” 

Everyone on the squad knew that Bradley’s parents had passed when he was young. He didn’t mention them often, but you noticed he’d get quiet sometimes when people talked about their families. So his volunteering the information felt important, and glancing at the clock showed that you were still behind schedule. “Fine.”

“Yeah?” he asked, excitement flashing in his eyes. 

“Don’t look so happy - you’re doing prep work. You can peel potatoes, assemble the veggie tray, and roast the garlic. I need to work on sides and desserts.” 

And he did. Bradley followed your instructions, grimacing while peeling potatoes over the trash can until you took out a plastic bag and put it in the sink for him to do it there. You kept an eye on him as he cut the spuds into uniform pieces after explaining that they wouldn’t cook evenly for the mashed potatoes, somewhat worried that he would cut himself. Rather than deal with the onions, you delegated the task and tried not to laugh at his near-constant sniffles and swipes at his watery eyes as you diced peppers. Once you dug out the hand-me-down crystal platters, he arranged the veggies you’d prepped the night before while making pies. Dips were mixed, and cans of olives and bottles of pickles were opened and drained before being plated.

Other than bumping into one another when going for the fridge at the same time, it wasn’t too bad sharing the kitchen. The coffee pot was quickly emptied, and Bradley brewed another between shredding blocks of cheese. You sang along with your playlists, his deep voice joining on a few songs while teasing you about others. When you sang about karma being a kink, he watched your hips sway at the sink, clenching his jaw when you sang a breathy ‘oh god.’ 

He slid the roasting tray into the oven when the turkey was rested and ready to cook. “Now what?” he asked, turning to look at you. 

“Now we keep an eye on it for about four hours. Baste and re-inject it every hour or so,” you shrugged. A glance at his watch showed it would be almost 2:00 PM by the time it was ready. As though realizing it would still be hours before eating, his stomach grumbled its discontent. He blushed when you smirked. “I guess the least I can do is make my sous chef breakfast. Get the muffins and butter from the fridge for me.”  

“Did you make these?” he asked, setting the containers beside you as you heated a skillet on the stove.

“I did - family tradition is grilled muffins on Thanksgiving morning. You okay with blueberry?” At his nod, you started slicing muffins in half. Rather than giving you space, Bradley stayed at your elbow. A comfortable silence fell, broken only by sizzling butter. His gaze met yours when you glanced up at him, and a smile tugged at his mouth. 

An image of reaching up to bury your fingers in his messy curls and tugging his mouth down to meet yours flashed through your mind. Your fingers twitched with the urge to do it, eyes drifting to his mouth and lingering there for a moment too long. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you forced yourself to look away, heat creeping into your face. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when he reached up to shift a strand of hair that had fallen from your messy bun. “I’m glad you're back, Duch,” he said, voice slightly raspy. 

Forcing a laugh, you plated two muffins and handed them to him. “Everyone misses the mom friend of the group when she’s deployed.” Your eyes darted to his stomach when it growled again, just in time to see the front of his sweats twitch. Pretending you didn’t see it, you nodded to the living room. “The parade is recording if you want to watch it.” 

Bradley opened his mouth as though he would say something before taking the apparent dismissal. Alone in the kitchen, you touched your cheek and felt warm skin. With a deep breath, you grilled yourself a muffin as the sound of the broadcasters came from the living room. After topping up your coffee, you joined him. He sprawled on one end of the couch, plate balanced on a thigh as he sipped his coffee. Sitting on the opposite side, you crossed your legs and let out a soft groan. Only a couple of hours standing in the kitchen and your back was already starting to protest. “What else do you have to do this morning?” he asked after a moment.

Mentally running through your list, you sighed. “I need to do some cleaning and get into the attic. I’ll start cooking a bit closer to noon, so things just have to be warmed up.”

“What do you need from the attic?” 

“My nice china. My parents bought my sister and I sets for our hope chests when we were kids.”

“What’s a hope chest?”

“You know, stuff you’d need once you get married?” When his eyebrows shot up, you shrugged. “They weren’t really serious about it - it was more of a joke. But, every once in a while, they’d buy something for us and put it away for when we were older and say it was for our hope chest.” Taking a bite of muffin, you gave him a sad smile, “Mine’s more of a ‘hopeless’ chest,’ though. I guess they finally gave up on me getting married because they gave it to me when they sold their house and moved closer to the grandkids. I figured I’d get it out and use it instead of having it sit in the cardboard boxes it’s been in for over two decades.” Something passed over Bradley’s face but disappeared in an instant. Wanting to change the subject, you asked, “What do you usually do for Thanksgiving?”

“Nothing. It’s just another Thursday.” When you frowned, he lifted a shoulder. “A couple of times, I went to the Officer’s Club, or someone would invite me over. But most of the time, I just make myself a turkey sandwich and catch up on sleep. What about you?”

“If I’m not with my family, then this. When I first commissioned, I went to the O-Club with some friends but missed cooking and hanging out. And you know how hard it is to go home for the holidays.” He nodded even though he didn’t. Bradley never asked for the time off unless he was dating someone who insisted on it. With no family to visit, he was happy to volunteer when there was reduced manning and allow others to take leave. “So I invited a couple of people from my squad over, and that was that.” 

“It’s a lot of work.”

“It is,” you agreed. “But it’s worth it.” Bradley’s fingers curled around his plate and in his sweatpants, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath. When he shifted forward, you quickly stood and reached out your hand for his empty plate. “Do you want another one?” Shaking his head, he stood and took your plate. 

“Do you?” Swallowing hard, you shook your head and watched him walk back into the kitchen. Biting back a groan, you gave yourself a moment to collect yourself. Things had been…different… since you’d gotten home. And as much as you enjoyed these quiet moments alone with Bradley, it also stung. You’d thought the time away would help, but as soon as you were back, it was like no time had passed. He was still there, partnering for foosball in the Ready Room and coaxing you to go to the Hard Deck. Making sure that you sat next to him in briefings. Offering to look at your car when it made a noise.

Friends. That’s what friends do for each other. After all, he did the same for Nat. 

Collecting the empty coffee mugs, you followed him to the kitchen and watched as Bradley cleaned up the mess and set it in the sink. “Don’t feel like you have to stick around, Rooster. I can handle getting everything ready.” 

“I’m happy to help if you want me here. I’d just sit at my house watching TV and wait to come back if I went home.” 

Chewing the inside of your lip, you bit back a wave of want. “Don’t think this gets you out of the dress code,” you replied, forcing your voice to be cool while allowing your eyes to run the length of him. “I’m serious - slacks and button-downs, not sweats.” 

Laughing, he snapped a salute. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure I run home and change to pass your inspection.” 

The rest of the morning was a blur, punctuated by moments of stark clarity. 

Bradley’s hands on your waist as you climbed down the attic stairs. 

Biceps flexing as he carried your Christmas tree to a spare bedroom to set up tomorrow.

His elbow bumping yours as he dried the china and set it aside.  

The look of concentration on his face when he basted and injected the turkey again.

His body passing close to yours as he emptied the dishwasher and you assembled dishes.

Just after noon, he went home to get ready while you showered. People were due to arrive around 1:30 PM, and you were back on schedule with your unexpected assistant. 

Sooner than you expected, there was a knock at the door. Groaning, you capped your mascara, shimmied into your black sheath cocktail dress, and went to answer it. Bradley stood on the porch, having changed into a pair of slacks and one of his nicer Hawaiian shirts, hands in his pockets. Folded over his arm was a coat, and he grinned at you when he caught you looking at it. “Wasn’t sure if I would pass inspection without a sports coat,” he chuckled, allowing his gaze to rake over you. A flush rose on your cheeks as you reached behind yourself to pull up the dress zipper. It caught just above the top of your thong.  “You look… you’re fine.” Chuckling, he shook his head. 

“Turn around, Duch.” After a beat, you stepped back to allow him inside and did as he said.

“There’s a hook and eye at the top,” you said and inhaled sharply when you felt his fingers brush the back of your neck. The smell of his cologne enveloped you, and you bit back a moan when his hand moved to your lower back and tugged the zipper up. After a beat, you turned to face him and were surprised by how close he was. His mouth curved into a smile as he looked down at you, hand resting on your waist. 

“You look fine, too,” he said softly. Your hands itched to move to his chest. Bradley’s eyes drifted to your lips, and your breath caught as his fingers flexed around you. If asked, you would have sworn you felt the lightest pressure pulling you closer - but then someone knocked on the door. Stepping out of his hold, you smoothed your hair down and ignored the brief moment his hands hung in suspension before being shoved back into his pockets. 

“I came early to see if you needed a hand,” Phoenix said when you opened the door. In her hands was a tray, and she’d also chosen a cocktail dress for the occasion. Her normally tied-back hair was loose around her shoulders. 

“Hey,” you smiled, hoping that you weren’t blushing. Nat’s eyes shifted over your shoulders and narrowed slightly. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Same as you - seeing of Duch needed help.”

“He’s been here all morning,” you blurted out, flushing when both sets of eyes landed on you. “He’s taking care of the turkey.” 

“The guy who hates cooking is in charge of the main dish?” Nat smirked. “Probably would have been better letting Hangman fry it.”

“He’s being supervised,” you assured, glancing over your shoulder to see him rolling his eyes. Stepping back to let Nat into the house, you accidentally bumped into Bradley, who held your hips to steady you. Quickly moving away from his touch, you took the tray from her and motioned for them to follow you into the kitchen. “I haven’t had a chance to put any drinks out, but there’s some coffee left and wine chilling. I still need to make the cocktails, but there’s also soda and flavored water.” The two followed you, exchanging a look that you missed.

As soon as he entered the kitchen, Bradley tossed his coat onto the wet bar and moved to the oven, flipping on the light to check the turkey before glancing at his watch. “I need to do the last basting, right?” 

“It’s about that time,” you agreed, glancing at the clock. Digging through a drawer, you pulled out an apron and put it on, crossing the strings behind your back before tying them in a bow across your stomach. You thought you heard a murmured ‘Jesus Christ’ when you turned around to see him holding the pot holders. 

You could feel Nat watching as you worked together to remove the turkey and then return it to the oven, popping olives into her mouth and smirking. “Looks like you guys have it down,” she said. “Don’t need my help at all.”

“Nope,” Bradley said, drowning out your, “You can feel free to relax.” 

“Might as well do something since I’m here,” she shrugged, pushing off her elbows. “What can I do?” 

And so, with a third set of hands, you set them to making large batches of seasonal cocktails while you cut the bread you’d made that morning, covering it with slices of brie and dried cranberries before drizzling it with honey. A quick scroll through your schedule gave you the times to start cooking, and you preheated the second oven.

The house slowly filled as more of the squad arrived. Countertops were quickly covered with their contributions - thankfully, more than beer and wine, and only a few sides repeated -  and you mentally shifted your schedule to accommodate the additional dishes.

Mav, Penny, and Amelia were the last to arrive, with her new bartender, Georgia, in tow. Penny had asked you if she could invite her, given that the woman was new to the area and didn’t have anywhere else to spend the holiday. You’d replied with, “The more, the merrier,” just like you had for everyone else’s requests to bring a guest. 

But you regretted that sentiment when you saw how she zeroed in on Bradley, staying close to him while you worked in the kitchen. The few times you broke away to mingle - showing off your renovated home, making sure that everyone’s glasses were topped off and that they didn’t need anything - you saw her hanging off his arm, giving him a simpering smile that set your teeth on edge. And, while she’d adhered to the dress code, you weren’t exactly thrilled to see that her breasts were nearly spilling out of her low-cut dress. 

“You need anything, Duchess?” Payback asked, setting down the pitcher of spiced ginger pear and bourbon. 

“I’m good,” you replied, wiping your hands on the dish rag thrown over your shoulder and blowing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Turkey should be done in a few minutes; once it rests, we can eat.” 

“Thanks for doing this,” he said, glancing over at your full house. Aviators were sprawled across your living room and spilled out into the backyard. It was exactly what you’d hoped for when redesigning the house - plenty of space to comfortably entertain. 

“I’m happy to, Payback,” you smiled, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. “Beats having a quiet house for the holidays.” 

“Want me to get the turkey out for you?” 

“I’ve got it covered,” a voice said behind you, and you couldn’t help but wonder about Bradley's slightly sharp tone as you pulled away from the hug. 

“Got it,” Payback replied, raising an eyebrow and lifting his hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Duch.” Squaring your shoulders, you turned to face the man behind you and forced a smile. 

“I’ll clear off a spot on the stove for you to put the pan, and then we’ll let it sit for half an hour.” 

“Then it’ll be done?”

“Then you’ll have officially made your first turkey,” you nodded. When the timer went off, Bradley quickly pulled the bird from the oven and set it on the stove, closely inspecting his work. 

“Does it look right?”

“Yes, relax.”

“Did you make it?” a smokey voice asked, and you felt your shoulders rise. Glancing at Georgia, you saw Bradley’s eyes dart between you.

“He did,” you answered, smiling at the woman. 

“I just followed her directions,” he replied. 

“It looks great!” Georgia giggled. Forcing a smile, you undid the apron strings and pulled it off before excusing yourself. You could feel eyes on you as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom and shut the door, retreating to your en suite.

After washing your hands for the millionth time, you quickly applied lotion while examining your appearance in the mirror. Compared to Georgia, you looked matronly with your hair pulled back and a higher neckline. Sure, your dress was classy - somewhat tight and falling just above your knees - but not attention-grabbing. 

Not that you were trying to grab anyone’s attention.

A knock on your bedroom door startled you, and you peeked out to call, “Who is it?”

“Rooster.” Glancing back in the mirror, you saw your cheeks were slightly pink and scowled at your reflection.

“Get it together,” you hissed before turning off the light and going to open the door. And there he was, smiling down at you.

“Your phone was going off,” he said, holding up your cell. When your eyes flitted toward it, the device unlocked to show your family group chat was going off. Taking it from him, you swiped up to see videos and pictures. A smile crept onto your mouth as you clicked the first and heard your older sister’s voice.

“Guess what?” she said before tossing a card down and throwing her hands up. Cheers and laughs broke out, and you could hear your nephew complaining as your grandmother said, “Looks like Mom won!”

The camera panned to show your other nephew licking whipped cream off his pie, utterly unfazed by the family now pounding on the table in a drumroll. Catching Bradley’s interested expression, you moved so he could see the screen. Scrolling through the other videos, you watched your mom roll down a hill with the boys and your dad holding a glass of wine with your brother-in-law. The sight made your heart clench, and you sighed. Being away from family on the holidays was the worst. Thankfully, they all understood that your job didn’t always give you the flexibility to be with them.

“Looks like a fun group.”

“They are. I’m glad I get to spend Christmas with them.” He nodded, a flicker of sadness and something else in his eyes. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Mav’s already told me I’m spending it with him and Penny.”

“Sounds like fun.” You knew a complicated dynamic existed there but didn’t want to pry. His shoulder lifted, eyes drifting to your now dark phone. And that’s when you recognized the look on his face - longing. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” When he saw your unconvinced expression, he sighed. “Holidays kind of suck when you don’t have family.” 

“I’m sorry, Bradley.” Something in his expression changed when you said his name and reached out to touch his arm. His eyes darted from your hand to your face, and you quickly pulled away. But he was faster, catching your fingers and holding tightly. Your breath caught with the intensity of his gaze, and he stepped into your room. His breath was warm on your face when you refused to retreat. Lifting your chin, you saw his throat bob when he swallowed.  

“Hey, there’s a timer going off,” Bob called down the hall. 

“Be right there,” you yelled back, pushing lightly against Bradley’s chest and forcing space between you. But when you tried to shake off his hand, he held fast. “I need to go, or something will burn,” you breathed. Reluctantly, he nodded and released you. 

You’d already removed the green bean casserole and macaroni and cheese from the oven when Bradley reappeared. Unsurprisingly, Georgia glued herself to his side as he sipped his drink. Though you could feel him looking at you, you refused to meet his gaze. 

When everything was ready, you looked over your kitchen and nodded approvingly. When the guys offered to carve the turkey, you turned them all down and delegated that task to Bradley.  “He earned it,” you said, glancing at him before busying yourself with opening another bottle of wine. With Coyote and Fanboy at his elbows critiquing his cuts, you steered clear of that part of the kitchen and chatted with Penny while pulling out silverware. 

Hangman refused to let you go around the room and tell people that food was ready, instead pulling out a chair and helping you stand on it before whistling loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Dinner’s served!” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder, his arm around your hips to keep you steady. “Thank you for bringing something, and please help yourself. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone - I’m glad I get to spend it with you.” Lifting your wine glass, you took a quick sip and laughed when Hangman lifted you off the chair to set you back on the floor. 

Choosing to wait until your guests had a plate, you leaned against the wet bar and smiled tiredly, watching your hard work be devoured. There weren’t enough chairs for everyone at the table, so the group spread into the living room. You took a few pictures and sent them to your family. 

Someone stepped in front of you, pulling your attention from your phone. “You’re not gonna eat?” Bradley asked. 

“Just waiting for the line to clear,” you replied, forcing a nonchalant tone. The corner of his mouth twitched as he shook his head. 

“Come on, Duch.” His fingers curled around yours, drawing you from the counter and into the line. Grabbing one of the smaller salad plates, you let him push you in front of him, taking small amounts of almost every dish while he served himself larger portions. After topping up your wine, you walked to the living room and felt him behind you, ignoring Georgia's attempt to get his attention. He motioned for you to take the last spot on the couch and sat on the floor. “Jesus,” he moaned after taking the first bite of turkey.

“Mmmm,” you agreed. “You did a good job.”

“Who would have thought the guy who made the barracks evacuate after he burned ramen would make a good turkey,” Nat smirked. Bradley flipped her off, unable to keep the proud grin off his face. 

Dessert was eaten, and the last bottle of wine finished before 7:00 PM. The house felt quiet as it slowly emptied, and you hugged everyone goodbye. Already, tentative plans for a Christmas party formed even as you fought off a yawn. After assuring Penny that you were fine cleaning up, she left with Mav and Amelia in tow. 

Which left only Bradley. 

The sound of running water drew you back into the kitchen, and you paused in the doorway at the sight of him rinsing silverware and loading the dishwasher, a hand towel thrown over his shoulder. “I can take care of that,” you said quickly. Bradley glanced at you and shook his head.

“Relax, I’ve got it. Can the plates go in here, or do they need to be hand-washed?”

“They can go in there.” Ignoring the order, you walked around the house, picked up empty glasses and forgotten dishes, and set them by the sink. Donning your apron, you surveyed the leftovers, “Did you want any of this?”

“Yeah, I’ll take a plate.” Nodding, you started to put the food away. Thankfully, there wasn’t a lot left. Everyone had been happy to take leftovers, and you were glad you’d had the forethought to buy containers for them to keep. 

The silence was comfortable, and you were stifling yawns with the back of your hand. Between the turkey, wine, and lack of sleep the night before, you were ready to change back into comfy clothes and pass out. Without prompting, Bradley started to cut up what was left of the turkey, placing some in the containers you’d portioned for him before putting the rest in the fridge. You started the dishwasher when it was full and wiped down counters. After tossing the rest of the turkey, he took the trash out.

When the door swung shut, you took the opportunity to stretch, moaning when your back popped before bending at the waist and letting your arms dangle. As much as you enjoyed hosting, your body took a beating, being on your feet all day. You would definitely need to invest in some mats to make the kitchen floor more comfortable before your next full day of cooking. 

Even when the door opened, you felt too good stretching to stand up straight. You heard Bradley chuckle and then the sound of water running, followed by the snap of a trashbag being shaken out. Finally, you stood and threw out a hand to steady yourself when the world spun. Hands wrapped around your hips and drew you closer. “You okay, honey?” 

The term of endearment caught you off-guard and had clearly slipped out by the flush on Bradley’s cheeks. “Honey?” you echoed, quirking a brow.

“Duchess,” he corrected. 

“Rooster.” Your hands rested on his forearms, feeling the muscles flex as his fingers clenched around your hips. Taking a deep breath, you felt your chest brush his. His lips quirked into a wry smile. “What?” 

“Just waiting for something to interrupt.” At your questioning look, he chuckled. “Been trying to kiss you all day, and something always gets in the way.” 

“What?” you breathed, shock written across your face. 

“Been thinkin’ about kissing you since that night at the Hard Deck, actually.” 

“T-the Hard Deck?”

“Yup. Before you deployed.” Heat rushed to your face at the memory - or lack thereof - of your going away party. There had been one too many shots, and you had a vague recollection of Bradley driving the Bronco. Of him telling you not to throw up while he helped Nat into her apartment before taking you home. Half carrying you to bed and making sure you had water and medicine - warm hands on your face and a raspy laugh.  

“When I was drunk?”

“When you told me you liked me.” Mortified, you felt a sudden flush of heat and tried to pull away, but he held firm. “But that you didn’t think I was a relationship guy.” 

“Roo - ”

“I am. A relationship guy,” he clarified, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “For the right woman.” Your mouth was dry, unable to force out a single word. “I was gonna say something before you left, but you avoided me. And then you were gone for three months.”

“I… you messaged me.” 

“Wasn’t exactly something I wanted to say over email,” Bradley chuckled. “I like you too.” 

“What about Georgia?”

That drew him up short, and a confused look crossed his face. “The bartender?” 

“Yeah. She… I mean, she’s clearly interested. And more your type.” Groaning, he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours.

“Honey, I’m not interested in her. And she’s not… ask Nat. She’s been on my case about my” - he lifted a hand to make air quotes - “‘hoe phase’ since I got out here.” That drew a snort from you, and Bradley pulled away to smile at you bashfully. “Gimme a chance, Duch.” 

Hesitating a moment, you took another deep breath and gave the butterflies in your stomach free rein. Hands shaking, you wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded, unable to keep from matching his smile. 

Moving slowly, as though afraid to spook you, Bradley leaned down and brushed his nose to yours. “As much as this is doin’ things for me,” he said softly, pulling at the apron strings tied at your stomach, “I think we’re done in the kitchen tonight.” Biting your lip, you could only nod, leaning away as he tugged it over your head, balled the apron up, and tossed it behind you. With his hands back on your hips, he walked you backward and lifted you onto the counter, stepping between your knees. “This alright?” 

“Yeah,” you whispered, allowing yourself to reach out and run a hand through his curls. Bradley's eyes closed when you lightly scratched his scalp, and he swayed closer. His breath ghosted over your lips and - 

“Fucking Christ,” he groaned when his phone started to buzz. You jumped, feeling the vibration against your shin, and laughed as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. Your breath caught, feeling his lips on your throat. When he reached into his pocket and scowled down at the screen, you saw Nat’s name before he sent the call to voicemail. 

Leaving the phone on the counter, he smirked and guided your legs around his waist as your arms went around his neck. His hands cupped your ass as he lifted you. In the doorway to the kitchen, he paused long enough for you to slap the walls until the lights turned off before walking toward the couch and lowering himself onto it. Your knees dug into the cushion on either side of him, forcing the hem of your dress higher. 

From this angle, he had to look up at you. Hands migrated from your ass to thighs, callouses lightly scraping and fingertips darting under the fabric to trace shapes on your skin and drag the hem higher. Lightly, you ran your thumb along the scars on his chin before ghosting over the ones on his cheek that had always intrigued you. A moan rumbled from his throat as he followed your touch, mustache tickling the delicate skin of your wrist. Blushing, you wondered how it would feel on your inner thighs. He chuckled, kissing your cheek, “What’re you thinking that’s got you red?” 

Rather than answer, you turned and kissed him - just a light brush of your lips against his that seemed to catch him off-guard. You stared at one another for a long moment until he guided you closer. His mustache prickled, not unpleasantly but different, when he kissed you again. It was sweet and unhurried, a direct contradiction to the hardness you felt straining against his zipper. 

Pulling away, you smiled tentatively down at him, seeing the remnants of your lipstick on his mouth. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and you leaned forward to press your lips to them. “Hi,” you said softly.

“Hey.” 

“You like me?” 

“Yeah. You like me?” 

Rather than reply, you captured his lips again. “Drunk words,” you said between kisses, “are sober thoughts.” He barked a laugh before tugging you closer and licking into your mouth. 

“Shoulda said something earlier,” he chided, gripping your ass tightly. “Coulda been doing this for a long time.” 

“Blame the tequila.” The word came out as a moan when he trailed kisses down your neck, and you felt him smile. 

“Thank god for tequila,” he mumbled, nuzzling your breasts and making you grind down on him. Bradley caught your hands when your fingers trailed down his chest to tug at his shirt. “Nuh-uh, honey. Gonna take you on a couple of dates before we get to that.”

“What?” 

“No more ‘hoe phase.’” 

“Maybe just one more night?” That made him laugh again as he shook his head.

“No, Duch. Wanna do this right with you.” 

“I’ve heard the stories. I know you would.” When you rocked against him, he pinned your hand at your lower back and stilled you with a hand on your hip. He growled your name and smirked when your thighs clenched.

“Liked that, huh?” he teased. “Ms. Prim and Proper Duchess likes to be bossed around?” Heat flooded your face, and he chuckled again. Without warning, he stood, and you squeaked, trying to keep from falling. But he held you steady and set you on your feet, towering over you. “Can I stay over?” You didn’t hesitate in nodding, and his kiss was rough before he pulled away and swatted your ass. “Go get ready for bed while I lock up.” 

When you emerged from the bathroom, face cleaned and in your panties and a tank top, Bradley was lying in the middle of your bed in just his boxers. Groaning, he looked at you and shook his head. “Where are those sweats from this morning?” 

“You want me to wear sweats to bed?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe and raising an eyebrow. His hand drifted down to his hard cock, squeezing lightly. “You’ve seen me in less at the beach.”

“Trying to do this right, honey.” Rolling your eyes, you walked to your dresser and pulled on sweatpants before digging out a pair of fuzzy socks. He laughed when you tossed them at his head, setting them aside as you circled the bed to lie beside him. Quickly, he pinned you beneath him, settling in the cradle of your thighs. As he licked into your mouth, you felt his hips rolling against yours. “Still too damn sexy,” he murmured against your lips. 

“Housewife lingerie does it for you?” you teased, running your hands through his hair. Rather than answer, he looped an arm under your knee and drew it up, allowing you to feel him better. “Fuck.”

“Not tonight.” 

And, unfortunately, he was true to his word. Anytime your hands strayed to his boxers, he pinned them over your head, seemingly content to tease and kiss all night. 

Eventually, though, you could no longer keep from yawning. After setting his alarm - Bradley was on duty in the morning while you’d taken the day off - he tucked you against him, your back to his chest. His cock pressed against your ass as he kissed your shoulder, hand slipping under your shirt to brush the underside of your breast. Sighing, he murmered, “Best Thanksgiving I’ve had in a long time.” 

You couldn’t help but agree.

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

Author's Note: Do I think that Bradley has a raging domesticity kink? Possibly.

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