#at least I get crab rangoon

[myfriendtheghost]

.

[quarble]

Tonight we got Chinese takeout and ate it on the couch. We watched Totoro at the request of the kid. We were kind to ourselves and each other and snuggled and came out the other side feeling a lot more normal.

I’m sure the anxiety and depression will come crawling back up into my rib cage soon enough, but taking comfort in the people you love most while eating crab Rangoon and watching a movie can make a big difference in your mental health.

[theonlythingimfuckingisstupid]

have to go into school tomorrow :(

[obesogen]

The Back Room

contains: voyeurism in a public setting, degradation/humiliation (of the FA, not the fattie) fluids, Feeder/feedee, gender unspecified, 2nd person/reader insert if ya want

You are just an innocent bystander. This is not your fault.

It's Friday. You're out to dinner with a good friend at the fancy all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet in town.

Your buddy just put in their two weeks notice and you two you are celebrating in indulgent fashion. The plan is well underway when you can't help but notice a couple walk into the restaurant.

Well, one of them walks in. The other waddles.

The skinnier of them is about 5’8” or so. They appear somewhat haggard but strong, a works-with-their-hands type. Their companion is easily twice their weight and significantly shorter, a fluffy, soft marshmallow. They are wearing bike shorts that are catastrophically too tight, causing a hill of insistent chub to crest the waistband. The fabric of their shorts has been stretched so far as to become translucent. Silky arm fat bursts out of the strained crease of their crop top's armpit and side boob is dripping out of the bottom of it. Chunky calves threaten to envelop their proportionately delicate ankles and feet.

These two have to be a Feeder and feedee, they just have to be. You silently pray that they are because you're not at all sure you can stop trying to get a look, even if they're not.

The Feeder greets the beaming Host warmly and it is immediately clear that all three know each other well. The two of them must be regulars. You watch with mounting arousal as the Host and Feeder carefully lead the slow-moving feedee along the path of least resistance through the dining room. It takes a quick eternity for them to cross it gracelessly, through the tittering and disdain of fellow diners, unconcerned.

All the while, you're trying hard not to obviously, hungrily devour the stolen glimpses of swaying soft you catch out of the side of your eye while badly pretending to be listening to your friend. You're appalled by how sweaty and riled you are, how fast you were gripped with monstrous lust, all hunched and tense over half finished crab legs (or whatever you would eat. I would be eating crab legs). They disappear into the back room, usually reserved for parties.

You are by now having serious trouble hiding your predicament. You haven't even been pretending to pay attention for the last minute.

"Hello?! Anyone home?" your friend snaps their fingers in your face.

You laugh a little too quickly and make appropriate eye contact with them, flushed. You apologize sheepishly. You just got caught… off guard, you say. Momentarily. Sorry. "I bet, you fucking perv" they laugh at you pityingly, but not entirely unkindly. They know you have a type and that type is legendary. They know it's just so difficult for you to be painfully hard under the table pretending not to watch an enormous person struggle to walk 150 feet across an all-you-can-eat buffet. A horny mess like you can’t really be expected to listen to them talk about whatever shit Danielle in Accounting did last week. You couldn’t possibly stop imagining that stranger’s upper arm in your teeth for 20 seconds and let them finish a thought. You have never been able to be an appropriate amount of horny, how could they expect anything else from you. You eat your food in shameful, steaming silence.

Though the feedee remains behind closed doors out of your sight, you see their Feeder get up to start fixing plate (s) for them. By the time they return to the back room they're carrying 4 plates, balancing them expertly in fine dining style. The plates are laden with various treats which you definitely were not watching them lovingly select.

One plate is all fried: crispy egg rolls, spring rolls, crab rangoon, chicken wings, juicy fried pork and chive dumplings, scallion pancakes, the works. Various sauces.

The second plate is heaped with sticky sweet bbq ribs, sweet and sour chicken, a mountain of white rice, and a landslide of mixed veggies with a ton of extra baby corn and snow peas. Their feedee clearly has good taste.

Still another plate is all seafood: the aforementioned buttery snow crab legs, shrimp, steaming mussels, spiny little rock lobsters, clams… more shrimp, but tempura this time.

The last one isn't really a plate, its a bowl. The bowl is filled with vanilla soft serve (of course) and fresh fruit. Just for good measure, there's also two shiny, glazed roast pork buns balanced precariously on top. You bet a little bit of vanilla ice cream getting on a sweet, doughy pork bun is good as hell. No, you can’t be horny and hungry. You are already full and still have food. You are considering trying it though. Not to try to get a look, of course not, but just to get some dessert.

While you are deliberating and “talking” to your friend, you spy a busboy running towards the back room holding an extra-wide, high weight capacity folding chair. It's clear that this hefty cutie isn't their most comfortable on even the armless chairs that are as used to accommodating heavy people as any chair at a buffet should be. They still need something wider.

You’re dying in here. You need to wash your face and think of the least sexy things you can imagine: hairless plastic abs, taxes, etc. You excuse yourself to use the restroom and ask your friend if they want anything from the buffet on your way back.

“I want you to make sure you wash your filthy hands when you’re done, you useless degenerate” they snap. “C’mon, man, Jesus Christ—” you look around as you get up to see if anyone heard your friend, who has since lost all patience and good humor towards you and your inability to get it together.

You get up from the table and it’s as bad as you feared. You’re so aroused, not to mention full of crab legs, and just need to cool down long enough to make it home. Or at least to the car after you drop your friend off.

Your underwear is tight and rubbing your poor swollen dick. You’re so overstimulated that each step towards the bathroom is somewhat labored. Thankfully, labored movements toward the bathroom are not uncommon here so you fly under the radar for the most part.

You almost reach the bathroom door when out of the corner of your eye you realize that you suddenly can see them through the glass doors of the back room as you pass.

The Feeder is indeed lovingly in the midst of hand-feeding the feedee an egg roll dripping with sweet duck sauce. They have one hand under their feedee’s belly, which is pulled out of their shorts, nude and sumptuous under the long banquet table. It hangs heavy between their knees when fully unfurled with two massive lobes comprising the bottom of the apron and a pronounced dip in the center; 3 shaped.

You accidentally make eye contact with the feedee briefly, as you turn to enter the bathroom, sweaty and collapsing from fevered arousal. They just slowly lick their lips, staring into your very being, hungrily, menacing, devouring you with their eyes, daring you to keep looking.

You almost make it to the stall, but unfortunately for you,

You bust in your underwear, untouched, and now facing the long walk back to the table, wetly covered in yourself.

Worth it.

[bangpop91]

Growing Pains

This is my story for @bucktommypositivityweek round 2, day 3.

Today's prompt: missing moments.

This is my take on Buck and Tommy’s first time having sex, as well as spending the night together.

Buck : Want to come over and have dinner and watch a movie after your shift

He sends the text before he can overthink it. Now he wishes he had over-thought the message a little bit, because it sounds awkward and formal. Which is at least better than sending Tommy a text asking him to Netflix and chill. He used to be good at this, being cool and flirty. But now he doesn't know to tell Tommy that he wants to spend time with him, dates, stolen kisses, cuddling. But he's also ready For the chill part of Netflix and Chill. 

❤️ Tomm y ❤️ : Of course, Darlin. I'll pick up take out on my way over. How does Chinese sound? 

Buck: extra crab rangoons? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

❤️ Tommy ❤️ : Of course. I would never forget your extra crab rangoons.

He's nervous in a way he hasn't been since he was in his early twenties and realized that he's a good looking guy who's good at sex. He never really had to try that hard to get girls interested in sleeping with him. Even after that, after Abby, he wasn't worried about turning a casual night in into a sexy night in. It just happened. But him and Tommy are taking things slow because he's never been with a dude and every time he thinks Tommy might be taking things in a direction that leads to them having sex, Tommy pulls away and goes home. 

So yes he is nervous and doesn't know what to do, he tried texting Eddie for advice which in hindsight was a stupid choice.

Eddie: 😂😂😂😂😂 

Eddie: why would I know how to get a dude to have sex with you

Eddie: have you tried taking your shirt off? Marisol taking her shirt off always works for me

Buck frowned at the messages from his best friend before responding.

Buck: what about when Jesus is watching you?

Eddie: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Read the rest under the cut or on A03

 

He considers texting Hen for advice but it seems like a 50/50 shot if Hen would be more or less helpful than Eddie. There is no way he is going to text Maddie because as helpful as his sister would be, she would tell Chimney and Chimney would inevitably wind up accidentally telling Tommy which would be even more embarrassing. He's debating asking Josh but Josh is Maddie's best friend and would lead to the same outcome of Maddie telling Chimney.

He thinks about the things he'd liked. He thinks of the petty matching sets of lingerie that Ali and Taylor would wear. It's not a perfect equivalence, he doesn't know if seeing him in lingerie would actually be a thing for Tommy, but he does have a few pairs of boxer briefs that according to Taylor and Natalia made his ass look biteable, and hug his dick in a way that he thinks makes his bulge look good. 

So he puts on his best pair of black boxer briefs, before debating what to wear over them. He knows gray sweatpants are a thing people consider sexy, but he doesn't want to look under dressed either. They haven't gotten to the hanging out in their lazy day clothing stage yet. Which might be ridiculous since he'd taken Tommy as his date to his sister's wedding, but hasn't let Tommy see him in his ratty sweatpants and hoodies. And Tommy will be coming from work so it's not like he needs to be dressed for a night out. 

He can do this. He puts on a pair of jeans that he's had for years, they've been washed so many times that they are faded, and distressed in the knees, the denim has gone soft and they make his thighs look good. Next he pulls on a soft and very snuggly, slightly too big hoodie forgoing anything under it. He didn't realize how long he had spent agonizing over his clothes until he heard Tommy knocking on the door of his loft. 

“Shit.” He shouted into the empty loft racing down the stairs to open the door for Tommy. He really should give Tommy his spare key. “Hi babe.” he said breathlessly, yanking open the door making Tommy laugh as he stepped inside giving him a quick kiss hello, his arms loaded down with takeout.

“Hi Darlin. Where do you want me to set this?” Tommy asked, holding up the plastic bags filled with delicious smelling food. 

“We can eat on the couch.” Buck responded sheepishly with a shrug. “You want a beer? I picked up those Brette Rosés that you like.” Tommy made a soft humming noise in the back of his throat as he sat down the bags of takeout on the counter before crowding into his space smiling at him.

“You hated them.” He did, but Tommy loves them and he wants to make Tommy happy and feel at home in his loft. He's blushing and knows it as he shrugs, but Tommy is smiling even brighter as he leans In kissing his cheeks. “You're adorable, Evan. I'd love one.” 

They settle onto the couch with their cartons of Chinese take out and beers. Buck has Tommy pick the movie, because his boyfriend is very opinionated about movies and what movies it is a crime that Buck hasn't seen. 

“Nothing sad tonight.” He tells Tommy firmly not over Tommy making him watch Steel Magnolias. Tommy laughs but agrees nothing sad and puts on Bringing Up Baby. The movie is funny and engaging as they eat dinner with chopsticks feeding each other bits and pieces of food, but also sweet enough that once They have finished eating they can curl up in the corner of the couch with a second beer each, cuddling and trading kisses. It eases the nerves in his chest because he loves kissing Tommy. He loves the way his lips are slightly chapped and his stubble feels against his face. He loves the gentle way Tommy uses his massive hands to cradle his face, or play with the short hairs at the base of his scalp.

He drags his hand up Tommy's thigh making his boyfriend moan into his mouth before starting to pull back,

“Evan-” He cuts his boyfriend off.

“I want to have sex with you!” He blurts out with a wince, there went any attempt at subtle seduction, what's worse is the fact Tommy was smiling. He kind of wants to melt into the couch and die of embarrassment.

“We can do that.” Tommy says, still smiling as he turns off the tv, leading Buck up the stairs to his bed. This is easy laying side by side with each other holding each other close, trading slow kisses, letting their hands slowly explore each other's bodies. This is familiar and comfortable.  “What do you want tonight?” Tommy asks between kisses, his calloused fingers playing with the soft skin of Buck's belly under his hoodie.

“To have sex.” He paused awkwardly. “With you.” 

“Well I was hoping it was going to be with me.” Tommy responds dryly before they both start laughing which is different because he’s never laughed during sex. Sex had always been this serious thing, it had never been silly though. But now Tommy is laying on his side, propped up on his elbow looking down at him adoringly and smiling while playing with the hem of his hoodie. “I mean what would you like to do?” Buck bit his lip nervously shrugging, he hadn't gotten that far in his thinking. He just knows he wants to experience this new intimacy with Tommy. So he takes a deep breath.

“I want us to be naked.” Buck starts,

“That's generally how it goes, yes.” Tommy teases him again and they are both laughing again, further easing the nerves that usually accompany having sex with someone new for the first time. Someone you really care about, who you could see yourself having a future with.

“Be nice.” He chides his boyfriend playfully, making them laugh again, and it allows Buck to relax fully, slipping his fingers under Tommy's shirt experimenting with touching the skin there. “And I want to just see what happens. Do what feels good.”

Their kisses are slow as they explore each other. Buck thinks this is what his first time should have been like, it should have felt tender. Of course there is heat as well, the way Tommy had groaned pressing kisses over his chest and collarbone after having removed Buck's hoodie, the way his hands groped and tugged him closer possessively. How he had moaned and buried his face into Tommy’s chest hair, nuzzling and placing kisses to the skin. 

He gasps rocking against Tommy's muscular thighs when they are down to their underwear, unbelievably turned by how easily Tommy hand manhandled him, preening when Tommy moaned seeing him in his tiny black briefs, grabbing at his ass possessively grinding their hips together and swallowing each other's moans. Eventually he gets Tommy on his back, insisting on giving His boyfriend a blow job.

“Evan, you don't have to if you want to.” Tommy says softly, the way he does when he doesn't want Buck to feel forced or like they have to rush anything.

“I want to.” Buck promises from where he's made himself at home between Tommy's legs and nuzzling his neck. He takes his time trailing kisses down Tommy’s chest, taking inventory of the places that make Tommy sigh and moan with pleasure, how his ribs are ticklish making him squirm and giggle, until he finally gets to the band of Tommy's army green briefs. He takes a deep breath and starts pulling them off of Tommy who lifts his hips up to help.

He knows Tommy isn't small, he's felt Tommy's cock a few times while they were making out and one memorable time when Tommy had been spooning him on Tommy’s big comfortable couch while they watched a movie. But seeing Tommy fully bare for the first time is… overwhelming. It's not like Tommy has some monster cock or something but he's definitely bigger than average. Just like the rest of Tommy, he is just big . And Buck has the terrifying thought of how in the hell would Tommy ever fit inside of him.

“Evan, it’s okay, you don't have too-” 

“I want to.” He insists, cutting Tommy off, “I just…” He stares, trying to figure out where to start, which maybe isn't the best plan with how Tommy is squirming nervously.

“Can I take yours off too?” Tommy asks gesturing to Evan's own briefs. “I'm starting to feel a little self conscious being the only one naked here.” He nods, swallowing thickly when Tommy uses his impressive core strength to sit up while holding onto Buck's hips, kissing him while slowly pushing the black briefs from his hips.

“You're beautiful, Tommy.” He finds himself saying without thinking, cupping Tommy's face between his hands. He likes the way Tommy is blushing and a little shy. He wants to make Tommy blush like that again and again. He wants to make Tommy feel beautiful.

“So are you, Evan.” He helps Tommy lay back and takes a deep breath. He takes his time pressing soft kisses and licking over Tommy's cock, trying to catalog what gets the most reaction out of Tommy while also gathering himself to overcome his anxiety about not being good enough for Tommy.

When he does finally wrap his lips around Tommy and begins bobbing his head, he gains confidence from the way Tommy moans and his hips twitch holding himself back from fucking up into Buck's mouth. It isn't perfect, he accidentally uses teeth at first making Tommy wince, and then he gets too ambitious trying to take Tommy deeper and winds up gagging. His jaw aches, but he likes this. He wants to keep going until he has perfected this new skill. He wants to make Tommy come in his mouth.

“Hey, come up here, I want to try something.” Tommy says gently tugging his hair. They wind up on their sides, Tommy spooned up behind him, fucking between his thighs while they worked together strocking Buck's cock to bring them both to orgasm. It's not perfect, not yet. But it's the best sex he's ever had, because it's with Tommy. 

“Spend the night?” He asks in the quiet of the bed after they've finished making love, laying in bed facing each other like two parenthesis trading soft kisses. 

“Of course.” Tommy answers without hesitation. It's earnest, like there is nowhere he would rather be than in this bed with Buck. The space between them closes as they curl up together, holding each other close, and trading kisses until they fall asleep.

It is, admittedly, the worst sleep either man has ever gotten. The queen sized bed was too small for both of them so they seemed to always be kicking each other. Tommy snores loudly, he runs hot, and can't sleep when he is. Buck is a blanket hog who likes to starfish out on his stomach in the middle of the bed. But he knows that he'd rather spend the rest of his life sleeping like shit as long as he is doing it next to Tommy.

Luckily, it only takes them a few more nights to figure out how to share a bed, which results in the best sleep they've ever had.

[silent-raven13]

I'm Hobie Brown and...

Every so often when a new group of Spider-heroes come in, some of the original Spider-heroes would introduce themselves. One who is always the loudest one to start off the controversy with Miguel O'Hara.

"This wanker had the whole Spider Society chasing after a fifteen year old boy about four or five years ago!" Hobie spoke to the new comers, "And he's still running this place."

"Wait, a 15 year old boy?" A new Spider-woman with a West African pattern designs around her suit asked being confused at the leader of the organization.

"Brown!" Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, "How many times do I have to tell you to stop bringing that up?"

"Not until, this place goes down under, mate! We as a Spider-people shouldn't have to follow rules, and order!" The punker swing from one part of the office to another. "We are to break the system, not follow who does this and that!"

"Ohhh!" The young Spider-heroes awed, some even taking notes.

Miguel shake his head with his eyes widen, "Wait, wait, don't write that. What are you guys doing? Don't listen to him! Este pinche cabrón!" Already giving up from Hobie's annoying introduction.

Miles came into the office holding bags of lunch, while sipping his slushy. He didn't have his mask on, "Whoa, looks like he already got the new comers into him, huh tio?"

"Morales? What are you doing here?" Miguel looks over to find the nineteen year old standing by the platform.

"I brought lunch for Gwen and Pav!" Miles holds one of the bags up in the air. "Where are they?"

"Over here!" Gwen uses her web to get the bag and pulled up to the ceiling. Miguel and Miles looks over to find them sitting at one of the edges talking.

"When did you guys come in?" Miguel asked out loud, "This room isn't for hanging out! It's a place of business, to group and prepare for missions! Ay, DIOS ayúdame!"

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah! A place of "business"." Pav rolled his eyes under his mask with air quoting, "We get it, Miguel! This place is our new favorite spot, now!"

Gwen laughs along Pav, "Yeah, dude. We like the vibe here. Ohhh, they gave us extra Crab Rangoons!" She peaked in the bag to find extra items, "Yum! I was so craving for Chinese food!" The two walks over to one of the bulky vertical walls to sit and eat in peace.

"And I don't believe in ruthless dictatorships under this organization!" Hobie's voice rings their ears.

Miles could only laugh at his boyfriend's long rants against the hierarchy and government. Miguel placed his hands on his hips with his head down, "Miles go get your novio before I pop a blood vessel."

"Come on, tio. You know, he does this all the time. You should get use to it." He giggles hearing his boyfriend's voice, his lips part away from his plushie, "See, almost done."

"Morales." A warning from the Big Boss.

"Okay. Okay." Miles turns toward the group and said out loud, "Mi amor, I brought lunch!"

"And that's my cue to leave, mates! I hope you all learn about the conspiracies of this place!" Hobie got up on one of the tables and swing over to his boyfriend. "Hello, luv!" He took off his mask to give Miles a big kiss on the cheek, "You got our food."

"Yup, Indian today! I got the curry you like with some garlic naan." His boyfriend happily said.

Pav said, "It better be authentic Indian!"

"In this cafeteria? How?" Gwen snorted at him.

"Huh, true! Nevermind!" Pav shouted out loud.

Gwen leans over at Pav without her mask on, "Hey, you know what will be funny?"

"Ohh, what?" Her friend leans in to listen her whispers. "Ohhh, that's a good one!"

The wavy haired Spider-man spoke out, "Hey Hobie! Did you even started your intro? You forgot to mention you don't like the AM or the PM!"

"A la puta madre! NO! Don't you start, Brown!" Miguel was about to give his own explanation about their caused.

"I almost forgot." Hobie grins widely loving making Miguel pissed off.

"Bae, we're supposed to have lunch together." Miles pouts having to sway side to side to at least help his boss from his boyfriend's long rants.

"I will. Enjoy with Gwen and Pav, Sunflower!"

"Miles, come up here!" Gwen quickly said having her hand gesturing him to come up to where they are sitting.

Miles climbs up giving an apologetic look towards Miguel. The older Spider-man could only sigh from frustration. The nineteen year old Spider-man sat next to his blond friend, "What's up?"

"You know, how Hobie likes to claim he doesn't believe in a lot of stuff... so I got this idea." She giggles.

"Huh oh." Miles grins, "What kind of thing your pulling?"

"Nothing. I swear, this will be fun!" Gwen leans over to whisper in Miles' ears.

"Ohhh, I see." He smiles widely.

Hobie stood on a table beginning his intro, "I'm Hobie Brown, when I’m not playing shows, antagonizing fascists, staging unpermitted political action slash performing art pieces. OR, having a laugh at the pub with the mandem. I'm not a role model, I was briefly a runway model. I hate the AM, I hate the PM, I hate labels!" He kicks off some items on the tables only to piss off Miguel more. "I'm not a hero, because calling yourself a hero makes you a self-mythologizing narcissistic autocrat! Like this gentlemen over there!" He eyes on the leader of Spider Society.

"Pinche pendejo!" Miguel mutters lowly, saw the new-comers were writing everything down, "Don't write that down!"

"So you don't believe in labels?" A Spider-man asked wearing a tobe with his own Middle Eastern designs.

Another one with a nerdy voice spoke up wearing a futuristic Cyber-Punk Spiderman outfit, "Yeah, you hate all labels!"

"I. Hate. All. LABELS."

"Really!" Gwen spoke up out loud, "All labels, mate?"

"All, Gwendy!"

"Even if I say if this is a chopsticks?" She holds her chopsticks

"Yup!" Hobie said proudly, "I can say those are forks! I don't believe in none. None what's so ever."

"Not even if I say the sky is blue!" Pav asked out loud.

"I can say it's Red!" Hobie said as a matter of fact, "All about being chaotic. Keep stirring the pot." He wasn't aware of his boyfriend standing next to him with his hands behind his back being adorable.

"Even if there's a police caution tape?" Gwen asked out loud.

"I'll rip the bloody thing off! No one can tell me what to do! I am Hobie Brown!" Hobie spoke up, "Not gonna let a pig tell me what to do or say!"

The new Spider-heroe 'Ooohhhed' and 'Ahhhed' at him seeing how inspiring he is to be his own Spider-man. That's something they need to work on. "No, don't listen to him. He's only saying this to start trouble." Miguel began.

"But that's what a dictator would say." A new-comer Spider-man said slowly, they all were eyeing him.

"I like this lad's way of thinking." The punker chuckles lowly seeing how annoyed and mad Miguel looks. When he turns around to go to eat with his friends, he blinks in surprised to find his boyfriend next to him, "Luv, what are you doing down here?"

"Bae..." Miles's lips twisted into a wide smirk, "You said you hate all labels."

"Yes, luv. You know this."

"But," He cutely pouts with his bottom lip popping out a bit more, "that means you don't believe in us. So we're not in a relationship?" Having fake tears! "You think of us as nothing?"

The new-comers all went, "Ohhhh."

"No! No, luv! I never meant it that way." Hobie said out loud with worried going over to hug him.

"But-but..." Miles frowns, "That means you don't like it when I called you baby or mi amor?"

"No, I do! I believe in whatever YOU SAY, luv." Hobie said having to comfort his boyfriend.

"Really? So if I say the sky is Green?" Miles asked innocently.

"The sky is green!"

Miguel rolled his eyes, "Oh brother..." He thought to himself.

"And if I say we're in a relationship?"

"We are in a relationship, Sunflower!" Hobie picks up his boyfriend in bridal style, "Only my darling Sunflower words matter to me." He kisses Miles' cheek.

"So you do believe in labels?" One Spider-person said.

"Only what my Sunflower says! I'm Hobie Brown and I'm in a happy relationship with my boyfriend, Miles and the sky is green." He kisses his boyfriend on the lips. Miles giggles with that response while their friends laughs.

[seresinsbabe]

Dream of Me: Chapter 2

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x fem!reader

Synopsis: Jake made the dumb mistake cheating on the only girl he every really loved. Fast forward a few years, he's a Navy pilot and you're now a famous singer.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Angst, mentions of STI’s, mentions of cheating. Nothing generally bad this chapter.

Chapter Songs: None

Word Count: 2.3k

THIS BLOG IS 18+ MINORS DNI

I do not consent to having any of my work shared on any other platform. If you see any rendition of my works on another site know that it has been posted without my permission.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

When you walked out of  the door you thought that it would be the last you ever saw of Jake Seresin. He was now the enemy. Only of use to you as a muse. The last place you ever expected to see him was your concert. 

Now you couldn’t get those green eyes out of your mind. 

Every time you closed your eyes it was like you were right back there. Staring at him, singing to him and hoping he felt every ounce of pain that you had felt. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought you saw remorse in his eyes.

But you did know better. 

Jake Seresin didn’t feel bad for what he had done – only that he had been caught. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. You had convinced yourself that he didn’t care about what he had done because it made it easier.  Or at least you thought it did. 

“So he was really there?” Julie’s, your sister, voice came through the phone. As soon as you got a moment to breathe you facetimed her. Making sure you were alone for the rest of the night in your hotel suite. The empty half of the bed was taken up by all your comfort foods; a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream, nacho cheese bugles, fried mushrooms, mozzarella sticks and crab rangoon, and of course a bottle of Merlot. An odd combination of foods that your trainer would surely yell at you for having. Shortly after it had all arrived you realized you might have gone overboard, but dammit you were upset.

Who the fuck did he think he was coming to your concert? Standing that close to the stage, close enough you had been able to make out his features. There was no way he didn’t know it was your concert. It wasn’t like you were some up and comer, you were selling out venues worldwide, everyone knew who you were. And he had the gall to show up and look you dead in the fucking eye? The same way he had when you caught him with his pants around his ankles and his dick in a pussy that wasn’t yours.

“Yeah,” you chomped on a mozzarella stick as you spoke. “I mean so close I could have touched him.” The tips of your fingers tingled at the idea of touching him while your mind cringed at the thought. The only way you would want to touch Jake was with your fist to his face.

Julie watched as you stuffed a fried mushroom in your mouth and then washed it down with a swig of wine straight from the bottle. “You’re clearly taking it well.” You shot a look at the sarcastic tone in her voice and flipped her off through your laptop camera. 

“Act like you would take it any better.” You loved Jake. At one point in time you had wanted a family and a future with him. up until the very bitter end, he had been perfect. That should have been the sign that it was too good to be true.

Julie just rolled her eyes and picked up her phone, letting you stew for a moment. Only you couldn’t stand the quiet, not in this moment. There were so many emotions you were feeling that you needed to get out so you just started talking. 

“I mean…why was he even there? Was he with his girlfriend? Did he end up with that slut? I know you keep tabs on him.” You continued to babble on, shoving a different piece of food in your mouth every so often. Like the good big sister she was, Julie just let you talk. She knew this was what you needed, to just word vomit over facetime with her until you couldn’t anymore. It was something you had done since you were little, before you started writing music. 

How long you had been rambling on and on, asking questions that were answered only by short phrases as your sister scrolled her phone, you weren’t sure. You were mid question when the message from Julia popped up on your computer and phone screen simultaneously. It was a link to a tabloid article. Immediately your stomach started churning, but you shakily clicked the link anyway. 

Soul Song: Could this man be the heartbreaking mystery muse?

Fuck. You knew someone would speculate, but you hadn’t expected it to happen this fast. Since the concert ended you had made an effort to avoid social media, trying  to avoid this exact situation. You weren’t exactly in the right headspace to deal with his face being plastered all over every media platform. With everything you had you hoped for a juicier story would pop up and people would forget about this come next week.

Something  told you that you weren’t that lucky. 

“Maybe this is some sort of divine intervention? Y’know like fate stepping in.” Your nose scrunched up and you gagged at your sister’s suggestion. 

There was no fucking way that fate was trying to push you back towards Jake. After everything you went through? If that was the case the universe was some sort of twisted bitch. 

The facetime lasted only a few minutes longer before your brother-in-law snatched your sister’s attention away. Which didn’t bother you, you were glad that at least one of you had found love. Of course it might have stung less if she hadn’t gotten engaged a mere two weeks after you’d caught who was supposed to be the love of your life balls deep in another woman.

You sink underneath the covers, cocooning yourself in the crisp white hotel duvet while continuing to stuff your mouth with the depression snacks. During the facetime you hadn’t paid much attention to what was playing on the TV, but now you were acutely aware of the fact that How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days was playing. Against your better judgment you didn’t change the channel and by the end of it there were fat, silent tears rolling down your cheeks.

Seeing Jake had brought back a whole slew of feelings and memories you had only let come through in your music. Now your mind was forcing you to remember them. The dam you’d built was starting to break and you were doing everything you could to patch it back up. You couldn’t even find it in you to write, which was what you should have been doing. Getting it all out on paper, but your body wouldn’t let you. You just kept crying on the bed surrounded by food that was bound to give you heartburn tomorrow. 

When you had fallen asleep you weren’t too sure, but you knew you had fallen asleep crying. That much was evident by the massive dehydration headache you woke with. The pain was only exacerbated by the ringing of your cell phone. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” the voice of your manager came through. “The venue had a water main break so we’re postponing the concert until tomorrow.” You groaned. This was never fun. Canceling shows, or even just postponing them, always sucked. You hated disappointing your fans, but this was one of those instances where you knew you couldn’t prevent it. There wasn’t another venue available that was big enough to host your concert tonight.

“Okay,” as much as it sucked it was probably a good thing. You needed a day to cope with the events of the night before. “Keep me updated.” Martin promised he would, just like he always did and then hung up. 

You were slow to get up due to the pounding in your head, but that would soon be remedied by the extra strength ibuprofen in your suitcase. Even though you’d only crawled right back in bed after taking it.

For a while you stared up at the ceiling. Not really wanting to look on your phone and see what the tabloids had come up with now. You knew eventually you would have to address it. Honestly you were surprised Martin hadn’t brought it up on the phone call, but maybe that was due to the more pressing matter at hand. Whatever the reason, you were thankful, because honestly you didn’t know what to say.

You had kept Jake’s identity underwraps because as much as you hated him, you didn’t want this to affect him. Fans could be ruthless and they wouldn’t stop at Jake. They could go after his family, too, and they didn’t deserve to be targeted because Jake was a grade A fucking asshole. Revealing his identity wasn’t something you wanted to do anytime soon, but you weren’t sure you would have that choice now. You could only hope that Martin and your PR firm would manage to keep this thing at bay.

Ignoring your phone was something you could only do for so long. Especially knowing you needed to check it for updates about the venue. At least that was the excuse you told yourself as you surfed through the tabloids. All of them had different theories about the man in the crowd. Before you knew it you were deep diving on Jake’s sister’s instagram. You still kept in touch with them, mostly through social media. Though you never asked about Jake and they never brought him up. 

When the whole thing had gone down they were just as, if not more pissed than you. His mom had cried and both Olivia and Kate nearly cut him off. They’d loved you like their own and fully supported you leaving Jake. It was why you still kept in touch with them, because despite it all, you did love them like family. 

You didn’t even realize you were calling until you heard her voice, soft and sweet with that slight Texas accent that you’d lost over the years of living in California.

“Kate? Hi, how are you?” It had been way too long since you’d actually called Kate. Most of your catching up was done via instagram messages.

To say that Kate was surprised to see your name pop up on her screen wouldn’t be too off the mark. She had seen the articles with the images of her brother and you. Though she had expected Jake to reach out to her first. Not that she wasn’t happy to hear from you. She did miss you, but she understood why you didn’t come around anymore. What Jake had done to you was downright disgusting and for a good while Kate hadn’t even wanted to claim him as her brother. 

Kate knew that Jake still loved you. She knew before he admitted it to her. Throwing himself into his military career was her little brother’s way of distracting himself from the pain. Jake had only thrown himself more into work when your career took off and your face was around every corner.

“I’m guessin’ you didn’t call to catch up?” You could hear the smile in Kate’s voice. It was oddly comforting, more comforting than what an ex-boyfriend’s sister should be. “So, ask away, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

You didn’t even know where to start. Actually you weren’t even sure you wanted to start. Maybe this phone call had been a bad idea. You should just make up some sort of excuse and hang up…no. Kate would see right through that. Finally you willed yourself to speak, not bothering to really think about the question you were asking, just getting something out.

“Why was he there?”

“Not sure, didn’t even know he was goin’ and I haven’t heard from him since.” Okay…so that didn’t really give you any answers. What answers you were looking for you still weren’t sure of, but you wanted to know something. “He is stationed in San Diego, maybe it was a last minute thing?” That still didn’t explain why he went.

Jake hadn’t even bothered to reach out and really apologize to you, not that you really expected him to. He had no reason to show up to your concert. No reason to get tickets that close. Even if it had been a last minute invite by a friend, why would he accept a ticket to your concert?

“Did he ever admit that he was wrong?”

“Yeah.” The sound that left you was halfway between a sigh and hum. You knew you should believe that, but so much of you was still holding onto the narrative that he didn’t think he was wrong. That Jake was the stereotypical cheater who only cared about his own happiness. 

The next question fell out like it was vomit. 

“Is he seeing anyone?”

You didn’t know why you wanted the answer. It didn’t matter. Jake was your past and you were determined to keep him there. If he was seeing someone it wasn’t your business.

“If you call putting his dipstick to good use seeing people, then yeah I guess.” The softest laugh left you at her way of phrasing it. Leave it to Kate to bring a little bit of humor to the situation. 

The two of you talked a little longer. Less about Jake and more about how everyone was doing. Thanks to social media you knew Olivia had just had another baby, her third, and that Kate was due to pop in little over a month. It was therapeutic, catching up and reminiscing with her. It gave you a feel-good sense of nostalgia.

“Does he still lo-” you stopped yourself before the question was fully out of your mouth, but Kate knew what you were going to ask.

“I think that’s something you should ask him yourself.” She said it as though talking to Jake would be easy. As if it was something you even wanted to do. Maybe Kate knew it was what you needed.

@cherrycola27@clancycucumber230@bradshawseresinbabe@brittanyovens@rolisinha@phoenixssugarbaby@deaddumblbumble@caitsymichelle13@whateverbagman@avengersgirllorianna@izz-ayes-world@novagreen04@percysaidnever@leafsfan02@Anurst@rhirhikingston@ahopelessromanticwritersworld@flrboyd@mrsjaderogers@alldaysdreamer@gabicalicota@jstarr86@everythingregardingmarvel@djs8891@amortentiadrops@princess76179@shanimallina87@rainy-day-lady@maaarscorner@chaiandgoodvibes@swteener@sveetnn@xoxabs88xox@filmflux

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Reality and Roses”

Hello, everyone! This week’s re-run is a silly little bit of fluff that I dreamed up from my own ridiculous fondness for watching (even when I’m laughing at the craziness of it while I do!) “The Bachelor” and “Bachelorette”, and then wondering what in the world Killian Jones would make of this unbelievable drama we actually call “reality tv”. The rest just followed from there. It’s set roughly parallel to season seven, but where we get to see the newlywed pirate and princess set up their home together and enjoy another version of the domestic day-to-day that many of us would have enjoyed onscreen. Their little girl is on her way, but not yet born, and Henry is off searching for his own story.

~ Also available on AO3 or ff.net as part of my one shots collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts”

         “Swan! Swan!”

         Emma struggles not to snort through her nose as she picks up the two plates full of Chen Po’s China Kitchen takeout she has dished up for them.  They’ve already stuffed themselves on Crab Rangoon and Won Ton Soup anyway, but that doesn’t quell her desire for Sweet and Sour Chicken, nor will it stop her pirate from having at least half his new favorite carryout Beef and Broccoli (though he would swear up and down that preference was untrue if Granny Lucas were present). Lately, Emma could swear that she has become a bottomless pit in this, her third trimester of pregnancy.  She can eat Killian under the table hands down, regardless of the food, but Chinese has been her go-to craving.

         She doesn’t even know yet what it is her captain wants to tell her, but the shock and almost affront in his tone lets her know ahead of time that it’s one of those gentleman fish-out-of-water, Land Without Magic things that still, almost two years into their marriage, manage to shock and baffle him. Clearly, leaving him to channel surf for their evening’s entertainment on the “magical picture box” as she dished up the main course has paid off in one way or another, if only for her momentary amusement. 

         Entering the living room once more, a plate in each hand and curiosity – she’s sure – painted across her face, Emma is not at all surprised by the way Killian seems to snap to attention from the rapt focus he had been training on the television.  In seconds, he is on his feet and at her side, taking one plate from her and gently ushering her ahead of him back to the couch before which their drinks, utensils, napkins, and the demolished remnants of their appetizers are strewn across the coffee table. 

         “My apologies, Love,” he murmurs, rubbing his nose along the bend of her neck and shoulder for just a moment, his warm breath ghosting over her skin bared by the boatneck sweater she is wearing and nearly making her drop her plate before she can put it down on their makeshift table and resettle in her seat.  She bites her own lip in her surprised jolt of excitement and almost turns to grab him around the shoulders and pull him back in for a proper taste of those full, irresistible lips – the food can wait after all – only for him to sit back from her on the couch, looking embarrassedly shamefaced. 

         “What, Killian?” she asks, senses reeling and completely baffled. Her hand settles on his bicep, grounding herself as well as letting him know he has her attention.  “What are you apologizing for?”

         Her adorable nerd of a husband gazes back up at her, a slight flush just barely visible through the unshaven scruff of his cheeks as those blue, blue eyes meet hers from beneath his dark lashes.  “For making you get up and fetch the main course alone.  You certainly are not my waitress, and I was coming to help you – truly.  I could have sworn you’d been gone but a moment – I was right behind you! – and then this…this…bloody demon transfixed me once again.” He gestures at the tv vaguely before turning to sheepishly study her face for signs of annoyance.

         Emma can’t help but shake her head, half exasperated and half humored.  It would seem that as remarkable as her True Love is in so many other respects, he is every bit as susceptible to the gravitational pull of the television as any other man.  Reaching out playful fingers to brush aside the longer fringe that has flopped over Killian’s forehead, she then cups his cheek in her hand and pulls him to her easily, pressing a short, teasing kiss to the bridge of his nose.  “No worries,” she soothes with a genuine smile on her face as she meets his gaze.  “I’ve told you time and again that I may look the size of a house and like I shouldn’t be able to move, but being pregnant does not mean I can’t do anything for myself.”           

         His mouth opens, about to argue that he means to wait on her hand and foot, no doubt, but she cuts him off with a shake of her head and a kiss to his mouth this time – which almost derails them completely, her low hum of pleasure in the back of her throat causing them both to dive deeper, pulled together like magnets before she finally leans away, sitting back in her own space once more.  “Besides, I’m the one who couldn’t wait another minute for her Sweet and Sour Chicken,” she adds, breaking the hold of his heated stare to spear one of the breaded poultry bites on her fork, dunk it in the pinkish-orange sauce, and quickly bring the morsel to her mouth.  After swallowing with pure satisfaction, she prompts, “So, what was it you wanted to tell me a minute ago? Something on the tv?” 

         Killian jerks upright at that, eyes wide as he clearly remembers what had gotten him so up-in-arms.  Gesturing to their television’s screen, now advertising some sort of overpriced mop-and-broom-in-one wonder contraption, to which his eyes veer and Emma just barely stifles a giggle as her ridiculous neat freak almost loses his concentration again, this time to the advertisement’s hold.  But then, Killian focuses and looks at her in earnest outrage as he explains, “It was promotion for an upcoming program – one of those preposterous reality competitions.” The disdain dripping from his words would be enough to send Emma chuckling again, this time at how seriously he takes his evening programming, if she didn’t first press her lips together to forestall the outburst and then shove enough chicken in her mouth to keep busy chewing and not reveal how amused she is by the whole thing. 

         Killian isn’t done though; in fact, he looks as if he would march right up to whatever powers-that-be control the network schedule, give them a piece of his mind and wave his hook under their noses for good measure, if he only knew where and how to find them.  He’s just gathering steam as he launches into the rest of his description.  “Apparently some single, mildly attractive bloke is set up in a mansion while several comely young lasses jostle to woo him and win his hand.  That has to be a mistake. Doesn’t it, Swan?  Why, the very premise is ludicrous.  He can’t date all of them at once!  Who would stand for that?!  They called it ‘The Bachelor’, but I must have it wrong.  No true gentleman bachelor would behave in such a manner – nor try it even, if he possessed a lick of sense…” However, his voice trails off at this point, eyes narrowing as he truly registers the expression now covering his wife’s face.  “Wait a minute… Emma, why do you look like that?”

         It’s her turn to blush brightly and unsuccessfully try to avoid his eyes, though it does no good and only tips him off further.  She had once been quite fond of The Bachelor – not that she’d have ever thought to tell anyone about it by choice – but the overly dramatic, outlandish guilty pleasure had kept her company on her couch with a pint of Rocky Road ice cream in that lonely apartment in Boston as she unwound after a long skip chase or stakeout more nights than she could count. “Well, I don’t know how many self-respecting gentlemen they really draw, but you’d be surprised what those ‘lovely young lasses’ as you put it, will stand for – and do – Killian.  It’s more intriguing than you’d think.”  This last is mumbled in a rush as she ducks her head and pretends to have difficulty getting an errant morsel of chicken onto her fork.  She isn’t necessarily ashamed of being a Bachelor devotee at one point, and Killian wouldn’t judge her for it anyway, but she is abruptly struck by how absurd it all must seem to someone who comes from the place and time he does, and with the sense of honor which runs so deeply through his veins.  She flushes all over suddenly, floored by how blind she had been not that long ago, how little she had known back in those days on her own…just how different it is when those feelings the show plays on – when love itself – is True. 

         Killian’s eyes bulge almost comically; she has to reach out to soothingly to pat his thigh, as he’s entirely too distraught for his own good.  “Emma, truly?” he asks, voice quieter but still almost aghast at the very concept.  “He dates all of them?!  The cad!! How can you watch such poor form, Swan?  It’s atrocious!” 

         She grins mischievously at him, shrugging away her embarrassment and giving him a saucy wink.  “Look, it’s easier to just show you, alright?  Tonight’s Monday, so it will be on in…” she checks the clock above the fireplace, “about half an hour.  I’m guessing that’s what the commercial was about.  You can check out the season premiere for yourself, Pirate.”

         Her husband huffs indignantly as if he has no desire to do any such thing, but by the time eight o’clock has rolled around, he has finished his meal, taken both their plates back into the kitchen, brought her a bowl of the restaurant’s specialty pineapple sorbet for dessert, and settled into his place on the couch again, with her feet gathered in his lap.

         As the program starts, Emma points out various routine practices and occurrences on the show, explains how this or that usually works, and Killian seems grudgingly engrossed despite his nobler intentions.  When the appointed Bachelor flubs one of his prospective mates’ names at the cocktail party, Killian scoffs loudly enough to draw her attention. Glancing sideways, she challenges, “Think you could do better, do you? That’s a lot of names to keep straight!” 

         Killian however doesn’t miss a beat, sliding his gaze across to capture hers with twinkling charm, “Any decent suitor has ways of holding onto those names which matter,” he counters smoothly, waggling his brows at her in flirtatious come-on.

         Emma does snort then, but at least partly to cover the way he makes her breath catch and her heart start beating faster.  

         Her husband is smart enough not to gloat at this, though he easily notices and reads her as well as ever, merely nodding with a secretive smile and gathering her close to his side as she leans over on him while they continue to watch.  When it reaches the stage where the chosen man is going on his first intimate date with one of the women and the pair onscreen are sharing a romantic candlelit dinner, Emma tilts her head to look up at her handsome husband, studying his beloved, scruffy profile and sliding her hand over his solid chest to slip under the typical, partially-unbuttoned collar and rest her palm tenderly against the warm, inviting skin right over his heart.  “So, a little more romantic than you figured, Captain?” she questions curiously.

         Killian chuckles lightly, giving a tiny bob of his head in acknowledgment, but when he turns to look back into her eyes, Emma sees clearly that he has not yet played his last card.  Reaching the bared stump of his left forearm, brace and hook long since removed this evening for comfort’s sake, to rest beneath her chin and gently turning her face to just the angle he is after, Killian bends to kiss her slowly, languorously, stealing her breath and every thought of reality dating, exotic locales, or winning their little debate from Emma’s mind.  When he does pull back, just enough for them to each draw a bit of air, their lips still only centimeters from each other, the low rasp of words he intones in that voice she can’t ignore sends shivers all the way down her spine. “Aye, my love, I do see the appeal.” He runs that devious tongue over his lower lip before going back to hers for another taste and nearly making her melt into the couch cushions beneath them. 

         At their next pause, he gathers her closer still, nuzzling his nose with hers, their foreheads resting against each other before he looks into her eyes seriously, his question now truly concerned, “But even so, people do not seriously think that a deep relationship can be formed in this way, do they?  Surely you would not have gone on a show like that?  Competed that way as if love were a wrestling match or choreographed script?”

         Emma tilts her head to the side as she considers his question, shrugging noncommittally when she answers, “Well, no, probably not.  I mean, I definitely didn’t think they were finding real love. But as a lark…who knows?  I mean, they got to travel, be pampered, live it up. It might have been fun.”

         “Fun, hmm?” Killian murmurs at her temple, his hand now gently resting on her swollen stomach, the warmth truly comforting, even as she knows he is about to challenge her again.  “Well, be that as it may, lass, luckily you are now married to an illustrious pirate captain fully aware of how to woo a lady and able to take you any place in this realm, or any other, on the fastest, most marvelous ship in existence.”

         Emma smiles up into his gorgeous face before resting her head on his shoulder and relaxing into his touch for the long haul.  “You’re forgetting the real difference that I finally understand,” Emma whispers to him lightly.  “Back then, I didn’t believe love existed anyway.  It didn’t matter if what they were selling on tv was a scam, because I didn’t think what we have was possible.  Just like you said in Neverland – not until I met you.”

         Killian’s pleased agreement rumbles in his chest, and Emma feels the vibrations pleasantly throughout her own body where she rests in his arms.  The fancy jewelry, ball gowns, televised proposals, and celebrity serenades they see before them on camera, none of that holds a candle to this man with whom she now shares her life and her home.

 ~~ ***~~ 

         And so, when Killian comes in from the station at dinnertime two nights later, and surprises her in the kitchen by kneeling before her and holding out a single yellow buttercup to match the bloom inked on her wrist, and asks if she will accept his token, Emma can hardly be surprised.  Nodding and grinning with perfect glee – and thinking how much prettier this simple flower is, reflecting her more than any red rose ever could – her smile feels as though it might split her face completely in half. Emma finds herself giggling as he stands and somehow manages to sweep her off her feet and spin her around, impressive baby belly and all.  “Well Love, since you have accepted this formerly hopeless bachelor’s proposal, you are entitled to an all-expense paid trip to the destination of your choice I’ve arranged.  We leave Saturday; anywhere you want to go, one more magical getaway before the little one arrives. It’s all taken care of.”

         Swept up in the romance and surprise of her husband’s plan, Emma Swan - now Jones - can only marvel at how her reality is so much better anything she could have imagined.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @xarandomdreamx @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @motherkatereloyshipper @xsajx @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @booksteaandtoomuchtv @sotangledupinit @resident-of-storybrooke @stahlop @kazoosandfannypacks @anmylica @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @eddisfargo @jonesfandomfanatic @bdevereaux @zaharadessert @winterbaby89 @swanslieutenant 

[sillimancer]

okay so I'm another year older. what have I learned?

It is not illegal to ask for help and sometimes people will even actually give it to you.

HRT has in fact made me happier if only because it's showing me that I have at least some control over my body and appearance.

I cannot sustainably manage a household and work full-time by myself in my current condition.

there is no ceiling for how much worse weight discrimination can get at the doctor's office; if you get fatter, it gets worse.

having a compatible therapist does actually make a difference but it doesn't make all the struggles of talk therapy magically vanish either.

you can work with nice people and still be really unhappy at your job.

I am really not that different from a stray cat you would find on the streets somewhere.

the fear holding me back from like, living a life and being happy is way worse than I ever could have imagined.

having friends is not at all the same as having good friends.

isolation makes you weird and if you're not careful it'll make you unlikable.

I had my first suicidal thought when I was 14 and assumed I'd go through with it before I turned 18. Today I turned 33.

"it gets better" has always felt like a bit of a stretch to me. It hasn't really gotten better, not at the high level. I'm battling a lot of the same bullshit I was back then. Some of that bullshit will probably stick around forever. So I can't promise that it gets better. A lot of it actually got worse.

but I would have missed out on a lot if I hadn't stuck around. A lot of the things that made me feel (at least in those moments) that staying alive was a good choice. I had to learn to look for those moments (like no really they had to teach me in the psych ward) and it's a skill I'm still working on. the secret for me was realizing that those things can be mundane, stupid, childish, or anything else, as long as it keeps you going. I had a whole period in my late teens and early 20s where the thing keeping me alive was "if I killed myself my online friends would never know what happened to me and I can't do that to them". Another time in my late 20s I bought a fern cuz I knew if I killed myself no one else would water it so I had to stay alive. for the fern. I stayed alive (Lucifern tragically did not survive, rip Lucifern). Crab rangoons kept me from killing myself. 6 uninterrupted hours of scrolling on Tiktok has kept me from killing myself.

sometimes you watch all of Steven Universe in like 2 weeks so you can live long enough to take your sister to Ireland to finally meet her grandparents for the first and last time and other times you begrudgingly stick around to see what the Breath of the Wild sequel is going to be like and that's okay cuz you wouldn't have gotten to enjoy a really good cartoon or take your favorite person on a once-in-a-lifetime overseas adventure or play what would end up being one of your most favorite video games ever if you'd killed yourself while hiding in your bedroom closet that night 19 years ago.

plus I wouldn't have lived to see my dad die, so. thank god for small favors. here's to 19 more years of stuff I'd regret missing out on if I was dead.

(seriously though I hope it gets objectively better in the next 19 years)

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

Bryce, Jensen and Casey

Crab Rangoon (or spider… you pick)

i picked crab rangoon bc i almost got it for lunch <3

~~~

Jensen practically ripped the bag from Bryce’s hand as he set it down.

“Aggressive, much?” Bryce said, Jensen waving him off and practically throwing out all the other bags and containers to get to what he was looking for.

“Where are they?” he asked, dumping the bag over and letting Bryce narrowly catch a few containers from sliding off the counter.

Bryce looked like he was going to ask what he was talking about when Casey finally followed in behind him, parchment bag in hand. Jensen had an ounce more patience with her, at least letting her set her purse on the counter before sticking his hand out to set the bag in.

“They’re gone,” she answered, crumpling up the empty bag of crab rangoon. She only lasted a beat when his expression changed. She laughed and pulled out another bag.

“That wasn’t funny.”

“You look like I just kicked your puppy,” she said, now laughing at the unamused expression he gave her.

He grabbed a handful of them, ignoring the way the first burned his mouth and said, “It’s basically the same thing.”

[herecomes-johnny]

At least once a week I think about getting a fanny pack, filling it up with crab Rangoons, and just living my best life.

[miss-ari]

A Non-Comprehensive List of "Foods That Don't Really Exist In Australia Compared to America" In My Experience Thus Far

(Some of these you can find at specialty US food/import stores if you're lucky though!)

Saltine crackers

Graham crackers

Yellow/orange mac and cheese. It is white-ish here, comes in a smaller quantity but costs more, and does not taste the same. I tried making it like I would back home and my partner said "This slaps!" but I thought it was kinda dreadful :x

Twizzlers. Okay a lot of American candies are going to be missing but this is the one that hurts me most. Like, oh no they don't have Mike & Ikes- who the fuck cares.

Funky ice cream flavours in tubs. Australia does ice cream treats really well, you are pretty much guaranteed delicious results if it is individually wrapped. But anything outside of basic vanilla (which tastes VERY different from any American vanilla ice cream I've ever had in my life), chocolate, and neapolitan in a tub is gonna be goddamn scarce. I have managed to track down mint chocolate chip and cookies & cream but they were gross. Anything more complex- think moose tracks, chocolate cherry chip, brownie, rocky road, cookie dough, etc- you are shit out of luck my friend because if they do exist here they come in specialty brand pints exclusively and they are at least $12 a pop, kys

Jif peanut butter

Breakfast or "country" sausages. I actually had no idea that was exclusively an American thing until I moved here. No one knows what I'm talking about and I just gesture helplessly when they ask for details because I don't know what's in those either! I've never had to think about it before! But I better find out 'cause it's time to start making them myself. Send help.

(Good) Mexican food, just as a whole -_-;

Root beer. For some reason they have Ginger Beer but not Ginger Ale and I swear there is a difference but it probably doesn't matter

Ranch dressing?? I'm a good midwestern girl what is this fresh hell

Cheez-its, cheetos, cheez whiz, goldfish crackers- most salty cheese snacks. Your average grocery chain like Woolies or Coles isn't gonna have these and it's a little weird.

Fruit snacks. Presumably because they don't have enough fruit for Australia to legally call them that. I have found some at Costco but that's about it. Side note, the Kirkland chocolate chips bag says "Great for baking and snacking" so they've manually put a plain white sticker with black text over it that says "Great for baking and cooking" :')

Egg rolls. Actually most Chinese American food which. Okay that makes sense now that I think about it but orange chicken my beloved... crab rangoon... egg rolls... They do have "spring rolls" but they are kinda shit! Korean food is everywhere though and it is goddamn delicious. Oh and you can get mochi ice cream 10 for $10 at Coles. There's limited flavours obviously but they have strawberry and mango and that is all that matters tbqh (black sesame is a 0/10, truly awful)

Fritos/corn chips. Tortilla chips exist but are more expensive than you'd expect, and the "Hispanic" section of the grocery store is like. A shelf. Bitches don't even have crema smh

Velveeta

Cool whip

Not a food but Tums or even really generic antacid tablets- I cannot find them anywhere

If we're including not-foods all of a sudden: cardstock.

Candy corn

Lemonade. Australians will insist they have lemonade but it is fucking carbonated!! I'm like no no it's not supposed to be fizzy, it's not like a Sprite. "So it's just lemon and sugar water...?" Yes!!! God!!

Specifically this type of noodle:

Almond bark

Maraschino cherries

Trail mix

And your reactions will vary wildly between "Eh. That's fair." and "Oh dear god, please tell me the US import store takes requests."

[vaporwavediedin2015]

Pretty uneventful set of days. The weekend flew by and the weather’s been hot. Vacation came and went like they do and I wish I had done a little more with my time but there is always the next one. I did hike the nature preserve 10 mins down the road for the first time since we moved here almost 4 years ago. It was a little challenging but I think if I try to do it a couple times a week it will be a net positive for my health. Even though I was incredibly sweaty and breathing heavy, it was a great reminder of how much I love being in the woods. Tuesdays are my least favorite day of the week. I had crab rangoon with Frank’s Red Hot on it for dinner— the best way to eat it imo. Things with our roommate situation are very annoying but primarily because it is so hard to talk to them and confront them about small things, so it all just boils and creates resentment. Work is good but the day always starts off hard— like I’m sloshing through mud trying to get myself hyped for it. When the kids show up it slowly gets better so I think it has more to do with my energy level so early. I want to update this more often and make smaller posts that are only focused on one topic because otherwise I just write like a fourth grader in a five-paragraph personal narrative unit. Also, I scheduled a dermatologist appointment! And it’s actually this month! So many other unhealthy habits I need to break (my smoking and energy drink consumption have both skyrocketed since becoming sober—typical) but I think I can keep this momentum going in the right direction.

[thisislizheather]

March Magic 2023

Above Photo: Nothing better than this view

I do a million things the month of my birthday and I never regret it. Some people roll their eyes at the phrase “birthday week” or “birthday month” but those people tend to be supremely unhappy and I express my sympathy towards them. Here’s what happened in the birthday month!

The best tweets of the month can be found over here.

I recapped how I did with my winter list of things to do.

I made my new seasonal spring list of things I’d like to do.

Loving the new tomato leaf candle from Trader Joe’s as well as the great new sweet carrot cake from Bath & Body Works.

Above Photo: Tomato leaf candle from Trader Joe’s, March 2023

Above Photo: Sweet carrot cake candle from Bath & Body Works, March 2023

Ice skating in March with friends? Always a good idea.

Above Photo: 75% of us bought skates for this hahahah, it’s called FRIENDSHIP

You know the food blog Grandbaby Cakes? She just put out a new cookbook and the two main things I want to make from it? The salted butterscotch apple whiskey snacking cake as well as the chocolate pecan pie shortbread bars. 

If you have a NYC/Queens/Brooklyn library card, are you aware that you can get free tickets to museums all over the city?

I have made this chicken marsala at least three times this month, it might be my favourite way to eat chicken.

Above Photo: Chicken marsala should legally be eaten once a week

I bought this Banana Republic Factory funnel-neck sweater in black as well as white because it legit makes me feel like I have a 401k.

I know zero about coffee, but I’ve done this heating-the-press up method a few times now when I make iced coffee and I think it might taste better when you do it?? Nathan claims there’s no difference, so I might just be argumentative?

In love with the tomato potato chips from Eataly.

Above Photo: Available at Eataly, NYC

Will I ever use this pasta mold from Zara Home - or will I watch it sit on a kitchen shelf each day for twenty years while I yearn to be the type of person who uses a pasta mold?

Love this short article: Want to Lead a Better Life? The Secret Is in the Cemetery.

I had brunch at Quality Eats and the short rib hash was great, but really just inspired me to make it at home.

Above Photo: Short rib hash, Quality Eats

In birthday discount news…

Are you aware that Target gives you a measly 5% off one item on your birthday?! It’s so insulting, I wish they’d just do away with it altogether, it’s pathetic. Why are brands becoming such ingrates when it comes to customer loyalty?

I went to Ulta for my free March birthday gift and they were “out of stock” at TWO locations. And nothing was offered in its place. SWEET.

Milk Bar is supposed to offer some kind of birthday something, but since their loyalty “program” is so new, none of the employees have been taught what the benefits of the program even are. WHAT IS HAPPENING?? (Sidenote: am I the only one who think their cookies suck?)

You know the bra store I love, Journelle? They got rid of their birthday month discount, too! So I guess all these companies have decided that our collective slow march towards death with include ZERO BIRTHDAY PERKS. Cool cool cool.

I tried the crab rangoon March special at Mimi Cheng’s and they were only all right, why is everything disappointing me lately? They weren’t terrible, just too cream-cheesy. While we’re on the topic, on what planet does crab need cheese to accompany it? Seems dumb.

Above Photo: March Special (crab rangoon dumplings), Mimi Cheng’s

I also tried this newish Croatian restaurant in Astoria, Selo, and it was absolutely nothing special. I may have to stop giving such credence to the critics at Eater.

My niece Layla got me an incredible birthday gift - a ticket to Tao of Glass, which the New York Times called “a fantastical and often moving tribute to the composer Philip Glass and the power of art to flow through our lives.” IT WAS SO GOOD. Philip Glass was even there on opening night, which was too exciting and I was floored by the whole evening. God, I love it when someone knows you so well and can arrange the most perfect gift.

Above Photo: March 2023

I bought new jeans after maybe a decade and I can’t be more in love with these ribcage straight ankle Levi’s I got.

Some things I’ve watched: 

Tusk: I absolutely hate when American directors talk about Canada in their films, it’s always embarrassing. And jesus, the dialogue in the scene with the girlfriend: has Kevin Smith ever spoke to a girlfriend before? Needless to say, I severely hated the entire movie. I hate torture stuff. Weird that even needs to be said because doesn’t everyone? Johnny Depp was terrible. One of the most originally awful movies I’ve ever seen.

Scream VI: THE WORST SCREAM OF THE ENTIRE SERIES. I vowed not to even see this because I remain #teamneve but Nathan insisted so I begrudgingly went. What a shit show. It was terrible. I’ll never go to another one again, which is a little sad but also fuck everyone involved who thought it was an acceptable idea to move forward without Neve Campbell.

Frantic: I didn’t even know it was a Polanski movie until the end since Harrison Ford was the main draw here. It’s actually a great idea for a movie, but it just trails off midway through so I can understand why no one talks about this movie.

Succession: So I’ve only seen the first few episodes and here’s the thing… it’s legitimately a bad show. The dialogue is so terribly written, I’m actually confused why people praise it so much. NOBODY CALLS THEIR SIBLING SIS. Words can’t express how much I hate the camera work. Shiv’s American accent is wildly bad. I know we’re all desperate for a good show to watch, but the lies need to stop. This is unwatchable.

I’m not sure that I can even speak about it, but I went to a private rehearsal of a play with Michael McKean and good god, I love that man. I met him afterward and he was so kind and lovely, it was unreal. I mean, it’s Mr. Green for god’s sake.

So in love with these new USPS railroad station stamps. I may or may not have made a list of where each station is incase I ever find myself in that city so I can see it in real life.

Above Photo: Can I meet and hug the person who came up with this stamp idea?

I’ve been looking for a real fur coat for a few years now and I finally found her at Exile Vintage in Toronto. It was such a steal because the inner lining was shred, but my mom sewed it all up and it’s absolutely perfect now. So excited to throw out my faux-fur teddy bear coat from Marshalls that every. single. woman. owns.

There was an insane sale at Steve Madden in Soho and I got these new wedge heels for $16. To be clear, that’s $8 PER SHOE.

Above Photo: But can they replace my Terminators? Time will tell.

I saw the new Broadway play Shucked and… yikes. Yes, it was corniness taken to a whole new level, but parts of it were okay. If you love Rodney Dangerfield jokes, then this production was made for you.

Above Photo: March 2023

I also saw Pictures From Home with Nathan Lane and it was slow at first, but really picked up and got good. Love that man.

Above Photo: March 2023

I made a tres leches cake and words cannot describe how heavenly it was. Even if you suffer from dairy issues, I’d recommend that you pound a few Lactaids and eat this immediately.

Above Photo: Tres leche cake

I finally had lunch at Wayan (Jean-Georges’ son’s place) and I can’t wait to return. Best dishes: the corn fritters, the spring rolls (maybe my favourite at any restaurant ever), the lamb kebabs and the chocolate chip cookie with cheddar ice cream. The crab fried rice (which I was most excited for) actually wasn’t anything that special, though.

I had my birthday dinner at The Grill in the Seagram Building (the office building from Scrooged) and it was so great, if not insanely priced. The pasta appetizer was the most incredible thing we ate - they used this crank-type machine table-side to make the broth for the pasta sauce out of MEAT BONES and I can’t stop thinking about it. The other highlight was the gluten-free zucchini cornbread, which was magical. The only downside? Do not get the crab cake - $50+ for the most underwhelming appetizer of your life.

Above Photo: Pasta appetizer, The Grill (a must order)

Above Photo: Vowing to wear more tulle on a daily basis

The Mets promotional giveaways were announced if you care!

Some spring recipes I’d love to make:

Lemony Green Pea Fritters with Cottage Cheese

Banana, Pecan, Coconut and Chocolate Chip Blondies

Cadbury Egg Blondies (I’ve never even made a blondie before, but the urge is strong this season)

Lemon Almond Pudding Cake (love a texturally weird cake)

Carrot Cake Ice Cream (no ice cream maker needed)

Spring Couscous Bowls with Lemon Feta Vinaigrette (I made this last year and it’s spring in a bowl)

Things I’m looking forward to: I visited the insanely gorgeous Kings Theatre in Brooklyn so I’ll do a post about it this week, finally trying the bone marrow gravy at Hawksmoor, I have to get my hands on the Easter Dove Milk Chocolate and Peanut Butter Eggs, I’m trying to get a last minute lottery to see the Phantom of the Opera in its final days, I will find all of the NYC cherry blossoms, seeing the rooftop exhibit when it opens at The Met on the 18th, and finally going on a tour of the old City Hall subway station (this has been a dream of mine for years).

If you’ve got any interest in reading last month’s roundup, you can see what went down in February over here.

Above Photo: Baby Dog witnesses snow, March 2023

[gigisimsonmars]

An amazing chapter!

-the domesticity at the beginning!

-"not knowing exactly how long it took someone to get their hair blown out." me neither honestly

-"I just want you to touch me didn’t seem like a valid enough excuse, but that’s all he wanted." that is so cute

-but this was still a risky decision. glad it worked out for them.

-"someone so pretty and soft and warm" aww

-do you think they'd ever get drunk and do that "my boyfriend does my makeup" challenge? not for tiktok, just for fun.

-"Were the ribbons the only thing keeping this up?" boy is spiraling.

-“- No, not you. Not my smart girl.” oof

-"Mindful of not ruining the makeup you’d already put on" considerate!

-the dress!!!!!

-"The two of you looked classic, polished, handsome. You looked like a pair. That even though there was nothing to overtly signify it, it was obvious that you two were together." i love this

-someone in the military once told me that almost everyone there is anxious almost all of the time and I really felt that from Bradley in this chapter.

-"She was rather notorious on base for recruiting the other milspo’s to volunteer their time - and for the Porsche Cayenne she always double parked next to her husband’s F-150 in the parking lot when she came to visit." it only took this one sentence for me to dislike this woman.

-crab rangoons are amazing

-the little pep talk is so cute

-EAs run the world

-it's nice that smart aleck has a good relationship with her stepmom. you don't usually see that in fic.

-“I’m sorry I didn’t call, darlin’-” moron

-i can feel the awkwardness of this whole interaction with Jake and Sarah oozing out of my computer screen, that's how well you write it.

-(If you looked a little flustered under Mav’s gaze, Bradley was willing to forget it. For now, at least.) LOL can we can a blurb of him teasing her about this?

-the critique of the dirty talk!

-“But you know, a little work trip’s not quite a deployment now, is it?” strike two, emily

-“Of course, I forget not everyone is as privileged in that regard! You working girls!” and this bitch is out

-okay this new interaction with Sarah is even worse, wow.

-Aw, Bradley and Mav!

-nice one, Cyclone.

-the grounding!

-"You were a lady and Bradley wasn’t an animal." this made me chuckle for some reason.

-boob tape haha. does that stuff really work?

-FIVE

-"When he walked back to his seat, the only person he could focus on was you and your smile that was just for him. That was just for Bradley. Because to you, he was just Bradley. Your Bradley." I just really like how they see each other really clearly for who they are and love each other's truest selves, okay?

-okay, Jake.

-the convo evaluating the exes!

-blushing and flustered, just the way we like them.

-Sound of Music reference!

-“- trying to be all innocent when you and I both know how fucking desperate you are for me to fuck you. Bet I could take you right now - right off the dance floor - and you’d squirt all over my cock. Because you’ve been wet all night, haven’t you, sweetheart?” oh

-“Yes - I’m sorry, Bradley. I couldn’t help myself.” JORDAN

"How fucking needy and desperate and submissive he could get you with some words" oy

*swoons on the dance floor*

and even when we’re wrong in every way, we come out the other side okay [part 2.2.1]

Summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw is getting honored with an award in front of all his colleagues. when he remembers the particulars behind the mission in question, he considers how lucky he is to have his best girl by his side, especially considering how she almost wasn't

OR you take on the pacific fleet’s awards gala

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 15.7k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, suggestive dialogue, bradley has a little bit of a spiral...

[part 1], [part 1.5], [part 2.1], part [2.2.1], [part 2.2.2] and the official companion playlist

Thanks to an early check-in at the hotel, you and Bradley had gotten settled in your room around noon. This gave you just enough time to have lunch together and hang out at the beach for a couple hours before you and Natasha met up to get blow-outs. You and Bradley had spent the previous night apart, citing a nail appointment with Nat - amongst other things - that you had to attend to after work, so you were both excited for your little weekend getaway. Even if it was just a night away in Coronado.

Bradley had just gotten out of the shower when he heard the hotel room door close and a moment later saw you in the hallway. 

“Hey.” He glanced over at you and smiled. “Your hair looks nice.”

“Thanks.” You preened and leaned against the bathroom doorway. “Bubs, why are you just now getting out of the shower?”

You’d been gone for a while - or at least for the entire pregame coverage and first two quarters of the Alabama/Tennessee game that Bradley had been watching. He had timed his shower to fit in during halftime, not knowing exactly how long it took someone to get their hair blown out.

He cleared his throat. “I uhh - I took a really long shower?”

“You just got in didn’t you?”

“Yup.” You scrunched up your nose and shook your head. Bradley mimicked you and pulled you into the bathroom by the belt loops on your baggy jean shorts. “And you,” he gave you a quick peck on the lips, “look gorgeous.”

You ducked your head. “I don’t even have my dress on or makeup done yet…”

Bradley clicked his tongue. “The infamous dress…” 

All you’d offered to him in terms of a hint was that it would match his formal dress blues - which admittedly didn’t give him much to go off. 

He had seen your shoes, though - nude heels with a dainty little ankle strap that he knew he’d fumble with later. But now you looked so soft and sweet in your oversized oxford and frayed denim shorts. God, you were so pretty. Didn’t matter if you’d just woken up, had been working all day, or had just gotten your hair done - Bradley always thought you were gorgeous. 

Unable to keep his hands off you for a second longer, he pulled you into his arms, with your back to his front so that you were both facing the mirror. He put his chin on your shoulder and lightly swayed the two of you back and forth. 

“You smell pretty,” you whispered, but refused to meet his eyes in the mirror. 

“Pretty sure that’s my line, kid.” He pressed a couple featherlight kisses on your neck and you giggled. 

“That tickles!” He kept at it, eliciting more giggles from you, until you wiggled out of his grasp so you were facing each other again. Bradley settled his hands on your hips, while you cupped his cheek. “My scruffy boy.”

“Was just about to shave - do you wanna…” He jutted his chin towards the razor and shaving cream canister on the counter. 

You glanced back at them and cocked your head. “Wait, really? I don’t wanna mess it up or cut you - especially tonight…”

I just want you to touch me didn’t seem like a valid enough excuse, but that’s all he wanted. After everything the last week and a half, the two of you were still a little cautious around each other, so much so that it had left Bradley feeling a little needy - almost like he was always wanting you to touch him or needing the reassurance that everything was okay between the two of you. 

“I trust you,” he said, but the words came out heavier than he had anticipated. 

You tucked a strand of freshly blown out hair behind your ear. “Okay, yeah, sure. So, how exactly does this work?”

“First -” he took the shaving cream canister off the counter, “- squirt a little of this in your hand -”

“- I know how to use shaving cream,” you teased, “I mean do I go up or down? Should I be at a different angle? Stuff like that?”

“Stuff like that, huh?” You shoved his shoulder and he exaggerated a grunt. “Alright, Million Dollar Baby, you can sit on the counter, the light’s probably better, too.”

With Bradley’s help, you hiked yourself up onto the bathroom counter and he placed himself between your legs. Even through the plush, white towel he was wearing around his waist, he felt himself brush against your soft legs and couldn’t resist running his hands up them and your thighs for a moment. 

“You’re gonna make me mess up if you keep doing that…” He held his hands up in surrender. “Good boy. Alright, let’s see.”

You contorted your body to quickly wash your hands in the sink and then popped the cap off the shaving cream and squirted some into your hands. The shaving cream changed from gel to frothy white cream in an instant and you lathered it across Bradley’s cheeks and neck. 

“Is it cold on your face?” He hummed in the negative. “Is it bad that I’m nervous? It feels like that scene in the Parent Trap.”

Bradley chuckled. “You’re fine, start at the top and work your way down.”

The first time the blade made contact with his skin, your eyes widened and he had to hold back a chuckle, lest it mess you up. But eventually, you got into a good rhythm and looked absolutely adorable with your tongue poking out of your mouth in concentration. And while it seemed like you hadn’t even realized it, it was very much apparent to Bradley that you had wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you so your heels were digging into his ass. His hands ultimately found their way back to your thighs - if pressed, he would say it was so you didn’t fall.

By now, you had finished shaving the majority of his face, leaving just around his mustache and neck. It was relaxing, having someone else do something he typically considered a chore. Plus, having someone so pretty and soft and warm wrapped around his body while doing it? It felt like a reward. 

“If you keep looking at me like that I’m gonna mess up,” you said, not looking away from his neck. 

He smiled, causing you to stop. “But you’re so cute.”

You rolled your eyes, but were clearly fighting a smile. “You’re just saying that because I’m wielding all the power here…”

In response, you brought the razor closer to Bradley’s mustache than he was comfortable with. “Woah, woah, woah. Careful with the ‘stache, sweets.”

You made a face. “Sweets?”

“It slipped out, sorry.” The blade hovered over his mustache, getting closer and closer to the edge and Bradley didn’t like the look on your face. “Sweets is not happening again, scouts honor.” He held up three fingers for good measure.

“Good, but only because I need you looking your best for Nat’s Halloween party, Coach Lasso.”

Somehow, you had strong-armed Bradley into being Ted Lasso for the aforementioned Halloween party in two weeks. The two of you had been watching the show some weeks ago and you’d mentioned how handsome you thought Ted was - for the record Bradley never got handsome from you as a compliment, it was always pretty - and before Bradley knew it, he was mentioning how he had the same pair of Nike Air Pegasus as Ted and you were ordering him an AFC Richmond jumper and visor. 

He’d get you back next year - hopefully. 

“You like the mustache, don’t lie…” Bradley leaned back, looking at you with unbridled amusement.

“Hmmm. Maybe I’ve just gotten used to it, old -”

“- Don’t say old man -”

“- man.”

Before he knew what he was doing, he placed a dollop of excess shaving cream on your nose. “None of that now.”

You giggled and wiped your nose and put the hand not holding the razor on your hip. “Still wielding all the power here, bubs. You gonna let me finish or not?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, shush.”

“Fine, fine. You can finish.” 

True to his word, Bradley let you finish shaving the rest of his neck and around his mustache. He tried not to be too self conscious as you shaved near the ever-so prominent scars on his neck and cheeks, but let out a sigh as you dragged your fingers across them tenderly once you finished.

“All set.” He smiled at you and gave you a quick kiss. You giggled. “God, you silly boy, you always make such a mess - here.” You started brushing the excess hair off the vanity and also wiped the remaining shaving cream off his face so he could put on his aftershave, himself. “You know, this won’t fly if we ever properly share a bathroom.”

He chuckled. He always liked your fussing. In fact, before Bradley had started seeing you, he had always thought he was impeccably neat. But you? Nah, you could lick whipped cream off your kitchen floor with how neat and clean you kept everything. 

“I’ve never lived with anyone else before - I mean, I had roommates in college and there were the guys on base I’ve lived with, but never with someone like that...”

You tucked your hair behind your ear. “Me neither.”

“I think I’d have to be really serious about them? Like I’d have to be ready to take that next step with them, you know?” 

He hoped he wasn’t being too obvious. You hadn’t been seeing each other for too long, just six months. Your lease wasn’t even close to being up yet. But it was nice to talk about it - about a future for the two of you.

When you finally spoke again, your voice was shy. “Yeah, definitely the next step.” 

Take the next step with me, he wanted to say. But it was too early. Way too early. Maybe you guys could talk about it in a couple months? Once you got through the holidays and everything. You were already spending Thanksgiving together - a trip up to Berkeley to stay with your dad and stepmom and Bradley’s first time meeting them in person - but Christmas was still up in the air.

You cleared your throat. “Once you’re done here, I’ll start getting ready? Just have to do my makeup and put on my dress.”

Hoping to inject some levity into the situation, Bradley joked: “You know, you helped me with shaving, ‘least I could do is offer to help you with your makeup.”

You pretended to consider this. “Think I’ll have to pass on that one, but I’ll take it into consideration in the future.”

“Fine, fine,” he held his hands up in surrender, “but don’t say I didn’t offer.”

With one final kiss on the cheek, you let Bradley finish getting ready and eventually switched positions a few minutes later, leaving Bradley to change into his formal dress blues in the bedroom, while you took over the bathroom. 

Eventually, some twenty minutes later, Bradley knocked back the rest of his whiskey as he watched the College GameDay coverage. The clock on the bottom of the screen told him it was already six - you were going to be late. 

“Bradley?” your voice came out muffled from behind the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the TV in the living area, as he made his way towards the bathroom. He wanted to see the highlights from the UVA game earlier in the day, too. 

“Could you help me -” He slid open the pocket-door. “- with my - oh!”

You let out a gasp, making eye contact with him in the mirror. All you were wearing was a pair of heels and some white lace panties, which looked more like a scrap of fabric than anything practical. He swallowed thickly.

For a moment - a long moment - Bradley didn’t speak. He just stared at you, practically naked, your gorgeous breasts only covered by one of your arms, while your naked ass cheeks taunted him with a perfect little triangle of white lace peeking out from just below the curve of your back. 

“Good, I need you!” you said to his reflection in the mirror, “Can you tie this for me?” 

Tie what? You weren’t wearing anything but - oh god. Bradley nodded, knowing he looked way too eager, and took a step forward. Two thin white ribbons taunted him from where they were resting on your ass cheeks. 

You put your other hand on the counter and Bradley stood behind you. Were the ribbons the only thing keeping this up? He slid his finger under the one in his right hand, slowly making his way to the front of your body where a triangle of lace was covering you. Fuck. 

“Now where’s a good girl like you get something as naughty as these panties?” You wiggled your ass and he pulled tighter on the ribbons, forcing a gasp from your lips. “Careful, sweetheart.”

“It’s a present - for you, for your award.” You looked over your shoulder at him. “Can you tie it?”

He tsked. “I mean I can tie it, doesn’t mean I wa -”

“- I’m not going without underwear, Bradley.” He looked up in the mirror to see you glaring at him. At least, he thought you were glaring at him, the amused almost-smile on your face made it hard to tell. 

Ever the dutiful boyfriend, he started tying the ribbons together in a pretty little bow - bunny ears and all. “How’re you going to go to the bathroom with this on?” Bradley asked when he was done. 

You leaned back and brushed your ass against his groin. “You wanna know a secret?” He hummed in your ear. “I can tie it by myself, just wanted you to see what you’re coming back to tonight.”

Fucking brat. 

“All set.” He smacked your ass for good measure and you whined. “Atta girl.” He rubbed your now red cheeks, inching towards that pretty little bow. “God, you’re so soft.”

“Mmhmm, I got a wax yesterday…” You turned around and slid your hands up his lapels. Your breasts brushed against his chest as you straightened his bow tie. “But I kept your favorite part”

As tantalizing as that thought was, Bradley had to say: “You know I don’t care -”

“- how else am I going to feel that mustache rub against me as I ride your face?”

Fuck. He moaned your name. “I know you don’t mean the same mustache you literally just tried to shave off?”

You made a face. “That doesn’t sound like me -”

“- No, not you. Not my smart girl.”

Without another word, you wrapped your arms around Bradley’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It was slow and soft and he couldn’t help but pull you closer. Mindful of not ruining the makeup you’d already put on, Bradley ran his hands up and down your sides. God you were so fucking soft and warm and pretty - so goddamn pretty. 

Eventually, you dragged his lip between your teeth as you pulled away. “Don’t want us to be late…”

Bradley exaggerated a sigh. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you don’t have any clothes on - don’t think they’ll let you in like that...” You giggled and kissed him again. “Alright, finish getting dressed and I’ll be waiting for you to make your grand entrance.”

“I have to tape my boobs…” You scrunched up your nose, clearly not looking forward to doing - well, whatever that meant. “You’re lucky Caroline talked me out of wearing Spanx…”

“That doesn’t sound particularly fun.”

You rummaged through your toiletry bag, eventually brandishing what looked like a mix between pre-wrap and an ace-bandage. “Oh, it’s not. Don’t worry, I won’t make you take the tape off later, now go! I have to finish changing.”

Bradley held his hands up in surrender and left the bathroom with a final parting kiss. 

-----------

You looked stunning. There was no other word for it - though Bradley had tried about nine other ones on the way over to the reception. Beautiful, gorgeous, ethereal, pretty, lovely, show-stopping, ravishing, exquisite, picturesque. 

Each made you more flustered the longer he continued. For someone so outwardly confident at times, you didn’t take genuine compliments very well. Sure, you loved to ham it up sometimes - for the bit, Bradley! - but more often than not, you tended to brush him off when he got too earnest. So, that night, Bradley made sure you knew how gorgeous you looked. 

You kept your hair simple - not fussing with it after your blow out - and did your makeup to your tastes. And then there was the dress. The dress that had taunted Bradley all week from its spot in your closet - the special black garment bag not even allowing him to catch a glimpse at the color or fabric until earlier that evening.  

It was white. Ivory silk crepe de chine if you wanted to be specific - which apparently you did. And as had clearly been your intent, the ivory looked perfect in contrast to his blue uniform. The two of you looked classic, polished, handsome. You looked like a pair. That even though there was nothing to overtly signify it, it was obvious that you two were together. 

Back in the room, you’d done a full spin for Bradley, showing off the back of your dress, which made him realize exactly why you had needed to tape your boobs - the dress was practically backless. The thin straps crossed just below your shoulder blades and the fabric started again at the small of your back - about where Bradley would place his hands later as you danced on the black and white checkered dance floor spread out in the middle of the lawn.

And only after being assured numerous times all week that people in the military did not make enough money to freely spend it on whatever exorbitant amount your dress cost, were you secure in the knowledge that no one, not even anyone in a Rent the Runway dress, would be wearing the same thing. It was a little snobby, but Bradley kinda liked that about you - fucking shoot him. 

Instead, this enabled you to focus that energy onto other things - namely, making sure you knew how to properly address every single person you came across and were well versed in nearly every major political, economic, and social event in the past four weeks. Bradley had even seen you reading Politico Playbook on your phone on the beach earlier. He almost wanted to tease you about preparing some flashcards, but knew that this was your way of coping and getting over your nerves. If only Bradley could find something similar to handle his. 

So, now, you were making your way from your room on the east side of the resort to the Windsor Lawn where the two of you would join 350 of Bradley’s colleagues and their dates for dinner, drinks, dancing, and awards. 

“- Wait.” Your words stopped him in his tracks. “Quick check.” Your hands slid up his lapels, needlessly smoothing them out. “You look so pretty, bubs.” He blushed. “What about me?” 

You tilted your chin up so Bradley could check if your makeup was properly blended and then smiled, allowing him to check your teeth for any lipstick stains.  

“Wouldn’t change a thing. God, you look so beautiful.” 

Bradley loved that he could still get you to shake your head in amusement or roll your eyes and duck your head whenever he called you beautiful. But it was true. Of course it was true. You were so beautiful.

After placing a quick kiss on the back of your hand, he took it in his own and you both started walking again. There were a couple other groups making their way to the lawn, but he didn’t recognize anyone yet. He took a deep breath. 

It was going to be fine. It was going to be fine. Fine - it would be fine. Despite the minor bumps in the road on the way to that evening celebrating his award, (okay, so he eventually got you to admit that he had made you cry in the shower so maybe not minor), it was going to be fine. 

No one would ask too many questions about the mission, no one needed to know Bradley still could feel the rope of the ejection handles not working and hear the undercurrent of panic in Mav’s voice when they ran out of flares. No one needed to know that the moment he stepped off the flight deck he ran to the bathroom dry heaving and throwing up until Mav practically carried him to medical. No one needed to - fuck. He had to shake this. 

Because he had you. And he had you to sit with him and hold his hand and call him Bradley and make sure he was okay. Because he was always okay with you. 

He was always okay when he was your Bradley. 

“Hey.” He pulled you to a standstill once again. “Thanks for coming with me, really. I know I didn’t exactly go about this the right way, but, seriously, thanks for giving me another chance. It really does mean a lot that you’re here and I can’t - I don’t want to imagine what I would do without you tonight. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You smiled and squeezed his hand. It was like you could tell with just one look what was going through his head. “Bradley, you don’t need to make anything up to me, this isn’t transactional. We just have to try and be more honest with each other about stuff like this - and, plus, I want to be here for you, bubs, alright? Whether you want to be the belle of the ball or sit in the corner, we’ll do whatever you want tonight, okay?”

“I know that,” he paused to kiss your cheek, “but you have to let yourself just enjoy tonight, too, alright? Because as much as I love hearing you talk about the DART spacecraft test earlier this week and student protests in Iran, you don’t have to worry about passing a test or saying the right thing. Just - just be you and everyone will love you as much as I do.”

You bit your lip and then exaggerated a sigh. “Fine, I guess I’ll just talk about unethical labor practices in Qatar ahead of the World Cup or last week’s US airstrikes in Syria - Bradley!” you cut off with a giggle once he pinched your side. 

This was one of the things he loved about you - that you could get him out of his head and that you brought this certain lightness to him. Because a minute ago he had been spiraling over last year’s mission and now it was on the tip of his tongue to remind you that that Syrian airstrike was an Air Force operation and that the Air Force was strictly persona non-grata that evening. Except your giggles were contagious and he was only cut off by someone clearing their throat.

Like you two had been caught necking in the hallway, you and Bradley sheepishly turned around to face Admiral Simpson and his wife, Emily.

“Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw,” the older man offered.

“Admiral Simpson, sir.” Bradley nodded his head in greeting. “Emily - err, Mrs. Simpson, ma’am. You’re both looking lovely this evening.” He then turned towards you and introduced you to the Simpsons. 

You shook Cyclone’s hand and politely nodded towards his wife. “Nice to see you both. Hopefully, we’ll get to chat more inside?”

Emily nodded, clearly excited about the prospect of making a new friend. She was rather notorious on base for recruiting the other milspo’s to volunteer their time - and for the Porsche Cayenne she always double parked next to her husband’s F-150 in the parking lot when she came to visit. “I’ll come find you both later.”

“Looking forward to it.” And if Bradley hadn’t known you any better, he’d be convinced you actually were. 

With a clap on the back from Cyclone and a nod from Emily, the older couple continued on their way towards the lawn, leaving you both behind. 

“Two down, three hundred and forty-eight to go…” Bradley muttered.

You looped your arm through his and ambled down the path to the right. “Actually, three hundred and forty-six to go - remember, we don’t count.” Bradley exaggerated a groan and let you pull him along.

Though he had heard the chatter and dull thrum of Ain’t That a Kick in the Head the second you had stepped outside your room, turning that final corner Bradley was briefly taken aback by the general splendor and opulence of the event. 

Under a canopy of string lights, a black and white checkerboard dance floor sat in the middle of the lawn, surrounded by dozens of circular tables with gold chiavari chairs and draped in navy tablecloths. The flowers in the centerpieces - ranunculus - were easily recognizable thanks to his various trips to the florist over the last six months. And a litany of tuxedo clad waitstaff were bustling between the high top tables and bars on the edge of the event space, offering canapes, crudites, and other passed appetizers. 

And then there were the guests. Everyone from Ensigns to Admirals were decked out in their finest formal dress uniforms. Bradley didn’t have nearly as many medals or pins on his uniform as some of the upper brass, but he still managed to put on a good show. He was excited to see Mav later and tease him, knowing he hated dressing up for these things. Ironically enough, the large size of the crowd helped rather than hurt his nerves - it was easier to get lost in and was more intimate in a way. 

You made your way over to the check-in desk to find your seating assignment and just as Bradley had feared, he was at one of the head tables, thankfully along with Mav and Penny, but also with Jake - and whoever he had coerced into being his date - and the Simpsons. Bradley put his place card next to Cyclone’s, sticking you in between him and Maverick, who was next Penny. 

“Seat of honor, rocketman,” you teased. 

Bradley blushed, but tried to play it off. “That’s what I’ve been telling you, kid - I’m kind of a big deal.” You shot him a wink and put your tiny pearl beaded purse on the table, staking out your spot. 

Glancing around the room, Bradley could see a couple members of the squad some tables over. Bob and Halo were huddled together, laughing with Phoenix and your colleague that you’d set her up with, Rory. It didn’t look like Payback and his wife or Fanboy and his girlfriend had arrived yet, but Coyote and his girlfriend were messing around with the placecards. Bradley definitely wanted to introduce you to her - she was a private chef in LA and ran a wildly successful food Instagram account that you were obsessed with despite the fact that you weren’t the best cook. Yet, at least. 

A server came up to you both with some crab rangoons - a perennial favorite. Bradley eagerly grabbed two - he hadn’t eaten since the three steak asado tacos he had at the beach around noon - while you politely declined. 

“When’s dinner?” He held his hand over his mouth as he chewed. Damn that crab rangoon was good. He vaguely recalled that he had requested the slow braised short ribs for dinner, while you had gone with the pan roasted scottish salmon. It went without saying that he would be sneaking some of yours.

You glanced down at the menu card on the table. “Uhhh it says not till seven - awards are at eight and then dancing and dessert until ten-thirty. The hotel must have a quiet hour or something.”

Bradley nodded. “So, game plan?”

“Game plan.”

“We get drinks -”

“- We hang out with your friends -”

“- We mingle - 

“- Oh, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw is such a wonderful boyfriend, he’s the most amazing pilot I’ve ever seen, the way he just thrusts that plane, all those evasive maneuvers -”

He chuckled. “- Okay, hotshot - we mingle, we come back for dinner -”

“- We charm the Simpsons -”

“- We charm the shit out of them -”

“- You get your award because Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw is such a wonderful boyfriend, the most amazing pilot I’ve ever seen - oww, fucking weirdo.” You rubbed your arm where Bradley had shoved you. He hadn’t done it that hard - just enough to get a reaction out of you. “And when we dance.”

“And then we dance,” he concluded, trying to be serious, but that failed when you held your palm up for a high-five. The resulting slap garnered the attention of a couple people around you, including a Top Gun lieutenant Bradley frequently saw around base.

Granted, Bradley liked Hawkeye and genuinely enjoyed talking to him on base. He was definitely the best WSO in his class and a great guy in general, but he was ruining the game plan you both had literally just concocted by coming over - and Bradley hadn’t even had a drink yet. 

“Lieutenant Commander,” Hawkeye said with a cheesy grin, which turned into a slap on the back from Bradley. He introduced you to Hawkeye - with his real name, of course - and the three of you started chatting. 

“Now how the hell did you swing an invite to this thing?”

Hawkeye puffed his chest out. “I’ll have you know, I happen to be a very important person’s plus one.”

“Oh, do tell,” you egged him on, even leaning in closer to get the scoop. 

Admittedly, at this point, Bradley was also curious. Both of your favorite kinds of gossip was that which was important to some people, but meant absolutely nothing to others. Case in point, Lieutenant Kopinski’s date. 

“Well, technically,” he started, glancing around the room, “she asked me a bit last minute and since her original date bailed…”

“Oh, Hawkeye…” Bradley chuckled and you swatted his stomach. 

“But I’m optimistic, you know? She’s always nice to me whenever I stop by and sometimes we get coffee between my classes -”

“- The girl, lieutenant, who’s the girl?” you interrupted, practically giddy. It lit your whole face up and made Bradley smile. 

Hawkeye’s cheeks were flushed and he glanced around one final time before saying: “Kennedy Ayers.”

To you, this meant absolutely nothing. But to Bradley? 

“You came with Admiral Simpson’s EA?” Hawkeye nodded once. “Does he know?” He shook his head. “You know he’s at our table?”

Hawkeye was right - Kennedy Ayers was very important. She had been Cyclone’s EA since just before Bradley had come back to North Island last fall and she quite literally made Top Gun the well oiled machine that it was. And Cyclone was very fond of her. Or at least as fond of anyone as Cyclone could be. 

You spoke up. “So, you came as friends?” He nodded. “Do you want to be more than friends?” Again, he nodded. “Well, I can’t really do anything on Kennedy’s end, but Bradley and I could put in a good word for you with Admiral Simpson at dinner? I mean, if Bradley thinks you’re good people then that’s good enough for me.”

“Well,” Hawkeye looked between you and Bradley, “I don’t know if Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw would go as far to say good people -”

“- I wouldn’t - owww.” Bradley let go of your hip and rubbed his stomach with his now free hand. “Fine. Hawkeye, we can mention something to Cyclone at dinner,” he grumbled.

Hawkeye expressed his thanks and continued fawning over you as the three of you chatted for a couple more minutes, getting into how Bradley knew the younger pilot and how much longer he was in the area. After a while, you glanced over your shoulder towards the south end of the lawn.

“Hey, bubs? I think I’m gonna head over to the bar, it looks like there’s a pretty big line forming and I want us to get drinks before dinner?”

Bradley tried not to look too disappointed that you would be leaving him - for however brief the time - but realized it gave you both the perfect excuse to continue on with your game plan. “Okay, I’ll meet up with you in a few.” You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and turned towards the bar, but then doubled back. 

“Can you hold my phone for me?” Bradley held his hand out and you placed your phone in it with much aplomb. “Thank you - and again, nice to meet you, Lieutenant - good luck with Kennedy!”

With a smile and wave of your hand, you were gone and Bradley was stuck with Hawkeye, who was staring after you in bewildered awe. 

“She’s lovely.” Bradley rolled his eyes. Yeah, he knew you were fucking lovely, but he didn’t need every LTJG thinking that. “How’d you guys meet?”

“Hinge.” It was always a bit of a shit answer, but it was the truth. 

“Hmmmm.” He shoved a crab rangoon into his mouth, no doubt trying to hide the shit eating grin on his face. “Aren’t you a little too old for dating apps, Lieutenant Commander?”

Kopinski was lucky Bradley liked him so much - no one else would’ve let the kid get away with that. “And isn’t your behavior verging on impertinent towards your superior officer - an award winning superior officer, mind you - by calling him old?”

“Pfft, I would never.” The grin on his face didn’t go away. Bradley rolled his eyes.

“Kopinski, I can have that my girl ruin any chance you have with Kennedy in a couple words, don’t fucking try me.” Hawkeye held his hands up in surrender. “You gonna chirp at me anymore or can I finally get a drink?”

Hawkeye waved a hand towards the bar. “Fine, fine. Enjoy your evening Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw.”

With a chuckle, Bradley gave him a handshake and the two men said goodbye. As Bradley started walking towards the bar, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket and checked the notification, quickly realizing it was actually your phone and the text was from a group chat with your dad and Mary. 

Have fun tonight sweetie! Send us pictures of you and Bradley 💕

He shuffled off to the side and smiled down at the screen. Even though he hadn’t met her in person, Bradley really liked Mary. You had said numerous times how you didn’t feel like Mary was your stepmom - she felt like your actual mom. The mom who had raised you. The one who had brought you to tennis matches and field hockey games, held you as you cried after your accident junior year, took you prom dress shopping, helped you unpack your dorm, and drove down with you to San Diego when you first moved all those years ago. 

She was your mom. And Bradley was so excited to meet her. And because of that, he knew he could get away with what he was about to do.

thanks! we’ll send pictures later

bradley looks sooo handsome in his uniform

A moment later your phone buzzed with a message from your dad:

He made you type that, didn’t he?

no comment 

As Bradley continued making his way over towards you at the bar, so was another aviator getting honored that evening - Hangman. 

It didn’t look like you saw him approach, you were chatting with the bartender and Bradley saw you hold up two fingers for both your drinks. He tried to get over to you faster, except a rear admiral stepped in front of him and tried to strike up a conversation. And while it may not have been particularly polite, Bradley brushed him off with a quick talk to you later in his haste to get over to you.

He didn’t want you to have to face Hangman alone. 

Because you didn’t forget things easily. And you’d told Bradley that all those months ago on your first date when you’d overheard Jake making fun of you, all you’d wanted to do was run back to the bathroom and cry. Because you hadn’t originally heard Bradley’s comments coming to your defense and telling Hangman to fuck off. 

All you’d heard was she could be kinda hot, if she cut out that whole type a, stick up her ass shit. It was similar to something the last guy you’d been with had said about you - too uptight, too focused on work, too prissy - too much - and you’d panicked.

Bradley didn’t think you were too much. 

His uptight, focused on work, prissy girlfriend was just right for him. And he made sure to tell you in a thousand different ways ever since. Because you deserved to be told how much you meant to him and how much he loved you. And in turn, you did the same for him.

And one way for him to show his love and support for you when you were already doing so much for him that evening was to not have to deal with Jake fucking Seresin any more than you needed to that evening. It was bad enough you already had to sit at the same table as him and whomever he had coerced into being his date.

By now, you’d gotten two glasses of champagne from the bartender and Bradley was just a couple long strides away, but Jake had beat him to you.

“Well, now who do you belong to, darlin’?” Even above the tin of chatter and the murmur of the band, Bradley could hear Hangman lay on the southern charm.

You turned to face him and the smile on your face from chatting with the bartender temporarily slipped as you took in the blond in front of you. Bradley closed the remaining distance to the bar, but you stopped him in his tracks with a look. He’d let you run with this - for now, at least.

“We’ve actually met before…” You leaned against the bar and cocked your hip out slightly. 

He clicked his tongue and Bradley would’ve killed to see the expression on Hangman’s face. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, darlin’-”

“- Actually, you told my boyfriend to ditch me on our first date.” 

“Your boyfr - what? I don’t -” 

You smiled prettily and peered over Hangman’s shoulder, looking straight at Bradley. He closed the final gap between you and slapped Jake on the back in greeting before lightly pushing him out of the way to press a kiss to the side of your head.

“Hey, kid,” he said, wrapping his arm around your waist and then grabbing the glass of champagne you’d gotten him with his other hand. The look on Jake’s face was priceless. It normally took a lot to rattle Hangman and Bradley was rarely the one to do it. 

“Bagman.” He nodded towards him. “Heard the rumor you’re finally stateside again, I’m sure Coyote’s been keeping you up on things around -” 

“- Wait, this is your girl?” Recognition finally seemed to dawn on Jake and he gestured between the two of you. “You’re with - you guys are still together?” 

“Who do you think everyone’s been talking about for the last six months? She’s got a name, too.”

You held out your hand and offered your name. “I know you didn’t exactly catch it the first time we met.”

Jake cleared his throat. “Well, nice to officially meet you then.”

“You too,” you conceded, “and congratulations on your award.”

“Thanks, uhhh - so, you guys have been together for six months? That’s pretty…serious?”

Bradley frowned. Though the question had been oddly worded, to say the least, he didn’t think there was anything necessarily malicious about it? Hangman just seemed slightly uncomfortable with the idea of it. 

“I’d say so,” Bradley answered for you both, “you bring anyone to round out our table this evening? Pick anybody up in Misawa?” 

If at all possible, Jake looked even more uncomfortable than he did a moment ago. Briefly, Bradley thought he had embarrassed him since he didn’t have a date, but he had seen the extra place card at the table. 

Hangman cleared his throat. “Err kind of? She should be around here somewhere - uhhh Whiskey, I mean Sarah, went to put her purse down at the table.”

Whiskey. Sarah. Sarah Costigan.

As in Sarah Costigan Bradley’s ex-girlfriend Sarah Costigan. 

Shit. 

You knew plenty about Bradley’s ex’s. Or at least the big ones. The ones that he thought he had been in love with before he had met you and finally realized what it meant to be in love with someone. 

First there had been Elodie - a brief relationship when Bradley was in Pensacola for flight school. The two had hit it off after she spilt a drink on him while she was working at his favorite bar. They had broken up when he had been assigned to Norfolk, but she had been nice and kind when Bradley had gotten too far into his own head. 

Next came Sarah - Bradley’s girlfriend during and right after his first time at Top Gun. Whiskey was loud and brash and everything Bradley had wanted in a girlfriend at twenty-seven. They had been together for eight months - of which they had spent three in the same place - and Bradley’s orders back to Virginia had been the perfect excuse for things to end. 

And then there had been Ezra - Bradley’s first, real boyfriend beyond ‘drunkenly’ hooking up with one of his Sigma Chi brothers at UVA or some random guy at a bar. With Ezra it was different. They had met when Bradley had been volunteering at some off-base event for Habitat for Humanity and immediately clicked. Ezra and Bradley had been together for a little over a year and had been thinking of moving in together until Ezra recanted and said he didn’t actually want to have a family. And that was all it took for Bradley to realize that was really all he wanted.

So, at thirty-two years old, Bradley realized that his one true purpose, beyond being a pilot, was to be a dad and to be around for his kids in the way that his own father wasn’t. 

And so, Bradley and Ezra broke up and Bradley went on just about any overseas deployment he could possibly sign up for. It helped for a little while. Made him forget about his broken heart and realize what he really wanted. This was only further solidified when he came back to the States and reconnected with Maverick years later. 

And then Bradley had met you and - explosive first date and all - he knew you were it for him. He didn’t want anybody else. 

“Here she is,” Jake said and Sarah suddenly appeared beside him. 

Seemingly taking no notice of anyone else in their little quartet, Sarah wrapped her arms around Bradley’s neck and pulled him in for a hug - a long hug. The medals on her sash uncomfortably dug into his stomach. And sure, Bradley could admit that she looked good - he couldn’t deny that Sarah was and had always been attractive - but her red dress stood out terribly in a sea of muted whites, navys, blacks, and ivorys. 

“Hey, Roo!” She eventually let go of him.

“Oh - hey, Sarah.” Bradley then introduced the two of you and you smiled and held out your hand. 

“Nice to meet you, Sarah.”

“I’d say you can call me Whiskey, but that’s only reserved for us pilots. You know, I always had a feeling Rooster wanted a civvy.” She winked, but the joke didn’t quite land. Though you maintained a neutral expression, both Bradley and Jake grimaced. “What do you do instead?”

“Oh, I work in consulting.”

“Consulting? Like - shit, what’s it called? Deloitte? Or what’s the other one?”

This time you couldn’t school your expression and made a face. Bradley realized it was tantamount to how he reacted whenever someone wrongly assumed he was in the Air Force. At least Sarah hadn’t said KPMG. 

“No, PwC. I’m a strategy and consumer markets consultant -” you still managed to respond cordially. 

“- Soon to be manager,” Bradley couldn’t help but brag. Though you ducked your head, he could tell it pleased you. 

Sarah huffed out a laugh. “Sorry, what does that mean exactly? Like I tell people I’m a naval aviator and that’s pretty self explanatory, but…”

“Oh! Right, well we help clients optimize and automate their supply chains and improve deal and product innovation, as well as their general program revenue management? So, uhh lots of watching the markets, looking at other companies, following trends - stuff like that.”

There was a brief lull once you finished your explanation and Bradley could feel the doubt creeping up on you. He squeezed your hip and cleared his throat. 

“Trust me, I listen in on her calls sometimes and we definitely have the easier job.” You and Jake laughed politely. “Well, uhh - we can all catch up during dinner, but this one and I have to make the rounds.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, yeah. No big, we’ve got a couple people to chat with, too. Promised I’d introduce Whiskey to Rear Admiral Cain, she’s a big fan.”

Fucking ass kisser. Bradley knew the people the two of you were going to chat with were actually his friends - not Captains and Admirals to pander to all evening. 

“It was nice meeting you, Sarah,” you nodded towards the other girl, who smiled, and then you turned towards Jake, “and always nice talking with you.”

With a final wave and promise to chat later, the terrible twosome made their way towards the bandstand where the upper brass were all hanging out. You relaxed your shoulders and looked up at Bradley. 

“Now why do I remember him being taller?” 

He just laughed and the two of you headed over to chat with Nat and the rest of the gang to take some pictures together and have some fun before dinner.  

-----------

“I’m impressed, no quips on how much all this is costing the government?”

You squeezed Bradley’s arm a little harder as you two made your way back to your table. The five minute warning for dinner had just been given and meandering from the squad’s table back to your own was taking some work to get through the crush. 

“Hey, I would rather my tax dollars be spent on a party than a bombing campaign in Yemen - shit, sorry.” For good measure, you both glanced around you to see if anyone had overheard. “Sorry, I’ve been trying to keep the commentary to a minimum. I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything.”

Bradley stopped you just shy of your table. “Hey, no, you’re fine, kid - perfect actually. And you haven’t even had to break out your talking points yet…” You chuckled. 

“Hard part hasn’t happened yet…” Oh in more ways than one.

“It’ll be fine, promise.” He didn’t know if he was reassuring you or himself. He gave you a kiss on the cheek and the two of you continued on your way towards your table. 

You were the last couple seated and Bradley was pleased to note that no one had moved your place cards. You gave Maverick and Penny hearty hugs, being sure to tell them both how nice they looked. (If you looked a little flustered under Mav’s gaze, Bradley was willing to forget it. For now, at least.) 

Everyone greeted each other cordially again and the table fell into perfunctory chit chat while waiting for the salad course to be delivered. Thankfully, Mav - though it was probably actually Penny - had the foresight to order the two of you dinner cocktails, which came soon after your salads. Once everyone got their barings, the chatter picked up again.

“So,” Emily started, looking between you and Bradley, “what’s been your longest deployment so far? Beau and I once lasted seven months - the poor kids were insufferable, I was a mess.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wow, uhh seven months? I think the longest we’ve had was ten days?” You looked to Bradley to confirm, but he shook his head. 

“Pretty sure it was fifteen…” You cocked your head, while Bradley turned to Emily, “this one here was off in Europe on a work trip a couple weeks back - where’d they send you again? England, Ireland, Germany?”

“Oh - yeah. I didn’t even think about that one.” You looked touched that he had brought it up and equated it to a deployment. 

It happened around four months into your relationship, actually right before Bradley had been sent off to Taiwan for the Speaker’s visit. The fifteen days had been agony. Bradley had walked around his house listlessly after work, so used to having you over at his place to make dinner or watch TV together that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself - didn’t know how he had done this before you. 

So, it was during those fifteen days that Bradley had realized he was in love with you. He had almost blurted it out after the two of you had finished your second go round at phone sex. Admittedly, the first time had not been successful after you had kept telling him that his dirty talk wasn’t quite dirty enough - I need a story, Bradley! But he hadn’t wanted to scare you off. 

It was too soon, just about four months. Could you really fall in love in four months?

Well, yes, you could. And yes, you had felt the same way, too. 

“…Our global headquarters is in London, but they also sent me to Dublin, Munich, and Berlin. I’m on this new account at work, hoping to get this -”

Emily practically groaned. “- Oh, I don’t know how girls your age do it nowadays! I can barely find time to do all my errands everyday before Beau comes home -” at this Admiral Simpson grunted in acknowledgment “- and don’t even get me started on if the kids are back from college!”

You both smiled politely and then Emily spoke again. “But you know, a little work trip’s not quite a deployment now, is it?”

A little work trip. 

“It sure felt like it to me,” Bradley said seriously, daring Emily fucking Simpson to say something else about his girl. You squeezed his hand under the table.

“Of course, of course - oh, wait!” Emily stretched her hand across the table, somehow reaching across Cyclone to do so. “I’ll have to set something up with you, get you involved on the base more. We do a lot of give back opportunities - me and all the other girls, you see - especially around the holidays for the community. Sherri Callaghan and I are taking up the charge this year!”

You set your salad fork down. “Oh? Uhh - when do you normally meet?”

He couldn’t tell if you were just being polite. Your company was really big on giving back - you’d mentioned their donation match program every time you donated to Emily’s List or Feeding America - but Emily Simpson wasn’t someone Bradley could envision you spending prolonged periods of time with - at least if you wanted to keep your sanity intact. 

Emily smiled, seeming to think she’d gotten her claws into you. “We meet every other Thursday at the Coronado Golf Course, right near the base. We have a set room and everything in the clubhouse - twelve-thirty sharp!”

“I’m sorry, Emily.” You actually sounded apologetic. “I don’t think I’d be able to get away from the office at that time, but definitely keep me in the loop with the emails and whatnot? I can give you my card later? I think I have some in my purse.” 

You didn’t. Bradley knew you had your license, Amex, room key, a tube of lipgloss, and a condom in there. 

Emily looked slightly put out for a moment, before pasting a smile on her face again. “Of course, I forget not everyone is as privileged in that regard! You working girls!” 

She sounded slightly patronizing, but neither you nor Bradley called her out on it. At least not directly.

“What can I say, they barely let us up for air,” you joked. 

And with that, the conversation moved on to include the other parties at the table. Whiskey, Cyclone, and Hangman were talking about Misawa, while Mav and Penny politely asked questions when appropriate, giving the two of you a slight reprieve to finish your salad and bread. Bradley took two rolls and packets of butter out of the basket and wordlessly handed you a roll, a packet of butter following a moment later once he had sufficiently warmed it up in his hands. You gave him a quick smile and he responded with a wink - just a little moment between the two of you.

The food was pretty good so far, but Bradley had also been starving. While chatting with the rest of the squad, he had had three more crab rangoons, which had been washed down with two rounds of tequila shots for the entire team. It would have been fun to sit with all of them, probably would’ve put your mind at ease, too, but you both understood that since Bradley was getting honored with an award, it made sense to sit with his fellow award winners and the commanding officer on the mission. 

He just wished Whiskey hadn’t been there. It was awkward and had definitely been a subtle dig at Bradley from Jake. At least you had known about Sarah in the most basic sense - Bradley had definitely won that breakup - but it was always awkward seeing your partner’s ex. He didn’t know how he’d react to seeing Jack in person. Apparently, Jack hadn’t been the best boyfriend, but he hadn’t been the worst either. 

“So,” Jake said your name, “you got family around here?” 

You tilted your head back and forth, trying to finish chewing faster, before you answered. “My mo - my step-mom and dad are up in Berkeley. We moved down there from Santa Rosa when I was little.”

“NorCal gal...”

Sarah exaggerated a shudder and stabbed at her salad. “God, I could never live above SLO, it’s frigid - and I don’t just mean the weather.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bradley noticed your champagne glass briefly still before it got to your mouth. He cleared his throat. “I’m looking forward to heading up there, actually. Haven’t been upstate in ages. We’re going for Thanksgiving.”

It wasn’t a lie. He was looking forward to spending time with your family. Was he also nervous as hell to meet your dad and Mary? Without question. But he was looking forward to getting to know them and seeing where you had grown up. 

“Well, how long have you lived here?” Sarah asked.

“Since I graduated - I got a job at my firm right after college.” 

“And that’s how many…”

“Oh - uhh let’s see, six years ago - what?” you asked at the mischievous smile on Whiskey’s face. 

“Nothing, nothing. I just didn’t realize there was that much of a gap between the two of you. Looks like you got your civvy and a spring chicken, Roo.”

Though you didn’t outwardly show it - or at least not in a way Sarah and Jake would notice - the comment had bothered you. Eight years was not a huge gap in a relationship - at least not twenty-right to thirty-six. Sure, you made the occasional comment about Bradley’s creaky joints or bad back, but the two of you never really brought it up. 

It just wasn’t a big thing for either of you. Sure, sometimes Bradley thought about how old he’d be when you had kids - not that he thought about it a lot or anything - but it never really gave him pause or brought about any malicious comments like what Sarah was implying.

“I don’t think I’d put it like that -”

And then because she clearly didn’t understand that she’d said something wrong, Sarah kept talking. “How’d you two meet then?”

“We met on Hinge,” you said. That normally elicited two reactions from people: lighthearted jealousy that things actually worked out between you two on a dating app or not-so-passive judgment.

“Oh,” she hummed, “I’ve never really had to use one of those before. You always hear such horror stories…”

Bradley threw his arm over the back of your chair, pulling you even closer to him. “I’m convinced we would’ve met anyway.” He only had eyes for you as he said it.

A couple seats down, Mav and Penny looked a little skeptical. “Oh, really? Then how come we haven’t heard about this before?” Penny teased.

You chuckled and looked to Bradley to continue. “Alright, alright,” he started, “we have this friend, Max - great guy, really - that we both knew separately. But he’s convinced that he was going to set the two of us up anyway.”

You nodded. “We didn’t find out that I was the girl he was trying to set Bradley up with until a couple months ago, actually. But it’s kinda crazy to think about. Things just happen for a reason, I guess.”

“And this way I got to meet you earlier and find out how amazing you are on my own.” 

Penny cooed, knowing it would embarrass him, while Mav reached over the back of your chair to ruffle Bradley’s hair. 

It went without saying, though it really should be something he actually said more often, but for the last year or so Mav and Penny had been Bradley’s biggest supporters - with everything. 

From when he had asked them to look at houses with him and eventually buying one, to going over their house for the holidays, having them over for dinner, playing golf and going sailing together as a family with Amelia, to finally meeting you: they were there for Bradley. And loathe as he may have been to admit it a year ago, getting Mav’s approval of the girl he was dating meant a lot. 

A lot. 

It was almost like if his mom and dad - no, it was like if his mom and dad had approved of you. Because that was who Mav was to Bradley. And this past year had just confirmed that to him. Bradley had gone back for Maverick - had saved his life - at a time when he didn’t even like him. 

But he still loved him. He was his family and he loved him. Always had.

He wondered how Maverick would get along with your dad and Mary? They were of a similar generation, that had to count for something? He could totally see them hanging out and laughing together at the holidays, mainly Mary and Mav teasing your dad. (On the other hand, Bradley had a feeling Maverick and your mother wouldn’t get along terribly well, but he didn’t necessarily see that being a character flaw on Mav’s part.)

Like parents, they gave him advice and made sure he knew he was always welcome at their house and that they loved him. And it was so nice because it was something Bradley had been missing for so long. Missing having someone older, someone who loved him, looking out for him.

And sure, he had friends and colleagues that looked out for him, but they didn’t really know him. They didn’t really know Bradley. And he really liked just being Bradley sometimes. It was like that with you, too. And he had told you so last week, but he realized he needed to tell you that more often. 

Sometimes he felt spoiled. Like the other shoe was going to drop - and he’d lose you or get into another disagreement with Mav and he’d be all alone again. And Bradley had gotten used to not being alone anymore.

He felt himself getting flustered, unsettled. Like his bow tie was too tight. Like the medals and ribbons on his chest were too heavy. He heard your soft laugh and then his name echo through his ears. 

Slowly, he fell back into himself, realizing that he was very much not alone at the moment. That he was seated about a table with three of the people that meant the most to him in the entire world and that he was getting honored for saving one of them. That your hand was on his knee under the table grounding him to you. That you loved him. That you were there with him - for him. 

You squeezed his knee and he snapped his eyes up from his old fashioned, humming his acknowledgment. “Yeah?”

“Jake asked if we’re going to Natasha’s Halloween party?”

“Yeah, looking forward to it.” He left it at that, still a little shaken, but almost back to his normal self. 

Luckily, you chimed in with some additional details. “He’s going as Ted Lasso - blame the mustache,” you joked, getting chuckles from around the table - except from Admiral Simpson, who just grunted. 

Emily’s eyes lit up. “Oh, we love Ted Lasso! Such a cute little show! Do you have the Nikes and the sweater?”

You chuckled. “Yea, we even got him a visor.”

“Awww, that’ll be perfect - oh! And who are you going to be, one of the players?”

There was a pause before you replied. “Uhh, no. Either Rebecca or Sassy, I’m still undecided. Neither are too much of a stretch costume-wise, but it’ll be fun!”

“Fun for you…” Bradley grumbled, but without malice, trying to lighten the mood. You nudged his shoulder. 

“Oh, come on. You can pick next time, promise.” 

After another sip of your champagne, you turned back to Emily to continue the conversation, but Whiskey interrupted you. “So, Ted Lasso, are you big football fans then?”

Bradley looked at you and you both shrugged. “I’ll watch a Premier League match if I’m bored on a Saturday and we went to a San Diego Wave game when they played the Thorns, but not really?”

“Well,” Sarah preened, “I’m a huge Arsenal and Juventus fan. I was just gutted when Italy didn’t qualify.” Sure she was. “I’m rooting for Portugal in the World Cup.”

Conversation soon shifted onto next month’s event, with Jake supporting Argentina and Mav saying he had money on England going to the semis, then the question was turned on you. 

“Oh, I typically root for England, too, but I don’t know, I feel a bit conflicted about it this time around - not that I didn’t last time in Russia, but -” 

“- What?” Sarah interrupted, “you don’t like that it’s in Qatar?” She said it wrong. 

You nodded. “Actually, yeah. I think FIFA knows it can only get away with hosting the tournament in countries that can meet their outrageous expectations of stadiums and hotels and athletes villages if they award it to countries who give little thought as to how the job actually gets done? Lack of oversight on building practices, labor laws, and government corruption may be unethical, but they can get you a marquee sporting event like a World Cup or Olympic bid.

“And the country becomes so dependent on preparing for the event and ‘employing’ the laborers and ‘providing’ all these jobs that they don’t take into consideration what happens when the cranes come down and the tourists leave? Don’t even get me started on the fact that the matches have to be played at night and in the late fall since it’s so hot -”

“- Then where should they have these marquee sporting events, oh-wise-one?” Jake quipped. 

You shrugged. “I don’t know, someone paid more than me can figure it out, but until then,” you toasted your champagne flute, “I’m entitled to my opinion.”

“Well said,” Mav chimed in and toasted his glass to you. 

“I agree,” Cyclone chimed in for the first time. “FIFA on the whole is inherently corrupt - it needs a complete overhaul. More’s the pity for me, I always look forward to the matches, but am feeling similarly this year.”

No one quite knew what to say next, but Admiral Simpson was saved by the delivery of the main course and everyone quickly dug in once the whole table had been served. 

“These short ribs are excellent,” Cyclone said after a lengthy pause, accompanied only by the band doing a fairly decent rendition of Beyond the Sea. Bradley stifled his snort with a bite of his short ribs - which were in fact excellent - and out of the corner of his eye saw you doing something similar. 

Of all the people to try and keep the conversation going at the table, Bradley hadn’t thought it would be Cyclone. 

Ultimately, it was Penny who truly saved the day by asking how the Simpsons kids were doing at college. Her and Amelia were planning a couple visits in the spring and she wanted to know if Emily had any tips. Mary had already promised Amelia, Penny, and Maverick a behind the scenes tour of Berkeley over winter break, but one of the Simpsons went to USC, which Amelia was also interested in touring.

The six of you talked about college and upcoming holiday plans and whatnot for the remainder of the entree portion of the evening, while Jake and Sarah mainly chatted amongst themselves. You even remembered to bring up meeting a wonderful lieutenant who’s actually part of your Top Gun class, Admiral Simpson. Oh, Bradley what was his name again? Lieutenant Kopinski, right?

It was really nice, the ease with which the six of you chatted - well, maybe the five of you since Cyclone didn’t say much - but Bradley felt like you both really belonged. Like you had both passed some sort of test. He was proud of you, obviously, but he was also proud of himself. And he didn’t let himself be proud of himself very often.

Just then, the emcee for the evening came up to the microphone, saying the awards presentation would begin in five minutes. Bradley felt his stomach sink. Of all things he had to think about leading up to that evening, he’d given little thought to the actual awards presentation itself until earlier that evening. 

Would he have to stand up there in front of everyone? It was a small consideration that he knew Maverick didn’t like stuff like this either and he seemed relaxed? Or maybe he was just good at hiding it. It would be fine, it would be fine - you grabbed his hand underneath the table and gave it a little squeeze.

“It’ll be fine, I’m proud of you, bubs. No matter what,” you said for his ears only. 

Bradley squeezed your hand back, ready to say something further, except he was interrupted by Admiral Simpson calling for the table’s attention.

“Now, before I go up there and give the official, fully sanctioned version of this speech, I just want to say that I know some time has passed and some of you have gone onto different detachments and have different commanding officers, but I want you all to know that despite some aspects of the mission not going exactly to plan, I am very proud of the three of you. The success of that mission was one of the highlights of my career thanks in large part to your heroics that day and I am eternally grateful that you’re all sitting in front of me with your partners and colleagues cheering you on - that is all.”

“Well said, sir.” You nodded towards the admiral before smiling at Bradley. It made him feel about ten feet tall.

Everyone raised their glasses. “Cheers” echoed throughout the table and everyone took a hearty sip of their drink, Bradley’s a little more hearty than the others.

He discreetly reached behind your chair and poked Maverick’s shoulders. Mav gave Bradley a probing look and he flushed, embarrassed. “Do you think we uhh - we have to go up there? For the presentation and everything?”

A look of understanding crossed the older man’s face. “Hope we don’t, but if we do, you can stand behind me.”

“I don’t think that’ll help…” you quipped from between them and they both chuckled, tuning back into the others’ conversation. 

“- Meanwhile, Rooster was concussed out of his mind, pretty sure the NFL is using him as a CTE case study,” Hangman quipped.

At your shocked expression, Bradley tried to backpedal. It was stuff like this that reminded him why he wanted to keep his Navy life separate. You were really touchy about head injuries after your accident in high school. 

“That’s just a working theory, my test results were inconclusive -”

Jake cut him off. “ - Mav, back me up here.” 

Everyone turned towards the older pilot, who clearly hated being put on the spot. He tried to hide behind his drink, but eventually muttered out: “No comment.”

You leaned in to whisper in Bradley’s ear. “I’ve got a couple questions for you later, rocketman…” He knew that was coming. 

The band brought Fly Me to the Moon to a close before the final chorus as the emcee, Commander Davis, got back on stage to start the awards presentation. Luckily, you two were on the correct side of the table and didn’t have to turn around to face the stage like Hangman, Whiskey, and Emily did.

“Evening everyone! And what a lovely evening it is out here in Coronado. I’m sorry to drag you away from your delicious desserts and conversations, but it is time for us to celebrate the men and women we are honoring tonight throughout the Pacific Fleet.” There was polite applause. “Tonight’s award winners are being honored for their heroic efforts both in and out of the line of duty and will first be introduced by their commanding officer and then presented with their medal of distinction.” 

Well that cleared up the question of whether Bradley had to go on stage or not. Shit.

Commander Davis waited until the applause died down again. “Now, please let me call Captain Alexandra Caldwell to the stage to introduce our first award winner for this evening, Lieutenant Emma Vance!”

Both Lieutenant Vance and Captain Caldwell received a standing ovation as they took their place on the stage, with Lieutenant Vance standing just off to the side as her commanding officer took the mic. Once everyone settled down, Captain Caldwell started her speech. 

“Thank you, everyone, for such a warm welcome. I am thrilled to be here tonight to honor the kind, thoughtful, caring, and damn hard worker Lieutenant Emma Vance for her efforts in spearheading our local Covenant House chapter and sleepout…”

You leaned over to whisper in his ear. “My office works with them, too. I had no idea you guys had something on base with them.” 

Bradley shrugged. He hadn’t either. Seeming to understand you weren’t going to get a response out of him, you just squeezed his hand. 

He knew you could tell he was nervous and he appreciated your efforts to put him at ease. Throughout the rest of the speech, you kept glancing over at him and smiling softly, holding his hand and rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. 

It felt nice. It grounded him. Distracted him. And right now, he needed to distract himself. Focus on something else. Something like you. 

Admittedly, Bradley had been pretty proud of himself for having relatively chaste thoughts about you all evening - less carnal, more prideful. You had handled everything with such aplomb and grace, even the totally unexpected addition of Sarah to your table, and had made a surprising ally in Cyclone. But as Captain Caldwell droned on and on about Lieutenant Vance’s philanthropic efforts in the community, Bradley knew he was fighting a losing battle. (That wasn’t exactly fair to Lieutenant Vance, who Bradley was sure did an amazing job organizing the Pacific Fleet’s largest ever sleepout to raise money for homeless youth in San Diego. He was just stressed.)

It was that damn slit. And the fact that he knew what he would find if it inched up just a hair higher. If he could just brush his hand against your thigh…

Because dammit he wanted your attention. Luckily, the slit was on the leg next to Bradley - not Maverick, which if there ever was a buzzkill to exist, it was Bradley’s pseudo-father figure. 

That’s not to say that the two of you were into gratuitous PDA to begin with - he wasn’t about to finger fuck you at the table. You were a lady and Bradley wasn’t an animal. He was thirty-six, he could control himself. 

Instead, it was typically a kiss on the cheek or the forehead, an arm around each other’s shoulders or waist. It took a lot for both of you to really go at it in public. And Bradley wasn’t exactly going to start at an event with all his colleagues and superior officers. 

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t think about it or say anything to you. Kinda made it a little more fun that way anyway. It drew out the anticipation. 

And Bradley really wanted to draw out the anticipation that night. 

How would he start? You had been adamant that he was not going to have to take off your boob tape, which he couldn’t say he was really broken up over, but that probably meant he wouldn’t be the one to take your dress off. No, he’d wait for you to freshen up, get comfortable, get situated, see if that underwear was a matching set you were going to break out later. 

Maybe you would have a drink together on the patio in your room, snuggle up against each, debrief the evening, or even fawn a bit over Bradley in his uniform (he was only human, alright)? Eventually, you would crawl onto his lap, wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him close. He would become acquainted with whichever frothy piece of negligee was covering your breasts, all while you sighed and sighed, saying: 

Bradley, Bradley, Bradley. Please, please, please. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

He wondered how many he could get out of you? How many times could he make you cum? Until you were a whiny, desperate, cock dumb mess, squirming underneath him? He felt his pants tightening at the thought. He wanted to be in charge tonight - he needed to be in charge tonight, especially since it was the one thing about that evening that he could actually control. He would still give you a choice - or at least the allusion of one - though. It gave him an idea.

“Hey,” Bradley whispered in your ear. You hummed, but didn’t look away from the stage. “Pick a number, one to five?”

At this, you did turn your head to look at him. “What? What does -” 

“- One to five…”

You looked like you were doing some sort of mental math in your head. “Five?”

Fuck him - five. He was going to have to accept this award with one hell of a semi if he didn’t calm himself down. Because he could do five. He got at least two or three out of you normally - five shouldn’t be too much of a stretch. He could do it - you on the other hand…

Bradley just smirked. “Five it is then.”

“Okay…” you muttered and went back to paying attention. But before he knew it, he found his mind drifting again - and this time the results weren’t as pleasant and were definitely a mood killer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Cyclone get up from his spot and sneak off to the side of the stage. Shit, it was coming. Bradley could see the row of three medals, made even more bright and shiny and special, reflecting off the string lights overhead. He was going to have to wear that all night. He was going to have to wear that on his uniform forever. He was going to have to wear that and be reminded of the time he almost died - of the time Maverick almost died - forever. It would always be on his dress uniform, glaring up at him. Faker, faker, faker, fak -

You squeezed his hand, angling his body towards yours. 

“It’ll be over before you know it and then you can come back and dance with me, step on my toes all night if you need to, bubs.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” The words had barely left your lips when Bradley heard the call for him, Maverick, and Hangman to get onstage. 

He didn’t remember any of it. 

Someone, he assumed Cyclone, put the medal on his uniform. There were probably some words of congratulations or encouragement. Maybe even some clapping.

He didn’t remember any of it. 

Except…

When he walked back to his seat, the only person he could focus on was you and your smile that was just for him. That was just for Bradley. Because to you, he was just Bradley. Your Bradley. 

He walked a little faster to get back to his seat, blindly nodding to all his well wishers amidst the applause, but all he wanted to do was be in your arms, give you a hug, spin you around, and have you five ways till Sunday. 

Once he bridged the final gap between you, you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him in for a fierce hug. He squeezed you just as tightly in return, even picking you up off your feet a bit, and the two of you just stood there for a moment. Bradley didn’t care if anyone was staring - let ‘em. Let them see how much he was loved and how much he loved you in return.

“You did it, bubs,” you whispered in his ear as he finally set you down. The pride and joy and love in your face set all his nerves to rest.

He chuckled dryly and glanced around as the crowd settled back into their seats, keen for the rest of the evening’s festivities to start. All the tension in his shoulders was gone, he felt ten pounds lighter. 

“Hope you took some pictures because I don’t remember any of that.” 

“You looked very…dashing,” you eventually decided upon. 

He scoffed. “Dashing?”

“Hey, you’re the one ready to whip out the thesaurus at any given opportunity, not me.” Bradley exaggerated an eye-roll, acting very much like a six year old than a thirty-six year old. “Fine, let’s go with debonair - no? Dapper? Sharp? Handsome? Suave? No, no - I got one.” 

He gave you a probing look and you cupped his cheek before replying. “Beautiful. You looked beautiful, Bradley.”

He broke eye contact, so taken aback and flustered by the sincerity in your words. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. God, he loved you so much. 

So, he said it.

“I love you, too, bubs.” You kissed him on the lips this time. It didn’t last for too long, but it was just what he had needed.

Through the fog of Bradley’s brain, the opening guitar riff from My Girl seemed louder than any of the songs playing earlier in the evening as the first droves of couples made their way onto the dance floor. 

Not one to let a perfect opportunity pass by, let alone one that would keep you in his arms, Bradley held his hand out to you, palm side up, wordlessly asking you to dance. There was just the slightest hesitation on your part, barely a moment for you to teasingly bite your lip in thought, before you clasped his hand with your own. 

And then you were off. 

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

Later that evening, on his way back from having a celebratory cigar with Maverick, Fanboy, and Bob, Bradley easily spotted you on the dancefloor with Phoenix, Rory, and Halo, dancing to Wouldn’t It Be Nice. You looked so happy and carefree dancing with the three of them. Normally, Bradley wouldn’t have deserted you, but Phoenix and Halo promised to take care of you and it gave you and Rory a chance to catch up. 

After dinner, the two of you had danced for the better part of an hour, your dance moves getting sillier and sillier the more champagne you both had. It was fun, dancing to a live band under the cloudless October sky and knowing the hard part of the evening was over. You had originally worried that you would get chilly in your dress later in the evening, but you had to beg Bradley to take a breather after he broke out into an impassioned and impromptu dance routine to Rich Girl. Hopefully, there would be some slower music as the night wore on and you two could just sway back and forth -

“Rooster!” He heard Hangman calling his name. “Bradshaw?”

The blond finally caught up to him. “What’s up?”

If Bradley didn’t know any better, he would say Hangman looked contrite. “Listen, I wanted to say something earlier, but we were always around other people, so I just - I didn’t know you’d be here with your girl - I mean, I didn’t know that your date would be her. Shit, that didn’t come out right.” Jake took a deep breath. “I didn’t know the girl you were bringing tonight was your long term girlfriend and I sure as hell didn’t know it was the same one from that night before Japan.”

“Okay?”

“I mainly brought Whiskey to fuck with you - not your girl. So, if that made things awkward between you guys or anything then I’m sorry. You guys seem good together.”

It might’ve been the champagne, the general atmosphere, or the fact that while accepting their award Bradley was brutally reminded of the fact that Jake saved both his and Maverick’s lives, but Bradley believed him. He believed that Jake hadn’t been that casually cruel. 

Granted, he was still Hangman and wanted to fuck with him. But he hadn’t done it as a slight to you. He hadn’t purposely tried to make you feel less than. 

“And Whiskey and I have been seeing each other for the past couple weeks, but I probably wouldn’t have actually brought her with me tonight were it not for the fact that it would needle you, but yeah - that’s just shitty? So, we square?”

Bradley held his hand out. “Yeah, we’re good, Hangman.” He looked so relieved that Bradley felt compelled to keep the conversation going as long as Whiskey didn’t pop up anytime soon. “So, uhh you guys staying over?”

“Yeah,” Jake paused to take a sip of his drink, “we got one of those cabanas rooms, think Maverick did, too.”

Interesting. He was going to file away that piece of information for later. “You guys check in late or…” 

Jake nodded. “Yeah, Whiskey - Sarah had a thing this morning -”

A blurred figure in ivory cut Jake off as you practically ran into Bradley, looking a little giddy. “It’s your song, Bradley!” 

Sure enough, the starting notes to You Make Me Feel So Young echoed across the dance floor and he bit back a smile. “Then I guess we gotta dance, kid.” 

“Sorry,” you explained to Jake, “I gotta steal him away.”

Jake took it all in stride. “You kids have your fun, I think I’m gonna head out soon anyway. Still on Japan time. Goodnight.”

You and Bradley returned the sentiments and made your way back onto the dancefloor, passing by Penny and Maverick, who shot him a wink. “What was that about?”

“I’ll tell you later.” You raised an eyebrow in question, but took his proffered hand and got into a hold. “I promise, I just want to dance and talk to you - how was hanging out with the squad?”

“It was nice, I haven’t talked to Rory in a couple weeks - ever since I introduced them and Nat - so it was good to catch up. And then Callie walked me through her shoe debacle and - I guess it’s just been nice finally putting faces to all the names I’ve heard over the past couple months.” Bradley hummed. “Admiral Simpson, Mr. Coleman -”

“- Oh, Hondo is going to get a kick out that - Mr. Coleman -”

You ignore him. “- Mickey’s girlfriend Cielo, Commander Davis, Sarah…”

Instinctively, Bradley pulled you closer towards him. “Lots of interesting characters around these parts.”

“She’s pretty…” You didn’t need to clarify who you were talking about - as much as Bradley thought Cielo was pretty, he knew you meant Sarah.

“She’s also annoying - you really didn’t know what she looked like?”

“I’ve never looked up any of your exes,” you admitted, “Didn’t want to compare myself or anything. Plus, I’d probably cyberbully the fuck out of Ezra, piece of shit…”

Bradley felt his cheeks warm up at your protectiveness and pulled back to look you in the eye. “You wanna know a secret? I looked up yours.”

“What? Really?” 

“Mmhhmm.” He brought you back into the proper hold, except this time he laid his hand a little lower on your back. “And as much as it pains me to say this, kid, Jack has a receding hairline and is selling condos up in Torrey Pines.”

You let out something between a chuckle and a gasp. “You’re kidding?” Bradley shook his head, knowing he looked entirely too pleased about this. “He’s only - what, thirty? And he already has a receding hairline?”

“I can show you the picture when we get back to the table if you really want?” You giggled and it lit up your whole face. Bradley didn’t think he’d ever been more in love with you. 

He’d do anything to see you keep smiling like that, anything to let you know how thankful he was for all you’d done that night: for forgiving him for being an ass and not initially inviting you, for letting everyone else fall in love with how capable, smart, witty, and beautiful you were, for offering Bradley a reassuring word or squeeze of his hand when he got too inside his head, and for dancing with him when his colleagues became too much.

Plus, the five orgasms he was going to try and pull out of you later would also put a smile on your face - hopefully a dumb one. Should he tell you now and let the anticipation build? Or wait until later when you were back in the room and he could go into explicit detail of how he would drag each one out of you?

He smiled, feeling just a little cocky. Was it too early to leave? Drag you back to the room, fuck you out, order room service, and watch the end of Saturday Night Live? Couldn’t hurt to ask -

“Have you -”

“Do you think we could - sorry, you go first,” he said. 

You leaned back a little bit in your hold to look him in the eye. “You ever give any thought to what rank you want to retire at?” So much for his plan. Bradley furrowed his brow. “You retire as one more than what you are, right?”

“Yeah…I guess I haven’t thought about it too much? I don’t really know what I’d do instead? I mean, the Navy’s all I’ve ever really known?” You considered this. “But - I don’t know - I’m not really sure I could see myself as - did you know with Mav’s rank he’s technically the commanding officer of an aircraft carrier?”

Your jaw dropped, just a little. “No way? Is that something you’d want to do?”

“Maybe? I don’t know? I can be a Commander in about two years - if all goes well. And then I’d officially have my own squadron.” 

“Might be nice to be a Captain like Mav?” It would be cool to be a Captain. Growing up, all Bradley had wanted to be was like Maverick - everyone always got it twisted thinking he wanted to be like his dad, but his dad had been an RIO, not a pilot - it just made sense that he would want to follow in his footsteps now, too. “Everyone could call you Captain? Like Captain Von Trapp in the Sound of Music?”

He laughed. “We gonna have seven kids, too?”

“Hmmm good point, maybe six then?” 

“Funny.” 

The gave him a long look, like you were trying to figure something. "Who are you tonight, the Numbers King? First all that pick a number stuff and now we're the Von Trapps with our seven kids?"

Bradley smirked. Fuck he couldn't wait for you to find out. "Wouldn't you like to know...."

“I’ll figure it out.”

You both danced in silence for the final part of the song, until it transitioned out into something slower and more sultry. The amount of couples on the dance floor had thinned slightly, with some of the older crowd heading home or to their hotel rooms. 

“Hey, bubs?” Bradley hummed. “I know that having all of this come up again is resurfacing a lot of mixed feelings for you tonight, but I just want you to know that I’m proud of you every night and I love you every night. Not just when everyone else sees how amazing you are.”

He knew he was blushing like crazy. From the tips of his ears down to his neck, he was pink. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. No one had ever bestowed that amount of love and kindness towards Bradley since before his mom had passed away. God, he loved you. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you. His beautiful, kind, and clever girl. With eyes just for you.

“Thank you for making the night easier for me. I really don’t know what I would’ve done without you. Just having you by my side helped more than you’ll probably ever know.”

You dunked your head and tried to hide how flustered he had made you by glancing around the dance floor, watching all the couples around you with mixed interest. This, of course, meant your attention was not on Bradley and that would just not do. But the soft smile on your face quickly fell and you tensed. 

He followed your gaze and found it on Rear Admiral Porter, the asshole from after the Speaker’s visit. That one’s got quite a mouth on her. You retreated into yourself a little and Bradley had half a mind to go over and demand an apology, but he knew you would loathe making a scene. Plus, Porter probably didn’t even remember the incident even though you and Bradley did. 

“Hey, none of that.” He slipped his right hand lower on your bare back and pulled you even closer. You gasped at the sudden movement - and probably at the fact that Bradley’s hand was cupping the top of your ass in a way that was verging on indecent. “Weren't you just saying how proud of me you are? Eyes on me, kid” he teased.

Your eyes met and you seemed to center yourself. A teasing smile crept across your face. “Why? Do you only have eyes for me?” you asked, referencing the song playing. 

In response, he pulled you closer and you dug your fingers into his shoulder. “‘S my gala, want you lookin’ at me…”

“Aww, bubs,” you giggled. “Sorry, it’s just fun watching everyone - well, almost everyone. Maybe I’ll even let Pete take me for a spin again…”

Bradley huffed out a laugh and spun you out and back into him. “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“Oh come on,” you whispered, “you don’t need to pull out all the stops tonight. You already saw your present for later…”

The piano melody from I Only Have Eyes for You faded out and transitioned into It’s Not for Me to Say. You both swayed in time. 

“True - hey, you know,” he said lightly, “I’ve behaved all night - barely touched you in a way that wasn’t befitting my station, but that hasn't stopped my thoughts from being decidedly less chaste…”

“Oh? What do you mean, Lieutenant Commander?”

It was almost too easy. For someone so clever, you always somehow managed to fall right into his trap. Or maybe Bradley had fallen right into yours? You had never called him that before. Lieutenant Commander. He didn’t think it would have as much of an effect on him as it did. You both continued dancing, not missing a step or bringing your voices above a whisper. 

“Wanted to slip my hand up the slit of that dress at dinner, skirt the edge of those panties I saw earlier. Can’t wait to unwrap my present.” He could feel you suck in a breath. “Fuck, I still can’t believe you wore a white dress -”

“- It’s ivory -” you corrected needlessly, but Bradley ignored you. 

“- trying to be all innocent when you and I both know how fucking desperate you are for me to fuck you. Bet I could take you right now - right off the dance floor - and you’d squirt all over my cock. Because you’ve been wet all night, haven’t you, sweetheart?”

You let out a pathetic whimper and rested your head against Bradley’s chest, skirting around all the ribbons and medals. To the outside observer, it would have just looked like you were tired or had gotten caught up in the music. But Bradley knew better. 

“I asked you a question, kid,” he whispered in your ear, “you’ve been wet all night, haven’t you?”

“Yes - I’m sorry, Bradley. I couldn’t help myself.”

He clicked his tongue. God, you were fucking putty in his hands. He loved whenever you got like this. It didn’t happen often, but he knew you liked it as much as he did. How fucking needy and desperate and submissive he could get you with some words - and on a dance floor surrounded by his colleagues, too. You would both be the epitome of grace and class out on the dancefloor, but after the band wrapped up and the bar gave its last call?

Fuck. 

He was going to have so much fun with you back in the room. 

Five times. Five times. Five times. 

And you had no idea. 

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

[next part]

a/n: thanks to everyone for sticking with me and being so supportive while i wrote and revised and wrote and revised - again. i'm definitely my own biggest critic, so special thanks to tiernan, kylie, cass, loren, and alexa for talking me off the ledge a couple times - hope you all enjoyed this part and look forward to the next 😉 (five times!!!)

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

how adventurous is jensen when it comes to food? is there anything that he absolutely won't eat? anything he's tried and was like 'never again'/ 'i need this injected into my veins'

yay ty!!!

jensen becomes a lot more adventurous with food as he and bryce start going out together more. bryce never orders the same thing twice so jensen starts venturing out of his bubble more too. as he got older he didnt really have the option to be picky, but that means he'll just eat literally anything even if he doesnt like it. even if he hates it he'll eat the whole thing bc 1. he paid for it but 2. hes not going to starve

eventually though he finds a happy medium of trying new foods he thinks he'll like and if he doesnt he gets something he does like. its a long process but he gets there eventually

as for foods hes found that he likes/dislikes: he loves crab rangoon. inject that shit into his veins he doesnt fucking care its delicious and hed eat it for every meal. again, he struggles to really find things he dislikes bc "food is food, at least im not dead," but one he fucking HATES is butter. its not exactly a food food (like an individual meal yk) but he fucking hates it so much. like he can tell if its on anything he just,, hates it so much. again not enough to like refuse something if it has butter on it but he will avoid it if possible