#i can't focus or think about anything except dread

[laurelindebear]

I've been very unwell today and my queue is pretty short at the moment, so I might go quiet for a bit. Honestly I might end up in hospital again. I've been struggling for awhile and it's gotten worse, and I'm about past my limit of managing.

Take care of yourselves. xo

[eikichi-supremacy]

hey so do you think wtv keiko had to deal with growing up with yusuke could be considered a type of parentification

[moe-broey]

Does anybody wanna grab me by the hair and smash my head into the wall and smash my head into the wall and smash my head into the wall and smash my head into the walland . I could use a little help hwre.

[gretagerwigsmuse]

rocketman: part iii - Some things Cosmic

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

OR sex, s'mores, and secrets

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 18.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. 

He had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Promise me you won’t be like me.)

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

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

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

Easy access.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, kid.” He kissed your neck. 

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

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

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d you fall asleep on me?”

“You got me drunk!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmmm, but it’s nice and warm here.”

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

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

x x x i x

Thirty-nine. 

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

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

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

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

Bradley had told you about it on your fourth date. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(What’s it like, out in space?

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

But you always go back.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmmm. What about tasks?”

“Oh? Like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More, bubs, please.” 

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

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

“Fucking gorgeous.” 

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

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

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

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

“I would’ve let you.”

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

You were so good. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Want your mouth, please, please…” 

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

Mine. Mine. Mine. 

Good. Good. Good. 

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

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

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

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

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

Pretty girl. 

Smart girl. 

Good girl. 

His girl with a body like Aphrodite. 

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

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

Come on his face. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, yes, anything, Bradley.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna be full.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm harder.”

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

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

Yours and mine are the same. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘s good, bubs, feel so full.”

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

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

Goddamn. 

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

“No, no, not yet,” you whimpered. 

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

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

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

Yours and mine are the same.

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

Mine, mine, mine. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mine, mine, mine.

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

“Mmmm.”

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

And that did it. 

So proud of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get up here - now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will that be all, lieutenant commander?”

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

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

“Now turn around.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.” 

Neither of you lasted much longer after that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You good?”

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

Odd. But then again, Bradley could’ve been reading too much into it. He hadn’t seen you since before Christmas, afterall. You were probably just tired. Yesterday had been a long day. And he had run you pretty ragged this morning. 

The water had warmed up while he was going to the bathroom and was the perfect temperature by the time he finally got under the spray. Just as he was about to call out to you again, he heard you enter the bathroom - and promptly dim the lights. 

“Woah, woah - hey!”

“Sorry!” you called out from behind the shower curtain. “I uhh - I just have a headache, don’t want the lights too bright too early in the morning.”

It was twelve-fifteen. 

Bradley frowned and looked at your shadow moving on the other side of the curtain. You were standing up straight - he would almost call it stiff. It was an odd request, to say the least, but it wasn’t exactly pitch black in the bathroom now, just a little darker, especially from the waist down. 

“Okay, just be careful when you get in - here,” he pulled the curtain back and held his hand out for you to step over the lip of the tub. You startled, but nevertheless took his hand. “There you go.”

The two of you stood face to face for a moment, allowing you both to get your fill of the other. It was definitely darker in the shower now, but Bradley could still make out your ample curves. Streams of water dripped down your chest as you tipped your head under the faucet and it was impossible for him to not watch as the droplets cascaded over your breasts. 

They looked fucking glorious by the way - he was slightly put out that he hadn’t gotten a chance to really play with them in bed earlier - you had only given him a glimpse of them for a few moments - but there was always later. Or now? Now was also good.

“Did these get bigger?” The words were out before he could think twice and he cupped a breast in each hand. Your nipples pebbled as his thumbs passed over them, back and forth, back and forth.  

Your eyes flew up to his face before glancing right back down at your breasts. “What? No, I don’t think - no.”

Bradley leaned back to catch your eye. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. They look great, feel even better, they’re just…”

“Oh! I guess I hadn’t noticed.” You turned your back to him. “Here, do you want to do my hair? Or I can do yours? Why don’t I do yours?”

Before he could even process what was happening, you spun back around and grabbed the shampoo bottle from behind Bradley and squirted some Ouai into your hands. He leaned forward so you could lather his hair up with the suds and appreciated your care in keeping them out of his eyes. For someone normally so dominant and in control, Bradley really did love when you fussed over him. He knew it wasn’t something you were comfortable with in every aspect of your relationship - taking charge like that - but it was nice in settings like this. Once the shampoo had set, he crouched down for you to rinse and then repeat the process with the conditioner.  

“I think we need a bench in here.”

“Yeah?” 

You hummed. “Just a little bump out, enough for someone to sit. You’re getting older, I wouldn’t want you to fall or hurt yourself during any rigorous shower activity.”

“Rigorous shower activity?” Bradley chuckled and nudged you with his shoulder before wetting your hair under the faucet. “You know, if I took all my showers with you, I wouldn’t have to worry about that, kid. Here, turn around, ‘s your turn.”

Gently, Bradley lathered up your hair and made sure to massage your scalp the same way you had done for him. You let out a pleased hum and then he repeated the process with the conditioner, though he might’ve used a bit too much. 

Once you were both back under the spray, you rested your palms on his chest and peered up at him with wide eyes. You looked like you were about to cry and he pulled you closer in comfort.

“I haven’t stayed here at the house too much while you were gone, just a night or two - like that night…with the email,” you confessed, “it didn’t feel right. I kept thinking you’d come home any minute.” Bradley pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “But I’d drop stuff off slowly, a couple boxes a week and whatnot.”

You both stood in the silence of the falling water for a few moments before you spoke again. 

“It just doesn’t feel real - all of this. I keep worrying that you’re gonna disappear again tomorrow. Or that I’m going to wake up or something. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that was just the thing: Bradley didn’t know what he’d do without you either. He had never felt this way before; that there was someone else tied to him, someone else living for him, while he in turn lived for them. 

“Hey,” he tipped your chin up, “you’re not the only one worried about that. But I have you with me now and I’m always gonna do my damndest to come home to you, alright, kid?”

“Alright.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, keeping him close, and pressed a kiss to his chest. “Love you, bubs.”

Bradley instantly tightened his arms around you. “Love you, too.” 

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Before long, your kiss on his chest turned into a kiss on the mouth and your hands roved over each other’s bodies as you shared the loofah and soap. “So broad, so strong,” you said in wonder as you roved your hands over his chest and thighs and chased away the bubbles. 

And then, after multiple passes over your breasts at Bradley’s hands - it was unfair how good your breasts looked all sudsed up - it was time for a final rinse. He hopped out of the shower first and had a towel waiting for you when you got out, before you ultimately changed into your fluffy white robe. 

The two of you completed your morning routines side by side in comfortable silence until Bradley went back to the bedroom to put on some running shorts and a t-shirt. 

“You want breakfast?” He snuck up behind you at the bathroom counter and kissed your cheek. 

You smiled at him in the mirror. “Yes, please.”

“Anything in particular.” He kissed you again. “Pancakes? French toast? Ooooo maybe hash browns and bacon, too? The works?”

You had been giggling while he had been kissing your neck, but you suddenly turned sober as he rattled off your options. “Oh, uhh - maybe some eggs?”

Bradley frowned. “Like scrambled?” 

“Or poached? I’ve been eating a lot of egg whites lately…” With the way you were bundled up in your robe and with your hair still wet from the shower, you looked small - young. Egg whites?

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure, I can do some egg whites for you.” 

Egg whites? Since when did you like egg whites? You had always liked your eggs scrambled and a little runny - with ketchup. Idly, Bradley remembered Max eating egg whites and low carb toast for the entire month of May to get in shape for yacht week in Croatia. He shook the thought away.

“Anything you want, kid.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a soft smile and a kiss on the check. “I’ll be down in a bit, okay?”

And with that smile and a promise, Bradley headed off downstairs to make breakfast. 

Egg whites, really?

-----------

Bradley’s homecoming weekend extravaganza - your words - could only be considered truly complete with a family dinner at Maverick and Penny’s on Sunday evening. Penny wouldn’t hear of you two bringing anything to dinner, so all that was needed to do upon returning from a morning hike in Torrey Pines was shower and change. 

You didn’t have to be there until six thirty, but it was already five forty-five and at least a 20 minute drive, so you were both a little more hurried than you were after yesterday’s shower. In fact, when Bradley got out of the shower, he was surprised to see that you were still in your bathrobe and staring at your half of the closet like it contained all of life’s mysteries. Granted, your hair and makeup were done, but you just stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, absentmindedly biting your thumb nail. 

How long had you been standing there?

“If it makes it any easier,” you startled at Bradley’s voice, “I’m sure Mav will just be wearing a t-shirt and jeans.” Barely looking at the shirt he grabbed to go with his chino shorts, Bradley fell into your line of sight. “You good?”

You relaxed your shoulders. “Yeah, just…not sure what to wear.” 

The two of you stood side by side to take in the full array of clothes in the closet. While not all of your clothes - some bulkier items and more formal dresses were in the guest bedroom - there were still dozens of options in front of the two of you. You took a hesitant step forward and eventually took a pair of boyfriend jeans off a shelf and held them to your chest. Just as you were about to grab a boxy oxford, Bradley snatched up a brightly patterned, tiered, sleeveless dress that would hit at the middle of your thighs. The empty hanger rattled against the rod, but it stopped you in your tracks, the oxford momentarily forgotten. 

“This would look nice.” 

Even to Bradley’s own ears, his voice sounded lame, almost a little desperate. But there was something about you choosing an oxford to wear after staring at your closet for ten minutes that gave him pause. You had such pretty clothes, it would be a shame for you not to wear them. 

“It’s not too much?” Bradley shook his head and held the dress up to your body. “I bought it to bring on our trip, but now I’m not sure…”

“It’s perfect, trust me, you’ll look gorgeous. And you better pack it for Mexico, too, okay?”

“Okay.” You appeared a little flustered, but had lost the sad look in your eyes from moments ago, so Bradley considered it a win. 

With a kiss to the side of your head, he told you to finish getting ready and that he would be downstairs when you were done. 

After getting his wallet and car keys together, Bradley made his way to the mudroom to put on his new sneakers. Though you wouldn’t admit it, you had definitely ordered them for Bradley during one of your many Ted Lasso rewatches while he was away. He reminds me of you sometimes, you would demure when pressed. It was cute. 

With one foot propped up on the bench to tie his shoes, Bradley noticed the row of jackets in front of him. He called your name. “You want a jacket?”

“Yes, please,” your voice carried from upstairs.

So, he grabbed your jean jacket, figuring it would look good with your dress, and got himself his oversized grey Navy crewneck sweatshirt. Maverick and Penny always liked to have drinks and dessert out on the back patio, and though it had been a relatively warm day for March, Bradley knew the breeze off the ocean would make it chilly later. Maybe they’d light the firepit and have s’mores? You loved s’mores even more than Bradley did, if you could believe it. 

Just as he had gotten the jackets and threw his sweatshirt on, you appeared beside him. And just like Bradley had thought, the dress looked perfect on you.

“See? You look gorgeous.” You ducked your head and muttered thanks. “Here.” Bradley held your jean jacket open and helped you slip it on while you put on your sandals. And then you set off for Coronado in the Bronco. 

-----------

After a lovely dinner filled with much chatter and laughter, Amelia and Penny dragged you upstairs to show you her dress for the sophomore semi-formal next week. This left Bradley and Maverick to clean up the dinner plates and get things situated outside on the patio.

It was completely beyond Bradley’s comprehension how to get Penny’s fancy fire pit started, but Maverick had a flame roaring in no time. The two sat across from each other - Maverick on one of the cushioned, wicker swivel chairs with Bradley on the matching loveseat - and sipped their beers in comfortable silence for a few moments. The sun had set about fifteen minutes ago, but the sky was still a kaleidoscope of pinks, purples, and oranges. 

“So, how’re you really doing?” Though the question has been asked at dinner already, Bradley had just given a vague answer. But now that it was just him and Maverick, he felt he could be honest.

“Fine, I guess.” Bradley made a face. “‘s always weird doing some stuff again. We went to the store earlier; always takes me back that first time.”

“It’s the cereal. Too many choices.” 

“Yes, thank you!” Bradley exclaimed, glad he had someone who could relate. Every time he brought it up with Nat or the guys, they just looked at him like he had seven heads. They went from having few choices on the carrier, to endless when on land. “And the chips. Too many options and sizes.” Maverick chuckled. “We went on the way back from Torrey Pines to get more Diet Coke and I wandered off like three times just to stare at the oversized boxes of Lucky Charms.”

Maverick smiled wryly and took a sip of his beer. “You don’t look as tired as you did Friday afternoon, that’s for certain.” Though the way he’d said it had been completely innocent, Bradley still blushed.

“Yeah, it’s been amazing. You should’ve seen her Friday night, she was so excited to make dinner and the house just -” he broke off, “it felt nice coming home to someone like that, I guess.”

Nice? I guess? Bradley sounded like an idiot. It had felt more than nice coming home to you. Coming home this time made him never want to leave again. But the real test would come tomorrow when you went to work. And Bradley would be alone for the first time in three months. Alone in your big, quiet, house. It hadn’t been quiet in three months. There was always something else going on around him. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow, he could do things on his own time and make his own food and pick his own clothes. He could have choices. Luckily, Maverick didn’t seem to notice his sudden unease.

“That was all she talked about last week.” 

It took a concerted effort on Bradley’s part not to be jealous that you’d talked to Maverick so much last week when all Bradley had gotten were emails. Beautiful, heartfelt, smutty emails, but emails nonetheless. Before Friday, Bradley hadn’t heard your voice in weeks.

“She did a really good job. The cake was unreal, I had a piece for breakfast this morning.” That got a chuckle out of them both. “It’s nice to see her comfortable doing something outside of her wheelhouse. She kept sending me pictures from her lessons and even cooked for me on Facetime once.”

Just as Maverick appeared to be gearing up for a follow up, probably about how he’d gotten the leftovers from those cooking lessons, Bradley rushed out: “But we really talked Friday night - about a lot of things. It was good, though.”

“What about?” 

“Kids,” the word slipped out before Bradley could think better of it, “family, that kind of stuff.”

Maverick pondered this and took a sip of his beer. “And you didn’t mind talking about that right when you got back? Seems like a lot.”

“No, it was good.” Not looking at Maverick while he was talking made it easier for Bradley. That way he couldn’t see his pity. He shifted in his seat. “I’d rather we talk about it now anyway, that way it isn’t hanging over our heads on vacation and whatnot.” 

The fact that Bradley thought you were keeping something else from him didn’t need to be brought up yet. He wouldn’t even be able to put it into words, it was just a gut feeling at this point. You just seemed a little off. The egg whites, the boxy oxfords, the chocolate cake.

There was hesitancy in Mav’s voice when he spoke next. “So, you looking to get engaged soon? It’s been what? A year?”

“Almost, yeah. But uhh no, no.” The denial was firm in his voice. “Probably still a year off at least. It’s gonna happen - we both want it to - but there’s no need to rush it. I’m excited for it to be just the two of us for a little while, you know in the house and everything.”

“Good, good,” he sounded pleased, “you two have a good thing going, I wouldn’t want -”

“- We’re not going to have kids until I’m out of the Navy.” Bradley said the words in a rush and he really hoped Maverick would ignore how thick his voice sounded. 

But of course he didn’t. Maverick snapped his eyes over to meet Bradley’s, but he was suddenly focused on a loose thread on the upholstery. Shit. Why had he said that?

“Oh.” It was a long time before either of them spoke again. Bradley finished half his beer. “Is that your idea or hers?”

“It’s both of ours.” Bradley winced realizing how defensive he sounded. “Well, I kind of brought it up first, but she was the one who said we’d wait.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Bradley nodded. “Jesus, Bradley, you’ll be at least forty by the time -”

“- Forty-two.” 

Maverick looked sad and Bradley hated it. Because he knew, without Bradley even having to spell it out why you were going to wait. Because Maverick had been there. Because Maverick had held Bradley’s mom as she cried on too many occasions to count. Because Maverick had taken Bradley to all the father/son events in the place of his own father. Because Bradley realized, as he had gotten older, that Maverick thought it was his fault that Bradley grew up without a father. 

“Listen, we both know that a million things can happen between now and then and maybe the timing will be all wrong, but we want to wait. If it gives either of us the slightest peace of mind, we’re going to try and wait.”

The silence was heavy this time around. 

“Well, I guess it’s good you’re talking about it now - even if I don’t entirely agree with it. You should be enjoying your life together, not waiting around…” Maverick seemed to think better of what he was saying and took a sip of his beer. A beat passed until he spoke again. “Also reminds me of some stuff I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

Maverick waved him off. “It can wait until after your trip. Just some estate planning and whatnot, I know the four of us are in a really good place, so figured it was a good time.”

Estate planning? The four of us? The whole family was involved? Bradley’s curiosity was most definitely piqued. 

“Oh, err yeah, sounds good -”

“It’s nothing bad - promise!” he quickly backpedaled, “More paperwork than anything -”

“What’re you ladies gossiping about?” Amelia breezed onto the patio and messed up Bradley’s hair before she plopped down on the other end of the sofa. Naturally, he in turn had to elbow her in the side. Not hard, mind you, but hard enough for her to kick him back. 

“We were actually just talking about the dance coming up next Friday,” Maverick replied smoothly and Bradley stifled a snort. Since when had he become such a good liar? Regardless, Amelia preened. “I was just about to tell Bradley about your date…”

“What?!” Bradley exclaimed.

Amelia pouted, clearly put off that it had been brought up in front of him. He liked Amelia, he was protective of her, fucking shoot him. “Mav likes him!”

Maverick slightly cowed under Bradley and Amelia’s stares. “He’s nice, they’re on the debate team together.”

“Debate team?!” Alright, now he was putting it on a little bit, but as someone who had also been on the debate team in high school, Bradley knew that those guys were also smart, which generally meant they were way more trouble than the typical jocks.

Clearly misconstruing his comment, Amelia frowned. “Listen, I know you were rocking the middle part and puka shell necklace when you were on the debate team, but it’s cool now…”

“Puka shell necklace?” your voice chimed in from the doorway. “Pete never mentioned that when he was telling me of your high school heroics.”

Bradley’s cheeks colored. “Yeah, well, it was the late 90s and I thought Pacey Witter was cool.”

“The 1990s!” Amelia feigned hysterics and got a chuckle out of you and Maverick. “Next you’re going to be talking about where you were on 9/11 -”

“I was in kindergarten, we couldn’t go outside for recess,” you teased.

You sat yourself between Bradley and Amelia on the sofa and he threw his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer. He knew you’d get cold soon, but didn’t want you to run inside to get your jacket or a sweatshirt just yet - he just wanted you beside him. Plus, there was also the fear that you’d get one of Maverick’s sweatshirts from inside if you forwent your jean jacket and that just wouldn’t do.

Amelia groaned, but still turned her attention back on you. “Okay, but you were definitely Joey Potter, breaking hearts left and right. No debate captains for you.” She stuck her tongue out at Bradley for good measure.

“Ha, I wish. No, I was actually kind of lame in high school, very angsty.” Bradley knew why, but Maverick and the Benjamins were still in the dark.

“Really?” Amelia frowned. 

It was easy to understand her confusion since you were just about the coolest person she knew - her words. Amelia had told Bradley so the first night he’d brought you over for dinner. Can you ask her where she got her sneakers? A couple weeks later, you and Bradley had gotten Amelia the very same sneakers for her birthday. She always blushed when you wore them at the same time.

So, the next words out of your mouth clearly surprised her. “Oh, yeah, I was knee deep in Mazzy Star and Vampire Weekend. The dark preppy vibe, if that’s even a thing?”

“Jesus, I wasn’t even that bad.” Bradley squeezed your shoulder and got a smile out of you with his teasing.

Maverick and Penny were talking off on their own, so you turned your full attention towards Amelia. “I was in a car accident my junior year of high school. Kind of set me back with school and then - well, private school kids are kind of vicious so…” 

“What happened? Sorry - that was -”

“- It’s oka -,” you started to say, then seemed to think better of it. Because nothing about that night had been okay. “I was in a car with someone and we got t-boned. I got pretty banged up, broke my right arm and leg. It seemed like I had a perpetual concussion for the next six months. He just broke his arm,” you finished wryly. 

He. 

He just broke his arm.

Bradley pursed his lips at the mention of Teddy Cavanaugh. Fucking prick. To say you’d gotten pretty banged up was putting it way too mildly. Thinking about it again made him just as upset as it had that night all those months ago on your fourth date when you’d told him the entire story. 

And more recently, Bradley had had the unfortunate experience of meeting Teddy over Thanksgiving when Bradley had played golf with your dad one afternoon up in Berkeley. As a rule, Bradley tried not to hate people on sight - at least not anymore. 

But god, he really fucking hated Teddy Cavanaugh. He wanted to fucking deck him on the first tee at Claremont Country Club. He wanted to slam his nine-iron into the Porsche 911 he was driving. And Bradley was pretty sure your dad did too. 

It was such a cunty move to get the same car.

Plus, what self respecting twenty-nine year old still went by Teddy anyway?

But the truth of what happened that night wasn’t exactly appropriate for a post dinner conversation, nevermind the fact that Amelia was only a year younger than you had been that night. 

The realization made Bradley freeze. 

You had only been a year older than Amelia when it happened. Amelia, who still slept with the stuffed cow her grandparents had gotten her for her sixth birthday. Amelia, who still played with her American Girl Dolls when she didn’t get invited to a friend’s house on Friday nights. Amelia, who still made Bradley a new welcome home banner after every deployment. Amelia, who still huffed whenever Bradley ruffled her hair as a hello. Amelia, who Bradley promised he’d teach how to drive that spring.

You were Amelia. You had been that young, that sweet, that trusting and Teddy Cavanaugh had thrown it all back in your face.

Bradley could feel his chest tighten, even as he ignored the chatter around him. Maverick and Penny had joined in whatever conversation you were now having with Amelia, but all Bradley could do was sit there. 

Without a word, he pulled you closer, so you were bundled up in his arms. It was still proper enough in front of his family, but he needed to have you close. Your legs were plastered together alongside Bradley’s right side and you burrowed yourself under the arm he draped across your shoulders. 

Everything was right as it should be. Bradley was with his family, Bradley was with you, here. Not on a carrier in the middle of the Pacific or the passenger seat of Mr. Cavanaugh’s Porsche. 

Here. And nothing bad was going to happen here.  

Soon, the conversation changed to whichever HBO show Amelia and Maverick were excited to watch later that night, while Penny went inside to get the dessert: s’mores. 

“‘You need any help?”

Penny waved you off. “I’m all set, everything’s already measured out.”

Once she was gone, Bradley pressed a light kiss to your shoulder and you shivered. “‘You getting cold, kid?” You nodded. “‘You want my sweatshirt?” 

“Please?”

“I’ve got one in the mudroom if -” 

“No, it’s fine,” Bradley cut off Maverick, “she can have mine.”

Quickly taking off his own sweatshirt and putting it over your head, Bradley didn’t even have the time to linger on how pathetic he sounded. Who did Maverick think he was, offering to let Bradley’s girlfriend borrow a sweatshirt? Didn’t he realize Bradley was more than capable of taking care of you?

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, now cozy and wrapped up in the still warm sweatshirt and Bradley nearly forgot why he had gotten so huffy in the first place. Nearly. 

“So,” Penny popped back out onto the patio with a heaping tray of marshmallows, a bowl of chocolate squares, and stacks of graham crackers, “who wants s’mores?”

“Me, me!” Amelia called, pushing her way towards the tray and subsequently dishing out the marshmallow sticks. 

Little shit gave Bradley the worst one, even knowing Maverick wouldn’t have any and therefore didn’t need one. As payback, he kept putting his marshmallow wherever Amelia’s was. It meant that he didn’t roast a single good marshmallow, but the glare she kept sending him was too funny to make him stop. 

Eventually, after Bradley had to blow out yet another marshmallow - Oh, shit! Not again! - you took over s’more duties. Just as well, really; yours were the best. You turned marshmallow roasting into an art form - a perfectly golden, gooey art form. While you didn’t eat any with graham crackers, you did have one you roasted over the fire with the chocolate already stuffed in the marshmallow. You smiled at Bradley’s shocked expression and then wordlessly made him three exactly like it.

All the while, you answered Penny’s questions about how your dad and Mary were doing and when they were next coming down to San Diego and if they would want to get dinner with her and Pete, just the four of them? But when you started nodding off against Bradley’s shoulder, he knew it was time for you both to head home. 

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

Mon, March 22, 1:43pm

How was your meeting? 

it was fine, but ran over and i didn’t get to have lunch before my one o’clock ☹️

At least have a snack or something, don’t want you wasting away on me, kid. 

i won’t! what’re you up to?

Stopped by the base for a bit, saw the guys and then went to the gym.

I might get a haircut later. 

you can’t get a haircut without me! i don’t trust you not to get it too short! plus i like it a little longer 

Oh yeah? 

i like when it gets curly at the ends, it’s always really soft too. can you wait till after the trip?  please bradley please?

Fine, but only because you begged me…

i’ll make it up to you later, promise and i did not beg you…

Or you could make it up to me now?

Is the office busy today?

no  it’s pretty quiet

You wore that navy skirt, right?

yeah with my white silk blouse 

What’d you wear underneath it?

bradley! i don’t know, boring underwear? 

You wanna show me? Just to check?

you can see when i get home, i’ll even try and sneak out a little early 

Wanna see now

Show me

fine, just give me a sec. i’ll go to the bathroom 

No

At your desk

Now

bradley!

Sweetheart I’m aching

[image: Mr. 7.5 Gs]

fuck holy shit bubs what were you doing before you texted me?

Jerking off, I’m bored

charming

Wanna be inside you

fuck bradley wish i was home to take care of you god you’re so pretty hold on

Keep thinking about you in your office, acting all proper and then I’d barge in and fuck you on that fancy desk of yours

[image: miss ‘the one day i’m wearing plain underwear’]

God such a good girl for me

Are you wet

mmmm  getting there this is so hot unless i get fired

I’d bend you over

Take you from behind

You’re always tighter that way

[Sent with Siri]

bradley

Need your mouth on me

I’d make you get on your knees and suck me off in front of the window

Fuck your throat

[Sent with Siri] 

bradley you’re not playing fair

No you’re not

Need more pictures of you

[Sent with Siri]

What do you want me to do? [Sent with Siri]

Shove your fingers up your cunt

Knuckle deep

[Sent with Siri]

I’d have to use three to feel like yours [Sent with Siri]

Need a video need to hear you too

[Sent with Siri]

[for bradley’s eyes only.mov]

Fuck you’re fucking gorgeous like that 

Always do just what I ask 

Fuck I need you so bad 

[Sent with Siri]

Need you too fuck [Sent with Siri] i can’t believe you got me to do that at work

When are you coming home? 

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

There was something up with you. The thought kept running through Bradley’s head Tuesday evening while he was on his run.

Bradley would never have described you as skittish, but that’s how you had been acting over the last couple days. You were still affectionate and kind and you. And had told him countless times how much you loved him and how happy you were that he was home. 

So, it had to be a physical thing. You were guarded whenever he touched you - whether you were being sexually intimate or he had just grabbed your waist to cuddle you closer on the couch or in bed. It was always your waist or stomach area, really. That was the hot spot.

At first, Bradley thought he’d been too rough with you that first time back, but he knew you trusted him enough to tell him if that was the case, so that was out. Plus, later that morning when you were riding him, you’d asked him to grab your hips so hard he’d leave behind marks. You liked whenever he marked you - and he liked whenever you marked him. And you weren’t shying away from sex with him, not at all. In fact, you were pretty insatiable.

Then, he’d thought you might have hurt yourself while he had been gone and had a scar or something that you hadn’t wanted him to see? But your skin was free of new blemishes, baring the zit on your cheek you’d been complaining about since Saturday night. 

At one point, Bradley had even contemplated that you might be pregnant. He had been gone for three months, an entire first trimester. But something about the theory didn’t sit right with him. 

First, you would’ve fucking told him on Friday night, especially after you both talked about waiting to have kids and how you were on the same page. Because Bradley wasn’t dying in an F-18 with a family at home. 

Then, there was the fact that you had an IUD and the possibility of getting pregnant on an IUD was even less than on the pill (<1% a year - he’d looked it up). And finally, you’d be showing by now, even if only a little bump. But now that he thought about it, in all the days that he’d been home and all the times you’d had sex, Bradley had only seen you completely naked once. One or both of you were always partially clothed. And he would have noticed - right? Your boobs were definitely bigger, but it wasn’t - that wasn’t it, no, he was sure you weren’t pregnant.

It had to be something about your body, your stomach in particular. Because you were still affectionate, still wanted him, were still relatively yourself, your boobs looked great, and you loved him. So, why did you practically jump out of your skin whenever Bradley’s hand grazed your stomach? 

He would give you until Friday to tell him on your own before he asked. That would be a week from when he’d gotten home, more than enough time. Plus, maybe being on vacation would get you to open up a bit? 

Because this just wasn’t you. You didn’t really keep any secrets from Bradley. He wouldn’t be so naive to say that he knew everything about you, but in general you were honest with him. Was there a hint in one of your emails? Some little detail he had glossed over in his haste to read any scrap of news from you, in your voice? Bradley had read all of them at least three times, some even more, but maybe he had missed something?

The run he’d gone on to clear his head left the problem no more clear than when he’d set off forty-five minutes ago. He ran up the back steps to the mudroom and toed off his sneakers before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. You’d be home soon, he needed to start dinner.

Last night, you’d marinated some steak tips and made some rice pilaf, while Bradley roasted some vegetables. There was plenty of leftover steak for dinner tonight, he just had to decide what to make with it. Taking a peek in the fridge, he took a quick inventory of anything you’d need to finish before leaving Thursday morning. A couple peppers laid in the crisper along with an eggplant, which stumped him as neither of you liked eggplant. He could do steak fajitas with those? There were always fresh tortillas around. Content with his plan, Bradley grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino from the side door and poured himself a glass. 

As he put the bottle back, his eyes landed on the chocolate cake, perfectly ensconced in glass snapware, on the top shelf. How the hell was there still leftover chocolate cake? In addition to what you’d had Friday night, the two of you had had some for breakfast Sunday morning - well, Bradley had had some for breakfast Sunday morning and you’d let him feed you a couple bites. He shut the fridge door with a little more force than necessary and started prepping the peppers and onions. 

You loved chocolate cake. And you’d worked so hard on it. Why the fuck weren’t you eating it? Plus, now that he really thought about it, you’d barely had a s’more at Maverick and Penny’s and instead kept yourself occupied by lovingly making Bradley’s for him. And then there were the egg whites.

It would be a lie to say that none of it had seemed off at the time, but looking at all the incidents together just showed how truly off things were. And then coupled with how off you were with other things like your clothes and stomach - oh. 

No way. No fucking way. That could not be it. 

No, no. You couldn’t be worried about how - 

Just as he was finishing up the peppers to go along with the onions he’d already prepped, Bradley heard the back door open.

“Bubs?” you called out, “I’m home!”

“Hey!” 

“How was your run?”

Bradley quickly washed his hands and went over to meet you in the mudroom. And there you were, looking polished and professional in a black tweed, sleeveless dress that he hadn’t gotten a glimpse at before you’d left for work that morning, thanks to the blazer you’d thrown over it. The bodice of the dress was decorated with what he hoped were functional gold buttons that were just begging to be ripped open. And to top it off, you were wearing semi sheer black tights and those black slingbacks he liked so much. 

Actually, you were leaning against the wall trying to unbuckle those slingbacks he liked so much. But all Bradley could focus on as you asked him about his afternoon was the curve of your hip and the fact that your breasts looked unreal in that dress.

His pretty girlfriend. His pretty girlfriend who looked so smart and absolutely fuckable right now. His. His. His. His -

You stopped trying to take off your shoes and shot him a questioning look as you approached. “Bradley?”

“Sorry, I uhh - yeah, it was fine. Saw the Thompsons finished their patio - is that a new dress?” His fingers idly brushed against the fabric and you froze. 

“Oh, uh, no. I’ve had it for a while. Since the move, I’ve been going through my clothes trying to see what I actually wear and - I know it’s a little small now, it keeps riding up my hips a bit, but I still think it looks nice on top…” You ventured out of the mudroom. “Does it look bad?”

No, it very much did not look bad on you. It was definitely tighter than anything you normally wore to work, but it looked good. And weary from the work day with your hair a little mussed and the dress a bit askew from when you tried to take off your shoes, you looked absolutely divine and Bradley had to have you immediately. 

“No! I’m just,” he goaded you further into the kitchen, “surprised you wore it to work - in a good way!” 

The shy look on your face gradually slipped away and you crowded into Bradley’s space. “In a good way, huh?”

His hands found their way to your waist and he waited for a reaction from you. Getting nothing but a smile, his thumbs rubbed circles along your hips and he brought you chest to chest. 

“I gotta ask, though?” You hummed. “Do these really work?” He dragged his fingers up and down the front of your dress, spending the slightest bit more time along the square neckline and your breasts.

“And what if they did?”

Bradley groaned your name and rested his forehead against yours. “Then I’d have to unbutton every last one of them right now.”

You kissed his neck, paying no mind to the stubble he had been growing since Friday night. If you’d asked, he would shave it in a second, but you loved the roughness against your neck and inner thighs. As your lips kept up their targeted attack on his neck and jawline, your right hand slid between your bodies to palm his cock through his athletic shorts. 

“But if you did that, then you’d have to take me right here…”

Barely a beat passed before Bradley grabbed your hips and plopped you down on the kitchen table. It shook under your weight. Your chest was heaving at the sudden action, in turn drawing his attention to your breasts and those tempting buttons. They reminded him of the ones on his old Naval dress coat from Oceana. 

“Lemme help you out there.” 

His nimble fingers made quick work of the four brass buttons that revealed your black lace bra. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell you were pleased he didn’t tear off any of the buttons. Knowing you, his spoiled, prissy girlfriend, the dress was probably expensive. Good.

Next, Bradley pushed the wide straps over your shoulders, leaving your black lace bra as his final impediment. “So pretty,” he muttered into your chest. Your head tipped back and you pulled him closer, deeper.

“You didn’t send me any texts today,” you barely got the words out as Bradley made quick work popping one of your breasts, then the other, out of your bra. It was technically a lie; he had texted you, but it had been a do you know where my Theragun is text, not a show me your pussy right now text. “I even wore pretty underwear for you.”

Bradley tutted against your left breast. “Guess I have to make it up to you now.” 

His mouth latched onto your nipple and he needled the little nub with his tongue. You carded your fingers through his hair and gave the ends the slightest little tug. 

“Thought about you all day, bubs,” you whispered the words against Bradley’s ear before nipping at the lobe. 

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

Today was the first time since he’d gotten home that you hadn’t fucked in the morning. You had had to hustle out of the house for an early meeting and even Bradley had an eight-thirty physical at the Naval Medical Center. There had barely been time for a heated makeout against the refrigerator - to say nothing of a good fuck - before you’d left with your lip gloss slightly mussed.

“Would’ve come home sooner if I knew you were wearing these fucking shorts.” You slipped your hand under the waistband of his compression shorts that were borderline painful at this point and grabbed his cock with an expert touch. 

“Fuck…” Bradley allowed your touches to go on for a few more moments before he pulled back, knowing he’d spend in your hand if you kept this up. “Hold on.” You pulled your hand back and he yanked his t-shirt off over his head and threw it on the breakfast bench. Your hands crept across his chest before they eventually rested on his shoulders. 

But now it was Bradley’s turn to touch you. Your tights felt particularly soft beneath his hands as he inched higher and higher up your thighs. He loved when you wore stuff like this, so prim and proper. Especially when you got all squirmy beneath him. Cheeky little thing. The heat was pouring off you where Bradley was touching you between your thighs, even though your underwear and tights. Your arms wound around his neck to pull him closer and press your lips to his in a bruising kiss. God, he could kiss you for hours; he never tired of it.

“Bradley…” you sighed through his ministrations. “More, bubs.” 

He smiled, of course, anything for you. Anything to be inside you. But first, he had to ask: “These the thick ones?” You froze under him. “The tights? The thick tights? Like from Thanksgiving?” 

They had a more formal name, but he was focused on other things at the moment, namely if he could rip a hole in them to get to you faster. Over Thanksgiving, he’d found out the hard way that your tights were often rip resistant. Which really put a damper on a portion of your wine cellar escapades. 

“Oh?” The furrow between your eyebrows disappeared. “Oh! The tights! No, no, they’re cheap ones from J Crew or something.”

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

He had to have you.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bradley tugged at the seam of your tights and ripped a hole in them large enough for his hands - and his dick - to poke through. You sighed when he broke through the nylon and slid your panties to the side to circle your clit with his thumb.

“So good,” he muttered reverently. 

God, what a pretty picture you made. Dress rucked up around your stomach, chest bare, and pretty pussy on display just for him. 

“More, please, Bradley.” You whimpered while he teased you with one finger, then two. “Anything. Need it - you.”

“You get stressed out at work today?” You nodded and then burrowed your head against his neck, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. “Poor thing, da - I’ll take care of you, yeah. Make you forget.” 

Bradley thrusted his fingers deeper inside you, crooking them just slightly so you’d buck up against him. You bit his neck when he tweaked his fingers just right. There you go, just a little more and you’d be ready for him. God, he was aching. He couldn’t fathom teasing you anymore. He needed you, now. 

“Just need to slip inside you, sweetheart. You made it so perfect for me.” Wet. Hot. Tight. Perfect. His. “There we go, just like that, good girl.” Bradley took a moment to line his cock up and slid inside you in one motion. “Fuck,” he punctuated the word with your name, “good?”

“Yes, yes.” 

You got into a steady rhythm that kept increasing. The table creaked under your combined weight and had anything been on it, it surely would’ve toppled over by now. 

You tightened around his cock and met his hips thrust for thrust. A wave of heat swept over Bradley’s body and he could feel you slipping deeper into a lustful haze. Knowing he was also close and would be near useless in moments, he hiked your left leg higher up on his hip so your heel was digging into the back of his thigh, anchoring you to him. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” Bradley said mindlessly. 

Your faces were so close, you were breathing each other’s air, stealing the word’s off the other’s lips. Yours and mine are the same. You cried out suddenly and snapped your eyes up to meet Bradley’s brown ones. God, you were beautiful. You both were beautiful. This was beautiful. Being together like this was beautiful. It was wet and loud and messy, but it was beautiful. 

Everything about it.

“‘m so close,” he finished with your name on his lips like a plea. “Wanna wait for you.”

“Don’t, ‘ll be right there.”

His thrusts eventually got sloppier and slower, but he could still feel you clenching around him as he spent himself inside you. 

“Fuck,” he panted your name. “That’s it, that’s it.”

“‘s full, bubs.” Your nails dug into his shoulder, centering him so he could turn the focus back on you.

All he needed was a few more shallow thrusts and a punch of your clit to get you there alongside him. You came with a cry, utterly spent, but sated. 

Your legs relaxed their hold against his thighs, but you didn’t totally release him. Meanwhile, he pressed kisses across your cheeks and lips, before finding himself notched along your neck. 

“There you go, good girl. Did such a good job, huh. So beautiful.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a few moments, all Bradley could hear was your breaths panting against his cheek, while your index finger moved lazily across his shoulder blade. But then you started shaking. 

And at first he thought it was from being overstimulated until he realized you were shaking from silent giggles. Bradley picked his head up from where it was buried in your neck and leveled you with a look that had you properly bursting into laughter. He wanted to make some smart comment, something cheeky, but the gorgeous smile on your face had him losing his feigned stoicism and he started laughing right alongside you. 

“So,” you said after your laughter subsided, “what’s for dinner, bubs?”

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

The following morning, Bradley poked his head into the dining room where you’d made up your office for the day. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why you weren’t using the office upstairs, but he held back. He liked that you were downstairs, he liked that you were close to him. 

Of course he’d seen you work from home before. But there was something about seeing you holding meetings and taking calls for the first time in your home that made him smile. 

And though you were taking a half day to prepare for leaving tomorrow, Bradley knew you’d be checking your email and Slack for the rest of the afternoon before officially logging off for the next 10 days. 

10 days in Punta Mita - just the two of you, no distractions, no emails, no training runs, nothing but the sun, sea, sustenance, sleep, and sex. 

Just you and me, kid.

Bradley inched further into the room and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m gonna go for a run, but should be back for lunch.”

You took out your Airpods before responding. “Sounds good, how much are you thinking?”

“Probably a quick 10k?” It had been ages since Bradley had run his usual route through Balboa Park, so these last few days had been a treat.

“‘A quick 10k,’ he says. I should be done by the time you get back?” He nodded. “We can have lunch and then I’ll head out on my errands.”

Errands? “Oh? I didn’t know you were going out?”

You sat up straighter and fully focused on him. “Yeah, I have to get my nails done and then have to pick up a couple things - like your special sunscreen...”

“Can I come?” he asked, completely ignoring the sunscreen comment. It wasn’t special per se, it was just high SPF since he burned easily. 

“Really?” You sounded surprised. “It’ll be pretty boring.”

“No, I wanna come with you.” I wanna spend time with you. 

A bashful smile appeared on your face. “Okay, I’m trying a new salon.”

“Ditching your old stomping grounds?” Bradley asked, referencing your old neighborhood near Gaslamp. 

You nodded your head. “Figured I’d try someplace around here, but the only one that looks promising is way up on 30th?”

“I think we can make due with that,” he pecked your cheek, “alright, I’ll see you in a bit, kid. Don’t work too hard.”

“Har, har, see you soon.”

Bradley shot you a wink and set off. Who knew, maybe he’d set a new PR in his haste to get back home to you?

And sure enough, after his quick 10k through Balboa Park and the surrounding neighborhood, Bradley bounded up the back steps and quickly disposed of his sneakers and his sweat stained grey t-shirt on the mudroom floor. It had been stupid to even wear one in the first place, he’d had to tuck it into his waistband before he hit the first half mile. 

“New personal record!” 

Your face lit up with a smile as Bradley came into the dining room. “See, now, how do I know you just didn’t milk a 3 mile run or something?”

He rolled his eyes and gestured down at his torso, which was gleaming with sweat, even in the soft mid-day lighting currently cloaking the dining room, and showed you his running app for good measure. “Does this look like I milked it?”

“Come ‘ere.” You held your arms out.

“I’m all sweaty, kid…”

“Nope, don’t care, please?”

Hey, if you weren’t going to complain that Bradley was too sweaty or smelled, then he wasn’t about to put you off. He wrapped his arms around you over the back of the chair and put his chin on the top of your head.

“You know, if you like the scent of someone’s sweat that means you’re soulmates…” 

“Is that right?” You sounded amused.

Bradley burrowed his face in your neck, forcing a giggle out of you even before he pressed butterfly kisses everywhere. “Mmmhhmm, yup. You always smell perfect.” 

“That’s just my perfume!” 

“Nope, just you kid.” 

Bradley could feel you relax and let out a sigh. The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, content to just be with each other, until your Mac dinged with an Outlook notification. You stretched your arms out in front of you to reply to the email, but Bradley didn’t let you go. As he watched you type out a response to your coworker about if ESG investments were just virtue signaling or not, his eyes caught a glint of gold on your wrist.

“You really wear that bracelet everyday, huh?”

You turned your head to look up at him and he was pleased to note you looked incredibly flustered. “Of course I do. You got it for me.”

The matter of fact way you responded had him blushing. “Guess I’ll have to get you the necklace for your birthday…”

“You better not!” He just kissed your cheek. “Bradley, I’m serious! That’s too much - especially for just a birthday.”

“Then I’ll get it for you for our anniversary.”

“Bubs…” You were pouting now and it only made him want to get you the necklace more. “It’s too expensive for something like that; I looked it up online.”

“You’re no fun.” 

And so he would continue to be denied the pleasure of seeing you in the matching jewelry - at least until he wore you down. You did have a point, though - the necklace was almost twice as much as the bracelet. But then again, you bought Bradley little (and not so little) things all the time?

Idly, he recalled the jibe he had ignored from Hangman the other day regarding his leave: not all of us have rich girlfriends to take us on two week vacations. Bradley’s reply that it was only for ten days, not two weeks hadn’t exactly done him any favors. 

But it was a points game! It was practically free. (He knew it wasn’t, but…) And you were going dutch for all the incidentals and room charges. It was going to be perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. 

Ten glorious days of no work, no distractions, just the two of you. 

You turned around in your chair so you were properly facing him. “Do you want to get lunch out? Make an afternoon of it? We don’t really have much in the fridge, so it’s either lunch or dinner out and I know you still have to pack.”

A smile crept across his face and he kissed your nose. “I’d love to go to lunch with you. You sure you won’t get sick of me? All this one on one time?”

You just shook your head. “Nope, not that easily. Well, unless you sit next to me at the salon, I’m not very chatty while I’m getting a pedicure.”

“Woah, woah.” Bradley held his hands up and you grabbed one to examine it. “Since when am I getting my nails done?”

“You’re getting a pedicure at the very least. I don’t want to have to look at your weird feet on the beach all week.” 

“Oh-ho, now you’ve done it.” 

He bundled you up in his arms and started tickling your sides. That was your sweet spot. And hopefully if he was tickling you, you’d forget to be jumpy when he touched you there. He hadn’t forgotten about that.

“Bradley! Bradley,” you giggled. “Okay, okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. No pedicure.”

But Bradley did end up getting a pedicure, even if it only entailed getting his feet buffed. If pressed, he would say it was because he wanted to sit in the massage chair and the nail tech told him he could only sit in the chair if he was getting his nails done. That was the only reason why. It wasn’t because of how pretty you looked while you were smiling at him out of the corner of his eye, like you couldn’t believe he was really there.  

Absolutely not.

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

“Do you need any help packing?” 

Bradley nodded, he hoped he didn’t look too sheepish. At thirty-six years old, he absolutely could pack his own clothes, but he liked when you fussed over him and made sure your clothing was complementary to each other. It was sweet. Plus, you always packed stuff he hadn’t thought to bring or wear together.

The two of you were a well oiled machine. Bradley would roll his underwear, pajamas, and gym clothes into his packing cubes while you helped pick out his bathing suits and later his dinner and day clothes. To his great surprise, you managed to fit all his clothes - for ten days, mind you - into his Samsonite carryon. His toiletries and extra pair of shoes and other incidentals would go in his backpack.

Once his suitcase was zipped up and ready to go, Bradley nodded towards your Rimowa stashed by the bedroom door. “‘You need any help? You don’t normally check?”

You normally lived by the carry-on rule, so it seemed out of character for you to check a full-size bag. Which, of course, wasn’t the first thing that seemed out of character for you since Bradley had gotten home. But he promised himself he’d wait until you came to him with your problem. Or till Friday.

“Oh, uhh, yeah, I guess I just have more stuff this time.” You shook your head. “I packed earlier while you were taking a nap, but thanks.”

He clicked his tongue. “Guess it’ll be a surprise then.”

“Hmmm, I’ll let you see my shoes?”

Bradley sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his elbows. “You’d do that? For me?”

You giggled and then mimicked his pose on the bed, except you made sure to snuggle up next to him, all earlier awkwardness gone. “I’d do anything for you actually.”

“Sap.” He kissed you. 

“Nerd.” You kissed him. 

“See, now you’re killing the vibe,” he teased. You giggled and kissed his shoulder through his t-shirt. “You ready for tomorrow?” You nodded. “You’re not gonna get sick of me, right?”

You shook your head. “Never, even if you are a nerd who gets pedicures -”

“- I was coerced! The massage chair!” You giggled. “Alright, alright, walk me through tomorrow.”

At this point, Bradley was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, while you were tucked under his arm, peering up at him. 

“We should leave by six if our flight’s at eight forty-five, especially if we want to go to the lounge beforehand. It’s spring break-ish and I’m not sure if it’ll be crazy in the terminal, so the lounge might be a good idea.”

“Got it, United lounge for breakfast, good.” 

“Flight’s like three hours.”

“Mmmmm, perfect for a nap.”

You chuckled. “I think we get in around one o’clock with the time difference and everything. The hotel’s sending a car and then it’s like an hour drive to Punta Mita.”

“So, if we play our cards right, we could be on the beach by three-o-one?”

“Oh, for sure,” you feigned seriousness, “If anyone can, it’s the two of us.”

And ain’t that the truth? Bradley held his hand up for a high five, which you heartily returned. “Nice job, kid. It’s gonna be great.”

Ten days. You and Bradley at some tony resort in Mexico. No cares, no worries for ten whole days. Fucking perfect. 

Everything was going to be perfect.

-----------

If at all possible, in the three months that he had been gone, Bradley had gotten even more handsome. 

Sure, you’d seen a grainy image of him every two or so weeks over Facetime and had noticed him mentioning going to the gym a lot on the carrier. You’d known he was going to look different. His hair was going to be longer and blonder and his skin darker. He was still your Bradley and you loved him all the same. 

But seeing him on the 16 inch screen of your Macbook compared to all six foot one inches of Bradley Bradshaw in person was an eye opener. 

Because you hadn’t been prepared for how it made you feel in comparison. Because he was so strong and fit and beautiful - and you didn’t think you were any of those things. Not anymore at least. Not after what happened.

Not after how often you’d been skipping pilates to spend some extra time in the office or all the meals you’d eaten on the go or out with clients. You should have taken your mother’s words to heart at lunch two weeks ago when she had told you to watch your figure, boys like Bradley are used to certain standards. 

That afternoon when you’d gotten back to your apartment, you’d gone straight to your walk-in closet and scrutinized every inch of your body in the full length mirror. 

Certain standards.

Why did you let her get in your head? Why did you let any of it get in your head? It wasn’t true, it wasn’t true. None of it was true. 

Certain standards. 

And then, when you finally picked Bradley up on that cloudy, late March day, you wore an oxford of his and a pair of baggy jeans. You still looked cute, you still looked like you put in an effort, but you didn’t look as dolled up as some of the other wives and girlfriends and partners and maybe you should have? Maybe you should have worn a cute little sundress and forgotten your underwear or some other ridiculous thing? Let him fuck you in the back of the car right in the middle of the parking lot? 

That wasn’t you, though. That wasn’t either of you.

But Bradley loved you. He had told you in about 159 different ways (re. emails) while he was gone. He loved you, he wanted you, he was going to live with you, build a life with you. You knew he loved you no matter what you looked like. 

Certain standards.

But when he fucked you softly and slowly that first morning back - only after originally falling asleep on you, which you tried not to be too upset about - and you told him how much you loved him and missed him, you did so with the lights completely off and with your chemise on before snuggling in his arms. 

It was stupid. The entire thing was stupid. You knew that. And you knew you’d feel this way until you confronted Bradley and he ultimately proved you wrong. But doing that wouldn’t fully stop those feelings from brewing inside you either. 

And yeah, for the first few days you’d been too caught up in the ecstasy of him finally being home - in the home that you two finally shared - to really give it much thought. But tomorrow you were going on a ten day long beach vacation to Mexico and you couldn’t help but toss and turn all night wondering if you were up to certain standards. 

-----------

a/n: oops! this was super long, sorry! but there's such an interesting story here and i'm so excited to show how it'll unfold in the next chapter when they're in mexico!

tagging a couple people: @sometimesanalice @withahappyrefrain @cherrycola27 @notroosterbradshaw @gigisimsonmars @pisupsala @dissonannce @laracrofted @heartsofminds @briseisgone

[veltana]

Buy my heart - 1

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~1,2k

✦ Rating for this part: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Alpha!Bucky, Omega!Reader, slow burn, eventual smut, omega auction.

✦ Summary: Bucky buys you

✦ Note: Due note that this is a drabble series, the parts will be short but I still hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to come back and read Lloyd's series, set in the same verse! 😉 Bucky's scent is based of my favorite perfume of all time ÆTHER XTRÆM 🤤Reblogs, comments and asks are much appreciated!

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

Everything is numb. As you stand on the podium in front of the faceless crowd with the lights in your eyes, you don't feel a thing, except the uncomfortable sensation of scent blocker on your skin. As soon as you pulled the thin dress on for the auction you decided that the only way you would survive this is if you just turn every emotion off.

Paddles go up. Paddles go down. The man beside you rambles fast but you don't listen. It's not irrelevant how much you sell for, since your family needs it to pay off their debt, but you can't take it in.

Instead, you focus on your breathing. The mask-covered mass in front of you is grass on a meadow on a windy day. Breathe in. They sway towards you. Breathe out. They sway away.

You don't want to look at who raises their paddle the most, and even if you did, you wouldn't be able to identify them since everyone's face is concealed by the same black mask. But you'd find yourself scrutinizing their hands and build, trying to guess if they're old or young. Honestly, you dread both: a young pup with an overly cocky attitude who knows nothing about caring for an omega, or an old lone wolf who is too frail to do anything himself and would require constant care.

The sharp crack of the club startles you from your self-induced meditation. That's when you finally hear the sum you've been sold for and some of the tension in your shoulders drains away. It's enough. Your family will be fine.

An attendant leads you away through dark corridors before leaving you in another changing room. They've brought your old clothes but you don't touch them. They smell like home. Like your family. And you can't go into this new life with it, you have to leave it behind.

If the attendant is confused about you still wearing the sheer dress they provided when they come and collect you, they don't let it show before walking you out.

The air is cold against your skin but there is a car idling just outside. Well, it's a limo. The driver opens the door and gestures for you to climb inside. Guess this is your ride. Time to meet your alpha.

Pressing down every feeling of panic and dread you walk on bare feet the short distance. The door shutting just behind you makes you jump. A moment later, the car starts moving.

The first thing you notice is that it's dim in the back of the limousine since the tinted windows don't let the streetlights in. The only illumination comes from small spots in the ceiling.

The second thing you notice is him. He's at the other end of the seat. Maskless with a glass of something in his hand that he swirls before taking a sip, staring at you over the rim. He's tall, broad-shouldered, short hair that looks soft with a neatly trimmed beard framing his face.

Then the smell hits you. It's easy to filter out the artificial notes of his cologne from what is his pure natural smell. It's a woody musky scent with a light tone of florals buried beneath that is not sharp or strong. It just fills your lungs with a warm, sensual feeling. For the first time in your life, you think you understand what other omegas rave about when they say that the smell of alpha is unlike anything else. The omega in you wants to slide up to him and rub yourself all over him, but you resist.

“Hello, little darling,” his rich voice fills the compartment. “Hello, sir,” you respond and is pleased when your voice doesn't waiver. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I prefer if you call me Bucky.” “Bucky,” you try, and nod, although it feels odd on your tongue. You've never addressed an alpha by a nickname before.

He doesn't ask for your name and you don't offer it, the less personal this is for you, the better. Bucky might have bought your body but your mind is still your own and he can never take it away from you. If he never calls you by your name, the better.

“Why do you still have that dress on?” he asks. You pluck at the fabric. “I couldn't take my old clothes with me.” “And no shoes?” “No, sir. I mean, Bucky.”

He picks up his phone. You hear the dial tone and then a woman's voice answers at the other end. “We need clothes, all types, but for tonight just get some underwear and something to sleep in. Then he directs his attention to you. “What size are you?” After hesitating a second, you tell him and he passes the information along before he hangs up.

The car slows and sounds as if it's driving on gravel. Bucky finishes his drink and studies you. There is a tick in his jaw as if he's irritated. Without a word, he starts taking off his suit jacket.

The blood in your veins turns cold and you press yourself back against the door. You don't want him to touch you. The dress might be sheer but the thought of being naked with him in the back of the limo is not appealing in the least.

But his actions surprise you. He holds out the jacket for you. “Wear this. My men are loyal but I don't need them to ogle you and get distracted.” There is no hiding the way your fingers tremble as you take it from him. After putting it on you realize that in a way, he's marked you with his scent now, but without touching you. It shouldn't make you pleased, but it does.

When the car comes to a stop you reach for the handle but with something very close to a growl he instructs, “Wait there,” before stepping out. You pull your hand back quickly and place it in your lap. Moments later the door opens. “Since you don't have any shoes, I'll carry you,” he explains, reaching for you, but you shuffle away. “I'll be fine, I promise, you don't need to do that.” His jaw ticks again. “No, you will hurt your feet, darling. Come here, now.” You hesitate still, but you're not prepared to find out what the next tell of irritation might be, or if the twitch in his jaw is the only warning you're going to get.

You move closer to him and hardly have time to process what happens before you're in his arms. He carries you near his body with your face pressed against his fine dress shirt. It's dark outside but the mansion he carries you towards is well lit. There is no doubt James Buchanan Barnes is a very rich man.

After stepping inside he still doesn't put you down. You want to object but decide against it as he carries you up a flight of stairs and into a room, where he puts you down on a soft carpet, then steps back.

“Clothes should be here in about twenty minutes. When was the last time you ate?” “Uhm, this morning?” “Allergies?” “No, but I really don’t like tomatoes.” “I'll inform the chef,” he nods, before continuing, “This is your room. Mine is across the hall. For tonight, stay here, I'll have food brought up. Tomorrow I’ll give you a tour and we'll talk about what is expected of you going forward.” You nod. “I suggest you take a nice long bath, before eating and going to bed.” “Yes, Bucky.” Your obedience seems to please him because the lines between his eyebrows disappear. “Have a good night, little darling.” And then he leaves.

next

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Coworker (Part6)

Tw: a little sickness, Cyprus patting you on the butt non consensually super short chapter, tw afab reader

like idk guys its so hard for me to brainrot for Cyprus i don't like him and i rarely get asks that would leave long analyses and theories for Yves, so he's not a fun guy to work with

but anyways here u go a more softer side (i guess)

masterlists, part 1, part 7

He grinned. "I knew you'd come around."

Cyprus straightened his posture. He kept your ID away and left the scene.

The day went by smoothly after that.

__

Two minutes before lunch, you made a beeline to the toilets. You locked yourself in a stall and planned to stay there until that dreadful hour is up. Cyprus obviously can't enter the women's restroom, he would risk his job.

Actually, you hope he did. HR has grounds to fire him, or at least reprimand that man.

Half an hour in, you received a text from Cyprus.

"Wtf is taking you so long"

"you ok?"

You replied, deciding to use a fake stomachache as an excuse.

You thought he gave up and left you alone for now. You nervously kept glancing at the clock in your phone, it ticks by slowly as you worry about what he would do.

As you breathe slowly and jump every time someone opens the door to use the bathroom, you fidgeted with the hem of your blouse nervously. Time ticks by and before you know it, lunch is over for you.

You let out a sigh of relief. Finally, one hour without that fucking creep. You exit your bathroom stall, wash your hands, dry them, and get out of the toilet.

You only had one foot out of the women's restroom before that deep vibrating voice of his reached your ears and made you jolt.

"You okay, babygirl?"

You whisked your head to the side to see him leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed and a look of genuine concern on his handsome face.

You stammered, yes. You would like to get back to work now.

He didn't stop you from scurrying away to your seat. Not like he could do anything now, his lunch is over too. So he has to get back to work or he faces the risk of getting called to HR.

You immersed yourself in work, tapping away and tuning out all surrounding noises. To you, minutes or hours felt the same. You don't know how long you've been working since you got out of the restroom, but you're sure it's been a while. The gears in your head are churning non-stop to try and figure out a plan to get away from Cyprus. Or get him fired so you can work in peace.

"Princess."

You craned your neck up only to be kissed on the forehead. Cyprus set something down on your desk. You turned your focus to the object he placed in front of you.

"For your stomach." It's a steaming hot cup of green tea. He must have prepared it earlier in the kitchen. You picked it up and muttered a thanks to him.

"I don't think you ate anything today. Here." He opened a packet of bland crackers, which you recognized was from the vending machine. Cyprus placed it near you.

You said you appreciate it, but he needs to get back to work before Jane yells at him. He scoffed at the mention of her name.

"She can't do crap to us. If she's giving you a hard time, tell me." He ruffled your hair as he walked back to his cubicle.

__

You're now genuinely feeling sick in the stomach as Cyprus carries your suitcase for you to his car. Your coworkers said bye to the two of you as they got into their respective vehicles too, but you knew behind those friendly grins was the intent to gossip.

You went to the passenger's side, not realizing that Cyprus was noticing how you were looking a little green in the face.

You buckled your belt up and so did he after shutting the door and igniting the engine.

You flinched when he brought a hand to your face, but he did or said nothing except to touch your cheek with the back of his palm. It then slid down to your neck, and back up to your forehead. You were too tired and frazzled to ask him what he was doing. All you did was to stay still.

He let out a sigh before retracting his digits and placing them firmly on the steering wheel.

Cyprus drove in silence, periodically looking at the rearview and side mirror to check the position of his car relative to the road. You're surprised that he wasn't in a chatty mood today, not interested in teasing you or extracting new information about yourself. He seemed grumpy, but you don't know why, was it because you didn't join him for lunch earlier?

You decided to seal your lips in the end though, savoring this rare instance of silence, and decided to scroll through your phone instead, feeding your brain with social media junk food until it's too sick to take anymore.

Cyprus would spare some quick glances at you periodically, there was a disapproving look on his face when he realized that you have no interest in looking out of the window at all. Just on your phone screen.

He actually... pities you. He thinks you're trapped, you've been in this routine for so long because you were spineless enough to let Jane work you to the bones. The only thing that's remotely fun for you to do, that's within your time and financial budget is to surf the net. Now, you have Cyprus to keep your boss in check, you have him to pay for your exciting adventures together, and to manage your time for you, yet you're still falling into the same rut.

It takes time, as habits are hard to break. Especially bad ones such as your obsessive scrolling and his smoking. It's fine, he is willing to work with you. Cyprus thinks overcoming obstacles like these will strengthen the bond between you and him as a romantic couple.

"We're here." You were snapped out of your trance by his voice. Cyprus killed the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. You did so too and left the car, but this doesn't seem like his house. No, not at all, he brought you to a block with various businesses still operating past office hours.

You asked where he had brought you to. Cyprus ignored you and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you with him into a shop. The smell of antiseptic stung your nose upon entry and the blindingly bright lights gave away that he brought you to a clinic.

You told him that you're fine. But that made him hush you before talking to the receptionist on your behalf.

Once he's done registering for you, he turns around to look at you.

"Sit, we're gonna need to wait for a while." He leads you to the waiting chairs by the small of your back.

You said that you were fine, it was just a small stomach ache. He rolled his eyes at you and grunted, he crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair. Cyprus loosened his necktie earlier and unbuttoned the collars, giving everyone a glimpse of his sculpted chest.

Seeing that nothing was getting to him, you pulled out your phone. You failed to notice how he side-eyed you for doing so.

"What do you want for dinner, princess?" He asked, frowning when you're still glued to your phone.

You said anything is fine. Which slightly infuriated him.

You exclaimed an expression of surprise when he snatched it away from your hands. He dangled the device next to his face as he adjusted his glasses.

"Christ, I really need to tape this to my head for you to look at me." He narrowed his eyes at you.

You asked if you could have it back. But all he did was switch it off and shove it into his pocket.

"You're addicted to this crap." He spoke, in a condescending tone and a face that suggests that you did something to offend him.

You said that you can say the same for him and smoking. But you're not controlling him or trying to get him to stop smoking his life away.

"Maybe you should. Because, Hell, I'm not letting you scroll your life away." A teasing smirk reached his face.

You demanded his packet of cigarettes, and to your surprise, he handed it to you without a complaint. You swiped it away and hid it in your pockets too, he didn't say a word or pull a face at you. He simply crossed his arms and resumed resting in his original position.

You were upset, that you have nothing to pacify you at the moment. So you decided to be petty and proceed to break all his cigarettes, reducing them into mere leaves of tobacco and shreds of rolling paper.

He watched you wide-eyed, his mouth opened and shut, as if he was about to say something but decided against it in the end. Cyprus is having a hard time controlling his breathing and the twitches in his eyelids. You just shredded $50 worth of cigarettes.

But... it was fair. He helps you break this addiction towards this bright brick, and you break his addiction to lung cancer. Though, it doesn't hurt any less that a good pack has gone to waste.

You got up and chucked it into the trashcan nearby, marching off to sit far away from Cyprus.

He simply stood up and sat next to you. So you moved. Then he moved. You moved, he moved.

This sequence went on until your name was called by the nurse.

He gently slapped your bum as you walked to the consultation room. You whipped back and flipped him off. Cyprus simply shrugged and grinned at you.

He watched you disappear past the door frame. The nurse closed the door behind you a bit after that.

Cyprus rose from his seat and took long strides to the bin. He looked down uneasily at the desecrated carcinogenic sticks.

He sighed, taking his glasses off and massaging the bridge of his nose.

It's going to be difficult. But he's willing to work with you.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

There Is No Coming Back From This - Chapter 1

Characters: Stark!Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Summary: "It's her time, Tony. And I hate that as much as you do, but there's some things you can't fix. There is no coming back from this."

AN: So this story is just a smidge old, but I'm just now getting to update and crosspost it. Hope you enjoy!

Steve catches Tony as he rushes back to his lab, a sleek, gunmetal case in his hand. "Tony."

"Tony," he calls again.

Tony barely acknowledges Steve. "I'm busy, Rogers."

"What's in the case, Tony?" Steve follows right on Tony's heels, watching as Tony storms through the door of his lab. Steve flings the door open to reveal a frantic Tony rummaging through his drawers. "Don't do this, Tony. Don't do whatever it is you're about to do. This isn't what she would want."

Tony whips around to his former friend. "You don't get to tell me what she would want - I'm her father. I need to protect her. I can - I can protect her from this."

Steve looks on with remorse, offering only a slight shake of his head. "It's her time, Tony. She's tired. She wants to rest."

"Don't give me that," Tony snaps, chucking the wrench in his hand. "I can fix this!"

"It's her time, Tony. And I hate that as much as you do, but there's some things you can't fix."

--

Tony Stark worked his entire life keeping you from the public eye - practically an impossible feat as a Stark, the sole heir to the Stark empire and fortune.

He worked tirelessly to protect you from the world. To protect you from his own mistakes. To make sure you'd never pay for his sins.

And while he was off fighting those highly publicized battles with the Avengers, you fought your own quiet, personal batter. Leukemia. First as a child and later many years spent in remission. And for the first time in his life, Tony Stark had to grapple with something he couldn't protect you from. He swallowed the most bitter pill, day in and out, waiting helplessly with bated breath. 

It was in the middle of his feud with Steve that Tony got the call. He wasn't sure that he'd ever forgive himself for the events of that day. 

The first missed call came from Pepper, right in the middle of a very intense argument with Steve and Bucky in Siberia. He declined the call and told FRIDAY to let Pepper know he was busy. 

The second call was from Pepper again. FRIDAY said it was urgent. To be fair, it didn't really seem like there was anything more important than finding out Steve lied about his parent's death. 

The third and fourth time, both from Pepper and Happy, he was too busy searching for vengeance to think straight. 

Five calls later, he was on the ground, nursing both a wounded pride and actual wounds. That final call, Pepper told FRIDAY not just to relay the urgency, but to tell Tony it was about you. 

He couldn't remember anything except a faint ringing in his ears and dread sitting in the pit of his stomach. It was a whirlwind until he sat in your hospital room, at your bedside. 

You didn't remember it like that. You remembered him moving Heaven and Earth to make it back to you. You would never forget how he dropped everything and rushed to your side. There was nothing that mattered more than your father holding your hand as the doctors handed you your bleak prognosis, handed you your death sentence. 

Anger and despair flashed in his eyes when the doctor spoke. He pulled you out of the hospital that same day, putting you under his own care. He declared that same day, you would live. He would fix this. 

He put all his focus into fixing you. There was nothing else that held the attention of Tony Stark. Nothing seemed quite as important as keeping you alive. Between him, Bruce, and Dr. Cho, there was someone constantly working on keeping you alive. 

No one could deny that it was looking bad. The doctors said months, and the months had come and gone. 

Tony could barely look at you without bawling. Not in front of you, of course. He'd rush out of the room, storm over to his lab. Sometimes, he'd throw things. Other times, he would fall into his chair and shed silent tears. 

While no one dared utter the words to you, you knew it had gone from bleak to practically hopeless. 

You knew you were really on your last days when you saw Bruce watching you, holding your hand while you slept. 

To you, Bruce was something of a mentor, a second father even. Though you inherited all of the infamous Stark genius, you'd stopped attending school during your first battle with cancer. Tony often joked that there were no better teachers than two of the greatest scientists in the world. During that first fight, Bruce was the one who would wheel you into the lab so you could learn and watch as he worked. 

There was not a single doubt in your mind that you were hanging on by a thread when you saw Bruce's glassy eyes watching you drift in and out of consciousness. 

"Please don't cry, Bruce," you whisper, speaking through your oxygen mask. 

"I'm not crying," he assures you, wiping the corner of his eyes. "Just allergies."

"I've had a good life," you meekly offer, lifting up your oxygen mask. "Not everyone gets Bruce Banner and Tony Stark to homeschool them."

"It - it was an honor." He stops speaking for a moment as his voice breaks on his last word. "I just - I want you to know that you've always been like a daughter to me."

You know how hard it is for Bruce to say that, that the vulnerability isn't something that he would normally offer unless he felt like he had to. "Bruce, are you telling me that I have two dads?"

He huffs out a chuckle, shaking his head at you, "That infallible sense of humor. It's admirable."

"Bruce?" His gaze meets yours. "Don't let my dad tear himself apart - after, I mean. It's not anyone's fault. Yours or his. Can you - just make sure he knows that."

"Don't talk like that. We can still-"

"Bruce." You stop him from continuing the same unfounded hope they held onto for all these months. You shake your head, unshed tears shining in your eyes as you picture Tony after the inevitable happens. "It's okay. We both know what's gonna happen and it's - it's okay. I'll be okay. Just take care of him, okay?"

The knot in Bruce's throat is so tight he just shakily exhales and nods. 

The final sign that things aren't going well: Steve Rogers is allowed to step foot back on the Avengers Compound. Though allowed might be too generous of a word. You're not sure if it's the medication, your fluctuating state of consciousness, or simply everyone's unwillingness to tell you anything, but he's back. 

And while no one would say it, you all know he's come to say goodbye.

Steve can barely bring himself to say a word to you. 

The last time he saw you, you were fine, you were perfectly healthy. He didn't even know you were sick again until he heard it from the news, which only offered vague details mostly revolving around Tony pulling out of events and almost entirely retreating from the public eye. 

He knew the secrecy and vague details were for a reason - mostly because of Tony's overprotectiveness. He'd only heard the story from Pepper, but according to her, Tony saw one article implying that he deserved what happened to you, that somehow you were paying for his karmic debts. One nasty story was all it took. The very next day, he bought the newspaper and shut them down, effectively sending a message to all media outlets that you were completely and totally off limits. 

The only thing that Steve heard was that your health was once again failing and Tony was taking personal time in the midst of the Accords drama to support you. 

And he wasn't here for you. And he’s not quite sure how he’ll ever forgive himself for that.

Against all advice and reason, he risks it all to be there for you - one last time. 

He mostly sits with you, constantly asking if you need anything or if there's anything he can do for you. With most of your time spent asleep, Steve finds himself whispering apologies over and over while he strokes your hair and holds your hand. 

And Peter, the newest member of the team, well, he dials back on his Spiderman antics and heroics. At school, at home, anywhere he can't be by your side, he's anxious, dread swimming in his veins, worried that any minute he's going to get that call. That dreaded call. He's thought about it before. He's not sure who the call will come from, his Aunt May, Tony, Happy even. He's not quite sure. He's just always worried. So worried that every time his phone rings, he flinches in fear. 

After school, he's only suited up for an hour or two at most before he rushes down to the Compound. No one believed him when he first said he met Tony Stark's daughter through his internship, let alone when you started dating. 

Every day, he took it upon himself to keep you entertained. Sometimes, he'd just talk, about anything, about everything, his friends, his aunt, his school, his hero antics. You liked listening to his seemingly endless stories. He did everything and anything he could to keep you smiling. 

And when it looks like it's going to be your last night on the Earth, he arrives to the Compound like he would any other day, prepared to take your mind off the heaviness of it all.

He bursts down the hallway, barely pulling off his Spiderman suit as he barrels toward your open door, "You will never guess what I found." He falters when he sees Tony standing in the doorway, blocking you from his sight. "Mr. Stark?"

"Hey, kid."

Panic bubbles up inside him. Maybe it wouldn't be a call. Maybe it would be exactly like this. "Is everything - is she-?

"She's fine," Tony quickly assures. It's not really what he means. You weren't fine. Not in the slightest. "She's been in and out all day."

"What happened?"

"An infection. She's had a fever all day."

Peter's voice breaks as he descends into despair. "But she'll - she's gonna be okay, right?"

Tony rests a hand on Peter's shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze, "She's just not strong enough to fight it off."

Peter looks up at him with desperate hope shining in his pleading eyes. "But you're gonna try, right? You're gonna try to fight it off?"

The brokenness of Peter's voice steels Tony's resolve. Not just for him. For Peter. For Bruce. For Pepper. For Steve. They couldn't lose you. "Yeah, kid, I'm going to try."

Peter stays by your side, holding your hand until the bitter end. 

Your fever is so high that you find it hard to keep your eyes open. Despite all best efforts, no one is able to break it and it shows no signs of wavering. 

And that's when Steve finds out Tony's plan. Or more accurately, when the guilt eating Bruce alive forces him to tell Steve the truth. When all hope is lost, Steve sees just how desperate Tony is to save you. 

After all, that's what people mean when they say desperate times call for desperate measures. 

But not even Steve could have predicted just how far Tony would be willing to go. 

"What?" Steve demands.

"He's been working on it, Steve. I didn't - no one thought he'd actually do it."

"And what exactly is it?"

"He got the idea when you came back," Bruce explains. "He remembered your files, how sick you were, how you were better afterwards. He took the Teseract, Steve, he was talking about using that as his radiation source. I think he's really going to do this."

"Do what?" Steve grits out. 

"He's going to dose her with the serum. An untested super solider serum. He thought it would buy him time - even - even if it didn't fix her, it would give him time. I told him there were boundaries even science shouldn't cross, but he won't listen. Not to me. Not to Pepper. But you have to try, I promised the kid I wouldn't let him fall apart."

"Clearly he's already fallen apart if he's actually considering doing this."

"I want to save her as much as he does, but this isn't how she would want to be saved. I think we both know that."

"Where is he?"

"He went to find Pepper. Then he was going to her room."

Tony clenches his jaw and walks into your room. You're asleep and Peter's asleep with his head resting on your lap. He'd be the first to admit that he didn't like this at first, but he has to give credit to Peter for sticking with you. You genuinely seemed happier with him. Your eyes slowly wake to see your father on the verge of tears. You reach out, giving his hand a weak squeeze. "It's okay, Dad. I've had a good life."

One hand hold your burning hand, the other rubs his clenched jaw. He nods as you drift back out of consciousness. The moment you do, he bristles out of the room. He's content to know he's not leaving you alone. 

Steve catches Tony as he rushes back to his lab, a sleek, gunmetal case in his hand. "Tony."

"Tony," he calls again.

Tony barely acknowledges Steve. "I'm busy, Rogers."

"What's in the case, Tony?" Steve follows right on Tony's heels, watching as Tony storms through the door of his lab. Steve flings the door open to reveal a frantic Tony rummaging through his drawers. "Don't do this, Tony. Don't do whatever it is you're about to do. This isn't what she would want."

Tony whips around to his former friend. "You don't get to tell me what she would want - I'm her father. I need to protect her. I can - I can protect her from this."

Steve looks on with remorse, offering only a slight shake of his head. "It's her time, Tony. She's tired. She wants to rest."

"Don't give me that," Tony snaps, chucking the wrench in his hand. "I can fix this!"

"It's her time, Tony. And I hate that as much as you do, but there's some things you can't fix."

"She calls you Uncle Steve," Tony quietly reminds him, standing before Steve with a white knuckle grip on the case and a vial of that familiar blue serum in his hand. “She was absolutely devastated when you all left.”

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what?” Tony rhetorically asks. “Remind you that you've known my daughter since she was 5. Remind you that to her, you were family. And now you're okay with letting her die?"

"I'm not okay with it," Steve barks. "I'm not okay with it. I love that kid, so stop trying to guilt me into thinking that any of this is okay because it's not. You're playing with things that shouldn't be played with, Tony. There's no coming back from this."

"A little hypocritical coming from a 100 year old man, don't you think?" Steve is about to respond, but Tony cuts him off again, speaking with tears burning in his eyes. "In fact, everyone here is living on borrowed time, why can't she? Why does she have to be the one to go? We've all escaped death, plenty of times. Why does she have to die at 17 years old?"

Steve softly exhales, "Tony..."

"She's 17, Rogers. 17 years! That's all she's had. 17 years," he repeats, his voice breaking. "She hasn't even had a chance to live yet. She hasn't - she hasn't done anything wrong. She'll never turn 18. She'll never get to walk down the aisle. She'll never have a family. She'll never get to live her own life. You and me? We've both got blood on our hands. We've made mistakes. We can say we've lived. She can't. She didn't even get a chance and you don't want me to even try to save her?"

"This isn't how you save someone."

"She's just a kid, Steve," Tony whispers, clenching the vial in his hand. "I have to, Cap. Sorry."

When Tony reenters your room, Peter's still gently snoring on your lap and you're sleeping. He can tell it's not a restful sleep, you're still sweating profusely, your hair is clinging to your forehead and your head lolls back and forth. Your breathing sounds so labored that it's downright painful. With another wave of determination, he sets everything up and pushes some more pain medication.

“Mr. Stark, is everything okay?” Peter drowsily asks, lifting his head slightly.

“Yeah, she’ll be fine," Tony says, avoiding actually answering Peter's question. "Why don’t you take a nap in the guest room next door? I’ll stay with her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Alright,” Peter nods, reluctantly leaving the room. 

Tony sighs again, telling himself that he's giving you more time, more life. All he needed was more time. All you need was more life. 

Steve, Bruce, even Pepper, they're all wrong. This is the right thing to do. He's sure of it. 

He glances back at the locked door, keeping everyone and anyone out, glances at the blue vial in his hand, and then at you. He can't let this happen to you, so he pushes the syringe. 

When you open your eyes hours later, you're thrown for a loop. You're not quite sure how you're still here. You were sure that you were a goner. It certainly doesn't feel that way anymore. Your eyes flicker to Tony as he stands watching your every movement. "Dad?"

He refuses to meet your eye, and you immediately know something is wrong. Even more so when he doesn't utter a word, because if there's anything you've learned in your life, it's that your father always has something to say. "Dad?"

"I'm sorry." He reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. "I couldn't - I couldn't let you die."

"Dad? What did you do?"

He embraces you, whispering, "I'm sorry."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist 'There Is No Coming Back From This' Chapter List

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[c-art00nish]

Oh no! Morro died

But we already knew that ;)

More info bellow

So it's Kai's turn to tell his side of the story, but first I'm gonna lay some world rules for the au.

Here ghosts can change into looking younger, the age they died at, or the appearance they would have if they were still alive, but not older. Bascically they chose how they age.

Morro decided to look like how he died at first but later on (when he met Kai) decided to change into a young adult appearance (mostly bc Kai alway changed his appearance to 'age' as if he were still alive and Morro wanted to support him)

With that on mind here goes Kai's storyline:

So he died and went into the Departed Realm, which caused him to obviously start to panic

Another ghost finds him and takes him to the Preminent, who takes an interest in Kai due to his elemental powers, like the ones Morro has. The Preminent introduces Kai to Morro and tells Morro to train him. Kai at this point is very confused and tired, and Morro now having to take care of a child is very not happy

Their relationship is very strained and just formal until in one training session Kai makes fire, is very little and very quick to go out since he hasn't reached his full potential, but instead of being happy Kai starts to cry and Morro very panicked asks what's wrong, Kai says that if he had been able to control it while he was alive he would've been able to protect himself and his sister to which he starts to cry harder bc he misses Nya

That's when Morro decides that maybe he can focus on 1 person other than himself, he tells Kai he wanted to be strong too, but that destiny took his life away from him just like it did with Kai (projectint a bit too much Morro)

They bond and start having a more close relationship. Morro starts telling Kai stories about when he was alive (The Green Ninja, the master that had wronged him, his journey). Kai, still being a kid is 100% sure Morro should've been the green ninja, and Morro doesn't contradict, so he decides that whoever is the green ninja in the living world is inferior to Morro in every way.

Basically all pre-pilot is: Morro adopts Kai

• Pilot:

He is pretty much dead so he doesn't do much. Until. He feels something, is like a switch turned on and now he can't stop feeling dread. Nya is in danger, he can't do anything, he's dead!

But he is in the living world, he sees Nya, and skelentons, and Garmadon- (Garmadon?!). Kai is pretty much panicking and something tells hin to grap the sword and toss it to Nya. He dissapears again

The Preminent is impressed bc, how did a child just defied the realms and their barriers because his sister was in danger?

Morro is happy, but not so happy since now his student is surpasing him.. that wasn't fair

• Rise of the Serpentine:

In the Departed Realm rn it's just training arc. But with the exception that Morro is being distant with Kai.

Kai is confused and ultimately thinks it's because he could only 'go' to the living world once and never again, that Morro is dissapointed in him, he starts training harder and harder, trying to be more, but he can't, he's fire, sure it can burn high, but at the end of the day it's just fire, and water can always put it out. To which he comes back to the irony of being a freaking ghost and only can be re-killed by water. He hates being a ghost

This conflict goes to it's climax when Morro says he'll stop teaching Kai (mostly to distance himself) to which Kai is very much not happy. This evolves to a very nasty fight with Kai asking his teacher why does he want to leave, the kid asks if he wasn't good enough? ("Why can't I be the green Ninja?!") Did he didn't train enough? ("I've done all you've told me!") Didn't he do enough?! ("Why did you lie to me Wu?!")

And Morro snaps out of it, he hugs Kai and tells him that he is good enough, strong enough, that he would never leave and that Kai doesn't need to be anything else

And Kai unoocks his true potential, bringing warm to an otherwise cold and dark realm

• Legacy of the Green Ninja, Rebooted, Tournament of Elements

Training and nothing else. Also bonding

Morro, while still fixed on being the green ninja and getting revenge against Wu, is now finding that there is more to life (death in his case) than he thought, and maybe just like Kai, he is good enough already. Kai accepted his existence as a ghost, thinking that the only way of seeing Nya is either if she dies (smth that Kai is very much opposed to) or if the Preminent's plan suceeds

So life (death) is relatively good

That is until Garmadon arrives, he is chained up and brought into a chamber.

Morro just does an evil facade until Kai arrives and asks for Nya, Garmadon is very calm and asks why would he want to know, Kai explains he is his brother to which Garmadon just blinks, 1,2,3. This kid- this ghost. Is Nya's brother? The one that ran away?

And just like Morro, apparently, he met the same fate

Garmadon refuses to answer any questions, to which he surprisingly encounters a very angry Morro ready to beat the shit out of him and a very dissapointed and sad Kai

Kai leaves bowing to Garmadon and thanks him for his time, now Morro and Garmadon alone the ghost threathens to kill him for good if he hurts his kid again and- his kid?

Garmadon says that maybe there is still hope for Morro, to which the ghost refuses and leaves as well.

• Possesion:

Now in this au the Preminet managed to keep a little whole open from the portal Garmadon made for a little period of time while she told Morro what to do

They talk a little before Morro goes, Kai seeing his Sensei/Father figure a little down and uncertain about the mission, Morro's head is just racing.

Possesing the green ninja? Okay

Possesing a kid? No

Possesing a kid that's the green ninja? Uh

And to makes matters worse he can only think of Kai, he didn't want Kai to see him doing this, possesing took a lot of energy from both the ghost and the host, which caused a lot of stress and made the one in control often lash out (and he'd be damned if he lashes out at his kid)

He doesn't want to do this

And oh this is when he finally realises that he's on the wrong side of things. But it's great since he hasn't done anything yet right?

Well you see there is a reason he didn't want to get attached to anyone, it wasn't just for the aesthetic, getting attached to people means you care if they're okay or not, it means someone can use them against you

So the Preminent before sending him off threatens to hurt Kai anything were to go wrong. And thus Morro leaves

What he not expected was that the kid he wanted to protect ended up following him and saw him do all that

Now Kai already had his doubts about the Preminent, he wasn't 100% onboard with the plan but this, seeing it just made him sick

He tried reaching Morro before he could leave, but he was late, he followed the ninja into the bounty and begged for their help

All he saw after was a very angry Nya ready to splash him with a shit ton of water

Well fuck

[gaybabeyjailbreak]

So, I have watched TADC due to all the hype that's been around it and I just... Don't see the reason for any hype to be there at all?

I'll break it down, It's not uncommon for Indie animations to accrue a big following that will stay with them throughout thick and thin as the major appeal of the genre is the romanticised idea of supporting an underdog and helping fulfill the dreams of an art school graduate in realising their own little piece of art. It is also not uncommon for this fandom to dissolve when they perceive an issue in this fantasy that no longer satisfies them like this, which results in all of the jumping ship that happens when a new project is released and the previous fascination is portrayed as bad. And of course the entire juvenile idea of there being mature animation (Read crass and rude, not actually mature.)

So it would make sense for the popularity of tadc to be from this combined reasons, and I feel the reason for this because i saw the show, and the only genuine way this mess would be so popular would be because of spawning st the right time, just as the magic from Lackadaisy and Spindle horse is dying a bit and people need to fix on s new project.

Because let's be real, there's no inherent appeal in digital Circus as a show. The promised theme of the show is Dark Psychological comedy. But like that's not a thing, that's a combination of words that doesn't actually mean anything, walk with me for a second. How do you do dark, psychological, and comedy at the same time. Think about it, yeah, dark comedy is a thing sure. But can you turn that psychological? You have to be serious to be psychological, at least in the way the show protrays it, and it's not working. I don't know whether I'm supposed to be deeply invested because the moments requiring that are cut short by comedy, and I can't take the comedy in because suddenly a serious moment requiring deeper focus.

For real, the whiplash doesn't work, it is a tone issue you're not sure how to approach and the writers certainly aren't skilled enough for this to work.

See the premise could work as a comedy, it very much could, but I'd believe people would hate it because fandom hates not being able to theorize and mysterize the show of the week. So we also get, some bits of seriousness, some attempt at a story, but without actually committing to any. We don't get enough of a story to fully grasp anything coherent, even for pilot standards, but what little there is, is distracting from the premise of no story needed just characters in a setting having fun. It tries to be dark and psychological by attempts of horror, except the "psychological" is just mental torture of the main fem character Pomni, which starts reading like outright fetishism of fem suffering after the second time we're very intimately shown she's breaking down. And the "dark" horror falls short because the inherent fear of the unknown from the monster, the mystery that contains dread is immediately revealed, and the existential horror is underutilized.

Speaking of mysteries, it's kinda embarrassing to try and pull a computer based mystery nowadays, and people fully accepting it as a fresh take. I guarantee you that any reveal of why something in this show is the way it is, will be very underwhelming. Possesed headsets, computer code going haywire, possesed viruses, government experiments, dead people souls in some code. Literally any explanation you can think of has been done, and considering how little these revelations add to a story, their only aspect being shock value suddenly dissapears, and now you will be left with a nothing of a reveal in your nothing of a story.

And that's really what it is. A sandbox, It's a tumblr post of one of the various potential cartoon shows like Officer and mr. Paws, except they actually managed to make a pilot. The only appeal the show has is introducing a few tumblr sexymen and sexywomen. I do not see any appeal in this show, no story it wants to tell.

I would say they're like clowns in a circus just playing for your enjoyment, which would be clever, but it's something so obviously advanced for how the show appears to be written right now that I seriously doubt that was an intentional parallel.

[galaxy-fleur]

what are yours unpopular opinions about your ships and maybe leon from the remake ? you mentioned that twitter side is wild so i got curious., i hope the question is alright?

By Twitter being wild I mostly meant people being real nasty to each other over very small things, haha! But I have tons of thoughts on many ships, so I'll gladly babble away. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to do so, anon >:) Gonna preface this by saying that just because I'm talking about a ship in a 'negative' manner (like pointing out what kind of issues the characters would deal with) does not mean I'm calling it 'bad'. I like conflicts in relationships and I like thinking about how these conflicts would contribute to the development at large. It's my way of saying 'I enjoy this dynamic and I'm going to explore it!'

With that out of the way, Imma go ahead and do them all just for the fun of it:

Eagleone: my unpopular opinion for this one is that Ashley is actually the more bold one in the relationship! In fact, she's usually the one who takes the lead on... pretty much everything. She has that reckless spunk in her that Leon both loves and dreads, depending on the situation. Another one is that I personally don't see Ashley being all that burdened by what happened in Spain. She's just fine bringing it up and even joking about it with him. It's a shared experience that brought them together, and I don't see her looking back at it as a negative thing. Also, Leon is the homemaker between these two. Ashley likes to go out, have fun and do her thing. Malewife Leon for the win.

Vallenfield: actually not sure if this is an unpopular opinion per se, but I don't really view Chris as this oblivious idiot that doesn't realize Jill's feelings or anything. And I subsequently don't see Jill pining for him much either. Their relationship is very natural in how it changes overtime due to their trust in each other. It's more of a slow, mutual understanding of: 'Oh. Things feel different now. But also sort of the same. Let's roll with that'. They are a very down to earth couple.

Aeon: Ada is not a mom. I'm sorry. She's just not. She's a deadbeat dad. At best. That woman is horrible with kids, stop making her a soft housewive, I beg of you. She'll leave for milk and never come back. LMAO On a more serious note, though, I see Ada as someone who has big issues with being vulnerable and communication at large. That makes any close relationship very difficult for her to maintain. She's having fun and flirting until things get emotional, and she instantly pulls away. It's not even because she's cold and unfeeling. A part of her, a human part of her we all have, longs to be understood and embraced as she is. But she just can't bring herself to be this vulnerable. Leon is not an exception to that.

Chrisker: Funnily enough, when I think of Chrisker, I moreso focus on Chris' feelings towards Wesker than vise versa. Poking fun at Wesker's obsession over Chris is entertaining, but there's just something so appealing to me in the angst of feeling so betrayed by someone you thought you knew and admired. Sprinkle in some unspoken romantic tension that was genuine but never got resolved, and you got a perfect cake of sadness. They are my 'doomed by the narrative' couple.

Serennedy: I don’t think I have any actually unpopular opinions with this one, but I like to think that Leon tends to hold back on the puns and quips when he's near Luis. That's because he knows he's a damn hypocrite for always huffing and grumbling at Luis' jokes, while he basically does the very same thing himself lol. He still slips up though, and Luis doesn't let him live it down. On a sadder note, I like to think of Leon taking Luis' lighter, much like he takes Marvin's and Krauser's knives to remember them. He doesn't smoke, of course, but he still keeps it on him.

Clairejill: Again, not sure if this is an unpopular opinion per se, but I don't think they'd be this cool, badass couple or anything. I actually think they'd have a relatively soft and quiet relationship instead, built on mutual understanding of each other's experiences and a desire to be one another's rock. Jill is there when Claire feels like she's not doing enough, and Claire is there when Jill feels overwhelmed by guilt and regrets. They're also very supportive girlfriends. I love them.

Cleon: Hmm... I guess my unpopular opinion is that I see it as a very rocky relationship. Not because either party does not care for the other. Moreso because of the growing differences between them that take place over the years due to their occupations. I like to think of them having to face these challenges. Maybe not in the most graceful manner, but they do pull through in the end. I like my Cleon a bit complicated and emotional.

Metaltango: my unpopular opinion on it is that I don't think Krauser was this violent and cruel asshole to Leon during his training. I actually think of them forming a very genuine and close bond, one where Leon trusted and relied on Krauser to the point of sharing some very personal things with him. And I also think Krauser showed genuine tenderness and care for Leon in turn. He trained him so that he would never have to be hurt like that again, so that he could become strong enough to protect those he wants to protect. Makes it that much more tragic to see him mocking Leon for it later.

Shake: no idea if this is an unpopular opinion or not, but Jake sucks ass at flirting. He's abhorrent at it. Sherry is the charmer between these two. She gets all cheeky about it too. Watch this tough, scary man blush like a school girl because his girlfriend just complimented him on his new jacket. No one is allowed to tease him about but Sherry, of course. He has a death stare that could kill.

Chreon: These two would have issues with communication. Well, to be more precise, it's a somewhat complicated situation where they both remind each other a bit too much of their own pain and past mistakes, if that makes sense. They understand each other's burdens more than anyone else will, but it's also... hard seeing your own worst moments be reflected in the one you love. They both would find themselves getting a bit frustrated and saying something insensitive sometimes. Specifically because they project their own issues onto each other. It's like metaphorically grabbing your old self by the shoulders and shaking them. I like to play around with this duality with these two.

Valeveira: I actually think Jill secretly enjoys Carlos being unserious with her but she's just too proud to say it. Especially if we're talking post!re3 events, where she knows he is a good guy and has trust in him. She'll also steal some of his quips and use them during her own adventures.

Mithan: No idea if this is an unpopular take or not, but I headcanon that one of the biggest reasons Rose seems to be so distant from Mia in her dlc is that she looks so much like her father. I see Mia being absolutely wracked with guilt after losing Ethan like that. Potentially even forming a sense of resentment towards Rose, which just makes her blame and hate herself even further for these feelings she can't control. She feels like a horrible mother that is just going to hurt Rose one day, too. It's sad, really. Mia also leaves most of Ethan's belongings to Rose and Chris, because she feels like she doesn't 'deserve' to have him near her after what she did. Mithan is my go-to for exploring grief and loss.

As for my unpopular opinion on remake-verse Leon... People baby rookie Leon a bit too much in my opinion. He's not nearly as naive and innocent as some paint him as, and he actually has lots of depth and nuance that, unfortunately, gets forgotten or overlooked. I understand the appeal of this wide-eyed cute guy and all, but I do wish he would be given a bit more agency and maturity in the fandom.

Rookie Leon is my favorite iteration of him along with Death Island Leon, can u tell I'm sorta passionate about him lmao

[findingmypeace]

Update:

*I'm still very, very worried about my friends. The one I mentioned whose situation could be life changing...(keeping this vague) her son is in the hospital and almost died. She didn't say why but I'm pretty sure I know. Things are touch and go and I'm so scared for her.

*Work is going well but it's been very, very busy. I feel like I'm finally getting acknowledged for my work. I've gotten kudos from several people and it feels really good compared to 6 months ago.

*IOP: what can I say...It's so tough to go from being focused on day to day stuff to focus on the pain underneath everything. And when iop is over for the day I close my computer and I'm alone. I'm really not getting anything from it except feeling like a failure and dreading it everyday. The program is fine. This is not about them at all. Everyone is nice and friendly and caring. I'm just not feeling it. I don’t want to think about these things anymore.

*Ed stuff: so-so (behind a cut because I mention behaviors)

There are wins and there are losses but I guess overall I’m still pretty stuck. B/ping or just purging is happening on 3 or 4 days of the week as opposed everyday. Fluids are still hard but it's because I just forget to drink rather than purposely restricting it. I'm really trying to trust my body, sort of. My outpatient therapist and I were talking and a thought popped in my head, "I have to teach my body to trust me so I can trust it." It sounds cheesy but I have used that phrase as a motivator for putting my scale away. I have to trust my body. I didn’t throw out my scale. It’s just not out in the open. I’ve reduced weighing myself to every other day instead of multiple times a day.

But restriction... I'm eating SO much more than what I was eating before I went to residential last but I'm supposed to be eating more. I'm on a "success plan" that requires me to eat at least 75% of my meal plan, only b/p or purge no more than twice a week, and I'm only allowed to go to the gym on days with no purging. If I can't follow this I will be referred to php and I just can't. I'm not going through all that with my job again. I just can't face that again. I'm trying really, really hard to make recovery oriented choices and sometimes my heart is all for it and sometimes (like right now) I have no interest in it. I don't know where this is headed but once again I don't want to move forward, backward, or stay where I am. So instead I focus on everything else, which feels good, and thats why I don't see the point of focusing on the pain.

[onlyjaeyun]

tbh I mayhaps started writing again. Currently I have 30k of a Sunghoon fic(idk how long it's gonna be but lets just say it just hit the climax), 12k of a Heeseung fic, 6k of a Sunoo fic, and finished a 7k Yuma fic and 11k Jo fic. Like I can't just focus on one thing at one time, I get writers block and start a whole new fic. I also have a bunch of other ideas, I have at least one plot for each and every member of &Team and Enhypen, some have multiple, to give a little taste of some I have ideas for but I haven't started yet kitsune Taki, guardian angel which turns into fallen angel Euijoo, enemies to lovers Jay, and a the Little Mermaid fic with Jake(since tell me Jake is not Prince Eric coded). And it's so sexy to see you using some of the ideas I've sent you for Strictly Business, before long we'll all be sending you Strictly Business thoughts and headcannons.

Of course Sunoo and Niki may have been in it sparsely, but they are still family, and ohana means family, and family means no one gets left behind or forgotten. Allow me to leave you with a few last, last for now I'll probably think of more later, Poison future thoughts:

Everyone always takes vacation together once a year, all 14 of them and their 15 kids, they all rent a private jet, thanks to sugar daddy Jay and his extremely extremely well paying job. They all enjoy an amazing two week vacation together each summer, all the kids and adults alike. It's a tradition that started back when only Hee and y/n had a child and the only married ones were Hee and Hoon, the rest were just dating. It however, has turned into a long standing tradition; they all set aside two weeks each year and just enjoy being together, no responsibilities or anything, except for their children until they get old enough to handle themselves. It is on these vacations that their children grow closer, the ones that aren't in the same grade.

Each birthday within the group is celebrated with everyone, a minimum of at least 30 people, since Jay's sister will come when he asks her too, will come to each party; even if none of the kids friends come, they have a full party regardless. Sunghoon plans each and every party, wanting nothing but the best for all their kids, he even offers to help Sunoo and Niki plan their kids birthdays. He's also prepared for everything, like once his daughter wanted a Princess Elsa birthday party, but the princess he booked got the flu the day before and had to cancel, so instead of that Elsa, they had a 6 foot tall Elsa that looked oddly like Hoon singing Let It Go off-key, but his daughter had the time of her life at least.

Hoon's daughter is an absolutely princess and he's dreaded the day she comes home telling him she has a crush, like he knows how he reacted to his little sister having a crush, his daughter having a crush would be even worse. And worst it is, she comes home saying she's in love with one of the Sim boys and Hoon's heart just about stops, he loves Jake and all, they are besties, but she had to fall for his son. Hoon however encourages it, and little does he know that crush a 15 year old girl had on the 14 year old son of Jake, will turn into him walking her down the aisle with tears in his eyes to marry that son only ten years in the future.

Jungwon's daughters are all princesses as well, but not as bad Hoon's, he however dreads the love talks even more, I mean how can he not when he has to deal with 3 times compared to Hoon's 1. When his middle daughter comes home with hearts in her eyes, he'd terrified of what to say and of course their mom isn't around, so he has to deal with it. He's even more terrified when the name out of the girl's mouth is the name of Jay Park's son. What starts as a simple crush turns into Jay's son attending family dinner, taking Jungwon's daughter to prom, and before long asking Jungwon for his daughter's hand in marriage with tears in eyes. Jungwon might be a protective father, but deep within his heart, he knows there is no one that would love his daughter as much as Jay's son does, and he happily gives her away, crying tears of happiness at the wedding, that quickly turn to tears of sadness as it hits him he has to do this two more times.

All their children remain friends even once meeting adulthood, their friendship reminiscent of the friendship between their parents. Jake, Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon's sons are carbon copies of them, forming their own little group, the six of them being just as bad as their dads were. Meanwhile Sunghoon, Jungwon, and Heeseung's 5 daughters form a somewhat similar group, all the cousins being best friends.

bestie you're a MACHINEEEEE and im afraid very much needed for this fandom so pls do reconsider coming back on here and blessing people with your talent 😭😭😭💞 and pls its so sexy of YOU for the ideas to strictky business you've sent me like its an honor for me to use those and i hope you know how much i appreciate your input 🥺💞

and please every time i think im over poison you send me headcanons like these and i get all emotional bc i lit teared up thinking about the boys creating mini mes and having them gang uo as well like i just 🥺 i'd marry your brain if i could and since i cant pls accept my kisses 💔🩷💞💗

[dyrewrites]

Q&A

Got tagged by my sisser (@rmgrey-author)!

I am tagging @starbuds-and-rosedust @pb-dot @stesierra and @deanwax (mostly out of curiosity, but feel free to ignore the tag =P)

Now, let's get early 2000s up in this place and answer some personal questions that absolutely aren't being scraped for nefarious purposes.

1) Are you named after anyone?

Not a person, but a fantasy series. I am named after the Chronicles of Amber. Which I could never finish, because young me found it terribly boring...I should really try again.

2) When was the last time you cried?

Yesterday! I was watching the Blue Beetle movie and it got me good.

3) Do you have kids?

Yus. I has a son, he is a teen now and I am afraid for him.

4) What sports do you play/have you played?

I used to play baseball, and basketball, and had a lot of fun with tennis. Not on any teams or anything though, I don't do competition.

Now not really, but I do box at home with a bag...does that count?

5) Do you use sarcasm?

Oh, no never.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Eyes. You will find a focus on them in my writing as well, because I can't help myself.

At one point in my life I had a lot of grown ass adults convinced that I could read their minds by looking into their eyes. Truthfully I just couldn't stop staring at pretty eyes and needed an excuse that wasn't too creepy.

7. What’s your eye color?

Hazel.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

What an odd pair to choose from.

I love scary movies, but I also enjoy happy endings.

My favorites are bittersweet endings, however.

9. Any talents?

I got skills what I have worked at. I don't know about talent though. Singing maybe, but I also worked at that through years of choir. So...hmm. I don't think so?

10. Where were you born?

Anaheim, California.

11. What are your hobbies?

Reading, gaming, writing, art, baking.

12. Do you have any pets?

I have two kitties, one senior tuxedo baby named Mr. Nefarious and one teenage black goblin named Spook.

13. How tall are you?

5'4"

14. Favorite subject in school?

English (except in middle school wherein it became Typing, but I credit the fun teacher we had for that)

15. Dream job?

Full-time author. I don't need to be famous, or even well known, but I'd like to make enough to support my family while hopefully filling a considerable number of people's lives with a little extra dread (and joy, of course, but mostly dread -- I want you to toss my books across the room and then go pick them up and keep reading, that is my dream).

[presidentdragon]

I don't know why, but I've been in the thick of a bad depressive episode for like 2 weeks now, and I'm not sure what to really do about it except talk to my psychiatrist on thursday. I find myself wishing I could just take a month and figure out what's going on, like I know mental health care in america blows and being institutionalized isn't something to take lightly or even really want, but the idea of just having all responsibilities taken from me and taking time to heal is so so appealing. I went straight from full-time student to full-time worker and I think 6 years of college really burned me out in a way that going head first into a career kind of exacerbated. But then I feel awful for wanting time off or even a different job because I get paid really well right now, like I was so so lucky to have had an internship while in college that led to me being offered this job, and yet the thought of going into work is so fucking daunting. I can't seem to find the energy to get out of bed in the morning and even when I do get to work it's like pulling teeth to try to get anything done. I can't stand feeling this way. I want to enjoy working, or at least not dread it. I remember how, when I was working as a barista, I'd end the day tired, sure, but it was also a lot of fun. If it were financially feasible, I almost think I'd prefer it to what I do now, but I have rent to pay and tuition loans to pay off and I can't afford that kind of pay cut. I want to write and draw and make video games, but my current job uses up so much of my mental energy that I end up getting home completely fried. And then I feel awful because I haven't been able to just MAKE something in days, if not weeks. I want to crowd fund for my big game project, but to do that I need a demo and proof that I'll actually make it, but to do that I need the money to survive and the energy to create, but working drains my energy leaving me with no demo and no way to crowd fund and leave my job to focus on my project and it's just a massive spiral I can't escape. writing it all down feels better than just bottling it up, though, so at least there's that

[thesparklingwriter]

4 + 20 + 32 for the ask game ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎

[fanfic writer ask game]

ahh hello! i feel a little starstruck rn omg

4: what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

i don't know if this counts as a plot bunny cause i feel like I've written it before to some extent, but i always imagine zhongli with a decently sized family. i feel like having a family is a part of the mortal life he wouldn't have been able to entertain as an archon and he'd welcome that with open arms.

also, i like the thought of him in the kitchen wearing a kiss-the-cook apron. in my defense i am only a girl :) the only reason why i haven't written it yet is cause i can't think of names for the other children yet lmfaoo (also my baby fever is bad enough as it stands i can't be voluntarily adding to that)

20: what is your favourite trope to write?

i really like writing found family. or anything where it's kind of like two people existing together, learning about each other, and the cute little routines they all make together—regardless of whether it's romantic or platonic.

i always feel like an alien when i say this but i think it's so cute how humans look at other humans and think 'i want you in my life' and then they do silly little things like learning each other's orders at restaurants and their favourite flowers and then i start sobbing.

32: do characters influence your writing style?

i think they do? i only wrote original fiction up to like october last year, and my focus was always on making characters shine and having their essence be in the writing, even if i wasn’t writing in their pov.

i find that when i’m writing for zhongli sometimes the language i use gets more ornate and flowery, especially in longer pieces. the only problem is that i don’t write for anyone except for him very often, so i don't have much to compare with lol. maybe i should rephrase my previous statement and say i hope they do.

thank you so much for dropping by and leaving an ask! i love doing these so much and i hope my rambling was fun to read &lt;3

[chaosincurate]

A Guide to The Cure, Pt. IV: The Waning Crescent

At the time of writing, this is the last 3 albums The Cure have released. There are hints of a new album on the horizon, but from the sounds of it that's nothing new. So how did the band get on with their final releases: Bloodflowers, The Cure, and 4:13 Dream? Do they get things back on track and end their discography on a high? Or do they keep struggling to live up to their own name? Let's get into it.

Bloodflowers

Bloodflowers marks a return to the gothic stylings of Disintegration and their earlier albums, but this time with broad alternative rock overtones, and it's a reasonable return to form if you ask me. It's not a 4th Cure masterpiece in my opinion, but it is a great album which restored my faith in the band for this last 3 album stretch, which is exactly what I needed after Wild Mood Swings.

The album, if it revolves around anything, revolves around the dread that Robert Smith feels regarding the first digit of his age changing, which is the second time such a theme has been explored in an album by The Cure, but the first time was with Disintegration where it wasn't really the focus, and if they do it this well, they can do it every decade for all I care. The existential dread is palpable across the album, and it provides the project with a sense of direction that was sorely lacking in not only Wild Mood Swings, but also Wish before it.

It's definitely the highlight of this final phase of The Cure, and is worth a listen as the most successful representative for this alternative rock version of The Cure, but it's comfortably outside the realm of a must listen in my opinion.

The Cure

It's certainly a bold move making a self-titled album this late into their career, long after their peak in terms of both popularity and influence. To define yourself based on a project you are releasing in the midst of your downfall in the public eye is definitely a strange move, but we should be used to strange moves by The Cure by now, for better and for worse.

In this case, it's whatever. It feels a bit wasteful, not necessarily because of it's quality, but because it isn't really that musically representative of any of The Cure's music except the last three albums, none of which are really their classics. It's a nitpick, but for me, I would have expected a sort of celebration of all the band were given the self-title, but it's just the later years alt-rock of the last album and (spoilers) their final album. The alt-rock ranges from below average to great in my opinion, tending towards pretty good, so that's not the issue, I just wish they didn't waste their self-title on just another album.

There's a reason I'm spending so much time writing about the title though. I really don't know what to say about the music. It's fine, perfectly listenable, enjoyable at times, and it sounds like The Cure doing alt-rock. I just didn't really find anything to latch onto that strongly. I guess Robert Smith is angrier here than he has been, if that appeals to you. I don't know, it's fine, it's a fine album that some people might really love, definitely worth listening to if you want to listen to The Cure (the band), so that's one up on The Top and Wild Mood Swings, but beyond saying I can recommend it, I can't really place it above any other albums on the "you need to hear this" ranking.

4:13 Dream

I hate to say it, but I think as I reached the end of this project, both I and the band (at time of subsequent releases) lost steam. Once again, I don't know what to say about the album. It's more slightly experimental alt-rock from The Cure, and maybe it's the familiarity talking, but it feels like it sounds exactly like you'd expect. There are a few songs I really liked from this so maybe it's worth listening to for the sake of them, because the songs I thought were pretty good made up around half the runtime, but again, I wouldn't rush to listen to this album.

I hope that the album they are supposed to be dropping at some point soon is good because as it stands their discography ends with a bit of a whimper, and if it weren't for the fact I was also doing this blog, I would have been entirely disappointed after having listened to their daunting discography only to have it end on a run of albums that, after my early listens, is just... Fine. It's like climbing Everest only to find yourself on the top of a solid hill. Sure, it wasn't for nothing, but the payoff is underwhelming.

Anyway, this album is in the same sort of territory as the self-titled album. It's worth getting around to if you want to listen to more Cure, but not worth listening to ahead of anything else that isn't torture.

Tomorrow...

I'm going to post a roadmap to The Cure for anyone interested tomorrow, 10:15 Saturday night because I'm easily amused. I'll give you a recommended listening order based on a few different motivations to listen to The Cure, so it's not gonna be a one-size-fits-all thing. That strikes me as pointless. This was all a lot harder to do than I expected so I really hope someone finds it useful.