#i just wanted ti make a nice cozy idea of a home

[mikichko]

pairing: tf141 x reader cw: mentions of past trauma, mentions of body image issues a/n: no clue what this is. i just suddenly remembered that I can't fall asleep in open spaces, especially with other people around and this spawned. as always a massive thank you to xavi, @buttdumplin , for his wonderful encouragement. 💕

you'd forgotten what a safe cozy home felt like. it'd been stripped from you long ago.

had lost sense of how pliant a body without tension could become, how slowly a heart could beat. or how the edges of a home were meant to be warm, not cold and constrictive. you'd even had the sense of comfort stripped from clothing you loved so much, outfits stuck on a looping cycle so that you could walk past mirrors without cringing. even in an empty house, you'd been unable to sleep with your door open. always fighting an impending sense of doom until you firmly closed it shut. it'd been your reality for so long that you'd resigned yourself from the idea that it could ever change.

and yet, here you are, eyes fighting to stay open as your head rests in kyle's lap. his fingers trace patterns absentmindedly on the exposed skin of your hip, your oversized sleep pants sagging just enough for his fingers to gain access. in the background, a soft melody flows out of the kitchen, intermixed with john and johnny's ongoing dinner discussion as they prep together. it blends nicely with the soft noise of the tv and the sound of thread being pulled through fabric as simon works diligently on his stitches. kyle murmurs softly to simon, who hums back a response too low for your fuzzy brain to make out.

you don't remember ever feeling like this before. sleepiness overtaking your body the same way your body soaks the heat up in the room, at a slow and gradual pace. the quiet conversation right above your head, the white noise of the tv, the clinking of plates, and occasional deep laughter that floats from the kitchen lulls you into a state of tranquility that your body's unfamiliar with. it's like your body becomes aware in that moment that there's no need to hold the tension any longer, there's nothing to be guarding against. at least not when you have four guards of your own surrounding you. so the tension leaks out of you, anxiety going with it, as your body becomes warmer and your body sinks into both kyle and the couch just a little more.

it's not long before the noise muffles and you're washed away into a dreamless sleep.

who knows how long you float in that state of warm blissful rest. at times you feel slight brushes against your skin, nothing alarming enough for your body to jolt awake but the whisper of something. maybe you dream it. soft, loving fingers on your skin to comfort you into a deeper state of relaxation. real or not, it helps as your body becomes soft and pliant against kyle.

sometime later, you'll wake up with your legs on john's lap, his warm hand wrapped around your ankle and rubbing the skin there in slow circles. kyle hand's is still on your hip, resting there as his fingers make small indents into the soft skin there while his thumb strokes your skin soothingly. simon continues to stitch, the sound of his pulls much shorter now as his thread has changed not just in color but length as well. johnny sits on the floor in front of the couch, legs outstretched under the coffee table murmuring softly at the tv as the truth seekers find alfie's soul trapped in the number station.

you're still fuzzy around the edges and can't help the laugh that escapes you at alfie's reaction to the creation of prawn cocktail crisps. you watch johnny's head turn to you as kyle huffs out a laugh above you, john squeezes your ankle, and simon looks up from his work to smile softly at you.

"have a good nap love?" johnny's cheek smushes into the cushion as he grins at you. he looks so soft you can't help but reach a hand out to confirm he's as soft as he looks. his grin widens, nuzzling into your hand and you hum back in approval.

john chuckles, fingers work their way up your leg rubbing at the muscle there, "plate in the kitchen for you sprout. ready whenever you want it."

simon doesn't let you answer. he's already traced the lines of your body, inspected the way you blink slowly as you fight to stay in this small moment of consciousness. "still needs more lie-down cap. barely keeping those eyes open."

john and johnny chuckle at your valiant attempt to look more awake but it only accentuates the sleepiness in your blinks. you feel kyle's hand lift off your hip, whining at its absence and turning your face into his thigh seeking more warmth.

his hand finds your cheek, fingers stroking the skin softly as he murmurs down to you, "go on sweetheart, we got you."

you turn your cheek towards his touch, humming happily as your eyes flutter shut. the soft sounds of truth seekers lull you back into your sleepy state, your breath evening out once again. the last thing you feel before slipping back into a blissful state of rest is the press of soft lips and a scratchy beard against your forehead.

[anticanonsposts]

Hii

I have an idea and it's kind of silly but I'll ask anyway because I love your writing

But you could do a Konig domestic where he passes out for some reason (not a battle wound or anything) and reader take care of him and then he's SO clingy afterwards

Tks 🤍

omg tysm!!! also i appreciate the requests so please keep making them!!! (i live off of the validation i get on here)

also i have some more stuff in the drafts that i wanna write, and i love the trend thats been going around about nerd!konig and i rly want to contribute so stay tuned!!!

cw: none

König had such a big day. His girlfriend y/n had been working tirelessly for the past couple weeks at her new job. She was definitely more stressed out than normal and König felt so bad. So he decided to run multiple errands that day (Friday) before she got home for the weekend. First he went grocery shopping, a smaller store and Costco to get some essentials. Then he came home and cleaned their apartment from top to bottom, because he knew it wasn’t her favorite and it would be so nice for her to come home after a long week. When he was at the store he also made sure to pick up her favorite snacks, drinks, and ingredients for dinner. By the time he was all done he fell onto the couch exhausted. Flicking his wrist up he saw that it was 4:30 which meant that in a couple hours y/n would be home. He felt pretty satisfied with himself, but also very tired. As he was thinking about getting up to shower and wait for her to get home, the grips of sleep clasped over his eyes and he fell asleep :/.

Some time later, y/n opens the front door to her and König’s shared apartment and walks in, ready to just relax this weekend. Immediately she notices how clean everything is. After putting her bag down she goes over to the refrigerator, knowing there wouldn't be much in it since they needed to go grocery shopping. To her lovely surprise whens he swung open the door she saw all of her favorites. This makes her connect the dots in her mind, König must have done all of this while she was at work today, how sweet. 

“He’ll be getting something nice later” she mutters to herself, smiling as she walks away toward the bedroom. But she quickly stops when she looks over to see Konig, absolutely passed out on the couch. 

Carefully pitter pattering over to him, she pauses and lovingly gazes down at him. His mouth slightly agape, a small snore coming from him. Although he looks precious sleeping on the couch, she knew that if he stayed like that, he would wake up with the worst back pain ever. So gently she started to sit him up, and led him half asleep to their bedroom. König would have absolutely no recollection of this when he woke up, thinking he had either moved himself to the bed or that he had fallen asleep on the bed by accident. 

Once in bed, y/n gently arranged pillows and squishmallows (shameless self insert <3) around König’s body to make him as cozy as possible. Once satisfied she started to strip so that she could go shower. 

About ten minutes later, König gently woke up to a slight steam in the room, and the smell of strawberry and rose from y/n’s soaps. He stirred more, bringing his hands to his eyes to rub them awake. Then, with a sudden jolt, he sat up, feeling panicked. 

How could he let himself fall asleep?? He was supposed to finish setting up the perfect, relaxing evening for y/n. But no, his sleepy ass just had to ‘rest his eyes’ for a second.

But before his thoughts could spiral too much, he hears the shower being turned off. So, quietly he meanders to the bathroom door, slipping off his shirt, hoping to join her in the shower. Giving the door a few soft taps so as not to spook y/n. He’s met with the door swinging open and a beaming (naked) y/n, her body freshly moisturized, hair tied up since she washed it the day before, and in the middle of her skin care routine. 

“Hey baby! I noticed everything in the kitchen, and I really appreciate it.” she says, eyes shining with nothing but love. It is returned by König’s eyes, practically with hearts in them. Nothing made him happier than doing things for her, other than being with her. 

Wordlessly, he steps closer to her, pulling her body close to him by the small of her back and shoulder. He knows from past experience to not touch her face while she is doing her skin care, (he has been reprimanded before). Bending over slightly, he presses his lips to hers taking a breath in as he does so. Pulling away, he sits himself on the closed lid of their toilet that of course has a fuzzy pink cover on it. 

Now taking a moment to scan his eyes over her body. Not quite in a hungry way, but more so admirable. Taking a few moments to appreciate every plush curve, every supple, plump part of her body. She was too perfect, she looked like a renaissance painting, something that an artist created when they were tasked with painting beauty itself. 

Broken out of his haze, y/n says, “Can I do your skincare?” 

��Yes of course.” he responds, giddy inside. Whenever she offered to use her products on him, he was always super happy. It meant that she would be looking at his face, and giving him small, gentle touches. He had never been with someone like this. His past was mostly hook ups, a couple ‘relationships’ here and there but nothing this intimate. Having someone’s gentle hands glide over your face over and over again as truly more intimate and sensual than any sex he had ever had. Now, he had no idea what products she was using on him, she could be painting his face purple for all he knew, if it weren’t for the mirror. But this was part of the trust he liked about this activity. Knowing that she was sharing her products that she spent her money on, that were clearly good enough for her beautiful skin, and she was sharing them for his scarred, damaged skin. 

Once she started putting eye cream on him, König took his large arms and wrapped them around her body, pressing his bare chest to her naked body. Minutes passed as she finished the routine, and all König could focus on were how pretty her eyes looked when she focused on something. As well as how their bodies moved opposite each other with their breaths. 

Y/n, smoothing out the last moisturizer onto her boyfriend’s face, letting each of her hands rest on either side of his face, palms pressed against his cheeks, fingertips gently clasping onto his face. His face has its share of scares, but is warmer and plumper now that he has been out of the military for a while. She appreciates everything about this man, his tenderness, his patience, and of course how obsessed with her he is. Then breaking her own rules after skin care, she starts pressing soft kisses along his cheeks and jaw, then resting her forehead against his when she was done. 

This man’s eyes welled up with tears. He loved how soft she was with him, how kindly she treated him. His mind started to wonder as he started giving her small half blinks, completely enamored with his girlfriend. 

“König?” y/n says softly, it was about the third time she called his name. Bringing him out of his stupor. “I’m gonna fix my hair really quick then we can cuddle ok?” she says raising her eye brows slightly. Earning a small nod from König, she figured he would leave and go wait for her on their bed. But instead, he slightly loosens his grip and allows her to stand up. Facing the mirror again, y/n starts to fix her hair from the various clips she used to clip up her curls for her shower. König, still in the bathroom, chose to stand right behind y/n. Completely behind her, pressing his front against her back, bracing his arms on either side of her body. 

He can be pretty clingy sometimes, but this was surprising, even for him. Nonetheless, y/n doesn’t mind and finishes with her hair before turning her body. Signaling to König that she was leaving. He holds onto her left hand as she basically leads him to the bed. Quickly breaking from his grasp, she goes to her closet and puts on one of König’s shirts, and a pair of undies before climbing onto the bed and pulling König along with her. 

He grabs the tv remote and switches it on, telling her to put on whatever she wants. Then he settles himself in between her legs, now that she’s lying on her back. And nuzzles his face into her chest, wrapping his big ass arms around her middle and sighs contently. She reciprocates by running her fingers through his hair which just brings him past cloud nine. 

Y/n switches on some tv show that she has been binging recently and König soon falls asleep against her chest, feeling completely at peace. 

notes:

I know this isn’t exactly what the prompt says?? I rly just wanted to write sm where König does a bunch of little things for the reader 

[haunted-headset]

hey friend! tis me back again hahah

this is gonna sound so random but anyways i was thinking.. reader coming home to hear wilbur shouting away in his room (he’s streaming for once LMAO) and deciding to just chill in the living room/bedroom for a bit. and then when wilbur’s finished and he surprised to see reader and he’s so happy to them and just aah :,) 🫶 and i had the idea of smth like a cozy night in with wilbur?? and i was wondering if u had any thoughts on that or if u wanted to write about it maybe! no pressure at all to do any of that tho <3

i hope ur having a nice dayyy! 💕

💗 You're Back! 💗

a/n: stopppppp this is so cute!! also why did my writing get really good during this

summary: read the ask

contains: excited Wilbur, tired reader, tooth-rotting fluff, pet names, kissing, & silly Haunty shenanigans overall

words: 702

tags: @zuuriell @somebody-v @vibestillaxxx @ax-y10 @joviepog@themonsterunderurmom @ogelizasoot @wilburstan@smolsleepykitten@funnyreally2009@crows-death@dykepunz@aresriiots@0miamor0@defonotval@chipch0p@mazzistar16@unmellowyellowfellow@thosecolorfulsheets@vopix@aine-lasagna@merianakross@veeislost@urfav-sapphic-siren@shazbaz58-blog @wifiatthetrainstation@mcr-pr-fob@shd454@rqvii@idioticion@m0thza@artistphantom @lexx-the-gay-rubber-ducky @finleyforevermore @poraphia @radio-to-trenchcoat-demons @mysticalsoot @21-cats-in-a-trenchcoat @strangleetomz (let me know if u don't or do wanna be tagged)

At around 5pm, you finally got home after an exhausting day at work. You, of course, loved your job; it was your dream job, after all! Some days were more tiring than others.

You took your shoes off & put them near the door next to Wilbur's scuffed, untied Dr. Martens that had lost their shine years ago, unlike your darling boyfriend, who always seemed to have some sort of lively spark about him that nobody could quite have for themselves, which is rather peculiar, since he writes incredibly heart-wrenching songs nowadays. The shoes were massive compared to yours, almost like a clown's.

In the office, you heard shouting & laughter. You didn't think your boyfriend would be streaming, since he hadn't streamed since October, & he never mentioned any upcoming streams. Maybe he was treating the livestream like he treated Mammalian Sighing Reflex & did it unannounced to surprise people. Not wanting to interrupt him, you walked into the bedroom to take off your work clothes & change into sweatpants & Wilbur's brown hoodie that still had the smell of earthy, soothing cologne & petrichor lingering on the soft fabric. You checked yourself in the mirror. You looked okay, except for the fact that your eyes were drooping & you looked almost like you were going to collapse & fall asleep on the floor if you did any excessive movements. You yawned & stretched your arms above your head, hearing a few cracks & pops as you did such from not cracking anything all day. You then cracked your neck & knuckles, & both of them made loud pop & crack & crunch sounds. You finger-combed through your hair, tugging through the knots while wincing. You looked very dead. Abandoning the rule you made for yourself not to bother Wilbur during streams, you slowly opened the office door just a crack, making sure not to make any loud creaks.

"So, I think that'll be all today, chat!" Wilbur smiled. "Thank you all for coming. I'm so sorry I haven't been streaming as much, I've just got Lovejoy things to do. We're all very busy all the time. Here, let's have you all raid...Philza. Go raid him. Bye, chat!" He clicked the "Stop streaming" button on his PC & sighed. Since his spinny chair was still facing the PC setup, you were able to come around & hug him from behind.

"Hello," you mumbled sleepily. "I'm back."

"Angel! You're back!" Wilbur sprang up from his seat & picked you up & spun you around, causing you to laugh. When he stopped, he sat down on the chair with you in his lap. "How was work, love? Everything go okay at work?"

You shrugged. "It wasn't bad, per se, but it was just exasperating. Nobody was rude or crass to me, but I'm just really tired." Wilbur made a small "ah" sound & nodded.

"Do you want to go cuddle in bed & drink some tea?" Wilbur asked, playing with your fingers. "Do you want to do that? Or we could do something else."

"Tea & cuddles sound nice," you said. Wilbur nodded & picked you up & walked you to the kitchen. He still kept you in his arms while he made tea, softly asking you which tea flavor you preferred & which mug you wanted, or if you even wanted a mug or if you just wanted a glass. You two waited in the kitchen while the tea was being prepared, with Wilbur rocking you back & forth to a symphony only he could hear. When the whistling of the tea kettle echoed through the kitchen, he poured the two mugs of tea & handed you one as he grabbed the other & walked back to the bedroom. He cautiously placed you on the bed to make sure neither of you spilled the tea onto the soft white sheets. When he sat down on the bed, you immediately scooted over to him & cuddled up to him with his arm over your shoulders & your head buried in the crook of his neck. & you two just stayed like that for an uncountable amount of time.

Thank goodness you came back.

[harrystylescherry]

tis the damn season vol. 2 SNIPPET

A/N: yes, you did in fact read that correctly. there will be a vol. 2 of tis the damn season...NOT part 2, but VOLUME 2. Meaning, this is not a continuation, or a kind of epilogue, but a whole other scenario. with a different character, in a different universe, but connected by the premise of miss swift's song...bc it is my favorite holiday tune. this will probably be posted around new years, so see you then!

read tis the damn season!

It was the Wednesday before Christmas, and the pub was empty—just how Harry liked it. This year, the holiday was on a weekend, which meant the crowd of school-days-past wouldn’t be arriving until tomorrow at the earliest, semi-finishing out their work weeks.

Harry had been in Chesire for a week already, lazy-ing around his mum’s house and patiently waiting for his sister to come from London (she’d be part of the hoard arriving tomorrow). His mum was out for the night, at a holiday party she had with her friends every year. She had invited him along, but that week, he had already crashed a lunch and a festive dinner. The idea of round three felt pathetic.

His cousins were Christmas shopping for their baby—and it’s not that Harry didn’t want to join them, he just knew that it wasn’t the kind of shopping he was into. It was mission-based. Harry preferred the kind of shopping day that took hours and ended with a nice meal—whether or not he completed his list didn’t matter. It was the spirit of it.

So, he was alone. In a pub he frequented every time he came back. They had decorated for the holiday, with the top shelf of the bar lined with stockings that had the staff’s names written on—there were a few he didn’t recognize from the year before. It sat uncomfortably on his chest. He should make more time to visit home—because that’s what it still was to him. It didn’t matter where his house was, that he had spent more months in LA and New York alone (mostly) than he did his mum’s house. They weren’t the same, devoid of that special warmth and love that hit him each time he opened the heavy, oak door.

Garland hung around the perimeter of the room, from the ceiling, and also draped beneath the bar. Poinsettias (which he hated) filled vases on shelves that usually housed more appealing faux bouquets. He did like, however, the Christmas lights strung along the ceiling and wrapped around the posts throughout the space. It made it all quite cozy.

“Thanks, Gerry,” Harry said as he took his pint from across the bar.

The pub door opened, and with it came a gust of cold hair.

“Aye, it’s the new girl,” Gerry called across the bar to the other tender, his younger brother Tommy.

Harry turned just in time to see the smirk on the face of the supposed newcomer. He wasn’t sure if the chill that moved through him was from the burst of cold or the energy that radiated from her. She was completely bundled up, from her big boots to her bright red beanie.

She plucked it off by its pom-pom and dropped it onto the bar top, only five seats down from Harry. “Not new, temporary,” she said.

“Only ‘cause we haven’t won you over yet. Just wait, you won’t dream of leavin’ by time we’re done with you.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and unwound the pink and red striped scarf from her neck. She draped it over the seat next to her, then peeled off her coat, revealing long, dark hair that had been tucked down her back.

She was pretty. Harry could tell just from her profile. From her voice. Her nose was suited for a fairy and her cheeks were round—stained pink from the wind.

“The usual?” Tommy asked.

“Please,” she said as she pulled the sleeves of her cream sweater over her hands and fought off a shiver.

“Hi.”

Harry jolted out of his trance and flushed with embarrassment at being caught staring.

“I’m Rosie.” She smiled.

“Harry.”

“I know.” The smirk was back, and he thought, seeing her face so clearly now, it made her look even more beautiful. If that was even possible.

“Right.” He looked down and spun his glass on its coaster,

He heard her thank Tommy for whatever her usual was and listened as they fell into easy, friendly conversation.

“Care to join us?”

He looked up and was met with her smile, and expectant looks from the boys who stood on the other side of the bar, their own drinks in their hands.

“Uh, yeah, why not?”

Harry moved down until they were only a seat apart.

“Rosie’s from London,” Tommy supplied. “Like you.”

“No, technically, Harry’s from here,” Gerry corrected.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Are you visiting family?” Harry cut him off. “For Christmas?”

“Uh, no,” she said with a scrunch of her nose. Harry left her room to elaborate, but she didn’t.

“Rosie’s a writer,” Gerry offered, before taking a sip of his beer. She blushed behind the curtain of her hair.

This was how his small village operated. A new person meant new information, new stories to pass around and gossip about. It didn’t matter if that person was sitting right in front of them. It was charming, but also terrifying. Especially if the stories making the rounds about you weren’t exactly tame, or inconsequential, or PG-13.

“Is she?” He asked, his eyes looking over her.

“I write novels for young adults. Well, I wrote one novel. I’m working on the second. Supposed to be, anyway.”

“S’why she’s here.” Tommy supplied before downing the rest of his glass, just as the pub door opened again.

“Is it?” He was aware that his attempts to flirt right now were abysmal, but he didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to talk to her, not Tommy. He wanted to pry and tease and slide into the seat next to her, but he couldn’t do that with them watching so closely. The things the town would say about that...so these redundant questions were all he had.

“Sort of.” That was all she offered before taking a sip from the glass of white wine in front of her.

[nonvaleantredeo]

~Vampire Chronicles characters doing autumn preserves~ This may sound like absolutely stupid idea, but this is a tradition in my family and don’t wanna boast but I spent all day in kitchen making tomato sauce for winter pasta and shakshuka. And through the whole cooking I can’t stop thinking of Armand cutting tomatoes, he’d like the process… Also, only pairings, coz its fun to cook not alone! So Of course we start with Marius and Armand. Their choice will be soup preserves, very convenient stuff to reduce the time you spend every day trying to get a good broth, but also the thing that you will eat first when you wake up next to him in the middle of the night with your head in his hands you've nothing more than desire to eat something. Also, for all qotd fans – soup preserves are usually made with blender so… But Marius will choose good old wooden spoon to smash tomatoes, because it’s really satisfying process, in Agatha Christie manner. In conclusion: fun stuff, need at lest two people to made, take long time, but home will smell divine and its very variable, every component goes good with every component, very alchemy-like, with a little of ancient vibe. I know, this kind of preserve isn’t traditional for both Roman and Slavic cultures, just silly headcanons and associations. Imagine them cooking and teaching each other some tricks, share the knowledge is the most Marius/Armand thing ever, as people from ancient time and early età moderna they would find interesting discovering new vegetables and its features Lestat and Louis. Oh, that duet will fall for varen’e (confiture), super delicious, sweet, a lot of syrup, soft berries, Christmas seasoning. This stuff is good for the long evenings in front of fireplace with nice dialog, and as we know, Lestat didn’t get a chance to knew it when he was little, so I like to think about him discovering the magic of evenings with tea and varen’e, that transform simple tea into fun sweet drink that warms you inside while make your life nicer. And because tis is very nostalgia bringing thing, it will resurrect the memories of first Clodia’s years into Louis mind, but, more important, the childhood, Louis wanted for her – filled with tea parties, beautiful things, love and family. I just love the idea of cozy life that coven of the articulate, especially this two would have in the trinity gate times. Re-visited their important dates in mind is always better with sweets that you can not only put in tea, but spread on a biscuit or add into cream)

[fireflowersandblood]

Letters From Home - Preview

i promised a preview so. here it is. or maybe. a first chapter. maybe. i'm not promising anything.

Pairing: Tom Bennett x f!reader

WC: 800-ish words

TWs/Warnings: strong language, adult themes

Summary: Knitting for Victory has never been bigger and Tom gets a nice, cozy package from home.

“Hey, look at this, lads!”

Tom’s head snaps up. Immediately, his lips curl into a smirk. One of the men has jumped up on a box of supplies, holding a paper in his left hand. With his right, he’s trying to ward off the poor sod who has just lost his picture. Tom can’t see what it is with all the waving about, but he’s almost entirely sure it’s a lady, maybe even a lady with very little clothing. Little else gets the men this worked up.

“Bennett, for you.”

Before he can react, a paper wrapped package has been placed in his lap. It looks almost like a wrapped Christmas gift, with the string that ties it together, and is no bigger than the Encyclopedias that Lois collected when she was younger. 

“What’s this?” Tom glances down at the package and frowns at the handwriting. It’s nothing he recognizes and he can’t think of anyone who would want to send him something. Maybe his dad, but even that seems unlikely. 

“Red Cross”, his superior explains. “Knitted socks and the like. You’re not the only one.”

Tom gives an appreciative hum and glances back down on the box. The handwriting is neat, neater than anything he could manage, and spells out his full name. To his own surprise, he runs his fingers across the letters, before he takes care to open it.

The box is filled to the brim. He finds not one, but two, pairs of navy blue socks. A matching pullover and hat, as well as a small box of hard candies in all sorts of colors. It feels strange to hold something so normal in his hands, and it reminds him of when he was smaller. His mother used to have them, he remembers, in a small tin box by the radio. She’d always give him and Lois one each, and let them pick between the fruit shaped ones.

“You got socks”, someone next to him complains, and the sigh is nothing if not envious. It makes Tom feel just a tad superior, and he immediately kicks his boots off, tears the old socks from his feet, and pulls the new pair on with a self-satisfied grin. 

“I did”, he boasts. It’s all in good fun; now that the first few months have passed, there’s not as much fighting. Everyone has seen battle one too many times to spend any time asking for trouble, even Tom. “And they’re cozy.”

Everyone close enough to have heard laughs, and Tom takes the opportunity to make sure he hasn’t missed anything. He would hate to leave another tin of candies for the rats. 

Tucked away in a corner of the box, he finds a letter. Again, with a handwriting he doesn’t recognize. Not the same as on the wrapper around the box, but something a little smaller and cleaner. He tears the envelope and is met by a sweet, light scent. It takes a moment too long to realize it must be perfume. It reminds him of the one Lois wears, and the thought makes his nose scrunch up. To take his mind off the rather unpleasant thought, he unfolds the letter.

Dear soldier,

When I’m writing this, I have no idea who you are. I might never know who you are. You, however, will know a little something about me when you’ve read this letter.

I’m the person who has made you the socks and the sweater. I hope you’ll find them useful and warm. The rationing has made it difficult to get a hold of yarn and I decided to unwind an old sweater of my father’s. I know he would much rather it be used by you.

I know our Navy must need as much as our Army, but if you have no use for two pairs of socks, perhaps you can give the second pair to a friend. I know the endless walking that the Army does tears the garments rather quickly, but two pairs might have been too much. I couldn’t help myself, when they said that the packages will be delivered to people who rarely, if ever, receive mail. I wanted you to know that there are people who think of you back home. 

The candies are made in London and remind me of my childhood. I hope it brings back pleasant memories for you, as well. 

I don’t know if people actually spray their letters with perfume, but I read it in a book once, and I thought it might lift your spirits. Pass it along and let the boys sniff it like a pair of used knickers, for all I care. 

Write, if it would please you. I would love to hear if the clothes have come to use, and make sure that you’re safe. I will pray for your safe return and a quick end to the war. 

Most love.

Tom flips the letter to find a name and an address.

“Mate, you got paper and a pen?”

[dufferpuffer]

Unpopular opinion: had JKR died after writing OotP, the series would have been better that way. The last two books have rather poor pacing, do not add much to the setting or characters, destroy all of the credibility of Voldemort as villain (for the adult leader, at least), and probably do more harm than good to Severus Snape's character. Yes, we wouldn't have had Grindelore (or Grindelwald in general), Snily and Kreacher redemption, but... these are still not enough to redeem the existence of HBP and DH. And fans would almost certainly came up with a better series continuation/finale.

I read this as "Unpopular Opinion: JKR died after writing OotP"

For HBP - I'd say that is unpopular. I like that one, I like how everything went in it, I think she finally worked out how to write a decent mystery... and it was great for Dumbledore's arc.

I'm not saying the Author is particularly good, she was just fine - but she did a decent job in specific ways I don't trust fandom to: I like that she is a nasty, biting, distrusting, traumatized little weirdo that knows what its like to suffer and be trapped. I like that she knows what its like to be deeply mentally unwell, crippled by it - and how fame and money don't change that. I like that Harry Potter is a miserable, nasty, darker version of the Muggle world - and I think most things since the books ended just... forget that. Make it cozy. The love softens the hurt. But she never did that. She made Love a theme - but allowed her characters and her world to be brutalized at every turn. It's great!

This fandom? Handling Dumbledore after OotP? Handling Draco Malfoy? Handling the recent death of Sirius Black? Handling the sheer concept of Harry being a doomed child-soldier...? Shit, we can't do that now, with all the hindsight. All the expanded world-building we got in the last two books, now that Harry was older and given more independence...? Gone? Like 70% of who Snape is and why he does things is in those last two books. And he was one of the few things done perfectly: He is the thread knitting the entire story together. it might be called Harry Potter - but the story is about Severus. He was everywhere doing everything, and you don't realize till right at the end... yet can go back, through every book, and see it quite clearly, now that you can look back on them with Harry's adult eyes and not his kid eyes. She pulled it off really well. It makes a re-read of the books almost mandatory just to go WOAH. It's not One Piece, but it's good - especially for childrens fiction. I'm pretty happy with what we got, especially in HBP.

DH... eh. That one dragged its feet... I like most of the ideas and set-pieces: Starting the book with Moody's death shattered the entire concept of the Order - Hedwigs death was a nice touch, Harry's complete loss of 'Home'... the death of Charity... the wedding getting interrupted... the idea of these kids camping and starving and getting captured over tiny mistakes... But yeah - the way they are executed and tied together is lackluster. Especially the final conflict and the goddamn epilogue. It feels like it was rushed. That there were dot-points and they were strung together and said 'good enough' - because ending something is hard. But HPs ending was unsatisfying. We can do better.

I don't really know what you mean by it destroying Voldemorts credibility as a villain. Like he wasn't the most compelling villain overall, but I don't know what in the last two books was particularly bad. Maybe I'm forgetting something. I don't think about Tom much... But as an egocentric manipulator, only interested in his life story, using prejudice that already exists in the world for his own gain despite not caring for it himself...? I think that went ok.

Please don't take this wall of text as like angry at you or anything - I just blab! It's an interesting idea, Harry Potter without the final two books. You're right in saying 'not wanting HBP' being an unpopular opinion... I dunno if the same can be said about DH :^9

[butchfoolish]

Consider....8 with Eternalduo if you wanna do a damp ship (Eret x Foosh)

8) oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck

2.5k words. Contains: Muffing, blowjobs, and thighfucking.

Eret swallows heavily. Their forehead is pressed up against Foolish's chest, feeling his thundering heart.

It's stupid, honestly, hiding in a coat closet from the rest of the party. They just… they've had a bit too much wine, that's all. They needed a breath of fresh air. The air is stiflingly hot close to the Egg. Humid, too, making sweat soak the back of their dress.

Foolish might be overheated too; his golden cheeks are tinted red, like copper smelted with gold. He's staring down at them, emerald eyes difficult to read in the darkness.

"You good?" he asks. "We can just leave, y'know, if you want to go back to my place. Or yours, I guess, yours is probably closer. Your place is nice."

"No, no, we said we'd be there. I want to give them a chance," Eret sighs, swaying in place. It's cozy in here, just the two of them tucked in amongst the coats and jackets. The bitter winter chill barely penetrates this far underground, but it's cooler than the Egg room.

Foolish looks so nice tonight, too, it'd be a shame to make him go home and take it all off. He looks cute in his vest and half-rolled sleeves, less like a demigod and more like a regular guy. Their hand lingers on his forearm, touching the rough scales on the back of his arms where hair would normally be.

Eret sighs, looking up at him. Foolish smiles back, breathing a laugh. "What's that look for, old friend?"

"You look really nice, that's all," Eret hums, sliding their hands up to his biceps. His muscles are nearly the size of Eret's head, they realize.

"Oh, wait, do you wanna have sex?" Foolish's face splits into a grin, and he immediately starts undoing his shirt. "Because we can totally have sex!"

Eret's entire face starts burning. "What?! No, I just--" They stop themself. The moment they said no, Foolish's face fell. It feels like kicking a puppy. And besides, they'd be a bit of a useless bisexual if they passed up this golden opportunity. His bare chest calls to them. "Y'know what, alright, fuck it, let's go."

Foolish giggles with excitement, hands immediately landing on their hips and pulling them against him. "You have no idea how much I missed this, it's been like a million years or something."

Eret's head spins as they feel the bulge in his pants. "You mean we used to be--"

"We used to be whatever we wanted," Foolish chirps as he unlaces their dress, already grinding on their thigh, oh good heavens he's big. "You always looked soo hot when you're covered in blood, though. Or naked, naked is also hot. Ooh, or tied up. You always liked being tied up, because usually in meant we'd end up covered in blood. Or naked, or both!"

Eret can't really reply, too focused on the fucking log between his legs. "H-how is that even going to fit?!"

"We'll figure it out," Foolish says with a shrug before pulling up their skirts.

"Foolish!" Eret hisses as their face burns hot.

Foolish doesn't reply, instead pulling them flush against himself as he strokes their tucked dick through their panties. He leans in, and they melt like butter when he kisses them. They didn't expect his lips to be just as strong as the rest of him, but he kisses hard and fierce, somewhere between desperate and demanding. They push back, putting up a little resistance and taking every opportunity to explore his mouth as their hands map out the shape of his bare chest. His skin is cool to the touch, like metal. His fingers are hot and tight around their dick as he helps them untuck.

But instead of letting their balls drop, he holds one in place, keeping it tucked inside them with his knuckle as he strokes their delicate, sensitive skin with the pad of his thumb. "Do you trust me, Eret?" They can hear his tail swaying nervously, swishing against the heavy velvets, felts, and leathers of the coats around them.

"I think so," they admit, caressing his pecs. His lips meet theirs again, and he pushes his chest into their touch, grinding harder against their thigh.

Foolish's fingers start to move, pulling Eret's attention from his body to their own. Gently, he's begun to let their ball come untucked before nudging it back in. It makes their spine tingle every time it slips in or out, familiar motions in unfamiliar hands. No one else has ever touched them with such familiarity, fucking them the way they fuck themself.

Foolish gets down on his knees, keeping it tucked with one hand as he gets under their skirts. Eret squeaks in a completely undignified way, biting their lip as they feel his warm breath against their sensitive skin. They bite their lip when Foolish wraps his hand around their aching dick, anticipation coiling in their belly. Finally, Foolish's face comes close enough, and Eret whimpers as his hot tongue licks their sack, teasing the hole their ball is tucked into.

Eret needed years of experimentation to figure out what Foolish seems to already knows about them, and now he's exploiting his experience to make their legs tremble, pumping their cock with one hand as he pushed his tongue into them, like he was trying to tonguefuck them. He only takes his mouth off of them when they start to moan, massaging the surface of their skin where their ball is tucked away, warm and snug inside of them. They can feel it deep in their groin as well, so different from the straightforward pleasure of jerking off.

"Foolish, Foolish," Eret moans, their momentum building further when Foolish directs his attention to their dick. They feel the phantom threat of teeth as he licks the tip, and try to keep their hips still as he closes his mouth around them. Foolish moans, blowing them like he's starving, and the sound of that is just too much for Eret.

They cum with a startled gasp, head thrown back and hands bunched up in their skirts, pulling against the tension they're releasing as Foolish holds them steady.

Foolish is beaming as he gets up, and Eret is still catching their breath when they hear his zipper. With their head heavy and their thoughts slow, Eret watches as Foolish's cocks spring out. His hand lifts their thigh like they're nothing but a doll, and they belatedly realize what he's trying to do, and what he's trying to do it with.

They weren't expecting two, and they have to choke down a startled scream. "Foolish, you cannot put those in me!"

Foolish grins sheepishly, putting their thigh down. "Hey, hey, I'm just kidding, old pal! I just wanted to see your reaction; last time you saw them for the first time, you came in my mouth."

Eret's head spins just trying to imagine the gymnastics necessary for that to happen. "So what's the plan, then?" they ask, jaw already aching at the thought of taking just one of those monsters in their mouth.

"Here, spread your legs a little," Foolish whispers, slipping his cocks between Eret's thighs. He fits snugly, and wastes no time in fucking their thighs.

Feeling the sheer size of him between their thighs, seeing how they dwarf their own dick, Eret can scarcely imagine how they could ever fit just one of his cocks inside of them. They stretch up on tiptoes to kiss him, holding him down with a hand on the back of his head. Foolish moans, grabbing their waist, then their chest, growling softly when their dress gets in his way. He tugs it down, exposing pale skin which he swiftly begins to nip and even bruise with his teeth. Eret gasps, grabbing one of his pecs in retaliation and digging their nails into the back of his neck.

He is being extraordinarily gentle with his teeth, they can feel how much he's restraining himself from tearing straight through the delicate skin covering their collarbones. Eret has seen him bite through bone, and it makes their heart flutter to think he's being so careful not to hurt them. He's holding them close by the hips now, taking his time with them, and in the soft darkness between the coats, it feels like they're the only people in the world.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back to my place?" Foolish pants, holding on tightly to Eret's hips. "We could do this right, on my bed. I would treat you like a queen, you'd look so fucking good coming all over my sheets."

Eret shakes their head. "We can't-- Everyone will notice, I can't…"

"You're no fun," Foolish grunts before pressing another kiss against their lips. His hand slides up to their waist, dragging their skirt up over their hips until he can slip his arm under the fabric and grope their chest. He whines in the back of his throat as he breaks the kiss to watch his hands press their tits together. His lips shine as he licks them, sounding a little out of breath as he speaks:

"Eret, can I-- Just the tip, please? I don't-- I don't wanna make a mess, y'know? Just the tip, I swear, that's it, please," Foolish pleads. His thrusts have become quick and shallow, showing how close he is to coming. "Just one at a time, I promise, I won't make a mess."

Eret bites their lip. Foolish looks so desperate, cocks twitching between their thighs and rubbing against their ass. Humping them like an animal.

"Not in my ass. But… you can use my mouth."

Foolish thanks them profusely, helping them to the floor. Up close, he looks even larger, and their eyes cross trying to focus on the tips. Foolish smiles down at them, biting his lip with his serrated teeth. His hand plays with their hair, twirling the long curly strands. He tilts his head like a dog waiting for a treat.

Eret licks their lips, tasting the beeswax and roses in their lipstick. Cautiously, they open their mouth, and Foolish helps them press the head of one cock past their lips. He watches them intensely as they taste him; salt and the smell of low tide instead of sweat and semen. Fascinating.

Foolish closes his eyes, head tilting back as he luxuriates in the warm, red heat of their mouth. His flesh isn't as warm as they expected, they can't feel the heat of his blood pulsing under the skin pressed against their lips. They swallow before they can start to drool, mindful of their teeth. Just the tip, he said, but even the tip is making their jaw ache a little. Do they trust his word? They wrap their hand around the shaft, and Foolish's brow creases, eyes flashing open to focus on their face. They feel the heat on their cheeks as they realize what they're doing, seeing themself as if from outside their body.

The King, on her knees, paying lip service to a foreign demigod. The press would have a field day with this. The smell of low tide grows stronger, making their head spin.

"Hey, hey, woah, relax," Foolish says, eyes wide as he strokes their hair. "We can stop if it's too much, old pal."

Eret snaps back to themself, suddenly aware of their racing heart and the tightness in their chest that means they haven't taken a deep breath in quite a while. They pull back, breathing with their whole body and letting it out slowly.

"What was that about?" Foolish asks, still stroking their hair. One of his cocks hangs limp against his thigh as he worries his bottom lip with his teeth. Guilt knots itself in Eret's throat, making it difficult to reply.

Eret swallows, clearing their throat. "I'm fine, I just… You're sure you're not going to make a mess?"

"Totally! They only go one at a time, like a gun. Bang! Bang!" He mimes shooting from the hip, nearly poking Eret in the eye with his dick.

"Dude," Eret snickers, pushing it out of their face.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm being weird." Foolish holds it out of their face as they readjust their sunglasses. "Do you, like, wanna stop?"

"No! I mean, no, I was having fun. Let's just finish up quick, right?" Eret pulls up their collapsed dress, tightening the laces again and smoothing out their skirts. "Someone's bound to come looking for us if we take too long."

Foolish nods. "D'you mind if I just use one, then?"

"Be my guest," Eret says, opening their mouth again.

This time they're prepared for the embarrassment, pushing past it to focus solely on Foolish. They keep their jaw slack, pressing their tongue against the groove along the bottom. He seems to like that, gripping their hair tighter as he groans. They keep at it, wrapping their hand around the shaft and pressing their thumb into the groove as they pump the rest of his length. Following it down to the fin it's attached to, they're distracted by the realization that where they expected to find a heavy pair of balls to fondle, there's only a modest slit. Curiosity takes over, and they use their other hand to explore as they pump his cock.

Foolish gasps, knees buckling as Eret pushes their fingertip into him. He braces his hand against the wall, eyes flashing white as his third eyelids flicker closed. "G-gentle, be gentle, holy fuck."

Eret persists, licking and sucking at the tip as Foolish whines and runs his fingers through their hair obsessively. They look up at him, meeting his gaze. Foolish is beaming down at them, eyes scrunched up as his tail beats the air. He looks thrilled, as if just the sight of them blowing him is a gift. He's making noises too, excited little pleas for a just little more with every stroke of his slit.

"You look so good, Eret, I wanna keep you all to myself, I just need--" His hips jerk, pushing his cock in a little further. And just like that, he's coming, holding their head in place to keep it off their dress.

It tastes like warm seawater, and when they can't swallow any more, it drips down their chin like water, nothing like their own spend. They pull off, clearing their throat and wiping their chin. Where a few stray drops have dripped onto their dress, it beads in droplets of milky water for a moment before soaking in. They feel full, too, and wonder just how much they swallowed.

"See, told ya, no mess." Foolish's voice is soft and relaxed, but he's still grinning. Eret takes the hand he offers, pulling themself to their feet. He leans down to meet them in a kiss, licking the rest of his cum off their chin before delving past their lips for just a few moments.

"Ready to head back?" Eret asks when they part, though they wish they could just go home with him and explore his body further.

Foolish nods, tucking both cocks back into his pants and buttoning his shirt. "Let's just get this thing over with. Then we can go back to my place and actually relax for realsies."

Eret smiles, wiping a smear of lipstick off his lips, and giggles as he kisses their hand before leading them back out to the banquet.

[yakuzacanons]

Je suis a dutiful and affectionate woman 🧚🏼‍♀️ The type of girlfriend to act like a wifey, right? In my culture, it's not uncommon for women to dote on their husbands 🥰 I'm just imagining what it would feel like for Majima to get that kind of treatment: home-cooked delicious meals, pedicures, foot rubs, body worship, getting his body kissed everyday, and getting doted on 😭 Like it just becomes a ritual that as soon as they start dating she starts to kiss his hands, then it progresses to more intimate actions, paired with romantic words like: "Those who haven't seen you haven't seen a real man before."

SPREADING MY ASS CHEEKS FOR U

I forgot all of the French I learned so for a second I panicked and thought I got a whole ask in French lol. Anyways, YES I love this idea, about to go nuts with it right now. Headcanons below the cut.

Majima is absolutely not used to being doted on. He might react adversely at first as he's confused at what's going on. Why're you doing all of this for him? Why're you being so nice? He's baffled.

More than anything though, he's grateful and he's scared of losing this feeling. Being able to let his guard down and to feel cozy around you is a blessing and he doesn't want the feeling to end. It may take some time for him to get used to it at first though, but be patient as he loves it just as much as you do.

Majima is actually very affectionate but he's not domestic. He's not messy but he doesn't have time to decorate his place or make home cooked meals, so when the two of you start dating and you suggest cooking a meal for him someday, he's like "A home cooked meal? Can't remember the last time I had anythin' like that..."

Your gentle, doting nature is a shock to him as most people, men and women, are quite intimidated by his presence. It shocks not only him but the others in the Tojo Clan to see you happily approach him and kiss his gloved hands before asking how your day is. Most of the men are like "Where did Majima find this person?!". Meanwhile, Majima thinks it's so cute that he could pass out right then and there.

Slowly but surely he does become accustomed to it. He would never be so harsh as to totally rebuff your approaches, it just takes time for him to understand. Once he does, he's totally into it. Next thing you know, you'll be greeting him with hugs and kisses on the cheek with members of the Tojo Clan watching in awe in the background questioning just how Majima ended up in such a cute relationship.

When the two of you eventually move in together, you'll start decorating the house: pictures from PrintCircle framed on a bookshelf, both of your toothbrushes in a little holder by the sink, the closet neatly organized by your clothes and his. It's amazing how much his living space has changed now that you're here. The space feels very loving and cozy and helps him relax.

After a long day of work, he'll come home to find you at the stove, apron tied neatly around your waist, and a smile on your face. He's still not used to coming home to a clean house with food waiting for him but he's so happy and he shows it by wrapping his arms around you from behind before gazing over your shoulder at what you're cooking and saying "Whatcha doin'?"

It doesn't matter what you cook, Majima will gulp it down and ask for seconds, heartily yelling out "Umai!". One thing he will do is help you wash the dishes. He really appreciates your help around the house and tries to repay the favor by doing dishes or bringing in the laundry when it's dry.

He really enjoys when you give him massages and he totally falls asleep afterwards because he's so relaxed. Things like pedicures, foot rubs, and facial masks confused him at first when he saw you do them but when you suggested he try it too, he got a little flustered actually because he never tried it before. Now the two of you sit with face masks on chatting happily before bed.

Little things like asking "How was your day?" mean a lot to him. It's rare for people to genuinely check in on him. However, statements like "You need to remember to eat, honey" or "Do you want me to help you wash your back" absolutely make him melt. He might get shy and deflect to hide how flustered he is, saying things that are completely silly like "Ehhh, don't be silly. A REAL man washes his own back."

Kind as always, you reply with a warm but teasing "You're the one being silly." to which he looks at you with confusion. "You're a real man because you care. And because you always support the people you care about. Being a man isn't determined by things like if you want help washing your back or if someone cooks food for you." Majima would just stare at you silently, just in awe of your seemingly endless kindness. "If people genuinely think you're less of a man for it, they're wrong. Those who haven't seen you haven't seen a real man before."

Majima would just sweep you into his arms and twirl you around before smothering you with kisses. He knows he's far from perfect and he feels like he brings so little to the table with how much effort and care you put into the relationship. He's not great with words, hell sometimes he's plain bad with words, but in this moment his heart is so full and he can't help but express. Even if it's silly and you laugh as he nuzzles his face against yours, you both know that's his way of saying he loves you.

[fluffy-ami]

Profile Tag Game🌱

Hello - “Ah, hi there! You can call me Ami, but I actually use a lot of different names when talking to people on the internet. Thanks to @lovelynim for tagging me, this tag game is actually really fun~✨”

Chat: Tickling - “Um, uh... Well, it's a very... strange interest of mine? It has been with me since I was a little kid, and I still have no idea how exactly all of this had started. This little thing is really fun and cute, but the fact that I like it so much is embarrassing as hell for me”.

When It Rains - “I like staying at home when it rains, makes me want to get all cozy in my bed and just do nothing. I also usually get very sleepy, and it may prevent me from studying properly”.

When the Sun Is Out - “Huh. A rare sight at this time of year. I missed it”.

When It Snows - “Snow? I mean, it's cool, yeah. For the first few weeks, at least. After a while your eyes will probably start hurting a little though, because, well, too much white everywhere”.

Good Morning - “Five more minutes...”

Good Night - “Oh hell nah, I'm not going to bed. What do you mean it's 3am? I don't care, I'm still not done with my silly doodles, now go back to sleep, buddy”.

Chat: Sensitivity - “Hm? Am I ti-? Ahem. Well, not really. In reality, I'm not sure. But what I do know for sure is that I'm not that sensitive in some of those 'most popular' spots, perhaps certain techniques are required to get me to crack. No-one had ever gotten to try though, my irl buddies value their lives over trying to get a reaction out of me~”

My Hobbies - “Writing, reading, crocheting and sewing toys, cross stitching, making pins and silly jewelry, gaming, journaling, making ocs and, most importantly, drawing - these are the things I enjoy doing in my free time (when I'm not procrastinating, of course)”.

About Me: Cooking - “Heh, no. Just... no.”

My Troubles - “Ehhh... Touch starvation? Or just overall loneliness? Maybe I should call it that. I feel constantly burnt out from talking to people, but at the same time I want to connect, and don't know how to do it. And sometimes it feels like people remember about my existence only when they need something from me. It's complicated, really. I feel emotionally isolated, but I also know that it's basically my fault, so I just kinda got used to this feeling. I'm sure I can do better though”.

Favourite Food - “Hmm, let me think... I like seafood. And salty things. Not too salty, though”.

Least Favourite Food - “I'm not a picky eater. Me liking or not really liking food depends on me liking or not liking its texture mostly. But I think I don't like things that are overly sweet”.

About @anzynai - “Ahhh, thinking about her brings me back. Jai was the person who gave me motivation (and courage) to post my very first drabble, and to just start writing in general ever since. And I'm still very grateful for that ★”

About @nataliewritez - “My little sis! I adore her writing and her art. She's a very friendly and funny person, also really pretty! Even annoying her can be kind of fun <3. Nat is just nice to be around, you know?”

About @stopiteatpopcorn - “Rando? He's a good kid! He's very adorable and energetic, it's a big part of his charm. And I'm proud to have such a talented lil' bro like him (he's also very easy to tease, you should try it sometime)”.

Tagging: Anyone who hasn't been tagged and wants to join in!~🌱✨

[screampied]

ok finally got home, so i can resend the fucking shit ass big ass rant/answer i made for you.

so, first, hello my sweet vegas, how was your day? mine was extremely tiring and i was starving for most part of it, good thing is i managed to have for dinner what i was craving the most: street food. except it was at home. except it was industrial and not home made. fucking incredible either way.

i met lad through random scenes people uploaded on tik tok, at first i was hooked on zayne, but then somehow sylus got tied on a chair and there was a whip passing over his chest. i was doomed.

i love being a squirtling, can’t wait till i become a certified one (that’s for non anons right?)

see, me personally i like knives, because i am a scream fan. but, when i used to role play, there was this one character with this whole bad boy killer vibe and i compared him with this emoji 🪓, so how tf do i explain that this thing gets me giggling and blushing and wanting to be manhandled? no way, one can’t do that. unless one is me, sending an anon to you. honestly, the only thing toji would never be allowed to put near my coochie is that one worm is his. i have phobia with those types of animals, and it took me months to even think toji looked attractive because every time i saw him, i saw that ugly bitch hanging on him. nowadays, however, i would like to exchange places. i mean i can hang on his big muscles pretty easily and i can swallow whatever he wants me to, hihi.

my favorite thing about the 70’s and 80’s style is the fluffy hair. i have natural curly hair, it goes up and wild but unfortunate after too much bullying i put chemicals. i miss it, but the process of getting it back is so ugly that i just do heartless curls and brush them. last month i did for a birthday party of a friend and everyone was enchanted by it, i felt really cute!!

i’ve never seen rocketman either, don’t think i will, because…as i said, i’m a little shit younger sibling and they love elton john, so i’m bound to not like him. i secretly do. i have seen bohemian rhapsody, i fell even more in love with ben hardy, he was so delicious in it. rami malek was presente in my childhood (the museum movie idk the name in english), early teens (twilight!!! one of my favs characters) and full teens (bohemian), so i’m always going to love him. he is very dedicated, passionate, i so loved his perfomance and i’m sure freddie would’ve as well.

scotland is a dream of mine, as well. something about cozy, something about their accent, something about the lands. i like it very much. if i were to go to the usa i would love to go to oregon or washington. i like cold weather, big dark trees and feeling like not doing nothing but stare at the rain and forest through a fogged window. i would also fucking die to go to new orleans.

you need to go to vegas and take a pic under the welcome to las vegas. hm, actually that gave me an idea, you should do a theme like that. it would be fun and cool. about you going to vegas, just open up a venmo and your squirts will get you there, first class and all.

omg your blog birthday is near my birthday, that’s so cool. i’m going to add a print of your acc on my cake and make everyone celebrate it. my favorite season’s aesthetic is fall, but my country’s fall is not that nice so i rather go with spring, because is my birthday time and i love the end of the year, there is just something so beautiful and dazing about it.

questions for the day is, what pronouns you feel more comfortable being addressed or is both fine? and what would you take with you in case a zombie apocalypse happened? would you go through if the zombies were like zombieland or tlof?

the pronouns question is because just like you i use two (she!him) and it’s been such a long time since people addressed me by him, i think they just kinda of forgot. which is totally fine because i use she!her and i’m mostly fem presenting, but sometimes i want to be called handsome and have a tall ass gorgeous baby calling me good boy? is that too much to ask? oh wait, nanami came into my mind being the one saying that. oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..

nutty anon.

NUTTY MCNUT POOK 🙂‍↕️💓.

hello my beautiful nut anon <3. my day was pretty okay, it was sooooo cold n i was jus staying warm with my lil doggies. i have sm work to do tmrw which sucks 🤒🤒. i hope u get some good rest !! ouuugh street food sounds so yum.

PAHAHAH yeah lads is pretty popular on tik tik. especially sylus since he’s a fairly new character. yeah that scene was very !!!!!!!! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️. i only have his shower scene n it kills me everytime

IMGLAD YOU LOVE BEING A SQUIRTLING 💓🎀. oooh no, anon or not you’re all squirtlings to me :))) so technically you are one the day you started sending me asks cxxx

bye ur so real about toji being ugly ????? i just couldn’t see it for MONTHS. i guess the ‘bum’ and ‘oh he lives in a cardboard box’ really turned me away from him but now that i read the manga and actually read ab his lore / character that’s not !!!!!!!!! like he’s a freeloader sure but 💔💔💔. he’s handsome, the scar only adds to it omg. LMAO NOT THE WORM i always found it kinda cute is it just me 😿😿. i wanna poke it n see what happens.

yesssyeys !!! i loved the fluffy hair era in the 70s & 80s too !!!!! everyone had such good style, ugh i wish i could have experienced it. same i have naturally curly hair too but i think m gonna cut it for my birthday 🧎‍♀️. im srry u got bullied into putting chemical in it :(( but AHHH THATS NICEE i bet you looked so pretty / handsome

trust when i go to vegas m gonna do a whole ass vlog 🤞🏽. omg that’ll be so silly. me pointing at the welcoming sign n being like “yoh omg guys that’s me.” STOPPPP A VEGAS THEMEEEE. i kinda did one when i first started but it only lasted for like a week 🧍🏽‍♀️. no one rly remembers bc i didn’t post back then but it was more casino themed it was sooooo fetch

ur gonna put a print of my blog on ur cake that’s so adorable STOP 🤒🤒🤒. but omg it is. it’s craaaazy to think i’ve been here for almost a year? pheeewww time goes by so quick.

i use they/them pronouns but everyone addresses me by she / her accept some close moots which is fine !!!!! so now i don’t mind any, im okay with they, him, or she. 🎀 what would i take in a zombie apocalypse hmmmm. water, my phone, socks, lotion, vaseline, and errrm lots of clothes.

NANAMI YOU SAAAAAY 🌞🌞. he’s so fine i wanna have his blond babies

[greypetrel]

HELLO HELLO...... what about!!! bilbo, smaug, and sten? 👀

MY MY MY WHAT HAVE WE HERE 🎶 (... sorry.)

Ok, so... A premise: I really didn't like the Hobbit trilogy past the first half of the first one. Personal taste, nothing against you if you loved them. I will purposefully speak of the books only. I'll say that the cast for Bilbo was perfect and on point.

Tis the Ask Game

Bilbo:

First impression: As a 11-y.-o. reading the Hobbit during a road trip in Tunisia, I distinctly remember thinking that he understood little, he had an adventure and he didn't like it? And he wanted to go home? Good sir let me go in your place! (I was a fool of a Took.)

Impression now: I think he's the most relatable character in the whole Tolkien corpus, if you're an introvert, and the most human. I count Bilbo Baggins in the short list of my favourite characters EVER. In the way he does things even if he's scared. Beside the whole Gollum thing, which is something so human it gives me the chills every time... He doesn't want to be there. He hates camping and adventuring and he just wants to get back to his nice house and cozy up with a blanket and some tea. And instead no, he goes on. Even if he doesn't have anything to do with the quest. Even if he's the odd one. The one with litterally nothing at stake, no point in being there. Technically it would make for a poor main character but... but it fucking WORKS. "Go back?" he thought. "No good at all! Go sideways? Impossible! Go forward? Only thing to do! On we go!" So up he got, and trotted along with his little sword held in front of him and one hand feeling the wall, and his heart all of a patter and a pitter. I love Bilbo like you have no idea.

Favorite moment: Every time he goes to sleep in the wilds, under the rain, cold and being the most miserable, wettest cat of Arda, dreaming about his nice armchair, dry hobbit hole and of the kettle whistling on the stove "And it wasn't the last time". (the translation isn't accurate). Beside this peak of relatability, this moment:

Bilbo almost stopped breathing, and went stiff himself. He was desperate. He must get away, out of this horrible darkness, while he had any strength left. He must fight. He must stab the foul thing, put its eyes out, kill it. It meant to kill him. No, not a fair fight. He was invisible now. Gollum had no sword. Gollum had not actually threatened to kill him, or tried to yet. And he was miserable, alone, lost. A sudden understanding, a pity mixed with horror, welled up in Bilbo's heart: a glimpse of endless unmarked days without light or hope of betterment, hard stone, cold fish, sneaking and whispering. He trembled. And then quite suddenly in another flash, as if lifted by a new strength and resolve, he leaped. No great leap for man, but a leap in the dark.

Idea for a story: Ideally, I'd like to read something about after he got back to the Shire, if he kept in touch with the friends he made along the way, how he dealt with settling back to a quiet life. But as above could have shown, I am... A difficult audience when it comes to Bilbo and The Hobbit as a book. So I won't actively look for fics without friends who knows what would make me rabid suggested me some. I'd like to point out that the problem is entirely mine and how attached I am to this character and book, nothing objective about the values of fics and movies. If you liked them, you have my deepest envy, I would LOVE to have loved them as well. Sadly, after the first half of the first movie, it wasn't so.

Unpopular opinion: The Hobbit trilogy sucks and he's not shippable with Thorin or, Iluvatar forbids, Smaug.

Favorite relationship: Bilbo and Gollum. As above, it's a short meeting, but it's so influential, and so compassionate... I won't go any further because I'll go philosophical, I'll do it badly, and surely there's plenty of people more prepared than me to put in words how much that single act of compassion means.

Favorite headcanon: Bilbo is a snarky person who'll use sarcasm more often than not.

Smaug:

First impression: "Dragon ** PRETTY!" I liked dragons and I was little.

Impression now: He is an innocent danger noodle that did nothing wrong. He just did what a dragon does: saw a pile of gold, gasped in delight, yelped "Mine!" and got himself the den covered in gold and treasures of his dreams. A very good boi, very reasonable, very pretty, sarcastic personality, what a nice villain.

Favorite moment: Bilbo presenting himself with titles and him going oh yes what a nice little fellow, how amusing a fly.

Idea for a story: As above. I may add something in my fic about Aisling learning of his demise and getting actually angry because poor dragon what did he do wrong he just followed his nature. Actually Smaug always was the rambunctious one and yes he was kind of an asshole, but still!

Unpopular opinion: The Hobbit trilogy sucks and he's not shippable with Thorin or, Iluvatar forbids, Smaug. Smaug did nothing wrong we're Smaug apologists here, we stan dragons here.

Favorite relationship: Smaug and his pretty treasure.

Favorite headcanon: The dragon actually did Thorin a favour, if he wasn't so dead-set in gaining the gold, nothing would have happened. Leave the dragon to his den dude. See what happens if you don't.

Stan:

Already answered here!

[thesilentmedium]

Soup For The Soul || Cass & Jonas

TIMING: Before the gooptasrophe LOCATION: bread cemetery. PARTIES: @thesilentmedium & @magmahearts SUMMARY: Cass comes over to claim one of the meals Jonas offered as payment for her help finding that body in the cave. CONTENT WARNINGS: None!

Jonas was pleasantly surprised to see the young woman finally show up at his shop, he was beginning to worry that the girl had forgotten all about the meals he offered to make and hadn’t been sure how to bring them up. He didn’t want to come off as demanding she come to have the meals so had been fretting for days over what message to send. The relief was visible on his face when she walked through the door. “Have a seat at the table, I will close up shop and get you something to eat!” He beamed as he walked from behind the counter to flip the store’s sign. 

“I am afraid I do not have pasta on hand at the moment but I can make you some soup and some bread to go with it if you give me just a few moments.” Jonas had been planning to have dinner at the bakery, being home alone recently was a lot harder than it was before. He was having problems feeling at ease after the multiple break ins and the subsequent death of one of the men who came after him. The image of the man bleeding out was still seared in his mind making going out his front door rather challenging. At least him avoiding his house meant he had everything already in the kitchen for a nice meal. 

—

Beggars couldn’t be choosers. That was a phrase Cass had learned pretty well during her years of living on the street. But the thing was, she’d really rather not be a beggar at all. She didn’t really like asking people for things, always felt a heavy weight at the idea of it. She thought maybe it was tied to her nature as a fae — that even if you didn’t say the words thank you, gratefulness still felt like a dangerous thing to carry. She’d rather steal. She’d rather take what she wanted than have it handed to her.

But Jonas had offered, and she was hungry. Really hungry, lately. Stealing was something she’d been doing less and less often, the feeling of it so much less enjoyable after her experience with Mack, so her main source of ‘income’ had slowed quite a bit. So she was here, at Bread Cemetery, waiting on some soup. She sat where Jonas indicated, shifting uncertainly. “What kind of soup are you making? I’ve only ever had chicken noodle.”

—

The table inside was a new addition, mainly added so his many regulars wouldn’t have to sit outside in the heat as they ate. It was nestled comfortably in front of the window and was surrounded by three chairs that matched their outdoor counterparts though cushions had been added to the seats. A rainbow tablecloth had also been draped over the table to keep with the bakery’s now rather lgbt friendly theme. Jonas was hoping it was cozy and inviting for the young woman, though her fidgeting did seem to give away her uncertainty with the situation. “Tomato soup, with milk. It is more filling and creamy that way. I think you will like it!” He beamed at her before finally disappearing into the back. Blue, who had been resting in Jonas’ shadow, jumped out before the man crossed the iron worked wood. She let out a huff before noticing who was sitting in the chair, tail wagging immediately as she waddled over and plopped her head in Cas’ lap letting out a low whine of excitement. 

Jonas did not take long in the kitchen returning with a tray holding two bowls filled to the brim with fresh tomato soup, next to them on small plates were pan toasted slices of bread and two glasses of water. The golden color of the bread was only broken up by the sheen of butter that had been used and the soft reflection of light on the bits of salt that had been lightly sprinkled in the pan. “Blue, she needs her hands to eat.” 

—

“That sounds really good.” Especially the filling part. When you weren’t always sure where your next meal was coming from, ensuring that every one you got was as filling as possible was always a good move. Cass knew she could come back to Jonas for another meal if she needed to, just like she knew she could go to Leila or even Gael and request the same, but she didn’t like to do that. Anyone could leave at any time. She’d learned that the hard way. Relying on people only meant you’d lose access to what they gave you when the inevitable happened. There was a reason you weren’t meant to feed wild animals — they were supposed to learn how to survive on their own.

She busied herself with petting Blue as Jonas retrieved the food, offering him a small smile as he returned. “She’s okay. I can eat with one hand, pet with the other. Right?” As if to demonstrate, she lifted one hand off the ‘dog’ and picked up the spoon, shoveling soup into her mouth. It was good, but that was no surprise. Jonas owned a bakery — of course he was a good cook. “Do you make this a lot?”

—

Jonas smiled as Cas took a spoonful, “I am glad you like it. Try dunking a bit of the bread in there and eating it.” If Cas was happy with Blue where she was then he wouldn’t say more on the matter. Both seemed pleased with the situation so who was he to ruin it? “I do, as a comfort food.. I um have been making it a little more lately which is why I already had it on hand when you stopped in.” The past few months since he came back to town had been rough on the young man remembering the events led to a ball of stress building in his stomach. The soup helped, it was something simple that undid the knots for a little while until he had a moment to himself again. 

“How have you been? It has been awhile since we talked, I hope you have been well.” He meant it. Cass seemed like a sweet girl who didn’t deserve the kinds of things this town could throw at a person. Jonas had lived here for half of his life before bolting. It was tiresome being back but who was he to complain? They had to find his family and he would not quit such an important task just because of a few hardships. “Oh! I did um make more so you can take some soup home, there is also enough if you want more than uh one serving.” He had cleaned the tupperware while the soup was warming, figuring it would help Cass in the long term to have the soup on hand. 

—-

Taking his advice without question, Cass dunked the bread in the soup and took a bite, humming at the taste. It seemed to seep into the bread just right, the flavors coming together to form something wonderful. “That’s really good,” she said. “You’re totally a soup expert.” Soup was something she’d had rarely because it wasn’t exactly portable. To have soup, you had to have a bowl and a spoon and a stove to cook it on. None of those things were easy to come by when you were living on the street or in a cave. Maybe that was why it worked so well as comfort food, she thought — you could only enjoy it properly at home. “I’m glad you’re making more money.” Jonas deserved that, more than most people she knew. He was kind, and kindness should be rewarded. 

“I’ve been okay,” she said around a mouthful of food, dunking the bread in the soup again. “Mostly. Some of my friends have been… having problems.” She thought of Alex, of Aria, of Wynne and Nora. Wicked’s Rest hadn’t been kind to any of them lately, and she hated it. She wished there was more she could do. “You made me some to take home?” The words were quiet, tone touched. He didn’t have to do that. That wasn’t part of their arrangement, but he’d done it anyway. “That’s really nice of  you. I would really like that. I, um… I’m not sure I have anything to warm it up with, though.” She could warm it up with her magma… but that would melt whatever container it was in. So few things were lavaproof.

—

“I am too. If I am being honest, running a business is much easier when you have the money to do so. I just um hope I am running it as well as my mother does.” Jonas couldn’t be sure just how well that was exactly, given that he was hardly around to see the effects of her business. Postcards and phone calls could easily hide anything that might be going wrong with the store and Jonas never did find where his mother had put the books, having to purchase new ones on his own. He wasn’t sure if his mother even bothered to keep track of it on paper, she may have logged everything on the computer that was still sitting locked in the back. Jonas preferred paper records, though he understood keeping things on the computer might be a bit safer. It was a lot less tiring on his eyes to flip through pieces of paper than to stare at a bright screen for hours. 

“I am sorry to hear that, I hope your friends get a break.” Jonas paused at the other’s remark, he hadn’t thought of how Cass was going to keep the soup or heat it back up. “Hm. If you do not mind coming home with me after this I do have a camping stove that can be used. It belongs to my father but he does not go camping anymore so I am sure he would not mind you using it.” Knowing Jacob Ballard he definitely would mind, but the older man wasn’t there to stop him. His father hadn’t gone camping in years and the thing was collecting dust in the attic. Jonas had found it when he was doing a deep clean of the house.  Better for it to get some use than to just sit tucked away. He would offer the one he had from his time on the road but he wasn’t sure if he would need that later or not. 

He had met so many wonderful people in town, he even met someone he was sweet on but if his father was alive when they found him he would chase Jonas from the house, maybe even town. Jacob Ballard had never taken the twins leaving well. He would stay though, if he could. Zane was good motivation for that but so were the many other friends he had made like Andy and the girl sitting across from him. It felt like he really did have a home here again even with all the troubles that came with it. 

—

“I think you’re doing a good job,” Cass replied, though she wasn’t sure how much her approval would mean to him. She knew nothing about running a business, and she’d never known his mother, either. She’d never even known her mother, had no idea what the pride of a parent might feel like. But she liked the bakery and she liked Jonas, and she couldn’t imagine anyone thinking that he was failing, somehow. There were always people inside when she walked by, after all, and she saw it being talked about online, too. What more was there to track the success of a business?

She nodded, agreeing with the sentiment. If anyone deserved a break, it was people like Wynne and Aria and Alex and Nora and Thea and everyone else who’d been kind to her when they didn’t have to be. People like Jonas, too, who Cass often thought carried a little too much a little too far. “A camping stove?” She paused for a moment before nodding her head. “Okay. If you’re sure he won’t mind.” She didn’t want to upset Jonas’s father, but a camping stove seemed like the kind of thing that would really come in handy in the Magmacave. Not just for soup, but for other things, too. She could practice her cooking far easier with something like that.

Continuing to eat her soup, Cass offered Jonas a small smile. “How have you been doing?” She asked, propping her elbow on the table and leaning forward just a bit. “Is the bakery going okay? I met your sister, you know. She was nice.”

—

“I appreciate you saying that it means a lot.” It did, any sort of affirmation that he was heading in the right direction with all this was a good boost to his morale. Jonas had to admit that lately the more negative thoughts in his head had been taking center stage. The first time this happened it took running away from home and an online therapist to climb out of the hole his mind had dug for him. He might have to contact his therapist again, if these thoughts kept being persistent. Jacob Ballard was a force hard to get rid of even if he wasn’t currently present. 

“I am sure he will not. He um does not go camping anymore so it should be fine.” If Jacob did throw a fit Jonas would just buy him a new one. Or buy Cass a new one and take the old one back to Jacob. Then again he could just leave again. Jacob wouldn’t know who had his stove if Jonas never mentioned it. He would feel guilty about it though, leaving and keeping the secret. “I have been well. Um just a little stressed, I have never run a business before.” At the mention of his twin Jonas seemed to perk up. “You have met Lil? She is great! If you um come to the bakery during the day you may see her at the counter. I am sure she will be happy to see you if she was nice to you when you met.” 

Jonas took a look around the bakery, “Well the bakery seems to be going okay. I have enough to pay my employees and um and taxes so I think it is doing okay. I am looking to hire a proper accountant and another baker. Another delivery person would be good as well.” His last one quit after they ran into one too many weird things on their deliveries, though a delivery person would be easier to fill than a baker and accountant. 

—

Cass offered Jonas a small smile, and she wondered if everyone felt like this. Most of her life, she’d felt alone because of the emotions swirling inside of her. The doubts, the fears, the uncertainty. Everyone else always seemed so much more put together than she was, so much less unsteady. Up until this conversation, she would have included Jonas on that list, too. The fact that he was admitting to doubting himself from time to time opened the door to the possibility that Cass might not be alone in the way she felt, that she might not be the only person out there who was uncertain. And she hated it for Jonas, who was kind and deserved better, but there was a selfish part of her that was glad for herself. 

She nodded, sensing that there was something Jonas wasn’t saying but recognizing he didn’t want to talk about it, either. She was learning that family was a tough topic to discuss, even for the people who had it. Alex’s parents seemed scary, even in death. Metzli’s were horrible, even with more than a century separating them from their child. Sometimes, Cass wondered if she was better not knowing hers, but… There was still this persistent ache in her chest. An emptiness she didn’t know how to fill, a question she didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t think she’d ever know herself without knowing them, and they hadn’t wanted to know her. “Yeah,” she confirmed, smiling at the way Jonas lit up. His sister, it seemed, was a far safer topic to discuss. “She was behind the counter. She let me have some food.”

Business was a foreign concept to Cass, but if Jonas had enough to pay his bills then she figured his was okay. “You should put a help wanted ad online,” she offered. “I’m sure a lot of people would be interested. I don’t know any accountants or bakers or delivery people, though.” Mostly because she rarely paid attention to someone’s job when she met them. Cass wasn’t interested in what people did for money — she’d rather focus on the fun stuff.

—

Jonas was happy to talk about his twin whenever she was brought it, Lil and him had practically been born attached at the hip. In fact coming back to Wicked's Rest had made a lot of opportunities for the twins to be apart though he wasn't sure if that was a beneficial thing or not. His anxiety got worse when Lil was around. The feeling of safety she brought left with her as soon as she was out the door. “I am um glad she gave you food and did not hassle you over it. She is very kind even if she seems a bit rough on the outside.” He took a few sips of soup glad it was still warm despite all his talking. “I hope you two get along more it would um be good for both of you I think to know each other.” Anymore friends Lil could make the more at ease he would feel.

”An online ad would be smart! I could um post to the bakery blog.“ Which was just Jonas' blog if he was being honest. Sure a lot of announcements were also made on the bakery's website but most of the traffic seemed to come from his conversations with townsfolk online. He didn't mind, Jonas was a people person after all. He was more in his element surrounded by friends than sitting at home alone. Then again home was less and less welcoming these days. So many bad things had happened there Jonas wasn't sure it was home anymore. “I do hope you stop by more often as well. I um will be here most nights as will my dinner.” 

—

“Some of the best people I know seem rough on the outside,” Cass said with a small, fond smile. She thought of Alex, of Nora, of Metzli. Not everyone was softened by their experiences; some people were hardened by them. That didn’t make them any less deserving of the belief she carried for the people she cared about. And Lil, through her connection Jonas and the way he spoke about her, had earned a spot on that list now, too. She offered Jonas another smile, nodding her head. “I think so, too.” Cass would never say no to more friends — in fact, she was always looking to add to the list of people who she could call on when she needed someone to be around. After all, the more people she had, the more she could spread herself out and the longer the relationships would last. She wouldn’t be too much for anyone if she was spread across a wide variety of people.

Cass preened as Jonas agreed that her idea was a good one, clearly pleased to have ‘succeeded’ in the conversation. Talking to humans, she’d learned at an early age, was a game. She didn’t used to be very good at it, but she’d spent a long time practicing. She was a pro now. She was sure of it. “I can stop by more often,” she agreed, “yeah. Definitely.” For the food… but also for the company. A little of that went a long way.

—

“That is true. I um have yet to find someone who has been unkind.” Well besides the people who seemed to want him dead, and Regan. Though Jonas did not think that was worth mentioning to Cass. She was here to enjoy a meal not to hear him fret over the mystery men following him or some random woman who was far too invested in bagels to be healthy. Jonas did his best to always think positively of people and to be understanding but some people just could not be helped. He was glad he had not met Regan’s parents, he could only imagine the nightmares that raised such a woman to behave like that to those in customer service. He almost scolded himself for thinking such a rude thing but Jonas also realized that sometimes the rude thoughts were just the truth. He cried dealing with one Regan he could not imagine dealing with three. The thought terrified him, it was better to focus on the woman in front of him rather than the woman who haunted him. “If you like, I can um let her know the next time you stop by for dinner so she can join us.” 

“I would love that then. If you have any request other than um pasta, I have that noted down, then I will do my best to make sure to mix them in with the dinner plans.” Jonas loved planning dinners especially when there was someone else to share it with. Cooking and baking were very similar, and both were good at offering comfort and happiness to those around him. His mother had always said that people could feel the love you put into every loaf of bread so it was important to bake in high spirits to pass it onto those who came into the bakery everyday. “If you want seconds let me know. If not, I will  pack up the leftovers for you and some loaves of bread. Then we can um go get that camping furnace for you.” 

—

Cass hummed, though she couldn’t quite agree with Jonas’s statement without lying. She’d met plenty of people who were unkind. There were those who were rough on the outside and soft on the inside, but… Those felt like more of an exception than a rule. Still, she didn’t want to take away from Jonas’s experience. He deserved kind people. Who was Cass to tell him he was wrong? She offered him a small smile, nodding her head pleasantly. “I’d like that. Definitely.” Having dinner with Lil and Jonas seemed like it would be fun.

She hesitated for a moment. “I can… give you some recipes from online? Some of the things I like might not be things you’ve cooked before.” She missed the food from the island, the nostalgia it brought with it. Metzli cooked it for her sometimes, but getting it from multiple sources would be nice. And Jonas was a great cook; Cass thought he could probably pull it off. “I appreciate it Jonas.” And she did. This wasn’t something she’d had before; it was nice to have it now, even if she couldn’t bring herself to say thanks. Some things, she thought, could go without saying.

[bugcatcherwill]

"Hylia have mercy on mayor Reede" or don't. Link kill him now /silly

I am SIFTING through a MASSIVE HEAP of Link lore. SNiffing around this entire chapter like a dohggg. I LOVE IT I'm stuffing it all into my little goblin sack and running off

FuUCK seeing Hateno in both physical and metaphorical shambles is so disheartening,,,, it was such a cozy place and then the lab shenaniganing went down and everything went to SHITE.,,,,,,,,,,,, side eyeing Reede with the fury of a thousand suns

mf better be glad Link didn't wait for the main four to come back before he went off !!!!1 I can't see him bringing Zayl for obvious reasons but it's so funny to imagine Reede opening his door to the worlds most righteously infuriated twink [which is already terrifying] and three monsters fully fucking prepared to start pummeling this middle aged man. I'VE MADE UP scenarios in my BRAIN before this chapter where Link fucking goes to Hateno with Rezek's invisible ass behind it and when Reede tries to make a run for it Wizzrobe Jumpscare. I don't think they'd hurt him [too bad] BUT THAT'S PART OF THE APPEAL,,, it's the same thing like what Khini felt when Sledge looked at him and it was so wild to him because it was a monster looking at him with fully comprehensible human emotion I fucking love when instead of hurting someone the monsters just give them the most harrowingly disappointed look and leave them be because it can't be helped and it's HAUNTING. It's late and I'm incomprehensible rn but IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. FUCXKE

plus if you consider the whole wizzrobes are usually goofy looking and all that. realizing that a wizzrobe specifically is unhappy BECAUSE OF YOU would be HAUNTING. YOU KNWO

anyways obligatory end note this chapter fucked I CNAT WAITE FUCKEVERYTHING

YEAAAAA especially showing Hateno's declining state it's like

I love small town rot. I love when something bad happens in an otherwise connected and homely town because it's such a good deconstruction of that veil. The veil of "polite, but not nice", and their idea of a "civilized settlement".

It especially hits hard as someone who grew up and lives in the American Midwest. So many smaller towns are self-described as "homey" and "cozy" and "full of wonderful people!" but so many times it's that polite-but-not-nice facade.

Because once an outsider comes along that's far from any of their established norms, you see their true colors. And it's not pretty.

Hell, you even see this in our suburbs, too. ESPECIALLY in the 'burbs, actually.

They always hated Purah's lab, and her seclusion, and her ties to the Sheikah. They were really just looking for an excuse. They also hated monsters, so the years of the community festering their distaste for that house on the hill led to the obvious conclusion.

But now that the veil has been sufficiently torn off, all of Hateno is seeing each other for how they saw themselves. If they were so eager to join in and torch a house to ground, then everyone else around them would do the same if the town found some dirt on them, right? Projection and paranoia are a dangerous combination.

....oh yeah, back to the chapter...

BUT YEAH CATHARSIS IS DEFINITELY COMING FOR THE MONSTERS

I mostly wanted Link to go back to Hateno on his own because I thought it'd be great for his own solo-development and story. Allow him a bit more spotlight and show some of his past (oops all ANGST).

But also because a big theme I'm going with the Hateno return arc is "you shouldn't need to see the consequences to know what you did was wrong"

Rezek jumpscaring Reede would be fucking hilarious tho lkjhdsafkjhlfdsa

But also godddddd I still don't know how I'd make Zayl react once it goes back to Hateno for whatever reason. I've RARELY shown it as actually mad so I gotta make sure the first time it gets upset enough to be visibly angry will be worth it,,,

BUT YEAH NEXT CHAPTER'S GONNA BE REAL GOOD I HOPE AUUUUUGH

[marjaystuff]

Kallie E. Benjamin

Sniffing Out Murder

Bailey the Bloodhound Mystery Book 1

Berkley Pub

Dec 5th, 2023

Sniffing Out Murder by Kallie E. Benjamin, the pen name for Valerie Burns, is the first in a new series.  This book is a delightful read that has humor and a riveting ‘who done it.’

Readers are introduced to the main character, Priscilla Cummings, who is a teacher by day and a children’s author by night.  That is until she has found success with her first children’s book, about the adventures of her dog, Bailey the Bloodhound.  Because of her success she has decided to become a full-time author, but also continues to have Bailey assist children to read.  Bailey is a trained therapy dog and frequently goes to the local library to have children read to him and watch him demonstrate his tracking skills.

The mystery has Bailey sniffing out a murder, digging up the body of Whitney Kelly.  She is a mean girl who earlier had a confrontation with Priscilla.  But Pris is not the only enemy she has made, and the list of suspects continues to grow for Police Chief Gilbert Morgan.  He is tenacious and determined to find the killer, but readers also see his other side.  Raising his daughter Hannah as a single parent, he is very caring and gentle. Both he and Pris develop a relationship after Bailey helps Hannah with her reading skills and Pris becomes involved in solving the murder mystery.

Readers will be kept guessing until the very end about who done it.  This plot has it all: delightful characters, great banter, a mystery, and a sweet bloodhound. 

Elise Cooper:   Since it is an anonymous name how did you choose it?

Kallie E. Benjamin: Kallie was my great grandmother’s name.  I never knew my grandmother but did know my great grandmother. The “E” is from my mom whose name was Elvira but decided not to use Elvira as my author’s name. My dad’s first name was Benjamin. 

EC: How did you get the idea for the story?

KEB:  I get nervous when I start a new series, hoping readers will enjoy it. Dogs are my thing and I wanted to write a new series with a new breed of dog.  To me, a bloodhound symbolizes search and rescue.  This series has a lot of family ties for me. Also, when I write cozies what is important to me is the ‘who done it.’

EC:  How so about family?

KEB:  It is set in Indiana, which is where I am from. The town’s name, Crosbyville is based on one of my nephew’s children, Crosby.  His other child is named Cameron.  The main character, Priscilla, is an author and her agent’s name is Cameron. Her best friend, Marcella is named after my niece’s daughter. Since I write murder mysteries, I will make sure that these names will endure and continue without having to be a character that can potentially get murdered or be considered a person of interest.

EC: Why make Bailey, the Bloodhound a therapy dog?

KEB:  I used to do therapy with my poodles. We would go to nursing homes and hospitals. I wanted him to help with assisted reading. When a child had to testify it was found that they were less stressed if they spoke directly to the dog. 

EC:  You went down nostalgia lane-why?

KEB:  LOL.  I brought in Andy Griffith and Magnum PI.  I ran some things by my niece who just turned thirty.  She told me she watches the reruns of the old shows. I enjoyed throwing things in there. 

EC:  Whitney, the victim was not very nice, correct?

KEB:  I based her on Cruella de Ville to a small extent. I usually murder someone who no one likes. They usually are villainous. Both Whitney and Cruella had issues with dogs. They viewed their agenda as more important than anything else. They are single minded without any concern about what happens to others. I use real people in my life in my books when they make me mad.  It is therapeutic for me. I will use their initials but change the names to be the victim. 

EC:  How would you describe Priscilla?

KEB:  Pris and I have in common that we both have a job that provides income, but we are also authors. We have that same passion about writing mysteries that includes dogs. Pris wants to help people and can recognize people’s shortcomings. She is also a klutz and very curious.

EC:  How would you describe police chief Gilbert?

KEB:  He has dedicated his life to protecting others. He is very direct, straight-forward, responsible, and protective. He also is a single parent, raising his daughter. As the story progresses readers will find out more about his late wife and her family. His daughter and family are very important to him. His relationship with Pris will continue and grow stronger, although there will be some conflict surrounding their views.

EC:  Next book?

KEB:  The setting is a festival in Crosbyville where a murder occurred. Bailey finds clues that get Pris more involved in the mystery. The working title is Hounding a Killer, coming out in late 2024.

THANK YOU!!

[sometimesanalice]

The holiday fic that keeps on giving! This one is so cozy, so homey, so lovely, and so emotional! ‘Tis the season to make me have all the feelings!

It was, admittedly, such a vain and shallow thought - no, desire to want to be the best at this. At throwing parties.— she just wants people to have a good time! (She’s so type a just like me 😂)

you’d somehow wrangled a recipe for the cookies Bradley’s mom used to make from Sarah Kazansky and hadn't even burnt them.  — this is so sweet, omg I love this

Because it had to be perfect. All of it. Because this was Bradley’s Christmas. His only Christmas that year. Nothing could go amiss.— I loved this reveal. Like yes that selfish bit where she wants to throw the best most talked about party, but also wanting it to be perfect for him!

And Bradley deserved the entire world and all the happiness he could possibly have. — he does, and he will because she love himmm

You absentmindedly fixed the bow on your wrap dress. Your long sleeved, silk wrap dress - that also did plenty to hide any unwanted lines or bumps around your stomach. And your arms. — that Zimmerman dress is lovely, but she would have looked just as cute in that A+O dress! Bradley would love her in a burlap bag!

Why tonight, when everything else was going so right, were you being bogged down by this insecurity in your own home - no, no, it was Bradley’s home, not yours.— oh she wants everything with him, doing that tug-a-war with herself! She is his homeeee

Bradley loved you, Bradley proved how much he loved you every single day, Bradley catered to your every whim about this party with the biggest smile on his face. — *cries in single*

He hated buying himself clothes, even more so spending a lot of money on them, but he always liked whatever you picked out for him. — she’s got the best taste, in men and clothes. So of course she’d be great at shopping for him!

“Like a heart full tired? A changing for dinner after a spending a day at the beach tired - no, wait. A post gala eating french fries in bed and watching Moonstruck tired?” An after you fucked me so hard I could barely remember my own name tired. — yes to this feeling, but also YES TO THE GALAAAAA

That was the crux of it. You were going to miss him so much you thought your heart was going to burst. — I’m so proud of her for voicing her thoughts here, he can tell she’s in an anxious spiral with the cleaning and organizing of the bar, but letting herself be vulnerable with him! They’ve grownnn

That’s why the party had to be perfect. Because it would remind Bradley of home and all he had to look forward to when he came back in three months. — the sweetest girl, he’s going to miss you so much! YOU ARE HIS HOMEEEE

“Give ‘em a break. You’d be the same if you could hold someone down long enough.”— lololololol you’re so savage for always dunking on Jake and I love it

Who knows, maybe you would have been at Bradley and Max’s holiday party if you hadn’t met him in April.— I didn’t catch this the first time, I thought it was a bromance joke but now I knowwwwww

Your cheeks hurt from the massive smile stretching across your face as you looked fondly at Bradley. He was concentrating so hard, his tongue was peeking out of his mouth. And his long, graceful fingers were flying across the keys. — he is the sweetest! I love him playing her favorites for her!

He also was blushing, which was sweet. — 💖🥰

It was nice seeing them all carefree and happy and just lighter. Bradley glanced over his shoulder at you and winked. — oh this is a cozy lovely moment!

Pete took a sip of his beer and nodded. “The kid wouldn’t stop talking about your gift, I swear he told everyone on base.”— I love the idea of how excited Bradley is to give his gift that he literally cannot keep it to himself! 

“Oh, I’d love to,” you gushed, “but it’s Bradley’s call. It’s his house - what?” Pete cut you off with a look. “Come on, by now you know it’s your house as much as Bradley’s…”— FINALLY! Someone with some commonsense!

“Wouldn’t miss it, just make sure the kid doesn’t drink too much. He always gets a little chatty…” — that’s his dad 😭😭

 rather, he had called you a fresh young lady after you had unknowingly flipped him off at an intersection in another neighborhood, only to find out that he was the crotchety old man that lived next door to Bradley.— omgggggggg 😂 not them being the neighborhood troublemakers 

He sat, leaning against the chaise lounge, and idly sipped from a bottle of champagne that he kept putting down on the floor - though on a coaster, mind you. His hair was perfectly tousled and messy and he had a pleased smile on his face as he stared at the Christmas tree in front of him.— this image I want to hang it in the Louvre

“Clever boy…” “My smart girl”— ahhh I love themmm

Shit - were you going to fuck underneath the Christmas tree? Like properly fuck on the floor underneath the Christmas tree.— merry Christmas to allllllllll

Oh god - oh god. You ruined it. You ruined Bradley’s Christmas. — ma’am you threw him a perfect party! You’re his dream girl! He loves you!

You reached out for the present like it was going to explode, barely even taking notice of how nicely it had been wrapped.— gift wrapping is a language of love and I stand by that! (Says the girl who dreams of having a wrapping room and has a whole system dedicated to gift wrap and bows)

“- I always want to come home to you - if you’ll have me?”— CRYING SOBBING WEEPING

Though to be fair, neither of you had paid as much attention to the movie as you had been too busy necking each other in the backseat of the Bronco.— honestly my dream date with Bradley would end the same way too 😂

Harkening back to your first date, you had gotten him a Saturn V Rocket ornament to add to the tree, giving your rocketman something to aspire to.— they’re so cutttteeeeeee

“What about the couch?”“We just got it dry-cleaned - again.”— AHHHHHHHHHH

“We can be spontaneous upstairs…”— 😂 his old man back will thank him in the morning 

And I know it’s cliche to say, but it’s the goddamn truth - I don’t care what we do for Christmas as long as I get to spend it at home with you, alright?— this whole section was so TENDER AND LOVELY

“Yes, Bradley. I love you even though you wouldn’t let me fuck you on the living room floor…”— blessss, she’s so bratty and I love her!

Home. Home. Home. Bradley wouldn’t just be coming back to San Diego in three months: he would be coming home - to you. And to this great, big, beautiful house he wanted to share with you. And to the life he wanted to share with you. — 😭😭😭 THEIR HOME THEIR HOME THEIR HOME

Your parents had had the idea to send everything they normally would have put in Bradley’s Christmas stocking to him on the carrier. — this is so sweet, and of course the soapy titty pics really rounded it out! I love they got to have a Christmas FaceTime together!

“So, we’ll talk in two weeks, okay? Should be just after New Year’s, but keep emailing me. I love reading them when I get the chance.”— I can’t wait for the epistolary era!

“I love you, I love you so much and I’m so happy I get to come home to you, sweetheart.”— this is so sweet, and I love forever for them

And now I’m all kinds of emotional again. 😭💖

(christmas) baby please come home

summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw and his girlfriend throw a christmas party, complete with a christmas tree, copious amounts of champagne, blended friend groups, and the true meaning of the word home

OR what do you do when your boyfriend gets deployed over christmas and he get you two christmas presents?

pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 11.8k

warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit sexual content

part of @notroosterbradshaw ‘s hello december challenge

masterlist and playlist

It was obvious that you knew how to throw a party. 

Furthermore, it was obvious that none of your and Bradley’s friends - baring Max, but only because he had professional help - would ever be able to pull off a party of the same caliber as your Christmas party. 

Subconsciously, you wanted your friends to be jealous of you and impressed with how well you and Bradley had pulled things off. It was, admittedly, such a vain and shallow thought - no, desire to want to be the best at this. At throwing parties.

The Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack was currently echoing throughout the downstairs on the Sonos, the twinkling jazz giving off a whimsical, yet sophisticated vibe, the Christmas tree looked stunning in the living room where it was covered in nearly three thousand white lights and countless ornaments, and the food that you and Bradley - but mainly Bradley - had spent all morning and last night preparing was laid out on festive serving dishes, complete with seasonally appropriate plates and napkins, perfectly folded in their napkin rings. 

You had scoured San Diego county for the most gorgeous garland possible to serve as the centerpiece on the dining room table, the berries and pine cones in it perfectly matching the plates and napkins and serving dishes. You had vacuumed the hardwood floor twice and washed it once before everyone came over and knew you would do so again once everyone left, if only so you could casually say it’s fine, you can keep your shoes on, we’re washing the floor tomorrow anyway. The candles weren’t overpowering, there was soft lighting all throughout the house, and you’d somehow wrangled a recipe for the cookies Bradley’s mom used to make from Sarah Kazansky and hadn't even burnt them.  

Because you wanted people to talk about it - the party. And to say did you see their bathroom? It was so clean, there weren’t any water spots on the faucet. The beef tenderloin appetizers were delicious, they had to have gotten the meat someplace special? No, definitely not Vons, maybe some local butcher in La Jolla? Aren’t they such a sweet couple? Such a good pair.

Because it had to be perfect. 

All of it.

Because this was Bradley’s Christmas. His only Christmas that year. Nothing could go amiss. And you wanted everyone to be jealous of it, so much so that tonight would be equal to if not better than how they celebrated the actual holiday with their own families - in their own homes - on Christmas Day. 

Because they weren’t going to be spending the holiday on a drafty aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific far from home like Bradley was. 

And Bradley deserved the entire world and all the happiness he could possibly have. The way his face had lit up when you’d first suggested the party after he’d gotten his orders at the beginning of November would stick with you for months. You’d told him that everything would be perfect, that you would pack enough Christmas spirit and love and gifts and food into one evening that it would take the sting out of being away from home - being away from you - at Christmas. Even if for just one night.

The guests had all arrived, some promptly and some not-so-promptly, with you and Bradley greeting them all, telling them to help themselves to all the food and drinks they wanted. Apparently, Max had a surprise for later that you prayed was not him putting on a Santa suit. But the conversation and drinks were flowing with ease, despite the blending of your two friend groups for the first time. 

It was a good party. 

Except right now, it was your turn to be the jealous one.

You watched, enviously, as one of your work friends leaned against the kitchen island with a glass of prosecco in her hand, while the other gripped Jake Seresin’s bicep. The jealousy wasn’t because of Jake or any attention he may have been giving her, mind you. 

(Because no, no - while you may no longer have had an intense hatred for Bradley’s nemesis cum friend, you still didn’t actively seek out his presence and you definitely didn’t want his attention - not for anything other than a great party as he left your - no, Bradley’s house later that night.)

No - you were jealous of her dress. Her gorgeous, deep garnet, midi-length, sleeveless dress. That looked absolutely stunning on her, though a touch too fancy for a Christmas party in South Park. She looked gorgeous, beautiful - statuesque. 

You absentmindedly fixed the bow on your wrap dress. Your long sleeved, silk wrap dress - that also did plenty to hide any unwanted lines or bumps around your stomach. And your arms. 

Weeks ago, back when the party was but a pipe dream, you’d been eyeing this absolutely adorable, sleeveless, mini-dress for the event. Like your friend’s dress, it probably erred on the side of slightly too fancy for a house party, but it had been so pretty and so perfect. It had sat in your cart online for at least two weeks - you just wanted to see if it would go on sale before you finally pulled the trigger. 

Until Thanksgiving. 

When you saw how unflattering your arms looked in the black cashmere tank you’d brought for dinner to your parents’ house. You thanked your past self for having the forethought to pack a cardigan, which didn’t come off until hours later after all your aunts and uncles and cousins had left and you were snuggled up in Bradley’s arms. 

Maybe you should try the HIIT classes on your Peloton instead of all those beginner rides you were still doing with Cody? Or get arm weights? The girls who worked out in the front two rows of your pilates class swore by them. They barely needed any input from the instructor - they just knew how to move their bodies that way. Or maybe you could ask your parents for a higher Class Pass subscription for Christmas? It would give you something to focus on while Bradley was gone. 

You hadn’t been this self conscious at the gala back in October and that dress was far more daring than anything you’d ever worn before; practically open back, with a risqué slit and a deep v neckline, to say nothing of what you had worn just for Bradley later that night. 

So, why now? Why tonight when you were supposed to be enjoying this time with your boyfriend and all your friends before the holidays? Why tonight, when everything else was going so right, were you being bogged down by this insecurity in your own home - no, no, it was Bradley’s home, not yours.

Was it because he was leaving? And you didn’t want one of his last images of you for three months to be your arms in a too tight dress? Because that was so shallow and silly and ridiculous. 

But what if it was true? Bradley was so pretty and handsome and charming and sweet, what if there was someone else on that boat that also thought he was pretty and handsome and charming and sweet? And you’d seen all the other aviators and naval personnel at that gala, they were stunning. What if Bradley thought that too - no, no, no. You weren’t going to focus on that for one of your last nights with him. 

Bradley loved you, Bradley proved how much he loved you every single day, Bradley catered to your every whim about this party with the biggest smile on his face. 

Bradley loved you. 

You were just being ridiculous and shallow and over dramatic and spiraling before he left. Bradley loved you, Bradley loved you. He loved you. He - was wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“How’s it going?” His voice rumbled in your ear and you leaned back against him. 

God, he was so strong and soft and warm and smelled so pretty all the time. You were going to miss him so much. You felt him fiddle with the bow tying your burgundy dress together and ducked your head. 

“Good, just came to get a drink.” Which you had been doing - about three minutes ago. “And wanted to make sure everyone in here was all set.”

Bradley hummed and swayed you back and forth in his arms. “Look at you, hostess with the mostess - or however that goes. You want me to make you another drink?”

You nodded. “Please.”

You both had decided to set up the bar in the kitchen, while keeping the food in the dining room and the dessert in the sitting room for later. Hours ago, before you had even hopped in the shower, the bar had been painstakingly set up and organized. Now, it needed some work. You cursed yourself for not checking on it earlier in the evening - you couldn’t believe your guests had been serving themselves from this all night. 

The glasses were no longer in neat rows, organized by type, the bowl with the limes was running dangerously low, and the caps to the liquor bottles and the champagne corks were scattered across the table. Without a second thought, you started organizing everything before Bradley could even get you a fresh glass. 

You could tell he wanted to say something, but - at least for that moment - he just rubbed your back and then poured you another glass of champagne, making sure to put the bottle back properly. Meanwhile, you scooped up the stray corks and foil and other bottle caps and threw them in the garbage underneath the sink. You had enough time, maybe you could pop those dirty wine glasses in the empty dishwasher? Wait - there was a puddle of condensation underneath an open bottle of champagne. You frowned. Clearly, someone hadn’t put it back in the bucket. Who would do that? Didn’t they know to put it back exactly where -  

“- You good?” 

Bradley’s voice was so soft and reassuring and you couldn’t believe you’d soon be going without hearing it for months. Unable to wait another second, you wrapped your arms around him in a hug, which he eagerly returned and you nuzzled his chest. Bradley’s shirt for the party was an exceptionally soft flannel in a solid navy color that you’d found on sale. He hated buying himself clothes, even more so spending a lot of money on them, but he always liked whatever you picked out for him. 

Maybe you could buy him some new clothes while he was gone? By now, you knew what he liked and didn’t like - right down to the colors and fabric types. He needed some new undershirts - and socks. You nuzzled your face into his chest. He felt so warm and soft and smelled so good. You had to buy a travel sized bottle of his cologne before he left. 

“You sure you’re okay, kid?” he asked again. 

“Just a little overwhelmed - and kinda tired.” You pulled your head back to look at him, but the two of you still kept your arms around the other. 

“Well,” Bradley started, “to be fair, you did do like all the work for this party, think it’s valid to be a little tired, sweetheart.”

“What? No?” You were offended on his behalf. “Bubs, you made all the food and -”

“- Yeah, but you helped with the food and did all the work getting the house ready.”

You cocked your head, considering this. “I mean, I did. Didn’t I?” Bradley chuckled. “Okay, fine - I’m tired. But it’s a good tired, I think?”

“A good tired, huh?” His thumbs were making the most soothing circles on your hips.

“Like a heart full tired? A changing for dinner after a spending a day at the beach tired - no, wait. A post gala eating french fries in bed and watching Moonstruck tired?” An after you fucked me so hard I could barely remember my own name tired. 

“You should’ve just led with that last one.” He kissed your temple and ran his hands up and down the silk fabric covering your arms. “Would’ve known exactly what you were talking about then.”

You lightly shoved his chest and then pulled him back in for a hug. “I’m also gonna miss you a lot…”

That was the crux of it. You were going to miss him so much you thought your heart was going to burst. And enjoying all the Christmas festivities tonight - on the second Saturday in December - made it all the more apparent that Bradley wasn’t going to be with you over the holidays. He wouldn’t be with you again until March. 

You two had gotten through plenty of training missions, short diplomatic visits, and off-sites - on your end - over the last eight months. But this was Bradley’s first, real deployment. 

God, if only Emily Simpson could see you now. You and Bradley had both been so cocky, so confident back in October at the gala about how effortlessly you handled the time spent apart. But you hadn’t been staring down a three month long deployment back then. 

Three months was a long time. Six pay cycles, at least twelve trips to the grocery, four off-sites, the entirety of Q1, five nail appointments, twenty four pilates classes, and if he knocked you up that very night, it could be the entirety of a first trimester of pregnancy. Not that you wanted to be pregnant - at least not for a while. Like quite a while. It was just a way to compare time. You didn’t want to be pregnant. 

Three months, three months, three months. 

And then he’d come home to you. To you and your life together.

That’s why the party had to be perfect. Because it would remind Bradley of home and all he had to look forward to when he came back in three months. 

“I’m gonna miss you, too.  Never really had someone to miss before on one of these - not like this.” 

And then he kissed you - quick, little butterfly kisses that soon turned bolder and more daring, especially considering there were five or so other people milling about the kitchen. Bradley’s tongue licked your bottom lip, eventually coaxing your mouth open. He tasted like the old fashioned you saw him drinking earlier. You slid your arms up his chest to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer and fiddled with the ends of his soft hair. 

The sounds of the party disappeared around you - you could no longer hear Frank Sinatra singing Jingle Bells, Jake and Georgie talking in the corner, or Javy getting drinks for him and his girlfriend to your right.

All you could focus on was Bradley. And how warm and soft and strong he felt in your arms and how -

“- Fuck’s sake, Bradshaw. Do you want us to leave or…”

You turned around to face Jake and Georgie, the latter of whom looked beyond embarrassed, and leaned back against Bradley’s chest. Shit - you’d forgotten you had an audience, especially Jake and Javy.

“Sorry…” You felt warm all over at getting caught. Normally, you and Bradley weren’t big on PDA, but you’d been needy lately - both of you had been. 

Further down to your right, Javy just chuckled. “Give ‘em a break. You’d be the same if you could hold someone down long enough.” Bradley laughed, while Jake turned beat red.

While him and Javy started chirping at each other, Bradley took your hand and led you out of the kitchen, past all the guests congregating in the dining room and over towards the sitting room. 

“Here, I know what’ll cheer you up.”

There were only a couple people in this part of the house - Caroline and Max, Bob and Callie, and Natasha and Rory, the latter of whom had gone with her to the gala back in October. They were a relatively quiet crowd and looked to be captivated by a story Max was telling. But then again, people were always captivated by Max. 

“…so I say to Garoppolo, ‘you really wanna get the shit beaten out of you for the second time this week?’ Because a guy who folds in front of the fucking Broncos’ defensive line is not one I think can handle being humiliated like this on - aww, if it isn’t Bradley-Boy and our lovely hostess. Come here and give me a kiss, sweetheart.” You chuckled and started over towards Max. “No, not you, darling. I meant Bradley-Boy.” 

With giggles and jeers, everyone turned towards Bradley, who was definitely blushing. But ever the dutiful host, he trudged over towards Max and planted a sloppy kiss on his forehead. 

You had met Max over a year ago via your best friend from college, Caroline. Bradley, on the other hand, had met Max in late March at Mission Beach, right before the two of you had started going out. 

Since moving back to California, Bradley had taken up surfing again and relished his weekend mornings out in the chilly Pacific. It had taken a couple weeks for the guys to realize they were both regulars and get past the initial head nod greeting, but after that they got on like a house on fire. Despite Max being a typical nepotism baby, VC-firm-bro type and Bradley the outgoing, naval man, they were each other’s best friend.

And to be perfectly honest, you thought they may have been a little in love with each other.

Who knows, maybe you would have been at Bradley and Max’s holiday party if you hadn’t met him in April.

“All good now, peaches?” Bradley teased and then turned to everyone else in their little group. “Just so you know, the story ends with Jimmy G challenging Maxi-Pad to a closest to the pin contest and Max shanking his tee shot.”

You laughed and wrapped your free arm back around Bradley’s waist. “Was this how you planned to cheer me up?”

“Oh, god. What’d you do now, Rooster?” Natasha teased. 

“Can I call you ‘Rooster?’” Max asked, much to Caroline’s delight.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Bradley said and then turned towards Natasha. “And nothing, just trying to do everything so can to make sure my girl has a lovely evening.” Everyone let out various sighs and swoons, except Nat and Max, who feigned gagging. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He grabbed your free hand again and brought you over to the upright piano in the corner, next to where Callie and Bob were lounging on the loveseat. You desperately hoped Bradley was going to play for you - maybe even some Christmas carols. He had such a natural talent for it, even beyond his usual Hard Deck repertoire of that damn Jerry Lee Lewis song. He could play Debussy, Ravel, Schumann - anything, really. You figured he’d start off with Jingle Bells or something like that, but he surprised you with something new.

Bradley’s fingers twinkled out the opening notes to Linus and Lucy and you, and the others in the sitting room, couldn’t help but laugh. He had been right - this did cheer you up. You had always loved the Peanuts. 

Growing up, you’d gone to the Charles Schulz Museum in Santa Rosa too many times to count. It became your favorite place during your parents’ divorce and you always begged your dad to take you whenever you were having a bad day. But then, when the divorce had been finalized and you, your dad and brother eventually moved down to Berkeley, you didn’t get the opportunity to go as often. But your love for the cartoon characters never died and you had the sneaking suspicion that Bradley had learned the song for you - this was the first time you’d ever heard him play it.

You took a hearty sip of your champagne and leaned your arms on the top of the piano, eventually resting your cheek against your fist. Your cheeks hurt from the massive smile stretching across your face as you looked fondly at Bradley. He was concentrating so hard, his tongue was peeking out of his mouth. And his long, graceful fingers were flying across the keys. 

You couldn’t imagine how long it took him to learn this if he was already off book. Did you mention his fingers? His hands? God, they were beautiful. Strong and long and corded - was that the right word? You recalled it from those regency romance novels you had hidden on your Kindle. God, you loved him so much. So fucking much. You’d never loved a person this much before - oh, you were going to miss him so much.

“You two are just like Lucy and Schroeder,” Callie cooed, snapping you out of your thoughts and causing Bradley to fumble a couple of notes. He also was blushing, which was sweet. 

A couple more people filtered into the sitting room, drawn in by the music, and soon people were throwing out requests for Bradley to play while others chatted in the background. He took Pete’s suggestion of Jingle Bells and soon played a jazzy version of the song. 

While Bradley played, the older man came up to you to chat. Penny couldn’t make it to the party, which was admittedly a bit of a disappointment, but she was hoping to stop by later once things wound down a bit at the Hard Deck. 

“Hell of a party, kid.” He toasted you with his beer. 

“Thanks, I just wanted to do something nice for Bradley.”

“Pretty sure you could’ve gotten a pizza and he would’ve been happy.”

You considered that. “True, but that hardly sounds fun - plus, this way I could get a new outfit.”

Pete smiled and you both glanced over towards the piano for a moment as Bradley got Natasha and Bob to sing along with him. It was nice seeing them all carefree and happy and just lighter. Bradley glanced over his shoulder at you and winked. 

“It’s nice seeing him like this,” Pete said. “Hell, last Christmas it was like pulling teeth to get the kid over to Penny’s for Christmas Eve and to see him get a tree and have people over at his place is just - it makes me really happy. Sorry if that’s corny or -”

“- No,” you reassured him, “well, maybe a little. But corny is good sometimes. Especially around the holidays.”

“You guys gonna do gifts tomorrow or…”

You shook your head. “Nah, we’re gonna do them tonight after everyone leaves.”

Pete took a sip of his beer and nodded. “The kid wouldn’t stop talking about your gift, I swear he told everyone on base.”

You felt yourself heat up and glanced over at Bradley again. “Really?” Pete nodded. “I’m nervous now, we promised we were only doing one present, so I hope he likes mine...”

“He will,” Pete sounded certain. “You think you guys will do this at your place every year? Maybe start a new tradition?”

That was a lovely thought. Celebrating Christmas with Bradley for the next x amount of years. Plus, doing this before Christmas would give everyone the opportunity to get together before the actual holidays. 

“Oh, I’d love to,” you gushed, “but it’s Bradley’s call. It’s his house - what?”

Pete cut you off with a look. “Come on, by now you know it’s your house as much as Bradley’s…”

Oh, gosh. You hoped so - one day, at least. The two of you barely spent a night apart, baring whenever one of you was away for work. You barely considered your apartment your home anymore. Instead, it was on the couch in Bradley’s living room, watching TV. Or cooking breakfast together on the weekends and watching Sunday Morning at the kitchen table. Laying beside him in bed at night, his big arms wrapped around you, as you whispered how much you loved each other. You had never felt this way before Bradley, like another person was home. 

And you wanted to be home all the time. 

You could feel the heat creep up your neck, the warmth only amplified by Bradley’s soothing voice singing Let It Snow. 

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Pete apologized, “I just wanted you to know that I can see how much you guys care about each other. And he’s my kid - at the end of the day, I just want him to be happy.” He laid a reassuring hand on your shoulder and you ducked your head before nodding.

Back when you had first met him, you had imagined that gaining Pete’s approval was how you would have felt had Bradley’s parents been alive to give it to you. You thought about them often - more often than you’d ever let Bradley think - and especially as of late. Would they have liked you? Would they have gotten along with your parents? From what you’d been told, they would have made amazing grandparents. Maybe Bradley would even have had more siblings? Maybe, maybe, maybe.

“He makes me really happy, too,” you whispered. Pete pulled you in for a hug and then the two of you just watched Bradley playing for a few moments while the party continued around you two. 

“I’m gonna get another beer, you want anything?” Pete asked. 

You just shook your head. “Nah, I’m good for now, but thanks again for coming. It means a lot to both of us.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, just make sure the kid doesn’t drink too much. He always gets a little chatty…” And then Pete set off towards the kitchen, leaving you alone, but only for a moment until you heard Max’s voice in the hallway.

“Caro, darling, will you help me with something outside…” You crept over towards him, curious to see what he was up to and why he needed Caro’s help.

Caroline didn’t even look up from her phone. “I’m not giving you a handjob, darling.”

“Oh, please don’t,” you drawled, alerting them both to your presence, “Mr. Harrington already thinks we’re delinquents, can’t have him thinking we associate with them, too,” you said referring to your - no, Bradley’s neighbor. 

Mr. Harrington hadn’t exactly called you and Bradley delinquents - rather, he had called you a fresh young lady after you had unknowingly flipped him off at an intersection in another neighborhood, only to find out that he was the crotchety old man that lived next door to Bradley. He had been waiting for you in the driveway when you’d gotten home a few minutes later, demanding to talk to Bradley about you. But the old man hadn’t stood a chance with you and Bradley had just stood on the porch with a proud smile on his face as you gave him a piece of your mind. Since then, he’d just pass silent judgment whenever he saw you outside.

Max held up two fingers. “I’ll be on my best behavior, Scout’s honor.”

“It’s three fingers, dumbass.”

He breezed past you and started towards the door, gesturing for Caroline to follow him. “Good thing I was never a Boy Scout then…”

“Please, Max. Just tell me if you’re going to -”

“- Secrets, secrets are only fun unless you don’t share with anyone -”

“- That’s not even how it goes!” 

Max shrugged and grabbed Caroline’s hand, pulling her close to his side. “It’ll be fun, we promise! Plus, maybe Max won’t even come back to the party…”

Oh, he was definitely doing the Santa thing. But at this point, maybe it would be fun and memorable? And maybe you were just drunk enough to let it happen. 

“Fine, fine. As long as Max doesn’t come back to the party, you can do whatever you have planned -” 

Max cut you off with a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, love. Now, Caro! Your assistance, please!”

You waved them off towards the front door and made your way back to the sitting room where Bradley was taking requests for his next song. 

His eyes were scanning the room for whom you realized was you and a great, big smile spread across his face. “Nah, I got one already. Just needed my girl in here for this.” You chuckled and walked over towards the piano. “Figured we had to end on a high note, plus I heard a rumor Santa’s coming…”

There were hoots and hollers throughout the room, which didn’t let up even as Bradley played the first notes of the song he apparently needed you for assistance. 

“I’ll sing the first few lines, but then you gotta take over, alright, sweetheart?”

You sat next to him on the narrow bench and giggled, not quite knowing what he had up his sleeve, but more than ready to go along for the ride. “You got it, rocketman.”

Bradley pecked you on the lips and then turned to the room as he played. 

“I really can’t stay…baby, it’s cold outside…I’ve got to go ‘way…baby, it’s cold outside…”

Oh god. 

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

Hours later, after all your guests had left, fuller and far drunker than they’d been when they’d arrived, you and Bradley were tidying up the living room. The dishwasher was rumbling in the kitchen, the first of many loads you’d have to do tonight and tomorrow, but it was drowned out by the music still playing on the Sonos, while the extra food had been put away in the fridge.

From your spot across the room where you were fluffing the couch cushions, you glanced over towards Bradley. He sat, leaning against the chaise lounge, and idly sipped from a bottle of champagne that he kept putting down on the floor - though on a coaster, mind you. His hair was perfectly tousled and messy and he had a pleased smile on his face as he stared at the Christmas tree in front of him. His right hand was absentmindedly running up and down his thigh, just begging for you to ride it.

You joined him on the floor and he wordlessly passed the bottle of champagne to you before throwing his arm around your shoulders. 

“You did good, kid,” he said suddenly. 

A smile lit up your face. “Really?” Brady chuckled at your earnestness. “You’re not just saying that because this is like the first halfway decent party you’ve ever -”

“- Hey! I’ve been to plenty of decent parties! But I think - I think that this might be the best one yet.”

As a reward for his sweetness, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You think everyone got along? I only overheard one argument between Caro and Jake.” And it had been over the latest cryptocurrency scandal of all things. 

“Yeah, but to be fair, I think trauma bonding over your singing really brought everyone together.”

You were not as bad as Bradley had said - at the very least, you could carry a tune. Granted, you wouldn’t be on the Voice anytime soon, but if you were an SNL cast member and needed to sing for a sketch, you might be okay. And no one really focused on the actual singing during Baby It’s Cold Outside - it wasn’t exactly the paragon of Christmas songs or social norms. 

But it was just about the perfect duet, in that it was a crowd pleaser, a little slutty, and campy as hell. And as it so happened, you had been feeling a little slutty with all the champagne you had drunk throughout the evening. Plus, with Bradley on the keys and no one else sober enough to make fun of your less than stellar singing skills, you had been a glutton for attention. You had used your champagne coupe as a microphone and had only spilled a couple drops - at first.

“- But baby, it's cold outside -”

“ - This welcome has been -”

“ - How lucky that you dropped in -”

“ - So nice and warm -”

“ - Look out the window at that storm -”

“ - My sister will be suspicious -”

“ - Gosh, your lips look delicious -” Bradley kissed your proffered hand and you shimmied around the piano bench, eventually draping yourself over his shoulders while he continued playing.

Would you regret it in the morning? Probably. Did the song have a weird history? Yes. But it was your goddamn Christmas party! And you had wanted to have fun and fawn over your boyfriend. It had also been a good distraction from what you had correctly assumed was Max planning to crash the party as Santa with a sleigh full of presents for everyone. But Max was richer than Croesus; he could afford it.

“Come on, Bradshaw. How’s she been this year? Naughty or nice?”

You shot Bradley a glance, curious as to what his answer would be. But he just smiled wryly and toasted Max with his drink before taking a sip.

You closed the distance between the two of you and whispered in his ear, “Clever boy…”

He grabbed your ass, thankfully out of sight of your guests. “My smart girl…”

“Is that what you want me to be tonight?”

Frankly, you had been shocked Bradley hadn’t kicked everyone out then and there. 

But now you were cozy and tired in all the best ways and had Bradley to yourself for the rest of the evening. You burrowed your face into his chest and pressed a couple kisses to the column of his neck, suddenly desperate to touch him. It seemed Bradley was of the same mindset and carefully settled you on his lap. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling you closer and you shifted your attention to his lips. 

Somehow, the two of you wound up laying on the floor at the edge of the Christmas tree. The soft lights made Bradley’s brown eyes appear like pools of chocolate and you flushed. He groaned as you rolled your hips against his lap, already feeling the bulge forming in his jeans. Shit - were you going to fuck underneath the Christmas tree? Like properly fuck on the floor underneath the Christmas tree.

You started grinding against him, desperate to be closer, and then kissed along his neck in the hopes of leaving a reminder of this night for him. You peered up at the Christmas tree, lost in the beauty of the moment, when you suddenly noticed something. 

The presents.

The presents under the tree.

The three presents under the tree. 

Except…

There were only supposed to be two presents under the tree. One from each of you. You had been very clear about that right after Thanksgiving. Had even set a price limit.

Fuck. Oh, no. No, no, no. You pulled back and Bradley chased your lips with his own.

“Bubs! We said one present each!” 

He shrugged underneath you and kept rubbing his hands in soothing circles on your hips. “It’s nothing - well, it’s not nothing. But it’s just something I’ve been thinking about for a while and I figured this would be a good time.”

“But - but I only got you one!” 

Oh god - oh god. You ruined it. You ruined Bradley’s Christmas. You knew you should’ve gotten him that Otis Redding vinyl, too. But a Theragun? What had you been thinking? That was such a dumb gift. So impersonal, so boring, so basic. It was on three different gift guides from the Strategist for fuck’s sake. You figured it would be good for his back while he was deployed, you knew it had been giving him a lot of trouble lately. But now that Bradley had given you two gifts? In two separate boxes? 

You didn’t think the ornament you’d gotten him counted as a separate gift. Tacking it onto the box was just something your family had always done.

Clearly noticing the panic on your face, Bradley sat up slightly. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s -”

“- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin everything. I knew I should’ve had a back up present for you-”

He said your name firmly and you looked up at him. “- You didn’t ruin anything, alright? Hey, why don’t you open it first and then we can talk about it, okay?”

“Okay…”

You reached out for the present like it was going to explode, barely even taking notice of how nicely it had been wrapped. (Granted, you were still you, so you did actually notice, but probably would have fawned over the quaint wrapping paper and grosgrain ribbon a bit more had you not already been wigging out.) Next to you, Bradley bit his lip as he watched you peel through the paper. Why was he so nervous? He always gave you the best presents.

At first, there was nothing but a small gift box. It wasn’t terribly heavy. And it definitely wasn’t jewelry. Mainly because any of the jewelry you actually would have liked was definitely not within the spending limit, which Bradley knew. But also, it just didn’t feel like jewelry. It couldn’t have been an ornament, he wouldn’t have been this nervous.

So, what the fuck was it?

You slid your finger underneath the flap of the box and popped the lid open. But then there was the tissue paper. Goddamnit, Bradley! Why was he so good at wrapping presents! You glanced up at him only to see that he was blushing. Properly blushing. Like pink neck, pink cheeks - hell, even the tips of his ears were pink - blushing. 

Unable to take the suspense a moment longer, you dove into the tissue paper to find -

“- A key?” Your fingers gently picked up the offending object, only belatedly noticing that the key fob matched your favorite work tote bag. 

Bradley nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been wanting to ask you to move in with me for ages, it’s just we had so much time until it would become an issue, but then I got deployed and I know your lease will just about be up by the time I get back in the spring. So, I figured now would be a good time to ask if you wanted to move in with me? But if you think it’s too soon, I can totally wait. However long it takes for you to be comfortable with it is fine with me - I just want to have my life with you.”

“Bubs…” your voice was thick. “I uhh -”

“- I always want to come home to you - if you’ll have me?”

Oh god, oh god, oh god. You let out a disbelieving laugh. You would have Bradley Bradshaw in any way you could get him. He was your home.

You wiped away a wayward tear. “Bradley, this is - this is so unbelievably perfect. Yes, yes, I will move with you.”

He surged forward to kiss you and you temporarily forgot all your previous worries because Bradley wanted to move in with you. He wanted to share furniture and go grocery shopping for food that would go in the same fridge. He wanted to wake up beside you every single morning and come home to you every single evening and go to sleep beside you every single night. He wanted everything. And that’s what you wanted to give him.

“God, I love you so much.”

You never got tired of hearing him say that. “I love you, too. Sorry I made such a big deal about the presents…”

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve just put it in with the other gift, I get how it could have thrown you off.”

He was being nice and not pushing it for the moment, which you really appreciated. “Say, why don’t you open your gift from me and then I’ll open your other one?”

You crawled over towards the other two presents under the tree and gave the one that said to; rocketman to Bradley, while you took the other one with your name on it. It was decently sized and relatively light. The thing with Bradley that always made you nervous was that he gave the best presents.

For your birthday, he had not only organized a trip for the two of you out to Catalina Island, but he had also learned how to fucking sail Penny’s boat, so he could be the one to take you there himself. He had been so excited and had looked so cute in his white linen pants and navy blue button down and you swore you had never been more attracted to him. 

And then, for your six month anniversary, he had somehow gotten you two into Addison out in Carmel Valley for dinner and then followed that up with a trip to the drive-in to see a special showing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Though to be fair, neither of you had paid as much attention to the movie as you had been too busy necking each other in the backseat of the Bronco.

In short, he was a prince among men. Well, except when he wasn’t. But that wasn’t often. So, you were excited, but wary to open his gift, knowing nothing could possibly top the house key.

You tore through the wrapping paper to find another box similar to the one from earlier, except this one was heavier. Beneath the tissue paper laid a thick white envelope and an apron in a Liberty pattern. Your smile grew as you opened the envelope and saw that Bradley had gifted you cooking lessons for the next three months.

“Bubs.” You nudged his shoulder. “This is perfect, thank you. The apron is super cute, too.”

Bradley chuckled. “Now you can stop wearing mine and hopefully stop burning risotto -”

“- It was one time!” 

“Yeah and you almost burned down your apartment.” You made a face and he made one right back before turning serious. “But I thought it would be nice, something for you to do while I’m gone.”

You kissed his cheek. “I’m excited and I’m gonna make you the best dinner you’ve ever had when you come home to me, alright?”

“It’s a date.” 

“Perfect, now open yours!” You pushed the present towards him. 

Bradley was one of those people that opened presents like they were going to save the wrapping paper, which meant he did it slowly and purposefully. This normally didn’t bother you, but you were already a little on edge from earlier and had to sit on your hands to stop you from ripping the paper off yourself.

First, he took off the little ornament you had affixed to the package. Harkening back to your first date, you had gotten him a Saturn V Rocket ornament to add to the tree, giving your rocketman something to aspire to.

He shook his head. “I’ll get there one day, sweetheart…” he said fondly. “Now let’s see what we have here.”

The nerves settled in your stomach again and you barely let him unwrap the present before you jumped on him with an explanation.

“Wait, is this one of those -”

“ - It’s a Theragun. I know I make fun of you for having a sore back and being old a lot, but I thought this could help when you’re deployed and I’m not around to tend to your every need,” you teased.

Bradley conceded a nod. “You do give good back massages…” You preened. “But I get these ads on my Instagram all the time, so this is perfect, thank you.”

“I figured it wasn’t something you’d buy for yourself and it’ll come in hand -”

“- I bet it’s a wicked strong vibrator - owww!”

“Bradley!” You giggled. Holy shit, you hadn’t even thought of that. There were like five different speeds on that thing and six different attachments. Fuck. “In that case, maybe I should keep it…”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He slid the box behind his back and you crawled over to steal it away from him.

But before you could wrap your arms around him, Bradley pulled you into his lap and eventually the Theragun was pushed away and the two of you were sprawled out on the floor making out like a bunch of horny teenagers again.

Goddamn - you really were gonna fuck underneath the Christmas tree, weren’t you? Now that would be the perfect memory for Bradley to take with him. Festive and fun and spontaneous.

His hands felt sinful as they crept up your thighs. It was like he was mapping out the slowest route to his destination, especially as they cupped your ass and ground your body against his. Suddenly, you let out a hiss as your elbow hit the hardwood floor, but quickly reassured Bradley that you were okay once he stopped to check in with you.

He whispered your name. “I need you so badly.”

“- Fuck, me too. Want you to take me right here -”

“- Owww,” Bradley let out a groan against your lips.

You immediately pulled back, concern lacing your features. “Shit, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just - I don’t think we should do this on the floor?”

“But it’s very spur of the moment?” You glanced around the living room, past the Christmas tree and the wrapping paper from your respective presents. “What about the couch?”

“We just got it dry-cleaned - again.”

You sat further back on his lap and Bradley propped himself up on his elbows. Your wrap dress draped prettily over your bare thighs. “We can put a towel down?”

“Isn’t it upstairs?”

You made a face. “I could go get it? Or we could break out a new one?”

“Then I might as well come upstairs with you -”

“- But I want it to be spontaneous!”

He rolled his hips and you sighed. “We can be spontaneous upstairs…”

“Yeah, but…” You could feel the tears starting to form and your throat closing up.

Bradley tried to get in your line of sight after you ducked your head. “Hey, what is it? It’s alright.”

You sniffled. “I just want you to have some good memories before you leave and be spontaneous - especially since during the party I was pretty stressed and uptight -” The last word came out bitterly, but Bradley didn’t let you finish your sentence. 

“- Hey, none of that, alright? I knew you were a little stressed, but just chalked it up to the party. What’s really going on, sweetheart?”

You wanted to tell him. That you were going to miss him and wanted him to be able to think of the two of you doing all these fun and exciting and wonderful things before he left. That you didn’t want him to think of you crying and puffy eyed and sad. That you didn’t want him to think of you having sex in your bed, like any other night, but how you couldn’t even make it upstairs because you needed each other so much, so desperately and had to make due with the living room floor. 

Just say you were tired. Just say you were tired. 

But when Bradley took your hand and threaded your fingers together and started drawing circles across your palm, the tears came. And came and came and didn’t stop. You rubbed at your eyes with your free hand and repositioned yourself to lay beside him. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, come here.” Bradley wrapped his arm around your shoulders and let you rest your head on his chest. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, honey.” 

Once the tears slightly abated, you took in a deep breath to ground yourself. “I wanted everything to be perfect for you since you’re not going to be home for Christmas and all this stuff went wrong -”

“- Sweetheart, baby, no, no. It didn’t go wrong, everything went really really right.”

“Really?” you whispered.

Bradley chuckled. “Yeah, best Christmas I’ve had since - fuck, I can’t remember when. Come here.” He wrapped his arms around you.

“I know it was dumb to be worried about it - and to let myself get upset over it - but I think I was just so focused on the party and the presents and making everything perfect because I don’t want to think too much about you leaving.” You sniffled. “And I feel like that makes me seem childish or like I can’t handle this - your job, I mean. But I’m really just going to miss you, so fucking much. And I’ve never felt like this before.”

The look in Bradley’s eyes after you unloaded all that made you feel ten times lighter and you regretted not saying anything earlier. 

“Sweetheart…” He tucked your hair behind your ear. “It’s definitely not dumb to be worried about stuff like that and I know you can handle all of this - I’m not worried in that respect. I just want you to know how much I appreciated every single thing you’ve done for me these last couple weeks trying to make sure I had a good Christmas. And I know it’s cliche to say, but it’s the goddamn truth - I don’t care what we do for Christmas as long as I get to spend it at home with you, alright?”

Your heart soared and you felt the tears forming again at his words. I don’t care what we do for Christmas as long as I get to spend it at home with you. Because in the end, that was all that really mattered. You just kept your reply simple. “Alright, rocketman.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You kissed him again. “I love you so much, bubs.”

“Even though I’m old and don’t think we should fuck on the living room floor?” 

You chuckled at his attempt to bring some levity into an otherwise heavy conversation. “Yes, Bradley. I love you even though you wouldn’t let me fuck you on the living room floor…”

This time, Bradley pulled you closer, so your body was spread out on top of him and kissed you, licking your bottom lip before opening your mouth up to him. His hands snuck underneath the skirt of your silk dress, skirting the edge of your panties. You sighed. His hands were calloused and a little rough, but they still touched you like you were the most precious thing in the world. 

“Hold up, I never said I wouldn’t let you, I just said I don’t think - hey!” Bradley tried to fend off your tickle attack, but could only get a few words out between his giggles. “Stop, you know I’m old!”

Your ridiculously handsome, thirty-six year old, naval aviator boyfriend was giggling on the floor of your house because your were tickling his sides. If only you could show this version of Bradley to the Navy - maybe then they wouldn’t take him away from you at Christmas. Stupid US Military Industrial Complex. Fucking Lockheed Martin. 

“Also, are you still upset that I got you two presents? Because if you are, can I just make you come once tonight? Level the field.”

You giggled. “Shut up.” Your kiss cut off any reply he had been about to give and you licked his bottom lip, coaxing open his mouth. 

“Uh, uh, uh.” You paused and tilted your head slightly to look Bradley in the eye. “Now, what did Santa ask earlier, huh? You been naughty or nice this year?”

There were two ways in which this could play out - with two different, though ultimately satisfying results. One would play out relatively quickly - and the other would ensure you were occupied all night. 

“Nice?” 

Bradley clicked his tongue. “Don’t know about that…”

“Why not? Haven’t I been good?” You pouted, completely exaggerated, which Bradley picked up on in an instant.

“Good girls don’t typically have to ask if they’ve been good…”

“Maybe I don’t want to be good tonight…”

Bradley sucked in a breath as you snuck your hand underneath his shirt and teased the waistband of his jeans. His skin was hot to the touch beneath your fingers as you unbuttoned his shirt. You leaned forward to press little butterfly kisses to his neck and gradually made your way down past the little tufts of hair on his chest. 

“Please touch me, sweetheart. Please.” 

There was a carnal need inside you to mark his skin. To give him proof of your love and need for him, so that he could look at the marks in the mirror until they faded. A kiss across his neck, a soft bite on his shoulder, another on his bicep by his tattoo. You’re mine. Mine, mine, mine. And I want everyone to know. 

“God, Bradley. You’re so beautiful,” you whispered against his skin. “So beautiful and all mine.”

Bradley let out a whine as your teeth grazed against the sensitive flesh on his neck. “Fuck, I love you.”

His hands inched up your thighs, getting closer to the throbbing heat between your legs. Maybe it was the festive spirit, the fact that Bradley had asked you to move in with him, or that he was shipping out in 28 hours for three months, but you were pathetically wet already. Desperate and needy and as naughty as he had joked earlier. 

“I can feel the heat pouring off you, sweetheart.” 

“Can we go - ahhh - can we go upstairs, please?”

He pulled back slightly. “What happened to fucking on the living room floor?” he teased. 

“Don’t want to fuck up your old man back anymore - Bradley!” you cried out as he smacked your ass. 

“Old man, huh?” His smile was sinful and you were putty in his hands.

You widened your eyes, trying to appear contrite. “Sorry, sir. It won’t happen - Bradley!” He cut you off again, but this time because he was tickling your sides and your giggles made it impossible to speak. “Ta-take me upstairs, bubs - please. Don’t - don’t want you to hold back.”

“Now how could I refuse that?”

Gradually, the two of you made your way upstairs to the bedroom, though with a couple of breaks in between for Bradley to press you up against the walls and on the staircase. You’d have bruises tomorrow, you were sure. But you wanted them to last - to be something to remember this night by for the weeks and months to come. 

You landed heavily on the bed, bouncing slightly, and peered up at Bradley. His bare chest was rising and falling steadily with each breath he took as he looked you over, like he was trying to memorize you. 

Without breaking eye contact, you rose to your knees and pulled at the pretty little bow tying your wrap dress. Hours ago, you’d felt self conscious about your body in front of everyone else, but at that moment you felt like the most beautiful girl in the world. Bradley’s eyes widened as he took in the way you slowly pushed the silk dress off your shoulders, leaving you only in your burgundy bra and panties. It wasn’t exactly a matching set, but the colors matched and that was enough for the two of you that night. 

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

Bradley lunged forward, causing you to fall back against the pillows and you wrapped your legs around his hips with a gleeful cry, which he promptly cut off with his lips. 

After spending ample time just kissing you and running his hands up and down your body, Bradley lavished attention on your breasts, licking and biting and sucking on them like a man possessed. Your nipples were peaked to attention, thanks to the slight chill in the bedroom and his thorough ministrations. With one hand, he paid special attention to the skin just below your nipple, rubbing his middle finger along the tender flesh while thumbing at the raised bud. Meanwhile, his other hand kept trekking downward towards your clit. 

“Oh god!” you cried out against his lips as he slid his fingers inside you and crooked them just right. 

“So fucking wet, sweetheart.”

Fuck. You could feel yourself clenching around him, desperate for something more. You were needy for him that night. Needy to have your boyfriend all to yourself. To give yourself to him completely. Your orgasm was well and truly building up inside you, but you wanted to come on his cock first. There would be plenty more opportunities that night to come apart in other ways. 

You’d work him all through the night if you had to just to get your fix before he left. The thought made you desperate. 

“Bu-bubs, please. I need more - need your cock inside me.” You pulled him closer, grazing your thighs against his throbbing cock. 

Bradley groaned. “Such a needy fucking thing, bucking against my fingers like that, huh?” You whined. “But I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow, yeah. Make sure you savor it.”

It sounded fucking sinful the way your cunt was sucking in Bradley’s fingers. He’d begun scissoring them inside you so as to not have to remove them just yet. 

More. More. More. You chanted the words mindlessly in your head. Mine. Mine. Mine. 

Finally, he pulled out his fingers and shamelessly dried them off on your breasts. “You ready?” You nodded frantically. “Don’t think either of us is gonna last long.”

No, you didn’t think so either. But you didn’t want to prolong this. You needed to be close to him and to know he was real and good and yours. At least for tonight. 

Knowing each other as you did, you raised your hips slightly, letting Bradley to slip inside you. You both moaned, you loving the stretch and him loving the tight warmth. You wrapped your arm around his neck, bringing his lips closer to yours, but not daring to lean in those final few centimeters to touch, and instead just breathed against each other. 

“Fuck,” you rasped against his lips, “I love you.”

“Love you so much.” He snapped his hips against yours and you cried out. “Gonna miss you.”

You ducked your head to swipe your lips across the scar on his neck. “Can’t wait for you to come home to me.”

Home. Home. Home. Bradley wouldn’t just be coming back to San Diego in three months: he would be coming home - to you. And to this great, big, beautiful house he wanted to share with you. And to the life he wanted to share with you. 

He groaned your name. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Can’t believe it’s happening.”

Tears pricked your eyes and you bridged the gap to kiss him. “Bubs, I’m so close, please.”

“Tell me how to get you there? I wanna wait for you.” 

If he kept saying things like that, you wouldn’t be too far behind. Without breaking eye contact, you brought Bradley’s hand down to your clit and he played with the sensitive nub. You keened against his hand, which was coupled with a particularly deep thrust of his cock. You felt that coil in your belly finally unraveling.

“‘M close, feels so good. Again…”

He repeated the action again and again, telling you how gorgeous you were as you took his cock and how much he loved you and needed you and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Because for tonight you were.

With a strangled cry of his name, you came and true to his word, Bradley followed shortly after. Fuck. He felt so good. He made you feel so good, so full, so loved. 

“Good girl, such a good girl for me.” He peppered kisses up and down your neck and across your cheeks, before settling on your lips. The two of you sat there like that for a few moments, trying to even out your breathing and be as close together as possible. 

But eventually Bradley had to pull out and you whimpered at the loss. He settled you back against the pillows and then started cleaning you up with the towel in his nightstand. Before he got to your still leaking cunt, he scooped up some of your cum with his fingers and brought it to your lips. 

“Open.” You did so without a second thought and cleaned off his fingers, getting high off the taste of the two of you mixed together. “Good girl.”

Then you let yourself get settled underneath the covers. You could go to the bathroom in a few minutes because right now you wanted to be with Bradley. Your bodies were both hot and sticky underneath the white sheets, but you couldn’t think of anywhere else you wanted to be than in his arms. 

“I’m gonna miss you so much, bubs.” You cupped his cheek tenderly, like he would disappear at any moment. A nagging little voice at the back of your mind said that he would, in fact, do just that - on Monday morning. But that night he was yours. 

Bradley nuzzled your hand, eventually pressing a kiss to your palm. “It’s not too long, just three months.”

“Three months without you.” Kiss. “Without your singing.” Kiss. “Your cooking.” Kiss. “Your smile and your silly little mustache.” Kiss. Kiss. “Three months without you, rocketman.” 

Your eyes were swimming with tears, but they were properly dripping down Bradley’s cheeks. 

“But we still have tonight.”

You still had tonight. And you’d be in each other’s arms till the morning light. 

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

Two weeks later, as you sat in your childhood bedroom on Christmas Eve, you were at once hit with a startling realization: it wasn’t your home anymore. It hadn’t been in years, really. Not since you’d officially moved out after college. But that fact had never been so apparent until you were waiting for the Facetime call to connect to Bradley. 

Your home was in San Diego with your friends and your job. Your home was with your boyfriend, snuggled up on the couch watching TV, perusing the aisles of the farmer’s market, watching him surf, and cooking dinner together. Your home was with Bradley. 

And you just wanted to be home - you just wanted Bradley. 

You had put on a brave face during Christmas Eve celebrations with your family - at least with your extended family. You had sung carols at church, helped Mary and your dad prep and lay out all the traditional Christmas Eve dishes, organized the Yankee Swap with your brother and Lauren, and had a few too many cocktails with your cousins. But as the last of your grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins had left and your dad had turned on NBC for the end of It’s a Wonderful Life, you had lost it. 

Properly, honestly, well and truly lost it. As in fat tears streaming down your face, snot clogging your nose, remnants of your mascara rimmed around your eyes lost it.

Goddamn Harry Bailey got to come home in time for Christmas! Harry got to toast to his “big brother George: the richest man in town.” Granted, George had basically just tried to kill himself, so the comparison wasn’t perfect - but still! Congressional Medal of Honor winner, Navy pilot Harry Bailey got to be home for Christmas! Why couldn’t Bradley? Fucking Navy. Fucking stupid US Military Industrial Complex. Fucking Lockheed Martin. 

At the sight of your tears, Mary had just opened up her blanket and let you burrow against her side as she rubbed your back like she used to when you were a kid, while your dad had gotten you a cup of Sleepytime Tea. Eventually, once you had calmed down enough and they had said all the right words to soothe your heartache, you had kissed your dad and Mary goodnight  - Mary had hugged you a bit tighter than usual - and they both had told you to give Bradley their best during your Facetime call. 

They liked Bradley - a lot, actually. Of course, they’d given him a tough time when they first talked on the phone all those months ago, but by the time Bradley officially met them at Thanksgiving, it was like he’d known them for years. He just fit. 

He loved to talk to Mary about her history classes at Berkeley and how her students were doing. He had the same sense of humor as your dad and also loved the Patriots despite their recent offensive coordinator troubles. 

He just made you lighter and made things lighter. He fit. 

And you could only hope that one year he’d be able to come up to Berkeley with you to celebrate for the holidays instead of being all alone on an aircraft carrier somewhere in the Pacific. Fucking Navy. Fucking stupid US Military Industrial Complex. Fucking Lockheed Martin.

Shit! The call was finally connecting. You felt tears in your eyes as you finally got to see your beautiful boy again. Though the picture was a little grainy, Bradley was sitting in what looked like one of the quiet rooms in your office, clad in his green flight suit. And he had the most wonderful smile on his face at the sight of you.

“Hey, sweetheart. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, bubs,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t come out as thickly over Facetime as it did in your room.

For what felt like the longest time, but was probably only a few seconds, you stared at each other, just drinking in the other’s face. Bradley already looked tired. This was your first Facetime since he’d left two weeks ago. Normally, you talked over email - which was actually kind of fun. 

Early on in your relationship during a one week special detachment, you had unironically sent him a pretty formal email to check in:

Bradley,

Hope you’re settling in well. Let me know when it would be a good time to connect via FaceTime. I can put some time on my calendar whenever you’re free. I’m heading to an off-site in Raleigh on Thursday, so I’ll be on East Coast time. 

Miss you and stay safe,

x

It had even been from your PwC email address, which he never let you forget. But soon quasi-formal emails became your thing. They probably set off a bunch of red flags to the censor team and you had never sent one from your work email again, but it was fun. You’d even thought of a couple code words and phrases to use.

“You have a good night? How’s your dad and Mary? Tell them thanks again for the package.”

Your parents had had the idea to send everything they normally would have put in Bradley’s Christmas stocking to him on the carrier. He had emailed the three of you a picture of the package, received in perfect condition, on his bunk yesterday. You two had decided that he would open it while you were on your FaceTime call. It wasn’t anything particularly special, except for two small gifts you’d snuck in before bringing it to the post office, but you were excited and could tell Bradley was too.

You held your breath as he parsed through the Dr.Jart sheet masks, Churchill cigars, various Christmas themed candies, new electric toothbrush heads, and scratch cards until he got to the bottom of the stack where your two special presents were hidden.

“Now, what’s this?” He shot you a teasing glance as he opened the envelope. 

You remained tight lipped, just glad it hadn’t been opened by Naval mail security. Bradley slid the object out of the envelope and you could see his eyes widen, even over Facetime, as he realized what it was before he promptly turned it over and glanced around even though there was no one else in the room with him. 

“Shit - how’d you - how’d you take this?” He leaned back in his chair and stared at it, clearly a little in awe.

You felt your cheeks heating up. “Well, I know you have a couple on your phone, but figured an old fashioned one might be nice too - especially if you’re in a tech blackout or whatever it’s called. But do you really like it - seriously, you don’t have -”

“- No, I love it. You’re not getting this back from me.” You giggled. “But you gotta tell me how you managed to get the Polaroid in the shower with you and still get the soapy titties in the picture?”

“Can’t tell you everything, now can I?”

(Caroline had taken them for you. It truly had been a bonding experience and was honestly not half as sexy as Bradley was probably thinking. But you just smiled - more than content to keep that a secret from him.) 

“Well, it is very much appreciated. So, thank you, I love it, seriously.”

You tried to peer into the box from halfway across the world. “There should be one more thing in there from me - and you don’t have to use it, but I know something similar always makes me feel like you’re right next to me…”

Bradley gingerly unwrapped the final tissue paper package only to reveal a travel sized bottle of your perfume. You giggled, watching him spritz his wrist and breathe in the scent.

“Fuck…I’ve missed that.” 

You rested your cheek against your fist and just watched him. For a minute, it felt like he was right in front of you. It made you want to do something terribly cliche like hold your palm up against the screen and imagine you could feel the heat from his hand as he did the same thing back.

But instead Bradley just smiled at you and asked you all about your Christmas Eve activities.

So, you told him about sneaking outside to smoke with your cousins, drinking too much champagne, eating too much food made from your grandma’s recipes from the old country, getting an actually good gift in the Yankee Swap, and crying over Harry Bailey. And he just listened and smiled and asked questions at all the right parts and kept telling you how much he would have loved to do all that beside you next year. 

And then with your remaining five minutes of calltime, Bradley told you all the goings on aboard the ship and how he and Callie and Javy were doing and about the fancy dinner and breakfast planned for tomorrow.

But then the dreaded countdown clock on the side of the screen popped up, signaling you had thirty seconds left. By then, both of you had tears in your eyes as you tried to say goodbye until your next call.

“So, we’ll talk in two weeks, okay? Should be just after New Year’s, but keep emailing me. I love reading them when I get the chance.”

You wiped a stray tear from your eye. “Of course, I’ll give you a full Christmas morning breakdown.”

Bradley chuckled, but seemed to glance at the countdown clock and sobered up. “I love you, I love you so much and I’m so happy I get to come home to you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too. Merry Christmas, bubs. Please come home.”

-----------

a/n: sorry it took me so fucking long to write again, but a girl can only be so self indulgent! merry christmas, this taglist is shit sorry!

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