#or i switch/join fandoms

[kindred-knights]

I could fit so much trauma in Trevor Belmont, Last Son of Belmont. But i dont know if i want to, or should.

It’s definitely at tempting off though. Please feed me fics offer trauma recovering/coping Trevor. I just wanna see him studied under a psychological microscope. I will make my own if no one can feed me, I like reading “realistic(ish)”responses to traumas in characters.

[saramurphy]

here's something obscure I have that I've never seen online -- this is from the February 2007 issue of J-14 magazine and was the first time I ever heard of Phineas and Ferb!

[lilybug-02]

how do you feel about the fact that we now have a hearsay estimate for the release of Skong? (it's June of this year btw)

personal feelings: cautiously excited

[lambmotifz]

“embrace switching!!” what if i don’t want to. bottom!dean feels ooc (to me) no matter how hard the enjoyers of this dynamic try to prove otherwise

[shuploc]

Have you played/ seen Baulders Gate 3? If so, do you like any of the characters?

I haven't played it, but I've been wanting to REAL BAD, I just know once I download it and start playing, I literally won't be able to stop. I'm super busy at the moment with commissions and personal work, and I really just can't afford to spend days worth of time playing video games, at least not right now. But I will play it eventually!

I absolutely love Astarion though, and also Karlach. I don't want to make it seem like I'm "simple minded" or something, but I'm immediately sold on vampire characters (bombastic side-eye at Miguel lmao). I obviously don't know him fully since I haven't played the game, but from what I know already, he's fantastic 🥹 Would love to draw him too, if I wasn't super into Spiderverse atm...

[galactica7071]

do y'all ever just get an "entry-point super hyperfixation" when you discover a show/subject that turns out to just be another interest in your arsenal of cool stuff you like but you're so invested in it at the time of discovery that you make your entire personality about it for months until you're finally back to normal levels of enjoyment and the mental whiplash is like being rear-ended by an 18-wheeler

[nothing-nothing454545]

no, i dont think im obligated to still small talk an hour into my meet up with a friend group ive been a part of for 2 years, and i dont think im overreacting or showing a lack of loyalty when im unsatisfied with such a conversation. As someone who hates small talk, that friend group isn't for me, and i get nothing from it, and i will choose not to feel like a weirdo (derogatory) or a traitor (..because we didn't promise each other we'd be together forever afaik), for being unsatisfied and leaving. ive shown them affection (that i didnt fully feel) for as long as i could

[geminiwritten]

karaoke friday ; bradley 'rooster' bradshaw

fandom: top gun

pairing: bradley x reader

summary: you're a bartender at the hard deck with a huge crush on rooster, and rooster (very cheesily) uses karaoke friday to confess his own feelings to you

notes: this goes in SO many different directions and i'm so sorry about that, but i still had so much fun writing it! i hope y'all enjoy even though it is super cheesy (but i tried really hard not to make it cringe) and kinda, super long... please let me know what you think! i really love feedback

warnings: swearing, very poor us navy knowledge (as usual), lots of drinking and drinking on the job, SUPER CHEESY, italics, switching povs (kinda), there's a little bit of 'mean-girl-ness', and it's pretty fucking horny in some places so 18+ PLEASE!!!

word count: 11336

“Do I need to add ‘putting your ass on my bar’ to the sign?” Penny emerges from the bar’s back of house door, her arms wrapped around a case of beer and her best disapproving mum glare painted on her face.

You smile sheepishly and push yourself off the bar, landing on tingly feet from how long your legs had been dangling as you chatted with Maverick. “Sorry Pen.”

“It’s my fault,” Maverick pipes up. “She was replacing a light bulb, and I distracted her.”

Penny heaves the case onto the bar with a huff before looking back at you. “What are you doing replacing my lights on your day off?”

“I noticed it was out the other night, and I knew I had a spare at home so I thought I might as well donate it.” You pick up the busted lightbulb by the bayonet and toss it into the bin behind the bar. “Also, it’s not my day off.”

Penny frowns, tipping her chin forward as she takes a moment to think. You wait patiently, because you’ve worked almost every Friday night for the past three years, and you know she’s probably just forgotten what day of the week it is.

“Well, anyway.” Mav slides off the stool on the other side of the bar. “I better get back to work.”

You turn to him with a frown. “Isn't everyone at their advanced first aid training today, or something?”

“Yeah, but I have a meeting.” He rolls his eyes as he says the last word, as if doing anything in his job description except for flying is just unimaginable. “A lieutenant from another squadron wants a chance to join my squad but won’t take no for an answer until I meet with her.”

Your frown slowly morphs into a scowl as you connect the dots. “Are you talking about-”

“Her callsign is Giggles.”

The next noise that leaves your lips is a mix between a groan and a gag.

Maverick raises a brow. “Not a fan?”

“She’s horrendous, Mav, and she only wants to join your squad to get closer to Rooster.”

“Wait a minute,” Penny pipes up. “Are we talking about that bottle blonde that comes in every Friday night and follows Rooster around like a lost puppy?”

You nod. “Yup.”

Mav chuckles as he slides his aviators up his nose. “Well, regardless of her ulterior motives, she’s not joining the squad. My hands are full as it is and I’m not sure she could cut it.”

You can’t help the small, satisfied smirk that lifts the corner of your lips as you turn toward Penny and her half-empty case of beer. You already know Giggles isn't good enough for Bradley, but hearing Mav say that she isn’t good enough for the squad is a small piece of validation that might help get you through tonight’s shift.

“Anyway,” Maverick says as he moves toward the door. “I’ll see you both later tonight.”

You look back over your shoulder at him. “Are you coming back for a drink?”

He nods, his lips tugging into a grin. “I would never miss watching my godson embarrass himself on karaoke night.”

Realisation hits you and you groan, dropping your head into both of your hands as you crouch down beside the case of beers. “Fucking karaoke Friday.”

Penny laughs softly. “That’s right, it’s the last Friday of the month. I completely forgot.”

It’s not that you hate karaoke, you just hate sober karaoke. If you were seven tequila shots deep and on the other side of the bar, you’d no doubt have the microphone and be attempting to sing some overplayed ABBA song with one of your friends. But no, you’re sober and behind the bar. Watching in horror as wasted patrons embarrass themselves in a hot and crowded room full of sweaty bodies.

Now that you think about it, maybe half your hatred for karaoke Fridays stems from the fact that it is almost always the busiest night of the month.

“Guess you’re not getting out early tonight,” you tell Penny as you slide the last of the beers into the fridge.

She sighs and shakes her head. “Not a chance.”

You often encourage Penny not to stay until close on weekends, because she deserves a little time to herself. Whenever possible, she’ll help you with the evening rush before ducking out for a late dinner or adult sleepover with Maverick. You don’t mind being left to close on your own, because you’re never really alone.

On the nights when you’re the last one behind the bar, Bradley is always the last one on the other side of it. Most of the time, the squad will stay until last call, but then Bradley will bid them goodbye and sit himself in the same stool at the end of the bar. Almost like he's guarding the swinging wooden doors that separate you from your patrons. He usually just asks for tea or water, and when you’re not serving, he talks to you about anything and everything. Then at the end of the night, he waits for you to lock the doors and make it safely to your car before he walks to his.

You’re not sure why he does it. You assume it’s because he has literally been trained to keep people safe, but sometimes you let yourself read more into it. You imagine that he might fancy you, not pity you, and he stays because he likes getting a little bit of alone time with you.

You can still remember the night you first met Bradley like it was yesterday, not nearly four years ago. He had just graduated the Top Gun programme and was celebrating with what felt like every naval officer based on North Island. He was very drunk and hardcore flirting, but only with you. There were throngs of women practically begging him to look at them, but his eyes stayed on you.

You stole his keys out of his pocket that night, not trusting him after the number of drinks you’d watched him sling back. He eventually passed out in a booth, and at the end of the night a couple of his friends stuffed him into a cab. You forgot all about his keys until the next morning when you returned to clean the bar. He was waiting by the door, looking very hungover and very sheepish.

He apologised for everything except the flirting, which he wanted to make abundantly clear. You blushed and waved him off before making him a greasy breakfast and telling him to sit at the bar while you started cleaning. After his nausea wore off, he started helping you despite your protests. You talked and flirted all morning until he announced that he had to go to the Top Gun graduation ceremony.

After that, he spent every night at The Hard Deck until he left North Island, and once he was gone, you had a hard time convincing yourself you hadn’t imagined the whole thing. You were so young at the time and Bradley was older, his career was just taking off. Why would he be interested in a bartender who has no idea where her life is going?

So, despite having exchanged numbers to stay in touch, you resisted the urge to text him. You saw a couple of updates on his social media that you followed, but they were very vague and mostly just signs of life every few months. You let yourself file Bradley away in your brain as something too good to be true, because there was no way someone that perfect really existed.

Years, boyfriends, heartbreaks, and a lot of shifts at The Hard Deck later, Bradley Bradshaw walked back into your bar. Your heart floundered as it tried to break free from your chest and deliver itself to the boy who claimed it all those years ago. He looked fucking good.

You picked up exactly where you’d left off, and so routine became ritual. Every Friday night, Bradley and his friends came to The Hard Deck, waited until last call, and then Bradley would guard you like a K9 Unit German Shepherd until you closed the bar. Eventually, you got to know his friends too, and finally found a group of people you could be yourself with.

After their mission, the squad were asked to stay on North Island as a special operations unit, training under Maverick for specialised assignments. You hang out with them when you can, but it isn’t easy with such conflicting schedules, which is why your late-night closes with Bradley are so precious. The only thing nagging at you these days is your future; what it holds and who will be in it. But you do your best not to think about it, to live in the moment and appreciate every second you get to spend staring at Bradley Bradshaw’s gorgeous face.

“Are you alright if I duck out for a bit?” Penny asks, her voice dragging you out of your thoughts.

You nod. “No worries. I’ll getting everything stocked up.”

“You’re the best.” She slings her purse over your shoulder. “I should be back in about two hours.”

Once she’s out the door, you find your own purse under the bar and grab your headphones. You slip them on, crank the volume on your phone, and start bopping along to the music while you haul cases of alcoholic beverages from the back of house to behind the bar.

- Bradley -

Twenty naval officers file out of the conference room, down the hall, and out into the Friday afternoon sun. Their postures relax the moment they’re out of sight from their superiors, and they all slowly separate into their squads, moving in different directions across the base.

“Well,” Jake sighs as he stretches his arms above his head. “That’s a day I’ll never get back.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Yes. Because learning vital skills that could save lives, including our own, is such a waste of time.”

Jake smirks. “My sentiments exactly.”

Bradley slides his sunglasses up his nose as he walks a little faster to get in between the two aviators glaring at each other. “So, are we going to-”

“The Hard Deck,” Reuben interrupts, a smirk stretched across his face.

“For beers,” Mickey adds with a dramatic wink.

“No other reason, of course,” Natasha joins in the teasing. “Right, Rooster?”

Bradley takes a deep breath of warm, ocean-scented air before sighing it out as his friends snicker around him. “When are you lot ever going to leave me alone?”

“When you grow a pair and ask the girl out,” Jake replies, and Bradley doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s smirking. “Before I do.”

There’s a chorus of oohs from the squad, but Bradley simply rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses. Jake might be a flirt, but he’s not a full-blown idiot, and he knows better than to hit on you.

“Maybe I will tonight,” Bradley says with a shrug, trying to seem nonchalant.

Natasha scoffs. “That’ll be the day.”

“Willing to bet on it?” Reuben asks, stepping up beside Bradley with a grin stretched from ear to ear. This boy loves a bet.

Bradley’s eyes narrow as he considers his friend’s outstretched hand, his heart thumping faster than usual within his chest. Maybe it is time he makes a real move on you. Afterall, you’re only getting more gorgeous with every passing day and if he doesn’t act soon... well, he doesn’t want to think about what might happen.

He grips Reuben’s hand in his own, shaking it once. “Deal.”

“Oh, shit,” Mickey giggles. “Tonight is going to be good.”

“And it’s karaoke night,” Bob points out.

Mickey shakes his fists excitedly. “I fucking love karaoke night.”

They all launch into an animated discussion about what songs they should perform tonight, and even Bob makes a few suggestions, but Bradley isn’t paying much attention. He can see his Bronco up ahead, and he is itching to get to the bar. To get to you.

“Rooster!”

A voice that he doesn’t recognise makes his head snap to the left, and there’s a collective groan amongst the dagger squad as a grinning blonde bounces toward them.

“Hey Giggles,” Bradley says, trying not to sound as unenthusiastic as he feels about her presence.

“Did you just finish your first aid refresher?”

He nods, offering her a half-assed smile as he realises that he doesn’t actually remember what her given name is. His brows furrow as he tries to picture the letters stamped on the side of her jet, but then he realises that he can’t remember the last time he saw her in a jet. Up close, at least. The dagger squad train almost exclusively on their own. They rarely interact with other squadrons.

“I did mine last week,” she says. “If I knew which day you were scheduled, I would have definitely tried to join today’s group.”

Bradley nods once, unsure what to say to that but still lost in his thoughts trying to figure out what her actual name is.

“Anyway.” She flips her hair off her shoulder. “I just had a meeting with Maverick.”

“Oh,” is all Bradley responds with.

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to work with him for– like –ever. He’s just legendary, you know?”

Bradley’s lips tip up into a smirk. “I think notorious would be more accurate.”

She giggles, because that’s what she does. “Well, he said I could fly for him and try out for your squad.”

Bradley freezes, and the whole squad comes to a screeching halt.

“Try out?” Jake echoes, before snorting a laugh. “This isn’t a cheerleading squad. We were selected and trained as a specialised unit. This isn’t something you can try out for.”

“Hangman,” Natasha warns. “Don’t be rude.”

“I’m not being rude, she’s being delusional.”

“Excuse me?” Giggles props her hands on her hips.

Bradley turns to Natasha with a quizzical frown, but she just shrugs. He looks back at Giggles. “Look, I’m sure whatever you spoke with Mav about will be great for your career. So, good luck.”

He offers her one last clipped smile before continuing toward the parking lot. Jake winks at the angry blonde before Javy puts a hand on either of his shoulders and steers him away.

Natasha quickens her pace to match Bradley’s. “You don’t think Mav would really consider-”

“No.” Bradley shakes his head. “There’s no way.”

It’s not only that the squad are not particularly fond of Giggles, but it’s also the fact that none of them are keen on the idea of adding to the team. They’re all too close and too comfortable, and they work exceptionally well together. Changing that dynamic could seriously impact their functionality and in turn, damage any one of their careers that they’ve worked so hard to achieve. They’re all exactly where they want to be, and they don’t want their positions to be challenged by anyone.

Bradley pauses before breaking away from the group. “Six o’clock?”

They all nod and mumble their agreeance.

“Does anyone need a lift?”

“You’re driving?” Reuben asks. “I thought you were going to ask your girl out tonight.”

Bradley frowns. “I can’t do both?”

Reuben chuckles. “Well, you’ve had plenty of sober chances to ask her out, so I assumed you’d need a little liquid courage to actually do it.”

Mickey laughs so suddenly that he snorts.

Bradley rolls his eyes playfully and points a finger at Reuben. “You just lost your ride privileges.”

Reuben groans in protest and Mickey laughs even harder as Bradley turns on his heel and walks toward the Bronco. He pops the door and falls into the driver’s seat, jamming the key into the ignition. As he drives home, his left knee bounces nervously. He’s always thought about asking you out, but actually doing it? He has no idea how he’s supposed to muster that kind of courage.

- You -

The clock on the wall opposite the bar taunts you. Its hands move slowly, creeping around its face at a painfully slow pace. You know exactly what time Bradley and your friends usually get here on a Friday night, and it’s still forty-five whole minutes away.

“You know,” Penny says, “staring at it won’t make it go any faster.”

You drop your gaze down to the glass you’ve been drying for at least a couple of minutes now. “I know, but if I don’t try then I’ll never know if I’ve magically developed superpowers.”

She laughs softly and takes the glass from your hands. “Why don’t you see if you have super lime slicing powers, hm?”

You roll your eyes playfully and tuck the tea towel into the back pocket of your jeans – the ones you know make your butt look incredible – before turning toward the small cardboard box of limes on the bench. You take a chopping board out from under the bar and a pairing knife. You set up a little station where the box of limes is on the right of the chopping board, and a bowl for the slices is to your left.

“Why don’t you just ask Rooster out?” Penny asks right as you cut the first lime in half.

Your cutting hand slips but you’re quick enough to flinch away before the knife slices your fingers. “Jesus, Pen. Could you learn a thing or two about timing, please?”

She rushes toward you, her brows crease with worry. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “I’m fine.”

She relaxes once she sees that your fingers are unharmed, taking a step back and casually leaning her hip against the bar, waiting. Her gaze bores into the side of your face, but you stubbornly focus on the limes.

She waits until you drop the slices into the bowl to ask again. “So, why don’t you?”

You sigh. “If it was an easy thing to do, I would have done it a while ago.”

“What’s so difficult about it?”

You put the next lime on the chopping board and hesitate, frowning down at the little green fruit as if willing it to give you an answer that doesn’t sound as whiny as what you’re about to say. “Because he’s him, and I’m me.”

She quirks one brow, silently asking you to elaborate.

“He’s just”– you wave the knife in the air, at which her eyes widen slightly –“you know? He’s gorgeous and successful. He’s got every chance in the world and every damn woman on this island after him. Then there’s me, and I’m just” – you gesture down at the short black apron tied around your waist –“this.”

Penny’s brows pinch together, a mixture of confusion and curiosity painting her face. “What’s wrong with this?”

You sigh again. “I’m a bartender, Pen.”

“So am I.”

“No.” You drop the freshly sliced lime into the bowl. “You own a bar. There’s a difference.”

“Honey.” She pushes her hip off the bar and takes half a step toward you. “That boy doesn’t look at you like a bartender. He doesn’t see the girl who pours his beer. He looks at you like you hung the moon just for him.”

You feel the bridge of your nose pinch and your eyes sting, but you decide to blame it on the citrus instead of your own emotions.

She sighs and bends down to take a shot glass out from under the bar. “Here,” she says, pouring tequila into the small glass. “I know you’d rather be on the other side of the bar, but try to have a little fun tonight. On me.”

Your eyes widen as you look at the shot and then at Penny, who’s lips are pulled into a smirk. Without a second thought, you snatch the shot glass off the bar and tip it to your lips, grimacing as the liquid burns down your throat.

“You know what,” she says as she fills the glass up again, “I think I’d like to have a little fun too.”

You can’t help the laughter that bubbles from your lips as she tips the tequila into her mouth and winces. You don’t necessarily want to be a bartender forever, but you find it hard to think about the day you’ll have to hand your resignation in to Penny. She’s a pretty cool boss.

You continue cutting limes while Penny serves an influx of customers. Once the whole box of limes has been sliced, you cover the bowl in plastic wrap and place it at the bottom of one of the fridges. The bar is filling up slowly but surely, and you start pouring drinks while Penny handles the cash.

After you hand a beer to the last customer of a small rush, the light overhead – the one you replaced earlier – blinks and dies out. “Shit,” you mutter, staring up at it. “Maybe I didn’t screw it in properly? Mav kind of distracted me before, I didn’t double check it.”

Before Penny can protest, you kick the small, folding stool toward where you need it and step onto it. You brace your hands on the bar and bring one foot up, focusing all your balance and coordination on standing up straight and getting your other foot planted on the bar.

“Please be careful,” Penny says, her voice laced with worry.

“I’m fine, don’t stress.”

More voices join the chatter in the bar, and you can hear Penny greet the new patrons as you crane your neck to look up at the dead bulb. You reach up, silently praying to any god who might listen that you don’t get electrocuted. Your fingers gently grab the bulb and twist, it blinks back to life and delivers a small shock of electricity to your hand. It’s nothing more than a zap, but that’s enough to make you startle. You shift your feet without thinking and the heel of your boot comes off the edge of the bar. You quickly lose balance and fall.

You yelp, but you don’t hit the floor. A strong pair of arms catches you – one around your back and the other behind your knees. Your saviour makes a soft ooft noise as he takes all your weight and holds you against his chest. When you look up and see the stupid grin stretched across Bradley Bradshaw’s face, it feels like every inch of your skin has been lit on fire.

The bar erupts into cheers and claps as Bradley chuckles. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you breathe out.

You stare into his eyes for a moment, appreciating every fleck of brown and gold as he stares back. Then he clears his throat and gently lowers your legs, his other arm helping you stand upright.

“Thanks,” you say as you right your skewed apron.

“Anytime.” He chuckles again. “Like, seriously. Anytime you want to fall for me, I’m right-”

You roll your eyes and swat a hand at his broad chest. “Oh, shut up.”

You turn to the rest of your friends and greet each of them, taking every sarcastic comment that they throw at you. Once you’ve given them each a hug or a high five, you walk the rest of the way around the bar to get back through the swinging wooden doors.

Penny looks at you with her mum glare. The unimpressed one.

“Sorry?” you offer sheepishly.

“Next time, leave it.”

You roll your lips to hide your smile as you bring your fingers to your forehead in a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

She shakes her head and turns toward the other side of the bar to serve someone that isn’t your friends, knowing you would prefer to serve them. You take a few short strides toward the beer taps, dust your hands on your denim-clad butt, and pick up a glass in each hand. You know their orders, you don’t have to ask.

“How was first aid?” you ask Natasha, because she’s the one right in front of you now.

Bradley is a step back from the bar, leaning toward Reuben and speaking too low for you to discern.

“It was fine,” Natasha replies. “Although, Hangman had some other thoughts.”

Jake drops a forearm on the bar and leans in. “I’m not saying it was totally useless, but a whole day to teach us what should already be common sense?”

“Something which you have very little of,” Natasha retorts.

You snort a laugh as you slide their drinks across the bar. “I’m not going to lie, Seresin. If you think first aid training is useless, then you’re my last pick to be stranded on a desert island with.”

Instead of acting offended, his smirk curls a little further and the mischievous glint in his eye twinkles. “Oh, come on. You know we’d have some fun.”

Bradley clears his throat and steps into Natasha’s place as she scoops her drink up and vacates with an amused grin on her lips.

“What kind of fun are we talking, Hangman?” Bradley asks, his brows raised in question.

Jake draws a long sip of foamy beer before turning his body toward Rooster. “Come on, Bradshaw. Use your imagination. There are a lot of things for two people to do when they’re alone.”

Your eyes bounce between the two men as they stare each other down. Jake’s lips are still pulled into a smirk, but Bradley’s are set in a firm line beneath his moustache, and the outline of his clenched jaw is more defined than usual.

“Well,” Jake sits his beer back on the bar, “we could-”

“Play Hangman!” you interrupt excitedly, deciding to cut the imaginary tether of tension that had been pulled taught between them.

Jake’s smirk breaks into a soft laugh. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.”

He winks at you, and you roll your eyes playfully before turning your attention down to the glass you just finished filling with beer. It’s a little too full, the foam on top threatening to overflow as you raise it up to place on the bar in front of Bradley. When the heavy bottom of the glass hits the hardwood bar top, the froth spills and drips down over your fingers.

“Oops, sorry,” you say, eyes flicking up to meet Bradley’s.

His usual soft brown gaze is so much darker than usual, and something about it is making the little hairs rise on the back of your neck.

“That’s alright,” he says, his voice low and a little raspy.

His fingers brush yours as he takes the glass, and when you pull your hand back, you suck your middle finger between your lips to clean the beer off. You’re not sure why you do it, and you don’t even realise what you’ve done until you drag your finger out of your mouth. All the while, keeping your eyes locked with Bradley’s.

“Really?” Jake’s voice slices through the tension. “You two are unbelievable.”

You blink a few times and the noise of the bar returns, as if getting lost in Bradley’s eyes had silenced the rest of the world. You can feel the apples of your cheeks burn, and you quickly dust your knuckles on your apron before picking up another glass.

Bradley clears his throat and opens his mouth to say something, but he stops. You hear Jake chuckle and Bradley sigh, but you don’t let yourself look up again. By the time you finish pouring two more beers, Mickey and Reuben are standing in front of you with ear-to-ear grins.

- Bradley -

Jake slides into the booth beside Natasha while Bradley slides in next to Bob, but his eyes are still trained on the bar. Or more specifically, the bartender.

“Oh, my God.” Jake smacks a hand against the table. “You two should have seen what I just had to witness.”

Bradley sighs and drops his head, staring at the swirls and knots in the wood tabletop.

“I have never experienced such blatant eye-fucking!” Jake exclaims, a little too loudly. “I mean, seriously. That felt more explicit than watching porn on a public bus.”

Natasha, despite the amusement on her face, nudges Jake in his ribs. “Keep your voice down, Bagman.”

Bob chuckles and turns to Bradley. “Did you ask her out?”

“No!” Jake replies before Bradley can.

“Well, you better do it quick.” Natasha says. “It looks like you’re not the only interested party here tonight.”

Bradley’s eyes snap back toward the bar, narrowing on the man standing in front of you at the beer taps. He’s tall and broad, with close cropped blond hair and a smug smile painted on his face. His thick forearms are resting on the top of the bar, and he’s leaning so far forward that if he turns too abruptly, he might smack his nose on one of the taps.

“Is that Romeo?” Bob asks.

Bradley doesn’t respond, but he can see Natasha nod from the corner of his eye. No, this guy’s parents didn’t hate him so much that they gave him some lame Shakespearean name. It’s his callsign, and it's not too hard to guess how he got it.

Bradley doesn’t like the way you’re smiling at the blond man. In fact, he hates it. He doesn’t like the way your cheeks turn pink when he leans in a little further in, or the way you shyly tuck an imaginary piece of hair behind your ear. He does, however, very much like the way your eyes flit toward him every couple of seconds, as if checking that he’s still there.

He realises after a minute that you’re not acting shy, you’re uncomfortable with this guy, and that makes him feel a little less explosive. The pink in your cheeks and the timid movements aren’t because you’re feeling bashful, but because you feel awkward. Bradley is your security, your guard dog, and all you’d have to do is nod for him to leap out of his seat.

“Down boy.” Reuben chuckles as he slides into the booth beside Bradley. “He’s trying to flirt but she’s shutting him down.”

Javy takes a seat in the booth beside Jake while Mickey steals a chair from another table and sits himself at the head of the group.

“You know,” Mickey says thoughtfully, “I’ve always thought that Romeo and Giggles would make a good couple.”

Natasha snorts a laugh. “Yeah, maybe they can produce one braincell between the two of them.”

Jake gasps dramatically. “Phoenix! Don’t be rude.”

She rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t count when they can’t hear.” She then turns her attention to Bradley, who is taking a very generous sip of his beer. “Speaking of Giggles, did you talk to Mav?”

Bradley sculls half his drink before plonking it back down on the table. “No. I was going to call him, but he texted me to say he’d drop by the bar tonight. Thought I’d just ask him then.”

“Good.” She nods. “I have enough shit to stress about. I don’t need to worry about that airhead joining the team and blowing up everything we’ve worked for.”

The group start a half-hushed discussion about what Maverick could have possibly told Giggles to make her think she’d have a chance at joining the squad. Bradley hardly listens though, aside from giving the occasional head nod or chuckle when he catches a word or two. He keeps his eyes trained on you. The way you move around the bar, performing your job effortlessly. Everything is muscle memory; from the way you pour a beer to the way you shake the cocktail shaker.

When the crowd at the bar dies down, you say something to Penny before turning around and walking through the swinging wooden doors. He can’t help but ogle your ass in those jeans; the way it moves as you walk and bend toward tables, collecting empty glasses. The jeans hug you in such a way that makes him jealous – yeah, he’s jealous of denim now. They pinch into the crease between your cheeks and your thighs before stretching down your legs – those legs that would look perfect thrown over his shoulders as he buries himself inside of you.

The cuffs of those mouth-watering jeans are tucked into boots. Big black boots with scuffed toes and frayed laces. Bradley has never seen you wear any other shoes at the bar. They’re your chosen uniform, and he’s thought way too much about fucking you in nothing but those boots.

An idea pops into Bradley’s head as he watches your booted foot shove an unoccupied chair out of your way. He nudges Reuben. “Move, I need to check something.”

Reuben frowns as he slides out of the booth, freeing Bradley.

“Get another round while you’re up, would you, darling?” Jake calls after him.

Bradley waves a hand in acknowledgement as he beelines toward the other side of the bar where the karaoke machine is. There’s a thick, tattered binder sitting atop the machine that lists every song available to be sung. He flips it open and starts searching.

It only takes about ten seconds to find the song he’s looking for, and his heart starts pumping a little faster. He’s going to need a lot more drinks to pull this off.

“Bit early to start that, isn’t it?”

Bradley flips the binder shut and turns to Maverick, who is standing beside him wearing that signature smirk. He drops the binder back atop the machine. “I need to talk to you.”

Maverick sighs. “What have I done now?”

Bradley leans an arm on the top of the karaoke machine as he explains the squad’s earlier interaction with Giggles. Maverick doesn’t look shocked or sheepish, he looks exasperated by the time Bradley finishes.

“This woman is relentless.” Mav presses two fingers against his temple.

“So, she’s not trying out for-”

“Of course not.” Maverick says. “That’s not even something she could do. This is an elite unit of specially selected and trained aviators. Giggles barely graduated TOPGUN. I’m not even sure how she qualified for the programme.”

Bradley tips his head curiously. “Then what did you tell her?”

“She wouldn’t let up unless I gave her something, so I said I’d fly with her. One weekend, we’d do a quick drill and I could give her some pointers. Maybe give her a reference if she impressed me.”

Bradley chuckles. “You really have an excellent way of communicating with women.”

Mav scowls at his godson, though it’s much less intimidating than he’d like given the height difference. “I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear.”

“Obviously not.”

Mav sighs again. “Obviously.”

At that moment, the devil herself walks into the bar. Her blonde locks bounce as she walks, her eyes scanning every face in the room as she searches for something. Or someone.

“Maybe you should talk to her now,” Bradley says quietly to Mav. “Better to set things straight before she tells every naval officer on North Island that the elite dagger squad is holding try outs.”

Maverick chuckles. “Good idea, Rooster. I think you should join me. Maybe you can clear something else up for her too.”

Bradley’s brows pinch into a frown, but before he can protest, Giggles has spotted the two of them and Mav is waving her over.

- You -

It’s almost like your body is connected to Bradley’s in some intrinsic way. You can’t not be aware of him, his presence and where he is. You’re the North to his South, like two magnets being held close enough to make each other move but not yet close enough to snap together. Though you’re not sure how much longer you can resist his pull.

“In the next lull, I’m going to grab some more vodka.” Penny’s hip bumps yours as she fills a glass of beer beside you.

You nod. “Grab an extra bottle for me, yeah?”

She laughs softly as she leans forward and places the beer on the bar. You dance around each other easily, having worked together for so long that you know exactly how the other is going to move. You feel at peace behind the bar, despite how busy the place is getting. Your movements are easy and familiar. You fill beer glasses, you pour shots, you fill short and tall glasses with ice and soda, and you take cash and swipe cards.

You’re so in tune with the bar that you almost feel the main door swing open, revealing a gorgeous blonde bombshell wearing a tiny pink sundress. Your stomach sinks and your feet freeze. You’d have to be an idiot not to think she’s attractive – albeit a little annoying – and you don’t blame anyone in the bar for craning their necks to stare at the Barbie doll that just entered.

“Here.” Penny slides a shot glass across the bench below the bar. “I’m going to get some more bottles. Are you good?”

You lift the shot to your lips, not caring who sees, and swallow the tequila without so much as wincing. You drop the little glass into the sink. “I’m good.”

You try hard not to watch Giggles approach Bradley and Mav, but it’s hard when you don’t have anyone to serve. The rush has died down, and most people are now seated with their friends, chatting and sipping happily. You wipe down the bar top and the bench, you fill the dishwasher and start a cycle, and you restock the napkins and straws, but your eyes still wander back over to Bradley. You need a distraction.

“Hey, beautiful,” Romeo – you have no clue what his real name is – says, leaning forward on the bar.

You take a deep breath. Not that distraction.

“Another one?”

He nods, sliding his empty glass toward you.

“Same?”

He nods again as you take the empty glass, put it in the sink, and grab a fresh one.

“Saw you sink that shot just now,” he says, lips pulled into a smirk. “Do you get off early tonight? Maybe we can have some fun.”

You shake your head, eyes glued to the golden liquid filling the glass. “No. Just trying to get through the night.”

“That’s a shame.” He leans forward even further, and you worry for a moment that he might actually climb over the bar. “What time do you get off?”

“Late.”

He remains undeterred by your clear disinterest. “How late? Maybe I could give you a lift home.”

You plonk the beer on the bar in front of him. “Too late.”

You hear a shrill giggle, and you can’t help it. Your eyes snap toward Bradley, and you see Giggles’ perfectly manicured hand wrapped around his bicep as she leans in way too close to him. Your stomach ties itself in another knot.

“I see.” Romeo pushes himself off the bar and grabs his beer. “You’ve got a thing for birds.”

You turn back to him, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. “What does that even mean?”

He rolls his eyes as if you exasperate him. “Just so you know, she’s joining his squad. They’re going to be together every day while you work your flat ass off for minimum wage every night. So, good luck competing with that.”

“Excuse me?” Penny snaps, appearing beside you with a box full of large liquor bottles. “You better apologise before I kick your ass out of here.”

Romeo scoffs, his mouth popping open to retort when two other patrons step up to the bar.

“Got a problem here, ladies?” Jake asks, a challenging smirk stretched across his lips as he turns to face the blond idiot whose face is getting redder by the second.

Penny raises her brows at Romeo. “Do we?”

He takes a deep breath, eyes bouncing between Penny, Jake, and Javy. “No, we don’t.” He looks at you and mumbles, “Sorry.”

The four of you watch as he turns and stalks toward his table of friends, not daring to look back.

Penny shakes her head. “I can’t believe that asshole said-”

“It’s okay, Pen,” you quickly interrupt. “He was just throwing a tantrum because I turned him down.”

Javy chuckles. “I don’t think Romeo ever has been turned down. Might have to give him a new callsign.”

You grab two clean glasses and start pouring your friends another drink each. “I think ‘assface’ sounds good, and it’s definitely more fitting.”

Jake nods. “His face does resemble an ass. A bad one.”

The corner of your lips tip up as you slide the two beers across the bar. When Jake tries to hand you his card, Penny pushes it away. “This one’s on the house.”

“Penny, my dear,” Jake says. “You are too kind.”

Javy tips his head in thanks as they both turn and head back toward the booth where the rest of your friends are.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Penny asks as you start unloading the box of liquor.

You nod once. “Yeah, fine.”

You know it isn’t convincing, but she doesn't have time to press you as another wave of thirsty patrons approaches. You let her serve and handle the payment while you make the drinks, silently sliding them across the bar until the small rush dies down. When you both have another moment to catch your breath, Penny turns to you, hand on hip and mouth poised to speak, but she stops. Her eyes move to something behind you.

You glance over your shoulder and your stomach flips up into your throat. How is it fair that Bradley can elicit such responses from your body simply by standing there?

You turn to face him. “Another drink?”

He nods. “Yes, please.”

Always so polite. You wonder for a second if he’s that polite in bed, or if he- Nope. Stop that.

You pick up a clean glass and start filling it, watching the golden liquid even though you can feel his eyes boring into you. When you look up, he’s wearing the same dark expression as before.

Your fingers brush his as you take his card, and your tongue darts across your bottom lip. You turn to the machine, ring up the drink, swipe the card, and turn back to him. You almost drop the card from the way you’re handing it to him, trying to avoid his touch.

Another shrill giggle makes you flinch, and you instinctively look over to where Mav is stuck in conversation with Giggles. He looks tired and like he needs saving.

You can’t help yourself when you turn back to Bradley. “I hear you’ve got a shiny new teammate.”

His brows pinch. “Where did you hear that?”

You shrug one shoulder, not really wanting to explain your earlier altercation with Romeo. “The grapevine.”

“Well, the grapevine is very wrong.”

You frown at him. “What?”

He takes a long sip of his beer, draining almost a third of it. “She got a little confused with what Mav said earlier today. To be honest, I’m not sure she’s even heard what he’s said to try and clear things up. She just keeps giggling.”

You laugh softly, rolling your lips to stop yourself from giggling. “Well, she certainly lives up to the name.”

He nods. “That’s for sure.”

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth and press both palms on the bench beneath the bar, leaning forward. “Do you live up to yours, Rooster?”

He tips his head curiously, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “How do you mean?”

You shrug again and relax your weight back onto your feet. “You tell me. How did you get the callsign?”

He hesitates, and you can hear the dishwasher beep to signal it’s finished cycle. You step toward it, not too far from Bradley, and pop the door open.

He still hasn’t replied, so you decide to prompt him. “Are you an early riser? Do you like to sing in the mornings?” You pull out a rack of glasses and carry it to the bench right in front of him. You place it down and lean forward again. “Are you particularly vain? Or do you just have a massive cock?”

“Excuse me.” An older woman standing to the side of the bar calls for your attention. “Where are the toilets?”

Bradley’s cheeks are flaming, his eyes like saucers, and you have to control your laughter as you turn to face the woman. “Just that way.” You point at the very obvious sign.

Two more patrons step up to the bar, and you turn to Bradley with a wink. “Saved by the bell.”

You leave the stunned man to serve the other customers, and when Penny returns with armfuls of empty glasses, another rush kicks in. It’s that time of the night when everyone starts to stock up on liquid courage, slinging back drinks and shots and getting themselves ready for the karaoke.

You’re not sure how much time passes as you pour drinks and make jokes with Penny. You’re feeling a lot lighter about being on this side of the bar with a bit of tequila in your system, and you honestly feel like it’s making you even better at your job. You’re more bubbly, more willing to talk nonsense with chatty patrons, and you’re actually looking forward to seeing your friends perform some embarrassing karaoke.

“Okay, gorgeous.” Jake thrums his hands against the bar. “We’re going to need a round of shots to get Fanboy up there kicking the night off.”

You smile at him and nod. “Go sit down, I’ll bring it over.”

Penny is already arranging a tray with a bunch of shot glasses on it. You count them. “Eight?”

She nods. “I’m turning a blind eye tonight.”

You wedge a bottle of tequila under one arm and take the tray with both hands. “You know what, Pen? I think you would have been an absolute blast in your twenties.”

She rolls her eyes playfully and places a hand on each of your shoulders. “Trust me, I was.”

You can’t help the giggles that bubble from your lips as she turns you around and steers you toward the swinging wooden doors. You carefully make your way weaving through the groups of people toward your friends, who all cheer when you drop the tray of shot glasses on their table.

Bradley is sitting on the end of the booth seat to your right, and your knee brushes against the outside of his thigh as you bend over to start pouring the tequila. You can feel his eyes on your profile, but you don’t dare look his way. You’re too close and he’s had too many drinks. You lost count about half an hour ago and made a mental note to swipe his keys as soon as you get the chance.

“Alright, boys and girls.” You slide the tray into the middle of the table. “No funny faces. I want you all to swallow like Seresin on a Saturday night.” You pick up your own shot, shoot a wink at Jake, and tip it to your lips. The liquor hits the back of your throat and burns all the way down before sizzling in your empty stomach. You should really try and eat something soon.

When you look back at the group, they’ve all got their heads tipped back and the little glasses pressed to their lips. Your eyes fall immediately to the man beside you, watching the column of his tan throat as he swallows. With the tequila swirling through your body, you’re starting to feel a little feral, like you could just sink your teeth into him right here. Right now.

“Okay, one more!” Mickey exclaims, slamming the shot glass back on the table. “Then I’m doing Dancing Queen.”

There’s a mixture of groans and laughter from the squad.

“Dancing Queen?” Jake echoes. “That’s so overdone.”

Mickey throws him a scowl. “I don’t care. I’m feeling young and sweet, only seventeen.”

You laugh through your nose as you concentrate on pouring another round, leaving yourself out this time. You have to lean a little further over the table, and thanks to the most recent nip of tequila rushing to your head, you almost lose balance. But before you can fall forward, a warm hand grabs the back of your thigh, just above your knee. It squeezes tight, almost too tight, and holds you steady.

All the air leaves your lungs in one quick whoosh. You know who’s hand it is, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. He’s too delicious right now. A little drunk, hair mussed, sunglasses perched low on his nose, and that stupid, gorgeous grin tugging at his lips. Yeah. If you turn around, you might not be able to stop yourself from mounting him right here in front of everyone.

“Here you go.” You stand back up straight, but his hand doesn’t move. Not even as he reaches forward, picks up a shot, clinks it with the others, and tips it into his mouth.

The squad, now very well lubricated, launch back into discussion about whether or not Dancing Queen is a good enough debut song for Mickey tonight. You laugh along with them as you gather the glasses onto the tray, but when you go to wedge the tequila bottle under your arm again, Bradley stops you.

He grabs the bottle and stands up, forcing you back a step from the table. “I’ll give you a hand.”

You nod and turn on your heel. You’ll let him give you a hand, however he wants to lend a hand. Literally, any way he wants to give you a hand, you’re willing.

As you walk back toward the bar, you internally scold yourself for letting your thoughts run rampant. Part of you blames the tequila, and another part blames Bradley for how downright sinful he is looking tonight. But you know it’s mostly yourself who’s to blame. Your own stupid brain that too often fantasises about what it’d be like if Bradley felt the same way about you that you feel about him.

You stop at the back end of the bar, away from where Penny is serving, and put the tray of glasses down before turning to Bradley. “Thanks for that.”

He nods. “Anything for you.”

You take the bottle and put it on the bar. “Anything?”

He nods again, his eyes half hooded behind his sunglasses. You roll your lips and let your eyes trail down the front of him, appreciating the deep neckline of the singlet beneath his open Hawaiian shirt, and the smattering of hair that peaks out just below his clavicle.

You take half a step forward, eyes trailing back up. “Anything at all?”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and his head drops to look at you. “Anything.”

“Well...” you sigh, your voice barely above a whisper. “What to pick.”

There’s less than two inches of space between your bodies, and you have to concentrate to stop your hand from trembling as your fingertips dance along his belt. His chest is starting to rise and fall a little faster, and you can’t help the smirk that stretches across your lips as you dip your hand into his pocket.

He draws a quick, sharp breath, and you pull your hand back out with his keys pinched between your fingers. “Looks like you’re catching a cab tonight, Bradshaw.”

He lets go of that breath and chuckles, his whole body relaxing. “You wanted my keys?"

You nod and take a step back, trying to ignore how hot your cheeks are.

“You could have just asked."

You shrug one shoulder as you turn to walk away. “I like getting you all flustered.”

You can feel his eyes on you as you retreat toward the doors that lead behind the bar, so you let your hips sway a little extra from side to side. You don’t know it yet, but you’re definitely going to pay for that little stunt later.

You step up beside Penny and immediately start serving, keeping your focus on the customers in front of you rather than thinking about the way Bradley had just practically melted under your touch. It’s only because he’s drunk, right?

After a minute or so, you see Mickey stand up and walk across the bar. The squad are all cheering and gathering their drinks to follow him. He doesn’t look apprehensive or worried, he looks excited. You watch him turn on the karaoke machine and don’t bother going to help, because he’s done this over a dozen times before. Jake walks past his friend toward the jukebox and unplugs it. The music cuts out and every head in the room turns to Mickey. He grins, clears his throat into the microphone, and then the iconic opening to ABBA’s Dancing Queen blasts through the speakers.

It barely takes ten words for the rest of the bar to start chanting along, and you realise that this might have been his plan all along. He’s not stupid, he knows the drunks can’t resist ABBA, and what better way to break the ice than to get the whole room singing along.

The song eventually ends with Jake and Reuben up beside him, all shouting into the microphone without an ounce of talent. You make a mental note to tease Jake about this later. Overdone, my ass.

You lose yourself to pouring beer once again as people demand more drinks so they can get up and embarrass themselves too. The squad practically man the karaoke machine, and more often than not end up alongside the singer toward the end of the songs. They’re all so drunk and so happy, you can’t help but laugh.

Mickey and Natasha sing Bonnie Tyler’s Holding Out for a Hero, and then Jake and Javy sing Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten. There’s a lot of ABBA and Queen from patrons you don’t recognise, and then the squad cause a huge scene trying to get Maverick up for a song. He refuses until they drag him up to the bar for another round of shots, and then they all perform Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me.

After that, Mickey, Natasha, and an adorably drunk Bob sing Cherry Bomb by The Runaways. You’re not sure you’ve seen Bob drunk more than once before, but it’s possibly the cutest thing in the world to see him red-faced and stumbling over words while bopping his head to the beat of the song.

You’re cleaning a glass and giggling when Bradley and Reuben step up to the bar. “Beer or tequila?”

Reuben chuckles, his grin looking strangely conspiratorial. “Both.”

You tip your lips into a downward smile and nod your head. “Trying not to lose momentum?”

“Rooster has a big number coming up.” Reuben elbows a very sheepish looking Bradley. “He needs his liquid courage.”

You nod, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “I was wondering when I was going to see you up there. You’re usually one of the first.”

He chuckles, but you can sense that he’s nervous. About what, you have no idea. Bradley is one of the only ones with a modicum of talent. He’s that charming guy with a decent voice who everyone regrets inviting to karaoke night because he actually sounds decent.

“Well,” you say, sliding two shots across the bar, “good luck.”

They both sink the shots and scoop up their beers. Reuben pays, winks at you, and clasps Bradley on the shoulder as they walk back over to the group. You want to wonder more about why Bradley could possibly be so anxious, but you don’t have any time before Penny hands you a slip of paper for an order of cocktails.

Another two songs pass while you make the drinks and deliver them to the table where Giggles and her friends are waiting. She has a twisted smirk on her face as you place the glass in front of her, and a part of you wishes you’d known so you could have spit it one of the cocktails.

You give her your widest, cheesiest smile before turning around and walking back toward the bar. You’re about halfway there when you see Reuben shove the microphone into Bradley’s hand and push him toward the front of the crowd. He doesn’t look so nervous anymore – he still looks like sex on legs – and he’s laughing as the sound of tambourines fill the speakers.

You cheer along with the crowd, holding the empty drinks tray under one arm so you can clap. You’re only a few feet from the front of the bar, so you look at Penny with raised brows as if to ask if she needs you, but she shakes her head and waves a dismissive hand, silently telling you to watch the show. But the smirk on her lips makes you think she might know something you don’t.

When you look back at Bradley, he’s got Natasha up on one side and Mickey on the other. They’re dancing like loons as the drumbeat kicks in, and then they all start playing the air guitar as soon as the familiar riff blares through the speakers.

Bradley’s glasses are perched low on his nose, his grin so wide you can’t help but grin too, and as he brings the microphone up to his lips, you wonder if this man might have been a rockstar in another life. “So one, two, three, take my hand and come with me, because you look so fine, that I really wanna make you mine.”

Something between a giggle and a shriek leaves your lips when Jake and Reuben pop up beside you. Reuben grabs your wrist and drags you forward into the crowd, while Jake yanks the drinks tray from under arm. You go with them willingly, dancing and laughing with your friends who you’ve never seen so carefree. You could definitely get used to being on this side of the bar.

The rest of the squad are up beside Bradley now, playing the air guitar and banging their heads like maniacs. You stop right in front of him, staring up at him like he’s a god, and he turns to look right at you as he sings. “Now you don’t need the money, when you look like that, do ya, honey?”

Another shriek splits from your lips when he grabs your hand and yanks you toward him. You almost crash into him, but he’s too smooth to let that happen. He lets go of your hand and wraps an arm around your waist, catching you and holding you against him.

“Big black boots.” He tips his head and winks at you over his sunglasses. “Long brown hair.” He leans back as Javy leans over his shoulder, and they sing together. “She’s so sweet with her get-back stare.”

The others crowd around as the chorus kicks in, and you all shout the lyrics along with the rest of the bar. But Bradley doesn’t let you go. He keeps his arm around you, still allowing you to dance but not without rubbing a part of your body against his.

The chorus finishes and the room goes quiet except for the backing track. Bradley drops his head forward again, watching you over the frame of his sunglasses as he sings. “I said, are you gonna be my girl?”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you know your cheeks are redder than a maraschino cherry. The room cheers and Bradley chuckles. Everyone starts dancing and playing the air guitar again, and Mickey and Reuben lean toward the microphone to sing the start of the next verse with Bradley.

There’s another quick guitar break where Bradley turns back to you, a light sheen of sweat covering his exposed skin. “I say you look so fine, that I really wanna make you mine.”

Your head spins. If it weren’t for his arm, you’re almost positive you’d be passed out on the floor.

Mickey and Reuben join back in for the next verse, but their voices are lost in the sea of singing from the whole bar. You don’t dare look out at the crowd though, you’re already nervous enough being held against a very sweaty and very delicious man.

When the verse ends, the whole squad turn to you, point at your feet, and shout-sing. “Big black boots!”

You roll your eyes and laugh before joining in on the chorus. But just like before, when the chorus finishes, everyone stops singing along as if they’ve been told to. Bradley squeezes you even closer, sounding a little out of breath as he sings, “I said, are you gonna be my girl?”

The guitar returns almost immediately, and Bradley finally lets you go to clap along with the song. The squad all clap too, and the whole bar claps and stomps their feet to the beat. You can feel the floor shaking.

Bradley holds the microphone up to Mickey and he shouts, “Oh, yeah!”

Bradley then moves it along the line to Reuben. “C’mon!”

The clapping and stomping doesn’t stop. The energy is so high, you’ve never experienced a karaoke Friday like this, and you know it’s not just the tequila to blame. Something about tonight is a little bit electric.

For the final chorus, everyone shouts as loud as they can. Bradley holds the microphone, but it's useless at this point. The only reason you can hear him is because he’s right next to you, an arm wrapped around your waist again.

“Be my girl,” the room shouts.

Bradley winks at you, and everyone echoes again, “Be my girl!”

He holds the microphone above his head as everyone screams the final line of the song. “Are you gonna be my girl, yeah!”

The backing track fades and everyone cheers, louder than you’ve ever heard. You can’t stop giggling, and you can’t look at anything except the gorgeous man grinning down at you. The noise from the rest of the bar fades away as you stare at him, tracing the lines on his face and licking your lips when you see a small droplet of sweat fall from his hairline.

Then the noise slowly returns. It’s different from before, louder somehow. Organised. It’s a chant. The whole bar is chanting. At you.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Your heart is beating so violently against your ribcage, it’s making your whole skeleton shake. Your eyes are wide and your cheeks are red. You’re paralysed. You want to reach up, but you can’t. You want to kiss him, but you can’t make yourself for the fear of rejection.

Bradley chuckles, his voice raspy from singing. “I like getting you all flustered too.”

Then his lips are on yours, hard and soft all at once. He urges against you and then eases back, letting you fall into him. He tastes like beer and sweat, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted in your whole life. His other arm wraps around your body to pull you impossibly close. There’s cheering, but you can barely hear it over the thrum of your pulse in your ears.

Your hands find their way up his body and into his hair, threading your fingers through his locks. He pushes forward again, forcing you to tip your head back so he can deepen the kiss. His tongue slips past your lips and you moan softly. But then he’s gone. He stands up straight and chuckles again, because you’re wearing the most indignant frown. To him, you look adorable.

“As much as I’d love to keep going,” he rasps, “maybe not in front of the whole bar.”

The reality of where you are comes crashing down, and you quickly pull yourself out of his arms. He catches your hand though, linking your fingers together as he follows you out of the spotlight. He stops you before you can slip through the bar’s wooden doors, tugging on your arm so you turn to face him.

“So,” he says, brows raised. “What’s your answer?”

You frown. “Answer to what?”

He nods back toward where you’d just been singing your hearts out, and your eyes go wide.

“Wait, you were-”

Before you can finish, he surges forward and captures your lips again. You stumble but he catches you, one large hand on either side of your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before, stealing your breath and making your stomach do a whole gymnastics routine.

When he pulls back, your head spins. All you can do is blink at up with a confused frown. “You meant all that?”

He shrugs, his smile turning sheepish. “Why do you think I was so nervous?”

You tip your head back and stare at one of the model planes hanging from the ceiling. “So that’s why you drank so much tonight.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, sober Bradley couldn’t ask you out.”

You nod slowly, your lips tipping up into a smirk. “Is that so?"

He nods.

“Well then, which Bradley do I need to ask to fuck my brains out? Drunk Bradley? Or do I have to wait until-”

“Both,” he interrupts, his voice low and his eyes dark.

His expression is dead serious now, aside from the pink in his cheeks. He almost looks feral as he towers over you, pupils blown with lust and lips puffy.

“Good.” You pat a hand on his chest. “Then if you stick around, I’ll drive you home.”

You turn and step through the doors into the bar, feeling his eyes burning into your backside as you sway your hips. You work the rest of the night with a smirk on your lips and an ache between your legs. Your friends come and go with teasing comments, but you let them, because all you can think about is Bradley’s predatory stare. He doesn’t let you out of his sight all night, and he looks even deadlier when Romeo approaches for another round of drinks. But the rest of the night passes without incident, and when it finally comes time to close, you actually have to kick a few patrons out.

Bradley waits leaning against the passenger door of your car as Penny locks up. You promise her you’ll be there in the morning to help clean, but the knowing smirk on her lips when she sees Bradley at your car definitely means that she doesn’t believe you.

You give her a little wave as she heads off toward her car and you walk toward yours. When you walk past Bradley, he reaches out and grabs your wrist, tugging you toward him.

“Hey,” he says quickly, before kissing you again.

You push up onto your toes as you kiss him back.

“You know,” he murmurs against your mouth, “this isn’t just one night.”

Your heart kicks into overdrive again, trying to crack your sternum.

“I want you. All of you. I have for God knows how long, and I’ve been too chickenshit to do anything about it. But I need you to know that this isn’t a onetime thing and it’s not just because I’ve had a few drinks. This is it. You and me.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to convince yourself that you’re not dreaming. When you open your eyes and look up at him, your heart swells so much it feels like it might burst.

“I want you too. All of you.”

He grins and swoops down to kiss you again, only quickly. “Good. Now let’s go, I have to fuck your brains out, remember?”

You roll your eyes despite your burning cheeks. “Yeah, you do.”

As you walk around the front of your car on wobbly legs, he adds, “Oh, and you should probably tell Penny that you won’t be here in the morning. You’ll still be getting your brains fucked out.”

END.

[burningdevotion]

dbf!Joel who cant get enough of your taste and feel / headcanons

a/n: I literally only made this side blog to get this out of my system, so consider this me dropping off a present (smut) at the doorstep of your house (the Joel Miller fandom) before I walk away again lol, hope you like these!!

warnings: nswf, big age gap (reader in her early 20s, Joel in his 50s) it’s mostly filth but kinda romantic too because he’s just drunk on his girl’s juice and who can blame him for being an obsessive lover?

౨ৎ didnt wanna put it in the title but basically: he’s obsessed with your pussy. your cunt. whatever you prefer to call it. he is spell-bound and driven mad by it. every little thing about it.

but let me give you get a bit of backstory first:

౨ৎ your affair started during the last week of your first summer back home from college. you’d known him for years, since he lived right down the street and was your dad’s dearest friend, but only once you werent in high school anymore did you really start caring for him, talking to him like a fellow adult, joining your dad and him for a drink out in the garden every now and then, and soon enough you realized: oh. fuck. he’s hot. really fuckking hot. how did I not realize this before.

౨ৎ he had similar feelings. before you were off age, he’d never even considered your physique in any intense way, he was not the type of guy to leer at teenage girls, especailly not when they were his friends precious girl, but after you’d spent an entire year at college and came back seeming all grown up and confident in your own adult life far away from home, more mature and independent, something switched and he allowed himself to really take a good look at you when you were around, and then all of a sudden realized it: she is perfect. a goddamn dream. oh, I am fucked. I want my best friend’s daughter. desperately. lord help me.

౨ৎ for the entire summer the tension kept rising - you both felt it more each time you saw each other, even when you just passed each other on the street, that chemistry, that pull towards each other, the intrigue, the primal sense of need that no amount of repression could get rid of, like two animals who were destined mates circling each other while trying not to pounce. but it was helpless. a few nights before you had to fly back to your college town, you went over to his place and a harmless "I’m gonna miss you." turned into frantic, sloppy, needy kissing, making out, dry-humping and two hours of the most passionate mindblowing sex you couldve ever imagined, all that pent up need finally bursting out, first on the couch, then in bed, him worshipping your body in every possible way, kissing and grabbing and tasting you all over, making you come over and over without even worrying about his own orgasms, his cock leaking from the second he got the first taste of you, that divine first drop of the juice hed consider his life source from that point on.

౨ৎ from that first night, it blew your mind just how much he loved to taste you. he didnt just eat you out until your legs shook (which he did. merciselly so.) before even thinking of fucking you, he did it again and again during and after sex, whenever you switched positions he took a moment to lap up everything that had leaked out of you while being pounded by him, easing your pretty, swollen, raw lips with slow strokes of his tongue, playing with your clit, rubbing you, marvelling at the delicious sight of your pussy all glistening and pulsating, before putting his cock back inside, always making sure that you were turned on and ready, that he wouldnt hurt you no matter how hard he went - still, he didnt just do it to prep you, he always did it for his own pleasure, always, greedy as hell the way he´d hold you in place with your legs spread apart, making you wait and whimper from the emptiness until hed continue fucking you, cooing at you "shh, lemme get a taste baby, just a lil taste of that sweetness, gonna fill you up again, dont you worry"

౨ৎ from that point on, you ached for each other badly when you were away at college and then reuinted in the most heated, intense way whenever you came back home - for thanksgiving, christmas, spring break, etc. - it always went the same way, you could always tell that he’d been starving so bad for your taste that he nearly came in his pants whenever he started eating you out the first day you were back home, back in his bed. he always ruined you. fully. in the best possible way. he ate you out so eagerly and for so long that you thought you might black out from pleasure.. whimpering and shaking and sweating, drenching the sheets in more ways than one, while you were flat on your back, while you were on your hands and knees and he could eat it from the back, while you were riding his face and soaked his mouth and nose - he was always beyond relieved to finally have you back, the second he ripped your jeans and panties down he always moaned things like "you’ve no idea how much I missed this sweet lil pussy of yours, no fuckin idea, girl, lay back and let me taste you"

౨ৎ whenever he has your legs pressed up and gets ready to slip his length into you, he shamelessly stares down and feels his mouth water and his veins bludging when he watches his cock be swallowed up by your folds, its a sight that drives him fucking wild, that beautiful pussy of yours that he adores so much, always taking him in so easily and perfectly, taking it all without any resistence (because youre always eager, never hestiant or uncomfortable, not with him) - he will stare as he starts building up a ryhthm and struggle to tear his eyes away but your pretty face does the trick: the second you start moaning loudly from his deep strokes, he will look up to you, caressing your face, praising and reassuring you "good girl, taking me so fuckin well.. that feel good babygirl? yeah? like that?"

౨ৎ you told him from the beginning that you were on birth control and tracked your period so he could fuck you raw - especially when you werent ovulating - but he refused, too paranoid about even the slightest chance of getting you pregnant, but. it was only a matter of time. one time, in the middle of it, when you were already three orgasms in and a soaking needy mess, he couldn’t take it anymore and took the condom off before he begged you "come here baby, sit on my lap, ride it nice n slow, make a pretty mess, wanna feel it all” wayyy too eager, throbbing so hard he almost passed out when you took him in and he could feel every last drop of your juices coating the sensitive skin of his length, nearly losing his mind when you told him to come inside you a few minutes later, moaning like he was dying when he filled you with his cum for the first time and felt you squeeze him and drain him (he was a goner after that, couldnt go back to fucking with a condom, even when he knew it was unwise, the feel of you around him was just too fucking good)

౨ৎ other men might be turned off by the idea of eating their girl out right after a cream pie, but not him. he does not let his own taste deter him, not at all, so sometimes when youre done having sex and youre laying there all shaky and flushed and raw from it all, whimpering because you’re still riled up, he will ease you by playing with your clit a bit, helping your worn out body enjoy the aftershocks, whispering "look at you, gorgeous girl... real sensitive right now, hm? need a bit more, need some help there?" before he leans down and licks up the mess he made of you, your juices and his mixed together, eating you out more gently than before and giving you a final orgasm before he really lets you come down and holds you in his arms (takes every last chance to get his mouth on you)

౨ৎ whenever you leave to go back to your house afterwards, he tries to put off his shower for as long as possible because he wants his hands to keep smelling like you... he will sit there and zone out while he has his fingers pressed up against his nose, taking a few deeeep breaths in, savoring the lingering scent of your juices, maybe even licking his fingers to get a hint of a taste before he eventually has to take his nightly shower and mourns the loss of that reminder of your love-making </3

౨ৎ sometimes late at night when your dad is already asleep or busy watching tv/reading, you take the chance to get a quickie in before bed - you’ll sneak out through the back door and come over to Joel already in your pajamas, sleepy and needy, horny and in the mood for something sensual, not a full on hookup, but just a bit of touching, and he always oblidges, no matter if its 10pm or already 1am, he will let you sit on his lap or next to him on the couch and play with your pussy as you relax and sigh, moaning to you about how much he loves to feel you like that, his big fingers so gentle with it, so skilled, the tension of the day leaving you immediately

౨ৎ he will make you suck his fingers and then rub your clit nice and slow, dipping his fingertips between your folds and dragging them up and down to gather every last drop, filthy with it as you squirm and mewl, comfortable as youre pressed up against his side, one of his arms steading you as he tells you how fuckin good you feel, to spread your legs nice n wide for him, easing one, two, or sometimes three fingers into you, switching between the fingering and jerking off motions until youre drenched and quivering and come hard enough to be breathless from it - youll give him a few heartfelt kisses and touches before you sneak back into your room, all tingly and heavy from pleasure, put to sleep very fast by his actions (you feel safe doing it, coming over just for that when you’re not gonna stay for long, because he never demands anything in return and enjoys it just as much as you, he can jerk himself off after you’re gone, he just loves to see you on his doorstep looking all sweet and desperate and to know he’ll get to have a taste/feel for a few minutes, its become a ritual that he asks "need help with somethin, darlin?" knowing damn well what he needs to do to "help" you)

౨ৎ in general, he always makes sure you know that any touch or taste of you is enough to satisfy him, getting head from you in return or being allowed to fuck you senseless is just the cherry on top, he would die a happy man if all he ever got to do was eat you out and finger you <3

౨ৎ before he eats you out, he will press his face between your legs, his nose right up against the fabric, and stay like that for a few seconds to get an immediate heavy hit of your scent, the dampness of your panties enough to drive him wild before even getting a proper taste

౨ৎ one time he pointed at your panties that were crumpled on the floor next to his bed and said "I´m keeping those by the way. need a reminder of that sweet juice of yours until youre back here" so you joked and said he could keep them for good if he gave you money to buy a new pair, but he actually did it and told you to buy a color or fabric he hadnt seen you in before, to surprise him next time

౨ৎ hed never be weird about you using toys or masturbating frequently, even while youre back home and are having sex regularly with him, he wants you to feel as good as possible, all the time, so if you enjoy jerking off a certain way and he maybe even gets a front row seat to it as well sometimes? hes in heaven. you playing with your pussy for him to see, thats a night to his liking, doesnt even need to lead to sex, it usually does of course, but hed be glad to just let you go to town on your own and be an eager witness and supporter, stroking your back, caressing your hips and thighs, kissing you all over as you get yourself off <3

౨ৎ he loves to rub his tip over your wetness before he inches himself in. its never a long ordeal because he doesnt like to tease you to a point where it feels cruel but it just feels so fucking divine to him, having his throbbing tip gather up all that thick velvety wetness, also loveees when youre on top and just slide your folds over his dick before taking it inside, nearly loses his mind whenever you do it like that, grinding yourself over his shaft before you relieve him from the tension and sit down on him, he curses under his breath and shuts his eyes and groans like noboys business...

౨ৎ he gets so hard from giving you head that it almost hurts at times... so he might just pull his dick out and jerk himself off when it gets too intense, humping his own palm as he finishes you off with his mouth, pathetic as hell but so fucking hot the way he groans and cums right after you ride your orgasm out against his tongue

౨ৎ sometimes when hes over at your place to see your dad and you happen to be there, it takes all of his willpower not to drag you into the bathroom to touch or tongue-fuck you especially! when youre sitting there all pretty in your summer clothes with your thighs exposed, or your midriff/lower belly showing, not sitting like a lady but with your legs far apart and relaxed, in a way that would allow him to get on his knees and have his way right then and there... poor man struggles to string together a proper sentence when youre in the room like that, sweating through his shirt in a way that makes your dad refill his drink, you only grinning to yourself and torturing him for a moment longer before you say bye and head out of the day, already imagining what hes gonna do later on

౨ৎ to put it plainly: Joel always always always wants a taste. no matter where or when, the moment your affair started, he knew he’d never be able to get enough of it, and he is glad to live in that constant state of desire after years of being numb in that regard, you woke him up again and at his age it felt like a miracle to experience the kind of sex and passion he could have only dreamed of when he was younger

౨ৎ he sometimes almost fucks up and moans "fuck baby I love you so much" or something similar when he’s deep inside of you because it all just feels too good, the feverish rush of your sacred intimacy will push those words to the tip of his tongue, he always swallows them a second before its too late or kisses you to stop himself from blurting it all out

౨ৎ you can feel it though, that he loves you. deeply so. that youre not just a hookup for him, the same way he isnt just that to you, you can feel it whenever youre in the throes of passion with him: that even though you two are a secret and wont ever be more than that, Joel will always cherish you and care for you and be right there to please you if your future boyfriend/husband ever decides to neglect his duty of getting on his knees and worshipping his woman the way she deserves ;)

౨ৎ he’s already going to hell for sleeping with his best friends daughter, so he’d have no problem giving her exactly what she needs one more time, or a few more times.. if she ever decided to come back to him down the line, not his fault that tasting an angel like that might make him a corrupted soul - he’d take having your soft sighs in his hear, your warm lips on his face, your sweet honey coating his mouth and fingers, over having a clean conscience, any. damn. day.

[jaydove-writes]

Moving intro to pinned post so bio is less cluttered

~ he/him, cis, biromantic asexual, engaged to @starlightprincess98, (Planning to get married February 14th 2026) born July 12th 1997 (listed the year so I don't have to update my age every year) ****

Platonic soulmates: @aflairforthemelodramaticc and @translesbianfoxgirl

**** Formerly known as **** @princesssparkle42 **** @jaydovesworld **** Other blogs include **** @ask-skybluecmc, if you want to do some MLP OC RP **** @phoenix-of-grandeur, if you want to talk about your favorite games or mine (Though I also do that on main) **** @phiction-of-grandeur, if you want to talk about your stories or mine (Again I do that on main) **** @ask-the-felicity-crew, if you want to RP between your OCs and mine or ask me questions that I will answer as mine. The characters may or may not know they are fictional depending on when in the timeline you ask them.

****

@ask-simon-devlyn, same as the Felicity Crew, but centered around the captain, Simon Devlyn. On this blog Simon knows he's fictional.

**** I love talking to people and making new friends! I'm also creating my own story series called Starbourne. Wanna be friends in the gaming multiverse? Here are my Friend Codes:

****

Steam: 111892045

****

Nintendo Switch: SW-5163-5533-6136 ****

Musical Fandoms:

****

Chrono Trigger

****

Undertale

****

EPIC

**** Show Fandoms: **** MLP **** Steven Universe **** The Owl House **** Amphibia

**** The Ghost and Molly McGee **** Sailor Moon **** Cardcaptor Sakura

****

Infinity Train

****

Spongebob Squarepants ****

More later

**** Game Fandoms: **** Any RPG that features Mario (Such as Super Mario RPG, the Paper Mario series, or the Mario and Luigi RPG series) **** Any indie game inspired by Paper Mario (Such as Bug Fables or Born of Bread) ****

Undertale and Deltarune ****

In Stars and Time

****

Kirby

****

Hollow Knight and Silksong **** Zelda (mainly just watching other people play them) **** Pokemon (see Zelda) **** Might add more later **** Book Fandoms: **** Percy Jackson et al **** Amari **** Serafina **** Might add more later ****

Webcomic Fandoms

****

Homestuck

****

Down to Earth

***** Donation Links

****

Kofi

****

Patreon

****

PayPal

****

Book 1 of my series, Starbourne, is FREE!! For the other books please donate $6 per book to one of the aforementioned links. I'm planning on making this a series of 9, but currently working on book 2.

Doing one of those note things for motivation (or notivation because notes lol)

25 notes - I do the dishes and clean out the litter box (done, for now... But these are Sisyphean tasks)

50 notes - I clean up around the house (I did a little cleanup, might do more later)

100 notes - I do a little work on my book (it still needs editing before I can publish it and write the sequel, but I'll do some work on that when my PC stops crashing)

250 notes - I start working on book 2 (or work harder on editing book 1 if it still needs it)

500 notes - I participate in artfight (in the first July after it reaches this threshold. I doubt it'll get there by this month.)

1k notes - I start working on a video game in the Starbourne multiverse. A small one, like Undertale is to Deltarune. I'm calling it Saturn Robe which is an anagram for Starbourne, like Undertale is for Deltarune.

2.5k notes - I start working on my dream game, Starbourne. The one that's the reason I started writing in the first place. (If the small game isn't finished I work harder on that)

5k notes - I dedicate my time to taking care of myself/my partner/my family, and working on my dream game.

10k notes - I become a god in the Tumblrverse (this will not happen)

If you want to know more about Starbourne, check out my other blog @phiction-of-grandeur and my community for more details. My askbox is always open if you want to ask me something.

Here's the first book now:

And here's a newer version of the first book, with (hopefully) better writing. It's gonna be longer than the draft above.

Here's the book on AO3 as well ^^

ANOTHER DRAFT OF THE BOOK ^^^^ (This one is the newest one)

And here's my artfight link. It's new so there's nothing there yet. ^^^

Here's a game I made in Scratch back in 2012... I occasionally update it when I think of a new idea for an update. Feel free to ask me about Epic Kitty Hunt updates!

[withleeknow]

october 23rd.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, slice of life; one ass grab, unedited bc i am a danger to society word count: 1k note: i whipped this up pretty spontaneously and i actually kinda loathe it lol but i still wanted to post smth bc it’s my anniversary of joining the fandom 🥺 also a little early bday post for mimo. the bunny in question is leebit but i couldn’t drop any names bc this is not idol specific lol. anywhomst happy jen(o)versary

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

Minho comes into your shared apartment, shrugging off his coat and taking off his shoes with minimal noise. It’s not that late — just a quarter past midnight — and you’re not a light sleeper by any means, but still.

He had told you not to wait up for him, that his work dinner might end late and he knew you had a long day. Minho patters on socked feet further into your home, expecting you to be in bed already sleeping, surrounded by your loyal trio of cats, and yet, it’s not the bedroom where he finds you.

Yes, you’re sleeping, but you’re on the couch, in front of the TV with Netflix’s question “Are you still watching?” written over a paused scene of the K-drama you’re both currently obsessed with. There’s a stuffed bunny in your arms, held tightly against your chest like it’s your most prized possession. Looks like you’ve been napping for a while now.

The white bunny is dressed in a navy hoodie, his eyes full of mischief that’s only emphasized by a toothy smile that he sports. It’s the plushie that Minho got for you during your vacation trip to Osaka last year, when you happened to spot the little fur ball in the window of a toy store and said it looked like your boyfriend. It’s become a great companion for you ever since you brought it home, something for you to hold onto whenever you miss your love.

Minho is a little surprised. You don’t usually force yourself to stay up for you, especially when you’re tired.

He doesn’t disturb you right away though. Instead, he heads toward the bathroom to change and freshen up for bed. You would probably kill him if he touched you in his outside clothes anyway.

When he returns some fifteen minutes later, he switches off the TV, tugs the bunny by its ears to free it from your embrace and chucks the thing haphazardly to the carpeted floor. It’s your prized possession, not his. Besides, you don’t need your little replacement Minho anymore now that he’s home.

When he scoops you in his arms, you stir awake, adorably confused as he carries you to the bedroom.

“Where’s my bunny?” Half a question, half a yawn.

“Hello to you too,” he mutters, laying you under the covers with narrowed eyes though he still leans in to press a greeting peck to the corner of your mouth. “I guess I don’t even matter as much as your little toy. Not even a ‘How are you?’”

“Okay, love of my entire life.” You roll your eyes with affection, pulling him down to kiss him properly. You can still taste it, the white wine that he must’ve had all night. “How are you? How was the dinner, big baby?”

“Boring. Unbearable. Should’ve just stayed home with you,” Minho laments, crawling into the space next to you, settling into your arms as you hug him close. This is what you should be doing all the time. With him, not some lame rabbit. “Why did you wait up? I told you you didn’t have to.”

You card your fingers through his soft hair, playing with the strands that curl at the nape of his neck. “Our anniversary’s tomorrow. Or I guess it’s today already. Just wanted to see you before the morning.”

“Would it make a difference?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to see you.”

Your boyfriend detaches from you for a second to hold himself up on one elbow. He just stares at you for a brief moment, makes you blush under the scrutiny of his gaze. His big eyes, usually keen and sharp, always soften to a dizzying degree when they look at you.

Then Minho is leaning close to slant his mouth over yours again. “You’re cheesy today,” he comments, his tender smile still pressed against your lips. "Happy anniversary."

You only hum in response. One of his hands slides down your body to rest on your ass, giving it a little affectionate squeeze, the moment still entirely innocent despite his sneaky fingers.

You kiss for a while, lazily moving together in tandem, gentle hands holding onto the other person like a lifeline. In a way, you suppose you are. You’re each other’s lifelines, each other’s lighthouses.

When you pull away, it’s to let out a yawn that you can’t hold in anymore. “Happy anniversary”, you finally say back, sleepily. “Can you go get my bunny now? Did you leave him on the floor again?”

Minho rolls his eyes, yet it’s playful and completely endeared. “Your bunny again. That thing is on the floor where it belongs. You replaced me. Didn’t you use to call me your bunny?”

“Don’t do that to him,” you scold softly. “He’s our son. Have you seen the resemblance? You look like you literally birthed him.”

“Oh my god, why would you compare me to that thing like that?” Before you know it, Minho’s rolling over, resting half of his body on top of yours like a weighted blanket to pin you down, to get you complacent before you nag him any further about a toy bunny that he only sometimes gets jealous of. “You’re delirious. Please go to sleep.”

The next morning, you wake up to an empty bed, the warmth that you usually feel beside you gradually waning by the second. Minho’s gone, but greeting you in his place is a white bunny with a mischievous smile and a twinkle in his big eyes — truly a perfect replica of the man. The same bunny that he always makes a show of hating so much.

The sun is out to play, hanging high up in the sky, slithering through the cracks between the curtains to caress your hair. It feels like it’s gonna be a beautiful day; you’ve got your bunny, the sun, and if you focus hard enough, you’ll hear the sounds of pots and pans out there in the kitchen, Minho’s soft voice humming a tune you’re too familiar with, and the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes wafting all around.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 23.10.2024]

[bad268]

Hello, excuse me if my English is not very good, you could write a Kimi x o'ward! Reader that is a dynamic older brother x younger sister. I LOVE YOUR FICS, I ALWAYS READ THEM.

PATO! (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X O'Ward! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Clearly (I had a vision and almost didn't add it, but it's the bonus scene)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/your/They/them)

W.C. 1225

Summary: Pato being an overprotective brother.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(I actually took this lol)

You always traveled with Pato because ever since COVID, you switched to online learning, and that left you with more time to see the world. Truthfully, you never left Mexico until Pato offered to take you to Woking for some McLaren testing or something back in 2022, and you never stopped traveling with him since. 

This past year, he took you to Italy in between Indycar races since he wanted to join McLaren for a little. That’s how you found yourself in Imola. 

You had gone off exploring in the garage on your own while Pato was in a meeting, and you would rather watch the F2 practice session than do your schoolwork. You didn’t really know much about Formula 1 or 2 because you just never had the exposure to it really. You found your way to the McLaren garage (Oscar’s specifically!), and one of the F2 teams had their cars in front of it. The cars were parked up in front of the garage, so you decided to walk up to them for a closer look. 

“They’re cool looking, aren't they?” You asked to the first person you saw near the cars. He was wearing a Mercedes shirt and hat, so you assumed he was a fan. He looked over at you confused for a second before you decided to continue. “I’ve never seen one up close like this, so I think it’s cool.”

“That means you’ve never sat in one either?” He questioned, briefly looking over at you with a smile. 

“Definitely not,” You laughed, shanking your head. “I’ve only ever sat in an Indycar once, let alone an F1 or F2 car.”

“Would you like to?” he asked, and the rest was history. That was how you met Kimi, and you two really hit it off in Imola. You decided to stay in contact, and eventually, decided to try dating long-distance. 

You decided to keep it from Pato at first because honestly, you weren’t sure what the relationship was. Then it became a fun game to see how long you could keep it up. It wasn’t super hard for Kimi because, to be honest, the entire team wanted him to have something (ANYTHING) other than racing. Pato, on the other hand, was a gossip queen and loved to be all up in your business. 

“Whatcha doing?” Pato dragged out, looking over your shoulder to see what you were doing. You had your laptop open to an assignment you were trying to find the motivation to do, but you were looking at your phone. You thought texting Kimi for a few minutes would give you the motivation, but it was making it worse. When you noticed Pato looking over your shoulder, you quickly locked your phone and threw it against yoru chest as you put your hands on the keyboard.

“Nothing,” You shrieked, side-eyeing Pato from over your shoulder, “Just this…uh…research paper.”

“That’s not suspicious at all,” Pato dragged out but left it alone. You let out a breath after he left the room, but that was only one of the times. 

Pato had caught you doing suspicious things on multiple occasions. You were more protective of your phone, lost in thought more often, more interested in Formula 1, and you wanted to go with him to McLaren headquarters more often. Usually, you were indifferent, but it was like you had a newfound reason to go with him. 

“Maybe they’re in love, Pato,” Elba chuckled when he confessed that he thought something was up with you. They watched as you spoke in a hushed tone with your earbuds in. You had your phone propped up against your laptop screen as you typed away, but every once in a while, you would stop and laugh at something the other person said. Pato didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t believe it.

“No, nuh-uh, not happening, not on my watch,” Pato rushed, about to run over and grab your phone before Elba grabbed his wrist. “No, let me go, I need to stop this! They’re just a baby!”

“They’re 18, Pato,” Elba stated, continuing to hold him in place. Pato looked back between you and Elba multiple times as his face scrunched up in disgust. “Don’t give me that look. They’re old enough to make their own choices.”

“No, they’re not,” Pato grumbled as he looked back over to you.

“They’re old enough to have a love life,” Elba argued, having to bite back a laugh.

“No, they’re not,” Pato grumbled again, not breaking his gaze off of you as you leaned back in your chair and let out a loud laugh.

“They’re old enough, Pato,” Elba whispered, not leaving any room for Pato to argue. He looked back at her with wide eyes, questioning her stance. “They can make their own decisions, and they don’t need your approval for everything.”

“But-”

“No buts, Pato,” Elba cut him off immediately, waving a finger in his face, “Let them experience life. You didn’t see me pestering you when you got your first girlfriend, at 16 no less! You were younger than them! Just let them be a teenager!”

“I need to know who it is,” Pato responded, not letting Elba stop him as he walked up behind you. You were so absorbed in your conversation with the person on the phone that you didn’t see Pato walking behind you until it was too late. “It’s Kimi!?”

“Pato!” You shouted, turning to face him as you hung up the call even though he had already seen it. Neither of you said anything, just awkwardly looking at each other for a few secondes before a notification from Kimi sounded from your phone, breaking up the tension.

“Is he mad?” It read, so you looked at Pato.

“Are you mad? He wants to know,” You questioned, using your best innocent look. You knew he couldn’t be that mad, but still, you needed him to say it.

“At least it’s not someone from McLaren,” He sighed as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and hugged you from behind the chair. “That would be bad.”

“He’s in Mercedes, so that means I can’t go with you to McLaren anymore unless I sign an NDA.”

“Never mind, I wish it was someone from McLaren.”

“Pato!”

~~ (bonus scene)

“Can you please stop crying?” Pato groaned as he sat next to you at your hotel in Toronto, watching the Formula 2 race. It was like 8 in the morning, and Pato would be getting into the car for his own race soon, but when you asked him to watch the feature race with you, he couldn’t say no. “It’s just a race!”

“But Kimi won! It’s his first win!” You sobbed, whipping away at your eyes as you pulled out your phone to take pictures and videos of Kimi on the podium.

“He won the sprint race like a week ago!” Pato defended himself, but you were hearing none of it.

“That’s a sprint win! It doesn’t count!” You retorted immediately before backtracking a second later, “Well, it counts for points, but it’s not like a feature race win.”

“You need to calm down,” Pato joked as he put a hand on your shoulder.

“THIS IS CALM AND THAT’S MY MAN!”

“Please stop shouting before we get a noise complaint.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2025. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[flufftober]

🍀🍂 Hello and welcome to Flufftober's (first) Fluff Bingo 🍀🍂

In our poll, nearly 50% of you voted for a handful of bingo cards to fill the other half of the year with more fluff before we jump right back into the excitement that is Flufftober - and of course, we're here to deliver 😊

Find all the important info, more cards, and all the prompts in writing below the cut.

We hope you like this event and our prompts, and now

Happy Creating 🥳

🍀 Pick your card - we offer:

🍂 one card with 5x5 prompts (as seen at the top)

🍂 two cards with 3x3 prompts:

🍂 three themed cards with 1x5 prompts:

🍂 and as a bonus, a 3x3 card with tasks instead of prompts:

🍀 How does this work?

🍂 our standard blog rules apply and you'll find answers to most questions on our FAQ post

🍂 aside from that, you can go wild: fill these cards however you like, as quick or as slow as you like, as often as you like, and use as many of them as you like. We just want you to have fun 😊

🍂 if there are prompts on the bigger cards you don't like, feel free to use the 1x5 cards as alternate prompts and switch them out

🍂 download the cards and tick them off once you've finished a square; make a post for every square or only once you have a bingo or even a blackout - it's all up to you!

🍂 as with all our events, this one will never close, you can always use these cards. If you need a timeframe/deadline because (like me) you'll never finish otherwise, consider these loose goals:

finish until July 1st when we release the new Flufftober list

finish during October, maybe by combining some of these with the Flufftober prompts

finish until the end of the year so you're ready for whatever event we plan for next spring

🍀 What about tumblr reblogs and ao3?

🍂 tumblr reblogs will still happen but not daily as you're used to during Flufftober. It will strongly depend on how many posts there happen to be at a time and how the modmin team will have time. But as long as you mention us and/or use the tag (and follow the rules, obviously), reblogs will happen

🍂 please use the tag #fluffbingo

🍂 feel free to also add the general #flufftober tag

🍂 please make sure to clearly show the fandom, either in the first few tags or noticeably in the post

🍂 contrary to how we do it during Flufftober, we will only use four tags during reblogs this time: #fluffbingo #fluffreblog #[fandom] #[your user name] - that means we will not tag any ships, characters, or which prompt you're covering

🍂 on ao3, our collection for this event is Flufftober Fluff Bingo

Prompts

We're going left to right, top to bottom!

🍂 5x5 card

Fresh Start

To-Do List

Craft Fair

Creature AU

“This was a bad idea.”

Exploring Together

Plushie

Secret Signal

“You’ll love it.”

Late Night

Hidden (...)

“It’s just so much.”

Free Space

Fake Dating

Carnival

“You’re the best!”

Royal AU

Missing the Other

Never ever, ever

Rainbow

Hanahaki

Pep Talk

“I really mean it.”

Hoodie

Movie AU

🍂 3x3 card I

“Where do I start?”

Famous AU

Traveling the World Together

Enjoying a Lazy Day

Task: Write in a tense you usually don’t write/write less than another tense

“You said you had it handled!” - “Yeah, well, I lied.”

Birthday

“Hey, wait, that’s mine.”

Direction

🍂 3x3 card II

“You’re late!”

Hospital AU

Grocery Shopping Together

Going for a Walk

Task: Write from a POV you usually don’t write/write less than another POV

“Could you not do that, please?” - “Spoilsport.”

Sunshine

“I don’t know, you decide.”

Concert

🍂 1x5 card - Smiles

Secret Smile

Relieved Smile

Honest Smile

Devious Smile

Teary Smile

🍂 1x5 card - Hugs

Soothing Hug

Hug in Celebration

Sleepy Hug

Hug from behind

Desperate Hug

🍂 1x5 card - Kisses

Kiss on the Hand

Kiss to distract

Goodbye Kiss

Forhead Kiss

Kiss on the Cheek

🍂 3x3 card - Tasks

Finish your WIP

Sort all your Ideas and/or WIPs

Edit an entire Chapter or Oneshot

Outline a Story

Work on that hard Scene that is giving you so much trouble it is holding you back

Finish the next Chapter of your WIP

Join in a Writing Event (this card doesn’t count 😉 but the others do!)

Finish a Oneshot

Dig out an old Draft and work on it

Have Fun and Go Wild 🥳

[lilybug-02]

love how with all the hype from a feral and starving fanbase, they announce silk song release period on a 2 second blurb during a game montage for switch 2

I fucking knew it. Ah god has blessed us bro. I joined this fandom at the literal perfect time. 

I need to go check r/silksong on Reddit. That place is probably blowing up rn

[klayr-de-gall]

🏳️‍🌈Pridekisses - Prompt List 2025🏳️‍🌈

All Fandoms and Pairings welcome!

Feel free to join in! Let’s fill june with a lot of lovely smooches!

Use the tag #Pridekisses2025 so everyone can find your work! Writers are also encouraged to have fun with this list! You can alternate or switch or pick whatever prompt you like best and there is absolutely no pressure to do all 30.

I will be hyped for everyone who considers joining into the fun!! Or support it!

So share the word, and I see you in june!

[cringe--is--dead]

Nekoma Manager Headcanons

To start: talk about chaos.

I imagine the manager!reader as a 2nd year, as stated in my first one shot.

You look up to the third years, though the way you and Kuroo act you'd never admit it to his face.

Once you grow comfortable with the team, and vice versa, the two of you bicker like siblings.

Kai is who you gravitate to the most, he's so calm and quiet, you two grew closer faster because of this.

Yaku and Kuroo were both lowkey jealous; they both work on being doting upperclassmen in their own ways and now their manager is anxious around them? Heartbroken.

The first years think you hung the stars.

Lev is always trying to impress you with his moves, which more than often results in him missing a spike or getting hit in the face with what was supposed to be a receive.

Most of his failed attempts end with Yaku scolding him and you are torn between allowing him to shape his team and stepping in to play peacemaker.

Shibayama is the first team member to confide in you regarding any anxiety they had while playing; he compares himself to Yaku so much that it broke your heart, you two talked and you made him see he had made the team for a reason, and he left feeling much better.

Teshiro is more awkward or shy when approaching you, he may have been a first-year when you met him, but he knew the team hadn't had a manager in a long time. He was worried they might scare you off, specifically one of the... second years... But you stuck around! He liked to be around you, even if neither of you talked all the time, your presence was enjoyable. He also tended to be one of the only members (he and Kai) that didn't get scolded or yelled at.

Inuoka reminds you of a puppy, regardless of being on the team of "cats". He was actually the first member of the team to fully approach you, more than a simple introduction. He was so excited that you were their manager, it definitely helped you feel a lot more comfortable. Did you process everything he said to you? No. Was it endearing as hell? Yes.

If Kenma isn't sitting with Kuroo on bus rides he's sitting with you, you enjoy watching him playing his games, that or he enjoys the peace whenever you nap on the bus. Once he even let you play a game on his switch. Once.

Yamamoto is really excited to show you off at any and all practice matches they have. You're so supportive of them all that it makes him really emotional, and you've learned to just pat his head and walk away. You once showed up to an away game with your nails painted in your team colors and you watched that man genuinely weep.

Fukanaga loves to make you laugh whenever the team's quiet or having a more serious meeting. He learned your humor so fast it's dangerous. You can never be upset around him, he reads you like an open book, and whatever worry follows you around is quickly destroyed by him and his shining personality.

Like I said; you and Kuroo have a sibling like relationship once you're comfortable with the team. He leans his arm against your head like a headrest, you make fun of his attempts of sounding cool. The team finds it hilarious, and other than Yaku and Kenma, you're one of the few people he's terrified to piss off.

Kai is the upperclassman you look up to the most, he's calm and collected, smart and nice. He's everything you strive to be as a student and an upperclassman. He helps you study, he helped you learn about volleyball and all the info that comes with that when you first joined, he made sure to include you in any and all group hangouts when you were new.

Kai supremacy.

Yaku and you have, not to sound like I'm stuck in the 2020 fandom, but "parenting" personalities together. Yaku yells at Lev, you follow behind by telling Lev you two care about him and just want to see him get better! Yaku may worry when a teammate gets minorly injured, but you fret, despite knowing minor injuries occur in this sport. The time where you're on the same page exactly is whenever you take the opportunity to bully Kuroo.

He hates it.

I have to say: years ago when I first got into Haikyuu I made an OC for it, and she was Nekoma's manager. This entire thing is self-indulgent. If I was any good at art I'd have so many comic series with her. Sad.

Also I just saw the movie so I am hyperfocused on my boys.