#she only wants to spend time with her fucking girlfriend which is fine. whatever. but my dad isn't your fucking indentured servant

[dyketennant]

i've been in a state of "if one more minor thing happens i'm going to fucking snap" for about five to six months now and i just haven't been able to. like logistically i should be burnt out, transmogrified into a beast, and/or dead, but none of that is an option for me. you know?

[rowretro]

𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮

✧warnings: fluff, nth much else ig? jelly rikiki

❁synopsis: Riki loves y/n's creativity. She has been creating her halloween outfit for months and it's stunning, Riki finds it beautiful, but he just loathes the idea of taking her to a party full of hormonal assholes with her wearing something so stunning...

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"Babe- why can't we just stay home and watch a scary movie in our comfortable clothes?" Riki asked as he stared at y/n. "Why not?... oh my god do I look bad???" Y/n asked as Riki instantly shook his head "Heck no babe- you look so fucking beautiful. I just.. want to spend more time with you y'know?" he reasoned as the girl pouted. She stared at her reflection in the mirror.

She tried to go with a more siren/mermaid style this year. a short silk dress that she decorated with many iridescent materials, her makeup matching the chrome palette of her outfit, with sequin shells stuck on, hair done accordingly. Her outfit topped off with heels people struggle to even walk in, and jewelry.

"I look so good today... we have to go babe- Halloween parties are the slayest of all parties!" She said with a smile as Riki eyed her one last time before heaving a sigh. She was breath takingly beautiful, and she had that sweet sweet smile he adores with all his heart. How could he reject your offer?. "Fine... get in the car sweetheart" he simply said as he pressed a button on his car keys.

Upon arriving at the party, it was no surprise that most girls were dressed in fairly 'slutty' clothes, all creative one way or another. Almost all couples were matching, for example Devil and angel, which Riki and Y/n would've done way better. Meanwhile, Riki was a vampire, and his sweet girlfriend? a siren. She definitely slayed the look.

At first it was annoying, with all the looks and compliments she kept getting. Then it just got 10 times worse, because of the looks ad compliments she was getting. God he hated it, he hated how unhinged these boys were and how clueless she was. One even had the audacity to ask her out ?! That was his last straw.

"Riki- riki wait- ur gonna make me fall and snap my ankle!" She whimpered as the male stopped. He turned around as he stared directly at Y/n "im sorry... I just can't help it, I know you worked so hard and long on your outfit and god you look fucking gorgeous. If only you fucking knew how pretty you are... but sadly all the wrong people can see your beauty, and it's pissing me off! I hate them staring at you!" Riki finally let out

He was caught off guard when he saw the way she laughed "What you find this funny? Ugh Goddamit babe-" "No no no- honey, no- it's just, you're jealous... you're so cute when you're jealous..." y/n said as Riki rolled his eyes, his arms pulling her into his chest, "You seriously like this?... whatever- lets go home and snuggle... I wanna watch a nice horror movie w you" he said as he rested his forehead against hers

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[garciaasfluffypen]

jealousy jealousy

pairing: jemily x reader word count: 1.8k warnings: men are creeps!!! protect your drinks ladies and femme presenting humans, alcohol mention, attempted drink stealing, alludes to dynamics in the bedroom (jj hates being called mommy*), #topjjrights, reader has long enough hair that jj can hold onto it, female leaning terms of endearment a/n: i tried to keep this gender neutral as possible, though there is ONE line where i couldn't think of anything better than "our girl" so that's what it ended up being. request from this ask *(yes thats a callout to aj not knowing what the term "mother" means)

the case felt like it had lasted ten years. it was one of the longest ones you could remember working on, spending almost three weeks rotating through the same six outfits you had packed in your go-bag and occasionally stealing your girlfriends’ shirts. it was only fair that morgan decided to take everyone to the bar before the jet left in the morning. you and morgan were approximately three beers in when everyone else started trickling in. your eyes fell to your girlfriends, the two of them walking over to the bar before they came over to the booth you and morgan had claimed in the corner. you knew their orders by heart. emily would get whatever the fanciest looking drink the bartender could make was, and jj would go for whatever was on tap. you typically got whatever they wanted to order for you, which most of the time was something fruity. it didn’t matter to you, since it meant your girlfriends were taking care of you. 

they made their way over to your table, both of them sneaking an arm around your waist and leaning into you. you made sure to press a kiss into jj’s neck and then promptly placed one on emily’s cheek, knowing all too well you would start something you couldn’t exactly finish at that moment if you went anywhere near emily’s jaw when she had alcohol in her system. the three of you curled up together in the corner, happily striking up a conversation with your teammates. eventually, morgan decided everyone needed shots and made his way over to the bar to grab everyone a round of shots. you usually didn’t do shots, but decided why the fuck not. a few shots wouldn’t hurt you. as long as you didn’t get sick on the plane like last time you went out drinking with morgan, everything would be fine. 

three drinks in and everyone was starting to feel it. you knew your tolerance was a bit higher than your girlfriends, but you felt it slipping considering you hadn’t eaten a single thing since breakfast and it was currently getting close to being midnight. was it a good idea? probably not. but that was a problem for tomorrow. your fingers twirled through jj’s blonde hair as you leaned into her side, emily slipping out to follow morgan and make sure he could carry all the shots he was about to order. sometimes you wondered where the man kept his extra drinking money, but decided not to question it since the alcohol was free for you. jj’s fingers danced along your thigh, moving up a bit til they were on your hip. you leaned your head back into her shoulder, a silent plea for her to continue what she was doing. 

jj knew exactly what happened when she got alcohol in your system, the game getting more and more dangerous by the minute. it was almost as if they had planned to get you going, knowing all too well that you would drag them out to the dance floor at some point and let all the tension flow from your body as you danced with them. your arms would always end up wrapped around jj’s neck while emily pressed up behind you, her arms wrapping around the two of you protectively while you danced to the beat of the music. jj nipped at your ear, her grip on your hip tightening as she waited for the alcohol to hit your system. emily appeared to catch on the second she and morgan got back to the table, sliding back into her spot and resting a hand on your upper thigh. her other hand went to play with the hair at the nape of your neck, another thing that would get you out to the dance floor rather quickly. you reached out to your cup for another sip, not noticing until you put it to your lips that it was pure ice. with a small pout, you shimmied yourself out from your girlfriend’s grasps. clocking morgan talking to a group of girls a few tables over, you silently told your girlfriends you’d be back as you made your way over to him. 

“i’m getting another drink! your tab still open?” 

“you know it hot mamas. get what you want!” 

with a smile and an appreciative peck to morgan’s cheek, you made your way to the back of the club where the bar was. you took a minute to scan the people around you, barely clocking the group of young twenty somethings in the corner who had been staring at your group all night. the vodka in your system from the shots you had taken was finally starting to hit, and all you wanted to do was drink, dance and forget the past three weeks had ever happened. you, emily and jj had barely had time to spend with each other, only scraping by precious moments in the hotel room as you all cuddled in bed together. sure, you had snuck away to get chinese one night, but it wasn’t the same since you were all technically on call. but now that the case was done, you had planned on spending the next week snuggled up in the arms of your favorite people with silly romcoms on in the background. 

while you longed to be in the hotel laying in bed with a bottle of emily’s favorite wine and a six pack of jj’s favorite beer to be split between the three of you, you had to admit it was nice to get out and let loose. sometimes you needed to get way too much alcohol in your system and sweat your ass off dancing to stupid pop hits. and the fact you were doing it with some of your closest friends was a bonus. was it silly to say your coworkers were some of your closest (and only) friends? sure. but it was the truth. you spent so much of your life surrounded by them, it was only fair that they were top priority on your short list of people who were allowed to see you with your walls down. especially emily and jj. they wiggled their way into your life and intertwined themselves so intricately that it was going to be nearly impossible to get them out. 

turning around, you felt an arm slip around your lower back as you waited for the bartender. you stiffened, trying to make it clear to whoever was behind you that you were indeed starting to become uncomfortable. 

“how’s it going, cute stuff? rough week?” 

a dry chuckle fell from your lips. “you could say that.” 

“what are you drinking? i’ll get you one.” 

“you’re very nice, but i’m spoken for.” you turned away from him, flagging down the now free bartender. 

in the back of your mind, you could feel jj and emily’s eyes on you as the man edged closer and closer. you wished you had gotten one of them to come up with you, but it was too late now. you had ventured up here yourself, thinking that nothing bad would come of it. boy were you wrong. the bartender got you a new drink, putting it on morgan’s tab. you went to reach for it before you were interrupted. 

“let me take this back to your table, sweetheart.” the man reached for your drink, not even waiting for you to answer. 

“absolutely the fuck not.” you grabbed his wrist, pressing into his pulse point. 

“aw come on, just let me take it for you.” 

“you must not of heard me when i said i’m spoken for.” 

“that’s what they all say. and hey, if there’s no label, it doesn’t mean anything.” 

as if on cue, jj came up to you and wrapped her arms around your waist. “is this man bothering you, sweetheart?” 

“mmm,” a cheeky smile appeared on your face. “just a little bit, mommy.” 

you were absolutely poking a sleeping bear, considering jj hated being called mommy. however, you needed to fend off the man in front of you, and what better way to do that then to get jj all pissy and controlling? you could feel her demeanor change, her hand sneaking up your back until she had her hand wrapped around your hair. 

“is that so? you do remember who you came here with, right?”

“i do.” 

“who are you here with?” 

“you. and emmy.” the man's eyebrows raised as you reacted to your hair being tugged. 

emily appeared on the other side of jj. “what’s going on here?” 

“some dickhead is trying to steal our girl.” jj practically spit out the sentence. “had to put y/n in their place, they were going along with it.” 

that was totally a lie, but the man didn’t have to know this was exactly the game you three typically played when people were hitting on you. 

emily grabbed at your chin. “you do remember who you belong to, yes darling?” 

“yes,” you nodded. “i do.” 

“then why were you flirting with…” emily looked the man up and down. “that?” 

you fell into the part quite easily. “i didn’t mean to, i swear!” 

out of the corner of your eye, you could have sworn you saw the guy pop a boner. you tapped jj’s leg twice, your signal that it was unfortunately not working as well as they planned it to. 

“go back to the table, lovey.” jj let go of your hair, taking your drink from your hand. “i’ll get you another one, considering this man child tried to take it from you. can’t trust men these days.” 

“hey, now that’s a big accusation-”

“accusation or not,” emily stepped closer to the man. “it’s never okay to steal anyone’s drink. no matter how nice you’re being. and by the way, it’s a criminal offense, and all three of us work for the fbi.” 

the man stiffened as emily patted him on the shoulder, grabbing you and pulling you close. you leaned into emily’s shoulder, hiding your face slightly as you let out a shuddering breath. it had been a hot minute since you had come that close to getting your drink spiked. it was a miracle you were still standing and not halfway slumped over some random guy’s backseat on their way downtown to do whatever they wanted with you. but your girlfriends had come to your rescue, and that’s all that mattered. 

jj handed you your new drink. “you okay, lovey?”

“i am. sorry i had to pull the mommy card. i know you don’t like it.” 

“you know i’d slip into any role you needed me to, right? bedroom or not, i’m yours.” 

“the same goes for me. whatever you need me to do to make sure you’re safe, i’ll do it.”

“promise?”

“promise.” jj and emily both squeezed your hands. “do you want to stay or go back to the hotel?”

“can we go back to the hotel? i’ll down my drink first but-”

“don’t worry, i stuck your water bottle in my purse. come back to the table, put your drink in there and we’ll head back, yeah?” 

you smiled. “gods, what would i do without you?”

jj wrapped her arms around you. “hopefully there’s never a world where you’d have to find out.”

[ghostgirl-22]

Pretend that you love me

18+ !NSFW!

Day 9: Roleplay

A/N: sorry for the delay…life’s been busy

———————————————————————

It starts like this. Patrick on his knees in Art’s bed staring at him, jewel colored eyes darting back and forth rapidly. He’s too close. They’re too tipsy.

“Pretend I’m her.”

“Patrick, that makes…no sense.”

“Why? It’s not like we’re gonna fuck. Just gimme the set up. You came over we’re watching Scary Movie—“

“Not Scary Movie. A scary movie,” Art hiccups.

“Whatever, she’s invited you over. Her bunkmate is gone for the weekend. You’re watching a scary movie. Now what?”

Art can smell the vodka soda on his breath. Which makes him think about Justin. Stupid Justin. The richest kid in their year. Justin who Art wishes Patrick wouldn’t spend so much time with but who always gives Patrick whatever he wants. Even free contraband in the form of half a bottle of vodka and even a dollar and a quarter to buy a coke from the vending machine. They drank more vodka than coke. Justin’s cooler than Art and acts like he’s Patricks best friend. And no, Art’s not jealous. He just hates to feel left out. But whatever, Patrick is his bunkmate. It’s not like he’ll be able to ditch him.

Art? Anybody home? Don’t throw up, I'm all out of excuses if Mr. VanDorn gets suspicious about why your sick again.” Patrick says.

“ ’m not gonna throw up,” Art says, blinking slowly.

“Well? Come on. Remember when I helped you jerk off.” Patrick says it so casually, grinning. “I can help you with this too.”

“That’s different,” Art says rubbing his eyes. He’s so dizzy. Patrick is so close. Art remembers jerking off with him at the same time before either of them had girlfriends. He remembers Patrick grabbing him and helping him once when they were on summer vacation and he spent 2 weeks at Arts house. Art definitely had his eyes closed the whole time. Definitely.

Art hiccups again.

“You drank too much,” Patrick grins. “You’re fucking plastered.”

“I drank the same as you,” Art says.

“I know… and you’re a fucking light weight.”

Art’s so tired of him being so much better than him at everything. Everything.

“Fine pretend to be her.”

Patrick smirks and settles right next to him on the bed. The beds so small there’s barely any distance between them.

“Thanks for coming over baby,” Patrick says in a high pitched voice that sounds nothing like Stacey’s.

Art snorts. “Dont do it like that. You’re gonna make me laugh.”

“How do you want me to do it?”

“Normal, just… just… your regular voice.”

“Okay pretend I’m your hot blonde girlfriend.” Patrick says softly.

“You think she’s hotter than Ashley?” Art hiccups. He doesn’t know why he cares whether or not Patrick thinks she’s hot at all.

“Why would I think that? Ashley’s my girlfriend.”

“Even though you’re fucking Britney.”

“Shh that was one time and the goal is to get you laid not talk about me. Focus sweetheart.”

“You’re the sweetheart,” Art mutters, feeling silly right after he says it. He’s too tipsy. He’s gonna mess this up. “What would you do if it were you?” Art asks, trying to take the pressure off.

Patrick puts an arm around him, fingers in his hair. “You look beautiful,” he says gently.

Art looks at him ready to laugh but Patrick doesn’t look away, he’s soft, his glittering eyes the only thing betraying how much the alcohol is affecting him.

“Pretty girl. You’re all mine, huh?” Patrick says, so soft.

Art feels himself flushing, Patrick doesn’t seem bothered at all, maybe he’s just that drunk. He leans in and even kisses Art on the mouth. Art is still for a moment, like his brain isnt properly comprehending what’s happening. He’s kissing Patrick, his lips are so soft. He can feel him breathing. He’s kissing Patrick and it makes no sense in his addled brain. But his body is going full steam ahead. He opens his mouth and kisses back. There’s no sound just ambient noise in the hallway and other dorm rooms and Patrick’s breathing.

The kissing feels so good. The way it feels when he’s making out with Stacey. He even feels his balls tightening up, his cock starting to swell as Patrick cradles his head and neck. Art wonders if Patrick realizes what he’s doing or if it’s all the alcohol. Art’s body is so lit up he can feel everything. He feels Patrick pushing him down on the mattress and he relaxes into it. Never breaking the kiss.

Patrick moves on top of him deepening the kiss. It no longer feels like it did when they started, it doesn’t feel anything like how he’s ever been kissed before. It’s something… intense… dominating. Like Patrick is claiming him with his mouth, tongue sliding in and out like…

“Fuck,” Art pulls back panting. He’s on his back, Patrick between his legs, he’s achingly hard from the kissing alone. He knows Patrick can feel him because he can feel Patrick. Patrick drops his head, looking down at Art’s chest. Art has the strong urge to put his fingers in Patrick’s hair, reassure him, but something makes him stop.

“I uh— I think I get it,” Art says, forcing a stupid laugh. His body is screaming. He’s a live wire. All nerves. He can still feel Patrick. He needs to get away or he’s gonna do something stupid and destroy their friendship.

He pushes off of the bed to run in the bathroom…acting like he’s gonna throw up or something but instead he just locks the door and leans against it. He starts touching himself. He bites his tongue so hard to keep from moaning that he can taste blood. He slides down to the floor, breathless and shaking when he’s done. It’s the best orgasm he’s ever had. He’s so fucked. He takes his time to catch his breath and come to terms with whatever this might mean…

He’s got a girlfriend. Patrick’s got a girlfriend. He enjoys making out with her very much and he really… really wants to lose his virginity to her tomorrow. He doesn’t want to think too hard. And thankfully he was raised by a British mother who wouldn’t say anything if she saw an elephant in her friends lap because “it’s not polite.”

He cleans up and goes back in the room, dreading what he’ll find. But Patrick’s back to being Patrick. He’s watching ESPN and scrolling Facebook on his laptop like nothing happened, thankfully in his own bed.

Art gets in own bed and they go back to normal so easily it’s weird that Art was ever worried.

Everything’s normal. So normal. Except maybe the little ache he gets in his chest now everytime Patrick smiles at him.

[i-jus-wanna-writehappy]

Desperate For You - Toji

18+ minors not welcome

Pairing: ex!Toji Fushiguro x fem!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, masturbation, reader is present in theory, maybe he’s in love with you and doesn’t know how to say that

Author’s Note: I’m not necessarily a Toji girlie (don’t get me wrong, he fine as hell), but I’m a lil stuck on Abundance part 2 and got this quick lil idea. Toji seems a little hard and unfeeling in fics, and I wanted to try something a bit different, I hope y’all like it 😘

• • •

“Hey, make sure you didn’t leave any shit in my bathroom.” Toji calls out to the woman he hears opening the front door to commence her walk of shame. He doesn’t bother looking up to make sure she hears him - her snort and muttered “asshole” as she slams the door was enough to let him know she did - he’s too busy swiping through your latest post on Instagram. The events of the night before are documented on social media for him to see, and Toji finds his length twitching as he scrolls through the set of photos and sees the subtle wear and tear of your drinks and dancing.

Toji used to love when you came home, tipsy and craving to be stuffed until you couldn’t support your own weight anymore and were begging him to please please cum in you. By the time he reaches the final photo, his cock is standing stiff and needy and the rim of your glass is littered with what seems like dozens of lip stains matching your favorite lipstick, making him wish he could see the vibrant color stretched around the base of his cock.

Reaching into his pants to rub the head of his dick with his thumb the way you used to, Toji is hit with an idea, wicked and filthy, which makes it perfect for him. Peeling off his tight shirt, Toji pockets his phone and goes back to his room.

There were a lot of people who would blame Toji for your breakup. Something about nonchalance and jealousy don’t make a good mix and wandering eyes, blah blah blah. One thing no one who had ever spoken to Toji - or seen the way he looks at you - could refute, was that you had the tightest, wettest, warmest pussy he’d ever sunken into, and he’d do whatever he could to feel it again, to feel it now.

For a few ravenous weeks after the breakup, Toji could seduce you into his sheets. Sometimes he’d only have to send you a text in the dark of the night, others, he’d sneak up behind you in line at your regular cafe, placing his hand on your hip and pressing his bulge into your ass like you’d never broken up and he was convincing you to cancel your plans the spend the day in bed with him. In bed, in the tub, in the kitchen, on the floor on the way back to the bed - if he’d have you abandoning your day, he’d be sure to keep you busy. But then, one night, you didn’t respond at all, not even to tell him to get a life or just jerk off, it was just radio silence.

He knew why when the gossipy old greeter at the grocery store the next afternoon called out his name, a playful lilt to her voice, “I’m glad to see at least one of you is moving on. She looked so lovely and happy. Your ex-girlfriend. Expensive restaurant I saw ‘em at too. He must be rich.” Toji sneered at her delighted grin, “Shut up, you old cow.” He called over his shoulder, white hot heat building in his stomach. One date with some nice guy asshole and you can’t even respond to his texts? That’s what was rich, fuck that guy.

But then you stopped responding to any of Toji’s calls or texts, you wouldn’t even give in when he’d tease you about your new boyfriend. You’d even gone so far as to switch cafes so Toji couldn’t intercept your mornings anymore, and it made him furious. What, were you worried he’d convince you to abandon your morals? That he’d be able to pull you into him by your waist and nibble at your neck until you dumped that piece of shit with a video of Toji pounding into your pussy, your ass slapping against his thighs with wet squelches?

He gave up after a while, but a week ago, you publicly became a single woman again, posting your slutty little pictures in a dress your old boyfriend would have begged you to only wear at home, hence his current plan.

Whether you’d like to admit it or not, you craved the sweaty entanglement of your limbs, supplementing your air with his own while you ground yourself on his steadily leaking cock, Toji knows it. All this time, you’ve been unsatisfied, like him, heat building and only able to be extinguished by the other. And without a doubt, Toji was going to exploit your need however he needed, as long as he’d get to drench himself in your juices again.

Phone set up just right and recording his every move, Toji settles on his bed, propped up on his knees, unable to stop the mean chuckle that tumbles from his lips as he pulls his jogging pants just low enough to reveal his heavy balls, twitching at their base for you. As he braces himself with a strong hand on the bed, Toji grips his cock with the other, thrusting into his tight hold and remembering how you’d feel around him.

“Fuuck.” He moans, grunting through gritted teeth as he fights to keep a steady pace. There was a time where Toji teased you meanly for enjoying videos like these, soft, solo, and noisy. Now though, that he seeks to tempt you, he’s glad to know what you like, even if he thinks it’s stupid. What matters is exploding in you again, letting his thick cum build in you until there’s no doubt that he’d bound the two of you forever. Then, he could revel in holding your throat in his grasp and asking you in person if his precious slut was done showing her ass and finally ready to let the veiny surface of his cock leave an imprint in the slick pussy he calls home.

Thinking of being buried in you again lights an urgency in Toji - yeah, he feels good, but he’s ready to send this to you now. The sooner your thighs start to rub together at the sight of his leaking tip, the better. So, chasing the anticipation of fucking you until neither of you can remember how to separate, Toji begins to fuck into his fist rather than letting his calloused hand glide along his shaft, pretending to be yours.

The steadily growing pool of arousal gathering at the ridge of his head begins to produce an almost nostalgic squelching noise. Even more memories of you engulfing Toji’s angry, leaking cock wash over him, pushing a low groan from his throat. With both hands now stacking to cover his length, Toji transitions to irregular thrusts, letting his head fall back for a moment as another grunted, “Fuck.” leaves his lips alternating in a cycle just as irregular as his thrusts as he approaches his climax.

As he feels his balls swell, Toji ramps up his speed, envisioning the soft cock drunk smile you’ll give him in affirmation when he asks if you want more. You always take everything he gives you, for as long as he can give it to you. Always.

Toji almost gets overwhelmed by his orgasm, but he pushes forward, for you. Going back to one hand, Toji hisses quickly before releasing a throaty moan as his cum quickly begins to cover his hand, his continued thrusts smearing the arousal from his head to his base. By the time he’s finally milked himself dry, Toji feels almost lightheaded. He can’t help the dry laugh that passes his lips as he realizes just how much he came. He really really can’t wait to touch you again.

Looking up at the camera now, Toji’s lips stretch into a lazy smile, “‘S all for you, mama.” Toji stops the recording and cuts out the extra bits at the beginning and the end while also maneuvering cleaning himself off. As soon as the video saves, Toji pulls up your contact and sends you a text. He knows you - what you want and what you need - and now that he’s laid his bait, Toji can relax, collapsing down into his couch and waiting for you to bite.

And thankfully for him and his stirring cock, you do. Half an hour after sending the video, Toji’s phone buzzes beside him.

I’ll be home in 20, come meet me. Show up late, and I won’t let you in.

[weemssapphic]

hi :) I just wanted to say I love your writing so much I always come back to your stories. I was wondering if I could request a super soft smut between Larissa and virgin f!reader? I just love soft Larissa sm <3

hey there! thank you for the compliment, and the request! 🥰 it's here, finally <3 i had so much fun writing something super sweet and domestic for once, soft!larissa is my favorite! ao3 link is in the title <3

I Wanna Be Yours

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

words: ~3k

warnings/content: nsfw, cunnilingus (reader receiving), fingering (larissa receiving), loss of virginity (virgin!reader), fluff, brief mention of alcohol

“What movie are we watching tonight?” Your eyes flicked eagerly to the television as you settled on Larissa’s couch, tucking your legs underneath you. Larissa padded into the living room, carrying two wine glasses, a bottle of her favorite red tucked under her arm.

She was barefoot, face devoid of makeup, hair down from its usual elaborate updo and cascading over her shoulders. It was rare to see the woman like this - as her girlfriend, you thought you might be the only person privy to this side of her, and the thought filled you with a smug sort of pride.

“Whatever you want to watch, darling.” Larissa poured two generous glasses of wine and handed you the remote, sitting back on the couch and opening her arms to you. You wasted no time in crawling towards her, leaning back into her embrace and sighing as her arms snaked their way around your waist.

Twisting in her grip, you grinned up at her. “Notting Hill?”

Larissa rolled her eyes, unable to stop her lips from curling up at the outer corners. “Again?”

“Come on, please?” You gave your girlfriend your best pout, though you knew it wouldn’t even take that. She huffed in faux-annoyance and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Fine, but I get to pick the movie next week.”

“Deal.” You fiddled with the remote until the opening credits started playing, then fetched both glasses of wine from the table. 

It was a little ritual of yours that you’d started soon into your relationship; movie nights every Friday. Larissa often worked late during the week, but she made sure to free up her weekends so she could spend as much time with you as possible. 

Larissa let out a soft moan as her first sip of wine passed her lips, the sound shooting straight to your core. Two months since you’d gone official with Larissa you hadn’t had sex yet. It’s not that you hadn’t thought about it. No, you’d thought about it almost every day. How could you not? Simply the sight of your girlfriend made your mouth water. The sway of her hips when she left a room, those smooth milky white thighs. You’d imagined what it would feel like to have them wrapped around your head as you lapped eagerly at her core, wondering how she would taste on your tongue. 

You’d never actually gotten that far with anyone though, you were still a virgin - and the thought of somehow fucking up, of letting Larissa down, absolutely terrified you. And by some miracle, Larissa was more than understanding. She never pushed you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with, she always checked in on you, and she let you take the lead. Most importantly, she hadn’t gone running for the hills when you’d broken the news. “You, my darling, are worth waiting for,” she’d said, eyes shining, pulling you in for a soft kiss.

Larissa was making it increasingly hard for you to keep your composure, however. Tonight, she’d already changed into her nightwear - a short, lavender matching set, the bottoms of which were riding up from her position on the couch, exposing the soft skin of her upper thighs. It rubbed up against your own bare leg, setting your skin ablaze. 

You peeked over your shoulder at Larissa, mesmerized as her tongue darted over her lips to swipe absently at a stray drop of wine. The action caused your breath to hitch in your chest, a sound that didn’t go unnoticed by your girlfriend.

“Darling, are you alright?” Her brows furrowed in concern as you stared at her, hunger evident in your gaze. She plucked your wine glass from your hand, setting both glasses on the coffee table and cupping your cheek, running a soothing thumb along your jaw.

You twisted around and straddled Larissa’s lap, tangling your hands in her hair as you pressed your lips to hers in a sloppy kiss. Larissa chuckled into your mouth at the desperation behind the kiss. She slid her tongue against yours, her hands coming to rest on your waist as she pulled you closer.

You felt hot all over as a flame blazed behind your navel, extending outward. The ache in your core was unbearable. You were starting to grow wet, leaking into your panties, and your clit was throbbing but you had no way to relieve yourself. Desperately, you began to roll your hips against Larissa’s, searching blindly for some sort of friction.

“Mmm… slow down, love,” Larissa sounded slightly out of breath. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” It was meant as a lighthearted jest; your virginity had become sort of a running joke between the two of you at times.

This time, though, you doubled down, crashing your lips needily into Larissa’s and shifting so you could grind your pelvis on her thigh, earning a wanton moan from the blonde as she felt your warmth through the fabric of your shorts. “Don’t wanna slow down,” you mumbled.

Larissa’s eyes widened and she brought her hands to your hips, forcefully stilling your movements. “Look at me,” she commanded, voice soft but firm. You met her gaze, shocked by the unadulterated lust that swirled in blown pupils. “Tell me what you want. I need you to say it.”

“You. I want you, Larissa. Take me to bed?” 

“You’re ready?” The excitement was evident in her voice and Larissa’s eyes darted between yours as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, as if afraid she had misheard you. 

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Larissa was all over you in a second, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. She pushed you off her lap so she could stand, pulling you up with her and guiding you towards the bedroom with her hands on your hips, lips never leaving your skin.

Larissa’s hands dipped below the hem of your tank top, pushing the fabric up until your breasts were exposed. She lowered her head and flicked her warm tongue over your nipple, the sensation drawing a moan from your chest.

She began to suck your nipple into a hard peak, kneading your other breast in her hand before switching sides. She slipped the tank top up over your head and dropped it to the floor, then began kissing reverently down your torso until she reached the waistband of your shorts.

“May I take these off?” Larissa gazed up at you through her lashes and your stomach fluttered.

“Please.” You bit your lip as your girlfriend pulled your shorts down your legs, then focused her attention on your panty-clad sex. She pressed a kiss to your mound through your panties, moaning at the scent of your arousal.

You bucked your hips towards her instinctively, your hands coming to rest in her hair, pushing her closer to your center. Larissa hooked her fingers around the waistband of your panties, shooting you a questioning gaze to which you responded with an affirming nod, before pulling those down your legs, too.

“Now I’m completely naked and you’re not,” you pouted playfully, self-consciously crossing your arms across your chest. 

Larissa laughed, tossing her head back, platinum curls going everywhere. She stood to her full height, towering over you as she rid herself of her clothing. Your breath hitched in your chest as you drank in the stunning form of your girlfriend, bare before you. 

You’d caught glimpses of her before, getting changed for work in the mornings when you’d slept over - padding around the apartment in her bra in search of her earrings, or asking you for help with the zipper of her dress - but nothing could have prepared you for this. For the perfect swell of her breasts, the way her nipples hardened against the chill in the air, the curve of her hips, the pale expanse of soft thighs.

She smiled knowingly as she watched your eyes rove hungrily over her form, encircling her arms around your waist and pulling you in for a soft, loving kiss, your bare skin pressing against hers. Electricity seemed to tingle on the surface of your skin, your entire body buzzing restlessly. 

“Is this better?” Larissa murmured against your lips, and you sighed, nodding and deepening the kiss. Larissa seemed to pick up on your urgency and guided you onto your back, hovering over you and pulling up to look down at you. 

“Are you sure about this?” Her eyes searched yours for confirmation, for any sign of hesitance, finding only desire in your widened pupils.

“Absolutely. I’m ready, Riss, and I’m yours. I want you to be my first.” You wanted there to be no doubt in Larissa’s mind that you wanted this just as much as she did, despite your nerves.

Larissa cupped your cheek affectionately, pressing an adoring kiss to your lips. “Then tell me what you want, my love. Shall I start with my fingers or my mouth?”

You could already feel your cheeks warm at Larissa’s words - or rather, the prospect of having to verbalize your desires. “Can you use your mouth?”

Larissa shot you a wicked grin as she brought her lips to the column of your throat and began to place open-mouthed kisses to every inch of skin that she could reach on her way down, hands squeezing your breasts. She rolled and pinched your nipples between her fingers, eliciting a whine from your throat.

Her lips made their way down your stomach, biting and sucking, her tongue soothing over the little red and purple marks that she left. With every nip at your sensitive flesh, you could feel yourself getting wetter, a trail of goosebumps being left behind in Larissa’s wake. Finally, she settled between your thighs, parting them with her hands. 

“Darling, you’re so wet for me,” Larissa’s voice was low and sultry, dripping with lust. And she was right, your cunt was already drenched and she hadn’t even touched you yet.

Larissa hooked her arms around your thighs, allowing you to rest your legs on her shoulders, and dragged you closer to her, so that she could bury her face in your cunt.

She peppered the insides of your thighs with kisses, getting drunk on the heavy scent of your arousal. Each kiss was placed closer and closer to your pussy until, finally, her tongue slid through your folds, causing you to buck your hips up into her mouth.

“You taste so good,” she moaned. “So worth the wait, my love.” She began to lap at your pussy, teasing your entrance with the tip of her tongue before closing her lips around your clit and sucking.

Larissa let out a moan which vibrated against your cunt, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You writhed beneath her, rolling your hips against her face in search of more friction.

“You’re doing so well for me, darling. Is this alright?”

“Mm… yeah,” you panted, bringing your hands to your girlfriend’s hair to anchor yourself.

Larissa dipped her tongue into your entrance again, finding a steady rhythm and bringing you closer and closer to the edge. She could tell how close you were by the way your walls began to flutter around her tongue.

“Good girl,” Larissa cooed. “Do you think you can come for me?”

You moaned at her words, at the low timbre of her voice. You had expected sex to be pleasurable but what you foolishly hadn’t accounted for was how Larissa could expertly guide you to your peak with her voice alone. You tightened your grip in her hair and she doubled down, twisting her tongue inside your center.

Your thighs clenched around her head as your orgasm crested like a wave, washing over you and snapping the coil behind your navel. You screwed your eyes shut, head tilted back in pleasure as Larissa fucked you with her tongue, helping you ride out your high.

She cleaned up your core, lapping up your juices and pressing loving kisses to your sex before coming up to pull you into a bruising kiss, her tongue licking into your mouth so you could taste yourself. Larissa swallowed the groan you let out at the salty taste on your tongue.

As she pressed herself into you, you could feel her own slick rubbing against your thigh. The thought of your girlfriend being wet for you spurred you on and you brought a tentative hand between her legs, running your fingers through her slick heat. Larissa nipped at your bottom lip in response, bucking her hips into your hand.

You pulled back from the kiss to bring your fingers to your mouth, watching Larissa’s pupils widen hungrily as you sucked each digit dry. “God, Riss, you taste amazing.” Larissa’s eyes rolled back in her head at the lust she found in your voice. She let out a whimper and began to rut against your thigh, her breathing hot and heavy.

“Love, can you…” she panted out, rolling her hips desperately. You were mesmerized at how lithely her body moved; how her sopping cunt felt grazing the bare skin of your leg, making obscene wet sounds; how quickly she was unraveling above you. “Touch me, please.”

You brought your hands to your girlfriend’s hips, pushing gently and signaling for you to swap positions. She helped to flip you over until she was on her back and you were flush against her.

You kissed your way down her body, stopping to worship her hardened nipples. You swirled your tongue around the bud and Larissa’s back arched off the bed. Peeking up to watch her reaction, you bit down, drawing something between a yelp and a moan from the blonde. “Do that again,” she murmured breathlessly and you complied, a fresh wave of arousal washing over you as she whimpered and writhed beneath you.

You brought a hand down between you, sliding your fingers up her slit and finding her engorged clit with ease, circling it with the pad of your thumb. You watched in awe as Larissa responded to your touch. She looked just like an angel; blonde curls spilling over the pillow, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, lips parted slightly as her breath came out in short puffs.

Teasing her entrance, you slipped a digit inside, noticing how Larissa’s breath hitched audibly in her chest. 

“Does this feel good?” you asked, face flushed.

“Yes, god, yes,” Larissa moaned, gripping at the sheets beneath her. “Can you… another?”

You complied, easing a second finger into your girlfriend and curling both digits lightly. 

“Right there, darling - you can go deeper.”

You began to thrust your fingers rhythmically, while stroking Larissa’s clit. She rolled her hips in time with your thrusts, her moans increasing in volume with each curl of your fingers, with each brush of your thumb. You pushed your fingers deeper, finding the soft, spongy spot inside her that made her whimper.

Larissa loosened her grip on the sheets to reach out for you, pulling you in for a frenzied kiss. You swallowed the moans and whimpers that spilled into your mouth as she rode your fingers, her arousal leaking out of her core and dripping down your hand.

In a moment of boldness, you added a third finger, stretching Larissa out. She mewled and bit down on your lip, hard enough to draw blood, as the thrusts of her hips became more and more erratic. 

You moaned as you felt her pussy clench around your fingers, drawing you farther into her cunt. 

“Darling,” she panted out. “I’m gonna come!” Her thighs began to tremble, closing around your hand as she shuddered against you, holding your shoulders in a death grip. You watched in awe as her jaw went slack, her eyelids fluttered, her chest heaved. 

You continued to pump languidly in and out of her as she rode out her orgasm, your thumb circling her bundle of nerves lazily to help her come down from her high.

Carefully, you pulled out of her, your eyes never leaving hers as she slowly opened them, a blissed out smile spreading across her face.

You held your fingers out for Larissa and she swirled her tongue around them, placing a sweet kiss to each digit then holding out her arms in an invitation for you to curl up against her, an invitation you gladly took.

You felt so safe and loved in Larissa’s arms, her bare, sweat-slicked skin pressing against yours, her palms rubbing soothing circles on your biceps. You peeked up at her, stricken suddenly, again, by her beauty - curls mussed, lips kiss-swollen, chest flushed, eyes heavy-lidded and gazing lovingly down at you.

“How did I do?” You stifled a yawn, and she giggled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and allowing her thumb to graze your jaw as she looked deep in your eyes.

“You’re a natural, my sweet girl,” she cooed, pressing her lips to yours - she still tasted faintly of cum and you stifled a groan, causing her to smirk. “You make me feel so good, so loved. Was it good for you?” There was a hint of concern in her eyes, that disappeared the second she saw your lips curl up into a smile.

“It was amazing, Rissa.” You felt your cheeks warm. “It felt really nice. And you’re so beautiful when you come.”

It was Larissa’s turn to blush.

You laid curled up in each other’s arms for a few moments longer, content to snuggle into each other’s body heat and allow your breathing to even out.

“I love you, darling,” Larissa murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

No amount of exhaustion in the world could stop the beaming smile that adorned your face in that moment. “I love you, too, Riss.”

x

thank you to both @afeatherformills and my lovely gf for beta-reading, once again, you guys deserve a freaking trophy for putting up with me hehe

[splendsay]

COD FF // Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 36: Mindless Frivolity

this one is 5,000 words of fluff lol I hope you enjoy it

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Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 36: Mindless Frivolity

Rating: 18+ !!MDNI!! Chapters: 36/? WC: 93,091 Pairing(s): TF141 x F!Reader (You) Chapter Warnings: Explicit language Chapter Excerpt (ft. big time spoilers):

Alex and Farah are getting married. 

It'll be a small ceremony, with Captain Price officiating. You're a bridesmaid. The bridesmaid, actually. You're the only maid here, so it makes sense. But still, Farah was sweet to ask. 

She had pulled you into Alex's room -- her room now, too -- shortly after Doc released you to roam freely, rambling about needing a dress and flowers and the whole nine because she and Alex had decided to get married as soon as possible. In the next couple of weeks. You'd squealed and given her your most serious bear hug -- you love weddings. You always cry, of course. But you've always loved them. 

She'd held your hands and asked you in a timid voice, "I know we don't know each other very well yet, but...would you like to be my bridesmaid?"

"Um, obviously!"

And that had been that. 

Amidst wedding planning, you've been seeing Doc each morning. And each morning, after a familiar series of pokes and prods, he tells you the same thing. 

"Vitals all look good. Healing looks good. Just waiting on the Rift."

The boys -- your boys, Simon, Soap, Gaz, Cap -- and Los Vaqueros and Gary (Roach's given name, which you insist on using instead of his callsign because roaches are foul, disgusting creatures and Gary is a very nice man) have been trying to organize a hunting party. You've been asked to stay behind, to your continued and pervasive frustration. 

You put up a fight -- hissing and spitting as is customary for you when you're mad -- but you only manage to exhaust yourself. 

Their argument is that they don't want to risk you, the potential cure for all this, getting bitten again. Your argument is that if anyone should be bitten, it's you, the Girl Who Didn't Turn.

But, whatever. 

You're grossly outnumbered. Even Farah wants you to stay behind. And it's that -- your one and only girlfriend asking you to stay -- that finally gets you to drop it. 

You haven't seen much of Soap or Simon amid all the planning. While you've been selecting color schemes and sourcing decorations, they've been mapping the migration patterns of nearby hordes and organizing mission supplies. Simon's told you that it's been significantly harder without access to Laswell's offsite resources, whomever they are -- or the woman herself. More time consuming. It's hard to say when efforts to rescue her will begin again, if at all. With no new leads on her whereabouts, obtaining a Rift sample remains priority number one.

As such, you've been spending most of your free time as Farah and Alex's third wheel, which you honestly enjoy. You'd forgotten what it's like. To have another woman friend -- you hadn't realized how much your life was missing one. How much you needed a sister. And Farah is an utter delight. Dry and sardonic -- witty as hell and exceptionally intelligent. You really, really like her. 

You like Alex too. He's come a long way. Doc says he'll probably deal with headaches for awhile -- maybe the rest of his life. And he'll need to keep an eye out for any sort of cognitive decline. But otherwise, he's fine. Up and walking around, speaking in full sentences, cracking jokes. He's even joined you and Farah on a few morning runs, though they usually turn into walks after a mile or two. You don't mind, though. 

It's been nice to see him come out of his shell. He's irreverent. Funny, even. Exceedingly charming. The way he looks at Farah...and she, him...you're just...you're glad he woke up. You're really fucking glad he woke up. 

Preparing for the wedding has been the most fun you've had in...ages. Both Alex and Farah want to be surprised for most of it, so you take all the little details upon yourself, meticulously planning everything down to the flavor of each layer of cake you're forcing Gaz to make. 

It takes a week and a half of work -- and a slight delay to the hunt -- but you manage to pull it all together. 

You wake up early that morning -- ahead of the sun -- to gather materials for the bouquets. You shrug on an old cardigan -- a little moth-eaten, but still warm -- and pad down the chartreuse hallway, a couple of ancient woven baskets in-hand. You found them in the attic a few days ago, alongside a whole host of wedding appropriate items, including attire for Farah and several of the guests, decorations for the tables and centerpieces -- even an old wrought-iron garden archway you'll use as the altar. 

You're lost in thought as you walk -- occupied by your mental checklist -- to the degree that you don't see him in time to stop. You slam into a warm body at full speed, your chin connecting with his chest.

"Oof, whoa there, Sunshine," he greets you, gripping you by the arms to keep you from falling over.

You're quick to recover, smoothing your hair away from your face. "Good morning, Captain."

..................................................................... Links to: Spotify Playlist Full Fic

[rinstrumental]

ellie gf headcanons pt. 2

# i’m a headcanon machine i cant be stopped… also she is literally a cheesy ass lose girlfriend this part is actually canon confirmed by naughty dog. modern au

if your native language isn’t english/speak any language other than english she is going to think you’re ten times cooler than you already are. best believe she’s hopping on duolingo first thing she gets home too so she can impress you (i know duolingo isn’t the best but she’s TRYING)

she took spanish in high school though

even though she can’t retain the info for shit she will search up terms of endearment in your language and call you them all the time even if you think its corny she can’t stop

whenever someone asks her what her type is she just says “my girl” with the most stupid grin on her face

she fidgets SO much omg she doesn’t wear rings often but when she does (you said they looked nice one time and all of a sudden she’s wearing rings every time you see her) she’s constantly playing with them. she also plays with the strings of her hoodie/loose threads etc.

*playing basketball* “this one’s for you babe” *completely misses*

such a nerd for collectibles!! has been since she was a kid. she has funko pops, vinyls, pokemon cards, snowglobes, plushies, smiskis, calico critters she’s a slave to capitalism

little social media presence. her only instagram account is basically a photo dump which is private with only her closest friends following it. (spoiler alert, most of the pictures are of the two of you)

in the last post i said she’s have a pet gecko but i also strongly believe joel would have a dog. could be a teeny tiny chihuahua or a fucking great dane idk just give my man a good friend! ellie also loves that dog (whatever it is) dearly

doesn’t have any piercings and doesn’t ever consider it unless you say that they’d look good on her… your word is her law FR 😭😭😂😂

okay no she’s not dependent on you to the point of it being toxic though. HOWEVER it’s a bit hard for her to express when she feels upset sometimes and gets jealous easily but she tries her best to communicate and keep it healthy

she has her tattoos though of course. although this is a modern au so she’d have different ones i guess… forearm one is definitely in the cards but also lots of tiny little ones. a few for her friends and family and a few she got in a drunken stupor

pottery lesbian that’s it

gets SOOO red when she’s drunk i dont care what anyone says her alcohol tolerance is average at best

i think she would play a sport sometimes. like volleyball. she plays competitively if she’s in school and she always wants you to come “watch your girlfriend be cool”. bring a sign - she’ll love it

kisses and hugs u after the game while she’s all sweaty too…ew but aw

she also really likes animated movies, not disney but like how to train your dragon and the spiderverse and puss in boots (im projecting). she went to see barbie and oppenheimer on the same day and she didn’t dress up but the spirit was there!!

she’s not a gymbro per se but joel probably would have workout equipment in the basement which ellie uses from time to time. and she’s just naturally lean because she’s an active person. pls tell her how big and strong and sexy and amazing she is

ok fine i think she likes being praised AND SHE DESERVES ITT like she’s such a wonderful girlfriend ❤️ ugh shes perfect I CANT STAND HER

goodnight and good morning texts are part of her routine

sunburns easily so you have to remind her to wear sunscreen all the time

doesn’t really know how to do makeup but she’ll paint your nails for you and do your hair

whenever the two of you spend the night together she’s usually last to get up. this bitch could sleep through the rapture i’m not kidding but it’s okay because it gives you time to admire her pretty face as she sleeps in peace and quiet for once

takes the aux very seriously you guys HAVE to share it. unless you like the same music and i think she would like radiohead, joy division, deftones and loser sad songs like that…. she also is a big fan of the spiderverse soundtrack and kendrick lamar though and thee stallion 😜 (i have two wolves inside me)

please reblog mwah thank you!!

[worseforwords]

Manchester Memories (Ona Batlle x Reader)

Part two to this fic, I recommend you read part one first.

Did you really just pull an Amy? As if on cue, your phone started ringing: FaceTime, Amy. 

“Hey Ames, how’s Par-” “Y/N What the fuck!?” She cut you off. You looked at her questioningly. “What, are you like, eating truffle stuffed golden oysters for breakfast?” She yelled at the screen. You realise she must have noticed your excessive spending on her creditcard. “Yeah, sorry about that.” You started, suddenly looking away from the camera. “I figured I deserved it though, given you just ditched me last moment.” “Hm.” Amy took a moment to consider your argument. “Okay, fair enough. But it has to end here!” “Fine, I’ll stop.” You chuckled. “Seriously though what did you eat?” She asked. “I may have ordered breakfast for two.” You mumbled. “Were you that hungry?” Amy started, before noticing your cheeks starting to flush. “OH MY GOD, you had a guest! You should’ve just started with that. I’d love to financially support your love- and/or sex life!” Amy shrieked. “Amy, Jesus, calm down. Yes I had someone over. It was fun. Now let’s move on, how’s Paris?” You quickly changed the subject. “How’s erm, I feel like his name is Logan, or Levi?” “It’s Lewis, actually. Paris is beautiful, so is Lewis, formidable guy, great in bed, blah blah blah.” She quickly summed up. “Now we’ve gotten that out of the way: TELL. ME. EVERYTHING! Spare no details.” Knowing very well she wasn’t going to drop this, you told her the whole story, starting at the coffeeshop.

“Oh my god Y/N/N.” she said when you had finally finished your story. “What?” “You’re in looove!” She teased. “Wha- no I’m not. I just met her yesterday.” “Doesn’t matter, you are sweet for the Spaniard, mad for the Mancunian, lovesick for lobster-girl, enamorado de la chica española!” As much as you wanted to hang up and hide the smile on your tomato-red face, you couldn’t help but laugh at her quickly devised alliterations. “Shut up, Ames.” You mumbled in between laughs. “Oh man, I’ve only once seen you this flustered before, you’re in deep mate.” She said. “Whatever,” you answered. “I’m only here for a few days anyways.” “Now don’t be like that Y/N/N, you can always move to Manchester. Do it for looooove.” “Okay calm down. I have a life to go back to remember? I’m not like you Amy.” “Well, I’m not so sure about that anymore.” She chuckled. “Anyways, I have to go. Lewis is taking me to the Eiffel Tower. At least promise me you’ll make the most out of the time you have together?” “Yeah, I will. Have fun Ames!” “You too babes, talk to you soon!”

The next two days were spend on cloud 9. Ona had a busy training schedule, but made an effort to text you in between sessions whenever she could. As soon as she was done you’d meet up and hang out the rest of the day. You went on many walks, talked about anything and everything, visited random places in Manchester Ona had never even heard about and just enjoyed each others presence. You were pretty sure you were already gaining abs from all the fits of laughter you two shared. By the evening of the second day, neither of you felt like going out for dinner anymore, and Ona offered to cook for you at her apartment. Her roommate was staying at her girlfriends house, so you had the place all to yourself. You filled up on the Ona’s dinner (which was delicious by the way), before cuddling up on the couch to attempt watching the Lion King again. You actually finished the movie this time which you then, as Ona stated, had to celebrate. You happily obliged, and you spend the night there, leaving your luxurious hotel suite empty for the night. 

You woke up to the sound of keys rumbling and the front door opening and closing. You turned around to discover your human pillow was no longer there. You found a note saying: “Off to get us some breakfast. Back in a bit.” You decided to stay in bed, hoping to persuade Ona into coming back to bed. “Ona!” A voice called, that clearly didn’t belong to Ona herself. You panicked, desperately grasping around you in search of something to cover up your nakedness. As you heard footsteps approaching the room you were in, you quickly picked up the nearest shirt you could find, which was the one Ona wore yesterday. You had barely put it over your head when the door flew open. “Ona have you seen my shin p- Oh. You’re not Ona.” The blond girl in the dooropening stated. “That is correct” The both of you were quiet for a second, whilst her eyes scanned over your messy hair, the clothes scattered on the floor and Ona’s shirt you were wearing, which you now realised was on backwards. “You erm, want some coffee or something?” She asked. “Yeah, sure” you said quietly. The blond girl, which you assumed was Ona’s roommate, finally closed the door, giving you some time to actually put some clothes on. You went to the kitchen and she handed you a cup. “I’m Millie by the way.” She smiled. “Hi, I’m Y/N” “So,” she started “you must be the reason Ona has been so absent these past days.” She chuckled, seeing your cheeks flush in embarrassment. Before you could answer you heard the jingling of keys. “Thank god.” You thought to yourself. 

“Millie!” Ona shouted, also turning red immediately. “What are you doing here?” “Forgot my shin pads. Good morning to you too by the way” She was now grinning, clearly very amused about what she walked in on. You and Ona exchanged some looks as she mouthed “I’m sorry” to you. “Oh I love this. Everyone is going to hear about this at training later.” Millie teased, winking at you. “Are you bringing her tonight?” She asked, turning to look at Ona. Ona didn’t answer, instead just looking at you with a bittersweet smile. You both knew you had to leave this afternoon, so this was your last day together. “All right then, guess I’ll leave you two to it” Millie said when no one answered her question. After she shut the door you both burst out laughing, letting out all the tension from before. “Sorry about that.” Ona said once she recovered.

You plopped down on the couch whilst Ona started unpacking the breakfast she got you. “We are having a small party tonight. You could come if you want to?” She asked. You hesitated for a bit. “Ona, you know I-” “Please Y/N, one more night?” She now stood in front of you, handing you a plate and looking at you with a shy smile. You’d already skipped your plans to go to Birmingham to extend your Manchester stay, but you had promised to meet up with a friend in London, and you didn’t want to become a true Amy by ditching them. But damn the puppy dog eyes staring into your soul at that very moment sure made becoming an Amy very tempting. You gathered all your self-control: “I can’t, I- I don’t even have a place to stay and-” “Stay here, with me, por favor Y/N I-” She was practically jumping up and down at this point, when her hopeful expression suddenly changed. “I’m sorry, I’m being way to pushy. You don’t have to stay.” She hastily left to grab some cutlery, missing the pitiful expression in your face. “Ona” you said softly, following her into the kitchen. She didn’t look up from the drawer she was rummaging through. “One more night, but I leave in the morning. Bueno?” She turned around, dropping everything she had in her hands and ran towards you. She embraced you as her strong arms easily lifted you up in the air and you wrapped your legs around her waist. “Thank you thank you thank you” she said and you felt her smile into your neck.

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. Ona went to training, where she’d presumably be interrogated about the discovery her roommate made this morning. You went back to your hotel to gather your stuff and pack your suitcase. After checking out, you decided to do some shopping. You went to a thrift store for a bit, but grew tired of it quickly, remembering you don’t actually enjoy shopping. When you walked back out, you noticed an adorable little jewellery store in the alley across the street. You walked in to be met with the friendliest smile you had ever seen from the elderly woman behind the counter. You looked around for a while, until you laid your eyes on a golden necklace with a little lion on it. “The perfect souvenir.” you thought.

“You ready?” Ona screamed through the bathroom door. “Almost” you answered, putting on your new necklace before opening the door. “You look great. I like the necklace” Ona said upon seeing you. “Thank you, so do you.” You smiled. “You ready?” She asked again, making sure you're okay with going out to meet all of her teammates. “They can be quite intense, just so you know.” She looked ay you questioningly. “I will be fine, Hakuna Matata, no worries.” You smiled softly. She smiled back. “Hakuna Matata.”

“Hi! Nice to meet you, I’m Alessia.” Said the girl opening the door for you. “Hi, I’m Y/N.” You held out your hand but she quickly pulled you into a tight hug. You walked into the apartment to find that chaos had already erupted. Girls screaming random things at each other left and right. “See, I told you, intense.” Ona chuckled at your at your stunned expression. “Now come on, I’ll introduce you”. The following hour she dragged you across the room, introducing you to basically everyone there. Some teasing happened, but for the most part everyone had been really nice. As the night progressed everyone started getting tipsier. The music was turned up and people started to dance. Some of the girls you met earlier dragged you onto the dance floor and you danced with them for a while.  When you walked into the kitchen for a drink, Alessia was already there, preparing some snacks. “Enjoying yourself?” She asked. “Yes, everyone is being so nice to me.” You smiled. “Of course we are. We wouldn’t dare be rude to a girl Ona speaks so highly of.” She grinned. “She does?” You blushed. “She does. She really likes you Y/N. She couldn’t stop talking about you at training today.” You smiled softly at her words. “I really like her too.” You said, staring at the ceiling in thought. “But you’re leaving tomorrow, right?” Alessia’s words put you right back down on earth, you felt a knot in your stomach and the soft smile disappeared from your face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. Forget I ever said anything.” She put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay, really, you’re not wrong.” You said, quickly looking away as you felt your eyes starting to water. “I’m just going to get some fresh air.” You hastily turned around, hoping she didn’t notice.

“Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice coming from behind you. The cold air on your skin actually helped, slightly numbing your sadness, as you sat on a bench outside. “Are you okay?” She asked, slowly approaching you. “Here, put your coat on, you’ll catch a cold.” Ona handed you your coat. The cold was no longer numbing enough once you looked into the beautiful eyes that now seemed to be looking into your soul. It simultaneously soothed you and broke you down, ultimately causing you to release a single tear. Ona quickly sat down next to you wrapping both arms around you. “Can you tell me what’s up?” She asked softly. “Tomorrow, I have to go.” You spoke quietly. She hugged you tighter, putting her head in the crook of your neck. You sat in silence for a bit, enjoying her embrace, when you felt something wet in your neck. You pulled away from the embrace to see she was now also getting teary eyed. You cupped her face and you both stared at each other. There was no point in trying to hold it in anymore, and both of you started sobbing uncontrollably. Then, somehow, the sobbing turned into laughter. You sat together laugh-crying for a while before you took a deep breath and said: “Come on, let’s have some fun while we still can, okay?” You finally said, standing up and reaching out your hand. “Yes, let’s do that. Hakuna Matata.”

You went back inside and Ona immediately dragged you to the dance floor, ignoring all the stares from her teammates at your tear-stained faces. The both of you danced like there was no tomorrow, and the rest of the girls joined in. Ona was about to attempt the worm, when the song suddenly changed. You immediately recognised it: Can you feel the love tonight, from the Lion King.

You turned around to see Millie had taken control over the phone connected to the speaker, smirking at the two of you. “You told them?” You chuckled. Ona blushed as you grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to you. You put your head on her shoulder as slow danced together for the whole duration of the song, not noticing how everyone had left the dance floor to leave you two be. When the song was ending you lifted your head back up, but you didn’t break the embrace. You gazed into each others eyes for a bit, before slowly closing the space between you for a slow, passionate kiss. It ended rather abruptly however, when the Spice Girls sudden blasted through the speaker. “No no no, stupid autoplay” Millie sprinted back to the phone to turn it off as fast as she could. “Sorry about that. Don’t mind me, please continue.” You both giggled as she sprinted away again. “Want to get out of here?” Ona asked. “Yes please”

You woke up to the sound of soft snores. You lay there looking at the beautiful girl in front of you for a while, taking it all in one last time, before quietly leaving the bed. You decided against waking her, instead you left a note on her nightstand:

“Thank you for everything, I had an amazing time with you, you made Manchester magical. I will never forget it.

Adéu Ona, Te echaré de menos.

Love,

Y/N

PS: Hakuna Matata”

You put your necklace with the little lion on it next to the note and placed a small kiss on Ona’s forehead. As you opened the door to leave the room, a small ray of light fell on her face. You glanced at the scene a little longer than intended, until you noticed her eyelids had slightly started to tremble. You quickly made your way out, taking a deep breath before closing the front door. 

As you walked towards the busstation, you smiled at the sun starting to rise and suddenly, Amy’s words came to mind: “Make the most out of the time you have together.” That you did. 

Part 3 out now

[horrocious]

various character notes for my nanowrimo project; these names and characters will probably shift around quite a bit but I thought it would be fun to jot down some notes here and there and see how things progress as time goes on.

Belmont & Lake Agency (formerly Sabat & Sabat)

Monserrat Belmont

“Only the most daring, tenacious, clever, and gorgeous licensed investigator in all of Jilicia! And probably all Europe, for that matter.”

Our hero. After her then-girlfriend and erstwhile-soulmate burned her apartment building down (long story), Monserrat began taking security jobs for Estelle Bastien, a wealthy and well-connected widow. Despite her reservations for working with a French aristocrat, the money's keeping her afloat, and she accepts an invitation to join Estelle aboard the Kelpie. Her boldness gets her into and out of all kinds of scrapes.

Simon Lake

“He's very reliable, actually, despite being a big, clumsy Yankee. I trust him completely, even if he shaved off his mustache.”

Le Rapace

Monserrat's junior partner who she frequently foists work upon delegates legwork and assignments to. He's lived in Jilicia for years after fleeing America. His seeming laid-back attitude belies a penetrating intellect. He's not invited on the boat. Sorry, pal.

Salvador [Surname unknown.]

“She has a reputation for being a criminal, but I only ever see her sitting on her ass gambling, boozing, and flirting with the beautiful women who follow her everywhere. Maybe she used to be somebody. Anyway, I want her life.”

Allegedly an enforcer for Le Rapace, one of many crime rings active in Jilicia. Allegedly involved with the Marais family and may have had something to do with their return to financial stability. What's known for certain is that she loves drinks, cigars, and pretty girls and is never seen publicly without at least one of each, and is always ready with pearls of wisdom. She's also not on the boat, which suits her fine.

The Bastien Family & Associates

Estelle Bastien

“No, I don't like working for a wealthy French family, and I don't trust her at all, but the money spends. Say... if I suck up enough, maybe she'll leave me her fortune.”

The matriarch of the Bastien family, who lives in Jilicia after a disgraceful exit from Parisian high society. She has a forty-six year feud with Nadia Marais. Stone-faced, calculating, paranoid, and the owner of a limitless supply of extremely stylish suits.

Veronique Bastien

“She's pretty, obviously, but even FJPA goons are easier to talk to. I don't know why Phoebe puts up with her.”

Estelle's 25 year old granddaughter. She idolizes Estelle and hates most other people. She likes to invest in unusual things, such as financing Phoebe Moreau's racing career. Living in the lap of luxury, she's extremely hard to please and very communicative about her various displeasures.

Mr. Fredkin

“Whatever they're paying him, it's not enough. But I guess guys like that think of themselves as being part of the family.”

Veronique's manservant who has the Sisyphean task of meeting her mile-long list of needs. He must accompany her aboard the Kelpie because she doesn't like to go even a few days without his cooking. Then he gets murdered.

Phoebe Moreau

“Poor girl gets really flustered when I try to talk to her. Hard to believe she's a race car driver, but I'm led to understand she's a different person behind the wheel.”

A race car driver from rural Jilicia who suffers from severe social anxiety; a Jilician but given a French name to integrate with 'the winning side.' Veronique, at Estelle's insistence, financed her construction of her car, Bellepheron. Phoebe is being introduced to society by Veronique and both terrified of and deeply dependent on her.

The Marais Family & Associates

Nadia Marais

“I hope she fucking dies.”

The matriarch of the Marais family, who recently experienced a reversal of fortunes. Sometimes affable, other times venom-tongued, she has been feuding with Estelle for reasons nobody will say aloud. A firm, outspoken believer in the inherent superiority of Europe over the rest of the world and France over the rest of Europe.

Gabrielle Souchon (formerly Marais)

“She doesn't seem like she's all there – either she's hiding something or she has to be doped up to spend time with her mother.”

Nadia's daughter. Easygoing and optimistic despite her mother's best efforts. She has an ominously good attitude about everyone around her and never seems bothered by anything. She's married to Marcel Souchon, who won't be appearing in this story, but they do talk about him.

Vivian Barker

“What are the odds that a murder would happen on a yacht with two detectives aboard? Obviously she's not going to get to the bottom of it before I do because I'm smarter and hotter... not that she's not smart in her own right, anyway. Also hot.”

A close friend of Nadia Marais and a consulting detective from England who has been invited aboard the Kelpie as a reward for solving a mystery for Nadia. Meticulous with an eye for detail and a flair for the dramatic. Her ego might even be bigger than Monserrat's.

Dr. Harriet Filmore

“She said she's a famous psychologist, but I've never heard of her. Considering Nadia and Gabrielle, how good at it could she really be?”

A discredited academic who, supposedly, treats Nadia and Gabrielle after being drummed out of her field due to scandalously callous experiments on rhesus monkeys. Gabrielle invited her along to “snap her out of her moodiness.”

The Crew of the Kelpie

Captain Nicolas De la Croix

“He fought in the Great War and now he drives a boat around for spoiled rich freaks. Honestly, after I talked to him, I think he should teach at a university or something instead, but he seems happy enough here.”

An experienced captain who now pilots yachts for wealthy French residents of Jilicia. Too much of a professional to indicate how he really feels, but he has the respect and admiration of the crew. An erudite man who reads as much as he can on all manner of topics.

Engineer Sebastian Lopez

“He was more than happy to talk about the technical details of the Kelpie and all the cutting-edge technology that make it such a marvel... y'know, I think he and the Kelpie make a great couple.”

An engineer who constantly cracks little jokes even in extremely grim situations. Although he's worked on many vessels, his heart belongs to the Kelpie. Carries himself with the swagger of a man who's living his ultimate fantasy life.

Chief Steward Lily March

“She's professional enough to work around these rich assholes, but I can tell from the way she shakes a cocktail that she's a time bomb on her last couple ticks.”

The workaholic chief steward of the Kelpie who constantly serves food, refills drinks, makes beds, and everything else required to ensure that every guest aboard the vessel is having a lovely time. Harbors intense bloodlust.

Steward Isaac Brodie

“Too bad Lake's not here, they could talk about America. I wonder if they knew each other back then?”

A young man who left America while he still could, he sails the seas sometimes as a steward, other times a deckhand, and always seems to be the one everyone asks to lend a hand. Polite to the guests but never without something world-weary and cynical to say.

Steward Maxine Shepherd

“She's very charming – everyone loves her. Within five minutes of talking to me one-on-one, she offered to sell me cocaine. If I didn't have a job to do... hey, I'm kidding, God damn it!”

A young woman of unclear origin who tells different people wildly different things about herself depending on the situation. Eager to earn her fortune by any means necessary.

Bosun Carles Palou

“Big guy, Jilician too, although he was too busy to talk to me much. But I noticed he pushes Florry and Oriol around like he's some kind of petty tyrant, so fuck him. That's no way to treat your loyal juniors!”

The short-tempered bosun of the Kelpie. Aside from Captain De la Croix, who he sucks up to, he has no time or respect for anyone. His unsociable nature gets in the way of his high level of nautical expertise.

Deckhand Oriol Vilar

“I don't think he's really old enough to be a deckhand on a yacht, but maybe he's just got a baby face. However, he's not as slick as he thinks he is. I can tell he was staring at my chest the whole time I talked to him.”

An inexperienced young man from Jilicia, he does a poor job keeping up with the hard-working, hard-drinking lifestyle of the others, but he tries his best. Painfully awkward.

Deckhand Florentin LaRue

“They call him Florry. Unfortunately I didn't get to hear the end of his shipwreck story, but this is a man who's clearly seen some shit in his day.”

Deckhand and self-appointed older brother figure to Oriol. Uncanny nautical tragedies follow him wherever he goes but that hasn't stopped him from going to sea again and again.

[cinnamonfknbuns]

5, 11 & 20 for any of ur oc ships/otp!

omg I didn't actually expect to get any asks, I saved it more for myself to reference later fhjagdj but now I'm excited to write yayyyy!!!!! thank uu :DDD

5: Describe their cozy night in.

— Utsuki/Haru:

Since both of them are high schoolers and live with their parents/guardians, spending a night together is kind of an occasion in of itself, but still, like, a cozy, casual "date"

it's girl's night! at least that's what Haru tells her parents ^^;;

they don't care, especially if Utsuki is staying over after a study session that went on too long. As long as their daughter is doing good in school it's fine

if they're not too tired and don't have class the next day, they'll make/get something sweet to eat, watch a nostalgic movie, maybe do a craft together and chat until the early morning, all as quietly as possible as to not bother anyone past bedtime

Haru isn't all that comfortable with touch, so she actually prefers to sleep in separate beds. it still feels very close tho, as they keep talking (whispering) to each other even after the lights are out, until one of them falls asleep <33

11: Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?

— Dália/Saeran & Ray

It depends on how long has passed since the events of the canon story, but mostly yes on Dália's side. I mean she doesn't even let HERSELF acknowledge those feelings...

I interpret Saeran as a system: host Saeran, who Dália is dating and is the one fronting most of the time; suit Saeran, who prefers to keep his distance from her (and vice versa tbh); and Ray, who is also kinda dating Dália but he fronts way less and isn't as present as Saeran, so their relationship is more of a d/s dynamic than that of girlfriend/boyfriend

Being the one that knows her best, host Saeran doesn't hide his feelings at all, and he notices if she tries to do so. It's also with him that she's most comfortable being open with, so note the "if"

Ray tries to hide his feelings bc he's ashamed, but fails. He's usually too flustered and in his own head to notice when Dália hides things from him, tho

Suit hides his feelings AND knows Dália also does, but he doesn't want to pry and just leaves it be. He feels guilty for what happened in the main story, and Dália keeps her distance bc she's too scared to confront her own feelings about it.

20: Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

— Lazarus/Griffith:

I like this one bc it focuses more on the 'secret' part of 'secret relationship', which is just crucial to laz and griff's whole thing

Before lovers, they're confidants. yeah, lazarus is completely obsessed with griffith, but griffith doesn't even like him that much (at least at first) The only reason he kept him around is because Lazarus offered a secrecy no one else could, and would THEN come to form a bond with him based on that trust.

Lazarus is basically the family doctor for the royalty, on top of being very knowledgeable about poisons and a bit of an alchemist (nerd) So his job is to listen to nobles sharing their physical weaknesses and gross secrets and telling them abt each different poison whenever someone feels like doing an assassination. (he never participates and will refuse to even listen to anything related, hes just a "I'm here to share my scientific expertise with my patients; whatever they choose to do with that information is not my business" kinda guy)

basically, he's privy to A LOT of stuff, and has lasted so long in that position bc he takes patient confidentiality REALLY FUCKING SERIOUSLY. and then he sees griffith for the first time ever and decides he'll make an exception for this random twink. lol.

So Griffith is drawn to him as a resource for political games and shit, right? but then, also, Lazarus is someone that Griffith doesn't have to impress. He's already obsessed with him, he's not a noble able to give him land or titles, and he's not a hawk putting his faith in Griffith's dream, so there's no outside pressure for Griffith to maintain his facade.

There's literally nothing Griffith COULD do that Lazarus would blame him for, even if it's outright evil shit. If Griffith is weak or tired or conflicted in front of Lazarus, he'd never tell anyone or think less of griffith, so it's him, and only him, that griff seeks out when he needs help

in short, their bond is based on that trust and secrecy rather than, like, attraction. they're not really lovers, i'd say they're co-conspirators with benefits 😌😌

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS IN LOVE - Chapter 30 - Part 1 BOOK THREE: 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning - Adult Content*

Noah Wright

"Can you chill?" Ciera asked me with a mouth full of the pesto pasta she made for her, Kaitlyn and myself.

"I don't know what you mean. I'm fine," I said but my tone proved otherwise as I sat at the table, moving the pasta around while glaring at the innocent noodles.

"He'll be home tomorrow night," Ciera pointed out and Kaitlyn nodded.

Sam had been gone for two days, spending his time with Boring-Benjamin and his family and who knows what else they were doing and fucking hell, it was driving me crazy.

I knew I had no right to feel that way, but confess your love for me, have sex with me and then go spend a weekend with Benjamin Hernandez?

What the fuck is that bullshit?

"Yeah, I'm sure Boring-Benjamin will let him leave his sight," I muttered.

I could just picture Benjamin's whiny voice begging Sam to stay the night again.

"Can you really blame Sam?" Kaitlyn asked me.

"What if my Grandma died when you were trying to break up with me? Would you have stayed to support me or dump me anyway?"

"That's different," I said matter-of-factly but I knew it wasn't and watching Ciera roll her eyes and hearing Kaitlyn sigh, the logical part of me knew I was wrong but the angry part of me wanted to argue more.

"No it's not," Ciera said.

"You care about Kaitlyn as much as Sam probably cares about Benjamin."

"Noah," Kaitlyn gave me her disapproval tone that she used to give me all the time in our past relationship.

"Whatever," I said shoving my plate away from me.

"I'm leaving. I'll be back later," I told them as I stood up, grabbing my wallet and keys in the process.

"Where are you going?" My ex-girlfriend asked me at the same time as Ciera.

"I'm buying weed from Wesley, I'll be back soon," I answered with a shrug like it was no big deal.

"Hey, no you don't," Ciera shook her head as she stood up, she pointed a firm finger at the chair I was just sitting at.

"Sit your ass back down. You know that's a bad idea and if I'm not mistaken, didn't you say that Sam didn't want you seeing him even if it was to just buy weed?"

"And I wanted him to break up with Benjamin," I murmured under my breath.

I knew I wasn't being fair, I was being an asshole.

I just couldn't help the urge to piss off Sam the way he pissed me off but I knew better, which was why I sat back down as Ciera instructed.

"Don't be stupid, Noah. Going to Wesley's place will only lead him on and hurt Sam," Ciera spoke pointedly, making sure I heard every word.

Even though she was right, I rolled my eyes anyway.

"Fine," I got up because I couldn't sit still.

"I'm going to my room," I said while heading there and shutting my bedroom door closed once I entered.

"Call Dr. Zinko," Ciera yells through the door.

I clicked on Sam's contact again and pressed the 'call' icon.

It rang twice before I heard...

"Hey, you reached Sam. Um... leave a message and I'll..." I hung up.

He sent me to voicemail.

I groaned and laid down on my bed.

***********

My nose tickled from the citrusy scent and it was giving me a headache.

"I don't like this new scent," I protested, scrunching my nose.

"And this location sucks," I added in dismay.

"It's just until they finish the remodeling," Dr. Zinko explained.

"Then I'll be back at the office on Central. I can turn off the diffuser. You don't like orange?"

I watched as my therapist reached for the white glowing thing that was spewing out soft, orange scented clouds into his small temporary office.

I shrugged.

"I guess it's fine. I liked the lavender better."

It wasn't really the essential oil that was giving me a headache, I was already irritated before I walked into his office twenty minutes ago.

"I'll remember that for next time but I think you're really just avoiding what asked. Why is that?"

I sighed.

"Because, you're right, okay? What I texted him was shitty."

Ciera was right, while Sam was away comforting Boring Bejamin, it was best to call Dr. Zinko before my self-destructive thoughts could ruin what Sam and I were so close to having again.

"I didn't say shitty but I think you can agree it was unnecessary and was intended to guilt trip Sam, yes?"

'Ugh.'

It was times like this Dr. Zinko irked me because of how right he is.

Nonetheless, I crossed my arms and responded...

"It was the truth. I'm not going to have a good night knowing he's in bed with someone else."

There was a pause as my therapist gave me his usual 'I'm studying you' look.

"How did you sleep last night?" he asked.

I opened my mouth, then shut it because yeah, I slept fine but'''

"I went to bed angry," is what I said, even though I knew that wasn't the point.

"And did you end up seeing Wesley?" Dr. Zinko asked.

I sat up, uncrossing my arms as I spoke.

"No, I don't even know why I said that. I don't care to see Wesley. I want do things different this time and be better for Sam and myself but it's like my first thought is always to just fuck up."

"Hmm," Dr. Zinko pondered for a second.

"And why do you think that is?"

"Hah," I laughed.

"Maybe because I fucking hate myself and don't think I deserve Sam anyway?"

My heart sank because even though I spoke that as a joke, I knew how true it was.

Running my hand through my hair, I leaned back against the leather seat.

"Fuck," I breathed out.

"I really don't deserve him," I repeated, looking at Dr. Zinko then grabbed at my chest.

"But I feel like I can't breathe without Sam. Life is a mind-numbing blur without Sam and I don't care if that's dramatic as fuck, that's how it feels," I stressed, getting worked up.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed a fidget gadget from a wicker bin and turned my focus on that.

"And without Sam... I'm just...just..." I didn't know what word I was thinking of, so I tried to picture it.

Life without Sam.

Everything is dull and colorless.

Everything tastes bad.

Everything moves slower.

Everything is nothing without Sam.

"Lost," I settled on.

At the end of my session with Dr. Zinko, he told me my 'assignment' until next time, is to try to recognize unnecessary comments and being more aware of how I respond.

Easier said than done.

He also told me to start saying positive affirmations to myself everyday.

I told him.

"That's a lot of homework, Doc."

But I guess maybe he had some good advice.

I was telling him the truth, I want to do better by Sam.

Doing so, I know I need to put my ego aside and be patient.

[ahungeringknife]

Sip of Snips 1/10: Hellish

I had to dig through my scrivener to find this. Hell doesn't exist in my original WIPs so they were all out. This is also not a word I ever use. I went 'no shot!' when a single doc and a single instance of the word came up. Hilarious.

====+====

Savant used to be way more of a field Warlock. Sometimes coming with her on scouting assignments or she called him in when she needed a big explosion. She knew Savant didn’t appreciate how insane his Light generation was but she did. Because of that they used to spend a lot more time together. But between Gup and Savant spending years of his life playing Gambit to impress Drifter they just didn’t as much. Since he’d stopped playing Gambit it was better. Mostly he hated Crucible enough to take breaks from it and he could only suffer ogling Theo so much before he needed a break from that.

Which was why he’d showed up at her door way too fucking early with a small cup of coffee and said, ‘let’s go to Hunter’s Tree’. She’d blearily taken the coffee and only thanks to Ghostie had she gotten any clothes on to go with him.

Now they were in Hunter’s Tree waiting for Lily to deliver their drinks. Eric was in the booth side of the table while listening to Savant ramble on about Crucible stuff he’d learned from Theo. He was getting a lot better at Crucible. Still couldn’t kill anyone but at least he didn’t die instantly. She was only half listening. The other half was trying to stay awake. For regular people it was a normal time to get up, about eight, for Eric it was a hellish time. Her sleep schedule was erratic and unpredictable and she was tired a lot. She nodded along whenever Savant said something at least.

Lily, a pretty Awoken with moon white hair and skin came by with their drinks and food. “Please tell me it’s what I usually get?” Eric groaned quietly at Lily.

“Nope. Yarrow wanted to see how you liked this instead. Should still perk you right up,” Lily said brightly. Stupid ass Lily. She was a coffee addict like Eric except her not-girlfriend always made her whatever coffee she wanted so she was always annoyingly chipper. “It should taste better too.”

“Fine,” she sighed.

“And for you,” Lily put Savant’s absolutely not coffee in front of him. It looked like a milk shake. Then came an array of baked goods Savant had ordered.

“Thanks, Lily,” Savant said cheerfully.

“You’re both too cheerfully awake. Shut upppp,” Eric groaned.

Lily giggled, “She’ll be awake in a little bit,” Lily promised Savant with a smile and went off to go check on some other customers.

- The silver lining

[garyfischy]

my 21 vbros rant

This is clearly cobbled together as i had way more i wanted to say, but i can't be assed to edit my writeup. Maybe youll see some of these ideas and frustrations about s6/s7 in a later essay. Feel free to leave me anon hate about putting a 9 paragraph rant on your tl. Fish out

I have a lot of feelings abt 21 vbros's ego death because thats like. All he's known his entire life. Just this world of fun and games and shit, and once that comes crumbling down once, then twice, and like. I think ironically his character development being shunted off to the side is a hilarious parallel to nerd-dom and otakus in general

After having to actually face reality and stop dicking around, he ends up spending a ridiculous amount of time devoting himself further to being a henchman. physically, on the outside, he becomes almost unrecognizable and obsessed with revenge- yet his obsession with somehow proving that manliness by having sex with women falls short, because he can't understand relationships. (Or whateverthefuck the monarch and drgf have going on, anyways). In other words, while he might be more tough and physically aggressive he hasn't matured beyond that same childishness (in the commentaries.. they were going to have a gag where he stares at drgfs tits and flashbacks to a bunch of other girls he liked as a teenager. Which is ..stupid but speaks for how inexperienced he is). Like he still talks about girls that hugged him and made eye contact years ago.

im not going to excuse the weird sexist stuff he did in s4 though. I think some of it shifts the focus away from "awkward dude" to "fucking creep" territory and a lot of it wasn't rlly needed

But then after the s4 bit he steps away to do his own thing, but doesn't really get how. Whatever he tries to do on his own just falls to pieces because he's still obsessed with being part of a cool team, one that couldn't care less about him. He ends up crawling back to the Monarch, who he's been obsessed with his entire life*, back into the same rut of being a henchman. Slightly different now that there's only 3 of them.

*hammer shifts between calling 21's obsession with the monarch vaguely father-figure like, noting he grew up without a dad, but then also contrasting it with drgf's sexual interest in the monarch, and how they both 'fall in love' in their own ways. dr girlfriend's love being pity and romance and 21's being blind devotion

s5/s6 is kind of weird because you can see the consequences of the past seasons on monarch/21's relationship. (Fuck this post is getting long! Ill have to write it in essay form later). Hammer describes it in the artbook as this sort of, abusive buddy movie relationship. Where 21 feels used and manipulated but can't do shit about it. He wrote up the blue morpho plan, after all. He thought it was cool to assasinate, but then gets all bummed out about doing the dirty work and burying the bodies. He still can't bring himself to reconcile that "cool" image of himself as Kano, mowing through enemies in a cool car, and that of himself as a lackey. Of watching his boss fuck his hot wife in the living room meters away. He still glamorizes his life even as the cracks obviously show through, in all 3 of the monarchtrio relationships. he expresses some guilt over the whole situation, and it would have been really interesting to see what happened after he was found out as the instigator of the morpho shit.

BUT THEN

THEY JUST DON'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT

LIKE YOU'D THINK DR. GIRLFRIEND WOULD BE A LITTLE MORE UPSET THAT HER HUSBAND AND ... MANSERVANT JUST WENT OUT AND SLAUGHTERED MOST OF HER COWORKERS ILLEGALLY

But no. She just covers it up, that i understand , and nary a word is shared between them about the season-long arc. (I could write another essay about this too but that's for later). She's fine with it, because she loves the monarch, she's mrs. Wife, she moves on.

Even if the monarch jeopardized her career and possibly her life as well, doing something selfish and illegal that was completely unnecessary.

ANYWAYS this is getting way too long

But then post-s7, after both dr girlfriend and 21 express doubt over their choice in careers, after they're continuously compared as parallels/ foils to each other- they were brought into this bullshit world of larp-bureaucracy and henching and arching, and they love it, but it's starting to stress them out, they both get hard reset back to status quo by the movie. Dr Girlfriend worried about her marriage falling apart? 21 expressing remorse for his actions? Nah. Let's have them both give huge speeches about how great their lives are and how much they love their jobs! Don't even think about the irony of a woman groomed by her college professor to be a perfect trophy wife saying she "chose her station in life". Why even bother setting up all these threads of regret, burnout, remorse, if you're going to have these characters regress back to s2-era mentality?

Then again dr. Gf's arcs were never perfectly written. I just wish they did more with her as a character and her insecurities and regrets too...

This is stupid. But yeah 21 trying to escape from henching and find his own station in life, rebounding every time he tries to leave or quit, eventually ending at "i love my life and job" despite clear plot notes showing otherwise? Perfect analogy to the american nerd/otaku. Brushing off any flaws or worries in favor of being a loyal consumer.

[notroosterbradshaw]

Okay, gear up. I’ve got notes. Lots of them, many many of them.

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

Sprung. Don’t lie, Bradley Bradshaw. We’re on to you.

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

Use your words, big boy. It will always be appreciated. More after the jump because this is large.

And while it seemed like you hadn’t even realized it, it was very much apparent to Bradley that you had wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you so your heels were digging into his ass. His hands ultimately found their way back to your thighs - if pressed, he would say it was so you didn’t fall.

😮‍💨

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

Oh this reality as a woman who used to dress up frequently. The shit you put your boobs through to look good in a dress that probably could have some supportive padding if you were really lucky. The games we play to keep up appearances. 

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

Fancy things aren’t for everyone, but shit, I know this dress is a dream!

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

This is why I love her and how he loves her.

Admitting I had a visceral reaction when I read this and may have… thrust… myself.

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

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

I actually would love to see more of Bradley using his position of power. He still is who he is and I love that we don’t forget he isn’t just SA’s man. He’s not the arm candy, he is the reason for their evening and that’s a big damn deal.

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

Drama. Fuck yes.

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

Lol’d way too loud here.

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

End her, SA. 

“I agree,” Cyclone chimed in for the first time. “FIFA on the whole is inherently corrupt - it needs a complete overhaul. More’s the pity for me, I always look forward to the matches, but am feeling similarly this year.”… No one quite knew what to say next, but Admiral Simpson was saved by the delivery of the main course and everyone quickly dug in once the whole table had been served… “These short ribs are excellent,” Cyclone said after a lengthy pause, accompanied only by the band doing a fairly decent rendition of Beyond the Sea. Bradley stifled his snort with a bite of his short ribs - which were in fact excellent - and out of the corner of his eye saw you doing something similar. 

I AM HYPERVENTILATING! TKO Cyclone haha

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

TEARS. Yes.

Dashing

iykyk. Honestly, the most underrated of all endearments. And Jordan, you know why I love this.

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

Here’s out man. Yes Lieutenant Commander. Whatever you say.

JFC Jordan, I just loved this. I mean, if course I knew I would, but this is just special, you know? The intricate, intimate thots and feelings Bradley keeps to himself because he's so incredibly besotted and each time he looks at SA, he's looking into the mirror and seeing his reflection of someone who loves him just as deeply x

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

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

OR you take on the pacific fleet’s awards gala

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 15.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You just got in didn’t you?”

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

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

Bradley clicked his tongue. “The infamous dress…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You made a face. “Sweets?”

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

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

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

He’d get you back next year - hopefully. 

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

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

“- Don’t say old man -”

“- man.”

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

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

“Fine, fine. You can finish.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking brat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“- No, not you. Not my smart girl.”

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

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

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

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

“That doesn’t sound particularly fun.”

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

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

-----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was always okay when he was your Bradley. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw,” the older man offered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seat of honor, rocketman,” you teased. 

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

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

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

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

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

Bradley nodded. “So, game plan?”

“Game plan.”

“We get drinks -”

“- We hang out with your friends -”

“- We mingle - 

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

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

“- We charm the Simpsons -”

“- We charm the shit out of them -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

thanks! we’ll send pictures later

bradley looks sooo handsome in his uniform

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

He made you type that, didn’t he?

no comment 

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

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

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

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

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

Bradley didn’t think you were too much. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your boyfr - what? I don’t -” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whiskey. Sarah. Sarah Costigan.

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice to meet you, Sarah.”

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

“Oh, I work in consulting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now why do I remember him being taller?” 

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

-----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A little work trip. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“NorCal gal...”

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

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

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

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

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

“And that’s how many…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A lot. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“- One to five…”

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

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

Bradley just smirked. “Five it is then.”

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

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

You squeezed his hand, angling his body towards yours. 

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

“Okay.”

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

He didn’t remember any of it. 

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

He didn’t remember any of it. 

Except…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scoffed. “Dashing?”

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

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

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

So, he said it.

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

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

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

And then you were off. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmmm good point, maybe six then?” 

“Funny.” 

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

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

“I’ll figure it out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. 

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

Five times. Five times. Five times. 

And you had no idea. 

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

[next part]

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

[angsty-prompt-hole]

My OC’s In Class

I was tagged in this a while back by @addisons-damn-dialogue and never got around to it due to a series of life events. I’m going to be doing this for the whole extended Dresden Crew since they are actually in high school for most of the story (and I don’t give the whole entire extended crew enough attention).

Kira: She’s the quiet, model student who always finishes her work early and usually spends half the class reading whatever book she checked out that week. After she gets her powers, though, she ends up cutting classes or leaving midway through a lot due to monster troubles. She somehow still manages to pass all of her classes.

Emily: Kind of like Kira, but she doesn’t have Kira’s book smarts and she has chronic severe anxiety, so she is ALWAYS worrying about whether or not she did something right and whether or not her homework will get done. Has had panic attacks over homework assignments. Kira usually helps her with the stuff she struggles with.

Pickle: It completely depends on who else is in the class with him. If it’s someone he’s really good friends with, he is absolutely awful because he spends the entire class trying to talk to them or pranking them. If you can manage to isolate him, he’s usually fine.

Cain: Cain is usually pretty well-behaved, but he is a drama kid at heart so he goes extra hard on any assignments that allow him to get creative, much to the chagrin of everyone else. If he shares a class with Emily he spends half his time being an “i fucking love my girlfriend” type of guy, and if he shares a class with Kira he usually just bothers her for the entire class because it annoys her.

Carter: It’s a miracle he’s passing all of his classes to be honest. He regularly skips all of the classes he hates, which is everything except for shop classes. In his shop classes he just dicks around with his friends and makes mechanical nightmares the likes of which his teachers have never seen.

Maxine: Maxine is usually well-behaved, unless Pickle is in the same class, and then it’s just total chaos and prank wars. They had to be forcibly seated on opposite sides of the room in one class because they would not leave each other alone. Their pranks kept escalating to the point where Pickle once hid Maxine’s entire desk. Both of them are banned from ever taking the same chemistry class ever again.

Maxwell: Unlike his twin, Maxwell is quiet and well-mannered, and he’s often the teacher’s pet. He’s a model student and is well-liked by everyone. He has decent grades. However, he is not immune to Pickle’s shenanigans, nor is he immune to his sister’s, so he still gets in trouble because of them sometimes if he shares a class with them.

Caitlin: Caitlin gets super bored in class because she’s the type to do all the work ahead of time and then just coast the rest of the semester. She regularly has to leave school to help her parents with stuff, though, so she kind of has to get all of her work done early. She is one of the only ones who can stop Pickle’s shenanigans dead in their tracks by virtue of her phenomenal ability to ignore his very existence.

Roxanne: She dropped out of high school, but when she was in class she was not a very good student lmao. She would regularly fight with her teachers, show up drunk or high, and just be a general disturbance and menace to society. She’s calmed down significantly since then and is working on getting her GED.

Tagging: I’m leaving this as an open tag, so if you see this and want to do it, go for it!