#thanks again so much for the kind words!

[brighteuphony]

@kohnnors-blog

@thatsalamanderguy

YES. COME TO THE DARK SIDE. (We bully hot men here :))

[azure-bluet]

dear vio,

sunshield,

i beg.

with utmost respect for your beautiful works,

sotvorenie_.

dear sotvorenie,

during the sketch process i remembered how much i miss them, and therefore drew them with the utmost care.

with sincere thanks for your very kind words,

vio

[gentlebeard]

If I could hold you for a minute, Darling, I’d go through it again

For @edsbacktattoo & @stedesearring 💕 Show: Our Flag Means Death - Season 1 & 2 Music: Francesca by Hozier YouTube

[mspaint-flower]

I LOAF YOUR ART A LOT.... how does your art process look like?!?!?! So AMAZINGGG ouuhhhhhhhh

thank you so much!! i would've done a recording or something but i'm not sure how......so here's a short drawing demonstration

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The Start of the Truth [End of season 1]

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[lemoncherrypop]

To Build A Home

seventeen x harry potter au

deatheater!seungcheol x gryffindorprincess!reader

summary:  The war has finally come and your entire world falls into ruin. After a surprise attack from the Death Eaters, you barely escape with your life and find refuge in a faraway safe house. Everything would have been fine, all things considered, except for the fact that you had fallen right into the snake’s pit. 

notes: finally! a delicious backstory for our two main characters. let's get FUCKED UP, shall we? length: 8.7k

Series Masterlist

One l Two l Three | Four | Five | Six l coming soon...

Chapter Six

//

Year One

The first thing you noticed was his crooked smile.

Then his messy, unkempt bangs falling over his heavy-lidded eyes and the long lashes that almost brushed his cheeks everytime he blinked. Then came the almost cruel twinkle in his eyes as he shouldered a freckled boy aside to push his way to the front.

He swung his arms around two other boys— a quiet-looking one with circular glasses and another with a chipped, toothy grin— laughing uproariously at some joke you couldn’t hear over the nervous chatter of the other students around you. You clenched the sleeves of your brand new cloak into fists, feeling just as nervous as the rest.

Two months ago, you didn't even know magic existed— until an owl flew in through your open kitchen window, dropped a thick letter in the middle of your family breakfast. Before anyone could even scream in surprise, the doorbell rang. Your father, wide-eyed and frightened, slowly walked to the door. After a short, muffled conversation, he returned with a woman in a long emerald green dress, a black cloak and a dramatically pointed hat. She took the empty chair next to you, and in a calm, polite voice, explained everything.

She seemed to know about every unexplainable incident that has happened to your life: how the bullies at school tripped into puddles that strangely appeared out of nowhere, how your hair grew to your desired length whenever your mother cut it too short, and how, whenever your parents steered you away from the candy aisle at the grocery store, a handful of your favourite toffees mysteriously appeared in your right pocket.

“There’s magic in you,” she said warmly, placing her soft hands on yours. “At Hogwarts, we will teach you everything about magic and how to use it. You’re a witch, little one.”

You couldn't fully understand it then, even if you wanted to, but it thrilled you nonetheless. It was like your favourite fantasy book had come to life. At eleven years old, the world was full of wonders, and fear didn’t yet exist in your mind. From shopping in Diagon Alley to running through the bricked wall at Platform 9 ¾ , to unwrapping your first chocolate frog on the Hogwarts Express, you were brimming with excitement.

It all felt like a dream.

But then, the double doors swung open, and reality struck. The Great Hall, as the headmistress called it, was simply breathtaking. Four identical long tables overflowed with glistening food. Towering windows lined the room, and the ceiling reflected the jaw-dropping beauty of the night sky, shimmering with the starry constellations that were illuminated alongside countless dripping wax candles.

Now, it all felt real.

The noise around you faded, leaving only the sound of your heartbeat. Every first-year student was herded down the centre, made to stand before the Sorting Hat. The boy with the crooked smile stood beside you, and your heart raced even faster. His hand brushed yours as he looked down at you with curiosity, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. Just as he was about to say something, the Headmistress called your name.

Swallowing nervously, you looked at the hat, then glanced back at him.

“Good luck,” he whispered, his crooked smile somehow making your heart skip a beat.

It didn’t take much for the Sorting Hat to place you into your new home. Instantly shouting “Gryffindor!” with such a conviction that pride bloomed in your chest. Grinning, you nearly tripped as you ran over to your new family, who welcomed you with open arms.

A dozen students later, his name was called. You watched as he confidently strode up the steps, secretly hoping he'd join your house. But as soon as the hat touched his head, it declared, “Slytherin!” and his crooked smile stretched into a look of complete satisfaction.

It didn’t take long to figure out what kind of person he was: loudmouthed, arrogant and spoiled.

Your first class together was Potions, and you clenched your fists as he bragged about his family’s legacy— his father, who held a high position in the Ministry (whatever that was), was presumably best friends with anyone of any importance. That was apparently the only credentials he needed to boast about being the best in his house, nay— the whole year.

You wanted to swipe that smug smile off his face, so you made a bet: whoever brewed the best potion would win, and the loser would have to lick the dungeon floor after class.

For the first time in your life, you tasted defeat, and lost, monumentally, and unfortunately, the boy with the crooked smile had won, magnificently so.

The taste of it was bitter and gritty on your tongue, but you swallowed it down with dumb pride.

That night, you spent your first of many nights, in the infirmary. Licking up the crusty remnants of decades-old potions in the dungeon probably wasn’t your brightest idea.

Class after class, month after month, the rivalry intensified, fights broke out, detentions were made, and bets were gambled amongst classmates. He had an ego that you were determined to quash, while your unbreakable pride was a challenge he seemed set on ruining.

There was an unspoken, mutually understood plan for destruction— and this was just the beginning.

//

Year Two

One day, after a particularly satisfying victory over escaping a bludger in Flying Class, you jokingly called yourself the Queen of Gryffindor, seeing as how you managed to get your house the most points in your class the year before. It was only a matter of time, you figured— everyone could see just how valuable you were to the best house at Hogwarts.

Sneering from the loser’s side, the boy with his crooked grimace slammed his textbook shut. It was unfortunate that he overheard your joke, because at that moment, he thought it was more appropriate to call you the “Princess of Gryffindor” instead— someone naive, weak, spoiled, and disgustingly adored by everyone around her.

Somehow, the nickname stuck. That was the kind of influence he had, and the most you resisted, the harder he clung to your new “title”. Soon, even the older students from other houses were calling you “Princess” without bothering to learn your real name.

But despite the teasing and the jokes, you had no trouble making friends. Friendly and bubbly, you were always ready to help out a classmate or sneak off to the kitchens with friends for a snack. Within the first week back, you had made a new friend in Charms class, and he came with the face of an angel. Jeonghan was wicked good at the levitating charm, and when you caught him using the charm to swap his worn dragon-hide gloves for newer ones in Herbology, you knew you had to be friends.

With a flick of his long hair behind his ears, he placed his hand on yours to help you practise the charm during lunch in the Great Hall. All around you, students were busy scribbling homework into their scrolls and practising spells, cheeks stuffed with food.

“Hold it steady,” he said, “It’s LeviOsa, not LeviosA.”

When the half eaten scone successfully floated from your plate to his, you reached over and clapped your hands with his in victory. Just as you were about to float a glass of pumpkin ale into your hands, the boy with his crooked smile sauntered over and plopped down right next to your new friend.

As friendly and helpful as you were, this boy was charming. Even as a bully, he somehow managed to win others over with his words and his smile. He knew exactly what to say in order to get the things he wanted, and despite being notorious for his antics even as a second year, people loved him. And your new friend, like everyone else, fell for his wicked smile, and not even a week later, they practically became attached at the hip despite him not even being in Slytherin.

It was clear he’d come over to ruin something you enjoyed—whether it was spellwork, class, or even friendships, he delighted in getting in your way. And although he usually didn’t take it too seriously, somehow, his friendship with Jeonghan stuck. It stung. Jeonghan was supposed to be your friend, yet here he was, swept away by the boy with the crooked smile, like so many other things he wanted from your life.

A month later, you challenged him to a duel after Potions class. Quick on your feet and fast with your temper, the boy lost, embarrassingly, and this had marked your historic first win in duelling.

During breakfast the next morning, still bitter from his loss, he saw you talking to Seokmin, another muggle-born like you. Fuelled by resentment from his loss the night before, he thought it was only fair to bully the pair of you together.

“Filthy Mudblood,” he called you.

A word you were completely unfamiliar with. It wasn’t until an older housemate had intervened and threatened to call a professor on him that you realised the gravity of the word.

There was a stubbornness in how he wanted to stand his ground, but the Headmaster was slowly making his way down the aisle to his seat at the Professor’s table, and the fear of being caught made him slink back to his table. Right them, you swore to defeat him in every way imaginable. Be it in class, in pride, or reputation.

And so, the childish pranks began at this time.

“Wingadium leviosa.”

A discreet flick of your wand, and a vial of Hair-Raising Potion slipped into his soup. Watching every hair on his body, from even his brows to his lashes, stand on end was almost too delightful. He looked as if he got electrocuted, the shock in his eyes even adding to the charm of the potion.

He knew it was you. Even with your laughter getting lost in the bustle of the Great Hall, he knew because it would only ever be you.

This catapulted your feud in full force. The pranks were constant, riotous, and sometimes downright diabolical.

He retaliated by dropping a dungbomb on your head before Quidditch practice, forcing you to leave a trail of stink in your wake. In turn, you hit him with a Tickling Charm during History of Magic, making him laugh so hysterically he had to spend two weeks mopping the floor as punishment. He mixed up a rather potent batch of Swelling Solution into your lotion, causing your entire face to balloon, and you got back at him by slipping a few Hiccough Sweets into a Nose-Biting Teacup, so that once he sipped his tea, his nose was attacked by sharp ceramic as he hiccuped uncontrollably. 

But even these pranks weren’t enough. Both young, proud, fiery and dumb, you fought each other in duels as often as you could get away with. Things escalated until the Herbology professor finally had to inform the Headmaster, resulting in a strict duelling ban.

Yet stubbornness and insolent behaviour fueled the two of you to sneak out after bedtime hours for secret duels, and the caretaker had caught you both wand-handed.

The rest of the school year was spent in detention, making sandwiches alongside the house elves in the kitchen.

//

Year Three

Your dorm mate had somehow fallen for the boy with the crooked smile’s evil deception.

“I’m in love!” she declared, spreading her arms wide before falling onto her four-poster bed. You stuck a finger down your throat and pretended to gag. The thought of anyone finding him attractive seemed only possible through the use of Amortencia.

Yet, not even a week later, you were on your way to the library when you saw him leaning in, eyes closed and lips puckered, toward the very same girl— the one who’d vow to marry him after Hogwarts. Your stomach soured at the sight, and a flash of anger went through you that he was showing anyone else but you his attention.

This feeling didn’t make any sense to you. So, you decided to hex him.

“Locomotor Mortis.”

All four of his limbs snapped together, pressing against his body as he stiffened and toppled forward—straight into your dorm mate’s chest. She shrieked in embarrassment, shoving him off before fleeing, leaving him rigid and crooked-smiled as he fell onto the cold, marble floor.

Howls of laughter rang from a large tapestry just paces away, and the heads of Mingyu and Minghao were peeking out from the embroidered drapery of Hogwarts’ very first Potions professor. Undoubtedly, the pair of them hid in the back to watch and see how their friend’s first kiss would go. Calm and steady, Wonwoo approached, kneeling to work the counterspell.

“You should have listened to Jeonghan,” he murmured, “He told you to go somewhere more private.”

As the spell melted off his body, he slowly got back up onto his feet, his face the colour of an unforgivable scarlet. Not even two steps towards you (because somehow, he always knew where you were), Minghao hooked his arm around his neck and held him back.

He unleashed a spiel of curses as Mingyu joined in with Minghao,wiping away tears from laughter. “You better run, Princess!” he shouted at you, wrapping his lanky arm around his shoulders and holding him back as well. “We’re only helping you this one time for giving us such a good laugh!”

For a moment, you locked eyes with him. You’ve never seen such humiliation in his eyes before, and a sinking feeling in your chest told you that you didn’t enjoy it.

“Why aren’t you running?” Mingyu questioned, still laughing. “Or have you got another trick up your sleeve?”

Minghao leans down to whisper something into the boy’s ear and he rips his gaze away from you, burning even brighter still.

“He would have done the same,” you stubbornly say, trying to mask a strange nervousness. “Worse even, probably.”

His gaze found yours again with a ferocity that burned so heavily, it was only ever made for you.

So you run. The laughter of the other boys still ringing down the corridor as your heart began to beat erratically in your chest. He was your enemy, and you were his, and that was all you ever knew of each other. Yet, in that instant, you couldn’t shake the thought: what if things had been different? What if, on that very first day at Hogwarts, he’d walked beside you towards the Sorting Hat, leaning in just a little closer?

Running up moving staircases and through endless doors, and past old classrooms and abandoned bathrooms, you wondered what it would have been like if he had closed his eyes and leaned toward you instead.

Your heart continued to beat wildly in your chest, even as you crawled under your covers and tried to shut the sight of his wrathful eyes away from your mind. You were a Gryffindor and he was a Slytherin, and being natural enemies, this feud between the two of you was just how the world was supposed to work. He had no interest in you, he made it more than clear when he called you a Mudblood for the first time. You needed to feel the same about him.

So you pushed those inane thoughts away, the thoughts of him leaning in close, his breath mingling with yours, and the look in his eyes softened with anything other than hate. You pushed them down to the deepest parts of your soul, and locked them away. You knew better than letting them see the light.

The rest of the year was relentless. You hexed and pranked him viciously, hoping he’d rack up enough detentions or lose enough points to sabotage Slytherin’s standing, but he came at you with a different, crueler kind of fury.

He sabotaged any boy who tried to get close to you. How he always seemed to know who was interested in you, you’d never understand. But each time, you’d find out the hard way. You would peel back your bed sheets to the sight of shredded flower petals, ripped up letters of confessions, or shards of broken glasses of your favourite fizzy drinks. His “gifts” were a painful reminder of what you had cost him.

It became harder for you to make friends after this. Nights in the dining hall grew more lonely. You had lost your friendship with Jeonghan, Vernon averted his gaze in class, Seungkwan stopped sneaking into the kitchens with you, and Soonyoung once fled at the sight of you approaching in the hallway.

There was only one person who would wish such unhappiness upon you— and it was all because you’d ruined his first kiss.

How you would ever get back at him for this, you did not know.

You weren’t ever sure if you wanted to.

//

Year Four

It was a miserably cold and wet day, and Gryffindor had lost against Hufflepuff in the first match of the Quidditch season. Seokmin found you sulking just outside the Quidditch changing room and pulled you back inside the empty tent to apologise.

“Apologise for what?” You frowned, the frustration of losing clearly bringing tears to the edge of your eyes. “You guys won fair and square.”

“Doesn’t make me feel any less bad,” he replied, guilt written all over his face. “You played so well today too! You could have won if—”

“Except we didn’t,” you interrupted. “We lost. Everyone was witness to it.”

“They also saw how brilliantly you dove to get the quaffle after it dropped. It was like you disappeared in front of me and reappeared within a blink of an eye.”

Blinking back the tears, you try not to let his compliment overwhelm you. “Thanks,” you muttered.

“We got a rematch in a couple months,” he offered with a hopeful smile. “Hope it’ll be another great game.”

A deep sigh came out of you, trying to blow the disappointment out of your mind in one big breath. “We’ll just kick your ass next time,” you replied, forcing a smile.

Seokmin grinned back, his smile so bright it seemed to light up the tent.

You were about to head back out when he gently caught your arm.

“Actually, I came back here because… well…” Seokmin’s face had suddenly changed into a bashfulness you’ve never seen on him. “I wanted to tell you s-something,” he stammered, the tips of ears looking bright red.

Looking up at him curiously, you nodded. “Yeah?”

“I— I just wanted to tell you… that I— “

You chuckled at how flustered he got all of a sudden. “Well? Out with it.”

“I like you,” he confesses. “I like you, please, go out with me.”

It was shocking just how quickly your face matched the colour of his.

And then he kissed you.

And you kissed him back.

And he was your first kiss.

And you were his.

And it felt so right.

Seokmin was always so sweet to you.

There were always whispers amongst the upperclassmen, saying that the fourth year at Hogwarts will be the first real year for students. You never understood it until now, because now, you finally had a boyfriend. Walking hand in hand with Seokmin down the hallways felt like someone had pulled back a curtain, revealing a new world of couples sneaking off into alcoves, whispering sweet nothings, or snogging openly against the windows.

Then, down the hall, you saw him— the boy with his hair as tousled as ever, his grin as maddeningly crooked. Leaning casually against a closed door, he whispered something to Ravenclaw’s Seeker, who giggled, her long black hair swaying as she tilted her head to meet his gaze. He pressed her body close against his and your steps quickened, unwilling to witness what was undeniably about to happen. At the sound of your footsteps, he glanced up and saw it was you. He grinned wickedly before leaning in and pressing his lips to the Seeker’s neck.

Without thinking, you tighten your grip on Seokmin’s hand, pulling him behind a giant tapestry of two snakes battling a boar. Before he could ask what was happening, you pulled him down for a kiss. Hastily, Seokmin wrapped his arms around you without hesitation; his love for you was clear in every touch.

This was the year of the Winter Ball, and you were finally at the age to join the school’s most spectacular event of the year.

Countless hours were spent on getting ready for this grandiose party. Pieces of the finest cloth you could afford were pulled together into drapes that would flatter your body. Multicorfor being cast every ten minutes to change your gown to the most magnificent shade of ruby-red, so it looked like you were walking through flames itself. You twisted and twirled your hair until it cascaded down your open back, and the rouge on your lips and cheeks was done just enough to make you glow.

There was a sparkle in your eyes, and you couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear as you descended the stairways to meet your partner.

But there, at the bottom of the stairs, stood the boy with the crooked smile. In the finest of silks and velvet, he was dressed in obsidian black, matching his glowering eyes. 

Almost like he was anticipating you, your footsteps gave you away again, and he snapped his head up, truly looking at you for the first time since that night you ruined his first kiss. You don’t miss the way his eyes look at you, wandering down to your dress and then back up at your eyes. They contort into something completely unreadable, and when his crooked smile vanishes, his eyes seem to hold a hatred you’ve never seen in him before.

It almost seemed like he was angry with himself.

“What a pity,” you said flatly, tilting your head as you reached up to pluck a petal from the rose on his lapel.

“I don’t need your fucking pity,” he seethed through his teeth.

“You tried to scare everyone away from me,” you whispered so no one else could hear. “But it didn’t work.”

He blinked, and then his grin returned, sadistic and crooked. “There’s still time, Princess.”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you walked past him and into the Great Hall with just your silence as response.

With his shiny eyes and impeccably ironed plum coloured suit, Seokmin stood at the entrance, waiting for you. He pinned a red rose into the curls of your hair, and when you were smiling again, he took your hand and the small of your back, and danced in joyful circles around the open floor. His practised steps made you spin and twirl with ease, his whispered confessions melting into your skin.

The night wore on, the candlelights dimmed and the music softened into gentler streams of violin. Seokmin held you close, his lips brushing your cheek as he whispered softly about how much he adored you. His faze flickered down to your lips before returning to your eyes— his telltale sign before a kiss, and you closed your eyes. Gentle as ever, that was always in his nature.

It didn’t take long for the fire to overcome you both. It greedily licked up the delicate layers of your dress, and as you spun around in fright, it caught onto Seokmin’s plum coloured robes and the both of you were set aflame.

“Aguamenti!”

Seokmin had quickly doused the fire, but left both of you drenched. Your beautiful curls wet against your cheeks, the flower in your hair crushed under your own heels, and your beautiful dress, left to almost nothing but burnt tatters. That was how quickly the fire had spread. Seokmin stood there, gasping to catch his own breath, still in shock of his own.

There’s a bark of laughter, and you look up to see the boy with his damned crooked smile. The mocking cackle wasn’t even coming from him, but Mingyu and Minghao who stood on either side, trying their hardest not to draw attention to the violation he’s committed against you.

His grin is wicked as ever, but there is no laughter in his eyes when he stares you down. His wand is hastily shoved into the pockets of his robes, and you can see Wonwoo pulling him back with urgency. His burning gaze never leaves yours as he’s pulled back into the growing crowd, unflinching as tears start blooming in your eyes.

This had cost the two of you dearly. Jean was witness to him setting your dress on fire, and told on the Headmaster, which resulted in his most severe punishment yet. Ruining what was meant to be your most magical night at Hogwarts had cost him three straight months of detention, but it wasn’t enough. Not for you. His act of cruelty on you had cost you Seokmin.

Seokmin ended it with you after that night. Not out of fear, but because he knew being with you would only bring more acts of wickedness. It broke your heart, but you knew he was right. Truth be told, the relationship lasted far longer than you thought possible. You reached up on the tips of your toes to give him one final kiss.

And then it was back. The rageful fire that burned between you and the boy with the crooked smile roared back to life. You watched him reject girls, just as you did with boys. He risked further detentions by tampering with your schoolwork and disrupting your Quidditch practices. You spiked his food with Puking Potions and set his prized books ablaze, a reminder of what he’d done to you.

You knew the year would end as it always did, with both of you serving detention.

This school would never be a safe space for you. Not as long as he was there with you.

//

Year Five

Oddly, to everyone’s dismay, the energy has shifted this year. The dreaded year of the OWLs has finally arrived.

From the very beginning, there was a mad rush to the libraries to get a head start on classwork and studies. Even you and your worst enemy couldn’t deny the importance of these exams. Countless nights were spent on the opposite ends of the long tables in the library. Heads both buried deeply into every book you could grab, quills were being used up left and right, scrawling away furiously into your scrolls.

There was no time for tomfoolery, and yet, you and the boy with the crooked smile— to the surprise of absolutely no one—still managed to find time to wreck absolute havoc.

He was always top of the class in Potions. Five years into Hogwarts, and this much you could admit out loud, even if it was begrudgingly so. However, no one could deny that you were the best in Charms.

During the History of Magic exam, you shot a finger-removing jinx at him multiple times in rapid succession. Minutes in, he was scrambling to pick up his quill with just his two nubs for hands, having lost all ten fingers. He tried to make a scene, but luckily for you, your ghostly Professor stayed soundly asleep, and all your other classmates— tired of your endless rivalry—just shushed him so they could concentrate on their own exam.

It took at least half an hour before his fingers finally grew back, and he managed to write about six inches of essay in his largest handwriting ever before the hourglass ran out.

He got back at you during Potions, like the fucking devil he was, and ruined you more than you could have ever imagined in your worst subject. Your face erupted into an absolute chaos of cystic acne, and the boy’s crooked smile spread so wide at the success of his furnunculus charm. Absolutely livid, your cheeks flushed hotly with a rush of rage until the freshly sprouted boiled burst, splattering messily into your Befuddlement Draught.

Your cauldron bubbled tenfold, spilling and gurgling into your classmate’s cauldrons, and caused a chain reaction of ruined potions. Befuddlement had run amok that day, and clearly from the Professor’s disappointment, it was not from the intended use of the required potion.

You fought back during the Herbology exam. You’d read about a fun new jinx while studying for the OWLs, and who better to test it on than on your worst enemy?

The students were tasked with taming Chinese Chomping Cabbages, Screech Snaps and Fanged Geraniums, and the entire greenhouse was filled with wails from both plants and students alike. He was wrestling a particularly feisty Fanged Geranium when you discreetly snapped your wand in his direction. Bunches of leeks sprouted from his ears, effectively pushing off the precious earmuffs that were crucial for today’s exams, and he clapped his hands over them in pure shock and screamed.

You swallowed down your laughter the best you could, and watched as he ran towards the Professor for help, crying treason as he pointed his wicked finger directly towards you. You mocked surprise as you continued to handle a pair of Chomping Cabbages on your table.

The two of you have always tried your best to not involve anyone else outside of your rivalry, but this year was different. With the relentless onslaught of petty hexes and pranks against each other being performed specifically during the exams, it was impossible to not get your other classmates involved.

Chan was so distracted by the loss of his ten fingers, he wrote the wrong dates down for all four historic battles during the Great Goblin War. Jeonghan’s potion was one of many that also got ruined by the explosion of boils on your face, an incident that he thoroughly berated the both of you for. Vernon and Seungkwan are both certain that they will receive a Dreadful in Herbology because the sudden disturbance of leeks had made them drop their Screech Saps, accidentally crushing them under the soles of their boots.

In the end, both of you lost your houses one hundred and fifty points, and earned a full month in detention.

Knees pebbled with grime and broken bits of stone and wood, you spent hours every night, sweeping away decades long cobwebs and wiping at the grimey corners of every unused room in the castle. And there, right by your side, was him.

Every year that you have spent at Hogwarts, and all those long weeks and months you’ve had detention for, was thankfully on your own. But for some cruel reason, the Headmaster thought it was only fitting that you shared detention this year with him. You believed that he thought the forced proximity between you two will someday create a more cordial relationship.

If only he knew better.

At first, the boy whined and complained the whole time, and you with your impatience and rage, threw buckets full of muddy soapy waters and brooms against the wall in defiance, trying your best to ignore him. If he made one wrong move, said one wrong word, you would have pulled on his hair and collar, and bitten his face clean off.

But the other professors very quickly had threatened for your punishment to go past the school year and into the summer months if anything else went wrong, so the two of you stayed silent. He stopped his grumbling and got to work, and you did your best to scrub, mop, and clean.

Then, on your last week at Hogwarts, he spoke.

“I shouldn’t be in here,” he ground out. “Not with you of all people.”

Rolling your eyes, you don’t even entertain him by responding.

“This is all so beneath me,” he continues, aggravation clear in his tone. “I’d be better off making sandwiches in the kitchen with the elves.”

Still, you stay silent.

And so does he, for only a moment. All you could hear was the angry scrubbing of a decades old mop against the stained marble floor that you knew would never get cleaned.

Then, he breaks open the window out of frustration, throwing the mop onto the floor, and stands there, unmoving.

“If only you hadn’t— if you had just—” he breaks off, unable to finish his sentence. You stop what you're doing now, brows furrowed with annoyance when you sit up from your knees to look at him. He is gazing out the open window, the cool night air swirling in and blowing his hair back, the stars already twinkling out in the night sky.

“If only I hadn’t what?”

His gaze turns towards you. He blinks slowly, his expression vacant. The silence hangs thick between you, only the cool breeze whispering through the cracked window as the castle settles into its nightly stillness. For a moment, you wonder if he’s going to say anything at all. He tears his eyes from you and back out the window. Then, in a voice so soft that it almost seems lost in the wind, he mutters, “If only it had never been you.”

Unsure whether to be offended or intrigued. “Been me?” you repeat, your voice edged with disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He grips the edge of the window tightly, the white of his knuckles showing. “If you hadn’t been so… stubborn. So fucking infuriating. Maybe…  we never would have gotten to this point.”

You let out a dry laugh. “So it’s my fault we’re both scrubbing the floor at midnight? And here I thought it was because you couldn’t keep yourself from casting boils on my face.”

A ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe,” he says, his voice low and soft. “But you never made it easy for me, did you?”

The question catches you off guard, and in that moment, you recall the years you’ve spent at Hogwarts — the bitter rivalry, the countless hexes and jinxes, the sleepless nights in stubborn competition, and the complete and utter disdain you held for each other. But now, all you can see is the quiet vulnerability that peeks through in his gaze, the lingering traces of something almost… uncertain. You clench your jaws, wanting to break through the strange haze that’s settled over the room, but no words come out.

He stares, expecting you to retort back at him, like you always do. But all you can do is stare back, lips still sealed.

“Forget it,” he murmurs, breaking the silence and picks up his mop.

You swallow down whatever strange feeling has started to well up and return to scrubbing the floor, willing the silence back into the room. But it doesn’t last long. You can feel his glare turn back on you, and before you know it, he’s muttering under his breath again. 

“Maybe,” he says, voice low and cold, “maybe if you didn’t act like you were better than everyone else, we wouldn’t be in his mess every damn year.”

You snap up, tightening your grip on the dirty rag. “Better than everyone?” You echoed disbelievingly. “This is coming out of your mouth?”

He scoffs, giving you a scathing look. “You’ve been going around and acting like you belong with the rest of us. It’s pathetic.”

The word hits you like a slap. The muscle in your jaw ticks, but you force yourself to stay composed. “Is that why you hate me? Because I’m a fucking Mudblood that beats you in duels and charms, and you can’t stand the sight of someone so beneath you winning?”

A dark flush creeps up his neck. “Don’t flatter yourself. Like you’d hold that much importance in my life.” his voice drips with disdain, and for a split second, you can see something flicker in his eyes— a bitterness that goes deeper than the usual rivalry.

Laughter bubbles out despite the tension. “Then why do you keep going out of your way to make my life miserable? Why do you spend all your time finding ways to get under my skin rather than studying for your own exams?”

His face twists, frustration beginning to boil over. “Because you make me—” He stops himself, words hanging in the air, heavy and unfinished. His fists clench, and he looks away, the veins in his neck pulsating. “Forget it.”

But you’re done with his unfinished sentences now. Your patience has worn out. “No, go on,” you say, standing up to face him. “Tell me. Tell me why you hate me so much.”

He glares at you, and before you can blink, he’s stepping forward, practically nose-to-nose with you. “You really want to know?” He snarls. You could smell the sage and rosewood from his collar.

“I do.” You cracked a smile. “Maybe then we could finally end our fighting.”

“Fine,” he snarls, “because every time I see you, every damn time I even think about you, it’s like I’m being reminded of every single thing I can’t stand about myself.”

You take in a sharp breath. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. “You don’t get it, you never will.” His lips are curled, the smell of his cologne getting stronger. “You’re so repulsively stubborn, so fucking persistent, always fighting for something. It’s like—” His hands are shaking at his sides. “You don’t know when to quit, the worst of all these fucking Gryffindors, and every time you don’t, it just… it reminds me that I’m the same and— you make me feel so fucking insane, that I could ever possibly be someone like you—”

The words cut off abruptly, and in that silence, something shifts. Neither of you know what to do with it.

Then, before you can stop yourself, you reach out and grab his collar, pulling him close until the fabric is bunched up in your fists. “Maybe,” you hissed. “Maybe if you stopped blaming me for your problems, you could actually get somewhere in life, instead of living in your family’s shadows.”

Shock flickers across his face before he, too, grabs hold of your collar, pulling you in even tighter. “Let go,” he says, his voice laced with warning. But neither of you releases, fingers digging into the fabric and skin, pushing and pulling, each trying to prove a point you can’t put into words.

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” you spit out, the words trembling with frustration.

He growls, his hand slipping up to the back of your neck, fingers coiling up in your hair. He pulls sharply, enough to make you yelp, and you retaliate, your own hand quickly reaching up to do the same, fingers threading into his hair, tugging hard.

Before you know it, your foot catches on the leg of an old chair, and you’re stumbling backwards. When the chair topples with a loud crash, he steps, catching on the bottom of your robe, and loses his balance. You are roughly pulled down with him, limbs tangling up in each other. The two of you hit the floor hard, the impact jarring as you crash into a worn desk. A pile of ancient scrolls are flying, dusty potion bottles are rolling off and breaking, and the crack of wood echoes as the desk splinters beneath your combined weight.

Still, neither of you loosen your hold. Your bare knees scrape against the rough stone, and you can feel the skin breaking. Pinned awkwardly on the ground, he twists to the side, his shoulder slamming into yours and you go tumbling over one another, rolling on the shattered glass that shimmer in the moonlight. There is a thin line of blood bleeding on his brow, and you can feel a warm, wet sting along your own cheekbone. You’re both gasping now, faces inches apart, skin scraped and already swelling.

“Just let go,” he says again, his voice still low with a tremor you don’t recognize. You stay where you are, arms and legs locked uncomfortably, face tilted up and eyes fixed on him.

“No,” you grit back, refusing to move. “Not until you do.”

The tension is like a live wire, sparking and searing in the air between you as you glare at each other, chests heaving, bruised and wounded from your clumsy fall. He searches for something in your eyes, a sort of desperation that you don’t want to answer.

Then, slowly, he lets go. Fingers loosening, his hand slides away from your hair, leaving it dishevelled. You both sit up, still breathing heavily, staring at each other in the dim light.

“You are my fucking nightmare, Princess,” he finally says, voice hoarse. It’s a broken sound, like a confession he never wanted to say out loud.

You laugh, soulless and heartless. Your skirt is bunched up to your thighs as you shift your legs, robes falling off your shoulders as you turn towards him.

You stab a finger to his chest. “And you,” you seethe, pressing hard against him. “You are the bane of my existence. Everything— everything that is wrong in my life is caused by you.”

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he reaches up, wrapping his fingers around yours, holding you firmly to his chest, right over his heart. His pulse is heavy under your touch, and his eyes don’t leave yours, his gaze almost daring you to pull away.

“Everything I ever did to you,” he says slowly, his voice almost a whisper, “was to make you feel as miserable as I did.”

His face is so close to yours, close enough that you can see the faint bruises blooming on his cheeks. Close enough to see the small scratch just below his brow trickle blood. Close enough for his hair to brush your forehead as it falls into his eyes.

For the first time that night, you don’t question him. You didn’t want to know what made him want to fight you, make you cry, or lose your friends. You didn’t want to know what made him so miserable that he wanted to cause you just as much pain that he was in. You didn’t want to understand him. If you knew, you felt as if the resentment you’ve held for years would simply crumble under the weight of his confession.

Your hand remained trapped under his, his chest rises and falls, and his hold on you is surprisingly gentle now. The echo of his confession fades into the silence of this decrepit room, and you realise— this fight, this bitter rivalry— it’s just as much a part of him as it was to you. And even in this messy, bruised, and bloody silence, neither of you are ready to let it go.

When you break apart, you slowly lay down on the floor and rub the palms of your hands firmly into your eyes. You were so tired. So tired of fighting, getting put into detention, cleaning floors, studying for exams, and always trying your best to survive. The exhaustion soon takes over, and you pass out.

He watches you the whole time. The way you grit your teeth in exasperation and groan, the way your chest is heaving in frustrated huffs before slowing down into deeper, slower breaths. He watches you until you fall asleep, and then, right by your side, he lays down and closes his eyes, joining you in sleep with beaten limbs and bloodied skin. 

The caretaker walks in when the sun begins to rise. The damage to the room was undeniable. The windows were still grimy, the cobwebs still hanging, and the floor littered with broken glass, ripped scrolls with boot prints, and two students, laying side by side, barely touching.

You guess it was inevitable for the both of you to get summer detention.

//

Year Six

The first day back at Hogwarts, you saw it immediately— something was terribly wrong with him.

His hair was longer, tangled and messier, and the shadows under his eyes were darker and bruised, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. His face, once sharp with wit, looked gaunt, looking almost sickly. Something had changed over the scorching hot summer, like it had hollowed him out and left only a ghostly echo of the person you once knew.

And yet, he still greeted you, like he always did, almost endearingly so. “Mudblood,” he drawled. “Hope your summer was terrible.”

Your mouth opened, but the words snagged inside you, heavy and sour. It should’ve sparked that familiar flame between you, but you stopped yourself. His tone, his expression— all the life, the spark, the sickening thrill that always animated him when he saw you, it was gone. There was an uncomfortable ache in your chest, heavy and acidic. You almost couldn’t even recognize him.

For months, this feeling never went away. You never saw him around anymore.

In class, he isolated himself, working alone with his usual friends away at a distance. His head always kept down as he poured into his books in silence. Outside of class, he was nowhere to be seen. It became a whispered mystery in the hallways, one that no one seemed able to answer. You caught glimpses of his snake friends tucking wrapped bundles of food  into their pockets, likely sneaking him meals because he’s never seen in the Great Hall anymore.

Even Jeonghan didn’t know what was going on with him. They had barely spoken more anymore than you did with him.

He became a complete stranger to you, his silence louder than any taunt he’d ever thrown your way. When you tried to challenge him, sometimes even uncharacteristically in a playful way, he didn’t even acknowledge you. He would only look at you with a strange, vacant expression, as if you were miles away.

Every time he looked at you with those empty eyes, that strange feeling in your chest turned into a gnawing ache that only grew. Your curiosity on what happened to him over the summer was insistent, like a parasite digging deeper with each passing day. But it was impossible for you to ask, because to do so would break the unspoken, hateful relationship you’d build together after all these years. How could you reach out to him when all you’d ever known was fire and fury?

Then, one late Saturday afternoon, you were passing by the abandoned classroom near the Bell Tower when you heard something— a sound that stopped you cold. A low, guttural sob, the kind of anguish that would make your heart drop into your stomach.

You could have turned your cheek. You could have pretended as if you hadn’t heard anything. You could have walked away.

But the sobbing continued, those agonising, wrenching sounds so raw, so hauntingly familiar. You couldn’t stop yourself, you stepped closer, heart hammering as you pushed open the cracked door to peek inside.

There, huddled on the cold floor, was the boy you knew— the boy who taunted and tormented you, who laughed as he goaded you into every petty fight. He was now slumped forward, fingers clawing at the stone floor as his shoulder shook from the weight of all his miserable tears. Broken glass lay all around him— vials from this week’s Charms lesson, meant to turn water into wine, and his robes soaked with it had turned the air heavy and sour in the small room. The knuckles on his hand were blood, cut and stained, red streaks running down his fingers.

You stood frozen, your heart lodged painfully in your throat. You were never meant to see this. He was unravelling before you, stripped bare of all the pride and scorn he used to wear like a badge. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

You wanted to run to him, and grab him by his shoulders. Come back. You wanted to yell at him. Come back to me and fight me. Come yell curses at me, jinx all the hair off my head, or poison my drinks. Just come back.

But he never saw you. His eyes were as vacant as ever, the light in them extinguished. The boy with the crooked smile, the one who used to take so much pleasure in all your misery, was gone. He blinked once, swayed on his knees, and then, without warning, fell forward and collapsed.

You pulled away from the door, heart racing. You couldn’t bear to see him like this anymore. You just ran. You needed to find someone, anyone, that could help him.

You tore down the North Hall, your footsteps echoing off the stone walls, until you crashed headfirst into Wonwoo, almost knocking him over. He caught you, his fingers digging into your shoulders, eyes wide and frantic.

“Did you see him?” he demanded, his voice breaking, scared and desperate. You’ve never heard him this hysterical before.

Trembling, you lifted a shaky finger, your own voice sounding terrified. “The old room for Arithmancy… down the hall.”

Wonwoo ran.

It was the final week of Hogwarts. 

It was past curfew, and you were running, practically flying through the empty corridors as you tried to reach your Common Room. The halls were dark, steeped in an eerie silence, and you tried your best to be as silent as possible because it was three hours past curfew, and you could not risk another night in detention again— not now, not with exams pressing down on you. 

It’s been weeks since you last saw him. Classmates gossiped amongst each other that he had disappeared since that night you saw him in the abandoned classroom, and with how hectic the end of the year terms were, you woefully wondered if the exam season was a helpful distraction to what you had witnessed that night.

You kept close to the shadows, stepping as quickly and quietly as possible, you tried to reach the suspension bridge when suddenly, a sickening crack echoed through the air. A sound that was so unnatural in the usual stillness of the night, it made you stumble, gripping on the wall to steady yourself.

Dread twisted up in your stomach. That was the sound of something breaking— no, something falling.

You turned a corner, breath hitching as you reached the open space by the bridge. There, sprawled out on the cobblestone courtyard, lay a figure— a mess of long, white hair spread out like a gruesome halo, blood already seeping into the cracks between the stones. Grey eyes, which were normally so vibrant and bright, were glazed over as they stared straight up into the night sky.

The headmaster lay dead in front of you.

A scream tore out into the cold, dark night. Your throat was raw and broken, the sound of your cry ringing off the stone walls, piercing into the silence of the night. Your knees buckled, and when you fell, you pressed a shaking hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sob that clawed its way out your mouth. Your whole body was trembling, heart beating so fast, your vision blurred as you desperately scanned the darkness of any sign, any glimpse of whoever had done this.

Your breath came up in shallow gasps, looking everywhere until finally, you looked up.

There he was.

He was standing on the stoned dome above, looking down at you. His figure was draped in shadow, illuminated only by the faint silver glow of the moon. Your heart clenched, a sad comfort that he was finally looking at you in what felt like the first time in forever. But there was something terribly wrong. His eyes— his normally heavily, hooded dark eyes, were deliriously manic. The whites of them showing an intensity that you’ve never seen on him.

A chill seeped into your bones as he watched you, and when you stood back up on shaky limbs, your eyes never leaving him, you wondered if the boy you once knew had been replaced by someone else entirely. 

His face had changed so much.

You almost missed his crooked smile.

//

Year Seven

He never came back to Hogwarts.

[maesonc-artistic-adventures]

I’ve been scrolling through some of the Linked Universe tags the past few days and every so often I’ve come across your art, mostly of Warriors and Time and I just wanted to say I absolutely love it! Your art style is really cool and I love the way you colour the pieces you draw, it’s very nice! I hope you’re having an excellent day!

Thank you so much!! I’ve had so much fun drawing Warrior and Time shenanigans and it’s really helped push my art wrt character interactions

I’m so glad you’re enjoying it! 🥰🥰🥰

.

Time: So, what’s going on here?

Warriors: Not sure, but it definitely seems like something you should deal with.

[beannoss]

Hi Bean!

I have a question for you! I have noticed in your writings that Twilight and Yor begin a romantic relationship after their secrets are revealed. Are you opposed to any romance between them before they find out? I assume if so, it’s because it’s morally questionable, though a lot of fans find romance before compelling as it raises the stakes considerably. I’m not suggesting one is right and the other is wrong, I’m just interested in your take on this! I love your writing! Thank you! 😊

Hello you! I'm always chuffed to see your name pop up 🫶😊!

Oh boy! Thank you for this ask — it's a big question but also I do have thoughts XD Sorry it's taken me a few days to get my ducks in a row!

I want to start, though, by emphasising that my thoughts and preferences here are exclusive to Spy x Family as a canon enterprise; they don't pertain to fanworks or other fan theories, I'm not out to yuck anyone's yum ✌️ ditto for even my own writing! You're right that I don't really have an interest in exploring that dynamic but I reserve the right to change my mind ;)!

[Reference herein to manga chapters not yet animated]

Right, so. There's lots of things I love about SxF, but one of the things that interested me early and keeps me engaged is that it operates under an interesting and complex morality. Spy work and contract killing are obviously an ethical minefield, and in the real world, generally to the bad. Within the world of SxF, Endo takes pains to write Twilight and Yor both firmly on the morally right side, even if Twilight’s tactics or Yor’s actions in a vacuum are frequently questionable. With Twilight especially it seems Twilight is currently (resisting) working through the impact and ethical implication of his actions on Anya. When it comes to Yor, I expect that’s where we’ll see him wrestle with similar questions through a romance lens. I think it was quite deliberate and important that Twilight specifically articulated that he’d been wondering if Yor had previous romantic relationships, and that it was now confirmed she hadn’t. As far as I can remember, it’s the only time he’s had that sort of reflection on Yor's life before the Forgers; I mention it because it mirrors times he’s reflected explicitly on Anya’s history and trauma and her needs as a child, with implication that his actions and motivations for adopting her could/probably will hurt her. I hazard that his observation about Yor will be similarly indicative of an arc down the line.

When it comes to canon, if the Yor x Twilight romance were to firm up while Yor still believes Twilight is Loid, I admit there’s a high chance I’d nope out. I want to emphasize firm up though… I tend to think Yor already has feelings for Loid (Twilight?) whether she’s fully aware of them or would necessarily articulate them as romantic (and I think this is being really interestingly conveyed and explored through her current feelings about kissing, though I may differ with some on how I think that may shake out). I also think there’s a… less high but not impossible chance that Twilight is aware he has or is developing feelings for Yor. I’ve argued before that he knows he has formed/is forming an attachment to her and that he knows he trusts her. I don’t think it’s too far from there to romantic feelings for Twilight: after all, attachment and trust (intimacy) are not things he's had in a long, long time. And given his current pseudo-short temper and general malaise comes out most with Anya, with Yor he’s been notably softer and more receptive. In my view, this is partially because so far he hasn't really done much that would really hurt Yor and nor has she done anything that would really hurt Twilight. So far, Twilight and Yor are on a fairly even footing.

This is a very long way of saying that I trend toward thinking we’ve got at least a few toes into the romance already.

The reasons I’d be a squicked by the firming up of the romance, pre-reveal, are related to its being morally questionable as you pointed out (I'll talk a bit more about that in a moment.) But it's also because I think it would undermine character arcs and dominant themes.

Twilight’s arc involves finding and forging a new pack, a new family. Somewhere safe and loving that he’s been denied essentially for his whole life (I don’t dispute that his mother loved him deeply and did her best to protect him: living with an abuser and then with her under war was never going to actually be or feel safe). A big part of this safety and love for Twilight is about being accepted, warts and all. Twilight started lying because he wasn’t accepted by his father as he was. There’s a fair bit to work through by way of accepting Twilight’s warts already — I think Yor will be fairly understanding as things currently stand, and that’s part of why they’re a good match. Their moral compasses, their sacrifices, how they see the world and how they want to try and make it better, align and/or resonate in foundational ways. However, given their current standing, pursuing deeper intimacy of a romantic/sexual relationship with Yor before reveals, I think would take it past the line. And particularly when considering Yor’s character arc.

Yor’s arc is also around finding love and security, but centred less around acceptance (although that obviously also explicitly features!) and more around self-worth and understanding her value. If the romance were to firm up pre-reveal, the false pretences are… I mean, to me, they lob a Molotov cocktail into that theme of self-worth and being valued, as she really would just be being used: the intimacy could never be real because Twilight is not Loid Forger. To expand a bit on an earlier point, perhaps ironically, Yor’s relationship with Loid is mostly on the up-and-up: they both know any marital connection they demonstrate is fake. They may be (are) friends, and also they’re under no illusions that it’s something of a tenuous friendship (at least for now). They co-parent Anya but are clear that this co-parenting comes with clear lines around and between their relationship otherwise. I want to tread mindfully here, because I also really like and appreciate aroace interpretations of Yor and Twilight and their relationship: I think this discussion around firming up their romance actually also holds true in the case of attempting to substantially deepen their platonic bond, pre-reveal. In the same ways, Twilight needing acceptance and Yor learning self-worth would be severely undermined by a pre-reveal apparent and false deepening of their commitment to one another.

On the point of it being morally questionable generally, yeah it is. I mean, look, it's fiction and they aren't real people who can be hurt by those actions. So in principle, Endo can write what story he wants, I wouldn't think it reflected poorly on him or anything like that. I just don't really want to read a story that goes to that place; it’s a squick. I'm sure this has been discussed before in fandom, but my read on the moral dubiety centres around the idea that it isn’t possible to actively choose or meaningfully consent to emotional or physical intimacy when one person is lying about who they are (and in this case, they're both lying about who they are... Although Twilight to a greater extent). This does tie back into SxF themes as well, as choice and consent are also… maybe not big themes of SxF exactly, but active choice and informed consent are things which have come up more than once (I have my thoughts as to why: for a character whose choices drive so much of the narrative, Twilight is actually also a character who’s shown to have little actual choice or control over much of his own life. Considering his motivations for a world where children don’t cry, imo valuing active choice and meaningful consent are important factors required for that world. And I also actually suspect the theme of choice will become more important the more we learn about Donovan, and his role as foil for Twilight.)

Also, honestly for me, it would be too close to a common trope in a lot of popular western fiction/media that I don’t like: a woman being taken advantage of by a man in some way, shape or form, and then through the magic of her non-specific womanness, forgiving him his gross transgressions under the thinnest of pretences. Particularly as Endo has already taken pains to sidestep that as a foundation of their arrangement. To be fair, I wouldn't be surprised that were Endo to take the pre-reveal romance path, it would be a deeper interpretation of that trope, but as with other sexist tropes utilised in pop fiction/media, I have to ask why the choice couldn’t have been for a more interesting path, rather than retreading that one. And particularly given everything he's established for Twilight and Yor: it goes against much of what Twilight stands for — and indeed goes against much of what he meaningfully brings in his current relationship with Yor, that of encouraging her, supporting her, and shoring up her thoughts, opinions and self-image, particularly when she voices upset or doubt about them. It also goes against much of what Yor stands for: while the power imbalance would lie firmly with Twilight, it remains true that Yor’s lies in an apparently deepening intimacy would also undermine the safety and security she ostensibly creates for Twilight. She also so obviously hates lying, the prospect of her keeping her secret into what she believed was a real relationship would wreck her. Doubly so, given the weight Yor puts on Loid's acknowledgement of who she is and what she believes: something she hangs her self-worth on, a recognition of her value. And I'd argue here that it would actually, conversely, be impossible for Loid Forger to acknowledge or accept Yor's truth: that's only something Twilight can do.

And so I guess there’s also just the bare fact following from the above that I think a pre-reveal firming up of their relationship is the less interesting choice for what is a major franchise that has otherwise done innovative things. Another reason I love SxF is that it subverts tropes and complicates cliches. One of which includes communication: for a pair who have crossed lines as a foundation of their relationship, Yor and Twilight actually do a lot of communicating. That’s a subversion of many heterosexual romantic tropes and norms, at least in a Western context, and, to put it sort of flippantly, it would bum me out if it failed at the final hurdle.

I just want to emphasise one more time, my opinions and preferences here are strictly related to Spy x Family in an official canon capacity, and nothing to do with fanworks or fan theories or what fans want to explore in whatever fashion. Part of my feelings here are also honestly because of the tone and pacing of SxF. I think it entirely possible to do interesting things with those tropes and actually think Endo is the type of writer I would trust to do so. But the way SxF is written by way of tone, pacing, narrative priorities and audience demand, I don't think even Endo would be able to do them within SxF in ways that wouldn't squick me out and make me lose love for Twilight, specifically, pretty entirely. I'd rather he just didn't 😂

Tl;dr: in canon exclusively I’m not into a firming up of their romantic relationship pre-reveal! Their situation is complicated enough as it is; give these goobers the love they want and can share with one another, kindly and gently, when the world has been neither kind nor gentle with them. In my view, it’s already primed in their character and thematic arcs 🫶

[astraystayyh]

happy birthday to my hyune. hyunjin who wrote a poem about stay’s eyes and how they shine brighter than any stars. hyunjin who paints old couples because he believes love should be eternal. hyunjin who needs to be chased off the stage by staff because he wants to greet stays longer. hyunjin who always reassures stays that they have a long time left together. hyunjin who reads poetry before bed. hyunjin who writes about love so beautifully as if he is the embodiment of it. hyunjin who says he wants to remain strong as to not hurt stays. hyunjin who says you need to practice with your 200% to show 100%. hyunjin who loves reading books. hyunjin who always tells stays to eat well. hyunjin who wears his heart on his sleeve. hyunjin who started a stay counseling center to listen to stay’s problems. hyunjin who wrote if love is everything, then there is nothing left for me. hyunjin who trained really hard because he refused to be just a pretty face. hyunjin who said that he loves easily, gets hurt easily, regrets easily then repeats the process because isn’t that what life is about. hyunjin who said that the wounds caused by humans are also healed by humans. hyunjin who remains hopeful and loving despite it all. hyunjin who eats with his eyes closed. hyunjin who loves going to art museums. hyunjin who said that there isnt a team that loves each other as much as skz does. hyunjin who said that there should always be a Stray kids before his name. hyunjin who loves so freely and who i love. you grew up so well my hyune 💓 please be happy forever.

[inkly-heart]

Do you have a group discord server? If others want to chill and interact with you. Just wondering

That aside just hoping you’re doing okay Blastic. Still, if you’re not your gotta a lot people care about you.

I look forward to seeing how the rest of the game goofs.

—goofball anon

I don't and sadly I don't think I will make one. It would be fun to interact with people who enjoys my work and wants to chat with me but I just feel it would be too much work for me to handle a discord server. So at least for now I'm not planning to make one.

[gretagerwigsmuse]

oh my god this is so unbelievably kind! i love that you went through and reread so many of the fics! it’s been fun because then i can see what really stood out in the previous fics and work off that in the future. when i wrote the first part, i set out to make it kind of satirical, but somewhere along the way of writing i was like wait wait they’re actually super cute and funny? like a pairing like that just makes sense to me with this dynamic? and i think the voting record part will be what i’m remembered for most when my time on earth is no more 🙏🏻 though to be fair….idk if i’d have them go raw the first time if i did it again even tho that line about the military brats makes me laugh.

i think this applies to bradley in the movie and the bradley i’ve seen in a couple fics, but he is definitely his own worst enemy and overthinks things too much, so when your partner also overthinks things that can be where things go awry? but still, like they both say multiple times over their middle part fics, they know they love each other and sometimes you gotta trust your partner. and bubs is one of those nicknames that doesn’t necessarily mean anything but just like works so well? we do bubby and bubba in my family so it was an easy reach haha. and yes i would like bradley to make me come with his retractable shower head pls and thank you ☺️

okay okay and the gala! smart aleck had the cheeky moment getting him to come in and ‘help’ with the lingerie yeah sure sure what you know what you’re doing 😏 that coupled with the shaving scene was really fun to write since it’s different ways of being intimate? like yeah bradley likes the lingerie, but he likes the physical closeness and intimacy of the shave just as much? and sighhhhh jake seresin…..the blond man is constantly trying my patience! he gets off the hook…a little bit (like we know he’s at the christmas party lol) but uhhhh they’re not done with him or sarah yet haha. and bradley being close with smart aleck’s parents and having a good relationship with them is something i really want to stress since it’s going to be so important in future fics! and yeah….have fun coming five times bestie - smart aleck has no idea what’s waiting back in the room

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!!!)

[prolibytherium]

I never touched it but I feel like i only ever hear positive things said about song of achilles.. in (rough strokes at least) what makes it dogshit to you?

Okay it's been a while since I actually read it so some of this might not be spot on accurate. Sorry if at any point I say 'the book never does xyz' and it actually does once or twice but I think my underlying criticisms are accurate

-Patroclus is made into like this soft gentle tender quivering little yaoi boy. In the source text, he's shown as compassionate and moved by the suffering of his own men (and apparently having some medical skill, tending to the wounded in the camp), but very much invested n combat and very, very good at it (pages worth of descriptions of the guys he's killing left and right). In this, the arguably more complex character from this 8th century BC text is flattened into Being A Healer, he doesn't want to go to war he just wants to help people, he only goes because Achilles has to but he doesn't want to fight he's a HEALER he's a gentle lover NOT A FIGHTER who just wants to help he just wants to help everyone around him he HEALS while Achilles is a doomed warrior who is so good at fighting and KILLING its a DICHOTOMY GUYS!!!LIKE THE BEAUTIFUL SUN AND MOON DOOMED LOVERS SO SAD patocluse HEALER . (I Think he's specifically characterized as being BAD at fighting but might be misremembering)

-I don't remember much about Achilles' characterization I think it just makes him less of a jackass while not adding anything of interest and levels out into being mad boring.

-Not getting into the literal millenias old debate whether the mythological characters Achilles and Patroclus were being characterized as some type of lover by the original oral sources of the Iliad or its Homeric writers. We will never know. We don't even know what (if any) culturally accepted conventions of male homosexuality existed in bronze age Greece (we know much more about their descendants). But there are some interesting elements of their characterization in this direction, with how unconventional their relationship is WITHIN the text itself- Patroclus is described as cooking for Achilles and his guests (very specifically a woman/wife's job), Achilles chides Patroclus like a father, but there's also scene where Achilles' mourning of him directly echoes a passage of Hector's wife mourning her husband, Patroclus is explicitly stated to Achilles' elder, and is overall treated as his equal or near-equal, closest confidant and most beloved friend (to the point that pederastic classical Greeks would debate over who was erastes (older authority figure lover) and who was eromenos (adolescent 'beloved')- many took it as a given that this text depicted their present-day cultural norms of homosexual behavior but it existed so Outside of these norms that it had to be debated who was who). Their relationship is non-standard both within the text and to the descendants of the civilization that wrote them.

Basically what I'm saying is this book had opportunities to like, explore the unconventionality of the relationship (being presented here as explicitly lovers), explore the dynamics of why Patroclus wants to do 'women's work' (besides being a tenderhearted softboy), the weird dynamics where they take on paternal roles to each other but also roles of wives, how they feel about being this way, and just kind of Doesn't. Which I guess isn't an intrinsic fault (because it omits much of what I just talked about to begin with). it's just like.... Lame. This book takes jsut abandons everything interesting about the source text in favor of flattening it into bland Doomed Yaoi.

-The conflict that sets off the core story of the Iliad is Achilles and Agamemnon fighting over Briseis, an enslaved Trojan woman taken by Achilles as a war-trophy, Achilles spends most of the story moping because he was dishonored by his 'trophy' being taken. Achilles and Patroclus and everyone else are raping their captives, all the women in the story are either captured Trojans (or in the case of the free women within the walls of Troy, soon to be enslaved, and are slave owners themselves). Slavery as an institution and extreme patriarchal conventions are innate to the text and reflective of the context in which it was developed. You cannot avoid it.

But obviously you can't have your soft yaoi boys doing this, so the author has them capturing women to Protect Them from the other men. Their slaves are UNDER THEIR PROTECTION and VERY SAFE (and they might even Like And Befriend Them but I might be misremembering that. Briseis does though). Our heroes have apparently absorbed none of the ideals of the culture they exist in and the author seems to think "they're gay and aren't sexually attracted to their captives" would translate to them being outright benevolent (also as if wartime sexual violence is just about attraction and not part of a wider spectrum of violent acts to dehumanize and brutalize an accepted 'enemy')

In the source text, Briseis mourns Patroclus as being the kindest to her of her captors, who tried to get her a slightly better outcome by getting her married to Achilles (which probably would be the Least Bad of all possible outcomes for a woman in that situation, becoming a legal wife instead of a slave), and wonders what will happen to her now that he's gone. This is a really really sad, horrible, and compelling dynamic which could be fleshed out in very interesting ways but is instead is tossed entirely aside in favor of them being Besties. Like brother and sister.

All of the above pisses me off so much. If you don't want to engage in the icky parts of ancient/bronze age Greece then don't write a retelling of a story taking place in bronze age Greece. I'm not gonna get mad at children's adaptations of Greek myths or silly fun stories loosely based on them for omitting the rape and slavery but it is SO fundamental to the Iliad. If you're not willing to handle it, either fully omit it or better yet set your Iliad inspired yaoi in an invented swords-and-sandals setting where you can have all your heartbreaking tragic doomed lovers plot beats and not have to clumsily write around the women they're brutalizing.

-The author didn't seem to know what to do with Thetis and she made her just like, Achilles bitch mother who spends most of the story trying to separate our Yaoi Boys (iirc her disguising Achilles as a girl and hiding him on Scyros is made to be more about getting him away from Patroclus than trying to save her son from his prophesied doom in the Trojan War) until she sees how much they loooove each other and I think helps Patroclus' spirit get to the afterlife or something in the end?

-This is more of a personal taste gripe but it has that writing style I loathe where the prose feels less like a story and more like an attempt to string together Deep Beautiful Hard Hitting Poetic Lines that will look great as excerpts on booktok (might predate booktok but same vibe). It's all very Pretty and Haunting and Deep but feels devoid of real substance.

I really like The Iliad and The Odyssey in of themselves. They're fascinating historical texts that give a window into how 8th century BC Greeks told their stories, saw their world, interpreted their ancestors, etc. And genuinely I think these texts have 'good' characters, there's a lot of complexity and humanity to it.

WRT the Iliad- all of the main Achaeans are pretty fascinating, the one singular part where Briseis Gets To Talk and laments her situation is great, Achilles fantasizing that all of the Trojans AND the Achaeans die so he and Patroclus alone can have the glory of conquering Troy (wild), Achilles asking to embrace Patroclus' shade and reaching out for him but it's immaterial (and the shade being sucked back underground with a 'squeak' (the squeak kinda gets me it's disturbing and sad)), Hecuba talking about wanting to tear out Achilles' liver and eat it in a (taboo, exceptioally pointed) expression of rage and grief for his mutilation of her son's corpse, just one tiny line where the enslaved women performing ritual wailing for their dead captors are described as using it as an outlet to 'grieve for their own troubles' is heartrending, etc. A lot of grappling with anger and grief and the inevitability of death, a lot of groundwork laid for characters that could be very interesting when expanded upon in the framework of a conventional novel.

And Song Of Achilles really doesn't do much with all that. I know a lot of my gripes here are kind of just "It's different from the Iliad", I would have thought of it as mostly mediocre and forgettable rather than infuriating if it wasn't a retelling (and I DEFINITELY have strong biases here). But I think the ways in which it is different are less just a product of a retelling (of course there's going to be omissions and differences) and more a complete and utter disinterest in vast majority of its own subject matter, to the book's detriment. I think a retelling has a point when it EXPANDS on the source, or provides a NEW ANGLE to the source. This book doesn't Really do either, it just shaves off the complexity of its source material, renders the characters into a really boring archetype of a gay relationship, and gives very little else. Its content boils down to a middling tragic romance that has been inserted into the hollowed out defleshed skeleton of the Iliad.

Bottom line: I definitely would not be as mad about it if I wasn't familiar with the source material but I think it's fair to expect a retelling to Engage with/expand on its source, and I also think it's weak purely on its own merits. This book was set up to disappoint Me specifically.

[pokemonranch]

Hi! I hope that those sort of negative anons don't get you down! Your adoption events are really cool and cute and I think it's really awesome of you to do so much work for fun/for community enrichment! I appreciate all the thought and time you put into it! (no need to respond- just wanted to send some positivity your way!)

<3!

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Between Sonic and Tails, who do you think would end up confessing their feelings first?

Good question. Definitely depends upon the iteration and context, but for the most part (at least in my head) getting either of them to confess (and in some cases even ruminate on their feelings and admit to themselves the nature of them) is hard

Like, for example, I personally think that game!Sonic (and post sgw Archie Sonic and IDW Sonic) kind of take Tails' presence for granted in a way. To them, it will always be the two of them (Sonic and Tails). The ideal future is that they keep on hanging out and still fight side by side sometimes and that even if Sonic goes it alone he can always come back from his adventures to chill with Tails or crash at his place. In other words, in Sonic's fantasies of the future, things like getting married or raising families or anything like that are just kind of tacked on as something that will just kind of be true at best and ignored at worst. If he even considers a future where things are a bit different because Tails is together™ with someone, to him it's only natural that Tails would be in his life the same way and nothing would really change. And so to that end, even if Sonic DOES realize his own feelings, he probably wouldn't see any good reason to confess. It would make things more complicated, especially if Tails doesn't share those feelings, and he doesn't have to worry anyways because Tails will always prioritize the two of them and be at his side, right?

And then it's even worse for versions of Sonic more akin to, say, pre sgw Archie Sonic. This is because in addition to the already existing unwillingness to change things and the assumption that he doesn't ever have to worry about no longer being the center of Tails' world (or a major figure in it at least), there is some palpable internalized homophobia within that hedgehog with an added complexity. For Archie Sonic in particular, I think even if he realized that he wanted to even be with Tails forever in a strictly non brothers fashion, he would feel mixed feelings about that (perhaps that coming out about it would ruin things or make things weird, or that getting together with Tails at any point would deprive him of "normalcy", or that he'd pressured Tails into it, or even just weird or a bit creepy).

As for Tails, I actually think that most iterations of him have figured their feelings out by this point. In all honesty, there's only so long you can go on fixating on someone and admiring them, and structuring your life around them before you realize your "I want to be with them" isn't just about simply admiring them. It's just that Tails' main obstacle to me is the avoidance of ruining anything.

On one hand, there's Sonic's avoidance to being tied down. We've seen time and time again Sonic rejecting people who pursue him openly or looking uncomfortable with them. Archie Sonic in particular made it clear that this version of Sonic couldn't stand the idea of not being able to freely be himself or adventure. He couldn't stand the idea of having to tie himself down and taking on extra responsibilities and expectations simply because he's with someone. I can see Tails being afraid that by confessing, he could scare Sonic away. If he happened to confess and Sonic thought Tails meant to stifle him or Sonic felt uncomfortable by that open expression, wouldn't that risk their relationship? Even if Sonic wouldn't go so far as to drop him as a best friend (which he never would do that for the record), there's still real fear in making things weird or different between himself and Sonic.

And that feeds right into the other hand. On the other hand, Sonic probably doesn't see him that way, right? Though Sonic is special to him and Sonic also cares for him back, at best Sonic has never thought about it and never will, or he just wouldn't feel the same (in Tails' eyes). With Archie Tails in particular, even if Tails gets over his own interlized homophobia about it and recognizes his feelings for what they are, he probably feels that there's no way to be anything different than a brother to Sonic, and thus confessing would be a terrible move. If Tails confesses and Sonic doesn't feel the same, it also runs the risk of making things weird between them or (in Tails' eyes) ruining it.

All this to say that my general opinion is that as long as things stay exactly the way they are forever, even if they start spending even more time together, I find it hard to believe either of the two will opt into confessing on purpose

But, with that being said, a confession is not an impossibility. I don't think either of the two are immune to being put in a position where they finally confess (and no, with the state of things for them, simply saying "I love you" will not count as a confession). And if we barred situations where like. They're literally about to die or one can do anything they like without the other (or themselves) remembering the outcome, I actually can give you an answer

And honestly, if one of them had to confess eventually, I believe it would probably end up being Sonic.

Why? Well, out of the two, Tails actually sits back and thinks about his emotions more often than not. I think even before he figured out the exact nature of his feelings he knew he felt very strongly for Sonic. But, no matter which media you're touching upon, I feel as if Tails fits into that archetype of "person who has been in love with their best friend since literally forever, but knows their best friend will never feel the same". The longer Tails ruminates on these feelings, the stronger he feels them, the more he watches Sonic (especially as someone who cares about plenty of people other than him), the more time he spends with Sonic, the less incentivized he feels to actually confess. Especially if Sonic would never feel the same, the best Tails can hope for is that things stay the same between them and Sonic never replaces his role.

Or in short, Tails is so in his head about it at this point, it's very hard to convince him that confessing is ever a good idea or necessary.

But while Tails is more obviously attached to Sonic, Sonic is much less obviously attached to Tails and other people as a whole. With him being "free as the wind" and the kind of figure he is, he kind of benefits from having the persona of a guy who doesn't need his friends but (nevertheless) can be assisted by them. He probably seems cool for being so strong and independent while equally caring that people live. But this doesn't mean Sonic doesn't have attachments (far from it). Rather, for Sonic, his attachments to others seem to naturally grow. And the more time he spends with them, the more he grows used to their presence. And especially with someone like Tails, who has been around as his companion the longest, he doesn't sit around long enough to consider that Tails would ever leave his side. Once he grows used to that person, he doesn't have to recognize his attachment or even think about the nature of his own feelings because it is and always has been whatever it is. So, in other words, even if he becomes more and more reliant on the fact that Tails will always be around or that Tails will always assist him, he doesn't have to admit more than "This is what our best friendship is. This is what it's like"

All of this is to say that while my idea of present Tails would be trying to do anything in his power to stay with Sonic (as long as Sonic is willing of course), even if that means never confessing the exact nature of his feelings for the hedgehog, Sonic isn't already thinking about these things. This means that while Tails has very few pathways to confession, Sonic has plenty!...if you scare him well enough.

For example, Idw Sonic has been more clearly spending more time with Tails (even baseline just. Crashing at his place more often) after the metal virus arc. Couple this with post neo metal incident 2 electric boogaloo idw Sonic who just wants to have a break and live peacefully for a minute, this is a Sonic who has become scared enough to want to indulge in spending more time with Tails. I also think that post Sonic Prime Sonic is also a version of him who would start to spend more time with Tails than before after having already lost him and having to deal with the Tails shaped hole in his life once.

So, if you got a Sonic to the point where he'd fully accepted his feelings and he felt like confessing them would be necessary to secure the future he wants, then he'd confess. Honestly, the easiest way I'd see this going about would be a story where Tails is framed as leaving him to go do something or be somewhere else, away for Sonic, possibly indefinitely, or if Sonic actually has to spend enough time without Tails after initially telling himself his own feelings wouldn't matter so long as Tails is happy wherever he is. But, if it came down to confessing being something that might actually bring Sonic to his desired future (especially if Tails rejecting him is no different from prolonging the separation they already have if he says nothing), then I think he could work up the courage to do it.

And in the end...I think it has to be Sonic. Although I on occasion enjoy fantasizing about moments where Tails can't take it anymore and confesses, only for Sonic to realize his own feelings in the process, I think that Sonic would have to be the one who confesses his feelings/wishes for the future for Tails to even believe that his pipe dreams are a possibility. I think it's Sonic who would need to pull Tails out of his head, because the probability that Tails works up the courage to confess is more unlikely.

So...yeah. In my head, Sonic is driven to a point where he confesses and pulls Tails out of his head about it.

[abyssal-ilk]

you dont know how happy it makes me to read so much vivienne meta of someone who fucking gets her, bless you

and you don't know how happy it made me to see this ask!! vivienne is my all-time favorite dragon age character, and it always makes me extremely happy to see and talk to other people who also enjoy her. thank you sm for the kind words!!

[a2zillustration]

Hello! I just want to say that I'm absolutely in love with the way you draw these faces. Especially the smug ones. Have a nice day!

LOL thank you so much for putting together a collection, it's great to see all my unhinged expressions in one place. I can't remember if I mentioned this before, but when I started this project, I intended to specifically work on drawing expressions, so I'm glad people are enjoying them!