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[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Archetypes trademark application REJECTED for Spotify podcast.

Surely Meghan & Harry knew about the (2015) Arizonian wellness firm: Archetypes LLC

Audio Producer Farrah Safari actually interviewed Allison Yarrow NOT Meghan Markle

F*ing Grifters

Podcast plummeted & barely holds a ranking

Attorneys requested an extension

[mel0dicblue]

[thepatentexperts]

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[nationallawreview]

Trademark Insights: What the First Precedential TTAB Expungement Decision Means for You

As a trademark applicant, encountering a prior registration that obstructs your path to registration is never a pleasant experience (nor for your attorneys who have to inform you about it). The frustration only intensifies when it becomes evident that the registered mark has never been used for the specified goods or services. Until 2021, the sole recourse with the USPTO to address this issue was…

[averyisnotpresent]

disclosure: chapter one

masterlist

pazzi (paige bueckers x azzi fudd)

tw: mentions of divorce, light swearing

themes: introduction, fluff

word count: 4k

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

flashback june 2017

Azzi’s heart pounds in her little 14 year old chest as she ties the laces on her basketball shoes and pulls a practice jersey over her curly hair. The quiet of the basketball gym feels more intimidating than if it had been loud, the silence sending a chill through the air.

Azzi fidgets with the curls loose at the bottom of her french braids as the coaches of the U16 USA team start to pair her and the other girls trying out into duos for shooting drills. Her heart continues to pound as the brunette coach, Carla, in front of her reads out the two names “Azzi Fudd and Paige Bueckers” off of her clipboard.

Azzi removes her focus from the ends of her hair to the gaggle of girls encircling her, searching for the blonde whose presence can’t be ignored considering how well known she is in the basketball world, even at 15. After making her way around the misshaped clump, she finds Paige and her piercing blue eyes, seemingly doing the same thing she is. Paige flashes her a small side side, the words ‘I’m nervous too’ conveyed through the small gesture.

After listening to Carla finish her list of pairs, Azzi slowly makes her way over to Paige, who gets taller by each passing step. Azzi is one of the very few rising sophomores trying out, and while it might be the nerves of the tryouts, everyone seems to tower over her frame.

Azzi meets Paige at one of the many basketball hoops around the vast gym, opting for the one not too close to the coaches and their sharp eyes. Despite Paige’s calm and collected front, her heart matches Azzi’s in tempo, her nerves not any more calmed than the brunette’s.

“You’re Azzi?” Paige points at the curly head to clarify, the basketball she had been dribbling slipped under her elbow. Azzi nods and smiles, flashing Paige her trademark dimples sunken deep into her cheeks. Paige’s cheeks slightly flush at the grin from the younger girl, swiftly grabbing the basketball from under her arm and passing it to Azzi.

“You wanna shoot first, freshie?” Paige teases, already making her way under the net to catch Azzi’s rebounds. Paige, like most of the updated world, knew of Azzi’s sharp shooting skills, especially from behind the three point line. She can’t help but be slightly intimidated by the brunette, and also slightly embarrassed by the fact that she might lose a spot to someone a year younger than her.

“I’ll be a sophomore in around two months, for your information.” Azzi argues back, fighting a grin from her face. “But yeah, I’ll shoot.”

Azzi starts on the left corner, dribbling once before letting the orange ball fly from her fingertips, swishing through the hoop effortlessly. Paige quickly grabs the rebound and passes the ball back to Azzi, who’s moved to a spot between the corner and the high point of the arc. She once more shoots effortlessly, making another three. She continues on the other three spots, making all but the final one. She moves a foot or two closer to midrange, where she makes all five shots like it’s the easiest thing she’s attempted. Finally she moves even closer to the hoop and shoots four layups, missing both on the left and making the two on the right.

“Not bad.” Paige’s lips curl into a wonky line, as if she’s trying to hide her look of awe towards her shooting partner. “Not sure if I can beat you on those midranges.”

“Let’s see it.” Azzi nods, high fiving Paige after switching spots with her and getting comfortable under the net. Paige repeats the same drill as Azzi, making three of the perimeter shots, all of the midranges, and all four layups. Paige makes the final layup and lets her mouth grow into a prideful smirk.

“Can’t beat you on the threes, but I crushed you on the layups.” Paige jokes, switching positions once more while Azzi begins her walk to the corner. Paige watches in partial disbelief as Azzi makes all of her threes, all of the midranges, but still misses both of the left side layups.

“You’re hesitating.” Paige blurts as Azzi misses the final shot.

“Hmm?” Azzi gets closer to the blonde, wanting to hear her corrections.

“You seem confident on the right, but start to second guess yourself on the left. Your legs get tangled beneath you ‘cuz you’re pausing. Your legs pop off at the right time, but your hips turn too late.” Azzi looks at Paige with pure confusion, her head lolling to the side as she tries to imagine how her layups look.

“Here, go for a layup.” Paige offers, noticing the skepticism from Azzi. Azzi walks back a few steps back from the hoop as Paige positions herself still close to the net, but more on the outside. Azzi runs forward with the ball, dribbling once and pressing her legs into the ground. As she begins to lift, Paige quickly shoots out her hand to Azzi’s left hip, pushing it closer to the right side, turning her body. The ball goes in without rolling around, just a clean swish.

Azzi comes down from her shot in shambles, both shocked at how easily Paige was able to fix her mistake, but slightly discombobulated from the touch from the taller girl.

“Do you feel the difference when your hips go with the right timing?” Paige asks casually, chasing after the rolling ball on the squeaky gym floor. Azzi watches intently as the blonde runs after the ball, her thin frame moving with urgency and her body glistening with a thin layer of excursion.

Still slightly off guard, Azzi manages a “yeah, that felt a lot better” back, earning her a genuine smile from the blonde.

“Now if you can tell me how to make a three 90% of the time, that’d be greatly appreciated.” Paige jokes before walking to the corner and restarting the drill.

As tryouts continue, Azzi and Paige grow to be fast friends, quick to find each other during water breaks and quiet moments. Any drill done in pairs of two, the girls practically run to each other and the hoop that they’ve claimed ‘their own’.

Once the day concludes, the sweaty group of girls run like wild animals to the locker rooms and showers. All of the basketball players rapidly rid themselves of their sticky practice jerseys and start trying to call dibs on who gets to shower first.

Aliyah Boston, one of the oldest of the group, stands up from one of the locker room benches to declare that seniority determines showering order. After a long debate of when people’s birthdays are, five girls head to the showers. Azzi, the runt of the group grabs her phone from her bag, knowing she’ll likely be waiting for a while before she gets to cleanse herself of the day.

Paige, who has now stripped herself of her jersey and undershirt, leaving her in a Nike sports bra, finds her way over to Azzi’s bench, sitting down next to the brunette who seems to be busied with texting. “Zia, Sam, and Aliyah are all gonna take their sweet time.” Paige starts, finally getting the attention of Azzi.

“Didn’t you guys just agree that you’re the fifth oldest here? Why aren’t you showering?” Azzi ponders aloud, setting her phone back into her bag and turning her full focus towards Paige.

“Yeah, but I ‘on want you to be waiting out here with no one to talk to. Plus, I know nothing about you besides your insane three point percentage.” Paige jokes, trying to break the awkwardness. She can tell Azzi is surprised by her gesture, but slightly amused, and definitely not opposed.

“What do you wanna know? I’m an open book, Bueckers.” Azzi claims, leaning back into her seat and letting her legs spread a little, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Paige. Paige feels the barely visible hairs on the skin covering her abs stand up, the curly head making her unintentionally shiver a little.

“What do you do when you’re not dropping 50 on your opponents?” Paige offers as a starting question, racking her brain for easy questions to ask.

“I don’t know, basketball’s kinda my life. I like to read, I guess. I just finished the last book of ‘The Summer I Turned Pretty’”. Azzi begins, “and I have two pretty crazy brothers, so I can always count on them for some entertainment.” Paige chuckles lightly at Azzi’s joke, her herself knowing how much work siblings can be. “What about you?”

“You saying that has made me realize that I don’t think I’ve even picked up a book in like three years.” Paige jokes, trying to remember when the last time she read a book was.

“What about books for school? Do they not make you read for English?” Azzi inquires, interested, but not surprised that Paige isn’t a reader.

“Spark Notes is my best friend.” Paige shrugs. “Freshman year when we read ‘Outsiders’ I never even picked up my copy.”

“And how well did you do in that class?” Azzi teases, either ignoring or just not hearing the buzzing of her phone in her bag. She’s committed to focusing on her conversation with Paige.

“I ended with an A- thank you very much. But I get the brothers thing. My brother Drew is only two and he takes up all of my dad’s time.”

“Not your mom’s?” Azzi asks curiously.

“Child of divorce.” Paige nods, feeling the sympathy smile on Azzi’s face emerging before it even begins to form. “I was pretty young, but they both remarried and are happy. No need for the awkward conversation you were about to start.” Paige laughs quietly at her own joke, silence quickly filling her and Azzi’s questionnaire.

“You’re the oldest, then?”

Paige nods before beginning her explanation. As Paige starts to describe her familial situation, the details seem to fade into the background of Azzi’s comprehension level as she drinks in the picture of the blonde in front of her. Her soft ab lines pop out in between the black sports bra and navy basketball shorts she’s wearing. She looks disheveled, but in a good way, and in a way that Azzi can’t help but admit is attractive.

The way she talks so naturally with someone she only met a few hours ago seems like second nature to Paige, an air of nonchalance and coolness glazing over her. Azzi can tell by the way Paige talks that she’s confident in herself, in her playing ability and her charm, but not in a bothersome way. In the way that makes you want to get to know her more and listen intently: which Azzi is not doing. She’s distracted by the way Paige is leaned against the painted brick wall, her legs spread wide and carefree.

Paige, after a few sentences of her story, notices Azzi’s lack of attention and interrupts herself. “You good there, freshie?” Paige asks, swallowing the mischievous smile that wants to appear on her face, flattered by the way Azzi is sizing her up and down.

Azzi swallows hard and diverts her gaze from Paige’s legs back up to her face. Her attempt to focus fails once more as she begins to melt into Paige’s soft, yet sharp blue eyes. They stare deep into Azzi’s brown ones, as if she’s truly and wholly interested in their conversation and what Azzi has to say.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, what were you saying?” Azzi asks, not even trying to cover her lack of perceptiveness of their exchange.

“Nothing important, just family stuff. You’re from Virginia right?” Paige begins, shifting the conversation topic to something that Azzi would have to participate in.

“Yeah,” Azzi starts, slightly surprised that Paige knows that. “Who told you that?”

“Instagram.” Paige admits, a shy smile creeping on her face and her confidence seeming to dim. “I might’ve gone on a little stalking spree in the car ride here.”

“It’s okay, so did I. I could probably tell you everyone’s hometown off the top of my head right now.”

“Are you challenging me right now, freshie?” Paige taunts, half joking and half serious.

“Hmm,” Azzi hums, “sounds like I am.”

Paige chuckles, searching the room for a player she thinks could stump Azzi. “Caitlin.”

“Easy.” Azzi scoffs. “West Des Moines, Iowa.” She pauses, thinking of a name she could give Paige. “Where’s Kylee from?”

“Linwood, New Jersey. Gotta scope out my competition within the fake blondes.” Paige shrugs, eliciting a loud laugh from Azzi. “There’s no way you’re getting this one. Celeste.”

“Funny you think I’d forget, she’s from Elmont, New York.”

Paige pumps her arm into the air, cheering quietly as to not disturb those in the locker room also waiting for the showers. “Valley Stream.” Paige corrects.

“No way, I know I’m right.” Azzi argues, determined to not lose their made up game.

“Celeste!” Paige calls to the dark haired girl from across the room, trying to grab her attention.

“What’s up?” Celeste cranes her neck up to look at Paige, slightly surprised that she’s talking to her.

“Where are you from?” Celeste looks at Paige weirdly, understandably so considering this was the first conversation between the two girls.

“Um, Valley Stream, New York. Can I as-” Paige cuts Celeste off with her cheers, which this time can be heard throughout the locker room.

Celeste continues to watch Paige and Azzi with confusion, unsure of what she’s done to make Paige so excited and Azzi like she’s just been ripped of her happiness.

“Oh c’mon, Paige. Gimme a rematch.” Azzi whines, not wanting to admit to her loss.

“Nah, I think I’m good over here. The crown has been given to me and I’m not giving it up.” Paige brags, causing Azzi to dramatically roll her eyes and scoff.

“Yo, someone can shower now, I’m done.” The group of unwashed girls in the locker room hear from Zia, who comes out of the shower in a towel and her braids thrown into a messy bun.

“Go.” Paige nods towards Azzi. “Before you have to beat up Celeste and she’ll think we’re even weirder than she already does.”

“I’m the youngest here, Paige. It’s your turn.” Azzi disagrees, slumping in her seat, not wanting to be unfair to the others.

“Seriously freshie, just go shower. You stink anyways.” Paige jokes, gripping Azzi’s bicep tightly and pushing her closer to the showers. Paige is honestly quite shocked when she feels her claws not able to make a full circle around Azzi’s arm, her biceps strong and much more muscular than hers.

“See you tomorrow?” Azzi offers up.

“See you tomorrow, freshie.” Paige nods, a smile growing on her face that she’s quick to cover up with the back of her hand.

------

present day june 2021

Paige has the Find My iPhone app up on her purple phone, watching Azzi’s icon get closer and closer to UConn campus, Paige gaining more nerves and more excitement as she does.

As the icon gets within centimeters from where Paige is on the screen, Paige runs to the glass doors, pushing them open with urgency as she strides out to wait for her best friend, and now teammate.

She watches as Azzi slowly gets out of her mother Katie's grey car and starts to pile bags onto various parts of her body. Paige chuckles to herself at Azzi’s obliviousness to her presence. Paige leans against a pole outside of the dorm building, her hands in her pockets to keep from fidgeting.

Her heart pounds inside of her chest, much like it did when her and Azzi first met. She can’t understand why she’s so nervous to see her best friend. I mean, it has been since last summer.

Azzi finally turns around, duffels packed onto her arms and a backpack swung over her back which all immediately fall to the ground once she sees Paige.

“Paige!” Azzi exclaims, running to the blonde girl who looks just like she remembers her, not changed one bit. Azzi runs into Paige’s wide spread arms, falling into her grasp before getting spun around by the older girl.

“Hey, freshie.” Paige grins, her face already hurting from smiling too much. The familiar nickname sends Azzi a shiver, reminding her of their first time meeting and how easily the pair connected.

“Hey, you can finally call me that when I’m actually a freshman.” Azzi laughs, smelling in the familiar fresh scent of Paige. Paige's head falls onto Azzi’s shoulder, as it always does when she hugs someone shorter than her, nevermind the fact that Azzi was only an inch below the older girl. Paige still made sure to remind Azzi constantly.

“I missed you so much.” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, a wave of hair standing up as Paige’s lips brush Azzi’s neck. “I can’t believe it’s been almost a year, Az.” Paige looks like she might nearly cry, so grateful that she’s been reunited with her best friend after a year of accomplishments for Paige and a year of impatience for Azzi.

Paige had an amazing freshman year, undoubtedly being UConn’s best player while also in the conversation for best player of the year. She’s been waiting for what feels like forever for the ESPY award ceremony where she finds out if she'll make history as first freshman to ever win National Player of the Year. 

Azzi was a star for her high school team, starting the season with countless offers from amazing schools. After lots of convincing from Paige, including a highlight reel of her passing skills showing “how many shots Azzi would have set up for her” Azzi finally committed to UConn.

Paige burst into tears when Azzi told her she had committed, almost not believing the brunette and having to go to the bathroom of the restaurant they were at to wipe the running mascara from her face.

“Don’t cry before we’ve even gotten inside, P.” Azzi giggles, “You’re such a softy.” Paige quickly retracts from the hug, trying to slickly wipe the few tears that are rolling down her face, the action seen clearly by Azzi, despite the poor attempt to hide it.

“I am not soft!” Paige argues, scoffing at Azzi’s insult.

Azzi begins to argue back before the glass doors behind them slam open and a gust of wind nearly pushes the two girls over.

“Azzi’s here!” Nika Mühl, a rising sophomore on the team is making her way over to the two girls, her Croatian accent thick and her brunette hair slicked back into a tight ponytail. Nika pulls the curly head into a quick hug before giving Paige a look that Azzi can’t understand the meaning of.

“Hey Nika.” Azzi greets shyly, only having met the Croatian once during her official visit.

“We have been waiting all year for you, Azzi. We need your threes and to be honest, Paige over here is an awful player. They’re thinking of kicking her off the team.” Nika jokes, leaning in and whispering the last part to Azzi.

“Alright, alright, very funny Nika. Should I show Azzi the clip of you trying to pass the ball to one of the refs?” Paige teases back, pushing Nika nearly into the post behind them.

“Anyways,” Nika starts, shifting the conversation topic away from her embarrassing moment and back towards Azzi. “Caroline and Amari and on the couch, they moved their stuff in yesterday, so you either got the worst or best room in the dorm.”

Azzi nods along, her focus only slightly on Nika’s instruction, but mainly on Paige. The way the blonde seems to fit in here so perfectly intimidates her, making her worried that maybe she won’t be able to be the same.

Paige takes notice of this, reaching down to squeeze Azzi’s hand, their fingers quickly interlocking before separating. “You’re gonna be fine, Az. I promise, they’ll love you.” Paige whispers, nearly inaudible to Azzi, but still heard, the gesture not going unappreciated.

“Thanks, P.”

As Azzi, Paige, and Nika make their way back inside, Caroline launches up from the couch, nearly tackling Azzi to the ground when she wraps her into a tight hug.

“Hey, Carol.” Azzi giggles with wavering breaths, trying to find air within Caroline’s skin tight grasp. Paige and Nika watch from afar, Nika smiling at the sweet interaction and Paige with a slight snarl. Let her say hello to her best friend for a minute or two, Caroline, why don’t you?

Nika elbows Paige in the side, Paige’s hand rushing down to clutch her side in pain. “Little tip,” Nika starts, not making eye contact with Paige, simply looking forward and watching the picture in front of her. “Look a little bit less like you’re being tortured. You can talk to her in like two minutes.”

“What?” Paige cranes her head to Nika, her face guilty and confused simultaneously. Paige continues watching Caroline and Azzi catch up, as well as Amari and Azzi meet. It’s not that she's jealous of Caroline for being friends with Azzi, Azzi, of course, is allowed to be friends with anyone she wants, and she has known Carol longer than Paige, but they see each other much more than Paige and Azzi see each other. They’re acting like they’ve been lost at sea from each other for years, when Paige knows damn well that they saw each other last month.

“Amari and I would show you our dorm, but we both have counselor meetings. I was waiting for you to get here, but I’m almost late. I’ll give P the key and she can take you.” Caroline starts and then turns her body towards Paige. “You know where our dorm is, right?”

Paige silently thanks the universe for whomever scheduled those counselor appointments and nods to Caroline as an answer to her question. Caroline throws Paige her keys, which Paige catches swiftly in one hand and stashes in the pockets of her sweatpants.

“You ready to go, freshie?” Paige smiles towards the curly head, shortening the distance between them and tapping her on the hip.

“I’m expecting a very professional tour.” Azzi jokes, slapping Paige on the arm and holding out her palm to grab the keys from her. Paige reluctantly hands Azzi the keys from her pockets and rolls her eyes at Azzi’s aggression.

“Nika, you wanna come?” Azzi offers, earning her a smirk from Nika directed towards Paige.

“Nah, I’m waiting for Dorka, the senior transfer. You go ahead, Az.” Nika smiles softly while laughing to herself. Why? - Neither Paige nor Azzi can understand.

Paige and Azzi silently start their long journey to the elevator of their dorm building, Azzi’s stuff brought inside by her parents are hanging, mainly, on Paige’s shoulders and the remaining on Azzi’s. “You don’t have to carry those, P.” Azzi smiles.

“I’ve been ordered by gramps to welcome the freshman.” Paige sarcastically grumbles. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t told to.” Paige keeps her angry face for a few moments before she and Azzi both burst into laughter as the elevator finally opens and they step inside.

“I can’t believe we’re finally on the same team again. It’s been too long.” Azzi states, almost longingly for old times. Reminiscent on how easy and simple and fun basketball once was.

“I’d be kicking your ass if you went anywhere else, so be thankful.” Paige starts before taking a deep breath and getting more sentimental. “I’m glad you’re here though. I don’t think I could’ve taken us being on different teams.”

“One of us probably would have ended up transferring by the end of the year.” Azzi jokes.

“Or ejected from games with techs against each other.” Paige chimes in.

“God, I missed you.”

a/n: have had this sitting in the drafts for a while and decided to post with the sadness of the ban lol. please please please leave suggestions or requests for this story, because the more you guys request, the more likely i am to write! i will try to use/be inspired by all requests!! :)

[ghostf4cesbitch]

all mine // ethan landry

heyy this is the first time i'm writing fanfic in a while so pls be nice :0 open to requests :]

warnings: 18+ minors dni, slightly jealous!ethan, corn with plot, degregation, light praise, not proofread word count: 2.7k

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

"havin' a good time?" some blond mama's boy says to you.

"could be better," you say.

ethan dragged you to this stupid party with stupid frat boys who reek of bud light. he'd said chad was really excited about it and that he had to be there to hype him up before he tries to kiss tara for the first time. the tension between the two of them was starting to get unbearable for everyone else so of course you said you'd come, but that was before you knew your boyfriend would be spending all of his time with his boyfriend.

you're not super clingy, and you love that ethan has a friend that helps him break out of his comfort zone, but jesus christ he's barely said five words to you since you got here. they've been nose deep in beer pong since they spotted the table.

"any way i can help with that?" the blond boy says.

you look at him and contemplate for a moment. ever since you and ethan started dating you hadn't stricken up a conversation with a boy unless you needed to. not because he got jealous or anything, you just simply didn't want to. why even speak a word to anyone else when he's all you could ever ask for?

"do you know if there's a secret stash anywhere?" you tap your hand on the keg in front of you. "it's kicked."

although ethan didn't get jealous easily, he was extremely possessive. you recognized this early on in your relationship, how his grip on your hand would tighten a little if another guy started talking to you, the way he'd pull you in closer if he noticed some creep's eyes on you walking down the street. it sent a shiver straight through your spine every time. you're his, and he makes sure everybody knows it.

which is the only reason you're giving this frat bro your time. you know there's a cooler hidden in the corner of the room your boyfriend just so happens to be playing beer pong in.

blond boy leans down and says, "follow me," into your ear, at which you try not to grimace. you let him take your hand and guide you through the crowd of sweaty teenagers, the cheers from the room you're walking towards somehow still audible over the booming speakers playing trademark usa.

as soon as you enter the room your eyes scan for a mop of curly hair. sure enough, he's standing at the table with chad, giving him a high five and saying something you couldn't quite make out. blond boy tugs on your arm a little harder to pull you down to the cooler. he opens it and does a voila motion with his hands.

"take your pick," he says, watching you as he grabs one himself.

you grab a Mike's and shut the cooler, looking back at him. "thanks," you say. "i think i was starting to sober up."

he smiles at you. "no time for that."

he cracks open his drink and motions for you to do the same, so you do. you take a long drink, thankful for the fruity flavors after basically drinking hard liquor all night.

blond boy is watching you as you come back up for air, then he licks his lips and you know what's coming.

"hey wanna go chill in my room for a bit? it's quieter in there." it's so typical you almost laugh out loud. frat boys put out like rabbits.

"i think i'm gonna go find my boyfriend actually," you say, pretending not to see him roll his eyes. "thanks for the drink."

you take another sip, then make your way to the ping pong table on the opposite side of the room. when you look to ethan, his eyes are already locked on you, his party boy exterior temporarily gone before he notices you walking towards him and that pretty smile falls right back onto his face.

"hey, baby," he says, kissing your forehead and immediately pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulders.

there's no sign of malice on his face, no twitch of his lip or excessive strength in his grip.

"hey," you say back with a smile. "you winning?"

"up by two," he says, gesturing to the table.

then he's just staring at you. his eyes are fluttering from one spot on your face to another. you know you're starting to blush because goddamn his gaze is intense.

"oh shit, y/n! where you been?" chad says from next to ethan.

you lean forward across ethan's chest a bit to make eye contact with your boyfriend's roommate. "around," you say. "found another cooler."

you point to the spot you came from. blond boy seems to have found his friends, dancing with a group of boys you couldn't tell the difference between in a lineup. when you look back, ethan's eyes are locked on the corner. or rather, the blond boy in the corner.

somebody else at the table grabs his attention, it's his turn to shoot. he does, and as he turns back around to do so the arm that's around your shoulders slips down to your waist, his fingers running under your shirt and digging into your skin as he pulls you closer. it doesn't hurt by any means, in fact, it feels good enough that there's a familiar flutter in your stomach.

ethan and chad win their game with a shot your boyfriend throws, kissing you on the head and calling you his lucky charm while everyone celebrates.

"i think you're just that good, babe," you say back, patting his chest. he chuckles, then turns to chad and says something in his ear.

chad's face falls as he says, "but we're on a four-time winning streak," in response.

"i know i know i'll be back later just don't lose it," you hear ethan say. they do a bro fist bump before ethan is motioning his head towards another room saying, "follow me," in your ear.

this time, instead of trying not to grimace, you're trying not to soak through your fucking underwear.

he pulls you through multiple rooms until you're standing in a dimly lit hallway where the music isn't quite so overbearing and there aren't as many people.

as soon as he can he's cornering you into a wall, pressing his soft lips against your own almost hungrily.

"i haven't seen you all night," he says, and he's still so close you can feel his lips brush against yours with every word.

"whose fault is that?" you ask teasingly, looking up at him.

"mine," he nearly whispers, seemingly so focused on your pretty face he can barely get the words out. he brushes your hair behind your ear before his hand comes to rest on your collarbone, slowly pushing up to your throat. "all mine."

he's looking at you in that way you love. when his eyes cloud over and you can basically see your name running on a loop in his mind in the reflection of his dark orbs. he's so fucking crazy for you, and it's intoxicating you more than anything you could've drank tonight.

"all yours," you say while staring into his eyes like you know he loves.

his grip around your throat tightens as he kisses you again. you couldn't focus on anything else if you wanted to. your hearing becomes clouded from your arousal because his hand feels so good there and his teeth start tugging at your bottom lip and oh my god he's pressing a knee up your skirt.

"e," you whine against his lips, running a hand down his arm. almost immediately he's grabbing it and muttering a fuck under his breath, pulling you through the nearest open door and shutting it behind you.

it's barely a second before his lips are back on yours and he's picking you up to set you on the sink of the bathroom you wandered into. your legs are spread open on either side of his and you can feel his bulge pressing into your underwear.

you moan into his mouth, apparently prompting him to pull you even closer. the friction nearly kills you.

one thing about ethan - he understands the necessity of foreplay. the man is a god at giving you just the right amount of attention throughout the day to make you lose your fucking mind when his hands finally have free reign.

which is why with just a little friction you're bucking your hips and whining, needing more. ethan just chuckles darkly, he knows what a mess he makes you and loves watching you fall apart because of him.

"ask nicely," he taunts, looking down at you.

you roll your eyes, an action he mocks. he heaves a big sigh as he does so, cramming two fingers under your panties and into your soaking cunt.

"such a fucking brat," he growls as you open your mouth to moan. his other hand makes its swift way up to cover your mouth before any sound can escape.

a deep moan vibrates on his palm and his eyes damn near start sparkling.

you mumble something against his hand, which he then moves, giving you a quiet, "hm?"

"please," you say.

it's light work, you know he won't accept it. but god you just love when he has to drag it out of you.

"please what, bitch?"

you swear you can feel yourself clench around his fingers when he says that. a lot of the sex you guys have is pretty vanilla and lovey-dovey. ethan loves going slow and deep inside you while making you look at him as he tells you everything he loves about you. but every once in a while, usually when you're both so needy you're practically drooling, this dominance flows out of him that you eat the fuck up.

he tilts your chin up to look at him and perks his eyebrows up ever so slightly. "more, e, please," you say, wrapping a hand around his wrist and trying to get him to move.

he just laughs at you.

"so desperate," he says as he curls his fingers inside you, the bare minimum amount of movement making you writhe with need. "and yet you can't even ask for it."

he pulls his fingers out, leaving your cunt clenching around nothing. as you're opening your mouth to whine he shoves his damp fingers in, making you taste yourself as he locks eyes with you.

he slaps your clit once, twice, then his fingers are back inside you, pumping hard as he rubs back and forth on your clit with his thumb. you're moaning to no avail as his fingers stop any sound from escaping.

you can truly never get enough of him.

and he knows this. he feels the same way. which is how he knows when he pulls his fingers out of your mouth that you're gonna give him what he wants.

"please fuck me, ethan, please," you whine, giving him a pleading stare. "need your cock inside me so bad."

he pulls his other fingers out of you, making you whimper.

"need you to ruin me," you say breathlessly.

ethan pecks your lips. "was that so hard?" he asks, a smirk growing on his face as he kisses you again, this time deeply as your hands make their way to his belt that your fingers make quick work of. his pants are coming down and then one of his arms is snaking around your back as your grip finds its way around his shaft.

he lets out a breath of release as you work your wrist the way he likes it.

"i want it in my mouth," you say in his ear.

he whimpers (fucking whimpers) and looks at you, his pupils dilated so much so they may as well cover his whole iris.

"next time, baby," he says as he steps closer, lining himself up at your entrance. you're gasping just at the feeling of his tip. "need your tight little pussy right now."

god he has a filthy mouth for such an innocent-looking boy. the contrast of his sweet voice saying such lewd things is enough to make you cum all on its own.

and you swear you might as he pushes into you, tightening his grip around your back when it starts to arch slightly. he's watching you the whole time, he loves studying every little reaction you have to what he does.

It’s why he knows how to make you feel so good.

he shoves himself into you, not caring about how much noise you make now. and fuck do you make noise.

your moans are filling the bathroom because immediately he’s fucking you like he hasn’t been touched in weeks. it’s almost desperate, the speed at which his hips are moving to stretch you out.

“nobody else will ever be able to make you feel like I do, y/n,” he says, grabbing your face and forcing you to make eye contact with him.

then he stops, and suddenly he’s pulling you off the sink and turning your around to bend you over it. he grabs your hair, pulling your head up a little so he can’t taunt in your ear, “I just want you remember that next time you ask anybody but me to get you another drink.”

then he’s fucking you again, deeper this time. your legs are shaking from how badly you want him because even though he’s inside you it can just never be enough. he really does fuck you the best out of anyone you’ve met. he’s so attentive to what you like, something you’re not used to.

you’re a mess, to say the least. there’s no use in trying to keep your mouth shut or be more quiet. you never can contain yourself around him. 

“pussy’s so pretty swallowing my dick, baby.”

especially when he says shit like that jesus christ. 

“so fucking pretty,” he says, letting go of your hair and leaning back to slap your ass. 

His hands grip your hips, helping him fuck you even harder. you look back and see ethan biting his lip, then letting it go and moaning as he watches himself slide in and out of you. 

he glances up and meets your gaze, your desperate little gaze with your mouth gaping open as you moan just waiting for something to fill it up. ethan leans forward and frees a hand to grab your throat, positioning himself above you. he spits in your mouth and lightly slaps your throat, indicating for you to swallow it. 

you do, and then you stick your tongue out for him to see. he groans and hits your face, muttering, “such a fucking whore.” 

you look back up at him, smiling as you say, “just for you.”

something flickers in his eyes and he gives you a slight smile back. 

“that’s my girl,” he says as his hand once again leaves your throat and slips into your hair, pulling you back so you’re nearly standing with him. his other hand moves to your clit where he starts rubbing back and forth. 

“fuck, e,” you whine, the over stimulation tightening the knot in your stomach to nearly explode. “fuck ‘m gonna cum.”

“yes, baby, cum all over my cock like the dirty little slut you are.” 

that’s all it takes to tip you over the edge. your orgasm shoots through you in waves as ethan mutters “good girl” in your ear and you feel your cunt tighten around his throbbing cock that starts leaking from the feeling not even seconds later. 

then he's groaning in your ear as he shoots his load into you and oh my god you could listen to him make these slutty noises forever.

you’re both sweaty and writhing riding out your highs, pulling each other close to feel as much of each other possible. ethan starts leaving a trail of kisses on your neck as your legs begin to slow down on the shaking. 

You know if you were home right now he’d be pulling you into him on a bed, wrapping his arms around you and giving you kisses everywhere he can reach while he tells you how much he loves you. you’re a sucker for aftercare and he’s become a pro at it. 

for now though, in a dirty frat bathroom, he settles for turning you around to kiss you on every inch of your face, muttering a soft "i love you" between each one.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

With the understanding that I claim no expertise in indigenous North American histories, after having explored two museums in the Quebec City region, I notice that the interpretation is much more strident than anything I’ve seen in the States.

Lots of active word choices about what Europeans did to indigenous communities, and the intergenerational trauma which exists as a result. Little passive word choice, and little of that trademark USA BUT WE PROSPERED NONETHELESS speech that all minorities seem obliged to use in their interpretations of their own histories.

Just some observations.

[50calmadeuce]

The Introduction(R)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it give you happy thoughts.

Your best friend, Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, had recently wrapped up an important training mission and had been bombarding you with texts and voicemails, urging you to visit her in Fightertown, USA.

Phoenix joined the Navy straight out of high school a decade ago, becoming one of the first top female fighter pilots and earning the prestigious honor of being selected for Top Gun.

You, however, took a different path, opting to attend college, pursue a Doctorate in Biology, and work for the Department of Natural Resources in Upper Wisconsin.

With some vacation time to spare, you had booked a flight to San Diego. Phoenix picked you up from the airport, and you were now staying at her place.

Currently, the two of you stood outside a beachside bar. You glanced at the name above the door, then turned to Phoenix with a curious look.

“You’re going to love this place,” Phoenix declares, tugging at your reluctant arm as you hesitate at the entrance.

You give her a skeptical look. “The Hard Deck? Seriously? You’ve mentioned it before, but come on—is it really that great?”

Phoenix flashes a grin, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “Trust me.”

You let out a resigned sigh. “I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve said that to me over the years. You owe me for this,” you reply as she pushes the door open and tugs you inside. She knows all too well that bars aren’t exactly your scene. Especially after the last time you were at a bar.

The bar buzzed with energy, filled with men and women in flight suits, khaki uniforms, and casual attire like your own.

“The guys are over by the pool table. Let’s go,” Phoenix says, grabbing your hand. You follow her, albeit with some reluctance, weaving through the lively crowd.

As you weave through the crowded bar, that’s when you see him. He’s leaning over the pool table, focused on lining up his next shot. With a smooth motion, he takes it, the sound of the ball sinking into the pocket cutting through the chatter around you. Straightening up, he glances your way and flashes a grin at you and Phoenix.

He stood around six feet tall, with dirty blonde hair and green eyes that sparkled with a hint of mischief to match his grin.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Phoenix,” he says, his grin widening as his mischievous green eyes shift to you. “And who might your friend be?”

You noticed a faint accent in his voice, though you couldn’t quite place where it was from.

“Y/N, meet Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin,” Phoenix says, crossing her arms over her chest with a hint of pride. “The only pilot in my squad with two confirmed kills.”

“Stop,” he says with a hint of arrogance, then turns his attention to you. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he adds, giving you a playful wink.

You raise an eyebrow at Jake, your gaze shifting between him and Phoenix. You hadn’t missed the way Phoenix’s eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and amusement. You weren’t sure what to make of the man just yet—his cocky grin, confident posture, and the reputation that preceded him were a lot to take in all at once.

"Two confirmed kills, huh?" you ask, your tone playful but with just enough challenge to make him raise an eyebrow.

"Don’t let Phoenix overstate things," Jake says with a grin, leaning back against the pool table. "I’m just doing my job. Nothing special about it."

You weren’t convinced. The way he said it made it sound like he was all too comfortable with his reputation.

"I bet you’re real modest, too," you quip, crossing your arms and leaning against the edge of the pool table. You glanced at Phoenix, who was already grinning, clearly entertained by your banter.

Jake laughs, the sound warm but a little dangerous. "You catch on fast," he says, his green eyes gleaming. "But I’ll let you in on a secret—modesty’s for people who haven’t seen the inside of a cockpit." His gaze shifts back to Phoenix, and his grin softens just a little. "Besides, I’ve got plenty of other things to brag about."

Phoenix rolls her eyes, but there's an underlying affection in her expression. "He’s full of it. You’ll see for yourself."

You were beginning to sense there was more to Jake than his bravado. As he casually adjusted his khaki shirt to get comfortable to make his next shot on the pool table, you noticed the faint lines of exhaustion around his eyes, the slight tension in his shoulders. The cocky exterior was just that—an exterior.

He leaned over the table, pool cue in hand, carefully lining it up with the ball for his next shot. After taking it, he stood up and glanced at you. “Do you play pool, Y/N?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms as you surveyed the table. “I’ve played a few rounds in my day,” you replied casually, though you had to admit, you weren't much of a pool shark. Still, you weren't about to let him think you'd back down without a challenge. "But I wouldn't call myself a pro."

Jake's grin widened, that mischievous glint still dancing in his eyes. "No one’s a pro until they’ve played me," he said with a wink. "How about a game? I could use a warm-up before I show these guys how it’s done."

You hesitated for a moment, the competitive spark igniting within you. "Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when you lose," you teased, stepping toward the table.

He chuckled, leaning the pool cue against the edge as he made a show of sizing you up. “I like that attitude,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes to back it up.”

Phoenix, who had been standing off to the side, crossed her arms with an amused smirk. "This is gonna be good," she muttered, clearly enjoying the banter that was unfolding between you and Jake. She watched as you both set up the game, her eyes flickering between you and Jake.

You chalked your cue, keeping your eyes on Jake as he moved to the side, letting you take the first shot. You lined up the ball with precision, taking a steady breath before taking the shot. The ball sailed smoothly, hitting one of the other balls into a corner pocket with ease. You straightened up, watching Jake's reaction out of the corner of your eye.

"Not bad," he said, nodding in approval. "Guess I’ll have to bring my A-game after all."

With that, the game began. The friendly competition between you both was palpable, though there was an undeniable spark in the air—something beyond just the game itself.

As the game progressed, you noticed Jake wasn’t just good at pool. His focus was intense, his movements fluid, almost as if he were in a different world entirely when he played. Every shot was calculated, every movement precise. It was clear he was a fighter in more ways than one.

"You're a lot better than I thought," you admitted after a particularly tricky shot that left you stumped. "I thought I might actually stand a chance."

Jake flashed a grin, leaning back as he took his turn. "I told you, I’m full of surprises," he said, eyes twinkling as he pocketed another ball. "But don’t worry. I’m just warming up."

As the game continued, the banter between you and Jake flowed easily. Phoenix watched with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Jake, despite the cocky exterior. There was a layer to him—something you couldn’t quite figure out—but it intrigued you and it scared you.

Tags: @smoothdogsgirl @alwayshave-faith @devil-angel-winchester @khouse712

[busdinessblogger]

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