#what’s missing about this is I should be the center of attention lmao

[didnt-hear-idsb-live-again]

The thing is it is the literal best thing in the world driving across the country with a group of strangers who start becoming family with incredible music blasting all the way down the freeway…….. I just don’t wanna have to do work to unlock that lmao

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

Soo about the translation for Se Telefonando you mentioned in your author's note... is it too much to ask? 👀 (and am I setting myself up for more heartbreak by sending you this?)

kdskdhk ok I'll be honest. I was waiting for someone to ask because I've actually written a full-blown literary analysis for Se Telefonando and I have to share it here. My friend, I hope you don't mind if I use your ask to share my essay :')

Let's do this: I'll write my own translation down here, and I'll add my many, many notes (both on the translation itself, and on how it relates to the fic) under a cut. You can decide for yourself if it's heartbreaking or not :)

Ready?

Here's my translation:

The wonder of the night, opened wide over the sea,

Caught us unawares while we were still strangers, you and I

Then, in the dark, your hands suddenly on mine:

It’s grown too quickly, this, our own little love

If I could tell you goodbye just by calling, I’d call you

If I was certain you wouldn’t suffer seeing me again, I’d see you again

If I could tell you to stop while looking you in the eyes, I’d look at you

But I can’t explain to you that our newborn love is already over (x2)

Notes under the cut:

Alright, just a bit of context first. Se Telefonando was written in 1966 by De Chiara and Costanzo, two notable Italian pop music and TV personalities, and arranged by the world-famous composer Ennio Morricone. It was written specifically to be sung by Mina, a legend of Italian pop music with a unique voice (who, in fact, gives a wonderful interpretation of the song!). So: big names for the lyrics, big name for the melody, big name for the singer. And it shows!

Let's take it from the top.

Lo stupore della notte spalancata sul mar

The word stupore evokes in Italian the same feeling that wonder evokes in English: something that can be child-like, a special kind of surprise that leaves you speechless. This feeling is caused by the coming of the night, spalancata [= opened wide] over the sea: the word spalancata is used when doors are opened completely and (often) suddenly. So, all in all: the night opens without warning, like a portal to another world, over the sea, and surprises the two lovers (we'll meet them in the next verse, don't worry). Quite the start, huh?

Ci sorprese che eravamo sconosciuti, io e te

The verb ci sorprese (whose subject is the aforementioned night) could be literally translated as surprised us; I preferred a caught us unawares to convey, once again, the feeling of unexpectedness and wonder that overcomes the pair. The romance the singer shares with her lover happened quickly and unexpectedly; so much so that they were still sconosciuti, strangers, when they fell in love. I love the juxtaposition in the second half of the verse, here: the singer says they were surprised by their feelings when they were still strangers, but then immediately adds io e te, that is you and I, which communicates a strong familiarity to me -- yes, we were strangers, but we were also you and I. So familiar and intimate I don't even have to use any other words: we're the only people in our whole world.

A short note on the fic: the idea of the Girls being surprised by their bond is actually canon (Dorothy says it out loud in the finale: the Girls' friendship is a gift she never expected at that point in her life). I liked the parallel with this verse -- the Girls learned to know each other (ie became you and I rather than strangers) through the lens of their quick and deep friendship, and I've always loved that. (In the particular universe of the fic they didn't properly analyze what their actual feelings were, but we'll get to that in a moment.)

Poi, nel buio, le tue mani d'improvviso sulle mie

I love the intimacy in this verse. The theme of surprise is still there (d'improvviso = suddenly), but the real gem is the figure of the lover's hands on the singer's to indicate physical intimacy. Using the hands as a shortcut to suggest a physical relation (as part of their love) makes it delicate and romantic, while still clearly conveying the intimacy of the act. It doesn't even say they hold hands, or intertwine fingers: a very simple your hands on mine is all that's necessary.

Note also that this happens nel buio [= in the dark]: here's the full uncovering of the metaphor that carried us through the first two verses, ie the night (or, more in general, the darkness) as a placeholder for the feelings that caught the pair by surprise.

È cresciuto troppo in fretta questo nostro amor

There's the first crack in the picture. We've lived in dream land until here: the coming of the night, the softness, the intimacy, the sweet (almost lullaby-like) music... but here comes the reckoning: the love between our two characters è cresciuto troppo in fretta, has grown too quickly. Before we move on to examine the consequences of this hurry in the chorus, there's one small moment of tenderness left: questo nostro amore, literally this, our love. The literal translation doesn't convey just how soft and intimate the phrasing sounds in Italian: it's a love that's specifically ours, to be cherished, to be protected, to be nurtured (to be grown -- albeit too quickly). Hence the inclusion of own and little in my translation -- it felt like the right way to evoke similar feelings in English.

Se telefonando io potessi dirti addio, ti chiamerei Se io rivedendoti fossi certa che non soffri, ti rivedrei Se guardandoti negli occhi sapessi dirti basta, ti guarderei

Ah, the chorus! Finally. The first line here is the title of the fic, and what inspired it in the first place: the idea of someone not being able to call because they can't bear actually saying goodbye to their lover was just too delicious not to explore -- and since the theme was phone calls, it made sense to only tell the story through said phone calls (and it made for a fun challenge, too!).

The repeated if/then structure in this chorus is amazing. The stakes are increased after every line: the first verb, se telefonando, is almost impersonal (it means if just by calling generally, not if by calling you specifically), and yet it's already juxtaposed with potessi dirti addio, ie I could tell you goodbye (and addio is a proper, forever goodbye, not just a see you later!). Then we have rivedendoti [= seeing you again] in the second verse, and guardandoti negli occhi [= looking you in the eyes]; progressively more and more intimate actions. This is the desperate plea of a woman who knows she has to part from her lover (although we don't know why; the reasons are never explained) and begs him to see on his own that their relationship is over, because she doesn't have the strength to tell him personally. She longs to see him (as testified by the growing intimacy in the actions she describes) but at the same time she can't even call him on the phone, because she knows she'll capitulate if she does; she knows she has to tell him, but she also knows she's not able to bear it.

Note that this is also underlined by the music: the theme becomes much more dramatic than it was during the first stanza, the three verses are sung in crescendo (Mina was a powerhouse of a singer!), and the melody is transposed higher and higher at each verse. One really gets the sense of urgency and helplessness in the singer's plea: she needs to say all these things, she must say goodbye to her lover and their encompassing, surprising love, but she can't.

You can see why I was so inspired to use this for the Girls, can't you? :)

Ma non so spiegarti che il nostro amore appena nato è già finito

And finally -- the last line, and the moment of peak tension. The chorus has upped the ante with every line, bringing us closer and closer to the precipice, and now we're on the cusp: the music resolves, and we fall down. The song until this point was still suspended, in a way; we could feel the desperation in the singer's voice, we knew what was hiding behind all those hypotheticals, but it's only now that the truth is out in the open: I can't explain to you that our newborn love is already over. Game, set, match.

First of all: non so spiegarti literally means I don't know how to explain to you -- but that sounds almost whiny in English (to me, at least). What the lyrics are trying to convey here is a feeling of helplessness: the singer has no words to explain to her lover that their story is over (hence why she can't even call him on the phone).

And then the kicker: our newborn love is already over. The image of a newborn love fits the motif of child-like wonder and love growing we already encountered in the stanza: it's a sort of juxtaposition between the innocence of feeling (love, in this specific case, that makes one feel open and light again) and the cruelty of real life (that forces the lovers apart). This same juxtaposition is found in the music as well: I've already mentioned that the melody is almost lullaby-like in the stanza, it becomes much more dramatic in the chorus, and the song ends with a trailing tail of la-la-la that would not be too out of place in a children's playground (which, to me, only serves to further drive home the divide).

The idea of a newborn love is not exactly what I was going for in the fic, but it's still closely aligned: I figure in this universe the Girls were just about to have their oh moment when Dorothy got her chance to run away and left them all heartbroken. Sophia even comments on it in her voicemail message: she thought they were days away from it. You know that common sapphic experience of being very, very close to one of your friends, and then she starts dating someone else, and you feel heartbroken even though you two were never really in a relationship (and maybe you never even realize you had feelings for her until a decade later)? That's the vibe I was going for: being almost there but never saying anything explicit, so that when it all crumbles down, it falls spectacularly. Not a newborn love, but an almost-born love, in a way. An almost-born love that is over before it had a chance to begin.

And that's it, I think! My lit teacher would be proud of me. It's been a while since I had the chance to analyze anything in *this* much depth and I had a wonderful time. Hope you enjoyed reading this far -- and I'm always open to questions, if you have any!

[kanmom51]

Hi! I've been following your blog for a while. As a longtime ARMY and someone who (wants to) believe that jikook is real, your posts never fail to give me the flutters.

Did you get a chance to see Jimin's choreography practice sketch yet? (spoiler: jk shows up hehe)

Whenever I see jikook interacting (and especially in recent years), it always feels and looks like it should be something kept private. Idk. I'm parasocializing third-wheeling lmao. The way they can't stop smiling at each other. The way their hands reach for each other like second nature. The way jk speaks to jm; I know little about the nuances of korean informal/formal language, but even then their tones are what make the difference to me. Language barrier or not, it's hard to miss how jk speaks to jm, which is so different from how he speaks to the other members. And all this, out of a less than 1-min interaction between the two (maybe I'm also projecting lol)

Ever since jk's suchwita live, I've plunged neck deep in jikook feels. Jk didn't have to make a live centered around jm, but he did. He didn't have to watch 2 diff versions of set me free pt 2, nor watch the bts teasing jm compilation, all in front of us; but he did. He did, and it's been wreaking havoc on my heart ever since. That must mean something, because jk doesn't do this for the other members. It goes beyond fanservice because as you already mentioned, he wasn't paying much attention to ARMY during the live. We weren't the focus; jm was.

I'm not delusional - at least, I don't want to be delusional. I've said this to myself many times since 2015. I enjoyed their dynamic together, but as time went on, the dynamic began to shift. Each year it became less funny and more real. Certain moments, like hickey gate and rosebowl, seemed straight out of fantasy. And even looking beyond them, the reactions of the other members are also very telling.

I don't remember why I wrote this anymore lol. I'm just glad I don't seem to be alone in thinking they're real. And thank you for your hardwork and content! I always enjoy reading your thoughts on our favourite black and white + sun and moon + 5813 + you-are-me-i-am-you couple💜🌙☀

@theblindjassassin I do apologize for taking such a long time to get back to you. But I didn't forget you.

Everything you wrote is just IT.

You are not delusional. We here, us, are not delusional.

Those parts of the fandom that love calling us that, they are either colour blind (can't see the rainbow), or delusional themselves wishing upon a non existent romantic relationship between either JK or JM and another member (never happened, ain't happening, and ain't ever going to happen).

I'm happy you did put your thoughts to paper, so to speak, because it's lovely to read these kind of posts every once in a while, helps us refocus, remember, reminiscence.

[hail-brod]

A Chance and Beyond (6)

Previous chapter: (Chapter 5)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Loki x FReader

A/N: Yes, 2 weeks delay. Again. I guess that's gonna be my new sched if it gets too busy.

Listening to a Norwegian folk song made this even fun to write. Man, I love upbeat folk songs. (edit:) Just figured the song's about a man in love with a woman who's betrothed to another man (note at the end of chap). It fits sm for a certain god here ehem ehem—or just in general lmao. The coincidences in life mah man.

(Ok, this is honestly my fav chap.)

Please enjoy and tell me your thoughts! ><

Warning/s: Light angst, drinking, being alcoholic to a viking level, mead, a bit of self deprecation?, mention of missing body part, nothing else probably (please tell me if I missed something!)

WC: 4.4k

Just some Viking activities at the edge of a cliff. Or like they say in Midgard, 'Let's parteyyy. Hit it, Freddie!'. In which you spin around like a record baby, right round, round, round.

When nightfall came, it didn't take long for everyone to start drinking as early as they can.

Instead of the usual drinking horn tankard, metal mugs clinked at each other, along with the merry cheers of wobbly ballads clashing in every chatter. Half an hour in when the sun had set down, there we're already drunk men dancing with their sons and daughters, mothers mingling with their husbands, and people gobbling down roasted meat. And on the center of it all stands the grand lit bonfire that sheltered light to the smiles of every person. You can hear the crackling and bursting flames joining the fun of your kin's roaring laughs, its shadows flickering like a raves' night befitting the dances of the other asgardians.

Just like you remembered when you we're in your early days in Vanaheim and your home-world, bonfire feasts are always a celebration never to be missed.

It almost feels like you've never truly left Asgard...

But of course, what is a night's feast without a pleasant conversation? Because when you sprung your eyes at a certain young prince being entertained by a woman offering him a mead—with a smile that you're consequently aware is intended to be suggestive, you've never felt so pleasant in your whole life.

No, you we're not glaring at the ground. No, you we're not burning a stare at the said woman. No, you we're not sulking on your wooden seat.

No, not at all.

You decided to just let yourself drown in the company of your mead, gulping it for ten straight seconds. That should do it, you think. not enough to do me in though. And in all honesty, you think of the truth. You we're never the first one to fall in in a drunken state; for as much as the people underestimate you at these things, they always lose when they challenge you so.

Maybe it runs in the family since, well, they we're almost as tolerant as you do.

But you honestly wish right now that you weren't.

You can see Loki giving out a pleasant laugh at the woman, mead weighing down on his hand as he mentioned something to her, making her shrug tentatively in a coy manner. You also soon noticed a few women eyeing Loki, both in hesitation and....desire?

Wait, what?

"Oh, mine brother! Finally, a flock of women ogling at him rather than me." Thor's voice pulls you out of your brief bewilderment as he made himself comfortable beside you. "You see, I knew he'd gain recognition amongst our people after that final battle in Asgard. I'm very proud I've proven him right, hah!"

Oh. "That's...good." you comment, trying not to let your displeasure lace out. "Does your people hate him, before all of this?"

"Hate, you say?" he says, eyes shifting to a light grimness. "My brother is many things and thus he makes many...'decisions'. Very various different ones. I wouldn't want to tell you that he was hated but, he had proven to our people that he should be. Alas, he has change their minds." he lifts up his mug over the form of his brother, who's now talking to a different woman, but you do notice his attention is placed on the singing men near the bonfire.

He has indeed.

Though, you let yourself deviate to something else now that you remembered. Some things are left to be asked later, such as, the voice in your room—well, if you ever find the chance, that is. Or if you'd even open up the courage to.

"Did...Did Loki actually vouch for me after the interrogation?" you asked.

Thor widened his eyes followed by a nervous laugh. "W-Whatever do you mean, my lady?"

"It's okay, I'm aware of your little 'spying'."

"Oh." he lets out, eyes darting back and forth between his brother and you. "Well, odd it was, but kind of him I guess. He may act stingy but there's a softness in there, and it seems like he's taken by you."

You raised a brow at that. "I doubt that. He looks rather keen on avoiding me." you say, though, the thought of him being taken by you feels a tad bit nice.

He eyes you in wonder. "Does that irk you?"

"What? Of course not. I'm- merely curious."

"Hmm," he hums, but you can almost mistake it for a scoff. "of course, curious. You know, I never got to ask you if you're somehow well acquainted with my brother in your....universe? Or was it timeline? Either of those."

You freeze, there's a sudden feeling of déjà vu. "What...makes you think that we are?"

"Ah, that my friend, that I can see." he answered. "It may not be my specialty but I can tell if someone is at least taken by someone."

Right, your mind echos. he has a flock of women over him. Your past self is certainly a proof of that.

Well, some things would've been actually different if he had learned your fascination towards him back in your Asgard. Actually, not some but everything. Because if he did, you would never be here. You would have never created that bloody Nexus event. You would have never learned about how much dominance time rules over countless of universes.

"No, because you we're meant to fall for Thor." the imposing judge towering in front of you says after stating your name. "Not his brother, not anyone. The moment you recognized your feelings on the wrong person, god, brother—whatever you call him—is when you're taken out of the equation. Pretty common mistakes of your variants, apparently. Don't force it, miss. It doesn't always end well for both you and..." she reads down on the file and mocked a smile at you. "...the 'Loki Laufeyson.'"

The past TVA made it sure to shove it on your own reality that you we're the problem for falling for the younger prince. Somehow, you're feeling sorry for doing so, for dooming your home. But you also truly don't want to regret it

You won't.

The TVA doesn't have the right to dictate that. Not anymore.

"Are you insinuating that I'm openly swooning over your brother?" you asked, playing along with him.

He laughs. "Bin-gow." you're quite sure its supposed to be 'bingo'. "I've first noticed you we're very tolerant of his antics, which many not do, so I guess I can assume."

"I'm certain I don't swoon when I'm being tolerant."

"Uh-uh. Maybe not, but don't jump just yet, my good lady." he swigs a drink from his mug. "I've never seen someone else so adoringly at eased when at the resoundingly mysterious presence of Loki other than me and- "

He stops.

You can't deny the growing fluster emanating within you when you catch his first few words, but his sudden halt confused you for awhile. His expression fades down, his mirthful smile daring to fall but it fights to keep it up. Though, you somehow feel that you know who he struggles to mention.

"The All-mother." you finish.

He flinched, eyes flying randomly at you and inhales. "Yeah." he sighs out a light chuckle. "You know your thing, my lady."

Your heart cracks.

Seeing him react that way at the subject of his mother, its inevitable to feel dread at what could've possibly happened. Just the absence of his father as the overlooking king is more than a proof of the tragic fates that have doomed Asgard. Queen Frigga was far from a stranger to you and you can proudly say that she became your second mother. Well, if you and Loki we're bound together purely from deeper sentiments, she would have been more of a close mother rather than formally your queen mother.

But you also can't imagine how that would've affected Loki.

You have much to learn in this reality. And, maybe its about time for you to let them know yours.

Even just by bits.

"Yes.... I've actually been quite acquainted with the queen herself." you humbly inform, smile tipping up. "Which I'm very lucky to have been."

"Hold on, so you are well acquainted with Loki. Well, not just him anymore but also the royal family?" he quirks his head to the side. "You're definitely not just a noble. Let me guess, a daughter in court."

You nodded.

At least he knows his princely court lessons.

"Hah! I knew it." he cheers, mug elevated high up. This caught a few eyes from the crowd which was also followed by their own cheers. Some asgardians flew their eyes over to you doing the same as you muster up a pleasant smile, an attempt at matching their jovial attitudes. Your mind wanders back to someone as you try to spot the area where you last saw him. Granted, he was still there, eyes intent on you.

And then immediately looked away with not so much of a reaction.

You certainly have your fill of mesmerizing cerulean eyes all over you today and you can't help but blush. And at the least, he wasn't handsomely giggling anymore with some woman or herds of them.

Beside you, Thor mutters something, and you catch your name. Odd it was how he managed to divert his attention on his own little world so fast."...I've surely heard that name before...where...Asgard...?"

He looks like he's partially drunk, but you know he isn't that easy to bring down. No doubt his random ramblings are just a product of nine or fourteen mugs full of mead; there's much more action than just slurring words when it comes to these gods.

The darkness clocks deeper into the dead of night and you had already downed your third round of mead. Honestly, your usual would be at six or seven before you would start to either cry or be overly social to anyone—of course, you prefer the latter. At this point, all you can feel is the faint pounding of your head and the lightweight of everything.

Feather. you think, describing. Featherful light. How very light.

You decided then and there, this would be the last round. You're very aware that your drunken state is resoundingly unsightly and you don't want that coming to life tonight. Or any night.

So as you downed your mug to the last drop, the distinct sounds of singing started to spread from another man to another. When you looked around, their chants start to gradually get louder, infectious smiles being thrown at anyone as their hands begin to clap along the beats with a bob of their heads. You yourself could not contain the jolliness they emitted as you meekly bounced your head along.

"Han leika med lente, han leika med list,"

This, of course, had awaken the presence beside you.

He jumped on his feet, mug still gripped tightly on his hand as he sang along and his other hand waving around to the tune. Just as the crown prince joined in, this boosted the morale of the other asgardians, adding more people to the high spirited singing. His eyes rest on you and he kept nodding to you, urging you to stand up and do the same.

How could you refuse?

When he had offered you his hand, you took it and stood up, finally letting yourself sing the familiar song.

"Han leika med lente, han leika med gny, Hei fagraste lindelauvi alle"

You clapped and jumped along them and laughed in joy, the pounding of your head replaced with the upbeat tune you clap unto. You also didn't waste a second drifting your eyes to Loki, who was actually gone in his spot.

Had he left? You know he's quite fond of festivities so why...

Only then did you see his form singing and clapping with the said flock of women...and men. You really have to tone your emotions down because he has every right to mingle with anyone. Your own personal feelings on the likeness of him is hardly something you should be bringing about now. Soon enough, your attention gets shifted when Thor took your hand, halting your claps as he leads you near the bonfire. You we're quite baffled, but when you realized a circle of asgardians we're forming around the flame, you know you're going to be very out of breath.

"I hope you aren't too drunk to do this." Thor grins at you, hands free of his mug and secured his hand on yours much fittingly. You feel your other hand being snatched the same way by one of the asgardians beside you as you all form in a wide circle.

"I'm more than awake and sober than you." you replied, grinning back with the anticipation of the dance, your adrenaline gradually going up.

"For de runerne de lyster han å vinne"

Little by little, you all move to your right, letting the circle turn in a loop. Another step and another one, the pace of your steps starts to move faster as you follow the rhythm of the song. The footwork of the certain dance begins to come naturally to you and everyone else, lifting it down and back at the moving steps to the side. One cue in the song indicates a twirl, so you turn and clap, and another clap, and so on.

"Men då steig trolli upp or djupaste sjø,"

You can't seem to think straight anymore as your laughter and giggles along the singing fogs your brain. Then comes a chant, and more clapping, and you don't know anymore.

Everything just started to feel natural.

"Og utvinner krafti av trollenes arm For de runerne de lyster han å vinne"

When the other asgardians outside of the circle started to join and slip inside, dancing; you almost didn't catch Thor leaving your side to enter the circle. And as you still moved along the loop, the said god reemerges from the jolly crowd, feet bouncing, and clutched at his side is his confused brother. It only happened in a second before you realized Thor had just threw his brother on his previous spot beside you, Loki's hand securely gripping your own through the revolving circle of people, not daring to let you trip with his sudden intrusion as he got swarmed into joining the loop.

You couldn't take your eyes off of him, and he couldn't even look away from you. As you we're kept being pulled to your sides, it was evident that he was also enjoying himself. He brings up the widest smirk at you and continues to sing with everyone else.

Oh, you we're not going to back down as well.

You squeezed his hand much more affectionately than you intended to, but fortunately he didn't whack it away; he tugs up a teasingly lofty smile and squeezed back.

You don't even know how to react anymore as you just distinctively felt the pulling of your heartstrings. You couldn't fight the widening smile on your lips any longer.

"Og utvinner krafti av trollenes arm For de runerne de lyster han å vinne"

The adrenaline of moving around and the constant claps to the beat, lungs catching the words to sing and the twirls between the loop of people, have had you all elevate for boldness as the beats starts to rapidly pace up; one step faster than the other and faster it goes, leaving you all lost in the moment of chanting breaths.

"Hei, hei, hei, hei, hei,

Hei!"

It goes higher and higher, constant and louder and as your voices reach the peak of the song, you're sent flying to Loki's side as soon as the circling loop of people broke off, tumbling to their sides with crazed smiles and cheers.

Though, as you tumbled beside Loki, heart ringing with laughters, his grip on your hand never left. You couldn't care much and your vision is clamped shut from all of the movement so you can't make much of anything. You we're panting hard and you know he is too—the very close distance between you has you hearing his pacing breaths. Suddenly, what made you open your eyes and look up to the said man was the dawning realization of why you feel so warmly secured.

Oh, he was holding you close, one hand snaked around your waist.

And don't even forget about how his other hand is pretty much locked with yours, as if letting you go would result in you being snatched away.

As you slowly wake up from your moment of daze, your eyes would not tear away from his own. His rising chest and yours synced like no other, and how dares he study you so intently with those gentle eyes, almost like a plea. The moment felt too long and too mesmerizing to break as your hand slowly curl further on his own, caressing.

Belonging. your heart screams between breaths. The shared look you had had you reminiscing a lot of things, a mixture of lifts and crashes dawning on your emotions. He himself contorts to a frown, taking in your conflicted demeanor—as well as your longing eyes.

I love you. you wanted to say, but you know that's bound to crush you, so you just reveled in the silence. The thought of not being able to say it clenches your heart, and you feel like tearing up.

But you resist. Contain it, woman. you order yourself. He's not even the Loki you know...

"I..." you start, wanting to get away.

But before you could gather yourself up once more, something catches Loki's eyes as he feels over your hand—he looks down confusingly. You realize his attention is directed on your hand once you felt the shift of his fingers on your own, specifically on a certain finger, one that's been severed and adorned with your golden ring.

You we're so out of it all until he breathes out his words, "You're married."

Your eyes snap to him, heart racing. He didn't waste a second catching your surprised stare. You don't know if the look he's giving you is concern or just curiousness. "N-No, I..." you stutter.

You we're not married yet—but will you ever be? Though, it seems like he believes otherwise.

"Don't." he sternly says. "Don't lie. I know that kind of ring anywhere and looking closely on it, it's a royal one."

You feel a lump in your throat as you try to swallow. It's only a matter of seconds before he's wondering which of the two princes in Asgard you we're bound with. "It is...yes. But no, I'm not married." you weakly say, feeling all of the adrenaline rushing out of you. "We never got to..." you hesitantly shrugged, trying to point out your unspoken words. "You could say I was whisked away by the TVA before it could even.... possibly happen."

You don't know what expression he's wearing but Loki seem to have caught on on your change of demeanor as your defeated form melts between his arm. You felt him stiff when he realized he hasn't distanced himself away from you, so he gently pulled his arm from your waist, leaving you to stand on your accord as you felt his other hand slipping away from yours.

Your heart longs even more.

Somehow, he had trusted his instincts once again to detect any lies as he accepted your words. "Would you have wanted that marriage?"

You fold your brows up to him, surveying his expression. But he's wearing that neutral mask again. You linger your words in your head, debating, lest you risk spilling any unnecessary sentiments. I would have love to. You open your mouth yet it closes again.

You can't do it.

"I don't know." you shake your head, letting your eyes wander away towards the mellow atmosphere that has become of your bonfire feast.

"Hmm."

That's all you heard from him before he followed your gaze. You both shared a moment of silence, relishing in in the calmness of the aftermath of the celebration. It felt comforting—somehow.

Each and everyone have settled down on the ground, either sprawled from exhaustion and the mead, or wobbling on their seats, leaning shoulder to shoulder with one another. You don't see Thor anywhere, but when you heard your name slipping out of Loki's lips—which you wish you could hear again—one bulky arm gathers you from behind, pushing you closely next to Loki.

Thor's voice imitates his brother, saying your name.

Honestly, you much prefer the former one saying it.

You realized Thor had also wrapped his brother on his other arm, encapsulating you both in a semihug. "I can't stop thinking how familiar your name is, my lady." he says, both you and Loki stiffing at his pull. But you also felt Loki tensing at his brother's words. "I don't know why. Granted, I've surely never met you before, nor anyone like you. Must have I just forgotten then?" he scrunches his face in thought.

"Given that you are an oaf, there's no doubt your depictions of reality are just nonsense." Loki says, narrowing his eyes on Thor.

"You wound me, brother."

You awkwardly witnessed their banter; though, you can't help but tug up a light smile. "I would be wounded as well if you just bore my name in your mind but not my face."

The God of Thunder chuckled. "My bad, my bad. Although truly, that's no fact. How could I ever not bear a fairly stunning maiden in my mind such as you?"

You we're flattered—though underneath that, you can't help but cringe. You really didn't meant for it to go that way.

And Loki doesn't seem too pleased about it. "Can you not do this in front of me?"

"Do what?" Thor asks.

"Just..." Loki tries to wriggle out of his brother's embrace as he breaks away from the two of you, dusting his shoulder off. He points his brother a glare. "Don't ever bring your flirting in front of me."

"What? I am not flirting. Or maybe, I have barged in on one?" Thor eyes you worryingly and flies it to Loki, cautiously untangling his arm around you.

You we're dumbfounded for a second before it processed in your mind.

"No." you and Loki uttered at the same time, exchanging glances.

"Definitely not."

"Yes, why would we do so?"

"Exactly. Nothing of the sort."

"Alright, alright. Calm down." Thor instructs, amused by your reactions. You we're quite glad he didn't press further. "Although admittedly, your name does ring a bell—and no, I am not drunk. I am rarely drunk." he says to you.

You nod, not doubting him. "But if you say such things about my name, then I guess it's rather possible that...you've probably met a variant of me."

When you think about it, it's weird. It also feels much more awry for you to be here. If there's another you in this universe, then you can certainly feel like you're upholding your self-accusations of being an imposter. You shiver.

"But I've never seen nor recognized you, ever." Thor says.

Even as though it had prickled something in you, you just shrug. "Well, variants don't always look like a duplicate of yourself." you mention, two certain variants come to mind. "In truth, even genders could be altered."

Thor lights up with interest. "My word, that's interesting and it actually makes much more sense."

Loki hasn't said anything. It was quite odd as you noticed he stood rigidly as he listened, hands clamped over in front of him—his stance shielded, almost like he's hiding something.

That's suspicious. you think.

Thor had gone into his mind, trying to recall something, albeit in a forceful manner. He narrowed and glared at a spot before it contorts into a smooth unfolding of realization.

"Actually- "

"Brother, why don't we let the lady tire her exhaustions out for tonight?" Loki cuts him off, letting him deceive you with his composed countenance. "It has been quite the feast."

You tread on his point, concealing your suspicions. "Then, where shall I stay?"

Thor recovers, leaving his unspoken thoughts. "Of course! You can stay on either of our tents tonight," you almost break your neck snapping your eyes on him as he continued. "since I asked not to start on the royal quarters unless our people have gotten their own. So, I hope a tent would suffice?"

"I don't mind a tent but, I would hate to intrude his royal highnesses' abode." you defend, baffled.

You soon noticed even Loki had given his brother an unapproving look. "Hang on, why am I included on that?"

"Oh, come on. Aren't you a prince? Wouldn't hurt to be a gentleman from time to time can it, brother?"

Loki hesitates to speak. "You..."

You try to diffuse. "I'm alright if it's alright for...either of you. Surely, that would also mean I am to sleep separately...?"

"Yes, yes." Thor confirms. "Do not fret, my lady. I will be sleeping somewhere else. Be it a couch or a wooden skiff, I do not mind."

That doesn't make you feel any less guilty for taking a prince's bed.

You we're about to retort but the raven haired god beat you to it. "You are terrible." he mutters, directing it at Thor. He then trails his eyes on you, soft cerulean ones touching your heart. "My tent is open for intrusions. Though, I do not take kindly to people with nosy skittering hands."

"Well, would you look at that." Thor preens. Loki shoots him a stern look.

"O- Of course..." you reply, quite baffled once again. "But, what about you?"

It takes him a while to respond. "You shan't bother knowing." he says, lifting up a feigned smile. "Besides, you won't be staying here long, will you?"

Somehow, you catch his point. And you're once again pierced with the dawning remembrance of your timely task. This will only be a single night of intrusion, nothing to fuss over; you are temporarily existing amongst them. It doesn't matter who you're mending a bond with, you're not supposed to be here.

And it almost sounds like he's intending to shut you out, and that cuts something deeper in you.

"You're right." you agree.

You've been enjoying yourself too much that you forgot you'll be leaving this all behind. Once again, just another memory to be stored in your mind.

You don't belong here.

Song inspired: 'Villeman Og Magnhild' (Villeman And Magnhild)

Previous chapter: (Chapter 5)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

'A Chance and Beyond' taglist (you can ask/comment to be tagged!):

@oscarissac2099 @lcolumbia1988

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[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

Without You: Vergil x G/N Reader

Summary: You have been missing for some time now and Vergil is slowly losing it. The blue devil's constant fear and worry about you being dead has turned him into a shadow of hi former self; someone that is even capable of grinding on Dante's gears.

Another pretty story-heavy oneshot; six dividers (double equal signs) down for important parts if you want to skip the pre-text. ⏳⏳⏳ Once again, I reference the “Revenant Shotgun” as being your gun; I really think the gun is pretty lmao. You also use Beowulf. Minor blood/gut talk, nothing too serious though (figured I should mention it just in case). This is the first time I have tried to write combat since I was like 13, so forgive the (probably) less-than-adequate scene writing--I tried lol. ⏳⏳⏳ Pre-established relationship with Vergil. G/N reader. ⏳⏳⏳ Semi-angst followed by fluff (I don't know why I keep writing sad Vergil things; I swear I'll stop after this lmfao)

==

     The air was stagnated and stale as Nero slowly sat up, groaning in pain. His head was pounding as he looked around, confused and disorientated. He slowly blinked as he got a grasp on his surroundings. With a huff, Nero mindlessly groped around his lower back for Blue Rose and found it missing. This snapped him to attention as he began to sporadically eye over the area around him. 

     His brow furrowed as he focused on Red Queen which was thrust into the ground nearly twenty feet away. Slowly standing up with a wince, he went over to the sword. As he yanked the stubbornly stuck blade from the ground, a glint of light caught his attention. Blue Rose was laying on the ground nearby. 

     Placing Red Queen on his back, he clicked his tongue and went to retrieve his sidearm. “What in the fuck happened?” Nero’s thoughts were a blur as he scrunched his face struggling to put together the broken pieces of his recent memories. 

==

     “Move it, asshole!” Nero insincerely barked as he held a growl from deep within his throat.

     You ducked down into a roll, knowing that Nero was going to lose control soon and it was best not to argue with his demonic side. Using Beowulf to quickly spin upward and to your feet, you managed to make quick work of a Choas demon's spines. Seizing the opportunity, you aimed Revenant dead-center of the creature’s eyes and pulled the trigger. Smoothly holstering your shotgun, you continued fighting the onslaught of demons alongside the now devil-triggered Nero. 

     It was like a beautiful deadly dance when the two of you got into your well-practiced tango of destruction. Nero would typically take a more topside approach, using his wings to pull things to him and then dropping them to you. His over-the-top chaotic slashing and slicing would then be cleaned up by you underneath him. You, who had the completely opposite style, opted for a calm and collected approach, especially if you were using Vergil’s gear. Times like these are something you cherish dearly and never want to end--even if you are being coated by blood and demonic entrails. 

     A sudden out-of-place movement caught the corner of your eye as you tried to move out of its path; however, you weren’t quite fast enough and got thrown across the room.

     Nero’s attention was drawn to your flying body, “What the--!” before he could think he was hammer fisted directly into the ground below him. With a bright-blue flash, his devil trigger ended, leaving a confused and human Nero looking up at a strange figure above him.

     The demon was not one Nero had seen before--it reminded him of the descriptions of the “Third Beast of Revelations”. However, its appearance wasn��t quite as he remembered being told--only having four of the seven heads that it is supposed to have. 

     The young man stood up, “What the hell are you supposed to be, huh?” he smirked. The creature lunged at him, which Nero avoided. He laughed a bit holding the Blue Rose aimed at the back of the beast, “Too slow. Wanna try again?” 

     Nero sidestepped the demon again but was hit by an unexpected swing of its tail. He dropped his revolver as he was tossed across the room. Nero went to get up again. Before he moved back in, however, his ears twitched at a strange sound. The hunter turned to his side and realized that the noise was your breathing. Gently grabbing your shoulder, Nero tried to shake you awake. Revenant and Beowulf had been tossed far from your body and you were out cold. Seeing as there was a large amount of blood dripping from your forehead, that wouldn’t be changing any time soon. 

     “Shit,” Nero mumbled under his breath as he pulled Red Queen from the resting place on his back, “You’re gonna owe me big time.”

     With an impossibly blinding speed, the young hunter took off toward the large demon. Nero’s face was in a grimace as he focused the best he could without his trigger. In hindsight, he was regretting using his demonic energy on such a simple fight before. 

     His attempt at defeating this beast alone was futile; it was much too strong for him in this state. Another large hit from the beast sent him flying in the opposite direction as before; leaving your unconscious body as far from him as possible. The demon also noticed this as it turned its sights to your limp form. 

     “Tch, shit-” Nero hastily got up on his feet and ran to your aid; however, it was too late. The beast had your body in its grasp as it curiously looked you over. “Put them down you fuck!” his mind was racing; if something happens to you, Vergil will kill him. 

     With a grunt, Nero sprung up at the demon. Who only batted him away again. He used Red Queen to stop himself from flying so far off. Knowing there wasn’t time, he left the sword and was going to fight using just his hands. Was it stupid? Yes. Did he care? No, not if it meant trying everything he could to protect you--someone who had become essentially his step-parent. 

     However, the demon had no intent on letting you leave this place with the youngest Sparda descendant. It opened a fissure through the floor, but before leaving, attacked Nero one last time. It sent him flying in an almost straight line across the room and into a wall, knocking the hunter out cold. 

==

     Nero stood in front of where he had last seen you lay, your weapons were still strewn about and your coat had fallen from your shoulders as you were snatched upward. A cold heavy feeling sunk in as he just stood there staring. 

     Slowly he gathered your gear, he didn't know how he was going to tell the others what happened. Nero didn’t know whose response would be worse; Dante mocking him for his lack of skill or Vergil who would undoubtedly lose it over this. 

     He just wanted to go back to the DMC and get this over with. Nero left the demon nest, not caring that he hadn’t finished the job. Outside, Nico was in her van waiting for the pair’s return. 

     Seeing Nero, she opened the door of the van, “Took y’all long--” she paused, seeing the gear in Nero’s arms, “Whoa, wait… Where’s--”

     “I don’t know,” Nero mumbled, refusing to look Nico in the eye as he got into the vehicle.

     “Whatdya’ mean ‘you don’t know’?” her voice was playful, thinking that Nero was just fucking with her as he placed the items on the table. 

     He leaned a bit onto the table with his palms flatly pressed against it, “I don’t know where they are..!” he grimaced as he stood back up with clenched fists, “Some fucking big asshole took ‘em” 

     Nico’s expression and pose changed from casual to a more serious one, “Wait-- they’re really missin’?” Nero’s frustrated stare said it all, “Holy crap-- Should we call your folks, I’m sure--”

     “It wouldn’t help,” Nero relaxed his fists and took a deep breath trying to calm down, “They’ve been gone for a while, their scent’s gone.”

     “Shit,” Nico pursed her lips as she paused for a moment, “Well, whaddya’ wanna do?”

     Nero looked over to her, “I want to go to the shop. This is more important than the job.”

     “Gotcha,” Nico wanted to poke at him but found herself unable to. Nero looked beyond exhausted and she knew that the brother’s responses will be more than punishing enough. 

     Neither of them spoke the whole way back.

==

     Not wanting to be there when the three devils rip each other apart, Nico just dropped Nero in the garage and left.

     Deciding to wait a moment before going in, Nero focused his hearing. He only heard one heartbeat meaning there was only one person at the shop when he returned. Thankfully, upon opening the door, it was Dante.

     The red devil sat at his desk with his back to the garage, “Hey, you two are back early,” his gaze didn’t leave whatever he was doing on his desk, “Was thinking about ordering a pizza. You guys want anything?”

     Nero’s face was pale and gave no response. He just simply walked over to the coffee table and plopped down your coat and weapons.

     Dante pouted slightly with confusion, “If you don’t want--” his brow twitched as he noticed that there was only one person that had come in, “Hey where’s--” his happy expression dropped quickly. He moved around to the side of his desk to see what Nero had just set down.

     “Dante-” Nero bit his tongue in thought, “Before you go off; hear me out?”

     He scratched the stubble on his face, “Sure, go ahead kid.” he leaned back onto his desk.

     Nero explained what happened and what attacked them. Surprisingly, Dante wasn’t mad or made any rude jabs about things. He just simply nodded along and paid close attention.

     “Well Nero,” Dante shook his head and sighed, “As much as I want to give you shit-- You’re lucky to be alive. That bastard ain’t an easy thing to fight, ‘specially without a trigger handy…”

     Nero’s gaze found its way back down to your gear, “You think they’re still alive, Dante?”

     He sighed and stood back up, “If they weren’t, Vergil would know by now,” he bit his lip, “Question is: why did the demon want them alive?”

     “Think Vergil would know?”

     “Doubt it, he knows just as little as I do about those beasts…" he paused briefly before continuing, "Look, Nero,” Dante set a hand on the young man’s shoulder, “go home. I will tell Vergil about this whole thing. He’s already ripped off your arm, I really don’t want him to try ‘n gut you too. Okay?”

     Nero was taken aback by what he said and nodded, “Thanks, Dante.”

     “Any time kid,” Dante removed his hand, “Just don’t come back till I let you know it’s safe. Might take your old man a few days to calm down.”

     “Sure thing,” Nero moved to the garage door, “Keep me posted, yeah?”

     Dante gave a stiff nod to Nero as he watched him shut the door.

      “Vergil’s just going to gut us instead… You’re a fuckin’ genius, Dante.” he sighed at his thoughts. What the hell was he going to do?

     A few hours passed before the door finally swung open. Vergil stepped into the shop raising a brow at his brother who was at the desk asleep. With a sly smile and shake of his head, Vergil walked further into the room. 

     However, that smile quickly faded upon seeing Revenant, Beowulf, and your folded jacket sitting on the coffee table, “Dante.”

     The younger twin slowly blinked as he opened his eyes and sat upwards, “Hm?”

     “What is--” Vergil’s brow slowly furrowed further and further, “Why is their gear here?”

     “Well..” Dante stood up and took a deep breath, “Look I ain’t gonna sugar coat it: They are missing.”

     “ What? ” Vergil’s voice was sharp as he glared at Dante.

     “Look, before you go and try to kill Nero--It wasn’t his fault,” Dante shrugged, “We would’ve had a tough time with what happened.”

     Vergil made sure to enunciate each word clearly, “Dante, what happened.”

     “They were attacked by one of those Revelation beasts. Your kid barely made it out. Nero said that they took your partner with them, so the demon wanted them alive for some reason.”

     Vergil’s face went pale as his blood ran cold, “Where were they, I want to have a look at things.”

     “Sure thing… I’m coming with though--you might need me,” Dante winked then stretched with a groan.

     “Whatever.”

     They did go look. Vergil found nothing. It was a dead end.

==

     Several months had gone by and the usual bustling and jovial atmosphere of the Devil May Cry had faded. Now all that remained was a quiet angst and depressed mood that was brought on by one individual alone.

      The silence was broken by the sound of the garage door opening. Standing in the doorway were the two twin sons of Sparda; Vergil stood in front of Dante. The eldest headed up to his room, not saying a word. His silent steps were filled with anger; an emotion that has become a common theme in recent times. Dante just stood, watching his brother go up the winding stairs.

     Across the room, Nero sat on the couch. His gaze moved off of his phone and onto the remaining brother--who was already raiding the fridge, “Any luck, Dante?” 

     “No! There was absolutely fucking nothing.” Dante was seething as he looked over at Nero, “Your old man is just so… infuriating; I am this close to shoving the Yamato so far up his ass--.” with a pinch of the bridge of his nose, the youngest twin huffed out a heavy sigh.

     Nero shook his head with a small laugh; knowing exactly how Dante felt. Vergil would barely talk to Nero without getting an irritated tone and becoming condescending, “Don’t worry, it’s only gonna keep getting worse; how long’s it been anyways--four months?”

     Dante let out a nod of affirmation walking over to his desk. He kicked up his feet and cracked open the bottle drinking the majority of the bottle in one go, “You know, at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if Vergil’s going to storm his way down into Hell just to make sure he’s looked everywhere.”

     “He’s that desperate, huh?” Nero sat forward more on the couch, paying more attention to what was being said. 

     “That doesn’t even come close to describing how Verge’s being. I mean,” Another wave of building frustration was slowing creeping onto Dante’s face signified by his furrowed brow, “I don’t blame him for being worried--I would be if it were my lover--but still…” he exasperatedly removed his boots from the desk, making a slight thud as they hit the floor, “-he doesn’t have to be such a dick about things. I’m trying to help.” Dante was attempting to find his happy place--lest he wants to have another hole in the drywall.

     “Vergil being a dick is nothing new--you’d know that better than me--he’s just not used to needing help,” Nero stood up from the couch revealing a manila envelope in his hand, “On a better note: Morrison dropped this off while you were out, said it’s for your eyes only.”

    “Really?” Dante reached forward and snatched the envelope, “I wonder what that means, Morrison doesn’t often--” his voice slowly drifted as something inside the folder caught his attention. He continued to flip through the documents faster and faster with a wide-eyed stare.

     Curiosity getting the better of him, Nero leaned over trying to take a peek at the papers, “What’s so interesting, huh?”      

     Without answering, Dante jumped up from his seat. The youngest son of Sparda ran up the stairs and began to bang rapidly on a certain blue demon’s door, “Vergil! Vergil, open up! Come on! Verge--”

     A door pushed hard into Dante’s shoulder as a set of mildly bloodshot iced-over eyes met his, “What is it?” Dante stood frozen for a moment, not expecting Vergil to have answered the door so quickly; let alone seeing him after he had been (what appeared to be) crying, “What do you want, Dante.” Vergil’s sharp tone cut Dante from his thoughts.

     “Shit, sorry. Just--here,” he shoved the folder at Vergil, “have a look at this.”

    Vergil lifted a brow in curiosity as he let go of the doorknob and stopped shoving the door into his little brother. Sighing quietly, Vergil began to sift through the documents and pictures; the further he read, the further his brow creased. Vergil’s voice was rough and cracked as he looked at Dante, “Where--”

    “Morrison dropped it off while we were out. Gave it to Nero… Is it that what I think it is?” 

     Vergil cleared his throat and took a short pause, “It could be--I would have to see it to be sure.”

    “Alright, then saddle up princess, we got a job to do,” and with that, Dante left before Vergil chastised him for the jab. 

     A few moments later, Vergil came downstairs with his demon hunting gear re-equipped. Dante stretched his arms upward cracking his back quite loudly, “Ready, Verge?” Vergil gave Dante a curt nod and began to walk toward the garage door. Before leaving, Dante humorously cooed at Nero, “Make sure to finish your homework and be in bed by 7. We will be back in the morning--so behave till then. Love youuu~” flashing a wide sharp-toothed grin, he waved and headed for the door--ignoring the fact that Nero just whipped him off. 

     “Where is the location?” Vergil’s voice was deadpan as he unsheathed the Yamato.

     “Here-” Dante handed Vergil the paper with the address, “So, what are we gonna do if it really is--”

     “Silence." Vergil’s voice was sharp as his eyes turned to a harsh squint in irritation; tossing the folder off to the side. 

     Dante pursed his lips, pouting slightly at his brother’s attitude; but, didn’t feel like bantering so he remained silent. 

     Upon exiting the portal, the twins looked in front of them. The object of the job was before them, a large nest that was crawling with demons. Not wanting to waste time, they both ventured forward. 

==

     A few hours passed as the brothers slashed their way through the mound’s inhabitants. Dante and Vergil stopped for a moment to catch their breath.

     Dante adjusted his coat, “So, how far down do you think it’ll be? We gonna have to go all the way?”

     “Most likely,” Vergil slicked his hair back, “Is that a problem?” 

      “ ‘Course not, just was wonderin’,”

     Vergil didn’t respond and just continued forward, Dante following in toe.

     Dante cracked his knuckles, “So if it is-- then what?”

     “I do not know--nor will I know until I see it.”

     “Really hope that this lead is real and not another stupid hoax,” Dante frowned. 

     “If it is not worth our time,” Vergil’s voice was filled with more hostility with every word, “I will make sure to give the client a visit .”

     “No-- Vergil you can’t kill our clients; we are demon hunters, not people hunters. Plus, this nest needed to be taken care of anyway.”

     The eldest twin only scoffed in response. 

==

     It had been nearly eight hours since entering the nest and they still had no signs of what they were looking for. Both of them were getting crabby at this point; Vergil about the lack of evidence and Dante because of Vergil’s attitude. 

     “I swear--” Dante growled in frustration, “I am going to just fucking dig my way to the bottom of this fucking bastard.”

     “That is impossible,” Vergil’s voice held no emotion. 

     “I know, I am just getting sick of this shit,” he groaned, “Just feels like we are getting nowhere--that’s all.”

     Vergil stopped and tilted his head up slightly. Upon seeing this, Dante stopped as well.

     “Verge, I didn’t-” 

     Vergil turned his head to the left and began to walk.

     Dante rolled his eyes and pivoted in a grandiose manner, “Okay-ay, I guess we are goin’ this way now.”

     They walked in silence for a few more minutes before coming to a dead end. Vergil began to scowl and stare at the wall.

     “That’s a mighty fine wall there Verge, but what-” 

     “Break it.”

     “... What?” Dante double-took at his brother’s words.

     “I want you to break down this wall,” Vergil’s eyes moved sharply off the wall and to Dante.

     “Look, Vergil, I made a joke about breaking shit down--wasn’t actually going to start--”

     “Do as I say, Dante,” Vergil snarled, “Break. It. Down.”

     Dante sighed, driving his sword into the ground, and responded by using a mocking baby voice, “Fine, mister grumpy pants.”

     Using his Sin Trigger, Dante made quick work of the wall. The pair quickly stepped through as the hole repaired itself behind them. He shifted back into his human form and jogged after Vergil, who was already going forward. Another half hour passed of Vergil's speed walking forward intensely focused on something.

     “Soooo… Plan on telling me what exactly you’re doing or are you gonna make me guess?”

     Vergil hit Dante flat across the chest with a sheathed Yamato; before Dante could protest, he saw what his brother was staring at. 

     In front of them stood a fairly huge demon--the same one from the job's folder. The creature was similar to a centaur; however, a lizard (or demon) had been thrown into the mix as well. 

     A large spear was held by one of its three-fingered hands. On the body, there were three sets of violet claws; the legs of which were covered in a thick dark midnight blue fur with bits of sky blue streaks scattered throughout. Three maroon-scaled tails protruded from the back of the creature, a thin cerulean membrane trailing up the middle of each topside and trailing up the base of the creature’s skull.  

     Layered scales, colored the same as the tail’s, ran up the underbelly, body, and torso of the demon. Pale teal-green scaled skin was exposed through the frontline of the torso, showing off a muscular structure similar to that of a human. 

     Continuing up those scales led you to the head of the beast. It was similar in shape to a human’s but had seven eyes of pure milky white which filled the entire front due to the lack of a mouth. Extending from the sides of the face, there were clay-grey semi-transparent frills--appearing very much like a frilled lizard’s--that ran from the underside of the jaw up to a set of horns that the frills connected to. 

     Dante nudged Vergil, “Man, I thought Lady’s demon form was ugly--theirs takes the cake. Good job using that nose of yours and finding your mate, good thing you--” he stopped noticing his brother’s glazed-over stare.

     Vergil was paying no mind to Dante or anything around him. His eyes were focused on the trinket that was embedded right in between the creature’s collar bones, nestled deep in the suprasternal notch. His blood ran cold as he would know that jewelry anywhere; it was his amulet half--the one he had gifted you on your anniversary nearly a year ago. He stood, unmoving--not even taking deep enough breaths to move his chest. Everything in him told him to fight the capsule of a demon in front of him; yet, he couldn’t bring himself to.

     Dante, however, was paralyzed by neither fear, grief, nor anger; he was actually glad they finally found you. Giving one last glance at his, still very frozen, brother Dante moved into the large space--drawing the demon’s attention. 

     “So,” he started, “this is where you’ve been hanging out, huh? ‘Place is kind of a drag if you ask me,”  Curiously, the demon slowly approached Dante, staring at him, “You ain’t gotta make this hard--just lay that big stick down and let us-” he looked back at Vergil, who still hadn’t moved, “or well let me get you outta there. Whaddya say?”

     It stood in front of the younger brother for a moment then turned its head to look at Vergil. Without even returning their attention back to Dante, they punted the younger brother across the room with one swing of its paw. A loud crack emanated from the force of him hitting--and going through--the wall. 

     “Son of a Bitch…” With a groan, Dante slowly stood back up, “And I’m supposed to believe you’re the same person that gives me shit for my hugs.”

     Digging his heels into the ground, Dante took off running. He raised his Devil Sword as he got within striking distance; however, the demon only backhanded him, sending him flying once more. The creature still hadn’t torn its gaze from Vergil; it almost seemed as if it was trying to place the eldest son. Dante attempted to strike again, only to be hit away for a third time.

     The eldest son’s mind was racing; between infinite anger that spiraled to the deepest darkest depths of his demon and immense guilt for not protecting you eating at his human consciousness--Vergil, for the first time in a long time, was completely frozen. He was your boyfriend, your lover, your mate; he should’ve been there to protect you: instead, you ended up suffering something that he wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

     “Okay, you bastard,” Dante sniffled as blood began to drip from his nose, pulling out Ivory & Ebony, “Let’s try this, shall we?”

     Upon feeling the bullets hit the side of their legs, the demon turned to Dante--finally breaking their piercing staredown. It trotted towards Dante and swung its spear, only missing Dante by mere inches. He jumped onto the spear and ran up it, still firing the twin pistols. The creature used its free hand to grab Dante; moving much faster than the devil hunter had expected, and began to constrict him.

     “Heh, you got quite the--,” he let out a strained groan, “quite the grip.”

     Dante struggled a bit trying to loosen the demon’s grip. He couldn’t focus like this and, if he couldn’t focus, triggering (in any capacity) was off the table. So, Dante did what any younger sibling would do; he started to yell for his big brother.

     “Vergil-- I could use a hand here!” Dante’s body started to ache from the pressure, “God damn it! VERGIL!”

     The loud shouting from his baby brother pulled Vergil from his thoughts. He looked up at Dante and started moving. The demon’s attention was now drawn to the sudden movement of the oldest brother and ever-so-slightly loosened its grip. Not wanting to waste the chance, Dante quickly triggered; making the demon drop the lava-hot Dante.

     “He-hey! Nice to see you finally helping out,” Dante rolled avoiding the large spear.

     Glaring over at Dante, Vergil teleported near the creature’s ankle and sliced it with Mirage Edge; coating him with the creature’s blood.

     Vergil moved to Dante’s side taking advantage of the few moments of reprieve the attack gave them.

     “So, got any ideas?” Dante tried to wipe some of the blood off of Vergil’s face using his coat; however, Vergil harshly swatted away his hand.

     Vergil’s brow furrowed, “Its front and neck would be the best places to try and cut it open; given its scales might be much thicker than I think…”

     Dante twitched his head to the side in a nod, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, “Better than nothing. Shall we?”

     The twins decided to split, each going opposite ways. Confused about what to do, it followed Dante with its body while attempting to use its tails and back paws to hit Vergil.

     Dante took another large hit and created another crater in the wall. He fell to the ground catching himself at the last moment, coming to rest in a kneel. He took a moment to wipe some blood that had begun to drip from his mouth. 

     A large heavy object slammed into Dante, it was Vergil. The two of them hit the wall together, Vergil’s weight only shoving Dante further into the already-created crater: they both were going to be sore after this.

     They both removed themselves from the wall and stood side by side, both slouching slightly.

     With a growl-covered groan, Vergil’s eyes sharpened their gaze upon the demon, “You still have a trigger left in you, brother?” his breath had become slightly ragged.

     Despite his exhaustion, Dante clapped back with his typical sarcastic tone, “Always--you sure you wanna use yours?” Dante straightened his posture.

     Vergil flicked out his arm on the side opposite Dante, summoning his doppelgänger, “For this, yes.”

     There was a flash of light and the two were both in their Sin Triggers. It was quite the sight, one that only would occur when the brothers were fighting themselves. Neither of them had to tell the other what the plan was; perks of being twins as Dante would say.

     Taking the same approach as before, they spilt ways--Doppel following beside Vergil. 

     The demon was confused and turning itself around in circles over how many fast-moving targets it was now presented with. Vergil and Doppel managed to keep the creature’s attention long enough that Dante was able to get behind the creature’s head. With great strength, Dante grabbed the creature’s horns and pulled its head back. He did his best to keep it steady; however, it thrashed like a bull and unexpectedly was able to shake Dante around. Seeing his brother struggling, Vergil sent Doppel to assist him. With the two both pulling on the creature in opposite directions, the thrashing slowed. 

     Seizing the opportunity, Vergil shot up the midline of the torso cutting along it with the Yamato. Once he reached the bottom of the amulet, he stopped and fell back to the ground calling back Doppel; Dante followed suit.

     They both stood as humans, having exhausted their demonic energy, staring with bated breath. The demon’s midline showed the cut; however, nothing was happening. 

     “Verge ain’t--” Dante’s face went pale after turning towards his older brother.

     Vergil looked pissed, no, he looked beyond pissed. His grip had tightened on the Yamato so hard his knuckles were turning colors. Without warning, Vergil triggered himself once more and took off toward the demon; this time, however, the creature wasn’t being held back by others. 

     He jumped off of the spear that had been swung and avoided the other hand’s attempt at grabbing the blue devil. His speed was unimaginable as he was instantaneously on top of the demon’s head. With great effort, he plunged Mirage Edge deep into the scaly skin and tissues of the creature. Swiftly, he yanked the blade down the middle of the face, down the throat, and stopped above the necklace. With one of his forearm blades, Vergil gouged out the amulet and tore it from its resting place. 

     A large amount of blood began to spew from the new incision. Vergil was thrown violently from the beast as it began to flail about. A plume of blue energy emitted from the man as he hit the floor--hard. Dante ran over to the hole containing the other twin with slight concern. The once again human, Vergil lay unmoving in the newly-formed crater as Dante slid down to his brother’s side. 

     “Hey, you’re not dead--right?” the red demon poked Vergil slightly. 

     Vergil slowly opened his eyes and glared up at Dante, “It will take much more to kill me,” he sat up and groaned quietly in pain, “I assure you, little brother.”

     Dante laughed and offered a hand to help Vergil up; which, normally he wouldn’t accept but today Vergil was too exhausted to fuss over such things.

     Upon exiting the crater they found the demon laying on its belly like a resting horse, slowly bleeding out from Vergil’s second attack. 

     Vergil moved to finish it off but was stopped by Dante’s forearm, “Allow me.” 

     Dante carefully used his Devil Sword and re-cut over the Yamato’s shallow slice. Although the demon was dying, it did put up somewhat of a fight by swinging its hands and claws at Dante; all the while, its gaze found Vergil’s again--who was slowly approaching the suffering creature. 

     “Just die already, you son-of-a-bitch,” Dante growled through his teeth as he dug his sword further into the demon’s stomach, making it shout an ear-piercing sad cry; which sounded almost human-- Vergil did his best to ignore that part.

     The demonic corpse dissolved slowly. Vergil had made it to his brother’s side as he watched the disintegration before them. He bent over and picked up the amulet that he had dropped while being thrown around. With a gentle sigh, Vergil placed it into his pocket and stood back up.

     The pair's attention was now drawn to where the head of the beast once lay. In its place, you were laying there; naked and dead to the world. At first, the brothers thought you were actually dead but then they heard your faint heartbeat and took a sigh of relief. 

     Vergil’s expression was a strange mixture of joy, anger, and sadness. He walked over to you, his steps were cautious and silent. Once by your side, Vergil removed his coat, gently wrapped you in it, and picked you up. His brief moment of solace was interrupted by a large tremor.

     “Hey, uh, Verge--” Dante quickly moved to his brother’s side, “You gonna be able to get us outta here?”

     Vergil paused for a moment giving thought to whether he could or not, “Yes,” he pursed his lips.

     Dante noticed his hesitation and was going to question him; however, the younger brother quickly put together why. “Vergil, hand them to me--you can’t use Yamato like that.”

     “No, I--” another tremor broke off a part of the ceiling nearby, “Fine.”

     Vergil handed you over to Dante and pulled out the Yamato. With a deep breath, he sliced open a portal and traversed through with Dante right behind him. 

     Once out of the other side, Vergil didn’t even give Dante a chance to think before ripping you from him. Vergil knows that Dante wouldn’t dare hurt you, however, he had an overwhelming urge to keep you far from anyone besides himself. 

     Dante looked around and scratched the stubble on his jaw, “Uh, Vergil… This ain’t the shop,” the pair was standing where they had entered nearly twelve hours prior. 

     With a low mumble, Vergil avoided looking at Dante, “I don’t have the energy for that…”

     Dante bit his tongue hard--all he wanted to do was poke fun at Vergil and would have if Vergil was in a better headspace. Instead, he just simply nodded at Vergil, “Well… I can call a ride if you want..? I’m sure Nico wouldn’t mind picking us up--given she’ll want a cut of the pay.”

     “She can have my half; I got what I came for,” money was the furthest thing from the blue devil's mind, all he could think about was that he finally had you back.

     “Alright--you sure you’re okay with--”

     “Yes.”

     Dante let out a small ‘heh’ and pulled out his very well-protected phone.

     Nico showed up around an hour later. Once stopped, the door swung open, and out strode Nero. 

     He looked over at his father and uncle, who were sitting on a ledge and the floor respectively.

     “Holy shit, you actually found them? Nico said that Dante-- I didn’t believe her…” Nero extended a hand to help the very sore Dante off the ground. Without so much as a nod to his son, Vergil got into the van.

     Dante groaned and cracked his back, “Don’t take it personally, kid. Vergil’s in a weird mood.”

     “What happened? I saw the folder that was thrown on the floor of the garage, but--” the pair began to walk to the van side-by-side, “I don’t get how you knew.”

     “When we get back… or after I take a hot shower and nap… I’ll fill you in on the details at some point,” Dante slumped down on the couch in the van that was opposite Vergil.

     Before Nero could protest at Dante’s wait time, the younger twin was sound asleep--even snoring a little.

     With everyone in the van, Nico began to drive; despite Nero still standing. Before the youngest Sparda descendant went up to his seat, he turned to Vergil, “You uh… gonna be okay?” Nero felt awkward asking the typically stoic man such an out-of-character question.

     Vergil looked up at Nero with a confused tilt to his brow then back down to you, “In time, yes.”

     Nero nodded--shocked that he got anything other than ‘yes’ or the silent treatment--and went up to the passenger seat for the rest of the quiet ride back to the shop.

==

     The moment the van stopped; even before Nico had turned off the ignition, Vergil got up and was out the van door. He thinks he heard someone say something as he left, but he didn’t care. All he wanted right now was to be in his room with you in his arms. Quickly and quietly he headed up the stairs and into his room.

     The eldest son prides himself on being the cleanest member of the Sparda line; however with you being gone, he had stopped caring about such trivial things. The room had quite a few sets of worn and unworn outfits strewn about. Several cups of half-drank liquids sat on various tabletops. The room wasn't messy by normal standards but Vergil was far from "normal".

      He walked over to his bed. Vergil moved you so he could support your body with one arm and fixed the disheveled mess that was his bed. Once satisfied, he set you down on the bedding; he noticed that you were filthy --which wasn’t surprising due to what had occurred. 

     Vergil hesitantly left his room to get some warm water, rags, and some medical supplies. It took him a moment to figure out what to grab--he wasn’t the best at treating wounds, he hasn’t ever needed to know such things; so he was as methodical as possible. Seeing how Vergil was struggling to find what he needed, Nero silently helped his father gather what was needed. Vergil gave Nero a solid nod in acknowledgment of his help.

     Upon returning to his room, Vergil began to gently wash your dirt and blood-ridden skin. While doing so, he noticed his hands had begun to shake. Furrowing his brow and pursing his lips in confusion, he stopped momentarily. Vergil never shakes, so what was going on?

     Using exhaustion as an explanation, he dismissed it with a shake of his head. Vergil continued to clean your body. You had visibly become slimmer from the several months of entrapment. His eyes moved up to your face, you were still sound asleep but he noticed that you looked deathly sick.  

     He took the rag and rung it out. Your body was cleaned; however,  you were still covered in wounds. Vergil knew that he couldn’t do anything for the copious amounts of bruises you had, so he moved to take care of several burn marks you had obtained; most of which were around your neck from Dante pulling on your demonic prison. Vergil put some burn cream onto his fingers and softly rubbed it on the marks. Letting out a shaky sigh, he moved on to the last thing he had to tend to before dressing you.

     The Yamato might not have mortality wounded your capsule, but it seemed to have nicked your midline all the way up--the cut was too thin and clean to have been from Dante’s Devil Sword. After wiping his hands off, he applied an antibiotic gel along the cut. If you had been awake, you would have cussed him out, no doubt. The thought brought a small smirk to Vergil’s face. 

     He grabbed the gauze and began to dress the wound; however, Vergil stopped. His vision had become blurry and his mind went blank. During these past four months, he had cried a few times, but it was always controlled and well-restrained. 

     Right now, though? He felt like screaming. He felt like weeping until he became ill. All he wanted to hear was your voice, to feel your lips on his face, to be held as he sobbed uncontrollably. Vergil felt like a little kid again; alone and afraid of losing those he loves. A whimpering hiccup brought him out of his thoughts as he looked up at you. Confusion sunk in as he saw you were still fast asleep. 

     He froze. The noise had come from him. Vergil tried to suppress his tears; he hard-shut his eyes, tried angrily furrowing his brow, and even tried looking upwards; nothing worked. 

     Nothing could stop the storm of pitiful tears that leaked from his tired eyes. So, he worked through them and finished patching you up the best the blue devil could. 

     Another strained whimper left his lips as he straightened himself back up. You didn’t live at the DMC with the brothers, so Vergil did not have any of your clothes. He knew he couldn’t just leave you naked (since anyone could walk in and see you) so he rustled through his clothing. Vergil didn’t have much in the sense of “casual” clothes which made this difficult. 

     Eventually, he decided on a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a sleeveless black turtleneck. He managed to get you into the much-too-big clothing and tucked you into the duvet of his bed. 

     Vergil spent the rest of the night by your side holding your hand as he quietly grieved.

==

     Sunlight spilled into the dark room through the slightly ajar curtains. It was nearly noon and Vergil hadn’t moved from his spot next to you. Nero and Dante had both peaked in to check on you and the visibly exhausted hunter a few times… which they only got stared at in response.

     The blue devil could hear your heart and your breathing just fine; but, was unable to keep himself from thinking you weren’t going to make it. He had convinced himself that this whole ordeal was his fault. 

      “Maybe if you hadn’t had such a noticeable trinket on you wouldn’t have been taken.” he thought, “or was it because you have been associated with our cursed bloodline that this happened?”

     He felt a stinging in his eyes start once more, “I should have been there. It is my job to protect you and keep you safe. I failed you just like I have to everyone else,” his lips quivered as his breath stuttered, “Perhaps you would be better off without me,” Vergil’s chest heaved and his face twisted into a grimace. Once more, he had lost control of his emotions as he unintentionally tightened his grip on your hand.

     “You trying to break my fingers?” a hoarse sarcastic voice snapped Vergil to attention. You had woken up and were staring at him with a gentle concerned crease of your brow.

     Without a word, Vergil pulled you into a tight hug. Even if he wanted to say anything, he couldn’t; not in the distraught state he was in. Although you were still weak, you began to rub his back as you hugged. You relished in his scent and touch; something that felt like a distant memory while ensnared in the demon’s body. 

     “Miss me?” you heard and felt him shutter. He pushed further into you making you acutely aware of the large slice on your midsection, “Ow, fuck--”

     Vergil left the hug upon realizing what happened and, still unable to speak, pointed to your torso. With unsteady hands, you rolled up the very loose black fabric, “Oh…”

     Pulling the shirt back down, you looked at Vergil. His face was puffy and his eyes were bloodshot with prominent tear stains running down his face. Slowly you reached for your lover’s face and gently thumbed one of the tears from his cheek. 

     Vergil grabbed your hand and held it to his lips, just setting them against your cold skin. His expression was a mixture of painful sadness and overbearing happiness. A crease formed on his brow as he shut his eyes tightly. You could see Vergil trying to piece together what to say. 

     A few brief moments passed before he spoke, scarcely louder than a whisper, “I thought…” you felt his lips shake against your clammy skin, “I thought you were…” Vergil couldn’t bring himself to finish his words.

     You sadly smiled as you used your held hand to thumb over his stiff fingers, “and leave you alone? Not in a million years, Vergil.”

     The tremble in his lips worsened as his lips gently kissed your hand, stifling a whimper.

     After he let go of your hand, you moved to sit on the edge of the bed allowing your feet to dangle off the side, “Come here..?” you beckoned to your unraveling lover. 

     “Are you sure--I do not want to hurt you again,” his response was sheepish and meek.

     Not taking no for an answer, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto your lap. Having the large devil on your lap would have typically been uncomfortable; but, your want to hold him and comfort him in such a distraught state overrode every other thought.

     He hesitantly straddled your lap. You noticed his uncertainty and gently pulled him closer, “Let me hold you, please?” you were trying to reassure him. 

     Which seems to have worked; he hastily put his arms around you. He held on tightly grabbing wads of the loose shirt’s fabric as if he were actively being pulled off of you. Since he was taller than you, his head rested atop yours. The side of your face was resting on his chest and your arms were wrapped around him as you began to rub his back once more. 

     The man’s breathing became ragged as he fought with himself and his emotions. 

     “Vergil, it’s going to be okay,” you lovingly rubbed your face against his chest, hearing his heart racing, “you can let go now.”

     This small set of words finally undid the eldest son of Sparda.

     You had seen Vergil cry before, but only in small quiet amounts; never as raw and shattered as this. The hunter began to shake within your grasp. The only noise coming from the man was loud uncontrolled sobs and sharp breathing. His grip on the shirt had become a death grip; holding on tight enough to rip through the tightly woven fabric. A deep rumble came from his chest as it seemed even his demon was crying out in anguish.

     Deep within, you knew that these tears were for much more than your own disappearance. You knew that this strong soul had finally reached a breaking point. Closing your eyes, you pushed yourself into him and held him tightly, whispering sweet words of comfort to him. Gently and slowly, you kneaded against his back with your hands; knowing that it would comfort the blue devil. 

     Eventually, his cries slowed and his grip loosened.  Vergil’s body shifted as he longingly kissed the top of your head. Letting out a heavy sigh and shutter, he leaned back. You smiled at him. Vergil smiled in return, his eyes creased at the edges pushing the few remaining tears from his eyes. He took one of his hands and placed it on your bicep. The other found its way to your face. He thumbed over your cheek and lips with an undertone of uncertainty and disbelief; that this was real, that you were home.

     You leaned into the warmth of his palm, “I missed you too, Vergil…” a wave of a soft sadness mixed with love washed over you, “so very much.”

==

ENDING NOTES: Hope y’all like the art with this one--admittedly this would’ve been done much sooner if I hadn’t decided to add that. The scales and all textures are not things I drew; they are all sampled from real things--the feet, for example, are textured using orange peel(s). All colors (except the maroon scales) are from Nelo Angelo and both of Vergil’s sin triggers--I did change some saturations, but the basis for them is all from the stoic man’s palettes. ⏳⏳⏳ I swear the next thing is not going to be more angsty/sad Vergil. I actually was writing this alongside “What Would They Think”--I’d get bored with one and write some for the other lol. Hopefully, you enjoyed this story! Much love y’all (I’m thinking something with V or Nero next; which, Nero’s H/Cs are the hardest thing for me to write for some fucking reason lmao idk what is going on with that.)

==

Bonus short story that I wrote as a warm-up; post story stuff:

==

     Nero walked down the stairs of the Devil May Cry with a prominent dejected expression. With a small bounce to his step, the youngest Sparda descendant walked towards the fridge; however, an ‘ahem’ cough caught his attention. 

    J.D. Morrison was sitting on the edge of Dante’s desk smoking his typical stogie. The said owner of the desk was sitting there with a manilla folder in hand, staring at Nero. 

     Dante set the folder down, “So--” he leaned back in his chair, “How is he?” 

     Nero quickly glanced between the two, unsure of what he should and could say in front of the company broker.

     The red devil raised a brow, “Well?”

     “Uh-” Nero centered himself into Dante’s view, “He’s okay. Nothing’s really changed much.”

     Dante slowly nodded and bit his tongue in thought for a moment, “... They awake?”

     “No, doesn’t seem like they’ve even moved.”

     “Damn it,” the younger twin sighed, “Let’s hope they do soon; I can’t stand seeing him like that.”

     Nero shrugged, “At least Vergil’s not going to be a dick anymore.”

     Dante laughed, “Careful, you might jinx us.” he grabbed the folder he had previously been paging through, “Interested in doing a job with me--takin’ Verge’s place for now?”

     Nero took the folder from his uncle. After paging through it and reading it a bit Nero smiled slightly, “Sure, why not. Anything to get me out of here.”

     “Good--” Dante turned his attention to Morrison, “We’ll take it.”

     The broker smiled, “Glad to hear it. When--”

     A loud abrupt noise cut off J.D.’s question. It had come from above them and Nero bolted to the stairs.

     “Wait! Nero-” Dante got up fast enough to knock his chair over. He tackled Nero into the wall, preventing his ascension upward, “Stop.”

     “Let go of me!” Nero shoved Dante off of him.

     Dante put Nero in a sloppy cradle pin; holding him still, “Listen for a minute.”

     The young hunter stopped struggling. He furrowed his brow as he whispered, “Is that crying? ”

     With the same volume, Dante responded, “Yeah, it’s from Vergil.”

     They untangled from the floor and stood up. Both of them decided to grab their gear before Dante acknowledged the semi-confused Morrison, “Let’s take this somewhere else--give Vergil his privacy.”

     “Fine by me,” he stood up from the desk, “Although it would be nice to get an explanation once we leave.”

     Dante nodded with an unintentional smile, “Not much to say… Just a long overdue reunion.”

==

ENDING NOTES (FOR THE SECOND STORY): I figure that Vergil and Dante might not get along per se, but are able to be kind of nice to each other. Giving each other support or defense when needed; they are family after all. (This is why Dante wants to leave)

==

Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

[setaflow]

🔫 FREEZE this is a STICKUP

gimme 5 great lines that you wrote (whether you’ve posted them or not) and 5 great lines someone else wrote (whether published or fanfic) and nobody gets hurt!!

P.S. If one of lines isn't a Tom Robbins quote, I'm not sure what I'm gonna do with myself. (I say this as a joke, but also...)

YES OFFICER SORRY OFFICER

Frankly I could've filled the entire second section with Tom Robbins quotes I loved, but I limited myself lmao

5 Great Lines I Wrote:

Johnny’s come to realize a long time ago that most folks tend to employ a geocentric view of Night City— it’s the center of the first world and thus all fads, conflicts, and politics are destined to fall into orbit around it. He likes to think he’s grown out of that mindset, that he’s wizened up enough to see past the veneer, but it’s hard to see the city for what it is some days and not think of it as the nucleus in the great big slow-decaying cell of what used to be modern day America.

Untitled WIP, Cyberpunk 2077

The afternoon air tastes of lethargy— the kind of lazy day you take when there’s little to do and even less worth mustering the strength for. Nothing’s stirred outside besides the occasional gust of wind, a pair of blusterous boots kicking sand up and down the main thoroughfare.

Untitled WIP, Cyberpunk 2077

The look on Hellman's face seems to've transcended terror and looped straight around to piousness, as though God Himself had strolled through the door and asked to bum a cigarette.

The Wheel of Fortune and the Hanged Man, Cyberpunk 2077

No words are exchanged, no gazes are averted. For one split second, V feels doubt creep in, wonders if she should adjust her aim and do it proper this time— no harm, no foul, right? What kind of wolf has the rabbit in its jaws and refuses to bite down?

Rain in the Desert, Chapter 17, Cyberpunk 2077

The sun and the moon were never supposed to meet. They were only supposed to follow after the other, never actually crossing paths. Two entirely separate lives, pulling and pushing on each other from a distance, content just to be as they are and never anything else. When people first saw eclipses, they interpreted them as a sign that the world was ending. Fuck. Fuck. The world has already ended so many times, and he’s still here. Alone. At the brink of everything he’s ever known, at the brink of leaving it all behind for good. And all Johnny Silverhand can think about is how to explain that he loves and hates and deeply fucking misses some stupid merc he never should’ve met who didn’t know how to cut her losses and just let him die.

In Medias Res (Here, Besides the Rising Tide) (WIP), Cyberpunk 2077

5 Great Lines Others Wrote:

"He’s twelve years old, and this summer he learns that people will always choose a simple lie over a complicated truth, because the lie has one unbeatable advantage: the truth always has to stick to what actually happened, whereas the lie just has to be easy to believe."

- Fredrick Backman, Us Against You

"The unhappy person resents it when you try to cheer him up, because that means he has to stop dwelling on himself and start paying attention to the universe. Unhappiness is the ultimate form of self-indulgence. When you're unhappy, you get to pay a lot of attention to yourself. You get to take yourself oh-so very seriously."

- Tom Robbins, Jitterbug Perfume

"There comes a point in life when you've seen so much that hardly anything surprises you or bothers you, and that's a shitty moment. Wisdom is so terribly overrated."

- Drew Magary, The Hike

“People are rotten everywhere you go. They’re no good. You want to see a very bad man? Make an ordinary man successful beyond his imagination. Let’s see how good he is when he can do whatever he wants.”

- Min Jin Lee, Pachinko

"Trees fall with spectacular crashes. Planting is silent and growth invisible."

Richard Powers, The Overstory

[lunetual]

♡ HAPPY HEECHAN DAY ♡ everyone wish my yangstar a happy birthday RIGHT this instant!! he'll know it if you don't so do it right now before he gets sad!!

quick cc note: omg long time no talk guys...... but i'm back i am spilling out my feelings i bet you MISSED this!! (pls do not feel obligated to read all of this u know how it goes!)

anyway... my heechan my yangstar my little mirrorball.... i don't know if it's evident because a lot of times i can't even speak about him because i feel too protective of him LOL but i really love him So much.

the thing about heechan is that he is so incorrigibly himself at all times that i never stood a chance. i think i've mentioned before how lune charmed me like thirty seconds into dkb's first peak time segment but heechan was NOT far behind! during their intro stage when he strode up, all swagger, absolutely thrumming with energy and yelled 이게 바로 멋인기라 !!!! i was TOAST. i didn't know it at the time but i was a GONER !! honestly. i can't think of a better introduction!! like. what could be more indicative of heechan as a performer. god i love him.

i think one of the reasons i do feel so protective of him is because he is always trying so hard. he is trying so fucking hard all the time he is always ALWAYS giving it everything he has and then he somehow finds it in himself to give even more. lmao it makes me want to cry ha ha ha. i am grateful every day for how hard he worked to get to where he is now and i want everyone in the world to perceive him!!! and also i don't want anyone to look at him unless they LOVE and RESPECT him as he deserves!!

heechan on stage is a force to behold — obviously i was absolutely enthralled by him lol like i was not immune to the sheer force of his presence !! but heechan offstage is like... so endearing. he's very earnest (i think his stage presence is earnest too, if you know what i mean) and is always striving to make sure fans feel seen and heard. i joke very often that heechan should be paying ME for subscribing to his bubble given that i do nothing on there but ply him with reassurance and praise lmao but honestly! he is so active and diligently sends photos to make bbs happy and he always updates us on how his day is going and as he goes to bed he often reminds us to send anything we want to tell him and that he really truly does read everything fans leave for him whether it's on fc or bubble or comments on his fancams (that he checks religiously aslkdjfalsk).

i think it's pretty clear that heechan is really someone who thrives in the spotlight, who loves being the center of attention, but !! he gives that energy back! all of the love and enthusiasm that's poured into him he gives back tenfold, with his boundless exuberance and his innate desire to make people smile.

my yangstar i hope you save some of yourself... for yourself. i hope you know that you shine so brightly even when you're not putting SO much effort into it — but that we do see you working so hard and always, always appreciate it. i hope that you are always surrounded by love and that you know that you're doing so well and that the coming years bring you joy and fulfillment and laughter to spare! ily my yangstar!!!

[onboardsorasora]

❄️Enchanted AU: Christmas Part 18❄️

Allo everyone! I feel giddy every time I post these because I know we're all excited for updates. I love you all! Thank you for every comment and kudo, every reblog, like. All of it! Also... can I be real for a sec- we have like an actual plot here... like this has become an actual story about getting these two idiots together and I'm floored and honoured and frankly impressed that we're here lmao the reaction this verse has gotten is truly amazing to me. Anywho! Ignore meeee:

Part 1 | Christmas Parts 14 | Prev Part 17

Part 18

There were Christmas carols playing over the loudspeakers as they meandered to the city center. Lando had texted that they were closer to the left side of the tree and Max was thankful that that seemed to be the easier side crowd wise.

Taking Daniel's hand, Max led them through to crush people waiting. Daniel kept close behind him, clutching onto Max's arm even as he stared above them in wonder. He trusted Max to lead him. The tree looked completely different than when they saw it being installed. It wasn't lit yet but Daniel already knew it would be a breathtaking sight.

Daniel shuffled closer as they passed a family with a double stroller, squashed in by a large group protecting a cooler, and Max maneuvered him to the front of their little queue. His chest pressed into Daniel's back, he could feel every breath Daniel took while they waited for the path before them to clear. Max was very aware of how nicely Daniel fit against him, almost perfectly and snugly. He could hook his chin over Daniel’s shoulder and not have to bend over too far.

By the time they found the guys and Lily, Max was pressed tightly against Daniel's back while they moved in tandem through the tight crowd. He ignored the looks Alex and Charles gave him while Daniel happily hugged everyone in greeting.

“You guys came just in time!” Lando called out, tugging his beanie further onto his head.

“We thought it was next week.” Daniel squeaked out, embarrassed. He tucked into Lily's arms, hugging her around her middle. She hugged him around his shoulders and tilted her head onto his messy curls. Daniel relaxed, the crowd had been a little intense, even with Max at his back to protect him from the worst of it. He was also extremely happy for Max's sweater because the wind was a little chilly now that the sun was down.

“What were you guys doing?” It was Charles who asked.

“We were decorating the tree! Everyone's coming soon so we have to get everything done in time.” Daniel explained patiently. Charles' brow furrowed.

“Everyone is coming…here?” He asked slowly, as if Daniel spoke in a different language.

“Yep!” 

Lando and Charles shared a look that Daniel missed, before they both pinned Max down with a pointed stare. He narrowed his eyes at them and made a motion for them to keep quiet. Charles smirked in the way that Max hated, because he knew that it meant that Charles was going to be a little shit.

“Oh, well if everyone will be coming here then you guys should come to our Friendsmas dinner party before Lando, Alex and Lily go off.” Charles offered.

“Friendsmas?” Daniel's eyes furrowed. He eased back to look at Lily to see if Charles was making a joke or not. Lily smiled at him and nodded.

“Yes, it's a Christmas party, we exchange gifts and have fun before everyone goes off for Christmas.” Lily explained, Daniel smiled. That sounded like a wonderful idea.

“When is it?” Daniel was excited.

“It's this weekend.” Lando replied.

“Oh! How didn't we know before?” Daniel bit his lip, there was not enough time to buy anyone's presents. 

“Charles mentioned but I must have forgotten.” Max said with a resigned shrug. Alex raised a brow but said nothing to contradict him.

The conversation was cut off when the crowd started to stir in excitement. Daniel looked around,  before paying attention to the birds in the trees around them who were getting a little agitated. “Oh it's starting.” 

The birds then flew away almost en masse. Lando raised a brow at Daniel who shrugged. “I told them to leave. That they may not like all the lights.”

The carols got louder in intensity, changing from instrumental background music levels to a choir and the show began. Daniel watched in awe, even when Lily shifted him and wrapped his arms around Max so she could go cuddle with Alex. Max eventually turned him around to rest his back against him so Daniel didn't have to strain his neck. 

Max's eyes drifted from the light show to Daniel's enthralled upturned face. The glow from the various lights made him look younger. Max had never really considered the tree lighting, Charles had invited him previously and he normally declined. He saw the city’s decorations all lit up anyway, he didn't see the need to watch it happen for the first time. To fight the crowds for something he would be seeing until January.

Daniel had confided that it was something they did at home every year. The tree wasn't as large as here in Monaco but it was fun all the same. He would normally go for a run with the horses afterwards as a treat. Max had agreed to go before he could even think about it. His mouth was opening to promise that they would take the boys and go together.

Finally, after a lot of fanfare, the treelight design was revealed much to the delight of the crowd. There was applause around them, children squealing their excitement at the show. Daniel leaned back into Max's hold.

“It's so beautiful.” Daniel grinned. Max's gaze didn't leave Daniel's face, drinking in his profile almost greedily.

“Yeah, very.” Max whispered, his reply completely lost in the excitement around them.

“Have you guys had dinner yet?” Charles broke Max out of his reverie with a pointed look that Max ignored.

“Nope!” Daniel popped the p with a grin.

“We should grab something.”

They quickly agreed on a place, somewhere they went to regularly. Daniel was eager to go– having never been. Soon he found himself crammed into a booth between Max and Lando. Charles, Lilly and Alex were across from them chattering away. Alex and Lily ordered a milkshake to share, and a basket of bread was placed in the middle of the table.

Daniel looked through the menu excitedly as his friends talked around him, they were at a small Italian restaurant. This was great because he was starting to miss his Mama's cooking. He was sad though, because what he wanted wasn't on the menu– it wasn’t exactly authentic but the ‘original’ version wasn’t even an option. He overheard Charles talking to the waiter in Italian and Daniel felt his shoulders loosen a bit at the familiar sounds. 

He bit his cuticles, suddenly nervous, as he realized Charles was ordering for everyone. He didn't know what he wanted! But then everyone's attention turned to him and Daniel's eyes widened.

“Uhm.” He bit his lip.

“If you don't see something you like, I'm sure they can make something for you.” Charles offered. The waiter nodded once with a disarming smile.

Daniel looked to the waiter and timidly asked for a traditional Sicilian Christmas dish with a small adjustment– in Italian. The waiter asked him a few more questions that Daniel answered, a little more confidently once he realized that Charles was right about them making something special for him happily. The waiter left and Daniel blinked owlishly at everyone who just stared at him in varying levels of surprise.

“What?” He asked, feeling awkward. His thumbnail was back between his teeth, he watched them all through his lashes. Max touched his wrist, pulling on the sweater sleeves that covered most of his fingers, to remind Daniel to stop.

“You speak Italian?” Lando blurted.

“My name is Italian?” Daniel furrowed his brow.

“Actually, Daniel is French?” Charles was extra confused.

“No I'm– my name is Daniel Ricciardo.” He made sure to pronounce it the Italian way, with an additional unnecessary flair that made Lily giggle.

“You're just full of surprises aren't you Danny.” Alex laughed, which caused everyone to laugh. They went back to their previous conversations and Daniel let their voices wash over him again.

“What did you order?” Max asked after a while. Daniel smiled shyly and explained the dish his mother normally made before Christmas and how they made some changes because he was allergic to a few of the ingredients. 

Max nodded, remembering a conversation with Grace when it seemed Daniel would be staying longer than they all anticipated. She had warned him of Daniel’s allergies, knowing her son would forget to tell him– which he absolutely had. It had been great because Max had immediately locked away the bag of trailmix Brad had left behind some days before.

They continued to talk quietly to themselves, laughing at each other’s jokes. Completely in their own world. Lily smiled fondly and elbowed Alex who was having a silent (and seemingly intense) conversation with Lando and Charles. She didn’t like how the three men were looking increasingly mischievous. She mouthed for them to ‘leave them alone’ but then rolled her eyes, knowing they wouldn’t listen.

Lando watched how the oblivious couple completely forgot that there were other people out with them. They truly had eyes only for each other, with their mutual gesticulating. “Oi, earth to Maxiel.” Lando tore off a bit of bread and threw it at them, hitting Max in the cheek. Max turned annoyed eyes to him while Lando and Charles snickered.

“Maxiel?” Daniel asked with a blush. He was very confused but something about Lando’s tone also embarrassed him.

“I dunno, it just came to me.” Lando shrugged with a cheeky grin. Daniel’s blush deepened when Charles couldn’t hold back his snickers. He looked to Max and saw him looking at Charles with a deadpan straight face. Of course Max wouldn’t think it was funny, or cute. They weren’t like what the guys were teasing. They weren’t like together or anything. They were just friends, Max was just taking care of him.

Lily gave Daniel a small tentative smile, to make sure he wasn’t upset by the teasing. He smiled back at her and then grinned wider when their food came. He focused on his meal, realizing how hungry he was. He wasn’t going to think anymore about ‘Maxiel’ or how it made his tummy swoop.

Part 19

[here2bbtstrash]

bts at a drag show/gay bar

i was already babbling abt how much i wanted to do this with my bias line and then y'all made me realize i should just make it a whole damn headcanons post so. welcome! here we are! here is my brainrot on how the boys would turn up on drag night at the gay bar 🏳️‍🌈✨ if this content is not for you, it costs $0 to just keep scrolling ✌️

knj: everyone expected that joonie bby would be flooded with attention from the people who came out tonight specifically in search of a tall, built daddy, but there's a group nobody saw coming that ends up swarming him first: the lesbians. they fucking love him, and he finds himself getting sucked into an hour-long conversation on the back patio about roni horn and rha hyeseok. he'll probably end up agreeing to start a book club with his new sapphic friends before the night is over (and he'll run into them all again the following weekend when he goes to support soyoon at one of her gigs lmao) 👭

ksj: entirely oblivious to what it looks like when a person is flirting with him, despite that being exactly what happens to him for quite literally the entire night. each time someone new walks away from the table, he'll turn back to yoongi and jimin with the same question: "okay, now surely that wasn't flirting, was it?!" only to be immediately told that yes, yes it was and no, nobody would sit through a 20 minute ted talk on the lore of maplestory if they didn't also want to sit on his dick. he'll argue til til he's half-hoarse from screaming over the music that there's no way everyone in the club could possibly be flirting with him - but frankly, he's not mad at the ego boost 🍆

myg: putting the suga in suga daddy, he's breaking hundreds at the bar to make sure everyone has a stack of singles to tip the queens, and alllllll the drinks are going on his black card. other than that he's pretty lowkey, mostly just sipping steadily at his whiskey and looking at his phone. when somebody finally gets nosy enough to lean over his shoulder and snoop, they realize that he's actively scrolling through his rotation of hookup apps and trying to match up people in the room to their profiles. might slip away for a sneaky link in the bathroom oop, but he'll be back in time to close his tab out 💳

jhs: full-send GAGGING at the queens and their dancing. he can't even stay in his seat because song after song he's jumping to his feet just so he can dramatically collapse to the floor with a gay scream, getting his life entirely with every new kick, flip, spin, and death drop. the word slaaaaaaaay! has never been shouted with more enthusiasm than it is tonight by this man, and he does not give a fuck that he won't have a voice tomorrow. once the show is over, he is the absolute center of the dancefloor, popping and locking and showing off his footwork like he was born to do it-- and the boys will definitely catch him practicing his duck walk at some point in the next week 🕺

pjm: without a doubt, he is the LIFE of the mf party, lost in the lights and outta his mind u kno?? it's literally just the like crazy MV, actually. will make everyone do shots as soon as they get in the door and then at least once an hour the rest of the night, if only because he really likes flirting (and by flirting i mean making out) with the shot boys. lbr he probably gets several shots poured or spat into his mouth, and if anyone's hopping up on the bar to get tequila sucked out of their belly button, it is absolutely this demon. and ofc he's bringing at least one person home with him - "it's gon' be a good night" indeed~ 😈

kth: disappears into the crowd a few songs into the set, but he texts the group chat that he's fine and just made some friends, so the night carries on without him. it isn't until the next performer is called to the stage - miss tata mic! - that everyone realizes he's befriended the queens, and they've done him up right: cinched for the gods, face beat to make his eyes even more smoldering than usual (...wait, did he bring his colored contacts from home?!), and moving fearlessly in borrowed six-inch heels. and of course, his choreo is flawless. he easily earns enough tips to pay yoongi back in full and then some 👠

jjk: the definition of 'happy to be here'. loves the lights, the music, the ~vibes~, all of it. he somehow knows every word to every single song, and the more drinks he has, the louder he's singing along. and the queens love him for being easy to fluster, the way even his ears flush with color when he blushes, so he gets a whole lot of ass and tiddies in his lap and his face (rewarded with generous tips, naturally). when the lights finally come on and everyone stumbles outside, he's a drunchies king, and he thinks the food from the truck in the parking lot is quite literally the best thing he's ever tasted. he repeatedly shouts 'DAMN!' up to the night sky, one fist swinging as he eats, until someone pours him into the car so they can all head back home 🍗

[cbsghostsmetasandtrevor]

CBS Ghosts - Hello! - Game's Over, Sam's Done

Warning - Spoilers May Appear

Clearly, the best way to get Thor to leave them alone is for him to get to watch his viking fellows on TV.  He’s SO into it, I love it.

I wonder if he always uses his TV time just for this?

Jay’s just like “Why waste utilities” and Thor goes from being peacefully distracted by the mission to drive Sam crazy because Jay’s trying to save money and can’t hear him.

Poor Sam - she had inadvertently gotten one to leave her alone, only for Jay to ruin it.  

I do love Thor calling Jay “Small Man”.  I wonder if the TV was enough for him to come around to the idea that they could stay as long as he can see Vikings? Because his demand was just to watch TV.

Also, not really shown in this scene, but the ghosts are easily distracted - Thor with the TV, Isaac and Trevor with Hamilton, Hetty and Flower with the hole in the wall.  Like Half the ghosts abandoned the plan the second they found something more interesting. 

I'm convinced the only ones into the Mission are Pete, Sass and Alberta. I wonder why? Sass - drama? Alberta - her murder? But Pete? Very Curious.

I burst out laughing at the Cholera ghosts - if it isn’t mr fix it.  

They’re mocking him and he has no idea and it cracks me up so much.

Stewart should have gotten Nancy’s screen time, honestly.  He's so funny.

HAHAHAHAHAHA

I KNOW WE’RE DEAD BUT HE’S TRYING TO KILL US!  - I love Stewart - he doesn’t pull back - he’s just like COME ON MAN.  Even though he KNOWS Jay can't hear him.

Those Cholera ghosts have some fun after all.

I love that they’re all yelling as if he can hear them - STOP IT MAN!

OMG this is SO SAD!  Sam’s gotten to the point where she thinks that she’s having a Psychotic Break.   POOR SAM.

This is SO interesting - Hetty was not a part of the whole “drive her to acknowledge us” plan.  BUT because of JAY, she’s now driving Sam crazy (when the ghosts IN on the plan have disappeared?) because she’s like “I can’t deal with a hole in the wall”.

Funny to note - Hetty’s struggling here and I can’t wait to see what she’s like in Season 3 when she actually shares a room with Flower.

LMAO I love that Thor calls it a Sorcerer’s window - he’s like “damn it, woman, I just want to see my people.”

Poor Thor, it’s been so long but he misses his people. On the other hand, Sam's busy losing her mind, Thor.

Aw, Sam.  My heart breaks for her.

This is interesting.  Trevor does this thing where he was going someplace and then stops weirdly when he notices who he’s looking for has been found is in that room.  He does the same thing in the Christmas special - so I wonder if he was looking for Hetty at the time???

Anyway, Boy, Trevor doesn’t take rejection well.  Before he was just a poor puppy excited to find someone and connect with someone, now, he’s like ‘fine, I'll be better off without you’.  

This leads into an interesting part of his psychology.  We know that he wants to be the big man around town, he wants to be the center of attention, he wants to have a connection with someone, and he wants to be included and wanted.  

And when he doesn’t get these things - he feels down and sad - which we see in one of the opening scenes, but quickly, he goes on the offense.  It’s only been like a day and Sam’s going through hell, but he (like ALL of the ghosts) only thinks about what he’s feeling and rejecting it.  He wants to mask his negative feelings and project them onto Sam.  

Thus, going for an offensive attack to get her attention - and it works, somewhat.  But also, it probably worked in life, too, hence doing this.  

Doesn’t excuse him, but I do think that he didn’t do this just to be a jerk, but because he’s just trying to deal with his own emotions in the wrong way is interesting. It doesn't make him any worse than the other ghosts that do the same in various instances.

Also, I think he didn’t start with it because he’s not really *that guy*.  He’s only doing it now because he couldn’t handle the rejection (which ISN’T okay). And he backs off quickly when she runs away to the hospital. We never see him do this, again.

Also, what is that face, Thor? You’re just like ‘whatever’.

And Hetty’s too busy trying to get Sam’s attention to interact with what Trevor’s doing here?  You’d think she’d defend her. Since she does - sort of - like Sam.

POOR SAM - She’s just like “God this is terrible”.

Trevor, boy, there’s nothing genius about this.  But I do love them all chasing her to the stairwell.

APPARENTLY, SAM CAN ESCAPE THEM - evidence?  They don’t go downstairs because “they are terrifying” - how are they terrifying??? I need to know.

is it because they smell? Is it because they are different? I just - need to know.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to reach out and chat :)

[skelletonscloset]

Hello! How are you?

I would like to request a one shot where Zack and Ray go to a floor and the resident/S/O instantly falls in love with Zack, so instead of trying to kill them, they decide to hide the fact that they are the resident and go to help Zack and Ray despite it being against the rules. And the S/O’s personality is like Wanderer from Genshin Impact

I am SOOOO sorry for the delay in writing this! I hope it’s kind of what you were asking for! maybe in the future i could even write a part two to this!

disclaimer i haven’t watched the series in a while, so apologize for any extreme mischaracterization!

and please excuse my bad grammar lmao

warning: use of mild langue, brief description of weapons/general violence. please feel free to comment if i missed any!

without further ado…

NO STRINGS ATTACHED

You weren’t paying attention to the announcement that rang through the building. something about a resident and… something else. you didn’t care enough to pay attention. if someone was dumb enough to try and escape they’d never make it anyway. this place was a never ending hellhole of calamity. It was your fault if you broke the rules and paid for it with your life. no way in hell would you do that. and if someone even got to your floor they sure as hell wouldn’t make it past.

So you brushed off the announcement, continuing to craft different sized dolls for your floor. The officials gave you the name Puppeteer. it wasn’t original in the slightest. Before being caught and brought here—wherever that was— you made puppets out of your victims, sewing strings through their limbs to maneuver them, enacting more heinous crimes. Now you’re stuck making dolls out of fabric and other things lying around.

Your floor was dark, spider webs hanging from the ceiling like decrepit streamers that mimic a welcoming atmosphere, needles dangling from thin wire, begging to poke someone in the eye who wasn’t careful. But they also served as a signal for when something or someone entered your personal floor.

So maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised when you got the alert that something walked into your floor. maybe you SHOULD have paid attention to the announcement when it came. You moved from one of the rooms in your hall, creeping through the shadows. Out of one of your pockets you pulled a small doll, one with long yellow yarn for hair and red sewn on eyes, a small green dress with dirt stains. you threw her into the center of the hall, she’d act as a sort of surveillance drone. and when someone got too close you’d pull. the strings attached would make her move. and if they weren’t any wiser, they’d keep walking. and you’d take care of them yourself.

You held your breath, the distant sound of a pair of feet… no.. two pairs? They were approaching, approaching cautiously yet quick. Clearly whoever it is was looking for something.

“i think it’s this way!” a raspy, voice chortled, seeming way to excited. “once we get out of this i get to kill ya right?”

“yes.”

Two voices. a male, maybe early twenties, and… a female voice belonging to a thirteen year old girl most likely. What the hell was a kid doing here?

“Maybe this floor is empty! this will be easy as shit!”

“no. look.”

they noticed the small doll on the floor, moving closer to it. right in your line of sight. perfect. From the corner of a dingy alleyway you look up to see the.. B6 floor resident… Zack Foster was his name? What the hell is going on?

Zack drags the rusty, blood stained scythe behind him, bending down at the hips to get a closer look at your doll. He stands casually, a hand in one of his pockets. He doesn’t seem phased at all. Is he that strong or is he that stupid? Whatever the answer is, it intrigues you, and you step out from the shadows.

In your hands you tightly grip two long, thick needles, so sharp you wouldn’t feel a thing. The two jump back, however Zack places his scythe in front of the girl.

He wore a blood stained hoodie, it was brown and had a weird black arrow on it pointing up. His body was covered in bandages, the only features visible were his different colored eyes. His left one is a golden color, the right a dark brown. His hair was dark and shaggy, unkempt.

Maybe it was years of isolation but you found him quite attractive.

“the hell are you?” His voice was so grainy, uneven

“i’m… trying to escape? what’s going on?” you didn’t know why you were even giving him a chance to explain. Nor why you lied. You had every right to kill him and the girl. they were on your floor.

Zack explained the situation, also introducing you to Ray, Rachel Gardner. She made you feel uneasy. it didn’t make sense to you but hell, why not live a little. you didn’t say you would help them, but you would.

without saying anything, you took charge, leading the way forward.

You grabbed the small doll, pretending to inspect it as though you didn’t know why it was here in the first place. You walked ahead of the two, teeth grinding and jaw tightening at the rigid sound of his scythe scraping the concrete ground of your hall. At every intersection of your floor you pretended to think.

“you’re trying to escape too? you must be crazy!” Zack cackled, a high pitched dry laugh.

“oh and you’re not? you’re lucky I'm here. we could all die if we get caught.” You sneered at him. you wouldn’t let him know that you were worried, that you were afraid that you’d get caught. other residents from other floors were surely waiting and once Zack and Ray, and you didn’t want to even think about what would happen to either of them.

Maybe it was fucked up, trying to escape only for the ability to kill the person you’re with, and as much as that thought was strange, yet amusing to you… you helped regardless.

“let’s go this way, oh and.. don’t look at the shiny little lights that look like eyes, oh and watch for tripwires.” you said, nonchalantly as if it meant nothing.

“are you the floor master or somethin’? how the hell do ya know so much about this floor?”

“… I don't ask questions about your bandages, so you don’t ask questions about me.” you said harshly. it was better this way, there was no use connecting with someone who was only going to die later on.

He seemed to frown at you, muttering vulgar phrases at you and your “attitude”.

you noticed the girl didn’t talk much, her responses were always one word or nodded and shakes of her head. the hell was her problem.

there was a small light at the end of this hall, Zack must’ve thought it was an exit because he picked up speed, laughing again. did he always sound like that?

“Zack wait-!” you yelled, though he didn’t hear you or if he did, he didn’t care.

he raised his scythe, it now dragged across the wall, crackles of hot sparks bounced off the bricks. and then his laugh stopped. He tripped.

A tripwire. The bricks in the walls shifted and moved, archways forming to reveal small and large dolls of every kind waiting, holding small weapons in their hands. They had her to move but they mimicked your actions. so if you didn’t move, neither would they.

“what the hell…” His dark brows furrowed and he glanced between the two archways quickly.

“just… keep walking forward, I told you to be careful of tripwires.” you instructed through gritted teeth.

Confused, but confident in your answer, Zack moved forward slowly, Ray following close behind. “I'll meet you both in the room up ahead. but wait for me when you get there!”

when they disappeared into the room with the dim light ahead, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

after disarming the dolls you met back up with the two, Zack, who was digging around in the room, giving you a look when he held up an old photo of you with a doll who looked like one of the victims from the missing person reports of that time. not that he figured that out himself, he probably saw a poster for the missing person.

“So you are the master of this floor! you’re the puppeteer!” He said, sounding surprised but not necessarily hurt. “Why are you helping us then?”

you snatched the photo from him and stuffed it into a drawer, “who said anything about helping you.”

“but you are! that’s how you knew where to go and what to do and what to look out for and-“

“i’m not helping!” you frowned, arms crossed. “You think I'd risk my life helping you..?” you averted your gaze

he walked right up to you, using his scythe’s sharp blade to pull your head back in his direction. “that’s exactly what i’m saying.”

A snarl formed on your lips, eyes narrowing at the man who stood before you, ignoring the way your skin felt like it was on fire. “i can only take you so far. As long as you're careful of tripwires and never look at the shiny eyes of my dolls, you’ll make it out of this floor.”

he set down his scythe. “would you come save us if we got caught?”

you tsked, clicking your tongue on the roof of your mouth. “don’t get caught and I won't have to.”

“But would you?”

you didn’t answer, only glaring at him from the corner of your eyes. but yes. you would. something about him, about the girl too, made you care about them.

he cackled, putting his bandaged hand into his jacket pocket. “why not come with us.”

“I don't know who else is above my floor. I'm not risking any of that. but I wish you luck.” you said, finally facing him again.

“At the next three forks in the hallway the order goes; left, right, right. then you’ll get to the elevator.” you said, more specifically to Ray, assuming she’d be more likely to remember.

She nodded and Zack shook his head. “well then if this is goodbye, then thank you.”

“whatever. just.. make it worth it. i want to hear news from the outside that you made it there.”

“will do, puppeteer.” he saluted, before pushing Ray gently in the back with the end of his scythe to usher her forward.

you watched as they disappeared around the corner. Turning around you began to walk back down the hall the three of you had come from. but then you stopped.

maybe you could just.. follow them to make sure they didn’t damage your dolls. yeah. That was definitely the reason.

I hope it’s okay!

Thanks for reading :)

[drabbles-mc]

Okay, so I just spent all morning going down the rabbit hole of our past shenanigans and I am here with MORE.

Motorcycle Boys: Dating Edition

Obviously a lot of fic is centered around relationships with these men, but, personally, I think they get a lot more credit than they deserve, so let's drag them a little.

Who says I love you by the third date? Who's most likely to cry the first time they have sex? Who doesn't even realize they were dating? Who just looks around one day and realize their girl moved in without them noticing? Who thinks they are dating but they aren't? (And obviously whatever other silly scenario you can think of)

Okay but these men DO get more credit than they deserve. I'm one of the worst offenders but it's just wishful thinking because every single one of these men is a certifiable mess 😂

The way I'm losing my ever-loving shit over thinking about who doesn't realize that their girl is just gradually moving in with them. 😂 I feel like this would be easy to do with a bunch of the guys because most of them are just never home. Like, they just come home from a run one day and realize that oh, shit, all of her stuff is here now. 😂 Tig would be one of these guys. He just thinks that his girl stays over a lot and doesn't realize that "a lot" is actually every night. Because, you know, she moved in. I want to put Angel here because I firmly believe that he's dumb enough not to notice but I think that he's too much of a commitophobe to let a girl spend that much time at his place lmao

On the flipside of this I think that Jax would be the type to not notice that his girl is moving out without telling him. He gets home from the clubhouse one day and he's back to only owning like two plates, one cup, and the curtains are gone. It's only then that he realizes that shit has been going missing a lot over the last few weeks.

Opie & Angel are kings of the, "what do you mean we aren't dating?" club. Because neither of them can communicate worth a damn. 😂 So then one day when they see the girl they've been talking to and hanging out with flirting with someone else they get all butt-hurt but when they actually bring it up, you know she's just going to clap back with something about their lack of communication or lack of commitment. As she should. It's her right.

Happy is also the type to assume that he's dating someone without ever saying it but that's because his facial expressions and his love language are difficult to process without having the goddamn Lowman Rosetta Stone.

Juice will say I love you on the third date and he will cry the first time he has sex. I don't think I need to explain this at all. Just look at that man and you will know it to be true 😂

Creeper and Hank are also throwing, "I love you" out there as soon as humanly possible. They're so valid for that. It's a lot but I'll allow it. 😌

Gilly and Coco have, on more than one occasion, not realized that they landed themselves in a relationship. I feel like they both are just such, "Yea this is just what we're doing idk" kind of guys not realize that "what they're doing" is having a relationship with someone. Clueless men that I adore so much. Someone will call them out on it, or they'll try to call each other out on it just to be annoying and the other just responds with, "It's not like that." Spoiler Alert: it's exactly like that.

Nestor also doesn't realize that he's landed himself in a relationship but tbh that's because he's pouring all of his attention and energy into whoever he is working for at the time. He's too busy working on keeping his boss/boyfriend to worry about the girlfriend he's accidentally procured along the way.

These men are all so messy. I do love to fix them but honestly this is making me think that I should just let them flounder around a lot more often 😂😂😂

[totally-not-deacon]

Wow, I actually finished a full-ass chapter, and a LONG one too!! I dunno the last time I did that, cause damn was that writer's block took ages to get over. Still gotta do some touch-ups, but either way - yay!

Hell, I'll gift y'all with an excerpt, cause poor Lucien needs some pity lmao

“So, what do you think?” Lucien held his arms out, showing off the simple set of leather armor he’d picked up. They’d met him outside the smithy, bags packed and ready to move just as the sun began peeking over the treeline. “Gonna end up with your head bashed in without a helmet.” Nebarra grumbled, definitely nursing quite the hangover, leaving him even more ill-tempered than usual. Lucien paled. Marasa was feeling a bit kinder that morning, though her own stomach was rolling from the night before. “He’s not wrong, but you can pick one up in Helgen, I guess. Just hang back, let us take the lead for now.” It was good advice. They’d hardly made it a mile before running into a small group of bandits attempting to operate a trap across the road. It seemed none of knew how to actually operate the trap, though, as try as they might none of them could could get the mechanism to release the pile of large rocks over their heads. Marasa kept her shield high against the onslaught of arrows they resorted to, darting down the center of the road and drawing their attention, giving Nebarra the opportunity to hit them hard and unhindered from the side. She took shelter behind a small ledge, drawing her own bow. Her first shot just missed but the second struck true, striking one of the bandits in the back, causing him to topple from the top of their rope bridge and land in a crumpled heap. Another took an arrow to the thigh, hobbling him until Nebarra cut him down without mercy, tossing the corpse down with the others. All in all, it was over in just a few moments. Once the dust settled, Lucien emerged wide-eyed from behind the large tree they’d left him at. “Of course they’re all broke as shit. Can’t even do banditry right.” Marasa huffed, crouched over and rooting through their pockets and packs for anything worthwhile. Just junk and a few skooma bottles she refused to touch. She looked up at Lucien’s approach. “Oh good, you didn’t die.” “Nothing like a little massacre to start the day off right.” Nebarra came marching over, mood having improved significantly after getting his blade well-bloodied. He noticed Lucien gawking at the red splattered across his armor, looking green in the face. It was obvious he was beginning to have doubts about this arrangement already. Nebarra jeered, “What, first time?” “You can’t feel sorry for these sad sacks. They’d cut you down in a second given half a chance.” She had to admit, comfort wasn’t her strong suit, but hopefully she could at least keep the man from fainting out of shock. Lugging his limp body around wasn’t in the plan. She gave up searching for valuables, groaning when her knees cracked as she stood. “Little more than animals, really.” “That was all… very intense.” He mumbled, still spooked. “I guess I didn’t realize just how violent Skyrim could be.” “That? Ohoho, that was nothing.” Nebarra sounded downright giddy now. “I should tell you of the time I gutted no less than a dozen legionaries back to back after we caught them off guard in a camp just outside Taneth. A few even tried to fight back! Now that was a good time!” Oh yeah, Lucien definitely was regretting this.

[myloveforhergoeson]

ive been thinking about this for a while now, but why did dak zevon even pursue roxy? what was his goal? did he even like her or is he just a serial dater who needs to be liked at all times?? (maybe its clear and i just missed it lol)

hello! thank you for your question - i'm happy to clarify!! under the cut <3

the pg answer is yes, he's a serial dater! he thought she was pretty, he could tell she was a fan of his, and he wanted to have her around to boost up his ego while he went on "real" dates with other movie stars. i also imagine because of these tendencies he's dated many people his age in the business and he's bolstered up a reputation for being a two-timer, so he also knew because she was new to the area she wouldn't have had the time to discover that yet. it bugged him when she spent time hanging around the guys because she was giving them her attention, not him! (and i wanted there to be some jealous interactions with james....) he liked her enough to keep her around, but not enough to consider actually being with her until she brought it up in chapter 14. why did he agree? see the paragraph below lmao

the not so pg answer, which isn't as clear just from the text, or maybe not to anyone but me lol, is that he wanted to sleep with her. in chapter 13 he came over to her apartment because he knew she lived alone, pretty much toppled over her on her couch while they were kissing, then borderline erupted at her when the guys came running in for a) ruining the moment and b) learning she was spending so much time around them. there's a part where he begins to ask her something at the same time she begins to say something to him - he just lets her go first. he was going to ask if it was alright if he spent the night, but i didn't make that clear! i left it intentionally vague on purpose, so i apologize if it was confusing! the only real hint about it was camille making a comment about him 'spending the night alone together.' and in chapter 14 after they break up, he also makes a comment about hearing somewhere that 'minnesota girls were easy' as in... easy to get into bed. i think that's the only clear instance i made in allusion to this answer

they're all just teenagers and i felt uncomfortable making that non-pg answer abundantly clear because the rating on the fic is teen and also i'm an adult who personally doesn't feel comfortable writing scenes of that matter with minors. thinking back i should have just left it out; i just thought it was dramatic at the time and wanted logan to really have a reason to punch him in the face. sorry! i understand how that might not have been clear. we kind of lose the motivations of other characters by having the fic fully centered around roxy, and i recognize that.

i appreciate the question and i'm happy to clarify more if needed :) i've got quite the world built up in my head and i understand why other characters make their choices, but recognize it may be hard to see from the outside <3

[youre-where-i-wanna-go]

You might consider sharing where you are and humbling yourself before speaking ill of others, otherwise you're just being toxic AF. And if somebody wants to move to a country near you or where you are, consider it might not just be because they want to get away from where they are, but be closer to you. You're definitely not special if you're saying others aren't special. Please check yourself.

Oop I struck a nerve lmao.

First of all, if you assume that I think I'm special based on my post, you missed the point, which literally is that none of us are special. Americans aren't special, Europeans aren't special, none of us live lives that are more valuable or exceptional or special than anyone else in the world.

Second, I never mentioned anyone wanting to move close to me so idk why you're making up scenarios when the context of my post should be clear by the timing (US election).

However, if you know what American exceptionalism is (and you should if you're gonna come into my asks anonymously and call me toxic, you better know what the fuck you're talking about, which it doesn't seem like you do but alas), it is all about Americans thinking - because they were taught to think - that they were special. That their politics matter more than anyone else's. That they suffer more than anyone else. That everyone has to pay attention to and be sensitive to them and their culture but they have no responsibility to educate themselves and pay attention to any country that doesn't border their own. And the root of all this is imperialism. A lot of Europeans also think they're special and don't have to care about anyone other than Europe and America. But the small difference is everyone is expected to care about America always. It's why Americanism exists, why American music, TV shows and movies are distributed worldwide but many Americans aren't even willing to watch a foreign movie with subtitles.

American exceptionalism is toxic. And yes I will speak ill of people who subscribe to it, who are so self-centered that they can't think of anyone but their own country, while the rest of the world looks on in horror because they're seriously affected by America's imperialism. I didn't even single anyone out but you calling me toxic for generally pointing out that Americans thinking they can just escape fascism in a world currently drenched in fascism is tone deaf is uncalled for lol. Maybe you should be the one checking yourself.

[sometimesanalice]

I have LOVED every moment of this new installment of Bradley and Smart Aleck! Rocketman has been such delicious treat of a series! Where we get to see them truly committed and picking each other and navigating what that looks like. Out of that early romance bubble and into the place where things are real and they're laying down the foundations to build a life together! AND I LOVE TO SEE IT!

When I say I was thriving! With all the domestic moments and those sweet tender one, the way they talk to each other and that openness they have because they trust each other so much, the way they want each other in every sense of the word! It had so much range! (A buffet! A feast!)

This chapter had so much happening in it under the surface! I adored getting to have Bradley's POV for this! Because in his happiness and contentment of being home and being with her, that he can tell there is just something off speaks to how well he innately knows her and it was so compelling to read!

It was soft, it was steamy, it was everything!!

more for you!!

Out of his plane, out of the sky, out of your arms. Falling and falling - with no end in sight. -- oh the visual of this right off the bat! But I love it especially for the duality of Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw. His center of being has always been in relation to him in the Navy, but now he also has her. It’s all so entwined in a way it hasn’t ever been for him before, but with both he isn’t in control. Like doing what he loves could take him from her literally in the sense of the worst case scenario, but also she could decide it’s too hard. But also doing what he loves takes him from who he loves! And you know I love an angsty deployment bit, but there’s a lot of interesting layers here with his anxiety dreams. I also just thought it was very pretty prose!

Bradley liked to think that you had stowed it away someplace and changed downstairs in order to surprise him in bed. Except now he’d never know because he had fallen asleep on you. God, he was the worst boyfriend. — she’s a planner, that one! Of course she was 3 steps ahead! But he’s also so sweet for even sulking about accidentally derailing her plans because he was sleepy and happy. Like I think she’ll forgive you, she’s did booze you up after all, lmao

But this was supposed to have been a big deal. It was the first time you both went to bed in the same room without the fear that you’d be leaving in the morning or later in the week to go back to your highrise. You were both home. Really, truly home. — H O M E!! Oh my favorite concept!! But they live together now, he wanted it to be as special for her too! He wants her home to be with him!

You kept him on the ground. You kept him safe. — that future!! That future is his purpose!!

Bradley wanted to treat you like you were precious first. — sweetest boy! It’s like of course they’ve both thought about it (and reread a certain email) a bunch, but I love that for as much as he wants to just have his way with her, like he wants to have sex that matters first. Like they can fuck whenever, but he hasn’t been with his best girl in MONTHS, he wants to show her how much he has missed her and how much he cares about her first!

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg. — IF I SPEAK (so I won’t but good god) 🫡🫡🫡

He slipped his hand down to knead your ass and you sighed. “Hmm, da-dley? Bubba?”

^^^ the daddy agenda is alive and well, next stop daddy watch me twirl!

 You had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the three months he had been gone. It wasn’t obvious, not at first, and not to anyone who wasn’t really paying attention. But it was obvious to Bradley because Bradley always paid attention.— “because Bradley always paid attention” 🥰🥰🥰 but also i'm just so soft over how much he's imprinted her on his mind. Like he's studied her so intently over their courtship so far that he's documenting every little essence of change he sees.

“You gonna take these off, too?” He slipped a finger under the waistband of his joggers. — WHORE SLUT TEASE (the way he later arches his back?! I repeat, WHORE SLUT TEASE)

“Fuck,” he sighed in relief, “How’d you let me sleep in those?” //“How’d you fall asleep on me?”//“You got me drunk!” //“Not my fault you’re suddenly a lightweight - Bradley!” -- this made me G I G G L E! Mr Zero Tolerance got hammered off one drink and in his happy tipsy content state took an little nap. Like it's so old man of him, but also so cute. Like he truly at ease for the first time since he left! Like sure we love a welcome home fuck (like it's coming! (no pun intended) and i remember saying something in the last chapter, but I love that the emotional intimacy comes first! But their banter here amused me to no end, like yes babe roast him in your cute navy nightie that you put on just for him that he missed out on because he was catching up on his REM!

Every new freckle, scar, bruise, age line//Bradley couldn’t wait to do the same. What had he missed? What was different?-- It's just so soft!! They're both trying to see and catch up on what they've missed in the last 90ish days! It's such a lovely moment of true connection! Like they're just both absorbing each other and reveling in being together! Not through a screen but inches a part! In their home! in their bed!

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered, almost to yourself. //Bradley kissed you and returned the compliment. “And you’ve gotten even more beautiful since I’ve been gone.” -- stoooooop i'm already so soft! enoughhhhhh I cannot take it! i'm no strong enough for this!

You loved his shoulders, you always managed to notch your head there during sex and press little kisses to the scars dotting them and his neck. Bites, too - marks to prove he was yours.— artist rendering of my face 🤭 yes yes yes yes! the shoulders! his pretty scar! his pretty neck!! you know those make me weak in the knees!! but also the possessiveness of it! like HE IS HERS!

He also told Nat. However, the latter was only because he was drunk and pissed and he had just made lieutenant, once again surpassing his father in something.//Maverick had seen it about a year ago. He had never asked Bradley what it meant and probably never wanted to have it confirmed what it meant. But to anyone who really knew Bradley, it was easy to put together.//Bradley had told you about it on your fourth date. — different right from the start-- i looooooooved the dynamics of this! like the list of people who knew and the hows of how they came to learn about it and then contrasted with how easily he opened up and shared it with her!! like he WANTED to tell her, he WANTED to let her in!! it's DIFFERENT! they're kindred!

 (you, in particular, were freaked out that you’d slept with someone on the first date without a condom)— listen, who could blame her? I mean, look at him!  (she let him finger her right outside of the hard deck too, but like 💁🏼‍♀️)

listening to Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major and Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 was made all the more romantic by the way Bradley held your hand for the entire first piece and had his hand on your thigh for the entire second.-- I loveeee that we got more BB&SA lore here!! Like I just know he got all dressed up for it too, broke out the iron and everything! But also the hand and the thigh of it all is A LOT!! and I am swooooning

Bradley had told you what the tattoo meant and about his parents and Maverick and you had told him about your mom and your accident during your junior year of high school. — 🥺🥺🥺 my sweet babies. i am too delicate for this! the perks of being in the inner circle- I Know 🥰, but also the trials and tribulations of being in the inner circle- I KNOW 😭

It hadn’t felt scary to tell you any of it. It felt right and natural. Like you wouldn’t judge him or get scared when things got hard. Like he wanted to protect you at all costs. 

^^ I AM TOO DELICATE

 I just love how easy it is between them! Like they WANT to get deep and share those moments. They want to be SEEN entirely! There’s safety in that because they see themselves reflected in each other and I think that’s so lovely!

“And I though to myself this is what Bradley sees. This is why he loves it and for that brief blip in time I got it. I understood. Makes me love you even more in some way.” — 😭😭😭

An idea suddenly struck Bradley. It was amazing he hadn’t thought of it before. “Maybe I can make you an audiobook?”— good lord I’d never get anything done ever again

“‘Atta girl, arch your back, just like that.” You whimpered at his praise and kept rocking your hips in tandem with his fingers. Fucking glorious, such a good girl for da -“ — here we go, round two!! I stay winning with the almost daddy agenda!

All you had to do was pout and he was gone. — S I M P 🥰

However, he’d already let your tender touches go on long enough - another minute and he’d come all over that silk nightie you hadn’t taken off yet.— listen I know that man is dying to give her another kind of pearl necklace 💁🏼‍♀️

Thank god he had prepped you, he wasn’t going to last much longer, himself. It was kind of pathetic. Both of you were, to be frank. Obviously, you more than him in this instance, but - -lmaoooooo. forever giggling when he calls himself pathetic, like mr man is gone for his girl! and he's only had his hand in a twin sized bunk for the last 3 months, like he's not going to make it out alive if he tries to go for gold right off the bat! but also she's just as needy and desperate as him, so this whole bit is as funny as it is H O T

“My best girl, huh?”— 🥰🥰 *tucks hair behind ear*

“So beautiful, so smart. Took such good care of things for me, huh?” He could feel as well as hear your breath hitching, letting him know that you were close. “‘gorgeous girl, so proud of you, sweet g -”// And that did it. —AHH!! AND THAT DID IT YEAH IT DID!!! GOOD GIRL SWEET GIRL GORGEOUS GIRL ALL THEE ABOVE

God, it was beautiful. You were beautiful. Your name kept running through his mind and Bradley realized he was actually muttering it against your lips through kisses.— smutty and hot and the care!! it love that he's kind of losing his mind here, but at the root it's just all about her and how wrapped up she has him. like her [redacted]ing (it's just too much for me to type out lmao) and he's like SHE'S ART! I'M MOVED! PUT HER IN THE LOUVRE! he's so enraptured by her and I love that for her!

And then, with all the care and love you deserved at the moment, he bundled you up in his arms. You were so warm and smelled so pretty and your nightie felt so soft against his rough fingers. Everything about that moment was perfect. You were so precious. You pressed your cheek against his chest and he hoped you could tell how fast his heart was beating. -- SHE'S SO SOFT FOR HIM!! It's like the first time in his life he gets to have that with someone, who in her own way treats him with all the care and the love and the softness he deserves after being on his own for so long! I love how mutual it is between the two of them. Like they give as good as they get in all things. But especially knowing what we know about her and where she is, like he wants her to know how valued and loved she is.

Bradley groaned your name. You peered up at him with those wide, innocent eyes like you weren’t getting him off while he slept. Like your pussy wasn’t soaking. Like you hadn’t been grinding it against his bare thigh for the last however many minutes. — cheeky little go getter!

He just shook his head in disbelief. “Cheeky little slut.” //And then you smiled, looking so proud of yourself for rattling him that he had no choice but to slap the top of your ass. Hard. You huffed.-- lmaooooooo, she's got his number!

The room was filled with giggles and the sounds of kissing as Bradley told you some of the more entertaining stories from the carrier and Australia, while you revealed that you had watched his 60 Minutes segment at least nine times. When he asked you why you’d watched it nine times, you just ducked your head and bashfully said it was because you sounded really smart.-- HE'S PRETTY AND SMART FOLKS AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT

 And he had run you pretty ragged this morning. — when will it be me??!!

“Oh! I guess I hadn’t noticed.” You turned your back to him. “Here, do you want to do my hair? Or I can do yours? Why don’t I do yours?”—🥺🥺🥺 I just know that his observation is going to be living in her head rent free. The way she is trying to divert the attention in a different direction hurts my heart! he's like MORE SOAPY TITS TO ADMIRE 🤩 and she just has every mean, self critical thought running through her head on loop and it's OOF

You hummed. “Just a little bump out, enough for someone to sit. You’re getting older, I wouldn’t want you to fall or hurt yourself during any rigorous shower activity.”-- ROAST HIM

“I haven’t stayed here at the house too much while you were gone, just a night or two - like that night…with the email,” you confessed, “it didn’t feel right. I kept thinking you’d come home any minute.” Bradley pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “But I’d drop stuff off slowly, a couple boxes a week and whatnot.”-- SWEET GIRL!! She missed him too much to be there alone?!! why are you trying to hurt me like this?! in my delicate state?! jordannnnnnnn

And then, after multiple passes over your breasts at Bradley’s hands - it was unfair how good your breasts looked all sudsed up— his true kryptonite 😂😂 he's a simple man! lololol

But there was something about you choosing an oxford to wear after staring at your closet for ten minutes that gave him pause. You had such pretty clothes, it would be a shame for you not to wear them.— bestie babe 🥺🥺 it’s so sad seeing her so unsure of herself and unsettled in her own skin

The two sat across from each other - Maverick on one of the cushioned, wicker swivel chairs with Bradley on the matching loveseat - and sipped their beers in comfortable silence for a few moments.— I love how comfortable they are now, the past is the past. Now he’s picking him up from school [read: work] and getting him ice cream and they’re able to just be. 

“So, how’re you really doing?” Though the question has been asked at dinner already, Bradley had just given a vague answer. But now that it was just him and Maverick, he felt he could be honest.— THAT’S HIS DADDDDDDDDDD

 It hadn’t been quiet in three months. There was always something else going on around him. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow, he could do things on his own time and make his own food and pick his own clothes. He could have choices. — oh this bit got me so good! it hurt in the best way! he gets to be bradley again! not just rooster. not having to follow a schedule, follow commands. He gets to settle back into himself!

The fact that Bradley thought you were keeping something else from him didn’t need to be brought up yet. He wouldn’t even be able to put it into words, it was just a gut feeling at this point. You just seemed a little off. The egg whites, the boxy oxfords, the chocolate cake.— I texted you a bit about this, but I love how even in this reunion honeymoon bubble, that he knows her so innately that he can sense something is off. That he has always been so in tune with her and paid attention to even the littlest things, that even if he can't pinpoint it right then and there that he knows something is up. That he has enough crumbs to make a sandwich, each tidbit had been filed away until he had enough to realize she has a bit of a facade up with him. And the dichotomy of that compared with how easily they shared their big hurts on the 4th date, where she's worried about losing him with all the insecurities rattling in her head when all he wants is more and everything.

“And you’re okay with that?” Bradley nodded. “Jesus, Bradley, you’ll be at least forty by the time -”//“- Forty-two.” -- this part took me out at the KNEES!!! like even mav (that's his dad that's his dad) knows that bradley is holding himself back with that one. that he so clearly wants a family but his own fears of leaving them behind make it so he'd rather put it off longer to ensure that doesn't happen than risk letting his worst fear come to pass. but that it so clearly weighs on bradley too! the way he so easily drops that "fourty-two" because he's thought about it so intently! OOF and DOUBLE OOF

Maverick looked sad and Bradley hated it. Because he knew, without Bradley even having to spell it out why you were going to wait. Because Maverick had been there. Because Maverick had held Bradley’s mom as she cried on too many occasions to count. Because Maverick had taken Bradley to all the father/son events in the place of his own father. Because Bradley realized, as he had gotten older, that Maverick thought it was his fault that Bradley grew up without a father.-- NOT THE FATHER/SON EVENTS! I AM TOO DELICATEEEEE!!! AND THE MAV GUILT! but also my sweet boy thinking that time was out of guilt and as penance vs it being for him hurts my heart!

“If it gives either of us the slightest peace of mind, we’re going to try and wait.”-- sweet boy nooooooo, have your dream life! you deserve it! you both do!

“What’re you ladies gossiping about?” Amelia breezed onto the patio and messed up Bradley’s hair before she plopped down on the other end of the sofa— I love that Bradley [36] now has a teenaged pseudo little sister 😂 like yes, roast that man. But also it’s so cute because it’s like he has another chance at a family!

He liked Amelia, he was protective of her, fucking shoot him.--1) i love this, like that's his pseudo step-sister, but also 2) lolololol he's so funny here. So huffy and defensive! that's his family goddamnit!

“Debate team?!” Alright, now he was putting it on a little bit, but as someone who had also been on the debate team in high school, Bradley knew that those guys were also smart, which generally meant they were way more trouble than the typical jocks.- G I G G L I N G. he was 10000% a menace against society and you just know he lost some color in his face

“The 1990s!” Amelia feigned hysterics and got a chuckle out of you and Maverick.- pllllllssssss (making me feel old too, the audacity, lol)

Can you ask her where she got her sneakers? A couple weeks later, you and Bradley had gotten Amelia the very same sneakers for her birthday. She always blushed when you wore them at the same time.— golden goose?

But god, he really fucking hated Teddy Cavanaugh. He wanted to fucking deck him on the first tee at Claremont Country Club. He wanted to slam his nine-iron into the Porsche 911 he was driving. And Bradley was pretty sure your dad did too. — ME THREE I FUCKING HATE THAT GUY

You were Amelia. You had been that young, that sweet, that trusting and Teddy Cavanaugh had thrown it all back in your face.-- this got me when you sent it to me early on and it still gets me now. like him having someone he knows and cares about who is close in age to her when that accident happened just really puts things into perspective in a too real and unsettling way! she was just a girl!

Everything was right as it should be. Bradley was with his family, Bradley was with you, here. Not on a carrier in the middle of the Pacific or the passenger seat of Mr. Cavanaugh’s Porsche. //Here. And nothing bad was going to happen here. -- sweet bean is trying to ground himself. 🥺 that little spiral of realization really hits him in a way he wasn't expecting. that's his FAMILYYYYYYYY

“I’ve got one in the mudroom if -” //“No, it’s fine,” Bradley cut off Maverick, “she can have mine.”//Quickly taking off his own sweatshirt and putting it over your head, Bradley didn’t even have the time to linger on how pathetic he sounded. -- 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

Who did Maverick think he was, offering to let Bradley’s girlfriend borrow a sweatshirt?- lmao I mean the audacity /s. her little crush is endlessly amusing to me, and how huffy and grumpy he is about it is so fucking funny, like NO DAD STOP MAKING MY GIRLFRIEND FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU SHE'S MINE lolololol

Little shit gave Bradley the worst one, even knowing Maverick wouldn’t have any and therefore didn’t need one. As payback, he kept putting his marshmallow wherever Amelia’s was. It meant that he didn’t roast a single good marshmallow, but the glare she kept sending him was too funny to make him stop. — not the almost 40 year old beefing with the teenager 😂 pls it’s so funny

[image: Mr. 7.5 Gs]- AHAAHAHHAAHAHAHAH

Jerking off, I’m bored— P L E A S E 😂😂😂

charming- the way I cackled

this is so hot //unless i get fired— wheezing (she’s so real for this). like genuinely, this got such a chuckle out of me because I felt like i heard it in her voice. that little aside took it out of me!

[Sent with Siri]— the way he’s been outed. Mr Man is Hands Free Texting because he’s BUSY

At one point, Bradley had even contemplated that you might be pregnant. He had been gone for three months, an entire first trimester. But something about the theory didn’t sit right with him.— cruel of you to put this in here knowing what I know!! have you no consideration for my poor nerves?!

Because Bradley wasn’t dying in an F-18 with a family at home. --OOF this was such a moment in that earlier fic, I'm really happy to see it here again even if it does feel like a suckerpunch!

Then, there was the fact that you had an IUD and the possibility of getting pregnant on an IUD was even less than on the pill (<1% a year - he’d looked it up). -- the fact he googled it is 1) HOT and 2) amusing as fuck lmao

Was there a hint in one of your emails? Some little detail he had glossed over in his haste to read any scrap of news from you, in your voice? Bradley had read all of them at least three times, some even more, but maybe he had missed something?— like he is so smart but so dumb? i mean, that even in the emails he absolutely just didn't even entertain the thought of it, and how he can't fathom how she wouldn't see herself the way he does so he's totally blind to it. And it's all right there in the emails he's read at least three times! he thinks so much of her, and for everything that she is- smart, witty, pretty, amazing, etc- like the confidence is a hard won trait for her. it's there, but it has to be worked at. but also, how can he know if she doesn't tell him 👀

 Bradley grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino from the side door and poured himself a glass. - 😂😂🤭🤭

No way. No fucking way. That could not be it.//No, no. You couldn’t be worried about how - i really am so enamoured by how adamant he is about this. like the thought of her feeling insecure or not enough for him is like a 404 error in his brain, because he is just so into her!

“Sorry, I uhh - yeah, it was fine. Saw the Thompsons finished their patio - is that a new dress?” — he's a regular shakespeare. such a stunning way with words, lmao

Knowing you, his spoiled, prissy girlfriend, the dress was probably expensive. Good.-- the "good" sent me into orbit 😂

It was technically a lie; he had texted you, but it had been a do you know where my Theragun is text, not a show me your pussy right now text. -- P L S, definitely not beating those old man allegations now are you bradshaw?

Which really put a damper on a portion of your wine cellar escapades. -- 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 rip to another pair of tights

God, you were beautiful. You both were beautiful. This was beautiful. Being together like this was beautiful. It was wet and loud and messy, but it was beautiful. -- just casually swooning

Bradley picked his head up from where it was buried in your neck and leveled you with a look that had you properly bursting into laughter. He wanted to make some smart comment, something cheeky, but the gorgeous smile on your face had him losing his feigned stoicism and he started laughing right alongside you. -- sex should be fun! there should be giggling and grins and fun! I loved this moment because it shows the friendship too! like they're in love but they still have fun with each other and can laugh and be light! (even after hot need you now sex on the table!) they like and love each other and it's my favorite thing to see!

nothing but the sun, sea, sustenance, sleep, and sex. -- chefs kiss alliteration right here, loved it

“Can I come?” he asked, completely ignoring the sunscreen comment. It wasn’t special per se, it was just high SPF since he burned easily. — golden retriever boyfriend of him but also that man is coming home pink cheeked

You were pouting now and it only made him want to get you the necklace more. “It’s too expensive for something like that; I looked it up online.”-- that's so funny that the pout makes him want to give it to her even more. like of course she'd look it up, but that he knows his girl who likes nice expensive things gets all bashful when he buys it for her vs when she gets it for herself, like he knows she doesn't expect it from him and that makes him want to spoil her more! it's cute.

“Woah, woah.” Bradley held his hands up and you grabbed one to examine it. “Since when am I getting my nails done?”//“You’re getting a pedicure at the very least. I don’t want to have to look at your weird feet on the beach all week.” -- that she grabs it and is checking out those cuticles made me laugh, it thought it was so funny. like you're getting those nails buffed sir. it's for your own good. (and the pedicure is for the good of all humankind, lets be real.)

If pressed, he would say it was because he wanted to sit in the massage chair and the nail tech told him he could only sit in the chair if he was getting his nails done. That was the only reason why. It wasn’t because of how pretty you looked while you were smiling at him out of the corner of his eye, like you couldn’t believe he was really there.//absolutely not.-- mmmhmm sure sure sure 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

You giggled and then mimicked his pose on the bed, except you made sure to snuggle up next to him, all earlier awkwardness gone. “I’d do anything for you actually.”-- this was so sweet. she's so sincere about it too, even in the cheekiness of mirroring him.

“You’re not gonna get sick of me, right?”//You shook your head. “Never, even if you are a nerd who gets pedicures -”-- why are they just the cutest?! 😭

Because you hadn’t been prepared for how it made you feel in comparison. Because he was so strong and fit and beautiful - and you didn’t think you were any of those things. Not anymore at least. Not after what happened.-- oh that surprise of her POV at the end, and getting just a little peek into her brain after this chapter being mostly from his! and to see just how low she feels, when she should be cruising on a high of having the love of her life back and about to go on a dream vacation with him! like it just makes me ache! because for all that time she hasn't been able to shake those feelings and insecurities and she's trying to put on a good front and a show. it just makes me so sad for her!

You should have taken your mother’s words to heart at lunch two weeks ago when she had told you to watch your figure, boys like Bradley are used to certain standards. --i hope almond mom gets salmonella in her next tub of nutbutter. Miss Ma'am blew all of Bradley's standards out of the water, she's where the bar is set!

Maybe you should have worn a cute little sundress and forgotten your underwear or some other ridiculous thing? Let him fuck you in the back of the car right in the middle of the parking lot?//That wasn’t you, though. That wasn’t either of you.-- i know you know i know you know i know. But also, she's so in her own head that she doesn't even realize that that reunion was everything he wanted! her! in their home! in their bed!

But Bradley loved you. He had told you in about 159 different ways (re. emails) while he was gone. He loved you, he wanted you, he was going to live with you, build a life with you. You knew he loved you no matter what you looked like. --159 DIFFERENT WAYS! IF HE WANTED TO HE WOULD AND HE DID AND HE DOES! I can't wait for her to come back into her own again! i just want to hug her and tell her everything is going to be ok!

oh this chapter had so much going for it! but the building woven in with the domestic moments and smutty goodness was so well done! i loved every bit of this! you knocked it out of the park! i cannot wait for mexicooooo! good thing my passport is up to date, i'm readyyyy!

rocketman: part iii - Some things Cosmic

Summary: finally back home, bradley can focus on all the things he's missed while he's been gone. there's someone there to properly welcome him home, frantic reunion sex, prepping for an amazing vacation, family dinners, and the casual intimacy he's come to love between the two of you. but there's still something up with you and he can't quite figure it out. it'll be fine, right? catch up with [part 1] and [part 2]

OR sex, s'mores, and secrets

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 18.5k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, body insecurity, suggestive dialogue, suggestive content, and sexual content (oral (f + m receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, dom/sub influence, and praise, rank, and degradation kink). also on ao3!

i want to be naked, i don’t mean my body, i don’t need my body i’m floating away

Bradley startled awake sometime later. It happened sometimes. He had these dreams were it felt like he was falling. Out of his plane, out of the sky, out of your arms. Falling and falling - with no end in sight. 

That wasn’t to say that they were necessarily nightmares or anything. (Because the distinction between the two was glaringly obvious.) 

They just unnerved him a bit. Left him unsettled, untethered. 

He rolled over and stretched his arm out across the bed, until his fingers brushed against something silky. Something warm and silky. He turned his head to find you sprawled out next to him.

You had changed between now and when Bradley had last seen you - he glanced at the clock on his nightstand - seven hours ago. 

Fuck. 

He had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. 

Goddammit, he felt like an asshole. He rubbed his hands over his face, sighing. This was the last thing he had wanted to happen, especially after what you two talked about earlier that evening. 

You’d give us your wild? Of course. Of course, of course, of course he would. 

Like you knew he was thinking about you, you shifted your hips, inching closer towards him. Your body was only half under the thick duvet cover and top sheet, so even in the early morning light he could still see the navy nightie you were wearing. 

Bradley liked to think that you had stowed it away someplace and changed downstairs in order to surprise him in bed. Except now he’d never know because he had fallen asleep on you. God, he was the worst boyfriend. 

Tonight, the night three months in the making, he had missed cuddling and kissing and all the best parts of getting cozy in bed with you because he had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. And sure, he had gotten a taste of what was to come on the couch while you laid underneath him and drew imaginary shapes across his chest with your finger and he held you tight and counted your heartbeats. 

But this was supposed to have been a big deal. It was the first time you both went to bed in the same room without the fear that you’d be leaving in the morning or later in the week to go back to your highrise. You were both home. Really, truly home. 

Home - where he could finally wake up next to you and have you be right here - not an ocean apart. Bradley already dreaded the next time he’d have to leave you. 

There was a future with you. There was that little boy - or little girl - from your dream. The perfect mix of you and Bradley. 

(Don’t ever be a Rocket Man. I mean it. 

When you’re out there you want to be here, and when you’re here you want to be out there. 

Promise me you won’t be like me.)

Suddenly, there was this overwhelming urge inside him that if he didn’t touch you and have you in his arms, that he’d slip away, back to space. Untethered. 

You kept him on the ground. You kept him safe. 

Bradley scooted over towards your side of the bed and wrapped his arms around you, unable to bear another moment untethered. There, that was better. You were soft and warm and felt so precious in his arms. And with your nightie rucked up around your hips and one leg extended out and the other hiked up, your body was on full display. 

Easy access.

Your thighs were so fucking soft and curvy and he desperately wanted to slot himself right between them. Have them bracket his head, while his tongue lapped at your pretty pussy. 

Would he start there? Eat you out until you were begging for his cock? Have you grind on his lap…until you were begging for his cock? Or…just generally begging for his cock? 

They all seemed appealing, but admittedly kissing you until you were breathless and then rocking his body above yours until you were both tumbling over the edge had plenty of merit, too. Bradley wanted to treat you like you were precious first. 

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg. 

But that brought him back to the present. Could he wake you up, now? Bradley knew you’d been stressed and busy ever since your mom had come to town and because of all you’d confessed earlier; so, would it be fair to wake you? You hadn’t woken him up, afterall.

After an indeterminate amount of time of just holding you and watching you breathe, you rolled your bare ass against Bradley’s crotch and let out a pleased hum. He gave your hip a squeeze and you burrowed even deeper in his arms. Your skin was softer than the silk nightie you were wearing and he could feel the heat pouring off your body.

He slipped his hand down to knead your ass and you sighed. “Hmm, da-dley? Bubba?”

“Hey, kid.” He kissed your neck. 

Once you were a little more lucid and opened your eyes, you pulled your nightie down to cover your ass, though that didn’t stop Bradley from playing with the lace hem. 

You rolled over so you were now face to face and wrapped your right leg around his left. 

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

You cupped his cheek. “Wanted you to sleep, you looked so tired. Pretty too.” 

It was dark in the room at five thirty-eight, but not completely pitch black, so Bradley could still make out your soft features. You had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the three months he had been gone. It wasn’t obvious, not at first, and not to anyone who wasn’t really paying attention. 

But it was obvious to Bradley because Bradley always paid attention.

“Well,” he kissed your forehead then your nose, “I’m still sorry, especially after what we talked about earlier, should’ve stayed up for you.” 

“But I woke up beside you, so I can’t be too angry.” You leaned in to kiss him. “It’d be impossible to be angry now, actually.” 

He hitched your right leg higher over his hip and groaned when he could feel your core through his joggers. You squirmed against him, cheeky little thing. But with his joggers and t-shirt still on, Bradley was definitely overheated and the sweat was building at the back of his neck, to say nothing about the heat your body was giving off. 

As if reading his mind, you grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly dragged your fingers up his stomach, stopping at both his happy trail and then the patch of hair in the middle of his chest, before taking the t-shirt off completely. A soft thud rang out when you’d thrown it across the room and it presumably landed on the floor. 

“You gonna take these off, too?” He slipped a finger under the waistband of his joggers. 

“Been dying to all night - hips up, Bradshaw.” 

Bradley arched his back and helped you slide his joggers down his legs, taking his boxer briefs with them. Your gaze lingered on his body for a long moment, but you just gave him a coy little smile. 

“Fuck,” he sighed in relief, “How’d you let me sleep in those?” 

“How’d you fall asleep on me?”

“You got me drunk!” 

“Not my fault you’re suddenly a lightweight - Bradley!” 

He pinched your side and you wiggled away from him with a shriek. “Uh uh, not so fast.” 

Bradley pulled you close again, desperate to be nearer to you. You tangled your legs together and pointed your torso towards his, but remained perched on your elbow, while he was laying down flat.  

Suddenly somber, your eyes were drawn back to his body and he just let you look - drink him in and see what you had missed over the last few months. Every new freckle, scar, bruise, age line. 

Bradley couldn’t wait to do the same. What had he missed? What was different?

He could feel your eyes lingering on his abs. Normally, you remarked on his thighs and shoulders, but tonight it seemed you had a different focus. You appeared hesitant, biting your lip, as you dragged your finger across his stomach. 

Did you like how he looked - how he had changed in your time apart?

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered, almost to yourself. 

Bradley kissed you and returned the compliment. “And you’ve gotten even more beautiful since I’ve been gone.” 

You appeared bashful at the comment, which just let Bradley know he’d have to give you more of them over the next few weeks. “Come ‘ere.” Without waiting for a response, Bradley started pressing kisses all over your face, your cheeks, your neck, your lips. If it was possible at this point, he drew your body even closer.

“Bra-adley! We have an entire bed here, you know?” You giggled when he rubbed his nose into your neck.

“Mmmm, but it’s nice and warm here.”

You scooched down on the bed on your stomach so you were looking up at him. With a smile, you began to press languid kisses across his chest, starting just above his belly-button and creeping up to his pecs, heart, and shoulders. You loved his shoulders, you always managed to notch your head there during sex and press little kisses to the scars dotting them and his neck. Bites, too - marks to prove he was yours.

But tonight, it seemed you had a different path in mind and, while you still nipped at his shoulder, you didn’t stop there and instead went straight to the small tattoo on his bicep. You traced your fingers across the roman numerals:

x x x i x

Thirty-nine. 

As in thirty-nine years old. An age neither of his parents ever got to see. 

Bradley had gotten the tattoo when he was in flight school and a bit of a shit with self destructive tendencies. People never really asked what it meant and he never really wanted to tell anyone. 

He’d told Ezra, right around the time when they first started talking about moving in together, before that spectacularly failed. He also told Nat. However, the latter was only because he was drunk and pissed and he had just made lieutenant, once again surpassing his father in something.

Maverick had seen it about a year ago. He had never asked Bradley what it meant and probably never wanted to have it confirmed what it meant. But to anyone who really knew Bradley, it was easy to put together.

Bradley had told you about it on your fourth date. 

It was the second time you’d slept together. Because while your first time had been frantic and had taken you both by surprise (you, in particular, were freaked out that you’d slept with someone on the first date without a condom), the second time was much slower - softer. 

You had planned the date this time. Bradley had picked you up at your apartment - he even had come upstairs to get you - with flowers - and the two of you had dinner at Callie, followed by a performance at the San Diego Symphony. It was actually thanks to one of Bradley’s fun facts about playing the piano that you had gotten the idea. 

Both of you had gotten dressed up (a big departure from your third date hike in Torrey Pines), the food and drinks had been plentiful and delicious, and listening to Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major and Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 was made all the more romantic by the way Bradley held your hand for the entire first piece and had his hand on your thigh for the entire second.

So, after eating you out on your kitchen counter and going two rounds in bed, Bradley had told you what the tattoo meant and about his parents and Maverick and you had told him about your mom and your accident during your junior year of high school. 

And if you had asked Bradley, it was after that date that he knew he was going to fall in love with you. 

It hadn’t felt scary to tell you any of it. It felt right and natural. Like you wouldn’t judge him or get scared when things got hard. Like he wanted to protect you at all costs. 

And because he had told you what the tattoo meant, it made the moments since when you’d really focus and hone in on it all the more sweeter. During this last deployment, Bradley had often felt like the ink was burning into his skin under his flight-suit. It kept reminding him that he had once thought he had a timeline or a stopwatch on his bicep, slowly ticking down. But with you, it was something to strive towards, to reach beyond and be there for LIX, LXXXIX, and even XCIX. 

“What’s it like flying at night?” Your question snapped him out of his thoughts and you pressed another kiss to his tattoo to calm him. “I kept thinking about it on my flight to London. And how you must see this all the time, is it still a big deal? Can you even stop and think about it? Just endless night with thousands of stars to guide you? Being in the middle of the ocean, nothing around for hundreds of miles.”

(What’s it like, out in space?

It’s the best thing in a lifetime of best things - oh, it’s really nothing at all. 

But you always go back.)

“You’d never thought about it before?” his voice came out thick, hoarse. 

You shrugged a shoulder. “Not in that way, I guess? I couldn’t sleep on the way to London, so I pulled up the shade in the middle of the night. I’ve never really thought to do it before, don’t know why - but then I saw all those stars, endless stars, thousands of them. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Your finger stopped tracing patterns on his arm for a moment before it started again. “And I though to myself this is what Bradley sees. This is why he loves it and for that brief blip in time I got it. I understood. Makes me love you even more in some way.” 

Bradley felt like he was going to cry, the feeling swept over him so suddenly. “I uhh - fuck.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you sounded contrite, “I just wanted you to know.”

Could he tell you? Could he tell you that flying at night with all the stars in the sky simultaneously made him feel closer to and yet farther away from his parents? It was like they were right there, but also so far out of reach. But he didn’t say any of that. He couldn’t say any of that, not now. The words couldn’t come.

Instead, he pulled you closer, putting your face at level with his own. “I love you.”

You smiled and he could’ve sworn there were tears in your eyes, but it was hard to make out in the darkness. “I love you, too. Now please kiss me.”

Bradley let out a chuckle, but leaned in to kiss you without another word. The kiss was sweet, but still had an underlying desperation attached to it that came with being away for months. But unlike every other kiss you’d shared since Bradley had gotten home, there was no need to stop or to prevent it from going further. No, now you were his. He could have you however he wanted.

Not breaking the kiss, you shifted and bracketed your thighs on either side of his hips, allowing him to slide his hands up your body. He’d never get tired of thinking it, but god, you were so fucking soft. Your hips, your thighs, your breasts, your hands, your lips - actually…

His next words were grunted against your neck. “Your lips are really soft - softer than normal,” he finished when you went to interrupt him. 

“Must be my lip mask. I put it on after I saw that you fell asleep on me…”

“Hey, hey,” he tickled your sides and you collapsed on his chest amidst your giggles, “I said you should’ve woken me up!”

“Would you have woken me up?” You had him there. “See? This way I could stare at you uninterrupted and get all moony over you. Plus, now isn’t this better? No more sleepy bubs.”

No. He was definitely awake now. And from where your core was laid on his bare stomach, he could already feel how wet your were and couldn’t wait to slip inside you. 

“‘Could kiss you for hours,” you said against his lips. You kissed him - once, twice, ten times, smiling all the while. He never wanted you to stop. “Bradley,” you whined, “Need you inside me. Gotta get used to you again. ‘m so tight.” You nipped his earlobe. 

He groaned. Fuck. He couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend who said stuff like that. It was like something out of a wet dream. “You seriously only took your fingers the entire time I was gone?” You nodded. “Good girl.”

You preened under the praise. Because it surely had to have been a bit of a challenge. “Yours are so much bigger, though.” Bradley rolled his eyes at your cheeky tone. “What’re you gonna think up for me to do next time you’re gone? Like what you talked about earlier?” You didn’t linger too much on the next time part of your question, so he didn’t either.

“Hmmm. What about tasks?”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, I’d have to do more research, but like you have to wear xyz or send me a picture of you doing something? Whatever we want.”

You nuzzled his neck. “Mmmmm, I like that. Wish we could really talk when you’re gone, though. I’m not sure I could handle every comms officer hearing what I need from you again…”

An idea suddenly struck Bradley. It was amazing he hadn’t thought of it before. “Maybe I can make you an audiobook?”

Your jaw dropped and you contorted your body to look up at him. “You’d do that? Seriously?”

His cheeks colored. “I mean, not like an actual one, but like a voice memo or something?” The idea didn’t sound nearly as good out loud as it did in his head. “If you wanted…”

“Oh my god, yes! I very much do want.”

Without another word, Bradley rolled you both over so now he was on top, knees bracketing your hips so as to not put his full weight on you. Your nightie was still covering your stomach and breasts, but that didn’t stop him from snaking his hands underneath the navy silk to play with them. They felt fuller than normal - not that he was complaining, but he hadn’t noticed earlier and now -

His cock brushed against your stomach in a way that had you bucking up against him, so desperate, so keen, so fucking good. Good girl. Your lips were eager against his as you poured every thought, every email, every Facetime call into your kiss. 

God, it had been so long. Fooling around on the couch earlier in the evening paled in comparison to how plump your lips felt and how keenly your body reacted to his. Because you felt so good. Months, weeks, days had passed and Bradley had never felt anything as good as your body beneath his. 

You sighed and squirmed up the bed so your head was laid across the pillows, all the while Bradley made his way down the bed. 

“More, bubs, please.” 

How could he refuse, especially when you had asked so nicely? He bent forward to give you a sloppy kiss on the lips before working his way down your body, from your neck and collarbones, to your breasts through your nightie, and finally to right below your belly-button. From there, you readily allowed him to bend your knees so your feet were planted firmly on the bed and your core was completely exposed to him. 

Even in the early morning light it was exquisite. You had the prettiest pussy Bradley had ever seen - and it was his, all his.

“Fucking gorgeous.” 

You startled at the first touch of his lips on your thighs, but let out the prettiest little sigh when he sucked on the skin by your birthmark. There was another as he licked along one of your lightning lines. And another as he kissed the hood of your clit. 

God, you smelled so fucking good and were groomed just the way he liked it -  like the perfect, obedient, good girl that you were. And perfect, obedient, good girls got their pussy played with until they were babbling like dumb little sluts.

“- Would have thought this would be your first stop?”

Bradley chuckled, but didn’t stop dragging his fingers across your inner thighs and lower lips. “Yeah? What, d’you think I’d do? Just dive right in? Take you on the kitchen table?”

“I would’ve let you.”

Once the words had sunk in, he stopped teasing you. His elbows gave out beneath him and he groaned with his face pressed against the sheets. Fuck. That was a conversation for another time, but just the thought of you letting Bradley basically use you had him grinding his hips into the mattress.

You were so good. 

He popped his head back up and slapped you - lightly - across your pussy. “You keep saying shit like that and next time I just might.”

In response, you arched your back and tried to close your legs around his head, but Bradley just tutted and spread them further.

“Uh-uh, need to have a look at her, I've gone three months without her.” Your hips jumped off the mattress as his fingers started playing with you, tracing circles over and dipping in and out of your cunt. “‘pretty pussy. She took such good care of you while I was gone, didn’t she? Look at you dripping for me, huh?”

His fingers scissored inside of you, dragging against your walls, while his thumb needled your clit. Your wetness spread across his fingers and he, in turn, spread it across your folds and inner thighs. He liked when you were messy. He liked to feel you all over his face.

“Bradley,” you whined. “Stop teasing.”

Neither of you really wanted that, so it didn’t even merit a response from him. Instead, he kept sliding his fingers inside you in and out, in and out and crooked them ever so slightly before he added a third. Above him, you gasped and jolted. 

“‘Atta girl, arch your back, just like that.” You whimpered at his praise and kept rocking your hips in tandem with his fingers. Fucking glorious, such a good girl for da -

“- Bradley…” He peered up to see that you had one arm over your eyes, while the other was pawing at your breasts through your nightie.

“God, you’re sucking on my fingers so tight, I would believe you’ve taken anything up this pretty pussy in months.”

“‘Want your mouth, please, please…” 

“Where?” his voice was muffled. Bradley sucked his lips around your thigh, right by your labia, but refrained from kissing you were you wanted him most. He wanted to mark you up everywhere, have your thighs and breasts and neck covered in little bites and bruises. 

Mine. Mine. Mine. 

Good. Good. Good. 

You whined. It sounded pathetic and he had barely even started. “My pussy. Please, Bradley? Please?”

Who was he to deny you? Because, god, you tasted so fucking good. It was hard not to absolutely devour you, especially after going for so long without you. Bradley slid his hands down from your hips to grab your ass and rut your cunt deeper against his face. As a reward, he got a slew of pretty little whimpers out of you.

He continued at a steady pace, alternating between probing your clit and slipping his tongue inside you. Above him, you arched your back and he pressed a firm hand on your stomach to keep you down. 

“Bradley,” you cried as you rode his face. 

God, you sounded so pretty now, he couldn’t wait to get you on his cock later. 

Pretty girl. 

Smart girl. 

Good girl. 

His girl with a body like Aphrodite. 

“Ahhh - fuc - ahhh.” You made that sound and he knew, without even looking up, that your head was tipped back in pleasure and you were close. “Bubs,” your voice came out small, “want you - inside me, now.”

“Uh-uh.” Bradley pulled his head back, but continued fingering you. “You need to come first.” 

Come on his face. 

You shook your head frantically against the pillow. “No.” You gasped when he purposely plunged his fingers deeper. “‘wanna with you - ahh inside me.”

Somehow you grabbed the hand he had pressed on your stomach and you dragged it up your body. His knuckles brushed against the silk of your nightie until you eventually pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your interlocked fingers. And all Bradley could do was say your name in censure, which ultimately came out heavy with need.

“Please? Want it to be together our first time back.” You whined pitifully. “Haven’t touched myself in days.”

All you had to do was pout and he was gone. 

“Fine,” he smacked your thigh, “but I’m gonna make you come again after I finish inside you.”

“Yes, yes, anything, Bradley.”

You would be spent and whiny by then, it wouldn’t be hard. 

After swirling his fingers once more around in your cum, Bradley held his fingers up to your mouth for you to clean them off. “That good?” You hummed around the digits before he retracted them and tapped your cheek twice. “Atta girl.”

Next, he shifted up on the bed so his knees were straddling your waist. He was achingly hard at this point and bit back a smile as you made grabby hands for his cock. It pulsed in your grasp and you swiped your thumb over the slit to rub his pre-cum over the head. Fuck, that felt divine. While you may have relished how much larger his fingers were than yours, Bradley loved how large his cock looked in your smaller hands. However, he’d already let your tender touches go on long enough - another minute and he’d come all over that silk nightie you hadn’t taken off yet.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” Your eyes were wide and you nodded. 

Trusting, needy, desperate. Such a perfect girl for him. 

“Wanna be full.”

He brushed the head of his cock against your pussy lips, making sure it was nice and wet and, god, you were fucking soaked and practically sucked him in. You whimpered and muttered something indistinguishable, but wrapped your arms around his shoulders and canted your hips up for more. Then, once Bradley slipped just the tip of his cock inside you, you gasped, but brought him closer. Your nails dug into his shoulders, hopefully pressing little crescents into the skin. He pulled back and slid in again, inch by inch, earning a breathy gasp from you every time. 

Holyfuckingshit. You were so tight. So fucking tight, even after prepping you with his tongue and fingers. 

Yours are so much bigger, though your voice echoed through his head. 

You were so fucking soft and warm and wet and felt perfect around him. With each thrust he’d grunt out your name and you in turn would give a whiny Bradley and eventually wrapped your legs around his hips. And then you were also clenching down on him like you’d spent the entire three months doing kegel exercises. 

“Fuck, you made me so hard - thinking about how much of a good girl you were while I was away, keeping this nice and tight for me,” he barely got the words out. 

“‘do anything for - for you. ‘d let you do anything to - mmhmm - me,” you finished with a whimper. 

Fuck. Your unwavering trust in Bradley always took him aback. Because you meant it. You really would let him do anything to you. If you had the slightest inclination that it would please him, you would do it. He had never had someone who trusted him that much. And that wasn’t something he took lightly. 

With that thought in mind, he snapped his hips against yours in a particularly hard thrust that had you crying out. 

“Mmm harder.”

He bent down to suck on your neck. This - the closeness - was why he liked missionary so much. It was perfect for this exact moment. There was plenty of time to take you hard and fast later.

“Oh, god. Feel so full - Bradley, Bra - Bradley!” With every utterance of his name, he drove deeper inside you. Harder inside you. You’d ride him next time, he’d make sure of it. But for now, breathing each other’s air, gasping against each other’s mouth, and feeling the sweat on each other’s brow, being so impossibly close to each other, it was hard to say where Bradley’s soul ended and yours started. 

Yours and mine are the same. 

He groaned your name and you opened your eyes to gaze up at him with an almost dazed expression. Grabbing the back of your knee, Bradley went in at a different angle, trying to get deeper. “Feel how much your little hole’s dripping? Just needed me to stretch you out again.”

“Mmmmm yes, yes, da-dley - ahhhh,” you cried out, “can I come? Please, please?”

Oh, you were such a good girl for him. Asking so nicely, so prettily. So properly. Thank god he had prepped you, he wasn’t going to last much longer, himself. It was kind of pathetic. Both of you were, to be frank. Obviously, you more than him in this instance, but -

“‘Course. There you go, sweetheart, come on my cock like a good girl.”

When you finally came a few moments later, it was with a strangled cry of his name that Bradley swore was the most beautiful sound he’d heard in months. As the shudder of pleasure swept over you and you tightened your core around him, Bradley hastened to find his own release. The slew of cries and whimpers against his lips as you tried to settle down only spurred him on further. He drove into you again and again and again. 

He had to get there with you - had to. You clung to him and notched your head by his neck, only to graze your lips along the tender skin there and bite. 

“Fuck,” he grunted. “‘You ready for me to come inside you, sweetheart? Know how much you missed it.”

You nodded against his neck. “Yes,” you whispered, “Bradley, please…”

He groaned your name. It sounded so good like that, so perfect. He had to say it again and again and again. With each stroke, your overstimulated pussy fluttered around him, pulling him towards his own orgasm. His jaw clenched and his back muscles tightened and Bradley could barely support his own weight over you for another moment - 

“‘s good, bubs, feel so full.”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was it. That did it. 

With a final moan of your name, Bradley came inside you, painting your pussy with his cum. His cocked twitched one final time as the last streams of cum filled you up. He notched his head against your shoulder and he breathed in your sweet scent. 

Goddamn. 

Once he settled down and caught his breath sometime later, he moved to pull out, knowing that when he did so, both your cum would drip down your thighs. Your gorgeous, thick thighs. He already needed to get lost in them again. And wasn’t that just the thing? Bradley was obsessed with you. He could never get enough of you.

“No, no, not yet,” you whimpered. 

He stopped and pulled you closer, but slightly changed your position. There was some perverse part of him that wanted to make a comment about keeping you on his cock for the rest of the morning so you could get used to him again, but he refrained after thinking about the tone of your voice. You sounded so fucking good and docile and submissive. Such a good girl. 

“Pretty sure you owe me another one…” You burrowed your head against his neck and moaned when he shifted. “How ‘bout I stay inside you? ‘That okay?” You nodded and your pussy tightened against him. “Good girl.”

Keeping you close, Bradley slid one hand in between your bodies to play with your throbbing clit. You arched your back up towards him, trying in vain to get closer, though that was nigh impossible - the two of you were already as close as two people could be. 

Yours and mine are the same.

He needled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it back and forth, trying to get some moans and whines out of you. God, your body felt unreal. Still so warm around him, still so wet for him. All for him. 

Mine, mine, mine. 

As your body shifted, your pebbled nipples brushed against his bare chest and Bradley was remiss for not playing more attention to them earlier. But that could’ve been because you were still wearing that goddamn nightie. You were flustered and warm and your skin was glistening with the slightest sheen of sweat. 

He bent his head down and mouthed at your breasts through the midnight blue silk. They were already hardened to peaks, desperate to be suckled on, especially after noting their new size. There would be time for that later, he had to remind himself. 

For now, he nipped at the top of your cleavage and kept playing with your clit. You were so oversensitive, you were practically shaking in his arms. And in response, you raked your hands through Bradley’s hair, pulling on the strands. Fuck him. That felt divine, especially as he felt you tighten around him. 

“Brad-ley,” you whimpered, “’s too much.”

“Shhh, easy, easy, there’s no rush.” He tipped your chin up. “You want me to stop?” You shook your head. “Take a deep breath. That's it. Good girl.”

Little whimpers kept escaping your mouth, but you burrowed your face against his neck and trusted him to take care of you. You nipped at the skin there and he hoped it would leave a mark; let everyone know that he was yours and only yours for the next few weeks. 

Mine, mine, mine.

“I’ve got to take care of you, you were such a good girl while I was gone. My best girl, huh?”

“Mmmm.”

“So beautiful, so smart. Took such good care of things for me, huh?” He could feel as well as hear your breath hitching, letting him know that you were close. “‘gorgeous girl, so proud of you, sweet g -”

And that did it. 

So proud of you.

You came with a cry and your walls fluttered around his cock once again. A sudden gush of wetness coated both yours and Bradley’s thighs. God, it was beautiful. You were beautiful. Your name kept running through his mind and Bradley realized he was actually muttering it against your lips through kisses. There were tears in your eyes and he thumbed them away before they could slide down your beautiful face.

“Hey, too much?” He kissed your cheeks, which unfortunately only made more tears spring from your eyes. “I didn’t hurt you, right?” 

“No, no,” you shook your head, “I just missed you so much, think I’m overwhelmed,” you finished sheepishly. 

The tension in Bradley’s shoulders eased and he smiled down at you. “Now you’re gonna make me cry, kid.”

“I love you.” The words came out quietly, but it was like they’d only just come out of your mouth before Bradley was saying them back. 

“Love you, too.” The smile he got out of you warmed his heart and he pecked your lips before tucking your head under his chin.

The two of you laid there for some time with Bradley still inside you. In fact, he was pretty certain you may have dozed off at one point, but he didn’t want you to be too uncomfortable when you woke up later. With that in mind, he slowly pulled out and settled you on the bed beside him. You fussed a little, but Bradley kissed your forehead, heading it off. 

He started with your name, “I’ll be right back, okay? Going to the bathroom.” You nodded at him, your eyes wide and trusting. 

It was chilly out of bed, away from you, and Bradley only paused for a brief moment to slip on a pair of his sleep shorts from the dresser, before heading off to the bathroom to get a damp towel for you. He hastened back to the bedroom, now almost fully lit in the early morning light. You made such a pretty picture all tucked under the thick, white duvet. 

“Bradley?” You stretched out underneath the covers and let out a little whimper. “‘m sore.”

“Shit, sorry,” he said with your special nickname tacked on the end. “Come ‘ere.” Despite his words, he came to you and dutifully cleaned you up with the warm cloth. 

“‘s not your fault,” you slurred, “need to get used to it again. Missed you.”

The cloth passed over your thighs once, twice, three times, before Bradley brushed it against your core once, twice, three times. You sighed and gave him a lazy smile, which he easily returned. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Be right back,” he whispered. 

You’d barely managed to get back under the covers by the time he came back from the bathroom. And then, with all the care and love you deserved at the moment, he bundled you up in his arms. You were so warm and smelled so pretty and your nightie felt so soft against his rough fingers. Everything about that moment was perfect. You were so precious. You pressed your cheek against his chest and he hoped you could tell how fast his heart was beating. 

“I missed being with you like this, missed holding you.”

You pressed lazy kisses to his chest for a moment before you eventually tipped your head up to meet his eyes. “Can we stay like this? Just for a while? Don’t wanna get up yet.”

“‘Course,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “go back to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

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

When Bradley woke hours later, he did so slowly. He was pleasantly warm, he was finally sleeping on a true mattress, and you were slotted between his legs sucking his cock. 

Surely, there were few better ways to wake up than to have your sweet lips wrapped around him. It wasn’t something you did often, at least in terms of waking Bradley up this way, but he loved whenever you took the initiative. It showed how eager you were - how desperate. Really, the only thing that could top it would be your pussy sunk deep on his cock as you rode him.

You had to have been at it for a while, for he was achingly hard by this point. His hips bucked up, thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth and you let out a surprised moan, no doubt having thought he was still sleeping, before taking him further. Your tight grip on his thighs left him relatively grounded, else he would have set off a round of those gagging noises from you that he liked so much. That wet mouth that he liked so much - fuck. 

Bradley groaned your name. You peered up at him with those wide, innocent eyes like you weren’t getting him off while he slept. Like your pussy wasn’t soaking. Like you hadn’t been grinding it against his bare thigh for the last however many minutes. 

And you kept at it with Bradley’s hand grabbing your hair and guiding you. You kept working him, forcing him deeper down your throat. He moaned and you responded back in kind. Such a good mouth, such a good girl, taking care of him like this. It took him a moment to realize he was doing it, but he was mumbling your name, almost nonsensically. 

But then he felt, rather than saw, you remove one of your hands from his thighs to presumably put it between your legs to play with your needy pussy. And that just wouldn’t do.

“Fuck. Get up here,” he said and then punctuated it with a growl of your name when you stayed down. The whimper you let out had him bucking his hips up off the mattress. “I’m serious.”

Almost begrudgingly, you eased him out of your mouth and the resulting, wet pop echoed throughout the bedroom. You looked far too pleased with yourself as you sucked on your finger - the one that had definitely been shoved up your pussy only moments ago - and hummed in response. 

“Get up here - now.”

You braced yourself on either side of Bradley’s hips and teasingly brushed your pussy against his aching cock a couple times, practically begging for him to sink inside you. It would be so easy for you to ride him right now, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Bossy, bossy,” you teased and crept up his body, pressing kisses to his happy trail and chest along the way. But just as you were about to kiss him on the lips, he stopped you.

“Uh uh.” He stuck his finger in the air and mimed a circle. “Turn around.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Are you…” Again, just Bradley twirled his finger around and smiled. “F-fine.” 

“But,” at this you relaxed your thighs to press more of your weight on his stomach, “you have to take this off,” he finished by thumbing the navy fabric of your nightie. 

It only took a moment for the smile to creep across your face, but you didn’t take your eyes off Bradley’s as you slid the dainty straps off your shoulders, one at a time. You didn’t take the nightie off, it still covered all of your stomach, but it let Bradley ogle your breasts unimpeded for a moment. 

“Will that be all, lieutenant commander?”

He just shook his head in disbelief. “Cheeky little slut.” 

And then you smiled, looking so proud of yourself for rattling him that he had no choice but to slap the top of your ass. Hard. You huffed.

“Now turn around.” 

You rolled your eyes, but managed to turn around with Bradley’s assistance. The brief awkwardness of limbs strewn about was easily forgotten as soon as you got into position and he was rewarded with the sight of your glistening pussy in front of his face.

Bradley didn’t bother holding back a moan and started kneading your ass and running his fingers along your lower spine. Meanwhile, you wiggled down his body, dragging your breasts against his bare skin for the first time all morning. They were so soft, but your nipples were pebbled as they brushed against his stomach. He hissed when you lingered there for a moment to tease him.

Not one to let you get the upper hand, Bradley grabbed your hips to draw you close to his face and inhaled your sweet scent. Fuck. You were so good. You let out a mewl and startled when he first made contact with his tongue and then attempted to nose at your clit. That always got you going. Same with his mustache against the tender skin at the apex of your thighs. Maybe he would abstain from shaving on vacation, if only you’d ask.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he groaned your name against your skin and then he feasted. 

Meanwhile, the way your hands were playing with his balls right now had him already teetering towards an orgasm. After only being able to fantasize about having your hands on him - your sweet, delicate hands on him - for the last three months, this felt divine. And then you put your mouth on him and he was well and truly done for.

“Fuck.” 

Neither of you lasted much longer after that.

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

After your depravity filled wake up call, the rest of the morning took on a decidedly more chaste tone. The room was filled with giggles and the sounds of kissing as Bradley told you some of the more entertaining stories from the carrier and Australia, while you revealed that you had watched his 60 Minutes segment at least nine times. When he asked you why you’d watched it nine times, you just ducked your head and bashfully said it was because you sounded really smart.

It was finally around noon when Bradley said you two needed a shower and to have breakfast before embarking on the rest of the day’s activities, which included a tour of the house, complete with all the little goodies you’d amassed for him over the last couple months that he had glossed over last night, and getting ready for drinks with Nat, Caroline, and Max at six-thirty. Granted, the latter was six hours away, but Bradley had a feeling you both would be pretty slow to the take that afternoon. Probably would get a little distracted, too.

“‘m gonna take a shower,” his lips brushed kisses up and down your arms and over your once again silk clad breasts and he was rewarded with giggles, “you wanna come with me?”

“Oh!? Uhh - yeah, we could take a shower.” You pecked him on the lips. “Can you warm it up first, please?”

The pout worked - it always did - but Bradley still groaned, totally hamming it up. “Mmmm, I suppose...”

With one final kiss, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way into the bathroom. He flicked the lights on with a snap, going for full brightness on the dimmer, and turned around to give you a cheeky wink, only to see you worrying your lip between your teeth and staring intently down at your clasped hands on top of the duvet. He called your name and your eyes snapped up to meet his gaze.

“You good?”

You nodded and put a smile on your face. “Yeah, be right in.”

Odd. But then again, Bradley could’ve been reading too much into it. He hadn’t seen you since before Christmas, afterall. You were probably just tired. Yesterday had been a long day. And he had run you pretty ragged this morning. 

The water had warmed up while he was going to the bathroom and was the perfect temperature by the time he finally got under the spray. Just as he was about to call out to you again, he heard you enter the bathroom - and promptly dim the lights. 

“Woah, woah - hey!”

“Sorry!” you called out from behind the shower curtain. “I uhh - I just have a headache, don’t want the lights too bright too early in the morning.”

It was twelve-fifteen. 

Bradley frowned and looked at your shadow moving on the other side of the curtain. You were standing up straight - he would almost call it stiff. It was an odd request, to say the least, but it wasn’t exactly pitch black in the bathroom now, just a little darker, especially from the waist down. 

“Okay, just be careful when you get in - here,” he pulled the curtain back and held his hand out for you to step over the lip of the tub. You startled, but nevertheless took his hand. “There you go.”

The two of you stood face to face for a moment, allowing you both to get your fill of the other. It was definitely darker in the shower now, but Bradley could still make out your ample curves. Streams of water dripped down your chest as you tipped your head under the faucet and it was impossible for him to not watch as the droplets cascaded over your breasts. 

They looked fucking glorious by the way - he was slightly put out that he hadn’t gotten a chance to really play with them in bed earlier - you had only given him a glimpse of them for a few moments - but there was always later. Or now? Now was also good.

“Did these get bigger?” The words were out before he could think twice and he cupped a breast in each hand. Your nipples pebbled as his thumbs passed over them, back and forth, back and forth.  

Your eyes flew up to his face before glancing right back down at your breasts. “What? No, I don’t think - no.”

Bradley leaned back to catch your eye. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. They look great, feel even better, they’re just…”

“Oh! I guess I hadn’t noticed.” You turned your back to him. “Here, do you want to do my hair? Or I can do yours? Why don’t I do yours?”

Before he could even process what was happening, you spun back around and grabbed the shampoo bottle from behind Bradley and squirted some Ouai into your hands. He leaned forward so you could lather his hair up with the suds and appreciated your care in keeping them out of his eyes. For someone normally so dominant and in control, Bradley really did love when you fussed over him. He knew it wasn’t something you were comfortable with in every aspect of your relationship - taking charge like that - but it was nice in settings like this. Once the shampoo had set, he crouched down for you to rinse and then repeat the process with the conditioner.  

“I think we need a bench in here.”

“Yeah?” 

You hummed. “Just a little bump out, enough for someone to sit. You’re getting older, I wouldn’t want you to fall or hurt yourself during any rigorous shower activity.”

“Rigorous shower activity?” Bradley chuckled and nudged you with his shoulder before wetting your hair under the faucet. “You know, if I took all my showers with you, I wouldn’t have to worry about that, kid. Here, turn around, ‘s your turn.”

Gently, Bradley lathered up your hair and made sure to massage your scalp the same way you had done for him. You let out a pleased hum and then he repeated the process with the conditioner, though he might’ve used a bit too much. 

Once you were both back under the spray, you rested your palms on his chest and peered up at him with wide eyes. You looked like you were about to cry and he pulled you closer in comfort.

“I haven’t stayed here at the house too much while you were gone, just a night or two - like that night…with the email,” you confessed, “it didn’t feel right. I kept thinking you’d come home any minute.” Bradley pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “But I’d drop stuff off slowly, a couple boxes a week and whatnot.”

You both stood in the silence of the falling water for a few moments before you spoke again. 

“It just doesn’t feel real - all of this. I keep worrying that you’re gonna disappear again tomorrow. Or that I’m going to wake up or something. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that was just the thing: Bradley didn’t know what he’d do without you either. He had never felt this way before; that there was someone else tied to him, someone else living for him, while he in turn lived for them. 

“Hey,” he tipped your chin up, “you’re not the only one worried about that. But I have you with me now and I’m always gonna do my damndest to come home to you, alright, kid?”

“Alright.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, keeping him close, and pressed a kiss to his chest. “Love you, bubs.”

Bradley instantly tightened his arms around you. “Love you, too.” 

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Before long, your kiss on his chest turned into a kiss on the mouth and your hands roved over each other’s bodies as you shared the loofah and soap. “So broad, so strong,” you said in wonder as you roved your hands over his chest and thighs and chased away the bubbles. 

And then, after multiple passes over your breasts at Bradley’s hands - it was unfair how good your breasts looked all sudsed up - it was time for a final rinse. He hopped out of the shower first and had a towel waiting for you when you got out, before you ultimately changed into your fluffy white robe. 

The two of you completed your morning routines side by side in comfortable silence until Bradley went back to the bedroom to put on some running shorts and a t-shirt. 

“You want breakfast?” He snuck up behind you at the bathroom counter and kissed your cheek. 

You smiled at him in the mirror. “Yes, please.”

“Anything in particular.” He kissed you again. “Pancakes? French toast? Ooooo maybe hash browns and bacon, too? The works?”

You had been giggling while he had been kissing your neck, but you suddenly turned sober as he rattled off your options. “Oh, uhh - maybe some eggs?”

Bradley frowned. “Like scrambled?” 

“Or poached? I’ve been eating a lot of egg whites lately…” With the way you were bundled up in your robe and with your hair still wet from the shower, you looked small - young. Egg whites?

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure, I can do some egg whites for you.” 

Egg whites? Since when did you like egg whites? You had always liked your eggs scrambled and a little runny - with ketchup. Idly, Bradley remembered Max eating egg whites and low carb toast for the entire month of May to get in shape for yacht week in Croatia. He shook the thought away.

“Anything you want, kid.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a soft smile and a kiss on the check. “I’ll be down in a bit, okay?”

And with that smile and a promise, Bradley headed off downstairs to make breakfast. 

Egg whites, really?

-----------

Bradley’s homecoming weekend extravaganza - your words - could only be considered truly complete with a family dinner at Maverick and Penny’s on Sunday evening. Penny wouldn’t hear of you two bringing anything to dinner, so all that was needed to do upon returning from a morning hike in Torrey Pines was shower and change. 

You didn’t have to be there until six thirty, but it was already five forty-five and at least a 20 minute drive, so you were both a little more hurried than you were after yesterday’s shower. In fact, when Bradley got out of the shower, he was surprised to see that you were still in your bathrobe and staring at your half of the closet like it contained all of life’s mysteries. Granted, your hair and makeup were done, but you just stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, absentmindedly biting your thumb nail. 

How long had you been standing there?

“If it makes it any easier,” you startled at Bradley’s voice, “I’m sure Mav will just be wearing a t-shirt and jeans.” Barely looking at the shirt he grabbed to go with his chino shorts, Bradley fell into your line of sight. “You good?”

You relaxed your shoulders. “Yeah, just…not sure what to wear.” 

The two of you stood side by side to take in the full array of clothes in the closet. While not all of your clothes - some bulkier items and more formal dresses were in the guest bedroom - there were still dozens of options in front of the two of you. You took a hesitant step forward and eventually took a pair of boyfriend jeans off a shelf and held them to your chest. Just as you were about to grab a boxy oxford, Bradley snatched up a brightly patterned, tiered, sleeveless dress that would hit at the middle of your thighs. The empty hanger rattled against the rod, but it stopped you in your tracks, the oxford momentarily forgotten. 

“This would look nice.” 

Even to Bradley’s own ears, his voice sounded lame, almost a little desperate. But there was something about you choosing an oxford to wear after staring at your closet for ten minutes that gave him pause. You had such pretty clothes, it would be a shame for you not to wear them. 

“It’s not too much?” Bradley shook his head and held the dress up to your body. “I bought it to bring on our trip, but now I’m not sure…”

“It’s perfect, trust me, you’ll look gorgeous. And you better pack it for Mexico, too, okay?”

“Okay.” You appeared a little flustered, but had lost the sad look in your eyes from moments ago, so Bradley considered it a win. 

With a kiss to the side of your head, he told you to finish getting ready and that he would be downstairs when you were done. 

After getting his wallet and car keys together, Bradley made his way to the mudroom to put on his new sneakers. Though you wouldn’t admit it, you had definitely ordered them for Bradley during one of your many Ted Lasso rewatches while he was away. He reminds me of you sometimes, you would demure when pressed. It was cute. 

With one foot propped up on the bench to tie his shoes, Bradley noticed the row of jackets in front of him. He called your name. “You want a jacket?”

“Yes, please,” your voice carried from upstairs.

So, he grabbed your jean jacket, figuring it would look good with your dress, and got himself his oversized grey Navy crewneck sweatshirt. Maverick and Penny always liked to have drinks and dessert out on the back patio, and though it had been a relatively warm day for March, Bradley knew the breeze off the ocean would make it chilly later. Maybe they’d light the firepit and have s’mores? You loved s’mores even more than Bradley did, if you could believe it. 

Just as he had gotten the jackets and threw his sweatshirt on, you appeared beside him. And just like Bradley had thought, the dress looked perfect on you.

“See? You look gorgeous.” You ducked your head and muttered thanks. “Here.” Bradley held your jean jacket open and helped you slip it on while you put on your sandals. And then you set off for Coronado in the Bronco. 

-----------

After a lovely dinner filled with much chatter and laughter, Amelia and Penny dragged you upstairs to show you her dress for the sophomore semi-formal next week. This left Bradley and Maverick to clean up the dinner plates and get things situated outside on the patio.

It was completely beyond Bradley’s comprehension how to get Penny’s fancy fire pit started, but Maverick had a flame roaring in no time. The two sat across from each other - Maverick on one of the cushioned, wicker swivel chairs with Bradley on the matching loveseat - and sipped their beers in comfortable silence for a few moments. The sun had set about fifteen minutes ago, but the sky was still a kaleidoscope of pinks, purples, and oranges. 

“So, how’re you really doing?” Though the question has been asked at dinner already, Bradley had just given a vague answer. But now that it was just him and Maverick, he felt he could be honest.

“Fine, I guess.” Bradley made a face. “‘s always weird doing some stuff again. We went to the store earlier; always takes me back that first time.”

“It’s the cereal. Too many choices.” 

“Yes, thank you!” Bradley exclaimed, glad he had someone who could relate. Every time he brought it up with Nat or the guys, they just looked at him like he had seven heads. They went from having few choices on the carrier, to endless when on land. “And the chips. Too many options and sizes.” Maverick chuckled. “We went on the way back from Torrey Pines to get more Diet Coke and I wandered off like three times just to stare at the oversized boxes of Lucky Charms.”

Maverick smiled wryly and took a sip of his beer. “You don’t look as tired as you did Friday afternoon, that’s for certain.” Though the way he’d said it had been completely innocent, Bradley still blushed.

“Yeah, it’s been amazing. You should’ve seen her Friday night, she was so excited to make dinner and the house just -” he broke off, “it felt nice coming home to someone like that, I guess.”

Nice? I guess? Bradley sounded like an idiot. It had felt more than nice coming home to you. Coming home this time made him never want to leave again. But the real test would come tomorrow when you went to work. And Bradley would be alone for the first time in three months. Alone in your big, quiet, house. It hadn’t been quiet in three months. There was always something else going on around him. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow, he could do things on his own time and make his own food and pick his own clothes. He could have choices. Luckily, Maverick didn’t seem to notice his sudden unease.

“That was all she talked about last week.” 

It took a concerted effort on Bradley’s part not to be jealous that you’d talked to Maverick so much last week when all Bradley had gotten were emails. Beautiful, heartfelt, smutty emails, but emails nonetheless. Before Friday, Bradley hadn’t heard your voice in weeks.

“She did a really good job. The cake was unreal, I had a piece for breakfast this morning.” That got a chuckle out of them both. “It’s nice to see her comfortable doing something outside of her wheelhouse. She kept sending me pictures from her lessons and even cooked for me on Facetime once.”

Just as Maverick appeared to be gearing up for a follow up, probably about how he’d gotten the leftovers from those cooking lessons, Bradley rushed out: “But we really talked Friday night - about a lot of things. It was good, though.”

“What about?” 

“Kids,” the word slipped out before Bradley could think better of it, “family, that kind of stuff.”

Maverick pondered this and took a sip of his beer. “And you didn’t mind talking about that right when you got back? Seems like a lot.”

“No, it was good.” Not looking at Maverick while he was talking made it easier for Bradley. That way he couldn’t see his pity. He shifted in his seat. “I’d rather we talk about it now anyway, that way it isn’t hanging over our heads on vacation and whatnot.” 

The fact that Bradley thought you were keeping something else from him didn’t need to be brought up yet. He wouldn’t even be able to put it into words, it was just a gut feeling at this point. You just seemed a little off. The egg whites, the boxy oxfords, the chocolate cake.

There was hesitancy in Mav’s voice when he spoke next. “So, you looking to get engaged soon? It’s been what? A year?”

“Almost, yeah. But uhh no, no.” The denial was firm in his voice. “Probably still a year off at least. It’s gonna happen - we both want it to - but there’s no need to rush it. I’m excited for it to be just the two of us for a little while, you know in the house and everything.”

“Good, good,” he sounded pleased, “you two have a good thing going, I wouldn’t want -”

“- We’re not going to have kids until I’m out of the Navy.” Bradley said the words in a rush and he really hoped Maverick would ignore how thick his voice sounded. 

But of course he didn’t. Maverick snapped his eyes over to meet Bradley’s, but he was suddenly focused on a loose thread on the upholstery. Shit. Why had he said that?

“Oh.” It was a long time before either of them spoke again. Bradley finished half his beer. “Is that your idea or hers?”

“It’s both of ours.” Bradley winced realizing how defensive he sounded. “Well, I kind of brought it up first, but she was the one who said we’d wait.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Bradley nodded. “Jesus, Bradley, you’ll be at least forty by the time -”

“- Forty-two.” 

Maverick looked sad and Bradley hated it. Because he knew, without Bradley even having to spell it out why you were going to wait. Because Maverick had been there. Because Maverick had held Bradley’s mom as she cried on too many occasions to count. Because Maverick had taken Bradley to all the father/son events in the place of his own father. Because Bradley realized, as he had gotten older, that Maverick thought it was his fault that Bradley grew up without a father. 

“Listen, we both know that a million things can happen between now and then and maybe the timing will be all wrong, but we want to wait. If it gives either of us the slightest peace of mind, we’re going to try and wait.”

The silence was heavy this time around. 

“Well, I guess it’s good you’re talking about it now - even if I don’t entirely agree with it. You should be enjoying your life together, not waiting around…” Maverick seemed to think better of what he was saying and took a sip of his beer. A beat passed until he spoke again. “Also reminds me of some stuff I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

Maverick waved him off. “It can wait until after your trip. Just some estate planning and whatnot, I know the four of us are in a really good place, so figured it was a good time.”

Estate planning? The four of us? The whole family was involved? Bradley’s curiosity was most definitely piqued. 

“Oh, err yeah, sounds good -”

“It’s nothing bad - promise!” he quickly backpedaled, “More paperwork than anything -”

“What’re you ladies gossiping about?” Amelia breezed onto the patio and messed up Bradley’s hair before she plopped down on the other end of the sofa. Naturally, he in turn had to elbow her in the side. Not hard, mind you, but hard enough for her to kick him back. 

“We were actually just talking about the dance coming up next Friday,” Maverick replied smoothly and Bradley stifled a snort. Since when had he become such a good liar? Regardless, Amelia preened. “I was just about to tell Bradley about your date…”

“What?!” Bradley exclaimed.

Amelia pouted, clearly put off that it had been brought up in front of him. He liked Amelia, he was protective of her, fucking shoot him. “Mav likes him!”

Maverick slightly cowed under Bradley and Amelia’s stares. “He’s nice, they’re on the debate team together.”

“Debate team?!” Alright, now he was putting it on a little bit, but as someone who had also been on the debate team in high school, Bradley knew that those guys were also smart, which generally meant they were way more trouble than the typical jocks.

Clearly misconstruing his comment, Amelia frowned. “Listen, I know you were rocking the middle part and puka shell necklace when you were on the debate team, but it’s cool now…”

“Puka shell necklace?” your voice chimed in from the doorway. “Pete never mentioned that when he was telling me of your high school heroics.”

Bradley’s cheeks colored. “Yeah, well, it was the late 90s and I thought Pacey Witter was cool.”

“The 1990s!” Amelia feigned hysterics and got a chuckle out of you and Maverick. “Next you’re going to be talking about where you were on 9/11 -”

“I was in kindergarten, we couldn’t go outside for recess,” you teased.

You sat yourself between Bradley and Amelia on the sofa and he threw his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer. He knew you’d get cold soon, but didn’t want you to run inside to get your jacket or a sweatshirt just yet - he just wanted you beside him. Plus, there was also the fear that you’d get one of Maverick’s sweatshirts from inside if you forwent your jean jacket and that just wouldn’t do.

Amelia groaned, but still turned her attention back on you. “Okay, but you were definitely Joey Potter, breaking hearts left and right. No debate captains for you.” She stuck her tongue out at Bradley for good measure.

“Ha, I wish. No, I was actually kind of lame in high school, very angsty.” Bradley knew why, but Maverick and the Benjamins were still in the dark.

“Really?” Amelia frowned. 

It was easy to understand her confusion since you were just about the coolest person she knew - her words. Amelia had told Bradley so the first night he’d brought you over for dinner. Can you ask her where she got her sneakers? A couple weeks later, you and Bradley had gotten Amelia the very same sneakers for her birthday. She always blushed when you wore them at the same time.

So, the next words out of your mouth clearly surprised her. “Oh, yeah, I was knee deep in Mazzy Star and Vampire Weekend. The dark preppy vibe, if that’s even a thing?”

“Jesus, I wasn’t even that bad.” Bradley squeezed your shoulder and got a smile out of you with his teasing.

Maverick and Penny were talking off on their own, so you turned your full attention towards Amelia. “I was in a car accident my junior year of high school. Kind of set me back with school and then - well, private school kids are kind of vicious so…” 

“What happened? Sorry - that was -”

“- It’s oka -,” you started to say, then seemed to think better of it. Because nothing about that night had been okay. “I was in a car with someone and we got t-boned. I got pretty banged up, broke my right arm and leg. It seemed like I had a perpetual concussion for the next six months. He just broke his arm,” you finished wryly. 

He. 

He just broke his arm.

Bradley pursed his lips at the mention of Teddy Cavanaugh. Fucking prick. To say you’d gotten pretty banged up was putting it way too mildly. Thinking about it again made him just as upset as it had that night all those months ago on your fourth date when you’d told him the entire story. 

And more recently, Bradley had had the unfortunate experience of meeting Teddy over Thanksgiving when Bradley had played golf with your dad one afternoon up in Berkeley. As a rule, Bradley tried not to hate people on sight - at least not anymore. 

But god, he really fucking hated Teddy Cavanaugh. He wanted to fucking deck him on the first tee at Claremont Country Club. He wanted to slam his nine-iron into the Porsche 911 he was driving. And Bradley was pretty sure your dad did too. 

It was such a cunty move to get the same car.

Plus, what self respecting twenty-nine year old still went by Teddy anyway?

But the truth of what happened that night wasn’t exactly appropriate for a post dinner conversation, nevermind the fact that Amelia was only a year younger than you had been that night. 

The realization made Bradley freeze. 

You had only been a year older than Amelia when it happened. Amelia, who still slept with the stuffed cow her grandparents had gotten her for her sixth birthday. Amelia, who still played with her American Girl Dolls when she didn’t get invited to a friend’s house on Friday nights. Amelia, who still made Bradley a new welcome home banner after every deployment. Amelia, who still huffed whenever Bradley ruffled her hair as a hello. Amelia, who Bradley promised he’d teach how to drive that spring.

You were Amelia. You had been that young, that sweet, that trusting and Teddy Cavanaugh had thrown it all back in your face.

Bradley could feel his chest tighten, even as he ignored the chatter around him. Maverick and Penny had joined in whatever conversation you were now having with Amelia, but all Bradley could do was sit there. 

Without a word, he pulled you closer, so you were bundled up in his arms. It was still proper enough in front of his family, but he needed to have you close. Your legs were plastered together alongside Bradley’s right side and you burrowed yourself under the arm he draped across your shoulders. 

Everything was right as it should be. Bradley was with his family, Bradley was with you, here. Not on a carrier in the middle of the Pacific or the passenger seat of Mr. Cavanaugh’s Porsche. 

Here. And nothing bad was going to happen here.  

Soon, the conversation changed to whichever HBO show Amelia and Maverick were excited to watch later that night, while Penny went inside to get the dessert: s’mores. 

“‘You need any help?”

Penny waved you off. “I’m all set, everything’s already measured out.”

Once she was gone, Bradley pressed a light kiss to your shoulder and you shivered. “‘You getting cold, kid?” You nodded. “‘You want my sweatshirt?” 

“Please?”

“I’ve got one in the mudroom if -” 

“No, it’s fine,” Bradley cut off Maverick, “she can have mine.”

Quickly taking off his own sweatshirt and putting it over your head, Bradley didn’t even have the time to linger on how pathetic he sounded. Who did Maverick think he was, offering to let Bradley’s girlfriend borrow a sweatshirt? Didn’t he realize Bradley was more than capable of taking care of you?

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, now cozy and wrapped up in the still warm sweatshirt and Bradley nearly forgot why he had gotten so huffy in the first place. Nearly. 

“So,” Penny popped back out onto the patio with a heaping tray of marshmallows, a bowl of chocolate squares, and stacks of graham crackers, “who wants s’mores?”

“Me, me!” Amelia called, pushing her way towards the tray and subsequently dishing out the marshmallow sticks. 

Little shit gave Bradley the worst one, even knowing Maverick wouldn’t have any and therefore didn’t need one. As payback, he kept putting his marshmallow wherever Amelia’s was. It meant that he didn’t roast a single good marshmallow, but the glare she kept sending him was too funny to make him stop. 

Eventually, after Bradley had to blow out yet another marshmallow - Oh, shit! Not again! - you took over s’more duties. Just as well, really; yours were the best. You turned marshmallow roasting into an art form - a perfectly golden, gooey art form. While you didn’t eat any with graham crackers, you did have one you roasted over the fire with the chocolate already stuffed in the marshmallow. You smiled at Bradley’s shocked expression and then wordlessly made him three exactly like it.

All the while, you answered Penny’s questions about how your dad and Mary were doing and when they were next coming down to San Diego and if they would want to get dinner with her and Pete, just the four of them? But when you started nodding off against Bradley’s shoulder, he knew it was time for you both to head home. 

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

Mon, March 22, 1:43pm

How was your meeting? 

it was fine, but ran over and i didn’t get to have lunch before my one o’clock ☹️

At least have a snack or something, don’t want you wasting away on me, kid. 

i won’t! what’re you up to?

Stopped by the base for a bit, saw the guys and then went to the gym.

I might get a haircut later. 

you can’t get a haircut without me! i don’t trust you not to get it too short! plus i like it a little longer 

Oh yeah? 

i like when it gets curly at the ends, it’s always really soft too. can you wait till after the trip?  please bradley please?

Fine, but only because you begged me…

i’ll make it up to you later, promise and i did not beg you…

Or you could make it up to me now?

Is the office busy today?

no  it’s pretty quiet

You wore that navy skirt, right?

yeah with my white silk blouse 

What’d you wear underneath it?

bradley! i don’t know, boring underwear? 

You wanna show me? Just to check?

you can see when i get home, i’ll even try and sneak out a little early 

Wanna see now

Show me

fine, just give me a sec. i’ll go to the bathroom 

No

At your desk

Now

bradley!

Sweetheart I’m aching

[image: Mr. 7.5 Gs]

fuck holy shit bubs what were you doing before you texted me?

Jerking off, I’m bored

charming

Wanna be inside you

fuck bradley wish i was home to take care of you god you’re so pretty hold on

Keep thinking about you in your office, acting all proper and then I’d barge in and fuck you on that fancy desk of yours

[image: miss ‘the one day i’m wearing plain underwear’]

God such a good girl for me

Are you wet

mmmm  getting there this is so hot unless i get fired

I’d bend you over

Take you from behind

You’re always tighter that way

[Sent with Siri]

bradley

Need your mouth on me

I’d make you get on your knees and suck me off in front of the window

Fuck your throat

[Sent with Siri] 

bradley you’re not playing fair

No you’re not

Need more pictures of you

[Sent with Siri]

What do you want me to do? [Sent with Siri]

Shove your fingers up your cunt

Knuckle deep

[Sent with Siri]

I’d have to use three to feel like yours [Sent with Siri]

Need a video need to hear you too

[Sent with Siri]

[for bradley’s eyes only.mov]

Fuck you’re fucking gorgeous like that 

Always do just what I ask 

Fuck I need you so bad 

[Sent with Siri]

Need you too fuck [Sent with Siri] i can’t believe you got me to do that at work

When are you coming home? 

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

There was something up with you. The thought kept running through Bradley’s head Tuesday evening while he was on his run.

Bradley would never have described you as skittish, but that’s how you had been acting over the last couple days. You were still affectionate and kind and you. And had told him countless times how much you loved him and how happy you were that he was home. 

So, it had to be a physical thing. You were guarded whenever he touched you - whether you were being sexually intimate or he had just grabbed your waist to cuddle you closer on the couch or in bed. It was always your waist or stomach area, really. That was the hot spot.

At first, Bradley thought he’d been too rough with you that first time back, but he knew you trusted him enough to tell him if that was the case, so that was out. Plus, later that morning when you were riding him, you’d asked him to grab your hips so hard he’d leave behind marks. You liked whenever he marked you - and he liked whenever you marked him. And you weren’t shying away from sex with him, not at all. In fact, you were pretty insatiable.

Then, he’d thought you might have hurt yourself while he had been gone and had a scar or something that you hadn’t wanted him to see? But your skin was free of new blemishes, baring the zit on your cheek you’d been complaining about since Saturday night. 

At one point, Bradley had even contemplated that you might be pregnant. He had been gone for three months, an entire first trimester. But something about the theory didn’t sit right with him. 

First, you would’ve fucking told him on Friday night, especially after you both talked about waiting to have kids and how you were on the same page. Because Bradley wasn’t dying in an F-18 with a family at home. 

Then, there was the fact that you had an IUD and the possibility of getting pregnant on an IUD was even less than on the pill (<1% a year - he’d looked it up). And finally, you’d be showing by now, even if only a little bump. But now that he thought about it, in all the days that he’d been home and all the times you’d had sex, Bradley had only seen you completely naked once. One or both of you were always partially clothed. And he would have noticed - right? Your boobs were definitely bigger, but it wasn’t - that wasn’t it, no, he was sure you weren’t pregnant.

It had to be something about your body, your stomach in particular. Because you were still affectionate, still wanted him, were still relatively yourself, your boobs looked great, and you loved him. So, why did you practically jump out of your skin whenever Bradley’s hand grazed your stomach? 

He would give you until Friday to tell him on your own before he asked. That would be a week from when he’d gotten home, more than enough time. Plus, maybe being on vacation would get you to open up a bit? 

Because this just wasn’t you. You didn’t really keep any secrets from Bradley. He wouldn’t be so naive to say that he knew everything about you, but in general you were honest with him. Was there a hint in one of your emails? Some little detail he had glossed over in his haste to read any scrap of news from you, in your voice? Bradley had read all of them at least three times, some even more, but maybe he had missed something?

The run he’d gone on to clear his head left the problem no more clear than when he’d set off forty-five minutes ago. He ran up the back steps to the mudroom and toed off his sneakers before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. You’d be home soon, he needed to start dinner.

Last night, you’d marinated some steak tips and made some rice pilaf, while Bradley roasted some vegetables. There was plenty of leftover steak for dinner tonight, he just had to decide what to make with it. Taking a peek in the fridge, he took a quick inventory of anything you’d need to finish before leaving Thursday morning. A couple peppers laid in the crisper along with an eggplant, which stumped him as neither of you liked eggplant. He could do steak fajitas with those? There were always fresh tortillas around. Content with his plan, Bradley grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino from the side door and poured himself a glass. 

As he put the bottle back, his eyes landed on the chocolate cake, perfectly ensconced in glass snapware, on the top shelf. How the hell was there still leftover chocolate cake? In addition to what you’d had Friday night, the two of you had had some for breakfast Sunday morning - well, Bradley had had some for breakfast Sunday morning and you’d let him feed you a couple bites. He shut the fridge door with a little more force than necessary and started prepping the peppers and onions. 

You loved chocolate cake. And you’d worked so hard on it. Why the fuck weren’t you eating it? Plus, now that he really thought about it, you’d barely had a s’more at Maverick and Penny’s and instead kept yourself occupied by lovingly making Bradley’s for him. And then there were the egg whites.

It would be a lie to say that none of it had seemed off at the time, but looking at all the incidents together just showed how truly off things were. And then coupled with how off you were with other things like your clothes and stomach - oh. 

No way. No fucking way. That could not be it. 

No, no. You couldn’t be worried about how - 

Just as he was finishing up the peppers to go along with the onions he’d already prepped, Bradley heard the back door open.

“Bubs?” you called out, “I’m home!”

“Hey!” 

“How was your run?”

Bradley quickly washed his hands and went over to meet you in the mudroom. And there you were, looking polished and professional in a black tweed, sleeveless dress that he hadn’t gotten a glimpse at before you’d left for work that morning, thanks to the blazer you’d thrown over it. The bodice of the dress was decorated with what he hoped were functional gold buttons that were just begging to be ripped open. And to top it off, you were wearing semi sheer black tights and those black slingbacks he liked so much. 

Actually, you were leaning against the wall trying to unbuckle those slingbacks he liked so much. But all Bradley could focus on as you asked him about his afternoon was the curve of your hip and the fact that your breasts looked unreal in that dress.

His pretty girlfriend. His pretty girlfriend who looked so smart and absolutely fuckable right now. His. His. His. His -

You stopped trying to take off your shoes and shot him a questioning look as you approached. “Bradley?”

“Sorry, I uhh - yeah, it was fine. Saw the Thompsons finished their patio - is that a new dress?” His fingers idly brushed against the fabric and you froze. 

“Oh, uh, no. I’ve had it for a while. Since the move, I’ve been going through my clothes trying to see what I actually wear and - I know it’s a little small now, it keeps riding up my hips a bit, but I still think it looks nice on top…” You ventured out of the mudroom. “Does it look bad?”

No, it very much did not look bad on you. It was definitely tighter than anything you normally wore to work, but it looked good. And weary from the work day with your hair a little mussed and the dress a bit askew from when you tried to take off your shoes, you looked absolutely divine and Bradley had to have you immediately. 

“No! I’m just,” he goaded you further into the kitchen, “surprised you wore it to work - in a good way!” 

The shy look on your face gradually slipped away and you crowded into Bradley’s space. “In a good way, huh?”

His hands found their way to your waist and he waited for a reaction from you. Getting nothing but a smile, his thumbs rubbed circles along your hips and he brought you chest to chest. 

“I gotta ask, though?” You hummed. “Do these really work?” He dragged his fingers up and down the front of your dress, spending the slightest bit more time along the square neckline and your breasts.

“And what if they did?”

Bradley groaned your name and rested his forehead against yours. “Then I’d have to unbutton every last one of them right now.”

You kissed his neck, paying no mind to the stubble he had been growing since Friday night. If you’d asked, he would shave it in a second, but you loved the roughness against your neck and inner thighs. As your lips kept up their targeted attack on his neck and jawline, your right hand slid between your bodies to palm his cock through his athletic shorts. 

“But if you did that, then you’d have to take me right here…”

Barely a beat passed before Bradley grabbed your hips and plopped you down on the kitchen table. It shook under your weight. Your chest was heaving at the sudden action, in turn drawing his attention to your breasts and those tempting buttons. They reminded him of the ones on his old Naval dress coat from Oceana. 

“Lemme help you out there.” 

His nimble fingers made quick work of the four brass buttons that revealed your black lace bra. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell you were pleased he didn’t tear off any of the buttons. Knowing you, his spoiled, prissy girlfriend, the dress was probably expensive. Good.

Next, Bradley pushed the wide straps over your shoulders, leaving your black lace bra as his final impediment. “So pretty,” he muttered into your chest. Your head tipped back and you pulled him closer, deeper.

“You didn’t send me any texts today,” you barely got the words out as Bradley made quick work popping one of your breasts, then the other, out of your bra. It was technically a lie; he had texted you, but it had been a do you know where my Theragun is text, not a show me your pussy right now text. “I even wore pretty underwear for you.”

Bradley tutted against your left breast. “Guess I have to make it up to you now.” 

His mouth latched onto your nipple and he needled the little nub with his tongue. You carded your fingers through his hair and gave the ends the slightest little tug. 

“Thought about you all day, bubs,” you whispered the words against Bradley’s ear before nipping at the lobe. 

“Yeah?” Granted, if you kept rutting against each other like this, he’d probably cum in his shorts - there really wasn’t a lot of substance to the running shorts he was wearing - but god. He needed to sink inside you. 

Today was the first time since he’d gotten home that you hadn’t fucked in the morning. You had had to hustle out of the house for an early meeting and even Bradley had an eight-thirty physical at the Naval Medical Center. There had barely been time for a heated makeout against the refrigerator - to say nothing of a good fuck - before you’d left with your lip gloss slightly mussed.

“Would’ve come home sooner if I knew you were wearing these fucking shorts.” You slipped your hand under the waistband of his compression shorts that were borderline painful at this point and grabbed his cock with an expert touch. 

“Fuck…” Bradley allowed your touches to go on for a few more moments before he pulled back, knowing he’d spend in your hand if you kept this up. “Hold on.” You pulled your hand back and he yanked his t-shirt off over his head and threw it on the breakfast bench. Your hands crept across his chest before they eventually rested on his shoulders. 

But now it was Bradley’s turn to touch you. Your tights felt particularly soft beneath his hands as he inched higher and higher up your thighs. He loved when you wore stuff like this, so prim and proper. Especially when you got all squirmy beneath him. Cheeky little thing. The heat was pouring off you where Bradley was touching you between your thighs, even though your underwear and tights. Your arms wound around his neck to pull him closer and press your lips to his in a bruising kiss. God, he could kiss you for hours; he never tired of it.

“Bradley…” you sighed through his ministrations. “More, bubs.” 

He smiled, of course, anything for you. Anything to be inside you. But first, he had to ask: “These the thick ones?” You froze under him. “The tights? The thick tights? Like from Thanksgiving?” 

They had a more formal name, but he was focused on other things at the moment, namely if he could rip a hole in them to get to you faster. Over Thanksgiving, he’d found out the hard way that your tights were often rip resistant. Which really put a damper on a portion of your wine cellar escapades. 

“Oh?” The furrow between your eyebrows disappeared. “Oh! The tights! No, no, they’re cheap ones from J Crew or something.”

Good. Then he wasn’t going to apologize for what he was about to do. Because Bradley had to fuck you, he had to be inside you right now. Something about you and being off and those tights and that dress and his run and the subsequent endorphin rush. 

He had to have you.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bradley tugged at the seam of your tights and ripped a hole in them large enough for his hands - and his dick - to poke through. You sighed when he broke through the nylon and slid your panties to the side to circle your clit with his thumb.

“So good,” he muttered reverently. 

God, what a pretty picture you made. Dress rucked up around your stomach, chest bare, and pretty pussy on display just for him. 

“More, please, Bradley.” You whimpered while he teased you with one finger, then two. “Anything. Need it - you.”

“You get stressed out at work today?” You nodded and then burrowed your head against his neck, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. “Poor thing, da - I’ll take care of you, yeah. Make you forget.” 

Bradley thrusted his fingers deeper inside you, crooking them just slightly so you’d buck up against him. You bit his neck when he tweaked his fingers just right. There you go, just a little more and you’d be ready for him. God, he was aching. He couldn’t fathom teasing you anymore. He needed you, now. 

“Just need to slip inside you, sweetheart. You made it so perfect for me.” Wet. Hot. Tight. Perfect. His. “There we go, just like that, good girl.” Bradley took a moment to line his cock up and slid inside you in one motion. “Fuck,” he punctuated the word with your name, “good?”

“Yes, yes.” 

You got into a steady rhythm that kept increasing. The table creaked under your combined weight and had anything been on it, it surely would’ve toppled over by now. 

You tightened around his cock and met his hips thrust for thrust. A wave of heat swept over Bradley’s body and he could feel you slipping deeper into a lustful haze. Knowing he was also close and would be near useless in moments, he hiked your left leg higher up on his hip so your heel was digging into the back of his thigh, anchoring you to him. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” Bradley said mindlessly. 

Your faces were so close, you were breathing each other’s air, stealing the word’s off the other’s lips. Yours and mine are the same. You cried out suddenly and snapped your eyes up to meet Bradley’s brown ones. God, you were beautiful. You both were beautiful. This was beautiful. Being together like this was beautiful. It was wet and loud and messy, but it was beautiful. 

Everything about it.

“‘m so close,” he finished with your name on his lips like a plea. “Wanna wait for you.”

“Don’t, ‘ll be right there.”

His thrusts eventually got sloppier and slower, but he could still feel you clenching around him as he spent himself inside you. 

“Fuck,” he panted your name. “That’s it, that’s it.”

“‘s full, bubs.” Your nails dug into his shoulder, centering him so he could turn the focus back on you.

All he needed was a few more shallow thrusts and a punch of your clit to get you there alongside him. You came with a cry, utterly spent, but sated. 

Your legs relaxed their hold against his thighs, but you didn’t totally release him. Meanwhile, he pressed kisses across your cheeks and lips, before finding himself notched along your neck. 

“There you go, good girl. Did such a good job, huh. So beautiful.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a few moments, all Bradley could hear was your breaths panting against his cheek, while your index finger moved lazily across his shoulder blade. But then you started shaking. 

And at first he thought it was from being overstimulated until he realized you were shaking from silent giggles. Bradley picked his head up from where it was buried in your neck and leveled you with a look that had you properly bursting into laughter. He wanted to make some smart comment, something cheeky, but the gorgeous smile on your face had him losing his feigned stoicism and he started laughing right alongside you. 

“So,” you said after your laughter subsided, “what’s for dinner, bubs?”

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

The following morning, Bradley poked his head into the dining room where you’d made up your office for the day. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why you weren’t using the office upstairs, but he held back. He liked that you were downstairs, he liked that you were close to him. 

Of course he’d seen you work from home before. But there was something about seeing you holding meetings and taking calls for the first time in your home that made him smile. 

And though you were taking a half day to prepare for leaving tomorrow, Bradley knew you’d be checking your email and Slack for the rest of the afternoon before officially logging off for the next 10 days. 

10 days in Punta Mita - just the two of you, no distractions, no emails, no training runs, nothing but the sun, sea, sustenance, sleep, and sex. 

Just you and me, kid.

Bradley inched further into the room and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m gonna go for a run, but should be back for lunch.”

You took out your Airpods before responding. “Sounds good, how much are you thinking?”

“Probably a quick 10k?” It had been ages since Bradley had run his usual route through Balboa Park, so these last few days had been a treat.

“‘A quick 10k,’ he says. I should be done by the time you get back?” He nodded. “We can have lunch and then I’ll head out on my errands.”

Errands? “Oh? I didn’t know you were going out?”

You sat up straighter and fully focused on him. “Yeah, I have to get my nails done and then have to pick up a couple things - like your special sunscreen...”

“Can I come?” he asked, completely ignoring the sunscreen comment. It wasn’t special per se, it was just high SPF since he burned easily. 

“Really?” You sounded surprised. “It’ll be pretty boring.”

“No, I wanna come with you.” I wanna spend time with you. 

A bashful smile appeared on your face. “Okay, I’m trying a new salon.”

“Ditching your old stomping grounds?” Bradley asked, referencing your old neighborhood near Gaslamp. 

You nodded your head. “Figured I’d try someplace around here, but the only one that looks promising is way up on 30th?”

“I think we can make due with that,” he pecked your cheek, “alright, I’ll see you in a bit, kid. Don’t work too hard.”

“Har, har, see you soon.”

Bradley shot you a wink and set off. Who knew, maybe he’d set a new PR in his haste to get back home to you?

And sure enough, after his quick 10k through Balboa Park and the surrounding neighborhood, Bradley bounded up the back steps and quickly disposed of his sneakers and his sweat stained grey t-shirt on the mudroom floor. It had been stupid to even wear one in the first place, he’d had to tuck it into his waistband before he hit the first half mile. 

“New personal record!” 

Your face lit up with a smile as Bradley came into the dining room. “See, now, how do I know you just didn’t milk a 3 mile run or something?”

He rolled his eyes and gestured down at his torso, which was gleaming with sweat, even in the soft mid-day lighting currently cloaking the dining room, and showed you his running app for good measure. “Does this look like I milked it?”

“Come ‘ere.” You held your arms out.

“I’m all sweaty, kid…”

“Nope, don’t care, please?”

Hey, if you weren’t going to complain that Bradley was too sweaty or smelled, then he wasn’t about to put you off. He wrapped his arms around you over the back of the chair and put his chin on the top of your head.

“You know, if you like the scent of someone’s sweat that means you’re soulmates…” 

“Is that right?” You sounded amused.

Bradley burrowed his face in your neck, forcing a giggle out of you even before he pressed butterfly kisses everywhere. “Mmmhhmm, yup. You always smell perfect.” 

“That’s just my perfume!” 

“Nope, just you kid.” 

Bradley could feel you relax and let out a sigh. The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, content to just be with each other, until your Mac dinged with an Outlook notification. You stretched your arms out in front of you to reply to the email, but Bradley didn’t let you go. As he watched you type out a response to your coworker about if ESG investments were just virtue signaling or not, his eyes caught a glint of gold on your wrist.

“You really wear that bracelet everyday, huh?”

You turned your head to look up at him and he was pleased to note you looked incredibly flustered. “Of course I do. You got it for me.”

The matter of fact way you responded had him blushing. “Guess I’ll have to get you the necklace for your birthday…”

“You better not!” He just kissed your cheek. “Bradley, I’m serious! That’s too much - especially for just a birthday.”

“Then I’ll get it for you for our anniversary.”

“Bubs…” You were pouting now and it only made him want to get you the necklace more. “It’s too expensive for something like that; I looked it up online.”

“You’re no fun.” 

And so he would continue to be denied the pleasure of seeing you in the matching jewelry - at least until he wore you down. You did have a point, though - the necklace was almost twice as much as the bracelet. But then again, you bought Bradley little (and not so little) things all the time?

Idly, he recalled the jibe he had ignored from Hangman the other day regarding his leave: not all of us have rich girlfriends to take us on two week vacations. Bradley’s reply that it was only for ten days, not two weeks hadn’t exactly done him any favors. 

But it was a points game! It was practically free. (He knew it wasn’t, but…) And you were going dutch for all the incidentals and room charges. It was going to be perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. 

Ten glorious days of no work, no distractions, just the two of you. 

You turned around in your chair so you were properly facing him. “Do you want to get lunch out? Make an afternoon of it? We don’t really have much in the fridge, so it’s either lunch or dinner out and I know you still have to pack.”

A smile crept across his face and he kissed your nose. “I’d love to go to lunch with you. You sure you won’t get sick of me? All this one on one time?”

You just shook your head. “Nope, not that easily. Well, unless you sit next to me at the salon, I’m not very chatty while I’m getting a pedicure.”

“Woah, woah.” Bradley held his hands up and you grabbed one to examine it. “Since when am I getting my nails done?”

“You’re getting a pedicure at the very least. I don’t want to have to look at your weird feet on the beach all week.” 

“Oh-ho, now you’ve done it.” 

He bundled you up in his arms and started tickling your sides. That was your sweet spot. And hopefully if he was tickling you, you’d forget to be jumpy when he touched you there. He hadn’t forgotten about that.

“Bradley! Bradley,” you giggled. “Okay, okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. No pedicure.”

But Bradley did end up getting a pedicure, even if it only entailed getting his feet buffed. If pressed, he would say it was because he wanted to sit in the massage chair and the nail tech told him he could only sit in the chair if he was getting his nails done. That was the only reason why. It wasn’t because of how pretty you looked while you were smiling at him out of the corner of his eye, like you couldn’t believe he was really there.  

Absolutely not.

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

“Do you need any help packing?” 

Bradley nodded, he hoped he didn’t look too sheepish. At thirty-six years old, he absolutely could pack his own clothes, but he liked when you fussed over him and made sure your clothing was complementary to each other. It was sweet. Plus, you always packed stuff he hadn’t thought to bring or wear together.

The two of you were a well oiled machine. Bradley would roll his underwear, pajamas, and gym clothes into his packing cubes while you helped pick out his bathing suits and later his dinner and day clothes. To his great surprise, you managed to fit all his clothes - for ten days, mind you - into his Samsonite carryon. His toiletries and extra pair of shoes and other incidentals would go in his backpack.

Once his suitcase was zipped up and ready to go, Bradley nodded towards your Rimowa stashed by the bedroom door. “‘You need any help? You don’t normally check?”

You normally lived by the carry-on rule, so it seemed out of character for you to check a full-size bag. Which, of course, wasn’t the first thing that seemed out of character for you since Bradley had gotten home. But he promised himself he’d wait until you came to him with your problem. Or till Friday.

“Oh, uhh, yeah, I guess I just have more stuff this time.” You shook your head. “I packed earlier while you were taking a nap, but thanks.”

He clicked his tongue. “Guess it’ll be a surprise then.”

“Hmmm, I’ll let you see my shoes?”

Bradley sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his elbows. “You’d do that? For me?”

You giggled and then mimicked his pose on the bed, except you made sure to snuggle up next to him, all earlier awkwardness gone. “I’d do anything for you actually.”

“Sap.” He kissed you. 

“Nerd.” You kissed him. 

“See, now you’re killing the vibe,” he teased. You giggled and kissed his shoulder through his t-shirt. “You ready for tomorrow?” You nodded. “You’re not gonna get sick of me, right?”

You shook your head. “Never, even if you are a nerd who gets pedicures -”

“- I was coerced! The massage chair!” You giggled. “Alright, alright, walk me through tomorrow.”

At this point, Bradley was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, while you were tucked under his arm, peering up at him. 

“We should leave by six if our flight’s at eight forty-five, especially if we want to go to the lounge beforehand. It’s spring break-ish and I’m not sure if it’ll be crazy in the terminal, so the lounge might be a good idea.”

“Got it, United lounge for breakfast, good.” 

“Flight’s like three hours.”

“Mmmmm, perfect for a nap.”

You chuckled. “I think we get in around one o’clock with the time difference and everything. The hotel’s sending a car and then it’s like an hour drive to Punta Mita.”

“So, if we play our cards right, we could be on the beach by three-o-one?”

“Oh, for sure,” you feigned seriousness, “If anyone can, it’s the two of us.”

And ain’t that the truth? Bradley held his hand up for a high five, which you heartily returned. “Nice job, kid. It’s gonna be great.”

Ten days. You and Bradley at some tony resort in Mexico. No cares, no worries for ten whole days. Fucking perfect. 

Everything was going to be perfect.

-----------

If at all possible, in the three months that he had been gone, Bradley had gotten even more handsome. 

Sure, you’d seen a grainy image of him every two or so weeks over Facetime and had noticed him mentioning going to the gym a lot on the carrier. You’d known he was going to look different. His hair was going to be longer and blonder and his skin darker. He was still your Bradley and you loved him all the same. 

But seeing him on the 16 inch screen of your Macbook compared to all six foot one inches of Bradley Bradshaw in person was an eye opener. 

Because you hadn’t been prepared for how it made you feel in comparison. Because he was so strong and fit and beautiful - and you didn’t think you were any of those things. Not anymore at least. Not after what happened.

Not after how often you’d been skipping pilates to spend some extra time in the office or all the meals you’d eaten on the go or out with clients. You should have taken your mother’s words to heart at lunch two weeks ago when she had told you to watch your figure, boys like Bradley are used to certain standards. 

That afternoon when you’d gotten back to your apartment, you’d gone straight to your walk-in closet and scrutinized every inch of your body in the full length mirror. 

Certain standards.

Why did you let her get in your head? Why did you let any of it get in your head? It wasn’t true, it wasn’t true. None of it was true. 

Certain standards. 

And then, when you finally picked Bradley up on that cloudy, late March day, you wore an oxford of his and a pair of baggy jeans. You still looked cute, you still looked like you put in an effort, but you didn’t look as dolled up as some of the other wives and girlfriends and partners and maybe you should have? Maybe you should have worn a cute little sundress and forgotten your underwear or some other ridiculous thing? Let him fuck you in the back of the car right in the middle of the parking lot? 

That wasn’t you, though. That wasn’t either of you.

But Bradley loved you. He had told you in about 159 different ways (re. emails) while he was gone. He loved you, he wanted you, he was going to live with you, build a life with you. You knew he loved you no matter what you looked like. 

Certain standards.

But when he fucked you softly and slowly that first morning back - only after originally falling asleep on you, which you tried not to be too upset about - and you told him how much you loved him and missed him, you did so with the lights completely off and with your chemise on before snuggling in his arms. 

It was stupid. The entire thing was stupid. You knew that. And you knew you’d feel this way until you confronted Bradley and he ultimately proved you wrong. But doing that wouldn’t fully stop those feelings from brewing inside you either. 

And yeah, for the first few days you’d been too caught up in the ecstasy of him finally being home - in the home that you two finally shared - to really give it much thought. But tomorrow you were going on a ten day long beach vacation to Mexico and you couldn’t help but toss and turn all night wondering if you were up to certain standards. 

-----------

a/n: oops! this was super long, sorry! but there's such an interesting story here and i'm so excited to show how it'll unfold in the next chapter when they're in mexico!

tagging a couple people: @sometimesanalice @withahappyrefrain @cherrycola27 @notroosterbradshaw @gigisimsonmars @pisupsala @dissonannce @laracrofted @heartsofminds @briseisgone