mysterious-adventurer

[mysterious-adventurer]

Make Up to Make Out

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Requested by: None

Request: N/a

Pairings: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x f!reader

Warnings: Angst to fluff, kissing, arguments, major character death, Enemies to lovers

Word count: 2769

A/n: Honestly? This has been sitting in my drafts for forever and in light of recent Val Kilmer news I felt I needed to post something.

Taglist:

@footprintsinthesxnd

@inglourious-imagines

@anamiad00msday

@grenadesandglory

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

For as long as you remembered knowing Iceman, you'd never known anything but a loathe for the blond pilot. Something about him made your blood boil. Maybe it was his perfection. The way he was already 5 steps ahead of everybody else before a decision had ever been made. He trained hard and was gruelingly strict on his self-discipline, and it made him a great pilot. One many would call perfect. It rubbed you the wrong way.

Or, if it wasn’t his utter perfection, maybe it was his unwavering cold attitude. His air of superiority and how he always wore this unamused gaze– almost like he was bored with you. The one that seemed to say to you “I don’t like you because you are less and incompetent” and that infuriated you. 

And it wasn't a matter of believing if that's how he felt about every other pilot in Top Gun, because the blond aviator had stated it (along with his just as irritating RIO,) many times. But what didn’t help his case in your eyes was that he very obviously waved that arrogance around on a high flag. 

The not-so-crazy thing was that he very strongly disliked you, too. He hated the way you could read him like an open book. How you could take one look at him and be able to tell exactly what was going on in his head. It was like you had X-ray vision or something. Your superpower unnerved him. He was renowned for being stone cold, unreadable, stoic, this untouchable pilot. Yet, you threw that whole concept out the window. It tore him apart and he hated to admit that, so instead he channeled that funny feeling he'd get in his mouth when you saw through him to simply hating you.

And perhaps it was selfish of him. A defense mechanism of sorts– but he'd never admit that. 

Ice was suiting up to go on an early morning training session. He was already in a bad mood going into it as he was paired with his least favourite aviator, Maverick. Iceman would even go as far as to say he disliked the raven-haired pilot more than you, which was saying something.

However, when he saw you saunter up to him, he wondered if this day could go any worse. As you approached, an arrogant smirk plastered on your face, he felt his irritation spike. Rolling his eyes he turned away from you slightly.

From across the lockers you'd managed to pick out the sour look on his face, one that told you that he wasn't ecstatic to be up in the air flying with Maverick. To make a comment about it only felt natural.

“Have fun with Maverick up there,” you chirped, trying to catch his eye, “I'm sure he'll outshine you, but you shouldn’t let it deflate your ego too bad,”

The interaction might've been a little petty on your part, but the look of complete disdain he gave you was worth it.

“Thanks,” he bit jaw clenching involuntarily, not feigning how completely opposite he felt from words. There wasn't an ounce of gratitude in his tone.

You shot him a smile when you saw how ruffled you'd gotten him. A moment later, you turned and left the scene, feeling accomplished.

Joining the rest of the aviators, they were all in their flight suits. Bored and milling about in an open classroom, they chatted and laughed with their friends.

There was little word from the sky, but everyone was itching to hear how the two biggest classroom rivals had done.

A roar filled the air, announcing the return of the aviators. In a few minutes, Viper had entered the room. Everyone snapped to attention, facing the officer.

“There's been an accident,” he began, silencing any questions before they even were asked. “You've all been dismissed for the day. There will be no further flights,” he commanded, but the usual stoic look on his face showed just a flicker of somberness to it, letting you know it was serious.

As Viper left the room, everyone stood in shock for a few minutes before eventually filling out.

On the walk back, word had caught wind of the accident. It wasn't long before you heard what happened to Goose. The information had spread amongst the aviators like wildfire.

It was quiet in the locker rooms that day. You were getting changed when Tom walked in. He didn't spare you a glance, instead moving to his locker and stripping himself of his uniform. 

His movements were machine-like, so much so that you noticed right away. Your unique ability to read him, like always, didn't falter, especially now . A mere glance at his eyes made it plain as day to you that he wasn't okay. His eyes were haunted, a distant, detached look present that made your stomach churn and a frown etch itself onto your face.

He disappeared after that. You finished getting changed and hopped into the showers. The running water was making you think. It wasn't long before an idea popped into your head.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

After the showers and with your idea in mind, you were standing at his door in no time. The rain was a steady downpour, hard water droplets had soaked through your clothes and left you chilled on the short walk. However, a small overhang on the side of the house had you rather grateful to be out of the rain.

You knocked. Nothing greeted your ears to answer. Maybe he'd gone out? Or, if he was in there, you didn't blame him for not answering. 

But no answer wasn't good enough for you. “Tom?” you asked, knocking again, this time louder.

He opened the door. His cool blue gaze met your own. He took a moment to take in your form, shivering in the rain and drenched from head to toe, a confused and quizzical look piercing his usual stoic face. Much to your relief, he stepped aside without a word and allowed you in.

As soon as the door had closed, Tom turned to face you, his expression like stone and his words holding an air of reserve when he spoke, “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see if you were okay,” you answered honestly. Tom's gaze remained unchanged as you explained yourself.

After a long moment of silence and Tom's cold gaze remaining static you spoke again, hoping to clear this air of nervousness and unwelcome, “I'm sorry about Goose, Tom–”

The second Mavericks deceased RIO's name left your lips, you happened to miss his growing frustration. The anger and disdain building in his eyes. A few words in and it seemed as if a floodgate had opened. Tom's eyes flashed like lightning, “Quit that.” He spits, cutting you off while his jaw visibly clenched. “Quit pitying me, because I don't want it. I don't want your condolences. I don't want your help. I don't want you here.”

You opened your mouth to protest, “Tom, I–” 

He didn't stop, only raising his voice over yours, the irritation in his words feeling like lashes from a whip, “Why did you even come here? We're not friends so stop pretending we are! I don't even like you, I hate you. God, You're so annoying.”

Heavy silence settled after his harsh words. Tom was seething, his ice-blue eyes were like a storm. He glared at you indignantly, irises full of disdain so powerful it made you shrink back under his scrutiny. The moment of tense silence seemed to grow as the seconds ticked by, Tom's words left hanging and the feeling shrouding the room like a cloud. 

You could feel hot shame settle over you, your gaze diverting to the floor as embarrassment washed over your body in the form of skin that burned fiercely. Ice was right. 

Why did you come here in the first place? In such a rush? Like you'd been buddy-buddy with the aviator for the entire time you'd been at Top Gun? Who were you kidding, you two had hardly spoken and when you did it was nothing nice coming from either of your mouths. Always bashing the other for their mistakes. Standing here in his barrack room you began to realize your very own stupidity as it turned to look at you in your mind's mental mirror. What were you even doing in his barrack?

Your skin was ablaze, feeling like you'd just been scorched as lava-like embarrassment coursed through your veins. 

Voice quiet, shakier than you'd have liked while you tried to maintain your composure, replied as curtly and strongly as you could, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come.”

Ice doesn’t say a word as you leave his room, his face remains stoic while he watches you.

You're tossed back outside into the rain again, this time feeling stupid and naïve. Your emotions are a complete maelstrom. How could you have been so damn stupid.

As soon as you step out from under the overhanging roof you are reminded of the somber weather outside as it clings to your clothes. The rain thunders down around you, a relentless downpour that's only seemed to grow heavier. For a moment, you just pause, tilting your face to the sky and then, in an almost instinctual way, glance over your shoulder. 

Only, the closed door hasn't changed like you'd hoped. It still remains closed, staring blankly back at you. 

Fighting the disappointment, you turn away and begin walking again.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

A few days had passed since the accident.

Something in you had changed, quite drastically, because you no longer had anything to say to Iceman. You hardly even looked in his direction, if at all.

In the locker rooms changing, you refused to spare him a glance. You no longer found yourself standing by him just to poke at him and ruffle his feathers. In the classrooms you sat as many rows in front of him as you could, so you'd only ever have to glance back to look at him, which you never did anyway.

You’d personally never admit to it but it was killing you. Your heart was left in shredded tatters and this wasn’t helping at all.

Similarly, the blond aviator hated to admit it but he too found himself missing it all. It had taken a little while for him to figure out that he'd really fucked up.

Initially, the first day where you had avoided him and acted like you'd never even known him, he wasn't all that surprised or worried. He knew you'd come back to him. 

He'd even managed to convince himself the feeling in his chest was relief. He wanted you gone, right? 

But the feeling was everything but relief.  When you didn't come back to him, he tried not to panic but he found that futile. One day turned into two, turned into three, and before long you hadn't so much as looked at him or talked for a whole week.

He realized that he didn't want you gone. He didn't want your comments or playful jabs to stop.

He realized he loved you. 

Everyone was in a classroom inside, learning principles of flight and dogfighting tactics. The lesson was boring to Iceman, who’d heard the data a million times over. 

Thankfully, the lesson was over quick and it was time for everyone to go back to their own residences.

As Iceman stepped outside, he noticed the small prickle of droplets on his skin. It was raining, and Ice was violently thrown back to the day you’d shown up to his door, soaking wet and sniffly.

He shuddered at the reminder, walking with haste through the downpour. It was then he caught sight of you, just a little bit ahead of him, walking down the paved walkway.

A near overwhelming remorse overtook him. He had to make it right to you.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

 You walk with hurried steps, trying to escape the rain before it ruins your uniform. Through the noise, you can hardly hear your name being yelled over the whispered screams of the downpour. You turn around and are met with the image of a hurried iceman, jogging with haste towards you.

He comes to a stop right in front of you, “Hey,” he pants, taking a few breaths while he gazes down at you.

For a long time you do nothing but stare, taking notice of everything small: The way his chest rises and falls– a little heavier than normal.

The hair that sticks to his forehead, an occasional raindrop dripping off.

His eyes, how they’ve shifted into one of genuine apology, a contrast to the angry ones you’d witnessed when he snapped at you.

The same pair of eyes that now stare into yours, equalling your gaze. Buried deep, yet in a way so controversially recognizable there lies a plea in them that almost scream at you to accept his apology.

In all honesty, you don't know what to say to him. If you should be mad because of what he said or understanding because you know Goose’s accident was, and probably still is somewhere on his mind.

“Listen, I-” he pauses, straightening his posture, “I’m really sorry about what I said to you. I promise, I didn't mean it,” he finally says, “I didn’t mean any of it.”

He brings a hand up to wipe the water out of his eyes, blinking to look at you.

“What you said was really mean,” you replied quietly, still feeling that pulsating hurt from earlier. 

Ice nods, “I know.”

Silence settles again, but it’s only temporary.

You sigh, deciding to ask the thing that’s been on your mind this whole time, “why do you hate me?” In truth, you want to ask him if he has any idea what he was doing to you by it.

It’s a simple question, but one that has the seriousness of a funeral and the demand of a Navy General. 

“I don’t,” Ice replies, shaking his head. “Quite the opposite,” he adds quietly.

Now this peaks your interest, catching you completely off guard, “What?” You ask, giving him a quizzical look. You can feel your heart in your throat, beating wildly.

He pauses, blinking and staring for a moment that seems to go on for eternity. You wait with baited breath.“I love you,” he finally breathes.

The confession isn’t at all what you’d expected- not in a million years. But, it comes more of a relief.

Hesitantly, you take a step closer to him. Something that is such a miniscule action yet so major, and Ice notices it. He takes his own step, making it so he’s standing a few mere inches from you. His head is tilted so his eyes are on yours, icy blue and full of emotion. 

His breath is warm against your face. Your eyes wander his face, trailing across the contour of his cheeks, down his nose, stopping on his lips before returning to his eyes.

A blush finds its way to your cheeks when you find the small amusement present in his eyes. It takes everything in you to not lean forward and close that gap and press your lips to his.

“If you don’t make the next move, I will,” you warn, voice holding a small plead to it.

Ice smiles a little, “gladly,” he replies before leaning in and closing the gap.

Your chest explodes at the feeling, breath hitching slightly.

His kiss is tender and soft, but quickly becomes more heated the longer you stand conjoined. The rain falls around you, wetting your hair and dripping down your skin, but you don’t care- too engulfed in him. You blindly reach out, grasping the tight material of his uniform and pulling him into you, deepening the kiss. He doesn’t object, only moving to press his lips even more firmly to yours.

Eventually, and with the utmost reluctance, you have to pull back slightly to gather your breath again.

“Hey Ice,” you murmur, resting your forehead against his, “I think I love you.”

He chuckles, lacing his hand with yours and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Let me walk you home.

Nodding, you let him lead you home. Now, walking with your hand intwined with his, you realize that maybe Ice was never as bad as you thought and you could get used to something with him.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ || ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

[mysterious-adventurer]

after a suicide attempt in 2016

[mysterious-adventurer]

Brb y'all going to play Endless Summer over and over again!

@levi-giveme1chancepls

[mysterious-adventurer]

when I was a little kid at some point I got upset with my parents because I didn't have a crucifix in my bedroom and they did- I was like why do YOU get to be safe from vampires??? you're okay with me getting my blood sucked???? so we took a little trip to the catholic store but the one closest to us was run by a group of nuns that had been moved here from romania. I got a little baby pink cross and this sweet old nun was like 'aww, is this a baptism gift?' and I was like no. I need to be protected from vampires. and she immediately got SO serious and was like 'this is the best one we've got, you'll definitely be safe' and since she was literally from vampire land I was convinced she was like, van helsing. like the whole time my parents had been laughing about how cute my fear was but she literally Knew dracula and was taking my concerns seriously I held this over my parents for so long lmfao

[mysterious-adventurer]

🦔

This is Charles. He wants to go on a journey around tumblr. could you show him around?

[mysterious-adventurer]

Aa a biologist what kills me is people's attitude toward sugar. It's always "Don't drink juice it's full of sugar" or "Instead of a sugary desert have you considered eating sugar free plain greek yogurt?" But your brain NEEDS glucose. It's basically the only fuel your brain can use. AND sugar is sugar. The sugar in a handful of berries is the same kind of sugar in a cookie. Yes you get vitamins and nutrients from the berries you don't get from the cookie (the cookie has nutrients of it's own to offer) but the sugar is the same. Point is: stop denying yourself sugar bc diet culture has told you it's bad. Eat a cookie fuel your brain

diet talk is so inexpressibly nonsensical the instant you know anything about "the human body" or "nutrition" or if you think about it for three seconds

[mysterious-adventurer]

Slight Delay

Hey everyone, happy March! I just wanted to let you know that unfortunately the second part to my Rooster oneshot Tequila, will be coming out a little later than expected. School has hit me really hard in the last month and I am currently in the process of writing my 20 page senior capstone paper. I'm hoping to finish my capstone paper sometime in the next few days and then fingers crossed I should be able to get the sequel edited and posted pretty soon after that. No matter what it should be out sometime this month.

[mysterious-adventurer]

When Bridesmaid Met Bradley

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x f!reader

Summary: Being your best friend’s maid of honour brings a lot into your life- bachelorette planning, dress fittings, and debt mainly- but, perhaps most importantly, it brings an unexpected partner-in-crime in the form of the best man, Bradley Bradshaw.

Warnings: Wedding day shenanigans, a homophobic relative who gets what she deserves, alcohol, swearing, brief reference to the current USA political climate

A/N: Strap in for a ride on the Rooster romcom rollercoaster!

You had only cried twice so far, which you thought was respectable for the morning of your childhood best friend’s wedding. You could even argue that the second cry didn’t count, considering that it had been provoked by overhearing the mother of the bride humming Slipping Through My Fingers by ABBA as she helped Katie into her wedding dress.

Anyone who didn’t well up at that didn’t have a heart.

Seeing the girl you’d known since the two of you were in nappies in her wedding dress, ready to marry her soulmate, was a bittersweet kind of happiness. Natasha was the perfect partner for Katie and you knew that they were going to have the happiest life together. There was just a tiny, bitter, niggling part of you that felt painfully aware of how your own love life was lacking in comparison.

The air in the bridal suite was thick with hairspray and excitement, and you resisted the urge to check just once more that the little flower girl definitely had her spare inhaler concealed in her basket. Careful in your heels, you joined Katie in front of the mirror, slipping your hand into hers and squeezing.

“You look so beautiful,” you told her, both of you smiling at each other in the mirror. A bride in white and a maid of honour in navy blue smiled back at you both, and for a moment you swore you saw the little girls playing dress-up that the two of you used to be.

“So do you,” she answered earnestly, “You’re my something blue.”

You groaned dramatically.

“You’re so lucky Natasha loves you even with your corny jokes.”

The two of you dissolved into giggles, interrupted only by an insistent knock at the door. Katie’s smile vanished as you both recognised the rhythm, her joy replaced by nerves in a second as Julian, the well-meaning but intense MC, stuck his head around the door.

“Let’s get this show on the road, ladies! The guests are waiting!”

You glared at him before he ducked out of the room again, seeing the telltale threat of emotional tears in Katie’s perfectly made-up eyes.

“Oh my god, I’m getting married,” she whispered, as though it was the first time she was realising it. There had been several of those moments that morning, each ending in tears that had been carefully dried, however this was the first one since Katie’s makeup had been done.

And the wedding was due to start in five minutes.

You could see her starting to spiral and knew that five minutes were not going to cut it. Thinking on the spot, you set off purposefully for the door.

“Where are you going?” Katie asked frantically as her mother held a tissue under her eyes and encouraged her to tip her head back.

“Buying you time.”

The room where Natasha and her half of the wedding party were getting ready was at the other end of the corridor from where you and Katie had set up camp. Knocking, you prayed that your plan would work.

The door swung open and you were greeted by a man who looked like a Ken doll in his Navy propaganda era. Tanned skin, blond hair, and a shockingly white grin- he was the kind of man you were annoyed at yourself for finding attractive because it was so obvious.

“Well, hello, Miss,” he drawled.

Yeah, he wouldn’t do for this.

“Could I borrow Bradley?” you asked hopefully.

You had only met Bradley Bradshaw, Natasha’s best man, twice- once at the engagement party, and last night at the rehearsal dinner. Handsome, confident, and extremely loyal to his friends, you hoped that he would be the best man for this task as well.

“Rooster! The maid of honour wants you!”

You rolled your eyes at the man in front of you’s wording, and a second later your jaw was dropping as Bradley stepped out into the hallway.

He was wearing the exact same dress whites as the blond bombshell that had answered the door, but they looked even better on him. His sun-kissed dark hair was perfectly tousled, his skin looking even more deliciously tanned against the crisp white of his uniform, and he filled out the shirt and trousers sinfully well.

“Everything okay?” he asked, leaning in the doorway in a way that had you fighting the instinct to swoon. Maybe if you swooned he would catch you in those arms-

“I need you,” you blurted out, and his eyebrows raised in surprise, “I mean, Katie needs you.”

Frowning, he pulled the door shut behind him so that no one inside the room would overhear your conversation. In doing so, he stepped closer to you and you forced yourself to look up from his chest.

“What’s going on?”

“Katie needs her makeup saved because she keeps crying- happy tears, by the way- and the MC keeps rushing us. I have a plan to buy us some time, but I need you to make it work,” you told him, “I can explain on the way?”

He hummed, straightening up.

“Lead the way.”

“Wait, why me?”

You sighed in frustration after explaining your plan around the corner from where the MC was close to pacing a hole in the foyer carpet.

“What part wasn’t clear?” you whispered harshly.

“Why can’t you flirt with him?” he asked, perplexed. You fixed him with an unamused look.

“Bradley, that is a gay man. I don’t think I’m his type.”

“But I don’t know how to flirt with a guy!” he protested, sounding genuinely ashamed of the gap in his expertise.

You rolled your eyes, the prospect of the hair stylist’s wrath the only thing keeping you from tearing your hair out. Settling instead for a calming inhale and exhale that would have made your therapist proud, you settled your hands on his shoulders and began to slowly back him towards the corner.

“Tell him you’ve been cooped up at sea and haven’t felt another human’s touch in months. Channel the eighties porn star you stole that moustache from. Ask him if he wants to find out why they call you Rooster. I don’t care what you do, just buy us enough time for her setting spray to dry!”

With that, you shoved him unceremoniously around the corner.

Barely a minute later, Bradley sidled back around the corner, looking dejected. You straightened up, staring at him in disbelief.

“Don’t tell me he’s straight.”

“Yeah, no, he’s definitely gay. At least, he was until I spoke to him. I may have put him off men for good.”

“Oh.” You rolled your lips together to try and suppress your laughter, but it was in vain. “Did you use the-”

“Yes, I used the Rooster line.”

“Well, you better hope Katie’s makeup is set, otherwise I’ll be sending you back for round two.”

Miraculously, Katie was ready to go in the time it took for Bradley to unsuccessfully flirt with Julian- who kept giving him sympathetic smiles as you all gathered outside the wedding hall. Natasha was ready and waiting inside the hall, and Katie’s excitement had finally dried her tears.

As you carefully arranged Katie’s train on the floor where she was positioned behind the bridesmaids and brides-boys (as you’d been reliably informed was the title of Natasha’s friends’ group chat), you overheard Bradley talking to Jack, Natasha’s nephew and the ring-bearer.

“If you wear your tie, I’ll take you up in my plane.”

“I’ve already been up in Aunt Tasha’s plane.”

Bradley shot you a helpless look, and you sighed and went to join him in crouching in front of the little boy.

“Jack, I will give you ten dollars if you keep your tie on until the end of the ceremony,” you offered.

Jack fiddled with the end of his tie as he pondered your offer.

“Hmm…twenty and it’s a deal.”

Your eyes widened and Bradley choked on air beside you.

“You’re seven years old, what do you need twenty dollars for?” you asked incredulously.

“Savings! My mom says you’re never too young to start building a healthy credit score.”

You felt as though you were close to also doubling as Katie’s something old as you tried to process the words you’d just heard come out of the same mouth you’d been trying to keep from eating the corsages just half an hour earlier.

“Building a healthy- oh my god, just take the twenty and keep your tie on.”

“Pleasure doing business with you!” Jack said chirpily.

You and Bradley left the little conman in order to take your positions at the head of the procession before the doors, Bradley offering you his arm gallantly. You had to remind yourself there was nothing but ceremony behind the gesture, and that it was inappropriate to squeeze his bicep in awe.

“That kid is either gonna be a supervillain or the President one day,” you commented, looking over your shoulder and watching bitterly as Jack folded your twenty into his pocket. Bradley snorted.

“You can be both these days. Just look at-”

“Don’t say his name, we have to try and look happy and hopeful for the photographer.”

“You’re right.” He took a deep breath and fixed a bright smile on his face. “The Democrats are gonna get back in and we’re all gonna be fine.”

You patted his chest sympathetically.

“That’s the spirit, big guy.”

The two of you stopped talking abruptly as Julian shushed you both with a glare, shepherding everyone into their positions and reminding each and every one of you to smile.

“I’ve served under Admirals less pushy than this guy,” Bradley murmured in your ear as the procession music started, and you just barely managed not to snort in amusement. His moustache twitched as he grinned at your reaction. “Oh, and here.”

You looked at him in confusion as the doors opened to the wedding hall; he was offering you a spare pocket square.

“What’s this for?”

“I have a hunch you’re a crier.”

You just had time to hide the pocket square in your bouquet before Julian was all but shoving the two of you to start walking down the aisle.

The ceremony passed in a blur, Natasha and Katie both absolute visions in their white dresses. True to his word- and your bribe- Jack kept his tie on throughout the whole affair and only yawned once.

You dabbed subtly at your eyes as Katie said her vows, mouthing a “thank you” at Bradley when he caught your eye and grinned. You blamed the butterflies that burst into flight in your belly at his answering wink on the champagne at breakfast.

It would have been easy to let your heart get carried away at being held in Bradley Bradshaw’s arms while a corny Ed Sheeran love song played. You could so easily have melted into his strong arms, gotten addicted to the feeling of his hands on your waist, but you reminded yourself firmly that it was tradition for the best man to dance with the maid of honour.

He was just following tradition.

It meant nothing.

“We made a pretty good team today.”

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realise he had spoken at first, not until you felt him looking at you. You swallowed, trying not to dwell on how close together your faces were.

“We did.”

His thumb rubbed over your waist gently and you wished so badly that this wasn’t the end of being in each other’s lives. After today, you would see each other once a year if you were lucky, maybe with a few glimpses into each other’s lives on social media. It had you feeling like Cinderella at the ball.

Once your sparkly shoes came off at midnight, you’d lose your handsome prince.

“I was thinking-”

You didn’t get to find out what Bradley was thinking because Jack chose that moment to barrel into your legs and ask you to dance with him. For a second, you swore that you saw disappointment flashing across his face, but then he was smiling.

“Enjoy your dance,” he said, releasing your hand and heading off to the bar.

You watched him go, trying not to think too hard about what he had been about to say.

A couple of hours into the reception, you were sitting on a stone bench outside the venue, getting some air. The summer evening air was starting to cool and you welcomed the brief respite from the loud music and sticky warmth of the ballroom.

The sound of gravel crunching under feet had you looking up to see Bradley approaching with a glass of champagne in each hand.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

You shuffled over to make room for him, and he handed you one of the champagne flutes.

“Cheers.”

The silence between the two of you was comfortable- surprisingly comfortable, for how little you knew each other.

A gentle breeze blew and you rubbed your bare arm without thinking, feeling goosebumps appearing there.

“Are you cold?” Bradley asked in concern.

Before you could say a word, he was setting his glass down and shrugging out of his uniform jacket to drape it carefully around your shoulders. The heavy, starched material was warm from his body heat and the lingering scent of his aftershave had you tempted to bury your nose in the collar.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, your mouth suddenly dry despite the champagne.

His hands lingered for just a second longer than necessary, making sure that the jacket was secure on your shoulder.

“I don’t think I actually said earlier…you look beautiful.”

Your lips parted in surprise.

“You don’t scrub up too badly yourself.”

He chuckled at that.

“What were you going to say earlier?” you surprised yourself by asking him before you could chicken out, “Before-”

“Before our future President stole you away from me?”

You giggled at that.

“Yeah. Then.”

He turned slightly more to face you.

“I was gonna ask if maybe we could keep seeing each other after this? It’s been really fun, being your sidekick today.”

The giddiness you felt at that couldn’t be blamed on the champagne. You opened your mouth to tell him that you absolutely wanted that, but then you spotted an unfortunately familiar face in the distance over his shoulder.

“Oh fuck no.”

His eyes widened in alarm at the aggression in your tone.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise I was misinterpreting this-”

You scrambled to save the situation whilst keeping a careful eye on the person approaching the venue entrance, getting to your feet.

“No, no! We are absolutely coming back to this conversation and I plan on kissing the life out of you, but we have an emergency on our hands.”

He looked utterly bewildered, getting to his feet alongside you.

“You’re gonna kiss me? Wait, what’s the emergency?”

“Thoroughly, but stay focussed, Lieutenant. That-” You pointed to the storm cloud in heels approaching the venue entrance. “-is Katie’s Aunt Angela. The most homophobic bitch of a woman you’ve ever met.”

He whirled around to see who you were pointing at, frowning at the sight.

“I’m assuming she wasn’t invited?”

“No the fuck she wasn’t. Hold my drink.”

He took your glass as soon as you held it out to him.

“Okay- wait, where are you going?” he asked in confusion as you strode off like a woman on a mission towards the entrance.

“Angela!”

His eyes widened as you called out to the woman with unmistakeable anger, and he hastily set your drink down to jog after you before you could commit a crime…unassisted.

Five minutes later, you slid nonchalantly into the seat besides Katie where she was watching Natasha dance with her parents.

“Having fun?” you asked innocently.

She eyed you suspiciously and you continued to smile as though butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.

“I’m going to choose to ignore the fact that I just saw Bradley pass the window with what looked like my Aunt Angela over his shoulder.”

Your smile didn’t falter.

“I would appreciate that. I can’t answer questions about that without a lawyer present,” you told her primly.

She rolled her eyes with a grin.

“In that case, can I ask about what you currently have on your shoulders and how it looks very much like it was Navy-issued?” she asked, the smug look on her face telling you that she knew exactly who the jacket belonged to.

“…I want my lawyer.”

Most people had gone home or gone off to their rooms for the night, but you were still sat at one of the tables at the edge of the room, sipping from a glass of cool water. Your heels were abandoned on the empty chair beside you, and you watched fondly as Natasha and Katie swayed together on the otherwise empty dance floor, incandescently happy in their own little bubble.

“We have another emergency.”

You looked up in surprise to see Bradley standing behind you- you hadn’t seen him in hours. His jacket was now draped over the back of your chair.

“What’s wrong? Shit, is Angela back-”

“No, no, she’s not coming back. She’s too scared you’re gonna deck her- which, by the way, I was rooting for you.”

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t quite hide the amused twitch of your lips.

“Wait, so what’s the emergency?”

He slid into the seat not occupied by your shoes and looked at you seriously, facing you with his arm resting on the back of your chair.

“This really beautiful bridesmaid promised to, quote, kiss the life out of me earlier, and here I am, alive and un-kissed.”

You laughed in disbelief, your pulse not settling even as you realised there was no real emergency.

“That’s devastating.”

“Tragic, really,” he agreed, grinning at you.

“It’s verging on Shakespearean.”

He whistled lowly.

“I love it when you talk brainy to me.”

The surprised giggle you let out should have been embarrassing but the way he was grinning at you had you not caring at all.

“At ease, sailor.”

“It’s Lieutenant Commander, actually,” he corrected smoothly.

“That…should not be as attractive as I’m finding it right now.”

He grinned, shifting closer to you.

“It’s only fair. You’ve been walking around, all gorgeous and smart and funny, all day. I never stood a chance.”

“All’s fair in love and war,” you quipped, the breathiness of your own voice surprising you. You blamed the proximity, and his words, and his face.

He groaned at that and it took all of your willpower not to squeeze your thighs together.

“Again with the smartness? You’re killing me here, honey.”

Emboldened, you reached out to trace your finger along his jawline, feeling a little thrill at the way it slackened at such a light touch from you. His eyes kept flitting to your lips.

“You gonna kiss me about it, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He kissed like he danced, confidently, holding you close, as though you were something precious. One of his hands cupped your cheek, respectful of your hairstyle, and the other found your waist to bring you closer. His moustache was surprisingly soft against your upper lip, his lips plush and soft and so very giving against yours.

When he finally pulled away, you couldn’t resist chasing his lips for just one more taste; you could feel him smiling into that kiss.

“I knew it,” he whispered.

“What?” you asked in confusion, your mind made foggy by his kisses.

“Kissing you was worth the wait,” he said simply, as though it was obvious.

Oh, you were in trouble.

[mysterious-adventurer]

Okay so this is a total long shot, but I am looking for a le mis fic I read YEARS ago. I've tried all of the google tricks and I haven't been able to find it, so I'm hoping maybe someone will be able to point me in the right direction.

It was a modern college au, Enjolras x Reader. Jean Valjean was a professor at the college and if I remember right he was trying to get Enjolras and the reader together by pairing them up for a group project. There was also something about socks, I don't remember what, I just remember socks were a semi-important detail in this fic.

If someone could point me in the right direction I'd be forever grateful!

[mysterious-adventurer]

Thank you to everyone who got me to 1000 likes!

[mysterious-adventurer]

[mysterious-adventurer]

Tequila (Baby I Still See Ya) - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

A/N: I actually wrote this piece a few years ago, right around the height of Top Gun Summer. So, you might notice it's a little bit different than my other writing. At the time, I wrote it just for me and I never though I'd actually publish it, but here we are (if you like this you have @ij-brian-quinn-enthusiast to thank for convincing me to publish it). That being said, even after edits it's not the most inclusive piece in the world, and for that I apologize. Other writing posted on my blog in the future will be much more inclusive. This piece was actually loosely inspired by @sunlightmurdock's oneshot For Old Times' Sake so make sure to check that out!

Summary: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Mitchell! Reader. Bradley and Y/N Mitchell share a romantic moment over a bottle of tequila at her mom's wedding but lose touch after Maverick pulls Bradley's application to the naval academy. Years later, after a chance encounter Rooster tells Phoenix all about it. Loosely based on the song Tequila by Dan + Shay.

Word Count: 4.5K

Trigger Warnings: Alcohol is a central theme in this piece and will be mentioned throughout, including an underage drinking scene. Lots of teenage awkwardness. Bare minimum use of y/n.

            'Clack!' The sound of pool balls colliding resonated throughout The Hard Deck as Rooster watched Phoenix take a shot in a game against Hangman. It was a quiet evening, the bar was almost empty, but then again it was only six o'clock. Maybe it was the heat, or the persistent blowing of the Santa Ana Winds, but something seemed to make the quiet evening stretch on and on with no ending in sight. The group of aviators had finally resorted to heading to the bar much earlier than usual just to try and kill the time. Much to their disappointment, other than the regular old timers who liked to sit around telling stories about Vietnam or Korea or, they were the only ones there. They had claimed a pool table in the corner and Hangman had wasted no time challenging Phoenix to game with fifty dollars on the line. 

        Phoenix smiled triumphantly as she lined up her next shot and on the other side of the table Hangman was frowning. His brows furrowed in concentration, silently begging for Phoenix to miss. 'Clack!' The sound reverberates through the bar again, louder this time, followed by the 'thump' as the 8-ball sinks into its pocket. 

        "Damn it!" Hangman reaches to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket

        "That's right Bagman, fork it over" Phoenix howls, drinking in her victory. 

        "Rooster" Penny puts a hand on his shoulder, her sudden presence causing both him and Bob to nearly jump out of their skin. She has a mischievous smile on her face and a shot of something golden in her hand. "The lady sends her regards-" Penny nods across the bar "and tequila." She presses the shot into Rooster's hand before returning to her post behind the bar. The entire group pauses to look over at the bar where she is sitting at the counter, her (y/h/l) hair falling in messy waves around her face as she shoots a brilliant smile at Rooster. He's still processing her presence when she raises her own shot of tequila in a silent toast, knocking it back and shooting him a wink. Just as he's about to return the gesture, a tall curly haired blonde, in a white t-shirt and leather jacket, saunters up to the bar and puts his arm around her. Then just as suddenly as she seemed to appear, she's leaving with the other guy. The aviators stare across the room quizzically for a few moments before their attention seems to wane. 

        "Alright Trace, double or nothing?" Hangman proposes. 

        "At least try to hang onto your cash Seresin, find someone a little more on your skill level."

        Phoenix abandons her pool cue at the table and saunters over to trade spots with Bob, as he claims her abandoned cue and she takes his seat beside Rooster. He looks pale, like he's seen a ghost, and he's still gripping the slowly warming shot of tequila in his hand. 

        "You going to drink that, or am I?"

        Rooster brings the shot to his lips, throws his head back, and then slams the empty glass down on the table. 

        "All right then." Phoenix notes how quiet he's being, knowing he'd normally have a smart ass remark for her. "So, who was that? And don't just say someone that you used to know, I need details."

        "Maverick's daughter."

        "I didn't know Mav had a kid."

        "Yeah, (y/n) Blackwell, her mom was a civilian Top Gun instructor, when my dad and Maverick were students, they started seeing each other then, but things didn't last very long between them after he graduated"

        "You'd think he'd mention her every once in a while."

        "He used to not shut up about her, she would come out and stay with him over the summers, but it felt like she was there all the time the way he talked about her."

        "Ahhh, so there it is" Phoenix nudged him in the ribs "you two grew up together...and I'm guessing there's some history there." 

        "No, not really," Rooster shrugs.

        "First of all, you are a terrible liar Bradshaw" Phoenix gives him a pointed glare "second of all I need details, because that girl has you looking like you've been hit by a Mack Truck and I have never seen any other girl so much as phase you. So, what happened?"

        "There's really not that much to tell. When we were kids, she was like an annoying little sister who was always kind of in the way and getting into trouble. And it wasn't just like we only had to deal with each other during the summer either, my mom was friends with hers and so we saw each other all the time, basically any time school was out. We drove each other crazy; we could hardly stand to be in the same room together for ten minutes." A small smile crosses his face as Rooster shakes his head "Mom always used to say that as much as we fought it was basically guaranteed we'd end up married."

        "I bet that drove you insane," Phoenix smiles

        "I'd get so mad at her; I think now she just did it because she thought it was funny"

        "Ohhhh, she definitely did" Phoenix takes a swig of her beer "anyway, continue."

        "Eventually, I kind of outgrew the childish bickering and basically just started ignoring her to hang out with the adults, and I guess that's around the same time that she developed a massive crush on me. Everyone could tell and I was mortified by it"

        "Let me guess, you were awful and just continued to completely ignore her."

        "Yeah, pretty much."

        "You can be such an ass sometimes."

        "I was a kid!" 

        "Doesn't matter, it's still a dick move."

        "Do you want me to finish this story, or do you want to spend the rest of the night playing pool with Bagman over there?" Rooster gestures back over to the pool table, where Hangman and Bob are still playing. With Bob unfortunately losing. 

        "Fine, fine. I'll shut up, please continue" 

        "All right, where was I, right she had a massive crush on me, and I was ignoring her like my life depended on it. Things stayed pretty much the same, until one summer she came out to California, I guess she was around sixteen and I was around seventeen, and I was just expecting things to be the same as they had been every summer. She shows up and it was like she was a completely different person, she'd gotten taller, thinner, her clothes were different, she had a different boy calling her every night, and she couldn't be bothered to give the time of day"

        "I'm assuming this is the part where you suddenly realized how gorgeous she was and fell head over heels in love with her or whatever?"

        "Something like that I guess" he chuckles

        "Works every time"

        "What are you talking about?"

        "You guys can be so oblivious." Rooster raises an eyebrow at Phoenix "If a girl chases a guy, most of the time she can do anything she wants, she can bring him the moon and he still won't be interested in her. But the second that she starts ignoring him and casually flaunting the fact that other guys are interested boom she's got him."

        "So, you're saying that she did it on purpose" 

        "Yes, and that you totally deserved it" she takes another drink and bumps her knee against Rooster's. He looks down at the ground and chuckles.

        "You're probably right"

        "Probably?" Phoenix shoots him a glare "No, no, no, you and I have established this I am always right." A smug look settles on her face. 

        "Oh really," Rooster raises an eyebrow "what about the time you said you could outdrink Hangman? Because the way I remember it, you passed out and I had to drag your drunk ass home, while Seresin was still going strong." The smug look falls from Phoenix's face, and a scowl replaces it.

        "Shut up and finish the rest of your stupid story" 

        "Well, I spent the rest of the summer kind of watching miserably as she went out with lord knows how many different guys. Mav didn't notice, he was too busy trying to figure out how to scare off all of her dates. I remember he called her mom, Charlie, freaking out over what exactly he was supposed to do."

        "That's hilarious, what did she tell him?"

        "Knowing Charlie, there's absolutely no telling what she said to him, but it must have been something along the lines of 'now you know how every man with a daughter in a 100-mile radius of you has felt'." 

        "Definitely how Penny's dad must have felt." The two laugh until they're both doubled over with tears in their eyes, just as they recover, Penny gives them a confused look, and they dissolve into another fit of laughter.

        "Okay," Phoenix, wipes the tears from her eyes, still trying to catch her breath "I still really want to hear how this ends"

        "Okay, okay, so my mom made fun of me that whole summer, she actually called me a lovesick puppy"

        "I can see it"

        Rooster shoots her a glare, before continuing " She and Charlie were pretty close friends. They met when Charlie and Mav were dating and stayed friends after they broke up. I actually remember mom giving Mav hell, when it happened. She told him that he'd just let the love of his life walk out the door. But, I mean, I guess it worked out for the best, at least for Charlie, because she ended up meeting Robert a couple of years later, and then they decided to get married, and Charlie invited mom and I to the wedding." Rooster pauses, staring out one of the bar windows overlooking the beach. 

        "Okay..." Phoenix says gently, noticing the dramatic shift in Rooster's mood "so what happened at the wedding?"

        "It was in mid-April, and I was still waiting to get decision letters, back from the schools I had applied to, of course the only one I really cared about was the one from the Naval Academy, and I didn't want to go to the wedding. Mom made me, so we flew out to Colorado. Robert's family has a really nice mountain chalet out there, so that's where they decided to have the wedding"

        "Were you nervous about going?" Phoenix interrupts. Rooster's eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

        "Why would I be nervous about going to a wedding in Colorado?"

        "Because you were going to see her, and you'd spent the entire summer before pining over her?

        "Oh, yeah" he chuckles "I think I was too busy worrying about acceptance letters to even think about it until we got there"

        "Yeah?"

        "Yeah, but it definitely hit me when I saw her at the ceremony" he smiles "her mom had asked her to be her maid of honor, so she was right up front with the rest of the bridal party for the whole ceremony. She was wearing this pink dress, and her hair was up in some kind of complicated braid crown with flowers in it, and she looked absolutely gorgeous." Phoenix rolls her eyes and mimics gagging. 

        "You had it bad" she teases. 

        "You asked for details; I'm just giving you what you asked for."

        "Fine, fine, so did you decide to make a move or what?"

        "Something like that" Rooster's voice trails back 

The Wedding Reception

                "Y'know, the maid of honor shouldn't be sitting alone in a corner, while everyone else is up dancing" Bradley smiles as he sits down beside y/n. 

        "Yeah, well when there's a forty-year age difference between the maid of honor and the best man, it's more weird if she actually is up there dancing with everyone else" 

        "Well, what about if the maid of honor danced with the son of her dad's lifelong best friend instead"

        "I guess that wouldn't be quite as weird," she cranes her neck looking around the room "if only I knew where he was." Bradley rolls his eyes, before standing and holding his hand out to her. 

        "You're funny Mitchell, real funny." 

        She shrugs as she as she takes his hand "I try." 

        Bradley leads her out onto the dance floor, guiding her hands around his neck, and then placing his own at her waist as they begin to sway to the music the band is playing. 

        "I'm surprised your mom didn't let you bring a date with you," he's trying to be subtle, to ask without asking if she' seeing anyone "or does she not like prom-date Josh?"

        "You have no idea," she snorts. "Anyway, I could've brought anyone I wanted, there just wasn't anyone that seemed right to bring to my mom's wedding"

        "Are you and Robert getting along any better now, or is it still weird?"

        She pauses for a moment, the question catching her off guard. Then she smiles, a small chuckle passing her lips. 

        "What?" Bradley asks 

        "You asked me to dance, then not so subtly asked if I was single, to which I not so subtly told you I was, and now you're asking me about my stepdad?"

        "Yeah, I guess I am" he grins sheepishly, realizing how silly it must seem. 

        "Well, it's not as bad as it was, but it's still a little weird, especially now that he's my stepdad" she glances over Bradley's shoulder to where her mother and stepfather are sitting at the head table, too busy talking to each other to notice her and Bradley together on the dance floor "I guess I just always picture Mom with someone a little more…fun."

        "I didn't realize he was such a stick in the mud."

        "Have you seen this party?" Y/n gestures to corner where the band sits. "They hired a string quartet to play the entire reception, you don't get much more boring than that."

        "When you're right, you're right." A comfortable silence overtakes the couple, and for a few minutes they just sway to the music. A devilish grin crosses Bradley's face as he leads her in turn. "I bet that you and I could make this party a little more interesting."

        "And, how exactly, do you propose we do that Bradshaw?"

        He leans down whispering in her ear "You, Me, and a bottle of tequila, what do you say"

        "I say, how in the world are we gonna do that?" 

        "Well, Robert paid for an open bar, didn't he?"

        "Doesn't change the fact that we're both underage."

        "That's true, but..." he trails off looking in the direction of the bartenders "I bet if the maid of honor made a scene, about something being wrong, that they would be distracted enough that they wouldn't notice me slipping off with a bottle."

        She grins up at them, their height difference, becoming more apparent the closer they get. 

        "Aren't you a troublemaker, are they really going to put up with that at the Naval Academy?"

        "Are you in or not Mitchell?"

        She shoots him a wicked grin as she drops his hands, and saunters away, leaving him alone on the dance floor. He stares for a moment, his mouth falling open in shock as he watches her walk away. He regains his composure as soon as he realizes that she's headed straight for the bar. As she marches right up to the bar tender, he disappears to the edges of the room to work his way around the back of the bar, dodging slightly tipsy wedding guests and his mother. All the while silently praying that whatever distraction she comes up with will keep the bartender distracted long enough for him to slip in and out without being noticed. 

        "The groom specifically requested for there to be a bottle of blue absinthe set aside for him and the bride!" the expression on her face is somewhere between angry and distraught. If he didn't know better Bradley would believe every word coming out of her mouth. 

        "Blue absinthe?" The bartender is looking under the counter and across the room to where Charlie and Robert are sitting frantically "I haven't seen any, I would've had to have it special ordered, no one told me."

        "No one told you?" She turns just slightly as if looking away in frustration "I swear those groom's men are useless" she turns to the side, placing her hand on the bar, and looking up to ceiling in thought. Suddenly she whirls back around. "Well, is there at least any regular absinthe behind the bar?" 

        "No, it's a pretty odd request, we usually don't stock it for weddings" the bartender looks down in defeat. That's when Bradley makes his move, slipping behind the counter and grabbing the full bottle of top shelf tequila he had noticed earlier and slipping back out, before the bartender even looks back up.

        "You know what" she looks over her shoulder, a strand of hair floating out of her braid crown " I don't think it's going to be a problem; they're so caught up in each other that I don't think they'd notice if The Pope walked in" 

        "Are you sure?" the bartender still look on edge

        "Positive, our little secret" she steps away from the bar, and glances around the room looking for Bradley. She walks a few steps in the direction Bradley went. Just as she starts to wonder if he took off to have the prize all to himself, she feels a hand on her wrist pulling her into a quiet, secluded hallway. 

        "I was beginning to think you'd taken off without me" she accuses. He dramatically places a hand on his chest feigning hurt. 

        "You really think I'd do that to you," he stumbles back a few steps "I’m wounded, really wounded" 

        "Stop being such a drama queen." 

        "Says the girl who thought I'd abandoned her, after I'd only been out of her sight for two minutes," he said, a mischievous twinkle filling his eyes. "Besides it's not like you and I could sit out in the middle of the party and drink this," he pauses before his tone changes "our mommies might see us." The two break into fits of laughter, clutching their sides. She slides down the wall to sit on the floor and Bradley follows, a fake plant obscuring them from view of the main ballroom. Bradley opens the bottle with a loud crack and takes a long drink before passing it to her. 

        "So um, from what you said earlier, I'm taking it things didn't exactly work out with prom date Josh?" Bradley asks as she takes a drink from the bottle. 

        "You have no idea," she snorts as she puts the bottle down on the floor between them, "he actually told me that we couldn't hang out after it ended, because he promised some other girl he'd be her date to somebody's after party." 

        "You're kidding" Bradley picks up the bottle again 

        "I wish I was."

        "What an asshole" he passes her the bottle again and she notices a drop of liquor still lingering at the corner of his mouth. 

        "Sometimes I swear you're the only decent guy I know Bradley."

        "Me?"

        "Yeah. You're always trying to look out for me when I'm at Dad's, you invite me out to do things with your friends, you bust me out of the house when Dad and I get into arguments, and you've even rescued me from boredom at my Mom's wedding" she takes another drink out of the bottle "besides, you're just a really nice guy, always complimenting people, always keeping your promises, you try not to be late even though you're always at least a five minutes late to everything and-" suddenly she trails off. "I'm so sorry I'm just rambling like a lunatic"

        "No, no" he reaches over and tucks a strand of hair that's fallen out of her braid behind her ear "I like it." She giggles a little bit, the alcohol already going to her head. 

        "I bet you do, considering I'm sitting here rambling on and on about how great of a guy you are" 

        "It wouldn't mean half as much coming from anyone other than you y/n" he whispers, realizing the alcohol is starting to affect him too as soon as the words leave his mouth. 

        "What?" she looks at him confused, setting the bottle down between them again. 

        "I said, it wouldn't mean half as much coming from anyone other than you" he repeats louder this time. 

        "What's that supposed to-" she's cut off as Bradley places a hand on her cheek and pulls her lips against his. The kiss is gentle, almost hesitant, and he pulls away just breaths later, trying to gauge her reaction.  A few seconds pass in silence, and Bradley's head begins to clear, making him suddenly self-conscious. 

        "I'm sorry I shouldn't have-" he starts

        "Shut up and kiss me again" she cuts him off, pulling him towards her, his lips finding hers again. 

        They stay like that for what feels like hours, tangled up on the floor, kissing each other breathless. Only breaking apart to giggle drunkenly at each other and to pass the bottle of tequila between them. The wedding reception in the ballroom behind them long forgotten as they get lost in each other. 

        "Oh my god, there you are" another one of Charlie's bridesmaids barges into the hallway, causing the two to jump apart. She takes one look at them, noting the lip gloss smeared across Bradley's face and the bottle of tequila between them "you have got to be kidding me." She pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head slightly "If your mother ever finds out, that you were getting drunk and making out with some boy at her wedding she's going to kill both of us."

        "Relax Jackie," she giggles, stumbling as Jackie helps her to her feet "it's not some boy, not like Josh, it's Bradley" 

        "Regardless of who he is, it's time for the big send off and you need to be there," Jackie says as she starts guiding her back towards the main ballroom "and try to act sober." Jackie is practically begging, but it's clear the Maid of Honor isn't paying any attention, as she drags her feet and looks over her shoulder, to where Bradley is now standing against the wall, lip gloss still smeared all over his face. 

        "Bye" she says waving back at him.

        "Bye" he calls in response. The word doesn't hold any finality for either of them, in fact it holds the promise of something that is just beginning. Neither of them having the slightest idea that they won't see each other again for years.

Present Day

        "You made-out with Maverick's daughter, at her mom's wedding?!" Phoenix exclaims looking at Rooster in shock. 

        "Yeah" his voice trails off hesitantly. 

        "So, what happened after that?" Phoenix's eyes are lit up, now even more invested in the story, than when Rooster started telling it. 

        "Nothing" 

        "Nothing? What do you mean nothing"

        "I mean after that, Mav pulled my papers from the academy, so I stopped speaking to him, then my mom passed a few months later, and we didn't see each other again." Rooster tries to keep the tone of his voice even, but Phoenix can tell how difficult it is for him to talk about Maverick's betrayal and his mom's passing. 

        "You've got to be kidding me, you just stopped talking to her, because you were mad at her dad?"

        "I mean, at first yeah. I was so mad at him, I couldn't even think about talking to her but then," he pauses taking a deep breath "after a while, I wanted to talk to her, I just didn't know how to explain why I had just dropped off the face of the Earth for months. What was I even supposed to say?"

        "Uh, I don't know, how about 'hey I'm really sorry I was being a dick and stopped talking to you because I was mad at your dad, I hope you can forgive me'" Phoenix deadpans, giving Rooster a look that reveals just how stupid she thinks he is.

        "Yeah, well I didn't have you back then to coach me through everything" he fiddles with the shot glass he still has clutched in his hand before setting it down on the table. 

        "Do you still have her number" Phoenix asks, grabbing his phone out of the chest pocket of his Hawaiian shirt, and scrolling through his contacts "of course you do, who am I kidding, your phone is like a time capsule of everyone you've ever known." She opens the contact she's been looking for and shoves the phone back into Rooster's hand, "You have to call her."

        "She's with somebody else, or did you not see that blonde guy she left with" Rooster argues. 

        " It’s been literal years since she last saw you and she sent you a shot of tequila, which is a call back to what happened at the wedding, and winked at you, that doesn't exactly scream 'I'm in a happy committed relationship to me.'"

        "Well, her number could've changed, what if I call and it's not her." He's trying to talk himself out of calling, but by the way he's staring at her number on his phone screen, that he wants to.

        "Then you say, 'sorry wrong number' and forget it ever happened, no big deal" Phoenix shrugs. 

        "What if it is her" Rooster finally asks the questions that is really eating at him " what do I say?"

        "Just that it was good to see her and that you'd love to catch up" Phoenix positions herself so that she's making direct eye contact with him "You're not proclaiming your undying love for her Romeo, you're just opening the door to catching up." 

        "Right, just casual" Rooster looks more nervous than Phoenix has ever seen him, shifting in his seat as he stares down at his phone. 

        "Exactly, just call her."

        It's the final push that Rooster needs to hit dial. The phone rings once, twice, three times, Rooster looks over at Phoenix who's watching him intently, four times. Finally it turns over to voicemail. 

        "Hey, sorry I can't get to the phone, leave me a message."

        Rooster's muscles visibly relax when he hears her voice on the other end of the line. The phone lets out a long beeping sound, signaling that it's recording. 

        "Uh, hey it's Bradley. It was really great seeing you this evening, I'm gonna be in town for a while and I'd love to catch up, um call me back when you get the chance." Rooster puts the phone down with a sigh, his heart still racing. 

        "Now what?" Phoenix asks. 

        "Now we wait, I guess." A moment of silence passes between the two friends as they both take in the events of the evening. 

        Their reverie is suddenly interrupted as cheering comes from the pool table where Fanboy is clapping Bob on the back and Hangman is scowling as he hands over his second fifty-dollar bill of the night. 

        "Hey Bagman! I thought I told you to play someone more your speed and hold onto your money" Phoenix calls as she stands and walks back over to the pool table, as Rooster stares at his phone, still lost in the memories of a Colorado wedding and the taste of tequila.

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

A/N: I hope you liked it! I did actually write a sequel to this piece and I'm planning to post in about a month or so. But, if this post reaches 10 reblogs or someone guesses what song I used to write the sequel (Hint: it's a Taylor Swift Song) I'll go ahead and post it early.

[mysterious-adventurer]

reblog and make a wish! this was removed from tumbrl due to “violating one or more of Tumblr’s Community Guidelines”, but since my wish came true the first time, I’m putting it back. :)

[mysterious-adventurer]

Navigation

Hi, I'm Myst! Welcome to my blog. I have been writing fic for basically as long as I can remember and now I've decided to post it here. I'm currently in college and I stay pretty busy, so posts/updates will probably be pretty infrequent.

Since I know my posting will be infrequent I'm not officially taking requests. However, if you have an idea for me feel free to shoot me an ask and I'll see what I can do! If for some reason I'm not feeling inspired by your idea, not comfortable writing it, or don't feel like I have enough time to get it done I'll let you know.

Masterlist

Fandoms: Fourth Wing, Supernatural, Outer Banks, Top Gun, Interview With The Vampire, and The Shadowhunter Chronicles (more to come)

Current Characters: Liam Mairi, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, John B. Routledge, and Rafe Cameron. (These are just the characters I currently have posts up or planned for. Hoping to add Dean Winchester, Matthew Fairchild, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, and Lestat de Lioncourt in the near future. I'm always open to try writing new characters from any of my fandoms.)

[mysterious-adventurer]

Masterlist

Fourth Wing

I'd Never Forgive Myself - Liam Mairi

Dance With Me - Liam Mairi

Top Gun

Tequila (Baby I Still See Ya) - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Mezcal (Everything Has Changed) - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw (Coming Soon)

Outer Banks

The Kayak Cottage - John B Routledge (Coming Soon)

Complicated - Rafe Cameron (Coming Soon)

Supernatural

Interview With The Vampire

[mysterious-adventurer]

Dance With Me - Liam Mairi

A/N: I haven't read Iron Flame yet, so I apologize if anything conflicts with cannon (other than the obvious). I just thought this was a really cute idea and I couldn't get it out of my head. This could be read as a follow up to my previous oneshot ( I'd Never Forgive Myself - Liam Mairi)  or as a standalone

Summary: Liam and y/n steal a moment to dance at Riorson House. 

TW: None I think? Tooth Rotting fluff if that counts

Please do not repost. 

Riorson House is quiet as a slip out of my room into the hallway. The mage lights are dim and there's not another soul in the passage. Not that I'm surprised; it's well after midnight and everyone else is in bed. I should be in bed, but after hours of tossing and turning I need a change of scenery. My feet wander aimlessly through the halls until I reach the doors to the great hall, and I'm drawn almost inexplicably inside. 

        I walk to the far end of the room, away from the distorted shadows in the darker half of the room, to stand in front of the massive window. The full moon shines brightly, bathing the room in gentle moonlight and making up for the lack of mage lights at this late hour. The sky is perfectly clear and dotted with brilliant stars. Below them, the snow on the jagged mountain peaks glistens. The view is mesmerizing, and I let myself get lost in it. 

        "Is everything alright?" Liam calls softly from the doorway as he enters the room. 

        "Couldn't sleep that's all." 

        "Me either." Liam wraps his arms around me a places soft kiss on my cheek. I hadn't realized until just now how chilly it was, and I feel myself relaxing into him. "What's on your mind?"

        "Just trying to process everything that's happened. A few days ago, we were normal students headed out for war games and now..." I don't even know how to finish that thought. We were sent to Athebyne to die. Venin are real. Liam and the other Tyrrish students are involved in a weapons smuggling operation. Just thinking about it is enough to make my head spin. 

        "Dance with me?"

        "What?" I turn quickly to look at him. 

        "You need to get out of your head for a while, just humor me, please?"

        "Liam, there isn't any music."

        "Trust me, we don't need any," he guides me to face him, before placing one hand on my waist and guiding one of mine to his shoulder. Then we're gliding across the floor to a melody only Liam can hear. Slowly, my heart rate slows, and my mind begins to empty. Liam looks so beautiful in the moonlight I can't think about anything else. I laugh as he leads me through a graceful spin. 

        "Where did you learn to dance like this?"

        "Duke Lindell thought it was important that the boys he fostered were proper gentlemen" Liam shrugs "dance lessons were part of that."

        "Are you telling me Xaden had to take dance lessons? I can't imagine he took that well."

        "He brooded about it quite a bit" 

        "Is there anything he doesn't brood about?"

        "Where did you learn to dance? I can tell this isn't your first lesson" Liam's eyes are sparkling when he asks. 

        "Once upon a time, I was friends with the son of a Marquis, he taught me how to dance and I taught him how to read." 

        "You're perfect," Liam gazes into my eyes as we stop dancing "absolutely perfect."

        "What?"

        "You are brave and fierce and smart, and beautiful and kind and..." his voice trails off for a moment as he cradles my face in his hands "I love you y/n."  I can't help the way my heart skips a beat or how heat rushed to my face. 

        "I love you too Liam." My eyes slide shut as he presses his lips to mine in a slow gentle kiss that makes my entire body tingle. There, in the great room, all of the terror of the last few days and fear of what's to come melts away as we kiss in the moonlight and dance to music only, we can hear. 

[mysterious-adventurer]

Something to Remember Me By

Pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x F!Reader Summary: Following the graduates’ post-ceremony assignment, Ice becomes stuck in his head. What if Mav hadn’t reengaged? What if his life had ended somewhere up there, over the Indian Ocean? It was a risk of the job. It happened every day. It happened to Goose. Or, the one where the reality of his service hits Ice harder than he ever expected and he decides to give you something to remember him by. Word Count: 3600 Warnings: Smut with some feelings. Slight breeding kink(?) Minors DNI

Ice had been back in Miramar less than an hour and despite his best efforts, everyone knew something was off. He brushed off Hollywood and Wolf with a grin that he didn’t really feel as they’d tried to corral him toward the O Club for a well-deserved drink. Merlin had raised a brow but left it alone. Slider had been another story. The RIO was determined to give him a hard time — needing to get to the bar as badly as Ice needed to steer clear — and tried to convince him they all deserved it after their mission success.

Somehow, Mav had been the only one to understand. His wingman's smile effortless and understanding as he intercepted Slider and redirected his attention long enough for Ice to slip away. He wasn’t even sure where he was going, head still circling some 45,000 feet overhead. And that was how Ice found himself on your doorstep, running on fumes in service khakis long since wrinkled from his return trip and unable to do more than stare at the old knocker on your front door.

He’s been to your home countless times, but he isn’t sure that he should be there now. Like this.

A distant horn brings him back — knocks him just a little closer to the ground — and that’s a good start; otherwise, he may have spent the entire afternoon into dusk just staring. He raises his hand.

Shave and a haircut.

A minute goes by and he wonders if you’re even home. Takes half a step back before your footsteps are approaching from the other side of the door, for the porch light to turn on, then the door is swinging open.

You suck in a breath. “Tom?” You hadn’t been expecting visitors — he hadn’t called — and your voice is colored in equal parts relief and surprise at this unannounced return stateside.

“Can I come in?” He’s only said four words and your expression shifts, your relief short lived. You know, too. Can see the mess hiding behind his stiff stance and carefully schooled expression clear as day. But you still open the door wide enough to let him in.

"Do you want anything to drink?" you ask, already halfway to your kitchen to fetch a glass.

“Water.” He’s still moving on autopilot, sitting on your sofa and taking in your living room decorated sparingly except for a collection of photo frames that line a standard-issue cabinet: your siblings, your parents, your family. Ice’s attention returns to you as you hand him his water, but he sets it on the coffee table without any intention of actually drinking it.

Your eyes flick from the glass sweating in the San Diego summer to the coaster Ice has ignored. He’s sitting beside you, but his mind is still far away. The urge to wrap him in your arms is strong, but you resist. You aren’t sure that’s what he needs right now, so instead of holding him close or asking what’s on his mind, you give him time to organize his thoughts.

It takes a couple minutes or eternities for him to find the words. “We took down the hostiles.” He’s so far from his usual eloquence that he nearly winces, but if you notice, you don't mention it.

A gentle smile graces your lips. “I heard,” you choose to say instead. “You and Mav made it onto the front page of the paper.” And what a relief it had been, to see them again after their rushed exit from the graduation ceremony — smiling, shaking hands, alive. Sleep came easier to you, then. “It’s all Fightertown’s been able to talk about.”

Your words don’t settle Ice the way he’d have thought they would. The old springs of your sofa squeal as he shifts. “It wan’t,” he starts but loses steam. He tries again: “I…” And he knows you’re worried now because it isn’t often that he doesn’t have something to say.

But he feels every bit as cold and detached as his call sign suggests. Struggling to come up with a way to explain the fear that had taken over him. How could you ever understand?

He didn't want you to understand.

Barreling through the sky, pulling out all the tricks and still barely able to escape Death's glacial fingers. He and Slider and the wind howling against the canopy and the hostile on their tail. And he hadn't been able to shake them. He was the best of the best, but what had that meant up there? What if Mav hadn't reengaged? What if he hadn't banked right? The high-pitched whine of the missile lock forcing him into a cold sweat, the sour splash of bile rising in the back of his throat as the missile missed them by feet, and God, he hadn't been sick in a cockpit since flight training.

"Hey," you whisper, clasping Ice's hand in yours before bringing one up to cup his cheek. He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed as he tries to soak you in.

His breathing is irregular, a cold sweat beading his temples as he continues drifting out to sea. What if his life had ended somewhere over the Indian Ocean? It was a risk of the job. It happened every day.

It happened to Goose.

Ice takes a shaky breath, and his hand brings yours up to his lips, kissing the palm, then your wrist. Still silent. Still a prisoner in his own head. Missile lock ringing between his ears.

Goose had been with them one moment and gone the next. His wife, a widow. His best friend forever changed. But everyone who had loved Goose and been loved by him had something to remember him by in his son. Bradley. What would you have? Would the Defense Department even know to knock on your door? Would they give you anything to remember him by? The flag he'd flown under? Their regrets? His dog tags?

Ice brings your palm to his chest, rests it over his heart, and bluebird skies can't hold a candle to the clarity the simple touch brings him. The weight you lift from his shoulders simply by being. Existing in the same space and time as he is. A tremor runs up his spine, his jaw clenching as he tries to swallow, but his tongue has turned to sandpaper in his mouth.

"Mav saved my life," he admits, eyes locked on yours, and the truth is easier to say than he'd expected. It practically tumbles out. "We wouldn't've made it out of there without him. And…" The realization of what he needs hits him like he's pulling seven Gs, and it's so unexpected that he's dizzy with it. Ashamed of the thought and how it burns him up from the inside, unfurling and fanning until the hot licks of it have scorched his mind, and he struggles to find the words. So, instead, he pulls you into a barely-there kiss, and you go easily.

Ice loves you. He doesn't need to say it. You already know.

But it isn't enough.

Another kiss is laid on your lips, just as tender as the last. Ice knows he'll remember you — think of you with his dying breath whether he's shot out of the sky or goes up in flames. You're the closest Ice has ever come to flying with both his feet on the ground. But he needs more. It's selfish and all-consuming and desperate, and it swims through his veins like a poison until he’s sick with it. Because who is he? What had he done in this life? How could he ensure that a part of him was with you, no matter what? That you'd always have something to remember him by? The thought of leaving you alone in the world drives Ice nearly out of his mind.

His thumb caresses your cheek, then his hand is trailing down until it rests over your flat stomach. "I need you to remember me," he whispers, and this truth is so much harder to concede because he's terrified that it'll be the thing that finally pushes you away. Fear grips him tight around the chest, and his instincts are screaming, 'eject! eject!' so he can live to salvage what's left of his life after the crash, but then your eyes meet his, and Ice holds his breath.

Your eyes are softer than he's ever seen them. They're the eyes of someone who loves him deeply. Someone just as scared as he is, but of what he can't be sure of until your lips tug into a tender smile. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" And Ice is surprised that you're open to the idea because the topic of marriage hasn't even come up yet, and this is all so backward — so dangerous — but it feels so right as your hand joins his, the other cradling the sharp line of his jaw as you tilt him down to place a kiss on his forehead.

"Yeah." And you may have stunned him because it's you who has to initiate the next press of lips.

Your heart flutters low in your stomach as you pull away so you can take Ice's hand and lead him down the hall to the bedroom that is more his than the bed in his assignment has been in weeks. You press him back until his legs bump into the mattress and his arms wrap around you, pulling you close as you move to sit atop his lap. A breathy chuckle fills the space between your lips and he swallows it, your lashes drooping closed. Ice's lips are soft and strong, pressing yours open before pulling away, a clear invitation for you to follow and slot your mouth back against his.

He caresses your sides, hands skimming up and down, thumbs brushing over your hip bones as you sigh into each new, lingering kiss. A delicate brush of lips until you both need more. Because you're doing this.

You're giving this to him.

He'll never leave you alone again.

Ice's need flares. He eliminates the gap between your bodies with a hand on the back of your neck, wraps his arm around you tight, and vows to himself that he'll never let you go. And you're there for all of it: keening and tasting of spearmint and lemonade and the hot ocean breeze as your fingers tangle in blonde hair to urge him into a deeper kiss. He indulges.

As Ice licks into your mouth, your hands leave his scalp to help him out of his shirt — he's wearing entirely too much for what the both of you have planned.

Needy fingers pull at his shirt until it's been untucked, and when you finally force yourself from his lips to focus on the troublesome buttons, he swoops in to distract you with peppered kisses from the corner of your lips down to your neck. You gasp, fingers balling in polyester as he teases sensitive skin between his teeth, then push his shirt from his broad shoulders. Now the only thing between your fingers and the tanned skin of his chest is a white undershirt. You get to work on it immediately, rucking it up as Ice litters your neck with small bites. Your fingers slip beneath the hem, tingling as they land on smooth skin; the touch is electric, zinging straight from your fingertips to the apex of your legs, and you're so hot that you can't stop yourself from rolling your hips against his.

You feel his groan more than you hear it — deep and rumbling against your throat, his teeth working a dark bruise into your tender neck as he grinds up into you. Then, Ice is ripping the shirt over his head, and your eyes wander the miles of his tanned skin as his hands grip your hips and pull you against him again. “Did you miss me?” he asks, hips rolling, and your mouth falls open around a ‘yes’ before he takes them in another kiss. Regrettably, his hands don't linger long. Nimble, calloused fingers slip beneath your shirt, skimming along your side until they're brushing the smooth skin below your breasts, and you break the kiss to shiver.

Ever the opportunist, Ice lifts your shirt over your head, ducking to kiss your collarbone before his hand is splaying against the small of your back to bring your chests flush, the warm metal of his dog tags caught between the two of you, and you pull the chain to bring his lips back to yours with a contented sigh.

A hand moves to your thigh, thumb rubbing circles along the inside as his hand creeps higher until it's brushing beneath the leg of your loose shorts. “You’re so wet,” he groans, white teeth bared in a sharp smile and you suck in a quick breath as Ice parts your lips. “Is all this for me?” His fingers play with your juices, spreading them around until you're absolutely dripping, your legs shaking with the effort to stay still. You nod. “Out loud, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you hiss, and Ice seals his lips over yours, finally slipping a finger into you, and he isn't sure if the moan he swallows belongs to you or not.

"Beautiful," he huffs, squeezes a second finger into you, and another sound escapes your kiss-swollen lips. "You're beautiful." Your heart swells with the compliment, fingers trailing down from where they've been clutching his shoulders until they snag on his belt. His fingers curl against your sweet spot, making it a challenge to pull the leather from its clasp, but once his belt is off, you pop the button on his khakis and drag the zipper down. You bite your lip and palm him through his boxer briefs until Ice brings his fingers, still slick with you, to his lips and moves to push you off his lap.

"Get on the bed."

Slipping from his lap, you settle on your back, head amongst the pillows so you can watch as Ice unlaces his boots and kicks them off with the rest of his clothes. He's beautiful like this. Body trained into hard lines, hair a mess, and eyes a damning blue. Cock bobbing heavy between his thighs, the head flushed a dusky pink. Your thighs clench in a desperate ploy for friction where you need it most. His knee is on the bed, then he crawls up — hands on either side of you as he kisses your calf up to your thigh, grabbing each leg behind your knees and opening you up to his hungry gaze. You jerk, head tipping back and an unabashed moan spilling from your lips when he licks a fat strip up your cunt.

“Tell me what you need,” he purrs, wetting his lips before he ignores the scratch of your nails in his hair and dives back in for another taste.

"Need you." It's an understatement. And fuck him sideways if that isn't the best thing he's heard all day. All week. With a deep breath, he takes you in from his spot between your thighs: hair wild, eyes blown wide, lips bitten and slick with his spit, cheeks an amorous red. He needs you, too.

"I've got you," he says as he acquiesces, drags himself the rest of the way up your body, and presses a filthy kiss to your lips, tongue tainted with the tang of your arousal.

A gentle hand rests on your lower abdomen once again. It's a moment he'll remember for the rest of his life. The most significant thing he's ever committed himself to. The only thing that matters anymore.

“You ready for me?” He’s cocky, but when he reaches for the bedside drawer out of habit, he freezes. His eyes soften a fraction. "Are you sure?" And he’s looking into your eyes but he hasn’t retracted his hand. He will if you say so. Because even though he needs this, he needs to know that you crave it just as badly. Needs to know that you're with him.

"Yeah." You caress his cheek, and he presses his forehead to yours so that you can breathe each other in. "I've never been more sure of anything," you confess, and his hand returns to the bed to hold you close. Before you can say anything embarrassing, you bring him into a kiss, your tongues rolling together slowly.

You whine when you feel him adjust to bring your hips together, the head of his cock pressed right where you want him most, and you can't help but roll your hips together. But Ice doesn't push in right away; instead, running his length through your soaked folds, and you whimper, pussy trembling because the friction is everything.

You're both a bit overwhelmed when he starts to sink into you — it's the first time you've been this close. No room to breathe. No latex.

A needy moan leaves Ice's lips, his eyes slipping shut and plush lips hanging open in ecstasy. "Perfect," he gasps, eyes opening to take in your hot cheeks and glassy eyes. "You're fucking perfect." And he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, nipping at it as he continues to rock into you until your hips are flush, and he has to take a minute or this will all be over before it's really begun.

You mouth at his clenched jaw, lick at the salty skin of his neck and dig your nails in between his shoulder blades. Your entire body is pulsing: heart pounding and blood roaring in your ears. It's unbearable having him completely seated and still inside you, so you wrap your legs around his hips, hoping to entice him into action. It has half the desired effect.

Ice shakes his head. Brows furrowed, he groans like he's toeing the fine line between pleasure and pain. "You're going to make me cum."

"I thought that was the point?" Your grin is lopsided, drunk on the moment, and you bite your bottom lip because you know it drives him mad. Ice keens, rutting his hips shallowly into you, and you encourage him with a lewd moan.

When he finally begins to move, it's all slow movements and breathy groans. His hips, fingers, and lips wringing pleasure out of each moment until you're both sweaty and gasping into each other's mouths.

Ice readjusts your legs so that they wrap higher up on his waist. “You want it, don’t you?” He sinks further into you and grinds against your sweet spot, the pull and push of his cock interrupted as a shudder wracks through him. Fuck, he wants it. He distracts himself, dipping his head to capture your nipple between his lips until you're arching into his mouth.

He grabs your hand, lacing your fingers by your head and kissing you with a flick of his tongue. You chase his lips when they leave yours and you’re trembling. “You going to cum for me?” he mumbles, his hips pressing into you and starting up another slow rhythm. His chest is pressed to yours, his dog tags resting between your breasts and his cheek brushing yours as he shifts like the tide to clap your hips together and continues directly into your ear — “Want to see you cum on my cock.” And your free hand clutches him closer with a whine, your head tossed back in a shameless cry.

“Come on, baby.” When Ice finally brings a hand to rub slow, firm circles into your clit, you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been like this.

"Tom," you rasp, lost to everything but the smell of jet fuel, sweat, and spearmint and the shift of Ice's muscles beneath impossibly smooth skin as his hips snap forward. "Oh fuck, there. Just like that."

“Gonna fill you up.” He's close, too. You can feel it in the way his hips fall out of their carefully maintained rhythm and see it in the wild glint in his eyes. You just need a little more, and it's like he can read your mind because — "Fucking Christ, Tom!" — with a wanton sob, you're there.

The shockwaves of your climax are still rippling through you as Ice snaps his hips once, twice, and lets out his own low groan. He spills into you, drawing out your highs, thrusting sloppily as you encourage him to keep going with your heels crossed against his lower back, enthusiastically milking him for every last drop.

Ice holds himself up on his forearms, panting as he licks into your mouth again, the inferno of his want reduced to embers. You hold him in your arms, running your hands over every bit of him within your reach as the tension drifts from your body, leaving you with a giddy, butterfly feeling in your stomach.

When he finally pulls out of you, Ice sits back and watches as pearly strings of his cum trickle from your still-throbbing pussy. He collects the excess with a finger and pushes it back into you, Adam's apple bobbing as your walls squeeze around him. When his eyes meet yours again, the fear is gone. So is the distance. He's finally home.

"You know," you say, legs falling apart as his eyes return to your cunt, "we'll probably have to do this a couple times."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nod, a coquettish smile on your lips. "I’ve heard it can take a couple tries."

Ice's smile is slow and easy, taking over his face. He's irresistible, so you don't even try. You pull him back down, a mirroring smile on your lips.

No one sees the Iceman at the O Club for a while.