#i'm sooo sorry for the long wait

[anjaelle]

Hello darling 💙

Would you consider writing for Count Vronsky from Anna Karenina?

Pairing: Count Alexei Vronsky x Foreign Socialite!Reader Warnings: Borderline Toxic Infatuation, Vintage Slow Burn, (almost) Infidelity Summary: A foreign born socialite/heiress visits a friend in Russia and meets a straight up demon. For @bettytaylorversion (AU where Anna doesn't go back to Vronsky and chooses to stay with Karenin.) Word Count: 2.3K a/n: I remember that Tolstoy made this character so straightforward that you can kind of play around with him as much as you like without changing much about who he is at his core. I can't be left to my own devices. That being said, I don't want purists yelling at me. So I hope everyone takes some of my choices here with a grain of salt.

--x--

Everything about Russia felt intimidating to you: the language, the size of the country, the power of its military, and the show of their aristocratic wealth. You were wealthy. But this was a different kind of wealth. You came to visit your close friend who was another socialite that you met through overlapping inner circles. It'd taken you a while to accept the invitation as you weren't sure how kindly they'd take to a foreigner.

You understood some of the language based on what your friend taught you, but you still weren't confident enough to converse in just Russian. Instead you opted for French, which seemed to work well enough. You knew your native language was a lost cause. While some people in the parlor were polite, others had no interest in speaking with you. A small number seemed interested in you and your home country. Or maybe they just noticed your Very New and Very Parisian wardrobe with your collection of gifted jewels. They decided you were important enough to talk to.

When she introduced you to Count Alexei Vronsky, an officer in the army, you felt her grip on your elbow tighten just the slightest bit. You knew about him. She told you all about his affair with the married woman from Saint Petersburg. You weren't sure how you pictured the man. She said he was handsome, but you lived in a world full of beautiful people. How much different could he be?

That was a terrible miscalculation. The minute he met you, he watched you with the intense interest of a fox stalking its prey. You felt your cheeks warm and your heart thud when he pressed his lips to your gloved knuckle. You averted your eyes when he rose from his bow, not really wanting to convey anything uncouth about the interaction.

The first time he found you alone, you were in your friend's library looking at a map pinned to the wall. He told you about every country he'd lived in, every country he'd traveled through, and which ones he'd be eager to see soon. When you pointed out your country on the map, he licked his lips and an easy smile graced his beautiful face.

"I suppose I have no choice but to come see you now." He said in his thick accent.

You realized, then, that he reminded you of angels you'd see painted on the walls of grand, gilded churches. You told him that you and your fiance would be happy to invite him to your engagement party.

"Hmm." he said, eyeing the map. "Fiancés..." he finished the statement in Russian, so you couldn't understand him.

Before you excused yourself to go find your friend, his fingertips gently grazed the back of your hand, stopping you in your tracks. "Your fiancé is incredibly lucky to have such a beautiful, clever woman."

The second time he found you alone, you'd been exploring the estate and decided to rest in the garden among the wildflowers. As you raised your face to the summer sun, he made his presence known by clearing his throat, causing you to jump to your feet in surprise.

"Good afternoon, startled rabbit." He chuckled, and you rolled your eyes at him.

"How long have you been standing there?" You warily asked, anxiously adjusting your skirts and brushing the grass from your hair. He cocked his head, studying you, "Long enough to notice that your beauty in parlor candlelight cannot compare to how alluring you are in the light of day."

It was interesting to see him dressed so casually compared to the night before. You wondered what he was still doing at your friend's estate when you knew he had a home of his own. You quickly glanced at her window to see the curtains still closed.

When you boldly asked him if he'd been watching you, something akin to amusement danced across his face, "You like the idea of that? Me watching you?"

"I have a fiancé."

He took a step closer, "That doesn't answer my question."

“You didn’t answer mine.” You countered, looking him square in the eye.

That wasn’t particularly ladylike, and you weren’t sure how anyone would react if they happened upon you and Vronsky standing so close in the garden without a chaperone.

As if reading your mind, he glanced down at your lips, then his eyes fell lower to your bodice. Your engraved gold locket rested on the top of one breast, with your fiancé’s initials glittering under the sun.

“I wasn’t watching you. I was…preoccupied.” His eyes met yours again and you felt like you’d been splashed with icy water. “Your husband—my apologies—your fiancé…he is a man of means? That necklace of yours is exquisite.”

You weren’t stupid. He didn’t care about the necklace. “That is a very inappropriate question to ask.”

“So he is not a man of means.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Who gave you that necklace?”

“Why does it trouble you to know?”

“You deserve a better one.” He murmured. You were unsure if he was still speaking about the jewelry. His fingers ghosted over the exposed skin of your forearm, "I could do that for you. If you wish." You took one large step back and glanced again at your friend’s window to find her watching you both suspiciously.

For the remainder of your stay in Russia, your friend treated you coolly. Though she was kind in private, she wasn't as warm in the company of others. Specifically, in the presence of Count Vronsky who seemed eager to appear more often during your stay and even more eager to get you alone. You reminded yourself that it was a temporary trip, and that you'd be back at your father's estate--and back in your kind fiancé's arms--in no time.

"It's truly fortunate that you're betrothed," your friend said as you gathered your belongings to meet the carriage in the courtyard, "or it'd be a shame to see your name added to the Count's incredibly long list of jilted lovers." There was an edge of bitterness to her tone, but you chose not to bring it up. Instead you marked it as an incredibly odd ending to an otherwise enjoyable trip.

A month later, you nearly fell down the stairs when your father called you down to the foyer to greet his newest client who arrived that morning from Russia. Count Alexei Vronsky bowed as you descended, but you could see the mirth dancing behind his eyes when he righted his posture behind your father's back.

"He says you spoke extensively about my craftsmanship. He felt compelled to come by the shop for his own fitting while he was visiting!" Your father exclaimed merrily, pulling you in for a kiss on the forehead, "My brilliant girl. This will do wonders for us. I knew I could count on you."

Sure, you had spoken highly of you father's tailoring and shoemaking, because as popular as your father was it never hurt to expand the reach of his influence.

That being said, you were sure Vronsky wasn't there for that conversation, and you never continued any form of contact after you departed Russia. You assumed he learned about where you lived through mutual friends. You swore under your breath when your father left you alone to get his sketches from his workshop in the east wing of the estate. Vronsky eyed you briefly, then redirected his interest to the art and artifacts decorating your home. Ever the son born of Russian ice and stoicism, he looked out of place in the warm atmosphere of the home you grew up in.

"Your country is beautiful," he said, arching a dark brow, "a bit too hot for my liking. Though, it is nice to see you in your natural element. I don't think wildflowers like you belong in the comparative cold of a Russian summer."

You felt like you were being tested, but you decided that there wasn't much he could do in the confines of your home. He was, after all, in your territory. Your shoulders relaxed and you chanced a small smile his way, "You'd be surprised to know how resilient I can be."

Surprisingly, he laughed, "I don't think I'd be surprised at all. I know you better than you think I do."

You felt like you'd regret it, but you decided to ask anyway.

"What do you mean by that?"

He began to stroll through the hall of your foyer, pausing every so often to examine a portrait or vase as you trailed behind him.

"You attended your fiancé's nameday feast a few years ago. Of course, he was not your fiancé, then. He was merely your father's apprentice and a quite talented shoemaker from my country who moved and quickly fell in love with...your country." He chuckled to himself at a joke only he seemed to know. "I remember you. I remember that you were an absolute vision in white, and you danced with everyone in the room. Though you were incredibly quiet when you weren't wrapped up in the melody of the orchestra." He glanced over at your confused expression, fighting a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, "Like I said: startled rabbit. Always quiet. Always watching. I remember the way your dress hugged the delicate slope of your shoulders, and the way your necklace caressed your neck. That may have been the first time I craved to exist within the confines of a jeweled pendant. And though I was otherwise...occupied with someone...I do remember the way you consistently laughed when he whispered things to you. A kind gesture, as he's never been that funny."

"So you know him. You were there that night." You whispered, feeling chills running up your arm.

"I was," he shrugged, stopping again at a more recent portrait of you and your father, "as was my duty as his elder brother."

You felt your heart stop in your chest and your brain short circuited. Your fiancé never told you about any siblings, let alone an elder brother. You knew your fiance's father was possibly dead, and that his mother raised him alone in Russia. Was he lying about his life? You weren't sure what was conveyed on your face, but Count Vronsky turned to address you directly.

"My father was not an honorable man. He forbade us from speaking to my half-brother or acknowledging him. Of course, Father is dead now, and God hasn't struck me down for disrespecting the wishes of a dead man. This also isn't the first time I've ever sinned." He grinned widely at you and took a step closer, though you were too shocked to move. "From the minute I saw you, I knew I had to have you. And every time I've seen you since, I regretted not stealing you away for myself."

"That doesn't make any sense..." you murmured, hiding your anxious hands behind your back, "I've never met you before. I'd know. I'd remember."

"You make your presence known at those silly little soirées the ladies have. I never stay for very long, but I've always..." he took another step closer and you realized you'd been backed against a pillar, "I've always noticed you. Dancing. Laughing. Drinking. Sometimes smoking. Does your father know you smoke?"

You glanced down the hall over his shoulder, and in a small voice that surprised you, you whispered, "I don't always do that."

"Mhmm." He reached out to run his warm, slightly calloused fingers along the chain of your necklace, stopping just before the pendant that rested in the valley of your cleavage. Your chest involuntarily heaved, and your knees felt weak, "What other bad things do you 'not always' do?"

You parted your lips to attempt something sharp, but instead you swallowed hard and said, "I'm to be married."

"But you are not married." He was so close, "Do you know how badly I've wanted to come see you since you left?" You could smell the sweet wine of your country on his tongue as he whispered lowly to you, "The thought of his hands on you made me want to abandon all of my obligations to cross the sea. Did you think of me?"

Your gaze fell to his lips, slightly stained red, and then back up into his piercing blue eyes. God, he was beautiful. He caught the action.

"You did."

"I didn't."

"Your eyes betray you, wildflower." His hand grazed your hip above your skirt, and his lips ghosted over your own, "I thought about you every night. I think about how you'd look spread out for me on those expensive sheets your father bought you. Waiting for me. And you're wearing that charming necklace my brother gave you while my tongue is deep in that sweet little--"

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and Vronsky swiftly turned away from you to examine the nearest vase again, as if nothing happened. You hadn't realized that your hands were grasping your skirt in your fists and that you were squeezing your thighs together.

You realized then that it'd been so long since you were last touched.

When your father entered the hall, he shot you a curious look before handing Vronsky his latest sketches.

"Here you go, young man. Let me know if these are to your liking. We can begin as early as tomorrow afternoon."

The blond shot your father a charming smile and bowed graciously, "Thank you for taking the time to help a stranger on such short notice."

The conversation sounded like white noise in your ears as you willed your heart to slow down. Even as you composed yourself and released your skirt from your hands, you still felt out of sorts.

When he turned to you and bowed again, he rose and allowed his eyes to trail down the length of your body.

"Always a pleasure to see you again."

[blindmagdalena]

i been listening to too much lana del rey, and You Can Be The Boss drives me so insane like it fits homelander so well in my mind GRAHHH. imagine being some employee for vought, not too low but not too high up. youre at a vought hosted party, supes and all that but you never really cared for that; after all, you only took this job because it paid well. the company party was mandatory but to be honest you were just looking for a chance to escape and go home. the dress you had on was too tight, the smell of alcohol and all the fake laughter overwhelmed your senses when you didnt even drink much. stumbling in the crowd of well dressed business men and gorgeous women, you walk straight into him, the homelander. he doesnt know why you really caught his attention, maybe he could tell you didnt belong among the crowd of money hungry business people and drunk out of their mind supes, or maybe the tight dress just complimented your figure a bit too well for him to brush you off. he doesnt make it obvious at first, he just laughs and assures you that you didnt cause him trouble by walking into him, "woah, you better watch your step dear... you alright?" he puts his hand on your waist although he knows you dont need help balancing yourself anymore. he really just wants your scent to last longer on him. like a bloodhound, later through the night he'll try to find you through the crowd of people, tracking the smell of that cheap perfume you wore. he finds you by some desk makeshifted into a well made table for the night, drink in hand he approaches you. "ah, you! youre the uh, the girl who walked into me earlier, right?" he asks even though he damn well knows the answer.

"oh, god, im so sorry about that, sir... i wasnt paying attention and-"

"oh, please... dont be sorry! hell, i should be thanking you for saving me from those black ties... ah, i never caught your name..."

although youre completely starstruck you manage to make some small talk, mentioning somewhere along the way that he was your favorite hero. he practically shows his smirk at this point.

"oh, please... what, you young people are still into classic supes like me?" he fucking knows the answer but he needs his ego stroked.

as you answer he leans over, grabbing a cocktail napkin (also using this as a sneaky opportunity to look over at your tits, just to see if hes really gonna do this.) and pulling out a pen, he carries one around everywhere just in case a fan comes up to him.

"c'mon... ill give you an autograph... ah, after this i have to go and y'know... give the big toast..." he practically sighs it out.

youre completely flattered... and, yeah, a little weirded out but hey, free autograph.

he hands back the now folded napkin, walking back into the crowd, cape flowing behind him as you lose sight of the red white and blue.

unfolding the napkin, you see written clearly his perfect signature.... under it, a phone number.

[AHHHH IVE NEVER WRITTEN ANYTHING BEFORE AND I GOT CARRIED AWAY IM SORRY] i also didnt proof read so sorry if anything is misspelled!!

You hold on to that number for a couple of days, looking at it every so often. There's a new undertone of anxiety at work; suddenly you're nervous about running into him, even though it's never happened before. You don't work anywhere near the 99th floor, and yet there's a constant prickle at the back of your neck, the presence of the napkin in your pocket a constant reminder.

The feeling follows you home. You can't shake it, you can't stop thinking about it. About him. You pull out the napkin just to stare at it sometimes, to remind yourself that really happened. Why the hell would The Homelander give a nobody like you his number?

On the evening of the third day, thoroughly plagued by this accursed napkin burning a hole in your pocket, you finally call the number elegantly scrawled across it. It rings once, twice, thrice. Your heart is pounding so hard you can barely hear the ringing. There's a click, and your heart stops. You hear an amused huff of breath on the other end of the line in place of a greeting. "I was beginning to think you were blowing me off," Homelander says, but you think you can hear the smile in his voice. Your mouth feels dry, full of cotton. "No, no, I wasn't, uhm... Sorry, I would have called sooner, I was just—" "Nervous?" Homelander cuts in. His voice is low, and feels unbelievably intimate in your ear. You bite your tongue, feeling a flush crawl up your chest. "Don't be nervous, sweetheart. I'm glad you called."

You try to laugh it off, try to regain an ounce of calm. This guy really is larger than life, even over the phone. "Yeah? Why's that?" "Because I have not been able to get you off my mind," he purrs. You can't see the absent way he's flipping a pen, the same one he used to sign that napkin, between his fingers. Just like you couldn't see the way he has been watching you through the floors and walls of Vought tower, or in your own home, how his lips would twitch every time you pulled out that napkin to stare at his signature, and his phone number. Fuck, the fact you carried around that napkin everywhere haunted him. The way you would take it out just to stare or run your fingers along the writing was damn near reverent. The look of worship in your clueless eyes, totally unaware your god was watching you in your moment of prayer, was almost too much for him. Still, he remained patient, and now it's finally paying off. As all worthwhile hunts do. Caught off guard, you stammer, mouth opening and closing. "I, uhm, I've been thinking about you, too," you say. Your tongue feels clumsy, like a brick of lead in your mouth. "I really enjoyed meeting you that night."

"Well, I would hope so. You did tell me that I'm your favorite," he goes on. God, is he flirting with you, or trying to humiliate you? You're not sure which is worse. Your whole body feels hot, and your brain simply refuses to work correctly. "I'd just love to hear more about you." "So, like... Coffee?" You offer. Your hand is starting to tingle from how tightly you're gripping your phone. Is this really happening? You just asked The Homelander for a coffee date. "Not really a coffee kind of guy," Homelander replies. "How about dinner? My apartment in Vought Tower, tomorrow night. You like steak?" "Oh, okay, I— yes, I do," you fumble slightly, clearing your throat. "That'd be nice," you say, cleaning up your tone, attempting to gain any semblance of composure in this conversation. "Perrrrrfect," he rumbles. The near growl of his voice right in your ear makes you feel a touch faint. Jesus Christ. He must know exactly what he's doing. "It's a date." "It's a date," you echo, as if to confirm for yourself that's really true. "Okay, I will... see you soon." "You have a good night. Be seein' you." The line disconnects, and you're left in the too-loud silence of your apartment, staring at your phone in disbelief Holy shit.

[askthegoddamnluckyhope]

So, you're a version of me who hasn't merged with Izuru.

Izuru looked at the other him with interest.

"...... I didn't expected to meet an another version of me. That's intriguing."

".…..To answer to your question, no we didn't merged."

@special-encounters

[uitzinnigmp3]

,

[arminsumi]

I WANT TO KISS YOU / キスしたい

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

you and Satoru falling in love despite a language barrier.

2.9k

Chapter index

Summary : you've come to visit Japan to meet these two boys you met online. Though Satoru can't speak English and you can't speak Japanese, the two of you still fall in love. Very cute. Very cheesy. Oh no... wait is there a tension between you and his best friend, too? Oh boy...

Warnings : romantic tension with Suguru / potential love triangle, cat scratch

Note : i think of this fic a lot and i found the continuation hiding out in my drafts sooo here 👍

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works

Satoru blinks awake to see your face. His heart beats harder.

結局昨日は夢ではなかったのか？ Yesterday was not a dream after all?

He's not an early bird at all, but from the first day of your visit he magically woke up early as if his soul was too excited to sleep when it knew you were right there, in the flesh. No screen. Just you.

When the first day starts, it feels like you've always been together. Was there ever a screen separating the two of you? And were you really going to disappear behind one again in just a month?

今のところ、彼女はここに留まるように感じています。彼女が訪問を終えて出発するとき、私は空港で赤ん坊のように泣くことになると思います。 For now, she feels like she's here to stay. I think I'm going to cry like a baby at the airport when she leaves after her visit.

Morning routines are carried out. The sky is cloudy at first, threatening rain, and by the time you three cluster into the kitchen to make breakfast together, it starts raining.

You and Satoru banter like two cats. Suguru's morning rasp is very strong.

"Satoru... uh... sugar?" you ask, preparing to make yourself a second one and automatically making Satoru another one, since he looks still very bleary-eyed even after spending an hour freshening up in the bathroom.

"...? Yes?" he tilts his head, then you raise the sugar cube jar. "Yes. Uh... four. Thank you."

Suguru's blushing because of the cute tension between you and his best friend. It fills the whole kitchen, which already felt full with their two bodies and a third one now. Everyone keeps bumping elbows and yet not complaining about it, in fact it's enjoyable to be squished together. Maybe because you three waited so long to be together in person, you don't mind it. There's a silent, ever-present comedy in the air about the tight proximity.

You hum happily, tossing in one, two, three... four? That's a lot of sugar. "Suguru, tell Satoru he mustn't have so much sugar all the time. It's not good for his health."

Suguru laughs. "I try to tell him that every day. But his sweet tooth is incurable."

"His dentist must hate him." you smirk at Satoru, who's been looking at you blushingly after hearing his name mentioned.

彼女の声が今では一番好きな音だと思います。 I think her voice is my favorite sound now.

もう一度私の名前を言ってください。 Please say my name again.

"Satoru? Coffee?" you interrupt his lovey-dovey thoughts and he suddenly reanimates himself, because for a moment there he zoned out and just stared at you with those pretty eyes.

"Mmm... thanks." he takes the coffee from you with a noticeable timidness that you can't quite explain. There's a lot about him that's indescribable, you're having a small internal crisis; aren't you supposed to be fluent in English? And yet you can't even begin to describe just how sweet and gentle Satoru behaves. The most you can do is use metaphors that barely justify him.

"Suguru, tell her... her voice is nice, and also sorry for cuddling you in my sleep (and that she can definitely kick me away at night if it bothers her.) Also!" (the three of you head into the living room, and Suguru habitually trips over the cat who stalks under his feet too quietly to notice) "Also tell her... if it rains today, does she still want to go out? Because if we go out in the rain, she might get sick. And I don't want her to get sick on her trip. Not that I'd mind taking care of you, Y/n, of course."

Suguru lets out a long sigh and pulls a funny face. You smile amusedly.

"...It's too early to be a translator..." he grumbles in English after Satoru overloads him.

"What? C'mon tell her everything I said!"

"Let me have my coffee first. How about the two of you write to each other?" he suggests, putting the rim of the cup to his lips and sipping languidly.

"Eh, fine." Satoru pouts, and stalks off into his bedroom to get his phone.

Then, when he's in his bedroom, his chest flutters for some reason when he sees your suitcase standing there opened and emptied into the free cupboard space. He takes his phone, smiles at the homely feeling of seeing your belongings in his room, and leaves.

"Oh..." he has a sudden idea, and remembers the magnetic drawing board that's hanging in the kitchen. He and Suguru usually use it for writing reminders to each other, like get milk or you're an idiot or sometimes it has doodles of Mint the cat with sunglasses on.

So he returns to you with this magnetic drawing board, and points at it meaningfully, then holds one finger up and bows his head as he begins writing very slowly.

Suguru's checking the weather forecast and muttering sour complaints under his breath to you. "Of course it would rain for three days just when you arrive... at least by the weekend it will be clear and sunny..."

"Mmm... it's alright. A little rain never hurt nobody." you respond.

"I like your optimism." Suguru compliments flippantly at first, but then continues; "It's really uplifting. I think Satoru said something about you being a joy once, he said it really poetically but I can't recall it now."

"Aw..." you dip your head beneath your coffee cup, hiding the bashful expression on your face, which Suguru chuckles at.

And then, for a long moment, you just stare and watch Satoru writing on the board. You're completely captured in this moment, completely captivated in his enveloping presence as he sits next to you. He has slow, meticulous wrist movements. His knees press together, like he's worried that he'll invade your personal space if he sits too comfortably close to you. Funny, considering he cuddled you all night and you had no complaints about it.

He's writing very simply and neatly, just like how he texts you. You're a bit baffled by the characters he's using, though he's trying his best to avoid using any kanji knowing that you don't know a lot of it. He's sure you can figure things out by slowly pronouncing each hiragana character, or at least he hopes.

"Here." he hands you the magnetic drawing board, and then raises from the couch to go feed the cat.

"Minto-Minto... " he calls after the cat and makes a small cute sound to lure her out.

You're trying to read each hiragana character, eyes squinting a bit.

Suguru leans in close to you. He just takes a look, but the proximity for some reason gives both of you butterflies.

"Ooh... that's cute." Suguru comments after reading what Satoru wrote. His voice reaches deep in your tummy.

"Hm... I'll spell it out and... figure it out... anyways, why did you name your cat Mint?"

"Oh... well. There's two reasons. So the first..." he sets down his coffee, like he's about to tell you a great story, "Is because Satoru watched this show called Tokyo Mew Mew growing up, and he liked the character Minto. So he calls her Minto. And then I agreed on calling her that, but I call her Mint, because I hate mint the herb."

"You — haha, wait what? You call her Mint because you hate mint?"

"Yes. I hate mint, both the herb and the cat. She hates me too, clearly." Suguru raises his hand to remind you of how the cat scratched him the night before.

"Such a cute Hello Kitty sticker..." you tease.

"Thank you. Only the manliest men wear Hello Kitty Bandaids."

"How did she scratch you anyways...?"

"Oh, she likes to hang out in the washing machine if Satoru accidentally leaves it open. And when I try take her out of her comfy spot, she scratches me."

You sympathize, "Poor thing."

"What, the cat or me?" Suguru laughs.

"The cat." you lie teasingly.

"Wow! And here I thought you were being sympathetic!" he raises his brows.

You giggle and look at him, eyes finally making contact — ooh no that's bad bad bad, better break it immediately. So the two of you look away like you've both just indulged in a taboo intimacy. His stomach flips.

"Minto has been fed. She gave me cuddles." Satoru comes back into the room, and you admire the feeling he brings with him.

"No scratches?" Suguru asks.

"No, obviously, she loves me more than you." Satoru cheeks.

"Fuck you, haha."

Satoru makes his voice lower and leans to Suguru, "(Did she figure out what I wrote yet?)"

"Y/n did you figure out what he wrote?" Suguru asks.

"I'm trying so hard. What does this part mean...?"

Suguru shakes his head and puts his hands up. "Like I said, I'm not Mr Translator in the mornings."

"But you've had your coffee! Please, just this part..." you beg, and he can't deny that sweet begging. He easily folds for it, just like when Satoru begs for anything.

"Okay, where — this? Uh... Satoru your handwriting isn't usually this neat, is it...? That part means... 'voice'."

"Oh... ohhh!" you suddenly realize, and then the boys swoon over you when you pronounce the characters out loud to yourself.

"Uh... I think I know what it means..." you feel your cheeks warm up from the crown to your jawline.

あなたのこえがすき。 a-na-ta-no-ko-e-ga-su-ki.

"I like your voice, too." you respond to Satoru, and he half-gets it and gives you a thumbs up.

"Thanks."

You look at each other and then promptly look away with shy smiles.

"You two are cute." Suguru comments.

"Ahah... ahah shut up... hey, the sky has cleared up." you point out.

"Ooh... it cleared up 'cuz Satoru walked back into the room."

You awe at what he said.

"?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, Translator — (stop talking about me behind my back!)"

Suguru chuckles, "I wasn't! I was just — never mind. Let's get ready to head out."

And so you head into Satoru's bedroom to get ready, and Suguru heads into his bedroom, and Satoru himself goes into the cramped bathroom. Poor boy. He's really too tall for that archway, he bumped his head again.

彼女に花を買ってあげるべきでしょうか？それともちょっと多すぎますか？ Should I buy her flowers? Or is it a bit too much?

（なんてことだ）、なぜこのシャツには穴が開いているのでしょう？ (Oh my god), why does this shirt have holes?

The door slides open, he steps out of the bathroom half-dressed, and intends to quickly slip into Suguru's bedroom to borrow a shirt instead of awkwardly knocking on his bedroom door and disturbing you.

But oh, you know what? The cheesiest possible thing happens instead. The universe likes making Satoru's life a little more fun in odd times. So the two of you encounter each other in the hallway; you're fully clothed and he's got just pants and socks on.

He stutters once, swallows awkwardly, and even more awkwardly places his hand on your head as if to say sorry for this inconvenience.

But you laugh in response to the funny situation.

ああ、またあの美しい笑い声。 Ah, that beautiful laugh again.

"Sorry." he mutters, and disappears to go get a shirt from Suguru.

"It's okay." you reply.

The image of your pretty smile is burned in his head.

You can hear him telling Suguru something in the other room, and then you hear Suguru's muffled laugh as a response.

"(Don't laugh! I'm embarrassed! She's seen me shirtless now! No one's seen me shirtless except you!)"

"(You're such a virgin.)"

"(Say that again, I dare you.)"

"(Sorry, I don't understand you. I don't speak virgin, only English and Japanese.)"

You're wondering why Satoru sounds so embarrassed and annoyed, and then he groans down the hallway. It feels like you're their roommate, it's funny.

"Hi."

"Hi."

The two of you encounter each other in the hall again. This time he has a shirt, yes. And this time Suguru is there, too, and he's holding back an amused smile. He fluffs Satoru's hair as a way of embarrassing him more.

So Satoru leaves, and he leaves in such a way that it's super comedic, making you and Suguru laugh. Ooh, what a laugh that boy has; his Addam's apple shifts up and down deliciously.

"Ah... Suguru? I need help with the washing machine..."

"Yes...?"

"...this kid on the plane who sat next to me, he spilled strawberry juice all over my shirt and now it's sticky."

"But at least it smells like strawberries, right?" he jokes. "You can put it in the washing machine, I'll be doing the laundry in a second anyways..." there is a small moment of eye contact shared, then Suguru looks down, and frowns at something he sees, "(SATORU YOU LEFT YOUR SOCK ON THE FLOOR AGAIN!)"

"(Haha, sorry.)" you hear Satoru half-heartedly apologize from the other room.

So Suguru picks up the sock like an annoyed mother and goes to lecture Satoru.

"(You're embarrassing me in front of our guest. For the love of god, don't leave your goofy ass socks on the floor. What if she slips on them?)"

"(You're such a mother, Suguru.)"

You're calmly and casually going to put your juice-stained shirt in the washing machine like Suguru said, but then...

(the boys are talking and there's just this hilariously dramatic scream from the laundry room)

"DID THE CAT SCRATCH YOU?"

"(Did the cat scratch her?)"

"Ow, y-yeah!" you whine.

Suguru's the first one at the crime scene, and he picks up the cat and proceeds to lecture the cat as if it understands Japanese. It licks its lips and nubby nose and has an evil stare. You giggle.

"I'm so sorry... come, uh — (Suguru, we still have Hello Kitty adhesives somewhere, right?)" Satoru instinctually holds your hand that got scratched.

And he holds it so tenderly and caringly that it makes your whole chest quake for him.

彼女の手の傷はとても小さなものですが、それでも私は心臓がチクチクするのを感じました。 Although the wound on her hand was very small, I still felt my heart tingle.

He leads you to his bedroom, picking up some adhesives and antiseptic on the way, and sits with you on the unmade beds. You watch his fingers nimbly peeling the plastic off the adhesive, admiring how swiftly and perfectly he does even the littlest things. He has such a great attention to detail, it makes you self-conscious; is he thinking of you with the same attention to detail as everything else? Yes... he is.

He dabs some antiseptic on your small scratch, and then gently wraps and pats the Hello Kitty adhesive around it. You're pretty sure he's the one who bought them. Oh, if only you could ask him, but where even is your phone? Lost in a void somewhere, probably.

"Thank you, Satoru."

His eyes light up. His heart thumps. Why did those small, simple words have such a great effect on him?

"Mhm." he hums in acknowledgement. "You're welcome."

あなたの傷がもっと良くなるようにキスしたいです。 I want to kiss your wounds to make them better.

A second after thinking this and looking at your hand, he brings it to his lips and presses a very delicate kiss to the edge of your wrist, where the small cut spanned up to the base of your palm. Can you even call it a kiss? It's more like his lips graze your skin, hovering timidly.

And for some reason... the atmosphere becomes very intimate. Is it because of the place where he kissed you? The inner wrist has never occurred to you to be an intimate spot, and yet you're feeling as if he just kissed you on the lips.

You hear him audibly swallow, like he's conscious of this, too. The both of you become very aware of the tension in the atmosphere.

And then he looks apologetic, as if he overstepped a boundary. So you mutter a small, whispery "thanks..." which lifts his heart up into his throat and reassures him that you don't mind the intimacy.

"Mmm..." he blinks at you, pursing his lips.

His eyes linger on your lips for a moment, and it feels like he's about to... well you know his body just wants to... he sort of...

"Hey, how's the wounded patient?" Suguru interrupts, and you and Satoru spring apart like you're elastic bands that just got released after being stretched.

"Ahah, I'm okay. It's not a bad scratch." you lift your hand, "I'll cherish this Hello Kitty Bandaid forever, thank you."

"Yeah, Satoru bought 'em so you can thank him."

"I knewww he bought them, haha! So expected... cutiepie." you admire Satoru, and he's pretty sure that the last thing you said is some cute nickname, so he smirks.

"Okay, well... anyways, let's head out before the sun rises too high and it gets too hot to walk."

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.7 to lose someone you love

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 7/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 8.5k

a/n. sighhh i'm rly sorry for the wait. and thank you sooo much to the love for the last chapter omg :') this chapter is gojo pov and it's a bit different than the rest, but i still hope you enjoy and that it was worth the wait. if there are typos, they're not typos they're actually 100% intentional and you are the silly one

nav. masterlist

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When Gojo was just four years old, he called for the paramedics for the very first time. 

He had wandered around the house, wide and innocent blue eyes searching the room for the landline in the dim light of the evening, his lip quivering in a pout. His small arm reached up to pet around at the top of his parents’ dresser before his fingers wrapped around the phone. He couldn’t remember what the number was at first, the one his mother always told him to call in case of an emergency, but he remembered he scribbled it down somewhere with red crayon in one of his coloring books. By the time Gojo first realized he needed to call for help, located the landline, looked through all of his little portraits of dinosaurs and spaceships sprawled across the carpet of his room, found those three numbers, and then finally dialed them, his father had already been seizing and shaking on the bathroom floor for longer than twenty-four minutes.  

He was just a child. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know any better.

Gojo spent the remainder of that night hugging his mom in the hospital’s emergency room, his tears soaking through her shirt as she gently rocked him back and forth in her lap while whispering soothing words in his ear. His father lay motionless on the hospital bed before them, eyes shut, and Gojo will never forget the haunting sounds of the machinery that was keeping his father alive. It was a sudden onset seizure, likely stemming from the traumatic brain injury his father had suffered a few years ago, and the prolonged convulsions he experienced on the bathroom floor that night had resulted in severe brain damage. Gojo could still hear the echo of his mother’s silent cry when the doctors informed them that it’s unlikely his father would ever fully recover from this.

No reasonable adult would ever look a four-year-old in the eyes and say if you had called for help sooner or knew what to do, maybe your father would’ve still had the chance to live a long life. Yet, even at his young age, Gojo was aware of the energy in the room, and that explanation was the only truth his mind could grasp onto to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

After two weeks of clinging to life, his father miraculously woke up from his coma and persevered for the sake of his wife and son. Shortly after the incident, he began to have recurring seizures but fought through them each time. Without fail, he made Gojo breakfast in the mornings, even if it meant having to clean up the spilt orange juice on the counter every now and then because of how his hands could not stop trembling. He always walked Gojo to the bus stop, waving him goodbye, despite how troublesome and embarrassing he found it to use his cane. The love he had for his son was so palpable that it eclipsed the bitterness over how his life had ended up because of the blessing it had brought him.

In his prime, Gojo’s father was a renowned soccer player, so incredibly talented at the sport that he left a lasting mark on the way teams strategized, his presence on the field commanding respect, and he was one of the greatest talents the entire college division had ever seen.

He met Gojo’s mother at one of his freshman year games, a pretty lady in the stands that caught his eye from the sight of her laughter among her friends, her radiance drawing him to her from the field, and that’s how their love began. Exactly one year following that day, he stole one of his grandmother’s thrifted rings from her jewelry collection and that was what he used to propose. Gojo’s mother had accepted it with so many tears and so much snot running down her face, and he had never found her more beautiful. They married young and sweet, like most people back then.

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant. 

No one knew that would be the last game of soccer he would ever play.  

It was a freak accident, a distracted driver behind the wheel of a gray Chevy on a dark and rainy night, veered straight towards Gojo’s parents car to avoid a branch on the road. In a moment that could only be described as his instinct to protect, he quickly swerved his vehicle, taking the brunt of the impact on his side. His family surrounded him at his hospital bedside as they grappled with the news that he would be unable to play the sport ever again due to his traumatic brain injury that would lead to lifelong motor function loss. According to the doctors and police, had he not swerved to shield his wife and unborn child, the outcome would have been far more disastrous. After months of rehabilitation, he regained enough ability to walk and just enough function in his extremities to welcome his newborn son in his arms.

When Gojo was just six years old, two years after witnessing his father’s first seizure, he stumbled upon a dusty, forgotten soccer ball tucked away in the corner of the garage. When he eagerly presented it to his father, excitement gleaming in his eyes, he was only met with a scowl and the demand to discard it, to never bring such things like that to him ever again. His mother protested, ensuing in an argument, and as Gojo lowered his gaze to the ball in his hands, he noticed his father’s faded signature adorned with a heart and message of love for his mother. The ink, once vibrant, now faded with time.

It wasn’t until Gojo turned seven that his father finally relented to teach him more about the sport, knowing it was all his son wanted for his birthday. With determination in his heart, Gojo pleaded for his father’s guidance, eager to kick around a nearly deflated, weathered ball. His father watched his son, expression morphing from reserved and stoic, softening to surprise, then hopeful, and he found himself cheering on his son’s clumsy endeavors on the field despite how many times he tumbled and fell. Because that was his son, his pride and joy, reminiscent of him embracing the sport that he himself had cherished so many years ago. 

As Gojo grew older and excelled at the sport, securing victory after victory in every youth league, his father’s health steadily declined. The recurring seizures caused by the brain damage from his prolonged convulsions on that fateful night exacerbated over the years and started to take an increasing toll on his body. Yet still, he never missed even a single one of his son’s games. Whenever Gojo swiftly sent the ball flying through the net, the first person his eyes would search for on the field was his father, the joy in his eyes being all he cared about in the world. Gojo lived to make his father proud, because it was the only thing that made him feel like he could make up for what little he had done to protect his father that night.

You were just a child. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know any better.

The day following Gojo’s eleventh birthday, his father had his second major seizure, falling into another coma, but this time he never woke up. Two years later, his mother made the tough decision to end his life-support, and then he was gone from their lives. Gojo’s mother was inconsolable, and he knew that his father took a piece of her soul with him to heaven that night. The piece that allowed her to smile. 

one day, you’ll lose someone you love. and everything following will fail to have meaning. 

But why was he remembering all of that now? 

The shrill of Gojo’s alarm clock woke him up from the intrusive memories that were washing through the fore-front of his mind, and he grumbled to himself before whacking at his nightstand haphazardly to shut the thing off. He ran a hand across his face in an attempt to wipe the sleepiness away, features instantly settling into an annoyed scowl as he blinked his eyes open and the filtering sunlight through the windows harassed his vision. 

He laid there for a few seconds, mending to the pounding headache at his temples with his fingers rubbing circles, and then he finally sat up in bed. Blinking at his sheets, the images of last night start to flash through his mind. The heavy music, the dim lighting of the bathroom, the dizzying jealousy, and the taste of you on his tongue–

The memory is supposed to arouse him, and would on any normal day, but because you had left him standing there stunned with no release of his own at all, he instead just feels a pulsing, soul-deep throbbing pain at his crotch that could really only be due to the fact he was left high and dry by you last night. He groans at the sensation, palm pushing down on his lower abdomen to try and relax the torture, which barely helped. It’s either he jerks off or takes a cold shower, and given the former was likely not possible for him right now since his god-forsaken brain decided to push the traumatizing experiences of his childhood to the forefront of his headspace first thing in the morning, meaning it’s unlikely he’ll be able to settle into the memory of you bent over that bathroom counter for him, he decides on the cold shower. And it’s safe to say that today already fucking sucked.

The moment the chill water hits the skin of his body, he recollects the look you had on your face right before you walked out on him. Soft, searching, to him almost seraphic, but you also looked wounded. And something from your anger with him since before he even had you in that bathroom, to the agonizing moment you left him in there by himself, told him he’d messed up big time with you somewhere along the lines. 

He knew he had been a jerk last night. He didn’t really have much of a right to be seethingly possessive of you, but the sight of you kissing another guy had him seeing red and his knuckles turning white. He finds himself clenching his jaw at the unwelcome memory even now. He figured he probably ruined what would’ve otherwise been an enjoyable night for you, and so you decided to get revenge by walking out on him. However, he can’t shake the feeling that things are messy and complicated now, primarily because of him, and he felt like he needed to apologize for dragging you into his weird, confusing emotions.

He gets himself dry and dressed, grateful for the barely sufficient relief he had down south, and sighs as he grabs his phone and taps on your name, thinking about what to say to you, and just settles on typing out Hey, can we talk? and then presses send. He turns the ringer of his phone off, tosses the device onto his bed and then heads out the door. 

Geto was sitting on the couch in the loft, rubbing an ice cube across his forehead as he sprawled on the cushions and let out low and consistent groans to himself. Gojo flopped down on the armchair across from him and assumed a similar position, rubbing at his temples to nurse his own headache. Geto opens an eye to look at him.

“Morning,” he grumbles. 

“I take it I’m not the only one that feels like they’ve been hit by a truck?” Gojo asks.

Geto makes a disgruntled noise and throws his head back on the cushion. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. God knows how much I had last night.” He reaches over to the console table in the center for the bottle of Ibuprofen and tosses it to Gojo, who catches it and stares down at the label. “I didn’t really see you drink that much though. Don’t know why you’re hungover.”

Gojo sighs. He wasn’t hungover. His headache was from the fact that had a lot on his mind. Like the feeling of your skin last night. And then the pain of being blue-balled. And also for some reason his father’s death. Very exhausting to juggle those thoughts at once. 

Gojo twists the cap off the bottle of Ibuprofen and pops two pills, drowning them in his mouth with Geto’s glass of water, then runs a frustrated hand through his hair. The man across from him raises an eyebrow.

“You good?” he asks.

“Super peachy,” Gojo replies.

He sighs. “Well, whatever it is, just make sure it doesn’t affect your play today,” Geto warns him, sinking further down into the couch. Gojo lets out an exhale through his nose. Geto usually pushed further for answers whenever he was in a mood, so the fact that he didn’t this time meant that hangover was bad.

“I’m more worried about you. You think you’ll be fine in a few hours?” Gojo asks. Geto just waves his hand in the air in response as he grabs the hand towel on his chest and drags it up over his face, shielding himself from the light of the room.

“I have no choice but to be fine. We have to win this game,” is all he says through muffling cloth.

Gojo nods, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down at the carpet. It was finally the game of the 28th, arguably the second-most important game of the season. If they take home the win, they’re automatically seeded into top sixteen teams, which means they’ll only have to win four more matches after today to take home the championship. But if they lose, they’re seeded to the bottom, and then four turns into a daunting eight. In the history of the league, not a single team has ever lost their pre-seed game and still continued to win the playoff championship. So Geto was right, they have no choice but to win today. Otherwise, they could kiss goodbye to a 12-year UTokyo championship streak.

“Not going for your run?” Geto asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Nah, not feeling up for it,” Gojo replies.

He clicks his tongue. “Never skip the pre-game ritual, man.”

Gojo groans, knowing that he’s right, and so he reluctantly gets up off the chair and heads back into his room. His phone lay there on the bed, facing down, and he felt so tragically taunted by it that he weighed the options of whether or not he should check if you replied back before his run or after his run. And then he’s wondering why you affect him this much in the first place.

He resolves to check after his run, and only gets one arm through his shirt before his hands betray him and he snatches his phone, eagerly tapping the screen to turn it on. 

He sees your name at the top, where you had just replied barely a minute ago. Sure, we can talk. He blinks at his phone when he sees the polite period at the end of your message, and the proper capitalization, not to mention a vocative comma? He was starting to feel really nervous.

He didn’t care that you had only replied a minute ago, he quickly typed out his response and sent it.

|| 10:35am Gojo: Do you know how to get onto the stadium field today?

He sees you typing, and he’s holding his breath.

|| 10:36am you: yes, I do. I’m going in w the newsletter journalists. Was this what you wanted to talk about?

What did he want to talk to you about exactly? Something like I’m sorry about being an ass last night, totally not cool for me to be that territorial over you, although I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again because seeing you kiss someone other than me kind of made me want to die. Also, I’m sorry for acting like you’re just someone I know, I don’t know why I did it. I guess it’s because I didn’t know if you thought of me as any more than just someone you know either, and that thought was frightening. Did I mention I hated seeing you kiss someone that wasn’t me?

He’s never really been good with words. Or feelings. 

10:37am Gojo: No, it’s not, it’s something else. I’ll come find you on the field before the game starts

He stands there, gaze fixed on his phone screen for the minute-long pause you took to respond, that for him felt like tortured eons, just for you to send-

10:39am you: k

Gojo finishes getting dressed for his run, anxiety brewing in his stomach drearily, and when he heads out the door of the house, the fresh morning air doesn’t help calm him down like it usually does. Of course, as he’s running, his thoughts wander to you. He’s thinking about the smell of your hair–or was it the perfume on your skin?–either way, it was intoxicating. The curve of your neck, that spot that made you whimper– fuck. Think of other things. Like the sound of your voice, soft and sometimes needy, but he enjoys it that way–makes his head spin. Or when you’re being sweet and thanking him for something you shouldn’t, because to him everything about you was a privilege and never a task. Even in the hot spring sun of the late morning, he finds himself missing the warmth from your body, and that look. That goddamn look in your eyes when you’re peering into his like you want him to–

“I’m sure he’s really proud of you.”

His legs stop him on their own, like they know something about the feelings in his chest that he doesn’t, and he’s standing still on the sidewalk of the neighborhood now. Short puffs of air escape his lips from his blood pumping fast through his body, and he could physically hear the sound of you in his head. Intimate enough to where he turns to the side slightly facing his surroundings, like there was no way it was just a memory and you weren’t actually near. He finds himself swallowing hard and having to consciously keep moving forward.

Gojo makes it back to the house, freshens up for the second time today, and gets dressed into his UTokyo soccer uniform with his signature #10 jersey. He leaves with Geto to campus, where all his teammates gather before eventually boarding the bus to the UTokyo stadium field ten minutes away. Coach Yaga yells their ears off in the locker rooms in an attempt to get their plays for today through their brains, and the exhilarating noises from the stands as they make their formal entrance through to the field fills Gojo’s senses, along with the obnoxiously loud music playing as pre-game rituals settle in. Gojo sets his bag down on the bench and joins the others in warm-ups for about fifteen minutes, before catching a chance to sneak away and look for you across the expansive pristine grass.

After lightly jogging around the perimeter of the field for a couple of minutes, he finally spots you, his raised eyebrows now flattening under the fringe of his hair as he relaxes. He didn’t realize he was tensing his shoulders until now. You were just beyond the sidelines near a hydration station, fidgeting with something in your camera case, lips pressed together in a frustrated expression, and he saw your body sulk with the sigh you let out as you must’ve realized you had forgotten something. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards into a slight smile, an unconscious reaction to seeing you look so damn cute from your troubled face decorated with a pout. And then he remembered he had been looking for you, and he had found you, and the only thing to do next was to be near you. 

He ambles up to you, and you only catch sight of him when he’s just a few feet away and finally standing in front of you. He sees your eyes widen slightly, lashes blinking once, twice, and then there’s a blush of color to your cheeks as you fidget with the stadium access badge hung around your neck. He noticed there were grass stains on your jeans over your knees when he looked down.

“Hey,” Gojo greets you over the loud music playing on the field.

“Hi,” he sees you say, and he realizes he can barely hear you.

“Let’s go over there,” Gojo yells, jerking his head over to the side.

He leads you over to an area tucked near the east side entrance, a corner slightly underneath one of the sectioned stands where the loud cheers of the stadium somehow reflected off less. It was about as private or silent of a place that the two of you could manage to have a conversation on a soccer field before a match, if you could just ignore the dressed up school mascots rehearsing their walk-ins and walk-outs through the entryway.

You take a few steps backwards until your back hits the concrete slab wall, and he’s in front of you as he watches you study him for a second, taking in the sight of his uniform, before your eyes finally meet his.

“Are you ready to take your photos today?” he asks you, poorly attempting to make small talk despite the images of you with him in that bathroom last night flashing through his memory. Now was seriously not the time to be turned on.

You nod, and respond “I am”, giving him absolutely nothing to work with.

He sighs. “Listen, about last night, I just wanted to apologize. For dragging you into that bathroom with me, although you did ask me to-” He sees you narrow your eyes and cross your arms across your chest. “Sorry,” he sighs, “Seriously, I just…I don’t know what got over me then.”

“You don’t know? Or you just don’t want to tell me?” you prod at him. He briefly considers pretending he doesn’t hear your question over the sound of the stadium, but he knows he wouldn't get away with that, not with the way you’re looking at him like he’s just one more fuck-up away from making you storm off.

He looks at your lips. “I guess the only thing I know is that I didn’t like seeing you kiss someone else.”

You shake your head and close your eyes. “I know you didn’t, Satoru. Otherwise last night wouldn’t have happened. What I’m asking is why.”

He’s struggling now, searching his head for answers, like he’s fighting for his life on a test that he didn’t study for. When he looks down, he notices your foot has been tapping impatiently. And when he looks back up, there’s that wounded expression from last night again. “I don’t know,” is all he can offer.

You uncross your arms from your chest, lips parting slightly as your eyebrows pinch upwards with a disheartened look. He sees your gaze shift slowly across the features of his face, searching, and he wonders if you can see something within him that he can’t. The thought terrifies him. “Fine. It’s my turn to speak.”

He nods slowly. He wasn’t sure what you wanted to say to him. He imagined you would just cuss him out with a few choice words for being a raging asshole last night and then you’d be on your merry way. But he senses sincerity in your voice. Not that he was phenomenal at reading people, though.

He watches as you clench and unclench your fists at your sides nervously, then twiddle with the strap of your camera, then tuck your hair behind your ears, then blink rapidly as you look up at him, then worry your bottom lip between your teeth, then open your mouth to speak just to close it again.

“Do you need me here for any of this?” he says in an attempt at a joke to ease you, but when all you give him is a glare, he’s fearful enough to be serious again.

“I like you.”

He blinks. “Thanks? I like you, too.”

“No, no. I like you as in I have feelings for you,” you clarify. Gojo’s eyes widen at the confession, and he stands up straighter. 

“Oh,” he finally replies when he realizes he hasn’t said anything yet, “I…I wouldn’t have guessed that.” Holy shit, if that was how you felt, then he really has been a raging asshole this entire time. 

You roll your eyes. “I know. You’re a hopelessly dense, menacingly flirty, sleazy frat dude college athlete,” you sigh, “But I still like you. Unfortunately, tragically, annoyingly, much to my dismay, against my better judgment,”

“Okay, I get it-”

“I think it started that night you stayed with me when I was stranded with my flat,” you confess suddenly, your chest rising a little bit faster, and his expression softened. “I just really appreciated you being there for me.”

His voice is gentle when he speaks next. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I would’ve been there if it happened ten times over,” he pauses, “although I’d seriously question your ability to drive if it happened that many times.”

“And I think it started when you walked me out to the practice field for the first time, and you told me you cared about my dreams,” you say with a slight step forwards to him, unable to acknowledge his words at all, as if there was a script you needed to stick to that was the only thing keeping you from falling apart in front of him. 

He finds himself instinctively leaning towards you, close enough to where he notices you’re wearing a different perfume today. “But that was before the night of your car incident,” he reminds you.

“I know,” you nod, and there’s that look in your eyes that he loves, “and I also think it started that first night we met and you looked sad when I said we weren’t friends.”

Gojo’s eyes widen, his heart skipping a beat in his chest, and he finds himself breathing shallowly as he listens to your words. “y/n…I think you’re working backwards here.”

“I’m trying to say I’ve had feelings for you this whole time,” you say to him, “they were tiny at first, I didn’t really see them, but now they’re too big for me to hold all by myself.”

Gojo nods slowly, and he already knows what you’re going to ask of him next.

“I like you in a way that makes me want more from you,” you admit, eyes steadily on his with resolve, “I don’t want to be just someone you know, or someone only for sex-”

“y/n-” he tries to interrupt you.

“And I certainly won’t be someone that sits around to wait for a guy if he doesn’t want me back,” you say, but there’s an apprehensive look in your eyes when you speak next, “so, I need you to answer to my feelings.”

Gojo blinks at you, his heart beating fast in his chest from your confession, and he feels like with every testing second that he fails to answer you back, you slip further and further away from him.

He knew he had affection for you. He always wanted to be close to you, even when he already was, as if he couldn’t get close enough. He wanted to take care of you, and see that softness in your expression when he knew you felt safe and happy. He couldn’t stand the thought of you with someone else, and it took him this damn long to realize as he stood in front of you that he had no interest in being with anyone else either. So then why did his chest feel so tight? And why was he struggling so much to give you an answer?

one day, you’ll lose someone you love. and everything following will fail to have meaning. 

Gojo’s eyes widened as the memories of his life flashed through his mind, a chill running down his spine as they knock the wind from his lungs and he feels that same sense of dread that has been following him like a ghost since that day when he was just four years old, standing in the hallway, wondering why his father was having a nightmare on the bathroom floor when he should’ve known it was something far worse than that.

Gojo blames himself for so much that had gone wrong in his life. And he should know that it’s not his fault, but all of his grief was greedy to breathe and live, desperate to find a reason for why he had to lose someone he loved, and his grief found a home in all of his guilt.

And he was terrified to lose someone close to him again. Even if he decided to see what could become with you, even if he thought for a moment that he was allowed to feel any sort of happiness with you, the thought of falling short and failing frightened him. He was so tired of adding to a long list of regrets in his life. And he knew he wasn’t what you needed— what you deserved.

“I…” he starts, swallowing the lump in his throat, “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same way about you.” He knows he sounds convincing enough from the way the light in your eyes dimmed, anticipation faltering and replaced with a sad expression over your features. He needs to take a shaky breath to continue speaking. “It seems I’ve led you on in a lot of ways, and I apologize for that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen anymore.”

You’re silent for a long moment, twiddling with your fingers as you look up at him. “I see…” you say, and when he sees your lower lip quiver slightly, he feels sick. His instinct is to reach out for you, pull you closer to him, but he knows that’s not a luxury you would allow for him, and he knew it wasn’t one he deserved either. 

Your voice is trembling when you speak next. “I appreciate you letting me know. And you don’t have to worry about not leading me on anymore, because this will be the last time you see me.”

His entire body runs rigid. 

“Why?” It’s a stupid question, but he asks it anyway.

“So I can get over you.”

All he can do is stand with the feeling of a chill in his bones.

“And I ask that you’ll respect my space while I do,” you add on at the end.

He’s silent for a long moment, then lets out the breath he was holding in. “I will,” he says, the promise leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

There’s a moment where you both just look at each other, as though the two of you were trying to hold onto the moment, but you’re the one to break out of it first, and he’s the one to wish it would’ve lasted a little longer.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” The words already sounded like goodbye. “I’ll make sure you look nice in your photos,” you say with a small smile, holding your camera up slightly, “and good luck today.” 

He wonders if he’ll regret this moment.

“Thanks.”

He steps aside so that you can walk past him and back out to the field. Gojo takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly, and relaxes his shoulders. Well, that was intense. Definitely not the direction he thought that conversation was going to go in at all, but that’s fine. He handled it fine. Totally fine. Things were going to be totally fine. He just has to play the match now.

The first step he takes back towards the field, he feels his uneasiness return, with the second step the feeling of his heart beating becomes violent in his head, with the third step he swears he can’t feel the tips of his fingers, with the fourth he feels severely nauseous, and with his fifth- was he seriously about to throw up?

He barely makes it back onto the grassy field cutting across the obstacles of people at the sidelines, using all his strength to not double over before he reaches a table and grabs one of the water bottles. He sees a group of men, all dressed in suits and loitering near the team manager’s station, perk their heads up at the sight of him and he’s groaning internally. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to any damn recruiters, but he sees one of them bold enough to approach him in his periphery. He sighs, taking one last gulp of water, and tries to stand up straight and look like he wasn’t going insane.

“Hi, I’m Jousuke Tsuda, recruiter for Tokyo Metropolitan’s national league team,” he says and stretches his hand out for Gojo to shake. The man looked aged, with thick creases to his forehead that could only mean he’s witnessed a hell of a lot of life and he has the soul to prove it.

Gojo’s eyes widen at the mention of Tokyo-Met’s team, and he grabs onto the man’s hand in as firm of a handshake he could manage. “Gojo Satoru.”

The man laughs. It’s deep with a slight crackle. “I know your name, son. Every recruiter in the country does. You’ve got a lot of eyes on you right now.”

“I’m flattered.”

The man raises an eyebrow at him. “Surely you feel pressured.”

Gojo only hums to himself.

The man glances at his watch. “I know the match starts in a few, but if I could have a moment of your time. Take a walk with me?”

“Sure.”

The two trail down the line of the field. “I’ll get straight to the point, kid. Tokyo-Met’s really keen on scouting you for the national league following your graduation,” he says.

Gojo feels like he should be excited about that news, actually, he should be ecstatic and groveling at this man’s feet, but instead he just feels empty and hollow inside. 

“Forget the fact that you’ll be playing in the nation’s most revered team,” the man continues, “but compensation is high, too.” He pulls his phone out from his front suit pocket, tapping away at his calculator app, then turns the screen towards Gojo. Holy shit. “I’m talking about a 350 million yen per year contract here. I could advocate for higher based on how well you perform the rest of the season.”

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Gojo responds.

The man is silent for a second then sighs. When the two of them reach a somewhat secluded bench near the corner of the field, he sits down on it and expects Gojo to do the same, to which he complies.

“You know, I’m used to much more enthusiastic reactions from players that hear this kind of news, although they’re usually ecstatic for barely a hundred million a year compared to what I’ve just offered you,” the man says.

“I guess it’s the pressure,” Gojo says to him, “it’s got my emotional response circuit all fried up, y’know?” He was pulling excuses out of his ass. 

A small hmph noise is heard beside him before he sees the man pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his slacks. “I know your father has left big shoes to fill, kid. I can’t imagine the fear of feeling like you’ll fail, or the anxiety of an injury taking you out any time you’re on the field, not wanting history to repeat itself.”

Gojo’s eye twitches and he narrows his eyes at the man seated beside him. “My dad got injured in a car accident, not while playing the sport.”

“I know,” he responds, finally pulling a cigarette out of the pack, holding it between his two fingers as he rests his wrist on his knee. “The story touched the hearts of everyone in Tokyo, and the entire soccer community in general. I remember reading about it in the school newspaper. Back in the day when they still printed those things out.” Gojo’s surprised, and he’s only given a sideways smile before the man continues. “I knew your father, went to the same college as him.”

“I don’t think he ever mentioned you,” Gojo says.

He lets out a hearty laugh. “He despised me. I was a money-hungry finance major that saw a huge opportunity in mediator sports recruitment agencies. Figured if I could sign a player like your father to my start-up, I’d be set for life. He was a smart man not to sign, regardless of how things turned out.” He shakes his head musingly. “I gave up after that and got a real job. You’ll find a lot of your hopes and dreams die in college.”

“I see,” Gojo says.

The man leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and looks over with a serious expression on his face. “Tell me, son, what does this sport mean to you? Why have you dedicated your entire life to playing it?”

Gojo only gives him a cursory glance.

“Is it the fame and attention? The pride? The thrill? The prospect of earning millions and then retiring at thirty, and you get to watch your wife and kids playing in your grand estate’s pool on a sunny summer Sunday while you’re swirling around a glass of ‘90s scotch in your hand?” he asks, tone derisive but luring. “Or does it mean something more to you?”

Gojo looks down at his hands that were clenched tightly into fists. He relaxes them so that his fingers fall open weakly and his palms face the sky. He remembers the feeling of being a kid, the smell of freshly cut grass consuming his senses, the sight of bruises on his knees from how many times he fell on the field chasing after the ball, and the admiration in his father’s eyes every single time he stood back up. “It’s a chance to prove myself,” he finally says.

“Prove yourself of what?” the man pushes.

“That I’m capable of greatness,” Gojo admits, “like my father.”

The man nods slowly in acknowledgment. “Yes, your father was a great man. But not because of how he played the game. He was a great man because he knew which sacrifices were truly important.”

Gojo looks at him wearily. “Are you trying to tell a player you’re attempting to recruit that the sport isn’t important?”

He shakes his head, looking straight ahead. “No, it’s important. But it’s the meaning you give to your life outside of it that gives it importance.”

Gojo raises an eyebrow at him, not really sure what to make of the cryptic sentiment.

The man claps his hands together and stands up. “Alright, I’m sure that’s all the time you’ve got for me. Think about my offer, and if any other recruiters approach you with better ones, just know I’ll push for higher.” He hands Gojo his business card and brings his cigarette to mouth, balancing it between his lips. “Reach out if you have any questions.”

Gojo looks down at the card, his finger tracing the edge of it as he studies the shimmering gold lettering. “Why not just hit me with your best offer and leave? Why bother having this kind of conversation with me?”

The man pulls his cigarette from his mouth, pinching it between his two fingers once again. “We’ve all got regrets we want to make right, kid,” he says. And with his hands in his pockets, he walks away. 

Gojo watches the man as he makes his way down the sidelines back to the cluster of men in suits. When he hears the referee whistle, he shoves the business card in the pocket of his uniform shorts, and makes his way towards the center of the sidelines.

His teammates instantly come up to him with optimistic smiles and encouraging pats on his chest and back, trying to keep the energy high to manifest a win for today, but Gojo just feels exhausted and like he’s drowning. He has so many thoughts swimming around in his head, he can’t even begin to explain, and he just wants someone to see through him at this moment. 

The teams stand on the field for the national anthem, and then Osaka Uni’s team disperses while UTokyo’s alma mater plays. Coach Yaga yells for all the players to huddle before the coin toss and reminds them of their plays for the afternoon.

Nanami pulls his sweatbands onto his wrists, Geto pulls his hair back up into a bun, Chosou pulls tightly on the straps of his goalie gloves, and Gojo pushes his hair up off his forehead to snap his headband onto his face. He looks around to his other teammates and that sense of pride he feels to be a part of this team swells dully despite his emotions.

UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kick, and Gojo finds his place in the center of the field. The crowd is already cheering preemptively, their pride in their home team evident in the passion of the filled stands, and Gojo peers across the large expanse of the field as he rests his foot on top of the soccer ball. It’s a scene he’s seen a hundred times in his life, but the sight is daunting today. He takes his foot off the ball when he hears the referee signal the start of the match with a short piercing shrill of his whistle, and the second Gojo draws his leg back and his foot makes contact with the ball, sending it flying forward, he can already feel that something feels very off.

Every single time he had the ball in his possession, his footwork felt heavy and delayed. His teammates had set up more than three chances for him to score, and he shot wide every single time. The crowd’s cheers started to diminish, and he could feel the growing discontent and exasperation from all eyes on the field. Ten minutes before halftime, they were down 1-0, and stakes were starting to feel high. 

One of his teammates passes a ball right to Gojo’s favored foot, the crowd instantly erupting with noise and stands to their feet as Gojo shuffles the ball past the penalty line, through Osaka’s defenders, eyes locked with the perfect opportunity to strike. This was good, he had his rhythm back, even if just for a moment, and he can see it, clear as day–the trajectory to the goal. With the feeling of slick sweat on his face and determination in his veins, he withdraws his leg back to kick the ball. The world went silent in his head, the only sound being the beating of his heart, and-

“this will be the last time you see me.”

When he recalls your voice, everything moves in slow-motion as his ankle slips slightly on the grass from his moment of hesitation, and then the ball is swiftly stolen by an opposing team player and maneuvered past him. 

“Fuck!” he hisses, immediately turning his head around as he helplessly watches the opponents players move with fervor in pursuit of another goal. The crowd hushed in horror as Osaka passed the ball through UTokyo’s defense, swiftly steadying down the side and sending the ball flying through Chosou’s outstretched arms. 2-0, and the lead ref calls for halftime. 

“Dude,” one of his teammates comes up to him as they walk back towards the benches and throws his arms up in the air, “what the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Seriously, man, not a single goal in the first half? You know how many times I’ve set up a shot for you?" another one of his teammates chimes in, nudging Gojo’s shoulder way harder than he’d usually warrant, and shortly after, a blaming fest begins among the players.

“Enough!” Coach Yaga yells out. All of the players quiet down and look at him, some grudgingly gulping down water while others just try to regain their breath. Gojo’s arms just hang at his sides in defeat. “We’re pushing everything on offense now, we can’t afford to miss any more shots,” Coach Yaga says, his fear of losing the match evident too despite his rough tone, “Satoru, I’m switching you out. Dai, take his place.”

“What?” Gojo asks incredulously, charging forward so he’s in front of the older man. “I’m not getting benched.”

“You will, because I say so,” Coach Yaga says sternly, “you’re distracted, boy. I can see it all over your face.”

“I’m n-”

“Just sit down,” Coach Yaga lets out a disgruntled noise. “When players are distracted, they get injured. Have faith in your teammates.”

“Coach,” Gojo asks again, this time almost pleading. He hardly ever questioned Coach Yaga’s calls, he had a great deal of respect for the man. But something within him just absolutely refused to get benched today.

Coach Yaga stares at him for a long moment, and it’s only when one of the refs chirps their whistle that he finally exhales and gives him a reluctant jerk of his head towards the field.

Geto sets up the perfect shot for Nanami to sweep for a kick that barely lands through the goalie’s lunge for the ball, and then on the next play, secures another goal himself. The score is tied, 2-2, with eight minutes left on the clock. Gojo manages to steal the ball on a defensive play, and it’s only really a stroke of luck that he manages in one solid pass the entire game, straight to Geto’s foot, crowd roaring, and he watches his best friend shoot and sink within the last minute and a half of the game. 

3-2. UTokyo’s win. 

Gojo sighs, exhausted as he makes his way to the bench, crouching down and zipping open his duffle bag. Spirits are low among the team despite the excitement from the crowd over their win because of how hauntingly close the loss felt during the last moments of the match, disinterested in celebrating at all as they meekly dispersed across the field. Gojo knew he was going to get a massive yelling-to from Coach Yaga and he could feel the searing disappointment from his teammates for not carrying the game more. This was just a bare win, could’ve gone either way, and his performance today wasn’t a good look for any recruiters either. He felt so emotionally and physically drained from this entire day, and he wasn’t sure how the hell he could feel any better.

Shuffling through his bag for a water bottle, his knuckles hit something cold and metallic-sounding tucked away inside. He hums to himself curiously before grabbing it and pulling it out.

strawberry vanilla soda.

Hm. This wasn’t the one you gave him a couple of days ago. He already drank that one. Did you sneak this into his bag? His brow furrows, and he stares at the sparkling smiling sloth on the label. When he turns the can in his hand, he sees a little note messily scribbled in black ink. 

good luck today! u got this :) ur a star

His eyes widened.

And putting his heart through a shredder would’ve hurt less than when he realizes what an idiot he’s been this entire time.

He’s instantly searching the field, peering through crowds of people, mascots, banners, flags, for any sight of you. He’s not sure how or why he goes in the direction that he does, but deep down it’s because he knows you like taking millions of pictures of flowers, and the west side exit has endless blooms of them. And so when he runs out that way, cleats tapping against the concrete pavement that leads out into the courtyard in the front of the stadium, and spots you standing there, he finally lets out the breath of air he feels like he’s been holding in his chest all day.

You’re aiming your camera at teal and orange petals scattered across the decorative florals lining the raised concrete planters, then pull it down from your face and twiddle with the settings, tilting your head to the side. You then pluck at one of the blooms that was spilling over the edges, bringing it to the tip of your nose curiously. And he just watches, chest heaving from the urgency that he rushed to get to you, heart aching from the desperation of wanting to be near you. He wanted to ask you how you were feeling, he wanted to know how your pictures came along, he wanted to know what you were doing after this, and he wanted you to be with him. But most importantly, he wanted to make sure that this wasn’t the last time he ever saw you again. 

It isn’t until a minute after that you seem keen on his presence too, and you swiftly turn your head in his direction, surprised. “Satoru?” you say. He wonders if he’ll melt. He wonders if those ice-cold barriers he’s built over the years could thaw just from the way you say his name.

But when he takes a step forward, you take a step back. And he halts. The expression on your face was unfamiliar to him. Once soft, curious, trusting. Now you looked at him like you were guarding something, keeping it safe from him, and he no longer had the right to intrude. And then he realizes the hell he’s put you through all this time.

He regrets pushing you away.

“I know I said I’d respect the fact that you want space,” he says through bated breath, “but I…I just can’t stand the thought of never seeing you again.”

You’re solemn when you look at him, reading the plea in his eyes, and then slowly shake your head. He feels like he can’t breathe. 

“I’m sorry. Goodbye.”

And then you walk out of his life.

a/n. thank you for reading! i have a few more author notes that explain a few things that i couldn't really find a way to fit into the chapter organically, but wanted to address before moving on, if you're curious you can find them here. hope to see you in the next one! pls lemme know if i missed any tags i'm sorry if i did :')

➸ take me to chapter eight!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @lost-resonance @foulprincesscycle @purplehallow11 @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @erencvlt @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @hojoslutoru @drthymby @ninitoru @btszn @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @fvsm4x @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @cierocanteat (thank you to everyone <3)

[catssluvr]

𝓭𝓻𝓾𝓷𝓴 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮, emily prentiss

s16/17!emily prentiss x fem!reader

you drunk call emily

warnings: r being suggestive, r is wipped lol, so much fluff 🤍

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

Emily rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers, the computer screen in front of her making her eyes sting from the brightness. Working for the FBI was never easy but being unit chef felt like an impossible task sometimes. She hadn´t even noticed everyone leave the office at some point and the way it was pitch black outside, the clock hitting midnight.

The sudden buzz of her phone made her let out a frustrated sigh, but soon her expression turned smiley as she saw the familiar picture of you snuggling sergio against your cheek pop up on her screen. You had went out for a girls night with Pen and JJ at the bar so she could imagine that by now you were probably tipsy - if not slightly more than that. She had been tempted to join you two, especially with you looking at her with puppy dog eyes while begging her to go but she didn´t have other choice but to decline it.

Picking up the device, she quickly answered the call with a sweet, "Hey angel, what's up?" Not missing the way your drunk giggles sounded immediately after.

"Ems, hi!" You said, making an effort to sound composed but failing miserably. "I miss you sooo much." You stated between giggles and Emily could hear Garcia´s voice teasing you for being so lovey.

"Yeah, love?" She mumbled softly, still trying to figure out the reason behind this random call but having a light guess.

"Mhm, so much 'Mily." Your words were slured and she had to hold the urge to chuckle at the state you were currently in.

"Well, i miss you too. Are you okay? Do you need anything?" She asked, pressing the phone against her ear and supporting it her shoulder as she closed her laptop.

"Uhmm.." Your voice showed confusion before JJ whispered something to you, what Emily assumed was her reminding you of the reason behind the call. "Oh- right! Could you please pick me up? I know you're working- i'm so sorry-"

"I'll be on my way, angel. Stay right where you are, kay?" She interrupted your rambling before you could continue, keeping her voice as soft as possible. She did have work to do, but truth is you were way more important than all that. And she already felt bad enough for turning you down earlier.

"Kay Ems.. love you." You whispered with a hiccup.

"I love you, now stay close to Garcia and JJ and i'll be there in no time." She said before hanging up and quickly gathering her things before leaving the office.

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

You huffed grumply, sleepines hitting you as you burried your face in Penelope's shoulder. Your mind was hazy, only thing in your mind being Emily as you waited for her outside the bar. Even if the alcohol in your blood was making everything feel more dramatic than it was, you did miss her.

"Don't worry peach, she'll be here soon." Pen comforted you, runing a hand through your hair with her colorful nails.

You sniffled softly, the booze and sleepiness making you overly emotional. But before the tears started breaming in your eyes, you catched the glimpse of the gray haired woman walking out of her car and walk towards you.

"Ems! You're heree-" You ran to hug her, fingers grabing her long coat and nose nuzzling her neck and collarbone. "You smell so so good, always do." You mumbled innocently, ignoring the two girls standing right there and focusing on the way Emily's chest moved as she chuckled at your clinginess.

"Hello to you too, angel. Ready to go?" Her hands gently tucked the strands of hair that fell on your face behind your ears, giving you a pleased smile when you nod. "You two need a ride home?" She asked the two girls standing in front of you.

"Nah we´re okay, just felt like a good idea to call you to come and get your lighthead girlfriend." JJ chuckled and Penelope soon followed, quickly sending you goodbyes before disappearing into the bar again.

"Weirdos." Emily snorted with a smile before her atention returned to you. You were currently pressed up against her, your arms had sneaked their way inside her coat in attempt to warm yourself up from the chilly weater of the night.

"C'mon sweetheart, let's get you inside the car so you can warm up." She pulled you with her as you both started walking towards the car, struggling slightly as you were holding onto her arm like a koala.

"You're so pretty Ems, did ya know?" You pressed pecks to her jaw as you spoke, cheeks pink from the booze. Your gestures were no suprise to her, you tended to get overly affectionate when drunk. "I love eyes and your cute lips..." You went on as you pressed kisses against her cheek and the corner of her lips.

"Yeah? What else?" She urged you to continue, her voice humurous as you approached the car.

"Oh- your hair, love your hair. Looks so good like this." Your fingers clumsly played with her silver hair, lovingly gazing at her. Emily knew exactly what you meant by this, she had been reluctant to embrace the natural color of it but now she wouldn't even think of painting it again, not after the way you looked at her.

She guided you inside the car, gently kissing your forehead as she buckled your seatbelt. "Ugh and your nose- so pretty- gorgeous. Dunno how you could ever not like it. It feels so good when you´re-"

"Okay love i think i got it, thank you." She interrupted before you could get any further with details, but you didn't fail to notice the way her cheeks reddened at your last unfinished phrase, giggling at her sudden shyness.

As soon as she got in the driver's seat, your hand was grabbing hers, playing with her fingers as an effort to stay awake. Your eyes droppy and your head slightly lulling to the side - which she couldn't help but chuckle at before her eyes focused on the road ahead.

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

Unlocking the door to her appartment, Emily turned on the lights before pulling you to her room. You jumped on her bed before she could try to stop you, snuggling up to the pillow she slept in. "Hey none of that, we have to change your clothes and take off that makeup." She grabbed your calves as gently as possible, pulling you to edge of the bed, giving you a look that you knew meant she wasn't gonna let you sleep before you did what she said.

"Ugh okay, mom." You sassed before dragging yourself to her closet, rummaging through her pyjamas. "But just so you know, i'm using your clothes." You mumbled out with a joking tone.

"I'll get you some water." She said as she exited the room.

When she got back she was not suprise to see you sitting on the bathroom counter, half asleep with an unused makeup wipe in you hand.

"Here, let me do that angel." She sighed and took the wipe from you, softly wiping your makeup with one hand as the other held your head so she could sucessfully clean your face.

"All done." She mumbled after a momet, tapping your thigh as she helped you out of the counter. Her hands softly rubbed your arms before leading you into the bedroom and inside the comfy covers of her bed.

After making you take a few sips of water, she joined you in the bed, puling you against her chest. Her arms wrapped around your hips, gently running her fingers up and down the fabric of her your pyjamas.

"Thank you for taking care of me, i love you Em." You whispered sleepily before falling into slumber, head nestled against her chest and finger lightly grabbing at her shirt.

"I love you, sweet girl." She smiled against your hair, her own eyes starting to feel heavy.

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

a/n: i wrote this when i was sick and i lowkey hate it 😭

anyway emily deserves some love and hapiness in these last few seasons so i had to 🫶🏻

love you,

cat 🤍

[marlenesluv]

Hotty Toddy. (OP)

request: “as an ole miss fan the gators cheerleader also hurt my heart, but it was so cute. could you do like logan sargeants lil sister (@carolinewalkerrr fc pls) who is an ole miss cheerleader x oscar piastri”

note: sorry this took sooo long. but i stuck with the og nostalgic layout here since it was already started lol. i made reader 21 in this since oscar's 23!

pairing: oscar piastri x sargeantsis!reader!olemisscheerleader

fc: caroline walker (carolinerwalkerrr on insta)

warnings: none! just cute fluff

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: oscarpiastri, logansargeant, and 25,014 others

y/n.sargeant: just an ole miss cheerleader with her mclaren bf, what else? ❤️🧡

view comments…

sergeantsibsfp: nothing just a healthy couple whom i envy 🥲

user6: the way he hard launched them a few weeks ago and i already know that they are each others endgame fr

oscarpiastri: she’s also a mclaren cheerleader ;)

↳ y/n.sargeant: obviously <3

olemissedits: our favorite couple 🥹

user4: adborableeee omg

yourbsf: cheer mom and driver dad

↳ oscarpiastri: clingy child

↳ y/n.sargeant: LMAO

↳ yourbsf: yeah but you guys love taking me to din din

logansargeant: your welcome for taking the first pic btw

↳ y/n.sargeant; oh. yeah. thanks!

f1wags: so prettyy. you guys are adorable

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.sargeant, landonorris, and 206,024 others

oscarpiastri: las vegas gp race weekends with my <3

view comments…

y/n.sargeant: ya ya ya <3

↳ user7: i think she means "ra ra ra" guys🤗

logansargeant: excuse me? come support me this weekend in our literal country?? im offended.

↳ y/n.sargeant: of course, i'll come support you (alex)

↳ alex_albon: :)))

↳ logansargeant: wtf?????

↳ oscarpiastri: take your eagle elsewhere

↳ logansargeant: rethink that. whose sister are you dating?

↳ oscarpiastri: .....sorry🙃

user9: y/n cheering on oscar and logan has to be like, a full time job

yourbsf: MA'AM??? i need water cause i can't breath!!!

↳ y/n.sargeant: i fear you mean cpr, not water?

↳ yourbsf: this is why i'm a cheerleader and not premed 😬

f1wags: yeah, she's a cheerleader, but she's also our beauty queen fr🌹

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liked by: oscarpiastri, yourbsf, and 28,032 others

y/n.sargeant: me and my love in vegas

view comments...

oscarpiastri: i love you babe

↳ y/n.sargeant: i love youuuuu

↳ logansargeant: are we throwing that word around now??

user1: shes stunning and hes...there?

↳ user8: plssssss foullll

olemiss9fp: our fav girl is just doing hot gal shit in vegas 💅

yourbsf: ughhhh come home the kids miss you (me, im the kids)

↳ y/n.sargeant: we'll bring you next time <3

↳ oscarpiastri: she's lying, we will not bring you

↳ yourbsf: :(

f1wags: our girl can dresssss👏🖤

user5: they give me golden red bf and husky gf vibes

↳ user3: nooo cuz i agree so much

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liked by: y/n.sargeant, landonorris, and 231,855 others

oscarpiastri: back in mississippi to cheer my girl on💙❤️

view comments...

user5: just so everyone knows, lando, daniel, charles, max, carlos, and logan were seen with oscar and y/n today in mississippi before the game...

↳ user7: sooo, they're gonna be at the game tonight?

↳ user5: i think so? that's what i'm assuming

y/n.sargeant: hotty toddy ;)

↳ olemisscheer: hotty toddy!!!!!!

logansargeant: thank god we're back in the usa

↳ landonorris: yeah, now you can let your eagle wings spread and soar, logan

↳ danielricciardo: as an honorary american, it feels good to be home 🦅

↳ logansargeant: uhhuh

sargeantsibs2edits: can't wait for more sargeant sibling content while they're home

yourbsf: my girl's home :')

*liked by y/n.sargeant*

f1wags: y/n looks so adorable in her outfit🥹

user3: when they go to each others games and support each other >

piastri9fp: oscar's a natural on the bike fr

_______________________________________________

twitter:

Driver Updates @offthefridupdates • 3hr ago

Update: Oscar Piastri and girlfriend Y/n Sargeant were spotted leaving his private jet with Lando Norris and Logan Sargeant in tow. A few hours later, Daniel Ricciardo, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, and Carlos Sainz were seen leaving Max's private jet and meeting up with the other four.

The eight have since been spotted getting lunch and Y/n showing them around The University of Mississippi, aka Ole Miss, where she goes to school where she cheers and is in the premed program.

Then, at tonight's game, Oscar is supporting his girlfriend with her brother and the other drivers previously mentioned.

Hotty Toddy, Y/n!!!!!

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Sara @sarraluvsf1 • 2hr ago

Y/n is literally my idol. She's the best cheerleader, amazing premed student, focused, beautiful, she's dating her brother's best friend like girl...i want to be youuuuu

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Michael @mikestalks7 • 2hr ago

I started watching F1 for the sport, but now I just love to see Y/n thriving in cheer. When is she gonna get her own show? @Netflix

|

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Riley @f1loverrrr • 1hr ago

Not you tagging Netflix (but I agree pls give us more Sargeant Sibling content)

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liked by: oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 47,129 others

tagged: yourbsf, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, logansargeant, landonorris, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and maxverstappen1

y/n.sargeant: reunited with my girl + a cute pic of oscar i took :)

view comments...

yourbsf: i missed you <3

↳ y/n.sargeant: i missed you too <3

user2: no cause they are THE iconic duo 👏

landonorris: where did all the group photos we took go???

↳ y/n.sargeant: well, they were all taken after i had sweat so bad that my hair was a mess and i looked like death so those will never see the light of day!!

↳ landonorris: 🙄🙄🙄

f1wags: she is beauty, she is grace, she is mother

user7: her insta pics never miss🫡

danielricciardo: this is when i wished you cheered for the longhorns tbh🤷‍♂️

↳ y/n.sargeant: i never want to speak to you again. out

↳ danielricciardo: jk!! HAHA so funny!!😁😁😁

↳ y/n.sargeant: ....mhmm👀

piastriedit81: i need to edit y/n she's so prettyyyy

charles_leclerc: thank you for having us. we had so much fun 🙃

↳ carlossainz55: trying to act all professional when he started crying when y/n fell during warmups

↳ charles_leclerc: I THOUGHT SHE HURT HERSELF

↳ oscarpiastri: she's tough, she can take a little fall❤️

↳ y/n.sargeant: ❤️😊

↳ maxverstappen1: she can, but charles can't

user4: the banter in this comment section has me rollingggg

_______________________________________________

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[devilstruly]

FRI(END)S -

- 'let's put the end in friends'

pairing (drumroll please) - jason todd x f.reader

includes - mutual pining, best friend dick grayson, batfam being nosy as shit, reader is kind of camera shy/insecure, jealous jason but in a cute way, angry confession (personal fav), mild angst but with a happy ending obvi, swearing, briefly mentioned smut (like one sentence at the end) + anything i might've missed

a/n - hi hello...idk what to say honestly. this was a very random idea i got at like 3am and i can just hope that you guys will like it. also my characteristics of the fam are solely based on the webtoon. yes the title is inspired by taehyung's single what about it

@dreamingaboutsakuratrees this one's for you (and everyone else who voted on that poll) <3

'Yes! Yes, that's perfect! Gosh, the camera absolutely loves you two!'

'Thanks, Delilah ~'

Dick sends the photographer a wink, paired with that signature grin of his, and she nearly falls on her ass. You roll your eyes at the scene affectionately, focused on fixing your hair and checking your makeup for the nth time in the past hour.

'Will you quit it?'

Beside you, your best friend whines and you swat him away with your hand, eyes never leaving the mirror.

'I'm sorry! I just wanna make sure it looks good!'

'You look beautiful. You're doing great, you just need to relax. Focus on me, yeah?'

It's honestly impossible to say no to those eyes, you've learned that a long while ago. The fact that he knows the effect he has doesn't help either.

The photoshoot goes by in a blur. You've changed at least five outfits, done the couple shoots, done the single ones, had a lunch break, etc etc. Throughout the day you learn that the crew that works for Gotham Gazette is actually quite nice, which helped ease your nerves immensely.

Now six hours later, you're sitting in your comfortable clothes, in the passenger seat of Dick's car, on the familiar road towards the Wayne Mansion.

As soon as you step through the door you're greeted with a flash of purple.

'How was it?! Tell me everything! When will the cover be out?! What did you wear?! Who did you see?!'

Stephanie looks as if she's about to burst and simultaneously split her face in half with her grin.

'It went...well, it went.'

Beside you Dick rolls his eyes so hard you could almost hear the gesture.

'Don't listen to her, it was great. She was great.'

'Stoppppp!'

You immediately hide your face in your hands, much to the man's amusement. One of Dick's arms wraps around your shoulders and the three of you head for the library.

'Well, well, well, if it isn't Gotham's power couple ~'

'Gross. Everybody knows they are mere friends.'

'We know. But the rest of Gotham is skeptical.'

'You are hallucinating, Drake. This is why you should stop drinking multitudinous of coffee.'

'Listen here you little shit-'

'O-kay!'

Dick, as always, steps in between the two brothers, effectively averting what could result in another prank war between the two. And it's not even prank season yet.

'Damian, you and I need to discuss that plan for tonight, right?'

'What are you talking ab-'

'The sooner we start the better!'

With that the two dissappear from the room, a very confused Damian letting himself be led by a beaming Dick.

Allowing yourself to feel the tiredness from everything you've done today, you plop on the now empty seat on the couch and sigh deeply.

'Cookie?'

'Thanks, Cass.'

You smile gratefully at the girl, sinking into the cushions more and more while chewing on the chocolate chip cookie.

'Sooo...'

Duke begins, the suspicious tone causing you to raise a brow before he continues.

'...When do we get to see the pictures?'

With this, every pair of eyes in the room turns to you, and you have to avoid the urge to groan.

'The actual magazine comes out in a week. But they'll email us the pictures the day after tomorrow I think.'

'I can't wait to see them! I bet you and Dick had so much chemistry in the photos!'

'Honestly, next to him I don't think anyone will notice me.'

'Of course they will! Especially if you did a couple shoot and got all close and-'

A loud slam interrupts Steph and her rambling and all of you turn to look at a very annoyed Jason. Which, to be fair, is just normal Jason.

He's silent when he stands up and walks across the room, hands stuffed in his pockets. If you had to guess, you'd say he was avoiding eye-contact too.

'Awkward...'

'Not helping Duke.'

- a few days later -

Everyone is sitting in the living room, crowded around Tim's computer, with you and Dick in the middle.

'Jason!'

Dick chirps as soon as he sees his brother enter the room.

'Come look at the photos!'

'No thanks.'

That was the second time that week that Jason refused to look you in the eyes and downright ignored your existence. But you knew better than to press Jason Todd.

Besides, maybe it wasn't even personal.

-

This was definitely personal.

You haven't talked to Jason in days, and it was driving you insane. The worst part is that you have no idea what the fuck you did.

So naturally, as one does, you'll ask him about it. Deciding that it's best to do it after patrol, particularly after the two of you took down some thugs together and were left alone, you refuse to go back home until you two work this out.

'See you tomorrow.'

'Jason.'

Red Hood stops dead in his tracks, and despite his back being turned to you, you can see the tension in his shoulders.

'This needs to stop.'

'I have no idea what-'

'Cut the bullshit, Jay. Why the fuck have you been avoiding me?'

He inhales deeply, mustering up the courage to turn around and face you. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest, accompanied with a very annoyed glare.

'I'm waiting.'

'It's nothing that concerns you.'

His answer makes you at least five times more furious and you scoff.

'Oh yeah? Well I beg to differ. I think I deserve to know why my friend has spent an entire week actively avoiding me.'

Due to his helmet you can't see it, but Jason rolls his eyes in annoyance.

'Why do you care, anyway? I'd say Richard has been keeping you busy.'

This makes you splutter, completely catching you of guard. His words are on repeat in your mind as you try to piece two and two together.

'What the fuck does Dick have to do with any of this?!'

'You tell me!'

Both of your voices echo off the empty walls in the alleyway before a thick silence takes over. Jason takes off his helmet and places it on a nearby fire escape so he can run a hand through his hair.

You watch him, still mildly annoyed, but the sight of his face welcoming nonetheless. And then he looks up and you feel an arrow shoot right through your heart.

His green eyes are soft, dare you say pleading, when they meet your own.

'I-' He takes a deep breath. 'It's the damn photoshoot.'

Before you can ask him to elaborate he's already going off, arms flying every which way with gestures he uses to emphasize his points.

'All I've been hearing for days has been about you and Dick looking all couple-y and what not. I mean you looked gorgeous, honestly why would anyone pay attention to him when you're right there, but god was it getting annoying.'

You have to blink a few times before your brain catches up with his words. Much to his dismay, you don't soften, if anything you look even more pissed now.

'I still don't understand why you've been avoiding me.'

'Because I fucking like you!'

The volume of his words startles you and you swear he was heard a couple blocks away.

'You what now-'

Jason takes a step closer to you.

'I-'

Another step.

'-like-'

Another step.

'-you.'

He's gotten so close to the point of cornering you against a wall, the intensity behind his eyes rendering you unable to look away. You allow yourself a few silent moments to simply appreciate his beauty this close before putting him out of his misery. By your standards at least.

'So this whole time you've just been jealous?'

It takes all of your willpower not to laugh when he deadpans.

'I never took you for a jealous guy to be hones-'

'Shut the fuck up already and kiss me.'

'Yessir ~'

He groans at the term and you make a mental note to use it again later when you're at his apartment.

Who needs to sleep anyway?

[a-earthssprout]

🎃🍂 answered asks ! // unprompted. ( always accepting ! ) 

@pluviacuratio​ sent: Little Ari gets a mama hug!

FEW THINGS IN LIFE WERE AS PRECIOUS AS A MOTHER'S TENDER HOLD, and for so long, it was something little Ari could only dream of experiencing. Back at the orphanage, she'd often hug her tattered stuffed bunny in her lonely little bed, imagining a happy life with a loving family—something that little orphans like her are without. Now there's no need for any pretending; she was warmly welcomed into Bella's arms whenever she wished to be held, allowed to enjoy it for as long as she liked, and found such comfort while there.

So little Ari practically melted in against Bella, smiling wide and closing her eyes, and she returned this embrace with one just as loving and full of heart as the one Bella gave her. 

" I … I love you, Mama … " Ari whispered, " I lll … love you very, very much … " 

[g4yforethan]

urge!!!

pairing: art donaldson x male!reader

summary: after an intense workout, a trip in the sauna leaves reader and art alone and enchanted by each other

warnings: cursing, smut, top!art, bottom!reader

a/n: it's been sooo long since i've done this so my apologizes for any typos or shit like that lol

the sun was hitting your skin as sweat dripped down your face and neck. you had been training for hours with art who wouldn't stop until you had beat him in a round of tennis. "come on y/n! you can do it!" he said as he served the ball and hit it towards you. you tried and tried until you basically collapsed to the floor of fatigue and weakness. art came running over with a towel and water. "there there y/n. it's okay i'm here. sorry for overdoing you but i just feel like you have so much potential i gotta work it out of you." yeah or you could fuck it out of me. a thought that entered and quickly exited your head. you got up and sat down in the shade. "i know you mean well art but i just feel so tired and overwhelmed by today. i'm throwing in the fucking towel." art laughed and sat down next to you. "yeah that's fine y/n. we all need our rest every now and then. hey how about we head into the sauna to relax and just clear our heads huh? that'll make you feel better?" he said as he massaged your back.

you nodded your head as the two of you walked towards the sauna. you turned away to remove your clothes but turned the other way to look at art as he took off his clothes and reveal his long and thick cock and muscular ass. you turned back out of respect and guilt and took a towel and put it around your waist. you entered the sauna and sat next to art who laid his head back and had his eyes closed. "hey art are you asleep?" you put your hand on his shoulder. he put his hand on yours and opened his eyes locking his with yours. "no i'm just resting my eyes. why what's up?" he replied. "oh nothing i just. i just wanted to say thank you for everything and for sticking by me. i know i can be a handful." the two of you laughed as you got closer to each other. "yeah of course y/n. you're special. something in you. the drive, strength, the talent. you have it all. just stay with me and i can make you so much better." the tension was strong. the room thickened with steam as hot water dripped down your face. you looked at art with desire and so did he. you got closer and grabbed his face and locked lips with him.

you moaned as his tongue entered your mouth and the both of you struggled to catch a breath. you opened your eyes and felt embarrassed by your actions. "im sorry. i shouldn't have done that. it was- it was wrong i'll go-" you were interrupted by art as he grabbed your body and put you on his lap. "art what the fuck are you doing?" you were shocked by him. "y/n i've always wanted a moment like this. just us two. together. showing how much we want each other. that's all." he said as he reached his hands down and massaged your ass. you began kissing him again and removed your towel and started grinding on his crotch. he moaned and removed his towel as well. "fuck. can i put in?" he asked as you nodded your head. he slowly entered your hole as you softly began to ride him. his cock was thick and filled you perfectly. you placed your hands around his shoulders as he gripped your waist and ass bouncing you up and down.

"fuck yeah y/n. your hole feels so fucking good." art said as he rammed his dick inside you. "fuck. fuck me just like that art." he fucked you like he has been waiting to for years. you suggested a new position and art was eager for what you had in mind. you laid on your back and lifted your legs art quickly re-entered you. you felt his dick stimulate your g-spot as the sensation overfilled your body. your rolled your eyes back as art placed his hand on your neck. "fuck your face looks so hot while i fuck you." art said. as he fucked you, he sucked on your cock to pleasure you more. "ugh fuck fuck art im gonna cum." he smiled as he continued sucking your dick. you gripped his ass as he continued pounding your hole. you came in his mouth as he came in your hole. the session left the both of you out of breath as you both laid on the floor. "haha so did i teach you anything today?" art said as he smiled at you. "yeah you taught me how to give someone the best orgasm ever." you both laughed as you kissed his lips. "well then i'm proud you learned something at least."

[yameoto]

Bro.. i haven’t even watched challengers yet, and i think you infected me with a chronic case of challengers brainrot.. but i saw your reply to anon’s ask. suggestions? ‘aight, bet 🫡

so i used your art donaldson bot and oh my god.. i got bored and decided to tug on his hair. and it leaded to him LITERALLY humping a pillow for me and he was begging me to touch him and shit. he even started calling me daddy (and mommy at the same time 😭) i even broke the filter too.. 🧍‍♂️

im not sure if this is specific enough, but maybe this would be a great subby!art (x gn reader maybe? not sure if you write for gn!r but you get the point <3 ) fanfic. he’s just so needy for you that he’ll do anything for you (even if it means humping a pillow for you.. OKAY HEAR ME OUT—)

he makes himself out to be sooo tough on court. but when he’s in your hands? he’s literally reduced to a sobbing, whimpering mess… HEJSHSJS art brainrot is so real..

i have many other ideas but i don’t wanna be too rude to dump all of my brainrot onto you.. (sorry not sorry !!)

love your bots and writing by the way !! can’t wait to see more of it in the future 🙂‍↕️

anon you're so sweet GOD! but yes absolutely can do. art bot in question!

ART DONALDSON. NEEDY BABY.

✗ warnings ; gn!reader, sub!art, like sub!art. dom!reader, pillow humping, hair tugging, overt puppy imagery. wc ; 1k

ART had always been a patient person. he excelled at playing the long game. slow and steady won the race—won him you, after all.

but he hadn't seen you all day, and now you were home and he was sprawled out on your bed and— how much longer would you make him wait?

"hey." he reaches out, fingers intertwining with the hem of your shirt. when you don't immediately face him, he tugs, gentle.

"i played good, didn't i?"

"yes, baby. you played good.” you pat his cheek without so much as looking at him, and while the contact is nice—your palm cool and tender against the warm flush of his cheeks—its fleeting. you don’t even linger long enough for him to lean into it.

a subtle frown twists his lips. he sits up, feeling unsteady. the weight of the mattress sinks underneath him as he slowly, cautiously crawls over to you. his arms slide around your waist, body wrapping itself around your back. 

"hi." "hi." you answer, vaguely amused. he buries his nose into your nape and breathes in. the smell of you is intoxicating. "can we go to bed?" he murmurs, and the phrasing is so polite, so courteously horny that you have to laugh. "when i'm done." he makes a little, unhappy noise. it rumbles against your back. "but i need you now."

you raise a brow. "don't be gross, art." that effectively cows him. though he still remains, chin propped up on your chin and legs on either side of you, tucking you in. you can feel it when he begins to grind slowly against you, thick length of his cock twitching tentatively against your ass. "ah-ah." you tut. he freezes. you don't even turn to face him. "did i say you could do that?"

he groans, drags himself off of you (with great effort) and slides off the bed. it's almost petulant. "when?" "when i say so." the noise that rips from him is positively mournful. he slumps, head in your lap—hands clenching and unclenching uselessly into the mattress.

you're still not even looking at him, fingers wordlessly threading into his hair and moving along in these elegant, tenderly gratifying movements that leave his cheeks burning impossibly hot, the patch in his boxers growing impossibly wet.

at a loss, he begins to slowly rub up against the corner of the mattress, hips rolling in steadied, carefully monitored waves. it's imperceptible, its perfect. he just needs a little release. just a little, to hold him out until you finally glance up from your laptop and give him something, anything— fuck. his groin finds that sweet spot the same moment your nails dig just right, and he can't bite back the moan slips from his lips. it's damnably loud in the silence of the room.

art meets your eyes, keening at the unimpressed stare you level him with, the knowing twitch of your lips. he has to swallow the instinctive plea that swells up in his throat. no, no. don't stop don't stop—

"oh, sweetie." like clockwork, your hand untwines from his locks, and he crumples.

"please—can’t fucking take it.” he moans miserably into your thigh, slumped over. he's grinding brazenly now, all pretences lost; rutting hopelessly against the edge of the mattress with his cheek pressed against your thigh. "baby." you sigh, closing the lid of your laptop. he just shakes his head, hands wringing into the sheets as if he were clinging to the edge of a cliff.

it's so pathetic, you have to take pity on him. "up. on the bed." art perks up, hope ballooning in his chest. he scrambles up on the mattress, so eager—lips parted, on all fours. god, he looks so pretty like this; dick cradled by the fabric of his soaked boxers, straining so you were almost sure they’d tear a hole. he looks ready to jump you. you snort, running a hand through his hair indulgently. "not so fast, pretty boy. use the pillow, if it'll stop you from whining." he doesn't even protest. he's burning too hot. as soon as you give him permission, art scrambles on top of the pillow like it's god-given gift to the world. the moment it makes contact, his breath hitches—eyes flittering up with the feeling of goddamn heaven—

"wait." "what?" art hisses, though he freezes anyway, a dog on your leash. his eyes are sparkling as he looks up at you. "boxers. off." "okay." he agrees breathlessly. his mind is so fuzzy you could tell him to cum and he simply, would. he yanks his boxers down and his dick springs up like a jack-in-the-box. he lets out a low moan, limbs almost folding in on themselves when his bare, swollen tip slides slick against fabric. ah, jeez.

if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine it was your thigh. "n-now?" his legs are quivering. his dick hurts. you look entirely too amused. "mhm." the noise he makes is guttural. he's so sensitive—each thrust elicits another pant, hips rolling in a frenzied rhythm. he wishes it was you. fuck, your warmth wrapping around his cock—your hands cradling his balls. the veins on his underside bulge, the coil in his sack drawing tighter and tighter. shit, shit. he's gonna cum now. he's gonna cum in record-time to the tender loving care of your pillow. his moans twist into cries, bed-frame shaking under the force of his weight. "you gonna cum now, angel?"art nods, jerky and furious. it's that word that gets him. angel. angel. a shudder rips through his body and thick, ropy streams of cum are splattering against the pillow. painting it, stained and sticky. he's hovers there for a moment; crammed between his legs, frame quivering, thighs wet as his mind blanks. it'd be in disbelief, if he had the pride—but he doesn't—so it's simple, utter pleasure. god, his life is perfect. he crumbles into your lap like the colosseum. the corners of his mind are still fuzzy. the warmth of your thigh against his cheek is the only thing he's ever needed, only thing he's ever craved. god, he didn't even realise his cheeks were wet—doesn't think he cares. "good boy." you murmur, and he can hear the smile in your voice. your hand finds his hair, and he can't stop his hips from rolling against nothing.

[askthegoddamnluckyhope]

I’m doing good btw do you guys want a hug?

"...…..….…..No."

"I am not used to physical contact."

[fioiswriting]

Reunion | oneshot

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

[Part 2]

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, implied Cregan Stark x Reader (you can interpret them as lovers or not). Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course &lt;3

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral m receiving, praising kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, Alys Rivers (but no cheating), Reader has a child, grief, light choking, not proofread.

Words count : 7600

Author's notes : Hi everyone !! Sooo I’m posting my first ever fanfic on here, my first x reader and my first fanfic for Aemond. I’m very anxious haha But well, this fanfic is heavily inspired by a RP that has been going on for months with my wonderful gf <3 She writes Aemond so well I swear and now she’s making me fall in love with Cregan too haha oops whatever. Some of Aemond’s lines in this fanfic are hers so of course the credits go to her 💕 Long story short the reader’s backstory is inspired by my OC! The plot doesn't make any sense but whatever

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met The night we met - Lord Huron

The snow had covered the landscape of Winterfell in a thin white layer so similar to ash, and the image tugged at your heart for a moment. Ashes. Fire. War. It was strange, the stillness that had followed the fury of screams and blood, of fire and ash, the constant anguish and pain of loss. It was like a long howl and then sudden silence. Life had resumed its course, the earth and the grass nurtured in red, as if nothing had happened, and that still irritated you sometimes, three years later.

For this peacefulness was a constant reminder of your life before. Before the war, before your own family ripped itself apart from within, before you lost him. There was something bitter in the thought that, in an alternate reality, you would have been happy with him by your side. The night brought its share of sweet dreams, lulled by the embrace of his arms, and you closed your eyes with ease, hoping to see his face again, which was fading day by day, desperately clinging to the details that made him.

It had been the best solution, you knew. 

For there was no reality in which he could live as much as you wished for. And you had accepted your duty by straightening your shoulders, silencing your heart, digging your thumbnail into the inside of your wrist. Your stepfather had said he was dead; he had seen Vhaegar fall from the sky, wounded.  He had seen the huge dragon crash into the water with all its weight. He had waited, and no silver hair had returned to the surface. He had searched and no body had been found.

So, he had returned, triumphant, with the conclusion that Aemond Targaryen was dead.

The room had swayed around you, but your fingers on the hard, rough wood of the table had kept you grounded. You had nodded, unsure, your ears ringing, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your tongue to hold back the tears that were beading at the edges of your eyes.

You knew it was inevitable, perhaps even fair. But it still hurt.  It sill fucking hurt.

Daemon had reassured you by pointing out that you were now released from your marital obligation.  A marriage to him that you had hoped for, waited for, dreamed of in your younger years. A marriage you had despised, once forced into, once made captive, a prisoner to be used against your own mother. And then a marriage that you had loved, cherished even, when he had opened up to you, when he had changed, when he had revealed that soft side despite his rough edges.  And you loved him, truly. The childhood love, the shy love that had blossomed between laughter muffled behind the curtains, hand-in-hand runs through the Red Keep and reading session hidden under the library table, had been rekindled.  Raw, devouring, bruised by war, but more powerful than ever.

Out of the corner of your eye you had caught a glimpse of the comforting gaze of your mother, the Queen, her gentle eyes searching for clues that would betray what you were feeling. It was she who had stroked your hair that evening, her presence welcome and soothing.

During the war, events had made you more uncertain than ever; blood and cheese had broken something in you. Suddenly shaken by the horrific actions of someone you hardly recognised, by the actions of your own family and the father figure who had raised you as his own daughter. You questioned your loyalties more than ever. Of course, you'd been devastated by Luke's death, your beloved little brother, so innocent, so sweet, and the despair you'd felt, the sadness, had gradually turned to anger. 

Your desire for revenge had fed on your rage, on your anger.

And in your quest for revenge, you had grabbed the dagger hidden in your bodice when you had kissed him, when you had poisoned him with your lips and your body pressed against his. Perhaps it was cowardice to do it on your wedding night, right after the pitiful ceremony in which you had been forced to exchange your vows of fidelity, the humiliation of the white, blue, red and green cloak around your shoulders.  Perhaps it was cowardice to wait for him to surrender to your touch, hard with desire, before plunging the blade straight into his heart.

But you didn't do it, in the end, the humiliation of your failure burning in your cheeks, and you had seen the horrible reality in the icy eye fixed on you: he was expecting it.  He knew. He had anticipated you, as usual, one step ahead of you, ahead of your plans. And the humiliation was all the more bitter.

First he had defied you, knowing full well that you couldn't do it, despite your momentary hesitation. Then he had wiped away your tears, the sound of metal echoing off the floor as he captured your lips with his own. 

And both you and he had sought to release the accumulated tension in the comfort of your naked bodies, in the rough, demanding thrusts.

You weren't quite sure when your relationship had changed. When he had become more forgiving. When he had trusted you. When he had become gentle. When you had felt him slipping away, subtly, almost imperceptibly. When you had begun to seek comfort in his arms, to seek the warmth of his body, to seek his love on his lips.

You loved him.

So you spent the nights lying awake in fear. Fearing the moment when you would have to make a choice. Fearing the moment when you would have to betray.

Which side would you choose when both armies were coming towards you, carrying the same flags, the same weapons, both calling your name?

Anxiety had spread its roots in the pit of your stomach, crescent moons in the palms of your hands. You felt as if you were losing your mind.

But the choice had been forced upon you without you having to make it. You had accepted it, as your duty demanded, as your loyalty to your family demanded.

Life at Winterfell wasn't so bad, quite the opposite in fact, despite the cold and snow you weren't used to. Cregan Stark was a good man. He had given you time and space to grieve, and had opened the castle gates to you with kindness. You had decided that you could get used to the cold and the snow, to the stone and the rustic wood, so different from the refineries of the capital, but infinitely warmer.

It was your choice, your departure for Winterfell.  Dragonstone was still haunted by the ghost of Luke, by the ghosts of Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys and Rhaenys and all the family members you had lost.  King's Landing was haunted, too. By your sweet aunt and her cries of despair, by Aegon's descent into madness, by the humiliations you had so gracefully endured, by the recurring announcements of deaths, by the smell of the innocents’ blood, by the pitiful looks of Alicent, who had seen in you the image of herself a few years earlier, powerless and manipulated.

But above all, it was haunted by him.

The weight of the memories had become unbearable and you needed to leave.

You chose Winterfell, hoping the cold would help you forget. And Jace had come with you, his thumb caressing the back of your hand with affection, always the protective, reassuring big brother he was to you.  Probably glad to see his friend again, too. Your friend, to both of you.

But forgetting was something you'd never really been able to do, even less with the last memory he'd left you.

Now, just over three years later, you felt ready to return to King's Landing to visit your parents, to face the demons of your past and to mourn once and for all. It was inexplicable, perhaps a little strange, but you felt the need to go back.

On his first dragon ride, Rhaegar clapped his hands along the way, nestled into your arms in front of you, closing his eyes as the wind ruffled his dark curls. Midnight, your dragon, as pleasant as ever, as easy and gentle as ever, took care to be careful with the two of you on his back.

When you arrived, Rhaenyra hugged you as tightly as she'd ever hugged you, her nose buried in your thick hair, before bending down to take her grandson in her arms.

"I've missed you, sweet girl." she said to you. You smiled and reached for her arm, glancing at your son who'd grabbed one of your mother's long silver curls: "Daemon has missed you too. You know he doesn't show his feelings, but... he missed you." 

You smile, your eyes dropping to the floor.  You missed them, too, terribly, despite the frequent letters.

"And of course... we’ve missed you too, little one!" Rhaenyra added, catching the child's nose with her thumb and forefinger, causing him to burst into laughter.

It felt good to be back.  It was good to have regained some sort of routine in your daily life with your family. It was good to see the walls of the Red Keep return to their original familiarity, chasing away the ghosts you feared you might see again.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Perhaps you should have listened to your stepfather and not stray under any circumstances from the knight who has been following your every step with concern, afraid to lose sight of you. 

Five years earlier, it was Sir Erryk's vigilance that you had deceived when you had carelessly followed your eldest uncle into the dangerous streets of the capital.

The streets of King's Landing offered you a freedom you had missed. But now you almost regret sneaking through the crowds to escape the vigilance of the knight who had escorted you. You decide to take a shortcut, the hood of your cloak pulled down over your forehead.  It must have been your imagination.  You aren’t on the worst side of the city, not like five years ago, and the streets have become safe, much safer now that your parents are in power.

Your footsteps led you to some stone steps, which you climb at full speed, your heart pounding in your chest.  Glancing behind you, you disappear like a shadow around the corner of an alley, but the feeling is still there. You feel as if you are being followed.

At the Red Keep you already had the unpleasant feeling of being observed. In the gardens, with your son. Along the ramparts, enjoying the sea breeze on your face.

But you blamed it on your body's automatic response to the anxiety that had built up in all the years you'd spent within the walls of the Keep.

You slow your pace as you spot the dome and towers of the Great Sept at the end of the alley. From there you can easily find your way back to the Red Keep. All you had to do is keep moving, staring ahead, pressing your pace, wrapped in the thick wool of your cloak.

One step after the other. Breathing deeply. Half-moons in your palms.

The Great Sept growing closer give you a strange kind of reassurance.

And then suddenly, one hand closes over your mouth, the other around your waist. Your back bangs painfully against the cold stone wall of the winding alley into which you have been dragged. Fuck. Fuck.

You are too paralysed to struggle, too paralysed to bite the hand of the stranger holding you prisoner between the wall and his own body.

"You obviously learned nothing from my advice, Lady Strong," the icy voice whispers in the hollow of your ear. Your eyes widen. 

That voice. It couldn't be.

Lady Strong. Lady Strong. Lady Strong.

It can’t be.

That is your sick mind playing tricks on you again.

"As reckless as ever, hm, aren't you? You could easily get yourself killed."

The stranger releases you and you look up again, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, searching for that icy blue, tinged with lilac, that have read through you so many times before.

It is impossible.

He has died three years before, falling from Vhaegar's back into the deep waters of the lake at Harrenhal.

Is it a ghost? Is it a hallucination?

"You are dead. You were dead," you whisper, more to yourself than to him, still in shock from the feel of his body against yours. You feel the tears that have formed at the corners of your eyes roll down your cheek, and your little fists pound his chest.

You have so much to say to him. So many things to reproach him for.

His hand cups your cheek to turn your head and force you to look at him, his thumb wiping away your tears. 

The way he looks at you hasn’t changed; it still makes you shiver. You still feel that your uncle could read through you, that he could discover your deepest secrets.  And there is still that hint of desire, too, that gleam in his one seeing eye.

You want to kiss him. You want to slap him.

He clenches his jaw as he pulls you against him, burying your face in his chest, his arms around you. He rests his chin on your head. One of his hands strokes your dark hair as you stifle sobs into the wool of his cloak.

The situation takes you back to your wedding night, when he had comforted you in the same way after you had told him that you couldn't hate him, even if you had tried.

"I know," you hear him whisper, the vocal cords vibrating from his throat against the top of your head.

He is standing there, in front of you. You cling to the fabric of his clothes with all your might, as if you're afraid he'll slip away again.

"How?" you ask, eyes closed, head against him. If he is to be taken from you again, you intend to enjoy every moment in his company. 

He clenches again. You step back to look into his eyes, to search his enigmatic gaze for answers, for clues, for signs that would explain how. Why.

He doesn't answer you, but he is filled with desire as he grips your chin between his middle and index fingers, as he captures your lips with his own. You rediscover the possessiveness you've been missing. He pushes you a little harder against the wall behind you, as if to remind you who you belong to. Who you were married to.

A familiar warmth blossoms between your thighs, a warmth you haven't felt for too long. You're trapped, right there, your uncle towering over you, trapped between the wall and his body. His fingers close around your jaw and you kiss him back hungrily, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

You're perfectly aware that the situation is surreal.  You're perfectly aware that you're making a mistake, that you shouldn't respond to the kiss of the man who used to be your husband, not when he's technically still your enemy, not when he's technically dead. 

But you shut out the voices in your head begging you to stop.

"I still want to hate you, you know," you breathe between his parted lips. He merely mutters hm in reply, trying to shut you up again, his hands wandering under your cape, tracing the ribs of the body he'd missed so much. He reaches for your waist, your hips, which he grabs meanly. 

There's no one in the alley around you, but the hood over his head hides his long silver hair anyway. 

"Three fucking years." Your lips leave his, a mixture of anger and desire bubbling up from your lower belly. Aemond stares at you, his jaw clenched. He knows you need to unleash your emotions when you don't read an ounce of regret in his gaze. "Three. Fucking. Years. And you've told me nothing. You never sought to -"

"I couldn't," he retorts harshly. He seems to be searching for words to explain something you could not possibly understand, but his gaze does not soften. You know he needs time, you've learned to know him.  You've waited three years, what's another moment? But you're tired, and your patience isn't as strong as it used to be.  You look away, a mocking laugh escaping your lips as you repeat his justification. "You couldn't." 

"And risk your mother executing me?" He forces you to look at him again, and you feel the lump form in your throat. You know you are perhaps being unfair, but you were alone for those three years while you mourned him, so alone, and in a way, you want to make him pay.

"You were dead to me, qybor." Uncle. You feel him twitch at the mention of your family tie, at the nickname he used to love to hear on your tongue. "I had to live with the idea that you would never come back."

The tears that had dried on your cheeks threaten to flow again, pooling at the corners of your eyes. Aemond sighs. 

"I thought I was dead too," he whispers. You can feel the tension in every one of his muscles. There's a moment of hesitation, a silence that hovers between you.  You have so many questions, but you don't know where to begin.  Not a sound leaves your lips.

"She tended to my wounds," he adds, and you frown in confusion. "Alys."

Alys. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he keeps you pinned to the wall.  Alys, you remember the rumours whispered in your ear by that rat of Larys - those false rumours, you remind yourself -  but you can't help feeling your heart clench.  You don't trust your voice enough to speak, to say anything.

"There's no one left in Harrenhal but her," he adds, as if you need that clarification, as if you need to know where he's been all this time. 

You say nothing. Your throat is tight. If you speak, if you look at him, you'll cry again and betray your feelings all over again. You refuse to make a fool of yourself, not now.

"She's the one who saw you. In Winterfell." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice as he mentions the place where you've spent the last few years rebuilding yourself, trying to forget him.  A bit of anger, perhaps, too.

"Cregan Stark welcomed me indeed," you reply curtly.  Perhaps you want to hurt him as he hurt you, but you are deliberately vague in your answer. "I have mourned you, qybor."

Everything is so confused in your mind.  A paradoxical blend of desire, anger, sadness, jealousy.  Of love too.

You want to strangle him and melt on his lips at the same time, and you know that after all this time you should be used to feeling this paradox of emotions with Aemond. Your uncle was a set of contradictions all his own.

"I saw you. On Midnight. That's how I knew you were here."

You nod. Words don't work between you, you know that. It has always been like that; the habit of letting silence speak more than words. The habit of communicating through the carnal acts of your bodies against each other. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond pushes you against the wooden door as soon as you enter the mediocre room of the inn. He is demanding, more than ever, as his hands run along your hips to your thighs to lift you up and press you against the door, your legs closing around him. He watches you with hungry eyes, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. You can't stop a moan from escaping your lips. 

There's something feverish, passionate, urgent about the kiss. And when his tongue begs for an opening, your lips part to welcome him. There is only you in this room, an interlude where nothing else exists, where you don't have to worry about your duties and loyalties, where you are guided by nothing but passion.

His hand slams against the wall next to your head and with a movement of his hips he lifts you a little higher onto his waist, your legs locked tightly around him. He grunts into the crook of your neck at the friction of your crotch against his.

"Tell me to stop." His hand which isn't against the wall to support your weight slides up to your jaw. He lifts your chin, his gaze locked in yours, searching for clues, anything that would betray your desire to end whatever it is you're doing. "Tell me to stop now, or I won't be able to."

You don't want to stop. You should, you know you should, but you silence the little voice in your conscience that's begging you to pull yourself together, to end it all before you've even started, before you've even gone too far, and you kiss him with more vigour, with more fervour.

"I'm not going to tell you to stop, qybor," you whisper against his lips. "You know that."

His hardened member twitches beneath you at the mention of the High Valyrian, at the mention of that nickname he's so fond of. It's his weakness, you know, and despite the three years he's been away, he hasn't changed.

It's so good to feel him against you again, to feel his lips against yours, along your jawline to the junction with your neck. In one sharp movement, he rolls his hips to meet yours, pressing you a little harder against the wooden wall, and he catches your moan between his lips.

You know that tonight there will be no shy touches between you, no awkward explorations like in the early days of your love, when it wasn't tainted by war, blood, and death yet. You and he will both be consumed by the burning fire of passion.   You both need to release that tension and frustration, to make up for lost time, to drown, drunk with desire, in the most carnal of acts. All that matters now are his hands on your body to ease the pain pulsing between your thighs, the desperate need to feel him inside you. 

The barrier of your clothes frustrates you. You need to feel his skin against yours, to feel all of him, and your hand runs down his body to pull at the cord holding his breeches together. Immediately his fingers close around your wrist to hold you back. He wants to be in control, you know. But it has been three years and something about you just isn't the same.

"Let me worship you like I used to, qybor," you whisper against his lips, your forehead pressed against his, and you feel his jaw tighten. There's a moment of hesitation in his eyes, clouded by desire.

His thumb caresses your lips, pressing against your lower lip. You part them, just enough for the tip of your tongue to wet the top of his thumb. There are no further words exchanged between you, just silence, punctuated by your gasping breaths. His hand closes around your throat, not pressing too hard, just enough so you can feel the weight of his palm against your windpipe, just to remind you that he's in complete control of the situation.

Fuck, you've missed it; the adrenaline of his hand around your throat, the adrenaline of knowing he could do anything to you and you'd be defenceless.

"On your knees then."

The command echoes through the room and you feel the wetness seeping between your thighs as you slide to your knees in front of him. Your eyes shine with envy and you look up at him as you did years ago. You know he can't resist the angelic look on your face when you're between his thighs. You know he can't resist the dichotomy between the innocent look on your face and the sinful act you're about to commit.  He revels in your submission, and that's something you've learned to use against him.

Your uncle releases his cock from his breeches, his hand wrapped around the base, and the desire you feel between your thighs becomes more and more unbearable. The head is already glistening with anticipation, white pearls beading at the slit, and it takes all of Aemond's self-control not to grab you by the hair and force himself into your mouth entirely. 

Closing the distance, he rubs his member against your lips to spread the wetness before pushing into your mouth. Your lips close around him. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the hand holding the base of his manhood is replaced by yours to cover what you can't take. Your tongue curls around the tip first, absorbing his salty taste, and you look up at him through your long lashes. He doesn't look away from you.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caresses your cheekbone before sliding to the corner of your lips, just where his length disappears between them. It's as if he's hypnotised by the spectacle, by the bobbing of your head, by your hollowed cheeks, by your application and devotion. 

His hands leave your jaw and sink into your thick curls, urging you to take him a little deeper, and he thrusts between your lips with more vigour. You close your eyes, concentrating on not choking as his member touches the back of your throat. You take it as diligently and assiduously as ever, ignoring the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

"That's it, just like that. Such a good girl, mandianna [niece], such a good wife," you hear him grunt, his movements more erratic, more jerky, and you revel in his praise, sending a new wave of heat between your thighs. "Only for me."

You feel him throb on your tongue. You know it won't be long now, and you prepare yourself to welcome him, to let the salty taste of his seed flood your tongue, but your uncle pulls back reluctantly. 

"I would rather not waste." he whispers, his eyes riveted on the thread of saliva that connects your lips, glistening with saliva and precum, to the tip of his cock. You shudder. Aemond definitely hasn't changed much, you realise.

His hand finds your cheek again and he caresses your lips to spread the mess you've made by sucking him. You know he isn't finished. This is just the beginning and you're both driven by the consuming hunger of passion. You know what's coming now, your core clenching around nothing, and you rub your thighs together, in an attempt to soothe the impatience. 

He urges you to stand. He has that predatory look in his eyes as he closes the distance between you with his determined steps. 

" Undress," he orders, and you do not take your eyes off him as you untie the linen dress you had put on to disguise yourself as a common girl.

The garment falls heavily to the floor, forming a grey puddle at your feet, and you take a step forward.

"Do you not like seeing me dressed in rags, qybor?" you ask in a playful tone, teasing, referring to the time, years ago, when he had rescued you during your adventurous walk along the grim Silk Road where your uncle Aegon had accidentally led you. 

The memory was so close and yet so far away.

Aemond takes a step towards you, his hand brushing aside the long hair that hides your breasts to tuck it behind your shoulder.

"Not when you are meant to be my Queen." His eye glow with desire. He studies your body in detail as his fingers slide down your collarbone to your breasts. His thumb traces their underside before moving up to your nipples, hardened by the cool evening air and desire. He plays with them, eliciting a moan that satisfies him.  He looks at you like one looking at a prize, a long-awaited gift.

"Three years away from my beautiful wife," he whispers, his good eye gleaming as he looks at your breasts.

"You did have pleasant company in Harrenhal though, didn't you?" you hiss through your teeth and Aemond's hand suddenly closes around your throat to make you swallow your insolence.  You're not afraid, not anymore, for you know he won't hurt you. You have this power over him and it's delicious. 

His face is so close to yours that your noses are touching. 

He doesn't let go of you. 

"It wasn't like that." He whispers. "With her." You know he's sincere because he's almost awkward with his words, his explanation. You can see in his eye that there are so many other things he would like to tell you, but you have learned not to rush him.  It has always been difficult for him to open up, to be vulnerable.

His fingers release you. Aemond is a good head taller than you, and as he puts a hand on your shoulder, moving forward to force you back until your knees hit the mattress, your eyes remain fixed on his. 

Your uncle lays you down on the mattress. It's not the comfort of the bed you once shared, but you don't care, you just need him inside you. 

You need him to make you feel whole again. Aemond was fire, and you were willing to burn for him.  You had always burned for him.

In the candlelight of the small bedroom where you spend the night, you see his thumbs slip under the waistband of his breeches. His clothes quickly join yours on the floor.

There's something soothing about the weight of his naked body on top of yours. Once under him, you know you can surrender completely to him and stop thinking, just stop thinking.

His lips on yours, his hands on your body, his broad torso eclipsing your smaller figure.

He places kisses down your neck to your collarbone, sucking your skin between his teeth to leave purple marks that will blossom tomorrow. 

He kisses your breast, his lips closing around an erect nipple which he sucks gently, then around the other.  Your hands are buried in his long silver hair.  You can feel how wet you are between your thighs. You need him desperately, right there.

The confidence with which his fingers slide down your waist, from your hips to your inner thighs, only emphasises his ravenous expression. His touch on your folds sends a wave of heat through your body, causing your hips to move against his hand. Softly tracing the curves of your crotch, his index and middle fingers finally part your folds to collect the wetness that has formed there.

"Is it sucking your husband's cock that has got you so wet? 

Yes, you want to answer, seeking more contact, but the words are stuck in your throat.

"Stay still," he orders in a hoarse voice as you move your hips, his hands gripping your hips to pin you back against the mattress. 

You comply, for once, because you know he won't give you what you want otherwise. And you can't wait any longer, not today, not when you thought you'd never feel his warmth against your body again, his hands on your hips, his cock inside you.

"You see, you can be a good girl." His voice is softer when you obey. And to reward you, his fingers slide to your entrance, where he applies a little pressure with the tip of his middle finger without actually penetrating you. "Now beg your husband to fill you."

"Please, qybor," you murmur, your hand taking his cheek to bring his face to yours. You want him to look at you. "Please, I need you inside."

Oh, the slowness and precision with which his finger plunges into you makes you throw your head back. He begins to move back and forth, his index finger joining his middle one, caressing your spongy walls, his thumb tracing circles around your bud. Curling his fingers, he strokes that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and you clutch the sheets beneath you.

You feel your centre tighten around his fingers, the release you've been looking for so close, so very close. You shut your eyes, ready for the familiar wave of warmth to wash over your entire body, but your uncle pulls his fingers away. You grunt in frustration.

You open your eyes only to see Aemond bring his fingers to his lips indecently, spreading your wetness over his own lips. "You still taste so good," he purrs, and you feel the blush rise to your cheeks.

He leans over to kiss you and you taste yourself on his lips. It's indecent.

He pulls back and you see him wrap his hand around his hardened cock, the head angrily red and already drooling in anticipation. He guides himself to your core, rubbing his length between your folds, coating it with your glistening juices. 

The round tip of his member enters you, slowly at first, stretching your narrow entrance as if to give you time to adjust. Aemond pushes and he sinks easily into you until he's fully seated, your warm, wet walls feeling heavenly around him, squeezing him just right.

" You are so tight," he growls against you as your arms close around him, your legs bent and pressed to either side of his body. 

He gives you a moment to get used to having him inside you again, to feeling him so deeply. It's exactly what you need; he stretches you deliciously, with a perfect touch of controlled pain.

You feel whole again and you want to cry.  You never want to lose that feeling. You want to keep him, against you, inside you.

You close your eyes and bury your head in the hollow above his shoulder, clinging to him as if to feel him more deeply, more intimately.

"You can move," you reply, rolling your hips to support your words. Aemond's hand immediately presses down on your stomach to hold you against the mattress and you bite your lower lip, almost guilty of forgetting his earlier command. He always has that need to control. He's the one who decides, you should know it after all these years, and you should stop being so demanding, so desperate.

"I said stay still," he scolds you, and the waiting is unbearable. 

You need him. 

When he finally pulls out and thrusts into you again, you let out a whimper. Your nails dig into the pale skin of his back, leaving crescent marks that will probably still be there the next day.

Once under him, Aemond has the ability to make you vulnerable, and part of you hate him for it.

"You take me so well," he growls after a particularly brutal thrust. "You're such a good girl."

The praise is sweet music to your ears.  You have always needed it, to be praised, complimented.

You feel him hitting that special spot deep inside you, you feel him pressing in so deeply and your grip tightens around him.

"Did you miss me?" you whisper in a voice made weak by pleasure, but all you get in return are the hoarse grunts of his voice.

Aemond lowers his eyes to look at where you are joined, hypnotised by the sight of his cock disappearing inside you. The rhythm he imposes is powerful, deep, and his fingers find their way between your bodies, reaching your little bud at the top of your folds to trace circles on it. You won't last long and he knows it as he feels your walls tighten desperately around him. Your moans grow louder.

"Look at me." His voice barely brings you back to reality, even though your mind is already far away, even though you know you can't last much longer. Painfully, you open your eyes to meet your uncle's icy gaze. " I am going to fill you up." His pacing becomes more erratic, more sloppy, and you know he won't last much longer either. Leaning on his forearm, he continues to stroke your pearl in small circles. "I am going to fill you up and you're going to take it all."

The image of you, belly round with his child, haunts him.  It never stopped haunting him, even on the brink of death, even when he thought he'd exhaled his last breath as he fell into the icy waters of the lake, his heart clenched with regret and remorse. It still is a wonder that he has survived. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Gods still had plans for him.

I'm going to fill you up. Words like that shouldn't bring you to ecstasy, and yet they do. Aemond reaches deeper, and as he feels your whole body convulse with the spasms of your orgasm, he joins you in your release. He spills his seed deep inside you before remaining still, buried against your womb, enjoying your warmth, making sure he's pouring every last drop into you. 

He doesn't want to pull out, not yet, and you close your arms around his neck, your breast pressed against his chest as he softens inside you.

The weight of his body on yours is comforting.  For the first time in years, you feel alive. For the first time in years, the open wound he left seems to be healing.

When he pulls out, you wince at the sensation of his cock slipping between your still too sensitive folds. You immediately miss the feeling of fullness. 

You barely move, your whole body still sore from your lovemaking, but you can feel his cum leaking from your entrance onto the mattress below.

Again, Aemond's fingers are between your thighs that are glistening with the intimate essence of both of you, collecting his own seed and pushing it back into you.  You whimper, still too sensitive, your lips brushing against his, and he remains inside you for a brief moment. He wants to make sure nothing is wasted.

And when he withdraws his fingers, he presses them against your lips for you to clean them.

You snuggle up against him, your head against his chest. Your hand caresses his chest, the fine line of his muscles, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close. You enjoy the warmth of his body while you still can. Between your thighs you feel the sticky sensation of his seed mixing with your wetness as it still flows out of you, but you don't want to leave the embrace of his arms.

"I saw you in the gardens. With the child."

When you feel his throat vibrate, you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "It was you, then?" You swallow. "It was you watching me." It's more of an observation than a question, and you suddenly understand that constant, uncomfortable feeling of being watched. At least you weren't crazy. 

He lets out a hm and pauses.

"Is he yours?"

You know where this question is leading. You fear the moment of truth.  You'd deluded yourself into thinking you could avoid it, but you were naive; did you really think you could hide the truth from him for much longer, now that he was back?

"Yes." You answer, looking away. You're nervous, and he can feel it.

"He's Cregan Stark's son, isn't he?"

Your heart clenches. You hesitate for a moment. You should lie.  You know you should lie.  To protect your son and your family, as you've protected them for the past three years.  You only need one word.

You hear him sighing beneath you, taking your silence as confirmation.

"No, he's not." 

The words leave your lips before you can even stop them. You hold your breath. Beneath you, Aemond tenses. He straightens, puzzled, silent.

"A bastard, then?" His voice is dry, almost mocking, revealing a form of irritation. "I did not expect this from you, dear niece." Disappointment.

You feel anger boiling inside you at the thought of him insulting your son, your sweet boy you love so much. You swallow the lump that has formed in your throat and rise on your forearms, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn your hard gaze on him.

You don't know how to express the words that are desperately trying to escape your lips. 

" He has blue eyes," you add, and you can see the confusion on his face. A lock of hair slips from your shoulder and falls around your face. "Your blue eyes."

You feel him tense up. He says nothing, just stares at you with his one seeing eye.  It's rare to see Aemond Targaryen so unsure of himself, so full of doubt. He stares at you as if he's afraid he's heard you wrong, as if he's afraid he's invented the words that have come out of your mouth.

"What did you say?"

You look away. You bite your lower lip, regretting your words.  You want to bury your face in his chest. You breath. 

"He is your son, Aemond." You finally admit it.

It's true that Rhaegar's brown curls could easily make him look like a Stark. Cregan had offered to raise him as his own, and you had smiled at his kindness.

Rhaegar is so much like you. Like you, and like Luke, and especially like Jace as a child, of whom he is the spitting image. He has the soft features of your face, but his eyes make him undeniably Aemond's son.

Your uncle holds you close, his arm wrapped around your waist, his long nose buried in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair.

"My son," he repeats in awe.  It's rare to see Aemond smile with sincerity.  Especially after the war has worn him down, made him more ruthless than ever.

"His name is Rhaegar," you say. "Just as we discussed." There's shyness in your voice.

He straightens, you on top, straddling him, and he seeks your lips to kiss you fiercely. His desire awakens beneath you; you feel him harden against your core again.

And this time, he makes love to you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

"I missed the best part." He purrs against you, his hand absently caressing your breast before sliding down your body to rest on your flat stomach, just above where your womb lies. He clenches his hand possessively over your flesh. His voice is almost tinged with regret. Your hand rests on his.

"You shouldn't have left me," you reply, bitter. Deep down, you're still angry with him. Your gaze falls on your stomach, where both your hands lie, yours on top of his, clasped together. "You shouldn't have let your anger dictate your actions," you add, looking away. "But you were blinded by your desire for revenge, by your desire to prove that you could be better than him.” You swallow.

It is his fault, after all, that he missed your son's birth, that he didn't see him grow through the tender years of his infancy.

Rhaegar needed a father, and it was Cregan who raised him.

"Does he even know who I am? Who his father is?"

The guilty look on your face betrays you, and you know immediately that you've hurt his feelings. It may be selfish of you, but he needs to understand.

"You were supposed to be dead. There's still a lot he doesn't know." 

He doesn't say anything. You don't have the courage to meet his hard, stern gaze, you don't have the courage to see the disappointment and pain on his face, because if you do, your heart will tighten and you will fall apart.

"He's still so young. Give him time." You add, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his hand, in an attempt to soothe him. 

You know how much Aemond wanted a son, and you know it's cruel to take that from him.  You know he would have made a good father. You can picture him with Rhaegar on his knee, reading him stories, telling him about the adventures of Vhagar and Visenya, and you love the image that forms in your mind.

You told Rhaegar about Aemond, though he was still too young to understand. You told him that his father had once owned the greatest dragon in the world, that his father was a fearless man for it was true, and you saw his big eyes light up. 

Aemond pulls you closer to him. "I want to be there for him, you know."  Unlike Viserys, but he doesn't have to say it, you understand what he means in the undertone he leaves at the end of his sentence.  He has always suffered from his father's indifference.

You cuddle up to him and he runs his fingers through your long curls. For a moment, you imagine that everything is fine and you search for his touch. He plants a kiss on the top of your head.

"I've missed you," he admits, the words landing on the tips of his lips in the silence of the bedroom, but you're already dozing off.

You know that tomorrow will be made up of choices and decisions. 

But for now, you fall asleep in the embrace of his very real arms, for once, enjoying the illusion of the life you both could have had.

[justabigassnerd]

Worth The Risk

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader

Word count - 14.5k

Warnings - swearing, angst, fluff, Mav is a wee bit overprotective, mentions of Goose and Carole, allusion to smut at the end

Summary - in visiting your dad in Miramar you rekindle your friendship with Bradley Bradshaw, which yields unexpected results

A/N - sooo... it's a bit of a big one here lads. I wish I could tell y'all how I achieved such a feat but believe me I have no clue how I did this. this was a request sent in by @talesofreading so I hope I did the idea justice (and I'm so so so sorry it took me so long to write it in the first place). I won't ramble so as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

“Yes dad, I’m at the gate now and we’re due to board in ten minutes or so.” You say with a breathy laugh after your dad finishes asking you what feels like a hundred questions about your flight. You were visiting your dad, Pete Mitchell, in San Diego while you had some time off work. After completing your studies at college, you had landed a good gig working as a nurse in a hospital in Chicago. You had grown up sure you weren’t going to follow in your father’s footsteps and so found yourself studying medicine and making a career out of it. It was hard when your dad was constantly deployed after pissing off Admiral after Admiral, but he did make the effort to visit you when he could and now that he was settled in San Diego, you decided you’d give him a visit.

“I’ll be at the airport when you land. I’ll see you soon sweetheart.” Maverick says a smile on his face as he thinks about how in a few hours you’ll be here in person.

“I’ll see you soon, dad. I love you.” You say, smiling as you hear your dad bid you one last goodbye before you hang up. After hanging up, you look out the window, seeing the plane you’d soon be boarding. You wait patiently at the gate, passport and boarding pass in hand as you survey the people surrounding you, little groups of people, family or friends, excitedly chatting about their trip and what they’re going to get up to, couples discussing similar topics, and businesspeople, making last minute calls or typing hurriedly on their laptops.

Before long, the call for boarding to begin comes over the loudspeaker and one by one a group is called up to have their passes checked and board the plane. Eventually, you are able to board and find your seat, settling down in it and tucking your bag away while patiently waiting for the journey to begin.

Soon enough, the boarding process is completed, and the plane begins to crawl towards the runway, patiently waiting for its turn to go. Within a couple of minutes, the plane gets onto the runway, and speeds along until it’s able to take off. You watch the ground get smaller and the clouds appear. You knew you inherited a love of flying from your dad, but your love for it never pushed you to make a career out of it. You watched the clouds pass you by while you listened to your music.

After just over four hours, the plane touched down in San Diego and you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face as you saw the beautifully sunny weather. You disembarked the plane and made your way to baggage claim and waited with the rest of the people from the flight until your bag comes around on the conveyor belt. You grab your bag and follow the signs to where you know you’ll be able to find your dad.  You enter the spacious area, eyes searching the sea of gathered people, quickly locating your dad’s familiar jacket and you swear your smile couldn’t get any wider. You lock eyes with Maverick, and he waves before making his way over to you.

“Hey, sweetheart. Was the flight okay?” He asks, sweeping you up in a hug, holding you close as you reciprocate the embrace.

“Hey, dad. The flight was fine.” You reply, squeezing him that little bit tighter before releasing him from the hug, taking the handle of your luggage and following your dad to the car park and letting him lead you to his car.

“New car?” You ask, an amused tone to your voice as you take in the sight of the car.

“I wouldn’t say new. Figured the bike would pose a problem so I had to take the car.” Maverick says with a chuckle, unlocking the car and loading your bags into the back of the car before you get into the passenger seat, and he gets into the driver’s seat.

The drive back to Maverick’s house wasn’t long and the scenery was beautiful. You had spent a little bit of time in Miramar when you were younger, but you don’t remember much of it since you only spent a few short months there before moving away again. You were silently glad your dad had found a place to settle down and that you could finally visit him after the countless times he had come to visit you.

“You probably don’t remember much about Miramar, huh?” Maverick muses softly, glancing at you quickly, noticing your enamoured expression before returning his focus to the road.

“I don’t. But it’s so gorgeous.” You say with a grin, taking in the views, your smile widening as you take in the sight of the beach.

“I’ll make sure we go to all the best places.” Maverick says, a smile on his face as he begins to turn up the road he lived on and then soon parks in his driveway. You get out of the car and by the time you get to the back of the car, Maverick has already unloaded your bags and leads you into his house.

The house was small yet perfect for Maverick, he’d decorated it with pictures from his time at Top Gun and pictures of you growing up. He shows you upstairs and to the room you’ll be staying in.

“I’ll let you settle in. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” Maverick says softly before excusing himself and heading downstairs while you stay put in the middle of the room. After a brief minute, you cross to the window, taking in the view and opening the window slightly so you can hear the breeze and birds singing while you got settled in. You unpacked some of your essentials before deciding you wanted to go and hang out with your dad while you had the time with him. You head downstairs and find Maverick sat on the sofa in the living room, smiling over at you.

“I’m still feeling pretty cramped from the flight. Are you okay if I go for a walk?” You ask, smiling as Maverick nods.

“Of course, do you want me to go with you?” He offers, already bracing his hands on either side of him ready to push himself up off the sofa.

“It’s okay, you can relax.” You say, watching as Maverick stays put, thinking to himself before speaking up.

“Don’t get lost, okay?” He says with a chuckle.

“I’m not as old as you so I can rely on my phone to keep me from getting lost.” You say with a cheeky grin, pulling your phone out of your pocket and waving it to emphasise your point, laughing at your dad’s expression of mock shock.

“You cheeky shit.” He says, breaking into a laugh and rolling his eyes as you pocket your phone.

“You know I love you.” You say with a grin, starting to head towards the front door.

“I love you too. Text me when you’re on your way back and I’ll start on dinner.” Maverick says, waving you off and you grab a spare key before exiting the house and letting your feet dictate where you go.

You find yourself wandering until you reach the beach, and you find yourself smiling as you see the families on the beach, lying on towels or playing in the sand and sea. You wished you could remember the times you had spent on that same beach but all you had was photos and stories your dad had told you. As you walk alongside the beach, take in the gorgeous sights as the golden sun starts to lower in the sky.

Eventually, you find yourself near a bar, it looks like a Navy bar to you just judging by the amount of people in khaki uniforms going in and out of the bar. You stood still for a moment, watching the people going in and out, wondering if your dad or anyone on his new squadron visited that bar. As you watch the bar, you catch sight of someone in a Hawaiian shirt standing on the decking just outside the bar. You didn’t mean to stare at the stranger, but you hadn’t seen anyone since Goose wearing a Hawaiian shirt so clearly this man had good taste and you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at the sight.

Before too long, the stranger caught sight of you, and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped when you realised, he was looking in your direction. Truthfully, you had no idea if he was actually looking at you or at something behind you because of his aviators hiding his eyes but the idea of this guy catching you looking at him was enough of a scare to get you to turn tail and begin your journey back to your dad’s house, shooting him a text to let him know you were on your way home.

In about twenty minutes, you enter Maverick’s house and are immediately greeted with the smell of cooking food, and you immediately know he is making you your favourite meal.

“Smells good.” You say with a wide smile, finding the kitchen and standing in the doorway, watching as your dad diligently works on the food.

“I had to make you your favourite.” Maverick replies, glancing over at you with a smile before returning his attention back to the food. You decide to help your dad out a bit and set the table and get drinks out. By the time you’ve set the table with cutlery and drinks, Maverick has finished the food and begins plating up the meals, handing you a plate with a smile. The two of you sit down at the table and eat your meals, chatting throughout and enjoying each other’s company. When you finish your meals, you help clean up, putting the dishes in the dishwasher despite Maverick’s insistence that you don’t have to. As he tells you what felt like the thousandth time to let him do it, the doorbell rang.

“Let me clean up, you answer the door.” You say, pointing towards the front door with a chuckle before turning back to the dishwasher, loading it carefully and wiping down the surfaces while you hear the muffled voices coming through from the hall.

“y/n, look who it is!” You turn and look through the doorway to see your dad entering the living room and behind him is a man sporting a shirt that looks incredibly familiar.

“I thought it was you I saw by the beach!” You couldn’t believe it. You were standing face-to-face with Bradley Bradshaw. Someone you thought you were never going to see again after that night he had screamed in your dad’s face about never wanting to see him again and leaving your house with the door slamming behind him. But here he was, standing in front of you with a huge smile and bright eyes. He’d changed a lot in the time that’s passed, he was definitely more muscular, and he had some new scars decorating his face, but above everything, he looked much more attractive than you remember him being.

“Bradley, I didn’t even recognise you!” You exclaim happily, accepting the offered hug instantly, clinging to Bradley and relishing in how gently he wrapped his arms around you, his chest rumbling with a gentle laugh.

“I almost didn’t recognise you. If I hadn’t of caught you staring, I probably wouldn’t have known you were here at all.” Bradley replies, both of you pulling apart when you hear Maverick’s amused scoff.

“Staring?” Maverick asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I wasn’t staring. I just noticed the Hawaiian shirt and it made me think of Goose.” You explain, rolling your eyes at your dad as both men laugh softly.

“Well, I’m happy to report that my dad’s impeccable fashion sense did in fact get passed down to me.” Bradley says, shrugging with a chuckle.

“So, what brings you by? Or was it just the fact you thought you saw me, so you came here to test your theory.” You ask, folding your arms across your chest as you raise an eyebrow with an amused smile.

“Maybe I was testing a theory, but I wasn’t exactly wrong.” Bradley admits, grinning as Maverick rolls his eyes jokingly.

“You could’ve called or texted if you wanted to know if she was here.” Maverick says, looking up at Bradley.

“I know but I haven’t seen her in a while, so I wanted to swing by.” Bradley says unapologetically.

“I’ll give you that one.” Maverick admits, nodding his head in approval as he turns to head into the kitchen to grab himself a beer.

“Hey, tomorrow would you like to grab a drink with me at the Hard Deck?” Bradley offers, a soft smile on his face as he awaits your response.

“Sure, it would be great to catch up after so long.” You say with a smile, more than happy to spend some time with Bradley now that you know he’s in the area.

“Great! I’ll swing by tomorrow and we’ll head down together. Is six, okay?” Bradley asks, offering a time.

“Six is perfect.” You say, your smile widening by the second, excited at the thought of spending the evening with Bradley.

“I’ll see you then.” Bradley says, giving you another hug before he leaves you and Maverick, closing the door behind him and signalling that he has gone. Once he’s gone you turn to face your dad, shocked to see his raised eyebrow.

“Don’t date an aviator.” Maverick says simply, making your jaw drop in shock.

“Dad, what?” You stammer, feeling your cheeks quickly heating up at the simple statement your dad said.

“You heard me. Don’t date an aviator. It won’t go well.” Maverick repeats himself, making you even more flustered.

“Okay, firstly, me and Bradley are going out for a friendly catch-up, we haven’t seen each other since we were eighteen. Secondly, I’m not a child so I can date whoever I want, aviator or not.” You retort, folding your arms over your chest as you stare down your dad.

“I’m just trying to protect you, sweetheart. I am an aviator, so I know what they’re like. It’s better if you steer clear of dating them. I saw how you were looking at Bradley and it’s best you don’t even try.” Maverick says, sticking to his guns and trying to explain himself.

“I appreciate that, dad. But I am an adult now, let me make mistakes and figure things out for myself.” You argue, raising an eyebrow as you continue to argue your point with your dad. Instead of responding, your dad just smiled softly before walking past you and heading upstairs. As his footsteps grow quieter as he disappears upstairs, you let out a soft sigh. You weren’t even going on a proper date with Bradley. It was just a friendly catch-up between two people who hadn’t seen each other in years. Right?

Six pm the next day couldn’t have come sooner for you. You had spent the day visiting some of your dad’s favourite spots with him. You had lunch together and he even managed to coerce you into taking a quick tour of his hangar. When you had got home you had spent way too long deciding on what you wanted to wear, trying to find something that was cute but didn’t make you look like you were trying to impress Bradley. Eventually, you find an outfit that fits what you’re going for and you put it on, smiling as you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You knew it wasn’t a date but the mere thought of getting to spend time with Bradley after so long was making you giddy. Just as you finish freshening up, you hear the doorbell ring and just by checking the time you knew it was Bradley and you immediately began to make your way downstairs. As you were heading downstairs you could hear a muffled conversation between Bradley and Maverick, but they stopped talking as soon as Bradley caught sight of you.

“y/n… you look… wow.” Bradley stumbles over his words, not knowing what to say.

“I’m hoping that’s a good wow.” You say with a soft laugh, smiling up at Bradley.

“It’s definitely a good wow, you look beautiful.” Bradley says, a sheepish smile covering his face as he looks at you and you feel your cheeks heating up at his shy compliment. The moment was then disturbed by Maverick clearing his throat.

“So, I’ll see you when you get back. Keep her safe, Bradley.” Maverick says, softly smiling at you before turning to look at Bradley who straightens up ever so slightly at Maverick’s gaze.

“Of course, I will, Mav.” Bradley says as you both move towards the door, bidding your dad one last goodbye before you exit the house, stepping into the warm evening air and beginning the walk to the Hard Deck, making small talk on your way to the bar.

The walk that had been twenty minutes the day before felt like it was five minutes when you were walking with Bradley. You were having so much fun spending time with him again after so long. Eventually, you reach the Hard Deck and Bradley guides you to a table, finding the quietest corner in the bar and pulling the chair out for you to sit down at, making you smile shyly.

“Thank you.” You say softly, sitting down on the chair.

“I’m going to grab us some drinks. Do you want some fries as well or something?” Bradley says, still standing as he looks down at you.

“I’ll take a beer if that’s okay and fries sound nice.” You say with a smile as Bradley nods, turning and making his way to the bar.

“Hey Penny, could I get two beers and put in an order for fries?” Bradley asks, leaning up against the bar and smiling at Penny as she approaches.

“Of course, am I starting a tab?” Penny asks, handing Bradley two beers and taking his card in return, watching as he nods in response.

“Yes please.” Bradley confirms as Penny nods, tucking his card away someplace safe for the duration of his time at the bar.

“And what table am I taking the fries to when they’re done?” Penny asks as she hands the order to one of her employees before turning back to Bradley.

“Just that one over there.” Bradley says, pointing out the table and Penny leans over the bar slightly, following where Bradley was pointing before her eyes widen in shock slightly.

“Is that y/n?” Penny asks, remembering how she’d seen you a few times when you were younger.

“It is. She’s visiting Mav for a bit, and I haven’t seen her in years, so I figured we’d catch up over drinks.” Bradley explains, unable to wipe the smile off his face as he briefly glances over at you seeing you entertaining yourself on your phone before turning his attention back to Penny.

“A catch-up, huh?” Penny asks, an amused smile on her face as Bradley blushes slightly his gaze flicking down to the bar counter before looking back up at Penny as he licks his lips nervously.

“Don’t you start. I’ve already had Mav warn me away from her.” Bradley says with a joking roll of the eyes as he takes the beer bottles and heads back over to the table placing a beer in front of you and then sitting down in the chair opposite you.

“I was beginning to think you’d run away or something.” You say with a laugh, putting your phone away and holding the beer bottle in between your hands loosely.

“Never. I was just catching up with Penny.” Bradley says, lifting his beer bottle and tipping it lightly in Penny’s direction.

“Penny’s here?” You ask, turning in your seat and looking over at where Bradley had been pointing, smiling as you catch sight of Penny working at the bar seeing her catch sight of a patron and smiling as they approach.

“She was pretty excited when she realised you were here, so I’d imagine she’ll come over soon enough.” Bradley says, taking a sip from his beer bottle as you turn back around to face him.

“I don’t doubt it.” You say with a chuckle, taking a sip of your own beer as the two of you fall into a brief silence.

“So, how have you been? What have you been up to in these last few years?” Bradley asks, head tilted slightly in his curiosity.

“Well, the Navy wasn’t really my thing, so I just went to college and ended up pursuing medicine and now I’m a nurse over in Chicago. What about you?” You say, explaining what you’ve been up to since you last saw him.

“You’ve probably figured out I’m an aviator now, but I did go off to college after the whole thing with Mav. But I’m finally where I want to be and now, I’ve got a permanent squad and a place to call home.” Bradley explains, smiling softly to himself as he thinks of how far he’s come.

“That’s incredible. I know Goose and Carole are so proud of you.” You say, reaching over and gently resting a hand on Bradley’s arm, fighting the growing heat under your cheeks at the contact yet completely missing Bradley’s slight blush too.

“Thank you. You’ve done well for yourself getting a job in Chicago. I’m proud of you.” Bradley says, getting the bravery to rest a hand on top of yours, encapsulating your hand with the warmth emitting from his.

“Thank you, Bradley.” You reply softly, unable to contain your smile.

“So… have you got anyone back home? Any partners or anything?” Bradley asks, flushing a bit redder at the boldness of the question and fights to hide his relief when you shake your head with a slight chuckle.

“No. I’ve been single since college. What about you Mr. Aviator? You’ve surely got girls throwing themselves at your feet.” You say, retracting your hand from underneath Bradley’s both of you trying not to show any upset at the lack of contact.

“Throwing themselves at my feet? Well, you’re not entirely wrong with that. But I’m just waiting for the right girl to come along.” Bradley says with a soft shrug, making your heart pound just that little bit faster at the revelation that he is single.

“Here’s your fries.” You look up at the familiar voice and can’t stop your smile from widening when you see Penny placing the small basket of fries on the table and you instantly get out of your seat to give her a hug.

“Penny it’s been so long!” You exclaim happily, grinning as she wraps her arms around you, reciprocating the hug.

“It really has, hasn’t it?” Penny says with a laugh, pulling away to hold you at arm’s length.

“If I had known you were here, I would’ve swung by sooner. Somehow dad neglected to tell me that you worked here. He had mentioned you were in the area though.” You explain as Penny shakes her head with a laugh.

“I know what your father is like so don’t worry. I won’t interrupt your time with Bradley, sweetie. Enjoy your night and if you need anything, let me know.” Penny says, giving you one last hug before making her way back over to the bar to continue serving customers. You and Bradley then dig into the fries, continuing to chat as you eat.

You had no idea how long you were at the bar with Bradley, but it felt like mere seconds when you were with him. You knew you had a slight crush on Bradley way back when you were teenagers, but it had been pushed to the back of your mind in the last few years with how life had been. But just seeing Bradley and spending time with him had brought all those feelings back and they were stronger than ever.

What you didn’t know was that Bradley felt the exact same way. Only he was struggling with the warning Maverick had issued him when he turned up to pick you up. Maverick had warned him away from you, saying he didn’t want you dating an aviator. But for you, Bradley was more than willing to go against Maverick’s warnings and risk angering him.

“I’m going to close up my tab and I’ll take you home, okay?” Bradley says after clearing his throat and you nod, waiting patiently as he crosses to the bar and closes out his tab with Penny before he crosses back over to you. When you noticed Bradley coming over you got up, following him through the bar, bidding Penny goodbye as you passed.

Exiting into the cool night are you were suddenly aware of how long you had spent at the bar with Bradley now that the moon had replaced the sun. However, you didn’t even mind. With the evening now much quieter than the previous environment of the bustling bar, you and Bradley were able to walk and talk quietly, feeling like your conversations were much more private now.

Much earlier than you would’ve liked to, you wound up at the end of the driveway to your dad’s house and you felt your heart sinking at the finality of the end of the night.

“I had a great night tonight.” You say, turning to look up at Bradley with a smile, grateful for the evening you had with him.

“So did I. It was great to catch up.” Bradley replies with a soft smile of his own.

“It was. I just wish it never had to end.” You admit softly, eyes flicking to the ground before looking back at Bradley.

“Me too. But what if we did this again sometime before you go back to Chicago? Maybe like a date?” Bradley says, biting the bullet and deciding to just go for it instead of losing his chance. But when Bradley saw the hesitation on your face, he began to second guess himself. Had he completely misinterpreted how the night had gone?

“I’d really like that, Bradley. But…” You begin, glancing over at the front door before looking back over at Bradley who softens.

“Mav told you not to date aviators.” Bradley says, nodding in understanding.

“I’m not fussed about that rule, he can’t control me. I just don’t want this to ruin your relationship with him. You just made up after everything that happened, and I’m scared I’ll ruin it.” You admit, wanting to do what you can to protect Bradley from your dad’s protectiveness.

“You won’t ruin anything. I’ve never really been one for listening to Mav’s rules anyway. I think it’s worth the risk.” Bradley says quietly, as if your dad was nearby and listening in to your conversation, while he also reached out and interlocked your hands gently smiling so softly at you that you were sure you’d melt into a puddle right there and then.

“I think it’s worth the risk too.” You admit with a smile, blushing slightly as Bradley squeezes your hand softly at your agreement.

“How about in a couple of days’ time, we have our date? I’ll find us a nice spot and I’ll text you the details.” Bradley says, growing quieter near the end of his sentence.

“You don’t have my number.” You say with a giggle, digging in your jacket pocket for your phone, unlocking it and finding your number before holding it out towards Bradley who hurriedly digs in his pocket for his phone, almost dropping it at the speed at which he pulled the phone out before typing your number into his phone and creating a contact for you.

“Done.” Bradley says with a large smile as you turn your phone off and put it back in your pocket while Bradley mirrors your actions.

“I’ll see you around.” You say softly, knowing you should head into the house and let Bradley get home himself.

“I’ll text you. Goodnight, y/n.” Bradley says softly, extending his arms for a hug which you accept almost instantly, silently loving the way Bradley’s arms wrap around you and make you feel safe.

“Goodnight, Bradley.” You whisper before pulling away from the hug and heading up the path to the front door and unlocking the door, glancing over your shoulder and smiling at Bradley for one last time that night as he smiles back and offers you one last wave before you disappear inside. Maverick had clearly left the hall lights on for you so you could navigate the house and you made your way upstairs to your room, making sure you turned off the lights as you went. Once you reach your room, you change into your pyjamas before heading to the bathroom to clean up and get ready for bed. Then you return back to your room and climb into your bed, pulling the covers over you and grab your phone, smiling at the text that displayed as an unknown number, but you knew it was Bradley.

‘Thank you again for a great night. I’ve not had this much fun in a long time.’

‘It’s Bradley by the way.’

You couldn’t help but giggle at the second text, imagining the brief panic on Bradley’s face after he hit send on the first message without clarifying it was him.

‘Me neither, it was nice to catch up :).’

‘Let me know when you’re home safe.’

You found yourself double texting Bradley in return, wanting to make sure you know when Bradley gets home safe. While you waited for Bradley to text you back, you texted one of your closest friends from Chicago and told her about how your evening had gone and as you expected, she was very eager to hear everything and demanded to know what Bradley was like and whether you liked him. While you were explaining how the evening went, a text from Bradley came through.

‘I’m happy to say I made it home.’

You couldn’t stop your thumbs from typing a speedy response to Bradley’s text.

‘I’m glad you made it home safe. Although I’m sure being a big strong Navy man means you’re safer than most when walking home.’

You knew calling Bradley a ‘big strong Navy man’ was probably a bit of a step too far but your thumbs were typing quicker than your brain could comprehend and you only realised what you had typed when you had hit send on the message. Just as you were beginning to type an apology, a text came through from Bradley.

‘Oh, I’m a big strong Navy man, am I?’

He knew what he was doing, and you did very little to fight back the heat growing under your cheeks.

‘You know what I meant.’

You had no idea how long you had been texting Bradley that night. You had woken up the next morning with your phone under your hand as you woke up to Maverick knocking on your door, asking if you wanted any breakfast. After responding to your dad, you flipped your phone over, unable to stop the smile from crossing your face when you saw the good morning text from Bradley. You replied to the message as you kicked your covers back, stretching before throwing a hoodie on over your pyjamas and heading downstairs to where your dad was preparing breakfast for you.

“Morning, dad.” You say with a smile, sitting at the table as Maverick places a plate of pancakes in front of you.

“Morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?” Maverick asks, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before returning his attention to his own food.

“I slept well thanks, how about you?” You reply, beginning to dig into your breakfast as Maverick finishes plating up his food, crossing to the table to sit opposite you.

“I slept well. How was your evening with Bradley? Penny mentioned she saw you.” Maverick asks, glancing across at you as you smile.

“It was nice to catch up with him. And yes, I did see Penny. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me she worked there.” You say with a chuckle, hoping your dad doesn’t read between the lines too much and instead focuses on Penny.

“Well, I didn’t anticipate you going to the Hard Deck so soon. I was going to invite Penny and Amelia over at some point.” Maverick admits with a light shrug and a grin as you roll your eyes jokingly.

“I’d love to see them and have a proper catch up.” You say in agreement before eating another mouthful of food. You continue to chat with your dad until you both finish your food, and you tidy everything away before you feel your phone buzz in your pocket and you pull it out, smiling when you see the text from Bradley.

“What’s got you all smiley?” Maverick asks with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Oh, just a friendly text from Bradley.” You lie, acting as if you hadn’t just read the text from Bradley confirming the time and place of your date tomorrow.

“Just friendly? Good.” Maverick says turning away and missing you rolling your eyes at his statement.

“Yeah, we know your rule.” You say, wishing your dad wasn’t as stubborn as he was, but you were also a Mitchell and held that same stubbornness, hence why you were so adamantly going against his rule. You typed out a hurried reply to Bradley’s text, telling him that the time and place he had picked sounded great and that you couldn’t wait to have your date.

You spent your day on the beach with Maverick, getting in some tanning time as you read. Penny ended up coming out to meet you with Amelia in tow. You spent time catching up with the mother-and-daughter duo, unable to believe how much Amelia had grown since you last saw her, and you loved getting to hear what she had been up to in recent years. Amelia even managed to convince you into going in the sea with her and you couldn’t help but smile and laugh with her as she attempted to splash you.

When you tired of the sea you returned to your towel, drying yourself off and sitting back down to join in with your dad and Penny’s conversations. And you didn’t miss how both your dad and Penny were acting around each other. You could tell they liked each other, they just needed to act on it.

Eventually, you and Maverick headed home after bidding Penny and Amelia goodbye, promising to keep in touch even after you head back to Chicago. And when you get home you open your phone to see messages from Bradley and you reply to them as quickly as possible, apologising for how long it had taken you to respond and picking up the conversation right up from where it had been left off. You loved texting Bradley; he could make you smile and blush like he was right there in front of you having a proper face-to-face conversation. You didn’t like that you had to lie to your dad about what you were talking about with Bradley, but he had chosen to come up with this stupid rule that had you and Bradley sneaking around like a pair of teenagers. But Bradley was worth the risk.

The next day you were in serious planning mode, you had to figure out a way to get out of the house without your dad asking too many questions or catching on to what you were going out to do. You knew the restaurant Bradley had picked wasn’t super fancy so you could get away with a nice, cute outfit that wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion from your dad and maybe you could get away with saying it was another friendly hang out. Maybe you could talk Penny into hanging out with Maverick to distract him and also potentially give them the opportunity to confess their own feelings after seeing the way they skirted around each other. You had conversed with Bradley about this dilemma, and he had offered to meet you at the end of your road instead of coming to the door and you knew that was more than likely the best option you had. If this date went well and there was another, you knew your dad would get suspicious about Bradley constantly turning up at the door. After some careful planning, you and Bradley had come up with the most effective plan to ensure that Maverick did not catch on to your evening plans.

By the time the evening came around, you had already planted seeds with your dad, telling him you wanted to go on an evening walk because you promised your friend a video tour of the sights of Miramar. With that in place, you had changed into the outfit you had picked for the date and texted Bradley that you were on your way out.

“You’re heading out then?” Maverick asks, smiling at you from where he was sat on the sofa and you smile over at him, grabbing the spare keys.

“Yep! Don’t worry about waiting up for me. Katie and I can chat for hours once we get going. Maybe you could invite Penny over or something?” You suggest, fighting the urge to smirk when you see your dad blush slightly at your question.

“You figured that out quickly, huh?” Maverick asks with a soft chuckle.

“You think I’d miss something as obvious as that? Nice try.” You say with a laugh, feeling your phone buzz in your pocket and you pull it out to find a message from Bradley, letting you know he was at the end of the road waiting for you.

“Look, I have to go. Call Penny.” You say, pointing at your dad with a joking warning finger before leaving the house, looking up and down the road until you spot a figure waiting at one end of the road and head towards them, knowing instantly that it was Bradley. You make your way towards him, your smile widening when he notices you, revealing a bunch of flowers he had behind his back.

“Hey.” Bradley says softly, smiling as you take the flowers.

“Hey.” You reply, admiring the beautiful flowers Bradley had picked out, he had assembled a bouquet of red carnations, it was simple but so beautiful and you couldn’t help but love Bradley just that little bit more because of it.

“I hope those flowers are okay.” Bradley says sheepishly, offering an arm out for you to take which you do so happily, letting him lead you to where he had parked his beloved Bronco nearby and opening the passenger side door for you, letting you get in the car before closing the door, rounding the car and getting in the driver's seat, starting up the engine and beginning the drive to the little restaurant Bradley had picked. The drive wasn’t too long, and you chatted the whole way. When you reached the restaurant, Bradley insisted you stayed put while he went and opened your door for you, telling you that you could leave the flowers on the seat for now before closing the door behind you and leading you into the restaurant.

“Hi, I have a reservation, should be under Bradshaw.” Bradley greets the host with a smile who consults the list in front of him before instructing you to both follow him. You follow him through the restaurant with Bradley by your side. You were shocked to find that Bradley had managed to reserve a table by a large window so you could overlook the beach and ocean, able to see the sun beginning its descent over the horizon.

“Bradley, this is amazing!” You say, unable to keep the excitement from your tone as Bradley yet again pulls your chair out for you, waiting for you to sit before tucking the chair a little closer to the table before going to his own seat.

“I wanted to make sure we had a good first date.” Bradley admits with a light shrug as he eases himself down into his seat, both of you picking up your menus in tandem, letting out a soft chuckle as you do so. You both scan the menus, talking about which meals sounded good before you both eventually came to a decision on meals and a drink. When the waiter comes around asking if you’re ready to order, both you and Bradley nod and ever the gentleman, Bradley lets you order first before ordering his own food and drink. The waiter writes down your orders before dismissing himself with the promise to return with your drinks, so you and Bradley pick up your conversation, both of you overwhelmingly happy with how the evening is going even if the date had only just started. Soon enough, the waiter returns with the drinks, placing them in front of you before dismissing himself again to serve other customers while your food is being prepared. By the time the food had arrived, you were sure that had you been on a date with anyone else, you would’ve run out of things to say but since it was Bradley, the conversation flowed naturally, and you never seemed to have a lull in the conversation even once and before too long your food arrived, and you both began to dig in.

“I never asked the other day. But how are you finding Chicago?” Bradley asks after a mouthful of food.

“It’s good. Obviously, I’ve been out there a while but I’m enjoying myself. I have some great friends out there, but I do feel quite far away from dad sometimes.” You admit, eyes flicking down to your plate before looking back up at Bradley who smiles in understanding.

“I get that. It’s hard to be away from family.” Bradley says, a soft understanding tone to his voice which makes you feel awful. You knew he had lost both his parents before he even reached the age of eighteen.

“Bradley, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“No don’t worry, honestly. It’s good. The more I talk about them the easier it gets.” Bradley says with a gentle smile, letting you know there were no hard feelings about it. With the topic settled, you were able to start a new conversation and the rest of the night ran smoothly. When it came to paying the bill, you went to get your card out, hand reaching to hand it to the waiter, but Bradley was quicker, gently taking your card from your hand and giving his card to the waiter instead.

“Bradley, come on I can pay.” You insist, your pleas in vain as the waiter begins to process the payment with Bradley’s card.

“I asked you on this date. It’s on me.” Bradley retorts with a grin, thanking the waiter as his card is handed back to him, finally giving your card back to you, chuckling as you huff lightly. Once everything is confirmed to have gone through, you’re given the freedom to leave and Bradley gets up first and you follow, letting him guide you through the bustling restaurant until you reach the cool night air of the outside world. You head back to the Bronco, of course letting Bradley open your door for you again. On the journey back, you both continue to talk with each other, even singing along lightly to one of the songs that come over the radio. By the time Bradley pulled up on the end of your road you couldn’t help but feel your heart sink at the realisation that the date was over. You had the best time with Bradley, and you wished you could spend more time with him. Once again, Bradley made you wait for him to open your door before you got out of the Bronco, this time you brought the flowers with you.

“I had the best night, Bradley.” You admit softly, smiling as Bradley smiles in response.

“So did I. Do you think we could have a second date?” Bradley asks, a slight sheepishness to his tone as he asks.

“I’d love to. This time, I’m picking the place and I’m paying.” You insist, pointing a joking finger at him as he laughs and shakes his head.

“Alright, you can pick. I’ll still come by and pick you up though.” Bradley replies, raising an eyebrow as you let out a soft sigh and nod.

“Deal.” You say, holding your free hand out for Bradley to shake which he does so.

“Deal.” Bradley agrees, squeezing your hand ever so softly before letting go.

“I’ll text you the details.” You say as Bradley nods.

“Got it. I can’t wait.” He replies, smiling as you nod in response.

“Good night, Bradley.” You say softly.

“Good night, y/n.” Bradley replies, his voice matching yours in softness. Just as you turn to head back to your dad’s house, you decide to turn to face Bradley and then kiss his cheek softly before whispering one last good night and heading back to Maverick’s house. As you head back to the house, you missed Bradley flushing a deep red with an awestruck smile on his face, watching as you walked down the road, unaware of the effect you had on him.

When you reached your dad’s house, you noticed that his bike was absent which made you tilt your head slightly in confusion before just deciding to shrug it off and enter the house. You were surprised to find none of the lights on, you flipped them on and found a note on the little shelf where the key bowl was. You opened the note and saw your dad’s scratchy handwriting, informing you that he’d gone to Penny’s house, making your eyebrows raise slightly in shock.

“Didn’t think he’d actually listen to me.” You mutter to yourself, heading through the house to try and find something in the kitchen that could act as a vase for the beautiful flowers Bradley had gotten for you. After searching for a few minutes, you were able to find something that would work and you filled it with water, putting the flowers in before heading upstairs to your room. You place the flowers on the bedside table before getting changed and then heading into the bathroom to clean your face and brush your teeth before getting into bed. You chose to stay up for a while to text Bradley before you both eventually decided to go to bed with the promise of talking in the morning.

The next morning, you woke up and were somewhat unsurprised to find that your dad was still out, so you looked around in the kitchen and found some food to make yourself some breakfast. As you prepared your breakfast, you texted Bradley a good morning message, smiling to yourself when he replied not long after you had sent your message. You continue to text him as you eat your food, unable to rid yourself of your smile as he continues to send you texts. In between messaging Bradley, you find yourself looking online for things to do that could potentially make an interesting date night for you and Bradley. You had decided that you weren’t going to actively look for a restaurant as you wanted to branch out a little and find something different for the two of you to do and as you searched you eventually found a nice-looking mini golf place along the beachfront and when you sent some pictures of the place to Bradley and proposed it as the location of your second date just for a little bit of fun he was more than onboard with the idea. The two of you decide on a time to meet later that day. You knew it was probably a bit soon to have a second date the day after the first, but you weren’t permanently in Miramar, and you were both aware of it and wanted to make the most of you being here.

Just as you finish cleaning up after yourself after finishing your food, you hear the front door open and Maverick call into the house, letting you know he has returned. You called back to Maverick, letting him know that you were just in the kitchen. It didn’t take him very long to head to the kitchen and you could tell from his face that he had a good night.

“So… how was Penny’s?” You ask with a raised eyebrow and smirk as your dad rolls his eyes at your words, heading to the coffee machine, grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee.

“I’m pretty sure you can figure it out for yourself.” Maverick mutters, silently willing his mug to fill up with coffee quickly.

“I’m sure I can.” You say with a soft chuckle, focusing on cleaning up after yourself.

“Did you have a good time calling your friend last night?” Maverick asks, finally picking up his mug and taking a sip of coffee.

“Yeah, she loved seeing the beach. She couldn’t stop talking about how jealous she was of the beach sunsets.” The lie came quickly and easily and thankfully your dad didn’t think much of it, just nodding lightly and continuing to sip on his coffee. It didn’t look like your dad was awake enough to hold a functioning conversation, so you quietly dismissed yourself, heading upstairs to shower and get changed so you’re ready for the day.

After showering, you enter your room to get changed and you smiled when you caught sight of the flowers on your bedside table. You couldn’t wait to spend another evening with Bradley. You don’t know how you were going to keep lying to your dad, especially if your next date went as well as the last and you were going to come back to Miramar in the future. You wished your dad could be okay with the idea of you and Bradley being together. You valued your dad’s opinion so much and you thought he of all people would be okay with you potentially dating Bradley. Bradley was an aviator, but he wasn’t one of the aviators your dad was talking about when he enforced the rule. Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you finish getting ready for the day and head back downstairs and find your dad fast asleep on the sofa.

“You are the only person I know who could drink coffee and fall asleep right after.” You mutter quietly to yourself, picking up the empty mug and taking it to the dishwasher as you reminisce on all the times your dad would doze off so soon after having a cup of coffee. After the brief tidy up you debate your next move. Part of you wanted to go and hang out with Bradley, but you didn’t know where he lived, nor did you want him to get sick of seeing you before your second date. So, you ended up deciding to just entertain yourself, you had a book, and the beach was nearby so you decided to take yourself down to the beach to read and soak up the sun while you could. You packed up a small bag with your book and a couple of other little things you figured you’d need while you were out before leaving a little note on the coffee table in front of your dad so he wouldn’t panic when he eventually woke up.

After you left the house, you slowly made your way towards the beach. It had so quickly become one of your favourite spots in Miramar and it made you happy that your dad had finally been able to settle down somewhere as beautiful as this. You sat yourself down on the towel you had brought with yourself and opened your book, eyes beginning to scan the pages, getting immersed in the world you were reading about. There were a few times when cocky Top Gun trainees would whistle to get your attention and then flex and show off in front of you, all of them unaware of you rolling your eyes beneath your sunglasses. Those were the type of aviators you had vowed to avoid. And they didn’t know that your heart had already been stolen by a much kinder and gentler aviator. One who was more than likely their superior. Once you stopped paying them any mind, they grew bored in trying to get your attention and instead found someone else who would give them the attention they wanted. You were able to get through a good chunk of your book with the sounds of the beach surrounding you. Just as you decided to pack up and head back home, figuring you had been out long enough, you caught sight of a family playing on the beach, the father scooping his son up and holding him close as the boy giggled and hugged his dad. The sight made your heart melt, and it made you wish all the more that you could remember the time you had spent in Miramar when you were little.

After tearing your eyes away from the sight, you started to make your way home, still finding yourself admiring your surroundings with every step you took. It didn’t take you long to make your way back to your dad’s house and just as you entered the house, you heard the tv playing in the living room, letting you know that your dad was now a bit more awake. You then head into the living room, greeting your dad as you enter the room, smiling at him as he greets you in return.

“Did you have a good time at the beach?” Maverick asks as you ease yourself down onto the armchair, nodding as you sit down.

“It was nice to just relax and read my book. I don’t get to do that much back in Chicago.” You say, glad you took the time you had to take care of yourself and relax at somewhere as beautiful as the beach.

“I’m glad you got a chance to relax. It must get pretty busy with your job, huh?” Maverick muses, realising he’s never truly sat down and thought about how busy your life can be.

“It’s a lot of long hours. But I knew what I was getting myself into when I pursued this career.” You admit. You had inherited a lot from your dad, one of which was your willingness to put in the hard work to get yourself where you wanted to be in life.

“I probably don’t say this enough but I’m so proud of you.” Maverick says softly, smiling over at you which makes you smile at his words.

“That means a lot, dad. Thank you.” You say softly, both of you standing from where you were sat and crossing to each other, hugging each other tightly. It wasn’t that your dad didn’t tell you he was proud of you, even if he thought he didn’t say it enough, in fact, he had said it to you a lot growing up. When you graduated college, you were sure he said it a hundred times just at the ceremony alone. Every time he told you that he was proud of you, it made your heart swell. All you ever wanted to do was make your dad proud.

You decide to spend the day spending time with your dad, talking about things and even coercing him into telling you a few stories from when you were little and lived in Miramar. It was nice to hear some stories from your childhood, especially when Goose, Carole, and Bradley were involved in the stories. You knew your dad missed his friends, and that was part of the reason you didn’t want your potential relationship with Bradley to drive a wedge between them. They were both the last thing left they had of Goose and Carole, and you’d never forgive yourself if you ruined their relationship after they had just mended it. When it grows close to the time you agreed to meet with Bradley, you begin to excuse yourself, getting up from the sofa.

“Where are you off to tonight?” Maverick asks, watching as you get up and begin to cross to the doorway so you can freshen up.

“I found a mini golf place down by the beach and Bradley kindly agreed to come with me for a friendly match.” You say with a grin, hoping your dad doesn’t think too much about Bradley being mentioned.

“You’ve seemed so much happier now you’ve reconnected with Bradley.” Maverick says, clearly not missing the effect Bradley had on you since you started talking with him again.

“I didn’t realise how much I missed him until we started talking again.” You admit with a light shrug, trying not to give too much away about your feelings for Bradley.

“Well, I’m glad you two have been able to be friends again.” Maverick says with a nod, silently dismissing you and you take the chance, heading upstairs to change and freshen up for meeting Bradley.

It takes practically no time for you to freshen up and get ready for your second date with Bradley. You were silently thankful that you had the sense to pack some cute outfits for your visit because now you didn’t feel like you had to panic and find clothes that might work. When you finish getting ready, you head back downstairs after checking your phone and seeing a text from Bradley saying that he’s on his way, grab your key, and bid your dad a quick goodbye as you make your way out the door.

Once more you make your way down the road, realising that you beat Bradley to where you agreed to meet. You waited patiently for but a couple of minutes before Bradley walked up alongside you.

“Funny seeing you here.” Bradley says jokingly, both of smiling as you turn to face him.

“I never could’ve expected to run into you here.” You say, a joking sarcastic tone to your voice as you let out a breathy laugh before giving Bradley the hug he offered. After greeting each other, you both begin the walk to the mini golf place. It wasn’t too far from your dad’s house, and you enjoyed getting to walk with Bradley, especially when you had no shortage of conversation topics. It didn’t take you long to reach the mini golf course and as you got closer; you began to take longer strides to get out in front of Bradley to ensure you could pay for it. Thankfully, Bradley stuck true to the deal and patiently waited for you to pay, only stepping closer when the employee at the booth handed you two golf clubs and two golf balls, taking one of each from you.

“Let’s play.”

As you make your way around the course, taking it in turns while making light conversation with each other each step of the way. As you get ready to take your first shot on the course you had moved on to, Bradley quickly steps forward.

“Hey, do you mind if I just do something that might help you really quick?” Bradley asks, making your focus shift from the golf ball to him.

“Yes, of course.” You say with a smile, waiting as Bradley takes a step closer to you.

“Do you mind if I touch you?” Bradley asks, his voice soft as he studies your expression, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Yes.” Your voice is just as soft as his. Bradley then gently rests his hands on your hips, missing how your breath hitches in your throat at the gentle contact.

“Is this okay?” His voice was soft against the shell of your ear, making your heart pound ten times faster.

“Of course.” You mumbled, fighting the feeling of your cheeks heating up as Bradley carefully adjusted your body, his hands remaining on your hips even after he had finished adjusting your body.

“There, try taking a swing now.” Bradley says, removing his hands from your hips and taking a small step back, making you hold back a frown at the sudden lack of contact. You try to focus yourself after Bradley had stepped away, focusing on where you needed to aim for, and not shifting your body from where Bradley had carefully placed it. You took a deep breath before swinging your club, hitting the golf ball with just enough power to bag yourself a hole-in-one.

“I did it!” You cry out triumphantly, holding your hands up in celebration.

“There you go!” Bradley praises, pulling you into a hug, and carefully avoiding your golf club.

“You’ve given away your best trick. Now I’m going to kick your ass.” You say smugly, laughing as Bradley shakes his head jokingly.

“You’re definitely a Mitchell with that competitive attitude.” Bradley jokes, making you roll your eyes before you and Bradley begin to move on to the next part of the course. It doesn’t take the two of you much longer to get through the remainder of the course and by the time you had finished, you had practically stopped keeping score, instead just focusing on having fun with each other. After returning the clubs to the employee at the booth, you took a little walk further down the beach, finding a wall to sit down at to watch the waves crashing gently against the shore. You and Bradley continue to converse quietly, taking in the beautiful sights the San Diego beach has to offer. At a lull in the conversation, Bradley turned to face you, making you mimic his actions.

“Are you okay, Bradley?” You ask softly, analysing his expression, trying to anticipate what he might say to you.

“Can I kiss you?” Bradley’s question took you off guard, yet you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding in excitement.

“Yes.” You replied breathlessly, and at your response, Bradley gently cupped your face in his hands, inching closer before his lips met yours, your eyes fluttering shut at the contact. The kiss was perfect, it was like putting together two pieces of a puzzle. You didn’t want the moment to end at all but eventually, the need for air became too much and you both gently pulled away from each other, smiling as you locked eyes.

“That was… wow.” You say breathlessly.

“I’m hoping that was a good wow.” Bradley says with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

“It definitely was.” You reply, leaning in for another kiss which Bradley is more than happy to reciprocate.

“Do you think we could make this official? Will you be my girlfriend?” Bradley asks, watching you with the gentlest gaze.

“I’d be a fool to say no to you.” You say happily, pulling Bradley into a hug, your grin widening further than you thought possible, especially when Bradley pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head as he squeezed you ever so slightly closer. You had never been happier than you were in this moment with Bradley. The two of you continue to chat, embracing each other as you watch the sunset across the horizon.

“We should probably get you home, huh?” Bradley muses softly when he feels you shiver against him, instantly shedding his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders. You get up wordlessly, waiting for Bradley to follow suit and then you begin to slowly walk back together, hands interlinked as you quietly converse, nothing able to wipe the smiles from your faces. When you eventually reach the end of the road leading to your dad’s house once more, you turn to face Bradley.

“Tonight was amazing.” You say, squeezing Bradley’s hand softly.

“It was.” Bradley agrees softly.

“Looks like we have an excuse to see each other more before I leave then?” You muse softly, looking at Bradley as he nods.

“Absolutely.” Bradley says, his smile gentle.

“We can meet at the Hard Deck tomorrow. My squad will be there, but I won’t make you introduce yourself if you don’t want to though. We can find a quieter part of the bar to hang out.” Bradley then continues, carefully picking his words in an attempt to not scare you off.

“I wouldn’t mind meeting your team. I believe I owe one of them a thank you for saving you and dad on that mission you went on.” You say, more than happy to meet Bradley’s team.

“Don’t thank him, it’ll go straight to his head and then he won’t be able to shut up about it for ages.” Bradley says with a laugh, thinking about how Jake would react to being thanked.

“Well, I at the very least owe him a drink for what he did.” You say with a light shrug and a smile.

“I won’t stop you but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Bradley says with a soft shake of the head, making you roll your eyes with a light scoff.

“I can handle egotistical aviators any day of the week.” You say, folding your arms across your chest and raising your eyebrow as if accepting a challenge.

“You know, I’d pay good money to see you put Hangman in his place.” Bradley admits, chuckling to himself at the mental image of you taking Jake down a peg or two.

“If I need to, I will.” You say with a soft laugh, both you and Bradley knowing that you can absolutely handle yourself. You then both fall silent for a brief moment before Bradley clears his throat softly.

“I should probably let you head back.” Bradley says, nodding in the direction of Maverick’s house, not wanting to keep too long.

“Thank you again. Tonight was amazing.” You say, taking Bradley’s jacket off and handing it to him.

“I should be thanking you.” Bradley says, slipping his jacket back on.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bradley.” You whisper, stepping closer to Bradley and placing a quick, soft kiss on his lips, pulling away with a smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.” Bradley whispers in response, smiling sweetly as you take a small step back offering him one last smile before turning around and making your way back to your dad’s house with a wide smile that you were sure could never fade.

When you entered the house, you were unsurprised to hear the tv on in the living room. After all, you and Bradley hadn’t been out too long, so it made sense that your dad was still up and about.

“Hey, dad.” You say, standing in the doorway to the living room, smiling as he looks over at you.

“Hey, sweetheart. How was the mini golf?” Maverick asks, his focus completely on you.

“It was great. We had a good time. I kicked Bradley’s ass of course.” You say, jokingly bragging even though you had no idea who had won or lost between you and Bradley.

“That’s my girl. Want to finish watching this movie with me?” Maverick offers, patting the sofa to encourage you over. You nod and cross the room to the sofa, easing yourself down on the sofa next to your dad, relaxing back against the cushions as you watch the movie. You loved watching movies with your dad, you had similar tastes in movies, and you made funny comments to each other during the movie, commenting on a character’s choice or how you would’ve handled a situation. Partway through the movie, your dad decided to order some food given that the two of you hadn’t had any dinner. The two of you perused a menu and picked some food before Maverick placed the order. You both continue to watch the movie until the doorbell rings, giving away that the food has arrived, and you go to pick it up from the delivery driver while Maverick grabs some plates and drinks. Once all the food is plated up, you focus back on the movie, still exchanging comments and enjoying each other’s company. It felt like forever since you had been able to spend time with your dad like this and you were so grateful that you took the time off to come and visit him.

By the time the movie had finished, the food had been eaten and you were feeling the excitement of the day catching up to you, so you stood up, stretching your arms above your head as you stood.

“I might go and start winding down. I’m exhausted.” You say, a yawn spilling past your lips as you talk, emphasising your point.

“I believe you. You go and get an early night, sweetheart.” Maverick says as you pick up your plate and cup, nodding lightly at his words, heading into the kitchen to put your things away before returning to the living room just as Maverick was standing up himself.

“Night, dad.” You mumble, reaching out to hug your dad which he happily reciprocates, holding you close.

“Night, y/n.” Maverick replies, squeezing you a little tighter before releasing you. When he lets you go, you head up to your room and quickly get ready for bed, clambering under the covers and texting Bradley. You had a back-and-forth chat with him, telling him about how excited you were to see him next and how you couldn’t wait to meet his team. You also confessed that you would like to tell your dad about your new relationship with Bradley before you went back to Chicago, but you wanted Bradley’s thoughts first and he let you know that whenever you were ready, he’d be there to help you tell Maverick.

Eventually, you fell asleep and when you woke up in the morning, you remembered that you’d be meeting with Bradley at the Hard Deck, and it kicked you into high gear. You knew you wouldn’t be meeting him until the late afternoon, but you wanted to ensure that you had sufficient time to prepare for the evening. You got up and once you were showered and dressed, you headed downstairs to make some breakfast for you and your dad. As you prepared the breakfast, you put the radio on quietly for some background noise and you hummed lightly to the song playing.

When Maverick came down for breakfast, you had just begun plating it up and you handed him a plate just as he began to sit down. You then poured him a mug of coffee, placing it down on the table with a smile before focusing on plating up your own food. You then sit down opposite your dad and the two of you have a chat over dinner. You decided you’d spend the day with your dad before heading to the Hard Deck, so you laid out a plan with your dad since you knew you didn’t have much longer left in Miramar. You were excited to do some more things with your dad, especially given the number of times you’d been disappearing in the evenings to hang out with Bradley. You go with your dad to various places around Miramar that you haven’t seen yet. He even took you to Top Gun, showing you around his workplace, and even able to show you some of the jets he flew. Stepping back into Top Gun felt familiar to you, you didn’t have any concrete memories of the building, but the familiarity was overwhelming, and you were so happy your dad found himself back at Top Gun, so he not only had the familiarity but because he also had the stability of working in one place without having to move constantly. By the time you had finished the tour of Top Gun, you became aware of the time and turned to your dad.

“Hey, dad. I promised Bradley I’d meet with him at the Hard Deck to meet his team in like an hour or so. Is it okay if I head home to get sorted?” You ask, turning to face your dad.

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Bradley. Is there anything you should know about?” Maverick asks, eyebrow slightly raised as he watches you.

“Dad, it’s not like that. He just wanted me to meet his friends. Besides, I do owe one of them a drink at least for saving you and Bradley.” You reply, shrugging lightly as you explain yourself. You longed to tell your dad, but you knew it wasn’t the right time, not without Bradley to support you through it.

“Well, that’ll go straight to his head.” Maverick says with a chuckle gesturing with his head for you to follow him which you do so, trying to hide your smirk when you realise your dad has said practically the same thing that Bradley had when you mentioned buying a drink for the aviator who saved both your dad and Bradley. You followed your dad out to his car, finding it a little bit funny at the number of times he’s used the car in the duration of your stay when you know he’d much rather be riding around on his motorbike. You both get into the car and Maverick begins the drive back to his house.

Once he pulls up and parks the car, you both get out and you make your way into the house and up to your room so you can freshen up. After you’ve made yourself a little more presentable for the evening, you head back downstairs to spend a little bit more time with your dad before heading down to the Hard Deck. Just before you leave to head down to the bar, you bid your dad goodbye, promising to be back before it’s too late.

The walk to the Hard Deck was quiet without Bradley around to keep you company, but you knew you’d be seeing him soon enough. Besides, as you made your way down to the bar, you were able to appreciate the beauty around you before you had to go back to Chicago.

By the time you make it to the Hard Deck, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket making you stop in your tracks, pull your phone out of your pocket to read the message you had received from Bradley, letting you know that he was in the Hard Deck and that you could just head in whenever you were ready. Taking a deep breath, you head into the bustling bar, glancing around and quickly locating Bradley just by his Hawaiian shirt, seeing him standing with a group of people who you could only assume were his team. As you cross the room, Bradley turns around and catches sight of you, eyes lighting up as he smiles and crosses to meet you in the middle, instantly capturing your lips in his for a sweet kiss.

“Well, that’s one way to say hello.” You mumble with a smile as you both pull away slightly, smiling at each other.

“I’m just happy to see you.” Bradley confesses softly, pulling you into a gentle hug, and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“That makes both of us.” You reply happily, eyes fluttering closed in the embrace for a brief moment before you pull away.

“Let’s get you acquainted with the team, shall we?” Bradley says, wrapping a gentle arm around your waist and guiding you over to the group of people he had just been standing with by the pool table. As you approach the group, Bradley is quick to introduce you to everyone, making sure he made it known that you were his girlfriend before he introduced everyone by name. Once you had been introduced to everyone, you turned to address the group.

“Alright, so which of you is the one I owe a drink for saving my dad and Bradley?” You ask, making the group exchange looks at the realisation that you’re not only Bradley’s girlfriend but Maverick’s daughter as well. Once they get over the initial shock of the revelation, a blond man steps forward, a cocky smirk on his face as he smiles at you.

“Well, sounds like you owe me a drink then.” He says with a smirk, leaning back against the pool table with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m a woman of my word.” You say simply, shrugging with a laugh before going over to the bar to order a drink for both you and Jake from Penny, greeting her happily as you do so. When you’ve grabbed the drinks, you return to the group, handing one of the beers to Jake which he takes happily, making sure everyone saw the special treatment he believed he was getting.

“You weren’t lying when you said it would go to his head.” You muse with a laugh as Bradley winds an arm around your middle, pulling your back to his chest as he lets out a soft chuckle.

“He’s just warming up.”

Unbeknownst to you and the others, Maverick entered the bar while you were all occupied with your conversations and sat himself at the bar, smiling at Penny as he did so. As he received his drink, he glanced over at you with the Daggers, and his eyebrows furrowed as he saw the embrace Bradley had you in, and he certainly didn’t miss Bradley pressing soft kisses to your cheek as you laughed, looking up at him with all the love in the world.

“Did you know about them?” Maverick asks the next time Penny stops in front of him, gesturing over in your direction with his head.

“No more than you did clearly. But it was obvious they liked each other the moment they had that little meet-up when y/n first came back. Bradley did mention you warning him away from her though.” Penny says, focusing her attention on a stain on the bar top and wiping a cloth along it.

“I just didn’t want her to get hurt. I know what aviators are like.” Maverick says, eyes fixed on the drop of condensation running down the beer bottle in his hand.

“Pete, she’s not a child and I’m sure she’s told you as much. Besides, Bradley looks at her like she holds the entire world in her hands. Bradley’s not like the others. Give him a chance.” Penny says softly, watching the man in front of her softly, seeing how he silently processes her words. Instead of responding, Maverick looked back over to where you and Bradley were, and he could see the look of love evident on both of your faces.

Suddenly, a patron at the bar who was clearly already much too drunk stumbled in your direction and Maverick was convinced he had never seen a quicker reaction from Bradley until right now. Bradley, with one of the arms he had wrapped around your middle, carefully manoeuvred you so that you were now behind him, and he took the brunt of the patron falling on him, immediately steadying him while shooting him a warning look. Once the guy had wandered back to his friends, Bradley turned around to face you, placing gentle hands on your hips and giving you a soft kiss, pulling away with a gentle smile before inaudibly chuckling at something you said.

“They look happy together.” Maverick says softly, thinking of how Goose used to look at Carole the same way Bradley was looking at you.

“They do. Give Bradley a chance.” Penny reiterates, looking down at Maverick who nods sheepishly.

“I’ll speak to them in a bit. I don’t want to disturb them yet.” Maverick says, turning his attention to Penny, smiling softly at her before striking up a new conversation with her.

Across the bar, you were talking to the Daggers, finding out some more stories from when Bradley had first come back to Top Gun.

“Should’ve seen him. He was a menace when he found out Maverick was teaching. Damn near got themselves killed during training with the stunts they pulled.” Jake explains, beer in hand as he leans up against a nearby table as you watch Bradley and Natasha play a game of pool against each other.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. Bradley was pretty pissed at dad when everything went down, and dad’s stubborn as anything.” You say with a gentle roll of the eyes.

“I’m just glad they got past their issues by the time they went on the mission. I hate to admit it, but they’re our best solo aviators.” Javy admits with a chuckle, making you smile as Jake gawps in mock shock.

“I’m right here you know. I’m the one who saved their asses.” Jake shoots in retaliation, making you and Javy laugh to yourselves.

“What are you two laughing about?” Bradley asks with a smile, sidling up alongside you.

“Javy admitting that you and dad were among the best two pilots for the mission seemed to be a bit of a hit to Jake’s ego.” You explain, making Bradley chuckle as he reaches out to clap Jake on the shoulder then holding out the pool stick for him to take.

“Let’s step outside for a minute.” Bradley mumbles, his voice low as he dips his head near your ear so you can have a semi-private conversation with the bustling volume of the bar. You nod and let Bradley lead you towards the front door of the bar, both of you instantly stopping in your tracks when you see your dad standing near the door, a soft smile on his face.

“Can we talk?” He asks the two of you, eyes flicking between you and Bradley as you both nod lightly. Maverick then gestures for you to follow him outside which you do, stepping out onto the deck and watching the waves crash against the beach.

“Mav I-”

“Bradley, I think it’s best I do the talking here. Look I was wrong to tell the two of you to stay away from each other. Just seeing the two of you earlier was enough of a wake-up call for me to realise that I was being a dick and that you both clearly love each other. I won’t get in your way.” Maverick says, making you and Bradley exchange a look before looking back at your dad.

“Dad…” You mumble, heart softening at your dad’s gentle smile.

“Bradley looks at you the same way Goose looked at Carole.” Maverick then continues, making you look at Bradley who has a slight blush painted across his cheeks at the revelation.

“Thank you, Mav. I promise I’ll look after her.” Bradley promises, holding a hand out for Bradley to shake, instead being pulled into a hug by your dad.

“I know you will.” Maverick says reassuringly before pulling away from the embrace, patting Bradley on the shoulder, and taking a step back before you hug your dad gratefully.

“I love you dad, thank you for giving us a chance.” You whisper, only audible to you and Maverick.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now, enjoy the rest of your evening.” Maverick replies, squeezing you a little tighter and planting a kiss on the top of your head before releasing you and heading back into the Hard Deck. After the door closes behind your dad, Bradley turns to face you with a grin and slightly raised eyebrow.

“Would you like to come to mine?”

It took practically no time for you and Bradley to get back to his small house, the two of you head into the living room and settle down on the sofa. As you sit down, Bradley wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side gently. At the shift of embrace, you look up at Bradley, a soft smile on your face that matches his. Before you knew it, you started to lean up to press your lips to his softly, pulling away for a brief moment to adjust yourself, turning yourself more towards Bradley and cupping his face in your hands before kissing him once more. Bradley was quick to reciprocate the kiss, bracing a gentle hand on the back of your head in an attempt to hold you closer while his other hand winds around your waist, pulling you closer in that way as well as your eyes and his flutter closed. When the need for air becomes too much for both of you, you pull away but only enough to press your foreheads against each other, eyes opening again as your hand drifts up to play with Bradley’s hair.

“I know your dad pointed it out earlier but… I love you.” Bradley murmurs, a shy smile on his face as you smile back.

“I love you too.” You reply quietly before Bradley reconnects your lips for another kiss. Pulling you impossibly closer until air is needed once more.

“I know I’ve already asked you to be my girl, but what if you stayed? Is there a way you could stay here, with me?” Bradley asks, knowing that it was probably a long shot to ask you such a question, especially when the two of you had not long got together but he couldn’t just sit by and let his chances slip by again. To his surprise, you smiled, and gently ran a hand through his hair.

“I was actually visiting for more than just seeing dad. I actually got an offer to transfer to a hospital here in San Diego. I wanted to see the area before I made a choice and… I think I have a reason to accept it now.” You say, barely able to finish your sentence before Bradley kisses you again, gently pushing you back until you are lying back on the sofa with him hovering over you.

“Well looks like we have some good news to celebrate then.” Bradley says after breaking the kiss, smiling down at you as you smile back.

“Sounds like we do.” You mumble before grabbing the lapels of Bradley’s Hawaiian shirt to pull him back down for another kiss.

“I think we should take this to my room.” Bradley mumbles against your lips, making you loosen your grip on his shirt slightly so he can pull away, pulling you up with him yet still unable to keep his hands and lips off you as you make your way upstairs to his room. Just as you reach the door to his room you begin tugging his Hawaiian shirt off, carelessly discarding it on the floor as Bradley braces himself against the door, pushing it open behind him as you stumble in after him.

You couldn’t wait to make the move to Miramar now you had Bradley. You knew he was worth the risk.

[runnning-outof-time]

Hiiii, thank you so much for all of these they are so wonderful.

I would love something with Tommy and maybe 30? "You're not hurt are you?"

Was thinking maybe Tommy comes home after a particularly trying day and just flops onto the couch. Y/N comes home from food shopping shortly after and finds him and is concerned for him. They can be either married or whatever you see fit.

Uhmm I'd love it to be nice and fluffy, and I know you said you're not into writing shut sooo just go as heavy as you feel comfortable with and coat it with fluff and I'll be happy. >w< thank you so much I hope you're doing well and I'm happy to be part of this celebration with you! 💜

Thanks so much for sending this in, @chumon ! I’m sorry it took so long for me to write! I absolutely love this idea (thanks for adding some more detail to it…it made it easy to follow). I hope you like what I did with it! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Never Tired For You

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: a slightly suggestive conversation/situation

Word Count: 1153

Summary: (Y/N) finds Tommy laying on the couch and immediately thinks the worst…he couldn’t just be laying down, right?

Tommy was tired. It had only been two days into his two week stay in London, and he already felt exhausted by the numerous meetings he had to carry out. There was so much to keep track of: the on-going deal with Alfie Solomons and all of the turns that took, making sure Arthur continued to keep things in line at the Eden Club, and keeping tabs of whatever Inspector Campbell was going to have him do next.

Somehow he managed to carve out an afternoon to himself. He was hoping to spend it with his wife, (Y/N), who had joined him on this trip — against his own volition — but upon returning to his sister’s home, he found that she wasn’t in.

So he decided to lay down on the couch. Yes, Tommy Shelby actually took a moment for himself so that he could rest. No, the world didn’t come to an end. But he actually managed to find a position comfortable enough that made him want to stay on the couch.

(Y/N) had been out grocery shopping. She realized that Ada needed a few things, and so with nothing better to do she set out and ran some errands.

The surprise that was waiting for her back at the house just about made her drop the basket she was carrying. Never had she seen her husband laid out on the couch — especially in the middle of the day. The sight of it alone was enough to get her mind running in overdrive.

“Tommy? What’s happened?” she got right to the point as she hurried over to the couch he was laying on.

“Huh?” he asked in confusion, beginning to move from his laying position so that he could sit once more.

“No, don’t move,” she rushed to stop him, her one hand extended in his direction, “you’re not hurt, are you?” Asking the question made her heart drop. She’d did a quick scan of his frame and found nothing glaring at her, but she couldn’t be too sure.

“No, love, I’m not,” he shook his head, continuing with his motions of sitting up, looking up at her with furrowed eyebrows. “I was just laying down,” he told her then, fishing the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket so that he could slide one between his lips.

The second half of his statement made (Y/N) audibly gasp. There’s no way that Tommy Shelby would willingly lay down, she thought to herself incredulously. “Ok now I’m worried, Tom. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” he chuckled at her worry, “there’s not a scratch on me. I’ve just had a long day is all,” he made another attempt to quell her concerns. The look on her face told him that she didn’t quite buy it. “Would you like to check for yourself?” he asked then, his one eyebrow quirking upwards as a grin teetered on his lips.

She could tell by his facial expression that his question was leaning on the suggestive side of things. Just the thought of what he was hinting at made heat rush to her cheeks. His cheekiness was one of the things she loved about him.

“Hmm?” Tommy cut into her thoughts, looking up at her through his eyelashes as he waited for her response.

“No…” she trailed off, biting her bottom lip to conceal her grin when she saw a tinge of disappointment fill his features, “I think I’ll believe you. And besides…you said you had a long day,” she called back to his previous statement.

“I had a long day…doesn’t mean I’m too tired for me wife,” he reminded her, the previous glint returning to his eyes.

“Maybe later,” she decided, her grin growing to match his.

“C’mere then,” he beckoned, leaning back against the couch as he placed the cigarette between his lips again.

“Let me put these away first,” she answered him, lifting the basket she was still holding. He nodded in response and she went to the kitchen to put the groceries away. Moments later, she was back in the front room curled up into Tommy’s side. “So you’ve really only had a long day?” she couldn’t help but bring their previous conversation up again.

“Yes,” he answered, his fingertips absentmindedly dancing over the skin of her arm. “Arthur’s losing it at the club again…I’m not sure what I’m going to do with him.”

“Give him another chance,” (Y/N) suggested, lifting her head from his shoulder when she felt his eyes on her. “I mean it,” she doubled down on her stance, her eyes locked with his.

Tommy pursed his lips and thought about her comments for a moment before he let out a breath and looked to the windows.

“I’ll drop it,” she broke the silence, realizing that his mind was going again. She didn’t want to ruin this moment. “Let’s go back to just sitting here.”

After speaking, she turned on the couch so that she was able to straddle his lap. His hands quickly found their home on her hips, and his eyes were immediately back on hers as the mischievous glint returned.

“Just sitting here, eh?” he questioned her with raised eyebrows.

“I’m sitting,” she grinned, her hands finding his cheeks before she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Tommy’s hands moved to press flat against her back as their kiss deepened, bringing her body flush against his.

“If this is what it’d be like…” he breathed as they pulled away just slightly, “I’ll have to start coming home early more often.”

“If you hold up your end of the bargain, I’ll hold up mine, Mr. Shelby,” (Y/N) pulled further away from him so that he could see the smile present on her face.

Their lips met again, teeth clashing and tounges pressing together as they became lost in their embrace. Tommy tried to be sneaky with it, but (Y/N) pulled away when she felt him start to unbutton the top of her dress.

“Not so tired anymore, hmm?” she questioned, a suggestive glint in her eye as she sat up straight, her hands running down his cheeks so that she could settle them on his shoulders.

“Never tired for you, love,” he husked, his eyes blown with lust as he managed to continue with his mission despite her breaking further away from him.

“Let’s go to our room then. I don’t think Ada’d want us to do this on her couch.”

That was all Tommy needed to stop what he was doing and drop his hands from her frame. “Go on, then,” he nodded his head to her, “lead the way.”

(Y/N) wasted no time in standing from his lap. She waited for him to stand also before she gingerly took hold of his hand and led him to the steps and up to their room.

*tags in the reblogs so they’ll hopefully get sent out

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