#just a little something to tide y'all over

[toast-com]

Okay, so, I have a little snippet for A Drivers Daily Life I've got to post today!

In the meantime, I could do some character or ship snippet asks, I guess. RWS, TVS, whatever. Send it in, and I'll write a snippet.

[shidouryusm]

One new notification from Reddit

・❥・Toji x f!reader

・❥・content -> nsfw, minors dni, sugar daddy-sugar baby dynamic, ceo!Toji, explicit smut, lore and lore, manipulation kinda, roleplay, kinda voice kink if you squint, spanking, blowjob, cunnilingu$, t!tplay, p -> v penetration, m@ting press, kinda mirror sex(?) , a liddol plot around megumi, creampie, lmk what I missed

・❥・word count -> 5.5k (mwuah mwuah)

・❥・a.n: here’s my first take on @k9nto ‘s reddit collaboration (Tal baby Im so sorry it took like half our lifespan to submit lol). Entries are open, participate! and find the masterlist here . It took so long than I expected it to be sobs. I got into a massive toji brainrot and just poured every rotting thought in my brain in this. dividers by @/cafekitsune . Hope y'all like it

“Weren’t you supposed to be in Sweden today for a business meeting or something?” Megumi’s drawling voice was what broke the layer of silence on the breakfast table. Toji peeks from the shield of newspaper, eyebrows raised in a gesture of mulling over the question before he spoke out.

“Ahh yes. I cancelled the flight.”, his tone nonchalant as if he was explaining why he skipped breakfast. The words, simple as they might sound, held a sense of power and unbending authority as if mere words of his are capable of turning the tide. Which is true considering most businesses in vicinity are under the palm of his hand ;therefore, cancelling such meeting, losing few million yens of deal here and there isn’t gonna bother him in the slightest.

The board is majorly his and what he says goes around that circular mahogany table. Besides, staying at home today was more of his priority than listening to some mind numbing presentation of a business which earns meagre profit to live by. 

No, he had something important on his mind. 

“Are you sure? Last time I heard, this meeting seemed important for the merger or something”, Megumi’s inquisitive voice once again drew Toji’s attention. His dark teal eyes twinkles with amusement at his son’s newfound curiosity. 

“Showing interest in business, Megumi? How about you go instead of me, what say?” His teasing, booming voice flustering Megumi as he ignored the comment, suddenly being ten times more interested in his breakfast. 

“You usually don’t cancel meetings like these, that’s why.” he mumbles, earning a gruff laughter and a pat on the back from his father.

“The managing director can handle it well enough. Besides, I get to sit with you for breakfast after so long. I’d say it’s much better than some boring meeting, isn’t it?” Megumi nods, a tight smile on his lips at the silky warmth of his Toji’s voice.

Toji folded the newspaper, setting it aside and concentrating on the breakfast table for the first time ever since he sat down. Tsumiki’s chair is empty, indicating she already left for her work. Megumi stalls his breakfast, seemingly waiting for something. He fiddles the spoon around the soup bowl, silent engulfing them once again before a ping of his phone reverberates through the dining hall.Toji flickers his eyes at his son, who answered his phone quite eagerly, but no sooner than that, his face was crestfallen.

“Anything on mind, Megumi?” his voice is soft yet carrying. Megumi shakes his head quickly, denying any disturbance that ever flashed across his face. 

“Nothing…’m off to college. See you later.” his voice ebbs away even before he finishes his sentence as he steps out of the house in one go, leaving the older man in his extravagant dining all by himself. 

Megumi has always been a little inside his shell, not wearing emotions on his sleeve so such behaviour wasn’t new for Toji. However, seeing that flicker of sadness in his eyes sparked curiousity in the elder Fushiguro’s mind and he almost guesses what piqued that reaction off him. Toji finishes up the leftover tea before a sharp shrill of the doorbell rang through the house as the househelp scutters toward the door to open it. 

Moments later, Toji’s eyes catches the sight of a girl, around Megumi’s age, wandering around the vast space in living room right across. A face anyone would call exceedingly gorgeous and beautiful eyes which are zooming, scanning for something or someone, a thin line peaking between her brows. She is gorgeous, not to mention the way Toji’s eyes wandered all over her figure, one of the very few instances in his life where a woman captivated his attention for longer than a minute. Toji prods closer towards the girl, who still hasn’t noticed his presence; or rather is pretending not to. 

The woman being Megumi’s one and only bestfriend throughout his sad 21 years of life – you. 

Meanwhile, your eyes drank the expanse of the house. High ceilings connected with neutral coloured walls gave an aura of extravagance yet not too flashy. The grandeur of it catching you off guard. Your heart leaps with faith and hope.

“May I help you?” a deep cough followed by this question startles you as you turn around. Your eyes level with a broad expanse of chest before you trail them upwards, a small scar slashing the lip coming into view before finally meeting the set of dark, emerald teal eyes. 

“Ummm…is Megumi at home?”, your voice is laced with timidness which intrigues as well as entertains Toji. He steps closer, invading your space, your eyes widen at his closeness but you stay silent. 

“No, he left just now. You might be?” If voices could be measured in depth, this would surpass Mariana Trench. It seeps down the skin, melting with every fiber of your being, the resonance of his voice almost soothing your body, reaching into parts where it shouldn’t. 

You give out your introduction, voice shaky from the arm’s distance Toji is at. He hums at your reply, “Well Megumi left not so long ago, if you want I can give him a call and–”.

“WAIT! NO.”, your cried out, not noticing you grabbed Toji’s forearm on the pretext. “I…I actually hoped he’d be out. I wanted to talk to you.” you mumble, voice not rising over few decibels, stark contrast to his abysmal apmplitude. Toji quirks an eyebrow, not pointing that you are still holding on to his arm. Tight. 

“And what that might be, sweets?” you squirm a little at the petname. A little apprehensive on how to address the situation, “Actually…”

You attempt to cower yourself by rubbing your arm with your left hand. Toji notices the tension that is radiating off you, your eyes darting everywhere but on him, your legs are pressed against each other, covered with a pleated skirt barely covering till your mid-thighs. You lick your lips a few times, an action that sets Toji’s mind into a drive of inappropriate train of thoughts. You look so diffident, like a turtle without its shell desperately finding a shelter to mask itself. And he’d be happy to provide you that.

He wanted to pause you there, catch your lips in between his slightly chapped ones. Hands that itched to roam and explore around your body, surely that baggy hoodie is hiding an exquisite piece of art underneath. 

Yet, he stops himself from swaying out of conversation, listening to your pleas of despair. 

“Y’know, college fees are due by this month…and it’s pretty expensive too. I-I thought I'd apply for some financial scholarship but it got rejected.” you mumble. Toji has an inkling of what your issue might be and solving it with a snap of his finger wouldn’t be of any issue. But the devil on his left was at its peak, enveloping Toji’s mind with an idea that could only be called sinister.

“I-I really tried to apply again but I keep getting rejected. Plus there’s my house rent and a debt I took-” your voice was breaking off in the middle, trying hard to suppress the sobs that threatened to spill out. Toji understood your dilemma. 

“If you could grant me any well paying job, I’d take it. No matter how hard it might be. Just please, anything works. I will be homeless otherwise. I could even work here as a househelp. Megumi wouldn’t know, I’d come when he got classes-” you were rambling, desperation dripping out of syllables. 

Toji felt a little pinch in his heart. You were in dire need of money. He could help if he wanted, any intern job would put your issues at ease but having a girl as pretty as you slave around anywhere, under anyone (but him) was blasphemous for him. You look like you were meant to be taken care of, to be spoiled with the riches there is. Your trembling lips needed love and it looked nothing less than an enticing invite for the older man. Your tears and soft sniffles shot a wave of arousal directly down his cock. 

Fuck. who looks this hot while crying.

Toji is an influential man. His sense of leadership and commands in a rich baritone forced anyone to comply with no rebuttal. His shrewd mind knew all sorts of cards in a dirty business and his ability to play them and naturally bring the ball in his court made him what he is today. And like the cunning businessman he is, Toji knew when to make the best of the situation. Just like now.

“Well, you say you could work any job but any high paying job requires expertise. Are you sure you can cope with the little experience of a retail store you have? I can only appoint you somewhere but who says you wouldn’t be fired within the first week”, your eyes flew open in panic, heart dropping like free fall. Facing rejection at his hands was like the last nail on the coffin. 

“n-no no no, please, please! I promise I won’t. I told you even helping around your house would do. Surely it will suffice.” Toji could only laugh. Oh how naive you are, readily walking towards the trap Toji is discretely luring you in. 

Toji contemplates with closed eyes for a while. A deep hum leaving his throat as if he’s actually pondering over how to help you. He opens his eyes. A layer of darkness now shrouding his orbs. His face scrunches into a smirk as he leans in even more close.

“Come to my room. There might be something of your interest.” your face lightens with hope. Fuck. Anything will interest you as long as you can pay your bills and repay that loan. You follow suit, mindlessly getting yourself into the fox’s burrow. 

Toji’s bedroom is vast. Long white curtains frame the window, sunlight dancing through them, giving the room a warm golden hue. A massive bed is placed in the middle, opposite to a wall length mirror, reflecting both you and Toji. You notice how small you look compared to his muscled back donned in just a cashmere grandma sweater. Still, he looks ridiculously handsome and enticing. 

You swallow a gulp, his presence is as alluring as he is, taking up every air in the room, leaving you breathing heavily for the lack of it.

Your sea of thoughts are so deep that you don’t notice how Toji is just inches away from you now, his hands rest on your shoulders, jolting you back to the reality of your predicament. You glance at him, his eyes are were blazed with a newfound passion. 

“You know that you are extremely beautiful? Probably one of the hottest women I’ve seen so far.” his voice is low, a whisper that swirls around your ear.

 You feel goosebumps flesh out all over your neck. His hands on your shoulder still firm, thumb rubbing over the junction of skin where your clavicle ends. The pads of his thumb is calloused yet glides smoothly across your skin. 

 “Sir?” you tilt your head, not understanding where he is going. He doesn’t reply, rather dips down his head, bringing his face closer to you, directly underneath your ears. Meanwhile, his hands trail back, the tips of his finger ticking the skin of your back until it rests over your tailbone. He pulls you closer, flush against him. You squeak out of surprise yet don’t act against it. 

“A pretty girl like you slaving away? Tsk tsk tsk”, he teases, “lemme take care of you the way you need, princess.” his murmurs were salacious. words dipped in a pot of sins. 

“B-but-”

“Sshh..” Toji presses a feathered kiss over your jaw. A small whimper escapes your lips as you felt his lips gloss over your skin. He is so close, you can see every detail of the side of his skin. The hint of his cologne tickling your nose. The scent is subtle, not noticeable until he came this close. It’s woody – with a hint of burnt caramel and notes of amber and spice blends in with it perfectly. The perfume complements him like perfection, as if the flavours were hand-picked and specially concocted for him. Toji continues pressing light kisses over your jaw, till he reaches upwards, hovering beside your right ear. 

“You know, I can and I will pay your full tuition fees till the end of your graduation as well as repay whatever that stupid loan was”  his sudden offer dropped you off a height, a choked out gasp leaves your lips and Toji couldn’t conceal his amusement. His hand coming up to your cheek, cupping it gently. 

“Wha-, sir? What’s going on?” you were falling short on words. Hearing his offer, you think he might be some sort of guardian angel, offering to banish every financial barriers you had in your life. Who does that?

Toji laughs under his breath, one of his hand cups your cheek while the other snakes down your waist. “But…” he trails off.

“But?”

“Don’t I deserve something in return as well? See, I am only just a man. A man with riches way bigger than I expected myself to have. I provide my kids with all the comfort they need but a man like me also needs some loving, what say?” Toji nips at your earlobe, wanting some sort of response from you. you nod. 

He’s right. Toji has always been somewhat of a star in your eyes, as heard from Megumi. He had taken up the role of a father as well as a professional businessman with effortless ease ever since the demise of toji’s mom when Megumi merely joined middle-school. Such multitask would sure wear anyone out and considering this man never involved himself in relationships or such. He also must crave love, some desires, some unfulfilled wants.

“So…I propose you a transaction of being my whatever that term is – sugar baby or something. Main thing is, I’ll give you whatever you want or need anytime and in return, you provide me of my desires.”

To say you were flabbergasted would be an understatement. Having a sugar daddy who pays for every worldly desires there is was almost like a fairytale to you. Never in your wildest dreams you thought such an incident would ever occur in your life. Such a transaction that woud not only free you from your debt shackles but also indulge you in every brands you’ve only seen from the other side of the glass. Every set of clothing that a mannequin dons on can now be fitted in your body. 

“There’s win for you too, princess. You’ll get to know how a real man treats a woman. Especially a woman like you deserves it just as much as I. Do you agree?” Toji cajoles you silkily. His honeyed words fucking with the second voice in your head. Your heart melts at his compliments, almost coaxing yourself into the offer.

But, it comes with a price of your body, of your chastity. Then again, a man like Toji, with hands such burly and veiny. Back toned with muscles that are even prominent with loose clothing, such confident aura and sweet words, could only have a gifted member down below, right?. 

A man you could only imagine participating in the lecherous acts with you. But would you let yourself participate? Did you have it in you?

Fate plays different. Fate plays dirty because here you are, on your knees, engulfing the entirety of his cock down your throat. Morales flying right across his large window.

Toji watches you from the mirror, sitting on the edge of his bed. Your head bobs up and down asyou smear spit all over his shaft. Your lips wraps around his cock while your brows furrow together as you concentrate on relaxing your muscles to fit more of him. The curve of his vein hits your tongue and you let out a gargled sound, almost relishing the taste.

 Toji is well blessed down there, with equal measures of girth and length, ending with a fat mushroom tip. The tip which occasionally imprints on your throat while you deepthroat him. A gag leaves your mouth as you feel his cock drives past your uvula. 

Your skirt is hiked up from behind and Toji notices the peek of red underneath. His hands were stretched behind his back, to buck his hips up towards your face. They now go down towards your skirt, flipping it upright to expose the flesh of your ass in the mirror. The rounded mound was laced with a red thong that barely ran across the crack, hiding the pretty pussy underneath it.

“F-fuck…baby your mouth feels like heaven on my dick. You suck like a slut.” Toji groans, burying himself deeper into you as he feels you move faster on his length. 

Hands pawed his balls, which were heavy with his load. You release his cock with a pop, a string of spit connecting you with his tip, oozing out pre-cum. 

You gather a glob of spit on your mouth before dropping it right across his shaft. Your hands work along his length as you pump ferociously. Switching your roles, your mouth takes over his balls, giving each of them a long suck, tongue flicking out to kitten lick across the skin. You hear Toji hiss, his hands finds your hair, grabbing a handful of your locks in his palm. 

“You were sent for me, angel. Look at your mouth and hand fitting my cock so well. God, I wanna dump my load inside your mouth.” the room was filled with the occasional gags and moans while you generously sucked from his tip to base. Nose tickling with the little tufts of pubes when you bottom out. Hands that never stopped to either stroke his length or fondle his balls. 

Toji could feel himself busting anytime, hips raised more against your face, his hands grab both the sides your face, taking charge. He thrusts inside your face with a pace that was animalistic. His own eyes rolls at the scrape of your teeth, the sensation doubling up his orgasm that was already rushing. Tears pooled at your waterline but the sensation of his dick imprinted on your mouth was heavenly. Your panties were drenched around your slit as you try to rub your heels against your cunt for some added friction. You look up at him, sweater raised over his chest to expose the skin of the stomach, taut with the tension.

With one final thrust, he shoots his warm load inside your mouth, spilling inside your cavern with ropes of milk. Your lips and chin is painted white while some shoots right down your throat as you feel the taste of his cum – salty with a bitter aftertaste. But it wasn’t unpleasant, rather there was a pleasurable sensation. Something raw and unforbidden but still so rousing. 

Toji releases your head. His hands dips down under your sticky chin, thumb tracing your lower lip as he pulls it down, urging you to open your mouth. You do as instructed, showing him the lewd view of your cum filled mouth before he orders you to swallow, which once again you do wordlessly. Toji hikes you up from your seating position, hands resting on your ass while he kneads your flesh. He turns your around, with you facing the bed. He pushes you against the pillowy mattress. You fall face first, head hitting the cloudy pillows. You feel Toji behind you, not doing anything but staring at your lace clad ass that was bared open. 

Soon, you feel his textured palm on your ass and before you know it, his hand leaves and connects against you again, followed by a resounding smack filling the air mixed with your loud squeak.

“Ahh..mr.fushigu-” . another smack. You fall silent as the impact of his hand hits you again. But why was this so titilating? Why, with each of his smack, you could feel more arousal drooling out of your pussy lips? 

“It’s daddy for you, princess.” He rubs the area where he just spanked you earlier, massaging the skin for some comfort. His hands work slow, tantalising, that makes you whine. Like a game of push and pull. He pushes away while you pull for him.His hands reach your thin panties, tracing over the fabric and reaching towards your pussy lips. His hands carress you through the fabric, two fingers dips down on each side while his middle finger prods in your slit, right over the damp lace. 

His hands fit perfectly against your hips as he grabs your sides, harshly hiking your ass up in the air, back arched in the most posture ever. The position causes your hoodie to slip up, showing the same shade of bra. It didn’t take him more than two second to snap open the hook, baring the entirety of your back and causing the straps to slip down your shoulders. Your lower back dimples greet him and he couldn’t help but place kisses all over your lower back, gradually gliding down. He removes the skirt that obstructed his ministrations in one go, finally facing your pussy from behind. His warm breath falls over your inner thigh as you feel his finger hook around the thin cloth, putting it in a side to face your clenching cunt. 

Toji nuzzles his face against your cunt, his nose hitting right against your clit as he once again blows breath, this time right over your aching slit. You let out a moan, feeling him slowly place kisses all over from the gaping hole to your hood, smothering his face with your juices.

You head tips back from the numbing sensation of his mouth on you. His tongue laps up every drop of arousal that seeps out of you, and diving inside your cunt, thrusting in your gummy walls. His hands continues to massage the globes of your ass mixed with soft smack over the mounds. 

Your whines were bouncing off the walls, the euphoric feeling of his tongue was keeping you afloat. You try your best to not cross your eyes from the overwhelming actions. Toji also ensures to give equal attention to your clit, the buttoned nub swollen and aching for some release. He wraps his lips around the hood, his tongue circling around the bundle of nerve endings, releasing a hundred sparks inside your body. You moan wantonly, teeth digging inside your lips to leave it red. Your hands grip the sheets like death, grounding yourself. 

Toji keeps on flicking his tongue over the clit, adding the work of his middle finger to dive right into your pussy. The dance of his tongue, lips and fingers create the perfect dance of debauchery. The sensation being too much for you as you try to scutter away before the harsh tug of his hands brings you closer. His mouth not leaving your cunt. 

“Don’t run, princess. You signed up for this.” words ending with a smirk right against your skin, he releases your clit before getting at your inner thighs. He nips at the flesh, sucking the skin for a while before a dark purple splotch brands itself on your skin. 

You whimper in pain and pleasure as you hear his gravelly voice, vibrating right against your skin. “This is for trying to run away, princess. Don’t do it, ‘kay?” 

You knew you were close, his fingers were relentlessly pumping inside you, bringing more and more closer to the edge. His mouth was doing wonders all over the thighs and along the flesh of your cunt, replacing his fingers once in a while to prod his tongue against your squishy walls. His pace was chronic, increasing with every passing moment, and before you knew it, the tug on your stomach snapped and your whole body shook to release the built up orgasm that Toji artistically brought to action.

Your juices sprayed in his mouth while Toji shamelessly laps at it, his tongue working you through your orgasm, bordering overstimulation. His other hand smoothes your thighs from the shaking. Your head dips down to hide yourself from the embarrassment but Toji couldn’t give a damn. To him, you were never any more beautiful than now, all spent under him. For him. By him.

Toji flips you on your back, your tongue lolls out when you breathe heavily, bringing yourself back to this Earth which you were sure you left momentarily. Toji leans down to capture your lips between his, feeling both his and your taste on his tongue. His hands comes to massage every crevice of your waist and hips. He tugs at your hoodie, breaking the kiss for a while to remove this material off of you. 

Your already opened bra follows suit, leaving your breasts to spill out in front of the man, who feels his cock stirring. His head dips down to take one nipple in his mouth, sucking the bud harshly while his other hand plays with the other breast, fondling the mass and tugging the nipple between his thick fingers. Slapping the fleshy mound to watch it jiggle. Making his exposed cock twitch. He alternates his treatment on other tit, leaving the nipples to form hard, swollen buds. 

“Some pretty pair you got, darling.” Toji smothers his spit all over your breasts, leaving it glistening under the golden light of the day that veils his room. His hardened length grinds against your cunt, the tip smacking your clit at times. 

“D-daddy…put…put it in.please.” you whine, yearning for something to fill up your walls again. Toji smirks, hooking his hand under the band of your underwear before he tugs it out of your hips. The bunched up fabric curled in his hand as he shamelessly gawks at them.

“These are some expensive lingerie, princess. This is where you blew money off? Being a little slut?” Toji bunches the panties before stuffing them in his pant pockets. You turn your head to the side, from sheer embarrassment. A scene of beautiful vulgarity unfolds itself in front of you.

Toji separates your legs by your knees, your slick covered pussy clenching at the sudden wave of air that brushes past them. Toji’s cock jumps at the sight, his thick length sliding against your lips, drenching itself with pre-cum and remnants of your previous orgasm. He nudges the tip into your slit, slowly pushing the head inside.

You throws your head back against the sheet as you moan, the intrusion of his head alone stuffing your cunt. You clench around him, hips subconsciously bucking to add the extra pressure.

Toji hisses at you squeezing him, bullying more of his girth into your walls. He has half the wish to ram the whole cock in you, till the tip bruises your cervix but he goes steady, closing his eyes and moving painfully slow to stretch the time. He grabs you by the under of your knees, propping both legs on each of his arms to get more leverage as he pushes inside. Bottoming out to the hilt.

Once he feels himself completely sheathed inside you, he opens his eyes, meeting your already fucked face, his mouth hangs open while your left arm drapes over your eyes, head tipping back to expose the dainty collarbone, he bends down to press kisses over the clavicle just as his cock nudges more inside of you, making you whine. 

“You sucked me in right like a champ, princess. Too eager for this cock. Well, can’t deny the feeling of this pretty pussy either. Making me bust a nut right now.” Toji groans, talking you through it while he begins to rock himself against you, pulling out completely till the tip before fucking inside of you with one thrust. 

His thrusts were slow and powerful, making your body jerk from top to bottom. Your tits lurched and bounced from the intensity and Toji wanted to burn this image in his mind. He increases his pace, letting you feel the veiny shaft of his cock all over your cushiony walls. He adjust himself in the middle, angling the tip in a way which made you drawl a precarious moan. His cockhead settles right against a bundle of muscle sending sparks of shockwave to your brain before it moves away again. Only to assault there again. 

“you feel so good inside me….ahhh…” moans fills the air along with the lewd slick sounds of skin slapping against each other. You could feel his balls hitting your ass as he bends you in half, knees squashed against your tits to get a better look at his cock slipping right inside you. Your arm splays over your head, eyes squeezed shut just as you feel the familiar tug building up inside your stomach. Is he gonna make you squirt again? 

Toji sloppily thrusts in you, your insides clenching down on his dick causing his orgasm to roll down as well. His thrusts are erratic, constantly hitting on that sweet spot inside. You mewl loudly, craving and craving for more. Your body turning limp under the burly weight of his as he turns your brain into a puddle of mush with his long strokes.

“Wanna cum, daddy…hnnghh.” Toji goes at an animalistic pace, wanting to make you squirt again, “whatever angel says”, he husks. You feel your insides almost bruise, firstly for how thick he is already and secondly, from the power at which he slams himself inside you. His tip brushing your cervix at the position he had you in.

You feel your body shake from the pleasure as one last thrust of his snaps every rope inside you and lets your orgams flow like a dam breaking down. You squirt for the second time, not long after the previous one. You finish right on him as he languidly fucks you, coming at the same time. Warm ropes of cum paint your insides white. 

Toji could feel his body shake from the amount of cum he releases inside you. Gripping the back of your thighs with enough force to leave marks and dips. A myriad of whines and whimpers and moans fill the room as you feel him filling your insides with white. Toji gently plants your feet down on the bed, watching as pools of his cum dribble out of you, staining your thighs and sheets. He takes two of his fingers, scooping them out to push it back inside you, the feel of his fingers overstimulating. 

“Got plan b, baby?” you nod, words unable to escape from your throat as you try to bring yourself down from the fervour. Toji rolls off you, laying by your side as his chest heaves with the strenuous workout he had in a while. Once you feel composed, you prop your arm on your elbow, one hand gently tracing the ridges and contours of his abs with your finger.

“Didn’t know you were that good at acting,darling.Should have landed into acting.” you giggle, pressing a small kiss to the side of his lips, right above his scar. Toji breathily chuckles, grabbing you by the waist to pull your upper body flush on top of him, “Says you. “Something of your interest?” Almost tearing the lingerie that you brought me in the first place. Which porn did you watch before?”

“I don’t know. Maybe our first ever endeavour 8 months ago. Didn’t it eerily go like this?” your chortles fills the room as Toji lazily joins in, a gentle kiss placed right on your temple. Comfortable silence blankets you both before Toji speaks up,

“Was it you who texted Megumi at that time?” he inquires as you gently hum and nod. 

“I told him I won’t be coming to class today. Why?” you nuzzle on his chest as his hand rubs circle on your bare back as he continues, “he looked quite down with your text, I had half the mind to let him know you would be here.” 

You lift your head to meet his gaze, “Thought you didn’t kiss and tell?” you quip yet deep down a tinge of sadness peeked at your heart as you had a slight idea about how Megumi actually feels about you. Capitalising off you best friend’s dad, especially when the said bestfriend might have some sort of feelings for you isn’t exactly an ideal situation. 

Likewise, Toji ponders over this whole setting, without a clue on how, out of everyone, his son’s bestfriend ended up being his sugar baby after years of almost zero sexual endeavours. And simultaneously catching slight feelings over the girl he knows his son has a slight pining for. The whole situation is as fucked up as it can without any conclusions that isn’t ugly.

Yet, the bodily desire. One of the seven deadly sins- lust, becomes too powerful to cloud him of any moral judgement as he pulls you over to his lap. Straddling you right over his crotch, he grabs one of your tits, “Oh honey, I do a lot more than kiss.”, you smirk, indulging for the second round before a familiar voice rang through the house and through both your ears like an alarm.

“I’m home.” 

a.n-> as long as you get the bag girl 🫡🤚🏽

event -> @k9nto’s reddit collaboration.

comments, likes, reblogs are appreciated

[whattheheckmidoriya]

A Million Tomorrows

Description: Change was inevitable. Levi couldn't deny he felt it coming, nor could he deny the dread pooling his stomach at the thought of tomorrow. You seem to have a way of easing those fears off his shoulders.

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing: Post-war Levi x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: AOT s4 spoilers, survivor's guilt. Let me know if I've missed something!♡

Author's Note: Hi, my loves!! It's been so long since I've had something to share with y'all, and I'd been working on this piece for a while, so I hope you all enjoy it!

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Something in the air told him change was coming.

It unsettled him, the idea of not knowing what was to come in this new chapter of his life. How could the tides shift and the seasons change so effortlessly while his tortured mind remained in the past? How could he be expected to turn the page when there was still so much he didn't understand?

Levi Ackerman didn't fear many things in life, but change terrified him. He wasn't ready for it, at least he didn't think so. The world's orbit seemed to speed up just enough to leave him behind, alone and abandoned. He couldn't keep up, couldn't keep a steady enough pace to remain one with the times.

He was falling behind and didn't know how to cope with the fact. Humanity's Strongest had withered away the second war was no more and Levi Ackerman didn't know how to pick up the pieces, didn't know how to move on now that he no longer bore a soldier's purpose over his shoulders.

He was nothing but a hopeless man, aimlessly stumbling through this life, yet something bloomed within him now that his nights were spent by your side. Indeed, he was hopeless— hopelessly in love and devastated by the fact. How terrifying, to get lost in the warmth of your touch and seek refuge under your sweet embrace— to slink away from the world to satisfy his greedy desires of basking in your love.

You'd created something in him, something so beautiful it chilled his blood in fear. How exciting; how terrifying.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, the warm painting of an afternoon sky slowly being consumed by the rolling of darkened clouds. Levi sighed, nursing a cup of tea in one hand while the other absent-mindedly traced patterns over the arm of his chair. His healing leg bounced over the wooden porch floors, almost impatiently.

Sitting idly always made him anxious. Though he always appreciated being able to savor his alone time, he often found himself seeking comfort in your presence. He'd picked up little habits that reassured him everything was okay— that you were okay. Holding your hand would subtly turn into his fingers sliding over your wrist, searching for your steady pulse. Caressing your cheeks allowed him to be close enough to feel your breath fanning over his skin, easing his nerves. He shyly started offering to bathe together, taking the opportunity to look over you, easing his mind with the knowledge that the scars on your skin were slowly fading with the passage of time.

The war hadn't taken you from him, yet he feared you'd vanish if he dared look away.

Music streamed from within the house, a melody you had claimed to be your favorite the moment you heard it on the radio. He had to admit, he liked it too, the familiarity of it enough to distract his racing mind. If he listened closely enough, he could make out the sound of your voice softly following the words to the song. The corners of his lips quirked into a tiny smile.

Love had made him soft.

Levi waited for you to join him on the porch, the tea in his hand now lukewarm. He cringed. He never liked the taste of cold tea.

A puff of air rushed past his lips as the sky opened up its gates, allowing for the land to be cleansed with a fresh wave of rain. He hummed nonchalantly. He never cared much for the rain, always despising how his shoes would sink into thick puddles of mud in the aftermath.

What a bother, he thought as a chilling breeze nipped at his skin and tousled his hair.

The former captain perked up at the sound of footsteps, relief pooling his chest. You'd finally decided to join him. As the door swung open, he turned in his chair to greet you but wouldn't get the chance to as you sped past him, leaping off the steps of the porch and into the rain.

A breathy laugh spilled out of your mouth, something beautiful and free."This is so nice!" You beamed, spreading your arms wide as the rain soaked your clothes. Wonder twinkled brilliantly in your eyes, your grin a wild thing that made your lover's chest ache.

He wondered, had your smile always been this big? No, he doesn't think so. Something was different— it felt new. A quick tug to his heartstrings had his mismatched eyes following you attentively. He could feel it in his bones, dripping down his stomach, pooling around his toes. Today's different.

Levi gaped at you, shaking his head. "Get out of the rain," he urged, wheeling his chair close to the porch railing. "You'll get sick."

He remembered having this conversation with you years before, both of you clad in torn uniforms, brandishing green cloaks, and worn-out boots. The scene was all too familiar, but your laughter was now wild, void of shame. Too many were the times he had to usher you back into the barracks, scolding you for being so careless. He could no longer count how many times he'd had to rush out of his office to drag you away from the ruthless downpour of a storm, nearly having to toss you over his shoulder to get you somewhere dry. You always said there was something about the rain that made you feel brand new. He always said you were crazy. But he couldn't say no to you now, not when something devilish and daring lingered in your gaze.

You merely turned to him, sticking out your tongue in retaliation. He scoffed.

Thunder roared a little closer now, and your smile only widened. You hollered in response, and your arms stretched up to the heavens. Oh, how sweet the taste of freedom, so fierce and lively.

"C'mon," Levi called after you, setting down his cup of tea. "It'll only get colder." He could already feel a chill crawling up his spine. Perhaps he should be seeking some towels to wrap you in— some warm blankets, too.

Instead of heeding his wishes, you ran further into the growing storm, your boots splashing into every puddle your feet stumbled upon. Mud splattered onto your ankles, tainting the dress that fell just past your knees. You jumped and twirled, laughter spilling past your lips with a joy so raw it seeped into your lover's ears like a sacred melody.

"Wait," He shouted as lightning struck, his heart pounding in his chest. Flashes of white and blue cut through the sky, their impact booming through the air. "Don't go too far!"

But you couldn't hear him anymore. You danced with the wildflowers, bending to the wind, each stomp and clap in rhythm with the crack of thunder. The drumming of rain kept the pace of your beating heart, so full of life and renewal. The heavens were the musicians and you, their valiant performer.

And Levi couldn't just sit by. No, because as lightning sparked through the heavens and the wind bit his nose with a chill, his heart only ached for you. Mismatched hues followed your every move, a pang of longing knocking on his chest.

Wherever you were, he was never too far behind.

"Damn it," he cursed. There was no time to go searching for his cane, the forsaken thing collecting dust in the back of his closet. With whatever strength he had within him, he latched onto the wooden railing before him and began pulling himself off his chair, his limbs protesting at the effort.

The former captain stumbled down the steps, his footing unsure, uneven. The aches in his leg scurried away as he stood a bit taller. Renewed confidence filled each stride once his feet landed on soppy mud. A new chill settled in his bones, something foreign and exciting.

"Come back!" He shouted, yet found himself going after you before he could think twice, his limp carrying him as best as it could. He felt like a madman chasing after falling stars. "Damn it, wait up!"

As if the wind had carried his voice to you like a sweet melody, you turned, a new giddy feeling tickling your heart as he slowly stumbled towards you. Something electric coursed through your veins, sweet and addicting. You laughed and cheered, kicking up more mud with every hop of excitement. Pride swelled in your chest at the sight of him, your heart threatening to chase after your lover.

A clap of thunder broke through the steady drumming of rain, almost as if urging Levi to keep going— he needed to reach you. His legs moved clumsily, the gap between you growing smaller. His hair stuck to his face in a sloppy mess, his clothes clinging to his healing body. Tints of pink dusted his scarred cheeks, nearly stinging his skin as the wind whispered sweet nothings into his ear. And though his bones whined and protested, the wages of war clear on his skin, he felt stronger than he had in a while.

"I'm coming!" Your voice rang through the air, almost as loudly as the chorus of booming thunder that followed.

And you ran to him.

A tug in his heart propelled him forward until he couldn't anymore. He tripped over his footing, his knee giving out and letting him meet the ground. And for once, he didn't care about the dirt under his nails or the horrendous state his clothing was in. Levi let himself get pulled to the dirt by the wind, his back to the ground. Facing up at the sky, he reveled in how the rain kissed his skin.

He's never felt more free.

How unusual, the feeling bubbling in his chest, a crazed little thing that pulled his lips into a smile. As a kid, he always dreamed of the sun, of feeling its warmth sink into his bones and fill his belly. He nearly laughed. How strange to find comfort in a raging storm.

You came like a dream. The dress hugging your body spread around your legs like a flower in bloom as you plopped down in the mud. Cold hands cupped the sides of his face tenderly, and he instinctively leaned into your touch. Cradling his head, setting it over your lap, you brushed his hair out of the way. Was he aware of how beautiful he was? A smile graced your lips, amusement clear in your eyes as he gaped at you, like a man drunk on stardust and hope.

The storm felt so far away now, though Levi was sure it had grown exponentially. But he couldn't focus on that. No, he was too enraptured by the sight of you to worry about such a thing. You, who kissed his scars each night, mapping them out like uncharted constellations. You, who thought his eyes were the most lovely combination of jewels. You, who now laughed so freely it made his heart stutter. He couldn't be any more in love.

"I love you," he breathed, unsure if you'd heard him. A trembling hand, gentle and cautious, reached up to you, wiping away the mud sprinkled on your cheek. His words came in a choked breath, scarred lips quivering under the weight of such sweet emotion, "I love you so damn much."

Something sweet bloomed in his chest, foreign yet familiar in a way he couldn't quite understand.

Even under the rain, Levi could see the tears swelling in the corners of your eyes, your smile so bright and warm. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. How had he managed to find such love? By no means did the odds ever feel to be in his favor, but perhaps the moon and the stars had conspired on his behalf, shifting the tides so that, at the end of it all, it would be you and him.

It didn't make any sense; there was no way for him to understand it. The mystery of this love was too big, but he stopped questioning things long ago. He stopped believing in coincidences. Some things, no matter how impossible they seemed, were meant to be. Like the way your hand perfectly fits in his or how his name resembles the songs of angels when spoken by your lips.

He never thought this life would ever be kind to him. Levi had only known hardship for so long; he'd learned to wear his grief and anger like a second skin. But the way you smiled at him, the way you held him as if he would shatter under your touch— it all made him think that maybe life had some hidden jewels waiting for him to uncover.

"You make this life a whole lot less shitty," His voice came in a hush, raw and flooding with emotion. Stormy eyes fluttered as you caressed his cheeks so tenderly, so gently he felt his chest tighten in an achingly beautiful way. "Thank you."

You smiled, choking on a tearful laugh. Levi seemed lighter. The sharpness of his eyes had softened with time, his infamous scowl slowly replaced by a small smile. His shoulders sagged, no longer tight under a soldier's promise of bloodshed. His knuckles no longer strained around the hilt of a sword but caressed the apples of your cheeks with sweet reverence.

He wore freedom beautifully.

"My sweet love," you mused, your voice like honey to his wounds, balming over the ghosts of battles past. "Thank you for staying."

A breath, sharp and unsteady, rushed past his lips, his chest caving in under the weight of raw emotion. His eyes widened, something new glossing over them. The man cradled in your touch crumbled, his lips quivering as he surrendered himself to the vastness of your love. A broken cry tore through his chest, his breaths uneven as he hiccuped.

He didn't think himself worthy— never believed it should’ve been him who rose with the sun each morning, basking in the warmth of a life others never had a chance to experience. A man forged by the wages of war had no right to savor the sweetness of this life, to have his wounds cleansed by the downpour of the heavens. Sometimes, his mind would drift off, and he'd wonder what this newfound freedom would've been for you had you not been held back by the prospect of nurturing him back to health. Would you have left? If things were different, would you have parted ways? His stomach overflowed with dread at such thoughts. He sometimes wished he'd been pulled into the cold clutches of eternal slumber, to have been whisked away into an abyss he could never escape from. Maybe then you wouldn't be burdened with the cards he'd been dealt with. Yet through his doubt, through his fears, your voice echoed in his heart, offering tender reassurance.

Thank you for staying. His heart ached, overwhelming him with tears he couldn’t seem to restrain. His scarred hand clung to yours tightly, almost as if your touch alone tethered him to this life. What had you done to him? How could you devastate his heart with such sweet love?

Your eyes softened as he cried. Softly, your free hand worked to brush strands of ink away from his face. The man before you was no longer the deadly soldier many feared; he'd retired his blades long ago. The man before you had been in hiding for far too long, holding himself together for longer than should've been asked of him.

Your lover was gentle and kind, and he feared what the future held. He hated not knowing what the sun would bring with its rising and falling— hated feeling uncertain of what his days would look like. But it all seemed a bit clearer now, a bit less fearsome. Something new glimmered in his eyes as his cries boomed louder than the crack of thunder.

Hope.

Change was in the air. He could feel it in his lungs, feel it in the soft breath that carried your words straight to his heart. It crackled all around him, loud, wild, and full of anticipation. It sent shivers down his spine.

Indeed, change was in the air, and, for once, Levi would beg the heavens for a million tomorrows if it meant he could live them all with you.

°•°•°•°•°•

🏷 Levi Ackerman taglist

@leviackermanmyhero245 @violet-19999 @celestair @ms-sin-city @ghostly-haunted @andrastesbeard @ikisstoga @izukus-gf @Bluetima @lemonboi69 @aconstructofamind @imjustasimpxd @notgoodforlife @bubsonnobx @a10vely-yutazen   @Just-sana @Loca-raccoon @Hjnhuh @geese-goose18 @figlia-della-luna

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

modern Wolf Hybrid! Katsuki Bakugou X Bunny Hybrid! Reader

MDNI!

Hey y'all, I'm back! sooooo, I took a lil break from basically everything, and since you've been waiting so patiently like the good wifeys you are, I've decided to put this little number out. It's been sitting in my drafts for a bit, and while it isn't the next installment of my series, I hope it'll tide you over for a while as I work on chapter 4. think of it as hold music in an elevator, or don't, I don't care... What's that? you want me to stop yapping and give you the summary? Oh, right, basically Katsuki is being an attention whore, you get into an argument, and you make up. Sound good?

words: 1756

Warnings: Reader is AFAB, Reader recieves oral, slight teeny tiny bit of angst if you squint reaaaally hard, Katsu is bad at communication but he's trying,

He didn't understand you. Watching you sit on his couch, talking and talking on the phone to your family, not paying attention to him. Sure, you were from different cultures, and he understood that, but you and your family just...cared so much. He moved out when he was 16, just like every other wolf, and only saw his family for major holidays or events.

You on the other hand, you moved out only for college, something your parents fought you every step of the way on, especially because you went to St. Lupus University. It was in the middle of St. Lupus City, a hotspot for people looking for opportunity, as well as mostly populated by wolves. Your parents were extremely old fashioned, believing that all wolves were predators, and while life with Katsuki was definitely blood-pumping, he was hardly predatory.

In fact, you were lying to them right now, dodging questions about if you've "Been eaten yet" (not in the way they think), or if you found a boyfriend. You answered both questions with no, even though that last one was a lie. Katsuki rested on the back of the couch, standing over you with his arms on either side of your head. You leaned your head back, smiling at him and reaching up to scratch his scalp just below his fluffy ear.

He leaned into it, frowning with hard eyes yet his tail swishing back and forth behind him. You kept chatting and chatting, the phone being passed around to your multitude of family members. "Uh huh...yeah! Oh, it's great here... No, I haven't been attacked..."

Katsuki rolled his eyes, a slight rumbling coming from his chest. These people were so stupid, believing anything they hear, stuck in old ways. He came around the couch, sitting down and putting his arm around your shoulders. You smiled and leaned in, resting against his side and continuing to talk. "You done yet," he grumbled, twisting the ends of your hair with his fingers.

"No," you whispered, covering the mic of your phone. "h-huh? Oh, that's great." you said blithely, much to Katsuki's disgruntlement. How could anyone on that dumb phone be more important than him right now? He put his head in your lap, to which you absentmindedly tousled his hair, thumbing the blonde fur of his plush and pert ears. This wasn't enough for him though, despite how it made him tingle all over.

He sat back up, taking your face in his hands. You gave him a confused smile, and he got in close quickly to kiss you with all the passion he could muster. You were definitely surprised, and pulled away even faster to respond to your family members with blushing cheeks and a pounding heart. "N-nope, no boyfriend yet...!"

Katsuki scowled. He knew you couldn't tell them, it would probably get you exiled from your podunk little town, but he still hated how the words sounded coming out of your mouth.

"Just hang up already," he huffed, not caring if anyone on the other side heard him. "Stop whining," you whispered, continuing to chatter. He groaned and stood up, stomping off. What a baby.

A few minutes later, he came back, this time with a devilish grin on his face. He sat in front of you, tail thumping against the ground with a slow rhythm, resting his chin on your knees. You were a little skeptical about it at first, but he did nothing unsavory, so you just ignored it and scratched his head, rubbing at his ears. He enjoyed it thoroughly, closing his eyes and his face relaxing a little, but he quickly snapped out of it. He had a mission.

Slowly and carefully, he moved in closer and closer, parting your legs more and more, an easy task with your skirt. You didn't notice a thing. perfect. Finally, he reached his destination, that sweet spot right between your plush thighs. He looked up, seeing how consumed you were by your conversation, how you didn't even notice the way his breath fanned across your panties. Now he was going to teach you not to ignore him, to give him the attention he deserved.

He licked a stripe up the fabric of your underwear, his skilled tongue starting at the entrance of your vagina and moving to the top of your clit. You yelped, your eyes finally meeting his in confusion. He grinned up at you, his hands now on your hips, scrunching your skirt up and running his thumb under the side wing of your panties. "K-katsuki," you whispered, your voice a stern, before your phone called your attention once more. "O-oh, It's nothing! just saw a bug," you laughed nervously.

Katsuki scowled, clearly he needed more to get you to hang up. He ripped away your underwear like paper, something you could do nothing about at the moment, and immediately latched on to your clit. This time you squeezed your mouth shut, keeping yourself as quiet as possible. You glared daggers at him, your cheery tone on the phone completely different than your expression. He just smiled like he won a prize, holding eye contact as he lapped and sucked like a man starved.

He gripped your hip in one hand while the other slid to your entrance, immediately sticking two fingers in and pumping in and out. The combination was too much for you, and you conceded, giving a quick bye to your family. "Katsuki," you cried the second your hung up, sitting upright. You were trying to be mad, but...god, he was hot, blissed out between your thighs.

"What? Shoulda listened the first time," he taunted with a muffled voice, continuing with his ministrations. Soon enough, you found your thighs clenching around his head, your hand interlaced through his hair, and your toes curling. He made sure to lap up every drop, inside and out, eyes locked on your beautiful face.

"Why do you always do this," you panted after calming down from your high, seriously curious, as he got up and stood over you. He frowned, this wasn't exactly the response he wanted, and his ears drooped slightly. "Why're you always on the phone when you should be paying attention to me?" He didn't understand it, after all he was never on the phone when he was with you.

You sighed and sat all the way up, something a little uncomfortable with the lack of underwear. You patted the seat next to you, and he begrudgingly sat down. "Katsuki, I know you don't feel the same way about family that I do, but they're important to me! I miss them."

He stared you down, eyes sharp, brows furrowed, and mouth in a deep frown. "Do you think they'll feel the way you feel about them when they find out? Do you honestly believe they love you the way you love them when they'd throw you out like trash the second they realize you and I are together?!"

His words stung, mostly because they were true, but also because of the way he spoke to you. "No...but, does it matter? Don't I get to feel loved by them a little longer?"

He went silent. The sad look in your eyes, the way your forehead creased, the way your cute little ears pressed sadly against your head. Fuck, you were too patient with him. Too reasonable. Why couldn't you just yell at him back, so he could feel like he was right to argue with you?

You just shook your head and got up, going to his bedroom and shutting the door. You couldn't just sit there and wait for him to comprehend, you needed some space until he could talk to you.

Five minutes later, he walked in to see you in his bed, your bunny ears flat against your head, and your face illuminated by your phone screen as you scrolled. Damn it, he could see tear stains. He could feel his heartstrings being plucked like a lyre. He sat on his knees in front of your face, his tail practically between his legs and his ears flattened back as he rested his chin on the bed. "'m sorry," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact as his scowl hid his fear that he may have pushed a little too far.

You set your phone down, wiping a couple tears from your eyes. "Why," you asked shortly, making him a little stunned for a moment. You wanted to make sure he meant it. It was one thing to say sorry, but a whole other thing to mean it.

"Because, I was bein' stupid...and rude..."

"And an asshole," you interjected.

"And an asshole," he repeated, chuckling slightly. He brought his hand to yours, and you hesitantly took it. "I just...I dunno," he scoffed, never one for talking things out. "I don't like how they think."

You nodded with understanding, kissing his hand and pressing your face against it. "I know, I know it's wrong..." you seemed to be thinking for a moment, and Katsuki was patiently waiting to hear what you had to say. "I'm gonna tell them. Tomorrow." He lit up for a moment, but quickly masked it because he knew it wasn't going to easy for you. Still, his tail thumping against the ground gave away his joy.

"Do you...want me to be there...?" He wanted to be, mainly to defend you and see their dumb faces realize it, but he also wanted to keep you from bawling. "that'd be nice," you sighed, blinking slowly.

You hadn't realized how tired you were, you were emotionally drained from all this, the big decision you just made, plus the fact that the smell and ambiance of Katsuki's room was so relaxing. The warm lighting from the lamp on his bedside, the soft blankets and pillows simulating a den, and the scent of burnt caramel and musk permeating the room.

He could see how sleepy you felt, and slowly got into bed with you, testing the waters to see if you still needed space. You let him, turning over and snuggling into his chest. He nuzzled into the top of your head, breathing in your scent and running his fingers through your hair. "I love you, I hope you know that, dumbass," he mumbles tenderly against your scalp, running his hand gently over your ears and down your head over and over again while watching as your tired frown turns into a soft smile. Those fuckers have another thing coming tomorrow.

I hope you liked the soft feels at the end, because I sure did. Like I said in other posts, angst isn't really my thing, so I deeply apologize to all angst lovers if they expected more of it. As always, let me know how you feel about this!

tagging you because I care <3: @b134ch-m4h-ey3z

[fanfichubcircuit]

Bullfrog Alphabet NSFW 18+

While I'm working on the Bullfrog x Reader here's my sexy Bullfrog HCs to tide y'all over. Enjoy!

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

Bullfrog is a very sweet person so aftercare can range from laying together talking before sleep to rubbing your sore muscles and cleaning you up. Whatever your comfort level is and whatever you need. You’d probably have to be forward and ask him what he needs. He also has like any juice or Powerade type deal you could want after.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs)

Non-sexually he likes his eyes the best. He thinks they’re nice and bright and loves making them pop with his eyeliner. When it comes to the bedroom his tongue is his favorite. It’s really large and soft so his partners enjoy it, and he loves the excuse to taste who he’s with. If you have a size kink, he can definitely satisfy it.

C = Cum (Anything to do with it)

You could literally cum anywhere on him. The only rules are no eyes, nose, or ear holes that just sucks. He likes feeling the proof that you enjoyed it and secretly he likes being marked by it. He wants to mark you too across your stomach and thighs or your back and ass (He couldn’t reach your face if he wanted to). If he gets to cum inside he wants to hold it in. And if you gently wipe some of yours on his face he’ll melt.

D = Dirty secret(s)

He totally stole your underwear. You two had been hot and heavy the night before so it was covered in you. It’s the only thing he’s never asked you permission for, but he was going on a mission solo and wanted you there, so he figured this was the next best thing. Throughout the whole ordeal of sneaking into that facility he kept shoving his face into your underwear to fill his lungs with you. He’s a little sex freak, but he’s YOUR little sex freak. Besides you two were well established at this point he didn’t think much about it.

The other secret he thinks about waaaay too much in his opinion. He had a dream that you clamped a spiked dog collar on his neck and dragged him around, complimenting him in a demeaning tone. You roughed him up and made him beg for a leash. He woke up in a sweat, confused, and blindingly hard. He’s not new to rough sex or the talk the leash stuff however makes him feel.. guilty. He’s very open minded when it comes to sexuality, but being a hybrid the whole leash thing felt like something he shouldn’t want. He totally revisits it when he touches himself.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Before his guild sect of the brotherhood was wiped out, back when he was first training with all the others in his age group. A bunch of super athletic young adults in close quarters all the time? Yeah. It was as randy as the Olympics. As he got older and moved away from the guild’s main compound he kept in touch with his fellow assassins as fuck buddies until.. well. He also had his fair share of romantic flings and one-night stands. Bullfrog knows his work is dangerous so he’s not ever afraid to shoot his shot. He wants to enjoy life as much as he can and he wants whatever partner he’s with to be as happy as possible as well and with his plethora of experience he is very good at keeping people happy.

F = Favorite position

He loves when you’re on top and pin him down with your hands and your body. But he also loves 69’ing so whatever creative position makes that magic happen he’d be over the moon for. Definitely wants to combine the two. You’re scared of smothering him? “A truly honorable way to go, but I am much too strong for that.”

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? More humorous?)

He loves to keep you happy and isn’t afraid to be silly. Anything embarrassing that happens turns into a shared laugh before jumping back into things. Any anxieties he jokes away with you. He can be serious too, but he sees the value in both. It’s sex, and his ego isn’t fragile, he’s not afraid to laugh. He loves having fun with you.

H = Hang-Ups (Stuff to Work through possibly) Replacing Hair

See the Collar Dream*. Bullfrog is very leveled out, but he’s not the best at focusing on himself. He loves to give, but you will have to remind him to be selfish sometimes and voice what he wants more.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? Romantic wise)

He is very intimate even when he’s silly. Being able to laugh and smile with you is a big part of it for him. But he also loves peppering your skin with kisses, tracing patterns into your skin, and if you’re down with eye contact he’s going to give you loads of soft heated looks up through his eyelashes. And the talk during? He’s either sweetly complimenting you or talking about your future together with such confidence you know no matter what Eden throws at you two you can handle it.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He uses his bubbles to relive past times instead of watching porn. He can also suck himself off he’s that flexible.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He has so many. But a few top ones are he loves to be teased and denied. He also likes being rough with each other as long as it’s safe. His absolute favorite is knife play with his hidden blades. The fact that you would trust him so much when he’s so dangerous really gets him going. He doesn’t even need to cut you just having it laying against your neck while he’s in you is enough to make him lose his mind. He would love to cut off your clothes beforehand. He would let you choke him or step on his dick. But if you’re not a fan of rough stuff he doesn’t mind just being soft with you. He is top/bottom sub/dom whatever floats your boat. He loves giving you what you want. Having the power to bring you pleasure. Also wants to watch you masturbate or get dicked down. Not as a cuckold thing, he just wants to watch you in pleasure and doesn’t mind sharing.

L = Location (Where?)

Where do you want to do it? He can probably make it happen. If it’s a crowded room with no hiding spots it might be up in the rafters though. Hope you’re not scared of heights.

M = Motivation (What turns them on?)

Anytime you do something that’s super cute or just reminds him of why he loves you he’s already planning what to do to you when you two have a moment. He just won’t tell you. Unless you like being teased as much as he does. That’s the other part of it if you try to turn him on you’ve already succeeded. Even if you totally fell on your face, he would find it way too cute.

N = No (Hard and Soft boundaries)

Hard Boundaries: No big wounds and nothing dangerous or permanent. He likes things a little rough, but he’s not a maniac about it. He doesn’t like being outright cruel either. He’ll tease, but it never goes that deep emotionally. Soft Boundaries: He doesn’t like roleplaying as other people. He’ll roleplay different scenarios about how y’all first banged etc. all day, but he doesn’t want to ‘be someone else’. If he’s gotta be a pizza delivery guy it’s going to be him as a pizza guy not some dweeb named Paul.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Already stated in B, but his tongue is so big and soft. King of oral. Loves to go down on you and loves to receive. He really likes 69’ing because then the two of you can get lost in each other, but it’s a difficult pose to find with the size difference. Wants to see how much he can fit in you.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

After a high stress mission or long time apart absolutely fast and rough, but if he’s feeling romantic slow and sensual. Either way if you want something and voice it it’s yours. The pace is whatever you want.

Q = Quickie (How do they feel about it?)

Hand stuff and oral absolutely is a go whenever and wherever as long as you two aren’t in mortal danger. Full on penetration though? Nope. Not quickie material. Quickies in his mind are fast and free. Just giggling and touching each other without being super complicated.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

Absolutely. He’s confident bordering on cocky when it comes to his skill set. You want to fuck in a space you’re not supposed to? He can get y’all there and keep you hidden. You want to try a new kink? He’s probably had experience in it and if not he’s a quick learner. He risks his life all the time. Risk in sex is a cake walk.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go?)

More than you.

T = Toys (Do they own any toys?)

Absolutely. He has some for himself, and some to use with a partner. A good assassin isn’t afraid to take advantage of his tools.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He’s very teasing when it comes to his flirting, but pulls back when it comes to the bedroom until you prove you can take it.

V = Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

His breathes get heavy during, but if you’re doing your job, you could ring some sweet cries out of him. He’s not afraid to get vocal.

W = Wild card (Random Headcanon)

He knows how to pull. He’s not afraid to be cute and sexy and it is a deadly combo. That sensual look he can throw out just by lowering his eyelids? He knows what he’s doing. He’s making you laugh one minute then you look over to him. He’s on his side, head propped up on his fist so his arm pops, looking at you like that. “Would you like to see how flexible assassins have to be?” Yeah, you were screwed from the start.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He does have a cock I mean he’s a hybrid he’s bipedal and has eyebrows he’s not exactly 100% bullfrog. But he doesn’t have balls and it’s a reddish purple instead of pink or straight red. Smaller than the average I would say about 4 inches, but he’s really thick.

Y= Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Like I said before you being you turns him on. His drive is very high. But he also likes the anticipation so being ready more often than you and having to wait adds a little something extra for him.

Z = Zzz (How fast do they fall asleep?)

He loves pillow talk so most of the time he’s the last out. Unless it’s really cold outside and he’s snuggled against your warmth. He’s out like a light.

[reds-writings]

souls further entwined

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: finally an update for these two! sorry to keep you waiting! I've got a lot of life changes in the works so updates might come a little slower over the next few months depending but i hope this tides y'all over for a bit! this takes place sometime after if only tonight we could sleep

word count: roughly 2.5k

warnings: (PLEASE LOOK BEFORE CONTINUING) discussions of abortion, child loss, forced/unsafe medical procedures, bad family situations, angst angst, cursing, semi-not-so-smut at the end, minors avert your gaze or else!!

The hidden gem of a restaurant that Rust had brought you to somewhere in the French Quarter was rather nice with its live jazz band playing in the corner and lavish decor. The tinkering of silverware layered on top of the low rumblings of fellow diners did what it could to fill the void of silence that had long settled between you and the man sitting adjacent. He had spontaneously asked you– well more like told you to go out with him tonight. Something about wanting to do things right once and for all after all this tiptoeing around.  The whole notion had taken you off guard, admittedly.

You’d been buzzing so bright leading up to tonight that you could've probably put a lightning bug to shame. He’d asked you on a real date. A step forward from the semi-clandestine meetings you’d both been settling on for far too long now. It was unlike him to outwardly admit to much but you doubted it was a wide occurrence that he’d take a girl on a date just because he was bored. This had meaning.

With that thought swirling in mind, you’d found your best dress and took what constituted as way too long of a pampering shower to best prepare for a promising night out with the man you'd become so deeply enamored with. It wasn’t often you got to get all prettied up for some fun given that work always managed to swallow you whole. 

God you’d been so excited. 

From the time you’d gotten into Rust’s Ford up until you’d sat down to eat he had yet to utter a single word to you. Hell, he’d hardly even managed to look at you either and it was starting to cause a distasteful rock that went by the name of dread to sink lower and lower in your gut. 

Dexterous fingers stayed picking at the table cloth as a form of lengthy distraction and you fought the bubbling urge to snatch his hand and demand what gives. It wasn’t hard to miss the anxiety bleeding from his form with those tense shoulders and that telltale faraway look in his eyes. You didn’t want to continue the cycle of jumping to conclusions when it came to the routine lack of forthcoming involving his more vulnerable thoughts out of insecurity so you bit the bullet,

“Y’know…usually on a date there’s a bit more talkin;. Maybe startin’ with questions like ‘what’s your favorite color’-- it’s blue by the way, or ‘where’d you get that lovely dress’. Could also do with lookin’ a little less green in the gills.”

That got him to stop fidgeting but a response was not yet prompted. You sighed and looked down at the vibrant cloth napkin in your lap,

“If you’re startin’ to regret this we can just forget about it and head back-”

“I don’t know if I can be what you need.” He all but blurted and it had your head shooting back up in suprise.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t…I don’t find myself being suited for marriage like before. I can’t give you kids because I don’t think it’s right-”

“Wait a minute just-...slow your roll for a second.” Your mind was going a mile a minute at his frank outburst and you were having trouble pinpointing just where it all came from. 

“First of all, I don’t necessarily need the promise of marriage to feel fulfilled. I’m about to hit 30 soon enough and I’ve supplied plenty for myself that I'm not sure some flimsy marriage papers can add on to. I’m not just sayin’ all this to make you feel better either so don’t go down that route.” You were tenderly stern in your delivery to make sure what you were saying was actually sticking without sounding offended.

All he could give was a slight nod as the tip of his thumb came to his mouth: a nervous tic.

“Secondly…” You cleared your throat slightly and gave yourself a moment of pause. The latter concern wasn’t that of an easy subject. For either of you. Besides your family and probably Marty, not many knew of your reality when it came to the idea of starting a family. 

“I can’t have children. So that wouldn’t even be on the table to begin with I suppose.” 

That seemed to stun Rust. His expression working out how, what, and when this came to be. You cleared your throat again. Talking about it was never easy no matter how much time passed.

“The gist of it is…well I got knocked up when I was sixteen. Total accident, shocker. And um…my pa didn't approve. Not one bit, bein’ the respectable county figure he was as a seasoned lawyer n' all.” 

Your sinuses began to sting but you willed away any threat of tears as you tried to explain. Rust didn't say a word, his expression hardening minutely with a knowing sense of where this was headed.

“I didn’t wanna listen. I was scared of course but the boy I was foolin’ around with at the time was nice and had a family who wanted to be involved so that was enough for me. My uppity family could shove it for all I cared,” You scoffed wryly but continued, “But pa was adamant. He couldn’t have some little whore of daughter muckin’ things up but we were a church family so abortion was obviously out of the question. At least one would think that was the case,” 

“Long story short he dragged me to some back alley clinic where things would be kept under wraps. They fuckin’ botched it of course and made me sterile. Didn’t really know how bad it was until another loss and a visit with the doctor after trying with a serious boyfriend some time ago…” You shrugged as you fiddled with your unused silverware. You hadn’t spoken with your family since then. Letting you be mutilated for the sake of preserving a frivolous public image was a hard thing to let go of.

You remember how sick you were afterward. Infection from the procedure and a decent amount of blood loss, go figure. You only recall the house's maids nursing you back.

Your pa had never been able to look you in the eye again. Your mama just pretended nothing had ever happened the way it did.

Sometimes your mind had the habit of taking a dark turn every now and then, wondering if they would’ve felt any remorse if their forced course of action ended up actually killing you. With a selfishness like they had you couldn't help but doubt it. 

They had always taken more pride in your sister anyway. 

“So yeah…you don’t have to worry about the possibility of kids when it comes to me. It’s not like with our line of work it’d be much of a good idea anyway. Marty’s a prime example I'd reckon.” Your laugh was brittle in a weak attempt to lift the heavy weight you felt like you’d set over the mood. 

Rust’s large hand reached over to encase your shaking one to garner your attention. Looking up you weren’t met with pity or disgust, but with recognition. One shared in the experience of grief. Of having something meant to be so precious ripped from you in the cruelest of ways. He didn’t feel sorry for you. He understood you. More than anyone else had or could. 

“You’re enough for me, Rust. I don’t know if you’ve noticed by now but there’s not much you can do to send me runnin’ for the hills. I like you as you are and I don’t need more. I wouldn’t expect you to change your mind over somethin’ like that anyway. It just wouldn’t be fair to ask.” His eyes glazed over at your words and he had to let go of the troubled breath he’d been holding. He brought your hand to his lips and kept them there as an unspoken thank you. 

After a moment or two he set your hand back on the tabletop, still grasped in his. 

“How about we find some shitty dive and let loose over there. This place is startin’ to feel a lil’ too stuffy for me.” Your light-hearted jab made the corner of his lips quirk up before he nodded,

“Yes, ma'am.” 

—

After a relaxing drive accompanied by the tunes of Willie Nelson in search of a dive bar that was sufficient enough, the ice from all the worries of earlier had melted as fast as they had formed. The establishment you ended up coming across was a more than welcome change of pace compared to that of the restaurant (as lovely as it was). It wasn’t big by any means but there was room to dance and plenty of open spots to sit around and drink. 

You looped your arm through his and leaned into his side as you made your way to settle down. There wasn’t enough time or clarity earlier to truly appreciate just how good he looked for the occasion but now you had all the time in the world to shamelessly ogle.

He’d donned a black dress shirt, forgoing a tie and leaving a few buttons undone in a way that had you feeling dizzy, as well as a nice fitting pair of jeans that had plenty of passersby’s eyes glued to his shapely form.

“The ladies of Louisiana might just beat me up for a chance with you. If your face ain’t motivation enough your ass surely will be.” You nudged him and he shook his head mirthfully. 

“One would say jealousy is unbecoming.”

“Who said anythin’ about jealousy? I’ve earned my stake in claimin’ you as eye candy fair and square. They can try all they want but they were just too slow to the draw.”

“With your pension for being scrappy, I’d say they wouldn’t have much of a chance to begin with.” 

“Gee, is that the only reason they don’t stand a chance?” You quirked a brow. You knew the answer but pestering him to fess up hardly ever got you far. 

“What d’ya wanna drink, Miss Envy.” He drawled, not one to fall into your traps so easily and you flicked him with narrowed eyes.

“Last time I checked my name don’t even come close to rhymin’ with envy so you can quit with that.” 

The shithead just smirked.

“I’ll take a jack and coke. Now run along.” You waved him away and he just shook his head. In his short absence you’d found a high top and decided to claim as your territory for the night. The music was clearer over this way and your heart jumped at the beginning notes of Fleetwood Mac’s Beautiful Child.

Upon his return, Rust had hardly been able to set the drinks down before you were grabbing at him to park yourselves out on the dancefloor. A few other couples were swaying in place so you figured it wouldn’t be all that awkward to steal a moment for yourselves.

It was strange, being able to be so open in your affections without the curious eyes of Marty or anyone else from the precinct to make judgments. You could just be yourselves. It was a breath of fresh air after all this time.

As the song gained momentum, you wrapped your arms around his neck, toying with the hairs at his nape while his strong ones made home around your waist to pull you in closer. A small spark of pride lit up your chest at him being able to be this comfortable with you.

As you rested your head along the expanse of his chest you felt the feather-light stamp of his kiss at your crown. The tenderness of the simple act almost had you turning into one hell of a mush puddle. You settled on burrowing deeper if that were any more possible as Stevie sang on. Fighting the effect he had on you was always going to be a losing battle. 

You wouldn’t trade this moment for a damned thing. 

—

It was nearing almost three in the morning by the time you arrived back home. Your mind had been pleasantly warmed by the drinks and all the dancing. Rust even seemed to have a newfound glow to him and it was triggering something innately carnal in you. 

Taking an opportunity from the pocket of silence, you scooted along the Ford’s bench seat to make a place for yourself along his lap. 

The relaxed daze displayed across his features was something you’d never had the pleasure of seeing before. It was nothing like the faraway trance he’d trap himself in with all the pills and whatnot in fruitless efforts of chasing undisturbed sleep. No, this was true content. 

“I had a good time.” You didn’t mean to sound so coy but it couldn’t be helped as your hands crept up to frame his fine face.

“That’s good. I’m glad.” He hummed as he took in every feature your beautiful face had to offer. It was like striking gold. Especially in this expansive wasteland of a state.

“When we get a chance we should do it again. S’nice to go out…feel normal…” Hair lying in his line of light distracted you as you moved it out of the way with a gentle sweep. The truck’s cab could probably burst with the steadily increasing tension so you did what any normal woman would do with such a man in front of them and kissed him with all you had. 

It started out syrupy and languid as if you had all the time in the world to be out macking in the car like a pair of careless teenagers. Your skin hummed like a live wire at his sudden grasp on the plush fat of your hips which served as the green light to go further. 

Your delicate fingers carded through his soft waves as the muscle of his tongue took dominance over the kiss. A meek whimper cracked within your throat as you tried to keep up with what little oxygen you had remaining. When Rust kissed, it was all-consuming. It was no act he took passively when it came to you which had been made crystal clear to you by now. With each pass of his wet-hot caress, you could feel everything he wanted to say to you without complication of expression through words. 

His mouth traveled across the apple of your cheek down the expanse of your neck, nipping and sucking with such lax reverence it had you arching as if you could fuse your ribs with his. Souls to be permanently intertwined.

With a starting grind of your hips that your body had no willpower to control you could feel him hardening with each intensifying roll. His choked moan had you remembering where you were and you’d be damned if your first actual night with him was in this old, damned truck right outside your house. 

“D’ya wanna take this inside?” You offered in a breathless huff, trying to catch your breath in vain. You’re sure that even in the dark of the truck’s cabin the heat of your face could set the whole space aglow. He nipped at your bottom lip and soothed it with another peck,

“I would.”

The sudden tangle of limbs clambering to make haste towards the beacon of your front door would’ve been downright hysterical had you any hubris. 

a/n: sorry to blue ball you lmao. I HOPE THIS WASN'T CRINGE AHHHHH. i'll probably come back and edit this later. feedback is always appreciated!

[laracrofted]

baby, i'm high octane (vii)

synopsis: over the course of the last month of the documentary, nora makes some decisions.

pairings: jake seresin x nora rogers (oc)

warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, all of the usual warnings, swearing, existential dread, spoilers for ocean's eleven lol, smut (like a little bit, oral sex, allusions to sex) (wc: 12.7K)

note: y'all, it's been so long, i'm so sorry 😭 but i hope the ridiculously long chapter makes up for the wait. last chapter before the epilogue woo!

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TAGS: @theharddeck @mamachasesmayhem @bradshawsbitch @hangmanbrainrot @startrekfangirl2233 @kandierteveilchen @lostinwonderland314 @hangmanscoming @t-nd-rfoot @sometimesanalice @dempy @mlibbydp @bellaireland1981 @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @averagereader35 @eli2447 @filmflux @bethbunnyy @callsignspark @kajjaka @roosterbruiser @djs8891

Nora spends the whole weekend with Jake.

She doesn’t plan to spend the whole weekend with him. It’s one of those things that just kind of happens, like getting caught up in a good book and realizing it’s been hours and you haven’t moved an inch.

It’s not something she does. It’s more what she doesn’t do.

She doesn’t kick him out on Thursday night as soon as Jake has his pants on, doesn’t push him barefoot in the direction of the door with a Thanks for the sex, come back anytime. 

She doesn’t make up a half-hearted excuse, some reason that she needs to be up early in the morning to keep him from sleeping over.

It’s so simple, really.

She never asks him to leave, and so, Jake stays. 

On Friday morning, Jake brings her coffee in bed. 

She is still half-asleep, sheets all bunched up under her chin, hair fanned messily across the sun-warmed pillows, cheeks flushed. A wide cat-like yawn escapes her as Nora stretches her arms above her head and reaches for the coffee with a slightly hoarse thank you.

Holding the mug in one hand, she rubs the harsh sting of sunshine from her eyes, knuckles creating starbursts on her eyelids, while Jake sprawls across the bed.

He is shirtless, a gold shimmer of chest hair running down his abdomen and disappearing under the black waistband of his boxer shorts. A ripple passes over his ab muscles as Jake stretches out and gets comfortable, searching for her leg through the crumpled pile of sheets.

He strokes a comforting pattern across her calf, across the curve of her knee, and back down again, propped on his elbow to watch her face. 

“How’d I do?” Jake asks, nodding to the coffee. His voice is a low murmur, soft as the blueish morning light that filters in between the sheer curtains.

Holding his gaze, Nora raises the mug to her lips and takes a long, luxurious sip.

She almost sighs out loud. It’s perfect. 

A half-faded conversation from last night pulls at the edge of her mind, muddled by drowsiness and sleep, like a dream.

She was half-awake, already caught in the deep tide of sleep, almost pulled under from the head rush that washed over her in the late hours of the night after Jake kissed damn near every inch of her and got back in line for seconds. A fuzziness in her fingertips, like Nora was taking her first dizzied steps off of the Tilt-A-Whirl at Pacific Park on the Santa Monica Pier, finding her sea legs in the closeness of him; a kind of gravity in the warmth of his chest, pressed against her bare back. 

He wrung another orgasm from her minutes before, and in the afterglow, Nora melted into him like warmed butter, letting out a satisfied hum in the darkness.

Lips warm on her shoulder, Jake asked, “How d’you like your coffee?” 

Her lids were so heavy, and Nora let her eyes close.

“Hm,” Nora hummed. “Guess.” 

He chuckled, and Nora’s lips curved at the sound, at the warm puff of breath on her nape.

“Can’t ever make it easy on me, can you, Hollywood?” 

“Oh,” Nora yawned out. “Not a chance.” 

Jake shifted behind her, closer, and Nora sank further into the warm embrace of his muscular arms around her, so secure and solid. Comforting. Her own personal space heater in the form of a hot Naval aviator. 

Who would’ve thought a man called Hangman would be such a cuddle?

And more, who would’ve thought she’d like it so much?

His fingers tangled with hers as Jake seemed to consider his next words, his guess.

“‘Course not. Let’s see. It’s….” Jake’s lips found the hollow beneath her ear, and Nora breathed a shallow gasp. “What? Oat milk and vanilla?” 

All of the sudden, Nora felt very awake.

Her eyes flew open, and Nora startled, but Jake was too octopus-like around her for her to crane her neck around and look at him. 

“Wow,” Nora said, her raised brows audible in her voice. “Tracking me, Lieutenant?” 

“I’m observant.” Jake shifted again. “It’s part of what makes me a great pilot, sweetheart.” 

And was that a hint of self-consciousness in his sleep-slurred voice? Underneath all of that self-assured confidence and bottomless bravado?

She kind of wanted to see if Jake was blushing.

His fingers flexed around hers, and Nora lightly squeezed his hand.

He squeezed back. Kissed the now-familiar curve of her shoulder and said, “Also, you drink the same thing every day. I’d have a hard time not noticing.” 

“Yeah?” Nora smiled. “You must spend a lot of time looking at me.” 

“Ever since I saw you, I haven’t wanted to look away.” 

There in the dark, Jake’s words sounded like a confession, so open, so sincere.

She drifted off to sleep in his arms, a smile on her face, a pleasant and gnawing ache in her chest.

Now, vanilla and sugar on her tongue, Nora says, “Not bad, Lieutenant.” 

Another sip. Another blissful half-sigh. 

“It’s actually so good,” Nora concedes. “It’s perfect.” 

A smile pulls at the edge of his mouth, and Jake replies, softly, “Good.” 

A quick kiss glances against the side of her knee, and Jake sits up and brushes her hair from her pink cheeks.

She is flushed from sleep; warm from the sun and him. 

He’s sitting so close; looking at her with such open adoration that she feels like she’s burning.

“You’re staring,” Jake drawls with a slow smirk. You have a staring problem. His voice is like the low rumble of a distant summer storm and slightly hoarse, and Nora wants to wrap herself in it like a blanket and sleep the rest of the day away.

Instead, Nora carefully sets the coffee on the nightstand and cupping his face between her hands, kisses him.

For once, she catches him off guard. 

A deep, surprised sound punches out of him – half exhale, half groan. 

She loops her arms around his strong neck, pulling him in, needing to be closer to him. Her fingers brush over the shorter hairs at his nape, curl in the longer strands, damp from where Jake must’ve showered before Nora woke. Dark gold, like a bottle of maple syrup in the sunlight. 

Catching on, Jake bends a hand around the back of her neck and rolls her underneath him on the mattress, following her down, his mouth on hers the whole way down. He swipes his tongue across her bottom lip and into her mouth, and Nora opens for him with a sigh. 

It’s slow and natural. 

Would it always be like this? So easy? she wonders as Jake slides his hand up her side, fingers fanning across her ribcage and higher. Would it be as easy as falling asleep in his arms and waking up to the rich smell of coffee in the morning and kissing slowly like both of them know there will be other kisses, other mornings?

His hand cuts across her abdomen, and Jake covers her breast with his palm, and Nora lets the thought go, like the end of a balloon string, and arches into him. 

There are suddenly too many layers between them.

And impatient, Nora kicks the sheets away and, hooking her leg around his hip, pushes his boxers down and frees his cock. He groans against her mouth, a sweet and rough sound, a reverent sound. 

One hand comes down to hold her against him, rough palm sliding across the back of her thigh and up and up, and Nora shudders against him as Jake runs his fingers through the wetness that’s building between her legs. 

He still has his other hand on the back of her neck, pad of his thumb swiping across her thrumming pulse, and hell, Nora almost wants to reach up and pull his hand around, urge him to spread those broad fingers across her collarbone, across her throat and – 

Another time.

She breaks the kiss and breathes, “Turn over,” against his mouth. 

And Jake – damn him – does this thing with his fingers that makes her brain go blank for a solid five seconds. Like Nora’s been put on airplane mode.

A grin dimples his cheeks as Jake looks down at her, lids low, lips parted just enough to show his teeth. “Now, isn’t that my line, sweetheart?”

She bites down on her bottom lip, holding back something halfway between a laugh and a moan. “Just… get on your back.” 

It’s actually obscene how effortlessly Jake flips them.

He reaches for her again, moving to pull her forward and settle between her open legs, hand around his hard cock, but Nora plants her hands on his stupidly broad shoulders and pushes him back down. 

He could so easily resist her, but Jake lets her lead.

He looks up at her from the pillows with a familiar gleam in his eyes. “What’re you up to, sweetheart?” 

“You know…” Nora murmurs against his neck. “I had something I wanted to do last night.” 

She kisses down his neck, across his shoulders – his beautiful shoulders – and down the center of his chest, memorizing the golden skin and hard muscle in the blue morning. He really is so goddamn handsome. 

His gaze is molten, melted gemstones. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

She moves down his abdomen, admiring the way Jake’s muscles shudder under the soft press of her lips. She notices Jake is holding his breath, and Nora smirks. Good. She wants him a little uneven. 

She looks up at him from under her lashes. “You wouldn’t let me suck your cock.” 

“I was being a gentleman,” Jake argues.

“Well, in that case, allow me to thank you.” 

Nora runs her hand over his cock, stroking him once, twice, and puts her mouth around him, and Jake makes a choked sound, breathing in sudden and sharp, a fragile sound that quickly fades into a broken groan.

“Christ, Nora…” Jake groans, reaching down, his large hand settling on the back of her head, like Jake needs something to ground himself, fingers threading through her hair. 

She hums around him in response, and Jake lets out a breathless, “Fuck,” that’s as flattering as a compliment.

It’s all moans and groans and soft breaths and Nora sweetheart Nora Jesus Christ until Nora looks up at him and murmurs coyly, “Come for me, cowboy,” and half a breath later, Jake finishes in her mouth. 

She swallows with a smug grin, and Jake swears again, his cheeks darkening.

He drapes an arm over his face and lets out a string of breathless swears that make Nora laugh.

“Are you okay?” Nora asks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stretches out next to him as Jake catches his breath.

“I think I might be dead,” Jake mumbles from under his arm, voice muffled, “but good news, I’m definitely in heaven.” He lifts his arm slightly and looks at her sidelong, slanted green eyes full of suggestion. “You wanna be my plus one?” 

Her laugh splits into a gasp as Jake slips a hand between her legs.

The coffee is cold when Nora reaches for it again, finding her breath between sips, resting her head on his flushed, sweat-misted chest, but she can’t bring herself to care. She drinks every single drop.

Saturday comes in a blink, and Nora drags Jake to the farmers market in Little Italy.

Or rather, Nora gets dressed in the morning, trading his oversized button-down for a white shirt and a pair of overall shorts, and starts saying, “So I’m thinking about going to the farmers market if you want…” and Jake immediately grabs his keys, a horseshoe shaped bottle opener dangling from the keychain. 

She loves to visit the local markets of new cities as a way to get to know them.

In San Diego, Nora has made a habit of going to the Little Italy Mercato every other weekend to stock up on fresh produce and browse the local art that’s for sale, a whole spread of gorgeous art prints, ceramics, and glassware. 

A few weeks back, Nora found a handmade pitcher the color of blue bottle-glass and started filling it with fresh farm-grown flowers ever since. A bright spot of color on her bedroom sill. 

It should feel weird that Jake’s there – stepping into this Saturday morning ritual that’s only ever been hers – but it’s actually nice, really nice. 

He holds her hand as Nora walks around the street, wandering an aimless zig-zag between the stands, doubling back for the ones that catch her eye.

Her reusable bag grows heavier on her shoulder, slowly filling with fresh fruits and vegetables and even, a heart-shaped bottle of raspberry wine from a Temecula winery, and Nora’s shoulder begins to ache. She moves the bag to her hand and rolls out the minor discomfort in the muscle.

While Nora is distracted at the flower stand, Jake pulls the bag from her loose fingers and swings it over his opposite shoulder and links their hands again.

At first, Nora doesn’t even notice. She is busy sliding her credit card back into her wallet and clicking the no-receipt button on the iPad screen, but the older woman who is wrapping the flowers for her doesn’t miss a thing. She makes enough fuss for the both of them.

“What a nice young man.” 

Nora almost snorts. She really wants to laugh, but doesn’t want to accidentally offend the nice woman who has no idea of the effect those words will have on the man behind her. Jake nudges Nora’s hip, biting back a grin, and collects the expertly-wrapped bouquet from the vendor. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Jake drawls with a dimpled smile so sugar-sweet that Nora could spoon it into a bottle and use it to sweeten her coffee in the morning. Asshole. 

She looks at him sideways, and Jake is already looking at her, a victorious lift to his mouth, like You see? See the sweet old lady who thinks I’m nice?

As Nora wades back into the crowd, a little flushed, Jake leans down and says, “Hear that? I’m a nice young man,” right against her ear.

Now, Nora does laugh.

“Debatable,” she says.

He laughs. His breath is warm on the side of her neck, and Nora feels his lips brush against her skin, against her hair, for the briefest moment. Shorter even, barely even a blink.

It’s a cloudless morning, but Nora holds back a shiver.

I could kiss him, she absently realizes. She wouldn’t have to do anything more than turn her head, maybe raise her chin, and she would be kissing him. She can just do that now. 

She slows at the realization, but Jake is smiling, sun-bright, and asks, “You hungry?” 

She feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with the summer breeze, the late morning sun on her freckling shoulders and cheeks. She basks in the feeling, in the buzz of a beautiful Saturday morning that’s brought half of San Diego out into the sunshine. 

Her stomach grumbles, and Nora nods.

“Come on, I know just the place,” Jake says. 

His hand slips out of hers to find the small of her back as Jake leads her out of the crowd.

Back on Coronado Island, Jake drives along Orange Ave for a while before pulling into the parking lot of a cute diner called Starboard Side. 

This must be the place Jake mentioned on the Fourth, Nora realizes, where he wanted to take her on a date. 

She is smiling to herself when Jake opens the blue door for her. 

It’s the very definition of charming. Sun-soaked and eclectic with deep blue wallpaper on one end of the diner – covered in a nautical pattern of anchors, ships, and ocean waves – and wood paneling on the other, painted a bright sunflower yellow. 

She steps around a cluster of people who are waiting around the made-to-order coffee counter, either waiting for their order or waiting for one of the blue stools along the counter to be available, and Jake leads her to a booth in the corner.

“This is the best booth in here. It’s got the best window,” Jake says firmly and also in a way that makes her feel like he is waiting for her to agree with him, like a puppy waiting to be patted on the head. Like Jake picked out the best booth in the diner to impress her.

It’s equal parts endearing and ridiculous, which somehow makes it all the more endearing. 

Smiling, Nora slides in across from him, the sun-bleached vinyl under her legs warm against her bare skin. “It’s beautiful. Do you come here a lot?”  

“I’ve been coming here for years,” Jake answers, “since I was first at Top Gun. It’s the perfect amount of miles from the base for a morning run so I’d run here and back and carb load in between. Do you like pancakes or waffles?” 

“Who do you think I am? Pancakes, of course,” Nora says, and Jake’s smile crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“They’ve got really good pancakes.” 

He slides a laminated menu across the checkered table and points to one of the dishes in the Starboard Combos section, and as Nora follows along with his recommendation, walking her through his go-to orders, her hair slips into her face.

It’s been everywhere all morning, a little wild from the warmth of the day, a little windswept from the sea salt breeze coming off the ocean, frizzing and curling around her shoulders. She almost got fed up and braided it on the drive here, but all morning, Jake has been playing with the loose strands of blonde hair, absentmindedly reaching over and running it between his fingers on the Coronado Bridge, brushing it back from her face in the market check-out line when Nora’s hands were too full to do it herself. 

He’d been doing it in bed too, curling a strand around his finger and complimenting the smell of her shampoo.

Every easy and casual touch sends a little thrill dancing through her stomach so Nora left it down.

She sweeps it over her shoulder and studies the menu.

A smiling waitress comes by to grab their orders and flits over to collect a stack of dirty dishes from the next table over, a spiral notepad tucked into the band of her brightly colored apron. She returns a few minutes later to set down their coffees and is gone again.

It’s just them now. Just them again. 

She stirs the coffee with a metal spoon, oversized ice cubes clinking gently against the sides of the wide-mouth jar. She licks the sugar from the spoon and sets it back down on a paper napkin and watches him.

He rests his cheek on his open palm, curving his other hand around the chipped handle of the baby blue diner mug and watches her back. 

He ordered his coffee with cream and sugar and his eggs sunny side up, and Nora snatches up those little shining details like a magpie. She adds them to the picture of him in her mind.

He likes his coffee a little sweet. He likes pancakes. He likes her.

A golden beam of sunlight slants through the large window at their side, the best window in the whole diner. It’s almost noon, and in the afternoon light, Jake looks relaxed and thoughtful, edges softened, all dimples and laugh lines.

She notices a small hole in the collar of his shirt – barely even noticeable – and Nora latches onto that small imperfection like a lifeline, proof that Jake isn’t something Nora dreamed up. He’s real, heart-achingly so.

“So…” Nora says.

“So…” Jake echoes.

So…

So, what does this mean?

So, what do people talk about on first dates that feel like fifth, sixth, seventh dates?

So so so.

“So,” Nora says again. A complete sentence. She rests her chin on her interlaced fingers, mimicking his posture, half leaned forward, shoulders relaxed. “I have a question for you, Texas.” 

His lips quirk. “Yeah? What kind of question?” 

She dips her chin, lips pursed against a smile. “A very important one.” 

A dimple springs up in his cheek as Jake drawls, “Hit me, Hollywood,” in a voice full of Texas.

“What is…” Nora reaches for her coffee. Draws out the suspense. “…your favorite movie?” 

The corner of his mouth kicks up, and Nora narrows her eyes.

“Careful now. There are wrong answers here.”

“I’m not worried, sweetheart,” Jake replies with a casual sip of coffee, sprawling posture matching his words. “That’s an easy one. It’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Robert Redford and Paul Newman. Got anything harder for me?” 

Asshole, Nora thinks with affection.

A cowboy movie for a cowboy. Of course.

And Nora lets out an approving, “Good movie,” instead of damn. 

Because maybe, just maybe if Jake had god awful taste in movies – like, I respect you less as a person now bad – Nora could pour sand over the sparks that kick to life in her chest whenever Jake’s arm so much as brushes against hers. Damn damn damn.

And Jake’s smile is a little smug, a little knowing. “You like that I like good movies, don’t you? It kinda turns you on.” 

“I’m not answering that,” Nora says, which might as well be an answer, and Jake’s grin sharpens.

She pointedly ignores him, cheeks warm, and sips her coffee. “Is there a story there? Or are you really that much of a cowboy?” 

He makes a noncommittal sound, not ignoring the question, not answering either.

This is a date, not an interview, Nora reminds herself. She doesn’t push.

He brings the mug to his lips and asks, “What about you? What’s yours?” 

“Oh, I – ” Nora makes a face. “I don’t know if I have one.” 

Shaking his head, Jake shoots her a disbelieving look. “You’re not getting out of this one, Hollywood, not a chance. You have to have one.” 

Nora laughs. “I don’t know. It’s all just so subjective. I like a lot of movies for a lot of different reasons.” She gestures to him. “I mean, don’t you? Doesn’t everyone?” 

“Sure,” Jake says slowly, “but you must have a favorite.” 

“That’s what I’m saying. A movie can be a favorite for any number of reasons, like, if you see a movie at the exact right time or maybe, with the exact right person or both, and it’s almost like the movie found you and not the other way around.” 

A half-smile forms on his face as Jake listens to her.

“It’s hard to pick one favorite. How do you compare that – that raw emotional experience – with a movie that’s objectively very good from a craft perspective?” 

“You tell me, sweetheart,” and Jake chuckles when Nora gives him a look. “Alright, what about two movies?” 

“Two?” 

“Yeah.” He holds up two fingers. “Pick two favorites.” 

Two favorites. She can probably do two.

Thinking for a moment, Nora says, “When Harry Met Sally. One, because it’s amazing movie and the best rom-com of our time, obviously.”

She waits expectantly until Jake echoes, obviously, with a smile.

“Two, because I watched it in high school with my mom. I was supposed to go to this pool party that a girl in my grade was throwing for her birthday, but I got super sick, and I was so upset. It was like, all I’d been looking forward to that week. My mom canceled her plans and stayed in with me.” She smiles at the memory. “We spent the whole night on the couch, eating pizza and watching a Meg Ryan marathon on cable. It’s been a favorite of mine ever since.” 

Gaze warm, Jake absorbs this with a nod. “What’s your second favorite?” 

“Ocean’s Eleven,” Nora answers without hesitation. “I was obsessed with George Clooney when I was a kid. I once wrote him a letter and asked him to be my step-dad. He never got back to me, unfortunately.” 

His laugh lights up his whole face. “God, of course you did. How’d your mom feel about that?” 

“She would’ve gotten on board. It’s George Clooney,” Nora says simply, like it’s obvious. 

His foot brushes against hers underneath the table, his ankle slotting into the space between hers, and something about it feels so intimate that Nora almost shivers.

After a moment, Jake offers, “I saw Butch and Sundance with my dad.” 

An answer to a question Nora didn’t ask out loud. 

Surprised, Nora pauses. “Your dad?” 

A nod as Jake runs his hand over his nape. “Austin had this retro movie theater that used to play old movies on Saturday and Sunday mornings for real cheap, like five bucks, maybe even less back then. My football practice got rained out one weekend, and for once, my dad wasn’t working so we went to see Butch and Sundance. It’s probably the best afternoon I ever had with him.” A fraction of the  seriousness washes from his face as Jake winks and adds, “And I’m that much of a cowboy, sweetheart. You should see my Stetson collection back home.” 

A charmed smile pulls at her mouth, and Nora chooses her words carefully. “You’ve never mentioned your dad before.” 

One of his shoulders rises and falls. “We’re not close. He was kind of an asshole even then, always on me about every little mistake I’d make during games, every A-minus that should’ve been an A. He only got meaner as I got older.” He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “My parents split up when I was in high school. He was a real dick to my mom during the divorce, so I don’t see him unless I have to now.” 

“My dad’s an asshole too,” Nora says. “George Clooney would’ve been much better.” 

Jake laughs, and Nora smiles, kind of proud of herself.

The waitress comes back with their food, and Nora slides the plate of blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs in front of her. She carefully unrolls her knife and fork and sets the napkin across her lap. She doesn’t want any crushed blueberry stains on these overalls. 

An unladylike sound almost escapes her mouth at her first bite, and Nora closes her mouth around the sound. 

“You were right about the pancakes.” 

“Of course I was.” 

Nora rolls her eyes, and Jake chuckles.

Washing it down with a sip of coffee, Nora says, “You never told me your second favorite movie.” 

Jake breaks off a piece of whole-wheat toast and dips it in yellow egg yolk. He pops it in his mouth and grinning around the bite, replies, “You already know my second favorite.” 

“I do?” She sets her fork down, already sticky with maple syrup.

He nods, not giving her any hints, waiting for her to catch up with him, to keep up. 

She wracks her brain for any movie Nora had ever heard Jake mention. She can’t think of a single one. She's about to fold her cards and ask him to tell her until – 

“Oh my god. You’re full of shit.” 

“I’m not,” Jake says, amused.

She stares at him, mouth open slightly. “You can’t be serious. Your favorite movies are Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, one of the best Westerns of all time, which has been preserved by the Library of Congress for being culturally significant, and – ”  

“How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” Jake finishes with a grin. He cocks his head. “What can I say? I love McConaughey.” 

His smile splits wide open when Nora bursts out laughing.

After, when Nora is leaving the diner, full of good food, Jake walks ahead of her to check the parking meter, and watching him, Nora has the most disorienting urge to walk over and wrap her arms around him. Press her cheek into the wrinkle of soft heather gray fabric between his shoulder blades. Inhale the smell of his cologne like Nora’s done it a million times before.

This is new, Nora reminds herself. It’s so new.

Except when Jake glances over his shoulder and looks for her, green eyes darting down to run over her bare legs, and smiles, wide and affectionate like he didn’t just spend almost two hours across from her, like he could spend all day looking at her and never get sick of it; nothing about it feels new.

It feels like Nora’s already waist deep, right in the middle of something vast and all-consuming, something bottomless. 

And when Jake extends a hand behind him, reaching for her, eyes as green as dew-covered grass, Nora steps into the daylight and links her fingers with his, filling in the gaps, somehow it’s the most natural thing in the whole world.

Two more weeks pass, and Nora’s with Jake more than she’s not.

He sleeps over so often that Nora clears a spot on the bathroom counter for him to leave a spare toothbrush, and likewise, Jake starts to keep her favorite brands of cold brew and creamer in his fridge. 

Coffee in bed becomes something of a weekend routine.

Once, in his apartment, Jake brings her coffee in a Lone Star State mug, which looks like one of those souvenir mugs you might find in an airport. It’s covered in a patchwork of orange and light blue doodles: a cowboy hat, a horse, a Sheriff’s star.

“Beth bought it for me when I left for my first deployment,” Jake explains when Nora asks him about the mug, running her fingers over the delicate outlines. “So I’d have something to remind me of home.” 

They go on a second date. A third. A fourth. 

He finds a dine-in movie theater in La Jolla that’s doing a 90’s Rom Com series all summer and takes her to a 35mm showing of Clueless, listening attentively as Nora explains the difference between digital and film projection in excruciating detail on the drive there, a smile on his face.

On the mornings that Jake doesn’t stay the night, Nora orders an extra coffee – with cream and sugar – from her favorite coffee shops and meets him on the base a half hour earlier than the rest of the Daggers. She kisses him in the quiet of the Ready Room until 8:00 AM rolls around. 

It’s all meaningful looks and stolen kisses; late night drives with the windows down, the wind in her hair, his hand on her thigh; rolls of film, not yet developed. It’s something for them, something good. 

They keep it under the radar in front of the Daggers.

She’s not worried about them finding out, but Captain Mitchell is an extension of the Daggers, and Nora would really like to keep Aunt Charlie’s ex-boyfriend in the dark about her sex life for as long as possible. Forever, even. 

Also, she still has a month left in her contract, and while she’s pretty sure the Naval magazine wouldn’t fire her for sleeping with one of the film subjects in a documentary like this one, she’s not so sure that she wants to put it to the test.

So, for now, under the radar it is. 

After the Fourth of July, Javy officially gets his orders to report to Maverick's squadron. He goes back to Lemoore to wrap up some loose ends with his old C.O., and Jake meets him there the next weekend to drive a U-Haul back down.

And Nora emails the magazine and lets them know that the documentary will have one more Dagger. 

Nora has more than enough time to weave him into the narrative of the film, and anyway, Javy is an official member of the squadron now. He is as much part of the story of the squadron as the other Daggers. 

Plus, Nora hasn’t forgotten how excited Javy was about the film. It’ll be seamless, her version of rolling out the red carpet for him.

On his second day, Nora pulls him aside between drills and sits him down in front of the camera.

It’s a good interview, which doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. He’s a lot like Jake in that way, effortlessly funny and charismatic with a glowing movie star smile. Her cheeks hurt from smiling by the end of the interview, completely and thoroughly charmed. 

After, Nora walks back to the Ready Room with him, and Javy asks, “How was that?” 

“Super good,” she tells him. He holds the door open for her, like a gentleman, and with a smile, Nora crosses the threshold ahead of him, looking at him over her shoulder. “No, but really, it was great. You’re a natural.” 

On the couch, Jake grumbles, “I thought I was a natural,” and Nora swats at him on her way past.

Everyone gathers at the Jake’s apartment later that night to eat some pizza and watch a movie.

Nora is curled up on the opposite end of the couch as Jake with an unsuspecting Bob between them. At one point, Jake looks around the room and stretches his arm casually over the back of the couch, and Nora feels him fiddling with the end of her braid.

She hides her smile in her next sip of white wine.

She is peacefully watching the movie, drinking the wine and sharing a bowl of extra-butter popcorn with Bob when Natasha comes back from the bathroom and plops down on the carpet again with a smirk on her face.

“Hangman.” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s nice of you to host and all, but next time, if you’re going to leave your bedroom door open, can you tell your girlfriend not to leave her underwear on the floor?” 

Nora chokes.

A popcorn kernel shoots into her airway, and Nora coughs into her wine.

Jake subtly drops his arm behind the couch, letting go of her hair.

Looking down at Natasha, Jake raises his brows, like oh, who, me?, and smiles a familiar cat-like smile, unbothered and calm. “Sure, Phoenix. I’ll pass along the message.” 

It’s immediately obvious that Natasha expected him to say anything but that.

She gapes at him, and meanwhile, Nora wishes it was possible to elbow Jake through Bob.

She curls further into the armrest and swallows a mouthful of wine that’s almost too much, wine dribbling out of the side of her mouth and onto her shirt. 

What happened to under the radar?

And when did Nora leave his apartment without her underwear? 

Is she wearing underwear now?

She pats her hip under the guise of smoothing out a wrinkle in her sweat shorts. All clear.

Natasha spends the last 30 minutes of Ocean’s Eleven grilling him – and when Jake smiles that infuriating plastic smile and doesn’t reveal anything, pivoting to Javy – about whether Jake does, in fact, have a girlfriend while Nora pretends to be engrossed in the movie and not eavesdropping. 

“Wow, so Danny gets the money and the girl in the end. Good for him,” Nora says.

Bob gives her an odd look. “Haven’t you seen this movie before?” 

She reaches for her wine again as a diversion, only to find the glass empty. Goddammit. 

When Natasha is still in interrogation mode during the credits, Nora gathers the plates from the living room and escapes to the kitchen, hoping to hide in there until Natasha has even given up or gotten bored.

And knowing her, the latter is far more likely than the former.

Her peace ends about 30 seconds later when Bradley follows her.

He leans against the counter and unrolls the bag of cheese balls that Nora just clipped shut. Tosses one into his mouth. He grins at her knowingly, and Nora narrows her eyes at him in warning.

Don’t say a damn word. 

Still, Bradley observes, “You followed my advice, Rogers.” 

He’s not loud, but Bradley’s not exactly quiet by nature.

She sends a nervous glance into the other room and hisses, “We’re not doing this right now.” 

She dumps the crumbs and uneaten pizza crusts into the garbage and stacks the dishes next to the sink. Turns on the sink to give them a little more privacy because if Nora knows him, Bradley has never left well enough alone in his life.

“Fine.” He knocks back a handful of cheese balls like a shot of vodka and dusts his hands off in a shower of orange crumbs. Nora looks between him and the roll of paper towels at his elbow with a scrunched brow. He doesn’t seem to notice and barrels on, “But listen, as a friend, can I ask you for something?” 

“What?” Nora deadpans.

“Can I have like a 10 minute warning before you tell Hangman we slept together? I’d like to protect the goods.” 

He gestures to his face, but Nora has a feeling Bradley also wants to protect something else.

She stifles a laugh. “He’s not gonna punch you for something that happened five years ago.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Except I do know that because I already told him.” She points to the counter behind him. “Can you hand me that bowl?” 

He pauses mid-crunch and doesn’t move. “You told him?” 

She sighs and reaches around him for the chip bowl herself. “Yes, Bradshaw, I told him.” 

“And Hangman didn’t punch me?” 

“Guess not.” 

“I feel like I should be offended.” 

She stares at him, incredulous. “Did you want him to punch you?” 

“That’s not the point, Nora,” Bradley says, exasperated, like Nora is the one who’s being ridiculous here. “I can’t believe you told him without telling me. How’d he take it?” 

“He didn’t care,” Nora says. She squirts dish soap onto a sponge and scrubs the potato chip grease from the bowl. “He actually thought it was funny.” 

She suspected that Javy might’ve said something to his best friend about their conversation at the roller rink, and Nora didn’t want any lingering suspicions to turn into something bigger than the truth, something that might affect Jake or Bradley in their already high-risk jobs. 

So Nora told him.

He seemed surprised at first.

And then, Jake laughed.

He laughed so hard that Nora hit him with a pillow to get him to stop.

“You and Bradshaw?” Jake chuckled. “You’re so out of his league, sweetheart. Jesus.” 

“We were both drunk, okay?” Nora exclaimed. She felt a certain amount of protectiveness over her 24-year-old self and her weakness for men with big arms and sad eyes. Really, who could blame her? “He was older and hot and sad and – Would you stop laughing at me?” 

“Funny,” Bradley repeats flatly. 

Her lips twitch. “He asked if I’d always been passionate about volunteering with the elderly.” 

A cheese ball rolls down his chest and under the fridge, and Nora bites the inside of her cheek.

Bradley purses his lips. “Now I feel like I should punch him.” 

Eventually, Natasha decides that Jake must be messing with her – “Hangman couldn’t possibly be dating someone. He can never shut up. We’d all know about her.” – and Nora manages to make it out of the night unscathed with the rest of the Daggers none-the-wiser.

(Except Javy, who gives her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder on his way out.)

A week later, Nora is working late in the Ready Room. 

She is leaning on her elbow with god-awful computer posture – one knee pulled up on the chair, a mist of sweat on her brow from the heat – and Jake pops in to the room to let her know that the Daggers are headed to the Hard Deck for an after-work drink.

“You gonna be much longer?” Jake asks. “Want me to wait for you?” 

He sets his chin on her shoulder, watching her fingers move across the keyboard, kissing a spot underneath her ear that usually makes her brain go back, usually makes her sigh and melt into him, but Nora stays strong.

It’s just this one last thing. 

She blows out a grounding several-seconds-long breath to keep herself focused. 

“I’m almost done,” Nora replies evenly, impressively evenly, actually, “so don’t distract me.” 

His lips pull into a grin against the side of her neck.

For his part, Jake doesn’t say anything else. He gives her space, leaning against the window, and watches her in silence. 

She saves one last file, and once the external hard drive is properly ejected, Nora slams the laptop shut. She spins around to look at him, her elbows on the back of the chair, and Jake has his arms folded across his chest, looking effortless and handsome and effortlessly handsome in his black shirt.

Her lip catches between her teeth.

“Hi,” Nora breathes.

Expression soft, Jake says back, “Hi, sweetheart.” 

“How was your day? Good?” 

He nods. “You?” 

She does the same, a dip of her chin.

Evening sun pierces through the open blinds, drenching the room in a copper hue and making it at least five degrees warmer, if not more, and Nora looks him over in the glow. Drinks him in like an Old Fashioned. Her favorite drink.

They’ve been talking a lot about those lately. Favorites. 

Favorite movie. Favorite song. Favorite time of day.

When Harry Met Sally. Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac. That moment right before sunset when the whole sky and ocean turns pink.

She’s starting to realize Jake might be one of her favorites too.

She motions him closer, crooking her finger, and Jake bends indulgently, eyes bright.

She reaches for him. Coasts her palm along the slope of his chin, the cut-glass curve of his cheek, the prickle of stubble on his strong jawline. 

She kisses him on the cheek and rests her lips there. Mumbles against his skin, “You could use a shave, cowboy.” 

She feels him smile, feels the muscles in his face stretching and working.

“You don’t like the stubble, sweetheart?” 

Nora actually does like the stubble. He looks a little more rugged, a little more like a cowboy. She can imagine him on a ranch in Texas, a sunburn on his broad shoulders, riding horses in his real-leather cowboy boots and his real-denim jeans, tipping his Stetson at her with a wink and a broad grin on his ride. She might like it a little too much.

“Well,” Nora drawls, “I didn’t say that.” 

As Nora pulls back with a grin of her own, Jake catches her chin between his index and thumb and kisses her.

It’s such a good kiss that for a moment, Nora lets herself forget everything else.

She lets herself forget their surroundings; let herself forget the afternoon she spent making a list of gaps in the footage because she has less than fourteen days to fill them in, less than fourteen days left here.

She lets herself forget the rising number of unanswered emails in her inbox and her one-way plane ticket back to New York at the end of the month. 

She lets herself forget anything that isn’t Jake’s hands on her hips, urging her to her feet and pushing her back against the table, hands sneaking under the hem of her shirt, and Nora’s hands in his hair, tousled from the wind and a little damp from his post-flight shower, smelling like soap and jet fuel. 

She loses herself in him, in this.

A door creaks open, and she doesn’t even notice.

“Are you still here, Nora? Phoenix wanted me to ask if…” 

All of the air rushes out of Bob mid-sentence. 

He makes a noise like a punctured balloon – a kind of stunned Oh! sound – and quickly shuts the door again.

Nora breaks away from the kiss, but Bob’s long gone now, picture frames rattling in his wake. 

“Oh… Oh my god.” Nora puts her hands over her face and lets out a panicked laugh into her palms. “What are the odds I could ask him not to tell anyone?” 

“Slim to none,” Jake replies helpfully. “He’s probably already told Phoenix by now.” 

“No way. It’s been like 30 seconds. How….” She grabs her phone, and not four seconds later, an incoming call from Natasha pops up on the screen. She presses decline with a startled sound and drops her phone back on the desk, like it’s a snake that bit her.

What the hell? Are Bob and Natasha telepathically linked?

Jake laughs. He looks far too smug for Nora’s liking.

She squints up at him. “And what exactly are you smiling about? I could get fired.” 

She’s not really going to get fired, but she is feeling dramatic enough to say it anyway.

“You’re not gonna get fired,” Jake fires back without missing a beat. He hooks a finger in her belt loop and pulls her closer. “And I’m smiling because as much as I’ve liked having you all to myself these past few weeks…” A deliberate kiss against the column of her throat as Jake slides his palm up the same path. A breathy sigh. “... I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be happy to not have to sneak around anymore. Now, I’ll be able to kiss you anytime I want.” 

“Is that a Sweet Home Alabama refer– oh?” 

He cuts her off with another kiss, leg sliding between hers and up, his hand around the front of her throat.

It’s a long while before Nora packs up.

She’s only been at the Hard Deck for a few minutes when Bob comes over, looking sheepish, and apologizes with an Old Fashioned in hand.

“I’m sorry, Nora, I should’ve knocked,” Bob says, his shoulders rounded, contrite. “And I’m sorry I immediately told Phoenix.” A pause, and Bob’s cheeks redden a little. “And Fanboy and Payback and also, Rooster and Coyote, but both of them already knew.” 

Nora laughs. “Jesus, Bob, I didn’t realize you were such a gossip.” 

His blush deepens. “I’m sorry. I really thought everyone knew but me, but I guess Rooster and Coyote were the only ones.” 

“It’s okay. We weren’t being very discreet,” Nora admits. She accepts the Old Fashioned with a forgiving squeeze of his arm. “Is Natasha mad? Like on a scale of 1 to Witness Protection?” 

He pulls a face. “I think, more than anything, Phoenix is more mad she wasn’t the first one to figure it out. She’s also pissed Rooster knew and didn’t tell her.” 

“I’ll let him take the heat for this one,” Nora says conspiratorially. 

Bob smiles. “Probably a smart move.” 

She kills the next half-hour and change at the pool table with Jake.

He’s apparently taken not sneaking around anymore to mean have his hands on her at all times. He stands too close and slips a hand into the back pocket of her jeans while Nora is trying to take her turn. Cheater.

Natasha comes over in the middle of a game, nursing a Blue Moon.

She stands at Nora’s side and looks down at the game. “I guess I should’ve known,” she says in the matter-of-fact tone of someone who has processed their surprise. “He’s always staring at you lately. You were either hooking up or in desperate need of a restraining order.” 

“Jury’s still out on the restraining order,” Nora replies dryly and smiles when an eavesdropping Jake looks up sharply. He meets her gaze and shakes his head, a smirk hanging from the corner of his mouth. 

A wrinkle between her brows, Natasha asks, “Is it pretty casual? Or are you guys like, dating now?” 

“No,” Nora answers while at the exact same time, Jake calls, “Yes.” 

A swooping feeling fills her stomach.

They haven’t used that word yet. Dating.

Dating has weight. Implications that Nora isn’t prepared to deal with right now.

Like, if they’re dating, what happens when she leaves? 

And yet, foolishly, Nora really likes the sound of it.

She wrinkles her nose but doesn’t correct him, and Jake grins, like he’s won something.

Natasha observes this interaction with vague fascination.

“I’ll let you two figure that one out.” Natasha hoists herself onto a barstool, legs dangling, and nods to Jake. “I’ve got the next game with you, Nora. Hangman’s been hogging you over here.” 

She and Natasha play a couple of games – first alone and then, against an overconfident pair of ensigns fresh from the Naval academy who wander over to hit on them. They win 40 bucks each off of them and send them packing.

And when Jake wraps his arms around her shoulders from behind, grinning lips pressed against her cheek, Nora spins around and kisses him on the mouth and doesn’t give a damn who sees. 

On the last Friday of the month, Nora sends off the last few files and pieces of footage and organizes a wrap party for the documentary. 

She loves this part of the filmmaking process – after weeks, months of work, a moment of pause and celebration and achievement. It’s such a singular and special experience to create something from start to finish, and Nora wants the Naval aviators have the chance to share in that moment with her. See what the last eight weeks have been for. 

Captain Mitchell ends the day a few hours early and gathers the Naval aviators in the room where Nora first introduced herself to them all of those weeks ago.

A sharp sense of deja vu washes over her as Nora finds herself at the front of the room once again, eight weeks older. She’s not looking out on a group of half-acquaintances, practical strangers, watching her with caution and curiosity. These are her friends. She sees nothing but excitement and anticipation in their eyes.

It’s always a bittersweet feeling, and Nora pushes down the overwhelm that rises in her chest, sticking to the sides of her throat. She swallows hard.

Bradley cups his hands around his mouth and calls, “Speech! Speech! Speech!” 

She exhales a laugh, relaxing. “I do have a little speech. More of an introduction, actually.” She links her fingers and holds them in front of her stomach to give herself something to do with her hands. “Making something like this is never easy. It’s almost always disruptive, but I felt so welcome here. You made it feel easy.” 

She continues, “I’m only contracted as the filmmaker so I’m not doing the final edit of the film, but I didn’t want to send it off into post-production without showing you something that represents your hard work and dedication. You’ve volunteered a lot of your time to this project. It’s as much your achievement as mine.” She plugs in her laptop and pulls up the video and smiles. “I have a few minutes of footage for you.” 

A chorus of whoops and cheers, and Nora presses the play button. 

Text appears on the black screen as Nora quietly sits down.

On March 3, 1969, the UNITED STATES NAVY established an elite school for the top one percent of its pilots. Its purpose was to teach the LOST ART OF AERIAL COMBAT and to ensure that the handful of men (and now women) who graduated were the BEST FIGHTER PILOTS IN THE WORLD. They succeeded.

The Navy calls it Fighter Weapons School. You might know it better as TOP GUN.

A video of Captain Mitchell fades in, and Bradley claps loudly and shouts, “Let’s go, Mav!” 

Natasha shushes him – and maybe punches him in the shoulder because Bradley lets out a pained groan.

“These men and women,” Captain Mitchell says on the screen. “This squadron. There’s never been a squadron like this one in the history of the Naval aviation.” He fades to voice-over over a rapid-fire reel of in-air footage: Jets cut through the blue skies at impossible speeds, perform incredible high-speed maneuvers, again and again and again. A black screen as Captain Mitchell declares, “These are the best fighter pilots on the planet.” 

A small smile dances on Nora’s lips, anticipating.

What follows is a straight-forward but effective pattern.

Each Dagger appears on the screen and says their call sign, and Nora clipped something from their interview – a good anecdote, a particularly memorable quote – with footage of them in the air or b-roll of them on the base.

On the screen, Jake – Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, reads the lower-third – flashes a 1000-watt smile to the side of the camera, and Nora smiles despite herself. He was looking at her. She remembers it so vividly, sitting there, pretending not to be charmed by him, pretending not to want him.

Next to her, Jake leans over and whispers, “You remember when you told me you didn’t like me after this?” 

“Shut up,” Nora whispers back, smiling.

He grows closer, lips brushing her ear. “Now, why would I? We both know how much you love to shut me up, sweetheart.” 

A rose pink blush spreads across her cheeks, and Jake chuckles.

Behind him, Natasha kicks his chair. “Zip it, Hangman. Stop flirting during my big moment.” 

And Natasha’s JUST loud enough that Captain Mitchell hears.

He looks over with a frown. His gaze snags on where Hangman’s arm hangs ever-so-casually over the side of his chair, his pinky finger brushing against the side of Nora’s hand. 

Pete Mitchell huffs out an amused exhale and shakes his head and thinks about all of the improbably and impossible ways that history seems to repeat itself. He looks over his shoulder and spots a familiar figure, slipping into the back of the room unnoticed. He nods to them and directs his attention back to the screen. 

A short round of applause breaks out at the end of the video, and Nora beams.

She does a little half-bow at Natasha’s insistence. 

“Thank you. You can stop now,” Nora laughs. She collects her laptop from the podium and holds it against her chest. “A military base isn’t the best place for a real wrap party, but Penny’s been kind enough to host us at her house tonight so I’ll see you all there, but while I’m here and still on the clock, any last questions?” 

A beat of silence. 

A familiar voice rings out from the back of the room.

“Can I ask one?” 

Shock burns down the length of her spine, a sparked fuse of a stick of dynamite, and Nora straightens. 

“What the fuck?” spills out of her mouth. She gapes. “Charlie?” 

Standing in front of the red-and-blue Fighter Weapons School emblem, a leather bomber around her shoulders, a pair of aviator sunglasses in her graying curls, Charlie looks like one of her old photo albums come to life. A wide smile stretches across her face, making her look three decades younger. 

What? How? And again, what?

“Last I checked,” Charlie says with a smooth smile. She nods to Captain Mitchell. “Maverick.” 

“Charlie.” He doesn’t sound surprised. “Good to see you again.” 

Nora is mostly definitely surprised. Stunned. “But… Charlie, what’re you doing here?” 

Charlie leans against the back wall, arms crossed, effortlessly cool.

“Pete here was kind enough to let me know about the wrap party, and I thought, what the hell? Maybe I should take one of those vacation days the Pentagon is always on me about.” Her expression softens as Charlie takes her in. “It’s good to see you, sweetie.” 

Charlie’s here. She’s here.

Nora blinks rapidly.

And promptly bursts into tears. 

Half an hour later, Nora is sitting at a high top in a secluded corner of the hotel bar where Charlie is staying. 

She orders an Old Fashioned from the waiter, and Charlie orders a glass of Pinot Noir and swirls the maroon wine around in her glass like a seasoned professional. Nora’s never really understood the point of doing that – something about letting the wine breathe – but it does make Charlie look pretty sophisticated.

Then again, with her red lips and her Grace Kelly curls, Charlie always looks pretty sophisticated. 

She sips her wine, lipstick un-smudged, and studies Nora over the glass. 

Nora prepares herself for the inevitable barrage of questions.

Something along the lines of, So what happened? Did you lose your phone? or maybe, Why did you start crying in the middle of the Naval base like a certified head case? Both of which are fair enough questions. 

Bob was the first one to recover from his alarm and procured a packet of Kleenex from one of the pockets of his flight suit. He offered her one with a sympathetic smile, and Nora blew her nose with a grateful nod. 

To his credit, Captain Mitchell snapped into action and quickly ushered the rest of the Daggers out of the room.

“Let’s give them some privacy,” Nora heard Captain Mitchell say as Charlie wrapped her in a hug. His voice grew a little sterner, a little harder. “You too, Hangman. Let’s go.” 

She opened her wet eyes, and Captain Mitchell had his hand on Jake’s shoulder, but Jake was looking at her, concern plain on his face, his lips downturned. 

She gave him a watery smile, and Jake’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

He was still the last one out of the room. 

Now, Charlie looks her over and comments brightly, “You’ve got some color in your cheeks. Are you spending a lot of time on the beach?” 

She blinks. That’s… not a question Nora was expecting.

“They put me up in an apartment right on the beach, and the Daggers like to go down to North Beach and play volleyball and football, so I hang out with them sometimes.” 

“You play football?” Charlie asks, skeptical and amused.

“I read.” 

“Ah. Of course. Anything good?” 

What is happening right now? “Yeah, sure, I guess.” 

“Good.” 

Charlie drinks her wine and doesn’t ask anything else.

Nora stares at her. “Charlie?”

“Hm?” 

“Aren’t you going to ask?” 

“No.” 

She almost laughs. “No?” 

“No,” Charlie repeats simply. She flags down the waiter and points to the appetizers on the Happy Hour menu. “Excuse me. Could we get an order of the whipped ricotta and then, the truffle parmesan fries? You can charge it to my room. Thanks, hon.”  

Nora stares at her aunt like she’s been body snatched, and Charlie sighs. 

“Listen,” Charlie starts. “You haven’t called me in weeks so clearly, whatever you’ve got going on is something you’re not ready to share with me right away, and if I know you at all – and I like to think I do – I know I’ll get absolutely nowhere if I push you.” She picks up her glass and swirls it again. “So, we’ll get a couple of drinks and split some appetizers, and when you’re ready, you can tell me what’s going on.” 

They do exactly that.

Nora orders a second drink and spreads honey-drizzled ricotta across pieces of baguette and fills Charlie in on the last eight weeks, every minuscule and probably uninteresting detail about the documentary and the squadron. She does, however, gloss over a few crucial details about Jake, as is her right as guaranteed by the Fifth amendment. She’s also not quite sure how to explain it herself. 

And eventually, when her drink is down to ice and the bread down to crumbs, Nora tells her aunt what’s going on. 

And Charlie listens.

She listens to everything.

Every doubt and fear. Every uncertainty that’s been weighing Nora down for the past year and a half, making her feel like she’s caught in a bear trap, like she can’t move, like she can’t breathe. 

Admitting all of these big and all-consuming feelings to Charlie is scary and freeing in equal measures, but in the end, where there was once a pit in her stomach, she feels relief. She feels one breath closer to the surface. 

When Nora is done, her mouth is dried out. She chugs half a glass of water.

And almost spits it all back out when Charlie’s first words are: “So why don’t you quit?” 

“What?” Nora asks, more of a stunned syllable than a question.

“If you don’t want to do it anymore,” Charlie says plainly, “don’t.” 

Her brows are high on her forehead as Nora asks, bewildered, “So what? Give up?” 

“I didn’t say give up,” Charlie sighs, and it brings Nora back to her teen years when Charlie would accuse her of being difficult on purpose. “I said quit.” 

“They feel like the same thing.” 

“They’re not.” 

She bites her lip and looks over Charlie’s shoulder and out of the window. 

“Isn’t it like…” Nora blows out a breath. “If I quit now, isn’t it like I’m flushing six years of my life down the drain?” 

Charlie shrugs. “You still did a lot in those six years. Changing your mind doesn’t take away from any of those accomplishments, but now, maybe it’s time for you to do something else, something you like more. Start over.” 

Nora sits back. “You say it like it’s simple. Easy.” 

“It might not be easy. It most likely won’t be, but it is that simple, yes.” 

Words catch in her throat, and when Nora says it out loud, her voice sounds small. “I’m scared.” 

Her aunt’s face softens. She reaches across the table and cups Nora’s hand.

“You’re allowed to be scared. Everyone’s scared.” 

She blows out a shaky breath to keep herself from crying again, but a slight crack in her voice gives her away. Damn. “Yeah? When’s the last time you were scared you couldn’t do something?” 

God. She regrets the words almost immediately. 

She sounds childish, petulant, but right now, Nora feels like the 16-year-old who snuck Charlie’s red lipstick from her make-up pouch and got busted because she accidentally put it back uncapped and ruined the inside of the bag. Or like the 21-year-old who ordered an Old Fashioned for her first legal drink because Charlie used to drink them at home and hated it so much that Nora wouldn’t drink another for four more years. 

Like all Nora ever wants to be is someone that Charlie can be proud of.

All of the sudden, Charlie looks very far away. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared than when your mom died. She made being a parent look so easy, and I got to be the cool Aunt Charlie on the sidelines, and then, she was gone, and I was so scared I’d fuck up and undo everything.” 

Nora’s eyes burn. “Charlie, I never… You never said anything.” 

“Of course not,” Charlie dismisses with a shake of her head, curls bouncing. “You were still a kid. You were grieving. You needed stability, and I knew I had to do my best because sometimes, you’re scared and you do it anyway.” 

“Fail with your whole heart,” Nora quotes softly, and Charlie squeezes her hand.

“See I could’ve never come up with something like that, but god, your mom…” Charlie wipes at her eyes with a cloth napkin and smiles. “She was born to be writer. When I got my first interview with the Pentagon, I had less than 24-hours notice. I was living in New York at the time, and I’d need to hop on a train and hope I could find a hotel for the night when I got down there."

"Honestly, I thought about not going, but your mom sat me down and said, ‘Charlotte,’” and Charlie straightens her spine and does her best impression of her sister, “‘You get your bony ass to Grand Central, and I’ll call every damn hotel in DC and find you a room. You got the interview, and now, all you have to do is follow through and take the leap.” 

“And you did,” Nora finishes. “You did the interview, got the job, and the rest is history.” 

“I did. I followed her advice. I decided that if I was going to fail, I should do it bravely.” Charlie squeezes her hand once more and lets it go. “It’s your turn now, sweetie.” 

Nora goes to the bathroom to clean up her mascara and when she comes back, Charlie is signing the check.

She checks her watch. “It’s almost five o’clock. Do you want to head over to Penny’s?” 

“Give me one second.” Nora reaches for her purse and pulls out her phone. “I have to call someone back.” 

Penny Benjamin lives in a beautiful house in La Jolla that looks like something out of Architectural Digest magazine. 

A classic California bungalow with off-white siding and wide blue-trim windows and a garden wrapping around the side, summer green dotted with pinks and yellows and reds; on an elegant cliffside, overlooking the Pacific. 

It’s a good half hour from San Diego so when Nora and Charlie arrive, the street is lined with cars.

Last week, Nora asked Admiral Simpson for a full list of everyone who’d been on the base during the making of the documentary and forwarded the names to Penny for the wrap party. When Admiral Simpson asked her why she needed them and she explained – she wanted anyone who’d so much as stood on the tarmac while she’d been filming to be included in the celebration – she could’ve sworn he looked a little impressed. 

Still, Nora is surprised to see him in the garden, chatting with Admiral Bates with a beer in his hand, a pretty woman next to him who must be his wife. 

“I’m gonna go say hi to Warlock and Cyclone,” Charlie says, patting Nora’s shoulder, and Nora nods and watches her go.

She doesn’t see Penny anywhere so Nora goes into the house and finds her in the kitchen. She gives her a quick hug and hands over a bottle of Prosecco – which Charlie had insisted on stopping for on the drive because Charlie couldn’t possibly show up to her ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s house without an expensive bottle of something. 

“What am I?” Charlie asked. “Some kind of asshole?

“Oh, Nora,” Penny gasps, hand fluttering over her heart. “This is your party. You didn’t need to bring me something.” 

“Oh please. Charlie’s outside. It’s from both of us,” Nora waves her off as Penny admires the bottle. It was the prettiest one in the store. “Thank you so much for doing this by the way. Your house is so beautiful.” 

Now, Penny’s the one to wave her off. “No, no, I was happy to do it. We’ll all miss having you around, even Pete. He probably won’t say it himself, but I’ll say it for him.” Nora smiles widely, and Penny shoos her out of the kitchen. “I’ll open this up and bring it out, but you get your butt outside and enjoy the party.” 

Obliging, Nora makes her way back outside. 

A makeshift bar is in the middle of the garden, and Nora finds her aunt pouring herself a glass of wine.

“Come on,” Nora nudges. “You can meet some of my friends.” 

They make the rounds around the garden. She introduces Charlie to Natasha, who looks as starstruck as Nora has ever seen her. 

Shaking her hand firmly, Natasha asks, excited, “You were Maverick’s instruction at Top Gun, right?” 

“One of them,” Charlie answers coolly.

“You knew Viper then? And Iceman?” 

“I did.” 

“So cool,” Natasha breathes, and Bob nudges her with a small, side smile.

“Charlie,” Bradley calls out and rushes over to give her a big hug, lifting her kitten heels off the ground. It’s been a few years since Bradley last saw Charlie so Nora’s not surprised that Bradley and Charlie have a lot of catching up to do. She’s happy to listen and chime in every so often. 

Awhile later, Bradley leaves to grab another plate of food, and gaze sweeping across the garden, Charlie turns to Nora and asks, unexpectedly, “Are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?” 

Nora manages not to blush. She raises her brows. “I would if I had one.” 

“Really?” Charlie asks, like, Is that the story you’re going with? “Then, who’s that handsome man over there making moon eyes at you?”

Shit.

Nora looks over, and sure enough, even in the middle of a conversation with Javy, Mickey, and Reuben, Jake doesn’t seem to be paying one damn bit of attention to anything coming out of their mouths. His eyes are on her. Always on her. 

She bites back a smile. And beckons him over.

He crosses the garden in a few long strides and after Nora introduces him (“This is my aunt, Charlie Blackwood.”), Jake greets her with a nod and an extended hand. “Jake Seresin, ma’am.” 

“Jake,” Charlie repeats with recognition. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

Finally? Nora frowns slightly. She’s never mentioned him before this afternoon.

His lips part in a wide, charming smile. “Likewise, ma’am.” 

Charlie looks amused. “You don’t have to keep calling me ma’am.” 

“He’s from Texas,” Nora offers like an explanation, a little too quickly, and Charlie’s arched brow makes her cheeks grow warm. She avoids her eyes, squinting at the horizon and pretending to be fascinated by the gulls over the beach. 

Charlie’s not fooled. She smirks and asks, “Texas, huh? What part?” 

“Austin,” Jake replies. It’s a visible effort not to add ma’am at the end. 

“You don’t say. Did Nora ever tell you that my husband John went to UT Austin?” 

A spark lights up his eyes, and Jake seems to be doing fine on his own so Nora leaves him alone to grab another drink in the midst of an in-depth discussion of the Texas Longhorns. She spots Ethan and Chris on her way back and gets pulled into a conversation with them, saying goodbye and wishing them luck in their next projects in case Nora misses them later.

When Nora returns, Jake and Charlie are still talking. She must like him.

Jake smiles at Nora and in his brown sugar voice, says, “I’ll let you enjoy the rest of the evening with your niece, ma’am. She’s pretty spectacular.” 

She could kick him. Or kiss him. Or both. 

“She is,” Charlie agrees. “Nice to meet you, Jake. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.” 

She could kick both of them. 

When Jake is out of earshot, Charlie comments, “He’s very charming.” 

Nora almost laughs. “I know.” 

“He likes you.” 

She does laugh now. “Believe me, I know.” 

“He’s the one who called me,” Charlie adds casually, and Nora whirls on her.

“What? You said Captain Mitchell called you.” 

Charlie shakes her head, smiling, a knowing smile. “Pete was the one who forwarded me the invite, but Jake called me.” A chuckle. “He called me ma’am on the phone too.” 

She smiles despite herself because of course.

“What’d Jake say? What made you come?” Nora asks.

“He said that you needed me and you probably wouldn’t call me and tell me that outright, but you were having a hard time.” Charlie looks at her sidelong, lips curled at the ends, a dimple in her cheek. “He knows you pretty well, your not-boyfriend.” 

Nora looks for him again. 

She finds him on the other side of the garden, laughing at something Bradley is saying, hair a golden halo in the summer evening sun. He called Charlie. She never asked, never needed to ask. He just… knew.

And Nora falls a little bit in love with him right then and there; in the same way a little bit of rain falls on your window at the beginning of a mid-August storm. 

A preview before an inevitable downpour. 

Evening begins to blend into night, and Nora sits on the steps of the porch to watch the sunset.

It’s a good vantage point. She can see everyone and everything.

Bob brought a deck of cards and now, the Daggers are playing a game of Bullshit on a massive picnic blanket that Penny brought outside for them, and Penny’s daughter Amelia sits with them, giggling when Bradley loses and pretends to stomp off. 

Nora watches as Charlie goes over to Captain Mitchell and gently puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about Ice. He was a good man.” 

Captain Mitchell nods, his mouth a line, emotion crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Thanks, Charlie.” 

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Nora looks away.

He gave her privacy earlier. She’ll return the favor.

A step creaks behind her, and Nora dips her head back to see Jake.

“Hi cowboy,” Nora greets, and Jake grins down at her.

He drops onto the step next to her, arm stretched behind her. 

“How’d it go with Charlie?” Jake asks.

“Good,” Nora says. She rests her chin on her palm, her elbow on her knee, and studies him closely. “She told me that you called her. How’d you even get her number?” 

“Bradshaw,” Jake replies. He meets her gaze and holds it, green on blue, sparkling like the ocean. “Seemed like, maybe you needed her.” 

Her chest aches, and Nora says softly, “Thank you.” 

His wide palm spreads across her leg, fingertips dangling to brush against the inside of her thigh. “How long’s she staying?” 

“A week. She changed her flight. She’s flying back to New York with me, instead of D.C.” 

Silence falls like an anchor, plummeting to the ocean floor. A muscle works in his jaw, like Jake’s chewing on his next words. “What happens now?”

For her? For them?

She doesn’t have all the answers, but Nora at least has this.

“How do you feel about long distance?” Nora asks, watching him carefully.

A smile flickers on his face as Jake realizes what Nora is asking. 

“California to New York? I can probably swing a few flights, cash in some miles.” 

She sets her hand over his, fiddling with his fingers. “That’s sweet, but I was actually thinking more like, North Island to here.” 

“Here?” He looks confused, adorably so, and Nora holds back a smile.

“Turns out that Charlie has some empty-nester friends here from her Top Gun days. They’re looking to rent out their guest house for the rest of the year. It’s not far from here actually, within walking distance of the beach.” She can feel her heart pounding like Nora’s running a marathon as Jake slowly start to understand. “I turned down the offer, Jake. I’m moving back to California.” 

She called Jenna from the hotel bar. She was a little bit annoyed with Nora, understandably.

Her first words were, “Are you kidding me? You waited until now to tell me this?” 

But after a few minutes of Nora’s apologetic I know, I’m sorry, I know, Jenna was ultimately supportive.

“Damn, Nora. This is a real loss for our industry, but I’m happy for you. If you never need a connection in Hollywood, call me. I know people who know people.” 

And one day, Nora might take her up on that, but right now, Nora needs a break. A real one. And California feels like the right place for her to take one. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it  here until she came back.

“You’re staying,” Jake repeats slowly, like Jake’s afraid to believe her.

She reassures him with a nod. “I still have a storage unit back in New York so I have to go back, and I have a few things left at Charlie’s, but Charlie’s coming to help me clean it out and move what I need. And…” Nora drifts off and for once, the uncertainty doesn’t seem so scary. It’s wide open and hopeful. 

Jake wipes his hand down his face and sets his hand on his chest, right above his pounding heart, looking utterly relieved. “You’re… god, Hollywood, you’re gonna give a man a heart attack someday.” 

“You love it,” Nora teases.

He lifts his chin with his knuckle, holding her gaze. “I really, really do.” 

And when Jake kisses her, it feels like maybe he means something else.

Cheeks warm, Nora looks out at the horizon, and it’s that perfect time between day and night when the whole ocean is a watercolor of pale pink and purple. She kisses the carved dimple in his cheek and leans into his strong shoulder, and Jake tucks her under his chin, rubbing his thumb across her palm, over her heart line.

Breathing in the smell of the ocean and him, Nora closes her eyes and catches her breath.

end note: charlie, my beloved. i didn't mean for this to be so long, but i hope you enjoyed 🩵 likes are always appreciated, but comments and reblogs make my whole day. i love hearing from y'all.

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[sequencefairy]

Ya know, I was gonna be done. I spent hours yesterday talking friends off ledges when people were harassing them for being excited about the watcher announcement, or when their anxiety ballooned while watching the never-ending fucking tide of absolutely entitled morons kept piling on and on and on and spreading baseless bullshit every where.

But like, I cannot be done.

Because I am just so fucking disappointed. I'm so fucking sad to be sitting here watching people writhe with glee over the reactions to the announcement, and fill their little vengeful mugs in anticipation of watching the fall of a fledgling independent media company they are literally standing around lighting matches to throw onto the pyre.

Y'all make me sick.

You profess to love these guys, to want to see them succeed, to enjoy the stuff they make for you. You beg and demand and scream for more time with Ryan and Shane and bitch constantly during periods of the year when it's not Ghost Files or Puppet History time. You complain to anyone who will listen about how this is a betrayal, as if they're your fuckin' friends who you know personally.

News flash, they're not. They never were. You're parasocially attached to the plush puppet and the guy who sticks his hand up it in a way that is detrimental to your critical thinking skills and you know what? Fucking don't subscribe to the streamer. Who fucking wants you around anyway?

I would bet American cash money that none of you have EVER had to sit with your staff in a meeting and figure out how you were going to keep your company afloat. That none of you have ever had to decide to take a risk like this, in this kind of economic climate and be cautiously excited about what it might mean for you and then to have this absolute viciousness being the response.

I'm really sorry that for some people the price is just out of their reach. I completely understand wanting to join in on something and being unable to because of the money. The amount of times I've had to say no to doing something fun because I just didn't have the cash is not a small amount. It sucks. It really sucks.

But you know, the emotionally mature response to not being able to afford something is to be like, well is there a way that I can save up for this? Something else I can cut out? And if the answer is no, then, unfortunately, sometimes, you just have to be left out. This is a fact of life.

Do you people also get bitchy with artists who charge commission prices that mean they can afford to live?

The comparisons of Watcher to non-network television streamers are laughable. Like, Watcher is absolutely not on the same level of operating profitability as other streaming services. They are an independent production studio that gives a shit about making content that they like to make and taking care of their employees and the other people who are associated with them. And in order for them to continue to make the stuff we like (Ghost Files, Puppet History, et al), we're gonna have to buy-in.

Seeing people say with their full chests that they should just fire people? Are you fucking hearing yourselves? Who should they fire? Their queer employees? The people who write and do sound and edit? The people who make Ghost Files or Puppet History look the way it looks? The people who are the reason the shows work?

And, I'm sorry, but if you think that the solution here is that they should just ... make worse shows, I don't even know what to say to you at all. Sorry that Steven and Ryan and Shane wanna do more than lifeless unsolved copies for the rest of their lives. Go watch fucking unsolved if you want that, watcher has always wanted to do more, do better, make bigger things. And you know what? They are for sure allowed to do that.

I am also utterly enraged by the racism. I cannot even imagine what it's like to be any Watcher employee of colour today, watching the hate and the cruelty roll in. Y'all are just fucking mean, and gross, and I hope you all walk on legos in the dark in bare feet.

Everyone who is acting like this is some fucking personal betrayal needs to go smoke a bowl or do a bong rip and chill the fuck out.

[toournextadventure]

She does need fluff, all the fluff

She really does SO I'll give y'all a little taste to tide you over

On nights where Wednesday is playing cello, you usually perch on the roof above her and listen. She has no idea you're there, and you sit and admire her entire performance. You only go back to your dorm when she's inside and safe

Your wings make it impossible for her to be the big spoon, so she gladly begrudgingly lets you hold her. You're far too warm. It's nice. Some time later, she usually wakes up with a wing resting over her like a blanket. It's sickeningly sweet until the feathers make her sneeze

Coffee dates are A Thing™️. More than once you've gotten your orders mixed up. The both of you take a drink, frown in disgust, and silently switch drinks without a single falter in your steps

More than once, Wednesday has walked in on you talking with your family. She always does her best to stay silent, but someone usually notices her and forces her to join in on the call. She complains about it for hours after you hang up, but you could see in her eyes that she enjoyed it

One day you accidentally call Pugsly on the crystal ball while you're fucking around with it. You both gossip about Wednesday for two hours before she comes back and threatens psychological harm on the both of you. Pugsly calls you on your phone after that

Yours and Wednesday's musical styles are not compatible. While she usually plays something reminisce of classical (or some grand composition), you grew up learning jazz. Wednesday loves it claims it's just noise that tries to sound fancy

Even though you both borrow books from each other, it's very clear which book belongs to who. Wednesday marks her books up nonstop with notes, and you're too scared to write in it because you "don't want to mess it up"

You are constantly scouring the internet for morbid things to bring up to Wednesday. They give you the creeps and make your skin crawl, but you know she loves it so you do it anyway (Wednesday already knows everything you tell her, but she lets you talk because she knows you're trying to relate to her interests)

Wednesday and Enid have banned you from taking your harness off in the room outside of a designated spot. If they have to replace one more thing that you knock over, they're going to scream. You accuse them of oppression, but sit in Wing Free spot anyway

[justabigassnerd]

Summer of Love pt. 2

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x reader

Word count - 3,275

Warnings - mentions of medication, injuries

Summary - while in the final stages of recovery after a mission gone wrong, Bradley signs himself up to work at a summer camp just for something to do since Maverick has barred him from Navy work for the time being. meanwhile, you're in between jobs and figure working at a summer camp is some good experience. you meet Bradley and experience a romance you could've never expected (along with some very nosy kids)

Summer of Love masterlist

A/N - ya girl is back from the dead people! (did anyone cheer?) anyways I'm so sorry for the long break and I'm sorry this isn't the most exciting fic to return with like I'm fully aware it's mostly filler but I hope it can tide y'all over. if you guys have any ideas of what you'd like to see in the series you're more than welcome to let me know. as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

With counsellor orientation now in full swing, you were spending a lot of your time getting used to the schedule of working at a summer camp. Early starts were no problem to you and neither was making lesson plans but getting used to the camp and the people you worked with was something you had to settle into. Thankfully, working alongside Bradley meant you already knew one person you’d be around a lot and he helped you feel a lot more confident when you met the other counsellors who’d be teaching field sports. You and Bradley had also been briefed on hikes that you’d be leading and you were able to map out appropriate trails for the hikes.

After a long day of going through lesson plans, running potential drills you could do during activities, and taking your swim test in case you wanted to go in the lake at any point, you were just about ready to collapse. You entered the staff lounge and flopped face down on the sofa with a dramatic groan, hearing the laughs of your friends you entered the room with after dinner.

“Tired?” Ella jokes, easing herself down on the other sofa as you turn your head to look at her.

“Just a little.” You reply with a laugh, flipping yourself onto your side as you greet other staff members who enter, moving to sit upright so people can sit on the sofa with you.

Bradley is among the last people to enter the room and by that point, both sofas are almost packed but upon spotting him, Freddy moves over on the sofa, leaving just enough space for Bradley to squeeze in between you and him.

“Hey, Bradley. There’s a space right here.” He points out, hand patting the free space with a grin as you fight the urge to roll your eyes. You knew Ella had already caught on to your schoolyard crush on Bradley, and you were sure she’d told Bradley’s friends too and that’s why they spent so much time trying to force you two to sit near each other when they could. You knew the chances of Bradley feeling the same towards you were slim so you were more than content to sit within the comforts of your friendship knowing after camp ends you’d go your separate ways and never talk to each other again. You just wanted to enjoy the time you had getting to be his friend without your friends forcing you close and potentially making Bradley uncomfortable.

“Is this okay?” Bradley’s voice shakes you from your thoughts as he eases into the gap between you and Freddy. You nod with a small smile, fighting back the flame you felt building behind your cheeks as Bradley’s leg brushed up against yours. The group of you continued to chat until the sun started to set and one by one people began to retire to their cabins for the night and you and Bradley were among the last to leave the staff lodge and took a moment between the two of you as you stepped out onto the grass and took in the night sky.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of the sky at night.” You mumble, more so to yourself than to Bradley but seeing him look at you out of the corner of your eye gave away the fact that he had heard you.

“I wish I could show you how beautiful a night at the beach is where I live.” Bradley murmurs in response, his soft voice unknowingly fanning the flames that lit beneath your cheeks. You were sure he was just saying that to make conversation.

“I’ll just have to trust you on that one.” You say with a slight chuckle, glancing over at Bradley and locking eyes with him, bringing a small smile to your face as you do.

“That you will. Maybe I’ll send you a picture or something once I’m back home.” Bradley says, his smile mirroring yours. A silence falls over the two of you and you glance over your shoulder, breaking the eye contact for but a brief second to consider your next move.

“I should probably head back to my cabin to get some sleep.” You say, silently hating how awkward you sounded.

“I should probably do the same. We can’t exhaust ourselves before the kids have even arrived.” Bradley then says, watching as you bid him goodnight quietly before turning around and heading in the direction of your cabin.

“y/n, wait!” You stop in your tracks at Bradley’s voice. Loud enough to get you to stop but not loud enough to disturb anyone nearby. You turned around and waited as Bradley approached you.

“I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to run a couple of soccer drills with me tomorrow. I have some ideas for some warmups but I’m going to need a partner to make sure they work before the kids arrive.” Bradley says, hoping and praying you agreed to help him out. He could’ve asked anyone on the field sports team for help but he wanted you to help him.

“Okay, but you know I’m not the best at soccer so if I mess up, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You say, a smile breaking out across yours and Bradley’s faces as he lets out the smallest of relieved sighs at your agreement.

“You’ll be great, I just know it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bradley says, smiling as you nod and wish him a good night before you both retire to your cabins for the night. When you reach your cabin you enter quietly, aware of the people sleeping and quietly get ready for bed before crawling under the covers and falling asleep.

Meanwhile, Bradley entered his cabin and immediately got jumped by his cabin mates who were demanding to know what he said to you.

“You know, I’m going to be so grateful tomorrow when I no longer have to share a cabin with you guys. I swear you give the Daggers a run for their money.” Bradley jokes as he sits down on his bed, rubbing at his eyes.

“We’re just invested now come on! Did you ask her out?” Nathan asks, placing his book down on the bedside table by his bed and giving Bradley his full attention.

“What? No! We’ve only known each other a week. Besides, once we leave camp we’ll probably never speak again. That’s just what happens.” Bradley says with a shrug, leaning back and lying across his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Dude, you can just get her number or something.” Cameron shrugs, confident he has solved all the problems singlehandedly. Bradley couldn’t help but let out a gentle sigh at his words.

“I thought some friends I made in the naval academy were going to be people I kept in contact with but the moment we got our deployments that was it. None of us spoke again.” Bradley says, thinking back to the recruits Bradley had befriended during training and then again at flight school and Top Gun. Outside of the Daggers, Bradley had made no solid connections with any other Navy personnel. He of course appreciated the efforts of his cabin mates, but he was sure their efforts were in vain.

“That doesn’t mean y/n would do that to you. I can tell she likes you.” John then says, a quiet falling over the group as all focus ends up on Bradley.

“Okay, well if you didn’t ask her out. What did you ask her then?” Nathan asks when Bradley doesn’t respond to John’s words.

“I just asked if she wanted to run some soccer drills with me tomorrow to potentially add to lesson plans.” Bradley replies, propping himself up on his elbows and glancing around at the group as they all exchange looks.

“And she said yes?” Cameron prompts, the three breaking out into smiles when Bradley nods. They all exchanged a look when Bradley returned his attention to the cabin ceiling. They knew they couldn’t force you or Bradley to admit anything but they could at least nudge you both in the right direction.

“We should probably get some sleep, huh?” John says after a couple of minutes of silence, followed by the agreement of everyone else who quickly get themselves ready for bed and switch off their cabin light to get some sleep.

The next morning, you awoke to your alarm and slowly dragged yourself out of bed to get yourself changed and ready for the day. Once you were dressed, you made your way to the dining hall to grab breakfast, located your cabin mates sat at a table and joined them once you had your food. As you ate, Kerry stood at the front of the room and addressed everyone, letting you know that the first port of call for the day was to find out your cabins for the summer and to move your stuff into your new cabin before creating a poster to hang up on the outside of the cabin to make the kids feel a bit more welcomed and to give their cabin a sense of community straight out of the gate before you’d spend the rest of the afternoon after lunch finishing up your last few chances to prepare lessons for when the kids arrive. After you all finished breakfast, you were dismissed and each grabbed an envelope with your name on it to find out which cabin you’d be in for the duration of camp and once you got out of the dining hall you opened your envelope and flipped the postcard over, studying the writing on it.

“Hey, y/n, what cabin did you get?” Ella asks, sidling up alongside you with her own postcard in hand.

“Cabin eleven. What about you?” You reply, tearing your eyes away from your postcard to look at Ella.

“I’m in cabin five with Alex as my co-counsellor. I’m so excited!” Ella says happily, embracing you excitedly before rushing off to find her co-counsellor. You watched her leave before focusing your attention back on your own postcard. You knew cabin eleven would be a cabin of four girls so you wouldn’t have a co-counsellor but you were okay with that. You were just excited for camp to start properly. When you notice some of the other female counsellors beginning to make their way back to their cabins to move their belongings to their new cabins you begin to follow the crowd, chatting with some of them as you go.

Meanwhile, Bradley had just finished telling his friends about what cabin he was going to be in and turned around in search of you. His smile faltered when he couldn’t find you and instead saw the back of you as you disappeared down the girl's cabin line. He wanted to go and talk to you about your new cabin placement but he also knew he needed to worry about moving all his stuff to the new cabin. He spared you one last glance before turning around and heading in the direction of the boy's line of cabins.

After moving all of your belongings from cabin six to cabin eleven, making your bed and tidying your bags away after putting some of your belongings on the bedside table such as your alarm clock, hairbrush, a book to read, and your notebook filled with lesson plans. After sorting yourself out, you headed over to the arts and crafts room to join everyone in making posters and chore wheels for the cabins. There weren’t many people present when you first arrived but as you began to work on your poster more people slowly trickled in. Kerry had gone around and given everyone a list of names of the kids in your cabins so you could learn their names before they arrived and put them on the chore wheel and poster. You got to work, creating a poster and chore wheel for your cabin. As you finished the poster and moved on to the chore wheel, carefully writing out each chore, a sheet of paper appeared in your peripheral vision and you glanced over to see Bradley easing himself down next to you, and you didn’t miss the way he winced a little as he sat down.

“Are you okay?” You ask quietly, not wanting to draw attention to Bradley potentially being in any pain if he didn’t want you to.

“I’m good, must’ve pulled something in my back moving all my gear. I had a feeling I packed too much.” Bradley says with a chuckle, trying to ease your mind so you didn’t worry about him and trying his best to ignore the way the lie tugged at his heart.

“Maybe take some painkillers later if it’s still sore.” You say sympathetically, briefly averting your gaze back to the task at hand as you write a name on the wheel before returning your attention to Bradley who nods minutely.

“I’ll see how I feel later.” Bradley says with a slight shrug, not wanting to dwell on the subject any longer than he needs to. You nod silently and the two of you remain in the comfortable silence between you as you work on your posters and chore wheels.

“You know… I’m not sure how much a cabin of four thirteen-year-old boys will appreciate a poster on the outside of the cabin, let alone a chore wheel.” Bradley mutters, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as you let out a small giggle at his words.

“I don’t think my cabin of twelve-year-old girls will appreciate it much either but you gotta do what you gotta do. Besides you might win cool points with your naval aviator career. I’m sure they’d love hearing some of your stories.” You say, shrugging lightly as you put your pen down, satisfied with both your poster and your chore wheel. You stay put for a few more minutes, continuing to chat with Bradley until his friends come over and you excuse yourself so you can go and put the poster and chore wheel where they needed to be.

“I’ll see you at lunch.” You say as you grab your things and address the group, but mostly aiming your words at Bradley as you smile softly.

“See you at lunch.” Bradley echoes, his smile matching yours as you then turn to head to your cabin to put the items in their respective places before heading to the dining room where they are just beginning to serve lunch. You grab yourself a plate and dish up the food in front of you before grabbing a seat at one of the nearby tables, and slowly but surely your friends arrive and sit with you. Ella arrived first with Alex, having had the ability to split the task between two people, and then Bradley and Freddy came up next and spotted the three of you, quickly grabbing their food and joining you at the table with smiles.

“All done with setting up your cabins?” Alex asks after finishing a mouthful of food.

“Just about. It’s starting to feel like a real summer camp now.” Freddy says with a laugh.

“Was the fact that we’re in the middle of the woods with a lake nearby not enough of a hint?” Bradley jokes, making everyone laugh. When you all finish lunch, you clean up and then head outside to enjoy the rest of your afternoon.

“Hey, y/n, let’s grab a soccer ball so I can run that drill with you.” Bradley says and you nod, following him to the equipment cupboard and waiting for him to grab a ball before heading to the field to practice it. Bradley talks you through what he wants to try, making sure his instructions are clear and taking any advice you have to offer to make it clearer for when he teaches it to the children. Once you have been briefed on what the drill would entail you start the activity. After gaining some confidence, you’re able to tackle the ball off of Bradley a couple of times but when you decided to attempt a shot on goal just for a bit of fun you somehow missed the ball entirely and ended up sprawled on your back on the floor staring up at the sky.

“y/n! Are you okay?” Bradley’s face suddenly appears above you, his worried expression soon becoming a look of amusement when he realises that you’re laughing at the whole thing.

“Trust me to fall over literally nothing.” You laugh as you begin to sit up, stopping when Bradley offers a hand to you which you accept with a smile, allowing him to haul you to your feet but your smile faltered when he winced once more.

“Bradley, are you okay?” You ask, now even more concerned at him being in pain.

“Yeah, I’m fine. My shoulder’s acting up again.” Bradley says, making you fight the urge to speak up. He’d claimed his back had a pulled muscle earlier and now it was his shoulder? You were confused at his contradiction but you weren’t going to call him out on it. The most you could do is keep an eye on him.

“Just… take some painkillers. It’ll really help.” You say softly, picking up the soccer ball and walking with Bradley over to the equipment shed to return the ball.

“I will.” Bradley replies. Hating himself even more for lying but the lingering pain from his accident was manageable, he had just wrongly assumed that missing one day of his prescribed medicine would be okay since the pain hadn’t been bad recently, even with the activities he was partaking in.

“Maybe we should spend the rest of the afternoon going over our hike plans, just to make sure we have them sorted.” You offer, wanting Bradley to relax a little and not overexert himself. You may not know the cause of his pain or even where it lies but you did know you wanted to help your friend however you could.

“That sounds like a plan. Let’s grab our notebooks and meet on that bench just by the dining hall.” Bradley says and you nod before parting ways to return to your cabins to grab your notebook before heading to the bench and meeting Bradley. The two of you spend time comparing notes and revising anything that needs a second look at before it comes time for dinner and the two of you make your way up into the dining hall and have dinner, still discussing ideas before your friends join you.

When you all finish dinner you exit the dining hall and instead of heading to the staff lounge like you usually did in your evenings, you decide to head back to your cabin to prepare yourself for when the children arrive tomorrow afternoon. You bid your friend's goodnight and head back along the path that leads you to your cabin and enter the small building, flipping the light on as you do so. You decide to get a headstart on getting ready for bed and so go for a shower and change into your pyjamas before returning to your cabin, lying on your bed and reading your book as the sun finally sets. When a wave of tiredness overcomes you, you decide to close your book, set your alarm, and hit the hay, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to fall asleep both excited and nervous for the chaos that is to come tomorrow.

taglist (comment or ask to be added):

@noz4a2 @kim-stark @jessicab1991 @myxticmoon @burningwitchprincess @casuallyeating @adoringanakin @iamabeautifulperson18

[plussizefantasia]

Getting Lost

Flufftober Day 29: Corn Maze

Steve Harrington X reader

Word Count: 0.9k

AN: We're almost done! Just two more to go. This one has some foul language, if that isn't your thing then don't read. Reblogs and Feedback are always appreciated. I'll see y'all tomorrow.

divider credit @royallaesthetics

“I don't give a shit what you do, just leave us alone until it's time to go home.” Was Steve’s gruff command to the children that you had taken to the fall festive at Colbert’s Farm on the edge of town.

“But what if there's an emergency or something?” Dustin asked.

“You’re smart dipshit, you’ll figure something out.” Was Steve’s only reply before pulling you by your hand away from the herd of teenagers and into the opposite direction. As always, Steve was the babysitter. The teens said that they wanted to go to the fall festival. They pulled some puppy-dog eye bullshit and strong-armed Steve and you into giving them rides and being the chaperones that their parents now required for any outing.

They had thrown out practically everything they thought would work on you but what really pushed you over the edge was Eleven’s small voice telling you that she had never had a real Halloween and she was getting too old to really enjoy it.

You folded like a house of cards and Steve followed you in whatever you did. That is how the two of you landed babysitting duty twenty minutes out of time for an entire day. Luckily you didn’t have to bankroll the empty pits that were commonly known as the party. One too many times you had forked over your entire paycheck to the little shitheads. After that, you demanded that anything they wanted when you were out needed to be paid for by themselves or their parents. 

“I can’t afford my own shit if I’m using all my money on you guys.” You had yelled at them when they complained about the new rule.

Being the babysitter on duty didn’t necessarily mean that you had to watch them. At least that is what Steve had claimed when another date night had been ruined by a teenage ambush. If you followed along with that line of thinking, then running away to go make out in the corn maze wasn’t actually breaking any rules. 

Steve wasn’t really wrong when he said that they could take care of themselves. These children had fought literal monsters, they could handle themselves at some autumn-themed gathering in the middle of nowhere.

“Where are we going?” You had asked Steve, after ten minutes of pulling on your arm and the tenth turn in the corn maze. You were almost one hundred percent sure that Steve had no idea where he was going.

“They won’t be able to find us if we get lost.” 

‘That is the stupidest thing you’ve probably ever said.”

“We could always turn around and spend the whole day following after them.”

“No!” You yelled. You stopped moving forward. “No, I think that that would be even more stupid. 

“That's what I thought.” Steve sounded smug. He continued to pull you for another few minutes, making turn after turn. ‘Alright, I think we are sufficiently lost.”

“Yeah but, what are we gonna do now.” 

Steve neglected to answer you with words. He just grabbed the back of your head and brought your lips to his. Kissing Steve was always magical, whether it was early morning kisses soaked in admiration and a little bit of drowsiness, or they were like this. Hot and passionate, Steve kissed you like he’d never be able to kiss you again. 

Steve was gentle but strong. He didn’t let you pull away but he let you guide the kiss. He pulled and pushed you like the moon did to the tides. You were at his mercy, letting the entire world fall away. 

In those stolen moments, you and Steve shared a connection that went beyond words. It was a kiss that spoke of longing and passion. 

When he kissed you it was a promise. A promise for a life full of joy, a reassurance of his love. It was always more than just a kiss, Steve Harrington never just kissed.

You don’t know how long you two were intertwined in the midst of the corn stalks. It could have been seconds, hours, years. When you were with Steve time didn’t matter. Nor did your responsibilities. Yet somehow both of them always caught up with you.

It was a clearing of a throat that drew you out of your bubble.

A disgusted Lucas stood behind a disgruntled Dustin. Next to them were Max and El, giggling together and fanning their faces in the most dramatic way they could. Mike and Will stood next to each other, looking very much the picture of embarrassment. 

“What?” Steve asked, still holding onto you.

“Where the hell have you been?” Dustin demanded.

“Where do you think?” you asked him. 

“The festival closes in thirty minutes. We’re all hungry and we’ve been looking for you for the past hour.” Lucas filled you in.

“Well, you found us,” Steve replied, unhelpfully. 

“Do any of you shitbirds remember how to get out of here?” you asked them. El nodded and started making her way back through the maze. It was almost freaky how on point she was with her turns. She flawlessly guided the rest of you through the maze, you all making it out just in time to leave before they locked the gate.

“Alright. Climb in fuckers, we’re going to McDonalds.” Steve hollard. The teens followed the instructions dutifully. Climbing into either your car or Steve’s depending on who they had come with.

You and Steve pulled close to one another before getting in your cars to take the kids home. Steve kissed you one more time and faintly from his backseat you heard the curly-haired child yell. “Not again.”

You and Steve flipped him off in unison.

[thebunnednun]

Whispers of the Heart Dracule Mihawk x Fm! Reader (Part 4)

I do not own the artwork its by: @xuchuan25 Tell them they're amazing y'all!

Chapter 4 in the building y'all!!!! I just needed to see my Buggy.

Part 1 can be found: Here

Part 2 is right: Here

Part 3: Right over yonder

Don't be afraid to send me any requests my loves and if you are waiting for the next installment I have another Mihawk story:

*Shadows of the Blade (Dracule Mihawk x Assassin reader)

If you like sexy swordplay and themes of overcoming trauma then this is the story for you!. If you wanna skip to the good stuff try chapter 3.

Backstory:

You've been Dracule Mihawk's personal maid and housekeeper for what feels like an eternity. Let's cut to the chase – you're a badass, sweetheart. Sexy, cool, and confident, with a reputation that precedes you. Been friends with the stoic man for eons by now.

Everyone knows you or knows of you, and it's not just because you keep Mihawk's castle running like a well-oiled machine.

So what happens when you develop feelings for your old friend and boss?

What does he do when he comes home to find you in his room without your panties?

Also, muneca-chan= baby doll

ON WITH THE SHOW!!~

________________Chapter 4: A Clown's Counsel___________________

"Everything is going to be fine," you murmur softly, your voice echoing faintly into the open air. 

Your heart pounds with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as you stand alone in the vast, empty waters of the ocean. With a determined expression, you whisper reassuring words to yourself, trying to quell the rising tide of anxiety.

"You've locked down the castle securely. You just need to make this quick trip and return before Mihawk, Perona, and Zoro even realize you're gone." Taking a deep breath, you glance around the dimly lit deck one last time before turning your attention to your bag.

With meticulous care, you rummage through its contents, double-checking that you have everything you need for your journey. Each item holds a significance, a memory of past adventures and encounters that fuels your determination.

'I am a pirate queen of all the oceans. I was raised on an island in the Grand line and chose to live a life of peace. I can fucking sail a boat!'

After hanging up with Shanks last night, you decided to get up and moving if you were going to make your trip in time. Mihawk rarely ever sent word of his return home, unless he wanted a specific dinner and wine waiting for him.

You knew you'd have anywhere from a few days to two months before you saw him again. With a long sigh, you held your face in your hands for a moment of calm. 

The weather had turned for the worst overnight leaving you to sail the nearby waters in the middle of a rain storm. But, you honestly didn't mind one bit. It reminded you of your home island and like the homesick tall-child you were, you stood there on your little boat without a jacket or umbrella.

Call you crazy, but you wished for it to rain harder so all the confusing emotions inside you could be washed away somehow. Looking behind you, your eyes caught the slight glimmer of two familiar objects looking out of the bag behind you.

"Mhm," walking over, you reached inside, allowing your fingers to grasp the handle of two familiar old friends. The golden ridges caught the light from your dimming lantern.

Two identical machetes gleamed back at you, a parting gift from your mother. Your native tongue etched into the blade, they possessed a soft hum, almost whispering out to you. The temptation to harness your belt on and feel them resting on your hips again was almost irresistible. But instead, you drew your bag closed over them and set it down once more.

Constantly fighting for your life and the life of your crew mates was not something you missed about the old life. Yes, battles of honor were fun and sometimes even lead to creating new friends, however, there were too many attempts of pure murder. 

As a caption, you very much followed Gold Rodgers example of what a pirate should be. However, you also believed in not looking for fights. Now, you weren't out of practice by any means, Mihawk would never allow that.

But you could feel yourself adjust instantly to this old way of living and it kinda bothered you. However, resisting the temptation let you know that you were still you. 

You really have come so far in life. <3

Satisfied that you are well-prepared, you make your way to the shores of a nearby island, your footsteps echoing softly in the silence of the night. As you reach the edge of the water, you pause, your gaze scanning the horizon with a sense of anticipation.

Knowing that discretion is key, you reach into your bag once more, retrieving a carefully crafted cloak. The rumors of your death would fool the general public, but not other pirates or worse- fame hungry pirate captions.

You disappeared under the deck for a moment to find an old mirror. Then with practiced precision, you transform your appearance, concealing your identity behind a clever facade. As you adjust the final details of your disguise, you feel a surge of confidence wash over you. A small smile reaches your lips before a giggle slips out.

'Shanks would love this.'

With your transformation complete, you set off along the shoreline, your eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of activity. This island was Buggy's last known location, and you are determined to find him. Every step brings you closer to your goal, your senses heightened with anticipation.

'Now or never.'

As you navigate the sandy shores, the salty breeze caresses your cheeks, invigorating your spirit with a sense of adventure. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a soft glow upon the landscape, guiding your way through the darkness.

With each passing moment, your anticipation grows, fueled by the promise of reunion and the thrill of the unknown. Your senses are sharp, attuned to the subtlest of sounds and movements, as you scan the surroundings for any sign of life.

And then, in the distance, you catch a glimpse of movement—a flicker of movement amidst the shadows.

A big top. 

Without a second thought, you take off running in that direction. Unworried about the rain, you can barely hear the sound of your feet hitting the muddy ground over your pounding heart. Your breath quickens with excitement as you draw closer, your footsteps quickening with each stride.

"No you fucking shit head, it's WRONG!"

"Found you!"

Finally reaching the tent, you poked inside to see where that lovable asshole was. Ducking under the bleachers, you watched as a tall familiar figure threw a barrage of insults at some huddled performers. Several freaks were passing and going throughout the chaos to practice their acts and hone their talents. 

Amidst a flurry of activity, stood Buggy, his presence commanding attention amidst the chaos. You pause for a moment, watching him rehearse with his performers, a fond smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"If you can't get the lion to dance by this Friday, I am going to eat him. I don't give a FUCK how chewy he is!"

There stood a timid man with an animal that cowered before the infamous caption of the East Blue.

Ever the drama queen, Buggy's appearance was as flamboyant and eccentric as ever. He stood tall and proud, his colorful attire adorned with sequins and feathers that shimmered in the light. His hair, a riotous explosion of bright blue curls, framed his face in wild abandon, adding to his larger-than-life persona. His eyes, usually twinkling with mischief and charm, were now almost bloodshot and darted around the room, taking in every detail with a keen sense of curiosity. 

You can't help but chuckle at Buggy's theatrics, a familiar warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of him. Despite his bombastic demeanor, you know there's a soft side to him that few ever see.

As the chaos around him continues, you take a moment to compose yourself before stepping out from your hiding spot. With a mischievous grin, you call out to him in a teasing tone:

"Now that's not nice and you know it." 

Buggy's head snaps up at the sound of your voice, "We're closed right now!"

"Oh, this dumbass." You roll your eyes under the hood before pulling it from your head. His eyes widening in surprise before a wide grin splits his face. Without a moment's hesitation, he strides forward, his arms open wide in welcome.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite troublemaker," he replies, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. With a dramatic flourish, he strides over to you, sweeping you into a tight hug that almost knocks the breath out of you.

Finding yourself unable to keep your composer, you giggle into the chest of the shockingly 6'5 man and snuggle into his chest to quil the ache in your heart, returning his embrace with just as much intensity.

"How've you been, sis?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern as he pulls back to look at you, his hands resting on the apples of your cheeks.

You relish in the familiar comfort of his presence. "Oh, you know, same old same old," you reply, trying to play it cool despite the category 8 hurricane of emotions swirling within you. "Just thought I'd drop by and say hello."

Buggy quirks an eyebrow at your casual tone, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh really? Or is there something else on your mind?" he teases, giving your left cheek a playful pinch with his fingers.

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh at his antics. "Maybe a little bit of both," you admit, your voice softening as you meet his gaze.

"I've missed you, Buggy. It's been too long."

Buggy's expression softens, his eyes reflecting the sincerity of your words. "I've missed you too, [Name]," he replies, his voice gentle as he squeezes your shoulders affectionately. "But something tells me there's more to this visit than just catching up."

You let out a sigh, knowing you can't hide anything from Buggy. "You know me too well," you admit, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

As Buggy's eyebrows furrow in concern, his gaze searching yours for any hint of distress, you take a deep breath, gathering the courage to confide in him. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You glance briefly at his performers, then lock eyes with Buggy again, a sense of urgency gripping your heart. "Got a place where we can chat in private?" you inquire, your voice barely above a whisper.

Buggy's expression flickers to something fierce, a glint of determination in his sea-green eyes as he analyzes you. Without a word, he stands tall, his shoulders squared, commanding the attention of his crew.

"Everyone is to keep performing," he announces firmly, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. "And when I come back, that lion better know how to tap dance or I'm making good on my promise!" His crew responds with a chorus of "Eye Sir's!" before Buggy ushers you away, leading you to a different part of the tent.

With swift efficiency, he pushes you inside a dressing room adorned with a star, the blue clown's symbol adorning the door. As you step inside, the door closes behind you with a soft click, enveloping you in a cocoon of privacy.

Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you brace yourself for the conversation ahead, knowing that Buggy's keen intuition will leave no stone unturned. As you await his prompting, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his unwavering support, even in the face of your deepest secrets.

The dressing room is a small, cozy space adorned with whimsical decorations that reflect the flamboyant nature of its occupants. The walls are painted a soothing shade of sky blue, with colorful streamers cascading from the ceiling, adding a playful touch to the atmosphere.

In one corner of the room, a vanity table sits adorned with an assortment of makeup and accessories, its surface gleaming under the soft glow of a dim lamp. A large mirror framed in ornate gold stands at the center, reflecting the room's eclectic charm.

Against the opposite wall, a row of hooks holds an array of costumes, each garment more vibrant and extravagant than the last. Sequins sparkle in the light, and feathers flutter gently as if caught in an unseen breeze.

In the center of the room, a plush red armchair beckons invitingly, its cushions adorned with polka dots in varying shades of blue. A small side table sits nearby, stacked with magazines and trinkets, offering a glimpse into the eclectic tastes of its occupants. The air is tinged with the faint scent of powder and perfume, a lingering reminder of the performers who call this space their own.

Despite its small size, the dressing room exudes an undeniable sense of warmth and camaraderie, a sanctuary where secrets are shared and dreams take flight.

Walking over to the vanity, you plucked a familiar red lipstick off the dresser before turning it in your fingers. "Ya know, I used to hate when you'd steal my lipstick," Buggy joked softly, crossing his arms over the swell of his chest. 

Upon hearing his words, your fingers instinctively squeeze the familiar red lipstick perched on the edge of the dresser. You hold it tighter, feeling its smooth texture against your skin, a sense of nostalgia washing over you. Looking up in the vanity mirror, you make eye contact with Buggy. His eyes sparkle with fond memories, a playful glint dancing in their depths.

You chuckle softly at his remark, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you remember the countless times you had playfully raided his makeup collection. "Well, you always did have the best shade of red," you tease back, your voice laced with affection.

Setting the lipstick back down on the vanity, you turn to face Buggy, the warmth of his presence filling the room. Despite the gravity of the conversation looming between you, his easy demeanor brings a sense of comfort, grounding you in the present moment. 

(You know shits bad when you gotta go to the crazy killer pirate clown for advice and comfort. Love and life advice at that!)

As you lean against the vanity, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm hue across your features, you find yourself lost in a moment of quiet contemplation. Memories of past adventures with Buggy flood your mind, each one a vibrant snapshot of the bond you share.

"You know," Buggy begins, his tone softening as he meets your gaze, "I've missed having you around. Things just haven't been the same without your antics to liven up the place."

His words stir something deep within you, a mixture of gratitude and longing intertwining in your heart. Despite the passage of time and the distance between you, the connection you share with Buggy remains steadfast, a beacon of light in the darkness.

"I've missed you too," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

"It's been lonely without you."

A flicker of sadness crosses Buggy's features, his gaze softening with empathy. "I know, sweetheart," he says gently, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "But you're here now, and that's all that matters." You gently grasp the back of his hand that cradles your face. Almost afraid that you'll wake up in that cold and empty castle again. The warmth of Buggy's palm anchors you to the human world.

In that moment, as you stand together in the quiet intimacy of the dressing room, you are reminded of the strength of your bond with Buggy. Through thick and thin, laughter and tears, you know that he will always be there for you, ready to offer his support and unwavering friendship.

No matter the situation, you'd always been there to defend Buggy and build each other's esteem up. Even Mihawk knew not to slip up when talking about the Flashy Jester if he didn't want to be shanked again. 

Speaking of Mihawk-

"So, you gonna tell me why you showed up all of a sudden instead of sending a letter or are we gonna stand here quietly together?" His voice snapping you out of your thoughts with the buzz of its low tone.

"Don't get me wrong muneca-chan, I love seeing you." He softly muses, stepping closer towards you until he pulled the stool from under the vanity out and sits you on it before dropping into his own red chair. 

"But something tells me there's more to this visit than just catching up."

You let out a sigh, knowing you can't hide anything from Buggy. "You know me too well," you admit, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There's something really important I need to talk to you about. Shanks already knows before he called me last night, stop making that face, and you can't tell anyone else under any circumstances!"

Buggy's eyebrows furrow in concern, his gaze searching yours for any hint of distress. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Taking a deep breath, you gather your thoughts before speaking. "It's about love," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I think I have feelings for someone, Buggy."

"I think I'm in love."

Buggy's eyes widen in surprise, his expression shifting from concern to understanding.

"Ah, love," he murmurs, his voice soft with sympathy. "Love can be a tricky thing, especially when it comes to matters of the heart."

You nod, grateful for his understanding. "I just don't know what to do," you admit, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I'm torn between staying here and following my heart."

Buggy places a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. "Listen to me, [Name]," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "You can't let fear hold you back from pursuing what makes you happy. If you have feelings for someone, then you owe it to yourself to explore them, regardless of the outcome."

You take in his words, feeling a sense of clarity wash over you. "Thank you, Buggy," you say softly, your voice filled with gratitude. "I needed to hear that."

Buggy gives you a reassuring smile, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Anytime, sis," he replies, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Now, let's hear who the lucky one is!" 

Your smile stiffens before you whisper out quietly. Buggy frowns and leans closer from his chair.

"What's that, starshine?" 

As you gather your thoughts, the weight of your confession is lingering heavy in the air. Buggy's concern deepens, his brow furrowing as he leans in closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

With a sigh, you summon the courage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's... it's Mihawk," you confess, your words hanging in the air like a delicate thread.

Buggy's eyes widen in surprise, his expression a mixture of shock and understanding. "Mihawk?" he repeats, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"As in, Dracule Mihawk?"

You nod slowly, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as the truth finally comes to light. "Yes, Mihawk," you confirm, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging within you. "I... I think I'm in love with him."

Buggy's initial reaction catches you off guard. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and for a moment, a look of concern flashes across his face. "Wait, hold on a second," he says, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

You nod, feeling a pang of uncertainty creeping in. "Yes, Buggy," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know it sounds crazy, but... I think I might be in love with him."

Buggy's expression darkens, his features contorting into a mixture of shock and concern. "Are you feeling okay?" he asks, his voice laced with worry. "I mean, have you been feeling sick or something?"

You shake your head, a sense of frustration bubbling up within you. "No, Buggy, I'm not sick," you retort, a hint of irritation seeping into your tone. "I'm serious about this."

Buggy lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his wild blue hair. "Look, muneca-chan," he begins, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "This isn't something to take lightly. Mihawk is... well, he's not exactly the most approachable guy, you know? And besides, he's your boss, for crying out loud!"

You feel a surge of defiance rising within you. "I know all of that, Buggy," you say firmly, your voice unwavering. "But I can't help how I feel."

Buggy's frustration mounts, and suddenly he's popping his hands off in a fit of anger.

"Has he been trying to feel up on you? OW- OKAY! PUT THE PALLET DOWN THAT ONE WAS EXPENSIVE!" 

While you were holding his makeup hostage, the clown was now rubbing where his hair brush had struck his pectoral. Slowly, you sat back down in the chair as he regarded you like a wild hellcat. A pit of dread now knotted your stomach. 

"I'm not joking Buggy, I need thoughts!" 

"And prayers, you're gonna need them with that eagle- NOT THE FUCKING FACE!" You lobbed a jar of hair cream at him before breaking down in the vanity stool. "Don't be an ass okay! I didn't say anything about you and Shanks!" You gasped, hoping that your voice wouldn't crack any further. 

The weight of your words hangs heavily in the air, and you realize just how much you've been holding back. "I... I'm sorry," you stammer, guilt washing over you as hot, fat tears slip from the corners of your eyes.

Before you can even register it, Buggy has crossed the room in a few quick strides and scooped you up into his strong arms, returning to his chair and settling you onto his lap like a small child.

With your face pressed into his striped shirt, you let the dam burst, unleashing all the pent-up tears you've been holding back. Buggy's hand runs soothingly over your back, cradling your head to his chest as he murmurs comforting words.

Reaching into his sleeve, he pulls out a ridiculously long handkerchief, prompting some weak laughter from you despite your tears.

"You've been doing that corny ass joke since we were kids," you sniffle, gingerly wiping your nose before he tosses the hanky into the wastebasket.

"Yeah, well, it still gets a laugh outta ya, so I'ma keep on with it," Buggy replies with a soft smile. He gazes down at you with those piercing eyes of his, scanning your face with a mixture of concern and affection.

Buggy lets out another exasperated sigh, his frustration evident but tempered by genuine worry. "Look, muneca-chan, I get it," he says, his voice gentler now. "Love can make you do crazy things, feel crazy things. But you need to be careful. Mihawk... he's a complicated guy. He's got a lot of walls up, and he's not exactly known for being... well, open-hearted. I know you guys are friends and I was shocked he let you stay with him. But love is a whole different ball game."

You nod, feeling a bit more grounded by his words and presence. "I know he's complicated, Buggy," you say, your voice steadier now. "But I can't help how I feel. I just needed to tell someone, to get it off my chest."

Buggy holds you a little tighter, his grip reassuring. "Well, you've told me now, and we'll figure this out together," he promises. "Just don't go making any rash decisions, okay? Take your time, think things through. And remember, no matter what happens, you've got me in your corner."

His words, laced with both caution and encouragement, bring a small but genuine smile to your face. "Thank you, Buggy," you whisper, leaning into his embrace. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Anytime, starshine," he replies softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "We'll get through this, one step at a time." He wipes the tears from your face with his warm thumbs, "But promise me you'll be careful, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt."

You can see the genuine concern in Buggy's eyes, and it touches your heart. Despite his gruff exterior, you know that he cares deeply for you, and his protective instincts are kicking in full force.

You nod, grateful for his understanding. "I just don't know what to do," you admit, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I'm torn between staying here and following my heart."

Buggy places a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. "Listen to me, sis," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "You can't let fear hold you back from pursuing what makes you happy. If you have feelings for Mihawk, then you owe it to yourself to explore them, regardless of the outcome." Your eyes glance over his right pec, knowing what picture was hidden inside that pocket. 

"But here's the thing about love, [Name]. It's not always easy to understand, and it's certainly not always convenient. But when you find someone who makes your heart skip a beat, someone who makes you feel alive in a way you've never felt before, well, you'd be a fool not to hold onto that with both hands."

Buggy's gaze softens, his features morphing into a look of genuine empathy. "Love is a complicated thing," he murmurs, his voice filled with compassion. "But if Mihawk is the one who holds your heart, then you owe it to yourself to pursue those feelings."

He gives you a reassuring smile, his eyes reflecting the depth of his friendship and loyalty. "You'll figure it out, sis," he says, his voice filled with confidence. "And remember, I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

His words struck a chord deep within you, resonating with the turmoil of emotions that had been swirling inside you since Mihawk's departure. Suddenly, everything seemed to fall into place, the confusion and uncertainty giving way to a newfound clarity. Buggy gives you a reassuring smile, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

"Anytime, [Name]," he replies, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

You nod, grateful for Buggy's understanding and support. "Thank you, Buggy," you whisper softly , a sense of gratitude flooding your heart. "I needed to hear that."

As you stand wrapped in Buggy's embrace, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. His arms are strong and comforting, a reminder of the unwavering bond you share. But as he pulls back, a toothy grin spreads across his face, and you catch a glimpse of a familiar, sinister gleam in his eyes.

"And if he fucks up," Buggy says, his voice low and menacing, "there's gonna be one less Warlord in the sea."

The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but chuckle nervously. Buggy's expression is a mix of protective determination and a hint of madness that you've come to recognize over the years. His blue curls frame his face, giving him an almost theatrical appearance, but you know better than to underestimate the seriousness behind his words.

His gaze sharpens, and for a moment, the room seems to grow darker as he continues. "I mean it, muneca-chan. Mihawk might be a badass with that big-ass sword of his, but he's no match for my flashy tricks. One wrong move, and I'll make sure he regrets it."

Buggy's eyes glint with a dangerous intensity, and you can tell that his big-brother instincts are in overdrive. Despite his eccentricities, you know that he would go to great lengths to ensure your happiness and safety. You reach out to place a hand on his arm, squeezing gently to remind him that you appreciate his concern.

"I know you would, Buggy," you say softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But let's hope it doesn't come to that. I just needed to talk to someone who understands."

Buggy's expression softens at your words, the sinister edge fading as he looks at you with genuine affection. "Yeah, yeah," he mutters, rolling his eyes playfully. "Just remember, I'm always here for you, no matter what."

With that, he pulls you into another tight hug, his embrace warm and reassuring. You know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll always have Buggy by your side, ready to offer his unwavering support and friendship—even if it means taking on a Warlord of the sea.

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably live a very boring and un-flashy life."

"Oh no~, what a nightmare, HEY!"

He flashed you a smile as you held your recently pinched side. 

"Now, let's get you set up to spend the night. We've got a lot to catch up on." 

______________________________________________________________

And that wraps up chapter 4 of this series. Oh I am going to make you all work for 'that' delicious chapter.~

Part 5 is now posted.

At the time of this being posted, 5/19/2024, there is a poll ongoing for what, you, the lovely readers, would love to be called. Be sure to cast your votes!!

Make sure you check out the a03 account by the same name. Everything I have posted here is there in chronological order. I also have a few Buggy the Clown x Reader's posted in the masterlist! Give it a read if you please!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[ramblers-lets-get-ramblin]

Ready To Run- A Linger On Drabble

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

Summary: Tommy tries to talk Joel out of getting married. The Miller family grows.

Rating: E MDNI 18+ (this is just a blanket warning for the whole series)

Warnings: angst, childbirth (non detailed, just mentioned)

Word Count: 800

Author’s Notes: I'm still not back to this fic yet but here is a little something to tide y'all over

July 1999

“Ya don’t have to do this, Joel.” Tommy says to his brother. “Ya shouldn’t be doin’ this.” He says more quietly. They are standing outside of the Travis County Clerks Office waiting for Joel’s turn. Joel is dressed in his best button-up and his nicest jeans. He’s tamed his wayward curls into submission. Tommy is dressed similarly, the only difference is his ever present, well worn cowboy hat atop his head. 

“Drop it, already, Tommy. You’ve said your piece. Several times.” Joel snarls. Tommy had been on about this for the last two weeks. Trying everything he could to talk Joel out of doing what’s right. He even resorted to bribery. Said he wouldn’t join the army if Joel just took some time to think about it. But all Joel has been doing is thinking. Thinking about the child he’s bringing into the world with a woman whose last name he just learned. Thinking about the woman he loves being in pain because of him. Thinking about how badly he wishes his parents were here to give him advice. To talk him out of this, or into it. Anything. 

“Her flight isn’t until six. You can still make it.” Tommy says one last time, hopefully. “I’ll drive the getaway car.” He offers.

“I’m not gonna say it again. That’s enough.” The sound of the door opening behind them cuts the conversation short.

“Joel! Its out turn!” Val calls. 

“Alright. But I don’t wanna hear any cryin’ when you regret this.” Tommy grumbles as he follows his brother inside.

Twenty minutes later Joel is a married man. He thought he’d feel happy, or at least lighter for having done the right thing. But all he feels is hollow. An empty ache has settled inside his chest. Where it will remain for a decade. 

The trio retire to the Miller house along with Val’s mother. They picked up takeout from Matt’s El Rancho and Joel’s new mother-in-law brought a cake. She does her best to get to know Joel and Tommy, but she doesn’t miss the heavy atmosphere around the table. As soon as dinner and cake are done, she bids everyone goodnight. Once she’s out the door Val heads upstairs to sleep and Tommy stomps out the front door, off to meet his flavor of the week. Joel walks to the hall closet where the extra blankets are stored, pulls one out, and settles in on the couch to sleep. 

Two weeks later

“Joel!” He jumps up from a dead sleep when Val cries out. He runs up the stairs.

“Joel! Hurry!” Tommy beats Joel to her side.

“What’s wrong?” He shouts

“I think we’re havin’ a baby tonight, brother!” Tommy exclaims. As upset as he is with Joel for hurting Sweets, Tommy can’t wait to be an uncle. All he can talk about is teaching his nephew to play football and how to fish. Joel hasn’t seen him this excited since the day they picked out that ring for Sweets. Joel is the only family his brother has had since their parents died. He’s going to be a great uncle. 

Fourteen hours and a lot of curse words later, Joel sits in a chair in Val’s hospital room. The baby wrapped in the pink blanket in his arms feels impossibly small. “Hello, Sarah. I’m your daddy.” He whispers so he doesn't wake his sleeping wife, she deserves all the rest she needs after what she had been through. Joel strokes his baby’s cheek with his large finger. “I’m always gonna be right here for you. For the rest of my life.” 

That night when he gets home he picks up the phone. He dials the number that he had to practically beat out of Tommy. He didn’t want to give it to him. After the spent the night holding Sweets as she cried for hours, he didn’t want to give Joel another opportunity to hurt her. The only reason he gave it up is because he thought Joel would eventually come to his senses. She's still the first person he wants to tell when he has news. The phone rings once then twice. She picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?” She asks. Joel's voice is suddenly caught in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say and hearing the sound of her voice makes the ache in his chest throb.

“Hello?’ She repeats, sounding annoyed. Joel hangs up. She probably doesn't want to hear about the baby he has with another woman anyways. 

Taglist: @jenispunk @noisynightmarepoetry @serendipity22086 @megamindsecretlair @immyowndefender @hiddenbabynyc @justagalwhowrites @cannolighost @pattwtf @morgaussy @marisemonteiroo @planet-marz1 @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @callmecath1 @tloubarbie @jay-zzle @romanarose @partyofone3413 @disassociation-daydreams @beccerjune @marvel-redemption-omega @maryrhodalouandted @diversemediums @jediknight122 @suzmagine @persephone-girl @dizzyforyou @walkintotheriveranddisappear @survivingandenduring @lhymer1995 @mysticalrebeltaco @xthejazzdalorianx @marie-151515-blog @spookyxsam @loveisacowboyyy @anoverwhelmingdin

[macfrog]

next chapter of cowboy like me possibly coming when? 🤭

(it’s literally my favorite series ive ever read, i’m like a feral dog for any crumbs of it. also love you and your writing mwah mwah /p)

my cowboy hat is on, my boots are a-walkin', and i am doing everything i can to get it to y'all asap. i feel like there is a troll in my head stopping me from writing anything half fucking decent atm

here's something to tide you guys over pls don't hate me i'm sorry

“She is nice,” he agrees, “but I ain’t interested. To tell you the truth, darlin’, I was a little preoccupied worrying my ass off about you to even look twice at the woman.” You freeze for a second. Stare at the outline of his jaw, the jagged bristles of his beard; the soft sweep of hair silhouetted by the moonlight outside. He’s still Joel – even in the darkness, even in the fog. Even when you can’t see, hear, or touch him – he’s still there. Thinking about you. Worrying about you. “Well,” you sniff, “you don’t gotta worry anymore. I just…I didn’t like the thought of it.” His head tilts. Beckons you to continue. You sigh. “I don’t want you…with…anyone else. I want you to…only want me.” His brows straighten. You sit in silence, staring at one another. Both daring the other to be the first to talk. But it’s his turn, and he knows it. So he swallows, and says – “I don’t want nobody else.”

[wolfmoonmusic]

Calloused Hearts - 4

Summary: Trouble stirs, but maybe it was for the better. Or for the worse.

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Tidemaker!reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Kaz’s touch aversion

w/c: 1.5k+

A/N: I'M BACK! And in view of sab ss2 I thought "what better way to start of than by continuing this beautiful fic?" so here I am.

I'm a tad bit rusty, so please sympathize. But here y'all go.

&lt;<prev chapter

Chapter 4:

A week.

You’d spent a week getting better, gambling, teasing Jesper and hanging out with the crows.

But most of all, you’d spent a week avoiding Kaz.

Although at this point you couldn’t tell if you were avoiding him or if he was avoiding you. But, it seemed like a mix of the two. 

You watched as he made his way down the stairs, your eyes temporarily diverting from the drink in front of you. Jesper cleared his throat next to you, earning a jab in his side from Wylan. “What?! It’s like a full blown romance novel!” Your head spun around, wide eyes landing on your friend. “Cut that out will you? He could hear you!” you whispered. “Well he already knows. ‘Till the tide goes sti-” you clapped your hand over his mouth, sending him a warning look.

Yes.

You’d told him. He’d found it rather amusing. However he didn't seem to understand the fact that it had to remain a secret. You pulled away, still watching him carefully as he held up his hands. “Sorry,” he muttered.

You turned back around to face Kaz, the familiar hollow feeling settling in your chest. He was talking to Inej now, the girl’s body language, a hand on her knives, worrying you. 

“Something’s wrong,” you say, watching Kaz’s expression harden even from this distance.

And then his eyes are on yours.

Piercing. Hard. And yet again, unreadable.

His head tilted to the left slightly, the age old gesture causing you to spring to your feet. You pull at Jesper’s hand dragging him along, ignoring his protests about a drink going to waste.

It was weird. No matter how long you’d spent apart, the signal never changed. Your understanding of each other was still rather perfect. You followed Kaz and Inej up the stairs, the other crows following behind. 

You couldn’t imagine what it was. What made Kaz call you up here along with the others? If he had to contact you all, why tell you directly? Why hadn’t he told anyone else?

Maybe. Just maybe…you were regaining his trust.

You all piled into his office, Inej sending a worried look your way.

Maybe not.

“Inej picked up on intel. Pekka Rollins is working with the stadwatch and Grisha now.” Kaz said, placing his hands on his desk and leaning over it.

“Why would he do that?” Jesper asked from next to you. 

“Because then he hits two birds with one stone.” 

What did he mean?

“I don’t get it,” Wylan responded, “ am I the only one that doesn’t get it?”

“No. I’m confused as well,” Nina added.

“He’s heard we’re harboring a Grisha that’s supposed to reward him with nearly 3 million kruge. And with the stadwatch’s help. He’ll take us down too.”

“3 million?” Jesper gawked.

Kaz wasn’t only keeping you away from Pekka. He was protecting you from the Grisha as well.

But he chose to not hand you over? Even if that meant losing 3 million kruge? And Pekka coming after him again?

“I’m sorry, Let me get this straight,” Inej started, “ You’re protecting her,” she said pointing to you, “even with a bounty of 3 million kruge over her head?”

You cowered away. 3 million could help them. Set them straight. Kaz didn’t even know the full story of what had happened to you. According to what he knew, you lived a luxurious life at the Little Palace. So why not get rid of you?

But what Kaz did next sent shivers down your spine.

“And what if I am Inej?” he asked, his tone menacing low.

The 7 of you stood there awkwardly, as you tried to stop your mind from racing.

What was Kaz thinking?

You felt an arm around your shoulders, and you did your best to stay still and not flinch at the sudden contact. 

“Even if you’d decided to trade her off. I wouldn’t let you,” Jesper remarked, squeezing your shoulder lightly. He shrugged, “She’s the only fun one around here.”

You smiled at Jesper, catching the others nod from the corner of your eye.

“I don’t mean that you’re not fun to be around,” Inej smiled slightly. She turned to Kaz, “I just don’t understand him sometimes.”

Kaz’s eyes were on yours. His face was blank. His eyes, however, were swarming with all sorts of emotion. He seemed angry, confused, a little relieved and …jealous?

“If you understood him there’d be no point in his existence,” Nina chimed in. 

His eyes landed on Nina, sending a glare her way, “I wanted to tell you all to be alert. Nina, see what you can find out from the stadwatch, and Inej, stick to the shadows.”

Both girls gave him quick nods, before leaving. “The rest of you, do your best to act normal,” he said, sorting through stuff on his desk. 

“That’s our cue,” Jesper said, using his arm around you to guide you out, your head swarming with the information that had been laid out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night as you made your way to Kaz’s room, you had to remind yourself that there was no other logical explanation.

It had to be done.

Just as you were about to knock on the door, Kaz’s voice sounded from the room, “Come in.”

You closed the door behind you, walking in hesitantly, unsure of how you were going to tell him, and how he would take it.

But you didn’t have to.

“I won’t let you do it,” he said. 

He was sitting on a chair, only one lantern illuminating the room, as shadows danced around. 

You thought it depicted your heart quite well.

The light was in front of you. Disheveled hair, tired features, and an outstretched leg. 

And the shadows were everything that had ever gone wrong in your life.

How much longer ‘till the light decided he was done glowing for you?

“Let me do what?” you asked, voice trembling slightly. You knew what he meant. But you couldn’t believe that he said it.

“I won’t let you turn yourself in.”

There it was.

“It’s 3 million kruge Kaz. That could get you all settled for life.”

“So what?” he asked, leaning forward. He was scarily calm, his face illuminated ever so slightly.

“So what?! So I’m saying that I should go. That I need to go. That it would keep Pekka off of you for a little while longer. Tha-”

“They’re all happy with you here.”

“Kaz-”

“They’ve warmed up to you quite fast. I’m not going to take that away from them.” 

You shook your head. “3 million kruge is a lot. Imagine the wonders it would do for all of you.” 

“And what about the wonders you do by being here?”

You froze. 

“Nina finally has someone that gets her humor. Wylan sees you as an older sister. Jesper thinks of you as a platonic soulmate. You’re the only one Matthias doesn’t want to be all over and can tolerate. And Inej-”

“Doesn’t like me” you cut him off.

He tilted his head to the side. “You’re wrong. Yet again. She admires you.”

You shook your head. “She doesn’t trust me. She admires the fact that you haven’t kicked me out yet, there’s a difference.”

Kaz just watched you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Which I’m curious to know as well. 3 million kruge. PR, the stadwatch and grisha off of your back. What am I still doing here?” you ask, the words finally falling out of your mouth.

Kaz stilled. He looked away from you for a moment, before standing up and walking over to you.

You weren’t short, but Kaz had quite a few inches on you, and as he stood in front of you, eyes boring into yours, you felt your stomach do multiple flips.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered.

Your heart raced. “Why?” you asked, your eyes searching his.

He closed his eyes, and you felt his gloved hand over yours. Not holding your hand, not moving, just there. Your breath hitched, as his eyes opened again.

“Because, you said,” he paused, swallowing thickly as he visibly struggled to keep his eyes on yours, “you said - ‘till the tide goes still,” he looked away, unable to maintain eye contact any longer. Your eyes widened in shock. You didn’t think he’d remember.

“Yes. I did. Why are you bringing that up now?” you whispered. 

He looked at you again, his eyes fierce. “You didn’t hear me say it back that night.”

You couldn’t think. It seemed as though, just for a moment, the light in the room was a little brighter. Just for a moment. Because, he couldn’t have meant in the way you had. Could he?

But before you could ask, the door swung open. You spun around as Kaz stepped away from you, both in shock.

A confused, and worried looking Jesper stood in the doorway.

“I’m sorry for ruining,” he waved his arms around, “whatever this was. But, I can’t find Wylan.”

next chapter>>

Tags: @ancientbeing10 @lila-kille @emmnf1 @gabby10100 @foulkryptonitepeanut @pinchofhoney @peaches1958 @lyria-skyfall @sabii5

[linkdedruid]

HEY BABE, WHAT SIZE PUSSY YOU HAVE

(Headcanons)

The Trigun Folks and Buying Period Supplies for Their Partner for the First Time

I'd like you to know that I *cackled* when I saw this in my inbox. Sorry it took so longggggg! So, I'm basing this off a mix of TriStamp and Tri98 (only reason not TriMax is bc I haven't read it yet I'm sorryyyyy) Big thank you to @abject-indulgence for helping with Legato (go follow him; he's pretty rad) Dividers by @benkeibear

Livio

he's such a sweetheart he offers to go get more supplies because your cramps are really bad he gets to the store and is very overwhelmed by the range of options he'd just text you to ask which ones you preferred to make sure he gets the right ones he also picks up your favorite dinner while he's out because at least it'll be a nice surprise

Wolfwood

this man runs an orphanage, so he knows what's up you ask him to grab some more when he's running errands he checks with you before he leaves to make sure he gets the right brand, size, etc. he's gonna maybe give you a little funny remark but he's back later that day with the supplies and some of your favorite snacks and he'll give you a uterine massage if your cramps are particularly bad also, he's the world's best heating pad because he runs so warm

Vash

poor, sweet Vash is trying his best he's never really had a partner before and wants to make sure he does everything right so he's doing a store run and notices pads and tampons are on the list doesn't look at the list before he goes and just panics nearly has a breakdown in the aisle because he doesn't know which ones to get he's too nervous to ask you or the employees he ends up getting one of each that he can find because he can't get it wrong if he gets all of them, right

Knives

he's gonna complain like, he's gonna say some crap about how humans are such a pain and a nuisance and he'll make someone else do it he will, however, make sure there's someone keeping an eye on it in future so you never have to ask again but he won't ever admit to it

Roberto

look me in the eye and tell me this man doesn't have this on lock I dare you because you'll be dead wrong this man has been around the block no hesitation just asks which ones you want like it's no big deal to him it's just another part of life

Legato

he's just confused why you're asking him to do it he's not grossed out or upset, just confused like, anybody could go do that and he's got things to do that only he can do anyway, he makes sure it gets done though he just has one of the lower level grunts do it with the threat of an excruciating death if they mess it up

Milly

you never have to ask her to pick up supplies because she's already on top of it like, she knows when anything is running low at home what makes you think she'd be anything less growing up with a big family means making sure there's plenty of household supplies you're actually more likely to have the issue of there not being enough space she always accidentally ends up buying too much

Meryl

she's the one who's gonna forget to supplies honestly she's too busy focusing on everything else to check and so she's doing emergency runs to get something to tide y'all over until she can get to the store to actually get the ones y'all want spoiler: she forgets and the cycle repeats