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roosterforme · 18 days

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him.

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it.

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

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

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing.

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject.

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!"

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back.

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment.

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it.

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you.

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

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

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her.

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it.

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt.

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email.

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

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind.

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him.

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions.

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight.

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now.

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now.

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

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This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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midnightarcheress · 14 days

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woke up wanting to write something with my pretty boy kyle and this was born.

cw: nsfw. f!reader. gaz obsessing over the pretty college girl by his side. implied future stalking ig? unedited. part one | part two

someone catches Kyle’s attention on the plane.

his legs are on the verge of cramping and his breath is ragged, running to board his connection flight at the last call. after falling off a helicopter twice in the last operations, he developed an uneasiness of flying, no matter the aircraft, preferring taking the train over being miles up in the air, even if it triples the travel. but this time, he just wanted to get home the fastest way possible for a much-needed night of sleep in his own bed, instead of the barely cushioned military-issued mattress.

he hopped on the plane and made his way through the corridor, gaze fixed on the numbers under the luggage rack, attentively looking for his spot. he stopped by row thirteen, eyes darting between the number and the woman on the window seat. i could’ve sworn i marked that one when i booked? Kyle checks the boarding ticket again – row 13, seat A. it’s the right seat, why is there someone on it?

an annoyed sigh escapes his lips, gathering the energy to speak up and reclaim his rightfully bought seat. the problem is, he gets ultimately struck when the seat-thief notices him standing and turns to face him. wide eyes meet his brown ones, immediately softening at the sight of your tempting glossy lips and delicate fingers pushing a lock of hair behind your ear. pretty little thing.

“i’m sorry, is this your seat? it was empty on the first flight,” you say, an apologetic tone in your voice as you frantically close the book on your lap and shove it in a bag, “i’ll move back for you–”

“it’s alright, keep it.” he interrupts, throwing his carry-on in the rack and taking the empty middle spot beside you. he smirks at your appreciative nod and watches you settling again on the backrest, buckling the seatbelt at the shining signal hovering your heads and paying extra attention to the flight attendant announcements, even when no one around seems to care. sweet girl, so considerate to everyone.

the plane starts speeding on the runway, and from his peripheral he views your squeezed eyes and nearly white fingers gripping the armrest, breathing quickening during the gravity push of the take off. it takes a moment for you to release your tight grasp and exhale, making his hand twitch with an urge to soothe you, tell you that you’re safe.

he shakes the sensation and leans his head back, focusing on the one thing he can do to pass the time – sleep. but he can’t keep his gaze out of you, glancing to his left whenever you make a movement, no matter how small. the rapid keyboard tapping guides his irises to your laptop screen, catching a few words in a sea of what for him sounds like an alien language. DNA strand? allele? locus mutation?

he sneaks a look through your figure and his eyes land on the familiar blue logo on your hoodie, the same one he always sees on the walk from the market to his flat. uni a couple blocks from me. do you live on campus? or nearby? that neighborhood is awful at night, full of old blokes searching the pubs for a quick fuck with a naive college girl. but you seem smart, not the type to fall for their tricks, right?

the harder he tries to avoid your presence, the more you make yourself known, almost making him feel like it’s on purpose. the way your plump lips wrap on the water bottle, slight drop scaping on the corner and trailing down your neck, your flowery perfume filling his nostrils when you shift on your seat to remove the top layer of your clothing, exposing the low-cut blouse underneath and the soft roundness of your tits. is that for me, sweet girl? need a break from studying so hard? the sudden tightness of his trousers brings him back to his senses, stirring the thought out of his brain.

keep it cool, Garrick, he repeats over and over in his mind, ignoring the tent forming on his lap and praying to whatever god is out there that you won’t see it, even while standing up and brushing your legs on his knees to get to the corridor due the cramped space. however, he doesn’t miss how the guy by his side shamelessly ogles your cleavage when you step past him, making his blood boil and his fists clench – like he wasn’t doing the same exact thing minutes before.

while you're away, he glances at your screen again, noticing the constant message notifications from the contact ‘Marcus - DO NOT ANSWER’. already looking bad for you, mate. curiosity takes hold of him and he starts reading the texts, silently chuckling at the guy’s pathetic attempts to get your attention. what did he do to earn a cold shoulder, sweetheart? did he hurt you? didn’t he pay enough attention to you? i bet he couldn’t even fuck you the way you deserve.

he keeps skimming the messages until the grin tugging on the corners of his mouth fades into a frown when he reads ‘you’re gonna regret leaving me’. now, who’s this prick? think you’ll get away with threatening my girl?

his body stiffens when you come back, eyes darting back to the small telly in front of him when your hand brushes on his thigh while sitting once again. he hears your irritated huff when you skim through the messages, shutting the laptop with near violence. i can take care of him for you, love. you won’t have to deal with that by yourself anymore.

the pilot’s muffled voice coming through the speakers and announcing the landing shortens his daydreams about getting rid of Marcus. it would be a great way to keep himself busy while on leave, making sure to do it fast and secretly, of course, just to protect his sweet little thing. poor guy wouldn’t even know what hit him.

the pressure change on his ear is the telltale sign of the aircraft lowering its altitude, landing gear out to hit the lane and brake the machine. he turns to the side, watching again your knitted eyebrows and how your nails dig into the seat. this time he doesn’t contain himself and his hand gently lingers over yours, the softness of it sending lightning strikes over his body and almost making him cum instantly.

your glinting eyes find his face with a grateful gaze, lips mouthing a sugary thank you when the plane finally stops. he helps you take your handbag out of the rack with ease, using the situation to flaunt his muscles. i can even pick you up, darling. would love to feel your pretty thighs around my waist. you wouldn’t have to walk a day in your life.

his eyes follow the sway of your hips through the airport, heart almost bursting when you wave goodbye and flash him a timid smile. you think that’s the last time you’ll see him, he thinks this is just the beginning. a name and university? he’s used to finding people with even less information. see you soon, sweet girl.

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz garrick #gaz cod #gaz x reader #stalker!gaz #gaz x you #gaz smut #kyle garrick smut #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod x reader #nyx writes ☾#midnightarcheress

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pawnshopbleus · 6 months

Text

Red-eye

Pilot!Abby Anderson x Flight Attendant!Fem!Reader

Contains - light homophobia, some bad words, angst, hurt, comfort, threats, Abby being a good wife, not beta read

Summary - After a horrible encounter with a passenger, Abby helps you feel better.

Authors note - beware, this is my first time writing in months.

Being a flight attendant wasn’t a part of your original plan after college, but it provided you with a lot of amazing opportunities. You got to travel the world, meet new people, hear different languages, and experience rich cultures, and you got paid for it. Being a flight attendant is also how you met your wife of three years, Abby Anderson, who was currently navigating the aircraft. You loved your job, but sometimes passengers could be difficult.

Like the man that you were currently helping. First-class passengers tend to be rich and snobby assholes, but this man was on another level. After one too many complimentary glasses of red wine, he began inquiring about the wedding ring on your finger. Once you mentioned the fact that you had a wife he demanded to be served by a different flight attendant. You would have happily complied with his requests if it wasn’t for his homophobic rhetoric.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stop,” you said. Your tone was affirmative, but a bit shaky. This wasn’t the first time someone had been openly homophobic towards you, but you always had Abby by your side. Now, she was in the cockpit doing her pilot duties so you had to deal with this on your own.

“I’m not listening to some…” You tried your hardest to drown out the sound of him calling you a slur, but your attempt failed.

There was a collective gasp from the people in first class. They had abandoned all hopes of sleep once the drunken man started his monologue. Even though there were passengers listening, no one dared to say anything.

With teary eyes, you left the scene, finding solace in the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your makeup was ruined, your eyes were red from crying, and your cheeks were stained with tears. It took you a long time to come to terms with your sexuality. You were proud to be a lesbian, but people like that man made you regret ever coming out of the closet.

There was a knock at the bathroom door. “I’ll be out in a minute,” you sighed. You grabbed a tissue from the roll and dabbed it on your cheeks, trying your best to look as presentable as possible.

“Honey, it’s me.” It was Abby’s sweet voice on the other side of the door. Hearing her voice puts you at ease.

“Can I come in?” Abby asked.

You opened the door immediately. Nosy passengers watched the scene with confusion. The pilot of the plane going into the bathroom with a flight attendant was not something one saw every day, but you didn’t care. You closed the door behind Abby and sighed into her embrace.

The bathroom was small and compact, causing you to be pressed so close to Abby. She wrapped her arms around you and kissed your forehead. She began to pet your head as you began to break down in her embrace.

“I heard what happened,” Abby said without further need to elaborate. Of course, she knew already. Word travels fast in a metal tube in the sky. “Want me to punch him?”

You chuckle, “No, I wouldn’t want you to lose your job. We have a mortgage to pay.”

You can feel Abby’s wedding ring lightly scrape against your scalp, causing shivers to crawl down your spine.

“I wish I could defend myself, but I didn’t know what to say. He called me a-a,” you couldn’t even utter the wretched word that the man dared to call you.

Abby placed her index finger on your lips, shushing you. “It’s okay,” she said, “no one will ever call you that ever again. I’ll make sure of it.” You place your hand on Abby’s cheek and she jumps a little bit, her warm skin is not prepared for your cold hand. You look into her eyes and your heart tugs a little bit. You cannot believe that you were lucky enough to find the perfect woman. Abby was everything you looked for in a partner. She was kind, caring, and supportive. Not to mention she was the prettiest woman on earth.

Abby’s hands slide down to the place just above your ass. “Are you going to keep staring into my eyes or are you going to kiss me?” she huffs.

You smirk and give the woman what she wants. Your lips come in contact with hers, kissing her with fervor. Your lips move in rhythm with hers. Your hands that were once on Abby’s cheeks found themselves on her strong biceps. Abby’s hands began to slide down lower when there was a knock at the door. Abby squeezed your hips and let out a sigh of frustration.

“Seat one b has requested a Pinot Noir and you’re the only one who can reach the bottle,” Dina, a fellow flight attendant said from the other side of the door.

You hide your face in Abby’s chest and say, “I’ll be out in a minute.” Both you and Abby check yourselves in the mirror, making sure that the two of you look presentable.

“Feeling better?” Abby inquired, placing a hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes.

You nod your head and let out a breath, preparing yourself to go back out. You open the door and you're met with a handful of eyes staring at you as you and Abby exit the bathroom. You smile at the curious people and continue your flight attendant duties.

Abby, on the other hand, walks all the way to first class, finds the man who was tormenting you and whispers into his ear. “If I hear you say another fucking thing about my wife I’ll cut your dick off and make you eat it.” She then pats him on the back and returns to the cockpit, leaving the homophobic man speechless.

#lesbian #lesbians kissing #lets go lesbians #lesbian reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #wlw #sapphic

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queers-gambit · 8 months

Text

Dornish Wine, Weddings, and Bruised Knuckles

prompt: your best friend's getting married and you've got a thing for her brother. during the bachelorette party, you learn maybe your affection wasn't so one-sided after all.

pairing: Modern Aemond Targaryen x female!reader also Helaena Targaryen x Cregan Stark

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 11.1k+

warnings: modern AU, cursing, male-centric aggression, mild violence, (more) against-a-wall smut, author uses writing as therapy so theres way too many details, implied character-age-up (they're all legal to drink), barely edited so be nice, author probably missed some warnings!

Dorne wasn't just the Seventh Kingdom that withheld against conquest the longest, but now extremely notorious for their epic party scene, luxury resorts, sex-positive atmosphere, and overall debauchery. Dorne was lively, Dorne was hip, Dorne was ever-changing and always current. Dorne set trends, created challenge, and showcased their always-evolving lifestyle. Dorne was bright, colorful, tropical, and forever warm to the bone; being the ideal hot-spot for those who had money to spend.

Dorne was where everything happened.

Dorne was the place to be.

Dorne was exactly the thing you needed after finishing an over-worked, grueling finals season at your university.

When you and your best friend met for coffee nearly a full year ago to tell you she and her fiancé were thinking of a destination wedding in Dorne, you felt your excitement spike to never-before-reached heights. You would've been ashamed at how fast you jumped at the chance to travel, but you didn't have the time! You've never been to Dorne, hardly anywhere really, but going to university in the country's capital meant you interacted with a lot of international peers. Many who told you endless stories about their drunken foolishness in the Seventh Kingdom, driving up your interest and want to visit.

And now the time had finally come.

"My family's already there," Helaena told you softly; both sitting in the exclusive first class cabin after boarding the aircraft, "so we'll have transport when we land, so we just have to worry about our luggage."

You nodded at her, "Sounds good."

She offered you a look, laughing, "Just say it - I know you want to."

You glanced up and down the aisle of the plane before quickly squealing and jogging in place, "This is so fucking cool!" Helaena laughed as you calmed down, telling her, "I feel so fucking fancy right now, you have no idea! I can't believe your dad's doing all this!"

You and Helaena were traveling together because you, one, you were her bridesmaid, and two, you had a similar final exam schedule; both pursuing advanced degrees that kept you wildly busy. So her family went ahead to the resort to make sure everything was as it needed to be, and now that you were both done with exams, you were heading for Dorne to kick off 10 full days of wedding shenanigans.

When you calmed down, Helaena asked with a small smirk, "You gonna be okay?" You held up a pill bottle with an eye roll, giving it a shake; emitting a rattle. "Oh, no... No, no, no, no, no, don't take an Ambien. You're gonna be so delierious when we get there!"

"I either drug myself now or you clean anxious puke off your lap later..."

She handed you her water bottle.

The entire craft was in the air within minutes; being able to recline your seat since you were flying fancy, covering up with the blankets the pretty flight attendant offered. With earbuds in, you let Helaena lift the arm rest to lean her head on your shoulder in a snuggle, shutting your eyes, and that was honestly that.

Sure, when you woke, you were groggy and a little confused, but when you remembered where you were, all sleepiness evaporated into vibrating-excitement. You were allowed to disembark first, grab your luggage, and instantly located the sleek, tinted SUV that Helaena's father had sent for you.

Long gone were any Ambien side effects, your heart elated by the sights of Dorne you drove past. Oh, it was all so beautiful. So new. So stunningly busy. "Here!" Helaena beamed, holding her phone up and making you both pose for couple of sillier selfies before smiling sweetly for the camera for another few saved photos.

"Look, look!" You gasped, pointing to the street vendors. "That man actually has a snake on a leash! Holy shit!"

"Pretty normal here, Miss," the driver spoke stoically.

Helaena laughed, "This is so cool! Look, look at those!"

"Oh, we'll have to come back," you grinned, looking at the array of handmade purses and bags another vendor was selling. The rest of the ride was very similar, just the two of you gasping and grinning and pointing out everything you found interesting or alluring.

Upon arrival to the Sun Spear Spa and Resort (and Casino), you were blown away by the immaculate detail and decor. It was open, breathable, modern, and vast. There were three pools, direct and private beach access, six different restaurants, guided tours, several different bars planted in every corner of the resort. The walls were high, and inside, it was like stepping into a whole new world; lush green plants spewing everywhere; glass ceilings that let in all the light; marble flooring and a light perfume in the air.

"Hi," you beamed at the concierge. "We're checking in for the Stark-Targaryen wedding."

"Hi, welcome, welcome to Sun Spear! May I have your names?" The man asked in an upbeat tone, typing when you told him. He smiled and revealed, "The rest of your party has already arrived, but I have here your key cards." He handed Helaena a tiny envelope with her set of keys before offering you the same. After consulting the room numbers, you thanked the man with the name tag 'Robb' before rushing for the elevators.

"Can you believe it!?" Helaena squealed.

"Barely," you laughed, pouting dramatically. "Awh! Feels like yesterday I was introducing you and Cregan. Now we're checked into the resort you're getting married at, and it honestly doesn't feel real yet."

"Maybe it'll sink in later," she mused, moving to enter the elevator when the doors opened - but stuttered in step. "BROTHER!"

You gasped when Helaena surged past you to launch into someone's arms and knock them both half a step back onto the elevator. After a stunned moment, you recognized the long white hair adorned with a leather strap and felt your stomach plummet. You know how people say 'butterflies in my tummy' when talking about the person they like? Yeah, no, the sentiment is understood and appreciated but it's not entirely accurate. It was more like an anxious stomach-sinking feeling; churning, nauseating almost.

You smiled politely when Helaena let go and Aemond glanced up at you. He spoke your name cooly, blinking twice before seemingly remembering where he was. "Here," he offered, reaching out of the elevators to grab your suitcases.

"Thanks," you tried to laugh lightly, luggage all loaded into the death machine.

"'S good to see you," he directed at you, Helaena leaning into his side. "You look nice."

You waved him off, "Oh, you're so sweet, but you're obviously lying. I'm in my airport clothes, just spent, like, 8 hours on a plane, and I know I look as tired as I feel."

"Still," he eased softly, "beauty doesn't know tired." You didn't get to answer his compliment because when you got to Helaena's floor, the doors opened to reveal a grinning Cregan - it being obvious she had texted him and he came to greet her.

"They're so fucking cute," you whispered.

"A little too cute," Aemond answered at the same level; you both sharing a smirk.

After brief greetings to Cregan and parting words to the couple with promises to text everyone later with plans, you and Aemond continued on your way to your floor in the elevator. "You don't have to walk me to my room, you know," you told him softly.

"I know, but what kinda guy passes on the opportunity to aid a pretty lady?"

"Oh, that was smooth," you teased, snorting in amusement. "I'll give you that one."

"C'mon," he eased, the doors opening again and the pair of you striding out. "I'm actually in the room next to you, looks like," he glanced at his own door as you used your key card.

"Good, I'll have someone to help do my hair," you teased, letting him pass because he held everything and you, only your purse. Hey, he offered!

Aemond chuckled, setting your belongings down and dismissing himself, "I'll let you get settled and see you later, yeah?"

"Yeah, I just want to wash the travel off me. Wanna meet in the lobby before dinner tonight?"

"Why don't I just pick you up and we go down to dinner together?"

"Woah, but it's such a long walk for you. I don't want you going out of your way," you snickered, watching his lips twitch in a grin.

"I'll see you tonight, sweetheart."

When Aemond slipped out of your room, you giggled to yourself. You just couldn't help it; hands clasping together in glee and merriment over the banter you exchanged; feeling so very girly, and while so silly, it was a welcomed feeling. And did he ask you out? No, not really, but you couldn't help but romanticize his offer to pick you up before the family dinner that evening.

You ripped open your suitcase and the chaos began; being the only person in your room meaning throwing around what you wanted wherever you wanted without disturbing others. You brought way too many clothes but you were glad you did - needing options for the different events.

You picked an outfit, scurried into the bathroom, gawked at the interior for a long moment (it was a huge bathroom for a single room), and then got the shower turned on to heat up. In the meantime, you laid out your toiletries and products and tools, then stepping into the hot shower and literally moaning from relief.

"Ohhhhh yeaaaah, baby, that's it!" You groaned through a laugh. "Is this what water pressure is? Shit, this is nice. Gods bless it," you turned so the stream was on your chest, humming again. "I can't go home ever again, can I? Nope, probably not. This kind of water pressure would literally injure a child in King's Landing, they'd never allow this kind of luxury."

You tweaked the knob, upping the temperature, and sighing when the steam swirled around you; moaning again. You were unaware that Aemond had double-backed, pausing at your door when he heard you and swallowing harshly. He glanced down and glared at the tent pitching in the front of his jeans, but then you moaned again and his single eye fluttered shut. He retreated to his room before he spent his load right then and there.

You've never done this before, but that shower was so mesmerizing, you were in there for 56 straight minutes - with zero regrets. And now, you had the distinct pleasure to prepare for dinner with your best friend's family; including her brother, who you were deeply attached to; wildly attracted to; and wanted to impress by looking more than good tonight.

You wanted to look delectable. You wanted to look stunning. You wanted to be looked at as if a five-course meal.

With that in mind, you stepped out of the shower and got to work.

Three definitive knocks announced his arrival, and honestly, you could've cried from anxiety. You figured you couldn't wait much longer after doing a fourth once-over in the mirror, couldn't look any better if you tried, and proceeded to yank the door open. "Hey," you chirped, readjusting your earring back.

"Shit," Aemond blinked as his single eye raked you up and down; leather eyepatch matching his leather belt and shoes. His button-up was black, unbuttoned at the top to show off his two thin silver chains, both at varying lengths; wearing easy black jeans.

"Hi," you mused, purse under your arm as you made sure to shut the heavy door after checking your keycard was where you needed it to be. "You look handsome, loving the monochromatic look."

"It's one of the many colors gracing my wardrobe," Aemond teased. "And if anyone should have a compliment, it's you, doll, I mean, just wow," his hand snatched yours to hold onto yours fingers and gave you a twirl while whistling. "This dress is a little short, no? Not that I'm complaining, I just know Aegon..." He teased, still holding your hand to yank you into his side; arm lazily tossing around your shoulders as he moved you off for the elevators.

"Your brother isn't a worry of mine," your eyes rolled, "not since I caught him..."

"Doing?"

"Nothing," you sang, punching the elevator door rapidly.

"Hey, now," he turned you so you were pressed to the cold, metal doors, "if it's about my family, I have a right to know."

"Only if it's dangerous or otherwise," you breathed. "Trust me, he's not in trouble, he's just... Busy...?"

"Where did you catch him?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Does to me."

"You're gonna make fun of him, no."

Aemond sighed, hearing the metal contraption arrive and easily stepped back; pulling you with him just as the doors opened behind you. He simply held your wrists and then drove you backwards, chuckling to himself when you pouted up at him and yanked your hands from his. "Still don't like your personal space invaded, huh?" He laughed, giving you space after hitting the lobby's floor.

"Who the fuck does?"

He nodded in agreement. "Where did you catch Aegon?"

Your eyes rolled, "Nope."

When you arrived in the lobby, you and Aemond were still bickering back and forth; all the way to the restaurant of choice that evening. You ran into Jace and Luke - Aemond's nephews - but didn't wait for them to join you; understanding the tension due to Luke's recklessness costing Aemond's eye.

"Hey," you mumbled to him when he went rigid about the lads, "you're okay. You're gonna be okay, it's okay, just ignore them."

He huffed hot air through his nose, nodding stiffly, and then following you to the reserved "party room" - being a private dining patio. When you arrived, there was a round of cheering, both you and Aemond being greeted, and when you looked, there was only 4 seats - both beside one another.

"Here," Aegon beamed, tugging the chair beside him out.

"C'mon," Aemond whispered, leading you to your chair; pulling it out, offering you to sit before he joined. Before you sat, you greeted Aegon, taking the advantage to whisper in his ear,

"Secret's still safe but Aemond knows something's up." You offered him a pointed look before smiling at Aemond and taking the seat he offered you. Beside you was Aemond and Helaena, and beside him, you and Aegon; Cregan on Helaena's side and Robb Stark on Aegon's other side.

After Jace and Luke arrived, the toasting began. Wine was poured, helpings dolloped to plates, cutlery scraped plates, and over it all, Alicent stood to her feet, "Well," she sighed, nodding at the table, "just let me say: welcome to the wedding of my daughter, Helaena, and her incredible fiancé, Cregan, who I believe has always been meant to join our family. I speak on behalf of my husband," she smiled at her decrepit husband, "Viserys, and I, and we just want to thank everyone who came all this way. Welcome to the start!"

After the obligatory sip, she offered, "Any others?"

The table glanced at one another, so, you stood and cleared your throat. "I'd like to offer a toast," you smiled as Alicent sat. "Watching Helaena and Cregan in the time we've all been friends has truly, truly, truly been a one-of-a-kind experience because how often do you get to witness two people who are meant to be, find each other? Like a puzzle, they are two halves of a whole, and while perhaps a little rough around the edges, still has a perfect fit. Thank you for inviting me, but mostly, thank you, Cregan," you smiled at the groom, "for being a one-of-a-kind man, because our Helaena deserves the absolute best. It brings us all peace and joy to know she will be loved and protected - as she deserves. However," you paused, "I also want to thank Helaena because, as friend to you both, it's been refreshing to see my mate be treated as he deserves, too. To Helaena and Cregan - our perfect puzzle pieces!"

Another round of applause and sips of wine.

Viserys toasted Cregan's strength and Helaena's bravery - saying they made a handsome couple. Something that made Aemond's eye meet your own with soft smiles.

Best man, Harwin Strong, toasted the beauty of young Helaena and how a "sorry sod" like Cregan would never deserve a woman like her, but so long as neither of them forgot that, everything should work out. You felt Aemond's pinky finger reach out to stroke your own resting on the table, and again, you met his gaze with a much shier attention than before.

Sansa Stark thanked everyone for the amazing time so far, loving their generosity and attention to detail. She toasted to loving your best mate first, how that will always make for a much better relationship; and how Helaena and Cregan just make having a relationship look easy, it was truly inspiring. This time, however, Helaena started to tear up a little and you reached into your purse to produce tissues for her; missing the way Aemond stared at you with a longing expression. Yet Aegon did not, nudging his brother and muttering, "Just ask her out already, for fuck's sake. She's not gonna bite."

Aemond swatted him away, taking a much longer pull of wine than the others taking an obligatory sip of wine.

A few others gave speeches, too, but you were drastically annoyed by Jace and Luke, sitting with their girlfriends, all snickering together over any and every congratulatory sound. They thought they were being quiet, yet they were anything but; the entire table eventually hearing them and offering glares that went ignored by the youngsters. You felt tension rolling off Aemond in suffocating waves, frowning when you noted a few Starks exchange unamused looks at the show of blatant disrespect. You were just about to open your mouth to tell them off when all of a sudden, after groomsman, Robb Stark, sat down, Aemond's fist punched the table to aid his standing movement.

He played it off by fluidly lifting his goblet.

"Final tribute," he spoke stoically, staring directly across the table at his nephews, "before we turn to our meals this evening, is hoisted in honor of the entire Targaryen brood. Tonight, we do not mourn the loss of a sister, but the gain of a brother, and I think it only fair we offer the same curtesy they've always shown us - respect."

"Aemond," Alicent warned.

"You've shown us all what love is," he told the couple. "How to keep it alive, how to remain level, patient, kind, resolute, and how to compromise." His eye flickered to yours, continuing, "Making us all envy the connection... The friendship you share, the time spent together - growing and nurturing one another. It's not everyday you're able to marry the right person at the right time," he half smirked, "someone you think understands you better than anyone else." He blinked, then cleared his throat, "And yet, I've always heard there's no bond like that of family - those you share blood with. Tonight, it wasn't Cregan who proved me wrong..."

"Aemond, don't," you mumbled when you heard Helaena sigh sadly.

"Hm," he seemed to change his mind, and instead, raised his cup in the air. "To my sister, the most beautiful bride and her very own Prince Charming - to Helaena and Cregan! May it be a long and happy marriage that we continue to envy through the ages."

"Here, here - "

"But also to our nephews, Jace and Luke," Aemond cut off the responses - the entire table stilling with confusion.

"Us?" Jace asked softly, "What for, Uncle? We are not the ones getting married."

"Well, since you found it appropriate to whispering during every speech, I figured why not just give you the attention you so obviously need."

The younger crowd at the table all oooh'ed in union while the older adults tried to diffuse the tension. You simply reached out to grab Aemond's elbow and pull him back into the chair beside you; frowning when he only smirked. "That wasn't very nice," you reprimanded softly.

"Needed said," he shrugged.

Alicent and Rhaenyra, mother of Jace and Luke, Aemond's older half-sister, were bickering in anger about Alicent's son disrespecting her own - but Alicent countered that Nyra's sons disrespected her daughter by their chattering. The tension melted into the night, everyone moving about their business; seemingly sweeping the tension under the rug, dishing up dinner and starting fresh conversation.

Your own peaceful talk with Cregan's uncle, Ned Stark, was interrupted when you jumped as a hand boldly laid on your mid-thigh. You covered your surprise with a dab of your cloth napkin to your mouth, looking discreetly to the warm fingers grasping your flushing flesh; then trailing your gaze up to the owner of said hand. Aemond casually ate with his other hand, a smirk pulled on his lips; never looking down at you, but wriggling his hand a little to make you squirm.

It felt so fucking good to be touched by him like this.

Even if it was minimal, fleeting; barely there and never-lasting. You savored the feel, the heat, the way a single, simple touch made your stomach twist in knots and heat to flush your skin.

However, when his hand slid up your thigh to push the hemline of your dress - your hand slapped down to halt his movements. You moved his hand back down to your limit, patted twice, and let go, distracted by Ned Stark's alluring baritone, accented voice. He took the hint and only touched you at your limit, still too casual for your liking; leaving you alone in your burning-desire state. If only you knew that Aemond was having just as hard a time as you - thinking you had the softest skin he's ever held before.

Soft, shaved - or is it waxed? - moisturized, and basically calling to him that he needed to get a handful. He helped himself.

You almost moaned when he curled his finger to your inner thigh; an embarrassing gush of arousal seeping from your cunt at the slightest movement from the handsome, silver-haired, one-eyed dickhead known as your best friend's brother. Yet you didn't give him the satisfaction of reacting beyond that, all too happy to listen to the others chatter away. He didn't push you too far, and yet, never once removed his hand - almost entranced by the feel of your warmth.

When dinner was brought out, Helaena and Cregan stood and everyone - yes, everyone this time - silenced themselves to listen. Sitting back in your chair, you slowly let both your hands come around Aemond's one; just holding his forearm as you listened to your besties thank everyone for their efforts and appearance during their nuptials.

When he didn't shy away from your show of silent affection, you let your hand drift to hold his bare wrist; frowning when his arm contracted in movement. However, your frown turned into an easy, relieved smile when he only moved to fold his hand into yours; fingers interlaced, resting on your lap to let your other hand cover your conjoined ones.

"And to my beautiful bride," Cregan purred, turning to Helaena, "I hope this is all you've ever wanted, exactly as you've imagined it... Because giving you the wedding of your dreams is top priority. To see your friends and family come together has been truly incredible, and I hope the rest of these celebrations are exactly that - a celebration as you've always dreamt it'd be. I'd give you whatever you'd ask for, you know," he grinned, the hand in your tightening. When you met Aemond's eye, Cregan continued, "You're all I could've dreamed of, and at the end of this week, we'll have the rest of our lives together - something I only ever thought was possible in my dreams. You're all I want in this life, and I'll spend the rest of ours being worthy of you."

Aemond squeezed your hand, you returning it as you beamed at your best mates kissing; the table cooing at their adorable antics while you snuck a glance at Aemond. His head was cocked down at an angle, smiling down at you, looking all too soft and kind for his usual demeanor. You couldn't look away once you made eye contact, staring at one another, lips slowly curling in a bright grin as his hand tightened in yours.

The following evening breezed in with the tropical wind, and after an hour and a half, you were pecking off room service platters you had delivered and used plastic cups to drink the Dornish sweet wine from the bottle your friend had gone to the bar to get. Sansa Stark made sure your hair was in order before she pulled her long, red strands up in a high-teased ponytail; complimenting the way her bright Tully blue eyes were rimmed in a smudged-liner. You made sure you both ate a significant amount before starting to drink - wanting to loosen up as you finished getting ready together.

She wore something from your closet, you wore something of hers. With everything you needed in your purse, you latched your heels on and took your phones off chargers. "The cabs are here!" Sansa mocked, making you sputter a small laugh. This side of her was a breath of fresh air, knowing that truly, if anyone deserved a feel-good night out, it was Sansa.

So, you made the decision to stay sober - you know, so she could drink under a safe eye. However, after double checking for hotel key cards, ID's, cash, debit cards, the paper bag of bride-to-be merch, and whatever else you deemed necessary, you left the room, and was surprised to see some of the guys leaving their rooms, too.

"Hey," You greeted the best man, Harwin Strong, "what're you guys doing?"

"God daaaaaaamn," he whistled, "lookin' good ladies!" He smirked, looking you up and down, "We're heading out to some clubs and bars, too, princess."

Your eyes rolled in good humor, "Okay, yeah, sure, where are you really going?"

"Out," he nodded, following you to the elevators. "Seriously, there's a couple places we wanna check out. By the looks of things, y'all had the same idea, huh?"

You smiled as Sansa answered, "Yeah, it was last-minute. Kinda like a bachelorette thing."

"That explains all that, huh?" Harwin snickered, pointing at your paper bag.

"Don't be a hater 'cause you didn't think of it," you teased.

He hummed, "You both look really gorgeous tonight, by the way. Just incredible, I mean, Sansa, this dress is - just wow!"

Sansa flushed, letting you thank him for you both as she seemed a little tongue-tied. However, when you made it to the lobby, it was a semi-chaotic scene as the entire bridal party had gathered to share mutual rambunctious excitement. After joining in and greeting everyone, you set the paper bag down and started to dress Helaena in the obnoxious bridal garb.

"Here," Sansa giggled, handing out different paraphernalia to each lady, "just for a few pictures!"

Nobody objected. Robb had no problem taking a load of photos; some with you all posing and others more candid. It was all in good fun, the cab driver even offering to take a large group photo of the entire bridal party; encouraging a few different poses and giving you a thumbs up when done.

"Hey," Aemond approached you as you stood to the side and texted your mother, assuring everything was okay on your vacation, "haven't seen you since dinner last night."

"I know," you pouted lightly, "I'm sorry I've been a little MIA, we had an all-day spa day today."

"And here I was thinking you were avoiding me, huh?" He mused, but you heard the underlying insecurity to his voice.

"Not even close to the truth, Aems," you promised.

"So, uh," he glanced at the guys before back at you, asking, "it's just you ladies going out tonight, right?"

"Mhm," you nodded, trying not to break apart under his gaze.

"Without... Someone there?"

"I mean, we'll all be there, looking out for each other," you offered Aemond a confused smile, "and I'm not drinking, so I'll make sure everyone's safe."

"You think that's a good idea?"

"Why not?"

"New country plus drinking, I mean, sounds pretty accident-prone."

"We'll be okay, I'll stay sober and keep an eye out, make sure nobody breaks an ankle or two like last Halloween."

He looked at the bridal party, musing, "You're going to keep hold of five drunks?"

You paused for a long moment, not putting much thought behind logistics. "I think I can manage," you admitted with uncertainty. "They're not that bad. I mean, Arya's small enough to haul over my shoulder; Helaena never drinks too much, I think I have it covered best I can."

"You know what? I'll just come with you ladies."

"What?" You giggled, thinking you must've misheard him.

"I've already been out with the boys for the bachelor's party. You're one person trying to look after my sister and her friends. Trust me, I think you're gonna need help."

"Between us, who do you think has more experience between wrangling drunk women?"

Aemond just smirked, nodding, "C'mon, we should head out."

Figuring there was no use in arguing, you turned for the minivan and got in after the other girls. After Aemond spoke to Cregan and Robb, he got in the passenger seat, and away you went. "What's he doing here?" Rhea asked cautiously, looking guarded.

"He wants to help keep an eye on us," you smirked.

"So you're gonna keep creepy dudes away from us?"

"Sure," Aemond agreed just as his sister squealed and begged for the radio to be turned up - she absolutely loved this song!

The club had no central lighting in the warehouse styled event room. There were multicolored strobe lights that flickered and pulsed and beat in-time with the loud, blaring music that was dialed to a volume that made the floor vibrate. Trendy music played in remixed playlists, heavy speakers lining most walls that didn't host the VIP sitting area.

Sweaty bodies bumped and ground together.

There was the dance floor. Then the bar lined the entire back wall, bathrooms located to the left and a fire exit to the right. The right most part of the room, stretching wall-to-wall, was an elevated space that had separate, roped-off lounge areas; complete with velvet couches and individual tables.

"Here," Rhea waved you all after her, leading you all right up to the bouncer and being granted access. Heleana looked skeptical as she realized this was some orchestrated event, not liking the idea of being clued-out of the knowing, but still, played along with the luxury treatment. You were seated in the corner booth, and without missing a beat, Sansa was tossing you her purse and yanking Helaena to the bar with the hope that her bride-to-be apparel would earn free drinks.

"This place is nice," Jeyne tried to compliment, but you and the Stark sisters shared a bemused look. "Oh! Goodie!" She squeaked when Sansa and Helaena returned with a full tray of assorted drinks.

"So, they just filled it with all the forgotten drinks," Sansa explained, "and said it was on the house 'cause of Helaena's bachelorette shit."

"Well then," you smirked, reaching for a single shot, "a toast!" Everyone reached for a drink and hoisted it in the air. "To our dear, sweet love, Helaena, and her saying 'I do' to one helluva guy! May this marriage be long, prosperous, adventurous, and full of the love you deserve! To Helaena!"

"And Cregan!" The bride slipped in as everyone echoed their toasts to the soon-to-be-married couple. You had your one shot, and while the others filled up, you and Aemond just watched them. Jeyne, Rhea, and Sansa scurried off together, Arya seeing someone she apparently knew and running off with them, and Helaena was looking at you with a dramatic pout. "Come dance with me," she whined. "I let you convince me to come out tonight, so you have to dance with me! Before I'm a spoken-for woman!"

Aemond smirked when you spared him a look as if to beg him to rescue you, but being unable to because his sister was adamant to get you on your feet.

Everyone was buddied up and accounted for; leaving Aemond alone at a reserved table. However, he didn't mind watching purses if it meant he could turn mutely to watch the dance floor, and while the lights made it hard, his eye caught sight of you.

Helaena was having the absolute time of her life, and the women around her all seemed blissfully distracted by the alcohol in their systems. He watched you. His eye did not stray, until he realized that while he could see you, so could every other wanton eye roaming the hazy room. Aemond glanced around and saw a few VIPs smoking, figuring it was okay to light up. Out of defensive anxiety, he pulled a cigarette carton from his pocket, tapped a single filtered death stick out, fingered his lighter before pausing to light, inhale, and return his gaze back onto you.

You were lost in the music, evident that all you ladies needed some stress relief after the whirlwind that is wedding planning. He knew you weren't drinking, but seeing you laugh and toss you arms up, rolling your hips in rhythm to the music, he knew you didn't need a single drop to have a good time. He thought that was admirable, incredibly rare these days. In Aemond's experience, college kids had a hard time saying no to alcohol, and the fact that you did it so willingly felt like whiplash.

Aemond stood and neared the guard railing of the elevated section he was stationed on. His shoulder leaned into a steel support beam, staring at you for several long moments while casually smoking; perking up only a degree when you told the girls something and then started moving through the throngs of people.

You pushed up to the bar and the bartender almost immediately took your order. He figured all seemed well enough because you weren't moving from the bar yet, his gaze shifting to scan the building.

Bodies were pressed together at every inch, the smell of sweat and spilt alcohol seemingly permanently perfuming the air. It was hard to see, but after adjusting, he could make out a few faces. Nobody seemed too hair-raising, nothing suspicious, nothing out of the ordinary...

Until his eyes returned to you. The bartender was distracted doing their job, and instead of you standing peacefully, there was some guy obviously trying to flirt with you. He seemed desperate for a conversation, Aemond almost cringing from a distance as he could only imagine what kind of terrible pick-up lines this guy was using. He felt ready to move into action, but the moment the thought entered his mind, Aemond saw you gather the glasses from the bar, turn, and quite literally ignore the blonde man - who stared after you with a gobsmacked expression. Aemond smirked when the man turned to complain to his friends; holding a drink in one hand as the other gestured angrily after you.

The man's friends got a glimpse of you and laughed, slapping their friend's chest; and Aemond hoped one of them told him that a girl as pretty as you was lightyears ahead of his league.

Aemond relaxed when you returned to the party, taking a long drag when you distributed drinks to your friends. Arya had come back around with her friend, the group mingling and enjoying their new acquaintances. He noted you were empty handed, flagging a waitress down; the VIP section apparently having the luxury of being waited on to avoid the long waits at the bar. He quietly requested two bottles of water be delivered - unsealed - to their table.

His attention returned to the bridal party, only to watch a few guys join your group. Sansa and Rhea ate up the attention; leaving Jeyne and Helaena to dance alongside Arya and her friend, as the same guy from the bar holding your conversation hostage. You still looked disinterested; stoic and cold; body language assuring Aemond that you weren't receptive to the stranger. You flinched in discomfort when he had to lean in to shout in your ear just to be heard over the music, but your eye rolls told Aemond you wouldn't listen even if in a silent library.

Something in the interaction made him annoyed. It wasn't jealousy that someone was paying attention to you, standing so close and intimately; invading your space. It was something else. He could tell you weren't interested in whatever was being said, and when you turned from the man once again, obviously dismissing him to dance with Helaena and Jeyne, Aemond could see offense paint the man's face. It wasn't jealousy, but perhaps something akin to protectiveness after witnessing the way the man had approached you at the bar, and now, again, on the dance floor.

Without a single thought, Aemond was pushing off the beam and dropping his cigarette to crunch under his boot the moment the stranger reached for your upper arm to whip you around aggressively; snarling and scolding you. Aemond easily slotted through the sweaty crowd, not entirely barging through them but not exactly waiting for them all to part for him. The stranger was sneering something at you, demanding an apology for blowing him off (twice) so rudely, but you were snapping that it was rude to bombard you. To pester disinterested women. To impose. To approach an entire group of women and ruin the good vibe by simply being an intrusive, entitled man. The blonde man was just in the middle of snarling in your face how much of a "catch" he was when Aemond arrived, and without truly thinking, he reached out and tore the man away.

Aemond, while decently lanky and skinny, was ripped with defined muscle and when his anger was flared up, he was near unstoppable. So, in reality, the stranger would've been moved whether sober or not, but because this man was drunk, he nearly toppled over. As the stranger scrambled off the floor, Aemond stood protectively in front of you with his anger almost palpable, barking, "She told you to fuck off, mate."

"Oh-ho! Got a big man here, do we!?" The blonde stranger raged, his pale flesh turning a bright red from his anger and alcohol consumption. "You wanna have a go, mate, I'll fuck you up right here! Right now! Fuck you think you're doin', touchin' me like that, you fuckin' prick!?"

"She's not interested," Aemond stood his ground, "and you need to walk away - right fucking now."

"Over some stuck-up whore who won't even accept a drink? She's that much of an up-tight bitch? Too full of her-fucking-self? Man, you're wasting your time, chicks like that don't know a nice guy even when he hits her."

"As if any woman in their right mind would accept a drink from you," Aemond sneered, looking the man up and down. "You got ears? You speak the Common Tongue? Turn around and fuck off - the ladies aren't interested."

"Like I'm listening to some one-eyed, pussy-boy - "

"Aemond!" You yelped, shoving yourself in front of him when you saw the impending danger. You knew his injury was off-base; not a topic of conversation anyone dare engage in. The fact this stranger honed in on it so easily was triggering in the worst way imaginable. "Hey, hey, hey, he's not worth it. Hey, c'mon, don't let it get to you this bad. It's okay. Aemond, c'mon, let's just walk away."

"Listen to your bitch, mate! She's not even fuckin' worth it! What kind of a guy wants to parade around with some whore? Wearing something like that for everyone to see! What's wrong, princess?" He directed at you. "He don't give you enough attention? Huh? You gotta find it anywhere else, don't'cha, why else dress like that - huh!?"

By now, a small crowd had formed and the blonde, drunk stranger was being egged on and riled up by his mates. "Don't," you repeated to Aemond, perfectly all too used to men's reaction when women reject them or simply didn't get what they want.

"Walk away," Aemond repeated, his veiny hands moving to hold your arms as if it would physically restrain him; your hands on his waist to keep him anchored.

"Man, what the fuck ever. Not even worth it," he scoffed.

"Then why do you keep talking?" Sansa drunkenly snapped from behind Aemond's broad shoulders.

"Fuck did you say, bitch!?"

Aemond sighed and tugged you behind him, stepping up to the drunk blonde man; lowering his tone to mutter something as he stood between you ladies and the lads in tacky Hawaiian-print button-ups. You're not sure what was said, but Aemond seemingly had the last word; watching him turn back for you lot and instantly start checking that each of you was truly okay.

Aemond gently caressed Helaena's cheek, muttering, "You good?"

She nodded, but then, her eyes widened and she squeaked when the stranger charged Aemond from behind, shouting his name in warning. "Shit!" You yelped when he dodged out of the way just as the man threw a wild punch.

Nobody could've stopped the fight if they tried.

You made sure to herd the women close as Aemond dodged two more throws, his long platinum hair swinging as it fell out of its bun before he found his opportunity. Aemond strategically waited until the blonde stranger was open to throw his weight behind his fist colliding with the drunk man's cheekbone.

The crowd of people around you all 'ooohed' in union, wincing when Aemond, again, knocked his fist into the man's jaw and, again, sent him sprawling to the floor. One of the friends managed to sneak in and land a blow on Aemond's cheek, but his head only barely turned with the impact. His eye locked onto the new target, and not a minute later, the other guy was nursing a broken nose.

Aemond glanced around for any other contenders, sighing when there were none - just a cloud of jeering drunks voicing their approval towards the violence. "Hey," you begged again, his eye finding your worried face, "you done now? Can we get you cleaned up?"

Sansa stepped up, stating, "We can go if you guys want - we don't have to stay!"

"No, just... Stay outta trouble," Aemond sighed. "I'll be up there," he gestured back at the elevated VIP section. You hated seeing him shoulder his way through the rowdy crowd who had already forgotten about the fight.

You shook your head, grabbing Helaena's arm and leaning into her ear, "I'm gonna check on Aemond. Don't go anywhere, stay with the girls!"

"I will!" She agreed, letting Arya push another shot in her hand. You turned and grumbled when bodies began bumping into you instantly; your jaw clenched to keep upright. You had to eventually shove a few people out of your path, but didn't care, jogging up to the VIP section and looking around. When you got back to your table, Aemond was sitting with his head tilted back, eye closed, smoking another cigarette, ice on his slightly reddened hand.

"Aemond?" You checked, announcing your presence as you took the seat beside him; scooting closer. "The fuck was that? Gettin' in fights in the club, Alicent wouldn't be proud," You spoke gently, readjusting his ice so it was actually over the swollen area.

"Just guys being dudes, dudes being guys," he mused, free hand holding his cigarette to speak as he exhaled. "Why're you up here?"

"I wanted to check on you."

"I'm fine, you can go back - "

"Aemond," you snipped, "I'm fine here. I needed a break, and I wanted to check on you."

He nodded towards the table, "Water's for you."

You glanced over, finding the two water bottles amongst an array of items on the tabletop. One unopened, the other cracked and partially drank. "Thank you," you spoke sincerely, waiting until his eye met yours, "for the water and for defending me back there. I owe you one."

"I only did what a gentleman should do," he sighed.

"Wasn't worth bruising your knuckle, was it?"

"I'd actually say it was necessary," he spoke like it was easy. You hated that, how he seemed fluent in flirting but you knew he wasn't really. Why would he? Aemond Targaryen made 'being perfect' look fucking perfect.

You were quiet for another moment before you blurted out, "It was pretty hot, I have to admit. Seeing you defend my honor."

He eased his cigarette to an ashtray, speaking clearly, "Wasn't gonna let him touch you." You thought that was final and just smiled softly, but then Aemond finished, "Wasn't about to let any man touch what's mine."

"Yours, huh?"

He smirked, "Why not?" His now free hand landed on your bare thigh; dress riding up when you sat down to give him access to your spa-waxed legs. "You anyone else's?"

"I'd like to think women aren't possessions."

"Yet you're the one prize I fucking need," his hand squeezed. "Don't even know what kinda gem you are, do you?"

"I think your adrenaline's got you talkin' crazy," you tried to deflect, giggling lightly. But his hand squeezed again, making you look up to meet his gaze.

"I know what I want. And I know," his hand slid up to ease up the curve of your ass, "that I'm done denying my want for you."

"Aemond," you felt drunk on his presence.

"Tell me to stop, doll, and we won't ever have to talk about it again. But if you can't," he palmed your flesh, "and you want this, too - "

Your hand grabbed his wrist to stop him, pulling his hand from under your dress, "Helaena's my best friend, and you're her brother. This is... The most taboo situation we could entertain right now."

"Hmm," he pulled his hand back, making you instantly snatch it back.

"But I can't tell you I don't feel it, too." Aemond's eye glittered in the strobe lights, feeling him pull your legs so you were nearly sat on his lap; legs laid over his so he could fully touch your thighs again. "But we can't, i-it would - this would take away from Helaena - we can't."

"I don't see her here right now," he purred, leaning in close to breath in your neck. "Tell me how long you've wanted me."

"Aemond."

"Keep sayin' my name, baby, but it doesn't answer my question."

You only managed to answer, "Too long," in a quivering voice before,

"HEY!" Sansa slurred, beaming brightly from over Rhea's shoulder as they stumbled up; giving just enough time for you and Aemond to separate. "I know you guys! Oh! I know them! Look! It's our friends!"

Rhea Royce, being just-as-drunk, gasped, "I know them, too! Oh, bless the Seven! We know you!"

"Hi," you laughed, eyeing them all with full amusement, "everyone doing okay?"

"I called our ride, they're up the street - they can't get down here 'cause of traffic," Jeyne informed with a pant, Helaena and Arya held to her body. You smiled at Aemond before getting up to gently take Helaena's weight from Jeyne, who breathed, "Thank you so much. C'mon, our ride's up there - "

Aemond grunted as he stood and offered his water to Rhea, assisting the ladies in keeping their balance in sticky-soled heels. You handed Sansa your unopened water as you held onto Jeyne, watching Aemond help Arya, Rhea, and Helaena - who needed his support.

It was a shit-show getting the group in another minivan; the only relief being when they were bribed with tacos. The ride to the resort was a total 180 compared to the ride out, as everyone knocked out except you and Aemond. A couple of times, you wondered if you should speak first but never did - being vulnerable isn't your forte.

You know what you would rather do than wrangle in five drunk girls? Specifically after a bachelorette party? Declaw wet cats. Contract measles. Be hit by a bus. Learn how to speak Latin (a dead language, for those who don't know). Go to Vegas with your entire lifesavings and lose it all. Use pliers to yank a tooth out - no dentist or anesthesia used (Ron Swanson style).

Anything would be better than this.

It took the better part of an hour for you to get all the girls out of the van, through the resort, and into Jeyne's border-line empty hotel room. Empty because the sweet, party girl from Northern University didn't unpack, and was the cleanest; the perfect place to dispose of everyone. Aemond was as helpful as ever, but he didn't do much past helping you get the women in bed; unsure how to help past that. From there, you did the rest: took off any shoes and / or glasses, plugged phones in, left water bottles and a bottle of Advil in view, and shut the curtains to grant them deliverance when the sun rose.

When done, you and Aemond snuck out of the room quietly and let the door shut behind you; leaving you in the hall. "I put Sansa's phone on FaceTime with mine," you showed him, "in case one of them throws up or needs something, and left it on the charger."

"So we should get you to your charger, right?"

"Oh," there was teasing to your tone, "worried about my battery running low?"

"Just wondering if your batteries can go all night," he smirked, picking up on your innuendo.

"Oh, good one," you teased, watching him smirk. "Thanks for helping tonight. It was nice having you watching our back."

"Yeah?"

You beamed, nodding, "For sure. I could tell Helaena had a blast."

"Good, 's what I care about," he nodded. "Listen," he cleared his throat, "I, uh... I have to make a confession."

"Aemond Targaryen wants to tell me a secret?" You teased, facing him in full-interest. "Please," you encouraged, gesturing for him to go-on.

His tongue wet his lips swiftly, "I know you're Helaena's friend and you say it's wrong, but I just... I tried not to have these feelings for you, but I can't stop them."

You smiled, "Aemond, that's the alcohol talking."

"What if I said I didn't have any?"

You blinked in mild shock, offering quietly, "I'd say you were delirious from dehydration or something. It was really hot in there, must've been sweating a lot, or maybe it's your adrenaline again!

"Why is it so far fetched for you to think I could have honest feelings for you? Truly, have you thought this was just a one-way street?"

"You're Helaena's brother," you spoke softly, sadly, "and maybe we're just - I don't know - not thinking clearly! We need to cool off - "

"No, no, I don't need to cool off, you see, because I'm thinking the clearest than ever before," Aemond shook his head, reaching for your shoulders to squeeze, and move down to hold your upper arms, squeeze again, then down to just above your elbow. "I feel as if I don't say it now, I might lose the nerve later. I've always admired you, sweetheart, and I know it's wrong, I know it's taboo and scares you, I know I'm your best friends brother, but I can't help it. You're just - this - like - fucking incredible person, who is loyal and wise and strong and knowing and open and sweet and empathetic and wickedly intelligent - "

You cut him off by surging into his arms; chest to chest, lips locked together in a passionate exchange of fierce, over-boiled emotion without a single thought towards further repercussions. There was tongue, there was teeth, there was an-ever spreading warmth that stretched from your cheeks to your toes. Aemond tasted just like he semlled - sweet, salty, just the right amount of spicy. He let you lock your hands in his hair, always knowing your affinity for his long silver mane; tugging the strands you managed to get ahold of gently to cause Aemond to moan while sucking on his domineering tongue.

Aemond was losing his mind; infected with all you were, all you are, all you would, could, and should be. The way you made him feel, the obvious care you put into others, the sweet, innocent look in your eye replaced by a haze of lust - all thanks to him. For a moment, Aemond's mind felt numb before it jolted back into reality, realizing he was kissing you. You. You were kissing him, he was kissing you. His dear, sweet, kind, ever-so-perfect sister's best friend, you - he was kissing you and you were kissing him back. Sure, he dreamt of this happening about a few dozen times but the real thing was tenfold what he ever imagined.

Holy Seven, he was kissing you.

"I take it," he panted, breaking apart before surging in for another taste of your pouting lips, "you might feel..." another kiss and a small moan, "feel the same?" He pulled back to look in your eyes, but when you didn't answer him, Aemond teased, "Oh, c'mon, princess, tell me you feel the same. Tell me I'm not makin' a fool of myself, that we're not just runnin' high from the club's fumes."

"No," you promised, "you are no fool, Aemond Targaryen; far from it, in fact. I, too, feel whatever this is, whatever is emotional, tangible, physical between us, I feel it, too, and I want you - oh!"

He didn't need to hear anything more, suffocating you in another kiss, and this time, you let him control the motions because you were unsure how far this would - or should - go. His hands squeezed over your hips, turning, and pushing you against the wall just a few steps behind you. Your moan was meek, released into his mouth; loving Aemond's taste on your tongue; and for now, you simply forgot he was your best friend's brother. Or ignored the fact.

"Shit," he panted, looking down at you before glancing down the hall, "listen, listen, listen, baby, hey, if we keep goin', I might not stop." He offered a small shrug, "Ready to bust right here, right now, if I'm honest, but I'd rather be inside you."

You considered his words for a moment; waiting for his gaze to return to you before voicing your opinion. Feeling inexplicably turned on by his earlier actions to defend you, bruising his knuckles on a stranger's jaw; how he called you his, how he touched you, and when his single violet eye turned back to you, you surprised yourself by your words, "Better make it quick, then."

Aemond smirked, "You want me to fuck you, here? Against the wall?"

"Maybe," you answered softly, letting your hand reach out to palm over his swelling cock; hearing his breathing catch and continuing, "only if you can be quick so we aren't caught and slapped with an indecent exposure charge."

Aemond did not hesitate to swoop down and slam his lips to yours; pushing his hips forward so he could grind into your palm. Hands roamed to touch, caress, squeeze until they secured your hips in a bruising grip, then dipping low to suddenly grab your thighs and hoist you up. As if you weren't turned on enough, the obvious show of strength and ease in which he held you made your cunt contract over nothing; dampening to an embarrassing level. You couldn't remember the last time someone made you feel so frantic; so animalistic; so feral that you needed to be fucked right here, right now, in this hall that was so very public.

But that was the fun: having a frenzied fuck with the looming threat someone might catch you.

You moaned like a wanton bitch in heat, core pressed against his straining member and only imaging what the feel of him would be. A whimper was ripped from your throat, gasping as Aemond grew to a knew height of desperation; turning a degree more aggressive in the way he pressed close to you, teeth scraping your lips. It was like he was trying to suck your soul through your mouth; tongues battling, hands sliding around one another as if unsure where to hold. You settled on his cheeks, finding the chiseled features alluring enough to grip; his securing your waist and base of your ribcage in a bruising grip, both moaning in pleasure and need.

"Gotta keep it down, pretty girl," he muttered with a smirk, holding you expertly so he could grind his harden, black-jean-covered member to your ever-dampening core. "Don't wanna get caught, huh? Disturb the peace, have someone hear us," he breathed against your lips, "come outta their room to check?"

You whimpered.

"Oh," he chuckled darkly, pulling back only just to look at you, "my pretty girl would like that, huh? Always knew you were a fuckin' freak."

His lips were on yours as you pawed as his belt and jeans. Aemond chuckled into the kiss, readjusting his hold on you to help; and the moment the garment was loose, you shucked his jeans to mid-thigh. All the while, Aemond leaned back in to smother your neck and shoulder with his searing-hot, teeth-raking kisses; uneven breathing making you tremble when each exhale covered your saliva-coated skin to send a shiver through your muscles.

"Aemond," you begged, riding up your dress to expose your soaking-wet, black lace thong, "just need you - now. Please, please, we don't have time for begging."

"Gotta warm you up - "

"I've been warm since you shoved that guy off me," you rushed, whimpering, "please, okay? Just fuck me. I need it, I need you. Take your time with me later, but for right now, just fuck me - I need you to fill me, Aemond."

"I gotta condom - "

"I'm on birth control - that NuvaRing is fuckin' incredible," you laughed, hearing him hum in amusement as his teeth latched down on your bottom lip enough to encourage you into another tongue-wrestling session.

After a moment, Aemond grinned and glanced down to push away any lingering fabric, lips licking yours messily; grabbing hold of his cock to line up at your core. Never before had you felt "dripping" for any man, but Aemond wasn't just any man. No, in your mind, he was The Man.

No warning was necessary for him to snap his hips forward; sheathing his hot, leaking cock in your sopping warmth in one fluid motion; piercing you. He praised in your ear, "Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," before sharing a moan; yours from absolute pleasure, and his from sheer relief. He's wanted this longer than you have, which felt impossible, but the truth was the truth. Aemond's been in love with you for what felt like an impossible amount of time.

"Shit," you begged, teeth scraping the shell of his ear, "hang on, hang on, hang on." You whimpered, "You're so fuckin' big - just a moment, please, hang on."

"'S all right, love. Take your time. I got you," he soothed, unfazed by your repeated pawing around his neck to keep your balance; sweaty palms catching his hair a few times. "Just fuckin' feel me, baby," he groaned in your ear, "and how full you feel. So fuckin' tight," he grit.

You whimpered.

The thing is, you've fucked your share of men (and women) before, but Aemond was something Godly. You felt disappointed you didn't get to physically see his glory, nor have it in your mouth, but figured there was time to admire him like a painting in the Louvre later. For now, you could only understand that Aemond was by far the biggest you've had; both in size and girth. You shuddered at the feeling of him filling you to the brim, whispering, "M-Move, please, move, just start moving, oh, my Gods. Y'Feel so fuckin' good, shit, Aemond, baby, you feel - Godsdamnit, you feel so fucking good."

Aemond did as you asked, moving his hips to drag his cockhead along your quivering walls to collect your wetness, only to push right back in; creating a languid pace as to allow you accommodation. His teeth grit tightly, "No idea what it feels like for me, sweet girl. Fuck. Who got you this wet? Huh? Who got you here? Fuckin' tell me, baby, who got you like this?"

"You, Aemond. Always you, baby, always gettin' me wet - so fuckin' wet," you babbled. "Don't even have t'do shit t'get me goin', 'M always so ready for you to have me." You felt a scream build and Aemond must've seen it because he offered you a stern look as he humped quickly into you. "Quick and quiet, right?" You complained with wide eyes, swollen lips; the perfect pout that would get you whatever you wanted from the middle Targaryen.

"Jus' for right now, can get as loud as we want later, huh?" He hissed, groaning as he readjusted his stance to increase his speed. "Hold on, princess, just hold onto me, I got us, almost there," his lips ghosted your neck before letting his teeth gnash your flesh in a show of messy dominance. "Good fuckin' girl, yes, yes," Aemond grit, flexing his jaw when he felt your arms tighten, "just hold on fa'me - can't get enough of this. Huh? Hear me? Can't ever go back, princess, not when I've had you like this - jus' fuckin' made f'me, Godsdamnit - yes, yes, yes, there's my girl, good girl, so fuckin' good for me. Shit, I don't wanna cum, I just wanna feel this pussy for as long as possible, but I can't hold it, baby, shit, I can't hold it anymore."

Your moans and grotesque sounds of Aemond's balls slapping your leaky cunt filled the hall; your mind only briefly registering the idea for a moment to let you glance up and down the hall to ensure your "privacy". Words failed you, your lungs heaving in short puffs; gripping his shoulders as if it would keep you anchored, but the truth was, his forceful hips were sending you up the fucking wall.

"Ae-Aemond," you begged brokenly, reaching for your clit and only needing to add minimal pressure; ready to shatter from the harsh thrusts your one-eyed lover provided. "I-I-I'm there. I'm there, baby, please, oh, shit!" You felt a sob lodge in your throat.

"Cum on my cock, princess," he demanded as your head tilted back to bang into the wall, sinking his teeth deep into your pulse point when exposed. "Lemme feel you, love, c'mon, just let it go. Show me - " he felt the trickling of your cum squirting out in a rare display, "oh-ho-hoooo, look at that, yes, yes, there's my good fuckin' girl. That's it, fuckin' soak me, there it is - shit, shit, oh, fuck. Grippin' me so fuckin' tight without anythin' needin' to be said. Good girl," he grunted, feeling as if stabbing through you with the way he thrusted and jackhammered his cock into your tightening cunt with each word.

Your tongue flattened against his neck, hearing his groan, and when your mouth closed down to lock your teeth over his pale flesh, sure to leave a red mark, Aemond gave a final grunt. He shuddered; hands bruising your skin as his hips stuttered once, twice, and stilled against you. Your nether region blossomed with his warmth, your lungs panting to catch your breath; feeling full as Aemond barely deflated inside you.

"Shit," you whispered.

"Yeah," he gaped in agreement, gulping harshly. "You all right, love?"

"Mhm," you nodded against him, nuzzling his cheek with your nose. "You?"

"So fuckin' good," he chuckled, glancing down the hall. "I gotta set you down, baby, 'M cramping a little. Easy does it, just hold onto me," he spoke soothingly, pulling his cock out and easing you to your feet while holding onto his neck and shoulders. "Keep my cum right there," he smirked down at you, readjusting your panties over your swollen cunt before tugging your dress back down; giving a playful slap to your clit that made you jump a little from the overstimulation. "Don't let a drop out, hmm?"

"Take that up with gravity, I got nothin' to do with it," you whined, leaning on the wall for full-support. After situating his cock back and yanking his boxers and jeans back up, Aemond dropped to a knee before you.

"Here," he whispered, lifting one of your legs to ease your shoe off. You smiled, holding onto his shoulders as he helped you remove both shoes; standing to his full height again. He looked nervous for a moment, mouth opening but closing as words evaded him.

You took mercy, smiling, "Aemond?"

"Yeah, princess?"

"Would you like to spend the night with me?"

He smirked, chuckling, "Yeah, think I would."

"Good. You get to carry me, then." Aemond grinned and moved before you realized what he was doing, swooping you into his arms. You giggled girlishly, "I need my stuff!" He glanced down at the floor to spy your shoes, purse, phone. Aemond grunted as he lowered in a squat, letting you collect your things to rest in the cradle of your belly, snickering, "You're such a show off."

"This is why we don't skip leg-day, pretty girl," he smirked, "or core day, or arm day..."

"We get it, you work out! But weren't you cramping up a minute ago?"

"Yeah, but that was then."

As he walked towards the elevator, you both heard a door open and peaked over to see one of Aemond's distant, great-uncles peaking out in confusion. "Did you guys hear that?" The older man asked hoarsely, obviously disgruntled from being woken up. "What's all that racket? We thought we could expect for a little sleep!"

You felt embarrassment flush your system, a hand slapping over your mouth - but Aemond covered, "Sorry, Uncle, the wedding parties went out drinking. Got them all safe in their rooms, except this one, though. Sorry for the noise."

He smiled, nodding as if in relief, "You're a good boy, Aemond. She all right?"

"Yes, just a little too much to drink," he chuckled, your free hand reaching over to pinch his nipple through his shirt as your other hand now hid an amused smile. "Goodnight, Uncle, there won't be other disturbances tonight."

When the elevator arrived, Aemond stepped on as this distant relative shut his door again, and as the elevator doors shut, you shared a look before bursting out in laughter. "I don't think I can face him at the wedding now," you whined lightly.

"Why not?"

"I literally have your cum dripping outta me - "

"I told you to keep it in."

You smirked, "I guess you're just gonna have to punish me, then, huh? You never did like being disobeyed, now, did you?"

Aemond laughed, his single lilac eye scanning over your face; slowly dropping in serenity. "What're we doing, baby? Hmm?" He asked quietly.

"Going to my room - "

"You know what I mean," he sighed almost sadly. When you arrived at your floor, he walked out of the elevator as you answered,

"You and I know we have feelings for each other. So, for tonight, it's just us... And we'll decide when to tell the others after we decide what it is to tell them."

"Probably best after the wedding..."

You smiled as you arrived at your hotel door, "Well, I was kinda hoping you'd be my date to the wedding?"

Aemond looked down at you with a softening expression. "Yeah?" He chuckled slightly as you opened your clutch to pull out your keycard, but his hands tightened to earn your full attention once the plastic was in your hand. "I'd... Actually really like that, too, sweetheart," he hushed, hoisting you in for another frantic kiss. The door beeped when it opened, closing with a heavy bang behind you both; forgetting Sansa was left on FaceTime... Too distracted by both being obviously turned on, it seemed, by emotional intimacy.

Perhaps not so one-sided, indeed...

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

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sunlightmurdock · 6 months

Text

Ashes, Ashes | Prologue | Bradley Bradshaw

masterlist | next chapter

Six days after Maverick’s disappearance, Bradley isn’t quite whole anymore. But, there isn’t time to crumble.

warnings: : age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, extra warnings to be added chapter by chapter. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

“Rooster, those bandits are closing. We can’t go back.”

“Rooster, he’s gone. Maverick’s gone.”

It’s a stomach-sick, sweat inducing kind of fever that lingers now on this mild morning. Breeze blowing across his skin, patterned and rhythmic, reminding him every now and again to breathe.

It has been exactly six days since Pete Mitchell was declared missing in action. Six days since a missile meant for Bradley hit Pete’s plane and sent the sixty-five million dollar aircraft spiraling into miles and miles of desolate, freezing forest. Bradley has slept four times in those six days, and each time he has, his subconscious reminds him of exactly what he is responsible for

Today is a relatively chilly morning in May, and Bradley is sitting on the front step of a cottage near Bird Rock in northern San Diego. Today is the first day since he got home three and a half days ago that he has left his apartment. Natasha stayed over last night. She has stayed over every night. She slept by his side, on top of his covers, just holding his hand. When he was in the shower this morning, she laid out his clothes for him. She hasn’t ever known him to be this quiet. Ever.

He hasn’t said much at all since they got back. Natasha knows that he’s picturing himself alone in that forest. Dead, or worse.

Now, she sits at his side and rubs soft circles on his shoulder over the black fabric of his t-shirt. He would do it for her, if she was the one going through this. She would be too stubborn to listen to him too. They have known each other since flight school. Natasha got so drunk the first Friday that Bradley spent his entire first Friday holding her hair back while she threw up.

The next day, Bradley embarrassed himself so badly in front of a girl he liked that he almost quit just so that they wouldn't have to see each other again. After that, they have remained pretty close. Especially now, when they need each other.

“Rooster, no one expects you to be here right now — you went through something awful out there.” She says it one last time anyway, even though she knows that it won’t change a single thing.

That’s one of the reasons that their friendship is so strong — sometimes a person just has to do what they have to do, Bradley and Natasha respect that sentiment. Even if it means texting back a no-good ex, or staying out a little too late on a work night now and again. Each other’s best interests are always at heart, but it’s human to not put yourself first now and again.

Bradley hasn’t sat on the steps of Maverick’s two bedroom beach cottage since he was thirteen. Right before Maverick pissed off an admiral and got shipped out somewhere crazy, somewhere cold — he can’t remember exactly where anymore, he never wrote a letter there. Right before he started only seeing Maverick on holidays and special occasions, the occasional baseball game.

Pete bought this place back in the eighties. He got it for a steal. A craftsman bungalow three blocks from the beach, with two bedrooms and a small yard. He had wanted to be close to Carole, and he had just gotten married. Bradley’s memories of Charlie are faint, but he knows that her father helped Pete with the down payment. Maverick hated him for that. His first and, as it happened, only marriage hadn’t lasted very long. Two or three years, maximum. She was gone before Bradley finished second grade, anyway.

The spare room here used to be Bradley’s. Back when his mom worked weekends at a hotel in La Jolla, and he and Pete would take Friday night trips to Blockbuster every week. He hasn’t even been inside yet. He can’t imagine how much the interior would have changed since those weekends back in the nineties.

Glancing down at the IWC clock face on his wrist, the big hand has been creeping up on ten o’ clock for what feels like hours by now. Breeze sweeps a strand of Natasha’s hair off of her face. She leans against her best friend, her palm trailing to the middle of his back.

Natasha has two parents. They definitely don’t see eye-to-eye often, but she knows where they are. It’s a Sunday, they’ll be at Costco. She has a sister who gets on her nerves but adores her nonetheless, Leona will be at a spin class this morning. None of the people she loves are missing. If one of them were, she would have others to lean on.

For Bradley, it’s just her now.

“I can’t let her turn up to an empty house.” Bradley’s voice comes out more hoarse than either of them is expecting it to. He hasn’t cried yet. He keeps thinking he might, the urge is there, but the tears just don’t come.

Bradley doesn’t even know you. Not really. Not even when he was a kid. It’s been sixteen years since Bradley was even on speaking terms with Maverick. But now, everything’s different. He has a debt that he’ll never repay.

It has been six days. If Maverick survived the initial hit, and the ejection, then he has still been out in the snow for six days. Probably injured. Alone. Being hunted. He’s gone. And yet, Bradley just can’t — or won’t — grieve him. Moving on isn’t an option.

The person that they are waiting for is yourself. Pete Mitchell’s only child. Bradley doesn’t even know who he’s looking for. The last time he saw you was when you were three years old, staring at him from the backseat of your mother’s blue ford escort with a pacifier in your mouth while your parents argued a few feet away.

Penny Benjamin is the one that contacted you after the initial Navy correspondence. Bradley wouldn’t have even known how. He doesn’t have Maverick’s number any more, much less yours. Back when he knew you, you didn’t even know your numbers. Really he only saw you a handful of times. You hadn’t crossed paths much. Your mother lived up near Oregon. She was a waitress. Most of the time Pete drove up to see you, or the weekends that you visited him, Bradley would stay with a neighbour.

He bows his head just slightly, elbows rested on his parted knees. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn sweats. He hasn’t ever let Natasha dress him before. Today wasn’t a good day to start. Meeting Mav’s kid wouldn’t be a formal occasion, but under the circumstances.

His ears perk up at the sound of a misfire. Natasha flinches against him. She’s not been feeling that great since they got home either. Her dreams are like his too. It doesn’t matter. The car squeals around the corner at the far end of the street like its driver is trying to get it onto just two wheels. He lifts his head in time to see a steel blue ford escort hit the curb on the street just past Maverick’s property line.

Instantly, he pushes himself onto his feet. That kind of maniacal attitude to manning a vehicle must be hereditary.

Both he and Natasha watch as the driver slams their fists into the wheel in frustration. Then, you, the driver, notice them for the first time.

You’ve seen Bradley Bradshaw periodically throughout your life. There is no escaping his image when Maverick’s around. But, none of those photos are recent. They’re all from at least twelve years ago now. The only information you had been given was that Bradley looked kind of like Goose now.

And you — are not a little kid anymore. Natasha pushes herself to her feet, brushing the dust from her palms onto her jeans. A brief look is sent towards her best friend, but he doesn’t reciprocate. He’s staring straight ahead as you twist open the door handle and kick.

It complies with a groan and you start off with one foot on the pavement. High top black converse. The other foot follows next. Jeans. Normal, appropriate for the early May weather before the heat really picks up.

Then, as you push yourself to stand, Bradley can see the rest of you. You exhale and your hand flies to the back of your neck instantly.

“Hi,” You force out. “Bradley, right?”

That’s stupid. You know who he is. He knows who you are. You both know why you’re here. Natasha watches as you cringe into yourself, not necessarily physically, but it’s plastered all over your worried little face anyway.

“Yeah.” Bradley agrees without a nod. His hands are neither in his pockets nor doing anything else that might be productive. He tells himself that he should maybe shake your hand, but he doesn’t. He tells himself that maybe he should say something more, but he doesn’t.

Towering over the pretty brunette at his side, Bradley doesn’t look anything like he had in his photos at high school graduation. His face is longer and wider at the same time, his cheeks have lost some of their roundness but they still have a youthful pink flush. His hair is shorter, auburn and tidy around the back and sides. Still trying to be curly on top.

He grew up near the beach and his skin tells the tale. Freckles and a golden glow to his skin that you just know is an all year round kind of thing by now. Slight redness across his collarbones, the high points of his body where the sun hits most when he’s drying off after a swim.

In his eyes, you were hoping to find the boy from the pictures. The grinning blond in the baseball uniform. Instead, there’s something else.

Whatever it is, you hope it isn’t pity. Just because his dad — no, you shouldn’t think that. It shouldn’t start out like this.

“How was the drive? — Not too bad, I hope?” The tiny brunette finally bursts through the wall of silence that you and Bradley have been competitively building up since your sneaker touched the pavement two minutes ago. “I’m Natasha. I work with… — I — I’m Bradley’s friend.”

“Hi. It wasn’t too bad. I need to see a mechanic while I’m here, but — I don’t know. I’ll find time.” Just from watching you, Natasha can see that you’re all over the place. Neither here nor there. You don’t look like you’ve been crying either. Mascara intact, your makeup looks pretty.

Bradley knows that it has been a long time since he and Maverick were on speaking terms. He knows that even before that, they didn’t talk much about you. But, shit — he wishes now that he had at least seen a picture first so that he could prepare himself.

He remembers footie pajamas and drool and chubby, perpetually sticky cheeks.

Now, the belt looped through your blue jeans makes sure that the denim hugs you in all of the right places and that tank top is confirming to him that you’re no longer anything like the faint image he has in some of his oldest memories.

There’s got to be something wrong with him — that that’s the first thing that sprung to his mind. That Mav’s kid got hot in the twenty years since he saw her last. He shakes it from his head. Physically. He shakes his head and finally springs into action.

“What’s the matter with it?”

For the first time in five days, it’s the first time that someone hasn’t started a conversation by asking how you’re holding up. It catches you totally unprepared, and your knowledge of cars leaves you under qualified to answer anyway.

Bradley Bradshaw takes three long strides along the stone garden path and he has reached you already. He’s on a course right for you, and he’s big when he’s not squished into one of those photo frames in Maverick’s house. You lean back slightly, starting to brace for the impact of him hitting you.

He’s aware of his size and has learned to grow careful with it, stepping around you narrowly and heading straight for your old shitbox of a car.

“I don’t know. The steering is loose and the engine is making a weird noise.”

Bradley twists his neck and shoots an incredulous look at you, back over one of his wide shoulders. It’s a fourteen hour drive down from the Oregon coast, on a good day, and this car ran like shit when your mother bought it twenty something years ago.

Popping the hood, Bradley finds himself thinking of something other than those snowy peaks for the first time all week.

Ahead of you, you’re confronted with Mav’s place. The cottage you were forced to spend the occasional weekend or weeks in during the summer a couple of times through your childhood. Most of the times that you saw Pete were in your hometown. He was always the one who travelled. It seemed fair. His job meant that it didn’t happen often.

Your memories of this house are faint, but the same uncomfortable restless feeling it gives you remains. You remember quiet days sitting on the couch with your hands in your lap, waiting for that court-mandated forty-eight hours to be up.

Natasha is facing the other way. She watches Bradley step off of the curb and pop your hood. Bradley has a technical knowledge of engineering from his career, and a slightly broader scope from his interest in vintage cars — but he’s not a mechanic.

A quick glance to her right and she takes note of the way you’re frowning at the weeds poking through the stone path pavers.

Like watching a storm roll in before a big surf, Natasha has a bad feeling about this arrangement. Two people who should be coming to terms with their grief, and it's clear to her that you’re both planning on ignoring this problem by busying yourself for as long as you can.

“You can’t drive this piece of shit.” Bradley decides from the street. You turn slowly on the balls of your feet and push your hands into the pockets of your jeans. He doesn’t even look up.

Crowding over the hood of your car, glaring down at it. Thick shoulders filling out a plain black t-shirt and long legs hidden under loose fitting grey sweats. An auburn curl dangles over his forehead.

You twist and shoot a look back at Natasha.

“I… Kinda have to.” You point out. A recent graduate with no immediate career plans, who just quit their waitressing job to pick up the pieces of their presumably dead, semi-estranged father’s life. Buying a new car isn’t exactly in the budget right now.

Bradley opens his palms and braces them against the open hood. He turns his head and looks first at Natasha. His best friend. Then, the house. He learned to ride his bike on this street. Maverick lived on this street. Finally, his attention turns to you. He watches you watch him.

Leaning against your shitty, old car like it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet. Squinting at you because he left his sunglasses in work and the doctors won’t let him go back there for another couple weeks.

You’re staring back at him, wondering why he’s looking at you like that. Like he’s looking for something.

He pushes off of the car and stands, wiping his hands on his sweats. “I’ll take care of it. Whatever you need. I can drive you for a bit.”

As Bradley walks around to the back of the car and pops open the trunk to grab your bags, Natasha is struck with a numbing realization.

Maverick put himself in an early grave trying to make up for a mistake he made when he was young, and Bradley won’t stop until he does the same.

…

Tags: @ahoyyharrington @diorrfairy @just-a-harmless-potato @hangmanshoney @sgt-barnesveins @shanimallina87 @nykie-love-anime @lilyevanswhore @sammyrenae68 @moonlight-addisyn @pulisvertz @cherrycola27 @chxosunbound @tayygriffith @yuckosworld @callsign-magnolia @trickphotography2 @katieshook02 @atarmychick007 @sushiwriterhere @books-for-summer @thelonelyumbrella @angelbabyange @iwontshutuptilltheyaddgeckoemoji @stillreadingfantasy @casualhilarity @s-u-t @topguncortez @sweetwhispersofchaos @aaprilshowers @shadeds-library @bradswolfe @wishingwell-2 @roostersgirlfrxend @itsmytimetoodream

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you

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r-is-typing · 11 months

Text

fears, flying, and facts | s.r

summary: in which spencer spews random facts; one helpful and one... not so helpful

request: hi, are you still taking requests? if you are, can you write something with spencer comforting the reader because she has a fear of heights?

requested by: @midnightreids

pairing: spencer reid x reader

category: fluff

content warnings: little bit of anxiety in the beginning, resolves quickly! word count: >500

"Not a fan of flying?" The voice of Spencer Reid made the girl jump, as if she wasn't shaky enough due to the ongoing turbulence. "Uh, just a bit." She tried to laugh to hide how scared she was, but who was she kidding? She was in an enclosed space, 30,000 feet in the air with a bunch of profilers.

There was no hiding her undeniable fear of flying.

"You know, it's not bad. There's less to worry about flying than there is driving." The girl looked up at him in curiosity, urging him to continue. "I mean, what we really need to worry about are microbursts - a sudden downburst of air associated with thunderstorm. But a small aircraft like this, if we hit one of those at the wrong altitude," he stops, mimicking an explosion with his fist and mouth, making Y/N tighten her seatbelt more than it already was, practically squeezing her stomach against her ribs.

"Alright, I think she gets it." Derek pats Spencer on the back, and Reid moves his eye contact from Derek to Y/N, now noticing how scared she looked.

"Oh, gosh, uh, I'm so sorry. Usually my facts don't scare you that bad." He joked. "Spence, it's okay. Usually your facts aren't about things I'm deathly afraid of." She jokes back, cracking a light smile. "Why don't you tell me something else?" Spencer lights up at this, thanking the universe he finally got a chance to spew some random fact that had been stored up in his genius brain for who knows how long.

"The praying mantis can kill and eat a multitude of creatures but the most interesting fact is that oftentimes the female mantis engages in sexual cannibalism, meaning she’ll bite off the head of her mate once copulation is complete, sometimes even during intercourse, actually."

Y/N looked at the man in disbelief. "Huh. I had no idea, that's... strangely interesting." She laughs softly. "I guess I know I can always count on you for weird facts, huh?" Spencer nodded excitedly, thankful someone actually wanted to hear him talk about the random things his brain stores.

So, that's what he did. He spent the rest of the flight from Virginia to California telling Y/N random facts to keep her distracted from her surroundings.

r is typing... thank you so much for the request! i could really only write a blurb about this certain scenario, but i'm really happy with how it turned out! r is signing off...

join the taglist here!

taglist: @elsiebishh @liltimmyst @psychosociogentleman @conniesanchor @cynbx @dreaminginpastels

#requests open #reqs open #spencer reid x reader #request #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #dr spencer reid

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blingblong55 · 11 months

Text

New Pilot- 141

GN!Reader, Pilot!Reader

Based on a request:

Could you please write a hc where this is how the 141 meets reader? I saw it and almost immediately thought of you writing a fic for it lmao😂😂. Thank you💖💖

("Grim" is the nickname I from now on have for reader. 'Kasper team' will from now on be a name I'll give to non canon teams)

After much thought and a back and forth argument between Ghost and Price. They decided it's best to have a pilot on their team. Someone they can surely rely on. And thats when you come in. Now, you see they have read your file. Made research and it concludes that you are one of the best in the British Army. In fact, you are on a list of the most skilled and honoured pilots.

So, with a few strings pulled by price, you have been successfully been assigned to them and only them. For weeks before you officially made the move, they all drew conclusions. Most guessed you were a very serious person. They knew you'd be cold and stern when you'[d eventually meet. After all your callsign was 'Grim.' and you had flown in the infamous 'Kasper Team' , so they expected a cold person to work with them.

But, soon those ideas were gone when the day arrived. The four men had been waiting on your arrival at base. But because of a meeting with Laswell, they'd see you much later on the day. Price wanted his men to be wowed by you, so he ordered you to prepare the helicopter to take them all out on a ride. And oh will it definitely be a ride.

The four men saw you walk into the helicopter as you're prepared for flight.

"Why is Grim preparing for flight?" Ghost asked.

"we are going for a small trip boys."

"what, we're gonna go on this with a pilot we haven't met yet?" Ghost asked one more. They all approached you with some caution. You hanged from the blades of the aircraft. As you hanged from it, and the blades slightly moved around, you sang a song, "You spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round."

The men all watched in disbelief. You saw them all look at you, you smile and answer as you kept hanging from it. "Rotor's are good, Sir!" You smile proudly. Price knew you'd be his next headache.

"Who is this guy!" ghost was in disbelief as he turned to look at price. Soap and Gaz knew they would for sure enjoy this ride. New teammate and Ghost's new idiotic teammate. For them, this would be paradise.

A/N: Couldn't sleep well, so I am glad I finished this last night. I know its short but...I mean..I totally blame my lack of sleep

Tagas: @warenai

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beyondthesefourwalls · 1 year

Text

What Goes Around (Comes Around)

Summary: Bradley didn’t do relationships, and neither did you. The arrangement you had worked perfectly for ten years, getting together whenever your paths crossed. But after the two of you were stationed permanently on the same squad, suddenly what you have isn’t quite enough for him anymore. It’s not until a close call in the air that he finally gathers the courage to admit it.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n, can be read as unnamed OC)

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: friends with benefits relationship, smut (porn with feelings, basically), language, close calls in the air.

_______

His hands, normally steady while he was in the cockpit, were shaking. His knuckles strained from how hard he was gripping the throttle to make sure he kept control of his aircraft. He could hear you joking with Phoenix over the comms and the laughter that normally made him smile had the fear he was feeling just moments before transitioning into a white hot anger.

“Maybe I should steal your callsign, Phoenix. I’m the one who is rising from the ashes now.”

He couldn’t fucking believe you.

“Karma,” he snapped, cutting off Phoenix’s response and yours and Bob’s laughter. “Get back to base.”

“What-”

“Now,” he barked. It was quiet over the comms as the three others in the air with him processed his tone. “Karma.”

“You got it, Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

He clenched his jaw so tight that it started to ache. Your voice was tinted with sarcasm, but you followed his orders nonetheless.

“Lighten up, Rooster. We’re all fine.”

He knew that Phoenix was right. The three pilots, himself included, and the one WSO in the air under his command as Team Leader were fine. But that almost wasn’t the case, and he seemed to be the only one taking it seriously.

“Exercise is over. Let’s get back.” he said, unbuckling the mask on his helmet and letting it fall. He didn’t have anything left to say that would be appropriate with everyone listening.

You were still standing near your plane when he descended from his, your arms crossed over your chest and a blank expression on your face. He had never known someone as capable of hiding every single one of their emotions until he met you. But it had been ten years, and he knew you intimately enough to catch your tells now. You were tapping your finger just the slightest bit against your opposite arm as you waited for him; you were nervous.

Good.

He kept his gaze straight ahead as he walked in your direction. He didn’t stop as he passed you, barely even slowed down, but he spoke lowly enough that only you would be able to hear his words.

“I’ll see you at my place tonight.”

_______

You’re already there when he pulled the Bronco into his driveway. He had stayed on base to shower and change, but by the looks of you still in your flight suit sitting on the steps leading up to his small porch, you had come straight here. You hadn’t let yourself in despite having a key.

You raised your head in his direction when he slammed the driver’s side door closed. He thought the shower and drive home would calm some of his nerves, but seeing you just made the anger flood his veins all over again. He forced himself to take a deep breath before he moved toward the house.

“Hey,” you greeted.

He walked up the stairs beside you and crossed the porch to unlock the front door without a word. He heard the sigh you let out and the shuffle when you stood to follow him inside. You closed the door behind you as he made his way into the kitchen.

“What’s your problem?”

He still didn’t respond to you, focusing instead on grabbing the bottle of cheap whiskey he kept in the cabinet and downing a heavy shot of it. When he went to pour himself a second, you scoffed.

“Are you planning on giving me the silent treatment all night? Because if you are, I’ll just le-”

He slammed the bottle down and grabbed you, hauling your body against his as he brought his lips down to yours roughly. You gasped at the suddenness of it and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He felt the moment you started to relax against him and just as quickly as he initiated it, he pulled away.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Your chest heaved and your eyes were wide, already slightly glassed over. “What are you talking about?”

“I told you not to go above 7Gs. Not in that terrain.”

It took a moment but he watched as your eyes cleared and what he was talking about clicked in your head.

“This is about the training exercise?”

“No, Karma. This is about you going into fucking g-loc because you disobeyed direct orders and climbed to over 9Gs after I explicitly told you not to.”

You gave him an incredulous look and shook your head like you couldn’t believe what he was saying. It made the anger flash hotter. “Rooster, I - are you kidding me right now?”

“Are you kidding me right now?” he snapped back, his voice raising. You seemed startled at his tone but you didn’t back down - you never did.

“The point of the exercise was seeing what we would need to execute a mission in that environment. 7 wasn’t going to cut it.”

“And instead of waiting for the go ahead, you force yourself into more, even as I’m telling you to stop.”

“Is that what this is? Your ego is bruised because I didn’t listen to you when you were team leader?” You laughed humorlessly like you had him all figured out when really, you didn’t have a clue.

“You went into g-loc!” he repeated loudly.

“You got tone on me and snapped me out of it.”

“But what if I wouldn’t have? Huh? I would have had to watch you crash into a goddamn mountain. And then you laugh with Phoenix after you level out like I almost didn’t just watch you burn in? I’m not watching you fucking die!” he yelled.

You looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. Bradley felt like he was going to choke as all the emotions from earlier washed back over him. His voice was gentler this time when he spoke. “I can’t, baby. I can’t.”

The sound of his heavy breathing was the only sound filling the space around you. After a long moment, you take in a shaky breath, releasing it slowly. You licked your lips as you no doubt contemplated your response to him.

“Rooster…Bradley, I don’t understand,” you finally said.

“What part of me not being able to lose you do you not understand?” he asked, taking a step closer to you. “You’re everything to me, Karma. You have to know that by now.”

Your eyes widened even further, your lips parting in surprise. You stuttered over your words. “I..We..we aren’t even together, Bradley.”

And wasn’t that the unfortunate truth.

You weren’t together.

Bradley had met you ten years ago when you were both stationed in Key West. The attraction was almost immediate and it only took a few months before you were sneaking into each other's base housing on a regular basis to work out all of your pent up energy and find comfort in another human body. Bradley didn’t do relationships and neither did you; it was a perfect arrangement. You could keep what happened within the four walls of your respective rooms on the ground and not have it go up in the air with you because there were no emotions that risked flying away.

When you got called for a change of station a year and a half into it, it wasn’t a hard goodbye. Bradley could find another woman to warm his bed, even if she didn’t come with your wit and the natural ability you had to make him laugh.

A year later, you both were deployed on the same carrier. Neither of you slept alone the 12 weeks you were on board. Then came the 6 weeks a year after that, and then the two months in Korea the year after that.

And then you were part of the same Top Gun class. Bradley thought that’s when things started to shift. He started thinking about you between your random run ins, wondering where you were or what you were doing. You started texting and keeping up with each other outside of when you fell into bed together, though that certainly never stopped when you found yourselves in the same vicinity.

When the Uranium mission happened, Bradley wasn’t surprised to see you there. If he was considered the best of the best, there was no doubt in his mind that you were, too. You were the first person he sought out after he and Mav crash landed back onto the carrier. You slipped away from the crowds on deck to an abandoned, stuffy storage closet. You didn’t fuck, but you held onto one another tightly for several long moments. In some ways, it was the most intimate the two of you had ever been.

It went unspoken that the arrangement you had would continue when the both of you got permanently stationed in Fightertown. But it was more than just a release of tension and a warm body in bed, now. It was bringing each other coffee in the morning and dinners and movie nights and spending time together with no intentions. Neither of you ever brought up exactly what that meant.

When you pulled that stupid maneuver this afternoon and stopped responding to him over the comms at the same time your plane started dipping, his heart stopped. Every word he never said flashed in his mind in bright neon letters.

He had thought you knew how he felt. But apparently, you hadn’t.

That had to change.

“You think there’s anyone else?” he asked.

“What?”

He stepped closer, crowding you against the fridge. A paper he had stuck there with a magnet fluttered to the ground when your back hit against it. His arms caged you in. You tilted your head back when he got so close that it was the only way you’d be able to meet his eyes.

“You think there’s anyone else I want to see at night, even after seeing them all day at work? Anyone else that I want to spend my weekends with, or who I can stay up talking to for hours without ever getting bored? Anyone else who makes me feel the way that you do, both in and out of my bed?”

Your lips parted and you let out a small gasp. You brought your hands up to rest gently on his hips because he was standing so close to you that you wouldn’t be able to lay them on his chest without pushing him away. He leant down, placing a soft kiss that almost didn’t fit the moment on your cheek before he whispered in your ear.

“You think there’s anyone else I want moaning my name while I touch them?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, the motion brushing your chest against his. Bradley shuffled back half a step to allow just enough room for him to grab one of your hands, slowly bringing it down between your bodies and pressing it against where he’s hardening under the zipper of his jeans.

“You think there’s anyone else that can do this to me, baby?”

You let out a soft sound that had more blood rushing south and your eyes fluttered closed as you let your head fall forward and rest against his chest. You curl your fingers around him as much as you can through the thick denim, squeezing gently. He let out a grunt at the feeling, leaning further into you.

“Do you?”

“No,” you whispered into his black t-shirt. A thought hit him, then, that had his heart racing and his jaw clenching for an entirely different reason. You spent the majority of your free time together, but not every single moment. There was no one else for him - but that didn’t mean there was no one else for you. He gripped your jaw between his fingers and tilted your head back again so he could meet your eyes. They were dark and slightly glazed over in the same way they always got when you were turned on.

“Is there anyone else for you?” he asked. Your eyebrows furrowed together like you couldn’t quite understand what he was asking. He pushed you harder into the fridge, slotting his thigh between your own. He knew if your flight suit wasn’t in the way, he’d find you wet. He wanted it to just be for him.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

“No,” you finally whimpered, shaking your head as much as you could with his hold on your jaw. “There’s no one else.”

You were both breathing heavily as you stared at one another, almost as if you were both weighing who would move first. Finally, when you flexed your fingers over where you were still cupping him, he growled and took a step back. He didn’t give you time to worry why he was pulling away.

“Take it off,” he commanded, nodding toward your flight suit. He yanked his shirt over his head and then worked at his belt as you fumbled with your uniform. You were still struggling with it when he kicked his pants and briefs off. He moved back to you to help, pulling the thick material down and off as you removed your shirt and sports bra. When you were completely naked in front of him, he couldn’t resist bringing his hand between your legs. You soaked his fingers as soon as he touched you.

You choked out a moan as you grabbed onto his biceps. If he wasn’t so focused on completely possessing you, he would have smirked at the way your knees shook.

“Who are you wet for right now, baby?”

“You, Bradley. You.”

He wrapped his free hand around the back of your neck, the other still sliding through your wetness, and pulled you into another rough kiss. You whimpered as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, dueling with his own. It was a messy exchange of spit and moans and he swore he could feel you getting even wetter. He flicked your clit with his finger before pulling his hand back, only to bring it forward with a quick, sharp smack to your pussy.

This time, when your knees threatened to give out and your fingers pressed harder into his arms, he let himself smirk into your kiss. Your eyes were completely glazed over when he came up for air. He pulled you away from the fridge, twisting both of your bodies and walking you backwards a few steps to the other side of the small kitchen. He spun you around, pushing your front down with a hand on the center of your back. You hissed when your nipples brushed against the cool granite countertops beside the sink.

“Here?” you asked, looking at him over your shoulder.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Right here.”

He slid his cock along your pussy to slicken himself with your wetness before he lined himself up and pushed into you, bottoming out in a single thrust. Your loud, drawn out moan sounded like music to him. You were as tight and as warm as you always were and he never wanted to not feel this. The thought that he almost lost you today, that you were so careless with your own life, had that angry, possessive feeling taking over him again. He slid the hand that was holding your upper body down to thread itself into your hair, pulling at it until your back was flush against his chest.

“Tell me who’s making you feel this good,” he demanded, followed by another rough thrust of his hips.

You moaned his name in response, the syllables coming out breathy and broken in the pleasure he was giving you. But it wasn’t enough. He pulled your hair back again, baring your throat.

“Louder.”

“You are!” you screamed, tears forming in the corner of your eyes as you grasped at the counter top for purchase. “Oh god, Bradley. You are.”

“That’s right, baby. I am. No one else.”

He released your hair and grabbed onto your hips as he ground his against yours. He wanted to bury himself in you to the point where you’d never not feel him, if only that were possible. He wanted to leave as much of a mark on you as you have on him, and he knew at this point that you would let him.

“You’re mine,” he rasped in your ear. Your pussy clenched tight around him at his words.

“Yours,” you gasped.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the pulse point on your neck.

You moaned, nodding frantically. You turned as much as you could to look at him and he met your lips in another sloppy kiss. He hissed when you nipped at his bottom lip.

Bradley could feel his orgasm building quickly, but he wasn’t ready for this to be over yet. He pulled out of you with a grunt. Your body was pliant in his hands as he turned you to him. There was a dazed, fucked out look on your face. Glancing down, he could see your wetness glistening on your thighs. What a sight you made.

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

“Wanna ride you,” you gasped out, reaching for him. “Please. Wanna see your face.”

With a muttered curse, he turned your bodies again, switching positions so that it was him against the counters. He slid to the floor without a word, tugging on your hips. You lowered yourself slowly, sinking back down on his cock with another drawn out moan, until you settled fully in his lap. He was even deeper from this angle. You wrapped yourself completely around him and he bent his knees slightly to keep you pressed to his body.

You brushed your nose against his, and your breath tickled his mustache. He helped raise you up and you moaned together when you dropped back down.

“You’re everything,” he whispered against your lips. Your pussy spasmed around him and he could feel some of your wetness smearing against his lap.

“You’re mine too,” you whimpered. He groaned at the words, thrusting up into you.

“Yes.”

You could do nothing but babble his name over and over again as you bounced on his cock, meeting each of his thrusts with a grind of your hips. You were one of the strongest women that he knew, better than everyone in a way few could be, so it made him dizzy, knowing that you got like this because of him.

Bradley could feel you tightening around him, the lift of your hips growing shallower and less defined as you neared your peak. He kept a firm hold of your hips as his own thrusts up into you turned sloppy. He knew both of you were nearing that final edge and he was determined to get you there.

“Come for me, baby,” he panted. You gasped when he touched that spot inside of you that always made you feel stars and he focused on hitting it with every movement. “I want to feel you come for me, knowing that no man will ever make you feel like I can, and no woman can ever compare. Come for me.”

He captured your lips with his at the same time you crashed over the edge. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice and it only took two more thrusts for him to follow right after you.

Your body trembled with sensitivity and he could feel his cum pushing out of you, but he didn’t dare move from this spot on the floor. Your bodies were both damp with sweat but he couldn’t bring himself to care, wrapping his arms more securely around you. In the afterglow, you rested your forehead against his and scratched lightly at his skull with your short nails. You simply existed together for several long moments, but Bradley knew you wouldn’t stay quiet forever - it wasn’t in your nature. He couldn’t help the amused smile that pulled at his lips when you proved him right almost as soon as your breathing evened out.

“Are we going to talk about it?” you asked quietly.

He hummed softly in response, nudging your nose with his. “Do you want me to get you cleaned up first?”

“Mmm, no,” you said, tightening your grip on him, too. His softened cock twitched inside of you. “Want to feel full for a little while more.”

He let out a low groan. Minx.

When he opened his eyes, you were smirking softly. You knew exactly what you were doing to him. He gave you a gentle kiss before letting out a deep sigh.

“I’ve lost a lot of people in my life, Karma.”

“I know,” you murmured, fingers still running through his hair.

“I’ve learned how to deal with it but…you’re different. I can’t take it if it’s you. When you went into g-loc today…it felt like my world was ending.”

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked at him. He could almost see the cogs turning in your head as you contemplated his words.

“When did things change?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You suck in a small breath when he tells you the first time you were at Top Gun together. “That was years ago.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “You kind of snuck up on me, you know? And here I thought karma always hit you all at once.”

You rolled your eyes and he chuckled. His smile was touched with reverence as he drew shapes into your soft skin, waiting you out.

“You’re my best friend, Bradley. You know that?”

“I know,” he nodded. And he did know that. The friendship he had developed with you over the years, especially in the last few, meant more to him than any other he’s had. It was the foundation of these deep feelings he had for you. He valued you more than anyone. If relationships and feelings were hard for him, though, they were nearly impossible for you. He knew what it meant that you trusted him like you did and held him in such high regard. It wasn’t inconsequential by any means.

“Hey,” he murmured, noticing how your eyes had strayed away from his. He wanted you to be looking at him when he said what was on the tip of his tongue, so he waited until you looked back up. That carefully blank look was on your face again, but your index finger tapped gently against his skull; you were nervous again, and he wasn’t surprised that you knew him well enough to perhaps guess what was coming. “I love you. You know that?”

You breathed in deeply and he did his best not to hold his. Slowly, the mask you had on your face slipped. You leaned forward, breathing him in, before placing your lips on his. It was the first kiss you had initiated the whole night and he returned it eagerly. When you pulled away, you let a smile climb on your lips and your eyes twinkled. His rapidly pounding heart slowed just the smallest amount.

“I know,” you said.

He supposed that, for now, that would be enough.

--------

Masterlist

Notes: This one was fun! Big thanks to @roosterforme and @mak-32 for their help, as per usual.

Tag List: @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @hoyaharper - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @iamaslytherin0 - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @benhardysdrumstick - @fandomxpreferences - @acatwriteshere - @1234-angelika - @double-j - @cocoskween - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @littlezee80 - @sometimesanalice - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @sunnysidesidra - @notroosterbradshaw - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-underthesun -@avengersfan25 - @wkndwlff - @zbeez-outlet - @lt-spork - @indynerdgirl - @loveforaugust - @mssleepy876b

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anqelically · 3 months

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IKIGAI | OSAMU DAZAI X FEM!READER

002. FLIGHT JA815S

CHAPTER SUMMARY: An airplane is in need of saving because of the Azure Apostle, so the agency saves the passengers with the help of a young girl on the flight

CHAPTER WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 1.7K words

SERIES INTRODUCTION | CH1 | CH3

FOR THE NEXT HALF HOUR, Y/N was working as if it were a normal day, even though there was seldom a normal day at the agency. An ideal day, one would say. She sorted through some paperwork and checked any e-mails as they came in.

She noticed how a few of them were insulting the agency for their previously failed rescue of four innocent people. That incident is what led Kunikida to be in the headlines of the local newspaper.

After people recognized him as an Armed Detective Agency member, some took time out of their day to stand outside of the agency to yell or throw things at members. Y/N could recall how her eye almost got hit by a small rock. She was glad that Ranpo was there to block her face and catch the rock with his hat.

All the hate e-mails were immediately trashed, but the senders remained unblocked. Even if they insulted the agency, they were still people of Japan. And as long as they were, the agency would try to help them if they needed it.

Y/N thought they received another complaint when her laptop dinged. She checked the e-mail to see that it was not a complaint, but a message from the Azure Apostle himself.

She was quick to call over the closest worker, "Oneesan, look!"

Dear Sir,

I am contacting you to discuss a third request. Passenger airline flight JA815S is currently midflight. I have taken the liberty of sending an interference signal to the aircraft's engine and yoke that will disable their functions. I would like for you to remove the device from the aircraft and save the passengers. Thank you for your understanding.

Yours sincerely,

The Azure Apostle

Yosano looked over Y/N's shoulder to read the message that seemed to be directed to Kunikida, considering that he was leading the case and neither of them would be referred to as "Sir".

"More? You have got to be kidding," the woman groaned. She pulled out her phone to contact Kunikida. "Y/N, can you trace the email to the sender's location?"

"I can try," she began to type, "but you know I'm not good at stuff like that."

As the woman predicted, she failed to trace the location from where the e-mail was sent. She was able to send the message to Kunikida, but that was something anyone at the agency could do easily. However, setting up a three-way call between three completely different devices from her computer seemed to be something Y/N could do, and the others couldn't.

A video call from a passenger on the targeted airplane made it through to the police. Since the Armed Detective Agency was in charge of the case and not Yokohama's police, they transferred the call over to Y/N's computer. From there, she was able to talk to the little girl on the screen.

She had to be no older than 9 years old. Her brown hair was cut into a short bob, and her teary eyes peeked out from underneath her bangs.

Yosano and Ranpo sat nearby as Y/N talked with the little girl. The group of detectives watched her tremble as she stared into the camera. Although they could see her, she could not see them.

"Hi, I'm someone from the Armed Detective Agency. My name's Y/N, what's yours?" Y/N began the process of adding Kunikida's phone to the call on a separate monitor.

"Ch-Chiyo," the girl responded.

"Here, let me turn my camera on so you can see me," Y/N's face appeared on the screen beside Chiyo's. She gave the young one a soft smile, "Chiyo-chan, I need you to tell me what's happening. Can you do that?"

"O-Okay... Well, um, Mommy w-wasn't feeling well, so I'm talking f-for her. The p-plane is falling... s-so fast... Everybody's screaming-" a feminine-sounding yell cut her off. Chiyo jumped, "I-I'm scared. Please help!"

"Help is on its way, I promise. Just continue talking with me, okay? The more I know about what's happening there, the faster we can make things better for your mommy."

While Chiyo continued to describe what was going on, Kunikida's phone joined the call. A box with his name popped up on the screen, indicating that he and Dazai could listen and see both Natsuo and Chiyo.

"Did the pilots, the people in charge of the airplane, say anything else?" Y/N interrogated.

"They s-said the engine stopped moving, and th-the steering wheel d-doesn't work anymore, either."

"You hear that, Kunikida?"

"Yes," he spoke, "I heard. Doesn't sound good, obviously."

"Are we gonna d-die? E-everyone says we're gonna die... I'm scared. Mommy's not moving or a-answering me. P-please, please help us.." Chiyo cried further.

Y/N was going to try to comfort her, but all the words she wanted to say died in her throat. She was never good at comforting others, especially since she couldn't even recall the feeling of being comforted as she grew up. The warmth of comfort was something she felt only after she joined the Armed Detective Agency. But even so, she still wasn't good at providing it to others. "You'll be okay" and "It will get better" can only work so much.

Unexpectedly to Y/N, another voice joined the call, "Hello, little one. Can you hear me?"

"Y-yes."

Dazai then continued, "We here are airplane experts. There's nothing to worry about anymore. We're going to fix the plane. What's your name, little miss?"

"Chiyo."

"Chiyo, everything's going to be okay. Got any snacks with you?"

"Mommy g-gave me this piece of candy."

"Candy, huh? I love candy, too. It's so sweet, and it really helps you relax, doesn't it?"

"Dazai-" Kunikida's voice was cut off.

"I've got this..." Dazai sounded confident. "Chiyo, first, I want you to really take your time enjoying that piece of candy. After that, I'm going to need you to take that device you're talking into and bring it to the captain's room. Do you know where the captain's room is?" Chiyo wiped away her tears and nodded. "Don't worry. There's nobody screaming in there, and I bet your mommy will be feeling better in no time."

"B-but I... I can't go alone. I can't leave Mommy behind."

"Hey, Chiyo-chan, do you remember what I said earlier? We're here to help you, your mommy, and everyone else. I just need you to bring what you're talking on to the pilot of the plane. Can you go there and give it to them for us?"

The brown-haired girl stared at the side for a few moments before she took out the candy she said she had. She shakily placed it in her mouth, her hands still trembling as she picked up the communication device. Chiyo began to walk towards the cockpit.

While she walked, Y/N spoke to the other two on the line, "Do you want me to stay on, or do you think you guys can handle it?"

"Oh, we can definitely handle it," Dazai spoke. "But once this is all over, I never wanna partner with Kunikida again. Wanna pair up with me instead?"

"Enough with the unrelated talk! The case always comes first," Kunikida scolded.

"Oh, come on~ I'm trying to lighten up the mood."

"The mood is the way it is for a reason."

Y/N chuckled, never responding to Dazai's question, "Well then, I'll turn off now. Just ring me if you need anything from us here. Please stay safe, okay?"

"Of course."

"See you later, Y/N-chan."

Letting out a breath she unintentionally withheld, Y/N leaned back in her chair. Although most people would overlook it, she did not. After meeting Dazai earlier, Y/N didn't expect him to talk to Chiyo so easily. He was able to comfort her and have her bring the communication device to the pilot in one go. It was common for someone to comfort another, yet Y/N felt embarrassed that it was difficult for her to do so.

"Don't think about it," Yosano's voice reached Y/N's ears. She looked at the older woman, who continued, "Not everyone is good at everything. There is always a multitude of weaknesses within a person. There's no need to be embarrassed."

"You're reading my mind again," Y/N whined, her hands covering her face.

"You're easy to read," Ranpo cut in, a lollipop in hand. "You make all these facial expressions every time you feel something new. Your eyes soften when you're happy, you furrow your brows when you're sad, and you tilt your head when you're confused. You're very animated in general."

"Don't worry, we'll work on your poker face," the doctor rested her hands on Y/N's shoulder. "Otherwise, we can't ever play, and that's just a shame."

"Even if I don't know how to play, isn't it bad to gamble in the first place?" Y/N raised a brow.

"We gamble paperwork and, rarely, drinks. It's harmless."

"But I've never seen Oniisan lay a finger on any paperwork..."

Ranpo smirked, "That's because the greatest detective never loses."

"For now," Yosano challenged. "I'll beat ya in a game when you least expect it."

"Is that so? I might retire when the time comes."

"Isn't Dazai-san really smart too? What he manages to beat you, Oniisan?" Y/N questioned.

"No way."

"Long shot."

The youngest murmured, "That was fast."

Some time passed before Ranpo suggested, "Let's go bother the president. Hello~! We're here!"

Y/N and Yosano deadpanned when the detective slammed the door to Fukuzawa's office open with no shame. They briefly glanced at each other before they sighed, following the man inside. If Ranpo wasn't bothered to talk about the Azure Apostle, they were sure the problem would be resolved.

"Fukuzawa-sama!" Y/N greeted the man.

"Y/N," he acknowledged.

The young woman smiled before she sat down next to Ranpo. Yosano sat down too, and they fell into a conversation that lasted until Kunikida and Dazai returned.

They had a couple of bruises and scratches, but they succeeded in preventing the plane from crashing.

WRITTEN: 01/21/2023

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

i wanted to get this over with asap so i can start writing an original case that y/n and dazai are going to be taking care of. let's hope it turns out well 👍🏻

@seneon @chuuyrr @kentopedia @cloudwisp @aureatchi

#୨୧ [ ikigai ]#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x you #bsd x you #bsd #bungou stray dogs angst

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reality-detective · 1 year

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"Marines Were Freed from a Secret Jail That Were Brutally Tortured by Feds"

The six U.S. Marines freed from a secret federal jail said their captors—a mix of FBI agents and private security—tortured them relentlessly, deprived them of food and water, and forced them to defecate in 5-gallon buckets that got emptied only once a week.

As reported previously, U.S. Special Forces on March 8 liberated six Marines the federal government held without trial at a clandestine warehouse-turned-prison in suburban Long Island, New York. The feds had arrested the six for protesting peacefully outside the Capitol on January 6, 2021. Once freed, they were taken to Womack Army Medical Center, Fort Bragg, and treated for maladies and injuries sustained in captivity. This included dehydration, lacerations, puncture wounds, and burns. Alas, one Marine’s wounds were so severe that he went into septic shock and had a leg amputated below the knee.

When debriefed at the hospital, he said their jailors kept them on permanent lockdown in separate cells spaced far enough apart so they couldn’t communicate with one another. He recounted the harrowing ordeal of his arrest. Feds, he said, arrested him off-post near Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, then handcuffed and blindfolded him before driving him to a nearby airport or airstrip. He knew this because the feds put him aboard a small turboprop aircraft. During his debrief, he said he could hear propellers spin up minutes before the plane took off. His abductors shackled his ankles and fastened him to a seat. He was punched in the face several times and called a “traitor” during what he guessed was a two-hour flight. When the plane landed, he was struck a few more times, then, still blindfolded, put in a vehicle and driven to an unknown destination. He tasted blood in his mouth from being pummeled so hard and often and eventually lost consciousness.

He awoke in a decrepit cell that smelled like shit, its only furnishings a urine-stained cot and a 5-gallon bucket in the center of the cell. The guards, he said, beat the living daylights out of him every day—sometimes more than once a day—coming at him three at a time so he couldn’t adequately defend himself. One Morning four guards burst into the cell and tied his arms and legs to the cot, spread eagle, and they took turns stabbing him in the right leg with rusty pieces of metal, then cauterizing the wounds with an iron to prevent exsanguination. He guessed he’d been stabbed 20 or 30 times while the guards taunted him, saying other Marines in custody would share his fate. He said one guard urinated on his open wounds prior to them being cauterized.

The other five Marines told comparable stories, though their wounds were far less severe. They said they were fed only twice a week—stale bread, a few ounces of water, or a red liquid that looked like Kool-Aid but with bugs floating in it. One said the guard tried to feed him mashed potatoes with congealed gravy and tiny glass shards.

“These Marines survived the unsurvivable,” our source said. “There are more service members still in federal custody, not to mention the hundreds of civilians who could be dealing with the same torture. This is how the Biden regime treats combat veterans, as criminals, as domestic terrorists. We are working to free more of them.”

I'm sure we will hear about other experiences like this as the turmoil continues to unravel in our country. These sick fμcks think they are untouchable. I got news for you the deplorables will get the last say.🤔 I did not get any information about the perpetrators involved in these horrendous acts. My gut feeling is, they were executed on the spot.

#pay attention #educate yourself #educate yourselves #reeducate yourself #knowledge is power #reeducate yourselves #think for yourself #think for yourselves #think about it #do your homework #do your research #do your own research #question everything #ask yourself questions #ask yourself

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luvrlou · 1 year

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What Happens in Mykonos Stays in Mykonos

Pairing: Wroetoshaw x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking

Summary: After a drunken night of clubbing Harry and Y/N exchange some intoxicated words.

A/N: Heart eyes for Harry

Word Count: 1.8k

"Harry and Cal are sleeping, and Y/N is watching a movie, I think?" Callum told his camera, this made me look up.

"I'm seeing how close we are to landing," I replied, Callum zooming his camera into me. "We're landing in about an hour and a half."

The man nodded, "we should probably wake up the boys, they'll want drinks before we get off." I agreed, going to wake up the boy on my left, Cal.

"Fuck off Callum!" He groaned, coming to his senses, "oh, hey Y/N!" He smiled seeing it was me waking up.

"Hello Cal," I replied.

"Here, what's this!" He chirped, looking at the drink on my table, "a cheeky malibu and pineapple juice, interesting." He observed, reaching to take a drink.

"Woah there! That's mine!" I replied, grabbing the cup before he could. I swiftly downed the drink, before muttering a snarky, get your own to the lanky boy.

I looked over to the end of the row to see Harry groggily talking to Callum. The plane was separated into rows of four, an aisle splitting them in half. I sat in the window seat, Cal in the seat next to me, Harry and Callum sat in the other side.

Before we knew it the flight attendant was back to cruising up and down the aisle with the drinks trolley. When she reached our row we all gave her a list of drinks, a Guinness for Callum, Malibu and pineapple juice for me, white wine for Cal and a vodka coke for Harry.

Since we were at the back of the plane the woman seemed to have all the time in the world, she handed the boys their drinks. While she handed me mine she spoke, "so what one of these lucky boys is your boyfriend?"

The question caused me to laugh, "none of them, I'm just an old friend!'

"Really?" She seemed extremely shocked by my answer, "I mean you're gorgeous how could they not be all over you!" Her comment made Callum laugh while Harry reddened.

"Awk thank you!" I smiled back at the attendant. She smiled back before walking back up the aisle.

"Did you see Harry's face!" Cal cackled, looking at the embarrassed boy at the end of the row.

"Shut up Cal!" He shouted back, sipping his vodka-infused drink. His clear irritation made me, Cal and Callum laugh between ourselves.

We spent the remaining hour or so on our phones, sparing a few words between the four of us every few minutes.

"This is your captain speaking, we will be touching the ground in about fifteen minutes, the weather is lovely so the landing should be smooth." The strong Scottish accent, which belonged to the captain, boomed over the speakers that lined the sides of the aircraft.

Much to my surprise, getting through the airport was extremely fast, I'm assuming everyone was in need of a cocktail. Luckily our villas were about twenty minutes in a taxi.

"Okay, who wants what villa?" Cal said, as we all arrived in front of the two villas.

"I call dibs on this one!" I shouted, running up to the door of the one on the left, "I saw on Booking.com that this one had a hot tub in it!"

"Oh yeah! I want that!" Callum exclaimed, joining me at the door.

"Okay, Harry and I will take this one," Cal concluded, walking towards the one on the right, Harry following.

Callum and I chose our rooms, despite them being almost exact parallels to each other. Mine had a king-sized bed with white and dark blue bed sheets, and a bathroom attached. It also had a large mirrored wardrobe and a small balcony with a deck chair.

"Y/N! Callum! We're going out soon!" Harry's voice echoed up through the white bricked stairwell.

I could hear Callum run downstairs, "I'll be like twenty minutes!" I shouted down.

I went over to my case looking for something nice to wear, I was thinking of a summer dress of some sort since I've been sweating buckets since I got here. I rummaged through my case, picking out a white lacy dress. I put it on and coated my eyelashes with some mascara and slipped my feet into a pair of wedge sandles.

"Coming!" I yelled as I approached the top of the stairs.

I jogged down the stairs, when I reached the boys they had just finished their cans of beer. "You look lovely Y/N," Harry commented as they all stood up.

"Aw thanks, Harry!" I gushed at the boy in front of me. "Right let us go! I need to get pished!" My statement received cheers from the boys.

We all ventured out of the villa complex and found a club which was about five minutes away. "What does everyone want to drink?" Callum asked.

"A piña colada please," I asked, the boys all asked for one too, sending Callum on his way. "I needed this getaway." I stated.

"Same, London is getting too stressful these days," Cal replied, causing Harry to hum in reply.

We all grinned thirstily when Callum came back with four piña coladas, we all grabbed one.

"To Mykonos, and Harry for suggesting this holiday!" Cal cheered lifting his cocktail. We all clinked glasses and took a sip out of them.

About four cocktails later we got up to leave, I could tell that Harry and Cal were on the tipsy side, surprisingly Callum and I were more on the sober side.

At the next club Cal immediately got up to get tequila shots from the bar, Callum's face was full of regret. "Getting flashbacks to the last time we did shots?" I laughed.

"Fuck off Y/N!" He groaned.

"Shots!" Cal bellowed, returning to the table with a tray of sixteen shots on it.

We all took four each and sat them in front of us. "Last to finish them buys the next round!" I challenged, picking up one of the shots.

I downed mine quickly, taking the next one as soon as the liquid slipped down my throat. "Harry! Drinks are on you!" Callum laughed, pushing him towards the bar.

"We'll all have margaritas, make sure they have limes on them!" Cal ordered.

When Harry returned we all started to drink our margaritas, "Y/N, what are the odds, out of ten, that you'll do body shots off of Harry!" Cal asked.

Harry's complexion instantly grew rosy, "okay." I agreed, waiting for Callum to count us in.

"3.. 2.. 1.." He counted.

"7!" We both shouted.

"Yes!" Cal and Callum shouted in unison, high-fiving each other. "We'll go get salt and a lime!"

"Are you okay with this Harry?" I asked the blonde boy next to me.

"Yeah," he hummed, "it's all a bit of fun, yeah."

When the boys returned they had massive smiles on their faces, Callum with a tub of salt, and Cal with a lime and a tequila shot. "Come here Harry," Callum said to the red-faced boy.

Callum dipped his finger in his margarita and put some salt on it, rubbing the salt and sticking it to Harry's neck. Cal handed him the lime and sat the shot on the table.

"Have fun Y/N!" Cal drunkenly giggled. I made eye contact with the boy and went to lick the salt off his neck. I downed the shot, receiving whistles and cheers from the two boys. Lastly, I took the lime from Harry's mouth.

"Look at Harry!" Callum yelled, making me burst out laughing and remove the lime from my mouth.

"Sorry, Harry," I smiled softly, kissing his cheek chastely.

We got one last round of shots, this time they were Sambuca shots. "Come on, I need some chips," I announced. The boys all hummed i agreement.

Luckily, there was a street food shop down the street from the club we were sitting in.

"Excuse me," Harry asked the man who as behind the counter, "do you guys do just chips?"

"Yes." The man answered.

"Can we have four portions, please," He asked, the man nodded in return.

"Where's Freezy?" I asked, looking for my lanky companion.

As if on cue the blonde boy entered the restaurant, a bottle of white wine in his hand, making me grin wildly.

"God bless you Cal Freezy!" I beam, running over to him, stumbling drunkenly. He handed me the bottle letting me take a swig before snatching it back.

Cal and I sat up at the high window tables, swapping the wine between us, waiting for Callum and Harry to arrive with the chips.

When they came over they chucked the styrofoam boxes of chips down on the table and flung themselves onto the chairs. I smiled when I felt Harry drop his head onto my shoulder.

"You can have the last of the wine," Cal mumbled, handing me the bottle. I quickly downed it before digging into my chips.

"Are we going to head back to the villas after this?" Callum inquired, finishing his chips.

"Nah, I want to stay out!" I argued back.

"I'm going back after," Cal stated, clearly having had too much to drink.

"I'll stay out Y/N!" Harry answered, which made me cheer with happiness and embrace him tightly.

After eating we went our separate ways, Callum and Cal went back to the villa complex. Harry and I went further into the area we were staying, looking for yet another club.

After about 10 minutes of walking, we came across another brightly lit nightclub, we both entered, going straight up to the bar. I ordered a pink gin and Harry ordered a vodka and lemonade.

After drinking both of our drinks we got onto the dance floor. Wrapping my arms around his neck we swayed together to the music, one of his arms draped over my waist.

"You look beautiful tonight Y/N," he mumbled, his face extremely close to mine.

I could feel his hot breath fan over my face. "You're just saying that because you're drunk." I whispered.

"No Y/N, I've always thought this, I think I'm falling in love with you," his drunken voice raved.

I was speechless, the only thing I could think to do was kiss his soft lips. Our mouths tasted of straight alcohol as they fought against each other. When we leaned back he sent me a goofy smile.

"I think I'm falling in love with you too."

"Let's take this back to the villa, yeah?" He asked, leading me off the dance floor.

"Fuck yeah!" I giggled following him out of the venue.

"What.. the.. fuck." Cal's shocked voice echoed through the now lit-up room, I looked up and around the room. It was Harry's room, the flashbacks from the night before started to fill my once hazy memory.

"Oh shit!" I shrieked, waking up Harry, who had an equally shocked expression.

"Fucking hell! Callum will love this!" Cal burst out laughing, cackling as he left the room.

#wroetoshaw x reader #w2s x reader #sidemen x reader #harry lewis x reader #harry lewis imagine #sidemen imagine #lou writes fanfic #Spotify

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roosterforme · 16 days

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In the Line of Duty | Rooster x Reader

Summary: During preparations for a dangerous mission, Bradley finds comfort in writing his thoughts down for his unborn child to eventually read. There's always a chance that he won't make it back, and his final plans involve safeguarding the most important item he brought on his deployment with him.

Warnings: Angst, deployment, pregnancy topics

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley was in the same tiny room with the same seven people for the nineteenth day in a row. He was sweating, too aware of his surroundings. He could hear Reuben breathing next to him. He could hear Admiral Turner's wristwatch counting off every second. He could hear the plans being laid out, but he could barely focus on them.

"The political climate is rapidly changing," the admiral said. "This bombing run is essential, however it will undoubtedly lead to a hostile environment for our allies. Getting the timing just right is essential to a successful mission."

He'd been telling the aviators the same things for days, and while Bradley knew somebody's best interest was at heart, he wasn't really sure it was his. Or Reuben's. Or anybody's in this fucking claustrophobic room. But what choice did he have but to sit here in his flight suit, reeking of jet fuel until he was released?

"Also," Admiral Turner said, his voice laced with exhaustion, "we'll be keeping a close watch on the weather. If you fly this mission, it's going to be a rough takeoff and an even rougher landing. And that's not even mentioning the elements you'll encounter in the air."

Bradley could feel it. The aircraft carrier was a massive vessel, nothing like a cruise ship or anything smaller. It was built to withstand typhoons and hurricanes, but he could still feel it. The movement was getting worse by the hour now. There were deckhands and petty officers walking around with seasickness bags. People were running from the mess hall left and right. The only thing that could be said of this small group of aviators in this tiny ass room was that professional fighter pilots had all traces of motion sickness eliminated from their bodies during flight training, never to be heard from again. He wasn't uncomfortable, but he could still feel it.

"And with that final precaution, I've made my selection for the three pilots who will fly when I say it's time to go." Bradley knew it in his bones even before he heard the admiral say, "Vandal. Patches. Rooster. Everyone else will remain on standby. You're all dismissed."

As he stood, Reuben stuck his fist out. "Congrats, man," he said, and Bradley reached out as well to bump fists. Being chosen was an accomplishment; Bradley always wanted to be chosen. He always wanted to perform to the best of his ability. But his thoughts were so heavy now, filled with new hopes and fears.

"Thanks, Payback," he replied, following his friend from the room and into the noisy reprieve of the cool hallway. There were people rushing around as the two of them made their way to the mess hall. "But if I have to sit in that room for another day, I'm going to lose my mind."

Reuben laughed as he started to load a tray with food. "I love how the weather is too bad for us to do any training runs, but in the same sentence, we're told to be ready to fly a mission in this. It's like they're steering us right into the worst of the storm."

They were. Bradley could tell they were. There was something strategic about the open water location, but they were absolutely heading into the worst of it. He just hoped it would clear up before he was called out on deck to fly.

"It's a good thing I haven't barfed in a Super Hornet since that very first time," he said, also piling food that he knew would taste like cardboard onto a plate.

"This shit sucks," Reuben muttered, biting into a roll once they reached an empty table. "We got any more of your wife's cookies back in the bunk?"

Bradley smiled as he looked at the questionable meal in front of him. "A few." He bit into the steak and grimaced. Everything you cooked at home was better than this. He'd trade his whole plate of food right now for half of a grilled cheese sandwich made by your hands. Just thinking about it had his stomach growling louder. "You already ate most of them."

Reuben popped another roll into his mouth and chewed it up before saying, "Rooster, you've got a hot lieutenant commander who can cook for a wife. And a baby on the way. Come on, man. The least you can do is spare some more of those cookies."

Once he let his thoughts drift, Bradley knew it would take hours to get focused on his job again, but he couldn't help it. When he left home, you looked the same as you always did. You'd been complaining about your weight gain and bloating for weeks, but you looked just perfect to him. He wanted to get back home to see if you had a bump yet. He wanted to get home and talk to the Nugget. But he'd already been gone for three weeks, and he hadn't been given a single chance to call or FaceTime with you.

He hated having no idea how your most recent doctor's appointment went. There were probably new ultrasound photos sitting right on the kitchen counter, but it could be weeks before he got to see how much the Nugget grew since last time. He should be a home, catering to your every whim and building the massive jungle gym for the backyard.

"Are you excited?" Reuben asked, breaking through his thoughts. "You've got what, like five more months to go before you're a dad?"

"One hundred and eighty-six days until the due date," Bradley replied with a grin. "And yeah, I'm pretty fucking excited. It's all I can think about." He tried to finish all of the food, but he set his plate aside and said, "Let's go eat some of those cookies."

An hour later, Bradley was sitting in his bunk, nibbling on the rationed baked goods while Reuben snored across the room. He took this opportunity to get out the pink and blue striped notebook which he affectionately referred to as the Nugget notebook. He'd filled half of it with his musings, and he figured it would be full by your due date. It was silly, just his random thoughts and some sporadic story telling, but he liked the idea of his kid having all of this to look at later. He uncapped his pen, jotted down the date, and started writing what was on his mind.

You'll never guess where I am right now. No really. It would be impossible, because even I don't really know where I am! But it's somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, I know that for sure. And while I'm really, really far away from you and your mom right now, the two of you are all I can think about....

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The weather was so bad a few days later that the gym was closed. Bradley and Reuben stood in front of the locked door in their gym clothes looking at each other.

"This is fucking wild," Bradley muttered, deprived of the only activity he could think of to keep himself busy. The hallways were pretty empty at this time of night, but everything still felt more deserted than usual. The dining menus had been pared down, presumably because half of the kitchen staff was too seasick to make everything. He was starting to feel anxious. "Let's go workout in the bunk and then finish the cookies."

"Sounds good," Reuben replied. They took turns churning out sets of fifty push ups while the other ate a cookie. They did this until they were both sweating and all of the cookies were officially gone.

"Now what the fuck are we supposed to do?" Bradley asked, but any response was cut off by a knocking on the door. He jumped up, glanced at Reuben, and then opened the door for a petty officer.

"Bradshaw?"

"Yeah?"

"You requested a FaceTime call? Report to the lounge in thirty minutes."

"Thanks," he said, heart beating wildly as he closed the door. He rushed around the room, grinning and grabbing everything he'd need to take a quick shower.

Reuben just laughed and said, "Please thank her again for the cookies."

"Will do," Bradley replied, making a mad dash for the showers. If he did the math correctly, he figured it was between four and five o'clock in the morning back home in San Diego. He hated calling you in the middle of the night, especially when you were pregnant and exhausted, but he knew you'd forgive him. And he desperately needed to see your face and hear your voice.

His hair was still damp when he jogged along the quiet corridors toward the lounge and took a seat in front of one of the computers. He quickly entered his credentials followed by your phone number, and then he waited and waited. "Shit," he muttered, gripping the edge of the table, afraid the call was going to ring through and then cut off. But then he heard you screech his name and saw you as you reached for your glasses while the light from the lamp on your nightstand illuminated your face.

"Bradley!" you practically screamed again, your voice scratchy from sleep. "Roo! Are you okay?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," he said, feeling calmer than he had in weeks as you juggled your phone around and tried to sit up fully in bed. "I'm fine. Sorry it's so late."

"No, no, no, this is perfect!" you insisted, rubbing your eye behind your glasses as you tried to stifle a yawn. "This is great."

Bradley laughed and said, "I miss you so fucking much. Wish I was in bed right there with you."

"Me too," you insisted, and he could see the sincerity on your face. "It got chilly here tonight, and Tramp isn't as snuggly as you are."

He wanted to kiss you. He wished he could somehow dive through the screen and end up next to you where you'd pull him right into your arms. His voice was just a whisper as he said, "Tell me about the Nugget."

Your smile was soft, and you bit your lip. "Dr. Morris said the Nugget looked great when I was there two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago," he groaned, rubbing his rough hands along his face. "Sweetheart... I already missed so much." When he looked at the screen again, you were out of bed and on the move. "Where are you going?"

You flipped on the hallway light and said, "To get the ultrasounds to show you. I left them on the kitchen counter."

The fact that he knew that's where they would be made him smile. When you propped your phone up next to the stove and turned on the light, he felt tears stinging his eyes. You held up one of the photos so he could see the baby, and he had to blink past his blurry vision. "There's my Nugget," he said, voice thick with emotion as you held up a second image. "Fucking cutest baby I've ever seen."

Your laughter sounded beautiful as you showed him a third one. "I liked this one the best. I think it looks like the baby is waving hello."

"Shit," he gasped. "You're right. I can't wait to wallpaper our bedroom with copies of these."

You pulled the baby picture away, and he could see your face again as you said, "You're probably not even joking."

"I'm definitely not even joking."

You leaned on the counter and got a little closer to your phone as you said, "Another week or so, and I can go in for an anatomy scan."

Now Bradley felt like crying for a totally different reason. "You get to find out if the Nugget is a boy or a girl."

"Yeah," you said with a nod. "But I don't really want to do that without you there too."

Bradley looked at your beautiful face and the perfect curve of your cheek. He imagined a little baby in your arms with the same flawless features. "I wish I could get home in time to hold your hand and find out in person. But you know I don't care one way or the other. The only nice thing is that we can start narrowing down baby names soon. I actually wrote down a few that I kind of like in the Nugget notebook earlier."

Your smile was brilliant as you told him, "I can't wait to read all of your notebook entries. And if you're not home for my next appointment, I'll be practically vibrating with anticipation until I get to tell you if it's a boy Nugget or a girl Nugget."

Bradley opened his mouth to say he couldn't wait to come home and spend a full day curled up with both of you. He was about to ask you to pull his UVA shirt up and let him see what your belly looked like now. But the lounge door swung open so hard, it sounded like it was going to fall off the hinges.

"Bradshaw!" barked Admiral Turner. "It's time. Get into your flight suit."

"Yes, Sir," he said before glancing back down to see your face as you started to cry.

"You have to go," you sobbed.

"I do," he said quickly. "Right now. Listen, I love you. More than anything. You and the baby both, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," you sobbed as your lips trembled. "So much."

"I'll be home soon," he promised, even though he knew he couldn't guarantee anything of the sort. "I love you."

After he ended the call, he ran back to the bunk where Reuben was already in his flight suit and pulling on his boots. It was late enough now that it had to be dark outside, so he was either about to fly another mission without the use of one of his senses, or they were sending him out at first light. Either way, he knew what he had to do, so he pulled his own flight suit on with shaky hands.

The call with you had calmed his nerves right up until the point when he had to abruptly end it. What he wouldn't give to be back home within a week. He'd drive you to the appointment in his Bronco and hold your hand the whole time. Dr. Morris would let you know if he was going to be the dad to a daughter or a son. His little Nugget.

"You ready?" Reuben asked as Bradley finished lacing up his boots.

He looked up at his friend as he stood. "Actually, no," he said, pulling his duffle out from under his bed. He started rooting through it as he said, "I need you to potentially do me a favor."

"Sure," Reuben replied, "but we gotta get to the meeting room now, Rooster."

"I know," he mumbled in response as his hands connected with the most important thing he had with him. He held up the pink and blue notebook, his voice calm in spite of his nerves as he said, "Just real quick, you see this? I need you to take this back to my wife if anything happens to me."

His friend was silent for a beat before he said, "Alright. I can do that."

Bradley's fingers tightened around the spiral binding holding together all of his thoughts about fatherhood and how much he loved his unborn child. And now his voice shook a bit as he said, "This is very important to me."

Reuben nodded and said, "Understood. I promise I'll take care of it if the need arises."

"Thank you." Bradley kissed the striped cover and propped the notebook up against his pillow, giving it one last look before he followed Reuben from the bunk.

At first light, Bradley made his way out onto the carrier deck through the rain and whistling wind. The mission was on. The weather was miserable, but the plethora of Naval officers deemed this the best opportunity they were going to get to help their allies.

It was time. Time for Bradley to trust himself. And if he failed, he trusted Reuben to take the notebook back to San Diego and get it into the hands of his wife. Then you'd take care of the notebook for the Nugget. Because if there was one person who was never going to let him down, it was you.

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I can't deal with how much I've been hurting my own feelings with these two. Should we start a new series? Would that be okay? A tragic, new series? Thank you for reading about and loving them! Please stay tuned. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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