#Fine Dining Recipe Challenge

[gretagerwigsmuse]

(christmas) baby please come home

summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw and his girlfriend throw a christmas party, complete with a christmas tree, copious amounts of champagne, blended friend groups, and the true meaning of the word home

OR what do you do when your boyfriend gets deployed over christmas and he gets you two christmas presents?

pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 11.8k

warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit sexual content

part of @notroosterbradshaw ‘s hello december challenge

masterlist and playlist

It was obvious that you knew how to throw a party. 

Furthermore, it was obvious that none of your and Bradley’s friends - baring Max, but only because he had professional help - would ever be able to pull off a party of the same caliber as your Christmas party. 

Subconsciously, you wanted your friends to be jealous of you and impressed with how well you and Bradley had pulled things off. It was, admittedly, such a vain and shallow thought - no, desire to want to be the best at this. At throwing parties.

The Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack was currently echoing throughout the downstairs on the Sonos, the twinkling jazz giving off a whimsical, yet sophisticated vibe, the Christmas tree looked stunning in the living room where it was covered in nearly three thousand white lights and countless ornaments, and the food that you and Bradley - but mainly Bradley - had spent all morning and last night preparing was laid out on festive serving dishes, complete with seasonally appropriate plates and napkins, perfectly folded in their napkin rings. 

You had scoured San Diego county for the most gorgeous garland possible to serve as the centerpiece on the dining room table, the berries and pine cones in it perfectly matching the plates and napkins and serving dishes. You had vacuumed the hardwood floor twice and washed it once before everyone came over and knew you would do so again once everyone left, if only so you could casually say it’s fine, you can keep your shoes on, we’re washing the floor tomorrow anyway. The candles weren’t overpowering, there was soft lighting all throughout the house, and you’d somehow wrangled a recipe for the cookies Bradley’s mom used to make from Sarah Kazansky and hadn't even burnt them.  

Because you wanted people to talk about it - the party. And to say did you see their bathroom? It was so clean, there weren’t any water spots on the faucet. The beef tenderloin appetizers were delicious, they had to have gotten the meat someplace special? No, definitely not Vons, maybe some local butcher in La Jolla? Aren’t they such a sweet couple? Such a good pair.

Because it had to be perfect. 

All of it.

Because this was Bradley’s Christmas. His only Christmas that year. Nothing could go amiss. And you wanted everyone to be jealous of it, so much so that tonight would be equal to if not better than how they celebrated the actual holiday with their own families - in their own homes - on Christmas Day. 

Because they weren’t going to be spending the holiday on a drafty aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific far from home like Bradley was. 

And Bradley deserved the entire world and all the happiness he could possibly have. The way his face had lit up when you’d first suggested the party after he’d gotten his orders at the beginning of November would stick with you for months. You’d told him that everything would be perfect, that you would pack enough Christmas spirit and love and gifts and food into one evening that it would take the sting out of being away from home - being away from you - at Christmas. Even if for just one night.

The guests had all arrived, some promptly and some not-so-promptly, with you and Bradley greeting them all, telling them to help themselves to all the food and drinks they wanted. Apparently, Max had a surprise for later that you prayed was not him putting on a Santa suit. But the conversation and drinks were flowing with ease, despite the blending of your two friend groups for the first time. 

It was a good party. 

Except right now, it was your turn to be the jealous one.

You watched, enviously, as one of your work friends leaned against the kitchen island with a glass of prosecco in her hand, while the other gripped Jake Seresin’s bicep. The jealousy wasn’t because of Jake or any attention he may have been giving her, mind you. 

(Because no, no - while you may no longer have had an intense hatred for Bradley’s nemesis cum friend, you still didn’t actively seek out his presence and you definitely didn’t want his attention - not for anything other than a great party as he left your - no, Bradley’s house later that night.)

No - you were jealous of her dress. Her gorgeous, deep garnet, midi-length, sleeveless dress. That looked absolutely stunning on her, though a touch too fancy for a Christmas party in South Park. She looked gorgeous, beautiful - statuesque. 

You absentmindedly fixed the bow on your wrap dress. Your long sleeved, silk wrap dress - that also did plenty to hide any unwanted lines or bumps around your stomach. And your arms. 

Weeks ago, back when the party was but a pipe dream, you’d been eyeing this absolutely adorable, sleeveless, mini-dress for the event. Like your friend’s dress, it probably erred on the side of slightly too fancy for a house party, but it had been so pretty and so perfect. It had sat in your cart online for at least two weeks - you just wanted to see if it would go on sale before you finally pulled the trigger. 

Until Thanksgiving. 

When you saw how unflattering your arms looked in the black cashmere tank you’d brought for dinner to your parents’ house. You thanked your past self for having the forethought to pack a cardigan, which didn’t come off until hours later after all your aunts and uncles and cousins had left and you were snuggled up in Bradley’s arms. 

Maybe you should try the HIIT classes on your Peloton instead of all those beginner rides you were still doing with Cody? Or get arm weights? The girls who worked out in the front two rows of your pilates class swore by them. They barely needed any input from the instructor - they just knew how to move their bodies that way. Or maybe you could ask your parents for a higher Class Pass subscription for Christmas? It would give you something to focus on while Bradley was gone. 

You hadn’t been this self conscious at the gala back in October and that dress was far more daring than anything you’d ever worn before; practically open back, with a risqué slit and a deep v neckline, to say nothing of what you had worn just for Bradley later that night. 

So, why now? Why tonight when you were supposed to be enjoying this time with your boyfriend and all your friends before the holidays? Why tonight, when everything else was going so right, were you being bogged down by this insecurity in your own home - no, no, it was Bradley’s home, not yours.

Was it because he was leaving? And you didn’t want one of his last images of you for three months to be your arms in a too tight dress? Because that was so shallow and silly and ridiculous. 

But what if it was true? Bradley was so pretty and handsome and charming and sweet, what if there was someone else on that boat that also thought he was pretty and handsome and charming and sweet? And you’d seen all the other aviators and naval personnel at that gala, they were stunning. What if Bradley thought that too - no, no, no. You weren’t going to focus on that for one of your last nights with him. 

Bradley loved you, Bradley proved how much he loved you every single day, Bradley catered to your every whim about this party with the biggest smile on his face. 

Bradley loved you. 

You were just being ridiculous and shallow and over dramatic and spiraling before he left. Bradley loved you, Bradley loved you. He loved you. He - was wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“How’s it going?” His voice rumbled in your ear and you leaned back against him. 

God, he was so strong and soft and warm and smelled so pretty all the time. You were going to miss him so much. You felt him fiddle with the bow tying your burgundy dress together and ducked your head. 

“Good, just came to get a drink.” Which you had been doing - about three minutes ago. “And wanted to make sure everyone in here was all set.”

Bradley hummed and swayed you back and forth in his arms. “Look at you, hostess with the mostess - or however that goes. You want me to make you another drink?”

You nodded. “Please.”

You both had decided to set up the bar in the kitchen, while keeping the food in the dining room and the dessert in the sitting room for later. Hours ago, before you had even hopped in the shower, the bar had been painstakingly set up and organized. Now, it needed some work. You cursed yourself for not checking on it earlier in the evening - you couldn’t believe your guests had been serving themselves from this all night. 

The glasses were no longer in neat rows, organized by type, the bowl with the limes was running dangerously low, and the caps to the liquor bottles and the champagne corks were scattered across the table. Without a second thought, you started organizing everything before Bradley could even get you a fresh glass. 

You could tell he wanted to say something, but - at least for that moment - he just rubbed your back and then poured you another glass of champagne, making sure to put the bottle back properly. Meanwhile, you scooped up the stray corks and foil and other bottle caps and threw them in the garbage underneath the sink. You had enough time, maybe you could pop those dirty wine glasses in the empty dishwasher? Wait - there was a puddle of condensation underneath an open bottle of champagne. You frowned. Clearly, someone hadn’t put it back in the bucket. Who would do that? Didn’t they know to put it back exactly where -  

“- You good?” 

Bradley’s voice was so soft and reassuring and you couldn’t believe you’d soon be going without hearing it for months. Unable to wait another second, you wrapped your arms around him in a hug, which he eagerly returned and you nuzzled his chest. Bradley’s shirt for the party was an exceptionally soft flannel in a solid navy color that you’d found on sale. He hated buying himself clothes, even more so spending a lot of money on them, but he always liked whatever you picked out for him. 

Maybe you could buy him some new clothes while he was gone? By now, you knew what he liked and didn’t like - right down to the colors and fabric types. He needed some new undershirts - and socks. You nuzzled your face into his chest. He felt so warm and soft and smelled so good. You had to buy a travel sized bottle of his cologne before he left. 

“You sure you’re okay, kid?” he asked again. 

“Just a little overwhelmed - and kinda tired.” You pulled your head back to look at him, but the two of you still kept your arms around the other. 

“Well,” Bradley started, “to be fair, you did do like all the work for this party, think it’s valid to be a little tired, sweetheart.”

“What? No?” You were offended on his behalf. “Bubs, you made all the food and -”

“- Yeah, but you helped with the food and did all the work getting the house ready.”

You cocked your head, considering this. “I mean, I did. Didn’t I?” Bradley chuckled. “Okay, fine - I’m tired. But it’s a good tired, I think?”

“A good tired, huh?” His thumbs were making the most soothing circles on your hips.

“Like a heart full tired? A changing for dinner after a spending a day at the beach tired - no, wait. A post gala eating french fries in bed and watching Moonstruck tired?” An after you fucked me so hard I could barely remember my own name tired. 

“You should’ve just led with that last one.” He kissed your temple and ran his hands up and down the silk fabric covering your arms. “Would’ve known exactly what you were talking about then.”

You lightly shoved his chest and then pulled him back in for a hug. “I’m also gonna miss you a lot…”

That was the crux of it. You were going to miss him so much you thought your heart was going to burst. And enjoying all the Christmas festivities tonight - on the second Saturday in December - made it all the more apparent that Bradley wasn’t going to be with you over the holidays. He wouldn’t be with you again until March. 

You two had gotten through plenty of training missions, short diplomatic visits, and off-sites - on your end - over the last eight months. But this was Bradley’s first, real deployment. 

God, if only Emily Simpson could see you now. You and Bradley had both been so cocky, so confident back in October at the gala about how effortlessly you handled the time spent apart. But you hadn’t been staring down a three month long deployment back then. 

Three months was a long time. Six pay cycles, at least twelve trips to the grocery, four off-sites, the entirety of Q1, five nail appointments, twenty four pilates classes, and if he knocked you up that very night, it could be the entirety of a first trimester of pregnancy. Not that you wanted to be pregnant - at least not for a while. Like quite a while. It was just a way to compare time. You didn’t want to be pregnant. 

Three months, three months, three months. 

And then he’d come home to you. To you and your life together.

That’s why the party had to be perfect. Because it would remind Bradley of home and all he had to look forward to when he came back in three months. 

“I’m gonna miss you, too.  Never really had someone to miss before on one of these - not like this.” 

And then he kissed you - quick, little butterfly kisses that soon turned bolder and more daring, especially considering there were five or so other people milling about the kitchen. Bradley’s tongue licked your bottom lip, eventually coaxing your mouth open. He tasted like the old fashioned you saw him drinking earlier. You slid your arms up his chest to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer and fiddled with the ends of his soft hair. 

The sounds of the party disappeared around you - you could no longer hear Frank Sinatra singing Jingle Bells, Jake and Georgie talking in the corner, or Javy getting drinks for him and his girlfriend to your right.

All you could focus on was Bradley. And how warm and soft and strong he felt in your arms and how -

“- Fuck’s sake, Bradshaw. Do you want us to leave or…”

You turned around to face Jake and Georgie, the latter of whom looked beyond embarrassed, and leaned back against Bradley’s chest. Shit - you’d forgotten you had an audience, especially Jake and Javy.

“Sorry…” You felt warm all over at getting caught. Normally, you and Bradley weren’t big on PDA, but you’d been needy lately - both of you had been. 

Further down to your right, Javy just chuckled. “Give ‘em a break. You’d be the same if you could hold someone down long enough.” Bradley laughed, while Jake turned beat red.

While him and Javy started chirping at each other, Bradley took your hand and led you out of the kitchen, past all the guests congregating in the dining room and over towards the sitting room. 

“Here, I know what’ll cheer you up.”

There were only a couple people in this part of the house - Caroline and Max, Bob and Callie, and Natasha and Rory, the latter of whom had gone with her to the gala back in October. They were a relatively quiet crowd and looked to be captivated by a story Max was telling. But then again, people were always captivated by Max. 

“…so I say to Garoppolo, ‘you really wanna get the shit beaten out of you for the second time this week?’ Because a guy who folds in front of the fucking Broncos’ defensive line is not one I think can handle being humiliated like this on - aww, if it isn’t Bradley-Boy and our lovely hostess. Come here and give me a kiss, sweetheart.” You chuckled and started over towards Max. “No, not you, darling. I meant Bradley-Boy.” 

With giggles and jeers, everyone turned towards Bradley, who was definitely blushing. But ever the dutiful host, he trudged over towards Max and planted a sloppy kiss on his forehead. 

You had met Max over a year ago via your best friend from college, Caroline. Bradley, on the other hand, had met Max in late March at Mission Beach, right before the two of you had started going out. 

Since moving back to California, Bradley had taken up surfing again and relished his weekend mornings out in the chilly Pacific. It had taken a couple weeks for the guys to realize they were both regulars and get past the initial head nod greeting, but after that they got on like a house on fire. Despite Max being a typical nepotism baby, VC-firm-bro type and Bradley the outgoing, naval man, they were each other’s best friend.

And to be perfectly honest, you thought they may have been a little in love with each other.

Who knows, maybe you would have been at Bradley and Max’s holiday party if you hadn’t met him in April.

“All good now, peaches?” Bradley teased and then turned to everyone else in their little group. “Just so you know, the story ends with Jimmy G challenging Maxi-Pad to a closest to the pin contest and Max shanking his tee shot.”

You laughed and wrapped your free arm back around Bradley’s waist. “Was this how you planned to cheer me up?”

“Oh, god. What’d you do now, Rooster?” Natasha teased. 

“Can I call you ‘Rooster?’” Max asked, much to Caroline’s delight.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Bradley said and then turned towards Natasha. “And nothing, just trying to do everything so can to make sure my girl has a lovely evening.” Everyone let out various sighs and swoons, except Nat and Max, who feigned gagging. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He grabbed your free hand again and brought you over to the upright piano in the corner, next to where Callie and Bob were lounging on the loveseat. You desperately hoped Bradley was going to play for you - maybe even some Christmas carols. He had such a natural talent for it, even beyond his usual Hard Deck repertoire of that damn Jerry Lee Lewis song. He could play Debussy, Ravel, Schumann - anything, really. You figured he’d start off with Jingle Bells or something like that, but he surprised you with something new.

Bradley’s fingers twinkled out the opening notes to Linus and Lucy and you, and the others in the sitting room, couldn’t help but laugh. He had been right - this did cheer you up. You had always loved the Peanuts. 

Growing up, you’d gone to the Charles Schulz Museum in Santa Rosa too many times to count. It became your favorite place during your parents’ divorce and you always begged your dad to take you whenever you were having a bad day. But then, when the divorce had been finalized and you, your dad and brother eventually moved down to Berkeley, you didn’t get the opportunity to go as often. But your love for the cartoon characters never died and you had the sneaking suspicion that Bradley had learned the song for you - this was the first time you’d ever heard him play it.

You took a hearty sip of your champagne and leaned your arms on the top of the piano, eventually resting your cheek against your fist. Your cheeks hurt from the massive smile stretching across your face as you looked fondly at Bradley. He was concentrating so hard, his tongue was peeking out of his mouth. And his long, graceful fingers were flying across the keys. 

You couldn’t imagine how long it took him to learn this if he was already off book. Did you mention his fingers? His hands? God, they were beautiful. Strong and long and corded - was that the right word? You recalled it from those regency romance novels you had hidden on your Kindle. God, you loved him so much. So fucking much. You’d never loved a person this much before - oh, you were going to miss him so much.

“You two are just like Lucy and Schroeder,” Callie cooed, snapping you out of your thoughts and causing Bradley to fumble a couple of notes. He also was blushing, which was sweet. 

A couple more people filtered into the sitting room, drawn in by the music, and soon people were throwing out requests for Bradley to play while others chatted in the background. He took Pete’s suggestion of Jingle Bells and soon played a jazzy version of the song. 

While Bradley played, the older man came up to you to chat. Penny couldn’t make it to the party, which was admittedly a bit of a disappointment, but she was hoping to stop by later once things wound down a bit at the Hard Deck. 

“Hell of a party, kid.” He toasted you with his beer. 

“Thanks, I just wanted to do something nice for Bradley.”

“Pretty sure you could’ve gotten a pizza and he would’ve been happy.”

You considered that. “True, but that hardly sounds fun - plus, this way I could get a new outfit.”

Pete smiled and you both glanced over towards the piano for a moment as Bradley got Natasha and Bob to sing along with him. It was nice seeing them all carefree and happy and just lighter. Bradley glanced over his shoulder at you and winked. 

“It’s nice seeing him like this,” Pete said. “Hell, last Christmas it was like pulling teeth to get the kid over to Penny’s for Christmas Eve and to see him get a tree and have people over at his place is just - it makes me really happy. Sorry if that’s corny or -”

“- No,” you reassured him, “well, maybe a little. But corny is good sometimes. Especially around the holidays.”

“You guys gonna do gifts tomorrow or…”

You shook your head. “Nah, we’re gonna do them tonight after everyone leaves.”

Pete took a sip of his beer and nodded. “The kid wouldn’t stop talking about your gift, I swear he told everyone on base.”

You felt yourself heat up and glanced over at Bradley again. “Really?” Pete nodded. “I’m nervous now, we promised we were only doing one present, so I hope he likes mine...”

“He will,” Pete sounded certain. “You think you guys will do this at your place every year? Maybe start a new tradition?”

That was a lovely thought. Celebrating Christmas with Bradley for the next x amount of years. Plus, doing this before Christmas would give everyone the opportunity to get together before the actual holidays. 

“Oh, I’d love to,” you gushed, “but it’s Bradley’s call. It’s his house - what?”

Pete cut you off with a look. “Come on, by now you know it’s your house as much as Bradley’s…”

Oh, gosh. You hoped so - one day, at least. The two of you barely spent a night apart, baring whenever one of you was away for work. You barely considered your apartment your home anymore. Instead, it was on the couch in Bradley’s living room, watching TV. Or cooking breakfast together on the weekends and watching Sunday Morning at the kitchen table. Laying beside him in bed at night, his big arms wrapped around you, as you whispered how much you loved each other. You had never felt this way before Bradley, like another person was home. 

And you wanted to be home all the time. 

You could feel the heat creep up your neck, the warmth only amplified by Bradley’s soothing voice singing Let It Snow. 

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Pete apologized, “I just wanted you to know that I can see how much you guys care about each other. And he’s my kid - at the end of the day, I just want him to be happy.” He laid a reassuring hand on your shoulder and you ducked your head before nodding.

Back when you had first met him, you had imagined that gaining Pete’s approval was how you would have felt had Bradley’s parents been alive to give it to you. You thought about them often - more often than you’d ever let Bradley think - and especially as of late. Would they have liked you? Would they have gotten along with your parents? From what you’d been told, they would have made amazing grandparents. Maybe Bradley would even have had more siblings? Maybe, maybe, maybe.

“He makes me really happy, too,” you whispered. Pete pulled you in for a hug and then the two of you just watched Bradley playing for a few moments while the party continued around you two. 

“I’m gonna get another beer, you want anything?” Pete asked. 

You just shook your head. “Nah, I’m good for now, but thanks again for coming. It means a lot to both of us.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, just make sure the kid doesn’t drink too much. He always gets a little chatty…” And then Pete set off towards the kitchen, leaving you alone, but only for a moment until you heard Max’s voice in the hallway.

“Caro, darling, will you help me with something outside…” You crept over towards him, curious to see what he was up to and why he needed Caro’s help.

Caroline didn’t even look up from her phone. “I’m not giving you a handjob, darling.”

“Oh, please don’t,” you drawled, alerting them both to your presence, “Mr. Harrington already thinks we’re delinquents, can’t have him thinking we associate with them, too,” you said referring to your - no, Bradley’s neighbor. 

Mr. Harrington hadn’t exactly called you and Bradley delinquents - rather, he had called you a fresh young lady after you had unknowingly flipped him off at an intersection in another neighborhood, only to find out that he was the crotchety old man that lived next door to Bradley. He had been waiting for you in the driveway when you’d gotten home a few minutes later, demanding to talk to Bradley about you. But the old man hadn’t stood a chance with you and Bradley had just stood on the porch with a proud smile on his face as you gave him a piece of your mind. Since then, he’d just pass silent judgment whenever he saw you outside.

Max held up two fingers. “I’ll be on my best behavior, Scout’s honor.”

“It’s three fingers, dumbass.”

He breezed past you and started towards the door, gesturing for Caroline to follow him. “Good thing I was never a Boy Scout then…”

“Please, Max. Just tell me if you’re going to -”

“- Secrets, secrets are only fun unless you don’t share with anyone -”

“- That’s not even how it goes!” 

Max shrugged and grabbed Caroline’s hand, pulling her close to his side. “It’ll be fun, we promise! Plus, maybe Max won’t even come back to the party…”

Oh, he was definitely doing the Santa thing. But at this point, maybe it would be fun and memorable? And maybe you were just drunk enough to let it happen. 

“Fine, fine. As long as Max doesn’t come back to the party, you can do whatever you have planned -” 

Max cut you off with a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, love. Now, Caro! Your assistance, please!”

You waved them off towards the front door and made your way back to the sitting room where Bradley was taking requests for his next song. 

His eyes were scanning the room for whom you realized was you and a great, big smile spread across his face. “Nah, I got one already. Just needed my girl in here for this.” You chuckled and walked over towards the piano. “Figured we had to end on a high note, plus I heard a rumor Santa’s coming…”

There were hoots and hollers throughout the room, which didn’t let up even as Bradley played the first notes of the song he apparently needed you for assistance. 

“I’ll sing the first few lines, but then you gotta take over, alright, sweetheart?”

You sat next to him on the narrow bench and giggled, not quite knowing what he had up his sleeve, but more than ready to go along for the ride. “You got it, rocketman.”

Bradley pecked you on the lips and then turned to the room as he played. 

“I really can’t stay…baby, it’s cold outside…I’ve got to go ‘way…baby, it’s cold outside…”

Oh god. 

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

Hours later, after all your guests had left, fuller and far drunker than they’d been when they’d arrived, you and Bradley were tidying up the living room. The dishwasher was rumbling in the kitchen, the first of many loads you’d have to do tonight and tomorrow, but it was drowned out by the music still playing on the Sonos, while the extra food had been put away in the fridge.

From your spot across the room where you were fluffing the couch cushions, you glanced over towards Bradley. He sat, leaning against the chaise lounge, and idly sipped from a bottle of champagne that he kept putting down on the floor - though on a coaster, mind you. His hair was perfectly tousled and messy and he had a pleased smile on his face as he stared at the Christmas tree in front of him. His right hand was absentmindedly running up and down his thigh, just begging for you to ride it.

You joined him on the floor and he wordlessly passed the bottle of champagne to you before throwing his arm around your shoulders. 

“You did good, kid,” he said suddenly. 

A smile lit up your face. “Really?” Brady chuckled at your earnestness. “You’re not just saying that because this is like the first halfway decent party you’ve ever -”

“- Hey! I’ve been to plenty of decent parties! But I think - I think that this might be the best one yet.”

As a reward for his sweetness, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You think everyone got along? I only overheard one argument between Caro and Jake.” And it had been over the latest cryptocurrency scandal of all things. 

“Yeah, but to be fair, I think trauma bonding over your singing really brought everyone together.”

You were not as bad as Bradley had said - at the very least, you could carry a tune. Granted, you wouldn’t be on the Voice anytime soon, but if you were an SNL cast member and needed to sing for a sketch, you might be okay. And no one really focused on the actual singing during Baby It’s Cold Outside - it wasn’t exactly the paragon of Christmas songs or social norms. 

But it was just about the perfect duet, in that it was a crowd pleaser, a little slutty, and campy as hell. And as it so happened, you had been feeling a little slutty with all the champagne you had drunk throughout the evening. Plus, with Bradley on the keys and no one else sober enough to make fun of your less than stellar singing skills, you had been a glutton for attention. You had used your champagne coupe as a microphone and had only spilled a couple drops - at first.

“- But baby, it's cold outside -”

“ - This welcome has been -”

“ - How lucky that you dropped in -”

“ - So nice and warm -”

“ - Look out the window at that storm -”

“ - My sister will be suspicious -”

“ - Gosh, your lips look delicious -” Bradley kissed your proffered hand and you shimmied around the piano bench, eventually draping yourself over his shoulders while he continued playing.

Would you regret it in the morning? Probably. Did the song have a weird history? Yes. But it was your goddamn Christmas party! And you had wanted to have fun and fawn over your boyfriend. It had also been a good distraction from what you had correctly assumed was Max planning to crash the party as Santa with a sleigh full of presents for everyone. But Max was richer than Croesus; he could afford it.

“Come on, Bradshaw. How’s she been this year? Naughty or nice?”

You shot Bradley a glance, curious as to what his answer would be. But he just smiled wryly and toasted Max with his drink before taking a sip.

You closed the distance between the two of you and whispered in his ear, “Clever boy…”

He grabbed your ass, thankfully out of sight of your guests. “My smart girl…”

“Is that what you want me to be tonight?”

Frankly, you had been shocked Bradley hadn’t kicked everyone out then and there. 

But now you were cozy and tired in all the best ways and had Bradley to yourself for the rest of the evening. You burrowed your face into his chest and pressed a couple kisses to the column of his neck, suddenly desperate to touch him. It seemed Bradley was of the same mindset and carefully settled you on his lap. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling you closer and you shifted your attention to his lips. 

Somehow, the two of you wound up laying on the floor at the edge of the Christmas tree. The soft lights made Bradley’s brown eyes appear like pools of chocolate and you flushed. He groaned as you rolled your hips against his lap, already feeling the bulge forming in his jeans. Shit - were you going to fuck underneath the Christmas tree? Like properly fuck on the floor underneath the Christmas tree.

You started grinding against him, desperate to be closer, and then kissed along his neck in the hopes of leaving a reminder of this night for him. You peered up at the Christmas tree, lost in the beauty of the moment, when you suddenly noticed something. 

The presents.

The presents under the tree.

The three presents under the tree. 

Except…

There were only supposed to be two presents under the tree. One from each of you. You had been very clear about that right after Thanksgiving. Had even set a price limit.

Fuck. Oh, no. No, no, no. You pulled back and Bradley chased your lips with his own.

“Bubs! We said one present each!” 

He shrugged underneath you and kept rubbing his hands in soothing circles on your hips. “It’s nothing - well, it’s not nothing. But it’s just something I’ve been thinking about for a while and I figured this would be a good time.”

“But - but I only got you one!” 

Oh god - oh god. You ruined it. You ruined Bradley’s Christmas. You knew you should’ve gotten him that Otis Redding vinyl, too. But a Theragun? What had you been thinking? That was such a dumb gift. So impersonal, so boring, so basic. It was on three different gift guides from the Strategist for fuck’s sake. You figured it would be good for his back while he was deployed, you knew it had been giving him a lot of trouble lately. But now that Bradley had given you two gifts? In two separate boxes? 

You didn’t think the ornament you’d gotten him counted as a separate gift. Tacking it onto the box was just something your family had always done.

Clearly noticing the panic on your face, Bradley sat up slightly. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s -”

“- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin everything. I knew I should’ve had a back up present for you-”

He said your name firmly and you looked up at him. “- You didn’t ruin anything, alright? Hey, why don’t you open it first and then we can talk about it, okay?”

“Okay…”

You reached out for the present like it was going to explode, barely even taking notice of how nicely it had been wrapped. (Granted, you were still you, so you did actually notice, but probably would have fawned over the quaint wrapping paper and grosgrain ribbon a bit more had you not already been wigging out.) Next to you, Bradley bit his lip as he watched you peel through the paper. Why was he so nervous? He always gave you the best presents.

At first, there was nothing but a small gift box. It wasn’t terribly heavy. And it definitely wasn’t jewelry. Mainly because any of the jewelry you actually would have liked was definitely not within the spending limit, which Bradley knew. But also, it just didn’t feel like jewelry. It couldn’t have been an ornament, he wouldn’t have been this nervous.

So, what the fuck was it?

You slid your finger underneath the flap of the box and popped the lid open. But then there was the tissue paper. Goddamnit, Bradley! Why was he so good at wrapping presents! You glanced up at him only to see that he was blushing. Properly blushing. Like pink neck, pink cheeks - hell, even the tips of his ears were pink - blushing. 

Unable to take the suspense a moment longer, you dove into the tissue paper to find -

“- A key?” Your fingers gently picked up the offending object, only belatedly noticing that the key fob matched your favorite work tote bag. 

Bradley nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been wanting to ask you to move in with me for ages, it’s just we had so much time until it would become an issue, but then I got deployed and I know your lease will just about be up by the time I get back in the spring. So, I figured now would be a good time to ask if you wanted to move in with me? But if you think it’s too soon, I can totally wait. However long it takes for you to be comfortable with it is fine with me - I just want to have my life with you.”

“Bubs…” your voice was thick. “I uhh -”

“- I always want to come home to you - if you’ll have me?”

Oh god, oh god, oh god. You let out a disbelieving laugh. You would have Bradley Bradshaw in any way you could get him. He was your home.

You wiped away a wayward tear. “Bradley, this is - this is so unbelievably perfect. Yes, yes, I will move with you.”

He surged forward to kiss you and you temporarily forgot all your previous worries because Bradley wanted to move in with you. He wanted to share furniture and go grocery shopping for food that would go in the same fridge. He wanted to wake up beside you every single morning and come home to you every single evening and go to sleep beside you every single night. He wanted everything. And that’s what you wanted to give him.

“God, I love you so much.”

You never got tired of hearing him say that. “I love you, too. Sorry I made such a big deal about the presents…”

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve just put it in with the other gift, I get how it could have thrown you off.”

He was being nice and not pushing it for the moment, which you really appreciated. “Say, why don’t you open your gift from me and then I’ll open your other one?”

You crawled over towards the other two presents under the tree and gave the one that said to; rocketman to Bradley, while you took the other one with your name on it. It was decently sized and relatively light. The thing with Bradley that always made you nervous was that he gave the best presents.

For your birthday, he had not only organized a trip for the two of you out to Catalina Island, but he had also learned how to fucking sail Penny’s boat, so he could be the one to take you there himself. He had been so excited and had looked so cute in his white linen pants and navy blue button down and you swore you had never been more attracted to him. 

And then, for your six month anniversary, he had somehow gotten you two into Addison out in Carmel Valley for dinner and then followed that up with a trip to the drive-in to see a special showing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Though to be fair, neither of you had paid as much attention to the movie as you had been too busy necking each other in the backseat of the Bronco.

In short, he was a prince among men. Well, except when he wasn’t. But that wasn’t often. So, you were excited, but wary to open his gift, knowing nothing could possibly top the house key.

You tore through the wrapping paper to find another box similar to the one from earlier, except this one was heavier. Beneath the tissue paper laid a thick white envelope and an apron in a Liberty pattern. Your smile grew as you opened the envelope and saw that Bradley had gifted you cooking lessons for the next three months.

“Bubs.” You nudged his shoulder. “This is perfect, thank you. The apron is super cute, too.”

Bradley chuckled. “Now you can stop wearing mine and hopefully stop burning risotto -”

“- It was one time!” 

“Yeah and you almost burned down your apartment.” You made a face and he made one right back before turning serious. “But I thought it would be nice, something for you to do while I’m gone.”

You kissed his cheek. “I’m excited and I’m gonna make you the best dinner you’ve ever had when you come home to me, alright?”

“It’s a date.” 

“Perfect, now open yours!” You pushed the present towards him. 

Bradley was one of those people that opened presents like they were going to save the wrapping paper, which meant he did it slowly and purposefully. This normally didn’t bother you, but you were already a little on edge from earlier and had to sit on your hands to stop you from ripping the paper off yourself.

First, he took off the little ornament you had affixed to the package. Harkening back to your first date, you had gotten him a Saturn V Rocket ornament to add to the tree, giving your rocketman something to aspire to.

He shook his head. “I’ll get there one day, sweetheart…” he said fondly. “Now let’s see what we have here.”

The nerves settled in your stomach again and you barely let him unwrap the present before you jumped on him with an explanation.

“Wait, is this one of those -”

“ - It’s a Theragun. I know I make fun of you for having a sore back and being old a lot, but I thought this could help when you’re deployed and I’m not around to tend to your every need,” you teased.

Bradley conceded a nod. “You do give good back massages…” You preened. “But I get these ads on my Instagram all the time, so this is perfect, thank you.”

“I figured it wasn’t something you’d buy for yourself and it’ll come in hand -”

“- I bet it’s a wicked strong vibrator - owww!”

“Bradley!” You giggled. Holy shit, you hadn’t even thought of that. There were like five different speeds on that thing and six different attachments. Fuck. “In that case, maybe I should keep it…”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He slid the box behind his back and you crawled over to steal it away from him.

But before you could wrap your arms around him, Bradley pulled you into his lap and eventually the Theragun was pushed away and the two of you were sprawled out on the floor making out like a bunch of horny teenagers again.

Goddamn - you really were gonna fuck underneath the Christmas tree, weren’t you? Now that would be the perfect memory for Bradley to take with him. Festive and fun and spontaneous.

His hands felt sinful as they crept up your thighs. It was like he was mapping out the slowest route to his destination, especially as they cupped your ass and ground your body against his. Suddenly, you let out a hiss as your elbow hit the hardwood floor, but quickly reassured Bradley that you were okay once he stopped to check in with you.

He whispered your name. “I need you so badly.”

“- Fuck, me too. Want you to take me right here -”

“- Owww,” Bradley let out a groan against your lips.

You immediately pulled back, concern lacing your features. “Shit, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just - I don’t think we should do this on the floor?”

“But it’s very spur of the moment?” You glanced around the living room, past the Christmas tree and the wrapping paper from your respective presents. “What about the couch?”

“We just got it dry-cleaned - again.”

You sat further back on his lap and Bradley propped himself up on his elbows. Your wrap dress draped prettily over your bare thighs. “We can put a towel down?”

“Isn’t it upstairs?”

You made a face. “I could go get it? Or we could break out a new one?”

“Then I might as well come upstairs with you -”

“- But I want it to be spontaneous!”

He rolled his hips and you sighed. “We can be spontaneous upstairs…”

“Yeah, but…” You could feel the tears starting to form and your throat closing up.

Bradley tried to get in your line of sight after you ducked your head. “Hey, what is it? It’s alright.”

You sniffled. “I just want you to have some good memories before you leave and be spontaneous - especially since during the party I was pretty stressed and uptight -” The last word came out bitterly, but Bradley didn’t let you finish your sentence. 

“- Hey, none of that, alright? I knew you were a little stressed, but just chalked it up to the party. What’s really going on, sweetheart?”

You wanted to tell him. That you were going to miss him and wanted him to be able to think of the two of you doing all these fun and exciting and wonderful things before he left. That you didn’t want him to think of you crying and puffy eyed and sad. That you didn’t want him to think of you having sex in your bed, like any other night, but how you couldn’t even make it upstairs because you needed each other so much, so desperately and had to make due with the living room floor. 

Just say you were tired. Just say you were tired. 

But when Bradley took your hand and threaded your fingers together and started drawing circles across your palm, the tears came. And came and came and didn’t stop. You rubbed at your eyes with your free hand and repositioned yourself to lay beside him. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, come here.” Bradley wrapped his arm around your shoulders and let you rest your head on his chest. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, honey.” 

Once the tears slightly abated, you took in a deep breath to ground yourself. “I wanted everything to be perfect for you since you’re not going to be home for Christmas and all this stuff went wrong -”

“- Sweetheart, baby, no, no. It didn’t go wrong, everything went really really right.”

“Really?” you whispered.

Bradley chuckled. “Yeah, best Christmas I’ve had since - fuck, I can’t remember when. Come here.” He wrapped his arms around you.

“I know it was dumb to be worried about it - and to let myself get upset over it - but I think I was just so focused on the party and the presents and making everything perfect because I don’t want to think too much about you leaving.” You sniffled. “And I feel like that makes me seem childish or like I can’t handle this - your job, I mean. But I’m really just going to miss you, so fucking much. And I’ve never felt like this before.”

The look in Bradley’s eyes after you unloaded all that made you feel ten times lighter and you regretted not saying anything earlier. 

“Sweetheart…” He tucked your hair behind your ear. “It’s definitely not dumb to be worried about stuff like that and I know you can handle all of this - I’m not worried in that respect. I just want you to know how much I appreciated every single thing you’ve done for me these last couple weeks trying to make sure I had a good Christmas. And I know it’s cliche to say, but it’s the goddamn truth - I don’t care what we do for Christmas as long as I get to spend it at home with you, alright?”

Your heart soared and you felt the tears forming again at his words. I don’t care what we do for Christmas as long as I get to spend it at home with you. Because in the end, that was all that really mattered. You just kept your reply simple. “Alright, rocketman.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You kissed him again. “I love you so much, bubs.”

“Even though I’m old and don’t think we should fuck on the living room floor?” 

You chuckled at his attempt to bring some levity into an otherwise heavy conversation. “Yes, Bradley. I love you even though you wouldn’t let me fuck you on the living room floor…”

This time, Bradley pulled you closer, so your body was spread out on top of him and kissed you, licking your bottom lip before opening your mouth up to him. His hands snuck underneath the skirt of your silk dress, skirting the edge of your panties. You sighed. His hands were calloused and a little rough, but they still touched you like you were the most precious thing in the world. 

“Hold up, I never said I wouldn’t let you, I just said I don’t think - hey!” Bradley tried to fend off your tickle attack, but could only get a few words out between his giggles. “Stop, you know I’m old!”

Your ridiculously handsome, thirty-six year old, naval aviator boyfriend was giggling on the floor of your house because your were tickling his sides. If only you could show this version of Bradley to the Navy - maybe then they wouldn’t take him away from you at Christmas. Stupid US Military Industrial Complex. Fucking Lockheed Martin. 

“Also, are you still upset that I got you two presents? Because if you are, can I just make you come once tonight? Level the field.”

You giggled. “Shut up.” Your kiss cut off any reply he had been about to give and you licked his bottom lip, coaxing open his mouth. 

“Uh, uh, uh.” You paused and tilted your head slightly to look Bradley in the eye. “Now, what did Santa ask earlier, huh? You been naughty or nice this year?”

There were two ways in which this could play out - with two different, though ultimately satisfying results. One would play out relatively quickly - and the other would ensure you were occupied all night. 

“Nice?” 

Bradley clicked his tongue. “Don’t know about that…”

“Why not? Haven’t I been good?” You pouted, completely exaggerated, which Bradley picked up on in an instant.

“Good girls don’t typically have to ask if they’ve been good…”

“Maybe I don’t want to be good tonight…”

Bradley sucked in a breath as you snuck your hand underneath his shirt and teased the waistband of his jeans. His skin was hot to the touch beneath your fingers as you unbuttoned his shirt. You leaned forward to press little butterfly kisses to his neck and gradually made your way down past the little tufts of hair on his chest. 

“Please touch me, sweetheart. Please.” 

There was a carnal need inside you to mark his skin. To give him proof of your love and need for him, so that he could look at the marks in the mirror until they faded. A kiss across his neck, a soft bite on his shoulder, another on his bicep by his tattoo. You’re mine. Mine, mine, mine. And I want everyone to know. 

“God, Bradley. You’re so beautiful,” you whispered against his skin. “So beautiful and all mine.”

Bradley let out a whine as your teeth grazed against the sensitive flesh on his neck. “Fuck, I love you.”

His hands inched up your thighs, getting closer to the throbbing heat between your legs. Maybe it was the festive spirit, the fact that Bradley had asked you to move in with him, or that he was shipping out in 28 hours for three months, but you were pathetically wet already. Desperate and needy and as naughty as he had joked earlier. 

“I can feel the heat pouring off you, sweetheart.” 

“Can we go - ahhh - can we go upstairs, please?”

He pulled back slightly. “What happened to fucking on the living room floor?” he teased. 

“Don’t want to fuck up your old man back anymore - Bradley!” you cried out as he smacked your ass. 

“Old man, huh?” His smile was sinful and you were putty in his hands.

You widened your eyes, trying to appear contrite. “Sorry, sir. It won’t happen - Bradley!” He cut you off again, but this time because he was tickling your sides and your giggles made it impossible to speak. “Ta-take me upstairs, bubs - please. Don’t - don’t want you to hold back.”

“Now how could I refuse that?”

Gradually, the two of you made your way upstairs to the bedroom, though with a couple of breaks in between for Bradley to press you up against the walls and on the staircase. You’d have bruises tomorrow, you were sure. But you wanted them to last - to be something to remember this night by for the weeks and months to come. 

You landed heavily on the bed, bouncing slightly, and peered up at Bradley. His bare chest was rising and falling steadily with each breath he took as he looked you over, like he was trying to memorize you. 

Without breaking eye contact, you rose to your knees and pulled at the pretty little bow tying your wrap dress. Hours ago, you’d felt self conscious about your body in front of everyone else, but at that moment you felt like the most beautiful girl in the world. Bradley’s eyes widened as he took in the way you slowly pushed the silk dress off your shoulders, leaving you only in your burgundy bra and panties. It wasn’t exactly a matching set, but the colors matched and that was enough for the two of you that night. 

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

Bradley lunged forward, causing you to fall back against the pillows and you wrapped your legs around his hips with a gleeful cry, which he promptly cut off with his lips. 

After spending ample time just kissing you and running his hands up and down your body, Bradley lavished attention on your breasts, licking and biting and sucking on them like a man possessed. Your nipples were peaked to attention, thanks to the slight chill in the bedroom and his thorough ministrations. With one hand, he paid special attention to the skin just below your nipple, rubbing his middle finger along the tender flesh while thumbing at the raised bud. Meanwhile, his other hand kept trekking downward towards your clit. 

“Oh god!” you cried out against his lips as he slid his fingers inside you and crooked them just right. 

“So fucking wet, sweetheart.”

Fuck. You could feel yourself clenching around him, desperate for something more. You were needy for him that night. Needy to have your boyfriend all to yourself. To give yourself to him completely. Your orgasm was well and truly building up inside you, but you wanted to come on his cock first. There would be plenty more opportunities that night to come apart in other ways. 

You’d work him all through the night if you had to just to get your fix before he left. The thought made you desperate. 

“Bu-bubs, please. I need more - need your cock inside me.” You pulled him closer, grazing your thighs against his throbbing cock. 

Bradley groaned. “Such a needy fucking thing, bucking against my fingers like that, huh?” You whined. “But I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow, yeah. Make sure you savor it.”

It sounded fucking sinful the way your cunt was sucking in Bradley’s fingers. He’d begun scissoring them inside you so as to not have to remove them just yet. 

More. More. More. You chanted the words mindlessly in your head. Mine. Mine. Mine. 

Finally, he pulled out his fingers and shamelessly dried them off on your breasts. “You ready?” You nodded frantically. “Don’t think either of us is gonna last long.”

No, you didn’t think so either. But you didn’t want to prolong this. You needed to be close to him and to know he was real and good and yours. At least for tonight. 

Knowing each other as you did, you raised your hips slightly, letting Bradley to slip inside you. You both moaned, you loving the stretch and him loving the tight warmth. You wrapped your arm around his neck, bringing his lips closer to yours, but not daring to lean in those final few centimeters to touch, and instead just breathed against each other. 

“Fuck,” you rasped against his lips, “I love you.”

“Love you so much.” He snapped his hips against yours and you cried out. “Gonna miss you.”

You ducked your head to swipe your lips across the scar on his neck. “Can’t wait for you to come home to me.”

Home. Home. Home. Bradley wouldn’t just be coming back to San Diego in three months: he would be coming home - to you. And to this great, big, beautiful house he wanted to share with you. And to the life he wanted to share with you. 

He groaned your name. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Can’t believe it’s happening.”

Tears pricked your eyes and you bridged the gap to kiss him. “Bubs, I’m so close, please.”

“Tell me how to get you there? I wanna wait for you.” 

If he kept saying things like that, you wouldn’t be too far behind. Without breaking eye contact, you brought Bradley’s hand down to your clit and he played with the sensitive nub. You keened against his hand, which was coupled with a particularly deep thrust of his cock. You felt that coil in your belly finally unraveling.

“‘M close, feels so good. Again…”

He repeated the action again and again, telling you how gorgeous you were as you took his cock and how much he loved you and needed you and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Because for tonight you were.

With a strangled cry of his name, you came and true to his word, Bradley followed shortly after. Fuck. He felt so good. He made you feel so good, so full, so loved. 

“Good girl, such a good girl for me.” He peppered kisses up and down your neck and across your cheeks, before settling on your lips. The two of you sat there like that for a few moments, trying to even out your breathing and be as close together as possible. 

But eventually Bradley had to pull out and you whimpered at the loss. He settled you back against the pillows and then started cleaning you up with the towel in his nightstand. Before he got to your still leaking cunt, he scooped up some of your cum with his fingers and brought it to your lips. 

“Open.” You did so without a second thought and cleaned off his fingers, getting high off the taste of the two of you mixed together. “Good girl.”

Then you let yourself get settled underneath the covers. You could go to the bathroom in a few minutes because right now you wanted to be with Bradley. Your bodies were both hot and sticky underneath the white sheets, but you couldn’t think of anywhere else you wanted to be than in his arms. 

“I’m gonna miss you so much, bubs.” You cupped his cheek tenderly, like he would disappear at any moment. A nagging little voice at the back of your mind said that he would, in fact, do just that - on Monday morning. But that night he was yours. 

Bradley nuzzled your hand, eventually pressing a kiss to your palm. “It’s not too long, just three months.”

“Three months without you.” Kiss. “Without your singing.” Kiss. “Your cooking.” Kiss. “Your smile and your silly little mustache.” Kiss. Kiss. “Three months without you, rocketman.” 

Your eyes were swimming with tears, but they were properly dripping down Bradley’s cheeks. 

“But we still have tonight.”

You still had tonight. And you’d be in each other’s arms till the morning light. 

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

Two weeks later, as you sat in your childhood bedroom on Christmas Eve, you were at once hit with a startling realization: it wasn’t your home anymore. It hadn’t been in years, really. Not since you’d officially moved out after college. But that fact had never been so apparent until you were waiting for the Facetime call to connect to Bradley. 

Your home was in San Diego with your friends and your job. Your home was with your boyfriend, snuggled up on the couch watching TV, perusing the aisles of the farmer’s market, watching him surf, and cooking dinner together. Your home was with Bradley. 

And you just wanted to be home - you just wanted Bradley. 

You had put on a brave face during Christmas Eve celebrations with your family - at least with your extended family. You had sung carols at church, helped Mary and your dad prep and lay out all the traditional Christmas Eve dishes, organized the Yankee Swap with your brother and Lauren, and had a few too many cocktails with your cousins. But as the last of your grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins had left and your dad had turned on NBC for the end of It’s a Wonderful Life, you had lost it. 

Properly, honestly, well and truly lost it. As in fat tears streaming down your face, snot clogging your nose, remnants of your mascara rimmed around your eyes lost it.

Goddamn Harry Bailey got to come home in time for Christmas! Harry got to toast to his “big brother George: the richest man in town.” Granted, George had basically just tried to kill himself, so the comparison wasn’t perfect - but still! Congressional Medal of Honor winner, Navy pilot Harry Bailey got to be home for Christmas! Why couldn’t Bradley? Fucking Navy. Fucking stupid US Military Industrial Complex. Fucking Lockheed Martin. 

At the sight of your tears, Mary had just opened up her blanket and let you burrow against her side as she rubbed your back like she used to when you were a kid, while your dad had gotten you a cup of Sleepytime Tea. Eventually, once you had calmed down enough and they had said all the right words to soothe your heartache, you had kissed your dad and Mary goodnight  - Mary had hugged you a bit tighter than usual - and they both had told you to give Bradley their best during your Facetime call. 

They liked Bradley - a lot, actually. Of course, they’d given him a tough time when they first talked on the phone all those months ago, but by the time Bradley officially met them at Thanksgiving, it was like he’d known them for years. He just fit. 

He loved to talk to Mary about her history classes at Berkeley and how her students were doing. He had the same sense of humor as your dad and also loved the Patriots despite their recent offensive coordinator troubles. 

He just made you lighter and made things lighter. He fit. 

And you could only hope that one year he’d be able to come up to Berkeley with you to celebrate for the holidays instead of being all alone on an aircraft carrier somewhere in the Pacific. Fucking Navy. Fucking stupid US Military Industrial Complex. Fucking Lockheed Martin.

Shit! The call was finally connecting. You felt tears in your eyes as you finally got to see your beautiful boy again. Though the picture was a little grainy, Bradley was sitting in what looked like one of the quiet rooms in your office, clad in his green flight suit. And he had the most wonderful smile on his face at the sight of you.

“Hey, sweetheart. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, bubs,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t come out as thickly over Facetime as it did in your room.

For what felt like the longest time, but was probably only a few seconds, you stared at each other, just drinking in the other’s face. Bradley already looked tired. This was your first Facetime since he’d left two weeks ago. Normally, you talked over email - which was actually kind of fun. 

Early on in your relationship during a one week special detachment, you had unironically sent him a pretty formal email to check in:

Bradley,

Hope you’re settling in well. Let me know when it would be a good time to connect via FaceTime. I can put some time on my calendar whenever you’re free. I’m heading to an off-site in Raleigh on Thursday, so I’ll be on East Coast time. 

Miss you and stay safe,

x

It had even been from your PwC email address, which he never let you forget. But soon quasi-formal emails became your thing. They probably set off a bunch of red flags to the censor team and you had never sent one from your work email again, but it was fun. You’d even thought of a couple code words and phrases to use.

“You have a good night? How’s your dad and Mary? Tell them thanks again for the package.”

Your parents had had the idea to send everything they normally would have put in Bradley’s Christmas stocking to him on the carrier. He had emailed the three of you a picture of the package, received in perfect condition, on his bunk yesterday. You two had decided that he would open it while you were on your FaceTime call. It wasn’t anything particularly special, except for two small gifts you’d snuck in before bringing it to the post office, but you were excited and could tell Bradley was too.

You held your breath as he parsed through the Dr.Jart sheet masks, Churchill cigars, various Christmas themed candies, new electric toothbrush heads, and scratch cards until he got to the bottom of the stack where your two special presents were hidden.

“Now, what’s this?” He shot you a teasing glance as he opened the envelope. 

You remained tight lipped, just glad it hadn’t been opened by Naval mail security. Bradley slid the object out of the envelope and you could see his eyes widen, even over Facetime, as he realized what it was before he promptly turned it over and glanced around even though there was no one else in the room with him. 

“Shit - how’d you - how’d you take this?” He leaned back in his chair and stared at it, clearly a little in awe.

You felt your cheeks heating up. “Well, I know you have a couple on your phone, but figured an old fashioned one might be nice too - especially if you’re in a tech blackout or whatever it’s called. But do you really like it - seriously, you don’t have -”

“- No, I love it. You’re not getting this back from me.” You giggled. “But you gotta tell me how you managed to get the Polaroid in the shower with you and still get the soapy titties in the picture?”

“Can’t tell you everything, now can I?”

(Caroline had taken them for you. It truly had been a bonding experience and was honestly not half as sexy as Bradley was probably thinking. But you just smiled - more than content to keep that a secret from him.) 

“Well, it is very much appreciated. So, thank you, I love it, seriously.”

You tried to peer into the box from halfway across the world. “There should be one more thing in there from me - and you don’t have to use it, but I know something similar always makes me feel like you’re right next to me…”

Bradley gingerly unwrapped the final tissue paper package only to reveal a travel sized bottle of your perfume. You giggled, watching him spritz his wrist and breathe in the scent.

“Fuck…I’ve missed that.” 

You rested your cheek against your fist and just watched him. For a minute, it felt like he was right in front of you. It made you want to do something terribly cliche like hold your palm up against the screen and imagine you could feel the heat from his hand as he did the same thing back.

But instead Bradley just smiled at you and asked you all about your Christmas Eve activities.

So, you told him about sneaking outside to smoke with your cousins, drinking too much champagne, eating too much food made from your grandma’s recipes from the old country, getting an actually good gift in the Yankee Swap, and crying over Harry Bailey. And he just listened and smiled and asked questions at all the right parts and kept telling you how much he would have loved to do all that beside you next year. 

And then with your remaining five minutes of calltime, Bradley told you all the goings on aboard the ship and how he and Bob and Reuben were doing and about the fancy dinner and breakfast planned for tomorrow.

But then the dreaded countdown clock on the side of the screen popped up, signaling you had thirty seconds left. By then, both of you had tears in your eyes as you tried to say goodbye until your next call.

“So, we’ll talk in two weeks, okay? Should be just after New Year’s, but keep emailing me. I love reading them when I get the chance.”

You wiped a stray tear from your eye. “Of course, I’ll give you a full Christmas morning breakdown.”

Bradley chuckled, but seemed to glance at the countdown clock and sobered up. “I love you, I love you so much and I’m so happy I get to come home to you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too. Merry Christmas, bubs. Please come home.”

-----------

a/n: sorry it took me so fucking long to write again, but a girl can only be so self indulgent! merry christmas, this taglist is shit sorry!

Taglist: @sunderlust @seasonsbloom @ticklish-leafy-plant @lass-that-is-gone @katcoquette @daniellef89x @double-j @bradshawswife @hufflepuffprincesse @cloudycluster @sithbelova @mavencalorers @fav-rooster-fics @thebeautifullydamnedone @unordinare @callsignvalley @pricklepearbloom @browneyedboys @cherrycola27 @whatblogisthis216 @agentofkrypton @lcahwriter @kyliesalvatore @noellreadfiction @coyotesamachado @heartsofminds @jocsrecs @notroosterbradshaw @roosterforme @iblogtopassthetime @karateperson @nessrin @frenchtoastix @piceous21 @princessphilly @spideyngwen @mrsjobarnes @calmpunker @softspiderling @feralforfrank @fivsecondsflat @sexualparkour @greenorangevioletgrass @sexygaypalpatine @moonyscardigans @carousallie @liveholland @supernaturaldawning @melancholyy-hill @currentlybradshaw @summ3rlotus @seesaw-jk @roostereads @milestomaverick @some-lovely-day​ @steadfastconviction​ ​​@sometimesanalice @jupitercomet @rae-gar-targaryen @oncasette @whisperofsong @call-sign-jinx @howdysebby

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley and smart aleck #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradley x reader #top gun smut #bradley fic #y’all i’m so tired and if this doesn’t show up in the tag i’m suing!! #hello december playlist challenge

[neonovember]

Almost

summary: weeks away on a covert operation had steve longing to be where he was meant to: between your thighs. Didn’t they say distance made the heart grow fonder?

warnings; overstimulation, depraved steve as well as touch starved? steve, smut, p in v, housewife kink, mentions of violence

a/n: steve is like, really depraved in this..A mission goes wrong and what does he do? Takes it out on your pussy :)

The smooth sounds of Etta James waft through the kitchen, the vinyl recorder Sam had gifted the both of you sits perched on the windowsill nook.

You’re almost done with the roast you’ve prepped earlier, preheating the oven before clearing away the dirtied utensils strewn about the granite countertop. Steve would be coming home tonight, finally, after 2 weeks away on some undercover mission Fury refused to tell you about.

God you truly felt like a part of you was missing each time he slung his duffel bag across his body, your heart aching with every passing day where you didn’t where or how he was, always left on edge for fear of getting that phone call.

Missions like these were rare but they still were expected from the super soldier, and at times you wished that he was solely yours, not America’s golden boy.

You usually cooked together, you and Steve, putting the expansive commercial oven to use, and with the summer evenings stretching into warm nights it was perfect to hold dinner parties for the rest of the team.

But there was something about cooking something just for him, your heart preened whenever he’d groan in appreciation for a meal that you created, testing out the waters with different flavours and tastes. He’d always eat your food he’d said, no matter if it tasted like hot garbage or a fine dining restaurant. You’d shoved him then, telling him your food would always be good. You didn’t go to culinary school and shelve over thousands of dollars that you were still paying, for it to be anything else.

Placing the marinated glazed chicken into the warmed oven you set the oven to cook for an hour, give or take, just in time for Steve’s arrival home. The house had already begun to smell like caramelised onions and honey and feared you might eat the whole thing before he gets here.

You began finishing the dessert you’d curated last night, the recipe was one you fine-tuned over these weeks, noting to add to your menu once you’d gotten Steve’s approval. He’d always helped you with the development of new menu items, with such enhanced senses it was like having a table full of experts, sometimes you’d even say he had better taste than you.

Sometimes.

The French doors of your shared home were left open, letting the syrupy warm rays flood into the living room, the smell of chrysanthemums you’d planted was wafting in, and the gentle crash of waves glided with the jazz sounds coming from your vinyl player.

You so badly wanted to lay on the plush rug and just bask in the summer heat, it was just right, not too hot, but enough to get your skin warmed. Your mind shifted to summer days in which you and Steve lay just right there on the living room floor, your body sprawled out against his beating chest.

His soft words reading a novel or nimble hands across your warm body lulling you both to sleep. You can’t remember how long it’s been since you and Steve just existed, outside of missions and superhero duties, but just exist, as two people who were in love.

It was what made today all the more important, the super soldier mantle Steve rested on would be deserted for a couple weeks, after you’d challenge to sue Fury over refusing to give Steve his well-deserved break.

There was still a mountain of dishes waiting for you in the kitchen sink, and you began to roll up your skills to tackle them before you hear the front doors slam open, the bang of it vibrating throughout the expansive house.

You glance at the chestnut case that has your pistol in it, the one Steve gifted you when he was away on missions and anxious about your safety.

You’d spend countless hours with both Steve and Natasha learning how to shoot properly, the kickback now gliding with your body instead of pushing you two steps back.

You found that you were quite good at it anyway, the blaring bull's eye shots in the shooting range causing Natasha to question if you really were who you said you were.

If anybody walked through that hallway looking for a helpless wife to take advantage of, they would be met with a hole in their chest, Steve made sure of it.

There is a loud thud, like something big and heavy dropping to the ground, and it causes you to bristle, facing backwards from the opening hallway, fingers gripping the sink and eyes strained on the drawer to the right.

Maybe you weren’t the fearless woman you thought you were.

You begin to maneuver your body to reach for your pistol before you hear the familiar sound of Steve’s boots against the hardwood floor.

Of course, it’s him.

You laugh at yourself as the beating in your heart eases, your chest evening out in neutral breaths and you're instead filled with eager excitement at his long-awaited arrival.

You turn quickly, a smile stretched almost painfully on your face, ready to meet the site of his open arms and warm smile. But Instead, you’re met with a quite different view.

Steve is standing there, still dressed down in his soldier uniform, the star dirtied with ash, blood and mud. His boots press into the hardwood floor, leaving large footprints marked with dirt.

Steve's eyes stare directly at you, unwavering and a deep cerulean blue. He looks animalistic, a wolf life expression that takes over his usual soft features, his blond hair tussles and mussed, all over the place as if he’s run his hands through it too many times.

His cheeks are rosy, and his knuckles are bruised and god why is it so hot in here? You can’t take your eyes away from his intense stare, mouth agape and your back pressed into the kitchen sink.

His chest is heaving up and down and he breaks his stare to let it travel across your body, eyes zeroing in on the apron he’d bought you, tied around your waist, hugging your curves and pressing your boobs, causing them to spill out.

Your hair is held up high, messy but kept out of your face, and you don’t think you look the picture of presentable, much less sexy but a dark look takes over his features, and his bloodied knuckles are pressed into tight fists.

The loud thunk of his shield drops to the floor, leaving an imprint of dirt and dust, and that simple act has you breathless, your thighs squeezing against each other.

What happened? Why was he acting like this? Steve was all smiles and soft kisses when he’d come back from missions, his demeanour now, well it almost looked as if he was still locked in his super soldier mindset, with you being the target.

“Steve?” You squeak out, gulping down a breath.

He growls, he literally growls, the sound vibrates through his chest and in two long strides he’s looming over your trembling figure.

You don’t have a second to react before he’s gripping your hips, maneuvering your body to bend over the granite countertop, lips crashing into your own.

He gulps down the moans that fill your mouth, hands trailing all across your body, squeezing, pinching, gripping. His shoulders relax as if the stress of everything has just been lifted off his shoulder, and his fingers come up to cradle your head, deepening the kiss.

His tongue trails over your lips, before biting down on them, causing you to let out a pretty squeak that allows him to shelve his tongue into your mouth. Steve was usually so gentle, all sweet honey kisses, now though, this kiss was anything but that. All teeth and tongue, the truth of his eagerness and insatiability falling into your mouth.

The bruising kiss begins to teeter on asphyxiation before he lets go of your lips with a loud pop, the instability burning in his dark orbs seems to shine even brighter now, as he begins to trail bruises down the column of your throat.

Steve begins to softly rock his body against your own, your head thrown back as you feel the stiff hard on press into the softness of your thighs.

Steve groans into your skin, sucking on the taste of it, vanilla and lavender bursting on his tongue from the body wash from earlier and your gardening from the morning.

He begins to move down your neck, leaving hickeys that were purposefully hard to obscure. Steve kneels at the foot of the counter, hands gripping your hips as he sucks a bruising kiss on the dimple sitting on your thigh.

Steve begins to murmur as you rack your fingers through his dirtied blonde strands,

“Mission..bad, you- you good. So fucking good” Steve groans as he reaches his fingers to tug your lace panties down. It’s all he says before he pulls them and tucks them into his pocket.

Your eyes widen as he rides your fitted apron up to your stomach, pushing your stomach down onto the granite countertop, before gripping your thighs, and placing them on his shoulders. He kisses his way to your pussy, licking at the skin, his harsh breaths on your clit causing you to moan loudly.

“Steve” You groan in earnest, needing him where he refused to be.

His eyes flicker up to your face, a smirk falling on his before he licks a long stripe through your folds, moaning at the taste, before sucking harshly. You groan his name loudly, head lulling back as you enjoy his harsh bruising tongue.

Steve moves his tongue to suck on your clit, his fingers coming up to caress your thighs, before shelving a digit into your pussy.

Steve begins to curl his thick fingers into you, eyes fixated on your withering body, watching every moan, every shiver, every groan of his name as he moves his tongue and hands to leave you in a heaping mess of arousal.

How long would it take before he broke you? The thought caused his erection to press painfully against him, spurring him to add a second digit. You try and close your legs, hands coming up to press against his chest before his thick arms come up to press your stomach back down.

Steve tutts mockingly, refusing to stop his rough mouth against your pussy and his fingers from pressing into your walls.

Your eyes begin to roll into the back of your head as Steve’s ring finger glides over a particularly spongy spot in your pussy, he grins against your clit, driving his fingers deeper into you as he curls them against the spot. Arousal drips from between his fingers, collecting onto the granite countertop as the wave of pleasure crashes down on you, Steve refuses to ease his motions, driving harsher and further as your orgasm violently.

Your thighs shake from beside his head, your back arching from the countertop as your vision clouds with saccharine pleasure.

You can’t speak, the broken syllables of his name the only thing falling from your lips as you lay shaking, uncontrollably. Steve’s eyes darken as he watches you, his mouth sucking onto your clit as he helps you ride the waves of your orgasm.

“That’s it, just like that my pretty girl, god don’t you look so pretty underneath me?” Steve mutters more to himself than anything, fingers trailing your trembling clit as he collects the last of your arousal, sucking on his digits as he slowly raises from his knelt position.

His hands come up to grip your waist, fingers wiping down across your face, before gripping your cheek, a singular thumb wiping the tears collecting on your waterline.

“What do you want?” Steve says, the question startles you, it’s Steve asking for your permission, the truth of his goodness shining through even at times like this, where you could practically feel his clothed cock bumping into your stomach and the shivers that went down his back as if he’d cum right then and there.

Steve would still jump into a cold shower if you told him to. But you didn’t, no you didn’t want that at all, you wanted him in you as deep as possible

“I want you Stevie, and I want it all” You whisper breathlessly, nails digging into his shoulder blade as he groans audibly. His eyes darken with a possessiveness that tells you you'll leave limping and blissed out. A shiver runs down your back as Steve trails his eyes down the prisms of your body underneath him, hands trailing over bite marks and bruises.

“Well, who am I to deny my pretty girl?” Steve says, before snapping his hips into the junction of your thighs. Steve doesn't give you a second to get accustomed to the sheer size and girth of his cock, before plummeting into you roughly, a groan passing his lips as your name falls and rolls over his tongue.

“Fuck, you feel so good baby, so fucking good” Steve moans into your skin, sucking on the slope of your shoulder as you grip onto him tightly, his cock hitting and gliding against your greedy walls just right.

“Been thinkin’ bout this the entire mission, almost got Sam killed cause this pretty little pussy was on my mind all. damn. day” Steve grunts, fasting his pace so that he rutted into you loudly, and with such ferociousness, you feared a bruise would appear.

The pornographic sounds of your moans and the thick slick of Steve's cock pounding into your dripping pussy echoed across the house, emulating into the front yard from the large open living room doors and for once you were glad your shared home was a further drive up from the surrounding neighbours

Your head lulls back as Steve’s thrusts deepen, your walls fluttering around his length as he repeatedly pounds into your cervix. Steve reaches his hands to grip your neck, and carefully raises your arched back to rest in his arms. With one hand wrapped around your waist, Steve raises your thigh to rest on his shoulder, enabling him to press you into the granite countertop, going impossibly deeper than you fear you would split in two.

“Just like that, god you take me so well doll, gripping me so fucking tight” Steve groans into your ear, his thumb tracing the outline of your face, pushing the strands of hair pack behind your ears and raising your body to grind onto his own.

Your hips begin to move on their own, your greedy pussy chasing the release that was just around the corner, Steve's cock brushes against the spongy spot he'd abused not even a few moments ago, slowing his pace to drive deeper, almost cursing you to bounce off of him.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, as spit begins to dribble from your open mouth, Steve's cock filled you to the brim, leaving you almost suffocatingly full, each stroke began before the last had even ended, somehow never letting you feel empty as his thickness engulfed your tight walls.

It had taken a while to get used to the sheer size of him, the first few times he'd made you come with just the tip, but god even know, years later, you felt like you were mere moments from collapsing onto him, cumming just from the sensation of his cock driving against your walls.

And as if Steve was reading your mind, he slips a hand to circle your clit, and all it takes is the roughness of his thick fingers before you’re cumming around him, your walls squeezing him tightly as your mind blackens. Your nails press into his back, scraping against the expansive muscle, causing him to groan loudly as your pussy practically flutters around him.

Steves presses sloppy kisses across your body, humming into you, nodding as he watches through hidden lids, growling as you moan his name loudly. He made you like this, a heaping blubbering mess incapable of even coherent English, he loves it, he craves it, the sight below him, refusing to blink of fear of missing even a second of your arched body, shaking violently.

“Let it out darling, let it out, I’ve got you babygirl” Steve murmurs. The sweet pet name Steve whispers, contrasts against the harsh pace he's resumed, pressing into you insatiable, even as the aftershocks of your orgasm continue to run through you.

“Just one more baby, just one more, can you give me one more? Hm? Will you let me empty my cum into this tight little hole?” Steve groans, as he grips the small of your back, pressing you into his chest as he loses all abandon. What seemed to be the last of Steve's restraints is broken as he rocks into you with such roughness all you can do is grip his arm tightly, head rocking against his shoulder as he slides his thick cock into your fluttering walls.

Holding you up with just one hand around your waist, Steve fucks up into you mid-air, eyes laser-focused on the image of his cock disappearing into your cunt, the slickness of your orgasm glistening across his length, and dripping down your folds.

Your walls tighten unconsciously as Steve thrust into you from a different angle, gliding his thick cock against your walls in ways you didn't think were possible, Steve groans your name as the feel of your tightenings walls grip his length, causing him to stifle as his thrust grow sloppy, unable to move as if your cunt has wrapped an iron grip on it.

Profanities fall from Steve's lips as he throws his head back, the dirty blond strands lying messy onto his forehead, Steve's grip on your waist tightens painfully, as he shoves the entirety of his length into your cunt, his cock still thrusting into you uncontrollably. And as if his own climax triggers your own, you throw your head back in equal ecstasy, revelling in the burning hot pleasure falling down the slope of your back. Thick white ropes of cum shoot into your quivering hole, coating your walls with its milky slick, both of your arousals leaking from between your folds.

You slump your back onto the kitchen countertop, the coolness of the granite causing you to groan as it eases the burning heat radiating off of your body thanks to the human furnace above you. Steve follows your motions slumping onto you, as he basks in the aftershocks of pleasure.

A moment passes, with you running your nails across his back before raking them through his dampened curls, humming gently against his heated chest. Steve signs in pleasured relief, pressing into you as if he wanted to get under your skin. You whisper into his ear, careful to keep your voice soft as the exhaustion of the mission becomes evident on his face.

“Well, that was quite the welcome,” You say, grinning into his ear

“I wasn’t lying when I said I missed you” Steve replies with a snort, raising his face from between the pillow of your breasts, a smirk gracing his once again softened features.

There was truth to what he was saying before, even in the throes of pleasure, in fact being distracted was an understatement. This mission was a particularly long one, and he missed the feeling of your sweet cunt wrapped around him so perfectly. There were countless times when Steve would find himself shamelessly thrusting into the column of his wrist thinking of you, nights in sweaty motel rooms where all he could think, all he could breathe was you. You were blissfully unaware of it, the times when he’d call and thrust to the voice and video of you, under the covers whilst you chatted obliviously to his salacious doings.

He just couldn't help it, you were just too good, and most days he could restrain himself but today? When the first thing he could smell was the musky scent of your slick between your thighs? And the scene that he walked into? He was ravenous. It didn't help that you were dressed in one of those frilly aprons, cooking a meal just for him, his sweet girl, so eager to have him home that you'd gotten up extra early.

There was a deeper part of him, one that longed for this to be the norm, coming home to those sweet hips swaying along to the music, his chest against your back as he danced along with you, fucking up into you against the hallway before eating dinner together.

“Dinners almost ready, ya know you’re lucky I put the roast in before you came or else we'd be having burnt potatoes and dry chicken,” You say, however making no motion to get up quite yet.

“My perfect amazing wife, you know I would eat it anyway” Steve sings songs, pressing a soft kiss onto your clavicle, before slowly rising from his slouched position across you. Gently pulling you into his arms with a soft “come here”.

“Besides, I’m feeling quite satisfied anyway” Steve whispers cheekily, looking down at you as you hug his torso.

“Not on god's green earth am I going to let a perfectly good chicken go to waste” You gruff, slapping Steve playfully, as you wobble towards the oven. Steve rushes forward, hand gripping your arm as he gently wraps you into his arms tutting disapprovingly, as he carries you bridal style towards the large leather couch in the living room.

Gently placing you down, Steve takes out the pot roast himself, groaning as he smells the caramelized onions and honey chicken oozing with bubbling juices and herbed vegetables stuffed around the meat.

“Fuck, this smells almost as good as you do pretty girl,” Steve says from the kitchen, you smile softly, your chest preening in happiness as you drink in his praises.

Fixing both of you a plate, Steve moves you to sit sprawled across his lap, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead as he breathes in the decadent scent you carried after sex. Steve leans in, his hot breath against your earlobe before he utters,

“Almost”

Divider by @firefly-graphics !

send an ask to be part of my taglist for steve, and requests are always open :)

#steve rogers fic #Steven Grant Rogers #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #depraved!steve rogers #steve rogers x smut #steve rogers x you #steve rogers filth #steve rogers x wife!reader #husband!steve rogers x wife!reader #domesticated!steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #steve x reader #domestic!steve rogers x reader #domestic!steve #avengers #marvel cinematic universe #neonovember #Neo writes #touch starved!steve rogers x reader #touch!starved x steve rogers #overstimulation! x Steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #Steve Rogers x fluff

[btsbabe7]

November Prompt 20: Handmade

Words: 308 | Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

You aren’t sure what the expect when you get the letter from your boyfriend inviting you over tonight, and on such short notice, but you waste no time throwing something nice on and apparating outside of the tiny cottage he’s called home for decades. There’s a cool breeze that sweeps through the night once you arrive, dead leaves rustle across the cement ground and brush over your black leather boots as you approach the door and place a gentle knock.

On the other side, you hear instant shuffling, then the door swings open. In all the years you’ve dated Severus, you’d never seen him cook, let alone have an apron on. The sight brings a giggling burst from your lungs and he smiles nervously, whisking you in before any far off neighbors have a chance to bate an eye.

“What’re you doing?” You chirp and kick your shoes off before joining him through the dining room.

The candles set on the table don’t go unnoticed nor does the set up placemats or the herby aroma brewing throughout the cottage. He’s making you dinner and everything’s being handmade, and that brings tears to your eyes.

You soon join him in the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his upper back with a soft breath.

“I absolutely love you, Severus,” you hum against him.

The rustling of the recipe book in his hands comes to a stop and he turns in your arms. With a soft smirk, he uses the thick oven mitts to push the curls from your face before planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too, my dear,” he breathes softly just before the timer rings to a buzz against the countertop letting you both know that it’s now time to enjoy what he’s spent all day preparing.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ November Prompt Challenge (days 1-30)

⚡︎ For You Always - reader x Snape

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms) & (bts imagines/drabbles)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

#fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #fanfiction #harry potter drabble #severus snape #hogwarts #hogwarts imagine #severus snape x you #severus x y/n #severus x you #severus snape imagine #severus snape x reader #severus x reader #young severus #snape x y/n #snape fanfiction #young snape #snape x reader #professor snape #snape #snape fluff #Severus fluff #severus smut #sirius black #draco malfoy #slytherin #slytherpuff #hufflepuff #snape fandom

[erenaeoth]

As your last reply made me curious more about Albert Wesker, how about another question, lemme think... the ☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon please :P

Always pleased to answer more Wesker hcs!

☯ - Likes/Dislikes Headcanon

Likes

Wesker likes, above all, being recognised as superior to others. He loves power, he loves control, he loves games and scenarios that challenge and interest him, he loves the problem solving of cutting edge virology research, he loves cat-and-mouse games with people who fascinate him. He likes when people are useful to him, and when people assume things of him that he gets to shatter their perception over. He adores the drama of revealing his machinations to the chosen few that interest him, especially Chris. He likes his plans coming to fruition, but a significant part of the thrill is having an audience to see it happen, and Wesker is drawn time and again to Chris, to show off what he's become and what he can do.

In terms of material delights, I think there are small pleasures Wesker enjoys, but everything bores him quickly. He needs people because interacting with them or across from them changes up the variables in ways that can captivate his interest. In S.T.A.R.S. era at least, I headcanon him enjoying some fine dining, having taught himself to cook by very strictly following recipe books. He will read literature, and enjoys staying up-to-date with a number of academic fields in both the sciences and humanities.

And he likes two people: William Birkin and Chris Redfield. But he likes them in a Wesker way, which doesn't really look like how you and I would consider liking someone. He respects William and will trust him, which is a big thing for Wesker. He obsesses over Chris, and needs him to witness his accomplishments and play a kind of other half on the opposite side of the stage to him.

Dislikes

Wesker's greatest dislike is being manipulated and feeling like a situation is outside of his control. In these circumstances, particularly if he feels threatened, he'll loose his cool and charming shell and go into a towering rage. He needs to reassert control immediately or he'll feel like the world is crumbling around him. He also dislikes having to pay lipservice to a chain of command, since he sincerly believes himself to be everyone's better. He'll toe the line in front of authority figures if it serves him and he has to for his plans to progress, but he'll build up a bitter resentment toward those who made him do so, so this goes especially for Brian Irons, Sergei Vladimir, and of course Spencer.

I headcanon, like I think many do, that he dislikes bright light since an eye sensitivity will often bring on a migraine. So he dislikes taking his sunglasses off for this reason too.

He also dislikes people meddling in what he considers to be his. Whether that be plans, projects, or people. Whilst he is using you, you are his, and he will extend a degree of protection to you as his asset. This goes for S.T.A.R.S. and for his people subsequently too, like Ada.

As for other dislikes: Chris smoking, Chris being untidy, Chris's consumption of fast food and cheap beer, Chris being stubborn and talking back at him, Chris not liking his cool science projects.

#thank you for the ask i love thinking about him #albert wesker #headcanon meme #asks #resident evil #re thoughts

[not-another-robin]

What do you think are the justice league member's favorite snacks/meals they like to cook/eat?

Dear anon, I am so glad you asked. Allow me to explain

J'onn - literally everyone is concerned. J'onn eats stuff that's not food just because he can. He will snack on drywall. He eats bugs off of leaves. The actual food he eats isn't much better - his diet consists almost entirely off of processed sugar. Obviously chocos/oreos, but also just the kind of things a seven year old would pack for lunch. Twinkies, sugary cereal, actual candy, donuts, popcorn, chips, etc. He tries, half-heartedly, to insist that Martians nutritional needs are different than humans, but there is literally no evidence to suggest that. Someone in the JL takes him out to eat/brings him food almost every day to make sure he doesn't die.

Wally - only marginally better than J'onn in that he won't eat chalk unprompted. We all know speedsters, they need a lot of food to keep up with their metabolism and energy, but Wally is especially ludicrous in the "will eat anything" category. He will put anything and everything in the fridge into a sandwich, which sounds like a fun thing to ask about, but eventually everyone realizes they just don't wanna know. Also a connoisseur of wild food combos ("icing in chili??" "Hey don't knock it til you try it")

Shayera - A little bit more normal but the bar is in hell so that doesn't mean much. She will try anything at least once, especially on a dare. She also just has an insane pallete for space food. Meals on thanagar were really just anything slightly edible thrown into a trough, so anything that's cooked is fine dining. Also sometimes things that aren't cooked. Raw chicken is one of her favorite snacks - She likes to chew on (and eventually eat) the bones

Bruce - now we're reaching slightly normal human foods, but that doesn't mean Bruce's diet is normal. Honestly, he's just autismcore with a splash of "do rich people really eat that?". His schedule is so fucked he rarely ever has time for an actual meal, so mostly he eats what he can when he can. I have fully adopted the fandom canon that he eats shredded cheese right out of the bag. When he does eat a real meal, it's part of a carefully crafted food schedule developed over decades. He essentially has 31 meals, one for every day - a good mix of recognizable foods and "some guy I traveled the Amazon with made this for me in 1986".

Diana - we have now reached the "can cook" section. One caveat for Diana though, she has no idea how kitchen appliances work. If the oven isn't made of stone she may set something on fire. She's used to the best Themyscira has to offer, lots of fresh fruits and vegetables and elaborate feasts. She can't really manage a feast in her apartment, but she knows a good few meals, she eats well. However, she's often too busy to make her own food, so it's like 60% take out.

Clark - this boy eats three square meals a day no matter WHAT. If you sleepover with Clark there will be pancakes and eggs on the table by the time you wake up. He's just a big country boy, his ma taught him well and he uses it. He cooks for himself pretty much every day, the only exception being occasionally going out for lunch during work or picking up a hot dog from a cart (he loves them, no one can understand why).

John - John is your uncle that got really into meal prep. He is religious about his food intake, he only eats the best and has every meal scheduled like a month in advance. He picked up a few recipes from his mom, but he really just picked up a passion for cooking well at some point just to challenge himself. He also eats really healthy, he's known to occasionally go on some weird keto diet that everyone makes fun of him for. He's the kind of person who eats overnight oats. He lectures Wally about his eating habits daily.

So. That was a ridiculous amount thought and effort for a simple headcanon question. This is what they inside of my brain looks like 24/7 thanks got asking <3

#narscreaming #justice league #should i tag everyone #i really don't feel like it lol

[totally-not-here-for-the-smut]

Too late, too tired, too pointlessly caffeinated given the time it is here but nonetheless I have a dumbsmut idea and im gonna write it bc my blog my rules

SO HERE IS A PERSONAL 100% ACCURATE RANK OF [♤!!!dongs ahead!!!♤]

HOW good the M6 are at chugging juicy whole eggplant salads

Worst to best ofc

Nadia- she overthinks it. Surely spent lot of time educating herself from big books about vegetables, yet goes for too complex, too unnecessary recipes. 3/10 sorry queen

Muriel - Not too experienced, yet has a good big mouth for big spoonfuls of crunchy fresh carrots, great endurance also. 5/10

Lucio - takes it as a personal challenge to open wide his big hangar for this tasty healty snack. Not his favorite (I mean, who likes to snack on raw veggies? A lot of ppl apparently tbh god bless them), but really needs to be told he's a good big boy at finishinf his plate. 6.5/10. Good boy.

Portia - well, we all know that she has a garden she plants, care and -her favourite- harvest herself, and everyone knows that the more care it's put into getting something, the more it is appreciated when consumed. Lovely face too. 7.5/10

Asra - Clearly a vegetarian, they spends most of their time enjoying hard veggies. So very gluttonous. Has great care of presentation too, they always prepare the table, room, light, complimentary clothes and incense, everything. Dining at Asra's a fine experience, 8/10

Julian - you should really research what cabin boys used to do on pirate ships. Involves leecheless barrels. 10/10, greates slut of them all, we love him.

#and goodnight #the arcana #the arcana game #nadia satrinava #julian devorak #asra the magician #lucio morgasson #nadia the arcana #count lucio #countess nadia #portia devorak #muriel of the khokuri #asra alnazar smut #julian devorak smut #portia devorak smut #nadia satrinava smut #count lucio smut #muriel of the khokuri smut

[rinbowaman]

so here are the profiles for each character, no special template was used for the sake of time but you can get all the status below. as far as birthdate, they all were "created" by God's angels before the creation of the world and before Jesus Christ was born, so i left that blank bc all the research shows that it was a long time ago (since these are biblical references) and they were all made in Heaven. Aside from that, everything else is below:

Requested by @violet-moon-rp - I hope this is what you were wanting.

MDNI 18+ only.

Warnings: theres some suggestive juiciness hinted in these profiles.

Leviathan/Jake:

Birthplace: Made in Heaven, resides in Hell.

Birthdate: way before Christ.

Favorite color: Blue

Favorite food: He's rather cold blooded, so anything warm soothes his tastebuds. Whether it's fresh made bread, or spicy foods, he likes it.

Hobbies: swimming, admiring aquatic life, spending time with Layla, messing around with his brothers (specifically Niki), visiting the mortal realm, occasionally seducing the ladies (he likes to exercise his tongue.) He prefers mortal women when it comes to the juiciness. For him, mortal women taste better and make the best noise when it comes to the juiciness, so that's where his preference lies. He's a bit of a playboy, but that changes when he meets his own y/n (hint hint) and if you remember the teaser for his and Sunghoon's own story in the Se7en series....Levi/Jake....has a huge breeding kink (its just as bad as Heelels) and whoever the 'lucky' girl is that he chooses to impregnate, you're in for a real surprise....like a bunch of them *hint hint*.

Satan/Sunghoon:

Birthplace: Made in Heaven, resides in Hell.

Birthdate: way before Christ.

Favorite color: Red

Favorite food: Meat, any recipe that includes meat, specifically red meat.

Hobbies: He likes to challenge his brothers or visit the mortal realm and challenge the strongest men in the world, occasionally will even participate in a street fight or a MMA tournament, disguising himself as a strong mortal fighter. He hasn't dabbled into mortal women so much since he isn't fully used to interacting with them, he has two Succubi's that he frequents with. His own y/n has been hinted in the first chapter of his story, there's more to come with that, but he's definitely one of those types that's a bit hard to please or to impress, but something very simple is what catches his eye.

Asmodeus/Sunoo:

Birthplace: Made in Heaven, resides in Hell.

Birthdate: way before Christ.

Favorite color: Blood Orange

Favorite food: delicacies, exotic fruits, crackers, cheese, and exquisite finger foods is what he likes the best, all paired with fine wine. He also loves chocolate.

Hobbies: He likes to wine and dine. He also frequently visits the mortal realm to interact with people, learn various cultures and foods from different backgrounds. He's also the Prince of Lust, and naturally, he likes to dip into collecting very 'unique' toys from all over. He likes to play with them on his own or use them with some of mortal women or demonesses. Not to spoil, but he eventually will have a favorite person to use these toys on...and his y/n is neither mortal or demon. *hint hint*

Belphegor/Niki:

Birthplace: Made in Heaven, resides in Hell.

Birthdate: way before Christ.

Favorite color: White

Favorite food: He is very fond of anything that has noodles, so ramen or pasta, things of that nature. He also loves soup, any flavor.

Hobbies: He's a prankster, and because of that, his brothers do a good job to keep him busy at the River Styx, where he's in charge of managing dead souls and demons. He loves music, so he frequently visits the mortal realm with Sunoo to gain a diverse taste in music. He doesn't pay any attention to girls, he's the youngest and has always been looked after by his elders, specifically Sunoo. Again, not to spoil, but back when they were arch angels in Heaven, Heeseung used to somewhat baby Niki.

Beelzebub/Jay:

Birthplace: Made in Heaven, resides in Hell.

Birthdate: way before Christ.

Favorite color: Green/Jade

Favorite Food: He has a constant sweet tooth, really likes candy, pastries, or sweet drinks.

Hobbies: He loves to visit the mortal realm and observe nature. He also creates a different species of insects and watches humanity discover and study them; he finds that all interesting. Like Sunghoon, he also has a few demon mistresses in his realm, and is a stud when it comes to doing the juicy things...and he does it often. He likes sultry women, which is why his y/n is a bit different from the rest, much like Sunoo's y/n. *another spoiler* As you already know, he's talented with his hands, and he enjoys playing the guitar as much as he likes playing with women's body parts. He goes half and half when it comes to messing around with the demon mistresses and mortal women.

Mammon/Jungwon:

Birthplace: Made in Heaven, resides in Hell.

Birthdate: way before Christ.

Favorite Color: Gold

Favorite Food: He likes seafood and fruit.

Hobbies: He loves his cats. Literally, his cats are his babies, and as you read in Se7en, he filled his entire realm in Hell with the feline species, from lions, tigers, panthers, and domesticated cats, he has them all. He tends to go to the mortal realm and bring them back as he finds them. He's the second youngest out of his brothers, but is feared by many in his own region, due to his merciless attitude, should anyone anger him (remember what he did to that lady's hair in his chapter?) He has a fondness for pretty things, and (slight spoiler) he likes to dazzle his sweetheart with lots of jewelry. He is rational but has a dark side that is almost as bad as his eldest brother....almost. *hint hint* when he gets his own y/n, his favorite position is doggy kitty style.

Helel/Heeseung:

Birthplace: Made in Heaven, created and resides in Hell.

Birthdate: Way before Christ......way waaaaaay before. He's the first arch angel, God's most beloved and favorite angel/creation while he was serving him. In a way, he was like God's first son. No one ever did replace him as the favorite.

Favorite Color: Various shades of purple, though he is more fond of violet and royal purple.

Favorite Food: He's a bit different from his brothers, he didnt' really dabble into mortal foods, although he does now more than ever since he has y/n. Prior to you entering his life, he would sometimes feast on his own creation and eat some of the demons in Hell. It wasn't at all for sustenance, it was more for just the pleasure because the man is cruel, twisted, and psychotic beyond all nature.

Hobbies: He didn't really have many, he was very angry and disgruntled due to feeling betrayed by his former master. His only focus was to kill off humanity just so he could hurt God, but since the discovery of you, that all changed. He now loves to watch you, he'll sit for an eternity just to watch and admire you. After you acclimated to your new 'home', he loves to interact with you, stargaze, or do....unspeakable acts with you. He will go rough and hard, or soft and tender, he'll go both ways just to see the various shades of your reactions and tones when you scream and moan out of pleasure and pain. He loves the idea that he has you for an eternity, and plans to fill Hell with all of his babies through you. He actually really doesn't care about his offspring, he is tender with them while they're young, but his dark nature mixed with his obsession and murderous love he has for you is going to cause some friction with his son's as they get older, especially since they seem to inherit his possessive and obsessive nature for you. If he could, he would spend all of eternity holding you with his c*ck inside you, and your wings intertwining.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Neighbor Wars: Halloween Decorations

Daki 👩🏻‍🌾and Gyutarou 😈vs Uzui Tengen 💎& wives🥷🏻

👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻What. A. Line. Up. 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻The siblings to your right versus the quadruple(?) to your left 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻Living in little town houses in a tightknit community you’ve run into every member of the household enough to be friendly  👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻You're just so cool 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻And their rightfully obsessed 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻The recluse brother that scares off the stalkers that follow his model sister home

👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻Who's not afraid to 'scare off' that weirdo who's been hanging around your yard 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻The model sister that will lovingly let herself into your home when ‘you’re wearing something ugly’

👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻The model who's always willing to wine and dine with you when your feeling particularly down 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻They're an endearing duo you’ve spent plenty of time with whether its resolving fights or just random community stuff

👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻Always setting trends and getting rid of 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻But almost as influential as them is the Tengen family 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻Having become a community favorite they get invited to every barbecue, baby shower, and birthday party 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻So it's only natural that you get to know the family next door 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻Hinatsuru, the calm and sensible wife that you love trading recipes with and the one you bump into at the store 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻Makio, who proudly lended herself to grunt work when you cleared out your garage, and the one who’s more than happy to take you clubbing after a long week of work 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻Suma, the wife that you had to console when the neighborhood bully called her a name 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻(he’s a child) 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻And of course who would not notice the incredibly flashy and sensational hunk of muscle that was Uzui Tengen himself  👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻The husband-neighbor of yours that makes all your yard work look like a piece of cake 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻But greetings aside–ITS HALLOWEEN!!! 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻Your jam, your day to make your house the no.1 for all the kids and to decorate to your heart’s content 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻Both homes know about your love for Halloween  👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻Especially when you’re gushing about what plans you’re going to do for this year 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻“We’ll have an even flashier display!”  👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻“Sure, sure but I’m a veteran at this, Uzui.” You flashed a serious expression. “I mean it Tengen , this is my rodeo.” 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻D-did you just threaten him?  👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻That was…So CUTE!!! 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻“Fine then if our display is meant to rival yours then you’ll come over to ours for your lonely horror movie weekend.”  👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻“It's not lonely but…sure! If your rating gets anywhere near mine then I will.” 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻Of course Daki and Gyutarou all ears when Suma lets it slip about how their definitely going to take you on that movie date 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻“Why didn’t you tell me you were betting your evening with those losers? I would have done you the favor of beating them if so much was at stake.” 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻You giggle and text them the new deal 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻“It is kinda unfair going against just me, so we can compete with Daki and Gyutarou too since they want to join.” 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻They’re furious that those two had to go and make this challenge more difficult 👩🏻‍🌾😈💎🥷🏻But no one’s backing down because your weekend and undivided attention is on the line:

You chuckled as you peeked out the window at both your neighbors. People watching was ten times more excited when it was your neighbors. From working like a well oiled machine to toddlers as they tried to decorate their houses. 

On Tengen’s side they did seem to have an idea about what they were doing at first but then there seems to be some confusion about their props. You watched as Makio and Suma who were staying home today had begun working on decorations lining the backyard with fake bones and body parts. Eventually leading to Makio hauling out a beautifully crafted gravestone that apparently had some quality of realness. But lo and behold when Hinatsuru pulled up in her van she physically groaned before calling out to Makio who’s on the porch. From the pile of styrofoam gravestones in the back of the truck she apparently wasn’t expecting to see the giant one in the middle of their front yard. The two began to bicker with Makio being especially expressive while Hina was calmly arguing. And Suma. Poor Suma. Was crying a couple meters away as she was tangled by some decorative spider webs. You couldn’t wait until Uzui got home. It would really become a show. 

Now on the otherside of your fence was Daki and Gyutarou who respectfully weren’t speaking or looking at one another as they worked on their two halves of yard in front of their house. Split by their sidewalk they had very two different themes going on. You’ve deduced that you’re seeing the aftermath of their fight as Daki decorates her side with a softer spoopy theme and Gyutarou a dark nightmarish one. When they finally stepped back they still didn’t seem to be on the same page; each of them freaking out when the other tried to put some of their decorations on the other side. You giggled some more as you watched the siblings disappear within the house reigniting their silent treatment.

Sighing you returned to just unboxing your own decorations preparing for your nightly decoration run. You were ready to crush your competition.

______________________________________________________

The day of Halloween was here and both sides were confident that they’d no doubt pass you in your decorated house and lawn. You wore a costume that continued your theme of decorating that both touched on scary and spoopy making it oddly inviting. And as the trick or treaters came knocking on the three houses, they were in for quite a treat.

“Hah?!”

The first trick or treaters to knock on the siblings doors were met with Daki who was beautifully dressed as a doll. But her scrunched up face was anything but inviting as she glared at the open bags. The model seems to have forgotten that candy is what you're supposed to give to dressed up children who knock on your door. 

“Oh? Uh, here you are kid.”

Dropping a random protein bar in the bag she had just laid around almost shutting the door before Gyutarou called from behind.

“Hey Ume, have you seen my–”

“Whoa, that's a scary mask mister!”

Gyutarou practiced the breathing techniques as his sister aggressively slammed the door on the child’s face. Yelling at the muffled sobbing on the otherside of the door Daki tried to console her brother who had sullenly resigned to wearing the spare ‘Scream’ mask. 

On the otherside of your Halloween decked out house was the Tengen family who were spread out between obsessively monitoring their review tab on the  community app, while also trying to make sure their decorated house was being seen by everyone. 

“LOOK AT ME! IT IS I THE FLASHY SERIAL KILLER!” 

“Wahhhhh Tengen loooks soooo scary!”

“Suma, stop crying, you're going to mess up your makeup!” 

Acting out the typical scene from 80’s horror movies in their cemetery themed house and lawn, Hinatsuru couldn’t understand why their ratings weren’t going up. Staying at two stars there still hadn’t been any updates as the night continued on. Sure the scene they were pantomiming was a little…different from the movies. The serial killer wasn’t wearing light-up jewelry and the final girls didn’t have ghost face paint but when they spoke so excitedly about their ideas Hina couldn’t bear to tell them otherwise. What were they missing? 

At the end of the night you all agreed to meet on your patio to finally compare your reviews together. 

“So how’d it go?” 

You spoke in a giddy tone, that was the complete opposite of the frustrated competitors who were less than pleased to. You gave them some of your specially made Halloween cocktails, handing them out before excitedly pulling out your phone. 

And the scores were as follows: 

(Y/n) (L/n): 5

Daki and Gyutarou: 1

Tengen Family: 2

“Hahah, I told you I’d win! I wasted no expense,” Excitedly shaking your left over grand-size candy bars. It is then that Hinatsuru finally realized why their score was so low. 

“Trick or treaters…are they the ones that control the ratings…?”

“Yeah mostly, I mean you have the odd ratings from the decorator-enthusiast but yeah you gotta make those kiddies talk!” 

You unintentionally bragged as Hinatsurr slowly brought a hand to her face, Makio, Suma, and Uzui all let out a collective “ooohhh.” Daki scoffed, rolling her eyes while Gyutarou loudly groaned into his hands. Noticing the overhanging sadness you decided to make a proposal. 

“Hey, if you guys want, we can all just watch the movies at my place.”

Immediately heads perked up and both your arms were occupied by Suma and Daki; who quickly began to grind their teeth at one another as they tightened their hold on you. 

“But (Y/n) didn’t we get the higher points? So shouldn’t we be the only ones to get a reward.”

“Can it crybaby! You’re the one that scared off all the brats with your scary display! If anything I-we should get to be with (Y/n)!” 

Suma gasped as Makio stepped up with an aggravated face. 

“Hey, our acting was phenomenal! And if we did have trick or treaters we would have done great!” 

“Pssh keep lying to yourself bullhorn!”

“Bullhorn!?” 

The screeching match between Daki and Makio continued even as you were able to escape their grasps to open your door to let the non-arguing or hysterically crying people into your home. 

“How long do you think until they notice?”

“Who cares. It's better if they get it out of their system out there. At least out there all they can smash are pumpkins.”

“Haha, that is if they don’t have their typical devices on them!” 

Hina, Uzui, and Gyutarou laughed nonchalantly as you were worriedly looking out the window before turning back to the group.

“So, what do you guys want to watch?”

#Yandere Neighbor Wars #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yanderexrea #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderes #yandere #yandere harem #yandere demon slayer #yandere kny #yandere kny x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kimestu no yaiba #uzui tengen #kny #yandere tengen wives #tengen x wives x reader #yandere gyutaro #gyuutarou #yandere daki and gyutarou #yandere daki #yandere daki x reader #kimetsu no yaiba daki #kny human au #Yandere Neighbor Wars Halloween #yandere halloween #halloween kny #halloween demon slayer #yandere neighbor wars

[seraphtrevs]

Speaking of low stakes non-cartel AU for Gus and Lalo ……how about rival chefs AU? Lalo inherited the Salamancas family restaurant, but then Gus comes outta nowhere in the neighborhood and is more popular than Salamancas. (I kinda don’t want Gus to “stick to chicken” in this AU tho) And then Jimmy is some food critic bribed by Lalo to discredit Gus. In retaliation, Gus decides to send Nacho to Lalo as a spy for stealing Salamancas’ “secret recipe”. However, Lalo sees through the trick and seduces Nacho so Nacho would rather having Lalo in his bed than doing his “job”. It sounds so stupid and hilarious, but I ain’t great story teller so just a random idea alas.

omg believe it or not, I have thought about this before! Way back during season 5, there was an ask game that was an AU challenge and someone pitched me this. It totally makes sense because both of them cook in canon. Great minds think alike!

Definitely it's not another chicken restaurant - it's fine dining. Lalo and Gus are executive chefs. Before Lalo, Tuco was the executive chef. (Really, all of the cartel bosses being chefs works so well.) But one day, Tuco freaks out at a customer who asked for substitutions. It was Mike, who agreed to do it for Nacho, who was Tuco's sou chef. Nacho doesn't want the top position, but Tuco has become impossible to work for because of his meth habit

Lalo is a celebrity chef with his own TV show, so that brings a lot of customers back to Salamanca's. Tuco's reputation was bad even before the Mike incident, so they've been slipping for years. As a result, Gus's restaurant, which had become the most prestigious restaurant in ABQ, starts to slip. I love the idea that Lalo pours salt in the wound by hiring food critic Jimmy to trash Gus's restaurant.

So Gus decides he needs to sabotage Lalo back, so he threatens Nacho - he knows all about the stunt he pulled with Mike. If Nacho doesn't do what he says, then Gus is going to use his business connections to ruin Papa Varga's business.

So Nacho is Lalo's sous chef and hates that Lalo brings his stupid celebrity flare to the restaurant, which he thinks cheapens it. So he's not that upset at the idea of sabotaging Lalo.

Lalo flirts mercilessly with him all the time, which Nacho always took as insincere. But slowly, Nacho finds himself seduced by Lalo's goofy ways, and they start sleeping together. But Gus's threat hangs over him - if the Salamancas find out what he did, his career is over.

Let's give Lacho a happy ending in this one, but I'm not sure how the rest of it wraps up.

The Salamanca's restaurant is definitely called Salamanca's, and Gus's restaurant is Arciniega's, after Max. Or maybe even Dedicado a Max, which would be a very pretentious name for a restaurant. Max used to be one of those avant garde chefs who works with molecular gastronomy. They approached Chef Eladio with a radical new menu for his restaurant, which he found insulting. Eladio and Hector don't kill him obviously, but they damage his reputation somehow and Max becomes so distraught he quits the business and leaves Gus. So Gus still has the revenge motive.

#lol this was fun #lacho #lalo salamanca #gustavo fring #nacho varga #better call saul #asks

[purpleyin]

DCTV moodboards: Snowbarry - Christmas Charity Baking Contest AU

Made for @snowbarryspot Snowbarry Holidays 2022 event. A 600-ish word ficlet to go with the moodboard is behind the read more. Warning for brief mentions of canonical character deaths (for their parents).

---

Barry and Caitlin enter a baking contest over the Christmas holidays to raise money for their respective choices of charities. Barry gets in on the strength of his cookies, the family recipe he cherishes as a reminder of his mom, who also encouraged his talent for baking before she passed away. Meanwhile, Caitlin's specialty is ornate pies and though neither of her parents taught her to bake, she got very good at it with her habit of stress baking.

They both do well over the intense few days of the first several challenges, and then for a change, the contest has people team up for the next several. Caitlin is nervous about being paired up with a random stranger, worried it's going to scupper her chances of winning. To her surprise, Barry and her work really well as a team. When the next team-ups are announced, she's a little sad to not work with Barry again – and the viewers at home apparently agree. That disappointment has her heading to rather boldly knock on his hotel door one evening. They end up having dinner together in his room, rather cozy and intimate as they hide out from the spectacle of the fans camped out in the lobby who would have a field day with any attempt to dine in the restaurant downstairs. Each night after that they hang out, chatting about anything and everything and often staying up far too late, not wanting to end their conversations.

Somehow, despite less than stellar pair-ups for them after their initial one together, they both make it through the increasingly tough rounds until they are head to head. The final challenge has them pitted against each other, each trying to compete in the arena of the other person's strength, which happens to be a weakness for each of them the producers are taking advantage of for the show, to ramp up tension. Barry's pie is tasty but lacks the finesse of Caitlin's creations, and Caitlin's cookies look amazing but have a certain something lacking in texture and bite. The judges can't agree and they go away for an hour of intense deliberation that has everyone in the studio on tenterhooks.

When they finally come back, the decision is to split the prize money, joint winners. But Barry looks at Caitlin and thinks of her competitive streak and all the hopes she'd shared with him about what that money could mean for the charity she'd picked.

“You should give it all to Caitlin,” he says. Turning to her, he adds, “I know what it means to you, to raise money for your dad.”

“Barry, no! You can't do that,” she admonishes. “I know what it means to you, to raise money in honor of your mom, to help out kids like you.”

They stare at each other for a long moment before they break out laughing at how intent they both were to sacrifice for the other.

“Fine, we both win,” Caitlin admits and he knows it must be difficult to say that, not quite the win for her cause she imagined. But his worries all melt away when she takes his hand in hers and raises it in triumph above their heads. The aftermath of their win goes past in a haze as Barry's focused entirely too much on the way it feels to hold her hand and how she doesn't let go even when she drops their hands back down to their sides. When he looks to her, her cheeks are blushed like he imagines his are too and he knows there's something there he doesn't want to lose. Something meant to last for more than just this whirlwind Christmas contest that's thrown them together.

It's a while before the attention from fans dies down, allowing them to go out on a proper date in public without causing a stir, but Barry and Caitlin don't really mind being forced to stay in in the meantime.

#snowbarry #snowbarry holidays #snowallen #the flash #barry allen x caitlin snow #barry x caitlin #barry allen #caitlin snow #christmas moodboards #moodboard #purpleyin #purpleyin: moodboards #purpleyin: graphics #flash graphics #dctv moodboards #my snowbarry fanworks #snowbarry moodboards #flash aus #snowbarry holidays 2022 #christmas #cw food #cw character death mentioned #but only canonical ones for their parents

[loftylockjaw]

What's your favorite food to cook?

Favorite to cook? Hell, sometimes you want a break from the challenge, wanna just throw some shit in a pot and see what happens, eh? Recipes and fine dining are all well and good, but I love scrapin' together a mystery stew outta what's lyin' around. Flavor combinations abound, and you don't gotta worry about all that presentation. Feels a bit like home. Do got a taste for frog, though. And gator, though that ain't to be found around these parts.

If it ain't about the eatin', then I get a lot of satisfaction out of bakin' a perfectly symmetrical cinnamon bun.

#. asks ; #. anon ;

[docholligay]

In consideration for Dealer’s Choice

Dealer’s choice is, obviously, my choice day, based on the pitches you wrote for your shows. Here’s what I’m between! There may be voting these, there may not be, but if there is I certainly will file them down first:

A Place to Call Home, Live Action

The pitch:

I recommended this a few months back and you haven’t mentioned it since, but you sounded interested at the time, so I figure I’ll pitch it here. Would you like to watch a Jewish woman move to a rural corner of Australia to rebuild her life, only to end up in a politely worded war with the extremely snobby matriarch of the local old money, landowning family? Sometimes the likeable characters have period appropriate prejudices. 

The Bear, Live Action

The Pitch:

An award-winning chef from a fine dining restaurant has to return home to run the family sandwich shop after this brother’s death. This means the show is basically about food and grief, which I know are two of your favourite topics.

Mysterious Cooking Stream, Stream

Take on the challenge of something you've never cooked before, with the recipe presented to you for the first time at the beginning of the stream (possibly without even a title to describe what you're trying to make). Then walk us through the process of how you try to figure out what this recipe is doing and how to accomplish it -- This one might be logistically futzy

Doc’s Top Ten Pre-9/11 Country Songs, Written

Doc, by way of liking my absolute favorite Clint Black song, has proven to me that she has good taste in American Country Music and I would very much like to get her take on the genre as it existed in a pre-9/11 world.  This is something that she doesn't get to talk about on the blog very often, so I figure this is a good time to offer it up.

#Clint Blakc did slap #didn't he?

[digiroadslokesh]

Embracing Diversity: The Influence of Cultural Diversity on the European Food Service Market

Introduction:

In today’s globalized world, the European food service market stands as a testament to the rich tapestry of cultures that make up the continent. From quaint cafes in Paris to bustling street food stalls in Istanbul, the diversity of European cuisine reflects the amalgamation of traditions, flavors, and culinary techniques from various cultures. This blog explores how cultural diversity shapes the European food service market, driving innovation, and catering to the evolving tastes of consumers.

Cultural Fusion and Culinary Innovation:

Europe's cultural diversity is a result of centuries of migration, trade, and historical exchange. This diversity is vividly reflected in its culinary landscape, where each region boasts a distinct gastronomic identity influenced by its history, geography, and cultural heritage. For example, Italian cuisine is renowned for its pasta and pizza, while Spanish cuisine delights in tapas and paella. However, the beauty lies in the fusion of these traditions, leading to the emergence of innovative culinary creations.

Keyword: European Food Service Market

The European food service market thrives on this cultural fusion, offering consumers a diverse array of dining experiences. From fine dining restaurants to casual eateries, the market caters to a wide spectrum of tastes and preferences. Moreover, the rise of food tourism has fueled the demand for authentic ethnic cuisine, prompting restaurateurs to explore new culinary frontiers.

Embracing Diversity in the Culinary Scene:

One of the key drivers of the European food service market is the willingness of chefs and restaurateurs to embrace diversity. Instead of confining themselves to traditional recipes, many chefs are experimenting with fusion cuisine, blending flavors from different cultures to create innovative dishes. This openness to diversity not only attracts adventurous diners but also fosters cross-cultural exchange and appreciation.

Keyword: Europe Food Service Market

Furthermore, cultural diversity extends beyond the kitchen and into the dining experience itself. European restaurants often celebrate cultural festivals and holidays, offering themed menus and immersive experiences that showcase the culinary traditions of different cultures. This not only adds value to the dining experience but also fosters a sense of inclusivity and cultural exchange among patrons.

Meeting the Demands of a Diverse Consumer Base:

In today's multicultural societies, consumers are increasingly seeking out diverse dining options that cater to their varied tastes and dietary preferences. This presents both challenges and opportunities for businesses in the European food service market. On one hand, restaurateurs must adapt to changing consumer demands by offering vegetarian, vegan, gluten-free, and other specialized menus. On the other hand, catering to diverse tastes allows restaurants to attract a broader customer base and stay ahead of the competition.

Keyword: Europe Food Service Market

Moreover, the influence of cultural diversity extends beyond the restaurant industry and into the realm of food delivery and online platforms. With the rise of digital technology, consumers can now access a vast array of international cuisines with just a few clicks, further fueling the demand for diverse dining experiences.

Conclusion:

In conclusion, cultural diversity is a driving force behind the European food service market, shaping culinary innovation, and enriching the dining experience for consumers. From traditional recipes passed down through generations to bold experiments in fusion cuisine, the diversity of European cuisine reflects the continent's vibrant cultural tapestry. By embracing diversity and celebrating culinary traditions from around the world, the European food service market continues to thrive, offering something for every palate and preference.

#europe food service market

[foodforward23]

Revolutionize Your Culinary Business: Expert Insights & Strategies from Top Consultants

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Discover Exciting New Restaurants in Dubai: Your Ultimate Dining Guide

Stay ahead of the culinary curve with our curated list of newly opened restaurants in Dubai. From trendy cafes to upscale fine dining establishments, explore the latest culinary hotspots and experience innovative cuisines. Whether you’re seeking a casual brunch spot or a gourmet dinner experience, our comprehensive guide ensures you’re always in the know about Dubai’s vibrant dining scene. Plan your next gastronomic adventure and indulge in unforgettable dining experiences.

Unleash Your Culinary Vision: How to Open a Restaurant in Dubai

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Inspire Diners with Unique Restaurant Concepts: Unleash Creativity

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#food #consultant #business #consulting #restaurant design #saudi arabia

[gourmetgoober]

Celebrating Women of Color in Food Culture for International Women's Day.

As we celebrate International Women's Day, it's essential to reflect on the incredible contributions women have made to culinary history. In particular, we honor the trailblazing women of color who have shaped food culture and left a lasting impact on the world of cuisine. From chefs and entrepreneurs to activists and writers, these women have broken barriers, challenged stereotypes, and inspired generations. Let's take a moment to celebrate their stories.

One such pioneer is Edna Lewis, often called the "Grand Dame" of Southern cooking. Born in Freetown, Virginia, in 1916, Lewis grew up deeply appreciating fresh, seasonal ingredients and traditional Southern cooking techniques. She became a renowned chef, cookbook author, and culinary educator, preserving and sharing the rich culinary heritage of the American South. Her book, "The Taste of Country Cooking," is considered a classic and has inspired countless chefs and home cooks alike.

Another iconic figure is Leah Chase, the "Queen of Creole Cuisine." Chase was the chef and co-owner of Dooky Chase's Restaurant in New Orleans, a gathering place for artists, activists, and politicians during the Civil Rights Movement. Through her cooking, Chase celebrated the flavors of Creole cuisine while using her restaurant as a platform for social change, making it a safe space for African Americans to dine together during segregation.

In the realm of food activism, we find the inspiring story of LaDonna Redmond. Redmond is a food justice activist and advocate for urban agriculture and community-led food systems. She has worked tirelessly to address food insecurity and inequity, particularly in historically marginalized communities. Her work demonstrates the power of food as a tool for social change.

Turning our attention to the world of food media, we must recognize the contributions of Pati Jinich. Jinich is a Mexican-American chef, cookbook author, and host of the PBS series "Pati's Mexican Table." Throughout her work, Jinich celebrates Mexico's vibrant flavors and culinary traditions, introducing audiences worldwide to the richness of Mexican cuisine. She has received numerous accolades for her work, including a James Beard Award for Best Television Program, and continues to inspire home cooks with her accessible recipes and warm personality.

These are just a few examples of the remarkable women of color who have impacted fine dining. Their stories remind us of the importance of representation in the food world and inspire us to continue celebrating and honoring the contributions of women everywhere. Cheers to their legacy, and may their stories continue to inspire future generations of chefs, food activists, and culinary enthusiasts alike.

#chicago #nwindiana #foodie #dope black podcasts #foodie podcasts #Leah Chase #Pati Jinich #Food activism #foodindustry #Food culture