#BUT YEAH BE SCARED OF GOOSE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sytoran · 11 months

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𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟏

you, a regular law-abiding citizen, saved the gods by accident. now, the goddess of lust, natasha, is going to grant you a wish. you could've had just about anything, but looking at the ethereal being before you, there's only one thing on your mind.

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: hello, folks! this is the long-awaited goddess!nat fic for the milestone event! i am quite proud of this fic, ngl... got a bit too carried away with some parts ;)

word count: 2.5k

the milestone event | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

When you jumped in front of a speeding car to save a cat on the road, you had absolutely no clue that the cat was not, in fact, a cat.

This not-cat was a species of flerken, and it’s name was Goose. Flerkens were extremely dangerous alien creatures. At least, that’s what the Goddess of Galaxies, Carol Danvers, told you.

Trust me, meeting an intergalactic space goddess with a pet killing-machine (that looked awfully like a cat) was about as chaotic and unbelievable as you would imagine it to be.

—

“H-holy fuck!” you yelled, jumping in your seat, as a glowing woman materialised before your very eyes, in your shithole of an office.

“I do not believe I am holy, even though I am a Goddess.” The woman stated, watching with curious eyes as you tittered over your split coffee. Lifting your laptop and muttering curses, then sifting through the messed up paperwork.

“You’re a what?” You asked distractedly, still panicking over the mess that is your desk. “My boss is actually going to murder me. Or maybe I’ll murder myself first. I am literally- Yeah, okay, how the fuck did you appear like that? And aren’t gods supposed to be like, really huge? You look kinda…… human.”

“I am a goddess.” Carol reiterated with slight annoyance. A literal extraterrestrial being was in front of your eyes, and the only thing you cared about was your damn coffee?

“We are beings you could only ever fathom from the depths of your imagination, powerful beyond measure. Which is also why we can shapeshift to look like regular human beings, so we won’t scare the shit outta you. Which seems to have still happened.”

You let out a dry bark of laughter. Carol wasn’t sure if you thought she was funny or you were about to burst into tears.

“So, why did you decide to visit me, ever-powerful, omnipresent, all-mighty being?” You asked, half-sarcastically, half simply given up on life itself. The report you had been working on for nearly an hour had been ruined by the fiasco earlier.

You dropped into your chair, kicking your feet up onto your desk. Loosening your black tie with a weary sigh, you looked at the Goddess’ eyes and continued. “I’m a nobody. I’m an overworked and underpaid attorney. I run on caffeine. I don’t know why or how you’re here, but I really–”

“You saved us. The Gods and Goddesses.” Carol interrupts, firm and unyielding. “We owe you, alright? You get one wish.”

“One wish, to get whatever it is you desire. Anything. Anything at all.”

—

Your story was absolutely one of zero to hero. From an ‘underpaid and overworked attorney’, to having the fucking gods of the multiverse indebted to you, it seemed like a rather unorthodox situation.

“So… what do you want?” Carol had asked you.

“Uhm, I don’t need anything,” you mumbled, fiddling with your loosened tie. “Like, it’s totally chill between us even if I saved your cat.”

Great. Real cool, Y/N. The middle school boys could never compare to your level of failed attempts at being cool.

“Goose is not a cat, alright?” Carol commented, offended. You mutter an apology.

“So, what do you want?” she continued impatiently. “Humans thrive off greed. You mortals always want something. What is it, money? A fancy car? A boyfr– okay, not to be stereotypical, but you’re definitely not straight. So, women on your mind?”

You splutter at her outright but nevertheless true allegation. Carol gives you this blank stare that makes you feel stupid.

“Well, I guess, as a woman, there’s something I do want,” you speak up after a while. Carol raises her eyebrows in interest. “Something I have wanted to try, you know.”

Leaning closer to whisper your deepest desire in the goddess’ ear, Carol’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. Her impressed, intrigued, embarrassed, and taken aback emotions all morphed into one expression, almost steals a laugh from your lips.

—

“You want me to grant you a cock.”

The Goddess of Lust sits in her throne, a picturesque image of perfection, the statement falling from her lips with such ease. There’s a lilt to her voice you can’t decipher. You just nod, looking unfalteringly at the goddess, as if it was the most normal request in the world.

The Goddess was slightly perturbed by your lack of, well, awe. There you were, standing in her grand palace, unfazed by the multi-million dollar chandeliers and gold-framed pictures, unfazed by her.

Natasha was just about the most exquisite sight people would kill to lay their eyes upon. Soft curls framed her delicately sculpted face like curtains to a stage, magnificent deep eyes and a more than well-endowed body to complement her pretty face. Her rose-gold dress of satins and sequins dripped with money. There was the thrall she exuded, of seduction so strong that had men and women falling to their knees.

Natasha was the Goddess of Lust for sakes, and the only thing you cared about was redeeming your wish?

She would’ve been annoyed, if not for how unfairly charming you were, standing with your hands in your pockets, a charming gentlemanly smile on your face.

“What kind of cock do you want?” Natasha resorts to ask, a playful smirk on her features. “I’ve seen some interesting ones over the years, intergalactic sex is far crazier than you would imagine. Ooh, do you want tentacles to-”

“Uh, no thanks.” You say hurriedly, a hand going out of your pocket to rub at your nose. It’s the first sign of discomfort or embarrassment Natasha’s seen from you. She grins.

“Just a regular human one?” She clarifies, pouting at you slightly.

“That’d be great, yeah.” You respond, back to smiling brightly. Natasha frowns. She knows that there’s something under that stupid gentlemanly facade you’re putting on. She’s craving to get a taste of it.

“What size?” The Goddess asks bluntly, like a Starbucks barista asking for your order on a Monday morning.

“A regular size would be fine, I suppose.” You respond in kind, nodding to yourself assuredly. Natasha winks at you. “Ah, a regular size, I see.”

Before you can decipher that cryptic response, the Goddess stands up, a pillar of superiority and authority. She snaps her fingers, and you’re being pushed back into a fancy chair. Where did the chair come from, anyway?

You forgo the answer to that question as the Goddess begins what you would assume to be the procedure. “Sit tight.”

A surge of pain presses against your crotch area, and you almost keel forward in shock, but the pain goes as quickly as it comes.

“Wait….. that’s it?” You ask, almost disbelievingly. Natasha nods proudly.

You look down, hands resting on your belt buckle.

You look up at the Goddess, and she only smirks.

You pull down your pants in swift fashion, letting out a quiet ‘whoa’ at the bulge in your boxers. It definitely feels bigger than would be regular, but then again you don’t have much knowledge of a man’s cock per se.

“Thank you,” You say, pleased with the results. Trying something new in the bedroom would definitely bring more life to your desolate days.

All too quick for the Goddess’ liking, you’re putting your clothes back on and getting ready to leave. “Thanks for your help,” You say calmly, turning to walk down the long passageway.

God, you just wanted to watch her fall apart.

As you walk, you feel Natasha’ eyes burning holes through your back. Oh, the tension was palpable, building with each step you took. It was getting harder to walk, with Natasha’s thrall like a heavyweight on your shoulders, willing you not to leave.

As you stand before the tall doors, you come to a standstill. Natasha waits in her throne with bated breath, so many words fighting to fall from the tip of her stubborn lips.

Your hand pushes down on the door handle, and that’s the last thing you can do before Natasha snaps her fingers again, and the tension is broken like a snapped coil. Suddenly, you’re pressed against her, looking into her dilated pupils.

“You’re so annoying, you know? I’ve been so fucking horny, looking at you this whole time, and you were about to get up leave?” Natasha asks, her tongue coming out to dart at her pink lips. Her hands have grasped your forearms, but your hands are cinched around her waist, disabling movement.

“No,” you breathe, head moving down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of her poised neck. “I was waiting for you.” The Goddess throws her head back under your fleeting touch.

“Fuckin’ tease,” she mumbles, and you smirk against her skin. You’re rough with her, too, knowing that she isn’t made of glass, sucking purple marks into the pale skin of her neck, shoving your knee between her legs to spread them wider.

“Too much clothes,” Natasha breathes, and then with a burst of magic you’re stripped bare of any article of clothing. Her hands fly to your cock instantaneously, wrapping her delicate fingers around your semi-hard member.

You grunt against her skin, struggling to find a better position to properly have her. Since she’s sitting in the throne and you’re bent over above her, you can barely have her the way you want. Due to your lack of magical power, you resort to doing things the hard way.

Your hands slide under Goddess’ dress, going under her thighs, and then manhandling her up. Natasha’s whines of disapproval turn on deaf ears as you sit yourself in the grand chair, plopping her onto your lap. You don’t miss the way her thighs are already slightly damp.

“Need you inside now, fuck,” Natasha growls into your skin, climbing onto your cock as your hands squeeze at her thighs. You proceed to rip the fabric off her skin, deciding that there’s too much clothing restricting you from getting your hands on her.

And boy, was that a sight you’d never forget.

“Oh!” The Goddess cries, when you lean forward to wrap your lips around her hardened bud. Your hands don’t rest for a moment, squeezing everywhere – hips, thighs, breasts, ass — whatever you can get your hands on. She’s fucking exquisite.

The stimulation seems to work wonders for Natasha’s pleasure, as she engulfs your cock in her warmth with fervour.

You gasp lowly, a throaty sound escaping your lips. Her hips and ass go up and down, working her cunt around the girth of your cock, wet and warm and slick. You can barely keep up with how desperate she is, and the fact that you have this wonder of a woman falling apart at your hands makes your heart soar.

Matching the rhythm of short upward thrusts with Natasha’s riding makes her moan out loud, a pretty melodious sound that imprints itself into your brain all at once. You wanna hear it a hundreds of times more.

Natasha gets more messy with her riding, as you suck hickeys, light ones and fierce ones, into her collarbone and her neck and breasts. You can’t resist the urge to slap her on the ass as she rides you like it’s the last day she’d be on this universe.

“Ah!” The Goddess moans, and you grip her thighs and push her down hilt deep, and her eyes roll into the back of her head. You feel her cum around your cock, so needy and desperate and mindless, and that triggers your own climax.

Natasha hadn’t even begun to open her eyes again before she ends up on the floor and you hovering above her, your hands fervently spreading her cunt open. You duck your head down, licking a long stripe up her puffy clit.

The Goddess writhes, unintelligible moans falling from her lips as you proceed to give her the best fucking cunnilingus of her life.

You’re more than determined to make this an unforgettable experience for the Goddess who probably had sex every other day.

Natasha doesn’t know what the fuck you’re doing with your tongue, but you’re ravenous and your carnal desire makes her even wetter than before.

She’s slept with plenty of people, human or not, but none of them had ever been this uncouth about her pussy. Oh, it nearly drove her mad, but she was already seeing stars.

Before the Goddess registers what’s happening, your hardened cock slides into her cunt with a flippant ease once again. Natasha lets out a filthy moan as she feels it throb inside her, clenching around you hard.

You slap her thigh in retaliation, but feeling the sudden strike of pain only turns her on further. “Gonna fill you up so good,” you pant. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Natasha takes it as a promise, when you spread her thighs and line your cock up with her pussy. The Goddess of Lust doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anyone this bad.

You enter her roughly, your previously calm exterior completely faded away. You fuck her deeper with each thrust, opening the Goddess up. Pounding into the woman’s cunt like a woman starved, you hear her beg and cry with each thrust.

“Oh, please! More! More!” The Goddes cries, nearly screaming your name every time your blunt head pushes against her cervix. You only get spurred on further, going at a pace so painfully fast you don’t know if you’ll be able to walk tomorrow.

You swallow at the sight of this Goddess, completely breathtaking in her state of unravelling.

“My divine Goddess,” You say, leaning down to press a kiss against the bulge of your cock at her lower stomach.

Those words in itself have Natasha uncoiling before you, your name falling from her lips like a sacred mantra. Her walls are wrapped around your cock so tight, her nails digging into your back so hard it nearly draws blood.

“My divine Goddess,” you repeat, eyes glazed over, reaching your own climax inside her. Natasha lets out a filthy moan, feeling each throb of your cock in her as walls of cum pulse inside her, again and again.

God, it feels so good, everything everywhere all at once, your world becoming Natasha, Natasha, Natasha.

You think you could stay like this forever.

—

A long bath and a trip to the Goddess’ bedroom later, you’re laying on her expensive silk sheets, hair smelling like rosemilk or whatever that shampoo had been called.

You honestly don’t know how this gorgeous woman’s been charmed by your awkward humour and the coffee stain on your work shirt, but you’re definitely not complaining as she nuzzles into your neck, humming in satisfaction.

“You sure that’s the first time you’ve ever had a cock?”

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NEXT PART | series m.list

the milestone event | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

#natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #x reader #marvel #marvel smut #marvel women #top reader #dom reader #gxg smut #wlw smut #goddess natasha #sytoran's 2k celebration

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shapard · 2 months

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Yeah I just got a idea for a scenario, if you don't want to that ok. date night with lucifer playing untitled goose game, I know it's not ducks but would still be funny 🤣

Playing the Untitled Goose Game with Lucifer🪿

Fluff, Lucifer being a boomer

Lucifer x Reader

Lucifer was working on one of his dozen duck’s creations.

He was too deep into his work that he didn’t sense you coming from behind.

You called out his name and he was startled at your sudden presence that he jumped up from his seat.

The duck flew out of his hand flying into one of many piles of little ducklings.

Dumbfounded he looked at his hands, “… My.. DUCK!”

You watched guilty as Lucifer threw himself right after it, searching for it.

After a while he came back up, “She’s gone…” He pouted, “Well, just going to make another one.” He stood back up fixing his hair and his tuxedo.

“Luci?” You called out for him, he completely forgot that you were standing there.

“Oh- OH! Hello Sweetie!” In a blink of an eye, he had you in a death grip, hugging you closely against his body.

He stepped back and gave you a wide smile. “Next time please knock, you scared the shit out of me.” He laughed nervously and looked up to you with his loving eyes.

His eyes travelled on your hands which were hiding something behind your back. “What do you have there.” He pointed at your hidden hands.

Remembering why you were here in the first place, you smirked and pulled out a game named “Untitled Goose Game”.

Lucifer looked at you confused.

“A game?” You nod furiously. “Can you please play it while I watch? Like a little date?”

After a while of being in a relationship with him you found out that he hates TV, and everything that came with it.

He had an old Tv and it barely worked. For you he made an exception and bought one of those newer Flat Tv (The newest).

When you found that game you just knew you must play it with him.

It was a game about a Goose?!

Who doesn't like Geese?

Lucifer sighed, “You know I don’t like any Tv related things. Maybe something else, for tonight?” He asked nervously, fidgeting with his tuxedo.

After minutes of Arguments, you both were sitting in couple duck pajamas on the Couch.

You two were cuddled up together and he had you in his Arms.

He didn't look impressed at all.

He agreed to play that game with you if you wear couple pajamas, he bought few weeks ago.

And you gladly accept.

You explained to him the main controls of the controller and he started to curse:

“Why is this so complicated?”

“Why doesn't it work?!”.

“You’re being so dramatic.” You said and Lucifer glared at you. “Here you can move the goose.” You moved the link stick to show him.

You danced in Victory when you saw him playing after minutes of rage.

Finally he pressed the right buttons.

With sparkling eyes, he walked around as a goose in the game he was already obsessed.

He moved the goose easily around the game and he honked at almost everything in the game.

It was so adorable.

He loved this game.

Even though he rages every time someone shoos him away.

Once he even tried to throw the controller at the human in the Tv. you managed to stop him just in time.

He was very pissed at the humans in the game screaming every second: “Let me through!”

"How dare they not let me pass?! I'm the king of Hell!" You stroked his back, calming him down. "It's just a game."

It was a simple, stupid game but he loves everything about it.

And he’s secretly thankful you bought him this game.

He squealed like a child who got a Lollipop when he discovered he could swim in the little lake.

Even when you fell asleep and woke up in the morning after you saw Lucifer still playing the game. Fighting with the urge to go to sleep.

Maybe you changed his mind about Video games and Tv with this little date night.

He finally did something else than working on his hyper fixation about ducks.

But now he started to also make rubber Gooses.

A/n: I hope this meet your expectations! I completely forgot about this game's existence💀.

💫

@i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #shapard #request #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #untitled goose game #Lucifer scenario #scenario

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samthestrangerthingsfan · 3 months

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Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: established relationship, Eddie is an emotionally constipated lil guy who's scared of his own feelings, adorable nervous energy, so much fluff its gross

AN: BRUV i wrote this in about a half hour ago and now its up and i BARELY edited this so please be gentle! I love you guys, have the best weekend!

I can’t fucking say it.

Eddie has been pacing back and forth in his room for the past 45 fucking minutes.

He’s tried saying it looking in the mirror, looking at his feet, hell, he even tried staring out the fucking window.

Nothing.

He can think it—that’s the easy part. Those three little words play in his head like a god damned broken record.

When he’s not around you, he’s thinking it. When he’s just left you, or on his way to you, he can feel it on the tip of his tongue.

Oh, but when he’s with you? It’s like a big flashing neon fucking sign buzzing in his brain:

EDDIE MUNSON LOVES HIS GIRL.

It should be easy, no? To look you into your dreamy eyes and tell you.

Let’s try this again.

Eddie bounced back and forth on each foot, shaking the nerves from his hands. “C’mon, Munson. Don’t be a chicken shit…”

He let out a few quick breaths. “Okay, okay…”

Eddie’s brain is screaming at him. Telling him to say the fucking words he’s been thinking and feeling for the past 4 months.

Really the past 3 years he’s knowns you, but that’s neither here nor there.

He feels out of breath just sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.

“I can’t fucking say it, holy hell.” Eddie scrubs his face, feeling like a complete coward.

Always running from what scares him.

He heard the door of the trailer open, and the familiar chime of your keychain follow.

“Eds? I’m back! and I got you a surprise!”

Whatever nerves he was feeling vanished. You’re the most calming presence Eddie’s ever met. Like…a warm blanket. A cup of tea on a rainy day. Lover's lake, right as the sun was starting to rise.

Magical. Healing. Golden.

You were everything to him, and he couldn’t even fucking tell you.

“Babe?” You called again, looking for him.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, in here, sweetheart.” He stands quickly. Drying his sweaty palms on his pants.

You round the corner into his room, and Eddie swears you get more beautiful every time he sees you. You smile at him, “Hey, handsome.”

“There’s my pretty girl.” He says without a second thought. “You and Buckley have fun at the mall?”

Eddie pulls you into him completely, and you melt. He’s so sturdy and strong but so, so gentle with you. You inhale him, he inhales you.

Home.

“I did, Robin keeps me from flying too close to the sun,” you laugh. “I did, however, get you a little something.”

Eddie pulls back, looking at you. “What? Why?”

You’re beaming up at him, “‘Cause I love you, ya silly goose.” You bend down, and grab the bag at your feet. “Here, opening it!”

Eddie doesn’t even have time to process how easily you’d say it.

You’ve never once pressured him—never made a big thing about saying it. It came with no strings when you said it the first time.

You’d spent the day with him, doing nothing particularly important. These were Eddie’s favorite. It’s just him and his girl, no sharing you with Robin or Dustin or any of those other gremlins.

You had an early shift the next day, so you kissed him goodbye, and grabbed your bag. Eddie kissed you once for every step you took toward the door.

“Baby, nooooo,” he whined. “I’ll let you sleep, sweetheart. No funny business, scouts honor.”

You laughed, “Oh, you were Boy Scout?”

Eddie shifted his feet, “I could’ve been.”

You kissed him deeply at the front door, “I’ll be back before you know it."

“Fine, fine,” he said dramatically. “I’ll just be here…alone…wallowing in my sorrows.” Eddie flopped back and fell backwards over the couch.

Your giggle echoed off the walls of the trailer. “I love you! I’ll see you in the morning!”

The door shut behind you, and Eddie shot up like a rocket, and stiff as a board.

You love him.

You said you loved him.

And he didn’t say it back.

It’s haunted him since.

Eddie took the bag from your hands, and pulled you gently to follow him. You sat down together on the edge of his bed.

You spoke to him as he opened it, “Okay, if you don’t like them, just be nice because it took me 40 minutes to decide between two sets and this one spoke to me and I wanted—“

“Honey, honey.” Eddie chuckled. “Take a breath. Whatever it is, it’s perfect." He tapped your nose gently, "‘Cause it’s from you.”

Eddie unwrapped the tissue paper, revealing a black acrylic case. He removed the lid, and his jaw nearly hit the floor.

“Holy shit, baby.”

Inside the case, was a brand new set of black onyx and ruby red DND dice.

“You like ‘em? Robin almost left me in the store because I just couldn’t decide—“

Eddie put the dice down quickly, grabbed your cheek, and kissed you tenderly.

He brought his other hand to your face as well, cupping it gently as his mouth moved over yours

When he was done with your mouth, Eddie kissed your nose, your cheeks, your eyes, your chin, any part of you he deemed not smothered in affection enough.

His lips had barely left your skin before he spoke, “I love you. God, I love you so much, sweetheart.”

Your smile—it could light up the whole town.

“Y-Yeah?” You asked hopefully, “You do?”

Eddie nodded, his hair tickling you cheeks. “I really, really do, baby. I love you. Thank you for thinking of me. For taking the time to do something that I never woulda done for myself. Thank you for just…” Eddie sighed, kissing your forehead. “Just for being mine. Christ, I’m so lucky.”

It wasn't about the gift.

Eddie had it all when he had you, and now he's going to make sure you know it.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #stranger things

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maxcuntstappen · 2 months

Text

wanted to post some comfort lestappen after yesterday and generally to kind of cleanse the energy of the tumblr dash over the last couple of days.

enjoy <3

“Baby,” Max says, “Come on.”

It doesn’t change anything. Charles stays lying on his front, his face buried in his pillow.

He looks so small like this. So tiny. It makes Max want to protect him, to kiss his forehead and hold him close and keep him there for as long as they live.

“Charlie,” Max whispers, fingers reaching out to comb through Charles’ soft, brown locks, “Talk to me please.”

Charles replies, but the words reach Max all garbled, the sound swallowed up by the intruding pillow.

But still. It’s progress.

Max lies down on his side next to Charles, throwing an arm over his waist. He kisses Charles’ cheek. Once, twice. Three more times.

And finally, like the sun breaking through grey clouds, Charles’ head turns towards him. Just a little bit. Only a single beautiful green eye looking at Max.

“Hi,” Max smiles, his hand caressing Charles’ cheek, “It’s nice to see your lovely face.”

And despite everything, Charles smiles. It makes Max feel like he’s won a goddamn trophy.

“Do we not want to talk about what’s wrong?”

Charles shakes his head.

Max hums.

It’s not ideal. Charles is the kind of person who always feels better once he talks his emotions out. But if he doesn’t want to, Max will not force him.

“Is there something else we can do, that I can do which would help?”

Charles’ bottom lip sticks out, a cute little pout that makes Max’s chest ache.

“I don’t know,” Charles whispers, his voice rough and heavy, “I don’t know what to do, what will help.”

Max nods, running through his mental directory of things and activities that he knows Charles enjoys.

“I think,” Charles begins, biting his lip.

“Yes?” Max urges, running his fingers down the length of Charles’ spine, smiling gently at the shiver that follows.

“I think I just want to be sad for a bit,” Charles says, his eyes so careful, so observant, undoubtedly evaluating all of Max’s expressions, “I just want to be sad and watch some tv and that’s all.”

Max doesn’t know what to think. Or say.

It’s not something Charles has done before, as far as Max is aware of. Charles either talks about it or works out about it or writes some music about it. He’s never just… been with it. That’s more of Max’s thing.

“Is that okay?” Charles asks cautiously.

“Of course it’s okay, schatje,” Max says, moving closer to kiss Charles’ nose, “Of course.”

The corners of Charles’ mouth turn up a little, making the corners of Max’s mouth turn up a whole lot.

“Do you want to be alone? I could give you some space, go sim race for a while or play with the cats.”

Charles frowns, shaking his head, “No. Stay.”

“Okay,” Max smiles, “Do you have something particular you want to watch?”

“No, not really. I just don’t want to think.”

“Okay,” Max nods, “Okay. Come on then, come here”

Max sits up, leaning against the headboard, holding his arms open.

Charles is quick to move, settling into Max’s side, breathing a sigh of relief.

“I’m going to pick the third movie that’s on our watchlist, okay?” Max asks, feeling Charles nod against him, his hair tickling the inside of Max’s arm.

Max doesn’t think he’s even heard of the movie. It’s animated and about a goose and a fish and why the hell is this on their watchlist.

Doesn’t matter. He picks it anyway.

It’s quiet as they watch the film. Something Max is not used to.

Charles is a chronic talker. Even during movies. Seriously. The man has an opinion about each scene and he will make it known.

He is really fucking lucky that Max doesn’t care much about films and would rather be listening to Charles’ voice anyways.

Yeah, it’s odd, feeling Charles next to him, matching his own breathing to his and not knowing any of the things going on in his head.

But it’s okay. It’s what Charles needs. And that’s all that matters.

Charles snorts suddenly, scaring the shit out of Max, “I don’t get it. How can a goose and a fish be friends? Like how can a goose hear what the fish is saying underwater?”

Max has to force down a cackle to be able to reply. It makes his voice sound all strange and high-pitched.

“That’s the part you decide to question and not the fact that they of course can talk?”

Charles rolls his eyes, giving Max’s arm a hard smack, “You know what I mean, you asshole.”

Max doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t.

But Charles has already moved onto sharing his next thought and he sounds lighter and he’s moving his hands around as he talks and so when he asks Max if he thinks it’s stupid that the main character goose has a ‘cooler haircut’ than the other geese, all Max does is nod and say, “So fucking stupid, schatje. It’s so stupid.”

#lestappen #lav's ficlets #f1 fic #max verstappen #charles leclerc #lestappen au

253 notes · View notes

pedgito · 1 year

Text

summary | a new place, a new job, and new problems arise soon thereafter. javier manages to weasle his way under your skin in more ways than one. the first—stealing your designated parking spot. (7.5k+ words)

pairing | javier pena x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, subtle pining/suffering on javi's part, very little reference to narcos plot (so, readable if you've never watched), strangers to enemies to...whatever this is, fingering/oral (f receiving), sex & subtle aftercare, open ended, using my very limited knowledge of spanish (pls feel free to correct me)

author's note | translations are spread throughout. this is my first dip into any character outside of my norm so this is mostly just for fun, but to anyone reading, enjoy!

You liked to think you were as level-headed as they came, always seeing the best in people, always giving them the benefit of the doubt, even here in a place that feels foreign, fresh off the job of a position you were hired to a few weeks ago. Not even a month yet and you were already on the precipice of your first problem.

A situation, perhaps.

You extensively remember paying for the specific parking spot correlating to your apartment number. It was simple, you paid for it, so by those laws, it was yours.

Yet somehow, there’s always a car parked in your space.

The first time isn’t a problem, opting to fill the blank spot next to it that is assigned specifically for visitors anyways. How could they have known?

It’s not a big deal. Until it happens again.

Same car, same color. That Jeep Cherokee was turning into your arch-nemesis, one more day of stealing your parking spot away from your keys digging into the paint of the driver’s side door.

Well, you weren’t that evil. But, you were definitely thinking about it. And maybe part of the problem was how unexpectedly stressful your job actually was, working alongside a bunch of macho, testosterone filled DEA agents with a severe lack of manners and time-management outside of catching the bad guys.

It always left you with a mountain of paperwork to deal with, not to mention that ridiculous errands and goose chases you were sent on for a file, or a can of fucking coffee beans because no one had the sense to replace them when they ran out.

And maybe if the car stood out more you would’ve clocked it earlier, but it doesn’t.

There comes a point where you can’t take the blatant disregard any longer, poised to catch the culprit in the act as you lean against the front hood of the car, jingling your apartment keys around your finger, rehearsing your supposed speech to scare off whoever owns the car.

But, that falls dead on your tongue the moment the owner descends the stairs, appearing from the same floor your own apartment resided on, eyes widening in disbelief.

It was a miracle you both had avoided each other this long.

“Javier?” You spit out, like a bad taste in your mouth.

Javier eyes you weirdly, still speaking calmly, “Hola, hermosa—I think. You live here?”

You nod slowly, wondering why he seemed so calm, so unbothered.

Ah, right. He wasn’t the one worrying about a parking spot, rather, he was the one stealing it.

“Yeah, por un par de semanas.” (for a couple of weeks)

Not that it mattered to Javier.

He laughs under his breath, fiddling with his own keys as he reaches for the handle. You push away from his car, standing steady on your own two feet, arms crossed over your chest and rubbing against the buttons of your blouse, still dressed up from work.

“You’re parking in my spot, Javier.”

Javier eyes the surrounding area, seeing nothing amiss.

“Where’s your car?” He asks, avoiding the accusation entirely.

“Right there,” You point at the car parked beside him, eyes narrowing at his lack of reaction, “beside my parking spot. You know, el que yo pago para.” (the one I pay for)

“Cariño,” and if there was a word that could make your blood boil quicker, it was that, the same condescending tone he always used, “I’ve had this spot for weeks.”

“But it’s mine now, Peña.”

“And mine sucks,” He admits, “this is the only shaded area around the building, it’s fuckin’ hot out, my car—“

“Isn’t my problem!”

He’s never heard you shout before, feeling the frustration radiating from your frame.

It was yours, rightfully so. But, that did change the fact he’s been parking there for weeks now, stubborn as he is. Javier isn’t budging either.

“What’s wrong with that one?” He asks, motioning toward your car beside his.

“I’m not paying for that one. I’m paying for this one.” It really is that simple, but you’re starting to think he had rocks for a brain, nothing rattling around up there besides catching Escobar and cheap sex he could catch on the regular with a bit of cash.

Yes, you knew—most of those men were one in the same, bachelors with a yearning to get off but not enough game to score it for free.

“No te soporto,” It’s a soft mumble under your breath, something meant for yourself, even if it was aimed at Javier, before looking at him, “fuck this, keep it.” (I cannot stand you)

Javier stares for a while, a moment too long in fact, his eyes lingering on the stretched fabric of your shirt, pulled tight over your chest where your arms cross, quickly traversing their way back up to your face, watching his entire trail of eyesight with annoyance.

“That’s it?” Javier definitely expected more of a fight, but you rolled over and keeled so fast he almost wishes you would’ve fought harder. He’s feeling gracious today though, so extends whatever metaphoric branch he had to give.

“You clearly don’t give a shit,” He’s leaning against the side of his car’s front hood now, diagonal to you as you take a few steps back, crossed arms moving until your hands met your hips, “but I’m the one running errands for you dumbasses all day, so we’ll see how long this lasts.”

In most cases that would come off as a death threat, but to you, it just meant smuggling sugar into his coffee instead of straight black like he usually enjoyed—just enough to fuck up his morning a little, throw him off kilter and enjoy the look on his face when it turns up in disgust, amongst other things.

“Eres malvada,” Javier comments amusingly, “are you trying to start a war?” (you are evil)

You shrug, “What’s one more to the one we’re already dealing with?”

You find it as a reason to get under his skin, drive him mad. But, Javier has a different reason in mind, luckily he loves a challenge—he wasn’t giving in that easily.

The office is sticky, the scolding, dry Bogotá heat feeling like you’re sitting in the center of a fire that ignited overnight—and the AC was out, meaning the tiny, measly little fan on your desk had to do.

Somehow, Javier seems unphased aside from the line of sweat on his forehead, shirt unbuttoned enough that you can see the start of his sternum, tanned skin hidden behind the baby blue fabric. His tie was laying on his desk beside his coffee—safe from you, for the time being.

Steve is close behind, not surprising, those two chasing each other’s tails like eager puppies. But, Murphy was sweeter than Pena, that much was clear.

He wasn’t holding your parking spot hostage.

“Hermosa,” Javier nods, tapping his fingertips against the patchy spot of wood on the front desk, “good morning, I hope?”

Not in the slightest.

Your eyes flick up wordlessly, stapling the stack of papers with more force than necessary before sliding it into his other hand, his fingers moving in time to catch the stack as it slides forward.

“Trouble in paradise?” Steve jokes, smiling as the words leave his mouth. “She looks like she’s ready to gut you.”

“She is,” It’s a confirmation that has Javier’s face turning up in annoyance, “can I do anything else for you? More paperwork, more coffee—“

“Actually—” Javier starts, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Good,” You turn away, picking up the large stack of files to head toward the filing closet, “ve a atrapar a tu el malo.” (go catch your bad guy)

His eyes linger as you walk away, Steve’s muffled voice coming into focus as you fade, rounding a corner as the click of your heels become softer.

“You managed to piss of the nicest person here,” Steve comments, whistling lowly, “I’m not gonna ask how you fucked that up, because it seems pretty obvious already—“

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Javier asks, throwing his head over his shoulder as he looks at Steve.

“Either bad sex or you’re just being an asshole,” Steve suggests, wiggling two fingers out suggestively, pushing his index down to flip his partner off, “easily both but I’m guessing it’s probably the second one.”

Javier shoved his hand away, forcing the file into Steve’s chest.

“She wants me to give up a parking spot I’ve had since I got here,” He explains, “not happening.”

Steve squints slightly, eyes narrowing on Javier. There was more to the story, but Javier was conveniently leaving that out.

“I didn’t even know she lived there,” Javier adds, somehow trying to convince himself he’s in the right, “it’s a good fuckin’ spot.”

“Pissin’ her off for it?” Steve shakes his head in disapproval, “Can’t be that good, Javi.”

The week drags on, miserable in the heat and with working piling up by the day, it feels never-ending.

And somehow, Javier always manages to make it home before you, even when you both leave at the same time.

As frustrated as you are, things get a little easier when you start getting under Javier’s skin.

Steve bothers you for a cup of coffee one morning, insisting that you always make it better than him—it’s just a matter of overloading it with milk and sugar, knowing that Steve likes it sweet even when he doesn’t want to admit it.

Most of the men drank it black, out of solidarity or whatever—Javier just enjoyed the bitterness. How convenient.

So, his hesitancy when you hand him a cup is warranted.

“You fuck with it?” He asks suspiciously.

“Steve asked for a cup,” You shrugged, pressing it into his hesitant, waiting hand, “I’m just being nice.”

But, one sip from the cup ensures that you weren’t being nice at all as he quickly spits it back into the cup, much to the amusement of you and Steve, who sips happily from his own mug.

“I lied.” You grin triumphantly, sliding his unfinished paperwork in front of him, “Nos vemos, vecino.” (see you, neighbor)

Steve chuckles under his breath, watching the interaction unfold. When you finally leave, Javier is staring at his desk, cup forgotten.

“Like I said,” Steve repeats, “can’t be that fuckin’ good.”

“Shut up,” Javier replies, chair screeching in protest as he stands, “who fucks with someone’s coffee?”

“A seriously pissed off neighbor, apparently.”

And if looks could kill, Steve would be dead.

And Javi thinks that the coffee incident would annoy him the most, but even more, it’s the blatant disregard of his presence on most instances, holding a complete conversation with Steve in his company, not a single greeting his way.

He still greets you every morning. All the same aside from his occasional switch up of endearment.

Cariño, Hermosa, Querida when he felt particularly snarky—but just as you hoped it would get under his skin, Vecina slices like a knife. You dared to use it first, but the tone of his is nothing but feigned fondness.

That and when he opts for your name instead, sickeningly sweet as it rolls off his tongue.

Either way, he notices your effort to ignore him.

Taking out the trash and running into him in the hallway? It’s like you walk right through him.

Running into him at that market down the road from your complex? He’s practically a stranger.

And work? It was harder to ignore him, but you did your damndest to make him feel less than.

It was working great, until it couldn’t.

It’s dark out by the time you see him again that day, covered by the orange of the streetlight overhead and kicking yourself as you stare at the contents under the hood, not having a single clue what you were looking at, what the problem was or what it could be.

“Staring at it won’t fix anything,” Javier startles you, nearly jumping out of your skin as he approaches, shoulder bumping against his chest at his close proximity ,“woah, easy, vecina. Just me.”

Somehow that was worse.

“Car trouble?” Javier asks.

“Among other things.” You snark back, but your voice doesn’t hold the venom you think it does. “Don’t tell me you know shit about how to fix this.”

“I don’t,” He admits with ease, “heading out?”

You sigh, deep and tired as you finally give up and close the hood, wiping your dirty hands on your jeans.

“Not anymore,” Javier takes a quick look at your outfit, jeans and a low-cut top that shows off the curve of your breasts, soft skin of your chest and a small amount of your midsection where your shirt pulls up as you shrug your shoulders, “what, Peña? What’s that look for?”

Javier shakes his head, rubbing his thumb along the tide of a spare key, “I’m meeting Murphy for drinks.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling you this, but he is—well, he does know. He’s hoping you might tag along, put an end to this back and forth between each other. He didn’t want to be the first to cave, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him to see you despise his existence every day.

“Sounds miserable.” You comment, throwing a warm smile for good measure, it’s so fake that even Javi can’t help but feel a little more offended than usual. “Tell Steve I said hi.”

Javier doesn’t get the chance to ask if you want to join before you’re sulking away, riddled with yet another inconvenience.

Javier catches you in the same position the next morning, dressed for work and shoulders slumped as you stare down blankly at the engine.

“Get in,” He orders, walking beyond your piece of junk and to his car, one hand resting on the hood, other resting on the door handle until you finally acknowledge him, “I can drive you to work.”

“Vete a la mierda,” You groan, “I don’t want your help.” (fuck off)

Javier doesn’t budge, yellow sunglasses perched on his nose, his thumb tapping against the car, “Get in the car.”

And he’s not against standing here until you were both late, but he’s already on the edge of getting his ass chewed out most of the time and he’s done with this—it, whatever game you two were still playing at.

“Think about it,” Javier jokes, “it’s almost like you’ll finally be putting that spot to good use.”

Okay, that might’ve been too much.

“Look, I’ll give you the fuckin’ spot if you stop looking at me like they and get in the damn car,” Not that it mattered now, with that hunk of metal sitting unmoving and useless beside it, "please?”

Javier’s not the type to beg, but the look on your face is soft, resembling defeat, and he wants to help.

“Why didn’t you just bring it up with management?” Javier asked, fist tightening around the wheel as he pulled to a stop. "If it bothers you that much."

“You mean Theresa?” You laugh to yourself, eyebrows furrowing in amusement as you cross your arms over your chest, “She’s pushing 80–don’t tell me she could actually intimidate you.”

Javier shrugs, “She’s got her moments.”

“Messing with you was more fun,” You shrug decidedly, “but it lost its momentum when you stopped being bothered by it.”

“So?”

“I’m stuck with a shitty parking spot, an even shittier neighbor, and now my car doesn’t work, so.”

The silence spoke for itself.

“I don’t mind driving you.”

“You’re missing the point,” He was just as dense as he was attractive and you hated it, “the least you could do is fuckin’ pay me.”

Javier gives you a wild look behind his shades, Jeep lurching forward as he continues the drive.

“For the spot, Javier. If you want it that bad.”

“Oh,” He nods, “Yeah, I can do that.”

That was…easier than you anticipated.

Things improve slightly after that, still giving Javier the cold shoulder on most instances, born out of your own stubbornness.

But he always greets you with a smile, one that you try to return. Plus, you were in better spirits today now that the building had working air and it wasn’t absolutely miserable trying to get work done.

“Here,” Javi pulls you from the chart on your desk, eyes connecting with the small wad of cash, “for what I owe you and then some.”

And you shouldn’t feel guilty taking the money, but you do.

He lowers his voice slightly as you pocket the cash, palms pressed against your desk as he leans in, “I need a favor.”

You sigh through your nose, threading your fingers together and resting them between his outstretched arms, challenging him with a steely look in your eyes.

He slides a small wad of paper he had hidden in his palm toward your hands, “I need those files, can you get them for me?”

You glance at the list of names, looking up at him incredulously, his face not moving an inch. It seemed serious, but it still didn’t justify the fact that he’s absolutely lost his mind.

“I could get fired for taking these out of the building,” You argue in a hushed whisper, “first you want to take my spot and now you want me to risk my job?”

His eyes soften slightly.

And then there’s that word again.

“Cariño, please?”

“How badly do you need them?”

He gives you another silent look of pleading, the tip of his tongue licking at the corner of his mouth as he nods to Murphy several feet away, looking just as desperate. If it wasn’t for Steve, you probably would’ve said no.

“You’re lucky I like Steve,” You admit, shoving the paper into the same pocket the money was stashed away in, “and that you’re down the hall from me.”

His fingers wrap around your wrist firmly when your arm resurfaces, posture instantly stiffening at that movement. His eyes are wide, staring through you almost.

“Thank you.”

And you can see that he means it.

It’s a strange look you haven’t seen before but it’s real.

“You owe me, Javi,” Under the context of what, you weren’t sure, “I mean it.”

The softness you add to his name is enough for Javier to realize that whatever anger you held toward him was slowly disappearing.

The last thing you’re expecting when you exit the sanctioned filing room is a solid chest to the face, and a surprisingly soft hand gripping your shoulder to steady you.

“Hey, Javi sent me,” Steve says lowly, glancing around the corner to check for an all clear—the place was mostly deserted due to the unexpected raid Javier was leading on a few of Escobar’s men, nothing huge, but enough to need backup, yet somehow Steve got shafted, “he’s caught up in something and my place is on the way.”

“Is he okay?” It feels foreign to ask, but given he’s also in a slightly disturbed state, breathing faster than normal like he’d ran here.

“Yeah, yeah. Peña’s always good. Don’t worry about him.”

“And you?” You inquire, sliding the files behind your bag, keeping them out of view, “Why aren’t you with him? I thought you two were partners.”

“My wife, she’s had this date planned out for weeks,” Steve nods toward the front, asking for you to follow, “Connie, she’d skin me alive if I tried to cancel on her, again.”

“Sounds justified.” You shrug, flashing him a polite smile.

Steve nods knowingly.

“And about Peña—he’s difficult, I know.”

“Understatement of the year, Steve.”

“I’m just trying to say that he’s really involved and sometimes that stress kinda…transfers over outside of work.”

And somehow you find yourself at a stand-off with Steve, talking through the open windows of his car.

“So he’s an asshole, but it’s okay because work is a little hard on him?”

“That’s not what I’m sayin’,” Steve scratches at his forehead in search of the right words, hoping they’ll come to him, “I don’t even know why I’m trying to defend him but he’s surrounded by this shit all day, some of us can leave it here—it’s hard even for me some days—“

“Steve,” You bring him back, urging him toward the point, “is this going somewhere?”

“Javi is this job— but you are the one thing I catch him staring at beside our desk and the gun in his drawer. I don’t know, maybe he really does hate you that much, but I’ve known him long enough to realize that if he’s gonna let anyone’s fuck with his day to day, and his coffee, it would be you.”

“If you’re trying to suggest Javi’s in love with me, I’m going to assume you’re insane.”

“No—god, no. I don’t think Peña’s capable of that shit but maybe he’d ease up on being a hard-ass if you didn’t give him as much shit over the parking spot. Also, not sayin’ he’s in the right but is it really that important to you?”

You sling your bag into the passenger seat, following suit as Steve climbed into the car, “At first, yeah. It’s my first time out on my own, dealing with my own shit, and Javi already acts like he’s above it all so seeing that it was him, it set me off.”

Steve shrugs, turning on the ignition. “I think you two have too much in common, honestly. Maybe just…level with him? Have you two ever had a normal conversation outside of work?”

A subtle shake of your head is all Steve needs, then he’s laughing to himself, pulling out of the parking lot.

“What?”

“It’s nothing—“

“Steve.”

“It’s just—I assumed you two hooked up and Javi was a bad time because you went from mildly annoyed to out for blood overnight.”

“Doesn’t seem that far-fetched.” You admit, earning an even deeper chuckle out of Steve.

“See?” Steve boasts, “Don’t give him the time if you don’t think he deserves it, but I’m tired of him sulking around all the time. It’s miserable to look at.”

“And you think I can fix that?”

“Oh, I know it.”

Two hours and a shower later and you find yourself at Javier’s door wondering if it was already too late to try and knock or if you should just stuff the files underneath his door and leave, ignoring that fluttering feeling in your gut that told you to stay.

But, he’s yanking the door open before you can lift your hand, wondering if he heard you on the other side. He’s half dressed, jeans buttoned around his hips but his chest bare, towel hung over his frame signaling that he, also, had just finished up a shower.

The circles under his eyes were a little darker, the color in his eyes a little dull, and his knuckles looked bruised—whatever he’d been pummeling and knocking away at must’ve packed a punch.

“Hermosa, hey.”

Yet somehow he seems relaxed at the sight of you and you offer him the first real smile he’s seen since you met.

“Uh, got the files.” You force them out of your hands and into his, feeling like if you held onto them any longer they would burst into flames. You weren’t sure of the validity or importance of them, but you didn’t want to hold the responsibility any longer. “Everything…okay? Steve said—“

“Yeah. Bad info.” Javier says simply, “Doesn’t really matter.”

You nod slowly, fidgeting with your fingers behind your back, “You know,” and here was your attempt, “when Steve pulled up I joked about how this has to be the first time I’ve seen that parking spot empty since I’ve been here. Too bad my car is a piece of shit and I couldn’t even move it to take it back.”

Javier opens his door wider, bare feet sticking wetly against the wood floor as he moves. He clears his throat, a small chuckle that feels like a giant victory. But, he seems eager—no, antsy, ready to flee.

“Shit, you were going out, weren’t you?” He notices the quick glance you give to his frame, never lingering for too long on one spot. “Bebidas, chicas—that’s how you guys usually celebrate, right?” (drinks, girls)

“Nothing to celebrate,” Javier replies nonchalantly, “they all went home, so.”

“Oh.”

Javier glances back inside his apartment briefly, wallet and keys resting on the countertop, shirt thrown over the barstool by the island.

You both speak at the same time, his head turning back when he hears your voice.

“Goodnight, Javi—“

“Did you want to come inside for a minute?”

You pause, watching his hard exterior melt further.

“Um, sure.”

Thus, the deafening click behind you as you step inside, watching as he tossed the files along the island, before disappearing briefly and returning without a towel, still also without a shirt.

He looks perplexed, glancing over the files briefly.

“Do I wanna know?” You ask curiously, stepping alongside him before wandering a little further, glancing around his space.

It was polished, covered in dark furniture and normal amenities, perfectly plain. It looked half lived in, blanket thrown over the couch and a pillow shoved up against one side. Yet the open door down the hall showed a perfectly made bed. You don’t pry, but Javier can feel the judgment from a mile away. He switches the subject before it arises.

“It’s just work. Do you want something to drink?” He asks casually, sifting through his fridge, “Tento agua, jugo, cerveza…” (I have water, juice, beer)

“Beer is fine.”

Javier slides the beer into your hand a moment later, “So, what did Steve tell you?”

“Huh?” You ask, startled by his straightforwardness.

“I mean how much did he tell you about the, uh—the raid?” Javier implores casually, taking a swig from the bottle.

“Oh, nothing really. I asked why he wasn’t there and he told me, but I didn’t try to pry.” You tell him honestly, “The less I know the better, right?”

“And here I am pulling you into that mess for the files,” He jokes, “thank you for that, cariño. Seriously.”

You leave out the extensive conversation you had with Steve about the man standing in front of you, and you hear the words haunting you, nagging at the back of your mind like a bad itch.

You take a long sip of the beer, half dried hair falling over your shoulders as you tip your head back. Javier watches with careful eyes, arms leaning against the island, files pushed further aside.

And suddenly, he seems normal.

In fairness, you’ve never seen him in this environment. His home, his safety, but it’s a juxtaposition to the man you see at work everyday, walking past you with a smirk glued to his face.

Maybe it was only ever really directed at you, but there was always that urge to knock him down a peg. But, not here.

Blame it on your softness, your willingness to want to see the best in people, and how Javier was somehow the end all, be all of gorgeous men in Bogota—he sees the switch too.

The first bad decision was taking the job at the DEA office.

The second? Letting Javier Pena get under your skin so easily.

And between you both, there were enough bad decisions to keep you talking for a week.

What was one more?

He says your name, a dangerous word to leave his mouth at a time like this.

“Javi.”

It’s a warning. An opportunity, his last chance to back away before you both did something stupid. He trashes his empty bottle as he makes his way to you, slipping your own from your grip and onto the nearest flat surface, some mantle or shelf, Javier isn’t sure.

“Do you still hate me?”

It feels like the most ridiculous question to ask, but he needs to hear the answer. Because if you did, he’d back off immediately, walk you back to your apartment, and apologize for ruining your life more than he already had.

But, the other part is praying, hoping that you don’t.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you always know it was me?” He asks softly.

You huff out a short laugh, “What?”

“The car—I mean, I drove it everyday. I wasn’t trying to hide it.”

Your eyes narrow slightly, letting him invade your space, a hand ghosting over your hip, under your shirt carefully, fingertips dancing along your hip.

“You’re not the only guy up there who drives that car, Javi—how was I supposed to know? Are you saying you were doing it purposefully, hoping it bothered me?”

“No,” Javier answers honestly, “but it’s a little fascinating to see you so angry.”

“You should probably elaborate on that unless you feel like seeing it up-close.” You tell him out of pure annoyance, perturbed by the game he was playing.

If he wanted to fuck you, he should just say it.

“You smile all day at those guys, even when they make comments about you in front of your face.” And you’ll hand it to Javier, he’s never been that disrespectful. He appreciates women, and he can be severely pissed off with one, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to trash her in front of anyone else, especially not in front of her. “But, I see it—that little scrunch in between your eyes when they piss you off.”

“It’s my job to be friendly.”

Javier watches the expressive lines between your brow start to form.

Javier shifts you slightly, back pressed to his bare chest as his fingertips settle against your skin, just under the ends of your shirt, and despite the ongoing conversation you can’t help but melt against him.

“I saw it that day when you were standing by my car,” Javier continues, “es linda.” (it's cute)

“Javier,” It's a sigh of discontent, of impatience, and he feels the twitch in your body as you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, feeling like you were seeing him as a completely different person, yet still somehow the same, “we really don’t have to drag this out.”

He hums softly, pressing a slow kiss against the side of your neck, the soft thrum of your heartbeat against his lips as he stays there, lingers.

“I’m not mad anymore , I’m not upset,” It feels like rambling, but you needed to clear the air, “Just—fuck, I can’t do slow, Javi.”

Slow meant more time to overthink, to feel, and you didn’t want any of that.

“Looks like I didn’t need to leave after all,” Javier laughs against your skin, “tengo a mi chica aquí.” (I have my girl here)

And fuck if you weren’t eager to throw every rule and inhibitions out the window for him.

His bed is just as pristine and untouched as when you entered his apartment, his fingers digging into your thighs firmly, keeping you in place where you were spread out over his lap.

Javier’s thrown off kilter for a moment as you grip his chin, tasting the wide expanse of tanned skin, biting playfully at the sharp edge of his jawline, right by the spot under his ear that has him fighting to stay focus.

Game recognize game, Javier had really met his match.

“Gatita mala,” He tuts, the warmth of his palms spreading over your back, top bare as his thumbs eventually meet the underside of your breasts, rubbing gently until he sees you keen into the touch, “more?” (bad kitty)

You nod eagerly, his eyes never leaving you, not even as he leans forward, mouth at your breasts until he finally takes the leap and licks, nipple pebbling underneath his tongue, bottom lip dragging against the flesh until he can take you into his mouth fully.

The warmth spreads like a flood, twisting at your insides, begging for something more.

“Javi,” You release on a sigh, fingers drifting through the hair at the back of his head as he hums, a soft noise of acknowledgment, “I need you to fuck me.”

“You sure?” He murmurs, mouthing up the center of your chest, latching onto your neck gently before pulling away, his teeth grazing against your chin as he bites. “Tu quieres esto, bebita? (You want this, baby?)

“I don’t need you to be kind, Javier.” You tell him forthright, staring down at him through your lashes, his hands still rubbing a hot pattern into your skin, whatever remnants of your sleep shorts that were left already pushed high up your legs. “You weren’t trying this hard before.”

“What are you saying then?” He asks, following your lips as you pull back, eying you inquisitively as you find his gaze, pulling him in.

Your eyes darken under the light, the streetlight outside of his window flickering faintly, “We don’t need to act like we’re friends,” You explain, “we’re not.”

There’s a long, lingering moment of silence as your thumb rubs along his bottom lip, soothing the natural pout he always held.

“We want the same thing, right?” You ask softly, feeling his hands settle against your lower back, a soft nudge as he presses you against him, not enough contact to satisfy but it stalls you a moment, watching him calculate a response.

Everything he feels like he needs to say never comes, only a nod of confirmation, a clear switch in his eyes as you drag yourself down to his level, pushing him even further, deeper into the back of his couch.

“Good,” You speak to him, lips grazing against his own as you speak, “because getting those files was a pain in the ass and I deserve a lot more than a thank you.”

You soon realize that this version of Javier is hard to deny something when he works for it, pulling at the short strands of his hair as he descends down the couch, to the floor, leaving wet kisses along the way, feeling your body quiver as he reaches your inner thigh, face pinching together in conflicting frustration as you shake your head.

“Javi, you don’t need to,” You quickly assure him, yanking his head away gently, his cheek resting against your thigh as he stares up at you, big brown eyes fixated on your face, “I’m not—“

“Humor me?” Javier counters, flashing you a tired smile, barely recognizable under this light.

You sigh heavily, mostly to release the tension of your anxiety-ridden nerves, gasping as his tongue meets your clit with no preamble.

It forces out a small laugh, involuntarily, his tongue lapping through your center before pressing a kiss against the inside of your thigh, fingers replacing his mouth for a beat.

“Tan dulce,” Javier comments absently, working you up easily, moving his fingers at an angle that even you couldn’t reach with your own hands, spine curving up as you pressed your palm out flat behind you, the grip in his hair tightening as he welcome the soft sounds you made, rubbing his thumb along your clit in a slow circle, “como el azúcar.” (So sweet, like sugar)

Your response is feeble, a throaty moan that has Javi’s cock straining against his jeans, reaching down to relieve the pressure as he unbuttons them.

“Why deny this?” He asks curiously, crazy enough to try and hold a coherent conversation with you while his face was buried in your cunt. “It’s the best part.”

He spreads you wider then, thick hands coming up to force your thighs over his shoulder, supporting the lower half of your body entirely as he devours, growling against your cunt.

The sound has you fluttering around his tongue and Javier feels it, bookmarking that for later.

“Fuck me,” You gasp out in a rush when you start to feel the edges of your orgasm creeping up on you, “god, Javi—“

But, there’s something unspoken there as he pulls away, the subtle shake of your legs, not wanting to feel selfish and even a little embarrassed for coming like this, so easy and quick under his touch. Be it experience but he knew what you needed even more than yourself, everywhere to touch, squeeze, linger for just the right amount of time.

“Look at me,” He demands, eyes flicking toward his without question as he slowly pushes a finger inside, filling the loss from earlier, thumb working against your clit until he feels it, “fuck, you like that?”

And as much as you wanted to deny it, he already knew the answer.

You nod quickly, body feeling feverish as your leaned your weight into your hands, steadily pressed behind you as your hips rock up involuntarily.

“That’s right, hermosa.” Javi encourages softly, almost like a purr as the crest of your orgasm rises, flushing over you in waves as you gasp, reaching your hand forward to dig your fingers into his forearm, silently begging him to slow down.

Eventually he does, pulling out gingerly but not before slipping the finger past his own lips, covered in the sweetness of you. He doesn’t make a big show of it, but it’s a small gesture that has your heart fluttering in your chest, a pain that aches deep. He does catch your gaze after a moment though, lazily explaining himself.

“What? I don’t lie.” He shrugs, thumb grazing against your bottom lip until you jerk your head away in frustration—coming here for nothing, but somehow twisting yourself up in the sheets on his couch, his solid figure tucked between your legs, and god, he’s not even wearing anything underneath his jeans. He rises up on his knees, denim hiding everything but the short patch of trimmed hair leading to his still, unfortunately clothed cock.

“Get on your knees.” He jerks his chin upwards and you’re moving without question, breathing a quiet sigh of relief as he moves behind you, shuffling around as he digs in a drawer beside his couch, shifting his jeans down until he can kick them the rest of the way, settling his hand over your hip in a comforting gesture, if anything, as he rips the foil packet with his teeth, pumping himself languidly.

He situates himself behind you, one knee pressed into the cushion while his other leg is planted against the floor, finding that once again, his hands couldn’t stop exploring your body, admiring every curve with us fingertips as he nudges you down and into the opposite cushion, palm pressed against the flat of your back as he lines himself up, pushing inside in one fluid motion, an audible groan breaking from his chest as he finally satiates his own desperate need for pleasure.

He enjoys sex this way, prefers it, fulfilling that need to take and consume and fill his partner with pleasure, tell that it was okay to give up control. It's what Javier enjoyed the most, controlling the situation. But, even as he enters you, he feels at a disadvantage.

“Bebita, talk to me.” Javier speaks up from behind you, his gruff, gravely voice cutting through the silence. “Let me hear you.”

You gasp on a sharp thrust of his hips, the wet sound of your slick as it coats him, feeling perfectly stretched by the size of his cock, grip tightening on the cushion in front of you as you feel his hand explore higher, squeezing at the back of your neck to force you deeper into the surface, head turned enough that you catch his expression for a brief moment.

He’s admiring you with a heated, half-lidded gaze as his eyes wander the expanse of your back, settling over the point where you two meet, watching as he sinks into you again and again. But, it’s the grit of his teeth that drives you insane, fucking you with a ferocity that carries so much more than just needing a release.

“Hablas demasiado, Javi.” You groan, feeling the soft pad of his thumb as it rubs at your jaw, earning a low chuckle in response. “You always talk this much with them?” (you talk too much)

He doesn’t need to pry to understand what you’re referring to—and he could act like it hurts his ego, and maybe it does, but he bites back at you just as quickly.

Your name graces his lips in a curse, a prayer, something akin to heavenly as he grips your hips tight, “You’re not them, bebita.”

It feels like a confession, but for your own sake, you ignore it, nodding blindly at his response.

“Fuck,” He growls, dragging a hand along your body until he settle it in the curve of your shoulder, pulling you back against him until you can’t stifle the sounds anymore, moaning out his name for the first time that night, “otra vez, let me hear it.” (again)

You gasp sharply at the sudden change in position, pulled tight to Javier’s chest in a similar position to earlier when you were standing in his kitchen, ultimately more intimate this way, with his mouthing at the shoulder that isn’t currently occupied by his hand, his arm slipping under yours and around the flesh to keep you in place while his mouth sucks at the skin on the opposite side, his name falling from your lips freely as he brings you to a second orgasm with no preamble, a quiet sound leaving you as the high is a little less intense, his fingers rubbing against the small bundle of nerves until you’re begging him to let up.

His breathing is short, hurried as his own orgasm is right there, free arm wrapping around your waist as he hugs you against him, mouthing at whatever parts of you he could reach.

“Gonna cum, bebita,” He warns, tracing a soft line under your breast with his finger until he’s squeezing the mound of it in his hand, “right here, can I?”

If you weren’t so drunk on your own pleasure you would’ve questioned it, but even then you weren’t sure you could deny him. You nod jerkily, feeling him unwind himself from you and guide you around with a steady hand, tapping at your side until he’s got you where he needs, kneeling a little lower, head lolling into his outstretched hand as he supports the weight, rubbing at the soft, tender spot behind your ear as he strokes himself quickly, head thrown back as he comes, moaning brokenly as the feeling overtakes him, spilling carefully onto your chest, your own eyes threaten to shut out of exhaustion but not daring to deny yourself the sight of him, neck outstretched and straining, veins protruding on the side as he swallows hard, gasping as he finally comes back down.

He feels you move to stand but urges you back down, “Stay,” He tells you softly, “I'll be back.”

And he’s not gone more than a few moments before he’s returning with a small towel, wearing a pair of sleep pants he must’ve grabbed from his room first, taking long strides to meet you as he cleans up the mess quietly, his face a little perplexed as he does so, watching as you move to grab your discarding clothing in the process.

“Any chance this convinced you to give me my spot now?” You joke lightly, catching the grin that spreads across Javi’s face, unconstrained.

“You wish, cariño.”

The silence settles as you redress yourself, mindful of Javier’s heavy gaze as he ascends back toward the work in his kitchen, giving you the space you needed.

“Same time mañana?” Javier asks suddenly, gaze landing on you as he scratches at his cheek, examining a paper within the stack of folders. (tomorrow?)

And you’re mentally cursing yourself for the small moment of hesitation you have in answering before Javier’s grin is growing again, releasing a short laugh in amusement at your obvious confusion.

“I meant for work,” He clarifies, “do you need a ride?”

“Oh—yeah,” You shrug indifferently, “I guess.”

The stare that Javier holds is mesmerizing, the type that freezes you in place and holds you hostage.

“Good,” He nods, “—but you know the other offer still stands if you want to.”

“Goodnight, Javi.” You reply with an eye roll, an empty response that holds no hatred.

Javier steps forward in your path, a subtle smirk on his face as he presses a kiss to the side of your head, a gesture that comforts you more than you’re expecting.

“Goodnight, gatita.”

Gatita = kitten

Cariño, Hermosa = both mostly terms of endearment (ie. beautiful, sweetheart)

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #pedro pascal characters #javier pena fic #narcos x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you

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yandereloversblog · 2 years

Note

Hello dear. Can I request some bonten yandere where reader tries to flee and is successful but they find her a few months/years again? (And maybe reader was pregnant when she ran away and now they have a kis too?)

Anyways please don't forget to stay hydrated <3

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎��𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚍

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: 𝚃𝚘𝚔𝚢𝚘 𝚁𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚓𝚒𝚛𝚘 "𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢" 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚘, 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚢𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚞, 𝚁𝚊𝚗 𝙷𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚒, 𝚁𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚞 𝙷𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚒, 𝙷𝚊𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙺𝚘𝚔𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚒, 𝙺𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚘

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛, 𝚃𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 , 𝚄𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚎𝚝, 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛, 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙸𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚞, 𝙰 𝚐𝚞𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍, 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝, 𝚁𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚞𝚣 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖

╰┈➤ . . . 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

Me: I feel like I'm forgetting something.

"If you forgot about it, it probably wasn't important"

Me: Yeah you're right.

Mocchi and Takeomi: 😶

-> 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 "𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐲" 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨

First of all how the fuck did you escape this man and his 152 invisible bodyguards where they all, including Mikey who's his own breed of helicopter, keep constant watch on you???

Smart girl- Not to mention how you didn't want to raise your child in that environment.

At first Mikey would think you're kidnapped by his enemies and held for ransom, and send his men on a wild goose chase to find you but after a week without any contact from said kidnappers the boy fell into a very heavy depression state.

The executives experienced hell for months with trying to make sure Mikey didn't end up killing himself because he lost you.

"What's the fucking point, she's gone- she's DEAD!"

Fast forward to one or two years and Sanzu, for once, didn't give a fuck about slamming the doors open as he entered Mikey's room, he just had to announce that a few of their man caught sight of you, his king will finally try to live again.

Mikey has never dropped everything so fast, preparing everything to go pick you up.

His emotions running high and mixed with his dark impulses Mikey didn't know if he should hug you when he sees you first or pull the trigger and kill you.

Let's say your house became a mess when he arrived and saw you trying to hide.

"Quit hiding [Y/N]... FUCKING COME OUT!... Dear, if you fucking listen to me right now maybe I won't chop off your legs and chain you in one place like a disobedient dog."

In the end what alerted Mikey was the cries of a child- a child???

When you came out of your hiding spot to see the mess around you started crying too, protectively holding onto your baby and pleading, Mikey's insane eyes glued to the child as he approached.

"... What is this."

Mikey ignored your cries and pleas as he ripped the baby away from you.

Man placed a whole loaded gun on the 1 year old's chest. And he was sure he'd kill you right after, did you have an affair? No, he couldn't let you go off that easy-

Only thing that stopped him from pulling the trigger was the sudden notice of the black eyes staring at him, albeit they were crying but they were just like his.

Mikey took a moment to process the child, had you been pregnant when you left?

He let the gun drop to the floor before properly hugging the crying one year old, impulses dying down as he looked at your quivering body on the floor.

Mikey would kneel down right in front of you and show you a sick twisted smile.

"Angel~ did you really run away because you thought I wouldn't accept you? You were scared I wouldn't love our child? How silly~"

Mikey would laugh, free hand reaching to grab your neck and pull you closer to a kiss.

He'll let go and give you such a sweet smile despite how both you and your child are crying your eyes out.

"Let's never make that mistake again hmm?~ Let's go back home. Now. Ahh you have so much to tell me about our baby~"

-> 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮

Now Sanzu might be a mess, but he for sure wouldn't lose sight of you- including with the help of the tracking devices he placed on you.

Then suddenly one day you disappeared, not leaving any traces behind.

It hit him way harder than it should've.

Always near the bring of overdosing.

Not to mention the many, MANY nights he always cried himself to sleep because he missed you -will never admit it though-

Unlike Mikey, Sanzu would never accept that you're dead, he'd search for you non-stop.

Retracing every step and working all alone on it.

"Where is she...? Where the fuck are you, you stupid bitch... When I find out I'll make a mess out of you, [Y/N]."

And he did, being in a business trip out of the country, having a smoke late at night and frantically tapping away at his phone, hoping the cameras caught sight of you.

Yet he stopped when a woman carefully pushing a stroller walked past him. Then he heard her voice and Sanzu had half a mind to go there and grab you to make sure.

And he did. Sanzu, gun in hand and flicking the cig off, grabbed you by your hair and yanked you to see your face, you could only tremble in shock and fear at the crazed grin on his face after he realized who you were.

Unlucky to you Bonten had the whole area deserted for business yet you just stumbled into the trap.

"Oh fuck- hey there sweetheart~ lovely night we're having huh? Almost LIKE I WASN'T FUCKING SEARCHING FOR YOU EVERYWHERE FOR NEARLY A YEAR LIKE A PATHETIC FOOL!"

Sanzu would've yelled more at you, threatening you with the gun as well, if he didn't hear the cries of the two month old baby in the stroller.

Your blood ran cold and Sanzu's was boiling with anger. Swiftly moving to take a better look of the child while still tugging at your hair. Making sure you didn't make a run for it.

Did you escape to have a bastard with someone else?

"Hey doll face, who the fuck is this loud little shit?"

Sanzu ignored your words and please as he leaned closer to glare at the child, only to have identical teary blue eyes stare back at him when the baby girl opened her eyes.

Sanzu stared back in shock before looking back at you, almost as if to confirm.

Against your better judgement you just nodded, muttering that she was his, hoping Sanzu didn't end up shooting her.

"I see I see~... I was going to drug your ass and make sure you couldn't probably function as a human being without me but honestly~"

He'd grin and playfully point the gun at your child.

"I want 5 more of these little mutts, don't worry, if you behave I behave, it's only fair~... But if you ever pull some bullshit like these again I'm shooting all of them dead."

-> 𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

With all of Ran's rules, it seems almost impossible to escape, but you managed to do so.

And here he thoughts you finally got used to everything, that he broke you down and build you up as he wanted.

Nobody has ever seen the relaxed Ran so out of his composure before, not even his brother, trying to find a single person and failing to do so miserably.

At some point Ran might convince himself you're dead to save his sanity -lmao what sanity-, his ego as well because you managed to escape his clutches and left him completely broken and empty.

But Ran will never find it in himself to move on no matter what he does.

"[Y/N]... If you're alive, I'm sure we'll cross paths once again... And when we do you better have a good fucking explanation."

And of course you do.

When a boy, not any older than 3 bumped into his leg accidentally.

Ran gave him an annoyed glance yet had to freeze when realizing the boy looked practically exactly like him when he was young, but the [E/C] eyes were exactly like yours.

And soon after the boy comes the mother, both you and Ran stared at each other in shock when you came into the future.

Your face contorted into fear at Ran's emotionless and empty gaze once he got over his initial surprise at seeing you.

Without a care, Ran leaned down and picked up your child, ignoring how the boy began to sob and just knocked him out.

"You better follow what I say very carefully, [Y/N]. Unless you want our son to pay for it... He is OUR son right?... I suppose a DNA test is in order, I don't want to learn I've touched a bastard."

Even though Ran has kept you imprisoned, you had never seen him so angry.

But fearing your child's safety, you did as he told you to, now sitting in backseat of the car, Ran uncomfortable close to you as your body touched his, with the sleeping little boy securely on his lap as the chauffeur drove through the very familiar streets.

Ran's hand on your nape, you flinched at how the fingers digged into your skin.

"[Y/N], my sweet little darling, did you think I wouldn't be able to care about both you and our son? Were you that scared?~"

His soft laugh contradicted his movements, harshly grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at him, then a kiss followed.

You'd stare up at his cold gaze, sadistic glint flashing in his eyes as he very gently patted your son's head.

"When we get home I'll show you just how much I fucking care, how much grief I was in when you left. And I promise, our family will be perfect once you go back to behaving... If not we can always try for another child~"

-> 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

Rindou knew he was stubborn- but not when it came to you! He loved you so much after all.

He didn't break your legs again after the first time because you cried so much.

Nor did he keep the shock collar on you at all time because it hurt you.

He even removed some of the punishments because you begged him to and promised you'd be good.

Now he regretted those decisions so much, if he did what he wanted maybe you wouldn't have escaped.

Rindou Haitani made sure to never give up anymore when it came to you.

"You've really gone and done it now huh babe? Am I a joke to you?... I already miss your tears and screams sweetheart, this won't do..."

Rindou was in such a poor state during those two years, crying, -destroying everything he touched-, not sleeping, -killing people-, not eating etc

Yet on his birthday Ran finally came to him with some good news, and a photograph of you with twins in your arms.

Ran happily talks about how his little brother looked ready to cause hell on earth until he explained that they did a secret DNA test in one of the hospitals they owned and the twins were Rindou's.

Without another word Rindou got up and went to the address Ran gave him.

So imagine your shock when you arrive at your apartment and find Rindou comfortably sitting on the couch and the babysitter dead and bleeding on the floor.

"You know if you didn't escape from me you wouldn't have to work that stupid job until this late at night, what if some creeps follow you home huh? Oh that? Yeah, I killed the bitch because she was asking too many questions, but don't worry, the twins are sleeping."

Rindou would laugh, get up from the couch and approach you with a smile before slapping you.

He would have originally done much more but now the twins were in the picture.

Rindou really wanted to hurt you but he needed to be a good father and husband now right? He had a family to take care of.

-He'd sigh in trouble like he wasn't the one on the floor with the bleeding cheek-

"Let's get you home darling, and once the twins wake up we'll explain everything to them right? If you told me you were pregnant I wouldn't have been that mean to you"

He happily soaked up your cries to just leave you and the twins alone when his bodyguards entered the house and carefully took the children.

Rindou kissing your tears away and holding you close.

"Oh how much I've missed you sweetheart~ It must have been so hard for you to live without my help and take care of the twins, but don't worry, now that I've found you I'll never let you go."

-> 𝐇𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐊𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐢

Koko was sure you wouldn't leave him, he knew your character. After all that money he spend you would be too guilty to leave, but here he is now; you having escaped your golden cage.

Koko pondered why you would leave him, even though he imprisoned you Koko was never too harsh on you right? You were treated like a well protected -pet- lover

So when Kokonoi didn't see you anywhere he assumed like Mikey and thought you were kidnapped.

He waited for a call or a message of sorts for some ransom money that would just be considered change to him but none arrived.

Were you really gone?... He needed to know the trigger that made you throw your morals away.

"[Y/N]... Where did I go wrong? Was I too reckless? I should have chained her up... Should have broken her down."

Koko considered himself pathetic for crying those first few nights, then got to work.

Would be the fastest one to find you because he wouldn't give up no matter what and would be more composed than Rindou and Sanzu.

It was especially easy to find you once you gave birth and he had your records. And he found the trigger: A child.

You were pregnant? That would explain everything, you didn't want to raise the child in this dangerous environment; how silly.

Koko would start off small, the shops around you suddenly closing down and making it impossible to buy baby products, not letting you get any job to support yourself and your child, then finally have you thrown out of your apartment late at night.

Sure it was a cruel act, but what was the cruelest was you leaving him.

And then he would appear before you at your most desperate time yet again.

"My sweet little doll, look at you, so helpless and weak without me... Did you have fun running around and struggling huh? Was it fun without me there to give you comfort?"

His voice ever so sweet as he basically took the baby from you.

You were too tired to even think about anything, you just needed some rest.

And Koko knew that, some of his anger gone from making you suffer during the first two months after you gave birth.

Leading you into the car and pushing you in without much care before getting in himself.

"Once we get home I'll give you a bath and you'll have a good meal, okay dove? I'll make sure to talk to the doctors and see what you and the baby need."

You'd be fooled by how Koko pulled you into the hug, gently petting you.

Until he grabbed your hair and forcefully tugged to make you look at him.

A commanding expression on his face.

"Then I'll properly chain you up and monitor you, you'll spend the rest of your life making up for the pain you caused me... Luckily I won't request much now that we have a child, let's be the perfect family, okay sweetheart?"

-> 𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐨

Completely heartbroken when he couldn't find you anywhere after getting home from work.

It would be more likely to escape Kakucho because of how lenient he is, especially when you act good.

Will try to search for you as much as he can but there is a big chance he'll stop once he isn't able to find you anywhere.

Man for sure cried everynight you weren't there waiting for him.

And also spending a good amount of time ruining everything he touches from anger- he doesn't want to direct that anger towards you but he also doesn't want to keep it in, just in case he finds you again and accidentally hurts you.

"Why did she have to leave!?... Why couldn't she just love me like I loved her...? I loved her so much... So much it hurts."

The longest you can stay away from, it will probably take four or five years to find you because he's not actively searching, just grieving in silence and moving around.

Kakucho knew better than to save some random mother and son duo that his men were forcefully pulled away from the area because Bonten will have a meeting with an enemy gang there, but when he saw the son jump in to protect his mom, and getting knocked out in the process, he had to step in.

And once he did Kakucho felt a lot of emotions after seeing your face. Immediately ordering everyone to leave as he pulled you in a tight hug.

When you squirmed around and kept looking at your son Kakucho did so too.

He let you go and carefully picked him up.

-Making a mental note to kill whatever asshole had hit him-

"Is... Is he mine...? Well, it doesn't matter... He's a lot like you so I don't care."

Only one who'd accept the child as long as they look like you. But luckily it was his -Kakucho was extra happy after the DNA test-

The soft apperance and voice would have you almost fooled.

Until Kakucho finally moves his attention back to you and grabbed you.

"Let's go."

Kakucho would basically order, tightly hold you and staring at you with crazed eyes that you've never seen on him as he started to pull you towards his car.

"We're going home. I gave you a chance to live your life how you wanted. Now that you're fully mine I'll never let you escape like that again. Do you like breaking me that much? I'll give you the same treatment then."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere bonten #yandere manjiro sano #yandere mikey #yandere sanzu #yandere ran haitani #yandere rindou haitani #yandere kokonoi #yandere kakucho #yandere tokyo rev #yandere tokyo revengers

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magnuscomedybracket · 4 months

Text

FINAL ROUND

087 Uncanny Valley vs. 034 Anatomy Class

Propaganda under the cut!

087 Uncanny Valley

Guy cleans out flesh from a drain without a blink and nikola has to invite him back again with Jude because he wasn’t scared enough the first time because of obliviousness

Besides the obvious bit of Guy who Doesn’t Realize He’s In A Horror Story, imagine this from Nikolas perspective. Like “oh shit lol this guys name is “skinner” I’m gonna mess with him for shits and giggles… Ok he didn’t notice any of my spooky bullshit, wild! I threatened to butcher him and he was Not Paying Attention! Jude! Hey! Come check out this idiot man!”. Also implication that Jude and nikola hang out being shitty together. I support women’s wrongs.

"Megan" tries to expose this guy to The Horrors and he's so focused on his job that he just doesn't notice. She's so shocked by this that she calls him back and still has to literally force him to notice

The world's most oblivious plumber somehow doesn't notice all the creepy stuff going on and just does his job like normal. It only gets funnier when you consider it from the Stranger avatar's point of view.

Nikola Orsinov trying so hard to scare the least observant man you've ever seen. Whispering in his ear about flencing while he hums noncommittally and pulls a wad of meat from the drain of her spooky factory in the middle of fuck-all nowhere and then he just gives her the invoice and walks out??? Like it's a normal job? And when she calls him to come back the next day she has to dress up in a clown costume to get his attention and grab his head to make him look at The Atrocities that he just entirely missed the day before. I love Sebastian Skinner so much and I wish only the best for him

#I really just want to point out that they're trying to scare a plumber. #A plumber!! #do you think this is the first time this man has had to clean skin and hair out of a drain? #do you think he's never seen blood before? #like yeah it's objectively funny from the Horror's point of views but for him? It's a tuesday #Like that isn't even the weirdest thing he's seen that week #'oh they threatened to butcher him' yeah? what makes them special? #this guy probably deals with 20 different avatars a week by necessity #no amount of 'his name is skinner let's fuck with him' is going to be worse than service work in people's homes (via @/childoferebus)

#the only reason we know what's happening for half the episode is taht we know this is an horror story #and how things usually go. #dude spends half the episode going 'just a normal job. #house in the middle of nwohere. weird smells and textures #*shrugs* just anotehr day on the job* (via @/monstersqueen)

034 Anatomy Class

The delivery. The teacher going crazy because students asking questions.

#fear beings who want to know more about the human body and decide to go to college about it (via @/the-goose-caboose)

#all those “students” had like. sneak 100 surely their behavior was completely unsuspicious lmao #and at the end theyre genuinely just like “hey thanks for teaching us about the insides” and the teacher's just completely traumatized (via @/silverywillowtree)

#the magnus archives #tma #magpod #magnuspod #polls #tournament #final round

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

hi! i'd like to ask a one shot on bradley bradshaw in which y/n is a girl in her early/mid 20's who's maverick's daughter and her and bradley are secretly dating. one day mav finds something belonging to rooster in her bedroom and realises what her daughter has been up to, but isn't pleased at all.

thanks x

Bradley's aviators are the last thing Pete wants to find when he washes your sheets. You've insisted a thousand times that you're a big girl now, you don't need your dad to do your laundry for you, but he likes it. He likes taking care of you, even if he doesn't need to.

He doesn't like it now, though. Not when he spies a pair of muted sunglasses, a familiar chip in their bridge. He'd made that chip, more years ago than he's come to terms with, when he'd elbowed Goose and sent the man ramming face-first into a pole. Knowing who they belong to now unsettles him greatly, because they should not have been anywhere near your bed.

He pockets them, refraining from the urge to crush them just for the memories they hold.

Bradley stops by twenty minutes later, before Pete's had enough time to process what he's assuming is the situation. He's fuming, not only that his baby is having sex, but that she's having sex with Bradley.

"Hey, Mav." Bradley nods to the man, and Pete reconsiders the key he's given to Bradley for emergencies, seeing as he's been waltzing in to canoodle with his daughter.

"Hello, Bradley." His tone is icy, but Bradley's used to Pete having bad days sometimes. It's practically part of the job description.

Bradley pokes his head into the kitchen, then the bathroom, before finally exploring the living room where Maverick sits.

"I can't find my glasses," He offers up an explanation where it isn't requested, desperate to make conversation instead of suffering in silence, "I just don't know where I left 'em, they're not in my car, they're not in my apartment, they're- they're in your hands..." Bradley frowns at the aviators he can see in Maverick's grip, "Where were they?"

Maverick doesn't bother looking at him, glaring at the glasses instead, "In my daughter's bed."

"Oh, shit."

"Oh, shit? Oh, shit? Yeah, 'oh shit'! Bradley, how could you?" Pete shoots out of his seat, fist squeezing around the glasses, "I've spent her entire life telling her not to get involved with pilots, warning her off from men I know spend their time in testosterone-filled locker rooms of pure filth, who see women at bars like conquests, who get so crazed on deployment that they'll fuck anything in a skirt. Because I was that pilot, Bradley. She deserves better than someone like me, and I'm trying to make sure she gest that! And you know that, you were her bodyguard at bars! You were supposed to help me protect her, how long have you been going behind my back like this? When I trusted you?"

"Mav, slow down," Bradley keeps his voice calm, "I know a lot of pilots are like that, okay? Trust me I know, I work with Hangman. But that's fucked up, and I know that. You think I cheer him on in the locker room? You think I bet him he can't bone a lady in the bathroom? He's gross, and that's not how I act. You know that, I know you do. I know you know I care about her. And I don't blame you for being scared, but you're not gonna chase me away. That's- that's because I care about her. I care about her, so I'm not gonna leave just 'cause you tell me to. You can be mad all you want, but I'm not gonna dump her for it."

"How long?" Maverick repeats, face flushed in anger, "I said, how long?"

"Eight months." Bradley admits, voice strong. "It's been long enough to know I care about her. And I- I love her."

Pete's eyes flutter shut, then squeeze. He looks like he's in physical pain, and he's barely able to stop himself from crushing the glasses. Bradley doesn't dare speak, doesn't add fuel to whatever fire is burning in Pete's chest. He just stands there, strong and silent.

"I'm not happy about this." Pete finally grunts, keeping his eyes shut as he shoves his fist forwards, jamming the aviators into Bradley's chest. The younger pilot catches them, tucking them into the front of his shirt before Mav can change his mind and stomp on them.

"I'm sorry. I hope you see things differently when you see us together. All you know now is the, uh, undesirable stuff. But I treat her well."

"You'd better." Pete threatens, his voice barely above a whisper, "Go home. When I open my eyes I don't want to see you here. And no sneaking in tonight, or- or ever again. I'm installing cameras."

"Deal," Bradley promises, already on his way to the door in case Pete changes his mind and charges, "And- um, is it alright if I take her to dinner tonight?"

"Only if you take her somewhere nice," Pete decides, "And have her home by nine."

"Yes, sir."

When the door shuts behind Bradley, Pete lets out a monumental sigh. He feels like his lungs collapse with the breath, and all he can do is pray that you're actually treated to dinner, and that you two don't sneak off to some motel somewhere to pass the time.

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jewishvitya · 4 months

Text

Tal Mitnick, an 18 years old Israeli that refused to serve in the military:

It's not just a couple of soldiers that are bad soldiers or that enact violent occupation on Palestinians, it's actually a whole system of violence. Of pulling people into the army and making them work for the occupation and for oppressing Palestinians.

Militarism in Israel is very entrenched in society. And the military is some golden goose that you're not allowed to touch. You're allowed to criticize the government, you're allowed to go out for gay rights, for women's rights. But when it comes to criticizing military action against Palestinians or other oppressed communities, this is totally out of the norm. You cannot speak against the military because it's so entrenched in society.

A lot of conversations start with the military, and because most people did serve, it's seen as this kind of thing that everyone needs to pass in order to become an Israeli.

So. Yeah. When you're older you don't feel ostracized as much because after a while it's less relevant to daily life. At least in my experience, I didn't serve and it's not really talked about much at this point.

In Jewish Israeli society, the military is trusted more than most other institutions. Tbh, more than any other institution I can think of. And it's seen as a right of passage. Some people will be okay with you if you volunteer for a social service instead - work at hospitals, schools, etc. Others think you shouldn't get the choice, and unless there's a medical issue you should be going to the military.

The narrative of self defense is absolutely believed, so by refusing to serve, those kids are seen as saying "I will enjoy the sacrifice made by others, but I will not contribute myself." It's seen as ungrateful. But that's if you don't express a moral objection to the military.

If you challenge the military itself, you're challenging Israeli society. And that's how it's taken. "I refuse to participate in the occupation" - "So you're saying I did something bad by serving. You're saying I'm a bad person." And when most of Israelis served in the military, and those that didn't serve often still support it or have loved ones that did or still do, this is challenging the moral character of pretty much all of us. Which, it should.

The military nurtures a mindset of dehumanization to a scary degree. I listened to a few interviews with stories from Breaking the Silence, an organization meant to bring to light the way the military abuses Palestinians, and there's something described by Yehuda Shaul.

He tells the story of serving in Hebron, in the West Bank, and he describes the daily stated mission of soldiers there.

While on patrol at night, they pick a random Palestinian house - explicitly one that they have no intelligence against, a civilian family - and they get in, wake the family up, separate men from women, search or something, get on the roof, jump to the next roof, get into that house, wake that family up, treat them the same way.

Again, at random. And he described two goals for this:

One, to create the feeling of being persecuted, and two, to make our presence felt.

They want Palestinians to feel beaten down and powerless, and they want them to feel that the military is everywhere, so they're too scared to resist.

This isn't random rogue soldiers, this is what the military does there on a normal day. And he said it's impossible to treat a population this way without seeing them as less human than we are.

I don't know if I can just say that the military is another tool for indoctrination in addition to everything else it does. But as a kid, I had a left-leaning friend from the Tel Aviv area, and we'd argue a lot. Because you don't need to be a full on leftist to disagree very strongly with a teenage settler. And as I was going through the process of changing my mind, I saw him going through the same process in the opposite direction - he became way more right wing during his military service. He told me the stories of why, and all those stories did was make me feel like I don't even know this person. I wonder sometimes how many young people go through the same.

#riki babbles

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mountttmase · 7 months

Text

A Mountain To Climb: The Sequel

Chapter Eleven

Note - the penultimate chapter 😔 I can’t believe we’re here. Chapter 12 will be posted on Sunday but for now I hope you enjoy this one and I’d love to hear what you think 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 5.2k

Warnings - series will contain fluff, smut and angst

Masterlist

When Freya came to visit it was usually the highlight of your week. This time however you were nervous. She was observant and you were desperately trying to hide a secret.

You’d managed to fool Mason, him being busy with the end of the season nearing making things easier and he was currently at an away game so you could suffer on your own but it had always been the plan for her to come and stay and if you cancelled now she’d be suspicious.

‘Hello my love’ she smiled as you opened the door, pulling you into her body and you felt your eyes prick at the feel of her. Freya was home to you and you knew you couldn’t hold anything in for too long.

‘Hey Frey’ you whispered, trying to clear your eyes before she pulled back but the sound of your strangled voice caused her to pull away quickly and hold you at an arms length.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’ you laughed, hoping the smile you sent her would be enough for her to move on but she only eyed you’re curiously.

‘Oh yeah like I’m gonna believe that’ she laughed, hooking her arm through yours before walking you into your living room and sitting you on the sofa. ‘Now spill’

‘There’s nothing to tell’ you smiled, trying to shrug her off but she wasn’t having any of it and the panic of having to tell her what was going on in your brain made the tears spill from your eyes again.

‘Oh baby, come here’ she breathed, pulling you into her side as she rubbed your arms soothingly. ‘You know you can’t keep things from me you silly goose, so you might as well come out with it’

You knew it was something you had to tell her, this thing was big and if you left it it would only get bigger and there’s no doubt she would find out eventually but the fear kept the words in your throat. This thing was the biggest secret you’d ever kept in but you were a ticking time bomb and you knew you needed to confess.

‘I’m late’ you suddenly choked, Freya’s arms stopping for a second as she stuttered before carrying on. Your words shocking here a bit before she pulled you a little closer to comfort you even more.

‘How late?’

‘Three weeks’

‘Does Mase know?’

‘No’ you sobbed, shaking your head as you tried to wipe your eyes.

‘Let’s not panic yeah? Is there anything else?’

‘I’m exhausted, like all the time. Everything aches and I feel sick constantly in the mornings like I’ve gone through a multi pack of mints this week trying to settle my tummy’ you told her and you could see the cogs turning in her head. She knew it didn’t sound good but she was trying to be the voice of reason and not freak you out but you were absolutely petrified.

‘Right well there so use sitting here panicking eh? Let’s go grab a test and find out’

‘But I’m scared, frey’

‘I know my love. But there’s no point putting it off is there?’ She asked and you shook your head. ‘Exactly. So we’ll go find out and we can deal with it from there’

‘Okay’ you sniffed, giving her one last squeeze before jumping in the car. The ride was pretty silent and you let her pull you around the store until found what you needed but you had no idea what you were meant to be looking at so you let her assess your options before giving her opinion.

‘Get the multi pack, I’ll take one with you’ she told you, causing you to eye her suspiciously but she just shrugged with smile. ‘It’s always good to check’

‘I can’t even imagine a mini you and woody. Like my brain won’t let me visualise it’

‘Let me tell you, mini woody is not-‘ she started but covered your ears with your hands and sing loudly, not wanting to hear the rest of what she had to say. You were feeling sick enough already and the thought of Woody naked didn’t help.

You couldn’t wait to take the tests I till you got home, anting to know as soon as possible what you were dealing with so you pulled Freya into loo’s where she dished the tests out for you to take before meeting by the sinks where she sent you an appreciative smile.

‘You fancy putting them back in the box so we can play pregnancy test roulette?’ She winked but you shook your head with a panicked expression.

‘No way, I’m not risking anything and I’m not taking another one’ you told her, packing your stuff up so you could go check them in the car and once you were settled down you took a deep breath in preparation to look. ‘What does yours say?’ You asked, gulping down a lump as you tried to distract yourself from the bomb in your hand.

‘Negative’ she smiled, showing you the test before you handed her yours.

‘Can you tell me, I cant look’ you asked before hiding your face in yours hands. It felt like the longest wait in the world as you shut your eyes and tried to keep your breathing normal. The next few words from Freya had the power to change the rest of you life and as your heart hammered away in your chest you weren’t sure you can handle what she was about to say.

‘It’s negative, babe’

The rush of relief you were expecting to feel never came. If anything you felt your heart sink just a little bit but you were quick to dismiss the feeling and take a deep breath out that you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

Not pregnant.

You were okay.

‘Let me see’ you breathed, taking the test back from her and looking over it. There it was in black and white, not pregnant and even though your heart rate was slowly getting back to normal you felt your eyes prick at the sight.

‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m glad I know now. I wonder why I’m late though?’

‘A woman’s body is a mystery’ she shrugged before looking back at you. ‘You sure you’re alright?’

‘I feel a little bit silly but I’m fine’ you laughed, hoping she’d buy it and even though you knew she could tell you were a bit upset she thankfully knew not to push. ‘Shall we head home? Mase’s game will be on soon’

Thankfully she didn’t ask any more questions and you put it to the back of your mind so you could focus on the game and you watched on with pride as he ran around like a maniac on the pitch. Seeing him on your tv only made you miss him even more and you couldn’t wait for him to get back home tomorrow so he could wrap you and make you feel better in the way only Mason could.

Freya left the next afternoon and you used your alone time to sit and think through your feelings so that you’d be fine for when Mason returned home the next morning.

You were freaked out that it might be positive, but now you knew it was negative why were you feeling so weird about it? You didn’t want a baby, not right now at least but the weird sensation settled in your stomach and you didn’t know how to feel. What would happen when you told Mason? Would he be disappointed? Or relieved? And what was worse? If he was disappointed then at least you knew you could try again but any type of relief would make you think that’s not what he saw for your future. Did he even see a future with you?

You were driving yourself crazy with all these thoughts so you did the only thing you knew how and went to sleep in hopes you feel better tomorrow when Mason got home.

You tried to busy yourself the next morning and make sure the house was spotless for when Mason got back but it was no use. Again finding yourself laid down staring up at the ceiling as you ever thought everything about the last few weeks.

Soon enough it was time for Mason to be home and as soon as you heard the door go you were up and rushing over to greet him. His wide smile and excited eyes settled you and you just prayed you could fool him into thinking you were fine and that the last few days hadn’t happed but one look at him and you knew you were gone.

‘Hello baby’ he smiled softly as he took you in, pulling you into his arms so he could hold you, your body melting as you took in his smell and you automatically felt at home ‘you alright?’ He asked, pulling back and eyeing your curiously. It was scary how quickly he knew something might be wrong even when you tried to hide it and the concern on his face made your bottom lip wobble. ‘Hey, what’s happened?’

You didn’t mean to as you were trying to hold it together but you burst into tears, your comfort person was all that you’d wanted for the last few days and now that he was finally here you needed to get your emotions out. You didn’t think you’d be this upset but the tears kept coming so he bundled you inside and into the living room so he could pull you into his lap.

‘I didn’t play that bad did I?’ He laughed, trying to ease the tension and even though you were sobbing your little heart out you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in his neck to reassure him before sitting back so he could help calm you down and the gentle kisses along your forehead were working wonders. ‘It’s okay baby, just take your time’

‘Sorry’ you hiccuped, letting him wipe your eyes before leaving a delicate kiss on your nose.

‘No need to be sorry. Whatever it is you can tell me’

‘I know’

‘You’re not hurt or anything are you?’

‘No no I’m fine. Just something happened and I thought I was okay but maybe I’m not’ you laughed, rolling your eyes to try and play it off but he wasn’t having it.

‘You’re worrying me now, what’s happened?’ He asked, holding you by your jaw and you let you cheek rest in his hand as he gently stroked under your eyes.

‘I’ve not been feeling well for a little while. Nothing major just a bit sick and dizzy and some other things and I think I freaked myself out a little bit’

‘I thought you seemed a little off before I left but I just presumed it was your special lady time’ he joked, one hand moving so he could tickle your side to make you laugh and when you eventually smiled he smiled back twice a brightly before his face turned sympathetic. ‘Was it a bad one this month?’

‘If only’ you joked but you realised he didn’t understand from his confused expression so you gulped down a nervous lump before explaining further. ‘My period never came, Mase’

‘Oh well that’s alright then, one less to worry about’

‘No I don’t think you get it’ you laughed, thinking his puzzled face was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen and you weren’t sure if you had it in you to burst his bubble. ‘Normally it means something if it doesn’t come’

It took a few seconds but you saw it when the information clicked in his brain. His eyes going wide as his mouth dropped open but you were quick to break the news as not to make him think something would be happening.

‘I’m not, I just thought I might be’ you explained, your voice breaking at the end and you thought you saw his face drop slightly before the tears started flowing again. ‘I don’t know what I’m crying so much’ you laughed, hiding your face before he held you to him again.

‘Shhhh it’s okay’ he told you but your attempts at trying to calm down were futile. ‘It’s probably been a stressful few days huh? It’s no wonder your upset’ he whispered whilst rubbing his hands over your back gently. ‘You don’t have to tell me yet but when you’re ready to talk we can’

‘I love you’ you whispered into his neck, feeling him squeeze you a little bit tighter as he kissed your forehead gently. He was your rock and no matter how bad you felt you knew you were so blessed to have him.

‘I love you too’ he told you before a comfortable silence fell over you for a few moments. ‘I tell you what. Why don’t you go get into bed? I’ve got a few bits to sort out and I’ll come join you soon’

‘It’s 11am Mase’

‘I know but you’re tired baby, and I am to. We can have a nap or just cuddle for a bit yeah?’

‘Okay’ you agreed, letting him help you up before you went up to your room to get settled. You could hear him moving around downstairs but your eyes were heavy from your tears so you let them shut until you felt Mason slipping into bed besides you.

‘You alright?’ He whispered, kissing your cheeks and you nodded as you cuddled up to him. You weren’t sure if you were ready to talk but now he was in front of you you felt as if you owed him an explanation for everything.

‘I’m okay. Just feel like a lots gone on I should tell you about. If you’re ready that is’

‘I’m all ears’ he smiled and you sent him one back before spilling everything that had happened.

‘When Freya got here the other day she could see something was wrong and it kinda slipped out. The missing period, the sickness and dizziness. All of it. She came to the same conclusion I did so we took a test together but it was negative’

‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

‘I didn’t want to disappoint you’ you laughed ‘We’ve not really spoken about any of that and I didn’t know what you’d think’

‘What? About kids and stuff?’

‘Yeah’ you breathed, you bottom lip wobbling again but you held your emotions in so he could say his piece.

‘You want me to be honest?’

‘I always want you to be honest’ you winked and he laughed whilst nodding his head.

‘All I’ve ever wanted is a family of my own. Yes it may be early days but if it’s something you wanted then I’d find a way for us to work it out. You don’t ever have to worry about telling me anything like that. I love you and I want us to have all of that and more’

‘I know, I feel silly about it now but I was all hormonal and stressed’ you laughed. ‘I’ve never thought about kids and as awful as it sounds I was praying for it to be negative at first but when I finally saw it, I didn’t feel like I thought I would’

‘How did you feel?’

‘A little disappointed. Is that weird?’

‘I don’t think so’ he laughed ‘is that why you’re so upset?’

‘I think so. Maybe in the back of my mind I knew if it was positive then things would be fine and you’d be happy. Now I feel like I’ve disappointed you a bit’

‘You could never disappoint me, gorgeous’ he whispered, kissing your nose before leaving a gentle peck on your lips. ‘Of course I would of been happy if it happens, you’re the love of my life and I can’t wait for all of that stuff to happen for us but we can do it in our own time yeah?’

‘Yeah’ you agreed, smiling at his words as he always knew what to say but you could feel the tears welling in your eyes again.

‘Are you alright though, with all that stuff’ he laughed, hands tickling your sides to indicated he was talking about your womanly issues and you nodded with a laugh before he kissed you again.

‘I guess so? I mean still no movement on that front so who knows’

‘I wonder why? Could the test of been wrong?’

‘I’m not sure, I have a spare so we could always take another just to double check’ you mused and he nodded at you shyly.

‘If you think it will sell your mind a bit more then we can’

‘Wait here I’ll go take it’ you told him before scurrying off. When you came back Mason was sat up against the headboard and you settled yourself next to him with the test in your lap.

‘You know whatever it says on that test, we’ll be fine. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us for mini Mounts and whatever else comes our way’

‘I know’ you laughed, eyes filling with tears again as you looked up at him but he was quick to brush them away. ‘I think I was a little unsure but I really like the sound of mini Mounts now’

‘Yeah?’ He smiled, eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them and you felt your heart thump at the little intimate moment you were having.

‘Yeah, someone to look after and keep me company when you’re away. And considering how cute you are I can only imagine how adorable a mini you would be’

‘I think they’d be cuter if they looked like you’ he laughed, kissing your nose. ‘You’re so perfect’

‘Well then I want them to have your resilience. You never gave up on me and I’ll always love you for that. You dragged me up our mountain kicking and screaming but I’ve never been happier’ you told him, smiling proudly at the way he blushed at your words before he pulled you in even closer.

‘Well I want them to have your brains cause let’s face it they won’t have any hope if they’ve got mine’

‘You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for’

‘Well I managed to pull you so I must be good at something’ he winked before leaning down to give you a soft kiss that made your heart flutter. ‘I want them to have your eyes cause they’re the prettiest ones I’ve ever seen’

‘And I want them to have your smile. Though I think I’d let them get away with too much if they did’ you laughed but it was true. Mason melted you so you could only imagine what a little one of him would do to you.

‘Shall we have a look then?’ He asked, nodding down to the test and you took in a nervous gulp. His fingers were on your chin in an instant though so he could pull your face towards his and the look of joy on his face settled you instantly. ‘Whatever that says on there, it changes nothing okay? You’re my girl and we’ll get through whatever it is together’

You didn’t have the strength to reply but you hoped he knew that you felt the same. His eyes were soon on the test and you followed them so you could pick it up, taking one last breath before flipping the test the right way around.

Not pregnant.

You knew it was coming, but it still didn’t sting any less and you bit your lip as you let out the breath you’d been holding.

‘It’s not our time yet, but we’ll get there’ Mason whispered into your hair, pulling you close as you melted into his body. ‘Now we know it’s something we want we’ve got more time to prepare’

‘I guess so’ you whispered and even though you didn’t want to you let him tilt you face up so he could look at you.

‘No tears okay? Breaks my heart seeing you cry and not being able to do anything about it’ he smiled and even though your heart was still breaking a little bit you sent him a smile back. ‘Lay down with me’

You did as he asked, wrapping yourself around him and settling your head into his neck so you could hold each other. The stress of the last few weeks freeing you now that it was out in the open and you left yourself fall asleep in the arms of the man you loved more than anything.

Things went back to normal in the coming days and soon enough the sadness lifted. In it’s place a sense of joy and excitement about the future and even though you both agreed there probably wouldn’t be any babies in your near future plans, you were high on the knowledge that one day you could have the family you never did with the man of your dreams.

‘I’ve been thinking about something you said the other day’ Mason said as you slid in to bed next to him a few days later and you looked up at him with raised brows. ‘About having someone to keep you company when I’m not here’

‘I’m not having Woody move in’ you told him, watching him roll his eyes with a smile.

‘I didn’t mean Woody. But don’t tell him that he might get offended’ he joked before pulling you into his chest. ‘What do you think about getting a dog?’

‘Really?’ You laughed, loving the idea instantly as you looked up at him with a wide smile that he matched.

‘Yeah, I’ve always wanted one and I feel like we’re pretty settled now so it’s the perfect time. I’ve been looking at shelters and there’s one not too far from here. Thought it would be nice to re home one’

‘Like doggie foster parents’

‘Exactly’ he laughed, kissing your nose as he was so happy at how excited you were. ‘I’ll give them a call tomorrow and see if we can sort an appointment out for my day off’ he told you and you could hold in the excited squeal. You had always wanted a dog but never been able to afford one or have the right space but Mason was right. You were settled and it would be great practice for whatever else came in the future.

Sunday came around quicker than you expected it to and soon enough you were sat in the car park of the dog shelter. You couldn’t help but bob you knee up and down in excitement as you were so full of adrenaline at the thought of getting to see some dogs and you could see Masons smile out of the corner of your eye.

‘Do you think we should set some ground rules?’ Mason asked, his hand settling in your knee so you would stop moving it and you sent him a shy smile.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well I have a feeling we’ll get in there and suddenly I’ll be agreeing to adopt 7 different dogs’ he laughed and you rolled your eyes in his direction. ‘So rule one, we’re getting one dog. That’s it’

‘Fine. But rule two is that I get the final say on what one we pick’

‘How is that fair?’

‘Cause I’ll be the one spending more time with it’

‘Okay well I’ll see about that one’ he laughed before turning to face you properly. ‘This is the game plan. We do a lap and see all of them so we can make a list of our favourites and then hang out with those ones a little more until we find the one we vibe with most’

‘Sounds good. Can we go in now?’ You asked impatiently and after he nodded quickly you were out of the door.

Once you spoken to a few of the staff you were lead through to some kennels and you started your hunt straight away. It was difficult though and each dog seemed to be cuter than the last but you were having the best time seeing them all and learning all about them. As cute as they were you still couldn’t pick one out to say that was the one you wanted and you started to loose a little hope.

You were nearing the end of your search when you came across Parker, a three year old German shepherd and you fell in love with him instantly. He was a big boy with big brown eyes like Mason but you could tell he was so soft and gentle and when he came straight up to the glass to say hello you felt yourself melt.

‘Masey, come here’ you called quietly and he came over quickly with a slight laugh to come and see what you were looking at.

‘Who’s this?’

‘His name is Parker, look at him I think I love him’

‘Parker? Like Peter Parker?’

‘Yes Mase’ you laughed and even though he was smiling you could tell he was about to rain on your parade.

‘Baby, he’s massive’

‘Bit of luck you bought us a massive house then, eh?’ You teased but you could see in Masons eyes he was slowly falling for Parker himself. ‘And don’t call him massive, you’ll give him a complex’

‘I’ll give you something in a minute’ he said under his breath but you chose to ignore him for now.

‘I want this one’

‘Well hold on. What does his fact sheet say?’

‘See Mase, he’s perfect for us. We can give him a large space and you can take him out on runs and stuff. Can we at least meet him properly?’

‘If you really want to we can but I get the feeling you’ll be sold as soon on him as we do’ he laughed but with a quick kiss to your nose he was off to reception to enquire about Parker. The receptionist told you that Parker had been at the shelter the longest out of all the dogs they had as he was quite large and you we’re starting to think the more you knew about him the more you felt like he was put there just for you.

You were lead to a separate room and someone bought Parker in shortly after. He seemed curious about you at first as he quietly came over to sniff the pair of you and soon enough he was sat in your lap with his head cradled in your arm as you scratched in between his ears.

‘I want this one, Mase’ you whispered, looking up to him as he was staring back down with just as much love in his eyes. ‘He’s so sweet’

‘Yeah, he’s pretty cute. And he loves you by the looks of things’

‘He’s got good taste’ you winked before Parker shuffled over to inspect Mason and once he was happy with him he cuddled into Masons lap and you almost lost it. ‘Oh look, Mase. He loves you too’

‘You sure you’re 100%? There’s no going back if we get him’

‘I’m 1000% sure. He’s perfect for us’

‘I’ll get it sorted then’ he smiled before you let a squeal of delight out.

‘Thank you, Mase’

‘Anything for my girl’ he whispered, leaning over to peck you gently but the pair of you couldn’t stop smiling.

Mason arranged everything with the shelter, the house having to be inspected before the final agreement was made and two weeks later when you were getting in from work you dashed upstairs to get ready. Mason would be home any minute with your new fury friend and you couldn’t wait to finally be a little family unit.

You heard Parker’s bark before anything else, causing you to rush to the door where Mason was half struggling to keep him from coming to you but as soon as you were near he calmed down and let you pet him.

‘Hi baby, welcome to your forever home’ you smiled, gently scratching over his face as he panted at you and it almost looked like he was trying to smile.

‘I’m gonna have to bulk up some more, Parker’s got some pull on him’ Mason laughed as Parker began to attack you with face licks until you were on the floor in a fit of giggles. ‘Wow, he’s trying to steal my woman already’

‘You’ll have to learn how to share’ you told him as he laid down next to you so Parker could lay over the both of you.

‘Are you happy?’

‘I’m always happy with you’ you smiled, leaning over to place a light kiss on his lips before Parker wanted to get in on the action.

‘Come on Parker, let’s give you a tour of your new house’ Mason exclaimed, stroking his head as you all got up and you watched on with so much love in your heart as your boys ran off into the living room.

Y/n

Liked by: masonmount, freyaaaaxo, declanrice and others

Y/n Happy homecoming Parker. We’ve had the best week with you so far and we’re so happy to have you here. We can’t wait to be your forever home 🩷

view 254 comments

masonmount parker loves his mummy just as much as I do 🩷 family 🏠🐾

Y/n my boys 🥺 what a trio we make 🩷 ily

declanrice bringing Raffa over for play time

benchilwell Oscar is coming to join

masonmount my dogs bigger than yours

freyaaaaxo auntie frey is coming over for cuddles 🥰

Y/n we can’t wait to see you 🙊

lukeshaw23 not Mase being kicked out of his own bed

Y/n he’s my protector

masonmount I only went down to get a cup of tea and he’d taken over. Had to bribe him with treats so I could come back

woody_ that’s a smart dog

petrehomeruk that smile 🥺 Parker looks like he’s having the time of his life and we’re so thankful you came to us 🩷

Y/n Thank you for all your help and for making this process so smooth. We love Parker with all our hearts 🩷

Tagged: @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @mm-vii @footiehoemcfc @masonmount07 @aundercover

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dana-chan-the-control-brain · 5 months

Text

An alternate dream take of what Eclipse could have done with the Star

I had a pretty weird dream that was spawned on by a bout of "not-feeling-well" (no fever, just general sinus headache and fatigue)

But this dream gave a pretty alternate scenario and what I think they should have done when Eclipse had the star in tsams.

Eclipse basically gained the star, and took over. He wiped Lunar's, Sun and Moon's memories, and kept them as a pets/slaves, along with Solar.

However, Solar never had their memory wiped. My brain didn't give me a reason for this. But as far as I can figure, the most Eclipse reason is that "You're an Eclipse, you remind me so much of myself." Again, it's another case of companionship, and a case of that SOMEONE needs to Acknowledge what Eclipse is doing and look how bad he's being. And who can better understand him then himself? (well, a version of himself)

Solar meanwhile is playing the long game, and is loyal to Eclipse for now...

But Solar slowly was trying to awaken Lunar's memories, make him realize all the abuse and pain he's put him and his "brothers" through. But Lunar's memories never awaken. But Lunar ends up fighting against Eclipse anyway, cause Eclipse was mean, and the alternate scenario Solar was preposing sounded better. So he'll fight for that. Also Solar played with and engaged with Lunar in a way Eclipse never did. So he liked that one better. (like my dream has this image of Lunar and Solar laughing and throwing a goose around while Eclipse is just pissy and annoyed with those two but not doing anything cus they're still loyal to him techinically)

Also, in this preposed dream scenario:

Moon not having memories actually works to his benefit here. Cause he can just rewrite them if this is all he knows. Who's to say "the sun and moon show" is nothing but lies and propaganda? Especially if Eclipse got to Moon before he had a chance to watch that Show first.

Moon thus being the hardest to convince, the most loyal to Eclipse and the major threat once Solar and Lunar start opposing.

Sun found out the truth awhile ago cus Eclipse's power on the star is loosening. As Eclipse weakening from the Star power he's using is still a thing. But Sun's scared to go against Eclipse and doesn't want to lose what little of his brother he feels he has, and is convinced wiping Moons memories was part of Eclipses plan since Sun in this au wouldn't have gotten the message that OG Moon left before Eclipse starts fucking shit up. (Moon losing his memories was still a result of KC wanting to be his own person, and KC is trying to build his own body with the help of the AI with no one knowing he's around. Because he wants to stop his son and get things under control)

I actually think if the show dynamic changed like this for a month, it would have been a fresh take, especially since in multiple realities, we see that Eclipse likes to keep Sun or Moon (sometimes both) as pets or servants. Even Evil Lunar does a similar thing with his Eclipse.

So yeah. Thanks sick-haze brain for brining me this.

@ayyy-imma-ninja @twinanimatronics

#tsams #the sun and moon show #danachan's rants

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idkwhylou · 1 year

Text

Untouchable pt.1

Summary : One evening at the hard deck your attention is strangely on a quiet pilot who blushes way too much, your friend made fun of you but the evening ends in his bed. Maybe it was not the better option to sleep with a military brat, and even less when it’s the daughter of your superior.

Bob Floyd x militarybrat!reader/f!reader

Warnings : SMUT (a bit cringy sorry)

Words : 7K +

A/N : It’s the very first time I write “smut” (it’s not much but yeah yk) and little reminder that English is not my first language !

pt.2 here :)

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ««

You were untouchable.

Already by your personality, you had what could be called a bad temper. You didn’t really let yourself slacken off and even less in front of the men of the Navy whom you knew too well. You were endowed with an astonishing intelligence, you understood things very quickly and quite surprising but some were afraid of this intelligence. You weren't scary at all but the fact that you knew how to think for yourself had the gift of scaring some pilots. You were independent, you didn't need anyone and again, even less a man with an oversized ego like some of them. On top of that you were extremely beautiful, not pretty but very beautiful. Some could qualify you as a femme fatale even if you did not like this term, you defined it as an idea established by the desire of man in women.

You knew very well that you had an advantageous physical and it would be a lie to say that you never took advantage of it to obtain something, of course you never played with a man's feelings. Even if you could sometimes be frank you were far from hurtful. The only thing that could hurt others about you was your beauty but not your personality. Deep down inside, you slightly liked being untouchable, you liked telling yourself that you were in control of the situation. That was a rare thing for a woman in the Navy, but you were one hell of an exception. In addition to being more than special in the eyes of all unfortunately you were even more untouchable than anyone could have thought.

Even if a man had a slim chance with you, there was a whole other problem. You were a military brat but not just any. It turns out that you were the only child of the famous Captain Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell. So even if you looked at a pilot once your head was turned, you could be sure that your father was going to take pleasure in staring intensely at the boy you had just made hope for. It was on one hand reassuring to tell you that your father was vigilant with you and the possible predators, even if in reality the real predator was you. But on the other hand it was more than annoying that he protected you as if you were in porcelain and that you were going to break at any moment. You were stronger than that and you didn't need your father to defend you, far from it.

It is true that you did not have a very stable life due to your father's job, but that never bothered you, it is precisely thanks to his environment that you are as you are today. Being his only child he was always more protective than other parents, he didn't want anything to happen to you. At the time you didn't realize it since you were too young but if your father was so protective it was mainly because you were the last family he had left. After Goose's death it is true that he was not like before but when Carole left in turn, it was too much. He no longer had anyone to rely on, he had completely let himself go and after a one night stand you arrived. You never knew your mother and she never wanted to know you, giving all the responsibility to Pete who was far from ready to be a father.

But the rest is history.

You were back in Miramar and the first thing you thought of was going to the Hard Deck, just to pop in and say hello to Penny, nothing more. You pushed the wooden door in front of you and made your way into the bar, you walked with a determined and confident step towards the bar, trying to make your way through the crowd so that you could then sit on one of the wooden stools in front of you. It was still quite early but the bar was already full to bursting, the crowd was almost suffocating but it wasn't too disturbing yet, you looked straight ahead and observed a few pilots around the pool table. Some faces were familiar which made you smiled gently while thinking about what you were going to take, always observing the bar clientele to see if there were other people you knew by any chances.

You waited a few seconds then Penny turned in your direction with a big smile, she quickly advanced towards you while she was at the other end of the bar. “Sweetie ! What are you doing here ?" She asked surprised at your rather unexpected arrival.

“Penny I can’t breathe.” You tell her out of breath, she moves away from you, laughing slightly but still leaning on the bar to be able to stay close to you, “I wanted to pass by.” You just answered her.

She leaned towards you again and took your face in her hands before placing a kiss on your cheek, she pulls away again before speaking. “Excuse me, I'm just so happy to see you, it's been so long since I've seen you ! It’s been what ? Three years ?” She asked, all excited about your arrival.

“Two years penny, only two. But I missed you too.

“Two years ! Oh my god it's been so long. Tell me what can I serve you ?”

“Uhm one Mai Tai please.”

She nodded before starting to prepare your cocktail, you carefully observed her mixing the ingredients when she poured the mixture into a wide glass which she placed on the bar before adding a slice of lemon and a mint leaf, she pushed the glass in front of you and smiled at you again. You thanked her but when you took out your wallet to take money to pay her, she stopped me dead in your action by putting her hand on your wrist. You raised your head and she nodded hers negatively to make you understand to put away what you had in your hands, “It's not necessary Y/N, gift from the house.” She said, adding a wink before sweeping behind the bar.

“But penny-”

“No but young woman !” She interrupted you, pointing her finger in front of you to make you understand that you shouldn't try to retort again.

You sighed softly in defeat and then put the Wallet in your jacket pocket, which was actually your father's and took a sip of your drink, the fresh lemon juice slid down your throat but was quickly caught by the burning rum. “You’re alone ?” Asked the woman in front of you.

You put down your glass and nodded, “Dad's tired, he's staying home tonight.”

She raised her eyebrows and her cheeks turned slightly rosy at the response, “Oh no, I didn't mean it like that-”

You didn't give her time to finish her sentence when you smiled at her frustrated look and gave her a wink in turn before getting up to approach the jukebox which was not far from the pool table, so not far from the pilots. Once in front of the retro machine, you put your glass on the next table to be able to take a coin out of your pocket which must have been there for a long time, you kept the coin in your hand long enough to carefully read the proposed titles and choose properly. But when you were hesitating between two titles from the 80s, you felt a presence behind you but you didn't really pay attention to it. “Has anyone ever told you that it was dangerous to leave your drink unattended ?”

You jumped not expecting anyone to speak to you even less this close to your ear, you quickly turned around and came face to face with Lt. Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw. You opened your mouth amazed to see him there and didn't think another minute before taking him in your arms, you put your arms behind his neck and felt his wrap around your waist to respond to your embrace. You moved away and stared at him for a moment, he hadn't changed since the last time you saw each other. He wore a Hawaiian shirt similar to the ones his father wore before him and still had his famous pair of Ray-bans on his nose, and of course he still had his 70s mustache.

You and Rooster have known each other for years, you grew up together until your father took his papers away. At that time he had pulled away from you thinking that you knew about your father's actions when you were the last to know about the situation but all that is in the past, now all of that is behind you. Despite the recent events between him and your father, you found each other and rediscovered the bond you had when you were younger, Bradley is a few years older than you and he fulfills his role as big brother to perfection. Even if you don't have the same blood it's just like, he has always been like a brother to you and even when he stops talking to you you forgave him directly.

“Oh my God ! You scared me.” You exclaimed.

“What are you doing here ?” He asked you as surprised at my arrival as Penny.

“A craving for Mai Tai.” You say, taking your glass back from the table before taking a big sip.

“You’re pregnant ?” He asked randomly.

You almost spit out all the liquid you had in your mouth after what he just asked you, “What ? No ! Are you crazy ?”

He shrugged and laughed slightly before offering you to join him and his pilot friends, you turned your head to your right to observe the pilots you had seen before. You looked back at Rooster giving him a nod before answering him concretely with a smirk, “How could I refuse ?”

He smiled and started walking towards the pool table where his friends and colleagues were, you followed him closely not for fear of losing him but only so you could easily pass through the crowd. Unlike Rooster you weren't tall and imposing, you were of average height and far from imposing in your physique, it was only your personality that intimidated people.

“Rooster ! I thought you got lost on the way grandpa.” Exclaimed a tall blond pilot with a smirk on his face.

You stared at him for a moment but no names came to mind as you looked at him, nor did you remember Bradley telling you about a blond boy. Even if the man was unknown to you, for the moment, he was one of the first pilots you saw when you entered the bar. He looked confident, even slightly haughty, but he still seemed likeable.

“Bagman.” Bradley gave him a nod, calling him what you thought was his callsign. “What a pleasure to see you.”

The would-be 'Bagman' smiles before glancing at you, “And who is that pretty thing you brought me here ?”

Asshole.

Your smile faded away in a second. Now he seemed anything but friendly, but what he didn't realize was that you were far from easy prey. You didn't even have time to retort that Bradley put his arm around your shoulders before pulling you against him, you frowned and looked up to look at the brunet who resumed speaking as if nothing had happened.

“Not this one Hangman.” He said calling him a new callsign, you assumed the previous one was just a joke.

The blond understood from your lost look that you weren't the pilot's girlfriend next to you, “And why’s that ?” He asked slowly but surely leaning towards you.

And as you were about to answer him, someone cut you off again. “Too dangerous.” Said a female voice that you recognized directly. “The kind of girl where you avoid her dad more than anything if you ask me.”

You freed yourself from Rooster's grip, walked past Hangman, not forgetting to give him a shoulder to end up taking Phoenix in your arms. You pulled away from her and looked the blond straight in the eyes with a playful look, he smiled before asking you a question. “Your dad doesn't like the navy ?”

“Worse. He’s in the navy.” You said with a smirk as the pilot's quickly faded.

“Oh." He said simply as Bradley gently patted his shoulder in comfort.

“I told you ! Now come with me to get you a beer.” The brunet said to him, shaking him slightly so that he regained his senses.

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ««

The evening had gone extremely well, to be honest you had stayed more often with Phoenix than with the others but it was good to see her again after so much time. And then being the only two girls in the evening could sometimes be heavy, unfortunately Halo couldn't come because she had a date that night. But despite everything, you had a great time. Also Hangman had come to see you to apologize for the abrupt advances he had made to you, you could see he was afraid of having problems. You forgave him and with that the atmosphere was no longer heavy and awkward between you two, you even offered him a game of pool which he accepted with a big smile of winner but what he did not know was that you were unbeatable.

Several times during the game your eyes landed on a pilot that you had not been introduced to. He was sitting in a corner with peanuts, he had blonde hair but not like Hangman's, it was darker. He wore glasses that slipped on his nose far too often, his eyes seems like a perfect baby blue but you weren't sure because of the distance between you. You stayed focused on your game but many times you couldn't help but look in his direction, he was often alone during the evening but yet was part of the group. You had spotted Rooster talking to him a few times but the one he stayed with the most was Fanboy if you remember correctly. He spoke softly but mostly listened or observed what was going on around him.

At one point your eyes met and you gave him a mischievous smile that he returned more shyly with a smaller smile. Despite his shyness he was handsome, you wanted to know more about him. You had noticed that he did not drink beer but only water or maybe it was vodka but given the pace at which he drank this was far from possible or he tolerated alcohol extremely well which. In your mind you stayed on water and you couldn’t help it and found that adorable. He seemed so kind and caring, you wanted to go talk to him.

“Who is this ?” You asked Phoenix cutting her off in her explanation.

It must have been twenty minutes since you won your game against Hangman and you were now sitting at a table with the female pilot. You couldn't help but ask her who was the mysterious pilot who intrigued you for a while now.

“Who is who ?” She asked with a smile, leaning towards you to avoid everyone hearing.

“The one with the glasses.” You say, pointing your head towards where the blond was, he was still with Fanboy in a corner.

The woman in front of you moved away and turned in the direction you had just pointed to her even though deep down she suspected who you were talking about, there was only one person here who could wear glasses. When her eyes landed on Bob, she couldn't help but giggle softly. She looked at you before speaking. “Lieutenant Robert “Bob” Floyd, my back seater.”

“He’s cute." You confessed, crossing your arms before sinking a little further into your chair.

You were still watching Robert when your friend's laughter cut you off from your thoughts, “What ?” You asked already bored without even knowing why she was laughing.

“I can't believe it, I never would have imagined this possible. You and Bob ?” She said before leaving in an endless giggle.

You sigh annoyed and as she continued to laugh alone, Bradley came closer to you with a beer in his hands. “What’s happening ?” He asked putting his sunglasses in his Hawaiian shirt pocket.

“Y/N- she- Oh my god-” Phoenix tries to start a sentence but without success, she continues to laugh like crazy with both hands on her stomach as she was laughing so hard.

Bradley smiled at her friend's delight before turning back to you with a confused look, “I just told her I thought… Bob was cute.” You hesitantly say the name of the pilot.

No sooner had you finished your sentence than Natasha laughed even harder, “Nat.” Bradley tried to calm her down. “Nat-”

You weren't even waiting for her to calm down to get up and head to the bar without waiting another minute, you didn't understand why your friend had reacted this way. How the idea that you like the dark blond could make him laugh so much. You leaned on the wood of the bar patiently waiting for Penny to come take your order when you felt a presence to your left, you turned your head slightly to avoid the person seeing you staring. And when you thought you'd come face to face with a civilian, to your surprise the person next to you was the mysterious pilot. Suddenly, for the first time, you felt troubled when absolutely nothing had happened. Usually you didn't like to feel intimidated by others and even less by men, but this time you did, you strangely appreciated the fact of not being in your normal state. You didn't ask yourself any more questions and put this new feeling back on the beers you had drunk tonight. Without really thinking you turned completely to face the male next to you, you lean on the bar and wait for him to turn to face you too but he seems too embarrassed. You could see that his cheeks were slightly pink, which gave you a little more confidence to keep going.

“Bob right ?” You asked in a soft and gripping voice, which created a feeling of well being in the boy in front of you before anything happened.

He turned slowly, uncertain and slightly lost. He looked at you for a moment before putting his glasses back on correctly with the help of his middle finger and then nodding, “Y-yes that's me.” He replied in an almost imperceptible voice.

You smile at his shyness before simply continuing, hoping he would open up to you a little more, “Y/N.”

“I know- Well I mean I heard you with the others earlier." He said, recovering quickly at the end as if he had said something he shouldn't have.

This time if your smile turned into a laugh and Bob swore he had never heard such a sweet melody, once again his cheeks turned red but this time if a feeling of warmth added to his condition, and not only at his cheeks.

“I understood, don't worry.” You reassured him by once again giving him a smile with such sweetness that could have killed him.

But when you were going to continue the conversation Penny cut you off in the middle of your exchange to take his order, he ordered a coke zero and surprisingly turned to you again. “And whatever you want.” He said before taking his wallet out of his uniform pocket to pull out some money.

“Oh no-”

“I insist.” He cut you off with a blow much more confident than before.

You shook your head and gave your order to Penny who rushed to prepare them, despite the fact that it was getting late there were still a lot of people at the Hard Deck. Once your two drinks served you did not stay longer at the bar which began to be overflowing with people wanting to order them too. The table you previously occupied with Phoenix was free again, you indicated to the pilot behind you who nodded and followed you. You settled in quickly to avoid other people taking the table, the pilot in front of you took a sip in his glass before placing it on the table between you two. He looked up and was surprised to see you were already looking at him, his cheeks turning red before he looked away and focused on something else.

Cute.

While he was looking away you smiled and took a sip of your beer before playing with the tag, “So,” you began.

You barely had time to say anything else than the blond turned his head quickly towards you. As you were going to resume you let yourself getting lost in his eyes. They were beautiful. So delicate and sparkling. You were right, his eyes were indeed blue, as deep as the ocean.

“You have very pretty eyes.” You said casually as you turned your head to the side.

Once again Robert couldn't help but blush, he lowered his head slightly, shaking it before looking you straight in the eye, "Thank you." He simply added.

“Why did you pay me a drink ?” You asked quickly after his answer, you couldn't help but smile at his frustrated look.

“Oh uhm… I-well I figured that was the least I could do, since-that I didn't take your-your order when it was my uhm my round.” He said stuttering.

You brought your bottle to your lips without drinking from it, you looked at him attentively as you narrowed your eyes. You observed that the more he spoke, the redder he became. To be honest you thought it was extremely sexy while Robert couldn't stand the burning feeling in his chest anymore.

“No. Why did you really buy me a drink Robert-”

"Bob. Please call me Bob.” He corrected, although he honestly didn't mind hearing you call him by his full name.

"Isn't that your call sign ?"

“Is it but also my name, Robert is too formal.” He said with a sweet smile.

You nodded and continued, “Don't change the subject Bob. Why did you buy me a beer ?”

Bob sighed softly knowing full well that he was defeated and that he had to answer you once and for all, "It's just that I-I thought you were pretty and you-you looked nice so I thought that uhm that-” He began, searching for words to avoid scaring you away.

“That I would go home with you ?”

"What ? Nah, nah I had I would not have thought that. I uhm I just wanted to talk- yeah just a little talk.” He continued as if he had just thought about the real reason he had just offered you a drink.

The pilot looked at you attentively, waiting for your answer to know if the evening was going to stop soon for him or if on the contrary it had only just begun.

"Maybe I want to go home with you." You say softly, leaning slightly towards him so that no one could hear.

Bob widened his eyes surprised at what you had just said and opened his mouth slightly but closed it quickly thinking of what to say, you wasted no more time and got up from your chair. Before you start walking, you turn to the man behind you and give him a smirk and a wink before making your way through the crowd to go dancing, which sends shivers down his spine. Bob swallowed hard, as you disappeared further and further into the crowd of customers, the pilot couldn't help but stare at how your pants made your ass look nice. He looked up directly feeling guilty even though deep down he knew you didn't mind, or so he thought. The idea of joining you crossed his mind but he was far too shy to dance in the middle of all these people. His eyes then fell on the beer he had bought you, he didn't wait another second and drank at once the liquid from the bottle.

Bob was not someone who drank alcohol and he regretted changing things once the burning sensation was no longer in his chest but in his throat, he put the bottle back on the table and got up a little too quickly which caused him to almost fall to the ground. He caught himself at the table and put his glasses back on correctly before heading to the center of the bar where most of the people were dancing. The blond made his way through the crowd and looked for you even if his vision played him a few times, he found you in the middle of the crowd dancing as if no one was around you. Bob watched you intently and froze in place, watching every move you made so intently. The first thing he noticed was the fact that you had taken off your jacket, you were now in a simple white t-shirt but before he could stop himself to look, you opened your eyes that you had kept closed and your gaze fell directly on the pilot who was no longer moving, you smiled and approached him keeping the rhythm of the song playing. You took his hands in yours and reproached him next to you, as you kept up the pace Bob looked like he was having a hard time finding him. You let go of his hands much to his sadness but you quickly put them on his shoulders and leaned closer to him.

“Let yourself go !” You say practically shouting because of the noise.

"I-I don't know how to do that." He confessed, making big gestures with his hands.

"Yes you know ! Don’t pay attention to others, just look at me and listen to the music. And then, it's done !” You explained before taking one of his hands in yours and pulling him towards the center with you.

The song ended softly and gave way to “Murder on the dancefloor”, as the first notes rang out in the bar you looked Bob straight in the eyes and smiled comfortingly at him before starting to move to the beat of the music. Astonishment Bob listened to your advice and let himself be carried away by the melody and closed his eyes shaking his head with the rest of his body, during all the music you never let go of his hand without really realizing it. It was as if this gesture was natural when you didn't even know each other a few hours ago.

You were so in your perfect little bubble that neither of you realized that all the pilots around the pool table were watching you intently, “Since when Bob can dance ?” Asked Coyote amused by what he was watching.

“No the real question is since when Bob interested girls ?” Asked Hangman with his eyebrows frowned.

Phoenix slapped him on the shoulder making him understand to shut up before rooster reacted, “Wasn’t it you a moment ago who made fun of her ?”

“I wasn’t making fun of her !”

“Yes you were-”

“No I wasn’t.” Interrupted Natasha. “I’m just too drunk and thought the idea that Y/N kinda liked Bob was crazy, but come one look at them ! He’s a little rabbit and her a real tiger but they’re really cute- plus Bob’s really nice and Y/N too-”

“Yeah you’re right you had enough drinks tonight.” Said Payback as he took the female by the shoulders to guided her outside, all the pilots followed and decides to call it a night.

When the music came to an end Bob opened his eyes again all smiles and paying no attention to anyone except the girl in front of him, he was only looking at you and couldn't look away. As you were about to speak, he crushed his lips on yours and placed one of his hands on your hip as he placed the other one on your cheek pulling you towards him. You were surprised at his gesture at first, surprised that he had enough courage when he seemed shy but you didn't think more and put your arms around his neck to stick you even more to him. Your lips moved in time with the music which made you smile through the kiss. His lips were soft just like him, your whole body was electrified by his touch and you could start to feel a warm sensation in your lower abdomen that you recognized all too well. Your hands moved in his curls but then you pulled out breathlessly to get some air, you moved slightly apart just enough to breathe but at no time did either of you remove your hands.

You breathed heavily but no one could hear it except him with the noise that was around, you raised your head to look at Bob and you observed that his cheeks but also the tip of his nose were red from to friction of your skins, which made you think again of the feeling of heat in the lower part of your body. You took the collar of his uniform and pulled him towards you to give him a simple kiss on his lips before whispering a sentence in his ear that Bob never thought he will heard one day.

“Please take me to yours and take off this horrible uniform.”

He swallowed hard and nodded quickly, you took your jacket that was on a chair and put it on before taking the blonde's hand back in yours, on the way to the door your eyes met Penny's who was smiling and shaking her head seeing you both. The pilot opens the door and the cool night air hits you suddenly which he notices, he steps closer to you and puts his arm around your shoulders to try to warm you up as much as possible.

“My car is right there.” He said pointing to his car.

Once in front of his car he opened the passenger door and you sat down thanking him, he walked around and quickly settled in his way before turning on the ignition and leaving the Hard Deck parking lot.

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ««

The trip to his apartment seemed like an eternity to you both even though he assured you that he only lived a few minutes from the bar since he was close to the base, during the travel he had set his hand on your thigh which only increased the feeling of warmth and the burning desire. Now you were both in front of the door of his house, while Bob was looking for the right key, you were clinging to his arm leaving him many kisses in the neck which destabilized him enormously but once he found the right key he turned to you and kissed you passionately turning the key in the lock. Once the door opened, he took you by the arm and pulled you with him inside without ever separating your lips from his. He then pushed you against the still open door what closed it and the noise of the slammed made you jump, you were now stuck between the wood and the pilot's body.

“Sorry.” Bob muttered between kisses realizing he might have pushed you a little too hard.

You didn't answer him but deepened the kiss to make him understand that the only thing you were waiting for was him to show you where the bedroom was, his hands went behind you and he pressed your body against his. You took the opportunity to put your arms around his neck again before he started walking with you in the middle of the corridor, he dragged you with him into one of the first rooms of the hallway and closed the door this time with his foot. He continued to walk towards the bed and tried to put you gently on it, even if his gestures remained abrupt, you sank a little more into the mattress since Bob remained glued to you. So you pulled away from him and caught your breath, "Please." You asked him.

“What do you want ?” He asked in a whisper.

“You.”

With that he kissed you again before pulling away completely from you, you leaned back on your two elbows and watched him take off his shoes and then his uniform, you moved further into the bed without forgetting to take off your shoes and starting to take off the rest of your clothes. Once both in your underwear, the man sat with you on the bed and your make out session resumed just as soon. This time it wasn't just a feeling you were really hot and the burning desire in your stomach only grow more and more, it's as if the sun had entered the room. Your two bodies were so close to each other, it was as if you were one. You could almost feel every muscle every time he made a move, the only thing you opened up to was whimpering from the feel of his warm skin against yours. You put your right hand between your two hot bodies and caressed his abs which made him moan in turn, you were for the moment in control of the situation which you felt could escape at any moment. Bob reached his hands in front of your breast before planning a bit with the lace of your white bra, then he placed one of his cold hands behind your back and grabbed your bra clip to untie it, he quickly removed it and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder. He kissed your cheek before going down your neck and took his time to go through the entirety of your skin before going down even more, enough to get to your chest. As he was about to reach your breasts he stopped.

He looked up at you, “Can I ?”

You nodded quickly biting your bottom lip not really expecting that question but you thought that it was incredibly hot.

“‘kay.” He said simply in a whisper before finally taking off his glasses and reaching out to put them on the nightstand next to the bed.

He moved back in front of your chest and placed a simple and delicate kiss on the tip of your right breast which made you moan softly, a sweet melody that Bob wanted to hear again. So that's what he did, he kissed your breast harder and sucked your nipple while kneading the other with the help of his hand. You couldn't hold back, your whimpers were turned into moans much to the blond's delight. One of your hands worked its way through his hair before you dropped your head back, it felt so good.

He released your left breast from his hand and began to kiss it in turn, this time biting lightly on the tip of your nipple which made you moan again. The feeling was so good you couldn’t control your body and moans now, every sound coming from your mouth was controlled by the pilot. At the same time his hand, which was no longer occupied, slid along your skin and found the elastic of your panties. You felt two of his fingers go under the piece of fabric, unlike you his fingers were still icy against your hip as you were burning, the sensation of his hand so close to your core sending shivers down your spine.

He raises his head and you missed the feel of his lips on your chest already but he quickly replaced it with his lips on yours, Bob bit lightly on your bottom lip letting you know he wanted more. So you opened your mouth slowly and he took the opportunity to put his tongue through it, while you were trying to dominate during the kiss to take control of the situation again, you ended up admitting defeat and letting the male take control while the butterflies in your stomach were going to explode. As you felt your crotch getting wetter and wetter, you felt Bob's second hand reach the other side of your panties and pull it gently as if nothing had happened. Quickly you find yourself completely naked in front of him while he was still wearing his underwear then you felt something different deep inside you. Bob was laying kisses down your body starting with your cheek and then your neck but you were too deep in your thoughts at the time to really pay attention. You weren't used to being in a submissive position and yet Bob looked so shy at the bar but now he was confidant, so confidant. You felt small next to him, something you had never felt with anyone. Surprisingly you didn't mind, you were more surprised at your body's reaction to the blonde's actions. You snapped out of your thoughts when you felt heavy breathing on your pussy, you lifted your head from the pillows and looked at the pilot. You had been so preoccupied with your thoughts that you hadn't even felt him come down there.

“Can I ?” He asked once again with his big blue eyes on you waiting impatiently for you to answer him.

“Please stop asking me.” You answer with a needy and febrile voice.

He nodded and parted your legs slightly so he could put his head between them, he took your thighs in his hands and pulled you closer to him which made you laugh softly. He placed them on his shoulders and then placed a simple kiss on your clit which sent electricity through your whole body, you bit your lower lip not wanting to make too much noise but it was a failure when Bob started licking your pussy like a thirsty cat. You let the moans of pleasure that you couldn't contain any longer roll down your tongue. Once again your hands found their way into his curls as he continued to lick faster and harder, you buried the back of your head in the pillows. You had the impression that he had done this all his life, his nose was pressing down on your clitoris as he continued to lick up all of your juices.

“B-Bobby !” You moaned.

The blond let go of one of your thighs that was shaking without his grip and put his hand on your stomach so that his thumb could reach your clitoris and work on it. He pulled away from your crotch and moved his hand to where his head had been a moment ago, he let go of your clit and placed two of his fingers at your entrance. He got up and moved over to stand right next to you so he could see your face and kiss you, which he did before pushing his fingers inside you. Surprised you opened your mouth and grabbed his bicep which was right next to you, you looked him in the eye all the way and you could see an indelible smirk on his face.

“You’re so tight-” He whispered as he started moving inside of you.

“I- please.” You tried to form a sentence but it was impossible, what he was doing to you gave you too much pleasure to be able to say anything.

“Shh darling, let yourself go remember ?” He said as he repeat your own words from earlier at the Hard Deck.

Due to your inability to say anything, Bob took the opportunity to speed up the movements. His fingers were the perfect size, they went deep enough to find the spot that was going to make you cum. So deep in you that you were seeing stars right now, the sensation of burning in your stomach was definitely still there. He was able to hit the exact spot you wanted like as if he known your body by heart, your grip around his arm tightened and your legs were shaking so much you felt like you were going to explode at any moment. And while you felt it coming more and more Bob added his thumb again on your clit and play with it which made you cum hard on his fingers.

“Bobby !” You cried out in pleasure as your back arched.

The pilot leaned towards you pulling his fingers away and kissed you gently while you were still in a trance after what had just happened. He picked up a tissue that was on his nightstand right next to his glasses and quickly cleaned his fingers before giving you his full attention again. He leaned down and continued to kiss you, placing himself right on top of you, you put your arms around his neck to keep him as close to you as possible.

Out of breath you parted but he pressed his forehead to yours, “So…”

“It was intense.”

“Intense ?” He asked.

“Intense.”You confirm by closing your eyes a quick second before opening them again. “D-Do you want to continue or-”

“Like you want. I don't want to rush you.” He said honestly.

You kissed his lips before continuing, “Bobby I loved this moment but I think I'm too tired to continue anything.”You say shyly, afraid that he will react badly.

“No problem.” He said softly kissing your cheek before dropping on top of you making sure not to hurt you. He placed his head on the side of your neck and left a few kisses there, “Thank you for this moment.” He spoke again after a moment of silence.

“I should be the person to thank you, I didn't do anything.” You say, laughing softly before getting serious again. “Do you mind if I just take my panties back ?”

He rolled directly onto the mattress apologizing quickly, you assured him it was nothing and stood up to pick up your panties and your t-shirt. You put on the pieces of clothes and asked him where his bathroom was, he showed you the direction and you left the room. Once in the bathroom you quickly cleaned yourself with toilet paper then put it in the trash and fixed your hair by tying it in a bun, you looked at yourself in the mirror trying to realized what just happened. It wasn’t in your habits to do one night stand things but the moment was so good and you never thought you were going to say something like that but you felt a connection with the pilot. You didn't know what was going to happen tomorrow and you didn't want to think about it but you were sure it wasn't the last time you were going to hear about Robert Floyd You scratch your right shoulder as you start laughing at your reflection. “Oh my god.” You whispered.

When you returned to his room, Bob was lying on his back but he didn't turn around when you entered. You approached the bed cautiously and slipped in silently realizing that the man was asleep, you smiled at yourself and placed the covers correctly on both of your bodies. You approached him and put your arm around him to stay close before placing your head on his shoulder but as you closed your eyes you fell asleep immediately due to fatigue in the arms of one of the sexiest man you ever met.

#top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun movie #bob floyd imagine #top gun bob #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd smut #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd imagines #Robert floyd smut #lewis pullman #hard deck

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seasonsbloom · 2 years

Text

ocean in a seashell . ( rooster )

pairing ; bradley bradshaw x female!reader

synopsis ; bradley has lived with his father’s ghost for long enough to know he’ll never make the same mistakes he did. and then he meets you.

wc ; 10.5k i'm sorry

warnings ; 18+ only, minors do NOT interact; bradley bradshaw's sad, sad life; angst, literally SO much angst; mentions of canon past character death; near-death experience; alcohol abuse; explicit language; explicit sexual content (breeding kink, cumplay, p in v, dirty talk, fingering, idk?)

note: ... yeah i don't fucking know either goodbye. stole the title from "sidelines" by phoebe bridgers aka god.

sol. sunderlust... none of this would be possible without you, thank you forever.

Bradley doesn’t remember much about his father.

These days, he recalls him only in fractions: Hawaiian shirts, mustache, hair that stood up spikey like grass covered in the first tentative November frost. He had big hands, Bradley remembers that, and he used to swing him up on his shoulders and let him ride around living rooms in Army commissioned houses they never stayed in longer than a few months. He always smelled of engine oil, and he played pianos like he didn’t even know the meaning of the word embarrassment.

Bradley based his whole life on the fading glimpses of that man he carries locked in the chambers of his heart. The older he gets, the more gaps he finds.

Suddenly he’s taller than Goose ever was, older, ranked higher. He wants to say, wait, hold on, go back. Wants to rewind to a time when he felt closer to his father, when he could remember what his voice sounded like, what it felt like when he tucked him into bed. When he thought if he just sat by the front door long enough, his father would inevitably walk through it again, hoist him into the air, and press tickling kisses to his cheeks.

Sometimes, Bradley wishes he could go back to when he thought bad things happened only in movies. When he had a father and a mother and an uncle and the bone-deep, unconscious conviction that things would always stay this way.

He can’t remember the day Goose died. Can’t remember Mav coming to the house, can’t remember the dog tags pressed into his mother’s hands. Strange how the most significant day of his little life remains in his memory as just another day - morning cartoons and PB&J sandwiches and his mom reading him a bedtime story. Part of Bradley thinks it’s unfair, his whole world crashing down and him not even remembering it. Like he’s arriving late for a movie and can’t make sense of the plot.

Not once did he see his mother cry over his father. He’s sure she must have shed tears, remembers now the empty tissue boxes and the eyes rimmed in red, understands now what he was too young to see then. But Carol carried her grief like a secret. She locked it behind the mahogany of her bedroom door, she hid it behind the veneer of her smile.

Bradley is nineteen, standing at his mother’s open grave, when he decides he’s never going to do to someone what Goose did to her. What he did to him.

For a while, he wants nothing to do with the memory of that man. Wraps himself in his mother, toys with the idea of taking her maiden name. Goes to college and gets drunk, gets high, gets himself into trouble. Thinks sometimes, in his very darkest moments, that maybe the best thing he could do for the world is to stop existing.

One night lands him at the police station. And it’s not like he got arrested or anything, they just take him in to sober up and tell him to call somebody to come get him. Mav is in town, thank God, and he comes in wearing his old aviator jacket and a wistful expression. Bradley’s call probably pulled him out of some bar or some girl or both.

Mav doesn’t say much, just drives him back to his college dorm and pulls over to the curb, doesn’t even turn off the car. They sit there in silence, with the blinker going and the engine purring.

Finally, Mav says, “Sometimes, you remind me so much of your father, it scares me.”

Bradley doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing. Sits there for a little longer and watches as frat bros and law students and cheerleaders cross the street on their way to hook-ups, to parties, to midnight fast food runs. Envies them just for a moment. Then, without saying goodbye, gets out of the car, goes to his room, and buries himself beneath the weight of his blankets.

So it’s like Bradley always suspected. It really is a futile thing, trying to escape the memory of his father. His ghost lives inside Bradley’s chest. Rattles against his bones.

And he loves him, even if he doesn’t remember him. Thinks that love is some intrinsic, primordial thing. Something that was there before he was born and will be there after he dies. Something he can’t fight. Unstoppable like the tide.

So he embraces it instead. Tries growing a mustache he’ll only be able to pull off much later in life, gets those old Hawaiian shirts out of storage. Decides to give into the underlying current of longing he’s felt every time he tipped his head back and looked at the sky.

Accepting that he loves his father is much easier than he thought it would be. Much easier than hating him.

It’s good for a while because it feels like he has a purpose, a goal. For so long, Bradley has been drifting at sea, unmoored, unbound, with no sense of direction. Now he’s swimming toward something, broad strokes, every move deliberate.

Then Mav pulls his papers.

The worst part of it all, worse than the betrayal, worse than the anger, is the confusion. He thought Mav would understand. Mav of all people.

(It’s his mother, setting a casserole on the table, smiling at Bradley and saying Pete over here, he’s the craziest pilot the Navy’s ever seen. It’s his sixth Christmas, the second one without his dad, and Mav gives him a model of a plane they’ll build together. It’s Mav staring at him with eyes gleaming with moisture the time he stole the Navy hat from his uncle’s head. It’s Mav in every memory of his life, laced so tightly to him he thought they were inseparable, woven together. Now the seams are coming apart.)

Mav, who keeps flying, who seems only to be a real, complete person for those few, short, fleeting moments just after he steps off a plane. Who’s never happy unless he’s going break-neck speed miles and miles above the ground, jumping off death’s shovel, laughing, flipping the bird, and saying look, I can fly!

If Maverick doesn’t understand why Bradley wants to fly, why he needs to fly, then who ever could?

Mav wants to explain it, calls him, shows up at his apartment. Bradley declines the calls, turns off all the lights, and sits on his couch in perfect silence, pretending he isn’t in.

He doesn’t want to hear explanations, doesn’t want to listen to excuses. He wants to fly.

Back when his mother was alive, she wouldn’t even let him get on an airplane. His whole childhood, they only left their state once to go to a funeral of some distant aunt or cousin or uncle, Bradley can’t remember, and his mother drove the whole ten hours there and back. It didn’t even register as anything weird to him - it was all juice boxes and gas station ice cream and goldies on the radio. It was his mom’s laughter and her smile and her fingers carding strands of hair warmed by the sun out of his eyes.

So Bradley remembers his mother every time he gets into a car. But his dad? Him, he can only get above the clouds.

He doesn’t give up. He finishes college, works odd jobs for some money, drifts further and further from the orbit he used to inhabit. And then he applies to the academy again, and then he goes to Top Gun, and he graduates top of his class and wonders what it would feel like if there were somebody to be proud of him. If somebody were congratulating him, taking him out for a celebratory dinner, or just somebody to hug him. What it would feel like if he weren’t so alone.

It’s what he dreams about sometimes, in the very darkest pockets of the night. A house with a swing set and a big, smiling, dumb dog and a pretty wife and a whole gaggle of children running through the garden. Bradley would teach them how to throw a football, and he’d carry them to bed at night, and his wife would smile at him, and there would always be food in the fridge and brownies on the table, and every room would be filled with love, and there would be no ghosts to haunt him.

It’s a dangerous fantasy. It’s a trap door, a slippery slope, it’s a snare, it’s a cliff’s edge. If he stays in it too long, he’ll be lost.

His mother always used to say he was a functional dreamer. He had his head stuck in the clouds, sure, but he knew exactly when to pull it out of there too. Maybe that’s why he’s such a good pilot.

So Bradley still is a functional dreamer. He knows that this is something he can never have, can never allow himself to have. He knows the pain of it too well, too intimately, still feels it every time he catches sight of his reflection in a mirror, the golden streaks of sun in his hair, the mustache, the split second of pure, blank horror, of oh god I look like him, I look so much like him, and feels it slice right through him like a knife through butter. He’s been carrying his father’s ghost for so long, sometimes it feels like his spine will crack under the weight.

Maybe people that live life like he does, like Mav does, like his father did - up in the sky, heads in the clouds - aren’t meant to have anything on the ground. Inevitably, they always end up leaving it.

He decided the day of his mother’s funeral, before the long procession of I’m sorrys and If you need anythings, before he let real estate agents into a house overflowing with cards and flowers - flowers in every room, flowers blooming and wilting and dying like a garden watered by his grief, like a garden watered by his ghosts - that he would never have a family. Not a wife to mourn him, not a child to miss him.

So there’ll be nobody to carry the burden of him.

And then he meets you.

It’s not momentous - it’s easy. Natural. Quicker than he thought possible. It’s stolen glances across a room and a smile that brands him like a mark, that cuts right through to the bone. A smile that settles in his heart. A smile that’ll never leave again.

In the beginning, he tries to fight it. Tells himself not to engage, not to get involved, to stay out of the mess he knows he’ll make here inevitably. To shield him, but to shield you too, to protect you from whatever hurt he’s going to inflict sooner or later.

But then it goes like this:

“Are you never going to ask me out, Bradshaw?” you ask him, smiling as you pluck his Ray Bans from him, as you place them on your own nose, and blink at him from over the rims.

The sun is casting you in gold. Bradley wants to catch the moment in a mason jar and put it on his bedside table. Let the glow illuminate his nights.

“I don’t think….” He trails off, wonders why it’s so easy for him to talk to you, why he can’t stop spilling truths like leaking water taps. “I don’t think I’ll be good for you.”

You don’t miss a beat. One eyebrow raising, you say, “And don’t you think that should be my decision?”

That’s when he knows that for him, you will always be it. That it’ll never be this way again with someone else. It’s not even a question. It’s just the truth.

When he’s with you, for the first time since he sat shotgun in a car with his mother, head nodding along to Elvis on the radio, Bradley feels like he belongs somewhere. Like he’s reached a shore, maybe. Like he can breathe.

For the first time, it feels like he knows peace, even with his feet on the ground.

His mother would have loved you.

You have a long conversation about it. About how he knows you want it - the diapers and the first days of school and the family Christmases. The pitter-patter of children’s feet, the cribs, the tiny fingers curling around your thumb. He knows you’ve dreamed of it all your life. And Bradley also knows, as much as it hurts, as much as it aches, that he can never give it to you.

He needs to be honest. He needs to put all the cards on the table so you know your options, see the truth about him. So you can walk away before you get any deeper into this.

Part of him is sure you will. Thinks it might be better, the safest option for both of you. Hopes you will, fears you will.

It doesn’t matter that he loves you. It doesn’t matter that he only feels at peace when he’s with you. It doesn’t matter that for the first time since he was four years old, the ghosts have gone quiet.

What matters is that he wants you to be happy. What matters is that if that happiness lies somewhere else, with someone else, with someone who’ll give you everything you dream of, give you a life, give you a child… Bradley will let you go. It’ll be the hardest thing he’s ever done, but he will.

Only you don’t leave.

You think about it for a very, very long time. Sit at his kitchen table with your hands folded on the tablecloth like you’re praying, with your head turned down, without looking at him, and then finally you say, “Alright. Fine with me.”

And Bradley’s protesting, pushing, saying, “Honey, you want this, I know you do, you want a family, you….”

“I want you more,” you say, and that’s that.

There’s no lie to it. It’s the truth, naked and beautiful and awful.

And Bradley - selfish as he is - accepts it. Because he doesn’t want to lose you. Because as much as he tries to convince himself of the opposite, deep down, he knows he’s not a good man. Just like his father wasn’t. They’re both just men willing to leave the people they love behind. Brave enough to fight for the “greater good”, but never brave enough to stay.

Regardless of it all, it’s the happiest Bradley has been in years. With you, he doesn’t feel like something is missing from him. He actually feels whole.

Your job as a freelancer allows you to travel with him, and he’s unspeakably grateful for it. He tries to show you, tries to be good about bringing flowers and cooking dinner, thinks if he can make you even a fraction as happy as you make him, he’ll have succeeded. When he gets deployed, he spends days memorizing your face, the shape of your throat where your pulse point jumps, the pattern of your heartbeat, the feeling of you beneath his arm.

And sometimes, when you’re asleep, Bradley puts his hand on your stomach and imagines a bump there, imagines a baby growing beneath it, and that’s when the ache gets so strong he thinks he can’t breathe.

That’s when he hates himself for not being something else: a doctor, an accountant, a real estate agent. Anything other than what he is. Could he have it then, this thing you both want so much? Could he let himself have it?

But eventually, when the fantasies fade, he always circles back to the truth: Bradley isn’t a doctor or an accountant or a real estate agent. He’s a pilot. Always has been, always will be.

He’s just too much like his father. That’s the whole point.

When he gets called back to Top Gun, three years after he met you, something shifts. He doesn’t know to explain it, but from the very first moment he sets foot on North Island again, something about it tastes like the beginning of an end. At night, he can’t settle, roams through the little house you rent off base like a sleepwalker. Checks in on you like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear. Can’t concentrate up in the air, can’t shut his brain off.

It’s like his father’s ghost travels with him in his suitcases, tucked between his neatly folded shirts, climbs out when no one’s looking. No matter where he goes, that ghost goes too. He can’t shake him.

You love California. You like the sunshine and the ocean. Like the Hard Deck and Penny and Phoenix. Turn your face into the warmth like a sunflower, and then you bloom, go brighter and brighter as Bradley goes the opposite direction. As something in him dims.

“Is it because of Mav?” you ask him softly, in the quiet of your bedroom. You’re carding hair from his forehead, fingers gentle, voice gentler.

Bradley can’t look at you. Shame coils low in his stomach.

“Yes,” he says, even if it feels like a lie in his mouth.

You sigh, no annoyance, only affection. Your head is heavy on his shoulder as you press the shape of a yawn into his skin.

“I know he hurt you, Bradley,” you whisper. “It’s okay to be hurt. But I think you need to talk to him.”

He nods into the darkness. You’re right. You’re always right.

“I know,” he agrees, even though he knows he won’t.

When you’re asleep, Bradley slips out of bed. Pats into the living room and sits on the floor, back leaning against the couch. Pulls his knees up to his chest, closes his eyes, and then he dreams.

He dreams he’s four riding on his father’s shoulders through the living room. He dreams he’s ten, in a car with his mother, turning up the radio. He dreams he’s twenty, and he lets Mav explain. He dreams he’s thirty-five, and he marries you. He dreams he’s thirty-six and holding his baby. He dreams it’s a little girl with your smile and his eyes, and he loves her more than he thought he was capable of, so much it almost breaks him apart, so much it puts him back together. So much it’s worth it all.

Bradley’s earliest memory is of the giant, bone-white seashell on his grandmother’s mantlepiece. He remembers how heavy it was, remembers how cold it felt against the side of his face when he pressed it to his ear. He remembers hearing the distant, muffled hum of the waves, the song of the sea, remembers imagining what it might look like.

It’s no comparison to the real thing, years and years and years later, he knows this, but it’s something. It’s better than nothing.

It’s all he can allow himself—an ocean in a seashell.

The mission is a disaster, even if it is successful. Later, Bradley won’t remember what he was thinking up in the air, when he hit the target, when Mav went down, when he decided to go after him. He won’t even be able to tell if that is because he’s in shock or because he really wasn’t thinking anything. Maybe for the first time in his life.

If he had been thinking, Bradley likes to believe he would have kept his plane on course. Would have flown back to the carrier and then back to you, home, home, home. Wouldn’t have gone back for a man he still hasn’t spoken to, not properly, someone he loved once and now barely knows.

But all the ghosts of the people he’s loved and lost crowd up on him in that cockpit - his father and his mother and even Admiral Kazansky and their sad, sad eyes. There’s no room for Mav to be up there, too, he thinks.

So at first, you don’t cross his mind at all. He just follows his instincts like he’s never done before, could never bring himself to do. So much of Bradley’s life has been about dissecting just those urges, dismantling them, disabling them. Making himself into a creature of logic and second-guessing. Now, for the first time, he gives in to the currents and lets himself be rushed away.

And then his plane goes down, and he drifts into the white white white of snow he hasn’t felt in so long - and still, he doesn’t think. But every instinct from the moment of impact on, the moment his feet hit the ground, every instinct centers on you.

Home, he thinks. I need to get home to her.

Up in that F-14, that’s when he realizes. The brink of death is a bleak place. It’s a place of memories, a place of despair. It’s a place of hope.

All he can think of is you. How he’s leaving you with nothing. How he’s going to die here, miles above the ocean, and what will happen then? Who’s going to bring you his dog tags, the way Mav had brought his father’s to Carole all those years ago? Phoenix? Hangman? How are they even going to retrieve them if he goes down in enemy territory? Will anybody even remember the girl in that house, the one he didn’t even marry? And why didn’t he anyway? Why didn’t he put a ring on your finger, buy you a house, get you a dog, give you a baby?

What will remain of him now, in this world after he’s gone?

Nothing, he thinks, and his lungs fill with water, high up in the sky. You made damn sure of that, Bradley.

There will be nobody to haunt. He will disappear, and he will take his mother with him, will take his father with him, will take Mav with him. Nobody to remember him. Nobody to mourn him except you, all alone, carrying the terrible burden of his ghost.

It used to be a relief. Nobody to mourn me after I’m gone. Now it feels like a punishment.

Home, he thinks, remembering the content of your smile and your eyes gleaming in the darkness and your face turning, always turning, toward the sun. Like a child, as he closes his eyes, as he tries to accept the inevitable, he thinks, I want to go home. I just want to go home.

And then that’s what he does—he and Mav. Incredibly, inexplicably, illogically, they go home.

From far away, as he walks up the driveway, the little house with the gardenias you planted blooming pink and red in front of the windows looks like an oasis at first. Then it seems to grow longer, taller, goes from beckoning to daunting. He almost doesn’t make it inside. Almost doesn’t dare to get out his keys, unlock the front door, push through and toe off his shoes. Feels like he’s doing something forbidden, like he’s an unwanted guest in his own home.

You’re in the kitchen, elbows deep in sudsy dishwater, and when he walks through the doorway, when you hear the pat of his socked feet against the tiled floors, you look up at him with an open face full of love, full of relief. It almost bowls him over.

“Bradley,” you whisper, voice soft, and then you’re crossing the room, bubbles and foam and water dripping from your wrists across the tile, and he blinks at the trail you leave for a moment. Then you’re there, arms wrapping around his neck, face pressing against his shoulder, saying his name again and again, like a benediction, like a prayer of thanks.

Automatically, he pulls you against him with both arms crossed over your hips. Inhales deep, lets the familiar scent of you envelop him. Listens to your breath echoing against the dip of his collarbone, to the steady rhythm of your heart.

Your hands leave wet prints against the fabric of his shirt, like something primeval pressed to cave walls, like something that’s been happening for centuries, something that is happening right now, something that will happen again tomorrow and next year and the year after that, and distantly, dumbly, Bradley thinks, Oh. I’m alive. I’m here.

He feels packed in cotton. He feels submerged. He feels not-real, not-present, not-normal. He feels like he’s going to fall apart, and no one will notice.

When you draw back, it takes you only a split second to realize something’s wrong. You frown, the furrow Bradley likes to smooth out with his thumb appearing between your eyebrows, eyes swimming with a concern he doesn’t deserve.

“What happened?”

It’s classified, all of it. There’s so much of his life Bradley isn’t allowed to share with you, even if he wants to. There’s so much he doesn’t want to share but knows he should.

From far away, he hears himself say, “My plane went down.”

He can feel the panic in your body, feels it go through you like a spasm. You try to draw back, but he holds you where you are, afraid he’s going to shatter all across the kitchen floor the moment you’re gone.

It’s not fair, he thinks, how he keeps looking to you to hold him together. It’s just that at the end of the day, you’ve always been so much stronger than him.

“Bradley…” you begin to say, but he can’t hear it. He doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to hear how scared you are every time he leaves, he doesn’t want to hear how it made you feel to know that he almost died because he already knows. He knows.

“I want…” he says into your hair, a fragment of a sentence, a statement that trails off halfway, that goes nowhere. He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say.

In some ways, he feels stuck in that F-14. Like time kept moving, but he didn’t, remained static and crystallized like somebody dipped the moment in amber and preserved it on a bookshelf. Nothing makes sense to him. Rationally, he knows he’s standing here in his kitchen with you in his arms, knows he isn’t dead, knows he survived, but it doesn’t feel like it.

So Bradley tries to remember grounding exercises, focuses on little things, mundane things, things that shouldn’t exist on the verge of death. The bubbles popping in the sink. The specks of dust dancing through the room. The curve of your spine beneath the worn fabric of his Navy shirt.

Suddenly, the thought of you alone in this house is unbearable. Waiting for a man that never comes back. History repeating itself in the worst of ways.

“I want to have a baby,” he says, out of nowhere, out of some madness that took hold of him up in the air, or maybe when he touched the ground, or maybe at some other point he can’t name, can’t even think.

And it’s not a conscious thought. It’s not a decision he makes. It’s just something that spills from him, something that has been there unnoticed all along, words taking shape on his tongue before he can overthink their meaning, but then they’re out, and they drop between you like an anvil, and it’s like a relief, it’s like a breath he’s been holding for years, it’s like a sigh, something inside of him finally unlatching, finally escaping the shackles he put on it himself.

Oh, he thinks. He’s known this about himself, always, but it’s the first time he says it out loud. It’s always been a want, an ache, a yearning, but now it goes from all that to a need, a thrumming inside of him, something that cannot be ignored. Something that demands to be felt instead of thought.

In his arms, you stiffen.

With your palms on his chest, you push him away from you, take a step back, take the warmth and the scent and the anchor with you. Bradley is surprised he doesn’t float right up to the ceiling.

The openness of your face has shuttered now. You look at him with something unreadable crossing your features, something unfamiliar, and say, “What did you just say?”

Bradley swallows around a lump in his throat. “I want to have a baby,” he repeats, his voice smaller now, quieter, but the words more assured.

Because he does. Because it’s true. Because he’s always wanted this and doesn’t know how to explain to you that now he needs it. How now it’s the only thing that makes sense in a world that’s gone off the rails.

Your face falls, something crumbles, and it hits him like a punch to the gut.

“No,” you say, turning away from him. You step right into the trail of water you left earlier, it soaks into your socks, and then you’re leaving footprints too. Everywhere you go, you leave your mark like a brand. Not one part of Bradley has been left untouched.

Confusion zaps through him, but it’s a muted feeling. Muffled by all the chaos.

“I thought you….” It’s a great effort to form words, like pulling teeth. “You want children. Don’t you want this?”

“Not like…” You pause, rake your fingers through your hair, exasperation crackling from you like sparks from a burned-out socket, and Bradley can’t make sense of it.

You want this, he knows you do. So what’s the problem now? What did he do wrong?

“I don’t….”

“Don’t go there.”

There’s a finality to your voice, and he sees you drawing back from him, sees your shoulders come up, your face turning away, something wilting.

The idea of losing you, of pushing you away now that he’s finally decided to let you in, really let you in, the panic of it finally slices through the haze. Lifts the fog.

Bradley crosses the room and says, “It’s your decision too, honey, of course, it is, but I love you, and I want this, and….”

You whirl on him, and it punches the air out of his lungs. There’s real anger on your face now, your eyes sparkling with unshed tears, and Bradley’s heart clenches in answer.

“You don’t get to do this,” you say, voice heaving with the barely contained emotion, a ship on a stormy sea, “not after I compromised, not after I spent so long trying to get used to the idea of not having a baby, not after giving that up for you, Bradley. You don’t… don’t get to just come in here and change your mind just because it suits you, because you had some near-death experience and you’re full of adrenaline and… and….”

Bradley frowns, moves to touch you, but you flinch away from him, one arm going up to hug your own ribcage. As if you have to shield yourself from him.

Suddenly, he feels a sob building in his throat. To realize how much he’s hurt you, not just today by springing this on you, but by how selfish he was, again and again. By letting his past stand in the way of your future.

“It’s not that I changed my mind,” he begins, trying to string together something that will make you see the truth of it, make you understand what he means.

You interrupt, “You said you didn’t want kids.”

Bradley pauses. Did he say that? If he did…

“And it…” You gasp for breath, the tears now streaming freely down your face, and god, it hurts, it hurts worse than thinking he lost Mav, hurts worse than thinking he’d die in that F-14 because all of that he’d been prepared for, had been practicing for his whole life. Losing Maverick, losing himself, all of that had been inevitable. But losing you… Bradley always assumed he was going to be the one to go first.

“It’s fine,” you go on. “I was fine with it, Bradley, I gave that dream up because… because I wanted you more, and I was okay with it. It was my decision, and I don’t regret it, but for you to just… to just….”

“I do want children,” he says because he doesn’t know what to do except explain it, except make you see the truth of it all. “I’ve always… I’ve always wanted children, honey. I just… after what happened to my dad, after what that did to me, what it did to my mother, I didn’t… I didn’t want to do that to you. I couldn’t do that to you.”

For a moment, you say nothing, eyebrows furrowed, lower lip caught between your teeth.

“You…” You look like you’re trying very hard to understand it. “Are you saying you decided not to have children with me because you thought it would hurt me too much if you died?”

When you say it like that, out loud, logically, through your tears, it sounds so incredibly stupid.

Bradley opens and closes his mouth, once, twice. Finally, he nods.

He expects you to start crying harder, to hit him (all valid reactions, really), but instead, you do the one thing he doesn’t expect: You laugh. It’s a watery sound, barely amused, but it is a laugh.

You bury your face in your hands, then reemerge after a moment, eyes rimmed in red, and say, “God, Bradley, you’re so stupid.”

“I…” He doesn’t know what to say to that. Probably, you’re right. “What?”

“You just…” You exhale a long, shuddering breath. “You keep trying to make decisions without me.”

“... I do?”

“Yeah!” Your voice rises a little, then settles, and you say, “This is my decision as much as it’s yours. If I say I want it, if I say I know the risk and I know the danger, then you don’t get to tell me no. Do you think I’m dumb? Do you think I don’t understand what goes on when you get deployed? Do you think I don’t know that you’re risking your life all the time?”

“No, I… I know you know that.”

You shrug, and it’s a gesture of such helplessness that Bradley’s knees almost buckle.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. I don’t know if… if one day there’s going to be a mission you don’t come back from. I don’t know that, Bradley. I can’t know that. But until then… can’t you just let us be happy?”

Bradley’s shaking. Head to toe, tremors that run through him like the tides. Unstoppable. Unrelenting.

“I…” And he knows he’s the one who brought it up, but suddenly all the doubts come crashing down. Suddenly the ghosts crowd around him. “What if I die? What if I leave you? What if we have a baby and I’m not… there?”

“Oh, Bradley…” Something on your face melts. You step closer, put a hand on his cheek, fingertips still pruned from the water, and say, so gently it breaks something open inside of him, “Bradley. You’re not your father.”

And Bradley can’t help it - he cries. It’s an ugly sort of crying, the sort that leaves you with a headache and snot dripping down your face and eyes that hurt. The one you feel in the morning. But it’s a relief too. A release. Rain after years and years of drought.

For so long, Bradley was trying to let go of a world that didn’t want him to leave. He’s been preparing for an early exit since he entered, has been so caught up in dreaming he forgot to live. So caught up in thinking he forgot to do. He thought he would be content to go out of this world and leave nothing behind, to disappear without a trace, without a word, without a ghost.

But now he sees it clearly. Now he understands.

Bradley doesn’t want to stop existing. He wants to cling to this world like someone clinging to the edge of a cliff, like a leech, like a cancer. He wants to haunt someone.

Only there’s something else, too.

A week before his mother died, when she had gone all quiet, when she had lost the vibrancy she used to carry around like a glow, when she had slept longer and spoke less and Bradley had known, somewhere deep inside of him, that things were ending, that they were truly ending, he’d gathered all his courage and asked a question he’d been rehearsing for weeks, months, years.

“Do you regret it?”

Do you regret loving my father now, knowing all that would come after? Knowing the landslide it really was?

And Carol had just smiled, something of that old light returning for a moment, a tenderness so big it felt like violence, and she’d said, “I could never regret him. Not even the heartbreak or the grief or the pain. After all, he gave me you, didn’t he?”

Maybe, he thinks, it’s time to let the past be in the past. Maybe it’s time to let himself have a future.

Maybe it’s time to let go of the ghost.

And you just hold him as he cries like he hasn’t since he locked himself in a bathroom stall after his mother’s funeral, cries until it feels like he’s going to throw up, cries until the gnashing teeth of grief of pain of hurt of anger finally leave him be.

After half an eternity, you pull away, warm hands cupping his face, tugging him gently away from the crook of your neck, so he has to look at you, can’t look anywhere but at you, and then you say, “Bradley, what happened to your father was a horrible, terrible accident. But he loved you. You know that, don’t you?”

He nods. His father, the hazy shape of him, the ghost he’s carried for so long - frosted tips and Hawaiian shirts and the smell of motor oil. Large hands and a mustache and rides around living rooms. So much of him is shadowed, fractioned, incomplete, but not this. This he knows. When he thinks of his father, there’s nothing now but the hazy, easy warmth of love.

“Do you really think,” you say softly, “that they made a mistake when they had you? Your parents? Do you really think they shouldn’t have done it?”

Bradley has thought about his life in boxes. Big cardboard ones, the kind you get when you move apartments. He tucks the good parts away beneath his bed, stows them, hoards them like a secret. Like his mother kept her grief. But all the bad parts - the pain and the sadness and the sorrow - those he lets pile up everywhere, in hallways, in living rooms, on kitchen tables. He stumbles over them on his way to the bathroom. He stubs his toe halfway to the closet.

He never looks at those good parts, afraid they’ll become tainted somehow if he thinks about them for too long, afraid they’ll lose their appeal or their strength. But there’s so much good there too.

Goose loved him, he knows this without a doubt. Carole loved him. Mav loves him, Phoenix loves him, you love him… At the end of it all, even despite all the terrible things that have happened to him, even with the ghosts that have haunted him for so long, Bradley has been loved, and he has lived, and he has been happy.

Shouldn’t that be worth something, too?

“No,” he says, voice soft, “no, I’m glad they had me.”

His life has been a long, long road. Difficult to walk sometimes, full of potholes, some as big as canyons. But there’s so much happiness there, too - car rides with his mother, Mav telling him stories about his father, the moment when the wheels lift off the tarmac at take-off. This long, terrible, winding road that led him here. That led him to you.

You brush your fingertips across his cheekbone, and Bradley capsizes.

“I love you,” he says, and it’s the truest thing he’s ever said. It’s the truest thing he’s ever known. “I want… I want to have a life with you.”

“You do,” you answer. “You have one.”

Bradley’s tears have dried so the sound he makes isn’t really a sob, but it’s damn close to one.

“Do you…” He clears his throat. “You love me, too?”

It’s a dumb question, unnecessary because he already knows the answer. But he needs to hear you say it anyway.

And when you smile, your whole face lights up. It echoes somewhere inside Bradley, somewhere at his core, goes through him like a current.

“Bradley Bradshaw,” you say, and there’s only a little bit of amusement in your voice, “you’re the love of my life.”

His heart jumps like a jackknife in his chest.

Before he recognizes that he’s made the conscious decision to do so, he’s bridged the space between you and has pulled you into a searing, soaring, slow kiss. He fumbles it a little, teeth knocking against yours, but you just laugh into it, going up on your tiptoes, arms wrapping around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him like you want to meld yourself to his bones. Bradley feels like somebody’s poured liquid sunlight into his chest.

Somewhere it goes heated, goes desperate, goes near frantic, all the adrenaline, all the fear, everything pouring from him in a shower of want. Somehow he’s got you pressed up against the counter, tongue tangled with yours, fingers in your hair, fingers on your back, fingers pulling up the edge of the shirt you’ve stolen from him to find the warm, soft skin beneath.

Breathless, heart stuttering, Bradley pulls away, looks at your lips swollen from the tug of his teeth, your eyes with the heavy lids, the hair mussed by his fingers, and he needs to hear it. Needs to know you want this as much as he does. The ache in him twists like a knife between the ribs.

“Tell me,” he whispers, afraid the moment will shatter if he makes a wrong move, speaks too loudly. It’s so fragile - he wants to protect it so fiercely. Presses the tips of his fingers into the place where your pulse hammers away. “Tell me you want to have a baby with me.”

“I want…” And you sigh, a sound like a spring day, a sound like a rushing mountain stream. “I want it.”

He surges forward, lips against yours again, and you’re so alive beneath him, heart racing, breath heaving, fingers grappling along his neck, his shoulders, his chest, his arms, and Bradley wants to devour you. Wants to sink his teeth into all this life and never let it go again. He wants to exist, right here, in this moment with you forever.

“I love you,” he mumbles into your neck, lets his mouth move over the column of your throat, down to the sharp points of your collarbones beneath the soft skin. Sinks to his knees on the kitchen tiles like he’s kneeling at an altar to pray.

“Bradley,” you whisper, fingers going to tangle in his hair, to smooth along the sides of his face, and the softness in your voice cracks something in him. He swears he could cry again.

He doesn’t even know what he’s doing as he nuzzles his nose against the sloping curve of your upper thigh, as his fingers tighten on your hips. He just wants to be close to you. And you’re so soft, so warm, you smell like home, and it tears through him, blazes everything in its wake, to realize just how close he came to losing it all.

“I’m gonna marry you,” he whispers, babbles, barely coherent, pressing his face against the fabric of your panties, inhaling your scent, opening his mouth to push his tongue where he knows your clit is. “Gonna make you so happy, baby, I promise, it’s all I want. I’m never letting you go again, I’m never….”

Above him, you whimper, hips knocking forward, arching into the movement of his tongue for a moment, and he wonders if you’re wet, thinks about the hot, tight vice of your cunt, and groans against you. His cock jumps.

Then you’re tugging him away from you by the hair, and Bradley goes reluctantly, mouth still open, wishing he could stay where he was forever. Drowning in you.

You’re looking down at him with eyes blown wide.

“Bradley,” you say, and there’s something unsteady to your voice. “Take me to bed.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. It’s a tumble all the way to your bedroom - he kicks off his shoes on the way, you lose your shirt, and he’s somehow, miraculously, gotten down to his boxers by the time he drags you backward with him onto the mattress.

“I love you,” he says as he drags you on top of him, your legs opening around his hips like the petals of a flower. The mattress dips where your knees press against the springs, your weight grounds him. “I love you, you’re so perfect, you’re….”

He has no idea what he’s saying. His brain checked out a while ago, and it’s all just feelings now, just emotions coursing through him, and every once in a while, one will plunge its head through the surface, and then he’ll tell you something nonsensical, something dumb, something important, something he needs you to know, something…

You lean down to kiss him, to shut him up, his brain buzzes, your breasts press to his bare chest, and he’s so hard in his boxers it hurts.

“I love you, too,” you whisper against his lips, smile into the kiss. The curve of it burns against Bradley’s face.

He sits up, grasps you by the thighs to drag you closer, drag your core across his cock, and you both moan against each other. Your fingernails scrape over the back of his neck, where his hair is buzzed so short he knows it feels like prickles, and he shudders, sighs, lets his tongue run across your teeth.

For a while, you just stay like that, rutting against each other like fucking teenagers, tongues lazy, fingers eager, mouths hungry. Even through your panties, he can feel your wetness, wonders if it’s going to leave stains on his underwear, across his thighs. Bradley thinks he’s going to die, but this time it’s nothing like it was up in the F-14.

It’s difficult in your position, awkward, but he gets a finger first on your clit, and then, when he finds you wet and swollen and open, he slides it right inside you. Watches your face as you squeeze your eyes shut, as your mouth falls open on a muffled gasp, as your head tips backward.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He fucks his finger in and out slowly, adds a second to stretch you, and then he’s saying, “Baby, honey, you’re so tight, you’re so fucking wet, god I….”

You whimper, and then you’re pulling off him, shimmying out of your panties, leaning down to tug his boxers off.

“Gotta have…” Your throat moves when you swallow as you clamber back into his lap. “Want you inside me, please, Bradley. I’m ready.”

He groans, something in his stomach yanking tight, and he’s pretty sure he’s leaking precum steadily by now.

There’s no time to tease, no need for it either, not when you’re both aching for it, not after what you’ve just gone through. The hot slide of him inside you, feeling you all around him, Bradley thinks that might be the only thing that could make him realize he’s actually back here, that it isn’t all just a dream, that he didn’t actually go down in that plane and has been stuck in some kind of cruel limbo for the past few days.

But there’s the other thing too. The need he can’t explain. The selfish, horrible, depraved thing he can share with nobody but you. That nobody but you would ever understand.

Slowly, tentatively, he places his palm on your stomach, fingers splaying wide, and leaves it there. He’s too scared to look at you, too scared of what you’ll think of him, too scared of what you’ll do once you find out how deep his desire runs, how desperately he wants this. Will you hate him? Will you be disgusted? Will you draw back, pull away, leave him alone with all his depravity and all his fears and all his sorrow?

“I need… I want…” He can’t even finish the sentence, brain too foggy. Too scared to meet your eyes, Bradley just blinks at the sight in front of him, his big hand on your skin, and his heart seizes, his insides clench, and he can’t breathe, can’t, he’s going to…

Slowly, your fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Yes,” you breathe above him.

It’s a visceral thing. The words burn through him, wrap around him, curl into him. He surges forward to kiss you, desperate, a choked sound escaping him, and licks into your mouth. Around his wrist, your fingers tighten.

He pushes you back into the sheets, crawls over you and spreads your legs, slides between them where he belongs. When his gaze falls to your face, there’s so much trust there, so much love, and it cleaves him in two, just how much he loves you, just how much he needs you. He doesn’t have the words to express it, can only hope you understand what he means when he plunges into you without preamble, when he whispers your name against the shell of your ear, when he curves around you like he wants to shield you from everything bad in the world.

You moan, fingers coming up to grasp his arm where he’s balancing his weight on the elbows. Your mouth tips open, your eyes not straying from his for a second as he goes slow, as he goes deep, as he goes home. There’s an answer in that too.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, voice choked as he bottoms out, as he holds himself perfectly still. “So tight and beautiful, and you’re all mine, and I’m yours and….”

“Bradley,” you stop him. Wrap your legs around his hips and pull him in. “It’s okay. You can move now.”

So he does.

It’s frantic from the first moment. It’s all the tension that’s been building up for years and years inside of him, all his love and all his longing finally laid open, and he can’t hold back anymore, not when he feels like he’s going to burst out of his own skin at any moment now.

The wet squeeze of your walls around his cock has his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Fuck,” he curses, hips pushing forward at an unsteady pace, as he leans down to kiss you again, as you open your mouth for him easily, as he nips at your lower lip.

And it’s so dumb - he’s inside of you, curled around you, his tongue tangled with your own, but Bradley wants you closer, still. Needs to know that you’re there with him, that he’s here with you, that he came home and he is letting himself have this, you’re letting him have it, and he loves you, he loves you, he…

Bradley takes his weight off his elbows, gets his arms around you, plasters himself to you, chest to chest, hip to hip, mouth finding the side of your neck, your collarbones. Like this, with his arms around your shoulders, it feels almost like he’s pulling you down to him with every thrust, like he slides just half an inch deeper into you.

You try to muffle a moan into his hair, but Bradley pulls your face away, keeps his pace as he says, “Wanna hear you. Let me hear you, baby, tell me how much you like it. You love it, don’t you? Love my cock, yeah? Love it when I fuck you?”

Maybe it’s pathetic, but Bradley needs to hear it. Needs to know you’re as desperate for him as he is for you. Needs to know you want it just as much.

On a thrust in, your walls flutter around him, and you whine, back arching a little, head sliding across the pillow as you nod.

“Yes,” you gasp, “I love it, Bradley, I love your cock. Thought about it while you were gone all the time, every night, I….”

Bradley groans, shudders, suddenly so close to the brink he needs to squeeze his eyes shut against the image of you - the glossy eyes, the swollen lips, the absolute ruin he’s reduced you to.

“Can’t say shit like that, baby,” he whispers, leaning to press tender kisses to the column of your throat. “Not when you’re this fucking wet, not when you’re making these sounds… you’re gonna make me cum.”

You giggle, then moan, head lolling to the side to give him better access.

“Good,” you say, legs hiking higher up on his hips, his cock sliding deeper, “that’s the plan, isn’t it?”

If there were any air left in his lungs, Bradley would laugh with you. As it stands, he just ups the ante, going a little harder, watching as your eyelashes flutter, feeling your fingers spasm against the skin of his back.

It’s so hot in the room, both of you sticking to each other with sweat, and maybe that, too, should be disgusting, but Bradley doesn’t care. When he leans down to lick a long, wet stripe along the edge of your jaw, he tastes salt on his tongue.

“I’m gonna….” When he glances down at you, at the eyes wide with that much trust, as he realizes you would let him do just about anything to you, that you’ve both opened yourself to each other completely now, no barriers and no ghosts standing between you, it’s like a dam breaking. He moans, so loud it echoes through the room, leans to plunge his tongue into your mouth, desperate, and then he’s saying into it, “God, I’m gonna fuck you so full, honey, gonna fuck you until it takes, yeah? Gonna keep you right here and fill you up, again and again, gonna make sure to get a baby in you, fuck, you’d be so fucking pretty, honey, so pretty all full of me, I know it, I can….”

And you sob. Full-on. Back arching off the bed, legs sliding off his hips, spreading so wide it must hurt.

“Bradley,” you say, fingernails breaking skin, forehead pressing against his throat to hide your face. “Bradley, fuck, I… the pill….”

He’s shaking his head, cutting you off with his mouth on yours. Conveying what he can’t speak, what he’s too far gone to formulate, here where logic has become a distant, remote concept, here between your legs. Don’t say it. Let me live in this fantasy. Let me dream a little longer.

It’s the thought of it all - a bump beneath your dresses, a baby in your arms, tiny fingers wrapping around his thumb, it’s about the long, long stretch of life ahead of the two of you. It’s about a house filled with love and free of ghosts. It’s about the first glimpse of the ocean after listening to its roar in seashells all his life. It’s about giving himself over to you completely, after years of only dreaming of it.

Do you know? he wonders. Do you know that you’re holding his whole life in your hands?

“I love you,” he mumbles, repeats it as he sinks into you again and again, as he buries himself in you, as he holds onto you like he’ll be back in the cold, cold, cold of all that snow the moment he lets go, like he’ll go back to the cockpit with the ghosts like jailors around him, like he’ll float right off the face off the earth. You have always been his anchor. “I’m gonna give you a baby, honey, I promise, gonna cum inside of you, you want that, right? You want me to come right here in this pretty pussy, fill you up all nice and wet, and….”

Your mouth moves against his clavicle, the feel of it spreading like wildfire through him, and you’re saying, “Yes, yes, Bradley, give it to me, please, I wanna feel it, want you to come inside me, please, please, I need it, I….”

A yell punches from him as he thrusts inside one last time, buries himself to the hilt in your warmth, and then he’s panting, his ears are ringing, his veins are buzzing as he cums, as he paints you with his release. He can’t do anything except hold onto you, bury his face in your hair, inhaling your scent, jerking his hips forward erratically, little sounds escaping him. It’s never felt like this before - like dying and coming back alive. The release of it is so big he feels shattered under its weight.

And you’re saying something to him, whispering words sticky with honey into his ear, pouring them right into his heart, and he can barely hear you over the hammering of his own heart, but it doesn’t matter. You hold him as he trembles, as he shakes, as he tries to collect himself, to control his breathing, hold him and stroke lazy, soft circles up and down his back, trace patterns against his spine, leave soft kisses on any inch of skin you can reach, trapped beneath his weight as you are.

Finally, after an eternity, Bradley pulls away an inch or two, careful not to let his cock slip out. There’s a little embarrassment spreading through his stomach now because he can’t believe he came that fast, can’t believe he didn’t even make sure to take you over the edge with him.

But you barely seem to think about your own lack of an orgasm.

“Are you okay?” you ask, voice gentle, face full of concern.

Bradley’s heart clenches. Maybe, he thinks, his ribcage is going to crack open. It seems impossible for one person to hold so much love inside.

“Are…” He clears his throat, suddenly unsure. “Are you?”

You nod immediately, smile, and the relief floods him. Then you shift, gasp, muscles fluttering around his softening cock.

“Well… I…”

He doesn’t let you finish, shakes his head, says, “You did so good for me, baby. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

He’s already looking at the place where you’re still connected, where his cum is beginning to drip from you in silvery trails. The sight of it is enough to make something like madness descend again, something like that earlier haze, the frenzy of the heat.

Bradley pulls out, sighs at the feeling, and your mouth opens as if in protest, but before you can form any words, he’s replaced his cock with two fingers.

You whimper, eyes closing, a muscle in your stomach jumping.

“I got you,” he says, keeps his eyes on the mess of your swollen cunt, the wet spot soaking into the mattress just beneath, the evidence of his pleasure, smooths his free hand over your chest to settle you. “Relax, honey. I got you.”

Your answer is a moan of his name, fingers twisting into the sheets. He can feel your walls bearing down on the motion of his fingers and knows you’re close, desperately, frantically, torturously close to the brink.

So he speeds up the movement of his digits, swipes his thumb through the sopping wetness, and then across your clit as he fucks his cum back into you. Not letting a single drop go to waste.

“Bradley,” you sob, mouth opening, fingers grappling for something.

Knowing what you need, knowing without you asking for it, he catches your hand with his own and interlaces your fingers. Then he leans down, leans over you, leans in. Finds the seam of your mouth with his own. It’s less of a kiss than both of you panting against each other, finding the same rhythm.

“You can let go now,” he whispers into you. “I’m here. I’ve got you, honey. My perfect girl.”

You come with his name on your lips, cunt clenching around his fingers, arching off the bed and into him, and it’s like a prayer. It’s like a song.

It takes you a while to come down, and he coaxes you through it, brushes kisses against your lips and your jaw and your ear. Hopes he can ground you the same way you ground him.

Finally, softly, voice faint and fragile, you say, “That was… intense.”

Bradley hums in agreement, and then a laugh rips from him. Because it’s all so ridiculous and so monumental, and he doesn’t know where to go with all these emotions.

“I… yeah. It really was.” He pauses, feels shame curling through him. “I’m sorry I sprung that on you.”

You shake your head, lift one hand to run a finger across his mustache the way you like to do sometimes.

“It’s okay,” you say, and he knows you mean it. “You must have carried that for a long time.”

It chokes him up, the way you know him so well. Better than anybody else.

“Yeah,” he agrees, drops his head into the crook of your neck. “It… I want you to know that I really want this. It’s not… it’s not adrenaline, and it’s not just almost dying, it’s… It’s you. I want this with you. Only with you.”

He can feel the curve of your smile against his temple, can hear it in your voice.

“I want it with you too, Bradley. Only with you.”

Bradley’s so afraid he’s going to start crying again that he springs into action instead. Reaches around you for a pillow to push beneath your hips, angle your lower body upwards.

“What are you doing?” you ask, laughing a little.

“I’m trying to keep my cum in you. Maybe we’re like super extra lucky, and it works out on the first try.”

Now you’re laughing in earnest, and he gets the impression it might be at his expanse.

“Still on the pill, Bradley,” you remind him, eyes luminous with your happiness.

Feeling a little sheepish, a little embarrassed, a little elated, he shrugs helplessly.

“Can’t hurt,” he says. Then adds, “Besides… I don’t want all my hard work to go to waste.”

Then you’re laughing together, breathless, loud laughter, the bending-at-the-waist kind. The belly-hurting kind. The kind that doesn’t come often.

And it’s good. It’s beautiful. It’s the kind of peace he’s never known before but has wanted always, always, always.

It’s so much better than anything he could have ever dreamed. Because it’s real. Because it’s true.

All his life, Bradley thinks, he’s been listening to oceans in seashells. It’s good, fun even, for a while, but it’s no replacement for the real thing. It’s no comparison to standing at the shore of the Pacific Ocean, watching waves crest and crash and throw themselves against the beach again and again, like a devotion that never ends. How big and beautiful and terrible the truth of it is.

And he’d thought the whole world was in that seashell.

Once the laughter has died down, once you’ve fallen back into the kind of comfortable silence that can exist only between people that really, truly love each other, Bradley strokes his thumb against your cheekbone, watches your eyes flutter closed.

“I love you,” he says, “more than I thought I could love someone. Thanks for loving me back.”

It’s bumbling, and it’s inadequate, and it doesn’t convey half of what it should.

But you smile at him, eyes opening, face so tender his heart stutters, and you whisper, “It’s an honor, Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

For the first time, Bradley doesn’t think about dying, doesn’t think about leaving. He thinks about living. He thinks about staying.

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