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iliketangerines · 2 months

Note

consider the lin kuei brothers growing obsessive over someone and basically imprisoning her?

bi-han is obsessed with breeding the next lin kuei heir, of course. kuai liang thinks the outside world is dangerous and she's safer here. tomas just wants comfort and a big happy family of his own, and the reader can provide both of these! how lovely :)

i think temperature play and mindbreak go lovely with this - go crazy w this prompt otherwise i love reading ur writing

all ours

a/n: mmmmm, dark content my beloved

pairing: bi han, kuai liang, tomas vrbada x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), noncon, dead dove do not eat, breeding kink, pet play, pregnancy kink, pussy eating, overstimulation, creampies, somniphila, degradation kink, fingerfucking

you can feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and you turn to look over your shoulder

but all you see is the empty living room, and you slowly turn back to stir the food cooking in your pan

the past few weeks, you’ve felt like someone was watching you, waiting for you, like a predator hunting their prey, and you’ve been on edge

you can’t ignore the hissing sound that sounds behind you, and you whip around, wooden spoon in hand

there’s still no one there, but you see smoke rolling out of your bedroom door

you let out a yelp and turn off the stove, hoping that the candle you lit in there hadn’t set anything on fire too badly

you sprint into your room and find nothing there, candle still half-full, and you let out a sigh of relief

but goosebumps trail over your skin, and you turn around and find a tall man standing behind you, masked with feral eyes and gray hair

you try to run, but hands grab onto you from behind and press something against your face

you’re out before you even know it

you wake up with a start, and the world is a bit hazy as you try to blink your eyes open, perhaps it was just a bad dream

you go to rub your eyes and regain your sight, but the unfamiliar sound of a chain rattling startles you awake

you look to your hand and find it cuffed to the bedpost, which you most definitely didn’t put on yourself, and your breath comes out in quick breaths as you pull and tug on the chain

you start to cry, hyperventilating as you realize your ankles are also chained to the bed with little room to move to get off the bed and that you’re completely naked

a slight pressure is on your neck, and you tug at it and realize it’s a collar, like you’re a dog

the doorway to the room you’re in opens, and you try to scramble back as far as you can onto the bed

it’s not far enough as your back hits the headboard and a man with a blue uniform and hair tied up nicely into a bun enters the room

his eyes rove over your figure, and he stalks toward you, eyes not human as he crawls toward you on the bed

you try to kick him to get him away, but he easily catches your leg and squeezes tight, ice forming at the skin and freezing your nerves

you whimper and try to jerk your leg away, ice sending pain shooting up your body, and he lets out a low growl and jerks you toward him

he pins your hands up above you, freezing them in place and you cry as the ice cold temperature burns you, and he laughs at you

he trails his cold hands down your body, admiring the way goosebumps rise wherever he touches, and you squirm as best as you can in his grip to get away

it’s futile, your legs are spread by his hips, and he presses your hips down to stop you from moving

he growls at you to stop, or he’ll do something much worse

a blade of ice forms from his hand, and he points the sharp edge underneath your chin

immediately, you stop and take in shallow breaths as you hiccup and try not to cry as he hums in delight at your compliance

he puts down the ice blade, but it’s just within reach to remind to be good for him

he rubs at your hips and your waist and mutters something under his breath about you’ll bear his heirs, strong boys to lead his clan

you want to cry, scream, fight, but you don’t want to die and so you stay still and let tears drip down your cheeks as your wrists go numb

he trails his fingers down your stomach and spreads open your pussy folds, pressing his thumb into your clit and watching your hips jerk

you try to keep the sounds in, to not give him the pleasure of knowing he was making you feel good, but as he rubs insistent little circles into you, a small whine comes out

he chuckles and tells you he knew you were just a whore, a good little breeding vessel who’ll take his cock like a little slut

you can feel yourself getting wet, and you moan as he dips two cold fingers into your dripping cunt and fucks you roughly on his fingers

he laughs and presses his thumb into your clit, and you start to sob as he brings you closer to the edge against your will

your back arches off the bed as you cum, and your pussy clenches down on his fingers as you coat his fingers in your cum

your head spins as he brings his fingers out of your pussy and shoves them into your mouth, you have half a mind to not bite down and just let his fingers rest in your mouth

he pulls out his cock, and he pushes into you hurriedly, muttering under his breath how he needs to breed you, secure the future of the Lin Kuei, fuck until it takes

you cry as he fucks into you, hips slapping against yours and filling the room with a loud squelching sound

he rubs at your clit, telling you that you’re such a good bitch, such a good whore, gonna fill you up with his seed, have you round and pregnant as much as he can as you take care of his children

you cry as your mind goes blank, and you whine as you go over the edge, he

he grunts as he buries himself deep inside of you and cums inside of you

he stays inside of you, trailing his icy fingers over your body as you try not to think about how you’re stuck here, but your body jerks and twitches underneath his fingertips and keeps you in the present

he starts thrusting his hips in and out of you again, and you whine, saying you can’t please, you can’t you’re too sensitive

he growls at you to take it, and one of his hands go to tug at your collar as he starts fucking into you again

he makes you cum on his cock over and over again, filling you with his seed until you’re just a drooling teary mess and your stomach slightly bulges

he rubs your stomach, mumbling under his breath, but you’re too far gone to hear what he’s said and you pass out as he starts to fuck you again

you wake up, and you’re mostly cleaned up, ice gone

you’re sore and tired, and you quickly fall asleep again and hope someone will come and save you

but no one comes, and you learn that the blue assassin is named Bi Han, grandmaster of the Lin Kuei

you wake up, not completely sure of how many days have passed, but Bi Han has let you out of the chains and explore around the compound as long as you’re on the leash behind him

he brings you to a meeting, body clad in nothing, and you sit by Bi Han’s lap as he waits for the others show

a yellow assassin walks and sees you in Bi Han’s lap, and he immediately complains that you can’t be out, that it’s too dangerous for you

Bi Han growls that you are protected with him around and to keep him mouth shut

a gray assassin puts his hand on the yellow assassin’s shoulder and says Kuai Liang, you should calm down

Kuai Liang, it seems his name is, has furrowed eyebrows, but he listens and sits down to listen to the meeting

you sit silently by Bi Han’s legs, picking at the floorboards as you wait for him to finish up, and he brings you back to your room and locks the door, leaving you alone and chained to the bed

it’s only a few moments later when you hear the door latch open, and you look up and find Kuai Liang and not Bi Han

he closes the door behind him and locks it and crawls onto the bed

you flinch as he touches you

he’s much warmer than Bi Han, much much warmer, so much that it burns, and you whimper at the temperature difference

he laughs and coos at you, saying you’re just too cute, too innocent, that you need to be protected, too pretty for this filthy world

he mouths at your skin as he mumbles the words, and you let him, too scared to try and fight back like you had when Bi Han had first brought you here

he pulls your legs apart and admires your pussy, already wet for him, and he crawls down to place his cheek on your thigh

he places his tongue against your clit, and you whimper as the heat scorches through you

he hums at your small sounds and laps into your pussy desperately, trying to draw out more sounds from you, and he brings his hand up to fuck you on his fingers

you whine at the feeling, fingers thick and hot, as he fucks you slowly, stretching you out for his cock

he looks up at you, and he hums into your clit at the sight of your head thrown back in pleasure

he doubles his efforts, sucking on your clit and humming around it, and the vibrations travel up your mind and make your mind go blank as you whine and cum on his tongue

he moans into your pussy as he moves down so his nose grinds into your sensitive clit and he licks at your pussy to collect your release on his tongue

he mumbles out that you’re so sweet, so good for him, too good for this world, and he dives back into your cunt to make you cum on his tongue, he needs to taste you again

you cry as he keeps on lapping at your oversensitive clit, but he ignores your protests and keeps tasting you and fucking you on his tongue

you can’t think as he makes you cum on his tongue over and over again, groaning into you messy cunt as he grinds his hips into the bed and comes inside of his pants

but he can’t stop even as you start to push against him against all of your training

he doesn’t care, just can’t stop, and you end up passing out as makes you cum one more time on his fingers

Kuai Liang visits you more often after that

and then, the last one comes out of nowhere

you’re sleeping on the bed, cuddling into the pillows as you try to remember the days before, your past life before all this, but the memories are slipping and you can’t remember

can’t remember your home, can’t remember your friends, can’t remember your family, and all the days are starting to blur

and you can see your stomach growing, and by the way Bi Han had reacted at the sight of your plumping thighs and breasts and hips, you know you’re pregnant

but right now, you’re away from the both of them, letting your body rest

until you feel a hand brush over your stomach and something press into your back, hot and throbbing

an unfamiliar voice croons at you, telling you look so pretty carrying children, so so pretty and beautiful, that you’ll make a great parent, so loving and gorgeous as you’re filled with more heirs

he raises your legs up, cuddling into your neck and pressing kisses into your skin as he slides his cock between your folds to collect your growing wetness

he slides into you, and you whine at the stretch, but he kisses your neck and apologizes quietly as he fucks into you

you can’t do anything except take it as he fucks you and shower you in compliments, and his cock stretches you side and full, tip brushing against that sweet spot inside you

you throw your head back and whine as your oversensitive cunt clamps down on his cock and cums all over him all too quickly

he coos at you and tells you that you’re so good for him as he continues to thrust his cock deep inside of you

you clutch onto the sheets as he makes you cum on his cock a few more times before he grunts and spills his seed into you, staying seated inside of you as he brings your leg down and wraps his arms around your ample chest

you sob and whimper quietly as he tells you you’re so pretty for him, for them all, that you’ll give him and the others a big happy family

months pass, they continue coming to your room, bringing you out only if you’re hooked on your leash, and you’re starting to lose your mind

everything becomes harder as your belly rounds and grows plump with Bi Han’s child, and the men grow more handsy, more dangerous and aggressive towards their own soldiers

you cower in fear as they kill one of their men in cold blood for looking at you for too long, and they bring you back to your room and Bi Han stays with you, marking you in his kisses and hickeys

you’re never returning home, and you finally accept it, tears rolling down as your mind goes blank and forgets your past

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aemondsquill · 1 year

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In The Dark Of My Room

Aemond Targaryen × Reader

Just a short lil story while I finish my other one🥰

Synopsis: Aemond's darling wife dies and Alicent Hightower fears he has lost himself to madness

Warnings: Grief, violence, death, mentions of smut, bro is murderous, mentions of drinking and substance abuse, choking, angst, lmk if I missed any

Aemond's wife had been cold in the ground for a week. He could not bring himself to attend her funeral, rather locking himself in his chambers drinking himself into a stupor. The enticing chilled wines and meads were the only anesthetic to his grief.

There were times when he drank enough, a dizzying and sickening amount, that would allow him to catch a whiff of her soft flowery scent floating in the dust that swirled in the beams of sunlight. This mere taste of her was not enough, he needed more. He craved more.

When the wine could not sate his yearning for his beloved lady he sent for milk of the poppy and allowed it to addle his mind.

His eye was nearly blinded by the swimming vision, but his heart nearly stilled when he was able to catch glimpses of her. A soft swish of her hair, a faint giggle in his ear, and a soft touch on his shoulder.

"Wife...Are you there?"

To another's eyes the room was empty, but Aemond could finally see her in the flesh. The blackened night darkened the corners in his chambers, but he could make out her lovely curves beneath her pale nightgown.

He stumbled over the furniture to reach her, hissing when his body made contact with the sharp corners, but ever determined to reach her.

Aemond was within an arm's reach when he lunged forward and came in contact with nothing but a curtain. Frustration burned like dragon fire in his chest as he let out a wail.

His fists made endless contact with the stone wall, splitting his knuckles and splintering his bones. The blood stained the wall and splattered on his chest.

The pain folded his knees, landing on all fours and letting out heaving breaths. She was so close, just right in front of him, taunting him. 'Death turned her into a cruel woman' he thought.

A breathy sigh pulled him out of his self-pity, head turning sharply to the opposite corner. There she stood, grinning her sweet smile.

"Please, my love, do not torment me so."

It was a beg for mercy. Aemond always thought the act of begging was beneath him, a pathetic display for any man. But in his despair, he'd crawl through the Seven Hells just for a taste of her lips once more.

Aemond let out a gasping breath, tears burning his eye, and heavy mush weighing down his head.

"Just...Just stay here. With me. Please."

He began his slow stalking towards the darkened corner. His shoulders were slumped and his hands trembling fiercely at the thought of her tricking him again.

Aemond fell to his knees once he reached her. She stood silently, watching him curiously. His eye fell shut and he could smell her lavender perfume, the scent soothing his aches.

A gentle hand on his cheek caused a burst of euphoria to spike through his skin. The mere ecstasy rendering him delirious as his arms wrapped tightly around her legs, much like a child clinging to his mother.

Aemond pressed gentle, frantic kisses to any part of her body he could reach from such an angle, tears leaking heavily from his eye.

"You cannot leave me again, I will not allow it."

It was a demand. The obsession clear in his voice, and again, she said nothing, only smiling at him gently. His chest squeezed painfully and his voice wobbled heavily as he spoke.

"You are a wicked woman for inflicting this pain upon me."

She leaned down, brushing his disheveled platinum hair out of his face and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Aemond, who are you talking to?" The voice of his mother rang through the room. Aemond's head turned toward the door to his chamber where his mother had just entered. With a whip of his hair he looked back to where his wife was, but could only find the thin air.

It felt like loosing her all over. Completely unbearable, a nauseating stab to his heart. A hateful eye burned into his mother's figure.

With murderous intent and red rimmed eyes, the prince approached his mother. Her eyes widened in fear and she flinched away from him.

"You frightened her and now she has left me again!"

Alicent felt his breath hitting her face harshly as he roared. She fumbled over her words, attempting to reach his sanity, "Aemond, n-no one is here... You are alone..."

"No, she was just here! I kissed her and touched her!" Alicent felt a weight in her chest at his words.

"My dear, you have lost yourself to madness, to grief! She is dead and buried! You cannot lock yourself away with a ghost!"

Only Aemond's ragged breathing could be heard in the chamber. Alicent took a moment to look over her son, her precious Aemond who was so deliriously drunk with sorrow.

His fine hair in knots, blood staining his hands, and his ribs beginning to poke through his skin. Her heart broke at his appearance.

She approached him gently, as if coaxing a wounded animal. Her hand laid on his cheek as he collapsed onto her, the weight of his anguish to heavy for him to bear.

Alicent cradled him tightly, afraid they'd both crumble to the floor if her strength faltered.

Fury trickled into Aemond's heart. She had been the one to scare his wife away just as he was rekindling his happiness. He pulled away from his mother harshly before wrapping his broken hands around her throat.

Alicent's large brown eyes widened at the action, confusion and fear coloring her irises. Her nails scratched against his pale wrists, desperately fighting for air.

"You will not keep her from me." His seething voice was laced in hatred and venom, a combination that he deemed appropriate for his enemies. And to him, his mother became his enemy. Anyone who dared disturb his delusions would feel his wrath.

His teeth were bared in a vicious snarl as he watched the life seep from his mother's eyes.

He quickly abandoned her corpse in favor of another swig of milk of the poppy, delighting in the thought of seeing his undead bride.

"Where are you, my love? No one will disturb us now."

#aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine

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kcrossvine-art · 1 year

Text

Heya folks n friends! Today on our LotR cooking series, we're going to be making something inspired by Mrs. Maggot, wife of Farmer Maggot. Originally we were going to do a cream of mushroom soup, but the idea of adding meat as a cheeky lil joke on their last names was too good to pass up. In my mind meat goes better with thin soups than creamy ones.

And thus Mrs. Maggots Meat 'N Mush Stew was born.

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to Mrs. Maggots Meat 'N Mush Stew?” YOU MIGHT ASKFor the stew portion itself we're going to be using a hearty base, aiming for a layering of flavors. If you feel comfortable making a roux, feel free to do so, but I did not due to energy levels and thus the flour in this recipe is only used for searing the meat before its added to the pot.

Cubed beef

Flour

Peanut oil

Beef stock

Dried porcini mushrooms

Carrots, chopped

Onion, diced

Garlic, crushed

Scallion, chopped

Bay leaf

Salt and pepper

Ground red pepper

Cumin

Zatarins gumbo file

For the other mushrooms, were going to cook them separate and throw them in at the end (but they'll have friends to keep them company!!).

Cremini mushrooms, sliced

Half an onion

Carrots

Garlic

Salt and pepper

Thyme

Olive oil

This took about 4 hours in total. If you have a slow cooker itd probably be easier to use that, but as is isn't too bad either. I mostly worked on commission stuff in the kitchen in-between stirring. "The best food is the one you don't have to make, the second best food is the one you don't have to think while making."

AND, “what does Mrs. Maggots Meat 'N Mush Stew taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

HOT HOT HOT

Tastes like walking from the cold into the cramped but cozy bar your friend works at

Meat was so tender and juicy, melts in your mouth. Makes you cry

It wanst actually carmelization but the onions had a hint of tasting caramelized

Mushrooms- a strong umami flavor with a bit of smokeyness

Once you get that Perfect level of gumbo file, it just makes every other element stick out more

Like an energy booster for the ingredients

A spotlight on the bay leaf, and oils, and spices

. If you don't want to use beef, feel free to use vegetable stock instead and replace the cubes with strips of king oyster mushrooms. Exclude the flour but still cook them in the pan. . this isnt officially part of the recipe since im not sure itd be 'on theme', but feel free to start your rice cooker around the 3 hour mark so you can have some hot rice ready for serving as filler.

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When I was looking through food and food mentions in LotR, Mrs.Maggot just stook out to me. 'Queen amongst farmers wives' is both really sweet and a fuckin killer description. What a legend. I wanted to do something based on her and our two options were either beer, bacon or raw mushrooms. Beer while very appealing is also not something you can whip up in a day, while raw mushrooms have a chance of killing my beloved readers. I don't want to talk about me and bacons sordid past.

And so as praise to this funky farmer women, may you add this stew to your collection of potpie, lasagna, and roast recipes.

Did i mention i started my first grease fire when making this? Yeah. Don't cover any empty greased pan even if your intent is to keep water from splashing into it.

Anyway, this recipe is a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) The partner has already made me pledge to cook it again hehehe

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

2 lbs cubed beef

A little bit of flour to 'tumble' the meat in, in a bowl

Peanut oil to sear the beef, as needed

3 kilograms beef stock

28g dried porcini mushrooms

4 carrots, chopped

1 white onion, diced

4 cloves garlic, crushed

1 scallion branch, chopped

Salt and pepper to taste

Ground red pepper to taste

Cumin to taste

3 bay leafs

A pinch of Zatarins gumbo file

Ingredients… . . TWO:

1 lb cremini mushrooms

Half of a white onion, diced

1 carrot, chopped

2 cloves garlic, crushed

Salt, pepper, and thyme to taste

Olive oil as needed to pan-fry

Method:

Put the porcini mushrooms into a bowl, add enough warm water to cover. Give them roughly 20 minutes, or until softened and the waters turned color.

Cut the carrots, onion, and garlic.

Get a large pot with a lid, pour in your stock (or water and bouillon cubes). Pour in the porcinis and the mushroom water. Turn the burner to medium-high.

Add your bay leaves, carrots, onion, and garlic to the pot. Add extra salt if you'd like.

Tenderize and cut your beef into roughly 1 inch cubes.

In a small bowl, pour a handful of flour along with pepper, cumin, and ground red pepper. Mix until combined.

Lightly toss each cube of beef in the mixture, get a little coverage on each side.

Heat a frying pan to medium heat and add peanut oil. If using an electric stovetop it will take time to heat up.

Add some of your beef cubes to the pan, don't overcrowd it. Flip to check sides are a light brown with dark brown edges, its good for some pink/red to poke through.

Add beef cubes to the pot when done, careful of splashing.

Keep doing this in batches until all beef cubes are added.

Once the pot has reached a simmer, turn the heat down a few notches and cover.

Set a timer for 4 hours. Taste test every so often. Aim to stir the pot every 10-15 minutes.

(You can do steps 14-21 immediately or optionally wait a bit)

Rinse and dry your cremini mushrooms.

Slice them vertically. Cut the carrots, onion, and garlic.

In a frying pan on medium-low heat, add olive oil, carrots, and onion. Keep the vegetables moving! When they start to change texture, add your cremini mushrooms.

Bring the pan up to medium heat.

Once your mushrooms have cooked off the liquid inside, theyll start turning a deeper brown. Add the garlic. Keep! the! vegetables! Moving!

If the pan gets overcrowded, take some out and set it aside in a bowl. Smaller batches.

This process took roughly 15 minutes, but youll know its done once everything has a nice sear on it and the garlic is brown but not burnt. Add salt, pepper, and thyme to taste.

Set everything aside in a bowl.

Once the 4 hours are up the meat should be cooked all the way through and tender enough to pull apart. Strain the bay leaves out. Cut and add scallions. Add the bowl with cremini mushrooms.

Add a pinch of gumbo file to start, stir and taste test.

#cross cooks lotr #food recipe #j.r.r. tolkien #soup recipes

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moonriseoverkyoto · 5 months

Text

Whistle while you work

Synopsis - sometimes all a little lass needs is to just holler the lyrics of an angry female-empowering country music, but a certain beloved Scot just can’t help but be worried he screwed up

cw: swearing, medical and military workplace inaccuracies, playful language, suggestive content, heavy flirting, slight miscommunication trope(this hurts me more than this hurts you believe me), nicknames, use of Scottish and southern(Georgia/texas) accent that some readers may find corny or displeasurable

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x southern!medic!reader

Author’s note: I know I said I was busy but I heard “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood come on the radio and it’s been an ear worm that sticking to my brain like flies on a horse. But once again I’m here to remind you that I’m taking southern notes from Georgia and Texas because I was raised in one and I visit family quite often in the other. I am completely open to constructive criticism but if you have nothing nice to say then you just scroll past it costs you absolutely nothing to mind your business. Italicized is singing btw.

©️moonriseoverkyoto 2023. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

Soap had begun to have a routine with you. He could often come visit you after shift hours or you would come along on missions and be his first pit stop at base. It was a beautiful little arrangement that the F1F begun to adore. You were the warm fire to warm their cold hearts or the blazing hearth to whip them into shape if they got rowdy. So it was a little jarring to him when he strolled into your clinic and heard an angry drawl.

“Right now, he's probably slow dancin' with a bleach-blonde tramp. And she’s probably gettin’ frisky.”

Your voice had him weak at the knees but there was something off in your pitch. A grit, an anger, a frustration. He suddenly began retracing his steps, trying to find a failure placed upon his behalf.

“Right now, he's probably buyin' her some fruity little drink 'Cause she can't shoot whiskey.”

“Bonnie?” the man called out to you, his reaction was controlled but his heart thumped against his chest trying to break out. When you didn’t respond he decided to stay by the doors out of your vision to figure out what was the issue, studying you.

“Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick. Showin' her how to shoot a combo. And he don't know”

Your hips began to sway against the rising tune and even in your scrubs, there was a clear muscle memory when it came to the rhythm of the song. Soap quickly exited and left to go to the common room to find the rest of the F1F playing poker

“There’s loverboy, we were wondering how long it would take for you and-“

“Firstly, she’s my friend Capt’n you know that. Secondly, Somethin’s a mattah with Bonnie.” Soap cut Price off quickly not caring for niceties.

“why because she’s running a little late?” Gaz spoke while checking his turn. It was comical how they knew you by your nicknames from Soap rather than your god given name.

“Aye ‘nd she’s singin’ this song of ‘ers and it’s got me all worried. I mean I know that I’ve been a wee bit busy lately but I’ve made sure to make me rounds and when I came to her place she was swinging hips and I ken to know when somethin’s a mattah with me Bonnie-“ Simon’s head turned to his friend with interest as Gaz cut the rambling man short.

“Calm down mate. We cannot understand you when you go back to the ancestral plane with that tongue of yours” Gaz spoke. Price waved him off to let the Scott breathe.

“She’s up tae high doh.” Soap rushed out, his brows knit together trying to piece together what could’ve happened.

“In English, lad” Price spoke up. However somebody came to his rescue.

“The phrase is meant to be used to describe when somebody is pent up, flustered. It’s a Scottish saying.” Ghost answered with a deep baritone. Everyone was surprised but secretly noted the phrase for whenever they had to go solo with the Mohawk man.

“So go talk to her” Price responded to Soap with a look that said he was ordering, then he offered a small gift of liquid courage

Soap refused the drink and made his way back over to the infirmary. His brain scrambling to find an answer.

“I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive. Carved my name into his leather seats”

Your belted notes rung through the doors and hit his ears. He vowed he would find out the issue and fix it just so he wouldn’t have to hear the pain in your voice. He came around the corner as you stood in front of a table, organizing your different surgery and procedural tools. He spotted the AirPod beneath your trucker hat (since wearing a traditional cowboy hat was too distracting in the work place even during the quiet shifts. )

“I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights. Slashed a hole in all four tires-“

Soap swallowed all his worry as he grabbed an AirPod out and spoke but you beat him to the punch.

“Who in all of god givens creation just ordered a free fuckin’- Oh sweetheart Johnny it’s you.” Your fire calmed just as quick as it kindled.

“hey lassie I was getting worried about you” Soap said. His heart and maybe something else throbbed at your honey tone. One day he’d finally act upon those feelings but today he needed to worry about something else. “What’s got you all worked up?”

“Are you saying I’m throwin’ a hissy fit?”

“Noo jist haud on there Lassie. I jist was-“

“Heavens to Betsy! You do think I’m havin’ a hissy fit, why you oughta know that I was the best little-“

As you two went on back and forth, the distance between your bodies got smaller and smaller. Two wide eyed grins plastered across your face. He cut you off with a smirk

“Oh I’m sure you were the.. how do you say it again? Oh right” Johnny leaned in closer and his voice dropped, “the best little girl this side of the Mississippi. Ain’t that right, hen?”

“I know damn well you did not just call me a hen from a damn barn house-“ you went to speak again but got cut off as your throat hitched, soap’s mouth just by your ear and his tone got unrealistically deeper and more dominant. A careful hand grazing your hip.

“Shut yer pus for a moment, hen. Tell me what’s a matter. What’s got you so up tae high doh.” The male spoke.

You were silent for once. All the cogs in your brain just stopped. Everything was quiet, if you had perfect hearing you could hear Johnny’s poor heart banging to get out of his chest in anxiety from him boldly caressing your waist.

“Aww come on lassie, need me to buy a wrench for that brain of yours”

“I misplaced my sewing needle. Well I did or one of the stupid nurses did but I can’t find it and I won’t find it till the cows come home” you huffed.

“The one from your nana?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

“No need for the ‘tude. May I look?”

“Sure. It’s no bigger than a minnow in a fishing pond” you said softly as he gently moved you aside to look at the table below. His trained eye spotting a glint on the ground. He reached over to pick it up and show it to you.

“Bless your heart! Good god Johnny, oh my sweet I could kiss you!” You cried out with the biggest grin. You leaned forward and kissed him softly on his cheek. His stubble gently scratching your soft, plump lips. His cheeks barely flushed as his smirk transformed into a smile and a small chuckle left his throat. He took a moment to memorize the feeling of your lips for later.

If that’s all it took to make his little Bonnie proud. He’d search every haystack for your needle in a heartbeat. You were his everything, he’d wait until the right moment to tell you. Especially when he was pretty sure the rest of the team was right around the corner listening to them. He’ll confront them later, for now he wants to stay in this moment with you. Watching his sweet hen, praising him. Grinning as she danced around with the needle he found, and even maybe hid.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Slang translations

Noo jist haud on - Now just hold on there

Heavens to Betsy - southern expression of surprise

Hen- a woman (Scottish term of endearment)

Bonnie - a beautiful woman, Scottish term of endearment typically paired with Bonnie lass

Lass/Lassie- beautiful woman, term of endearment

Shut yer pus - Scottish way of saying hush up, not literally referring to genitalia

Does a bear shit in the woods - kinda like a sarcastic response of “duh.” Whenever you’re asked a question. Hard concept to explain but I hope it’s not just me who got this from their southern mama

no bigger than a minnow in a fishing pond - comparison of size

Author’s note: AAAAAAAA I DID IT. I wrote my first fic. Oh my god. I’m so tired but I hope everyone loves this as much as I did. Please go listen to the song as well. It’s “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood

General Taglist (comment to be added) : @glossythor @banana-beans-police

also thank you for the support for the series: @fruitsa1ad

Banner credit: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#soap call of duty #call of duty requests #call of duty #soap mctavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #cod x southern!reader #x southern!medic!reader #john price #simon riley #gaz call of duty #country!medic!reader #john mactavish

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the-kr8tor · 15 days

Note

Horse riding with cowboy Hobie!! it’s in my mind now imagine the sunset and you two are racing! Cowboy Hobie my beloved

Cowboy Hobie my beloved 😍 thank you for requesting! ❤️

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Cowboy AU, Western AU, established relationship, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie's ungloved hands are gentle on your waist as he helps hoist you up on your horse. The sun bathes the whole field in its ethereal orange glow, wild flowers scattered at his boots, hands warmer than the sun kissing your cheeks.

“Y’know I can get up on Honey by myself.” You say through the thick fog of affection rolling off you like tumbleweeds.

“I know you can,” he smiles, a smile that could rival the brightness of the ball of fire above. “What purpose do I have if I don't help my girl get on her horse?”

You lean down, almost folding yourself in half to reach his face. Flicking the brim of his hat, you press a kiss so sweet it has the cowboy in front of you to almost melt. Hand on your waist to keep you still, the other holding your face so gently, he welcomes your surprise kiss.

“You have so much purpose,” you peck him one more time to get your message across. “Like being my favourite lips to kiss.”

He chuckles against your lips, “I have two purposes then.” Tapping your cheek, he kisses you on your soft skin before helping you sit up. “Giddy up, sweetheart or we'll miss the sunset.”

“Continue later then?”

Hobie expertly gets on his horse quicker than you did. His spurs clink against the stirrups, leather gloves shoved inside his hands. You mumble a ‘show off’ under your breath. He hears it, hiding an amused smile under the brim of his hat.

“If you win we can continue later.” He teases, green eyes aglow with mischief.

You scoff with a smile. “And if you win?”

“Let's find out shall we?” With a swift kick, he rides off, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey! No fair!” You giggle as you race off after him.

Hooves thudding loudly, wind whipping at your cheeks, and the sun in your eyes, you follow close.

“Slowpoke!” Hobie yells above the noise.

“You cheated!” He laughs loudly at your playful jab.

The race is close, so close that you can reach him with an outstretched hand.

His dark horse finally reaches over the hill a split second before you could. Horses huffing, you pat Honey on her snout for a job well done. She neighs, eyes staring daggers at the laughing cowboy next to you. You do the same.

“You two are startin’ to look similar—” Hobie jokes, grin spread across his chiseled face.

“Continue and you'll be sleeping next to your horse tonight.”

“Just jokin’” he laughs, scooching his horse closer to yours. Knee to knee, he loops an arm around your waist. “I think you won, sweetheart.”

“If you think this is enough to forgive you for what you said—” he gazes at you softly, orange and pink rays bouncing off his emerald eyes. “Fine, yeah, I won.”

“You gonna claim your prize or not?”

“Shut up and kiss me yourself, cowboy.” Holding his face hostage, he lets out a guffaw before smashing his lips on yours, kissing you against the backdrop of the soft pink sky.

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #hobie brown x fem!reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #cowboy au #cowboy! hobie #cowboy hobie x reader #cowboy hobie brown #western au #hobie x reader #hobie fluff #hobie brown

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towriteloveontheirarms · 7 months

Note

heyyy, if you take requests pleaseeee write a Aemond×reader fic, but reader is the daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra, she is a young woman with Rhaenyras beauty and Daemons behaviour, she was an ally to Aemond when they were children unlike her half-brothers, but after the night he lost his eye they got seprate thanks to going and living with her family in the dragon stone ( i dunno if i am writing this right english ain't my first language) and after some years, they meet each again and the point is she haven't been sending any letters to him and stuff. i know it's long but i would appreciate you writing anything like this😭❤ and pleaseee if you do accept, make it dark Aemond.

I´m so sorry it took me so long to finish this bestie, but I hope you are still interested in it and will like what I wrote<3 Especially with it being spooky season I love writing/reading all the dark fics I can get my hands on!

I will not let you go again

pairing: Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Daemyra´s daugther!Reader

synopsis: “I love you, my sweet wife.” He murmurs into your ear afterwards.

There once was a time where these words would have made you happy beyond believe, but that was a long time ago. And he wasn´t the only person that had changed for the worse.

warnings: dark themes, mentions of non-consensual sexual acts, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, afab reader

word count: 0.9k

His one seeing eye burns through you during the entire dinner. The truth is you have felt his eyes on you from the second you had arrived at the Red Keep with your family. And while at first it was trying to find out who you were and where he knew you from, now at dinner, it glowed hot with either anger or something more carnal, you aren´t entirely sure. As if the tensions between your families hadn´t been high enough already. Every time of the little times your mother and father take you and your half-siblings back to the capital you are reminded once more as to why your mother had took you away to Dragonstone all those years ago. The sparks of dislike that flew between your half brothers and your uncle flew were enough to set all of King´s Landing on fire, but the hate between your mother and her former best friend had the potential to destroy all of Westeros. It comes as no wonder when the meal escalates in a borderline brawl. Jacaerys has always been bad at controlling his temper and your once beloved uncle Aemond gladly took advantage of that. You would like to say you were not surprised by who the once sensitive, bullied boy turned into, but it didn´t come as much of a shock. Before you had been taken away from your former home you had considered your uncle a friend. That was off the table now. Yet even as you saw this change in him, saw the strength and cold in his singular seeing eye, you would have never trusted him to go this far.

You walk to your chambers after your mother had told you so, in a slow pace. Careful eyes and ears paying attention to the hallways around you. However Aemond still manages to surprise you. His large, rough hand clamps over your mouth to silence you, the other holding you against his body so you don´t even have a chance to struggle against him. Once he has you in his chambers and you are able to whip your head around you truly see him for the first time. Not only has he grown from the sensitive, bullied boy, not only did he have a cold, strong aura surround him, he seemed downright obsessive. In that moment you can see it in his eye… your doom. He walks towards you without saying a word. His movements similar to that of a lion. Then Aemond finally speaks.

“I believed us to be friends. I considered you the only person able to understand me…” He whispers.

“We were, uncle. I was, I do. We could be again.” You take a step back for every step he takes towards you.

“Yes? And how do you propose we are going to do that?” he growls. “You could not even send me a single letter.”

“I tried to. You have to believe me, dear uncle, but my mother wouldn´t let me…” A gasp escapes your lungs when you feel your back hits the cold brick wall.

“I do not believe you. There have been many chances, but it is all alright now. I will not let you go again, now that I have you. You will be mine. Forever.” Aemond´s breath is hot on your ear. As if it wants to burn you.

“I do not understand…” You shake your head at what he is saying.

“Do not worry, sweet niece. You will soon enough.” He cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses you passionately.

The rough kiss is just the beginning of a night that would haunt you in your sleep for the unforeseeable future. Aemond carries you to the bed and makes sure to breed you thoroughly. Making sure that his seed would take, while making sure you don´t get away from him. And he needs to, because you refuse to give up the fight. He knows that if you end up with child your mother would most likely try to make you wed the child´s father and as much as his mother hates yours, how high are the chances she refuses when he shows himself to be willing to. He knows that you know.

And what feels even worse is, that the seven or fate or whatever the one responsible is called, seem to be on his side.

Without any access to moon tea and a guarantee that no one would learn of what had occurred that cursed night, your pregnancy starts to show a few moons later. Your parents are beside themselves and immediately ship you back to the capital. Signaling the start of a long and rather tedious discussion between your families. At the end of which waits a sept and a marriage bond that is about as wanted as the whole pregnancy. Yet you are in no place to speak up. You don´t get the chance to. You should have made better choices if you did not want this, are your mothers only words on the matter towards you. All the while there is the smuggest of smiles securely on Aemond´s as well as Aegon´s faces. You wished you could wipe it off their faces with your fists.

But you don´t do that. You swallow every bad feeling, aside of a few tears during your vows, until you feel entirely empty and cold.

Once you are pronounced man and wife Aemond kisses you so gently, it´s almost impossible to feel his lips on yours and yet it still makes you feel sick.

“I love you, my sweet wife.” He murmurs into your ear afterwards.

There once was a time where these words would have made you happy beyond believe, but that was a long time ago. And he wasn´t the only person that had changed for the worse.

“I love you as well, my dragon.” You reply. The words devoid of any emotion.

#prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fic #hotd x reader #house of the dragon fic

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seiya-starsniper · 7 months

Note

I don't know if you're still doing the flower language prompts, but I wanted to send about twelve and narrowed it down to two lol.

So for Dreamling: Sunflower, dwarf ("How many ways do I have to confess for you to believe me?") and/or Tarragon ("Here's all the reasons why you shouldn't like me")

🤘 five-and-dimes

@five-and-dimes my beloved, so happy to hear from you!!! <3 I did my best to combine these two because they’re SUCH GOOD PROMPTS and they also fit the @monsterfucktoberbingo theme so well. Hope you enjoy!!!

Square: Cryptid

Flower Prompt Game!

----------

When Roderick Burgess unveils his circus’s latest spectacle, Hob is one of the only spectators who doesn’t gasp or recoil in abject horror at what he reveals.

“Behold! I have captured the omen of Death himself!” Roderick declares loudly. “Many have decried his existence, but here he stands before you!” he gestures to the chained being. “Look upon his horrid form. Does he not strike fear even in the bravest of men?”

Well, he certainly struck something in Hob, but he wasn’t sure that the feeling was fear.

The creature on display was absolutely stunning, if Hob were honest, but he can understand why his appearance would seem a horror at first. The thing certainly wore the basic shape of a man, with pale white skin that seemed to glow under the harsh din of the spotlight, and messy black hair that fell down to his shoulders. But where his feet would be, there were instead large, golden talons with long obsidian nails that dug deep into the dirt below them as the creature struggled to keep his balance.

And his hands. They were barely hands at all, with only four fingers on each, and white nails so long they were practically claws. The skin too, from finger to elbow was ashen black as if burnt, but when Hob looked closer, he could see the skin there shimmered like the rest of him in the light.

The most significant part of the creature, though, was his wings. They were what Hob expected an angel’s wings to appear like, large and spanning the length of his body. Except, instead of white, these wings were pitch black, with the very tips of them colored a deep red, as if dipped in blood during war. Hob so badly wanted to see the full wingspan of the creature, certain that it would outdo even an albatross, but, understandably, Burgess had completely bound the creature’s wings in both rope and chains in a measure to keep him from escaping.

Burgess cracks his whip near the creature’s feet and he snarls at the crowd, who jeer and yell in response. Burgess cracks the whip twice more but the creature has gone silent, glaring defiantly now at all its unwanted audience.

When its eyes land on the area Hob is seated in, he swears it is his eyes the creature locks his gaze onto. And oh, even from as high up as he is, Hob can feel the ice forming in those cold blue eyes. It pierces through him like a hot knife through butter, and Hob finds himself willingly drawn in, wanting to move closer, wanting to reach out and touch this magnificent being—

The lights cut out shortly after, ending the show for the night. Hob goes to bed that night and dreams of the creature on the stage, dreams of talons and feathers, and drowning in an ice cold lake the color of the being’s eyes.

When he wakes in the morning, Hob is resolute. A creature as magnificent as that does not belong in chains. He sets fire to Burgess’s circus arena later that night, and he and the creature (Dream, he called himself) steal away into the night.

—-

“Why are you helping me?” Dream asks him one afternoon after they’ve been on the run for three days.

“Would you rather I left you to rot in Burgess’s circus?” Hob shoots back as he’s skinning the stag Dream hunted and caught them for dinner.

“You had a life in that village, did you not?” Dream says, refusing to let go of the subject and stomping his talons into the forest floor. “Why throw it away for something like me?”

Hob shrugs. “I’m a widower with a dead son,” he replies. “Not much of a life by anyone’s definition. Besides,” he adds, “You looked like you needed saving.”

“So it’s pity then?” Dream snarls, unfurling his wings to their full length. They brush against the nearby trees and the sheer strength of their muscles snap a few branches clean off. Hob realizes he had been right about Dream’s wingspan. It was wider than that of an albatross, and they were absolutely gorgeous.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” Hob says before he can stop himself.

Dream stumbles back and retracts his wings, clearly caught off guard by the revelation.

“You don’t mean that,” Dream says, looking anywhere but at Hob. He’s got a furiously red blush that starts at his cheeks and seems to crawl all the way down to his chest. It makes him look even lovelier.

Hob smiles despite himself. “Maybe that’s why I saved you,” he chuckles. “Maybe I just wanted you all to myself.”

“Then you are an even bigger idiot than I thought,” Dream replies, before he stomps off.

—-----------

On a particularly cold night, Hob wakes to find himself covered by one of Dream’s wings.

“This means nothing,” Dream mutters, even as he presses his chest to Hob’s back.

Hob can’t help but grin like a fool. He reaches out to run a finger along the bend of the wing that’s currently serving as his blanket, and delights when he feels Dream shudder behind him.

“Your secret’s safe with me, you big softie,” Hob chuckles before he falls back asleep, feeling more content than he has in years.

—------------

They’ve been on the run for almost a year before Burgess and his men manage to catch up to them. They’re cornered at the bottom of a valley, and Hob knows if they can make it to the river and cross it, they’ll be all right. Burgess’s men are all on horses that wouldn’t dare cross the rushing waters.

They’re almost to the clearing when Dream stops suddenly and says, “Leave me.”

“What?! No, I’m not leaving you!” Hob exclaims. “Come on, we’re almost at the river—”

“Burgess’s horses will cross the river,” Dream replies. “He’s desperate to get me back, alive or dead. And you are tired.”

“I’m fine,” Hob insists.

“You’re not!” Dream argues. “You’re practically limping and you—you have done more than enough for me. If I leave you now and fly north, they’ll stop following you and come after me instead.”

“Sorry sweetheart, you’re stuck with me,” Hob replies, pulling out his sword and getting ready to fight as he hears Burgess’s men grow closer. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“Don’t be an idiot!” Dream yells. “Roderick Burgess had been hunting me long before we met, and he will continue to do so until one of us is dead. You cannot possibly want to be on the run forever.”

“And if I do?” Hob asks. “Dream—how many ways do I have to tell you I want this—want you—before you’ll believe me?”

Dream hisses, and before Hob can say anything else, he finds himself lifted high into the air as Dream takes off with the both of them, rushing at full speed towards the river. His long white claws dig into Hob’s skin and Hob holds on for dear life as he buries his face into Dream’s neck to avoid the whiplash of the wind.

When they finally land, Hob can no longer hear the neighing of the horses, or the yell of Burgess’s men. Dream practically drops him to the ground, and Hob realizes the other had used the last of his strength to get them to safety. Before he can collapse, Hob catches him, and after a quick look around, manages to find a small cave that they can use for shelter for the night.

“That was bloody brilliant, love,” Hob sighs happily once they’re inside and lying side to side. “Think I just fell in love with you all over again.”

“You really shouldn’t,” Dream mumbles. “Love me, at all. I have caused you nothing but harm, and you will always be on the run so long as you stay with me. I cannot give you any of the comforts of a human life, not money, status, or a family.”

“I know,” Hob replies gently, taking Dream's dark hands in his. “I’m not asking you to. I told you before, all I want is you. You can give me all the reasons you want about why I shouldn’t, but I’ll still choosing you.”

“Idiot,” Dream says, but his tone is fond. He then wraps a wing around Hob and scoots closer, so their bodies are flush against each other. “Though I suppose you are my idiot.”

Hob smiles and presses his lips to Dream’s. “As long as you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

#dreamling #dream x hob #hob x morpheus #monsterfucktoberbingo #the sandman fanfic #seiya writes #seiya writes dreamling

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kurogane2512 · 9 months

Text

It's past midnight and I'm horny for Signora again....sigh

18+ CONTENT MDNI

Just filthy smut, like really down bad thoughts. Not necessarily dark but yeah pretty dirty. Fingering, uh.....monsterfucking? But make it sweet~

Fem reader btw

Okay but can we talk about CWoF Signora?? Or specifically CWoE Signora?? Like hello?!?! BIG MOMMY WITH A BIG WHIP?! 😩😩

Signora is literally the tallest female character in the game, she's equal to the adult male models which canonically makes her 5'9 or even 6'0. That's already a tall asf woman. Then we have her Crimson Witch boss form.....oh my lord🙇🏻‍♀️ The way she towers over you in all her glory, the giant moth mask adorning her face, her big flaming wings that are strong enough to at least make her float till a decent altitude, the signature red lips, her big boobs that grow even more in this, and then the whip....a freaking huge fire whip🙇🏻‍♀️😩

I'm honestly surprised I haven't come across much content of having sex with her in this form. But it's okay, I'll feed myself and all the horny simps like me 🤭

Imagine she has you pinned on a wall, carrying you against it with your legs wrapped around her torso. You can barely reach her, continuously shifting close and holding her tightly with your arms around her neck while she plants fiery kisses down your chest. This is no mere feat. Remember she's the Crimson Witch of Flames, the legend loathed by historians and monsters alike. It's a privilege of the highest degree to be doing this with her, heck even some Archons are more approachable than her.

But here you were, in her arms this way. She had removed her mask on your request, as you wanted to look at her true face that she hides all the time. She easily burned away your clothes with a gentle brush of her fingers, proudly chuckling at your bare flustered state. Her big hand grasped your jaw before moving it up forcefully to give her access to your neck, planting kisses and love bites on the skin. Her own boobs pressed on your abdomen, a soft pillow-like feeling enveloping you.

"Is my darling really so deprived to want to be pleasured this way? My~ had I known earlier, I wouldn't have kept you waiting~"

"I....I wanted to say it but I was anxious....Y-You don't like this form, do you?"

Signora smiled softly before pecking your lips, "If it's with you, I don't mind showing it to you as much as you want. But, it did surprise me that you wanted to do this...."

You blushed and averted your gaze, making her chuckle more. Her palm now brushed over your core, feeling the wetness seep through your underwear which was the last piece of fabric left on your body. You squirmed at the contact, and she wasted no time to remove that hindrance either. You gazed at her long, slender and bony fingers, her hardened knuckles with almost no skin at all, and her dark red nails, gradually feeling aroused from her features. Perhaps her body pressing on you was also making you hotter than usual.

"Do you want then inside, my love?~" Signora whispers in a seductive tone, a pool of arousal already dripping down your thighs.

"Y-Yes....please...."

"You'll have to be louder than that, my love~"

You gritted your teeth, "Please! P-Put them inside!"

"Put what inside? Be specific, loud and clear~"

Your last string of pride snapped as you shouted your deepest desire, "Please fuck me with your fingers, mistress!~"

That's what she wanted to hear. She smirked and proceeded to insert her middle finger in your sopping hole; you hissed at the penetration, you expected them to be long but there were also burning, it felt like you were being imprinted on. Signora was slow and gentle, as much as she wanted to ram in and fuck you out of your mind, she kept her calm as she didn't want to hurt you. These powers were dangerous, and hurting her beloved from them was the last thing she wanted to do.

She inserted her finger half way, your head shooting back with how deep she already was. She waited for you to adjust, watching the heaving of your chest gradually become normal as you gave her a nod to continue. You gripped her shoulders tighter, your juices coated her finger and she was tempted to thrust the remaining in. You felt a hard intrusion on your deepest spots and moaned out, clenching onto her tightly.

"Are you okay, my love? I'm sorry if that was too much—" She spoke in an almost panicked voice.

"I-Its okay, aah....I'm fine....y-you can continue...."

You gently cupped her face and gazed into her eyes, ".....fuck me, please....do it like you always do, I promise it'll be fine...."

Ah, now she almost lost it. She pushed you further into the wall and held you tightly as she thrusted her finger in and out, your walls clenched around her fingers as squelching sounds resounded in the room accompanied by your moans and whimpers. Your mind was hazy, eyes filled with tears of pleasure, this was unlike anything you had ever experienced. No toy would come close now, you might become addicted to this.

"Didn't think my sweetheart had such repulsive kinks~ How long were you going to hide them from me, love?~"

"I-aaah....I d-didnt know I'm into these....mhm!~"

You bit your lower lip and threw your head back, feeling her insert a second finger. She scissored her fingers inside your wet cunt, drawing out your sweet juices as messy whines spilled from your mouth. You then suddenly noticed how her wings had opened now, fluttering around you. Soon, you watched them close around you both and envelop you in like a protective casing.

The temperature became hotter in the enclosed space, sweat dripping down your body at the intense heat. But your realized how endearing this action was, she was holding you close and protecting you. You weren't sure if this was a voluntary action as she looked too focused on fucking you, her lips sucking on your neck at the same time. Perhaps, it was her inner thoughts.

"C-Cumming....mistress! Please- let me ngh!~"

"Aww, so soon? Very well, I'll allow it this time. I expect better results from next time~"

"N-Next—?! Aaaahhhnnnn!!!~~~"

You couldn't even finish as a loud moan erupted from your throat the moment she did a hard and deep thrust, gushing out on her fingers. She removed them and licked off your slick in contentment, making you watch the sight which made you aroused once more.

"Mhm~ Delicious.....say, would you like to be the apprentice of this heinous witch?~"

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin women #la signora #signora x reader #la signora x reader

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exactlycleverpirate · 2 months

Text

Wholehearted

Apparently today I woke and chose pain.

Rafayel x F MC fanfic. Angst. Hurt, no comfort (I lied, there is a little comfort at the end, should you desire it.) Spoilers for myth and possibly other Rafayel content. Short (660 words).

This is what I wrote instead of finishing the Abysswalker x MC nfsw fluffy fic I am over 3k words into.

“Amund! No! What have you done?!”

Rafayel ran to catch his lovely bride as she fell, but too late. Much too late. The wicked dagger jutted from her chest, just where he'd indicated a fatal blow could be struck when they had flirted and teased as he'd trained her so many months ago. Now the jest had turned to brutal reality.

“It was her request, Your Quintessence,” Amund insisted, sounding satisfied, perhaps even smug.

Rafayel felt sick as the blood seeped around the wound and stained her dress. The dagger was ironically preserving her life, stemming the flow, but he knew it couldn't be for long. She was dying, and he could do nothing to prevent it.

He pressed his forehead to her, tears coming in choking gasps, turning to pearls before they hit the sand. Her eyes fluttered open to look at him, barely clinging to consciousness.

“Why?” He sobbed, brokenly. “You told me not to give up. You told me there was still hope.”

“You were running out of time,” she whispered, fingers shaking as they lightly traced his cheek. “If I waited, it could be too late.”

It was true, and he knew it. His fire had grown dimmer and dimmer by the day. But he never thought…

“It was supposed to be me,” he cried, hugging her gently, feeling her warmth bleeding away. “I don't want it back. My heart belongs to you. Please, please, don't leave me.”

“I love you,” she whispered. Then the light of her eyes dimmed, her hand fell, and she was gone.

“No! No, don't go! Please, don't go!” But his screams fell on deaf ears.

Power surged from her body in a flash of light, before rushing into his own chest. He could feel a vitality he hadn't felt in millenia surging through his veins.

Winds whipped across the sands, and with a great rumble, waters sprung up in mighty fountains. Distantly, he could hear a roar of jubilation as his people realized what was happening.

The God of the Sea was whole. The oceans were returning to Philos. No more would the Lemurians watch helpless as humans plundered their treasures.

The waters soon swallowed Rafayel and his lifeless bride. She looked ethereal as she floated in the blue, red fanning out in a deep stain around her.

“What a liar.” He whispered, fingers caressing her cool cheek.

For the first time in well over 30,000 years, Rafayel was whole, his flame reborn.

He had never felt more empty, more cold.

There would be no next life to get it right. The heart that had brought her back to him time and again had been returned, just as the prophecy demanded. There would be no more waiting for her. No more looking into lovely eyes that saw him as a stranger. Not even death would be a respite for him, for the seas would bring him mercilessly back, life after life, devoid of the only one who made it worth living.

In one swift move, the God of the Sea had regained his heart…and lost it forever.

***

“Rafayel!”

He woke with a gasp, eyes burning, cheeks stained. He looked around wildly, trying to understand what was happening. His skin felt clammy and sticky, his chest heaving for air.

“Rafayel! I’m here. You're safe.”

That gentle voice, that beloved voice, and her soft hand against his cheek, stroking over the tear tracks. He pulled her forcefully into his arms, burying his head in her neck and inhaling deeply. Warm. Whole. Alive.

“I’m here, love,” she cooed, running her fingers soothingly through his hair. “I’m here. You’re safe. It was just a bad dream.”

He placed his hand against her chest, and but for a gasp of surprise, she didn't protest, cradling his hand against her. He felt the thrumming of his heart in her chest. He released a shaky breath.

Surely, she was right. Surely, it was just a dream.

#love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel #l&ds rafayel #lads rafayel #rafayel x mc #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnd rafayel #angst #hurt/no comfort #A little comfort

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my-cowboy-hat · 9 months

Text

Risk and Endearment

Summary: Bounty hunting with a Mandalorian is a dangerous job, but you know the risks. Don't you?

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader

Word count: 2.1K

Warnings: blood, injury, near-death experience, angst, PINING, hurt/comfort, fluff, cuddly Grogu my beloved

A/N: I'm not sure where this came from or why I started it, but it got me writing again for the first time in a while so I'm not complaining. I've never posted any of my own work to this blog but I think I'd like to start.

I hope you enjoy reading this, please feel free to comment your thoughts!

The explosion comes from nowhere.

One moment, you and Din are fighting a particularly elusive bounty, quickly gaining the upper hand, and the next, debris is flying everywhere.

You don't remember the initial impact to your abdomen, or maybe your body just didn't register it through your shock. Time slows and the sounds around you start to echo in your ears. The first thing you notice is that your hands are wet and there is a coppery taste on your tongue. The next is a sharp, pinching pain slowly growing from your stomach.

Have you been impaled by something? You wonder why your thoughts are so calm when everything else seems everything but. A quick glance down tells you, yes, you have certainly been impaled. A long, thin metal rod protrudes from your stomach and the dusty gray shirt you wore is almost fully darkened with your blood.

When your ears slowly stop ringing, you can hear Din cursing frustration as the explosion manages to be enough of a distraction for the bounty to escape.

"Din?" You call out with a wince. He turns to you and you see his body jolt at the state you are in, "Din, I- I think we need to get back to the ship."

You think you might be in shock.

You manage to take a few steps backward with the intention of turning toward the direction you knew the ship to be in, but suddenly the world started to spin and you can't place where you are anymore. You hear Din yell your name as you begin to fall, and a pair of armored-covered arms wrap around you before you could land.

All your senses start working overtime when your brain suddenly catches up with the series of events. You can hear fire crackling around you and you whip your head around wildly in order to get a grasp on the situation. Worst of all, you can feel the excruciating, agonizing pain from your abdomen. You cry out when you feel Din place his hand on the area next to the rod to apply pressure.

"Dank ferrik!" Din grunts, "No, no, no."

"Ship," You breathe, "We have to get back to the ship."

"The ship," he repeats, and then you're being lifted in the air. You groan with the movement but manage to hook your arm around the back of Din's neck.

"Just hang in there. We're not far." He tries to reassure you.

The trek to the ship is difficult for you to remember. The pain searing through your body only seems to increase with every step Din takes. Your eyes flicker from the story night sky to the lip of the mandalorian helmet, trying to focus on one or the other. The rest passes in a blur.

Din says your name again and suddenly you're on the ground again. Cool metal blankets your shoulders as you're laid on your back. You shake your head as another wave of pain hits you and you slap your hand against Din's armored shoulder before gripping the cloth covering his arm.

"You're okay," Din tells you, but you don't think you believe him.

"I'm so-sorry," You whimper, a tear falling from the corner of your eye. You feel it slip down the side of your face and it tickles your ear. "Din…"

"Don't talk," his voice is gruff as he cuts your shirt free from your bloodied skin.

You start to panic and your breathing becomes ragged. So you start speaking. You say the only things that come to your mind at that moment.

"D-din I-" You let out a harsh gasp that turns into a sob, "I'm gonna die. I'm gonna- I don't wan- wanna die."

"You're not gonna die," his voice is firm, but you think you hear his own tears in his voice. "I won't let you die. Hear me?"

Faintly, you register that his gloves are off.

"Din, I- I- I- I can't- it hurts,"

"I- I know, Cyare, I know."

You don't know what he's doing. You think your stomach might be going numb. You can't really tell in all honesty, but it's a welcomed feeling, you think as your sight begins to blur.

"Take- take care of th-the baby. He-he needs you." What's happened to your voice? It sounds muffled in your ears. You feel the tears streaming down your face freely now. The pain is unlike anything you have felt before. You knew that even if the injury doesn't kill you, surely this pain will.

"He needs you too," Din's voice sounds far away now too. Why? You don't want him to go.

"An-and care… f'yours- self t-too. I love you. Th-theres a-a bag und-er my cot. Credits, and- and- extra ration pack- ah! I love you, Din. I love you. I love you."

The edges of your vision begins to darken and it takes everything in order to keep your eyes open if only to keep looking at your Mandalorian's blurry form. But this is not your Mandalorian, is it? Your Mandalorian wears a silver helmet. This one has shades of brown.

You hear him say your name when your eyelids become too heavy. He sounds so upset and urgent but you can only hum in response, the numbing feeling slowly taking over your whole body. Maybe now... Now, it might just be okay if you rest your eyes a bit.

When you wake, it's to a small hand tapping on your cheek.

You let out a small grunt when you attempt to peel open your eyes.

You hear a small, concerned coo from where something sits heavy on your chest and there's another tap on your cheek. When you finally manage to open your eyes, your vision is in hues of blue, and small black dots dance as they take in the wooden ceiling above.

You hear another coo and you dip your chin to see your small, green child looking at you with his big dark eyes. When he sees your eyes, his ears perk up exponentially and he collapses forward with a soft squeal. His small hands hold your neck and he nuzzles his head against your chin.

You lift a heavy hand to his back gently and whisper, "Hello darling."

You can't remember much, but flashes of the explosion play like a distant nightmare in your head, along with a fear of death you didn't know you had. You remember the pain in your abdomen and the sound of a distraught mandalorian.

You were alive. You survived when you were certain you wouldn't see another day. When you were so sure you would never see Grogu or Din again.

Din.

"Darling?" You whisper, tears stinging your eyes, "Where's your father?"

You're only given another small coo in response, the baby refusing to remove himself from his hug.

With the hand not holding Grogu, you trace down the edge of your ribs and softly over your stomach. Your body jerks in the anticipation of pain rather than the pain itself and you let out a soft whimper. You take in your surroundings as a distraction and find yourself in a small room of a wooden hut. A light breeze slips through an open window on one side where a dresser stands under the seal. There's a chair to your left with a pillow and a thin blanket thrown over it.

The room seems barren otherwise, minus the bed you were occupying.

You wonder what planet you were on. How long have you been asleep?

Your head pounds in the way it does when you wake up after sleeping for too long, or when you take a nap that just wasn’t long enough. It did not help your confusion.

"Dank Ferrik!" You hear a curse coming from another room and Grogu quickly sits up again on your chest, ears drooping at the sound.

The door to your room is opened and your Mandalorian steps through, "Grogu, what did I tell you? We need to let her sleep. She'll wake up when she-"

He stops when your eyes flicker up to meet the T of his helmet.

"G'morning," You greeted softly.

Din breathes your name in a way you've never heard before. Like a prayer. "You're awake."

"Where are we?" You question. He steps forward hesitantly and you watch his gaze travel over your form, landing on your stomach.

Grogu gently slips off your chest to lay at your side.

"We- we're on a planet called Sorgon. I- it was the closest one I could think of with people I trust."

"How long…?"

"Almost a week. The medic here gave you some medicine to keep you asleep for a bit longer so your body could heal easier."

You nod and try to blink away the tears threatening to fall. You never thought you'd see him again. Hear his voice.

When you sniff, that seems to snap Din to attention. He makes a move to grab the kid but you shake your head vehemently, "No, no please let him stay. I thought I'd never- I wouldn't-"

Din pauses, "I know, cyare."

Cyare. You have a faint memory of that word being said but you don't know what it means.

"You…" He clears his throat, "You almost didn't make it."

You reach out to him with your hand and he takes it instantly. His shoulders were stiff and the edge of his helmet kept dipping forward in an almost jerky sort of nod. He takes a knee next to your bed.

"You saved me."

"Your heart stopped."

"It's okay," You tug his gloved hand over your chest, above your sternum, where he could feel your heart beating soundly. "You made it start again. Thank you, Din."

He doesn’t respond, at least, not with words. He only squeezes your hand a bit tighter and lets out a shaky breath that crackles against the modulator of his helmet.

By your side, Grogu snuggles into the crook of your shoulder, eyes drooping.

"He hasn't slept well," Din informs you, "I… He wanted to heal you himself, but I-" he cuts himself off and looks away.

He had stopped Grogu from healing you. Good.

"It would've killed him," You say softly, "I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself, or you, for that matter."

Din only nods and his gaze falls to your hands, still laying on your chest. Your fingers graze down the side of his glove until you reach the exposed skin of his wrist, absent-mindedly swiping a thumb along the bumps of his veins and the small scar that you discover on the side, just below the joint of his thumb.

You realize, even after all this time with the Mandalorian, you've never touched his skin. You've seen him without his gloves, of course, and even occasionally a peak of his lower neck when he was bare of any armor. Now, however, you feel him for the first time, Din. His wrist is smooth under your touch, maybe a bit smoother than you'd imagine. Perhaps wearing so much gear does wonders for skin care. You smile softly at the thought.

When you see how rigid Din’s posture has gotten, you give him an apologetic smile and begin to pull away when he suddenly grips your hand firmer in his. Your breath catches in your throat when he brings it up to his helmet where his lips lay just beyond.

And suddenly, Din is speaking again. Just one word this time, barely above a whisper, "Mesh'la."

You don't know what it means, but he says it with such sincerity and softness that your face warms under his covered gaze.

"You should rest," He continues, lowing your hand but not letting it go.

"I've rested long enough for the next month, Din."

"Are you hungry?"

You nod and he makes a move to stand but you tug his hand, "Wait…"

He pauses at an awkward half-kneel next to your bed and tilts his head in question.

"Just…stay? Just for a little while longer?"

"You should eat, Cyare."

Cyare. He's called you that before. You hear the echo of his voice frantic, and breaking while you laid dying on the hull of his ship. You think it may be a term of endearment, just from the way it falls so kindly from his lips. It makes you hope he loves you in the same way you love him.

You'll learn what it means one day. You'll learn the words he calls you with such reverence. You'll learn the whole language for him, you decided. Maybe you'll learn the words that could express what he means to you in ways the common tongue could not.

"I will," You promise. He doesn't know it's a promise for something else but that's okay. "Just sit with me a little longer. Please?"

Din stares at you for a moment. You wish you knew what he was thinking. Finally, he nods, "Always."

Thank you for reading!

#din dijarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction

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ghostisun · 2 months

Text

wrote so much about this in my other blog and i dont know why i never decided to write one for this fandom when it just makes so much sense-

shotgunning but it's with dew's element.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

thinking about dewdrop running to mountain for a trick, his tail whipping behind him in his excitement. mountain loves nothing more than indulging him so of course he picks up the shorter ghoul—"satanas, mounty, you can't just go 'round flexin' y'r strength like that!"—and plopping him to his lap.

"what's up, petal?" mountain asks, eyes already crinkled in his delight.

he feels the tiny vibrations of dew's giddiness from where the other is curled on top of him, and he watches, with thick fondness, as dew's ears twitch, following the beat of his flicking tail.

it is adorable, heart-stoppingly so.

dewdrop bites his bottom lip, his cheeks turning pudgy as he grins. mountain expected the teasing, the way dew would surely dance around the subject until mountain's all worked-up, begging, but then he feels it—

a change in the greenhouse; warmth rumbling from dewdrop's chest. his horns begin to glow, ivory embers filling up with heat, and the cracks sparking with sputtering fire.

mountain frowns, confused.

"what..." he asks, voice petering into a murmur when dew's lips part, his jaw falling open, before smoke trickles out, filling mountain's senses with the familiar scent of his beloved.

mountain realizes, then, what dewdrop's asking.

his lips wobble, his palm coming up to cup dew's cheek. he swipes at the tender skin just underneath dew's jewelled eyes.

"oh, dew," he murmurs, voice thick with all of his affections. "you are so beautiful, love."

then, he pitches forward, crowding into the other ghoul's space. his lips ghost just above the warm touch of dew's, and accepts the offering laid before him.

burning smoke spills into his mouth, caressing his tongue and weaving between the spaces of his teeth, before it slithers down his throat. he engulfs it whole, his chest expanding at every slow inhales.

it is all so teasing, so sensual.

dew's element, his essence, and here mountain is, gulping it all down.

well now, he thinks, lips twitching at dewdrop's quiet mewls. guess i have to reward my sweet boy.

˚୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

#the band ghost #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #mountaindew ghost #mountain x dewdrop #sun chimes #q #i wrote this with my heart in my throat so if there are errors pls ignore TvT

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

Text

Azul, Jamil: By One’s Grace

dnsjbsuebxkzn One of my friends noticed that Platinum Jacket Jade and Azul have the same two portraits, with the placements swapped. This is not true for other dorm leader-vice dorm leader pairs we’ve already seen, like Malleus and Lilia. Just an interesting little detail?

MORE JAMIL AND AZUL PETTY DRAMA… Been craving it since early book 4, one of my favorite treats 😋

A Tale as Old as Time.

"Jamil-san."

He flinched at his name and turned away from the caller. When the footsteps still came, Jamil retreated further into the exhibition. Famous faces stared down from their picture frames at the fleeing boy.

"Jamil-san, please wait for me," Azul tried again. He picked up his pace, in hot pursuit of his peer. "Jamil-san!!"

Deeper and deeper they delved, spiraling into the museum’s depths. The light slowly fading, the air stretching thin and gauzy. Neither relented from the chase--not until Azul ran his prey into a corner, an arm outstretched to contain him in a quiet corner. Jamil silently cursed.

Caged in with an octopus. Great.

A facetious laugh rose from Azul's throat. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were purposefully trying to avoid me."

Jamil deadpanned. “You don't say. No, I was just trying to learn about the history of the Coral Sea in peace."

"If that's what you're interested in, I believe you'll find no better wellspring of knowledge than myself." Azul offered with a coy grin. "I would be more than happy to share stories straight from my hometown. Anything for a dearly beloved companion. such as you."

"No thank you," Jamil quickly retorted. I think I'd rather eat poisoned curry again. "I would be ill-advised to accept free 'help' from you. You'll come knocking and calling in for a favor a few days later."

"Who's asking for favors?" Azul gasped, feigning ignorance. "I simply wish to aid a classmate. As dorm leader of Octavinelle, I pride myself on keeping the Sea Witch's spirit of benevolence alive and well."

Jamil scoffed and folded his arms. "Coming from you, that sounds extremely insincere."

"Me, insincere? Far from it!" He insisted, waving a hand dismissively. From the corner of his eye, Azul caught a flash of fiery red. He tilted his head, and his brows raised. "Hmm? Oh, this painting is..."

"The painting?" Jamil followed his gaze.

There was a young mermaid mounted upon a rock, a massive wave crashing into her from behind. Though the skies were dark and stormy, her face was full of light and sunshine. A great mane of fire whipped around her, the mermaid's chest thrust out and mouth open in joyful song.

"One of my favorite works of art."

"Somehow I doubt that..." Jamil sighed. "What exactly do you like about it?"

"Many things! For one, there is her gullible... er, excitable expression. You can see just how much wonder she has for the world. She's full of hope for her future prospects.

"In fact, this is the very same mermaid appears in some legends about the Sea Witch." Azul chuckled softly--though his growing smirk was anything but. "A mermaid so lovesick, she failed to meet the conditions set forth in her deal. Because of that, she incurred the Sea Witch's fury. It's a cautionary tale to always pay one's dues, fufufu."

"... No wonder why you like it," his peer grumbled. "For her to make a promise to the Sea Witch and then not follow through with her end of the bargain... How foolish. Her punishment is well-earned."

"Punishment? Perhaps one could use that word, but I see it as a form of the Sea Witch's compassion."

"There's nothing compassionate about debtor being raked across the coals."

"Compassion is not just kindness, Jamil-san. Compassion is also the sternness that comes from a place of caring. The Sea Witch surely must have also been heartbroken to turn her anger on a client whom she placed her trust in. Were she to leave the mermaid to be, the mermaid would likely run amok and commit the same acts of betrayal unto others. Her lesson would not be learned."

Azul shrugged. "You see? The Sea Witch is truly benevolent and merciful, even when she lets loose her rage."

"What a twisted mind you have. I can't say I disagree with the course of action though.”

“Poor, unfortunate little mermaid,” Azul cooed. “She longed to change herself for true love, risking the life she knew for the uncertainty of new opportunities.”

“Hmph, a person who desperately wants to change themselves?” Jamil’s mouth cocked into a smirk. “Now who does that remind us of, hmm?”

He was met with a bitter laugh.

“The world can be a harsh place,” Azul said, his response evasive. “I wonder if the mermaid was able to finally face it.”

What would she have done if her optimism had been crushed under the weight of a cruel reality? What if her new self was rejected after all her struggles and sacrifices? What if her efforts were all for naught?

What if, what if, what if.

What if he was the same as her?

The inept octopus. Not smart, not particularly good at swimming, too bulky. Sobbing in his private little pot, the inky tear trails a dead giveaway to his location.

Nice clothes, good grades, and lifestyle changes couldn’t bury that past in the sand. It was not enough—would never be enough.

Once, he would have desired to kick her down. To see a sand castle fall apart at his own hand, to relish in the destruction. Wipe away proof of his old incompetence.

Be rid of it forever.

Now, he knelt and encircled it with his arms, Hugged that piece of him against himself, reassured it with compassionate words.

You’re here.

You’re a part of me.

I will never reject you again.

“… Change is as natural and as common as the coming and going of the tides. Why fear the tides—why fear change?”

Why deny what I was then, and who I am now?

Then, donning his brightest—and perhaps most genuine—smile, Azul faced Jamil head-on.

“It is by the grace of the Sea Witch that we were able to learn such a valuable life lesson at no cost to ourselves! Isn’t that wonderful?”

#twisted wonderland #twst #Azul Ashengrotto #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #Azul birthday takeover #disney twisted wonderland #disnet twst #something no one asked for #spoilers #Jamil Viper

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bobluvbot · 2 years

Text

bonk!

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x f!reader

summary: in which fate uses a karaoke machine to lead the way for romance because you and Bradley are just too dumb and dense for it.

wc: 9k+ (sorry)

warnings: best friend!rooster, age difference, reader has a lot of insecurities like with body image (briefly mentioned, like one line only!) and self worth issues. implied sex so 18+ only! kinda beta’d. I *tried* to keep the angst at a minimum (i write angst but i am changing ok) but a LOT of pent up frustration. Still VERY fluffy though <3

A/N: Yeahhhhhhh. This started off as a single fluffy scenario with my beloved Rooster, but it kinda took a life of its own. Nonetheless, hope you enjoy!

Reader’s call sign is Indigo!

If there was someone to blame for all this mess, it should be Mav. More often than not, it’s always Maverick’s fault.

He brought up the idea first during one of those after hours of the Hard Deck.

If nothing much has been going on back in base, you and Rooster, sometimes the rest of the Dagger squad would stay behind to help him and Penny clean and get everything straight for the next day. You would do it so often that Penny, who was adamant in shooing you guys away claiming that she could handle it, gave up trying and now checks if you’re cleaning thoroughly.

“Pen,” he’d said in passing, leaning against the mop he was using. “You know what’d make this place better?”

“Are you saying it isn’t already?”

Mav stutters, now realizing how his words could’ve sounded differently than he originally intended, much to you and Rooster’s amusement as you listened in to the conversation. “No- I- you know I didn’t mean it like that, honey.”

“I know,” Penny laughs. “I’m kidding. What were you saying, hun?”

“We should bring in a karaoke machine.”

In retrospect, it was a good idea. Not everyone who’d drunkenly belt out lyrics to a song could hit the right notes without the background music, the jukebox has not been updated to have all the hit music the younger crowd wants to hear, and not everyone could remember the piano chords of their favorite song. And as much as it would please the public demand, the highly acclaimed Rooster Bradshaw and his Great Balls of Fire could not commit to a nightly residency at the Hard Deck due to his demanding day job of being a fighter pilot. Welcoming the machine seemed like a harmless decision, and placing it outside seemed to complete the often deserted outdoor seating area.

And for a while it did what was expected. It brought in an interesting crowd to the bar. The nights you were there, you had witnessed a group of stressed college kids out back, screaming their lungs out through Evanescence’s discography. Another time, a small group were hunkered down by the machine, seemingly on guard as their drunk friend sobbed through Adele’s Someone Like You and Roxette’s It Must’ve Been Love. You had been tempted to hop on in a session when a group of friends decided to have a 2012 night, from Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift to One Direction and Little Mix. It brought out a lot of emotions from the patrons of the bar and soon enough it became a regular fixture at the Hard Deck, that Penny had to whip out a reservation list just for the outside seating to keep people from fighting over the time limit each group has before the next can have their go. It somehow made the place even more chaotic, especially during weekends, but added more income so no one was complaining.

It became a problem when you and the rest of the Top Gun instructors gave in to the hype and had a go for yourselves. It started out as innocent, drunk fun. You and the instructors around your age were sick of hearing the oldies and their outdated playlists from the jukebox (Don’t let Rooster know about this) as they played pool, so you went outside and dared each other to grab the mic and pick a song that you used to cry to during your first heartbreak with the promise of a crumpled 20$ bill someone dug out from their pocket. From Lips to an Angel to The Reason to Perfect, your friends each gave their all for the sad bill. Determined to stand out, you decide on Taylor’s Teardrops on My Guitar as your magnum opus for the night. It was a perfect fit, and your friends groaned woefully as the nostalgia hits them. In your drunken haze, you wondered for a bit why you’ve avoided listening or singing this song for so long, but as the song continued, you figure out why.

—

It was 2007, the summer before college, and you had just gotten your dream iPod in pink as a gift from your grandparents for getting into Columbia. You already had a list of all the albums and singles you were going to download on the back of your physics notebook, and the first off that list would be Taylor Swift’s albums. It was nice that you were the same age, you could relate to each song if you tried hard enough, but your lack of non-fictional boyfriends and romantic conquests were a huge setback back then. You were halfway through your second listen when your grandmother asks you if you can bring the casserole she just finished making next door, and because you didn’t have the heart to say no after getting your iPod, you agreed and made your way to your neighbor’s house.

They seemed to have someone over, judging by the number of bikes strewn across the lawn and an inconspicuous blue Bronco parked in their driveway that you didn’t recognize. More reasons to drop off and go, you’d thought, so you rang their doorbell while you thought of a good excuse to speed off. No one responded despite the commotion you could barely make out from the inside, so with an exasperated sigh, you reached out to press the bell again.

You remembered freezing, with your outstretched hand retreating back to the handles of the pan as you made contact with the one who answered the door. He didn’t have blue eyes like Drew did from the music video, nor was he called Drew for that matter, but god, you found yourself breathless and in constant awe like Taylor when you realized who it was.

He broke out in a grin, greeting you with that wretched nickname he and his cousins gave you when you were young. Bradley Bradshaw— the boy that taught you how to hang upside down from the monkey bars at the park because your friends (his cousins) thought you were too heavy to do so, the boy you got so attached to every summer when he came to stay next door because he included you whenever the cousins played Pokemon cards or Super Mario on the playstation and would let you off easy and debt free whenever you played monopoly, the boy who shared your love for aviation and would drag you along with their family trips to the flight museums nearby, and it would take years more for you to realize but he was also the same boy you looked for in the sea of faces at school, in hopes to find someone remotely close to who he was, which just left you terribly single— was back, visiting from college. He was still breathtakingly beautiful, and the crazy beating of your heart as he dragged you by the hand inside to see the family should be the telltale sign that you were going to be ruined before you escaped to college.

Catching up after dinner, you learned there was a girl. There was always someone— he was interested in, confessing their feelings, seeing, crying over him. You should’ve gotten used to it at this point. Bradley was a light that everyone was just naturally drawn to. Maybe you could chalk up the blame to the angsty fanfic you’ve read earlier that day or to the sad Taylor Swift songs you decided to dwell on before you brought the casserole, but goddamn it stung. It hurt when it shouldn’t be hurting in the first place. Bradley was one of your childhood friends, the kind big brother you always wanted to have. You’re sure that if he was around more, he would’ve helped you scare away your bullies or have even posed as your date to prom so you wouldn’t feel as left out as you did. It was in between your third or fourth bite of the cherry pie Bradley’s aunt had given you for dessert when you realized you saw him in a different light now, and it didn’t take long for you to see that he didn’t.

Later that night, you found yourself clutching your teal guitar, Love Story’s chords long forgotten, blasting Teardrops on My Guitar on your alarm clock speaker at 10pm, with only the moonlight and your pink wallpaper witnessing your tear-stricken face.

–

“Oh my god, is Indigo crying?”

“She is, fuck. Hurry, we gotta record this!”

Before your friend could point the camera flash on your face, you kick his shin before whipping out your middle finger, turning away from them to hastily wipe the tears that betrayed you on your sweater.

Despite the waterworks, you were determined to finish the last line of the song perfectly, because this is the last time you’ll be singing this for the next thirty or so years.

“Drew looks at me,” you start, and the doors swing open to welcome an amused Rooster and the rest of the gang into your group outside.

Locking eyes with you, you sing, “I fake a smile so he won’t see,” smiling.

Yeah, at least the sting lessened to a quiet twinge now.

—

The oldies have infiltrated the karaoke machine once they saw how much fun you guys had that night. Soon after, they’d come in early and just play one round of pool before Fanboy drags you and Payback outside quickly, reserving the machine before the bar’s crowd comes in. People would think this is unfair because you were allowed in earlier and would have the advantage to hoard the machine all to yourselves, but they didn’t want to risk disrespecting you guys and buying a round for the entire bar so they kept quiet.

It wasn’t long till Rooster had migrated his trademark song from the piano to the karaoke machine, deeming that it was hard to remember the chords when he’s had a few drinks. You’d still have your turn singing throwback songs with the gang, but once Bradley gets a hold of the mic, you might as well head home because it’s either he sings five songs in a row or a five minute song (there’s no in between). It gets especially worse when he’s got alcohol in his system, the mans will hog the mic for himself. You once got into a fight because of it and it only ended when Hangman snatched it from both of your hands and used it for his own song, much to both your chagrin.

—

“No, absolutely not.”

Those were the last words you register before your phone gets snatched from your hands. Mere seconds ago, you were on Amazon, comparing prices of those bluetooth karaoke microphones that had built in speakers and had just added the highest rated one on your cart.

You’ve grown attached to the bar’s karaoke machine and would look forward to it after a long day dealing with your new array of Top Gun students. You found that belting out Fall Out Boy relieves more tension from your back than your regular chiropractic appointments so you’re determined to still have your karaoke session one way or another. But apparently, your best friend had other ideas.

“I’m relaxing, Bradshaw, but I won’t hesitate to kick your nuts if you don’t give back my phone.”

“Let me just—,” he mutters, tapping on your device that seems suspiciously like removing something from your cart.

You immediately spring into action and he raises his arms above your reach in response. Damn him and his height. You resort to climbing up his limbs, and when that didn’t work, you gave a mean pinch his side. This seemed to do the trick as he hissed, folding over in pain, and you take the opportunity to grab your phone back.

God, you were glad you were on your break and none of your superiors or students were around to witness two of their instructors tackle each other outside one of the hangars.

“I can’t believe you’d betray Penny like this, Y/N.”

“What the hell are you on about?” You ask, shooting him a mean glare while wiping his fingerprints off from your screen on your suit.

“You getting your own karaoke mic means you won’t go to the Hard Deck anymore to sing and that’s just incredibly selfish and I can’t allow that.”

“Well,” you start, “I wouldn’t be getting one in the first place if someone here plays fair and doesn’t hog the mic for himself.”

He scoffs. “You talking to yourself?”

You gasp, appalled. “How dare you. That was one time! It’s not my fault All Too Well’s ten minutes!”

“Uh huh,” he gloats. “I’m just gonna pretend we didn’t listen to the album together and I totally didn’t see that there was a five minute version you could’ve sung.”

This prompts a teasing smile from your lips. “Oh, so you were paying attention to the album. I thought you hated it because it was cheesy teen music.” You say, using air quotes while mocking how he had complained when you took out his Temptations cd from the Bronco’s stereo and replaced it with your new Red album the moment you got it from the mail.

“I had little to no choice on the matter, Y/N. You chose the longest car ride to play that album on repeat,” he responds exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.

You smirk at the memory. You both were off that day and you persuaded Bradley to drive from base to downtown Los Angeles for this dumpling restaurant you saw on Yelp that offered an AYCE for their opening day. It wasn’t easy to get him off his couch during his offs (understandable), but you bribed him with the promise of a full gas tank and a car wash. He did sulk for a bit, but you knew he couldn’t resist free things (or you whining for that matter).

“Don’t distract me from the real issue here. Just don’t get that mic, Y/N. Fighting over that karaoke machine at the Hard Deck makes it more fun.” He says a matter-of-factly.

“Fun because no one has the balls to snatch the mic from you.” You grumble, checking your watch and seeing your break time was almost up. “Whatever,” you say in passing while wiping off some sandwich crumbs that stuck to your suit. “I’ll just order it when you’re not around,” you sneer, sticking your tongue out at Rooster as you start to walk back to the main building where your classes are held.

He catches up to you quick, a smirk on his lips. Does this man ever run out of comebacks? “You’re forgetting the fact that that’s my Prime account you’re using.”

You halt, appalled, your eyes following his figure as he ignores you and continues his walk. “I pay for my half, you ass! That’s our account!”

He doesn’t say anything as he looks back at you, only a knowing expression on his face. You know there’s no escape from this. Because when you’d try to order it later, he’ll just cancel it on his end when he gets notified of the purchase. Frustrating. “I hate you.”

He hums in response, and you try to suppress the tingly feeling you’d always get when he does that. “Still up for dinner later?” He asks when you reach his side.

You feel the weight of disappointment and dismay from your ancestors as you mutter a yes to the man before you separate ways. Doesn’t matter how much Bradley Bradshaw riles you up every chance he gets, you’d always say yes to him.

—

“Just let me take you to lunch, please.”

You had tried your best to keep a respectable distance from your superior but it got increasingly hard as Rooster grabbed your arm and situated himself in front of you, his bulky figure blocking your way. Getting caught was one thing, but having all the feelings for this man you’ve kept in a box stowed away in some hidden part of your head unravel because of how close he is to you right now was another issue you’re not ready to face.

In fact, mere days ago, the thought of him hadn’t even crossed your mind. Renewed determination and excitement coursed through your veins as you started your advanced flight training. You worked your ass off to get to this point, and it’s only a matter of time before you get your wings. That alone kept your head above water. You might’ve taken the long route with your engineering degree, but it surely did wonders as you sped through most of your earlier classes in training. Soon enough you’ll be doing what you’ve always dreamed of as a kid. And nothing will stand in your way to fly.

Well, you didn’t account for having Bradley Bradshaw temporarily stand-in as your flight instructor for a week, so that’s oversight on your part.

You had looked around, relieved to see the hallway was deserted, before you hissed, “You’re too close! If anyone sees us, they’re gonna assume the worst and I’ll be dead.”

“Let them.” You glared at him and he took it back immediately. “Okay, fine.” He had said, taking one step away from you. “Lunch, with me,” he repeated again, as if you hadn’t been listening to him ask for the past few minutes. “I’ll let you order anything you want off the menu. On me.”

He knew your affinity for free stuff, and you never wanted to pluck that knowledge off his head than right now. You sighed, resigning. “You’ll leave me alone after?”

“I–,” he’d stuttered, caught off guard. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t do me like this. I haven’t seen you in so long. We gotta catch up.”

“It’s just,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s different now, Bradley. You’re my instructor and I’m one of your students—”

“Only for a week,” he interrupted, and you gave him a scowl. “Sorry, go on.”

Sighing, you continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I wanna go with you. It’s just that people might get the wrong idea when they see us outside and I’m this close to graduating and I don’t want anything to hold me back, you know?”

He noticed your anxious expression and he’d ran a hand through the length of your arm to comfort you. “I understand, you know I do.” Despite the thick material of your flight suit, his touch left a trail of goosebumps on your skin. The effect he had on you is daunting.

He paused to think for a second. “Hey, what about this. Let’s change out of these uniforms and then I’ll wait for you outside base. We’ll blend in perfectly. That sound good?”

A small smile had creeped into your face as you nodded gingerly. God, you missed him so much.

“I got you, don’t worry. Plus I already told some of my colleagues that you’re a family friend so they leave us alone.”

He probably meant that in a sweet, genuine way, but it still stung. You went through so many changes during the years you spent apart. You worked hard on your appearance and became more confident in the way you deliver yourself, something that you weren’t before. You’d never admit it but in some small part of you, you wished Bradley saw you like the girls he’d go crazy over.

You mustered up a tight smile for him. “Okay, See you in a bit.” You say before walking away.

A single thought remains in your mind: Still not good enough.

—

Lunch went surprisingly easy despite of what had happened earlier.

You’ve imagined this moment with Rooster so many times while you were away for college. Like what would your first meeting as adults would be, if you would ever cross paths again.

Would you have a meet-cute like the movies where you bump into each other unexpectedly, or where you’d trip and he’d catch you, literally sweeping you off your feet? And would it be a new beginning for both of you, finally seeing each other after years of being apart?

Would love just come naturally, fate tired from seeing you both struggle to see it?

Even if this isn’t as grandiose as what you’ve dreamed of, you and Bradley munching through breakfast for lunch and early dinner at Denny’s while catching up seemed like how things should be.

Just his mere presence made everything better (for your heart) and worse (also, for your heart) at the same time.

You didn’t tell him that running thousands of miles away from home didn’t do shit because all you’ve ever searched for was him and anything remotely similar to how he’s made you feel, nor how you’d always check next door first to see if that blue Bronco’s parked in the driveway again when you’d come home for breaks. Instead you told him good (boring) things about college, because those were the safest. It didn’t warrant any additional questions, questions that could prod at your already flaking defense and one wrong step could have him see how much you’re pathetically struggling to keep it up.

He in turn, tells you stories from college to his current naval career, and you listen. Or you try to, as you hyperfocus on how he looked; how this clean cut hair made him look more serious, far from the mop of curls he sported throughout high school and college to how his lips still looked plump and pretty, and you get reminded of how much you liked to sneak looks at them whenever he speaks from that one summer.

This is probably the closest you could be with him so you take advantage of it, marking the features you loved from the old Bradley that remained the same from the new ones you’d get to know from afar.

You manage to catch the important things: how attached he’s been to the California sun ever since he got stationed there and how he’ll take you there to visit once you graduate because he’s that sure that you’ll love it as much as he does, how he’s thinking of growing a mustache, and that he didn’t even consider taking up this job but he’s now happy he did.

He made a point that you know how proud he is of you for following your childhood dream like he did. He swore he’ll take care of you, making up for all those years he hadn’t been around.

You’d hate it later that night because you knew better, but after years of just bottling up all the feelings you felt for him, maybe today was the day you could indulge in the affection he gives you.

Even if it’s ill placed. After all, it would just be today.

Until you realized he meant what he said.

It got hard to remain level-headed in the mist, especially when he became the first person you’d want to call just to tell him about both exciting and frustrating things you got to do from training because you knew he’d understand perfectly, or when he had shown up late to your graduation because he drove for an hour to get you a big bouquet of peonies (your favorite), or when he took you to San Diego and introduced you to his friends who all welcomed you with fondness, finally giving you a sense of belonging and community in this stage of your life.

It was arduous to keep up when even after getting assigned to bases across the country, you’d randomly find packages of random food items that you’ve been craving mentioned in passing through facetimes and texts, or when he would have time to visit, you’d suddenly find that broken bedroom doorknob you’ve been ignoring fixed, the change oil light from your car finally turned off, and you’d always get dropped off in front of Target’s entrance while he finds parking in a busy lot.

Punishing to bear in mind when it’s been custom to have each other pick one up after deployment, when he trusts you enough to park his beloved Bronco at your place and even take it out for eventual maintenance checks, and when you’d lean on his chest when it gets too crowded and his arms find its way around you, tucking you in, and at once there’d be comfort in chaos.

This still isn’t what you hoped to be with Bradley; but you were given something greater, far more than that silly little crush you’ve ever daydreamed about, and suddenly, something you’ve been certain of ever since that day you handed him that casserole wasn’t as clear now. Risking all this for a confession of years of love and adoration didn’t seem worth it anymore.

Perhaps, this was okay. This was how things should be.

—

So you didn’t quite understand why you were fuming, and all that filled your head was hurt, hurt, hurt.

The scene unfolded like a usual Saturday night for everyone: Tipsy Rooster throws his hand across your shoulders, making you sway with him to the opening rhythm of Great Balls of Fire (his third song in a row), leaning close to your ear where his mustache tickles your skin and unsheaths a million goosebumps at its wake, to say that he promises, like pretty promises, to let you sing the last verse and chorus with him as a peace offering for hogging the mic yet again. And you believe him.

Not because the few drinks you’ve had impeded your better judgement, but because it wasn’t like Rooster to break promises. Neither a wash of alcohol nor adrenaline could waver that man’s conviction to a promise.

You relent, plopping yourself beside a warm Phoenix, who was busy playing an intense card game with Bob, Fanboy, and some other pilots. Through the windows, you could spot Hangman’s animated head bob along as he charms two women by the pool table while Coyote and Fritz played beside him. It had been a busy week for all of you back at base, so everyone was just out and about, eager to be distracted from the events at work.

You had felt yourself get dizzy after taking two swigs off your nth beer, so you closed your eyes for a bit, leaning your weight on Nat’s back as you listen to your best friend croon his heart out and have his karaoke moment. Music had always calmed Rooster down, and as much as you’d love to have your overdue turn to sing, you’re always willing to wait for him (even if you’ll never admit it out loud).

So when he finished the second chorus and the piano solo kicked in, you had willed yourself to come back to consciousness. It had been a while since you sang this song, and you’ve never shared a duet with Rooster before because both of you would just be too busy fighting for the mic. You might not have the best singing voice when tipsy but you’re singing with your best friend, and it was okay to be embarrassing with him.

But you never hear your name called, and you open your eyes just in time to witness everything. The door leading to the outdoor area opened and out it spat a woman you remember seeing in passing inside when you went to get a refill from Penny. She was beautiful and of course, she had eyes only for Rooster. Considering the recognition in her face as she saw him plus the sure steps he made towards her, you knew they have had history.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying but she was laughing, obviously sending the fuck me gaze in Rooster’s way, and you could tell he was chuckling too by the careen in his shoulders.

The piano solo gave you an insulting background music as you watched tensed up. Knowing this song by heart, you count the seconds and notes while staring at the two of them.

‘Anytime now, Roos will bid her goodbye and he would call me next to him and we would finish this song together,’ you thought, assuring yourself. ‘He promised.’

Except when the solo ended, he pulled her close, put his arm on her shoulders, handed her the mic, and they sang together.

He didn’t even bother looking back at you. It was as if you weren’t there in the first place.

You should really lay off on alcohol. Something about it makes you act childish and irrational.

Because here you were, a grown woman, an Ivy League and Top Gun graduate, trusted to fly big expensive planes through challenging and stressful situations, yet all you wanted to do was to throw things and wail right then and there because you didn’t know how to quiet the pounding in your chest or to silence the reverberating words in your head: hurt, and in a smaller voice, that should’ve been me.

Despite the open around you, it felt like the air was getting punched out from your lungs, and you just had to get out. Standing abruptly, you forgot the drink perched on your lap and it spills, the cold liquid soaking through denim. Wanting to slip away unnoticed was far gone because your clumsiness just managed to attract unwanted attention from Nat and the rest.

A chorus of startled and worried questions erupt at your wake, but they get swept up in the night breeze as you squeeze past them, muttering something sounding like an apology while your feet takes you down the patio steps and into the sand of the beach, your boots sinking on the sand with your laden steps.

It seemed like the faster you run, your feet get heavier and harder to drag off the sand, making your dash to the parking lot achingly slower. The world was mute, the once noisy bar with all its music and chatter, even the relentless crashing of waves to shore were absent. The biting November wind clings to your frame and to the wet trails left on your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying, but you just hope they didn’t spill when you were squeezing past your friends. They didn’t have to see how pathetic you really were behind your collected front.

But here now, by the unlit back wall of the bar where no wandering eyes could see you, maybe you could let some tears flow to keep the dam from overflowing again. You have always prided yourself in being able to keeping your emotions in check. With a job like yours you couldn’t guarantee a day or two where nothing unexpected occurs, no one gets hurt, or no one treats you unfairly, so you had to learn how to let your work be work, and not let it bleed through your personal life. Same as with Bradley. Your longing for him was met in this friendship and had let yourself get used to that. You knew to turn away when he spots someone that sparks his interest in the bar, you learned to tune him out when he raved about this person he met, you had a set of answers to give when he asks you advice on what to wear for a date or what gift to give.

Because your needs were being met. You have a best friend, a confidant, a partner in him. You have made a joke of yourself, your feelings to keep the man you loved close. You could sleep at night before. You were okay before. You could pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow like before, so why doesn’t it work now?

You cry for the wasted years of devoting yourself to someone who wouldn’t even bat an eye for you when occupied with others that haven’t, or wouldn’t even attempt to do things you’ve done for Bradley, to make him happy, to keep that fucking smile on his face, to keep that light in his eyes burning bright.

You cry for all the times you have rejected or ignored people that expressed interest in getting to know you because you were too enamored and convinced that no one could make up for what he was in your life. And you’re not wrong. No one could make you insecure like he does whenever you act or dress like what he says he seeks for in a partner but he’d still look the other way. No one could be as dense as he is. No one could make you cry about a fifteen year old song like he does and make you feel like your teen self isn’t as different as you were now.

You wonder if you could’ve just given the guy who pursued you for a month with clear intentions and a kind heart a chance, a date, a night to prove himself to you, would you still be crying uncontrollably with your hand muffling your sobs, the rough wood patchwork on a dark corner of the bar the only thing keeping you from curling up into a ball as the years of regret catch up to you on a Saturday night?

Almost the entirety of your life devoted should be enough. It was time to quit Bradley Bradshaw.

Only it had to wait until sunrise to start. Because upon reaching the parking lot, you were smacked with a terrible realization: you rode with him to the Hard Deck.

You had sobered up from tears a little bit, but you feel another sob threatening to bubble out of your throat. Why were you so stupid?

You want to kick the Bronco’s wheels out of frustration but the baby didn’t do anything to deserve it (also because you had paid to get the car washed earlier that day). It was just an innocent bystander to your stupidity and unconditional love to its owner, so you drop down and hug your knees tight, shielding your face from the lights of the lot.

Maybe if you could sleep like this, you’d wake up back to this morning and this will all be a simple nightmare. And the exhaustion from the week and your sadness and anger were all too convincing for you to try it out, if it weren’t for the voice calling out your name in worry, the footsteps quickly coming towards you, and the strong arms that wrap around your frame, willing you to speak.

“Y/N, hey,” Bradley says softly, hand rubbing circles on your back. “Let’s get you somewhere warm, m’kay?”

Managing to muster up some strength, you push him away, or at least a sorry attempt to. Your palms were no match against his hard chest, and they just slide down hopelessly to your sides.

Grumbling, you say, “I can do it myself.”

“Okay, careful.” His voice remained soft, devoid of any annoyance or exasperation. This annoys you more. You wanted nothing but to hate this man to the guts but he makes it hard by being like this, like he actually cares.

You refuse to meet his eyes but you know they’re on you, watching as you hoist yourself up using the concrete as leverage. He had his hand outstretched to catch you if you stumble, and for a second you were tempted to grab it, but you resort to the side of the Bronco to keep your balance and the hand retreats.

Training your eyes to the ground, to anywhere except his stupid face, you explain, “I just need my bag,” gesturing at the lump on the passenger seat of the car. “So I can just catch an uber home.”

“No, I’ll drive you home,” he quickly refuses, fishing out his car keys from his back pocket. You wanted to lunge and steal it from him, but that’s just going to cause unnecessary contact with him. It’s best to avoid touching anything of him because you don’t know what it’ll do to the wall you’ve hastily built against him.

“Don’t bother. Last thing I want is to ruin your chances in getting laid tonight.”

Your words earn a quick eyebrow furrow from him and a miniscule wave of satisfaction runs through you. And you figure it out: if you can’t be happy tonight, no one near you can be.

A desire to cause a cascade of anger through him continues to consume you but he stops there. Face still laced with concern, he shakes his head and sighs, “Alright, let’s get you home.”

You watch him as he opens your door and waits for you to climb in while you remained standing where you were.

“Y/N.” He says it with a tonality he almost exclusively uses at work, when he has to put his instructor hat on or when he has someone to reprimand. “Please don’t make me carry you inside.”

You want to say he wouldn’t dare, but you knew he could easily do it. And even if you scream bloody murder, people knew you two always bicker like this so no one would think anything’s amiss. So you glare at him before noisily climbing up his car and shutting the door on his face. Whether it may be through words or actions, you were adamant to express your frustration to him, to this car, to this entire situation.

You could tell by the slump in his shoulders as he walked to the driver’s seat that he was bothered by how you’re acting but you can’t bring yourself to care. You just want to leave him troubled as you are, with his heart wrung tightly he couldn’t breathe.

The next words come out after a while of driving quietly through dark, empty streets. He was letting you calm down but your mind was far from it. You occupy yourself by counting the streets left to cross before you reach your apartment from the passenger window, wanting nothing but to get the fuck out of there and sleep.

“Y/N,” he starts. “What happened back there? Did anyone cause you trouble? Tell me what they look like so I can tell Penny and Mav about it tomorrow.”

You were thankful you had your hands tucked in, arms crossed over your chest, because you were certain if it had been anywhere else he could easily reach over and touch, he would.

When he was answered with silence, he tries again. “Were you hurt, Y/N? What did they do to you? Please tell me.”

“God, shut up. You’re making my head throb even more.”

“I will when you answer me. Even Phoenix doesn’t know what’s up with you back there. She says you just got up and left.”

“Maybe it’s just that.”

“I know you enough to know that it isn’t. Something happened that made you this upset.”

“Why do you care so much, Rooster? Dealing with you is suffocating.”

His mouth gapes incredulously, and if the car was stopped in a light he would’ve stared at you in disbelief. “Wha–,” he stutters. “Y/N, come on. Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, Rooster? Like a bitch?” You snort. “I already told you earlier I just needed my fucking bag. I didn’t ask for you to come drive me home. I’m only here because you insisted.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I–,” “I don’t want you to go home alone and upset. I hate seeing my best friend like this and not being able to help. I’m sorry.” There it was again, best friend. An affectionate word, even an achievement to have for others, but you never had a word that triggers so much hate in you as much as that. It sends your temper bubbling higher.

You scoff.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. If you’re mad at me, at whatever I did, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not letting you buy the bluetooth microphone. I’ll get you a new one personally as soon as we get home.”

Now you really laugh, insulted, like salt being thrown haphazardly on your fresh scars. You should’ve cut this man off ages ago. “All this, and the best you can think of is that I’m fucking upset over a microphone. God, I’m really seeing everything tonight, am I?”

“Then help me out, Y/N! I’ve been sitting here going through tonight and yesterday night and the last week, wracking my brain for anything I’ve said or did that made you this upset with me.” He breathes, trying his best to calm himself down.

In a leveled tone he begs, “Please tell me what I can do to make this right.”

“You actually saying that unprovoked just proves everything I’ve realized tonight about you, Roos. I just feel stupid now trying to convince myself that you weren’t dense and selfish when it’s really all about you, isn’t it? You only get bothered when someone lashes out on you. Then you self reflect. You only care about your feelings, about your happiness. You don’t give a shit about anyone else!”

“What? You know that’s not true, Y/N.”

“Knowing you forever says the opposite, Rooster. You have the world in your hands and God forbid anyone upset you and ruin your night—”

“God, Y/N, I’m sorry that I can’t read what’s on your mind! If you can just tell me what the hell I did that got you this pissed so I can apologize for it, instead of saying cryptic and hurtful shit that I know you don’t mean then we’d have a better conversation, don’t you think?”

“Wow, so now you’re telling me the things I mean and don’t mean. You sure you can’t read my mind, Roos?”

“I know you’d never say those things to me because you know who I am. You think I’m shallow? Okay. That I’m narcissistic, fine. But saying I don’t give a shit about anyone, about you,” he pauses. “You know better than that, Y/N. I know you do after everything we’ve gone through—”

“So now you want to compare the shit we did, shit we sacrificed for each other during this fucking friendship? Alright, I’m down. Go ahead.”

“What— no! Fuck, Y/N, please. I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to hurt me, making me feel the way I made you feel.” He pleads, his voice getting hoarse from all the screaming. “Just please tell me what you want me to do to fix this. Please.”

“I want nothing to do with you.” It came off so easy from your tongue it’s hard to believe you held this back for years.

It surprised him too, so much so that he gave up trying to make you admit you didn’t mean it. The certainty in your voice scares him enough to believe as soon as he heard it. “Why?”

“Because I fucking hate you.”

You see shock, anger, and sadness and all sorts of emotions you can’t catch because of the tears blocking your vision flit on his face quickly. With a morose expression, he shakes his head in disbelief, blinking some tears away, willing them not to fall. You knew he’s trying to think you didn’t mean it.

But now with tears falling freely, you know you finally do. “Because you make me become someone that I’m not and I hate it. You make me jealous, you make me spiteful of the girls that come near you, you make me hateful and bitter that I can’t make you smile like you do with people who barely know you. And I know that’s so petty and immature and I know better than that but you just make me stupid and irrational.

You make me dependent on you for things that I can do myself. I can drive myself home I can do my own groceries I can take care of myself when I’m sick but now that you’ve weaseled yourself in my life these things aren’t the same without you. I hate that I got attached to this fucking car that eats up gas so fucking quick. I hate seeing your stupid Hawaiian shirts you always forget to iron. I hate your stupid fucking mustache and how long you take to fucking shape them.

I fucking hate how I get so weak when I’m with you that I get all the feelings I know I should’ve given up on ages ago and I know, I have fucking known for years that you’ll never feel the same way I do and yet here I am. I hate that I can’t quit you after all these years I’m still here and I love you and I can’t do anything about it.”

You also hate that unlike the confession scenes in movies have the heroine crying but still look beautiful, you had tears and snot dripping on your shirt and jeans and you only found out when you tasted some while sputtering and spewing out all the words that haunted you for years on Bradley.

Finally everything was on the table. You’ve crossed the point of no return and instead of feeling relief you felt spent, exhausted, and widely aware that you don’t have strength to face your best friend anymore. In fact, you’re sure you just lost yours.

Tears have blinded you to what you were facing and you could barely breathe from the snot build up in your nostrils, so you pull up your sweater to wipe and sneeze into until—

BONK!

A searing pain erupts from a specific point on your forehead and you clutch it while curses flow from your mouth, tearing up again because it fucking hurt and it made your headache ten times worse. Bradley must’ve hit you with something and you’re mad but you also understand why he’d do that.

But as you blink some tears away you see him cradling his forehead as well, groaning and cursing in pain, mirroring your actions.

What the hell just happened? Did he just headbutt you?

Turns out you’ve thought that one out loud. “I didn’t, you dumbass. You keep on fucking moving.”

He grabs your face, encasing it with his big hands forcing you to look at him. You stare at each other for a second and after everything you’ve exchanged in this car you want it to last until it couldn’t, because you knew this would be the last time you’d have Bradley this close. Even if his beautiful features are marred with pain and frustration and other emotions you couldn’t name.

He groans, pulls on the sleeve of his thermal shirt and wipes the snot and tears off of your nose and mouth haphazardly.

And then he leans in for a kiss.

There was a blink, a split second of silence, before the chorus of voices erupt in your head: your five year old self disgusted that you’re kissing that snotty Bradshaw kid; a ten year old you guilty and scared that Ms. Carole will get mad at you for not asking permission to kiss her son; thirteen, appalled that you were basically making out with someone that’s clearly not Emmett Richmond from Legally Blonde; seventeen year old you screeching, screaming ‘FUCKING FINALLY!’ and immediately searching for a Taylor Swift song to accompany this moment; and a twenty six year old Y/N more confused than ever that you’d still end up here, living your adolescent fantasy instead of finding someone new and better.

Yet amidst the chaos, you find yourself mute. In the moment, yes, you were hopeless against Bradley’s lips, yours following his lead like a teenager on her first kiss because you haven’t had (or probably refused to get) enough practice to do this thing properly, but you found it graceless, like trying to walk in shoes that were one size too big— not quite right. Like you couldn’t give yourself fully to the moment because something hefty still lingers in the air, left unsaid.

So against your past selves’ wishes, you pull away. Looking down, you refuse to look at him, afraid that his eyes will confirm your worst fear. “Please,” you whisper nervously. “Please don’t kiss me because you feel bad. That’s… that’s mean.”

An exasperated sigh escapes Bradley and two fingers tilt your chin to face him properly. There wasn’t any trace of guilt nor contempt on his flushed face. Just pure exasperation for all the things you’ve done tonight but you can’t let yourself be so sure. No falling for anything without full certainty and a vocal confirmation. You had enough of your fair share.

“God, you’re the smartest girl I know but you’re also incredibly dumb. I kissed you to shut you up and let you know I do feel the same thing because I know if I just say it you won’t listen because you’re too fucking stubborn.” He huffs.

Locking eyes with you, he quirks an eyebrow waiting if you have another protest to make. If you weren’t in this situation, you would’ve laughed at the ridiculous irked face he’s making. Maybe he is telling the truth, you tell yourself. Maybe this time, it’ll be right.

Deeming your silence and waiting, parted lips as an answer, he says sulkily, “Now, can I continue this without getting interrupted?”

You hit his arm as you nod. Your lips meet again, the kiss deeper this time around judging by the arm that now encircles you, attempting to pull you closer to him but failing miserably.

“Fuck this shit,” he grumbles.

“Language, Bradshaw, damn,” you chuckle, watching him slide off his seatbelt, putting the car on park and the hand brake on.

“My right foot fell asleep because I was stepping on the breaks this whole damn time.”

Now you really laugh. What a giant dork.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off as he reaches towards you and slides off your seatbelt. “Wonder whose great idea it is to confess feelings in the middle of a goddamn street.”

You didn’t get the chance to reply in between hysterics because he swiftly carries and maneuvers you around so you were straddling him, surprised at how comfortable it was. You never had him this close before and you sober up quickly into a mesmerized silence, just admiring how beautiful he looked this close, how the streetlight outside lands square on his face and you could see the speckles of green in his brown eyes, and how all of this is yours. God, saying that feels so foreign but right.

He lets your soft fingertips graze the contours of his face, from his lips to the tip of his nose before one finally settling lost in his curls and the other on the nape of his neck. You don’t know this yet, but he also had dreamed of this moment longer than he could remember.

Suddenly you get hit with a familiar wave of the longing in your pit for Bradley, only this time you can act up on it. So you did, crashing your lips onto his.

Like the other things you’ve imagined with him, this was certainly never in consideration. You’d imagine a spacious park, branches of a leaning tree lined with soft fairy lights that made both of you glow as he leans in, lips melding into yours perfectly as soft music crooned in the background. Instead you get a steamy Bronco two streets away from your apartment, and probably more odd locations in your place. Not that you’re complaining though.

—

You were going through some papers that needed to be graded on one of your students’ desk after class when you feel the presence of three amused pilots approaching you.

Even if you didn’t look up, you know by their steps that it was Fanboy, who took a seat in front of you, Phoenix, that sat next to you, and a snickering Hangman who opted to stand beside you, looming over your hunched figure.

“What did my kids do now?” You say, not bothering to greet them. Even if the students you had also took classes with some of them, you were adamant in calling them your children because despite of how much they annoyed you sometimes, you’ve gotten close to this batch and they to you. Some of the instructors would even ask you to sit them down and discuss about the mistakes they made in their other classes so you could work with them to do it better. Not without them holding you responsible when they act out (sometimes. It can’t be helped) of course.

“Oh nothing. They’re great, actually,” Nat replies. “We just wanted to see the beautiful face of our great Indigo today.”

Mickey pipes up. “Yeah, we didn’t even get to see you at lunch today.”

Moving onto the next paper, you say, “I was busy. But didn’t you guys visit my class earlier?” It was just Hangman and Fanboy casually walking across the back of the room, claiming to grab something very important (a random HDMI cord). They scooted out fast but not before getting a good look at your confused face. You thought you had something stuck to your teeth but you didn’t have your phone with you so you just tried to clean them with your tongue.

“Yeah. We did.”

“Uhuh. Need another cord?”

“No, we just need you to look at us, darlin’.”

You almost didn’t, half expecting Hangman to have a plate of whipped cream ready to smack your face, but food isn’t allowed beyond the cafeteria so you reluctantly raise your head to meet the expectant and scandalous looks on your friends’ faces.

No face smashing occurred, only a mesh of hollers, high fives, and nods of agreement.

“What am I missing?”

“Oh, nothing. We’re just happy you had fun last night with Rooster.”

“Took you guys too fucking long,” Mickey drawls, clutching his head in exaggeration. Phoenix joins him in agreement, grinning at you proudly like she’s your mom and you just got a medal for being a top student in class.

A sweat starts to break out of your forehead. You and Bradley didn’t tell anyone that you were together last night, hell, you didn’t even had time to discuss what you guys were now. The last thing you want is for people to make assumptions and you can’t tell them otherwise because you don’t know where you stand. ‘We just fucked all night in every hard surface you could think of, no big deal.’ won’t be an acceptable answer, especially when this reaches Maverick and Penny.

“Wha—,” you stutter. “I wasn’t with Rooster last night! Stop making up bullshit, Bagman.”

Jake just gives you that god awful smirk and nod combo that tells you he knows you’re full of shit right now.

You turn to Nat, desperate for your friend to back you up. ‘’Nat, I wasn’t with him last night I swear.”

She makes her way to your lap and hugs you sideways. You know you could always count on your wingman. “Oh, my sweet Indy,” she coos. “No need to explain. The same bruise you and Rooster have on your foreheads tell us everything we wanna know.”

#rooster #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #rooster imagine #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #miles teller #it’s maverick’s fault

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