#domestic flights maybe not as much
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For what an amazing and life changing technological advancement air travel is, flying has got to be one of the most unpleasant experiences.
#domestic flights maybe not as much#but like the process of going through customs. taking off your shoes and jackets emptying all your belongings into plastic bins#and you have to do in a squished cramped little line up as fast as possible lest everyone get mad at you#collecting all your shit and making sure you didn't lose anything and putting on your shoes again#all before the person behind you also gets to the end of the line.. terrible#all while security personnel side eye you like you're a horrible waste of space just for existing#and then sidling through the cramped little aisle of the plane rushing to put your luggage away before the ppl behind u get mad#sliding into a seat so tiny even 5'4“ me can't stretch my legs#and then you arrive at the destination and get interrogated as to why you're in this country#'oh you're visiting your friends? seems suspicious. traveling for Christmas? tell it to the judge.'#ooh but then you are at your destination in record time. the joy of seeing new places and visiting loved ones!#but then do it all again on the way back while getting interrogated about every purchase you made while away
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For You [Hanma Shuji]
an: Pure self-indulgence as I've been sick the past few days and I'll use any excuse to continue my soft Shuji agenda...
pairing: Hanma Shuji x female reader
warnings: fluff, self-ship coded, reader has longish hair with a similar texture to Shuji’s, fluff, bit of a sick fic I guess, domesticity, soft shuji, suggestive if you squint, did I mention the fluff?
He didn’t know what to do. That much was evident from the white noise tumbling inside his head and the empty stare that roamed your apartment. Everything was as it should be, and at the same time, nothing was right.
Shuji hadn’t heard a peep from you in almost two days, and that was unheard of before now. He appreciated that you were not overtly clingy. You didn’t need to know his exact whereabouts at any given moment of the day, but you checked in now and then, and for the first time in his life, he looked forward to those moments. So when you went radio silent except for one cursory message in reply to his attempt at humour that you were ghosting him, worry settled heavily.
The smell was apparent the second he let himself in with the spare key you had gifted him months ago. Until now, he hadn’t had reason to use it, but there was no way he would allow another day to pass without knowing what was going on. Sickness–sweet and sour–lingered in the nose, an unmistakable smell.
What he found huddled in a nest of twisted blankets tugged at a heart he had not long grown to realise existed. A mass of tangled hair obscured most of your sleeping face, though he doesn’t miss the scrunched expression etched across your features. Your skin that peeks from beneath your adorable kitty pyjamas was covered in a sheen of sweat, and he could feel the heat radiating from your body when he closed the distance in two quick strides.
You’re sick.
The rasp of your breathing indicated something was sitting on your chest, likely a bad cold or some infection, and he doesn’t know what to do with this newfound information. Turning, he raised his glasses atop his head to pass a weary palm down his face.
Cuts, scrapes and bruises are things he can deal with. He is well accustomed to peroxide on rags to clean wounds and disinfect any dirt that might linger inside split knuckles. A raw steak slapped over a swollen eye might be considered a bit of a health hazard these days, but he still swore that nothing reduced the swelling faster. Hell, Shuji was even a dab hand with a needle and thread. He had lost count with how many of his exclusively short list of friends he had patched up to avoid the inevitable hospital questions over the years. He had even sewn himself up from time to time.
Hell, he needed to act. Standing here doing nothing was beginning to sizzle his blood.
You woke from being jostled, the haze of your fever dream preventing the usual fight or flight instinct from kicking in. Craning your neck, you blinked and scrubbed at your eyes. There was no way you were looking up at your boyfriend. No way that he had you cradled in his arms in the most delicate hold you had ever experienced.
“Shuji?”
“Yeah, princess, it’s me. Need you to sit here f’me, alright?” He rasped, voice affected by some emotion you couldn’t quite place.
Cool porcelain met your backside, your body guided upright until you could manage your equilibrium. Hanma Shuji was here, in your apartment, in your bathroom. Rummaging through your medicine cabinet and looking for god knows what.
A bath. He could at least run you a warm bath and rid you of the smell of sweat and sickness from your pretty skin. Methodically, he worked to fill the tub and added a few splashes of some scented shit that smelled familiar from your cabinet. Shuji dutifully peeled the pyjamas and underwear from your body and threw them in the hamper with a mind to run a load for you if he remembered.
Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe your twisted fever-induced dreams had shifted away from the nauseatingly vibrant images you had experienced only a few hours ago to this muted peaceful scene. It was a nice thought, but no, this was reality and not one you ever thought you’d experience.
A hand from behind your head came into view, a hand you knew immediately, not just by the stark black kanji inked against golden skin but the length of his slender fingers and the slight yellowish stain from the cigarettes he smoked. He handed you a soapy washcloth, which you gratefully accepted, wiping it across your body and sluffing off the grim that had caked you over the course of the last few days.
It was heaven, pure and simple, and when you thought it couldn’t get any better, Shuji surprised you once more. He gently tilted your head back, your eyes met his, and you smiled in adoration at the concentration evident on his face seconds before he began wetting your hair with the jug you kept on the edge of the bath.
“You don’t have to… Shu, I can take care of my hair once I’m better.”
Shuji clicked his tongue against his teeth in admonishment, but he held back from scolding you further for not trusting him with this small task. He washed his own damn hair, so washing yours wasn’t going to be some impossible task. His fingers worked in the suds of your shampoo into a thick lather, digging deep against your scalp and massaging firmly enough to elicit moans of bliss.
Normally such noises would make him hard, but right now it only raised a genuine smile. This was possibly one of the most intimate things he had ever done for you. Never mind all those times he had rearranged your insides or made slow, passionate love to you. No, this was on a whole other level, and he liked it–more than he ever believed he would.
You must have dozed off whilst he shampooed and conditioned your hair because the next thing you were aware of was being lifted from the bath and wrapped in a thick fluffy towel that draped past your toes. Shuji returned you to your bedroom but paused in where to deposit you, his nose wrinkled in distaste at the mess of sheets that most definitely needed to be washed and changed. Eventually, he planted your feet on the plush rug by the bottom of your bed, one which his knees were intimately familiar with and helped towel dry your body from head to foot.
“Put these on, baby. Imma strip your bed, do you have another set?” He asked with a kiss to your temple, handing you a clean set of yellow pyjamas with little ducks covering them from your dresser drawer.
Nodding sleepily, you pointed to the wicker storage box in the far corner before stepping into the pj pants and clumsily covering yourself with the top that bagged just enough that you could truthfully forgo the pants if you wanted.
You watched in amusement as the man known far and wide as both a talented photographer and sometimes enforcer for certain well-connected friends changed your bedding. His tall frame made it easy for him to manipulate the fitted sheet into place and wrangle a clean duvet cover on your kingsize duvet. This shitty task would have taken you nearly half an hour by yourself, but he managed in only ten.
“Need to dry my hair,” you yawned, leaning your face on his bicep and gratefully folding into his body when his arm snaked around your waist. He looked lost again, and you took pity on him. This kind of care was not his forte, but he didn’t know that all of this meant more to you than you could verbalise in your current state.
“I’ll wait for you in the living room. Take your time, alright?” With a final kiss to your forehead, he rounded the door of your bedroom and was gone from sight.
Shuji tried to sit still whilst the sound of your hairdryer filled his ears, but he was never one to sit idly by. He thought back on the times he had been sick as a kid with no one to really care for him and the things he would have wished for. In truth, a hot bath, clean clothes and a full stomach were all he ever wanted.
He was no cook, but he got by. A can of chicken soup caught his attention as he scanned your cupboards and set about warming it up on the stovetop. Your bread was still fresh, and he found butter in the fridge. He could do this. He could be the caring boyfriend when he wanted and though he had never felt inclined before, you were different.
You didn’t blow up his phone looking for sympathy or attention–no–you had tried to tough it out much like he had growing up, and it further sparked the flicker of kindred spirit that he felt about you. He wanted to protect you. There was no sense of obligation, and that made the difference. You were the first person he had loved outside of himself, and you reciprocated unconditionally.
You took the man he was, the boy he had been and loved every part of him, flaws and all. Shuji could do the same for you, and he vowed that the next time one of you fell sick, you’d be living together and there would be no need to guess that something was wrong.
So engrossed in sentimental thoughts that were still rather foreign to him, Shuji didn’t notice the hairdryer cut off nor the sound of your bare feet padding in search of him. It wasn’t until two small arms wound around his waist that he noticed or acknowledged your presence at all.
“What did I do to deserve you, Hanma Shuji?” You sobbed wetly into the shirt covering his back. Your emotions were overwhelming you, head still stuffy from whatever sickness had beat your ass the past few days, coupled with the domesticity of watching him cook for you. Tears streaked towards your cheeks, and you smushed your face deeper into him in an attempt to halt the flow.
He chuckled whilst continuing to stir the soup. “I know a lot of people that would say you must have been real bad in a past life to have ended up with me as a boyfriend.”
You sniffled and mustered every ounce of strength–barely anything–to smack him for that comment. “Shut up, you ass. Don’t spoil it.”
Shuji turned slowly. The amused expression softening in the face of your soppy, pathetic face that he couldn’t possibly adore any more, and he raised a hand to thumb away your tears. Enfolding you fully into his arms, he cooed softly against your freshly dried hair and smiled at the scent that was uniquely you had returned to your skin.
“I want you to know that I would do anything for you. Not only would I rip apart this entire fucking world if someone dared hurt you.” He enthused before his tone softened with a quiet exhale as if he were about to whisper some unspoken secret. “But I’ll also bathe you when you need the help, and I’ll feed you when you’re hungry. For you, there is nothing too much.”
#delirious writes#hanma x reader#shuji x reader#hanma shuji x reader#hanma fluff#shuji fluff#soft shuji
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hello, hello! can i request a blurb where carlos and reader have moved in together and are having a housewarming party. they’ve invited a couple drivers over and lando tries to use the fancy hermes blanket on the couch and reader gasps! "what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?" "it's for show!" "oh for the love of god-" you’d do it amazingly 🫶🏼 thank you!
—coming home
carlos sainz x reader
love, mackie... hi nonnie!! this turned into exactly how I needed to spend my evening (my day was quite literally from hell.) and this ran a little longer than a blurb at 1.3k words! regardless, I hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing it (and listening to lots of Spanish music)
There wasn’t much that was easy about blending the home decor styles of you and your boyfriend. For every item that Carlos fell in love with, you had an equal and opposite styled piece that you were in love with. From the herringbone floors to the tall white walls, it seemed that everything in the place was a direct contrast of the other. Quiet luxury and old money and neon signs and maximalist paint swatches, it was almost an entire year before the two of you finally allowed guests to come over (which–by the way–was a direct conflict to one of the major reasons the two of you decided to move in together in the first place: hosting friends and family without arguing over who would be doing the hosting).
The week following the Spanish Grand Prix felt like the perfect time to finally show your home off to the people you loved most; everyone was already in Barcelona for Carlos, an hour and change flight or a two and a half hour train ride wouldn’t kill any of them, not when half of them had to make their way back to the capital.
That’s how it all cumulated into the night of all nights. The coffee table books are surrounded by half full, mis-matched wine glasses on old Spanish tile coasters (a compromise the two of you had made over the intricate hand painted ceramic that previously adorned the kitchen walls). The record player in the corner of the room stutters its way through Carlos’ dusty Boleros In Trío vinyl while the bluetooth speaker in the kitchen serenades listeners with the sounds of Sebastian Yatra.
Everytime Carlos enters a room, he flips the lightswitch on. You follow behind him turning the overheads back off, opting for the warm yellow lamp light and the colors of the city beyond the bistro-themed balcony. He burns a candle on the stack of decorative books, something with tobacco and cocoa and brandy and–jasmine, maybe? He always picks candles with jasmine, so you might just be imagining the smell out of habit.
And you, and him. The two of you so terribly settled into the domesticity of your shared lives, the air of love in every corner of the home. He appears in the kitchen in a warm breeze, reaching over your arm to grab a slice of chorizo from the tapas platter on the counter in front of you. He kisses your cheek when he does it, undoubtedly in hopes of distracting your hand from smacking his. “¿Tienes frío, mi amor?” Are you cold, my love? He peruses around the bite of food.
“¿No porque?” No, why? You ask, pressing the back of your hand against your cheek to feel the temperature of your own skin.
“Lando sigue y sigue sobre tener frío,” Lando is going on and on about being cold, he explains. “Estaba empezando a pensar que me estaba volviendo loco.” I was starting to think I was going crazy.
You laugh. If anything but temperate, you’re warm, working around the kitchen perfectly plating a platter for your friends and family to snack on. “Bueno, creo que Lando ha perdido la cabeza,” Well, I think Lando has lost his mind. Carlos chuckles, gives you another passing kiss as he moves behind you around the island. “¿Encontrarle una manta, sin embargo?” Find him a blanket, though? You ask. He nods through a chew, holds his thumb up as he backs out of the room—you wonder how he managed to sneak another bite of food past you.
You appear with the tray of snacks, chorizo with ham and cheese and bread, croquetas and patatas bravas and tigres. If it’s all as good as it was when you’d tested the menu last weekend, your company won’t even realize that you and Carlos aren’t serving them an actual meal this evening. Everyone hastily moves their coasters and glasses and Carlos moves the stack of books from the coffee table to the entertainment center, hovers behind you as you set the heavy platter down just in case you need him.
You find your seat next to Carlos on one of the sofas, know that he hates that people are eating on his new couches. He’d researched them for months–months–before finally deciding on the ones that had been delivered last month as a replacement to the ones from your old apartment.
You notice Lando is still blanketless, still dramatically letting a shiver run up his entire body every ten minutes. “Güey,” you say, and half the room looks up from their conversation, Lando’s eyes meeting yours. “If you are cold still, get a blanket.”
“Ay yai yai, pollita, relax,” he quips back in a thick, feigned Spanish accent. Carlos snorts and you meet Lando with your middle finger, an old friend of his. When you look to your boyfriend to meet his dumb chuckle with the same fate, he’s not even paying attention to the conversation. Instead, he picks at the bottom of a shelf hung on the wall above the two of you. It holds his trophy from Silverstone, a picture of him and Caco, a small jar full of incense sticks (maybe the jasmine you smell), which he has stuck a tiny Spanish flag into, and a picture of you and he following his win. The smiles on both your faces are so horribly cheek-aching that you can almost feel the phantom soreness when you look at it.
You watch as Lando reaches over another friend with a quiet excuse me. You can see the thought process happening behind his eyes, in his path for the blanket draped over the back of Carlos’ brand new couch. It’s like watching the world’s lowest stakes car crash.
“Carlos,” you whisper. “Carlos, él va por la cobija,” he’s going for the blanket, you say through gritted teeth, nudging your boyfriend to deal with his friend. He ignores you, still focused on the bottom of the shelf and the single splinter that shoots off it. “Carlos,” you say, this time with more force.
“¿Qué?” You finally get his eyes, nodding over to Lando, who is currently unfolding the Hermés throw blanket Carlos’ mother had gifted the two of you upon signing your lease. “Ay! Cabrón! No,” he finally says, standing up from his seat and moving to take the blanket from Lando, who looks on in utter confusion as Carlos refolds the throw and moves down the hallway.
“What the fuck?” He asks you through a meek chuckle.
“We don’t use that blanket,” you explain, and he looks even more confused than before.
“You… hu–what?” He laughs, with more confidence in his confusion than before. “Why is there a blanket on the couch if it can’t be used?”
You sigh, your eyes rolling behind closed lids. “It’s for decoration.”
“It’s for decoration?” You nod, just as Carlos appears from the hall again, usable blanket in tow, expensive throw likely put away in your shared bedroom. He hands it to Lando. “It’s for decoration,” the Brit teases.
Carlos shrugs, holds his hands up in defense in the return to his seat beside you. “Rule maker,” he says, pointing to you with a thumb before shifting it to himself, “rule follower.”
You laugh, adjusting to the sink of the cushion brought on by Carlos’ weight on the couch, your fingers finding the hair at the nape of his neck without even the beginnings of a thought. Lando groans, pointing to you, “whipped,” and then to Carlos, “whipped… but more.”
“Stellar delivery there, cabrón,” you smile. “No stutter or anything.”
Carlos exhales a sharp laugh, his shoulders bouncing silently. Across the coffee table, Lando, curled up in a fluffy blanket like a toddler staying up past their bed-time to hang out with Mom and Dad’s friends, flips you off and is sure to properly enunciate his silently mouthed fuck you.
#carlos sainz#carlos sainz blurb#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz fluff#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz jr#lando norris#f1 blurb#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1#f1 fanfic#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz drabble#carlos sainz fic#scuderia ferrari
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Buddie Hiatus Fic Rec - Month 7Nov 16 - Dec 15
0-5k
share this hour of make-believe by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck
Gen | 1.2k
quarantine finds eddie sharing a bed with a pillow-thief and sleep-talker. he minds less than he thinks.
In my defence I was left unsupervised by Spotsandsocks / @spotsandsocks
Mature | 1.3k
Buck gets bored and decides on a new look, he may have doubts about the end result but Eddie’s having thoughts, interesting thoughts.
moth to a flame by brewrosemilk / @gayhoediaz
Teen | 1.7k
Eddie’s kiss is so gentle that Buck aches.
coax the cold right out of me by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz
Teen | 2.6k
“You know,” Eddie begins, running his fingers through Buck’s damp, frizzy curls, “when I booked this cabin for the weekend, I had plans for us to fuck real nasty by the fire.”
I’ll be anybody but me by justhockey
Not rated | 3.4k
Just one single moment, and his house of cards almost came tumbling down. Buck shouldn’t be surprised though, he’s never been much of a magician; no matter how hard he tries, he’s never been able to make himself disappear.
The spaces in between by sparkles_stars
Teen | 4.4k
Buck and Eddie get curiously domestic, pine a little, and ultimately - with sweetness and light - get together.
5k-10k
in the rough draft, [s]he loved you by iinryer / @iinryerGeneral audiences | 5.3k
during the flight home to LA, eddie tries to write down some things he wants to say to buck
reachin for me (makin love to someone else) by inbetweenthestacks / @organizedstardustExplicit | 8.3k
Buck says Eddie’s name while having sex with Natalia.
I wanna spend my forever like that by wikiangela / @wikiangelaGeneral Audience | 8.6k
Eddie catches a cold and stubbornly denies he's sick, while a fondly exasperated Buck is trying to take care of him.
Friends Don't by chronicallystendan
Teen | 8.7k
Eddie and Buck have always been closer than most best friends and it's never bothered them, but lately they've been starting to wonder if there might be more than just friendship between them.
10k-20k
Claxons and Silver Bells by catwalksalone
Teen | 10.5k
Eddie dies. Only someone, somewhere is willing to give him a second chance. All he has to do is figure out where he went wrong the first time around.
Don't Listen When I Scream by devirnis / @devirnis
Mature | 10.9k
The man shoves Buck into the chair. Picking a hunting knife up from the tray, he points it at Eddie. “If you fight back or try to escape, I will slit his throat before you can even blink. Understand?”
Why Not Take All of Me? by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars
Mature | 13.2k
When a small disaster strikes the morning of Maddie and Chimney's wedding, Buck, Hen, and Chim find themselves unwittingly caught up in an emergency across town, while Maddie and Eddie get stuck in an elevator.
it hurts to hope for more by 42hrb
Mature | 15.6k
Buck wants to be a dad, it takes a couple break-ups and a major non-romantic heartbreak for him to figure out that maybe he already is.
30k +
you still make sense to me by farfromthstars / @buckactuallys
Mature | 31.1k
eddie is ready for a new relationship – but why does it never feel right? buck has a lot to work through, and doing that comes with a few realizations.
and here, too, am i by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars
Teen | 41.1k
Six months into their marriage, Eddie is still struggling to decide whether or not he wants more kids, when he knows Buck does. The universe may not scream, but it certainly talks.
Both Blade and Branch by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars
Mature | 62.8k
The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.
Month 1 (May 15 - June 15)
Month 2 (June 16 - July 15)
Month 3 (July 16 - August 15)
Month 4 (August 16 - September 15)
Month 5 (September 16 - October 15)
Month 6 (October 16 - November 15)
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Potential series(?)
Scott Pilgrim - Dating Gideon Graves Headcanons
He wasted no time in asking you out
He first saw you at a massive party; in the ocean of people dancing and chatting, for some reason you just caught his eye
He found out who you were via Julie, who knows everyone ofc
He approached you with full confidence and asked you out flatly
He had a really messed up backup plan if you said no, but thankfully you said yes
The first date (and many dates after that) took place at a five-star restaurant, followed up with a movie in a private theater
He refuses to let you drive anywhere by yourself; he hires a private chauffeur just for you
He doesn’t like you working (unless you can work from home), one: because he wants you to be available for him 24/7, and two: because he wants to be the provider in the relationship
He really likes wearing the pants in the relationship
You’ll have to fight for it if you want dominance in any given situation
His love languages are showering you with expensive gifts and doing bougie stuff with you
Fancy restaurants, trying on everything in the Gucci store, helicopter flights, buying gold like it’s gas station gum…
And high society parties, naturally
He loves dressing you up all nice and showing you off to his billionaire friends
He also loves talking trash with you about said billionaire friends as soon as they walk away
He’s toxic like that,,
You guys don’t really do too much “normal” couple stuff
He doesn’t like holding hands or being all domestic
He prefers your ridiculously expensive (and hence abnormal) life as the 1%
He does like smooches though
His favorite place to kiss you is your lips, but he also might kiss your forehead/hair if he’s trying to avoid messing up your makeup
He takes you everywhere with him, so you’ll get to travel a lot (and spend hours in boring meetings…)
It’s not often that you guys end up asleep in the same bed at the same time, but if you are he’ll absolutely cuddle with you
He also likes to cuddle when alone on long flights or when watching anime together
He’s the big spoon—he’s not going to argue about it
Nicknames for you include “doll,” “babe,” “sugarplum,” “sweetheart,” and “princess”
He likes to be called by his first name, “my prince/king,” or “big man”
All in all it’s not the most affectionate or emotional relationship, but if Gideon likes you then he REALLY likes you and he’s not going to give you up anytime soon
Take that as a blessing and a curse…
You may or may not end up being cryogenically frozen
Thank you so much for reading!! I might make this a series if y’all are interested (maybe for characters outside Scott Pilgrim too)!
Take care lovelies!! <33
(divider by saradika)
#scott pilgrim#scott pilgrim takes off#spto#scott pilgrim takes off x reader#spto x reader#gideon graves#gideon graves x reader
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Caught In The Bliss | Lucy Bronze x Reader
pt. III of the Lucy fic. a little angst... a little suggestive... a lot of fluff
hopefully the different moments and progression of their situation makes sense. I've enjoyed this whole Lucy fic... so I hope you do too :)
pt. I | pt. II
It has been eight months. Eight months since you told Lucy that the two of you shouldn’t get caught up in bliss, and then doing exactly that. Eight months of first times and stolen moments, vulnerability and comfort, and pure joy. You couldn’t remember the last time before Lucy where you felt so genuinely happy.
The first time you make an effort to give things a try is a month after you left her in a Tilburg hotel room. You were fighting hard to let whatever happened between you two stay in the past, but Lucy refused it. Flight information for a long weekend in Barcelona popping up randomly on your phone in the middle of the day. A text attached, ‘I’ve got a free weekend coming up. Make some time, I’ll see you then’.
A week later you were on a flight to Barcelona to spend five days with the defender. She greeted you at the airport like one of those videos of long-distance couples meeting after time apart. Arms around your waist, spinning you with a joyous smile on her face. “I knew you would come,” she tells you, planting a kiss on your flushed cheeks.
The whole trip felt like a fever dream. Frankly, it all scared the hell out of you. Lucy was so domestic in her actions around her apartment. She had made room for your things to go in drawers, even though you assured her it was fine to stay in your suitcase. She would wake up in the morning and pull you closer, asking for just five more minutes of cuddles. You’d cook breakfast together everyday, well you’d cook and she’d give you kisses while wrapping her arms around you at the stove. You’d send her off to training while you did some work from her apartment.
Then she lets it slip that you were meant to be her date to a teammates birthday dinner over the weekend. You spend way too much time thinking of what it means if you meet her friends. Did that mean she had told them about you? Were the two of you at that point, admittedly you had definitely talked endlessly about her to yours, but that was different right?
“Don’t be nervous,” Lucy squeezes at your hand.
“What if they don’t like that I can’t speak Spanish well?”
“I speak it well enough for both of us,” another squeeze.
“What if they don’t want some random lady at their party?”
“I want you here,” she assures you.
“What if they don’t like me?”
“Baby girl, look at me,” Lucy stops in her journey to the front door, turning you to face her. “You will be fine. They will like you and even if for some crazy reason they don’t it will still be okay. Do you know why?” You shake your head, “it will be okay because I like you and that won’t change.”
Lucy had a way of assuring you, that washed away all your anxiety. She was confident as she walked in the home, a chorus of Spanish greetings reaching your ears. People you had never met were pulling you into hugs and kissing at your cheeks. Lucy’s protective grip around your waist never leaves. She introduced you and with how things were going you half expected her to call you her girlfriend at that moment. You heave a sigh of relief when she sticks with just your name.
The dinner party was very low stress after the initial shock wore off. You spent most of your time under Lucy and sipping wine. The girls made you feel welcomed, Aitana was sweet and chatted your ear off, Mapi reminded you of Lucy with how she would joke around, but your favorite was Patri she had your stomach aching from laughter every time she spoke.
Then there was Alexia, she had a protective nature you liked. She gave Lucia, as she called her, a firm talk about making sure to treat you well. “Alexia is fit,” you tease on your way back to her home.
“Yeah maybe, but I’m still the fittest,” Lucy is sure of herself and you couldn’t deny it.
You leave Barcelona two days later and fall right back into your habit of trying to push her away. You don’t know why, but you are preparing for her to leave you. Trying to protect yourself from the inevitable only creates a frustrated Lucy. Two weeks is all it takes for her to have enough…
It was a normal phone call, you two ended nearly every day talking to each other. An off-handed comment you make causes Lucy to snap. “You will move on by then,” you try to play it off as a joke, but Lucy doesn’t laugh.
“Why do you say things like that?” She sounds genuinely curious when she asks.
You chuckle, “It’s fine Lucy, you can admit it.”“I am trying (y/n),” you can tell she’s tired by her voice.
“Why?”
“What kind of fucking question is that?” this was what you wanted. You could hear the anger in Lucy‘s voice. She was finally going to prove you right.
“I just don’t get it, I’m sure there are plenty of women in Barcelona who will fuck you Lucy. You don’t have to keep flying me out just to get laid.” As usual a poor argument on your end. There had been very little intimacy on your last trip, Lucy opting to fill your nights with conversation.
She huffs, composing herself before she speaks, “this is a joke right? You are having a laugh.”
“Not everything is a joke. Tell me why? Why do you care to try Lucy?” There’s silence on the other end.
“Jesus,” Lucy finally sighs, “she really did you in. She did such a number on you that you can’t even see when someone might actually care about you.”
It felt like a low blow for her to bring up your ex, she knew it still hurt. “Fuck you Lucy. Next time you want someone to fuck just call your little teammate and leave me alone.”
“Yeah, fuck me,” you hear her say right before you disconnect the call.
You feel nothing immediately after. However, a Lucy sized hole carves itself into your heart over the following days when you don’t hear from her. You know you miss her, but pride refused to let you text her first.
Two weeks. That’s how long she makes you wait before you finally hear from her. As usual flight information and a short message, ‘sorry I got upset. I want to talk it out in person. Please come baby girl’.
A shorter stay this time only for the weekend. You didn’t reply to her message, but you never doubted if you would be on that plane. Lucy was addictive. She could tell you to meet her halfway across the world and you would go.
She’s waiting for you at baggage claim again, she knew just like you did that you would be there. There’s no exciting reunion this time. She just grabs your bag and offers her hand silently.
The drive is tense and there’s no hand resting on your thigh like usual. Soft music floats through the car as she travels the Barcelona roads you are becoming familiar with.
“I’ve missed you,” she finally breaks the stalemate once you’ve reached the confines of her home. “I’m sorry for not reaching out. I just needed to think a minute.”
“Okay,” you whisper, afraid of what conclusion all her thinking brought her to.
“I’m trying because I care. I’m trying because I like you. Maybe it’s hard to believe, but that night we met is still my favorite memory of you. I saw you dancing with your friends and you looked so carefree. I was mesmerized by you. Every moment since then I’ve been hooked on you. What I said…about her doing a number on you was wrong. I just want you to see that I’m not looking to do that to you. I don’t fly you out here for a good lay and I don’t know what you meant about sleeping with my teammate, but I swear I’m not. There’s no one else I’m interested in sharing these moments with. I’m not looking to play around (y/n).”
You’re unsure if she even meant to say all that. She looks a bit shocked at herself. You on the other hand are barely keeping it together. You take a few tentative steps in her direction and she is quick to grab hold of you. Her strong arms wrapping around you as you let yourself break.
“I’m scared of how happy you make me. I’m scared you will leave,” you’re sobbing and if it was anyone else seeing you like this you’d feel ashamed at how weak you look, but it was Lucy. Lucy who only pulled you closer and leaned down to attempt to kiss away every tear as they fell. Lucy, who had been nothing but gentle with you from the moment she took you home.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby girl. Just please stop trying to push me away.”
That was probably the worst and best time during the past eight months. You learned a lot about yourself through being vulnerable with Lucy. She was patient with you as you worked to be able to trust her. She listened when you just wanted to vent and gave you space when everything became too much.
You were falling, and it took you three months to realize it. Every weekend trip, every dinner date, every phone call, every quickie in airport bathrooms, it was all perfect because it was with her. Your mind told you to run, but your heart craved more. You wanted the fairytale to last forever.
Five months in and Lucy was finally visiting you in Amsterdam this weekend. It was only for two days, but you planned to make the most of it. You were getting ready for dinner at your favorite place, followed by a night on the town. “What color ya wearing?” Lucy asks, walking into your room in just a sports bra and shorts.
It felt intentional, she knew exactly what she was doing as your eyes drank her in, “b-black,” you reply meekly. Lucy hums, turning to rummage through her luggage. That view does nothing to slow your filthy thoughts, “we don’t have to go,” you suggest.
“What?” Lucy laughs, looking over her shoulder and noticing your state.
You really didn’t want to explain, “we can stay in. We should stay in, order takeaway.”
She pouts, “but I wanna match outfits with you and hold hands as we walk through Amsterdam.” She’s teasing and you know it.
“That’s very cute, but you walk in here like that and now all I want to eat is you.” Lucy’s jaw drops, eyes darkening as she takes two calculated steps to get to you in a hurry, “but if dinner is what you want I’ll get ready.” You slide past her to your wardrobe.
Lucy molds her body against your back. You can feel every ripple, and you have to suppress a moan at the feeling, “that can be dessert.” She licks along the shell of your ear causing your knees to wobble, she was definitely better at the teasing game than you were.
Once you arrive you are a bit embarrassed by the fancy restaurant you chose, it felt very date-y. Well technically it was a date, but it felt like a place for couples and that’s not what you and Lucy are. You don’t actually have a single clue what you and Lucy are.
“This was a good choice, I like it here.” Lucy grabs at your hand across the table, your worries eased instantly.
“(y/n)!” You recognize the voice calling you, hand stiffening in Lucy’s. The panic sets in Lucy’s eyes immediately as she run’s a thumb across the back of your hand. “I thought that was you,” the girl says, reaching the table.
“Hi,” you reply politely, eyes flicking up to take in the sight of your ex who you hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime. She hadn’t changed. You used to melt under her intense gaze in the best way possible, but now all you feel is insecurity.
“Look at you. How have you been?” You straighten up at her words, removing your hand from Lucy’s grip. You begin to fuss over yourself, fixing out your hair and brushing down your already straightened top. A terrible habit you had fallen into while dating her.
“Good, yeah good,” you respond. You can’t look towards Lucy, you know she is judging you. You can feel the piercing gaze, burning into you.
A hand reaches for your shoulder, “you look good. Amazing actually, what are your plans later?” she squeezes and your whole body tenses.
You go to respond, but Lucy beats you to it, “I’m Lucy,” she nearly shouts.
“Okay?” your ex brushes off barely sparring her a glance before her eyes are boring back into you.
“We have plans and you are interrupting our dinner,” Lucy presses on.
Finally picking up on the situation, your ex looks back and forth between the two of you before laughing, “oh this is a date. Sorry to interrupt, just call me when you get done with…that yeah?”
You don’t know why, but you nod as she walks away. “Let’s go,” Lucy commands as the waiter returns with her card. She makes her way to your side of the table, gently pulling back your chair and wrapping your coat around you. If it wasn’t for nearly being able to see the steam coming from her ears you would think everything was fine.
She grips your hand, a calming thumb stroking along the back as you stand waiting for the valet to bring your car, “I’m sorry,” you tell her just as they pull up. Lucy furrows her brow, but doesn’t respond, opening the door and ushering you inside before hopping in the driver seat.
“Look at me,” your glossy eyes meet hers. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m just upset I couldn’t do more baby girl. I’m upset she ruined a great night, but not at you. Never at you. You are perfect.”
“The night isn’t ruined, we still have dessert right?”
Lucy smirks, dropping her hand to your thigh and gripping firmly. It stays there the whole drive, occasionally moving up to brush against your center.
The moment you enter your apartment Lucy has you pressed up against a wall, teeth nipping at your neck. “I didn’t like it.”
“What?” You question, attempting to stretch your neck to give her more access.
“The way she looked at you. I didn’t like the way she looked at what is mine,” Lucy is fevered in her movements, a moan falling from your mouth at her words. Lips moving to devour yours in a needy kiss. Hers, you love the way that sounds.
“Tell me again,” you pull away stroking gently at her cheek to calm her movements. “Tell me I’m yours.”
Lucy smiles, softening as she pecks your lips, “you are mine baby girl.”
There was a shift after the weekend she spent in Amsterdam. You didn’t wonder what you and Lucy were doing anymore, it was blatantly clear. There was no question about it, you were actively dating the Barcelona defender. While it was news to you, it seemed she had known that much longer.
From then on, every Monday morning like clock work there would be a flower delivery. A sweet note attached telling you to have a good week. Your days would be full of cute and flirty text. Every night ended with you curled up in one of her hoodies and a phone call that always kept you up too late.
You were done fighting it. This was so much better than anything you could have imagined. You were introduced to new sides of Lucy. The passionate side, the shy side, aggressive, motivated, focused, all these different parts of her that made her whole. Your favorite was jealous Lucy. The distance flared this side a bit more. You’d seen it before on her trip here but over the phone it was just adorable.
“Who else was there?” Lucy cuts your story off to ask her question.
“No one. Why?”
“So it was a date? She asked you on a date?” She presses on and you try to gauge if she’s serious.
“No,” you keep your answer short.
Lucy grumbles, “I don’t like it.”
“You don’t like what?”
“Her.”
You hold in your laugh. You were in the middle of telling Lucy how your new coworker asked you to lunch to get to know one another. “She didn’t do anything to you Luce.”
“She took you on a date. That’s my responsibility not hers,” her statement is firm and you melt.
“Babe,” well that was new. You try to control the panic after the term of endearment slips for the first time. “It wasn’t a date and if it was in her mind it was the world's most boring date.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. No dates unless they are with you,” you send her a wink through FaceTime. “Even if I have to go all the way to Barcelona to have it.”
Lucy watches you silently for a moment, “you can just move out here and I’ll take you out every night if you want,” she shrugs as if it’s a casual thing.
This was an ongoing conversation, she always brought it up. Never in a pressuring way, just an if you wanted to, you could kind of way. You’d thought about it. You’d thought a whole lot about it, but last time you stayed in a city for someone you were dating it didn’t turn out great. You weren’t eager to run off and do it again.
“I like when you called me that,” Lucy changes the topic seeing the wheels turning in your head.
Your cheeks blush knowing exactly what she meant, but you feign ignorance, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t baby girl. Just know I liked it a lot,” you nod grateful she’s letting you off the hook. A soft smile rests on both of your faces, just staring at one another for a while. As soon as the smirk begins to spread across her face you prepare for the cheeky comment, “tell me what you’re wearin.”
The drop in her voice makes you laugh, “you can’t ask that on facetime where you can quite literally see what I am wearing. I thought you were better at this.”
“I just wanted to hear you laugh,” she shrugs, leaning back on her bed and letting out a yawn.
“Get some sleep,” you whisper out.
“Not sleepy,” she mumbles. She never wanted to be the reason the call ended, always finding a reason to prolong it.
You chuckle, “yeah I know, but I am. I will text you in the morning, yeah?”
“Fine,” Lucy tries her best to sound mad. “Good night, beautiful.”
You smile so hard it hurts your cheeks, “good night babe.” Lucy flushes, the childlike smile taking over her face showing her pure joy at the term. She nods, refusing to hang up and waiting for you to do it.
There was nothing you could do, you had to accept the fact you were at Lucy’s mercy. After eight months your heart was hers to break and you couldn’t even begin to think what that actually meant.
You talked to Alexia via Instagram, you wanted to plan something for Lucy for a change. A surprise, but you needed help and she seemed like the most logical option. You hadn’t seen Lucy in person since she last came to see you. Three months felt like such a long time at this point.
Alexia picks you up from the airport, and you’re nervous. You didn’t necessarily know her that well, but you were happy she was willing to help. You get in her car and she drops a package in your lap, “a gift,” she says in her thick Spanish accent.
You pull back the paper wrapping and pull out the Barcelona jersey. BRONZE adorning the back makes you blush, “thank you.”
“I know you want Alexia on back, but Lucia will be mad,” she jokes and it does well to calm your nerves.
Barcelona played tonight and you hadn’t seen Lucy play since the night in Tilburg. Alexia drops you at her apartment and introduces you to her girlfriend. She lets you know she will take you to the game seeing how Alexia had to be there early.
The atmosphere of the Barcelona match was even more exciting than the first match you attended. As usual you watch only her from the moment she steps out the tunnel, definitely the fittest. Again it’s not until the teams line up and Alexia points in your general direction that Lucy notices you.
When your eyes lock with hers it feels like time stops. You can’t decipher what the look on Lucy’s face means, but you’re very sure what the racing of your heart means. You couldn’t say those three words, but you know they were true. It seems like Lucy finally snaps out of her trance and she sends you a wink.
Several times throughout the match you catch her gaze drifting your way. Every time she lifts her shirt to wipe sweat from her face she makes sure she’s turned your way. Your core clenching each time, but then you quickly feel jealousy rise at everyone else getting to see that as well. “Jesus,” you mumble frustrated at the arousal you feel.
The match couldn’t end quick enough for you. It feels like Lucy is taking her time going around and greeting fans just to torture you. It’s embarrassing how turned on you were at a football match. When you finally see her head back you are quick to text her, ‘hurry up please!’
Her response is cheeky of course, no words just two simple emojis, 😏💦. You're sure Alexia’s girlfriend thinks you're a psycho. Nearly bouncing in your seat on your way to meet up with Lucy at her apartment.
You see her car pull up and nearly sprint to it after saying your thanks. Lucy goes to get out, but you are quick to open the back door and throw your luggage in, “do NOT get out yet.”
“Hi baby girl. What a surprise,” Lucy’s cocky smirk resting on her face as you slide in.
“I didn’t like it,” you copy her words, pulling her into your lips by the strings of her hoodie. Your hand slides up the front resting against her abs that she flexes under your touch.
She tries to take control of the kiss, darting her tongue in your mouth only briefly before pulling away, “What didn’t you like, baby girl?”
“Keep your shirt down next time. There’s already enough videos of these out there,” you tell her running a hand down her stomach.
“Oh, have you been watching edits again?”
“Shut it, hi babe surprise,” you blush realizing you hadn’t even properly greeted her. You take a deep breath, calming yourself from the lust that took over you during the match.
“Hi beautiful. Feeling alright?” You nod accepting the kiss she puts on your forehead. “Come on, let's get inside.”
Lucy carries your bag as she guides you towards the apartment. Your nose is hit with the overwhelming scent of Lucy the moment the door opens and you realize how much you’ve missed it. You wish you could bottle it and take it back with you when you leave or better yet never have to leave. “How was the flight? Are you tired? Have you eaten? Sorry it’s messy.”
Lucy speaks rapidly until you walk into her arms, wrapping yours around her neck, “I’m fine, everything is perfect. I’m just happy to be here.”
“Sorry, it just doesn’t feel real that you’re here. I’ve missed you. I nearly ran off the pitch when Alexia pointed you out.”
“I thought we were long overdue for some date nights and cuddles. Did I ruin any plans you had by coming unexpectedly?” You place a kiss on her lips as her hands trail up your sides.
“You do know I would cancel every plan just to spend even an hour with you right?”
“You have to stop saying things like that…”
“But I mean it. I can’t explain to you how I felt when I looked up and saw you today,” she’s giving you that smile that caused all this. The one that made you absolute putty in her hands.
“Lucy…” it’s said like a warning. You can feel yourself close to slipping. A confession you were so sure of, but scared to admit.
“(Y/n),” she gives right back, pulling you closer. You fight it by taking a step out of her grip. Those eyes and that smile were too much for you. “It’s okay, you know.”
It feels like your heart stops. She knows, of course she knows. It was like she always knew what you were thinking before you even had time to process it. “I can’t do this.”
“No,” Lucy’s voice is firm. She makes her way back to you, a gentle touch placed on your waist. “We aren’t doing that anymore, remember? I won’t let you run away baby girl.”
“I’m scared,” you admit. This wasn’t how you planned this trip going, at least not right away. You weren’t supposed to get here and feel all these things. She wasn’t supposed to look at you like you were the most precious thing and smile at you like you were the only person capable of bringing her joy.
“It’s okay to be scared, but don’t shut me out. Let’s be scared together because you aren’t the only one,” that catches your attention. Your eyes searching hers for a clue to what she meant. “I’m happy you’re here. Let’s just enjoy it, yeah?”
“I missed you,” you finally relax back in her grip. Lucy could soothe even the wildest of storms within you with just a few words. Her presence and gentle whispers were able to hush every worry and any doubt. Her eyes are a reflection of tranquility.
“Should we go out for dinner?”
You shake your head, “no, let's stay in.” You didn’t want to share her with anyone. You selfishly wanted every single bit of her attention to be on you.
“That sounds amazing, baby girl. Why don’t you shower and get settled. I’ll start dinner.” You nod, turning to head towards the bedroom when she grabs your wrist again pulling you back. “Oh, did I mention how good you look with my name on your back?”
“You didn’t have to, I know.” You leave a kiss on her lips before making your way. It’s not until you reach the bedroom that you realize all the pieces of you scattered about her apartment. The hair products on the dresser exactly where you left them, the skincare essentials lined up next to hers, your hoodie across the bed that she clearly wore the night before. What used to be one drawer of your things that went back home with you had turned into you nearly having your own side of the dresser.
You head to the shower to stop the racing thoughts of when that even happened, only to be met with your shampoo resting on the ledge beside hers. You’re about to step in when Lucy enters, “Here baby, a new toothbrush I threw your old one out with mine. I wanted to wait til you got back to open yours. I made sure to get your favorite color this time too, crybaby,” she teases, giving a soft smack to your bum as she slides it in the holder.
You’re speechless. There was nothing you could say right now that wouldn’t be the cheesiest confession you ever made, so you settle for a smile. You were so fucked.
The shower fails at washing away your thoughts. You slip into the hoodie she laid out for you, it was your favorite one of hers. You had sent it back with her when she left Amsterdam because it no longer smelt like her. You take a deep inhale of the fabric as it wraps around you, glad to have it back.
You can smell dinner from the bedroom and head out, “Took you long enough. I was about to send in a search party.” Lucy is focused on her task of setting the table and adding the finishing touches to your meals. Having slipped into shorts and a shirt she clearly went through your bag to find, she looked perfect to you. Glasses perched on her nose and a low bun in her hair, you were sure she never looked this beautiful before.
“Lucy…” you whisper from just inside the doorway.
“Sit, it’s almost ready.”
“Lucy…” you say it a bit louder this time as your voice cracks.
Her eyes immediately focus on you when she hears it and she’s by your side a moment later, “baby girl what is wrong?’
“I am having big feelings right now babe,” you feel the first tear roll down your cheek and wipe at it aggressively. You couldn’t fight it anymore.
“Okay, what do you need from me?” Lucy is cautious, not wanting to make anything worse if space is what you wanted. She was the one who started the whole ‘big feelings’ thing when you were working through trusting her. It was stupid and felt like what you say to a toddler, but it was cute when she said it and allowed you space to be vulnerable.
“I love you,” you hate that your voice cracked when you said it. “I love you more than I thought humanly possible to love another person Lucy. I want you and I want life with you here. I have no clue what you do to me, but I never want it to end.”
Lucy blinks, pulling you close to study you before a smile breaks across her face, “say it again.”
“No,” you are suddenly very aware of the fact you just confessed your feelings and can’t stop the blush of embarrassment.
Lucy kisses at your cheeks, “please baby girl. Just one more time.”
“I. Love. You,” you peck her lips with each word before she holds you close to deepen it.
“I love you too,” Lucy shrugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world to admit. You shove her at the nonchalant attitude, “what? I’ve known I loved you for months now.”
You playfully shove her away from you again, “why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“You weren’t ready to hear that. I was okay keeping it to myself until you were on the same page as me. You’ve had me since the moment I laid eyes on you (y/n).”
You groan, “sorry I made you wait.”
Lucy shrugs again, the same one you found so charming on that first night, “I would’ve waited a lifetime for you baby girl.”
a/n: sorry if there was any mistakes... I feared if I read it one more time I'd end up hating it and starting over lol
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can you write about dave mustaine watching the fem!reader touching herself through a small space in the bedroom door, and then decides to take the reader by surprise and helps her with his big hands?
A/n: I love size differences, maybe because I'm short but just the thought of it even in a domestic sense like cuddling and stuff, I love it. Dave is half a foot taller than me so I very much enjoyed writing this lol
Warnings: Smut, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, squirting, if you think I missed something please let me know otherwise enjoy :3
You had been living with your parents for your whole life, bouncing between jobs but nothing ever seemed to stick. Thankfully, your parents were happy to have you around and understood the situation.
Everyday you would check the newspaper for job openings, you’d walk around town and hand in your resume.
One fateful day you were walking around. You were getting down on yourself pretty hard, all your friends had jobs, some had families. You were trying harder than anyone and it seemed to be getting you nowhere. Of course it just had to start raining.
Without an umbrella your only hope was to find a newspaper stand. There was one nearby and you got a random newspaper to hold over your head as you made your way back home. It wasn’t that far so the paper didn’t get soaked all the way through, you thanked your lucky stars.
You got your shoes off and headed into the kitchen. You fell onto a chair at the dining table and dropped the newspaper onto the table before planting your head beside it, completely drained.
Your mom came over and sat beside you, rubbing your back in a comforting manner. She looked over the newspaper and saw a job citing. “What about this one?” She asked, pointing to the small column asking for a tour manager, someone to help get this band you’ve never heard of what they wanted when they wanted it or something. They were paying a fair price and the criteria seemed easy enough so you gave it a shot and called the number. I man answered, walked you through the interview and like that you were hired.
You’ve now been working with Megadeth, an up and coming thrash metal band, for a few weeks now. You’ve been on tour for a week or two, everything has been going great and you were happy to be with this job. The band was nice, anytime anyone ever gave you any trouble they were right there with you, a group of menacing fellows who weren’t afraid to throw more than a few hits.
You were in your room the night before an early flight. The lead singer of the band had a suit and offered you the spare room because he didn’t want you having to pay for a whole room when he had a perfectly fine empty one, his words. That ‘spare’ room you took was supposed to be the bassists room, for whatever reason he decided to give Dave the whole room.
Whatever the reason you didn’t care all too much, you were more than happy to not have to pay for your own room.
You felt that this was finally working out for you, after all your struggle and hard work you’d finally made something, a good something. While lying in bed you figured you deserved a treat, a reward for doing so good.
You slid your hand under your waistband and into your panties, a nice lacey thing you got for yourself as another treat. Feel good, look good, right?
Your fingers circled your clit and teased your hole. Your body was so hot from the excitement you’d been keeping from it for so long that now every touch just drove you crazy.
Dave’s room was right beside yours, he couldn’t quite hear what you were doing but the walls were thin enough that he could hear you rustling around. There had been times during the tour that you guys had to take a flight, fairy or bus ride through the night and Dave had caught you up at unreasonable hours more than once so he figured it was just that, you couldn’t sleep and were tossing and turning to find a comfortable position that didn’t seem to exist.
He got out of bed and made his way to your room. The door was opened a crack and he could see you moving around on your bed. The way your fingers sunk into your hole, the way your back arched and your legs stretched out. He saw all of that, the way you pleased yourself.
He never planned on admitting it to you, he swears, but he didn’t hire you because of the interview. He hired you because of your voice, he didn’t think a more beautiful voice could exist and he knew your looks would match.
Before the tour started he found himself thinking of you late at night, he’d end up in the same predicament that you were in right now. His underwear bunched around his ankles, legs spread apart as he pumped his hand up and down his shaft.
He was given an opportunity right now as he watched you. He was already hardening in his pants at the idea of helping you get off. Your hands just weren’t cutting it, his hands were bigger, calloused from playing the guitar for years.
He opened the door and let himself in. You immediately went to cover yourself, tugging the blanket over your exposed body as fast as you could but it was far too late.
Dave paid no mind to it and just walked over to the bed as you tried to straighten yourself out. “Davie, I-It’s not what you think, I was just-”
“Shh, just let me help you.” Dave said with a soft smile. He sat beside you on the bed, putting an arm around your shoulder and pulling you to him. He slowly peeled the blanket off of you, revealing your naked body all for him.
Dave moved behind you, letting you lean back against his chest and he wrapped his arms around you. His one hand went to your chest, groping your chest and pinching your nipples while the other went to your cunt.
He toyed with your swollen clit a bit before pushing a finger in you. Your back arched against him and he loved it. He pumped his finger in and out of you, curling inside you and pushing against your gummy walls, searching for that perfect spot that made you see stars. When he found it he made sure to hit it over and over again.
Your mouth fell open in a waterfall of moans. His finger stretched you out more than your own did, the callouses felt so much better as they prodded your sensitive flesh. “Fuck, you’re so pretty.” Dave whispered in your ear. “Just couldn’t get yourself off, could you? Needed help, didn’t you?” You nodded, bucking your hips into his hand.
“Yes! Yes, fuck, yes, please!” You cried, gripping his arm tightly. Dave chuckled at you and stuck another finger into your hole, making your eyes shoot open and roll to the back of your head. Your body shook as it was taken over by climax, one you hadn’t seen coming until it coated your body.
It took you several moments to figure out why Dave was smiling so proudly down at the sheets. It wasn’t until you gained back your composure enough to look and see that you’d squirted all over the hotel mattress, soaking the sheets and comforter. Your eyes widened at the mess but Dave just chuckled. “What a pretty girl.”
#dave mustaine#dave mustaine smut#megadeth#megadeth fanfiction#megadeth smut#dave mustaine x reader#dave mustaine fanfiction#megadeth imagines#megadeth x reader
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Hi. I hope your day is being kind to you. 🙂
For the sentence Ask?
"My ears miss your heartbeat."
With Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) please? If you want.
Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist
A/N: Sorry, this went well over an extra 5 sentences. I guess I really just needed to write.
Warning: Tooth rotting domestic fluff
Word Count: 1.1K
Astarion didn’t make a sound as he slipped through the front door, stilling the bell with his hand before it could alert anyone to his presence.
The shop was completely empty, which would not be unusual at this time of night were it any other shop in town. The owner kept odd hours, not opening until well after sunset, the exception being when his wife managed to stumble down the stairs past noon to take orders. An odd set up, but nobody could deny the craftsmanship and so there was little to grumble about.
Astarion moved through the space with practiced ease, not bothering to light a candle as he moved towards the back room and up a small flight of stairs. He did not so much glance at the rolls of golden thread, or dig around the drawers for where he knew a small fortune of gems and finery could be found and easily pocketed. Such treasures were far from his mind at that moment.
Jumping the last few steps, he easily avoided the small creak of the second to top panel before deftly maneuvering his way through the waiting door.
The barest breath of relief escaped his lips. The entryway was completely dark, only just illuminated by the street lanterns peaking through the barest sliver of heavy curtains. Once again his dark vision proved a blessing as he took a quick look around.
The room was empty of anything other than comfortable but undeniably stylish furniture and the lines of bookshelves full bear to bursting along the walls. He slipped off his boots, placing them gently near the door making it almost comical how silently he could move along the beautifully embroidered rug. It felt like cheating, but then again, since when was he above cheating.
One final door lay in front of him. At his feet he could see the smallest flicker of candle light peaking out from below the door frame. Somebody was still up.
With a grin, he turned the doorknob and slowly pushed the door open.
It was moments like these that cause Astarion to lament not having a more artistic hand. The being before him deserved to be preserved in oils and canvass, marble and stone.
She did not notice him come in. Her clear blue eyes were focused intensely on the page in front of her, her finger moving slowly under the words while her soft lips mouthed them in time. Her hair lay loose about her, a few strands tucked behind her ear. Astarion could just catch the barest hints of white hiding in the field of black, something she would no doubt deny the existence of if he pointed them out. Her dark olive skin seemed to glow in the firelight, but the final detail that make his unbeating heart stir was the fact she was dressed only in his shirt.
On second thought, maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t a painter. He didn’t much like the thought of anyone else gazing on this image but him.
“Hello darling,” he said, softly.
Evie’s head snapped up, her eyes going wide in alarm as her hand gripped the book in her hand as of to throw it. As soon as he caught the quick progression of fear to recognition to annoyance slip across her face he let out a laugh.
“Milil’s tongue Astarion,” she grumbled, snapping her book shut. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”
“Just be happy I’m the one doing it,” he teased, setting down his bag beside the door. “You’re getting slow my love.”
She gave a small pout, but still rolled onto her back, opening her arms to him.
He didn’t need further incentive, launching himself onto the bed causing them both to bounce and his love to laugh. Gods he missed that sound. However, he decided he missed her lips more, kissing her soundly as they both sunk into the too soft mattress.
“Good trip then?” she asked in between his attentions to her mouth.
“Tedious,” he corrected. “Better if you were there.”
“Well if it was so tedious I’m glad I skipped it.”
Astarion gave a huff of annoyance moving his lips across her face and jaw and down towards her neck. He took a deep breath in, the musk of her skin mixing with the perfume of her blood pulsing just below. He could drown in that scent.
“Hungry,” she asked, turning her neck slightly in invitation.
He shook his head pressing a kiss against the fading scars.
“No need darling, just enjoying being home.”
He didn’t need to look up to know she was smiling. He could feel it in the way her hands rubbed up and down his back and brushed the stray hairs at the back of his neck. All the same, he decided to look anyway.
This was his home. Even all these years later, he still had a hard time believing it. He and Evie had all but hung up their adventuring gear and settled in a town just big enough to justify a fine tailor shop. The occasional helpless damsel or bandit gang causing trouble could pull them from their daily routines, but little else. They were both getting older and ready for a place to call their own, something that was denied to them for so long. Even stranger and more wonderful still, Evie had agreed to marry him.
She brushed a stray hair back from his forehead, her fingers tracing down his face before teasing the edge of his ear.
“I missed you, too,” she said, her full love only just tempered by a hint of humor.
He didn’t have the strength to pull away from that perfect touch, and settled kissing her sternum in response.
“I did plenty more than just miss you darling,” he confessed. “There are too many parts of me that miss too many parts of you.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “For example, my lips missed your lips quite a bit.”
“I gathered,” she said with a barely contained laugh. “What else?”
“My hair missed your fingers.”
The corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement as her hand moved slightly up, allowing her fingers to comb slowly through his hair.
Astarion sighed in contentment, settling his head to rest comfortably on her chest.
“Go on my love,” Evie encouraged. “Don’t stop now.”
“My arms missed your warmth,” he said, wrapping himself tighter around her for emphasis. “My nose missed your smell. But if I really had to name it, my ears missed your heart beat the most.”
“And you say you’re not a sentimental,” she teased.
“Exceptions are always made for you my heart.”
She hummed in acknowledgment settling into the sheets, her fingers still running soothingly through his hair.
Astarion feel asleep in her arms as he had done for countless nights and hopefully countless more; safe, loved and truly home.
#astarion#baldur’s gate 3#bg3#astarion x tav#astarion x oc#astarion ancunin#astarion x evie#spawnsong#baldurs gate 3#asexual!tav#bard!tav#astarion ancunin x tav
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I'm so impulsive, got a flight to the east coast already
word count: 1.5k
summary: As Tim sits on the plane, he can only— shit. You're cute.
Three days, four hours, two minutes, and eleven seconds counting.
That's how long Tim's been awake.
Sure, he should do something that isn't flying out for personal business last minute in economy class— but he should also really not be allowed to stay awake for so long. He needs to fly back to Gotham from Jump City, and somehow, for some wretched, cruel twist of fate, he's stuck flying economy class because Bruce is using the private plane for WE business. First class is somehow, cruelly, awfully booked full, and even business class was not let up. Tim Drake, for the first time since birth, is stuck sitting in economy class, cramming with others. He's sure this is payback for being awake for three days without a single nap.
Maybe he'd get kidnapped for ransom on top of it.
"Here's your ticket. You'll be at gate 20." The lady at the register smiles.
Tim has no carry-ons other than his messenger bag, and for the first time in ages, TSA is hell to go through. He waits in line with the rest of the people, hands them his ID, gets a plethora of questions asked to him about why he was flying economy, and finally makes it to the gate. He wonders if he should use his card to check into the VIP lounge, but he has barely any time to think about it, noticing his flight's already about to board.
He ends up being one of the last ones to board, running to his gate and handing them his ticket before entering. God, he needs to get a plane of his own with his inheritance sometime. Flying in economy sounds like the worst experience yet, and sure, he's privileged to say it— but he'd much rather stick to first class or even business at worse.
Though, as he meets eyes with the person he's sitting next to, he pauses.
Oh. Shit. You're cute.
"Awh..." You pout playfully. "And here I thought I'd be able to get three whole seats to myself."
Tim laughs to the best of his ability, sitting next to you and tucking his bag under his seat, yawning as he slouches back.
"Long day?"
"Long week." He mumbles.
"Yeah? Tell me about it." You yawn too, slouching back into your seat. Tim glances at you as you tilt your head at him, curious to see what was his problem. Maybe it would pique your interest. A six-hour flight really doesn't sound that bad, but then again, Tim needs some sort of sleep before he knocks out. Right. Shit. He forgot his neck pillow.
"Call me privileged, but this is my first time flying economy." He blinks. "God, I'm tired."
"Want my pillow?" You pull it from your neck, holding it out for Tim.
"Are you an angel?"
"Erm, not quite." You smile awkwardly, shrugging. "But I don't sleep on domestic flights."
"What are you flying for?" Tim clips the pillow around his neck, moaning quietly at the comfort.
"Family. I heard one of my parents got hurt. I bought the only ticket left."
"Funny. I'm going back for family business too." Tim snorts.
How you have not yet called Tim out for being a Wayne is beyond him. He's too tired to analyze you, sinking into his seat as he closes his eyes, humming as you continue rambling.
"So? Why this flight?"
"Got a call from my old man this morning about how I needed to attend a meeting for him." Tim mumbles. "God do I hate him sometimes."
"Business meeting?"
"Yeah. The worst part is that those old geezers weren't willing to host it on Zoom like a normal person." Tim sighs. "They made me buy my own ticket too. The disrespect is wild."
"Do they do this to your dad?"
"Never." Tim groans. "If I fall asleep while you talk, I'm sorry."
"Don't be. Sounds rough." You smile. "Any drink orders?"
"Zesti." He mumbles. "But a can, please."
"I'll let them know." You hum.
Tim knocks out cold. It's the quickest he's slept in ages, and the neck pillow feels so good he thinks he's going to heaven. He wouldn't mind dying on this plane— Not when he's sleeping so well. God, maybe he'd actually have a better flight experience on economy. (it would, however, NOT be a more than once experience. Economy was a nightmare. That was his sleep deprivation speaking, not him.)
You open your laptop, go back to your document, and join the free internet as you continue typing on the document. You text the server for advice, bouncing ideas off of each other as you go on a tangent about the cute boy next to you at the airport. The chat goes insane as you try to explain that there is no way you are going to meet him again; the universe simply would not allow it, but they ignore you, spilling story prompts and stirring the worms in your brain. Fuck.
You grumble quietly as you start a new document for the idea.
Halfway through the flight, Tim leans onto your side, head meeting your shoulder, his lips parted as he drools a little, eyes still closed. You blink at him slowly, making sure he was still asleep before going back to typing. You order him a can of Zesti when the flight attendants come by before typing on your laptop again. You wonder if he knows anything about the vigilantes of Gotham. Maybe you'll ask him when he wakes up. Though, as you write fanfiction for a meet-cute with a vigilante on a plane, you think you'd rather die than ask him a question about vigilantism. Your boldness could only go so far.
When you finish your drink and doc, you glance at the time. You had another two hours to kill before descent, and you were kind of starting to regret not bringing another neck pillow. Listen. He's cute. You'd give your neck pillow to him any day if it meant he would call you an angel. His voice? His face? God, he was so hot it was kind of daunting. Maybe you'd ask him for his number later. Then again, he'd probably say no. What kind of a Gotham elite would give his number to a random person?
Hell, it's not as if you even went to school in Gotham either. You try and put your finger on which Gotham elite he is, but you come to no fruit as you think of the big ones. There's no way he's Bruce Wayne despite the uncanny blue eyes and black hair combo. Maybe one of his sons? But then again, Dick Grayson was much taller than the boy next to you. You don't actually recall what his other two sons look like. Two? Three? You don't remember if his second son is alive. Last you checked, he is. So it'd be three, huh? It's also definitely not his Asian daughter.
You give up on figuring out who he is and settle for closing your laptop and putting it back in your bag, closing your eyes as you rest your head on his, racing heart only calming when you fall asleep.
The two of you stay that way until a flight attendant wakes you up to put your tray back, waking Tim too on accident, the boy blinking slowly as you close the tray, tilting his head at you.
"God, maybe I am in heaven." He mumbles.
You laugh much brighter this time, warmth flushing your skin and blood rushing to your neck, embarrassed as Tim registers his own words, horrified at his boldness.
"I'm so sorry—"
"No, no." You continue laughing, the joy still in your voice as you continue. "I'm touched. I don't get called angel often."
"Really?" Tim mumbles. "How long until landing?"
"Thirty minutes." You smile. "They had me put my tray back. You can go back to sleep if you want—"
"Can I have your number?" Tim blurts.
"A-ah?" You stare at him wide-eyed.
"Oh, is that too much? I just really wanted to go out with you for coffee, you see. You can say no if you're uncomfortable, really. You're allowed to do that. Actually, please do that. I don't know if I'll be able to—"
"Yes!" You cut him off. "Yeah. Yeah. You can have my number."
The two of you exchange numbers the last thirty minutes of the flight, names and information exchanged, a light flush on your cheeks, and a visible one on Tim's face.
Tim thinks this is his reward for flying economy for once. (And maybe, just maybe, he'd fly economy back if it meant he would be with you again.)
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Pedro’s Characters: The Dick-tionary: Part Two
(PS. I’m currently on my ovulation week so this is gonna be mental)
Part One ;)
Frankie (Catfish) Morales:
Okay so I just finished watching Triple Frontier and oml I love this man. One thing I wanna say is, he definitely fucks you in whatever flying vehicle he owns, not during flights of course <3 safety first and I have such a bad fear of flying. Anyways, Frankie’s about 7 inches, and he has a pretty pink mushroom tip, he’s pretty thick too tbh, and he’s a vein up the side that you can feel when he’s inside you. PRAISE!!! He’s a praiser and not a degrader. Breeding kink is a must!!! Maybe it’s because he’s a family man but I feel like he has a domestic kink, like, he lovesssss talking about you being his ‘pretty little wife/husband’. Fuck, he lovessss filling you up and talking bout how he wants to get you pregnant, even if you can’t get pregnant :0, he was quite delicate with this factor at first in case it made you uncomfortable but he 100% wouldn’t say anything about that if it made you uncomfy. He just needs you to be happy. “My sweet girl/boy, spread your legs for me will ya?” “Yeah you like that, yeah you do… good girl/boy.” “Pretty little baby, taking me so so well, aw, so cute” “Take my cock in your mouth, oh yeah, just like that, my sweet, sweet baby.” He shaves well enough I think, likes to leave a happy trail to tease you with.
Agent Whiskey
Save a horse, ride a cowboy. Literally. Ride him and he’ll love you forever. Pedro’s cowboy characters hold a warm place in my heart because I find Southern accents sooooo sexy, ugh yes, talk about your farm daddy.
Um…. Anyways! Jack is so cunty I love him. Okay, he’s a big boy, about 8 inches, up there with Javier and Joel. He’s thick, like oof… Nice big tip too. Depending on the day, he switches between soft and hard dom. His fav position is cowgirl obviously, despite popular speculation, he’s not really a big fan of reverse cowgirl, but he LOVES doggystyle, he’s an ass man so spanking is a yes. He’s not a daddy man. OH MY GOD WHEN YOU RIDE HIM PLEASE WEAR HIS HAT PLEASE HE’LL CUM SO SO HARD!! SIT 👏 ON 👏 HIS 👏 FACE 👏 If he’s feeling soft and wants to be all chivalrous and his Southern self, he’ll fuck you in missionary, peppering kisses all over your face and neck. “My sweet girl/boy… takin’ my cock so well.” “Oh darlin’, ya look so pretty f’me.” “Fuck, so good, baby, such a good lil hole.” Big snail trail enthusiast!!!
Marcus Pike
I have not watched the mentalist so I apologise for any inaccuracies :( but good lord how gorgeous is this man…
Sorry guys I just can’t get over how pretty he is, but I’m actually crying because he’s so beautiful. Anyway, he’s about 7.5 inches and loooovvvvessss to be sucked off. You just look so so pretty with his cock in your mouth, and suck on his tip, his hips buckle a little and he whimpers, his hands going straight into your hair. He’s such a sweet lover, when he’s inside you, he’s so soft and gentle, you’d have to physically beg him to be rough. A BIG KISSER!!! Loves kissing you, just make sure you’ve kissed him at least 20 times and he’ll be content. He’s such a sweetie, please just be nice to him. “I love you so so much.” “Please oh baby, I love you, love this hole, so fucking good for me, good girl/boy.” “I’m gonna cum, oh please, where do you want me to cum, please tell me where to cum baby…” He likes to keep its shaved but he’s not completely bald.
Lucien Flores
Now, I have been looking for the clip of him making out and I can’t find it anywhere 😭😭 if someone could find it for me pleaseeeee send it I will love and cherish you for eternity. I also couldn’t find a gif of him so bear with me 😭.
Oh guys… MIRRORS!!! From looks and expectations and fanfics I’ve read, mirrors are a big thing for him. He’s about 8 inches. Loves doggy, he’s also an ass man. Choking you is a MUST, oh god he loves making you take him in a mirror, in doggy, with his big hand wrapped around your pretty neck, seeing you in the mirror taking him sooo well. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Same thing with the bathroom. He has you with one leg on the counter, the other dangling as he pounds into you, just absolutely destroying you. Shower sex too! He has you, either against the wall or legs wrapped around his waist. In fact just let him fuck you on every single surface of the house. Bed, bathroom, floor, sofa, dining table, kitchen counter, anything!! Loves eating you out from behind. He shaves and isn’t bald, yknow standard procedure 🤷🏻♀️
Special Guest!! My fav TV cameo 🫶
Reggie Luckman:
My MAN!! 🥺 he whimpers, have you seen him to that pretty when you cry edit, UGH STRIKES MY HEART EVERY TIME! I watch that edit about 3 times a day. I am very well aware that he’s just found out he’s killed his friend in this gif but he’s just so beautiful…
He’s 7 inches, and has such a cute face when he’s inside you, eyes squeezed shut and biting his lip as he conceals his whimpers. You keep telling him that he’s fine to moan but he just gets so embarrassed. Such a praiser, calls you a good girl/boy soooo much. His hips stutter when he’s close, and he bites down on your shoulder, accidentally leaves hickeys on your neck and collarbones. He loves going fast. When you ride him, he looks up at with those sweet eyes, and it makes your heart melt, hands on your hips, guiding you sweetly. Tug on his hair in orallllll!!! “Please, please, you feel so good, I love you.” “Mmm, please, I’m gonna cum, can I cum in you?” “I can? Thank you, thank you, fuck!” Praise him back, tell him how he’s doing, tell him that he’s good. Pleaseeeee I need him soooo baddddd!!!!!!
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x reader#frankie morales#agent whiskey#marcus pike#lucien flores#reggie luckman#pedro pascal headcanon#slvtforoldermen
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Daddy’s Girl
HEADCANON
PAIRING: Dad!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader | Dad!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader
WORDS: 1,774.
SUMMARY: Rough ideas of the Targaryen princes as fathers to their first, newborn daughters.
WARNINGS: fluff, swearing, overprotective!Aemond, overprotective!Aegon, reckless Aegon, lactation kink, breeding kink, slight praise kink.
A/N - Ya’ll knew this was coming surely... I can’t get enough of this domestic shit!!! Dad!Aemond has me in a chokehold and simultaneously, Dad!Aegon has my back arched, wtf do I do?!
AEMOND TARGARYEN:
When Aemond saw and held his tiny little daughter for the very first time, it was like love at first sight.
He didn't know how anything so small, so precious could bring out all these intense feelings in him, and yet here she was in all her glory.
She was the apple of her father's eye, they were obsessed with each other.
He actually wouldn’t fly her on Vhagar when she’s just a newborn, he would want to wait it out. Considering his first flight was very turbulent, he would never put his daughter at risk.
She is his “byka prince” [little princess].
Aemond definitely selects her little outfits, if you both stroll around markets or attend royal visits to various other places, and he sees something he adores, he’ll buy it for her. If he sees a particular material/pattern and colour he likes, he orders the servants to have it made for his little princess. Even toys, he’ll have them hand-crafted, a small, hand-painted dragon for his little girl, it would be a miniature Vhagar.
No doubt, he dresses her in the Targaryen colours or even occasionally Green, in honour of his mother.
If she cries during the night, he’s usually the first to awake and check (he does not mind, one bit). He reasons with you saying “You did give birth to her, so your hard part is done now it’s my turn, issa jorrāelagon [my love].”
Immediately, she falls asleep after he cradles her for some time, sometimes you even hear him humming a song. On the off chance, that she doesn't settle, it’s often because she either is hungry and needs feeding, or she needs a nappy change.
Aemond would be so bad at nappy changes, although he’s willing to try and gradually gets the gist of it. He doesn’t mind the dirty work.
He loves to bathe his little princess, he only lets you and himself, maybe even Alicent if she’s free and willing to.
Aemond would definitely do that skin-to-skin touch, when she’s a newborn: he wants her to get familiar to his touch and scent, in case he has responsibilities and duties he needs to attend to as Prince Regent.
The thought of his daughter not recognising him or resembling him to a stranger terrifies him.
Overprotective is an understatement.
Aemond will literally kill anyone that even dares to hurt or speak ill of his daughter.
Once she starts walking, growing into her toddler phase, she becomes more active and involved. She’ll literally fall and trip over herself (and you’ll be okay with it, and Aemond would just be losing his shit), and if another child is present, he’ll even scold them.
If he sees a graze or cut or a tiny, spectacle of blood on her, it’ll be the end of the fucking world.
Having lost his eye, he would never forgive himself if she ever has to endure pain or trauma like that.
You try to reason with Aemond, that part of parenting you need to teach resilience and the ability to ‘bounce back’ although, Aemond’s not having it. So much to your disapproval, your daughter will definitely grow up spoilt and protected.
Now that Aemond can hold her appropriately, and she can seat herself properly, he mounts her on Vhagar with him and take flight. At first, she's terrified of the height, although seeing how happy and comfortable Aemond is, she reads him so well and starts to enjoy it too.
They literally have their own language, they can read minds. Aemond doesn't even need to ask or probe his little girl about what she wants, he just knows. Some water? Here you go. Some sweets? There you go, princess.
He teaches her Valyrian at such a small age, as soon as she starts verbalising, that she eventually becomes more fluent than you.
She definitely has Aemond’s Targaryen hair and lilac eyes, although your features, which Aemond fucking loves.
He definitely takes care of her hair, has his own routine for it, just as he maintains his own. He even learns how to properly braid her hair.
Aemond is so relieved and impressed that his daughter is not at all afraid of his missing eye, and the sapphire that replaces it. At times, she even tries to touch and grab at it, and he has to pull her away, otherwise she just smiles lovingly and laughs at him.
She's the only one (besides yourself) that can genuinely make Aemond smile, like if he's having a shit day, as soon as he sees her (even if she's asleep in her cradle), that’s enough to warm him.
Aemond loves and accepts your body changes, he reassures you when you feel insecure, that your body performed a miracle, and that you grew his child effortlessly.
He definitely watches you breastfeeding and has no shame: something about the way that only you can provide for her, makes him feral.
The man has a lactation kink, 100%, once he knows he’s daughter has been fed, and now that she can start tolerating solid feeds, he spoils himself to your milk. He finds the sweet, creamy taste delicious.
Nonetheless, he knows for certain he needs to have another child with you immediately, and won’t stop until he sees your belly swell.
AEGON ii TARGARYEN:
Aegon would be so nervous having a little girl at first.
The history with women that he's had and the poor treatment he had previously shown, he is aware was unacceptable and since having met you, he has changed.
Although, his past would haunt him regardless.
He did remain by your side during the birth, and when the maester declared a daughter, he was in a state of shock.
He wouldn't completely withdraw himself from you nor the babe, he loved you too dearly to do that. And seeing how well you were with her, and how warm your daughter was with you, he slowly started to gain confidence in himself.
You’d help him get used to holding her, demonstrating the correct technique, for she was so tiny against his body, he kept fearing that he’d drop her or hurt her in his grip.
He actually even stopped drinking completely now, he didn’t want to risk being tipsy, in case he had to hold her.
Nonetheless, he became an absolute pro.
He even begged to take her on Sunfyre with him, although you were still quite anxious for she was so small.
Somehow, he convinced you for just a quick, short flight: he trusted Sunfyre with his life, and he knew the dragon would nurture and protect his daughter too.
You would watch from the ground in complete silence, just anxious although, as soon as he landed and dismounted with the babe still nestled and settled in his arms, you were quite surprised.
Aegon would be so proud of himself, it boosts his ego.
He would always regularly check up on her, even if he only just saw her 10 minutes ago.
“Aegon she's been asleep in her crib for the past hour, nothing has changed, why do you feel the need to look?”
He can’t help himself, you’ve come to find it’s as though a switch has flicked on for him, he’s become so protective over you and the babe, he can’t stand leaving you two alone.
“But she needs me...” He’ll say, as he just stares at her asleep in absolute awe that he helped to make this angel.
She definitely looks more like her Dad, soft, gentle features with the Targaryen traits. She literally looks like an angel.
She has Aegon’s plump cheeks and he’s always just kissing and nibbling at them.
Aegon loves how everyone fawns over her, including his mother. In a way, it makes him feel accomplished.
Nonetheless, as soon as she’s more involved and interactive, she never wants to leave Aegon’s side. Like she clings to him throughout the day, and cries for him if he isn't around.
You’ve come to accept that she's an absolute Daddy’s Girl, he’ll carry her around to his council meetings, and she'll bury her face in his chest or the crook of his neck when he tries to get her to greet other lords with him, although she’s too shy.
Most of the time she even chills on his lap when he sits the Iron Throne. Listening and ordering his subjects for the day, she often remains unphased, although occasionally she’ll try to grab his attention by playing with his hair or trying to touch his crown. That’s when you come in and take her.
On the days that she is not around, if he has urgent or serious matters to attend (no place for a babe), he feels so empty without her presence there, and feels something is missing. He itches to get back to you both.
Aegon definitely struggles to be hands on, he hates the dirty work of nappy changes and sometimes begs for you to do it. Although, you both have agreements and take turns with bathing her, or if she cries in the night, Aegon does see to her (although struggles to awake and gradually gets to her).
As random as this is, Aegon would definitely have a Dad!bod and no one can change my mind. The drinking caught up although, his daughter sneaking in sweets to feed her Daddy whilst they chill on the throne doesn't help either. (Aemond will be the type to keep up with his regular training, Aegon struggles with all the responsibilities, although still trains not as often).
You find Aegon blowing raspberries on his daughter’s stomach, and it makes her laugh like no tomorrow.
He definitely tells you openly that he wants more children now.
“Perhaps a son?” He suggests and you reassure him, that is completely out of your control and “Upto the Gods.”
As soon as your healed from the birth, Aegon is fucking eager to get onto you, and his breeding kink shows.
He moans how he can’t wait to see your belly swell with his child, another angel: he loves the idea that people will think scandalously of how quick you’ve become pregnant again. Aegon does not care though.
He even prefers your postpartum body and idolises the changes: he loves how big your tits and ass are, only for his own pleasures.
During the night he'll leave his cock inside of you, making sure he seizes every opportunity to impregnate you.
You are so proud of the father Aegon has stepped up to be, and you make it known to him, he favours your praise above anyone else.
#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#aegon ii targaryen#tom glynn carney#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen imagines#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aegon ii targaryen imagines#aegon ii targaryen imagine#aegon ii targaryen fanfic#aegon ii targaryen fanfiction#aegon ii targaryen fluff#aegon ii targaryen smut#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen fluff#dad!aegon ii#dad!aemond targaryen#hotd#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen x reader#aegon ii x reader#hotd fanfic#hotd imagines#alicent hightower
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THIS has been driving me insane /pos
Like. Satan below you cannot just drop that on me.
Fucking. Yeah Jimmy knows Tango was excited to see him again. There were tears shed in that tunnel and horns blown and they were so overjoyed and borderline overwhelmed to find each other again.
The smile Tango had when he promised to "ranch it up" soon? And the way Tango's face lit up when Jimmy showed him the ranch? Surely Tango wanted to be Jimmy's rancher again.
But there was something in the way Tango's face fell when confronted with the fact that he hadn't told Jimmy about his arrangements at Gobland. The way Tango stepped away and picked at his cuticles, refusing to meet Jimmy's eyes while he explained what fWhip had promised.
It activated Jimmy's flight response, for whatever reason. He wanted to run and hide away from everyone, but also drop to his knees and beg Tango to stay. Maybe apologize for ever thinking to build the ranch. He'd clutch at the thick fur cloak and tell Tango he'd take the ranch down, to forget about everything that happened, apologize for wasting his time.
But he didn't. He stood in place and made a compromise with Tango. He'd keep his work and home separate, do whatever fWhip wanted and live in Tumble Town, at the ranch.
And Jimmy was fine with it! He was estatic! He couldn't stop thinking about his rancher living with him again. His soulmate, in Tumble Town.
Except Tango hadn't visited since the day he unveiled the ranch.
Jimmy would check in every day, finding no signs of visitors except himself. The place was collecting dust - faster than normal as it was the mesa - but dust nonetheless. Jimmy starts to wonder if maybe he forced Tango to play into his wishes of being soulmates again.
What if Tango had completely moved on from Double Life? He certainly seemed like it. Working for and possibly living with fWhip, completely changing his look, barely associating with Jimmy at all even when he promised - he promised - he would? What if Jimmy was stuck in the past. Stuck missing someone who wanted nothing to do with him anymore, missing the only smidge of a good life he would get with the one person who genuinely loved him.
He was always stuck in the past though. Constantly thinking about where he went wrong or what could've been or what he should've said or shouldn't have said. He just couldn't get with the times. He couldn't grow up and accept life.
Jimmy sobbed. The force of the noise nearly sent him backwards into the sand, though it wouldn't have been that much of a fall.
He was currently sat on his railroad tracks, just in front of the train Scar built. His communicator sat in his hands with Tango's name pulled up, ready to send a whisper to. He was online. Jimmy could easily send the message. But his hands were shaking too much.
Jimmy sniffled and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He sucked in a breath and typed as quick as he could before his body let out another sob.
You whispered to Tango: do you still like me?
He wanted to drop or even throw his comm but he held it tight, waiting for Tango to respond. He didn't expect anything immediate. He was sure Tango was busier than busy right now. He hated bothering him with such a stupid question.
As Jimmy went to wipe his eyes again his comm buzzed in his hands.
Tango whispered to you: that's an odd question to ask out of nowhere
Tango whispered to you: of course I do. is something wrong lovely?
Jimmy hiccupped, sobbing harder. The nickname was too soft, too domestic for him. This was a whole different world. Tango didn't have to call him pet names or even pretend to care anymore. They weren't soulmates anymore.
You whispered to Tango: i'm sorry i'm still stuck on the ranchers. you can live with fwhip if you want to and forget about me
Jimmy gasped in a breath. He's forgotten to breathe. He needed to breathe. He couldn't suffocate now, the death message would show up in chat and Tango would come check on him and he didn't want to see Tango right now.
Tango whispered to you: songbird are you ok?
Tango whispered to you: why would i do that why are you sorry?
Tango whispered to you: talk to me please
Against his better judgement, Jimmy typed back. Maybe it was some stupid child-like hope he had yet to let go of.
You whispered to Tango: it's ok if you moved on from the ranchers you don't have to pretend because of me i'll live
Tango whispered to you: can i come over?
Jimmy hiccupped and shook his head, replying far too quickly for his own comfort.
You whispered to Tango: no
Tango whispered to you: alright
Tango whispered to you: why would you think i moved on?
Jimmy shivered as the sun began to set and the mesa grew terribly cold. Still he didn't move from the tracks.
You whispered to Tango: you haven't visited and you went to live with fwhip we haven't even talked until now
You whispered to Tango: if you don't want to live at the ranch just tell me
Jimmy watched his comm for a while after that. The minutes that passed dragged on for phantom hours. Jimmy felt a panic rise in his chest that maybe Tango was coming over. But Tango wouldn't break that boundary would he? Even when Jimmy had been so clear on it?
His comm rattled against the rails and Jimmy nearly jumped out of his skin.
Tango whispered to you: jim i absolutely do want to live at the ranch and with you
Tango whispered to you: why would you think i wouldn't?
Tango whispered to you: i'm sorry i haven't been over, fwhip gave me a massive project and i totally got caught up in it
Jimmy sniffed and wiped his eyes. The tears were slowing and he was able to breathe without breaking down into sobs.
Tango whispered to you: you're my rancher jimmy
Tango whispered to you: i'm sorry i made you feel like you weren't
Jimmy finally picks himself up and begins the walk back to his home with weak knees and shaky hands. And he hears nothing in the tunnel.
You whispered to Tango: it's ok. sorry for bothering you with my dumb brain
Tango whispered to you: hey don't put yourself down and you don't need to apologize to me
Tango whispered to you: how about we spend a whole day together to make up?
Jimmy shucks off his dirty boots and shrugs off his vest, hanging it on a coat rack. His hat goes along side it.
You whispered to Tango: just the two of us?
Tango whispered to you: just the two of us
Jimmy snakes his belt from under the loops and drops it next to his boots.
You whispered to Tango: ok
Tango whispered to you: thank you
Tango whispered to you: get some sleep buttercup i'll see you soon
You whispered to Tango: goodnight tango
#a fucking CONCEPT AND A HALF#also tango's nicknames for jimmy <3#i never get to use them outside full on fics not posted here#but i have like a whole hc list of petnames tango calls jimmy#team rancher#solidaritygaming#jimmy solidarity#tangotek#tango tek#empires smp#empiresshipping#empires x hermitcraft#hermitshipping#trafficshipping#for filtering :) and just in case obvs#rancher duo#rancherduo#shadow's scribing again
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A New Tradition with Frankie
Frankie "Catfish" Morales x GN reader
Fanfiction rating: Teens and up
My blog overall is 18+ MDNI
Masterlist / Frankie “Catfish” Morales Masterlist
Summary: An adventure in baking leads to fun and laughter at your expense. But in the end, his smile is what matters.
Warnings: likely bad baking directions, jokes in very poor taste, cursing, Frankie having fun at your expense, domestic fluff
Notes: I wanted to give Frankie some fluff. In my previous Frankie Fridays, I've been having that man work through his trauma. He needed some pure fluff and laughs. I did look up how to make gingerbread cookies but unlike many of the wonderful baking posts by @avastrasposts I have no idea what I’m doing. 😆 I made a post yesterday about what my chocolate chip cookies looked like and I cannot be trusted with an oven.
Word Count: approx. 1.2K
The directions had been clear and you read them twice before starting. You even tailored your shopping list to them and had double checked you had all the ingredients two days ago. Why do they all look like piles of lumpy dirt?
Now the ginger, cinnamon, brown sugar, molasses give it the brown color which makes sense. The wet ingredients you added after the dry because that’s what they always did on one of your favorite shows ‘Nailed it!’ and you made fun of the bakers who dumped everything in at once. You swear you’re not like them. You promise.
The dough sat in the fridge for two and a half hours. The minimum was two but you were checking emails on your phone and lost track of time. A rolling pin was bought for this, you hadn’t owned one, never needed one but you got one. A good one not from the dollar store, but from Target. Rolled out the dough, shaped the little gingerbread cookies, set the oven to 350 degrees and put them in, rotating them halfway so they would bake evenly. The cookies had been rising and rising and maybe they rose a bit too much, but maybe it would fall like a cake. They all rise and fall right?
But now, these cookies mock you, they’re huge, puffy, oblong. Not the cute circles you’d cut out less than 30 minutes ago. What can you do with them?
“Hermosa (gorgeous), I’m home. Benny lost to the Raz guy again. He’s really got to train harder.” Your husband walked in, setting his keys in the dish by the door and slipping his boots off. He was making his way to the kitchen. You threw a dish towel over the cookies in a vain attempt to hide them. He’s a pilot whose job it is to keep track of minute details that can disrupt a flight plan. You’re not hiding anything.
“Hey Frankie. Benny lost again? Maybe he should take a break for a bit like you said.” You smiled, your fingers nervously tapping your thigh. He was scanning you and the room.
“Hermosa. What’s under the cloth? This isn’t the day you murder me for wearing shoes inside the house is it?” He laughed moving toward you and those abominations called cookies.
“No. And I mention one time how I don’t like dirt tracked in the house and you go right to murder Morales. Jeez.” You crossed your arms in false offense before pulling him close to you by his arms. “You have to pay the toll, you know. Just gonna walk in this house and think you don’t. Mighty full of yourself sir.” You grinned and placed a soft peck on his lips. Frankie smiled and put an arm around your shoulders, deepening the kiss before stepping back, holding the dishcloth.
“I’m a man who pays his debts.” He took one look at the oversized cookies and doubled over in laughter. “Hermosa no, baby why? These are the gingerbread cookies you talked about? They look like…like..”
“Don’t say it…” You covered your ears. You’d hear him anyways, but it didn’t stop you from being mortified that he saw them and what you both knew they looked like.
“Like what came out of Santi’s dog after he gave him that kibble with the extra fiber..!” Frankie continued to bellow with glee, clumsy stepping back. Your hands went from your ears to your hips, face burning with annoyance but also glee that he was able to laugh so freely. It used to be difficult to get a chuckle out of the man when he wasn’t with his brothers in arms.
“I used to like you Frankie. Damn it.” At this point, you’re biting your lips to hold back your own laugh. Morales is red in the face, starting to wheeze.
“Hermosa, you know I love you.” Despite his eyes starting to water, he’s stepping toward you, in an effort to get away from him, you move to the other side of the table when he easily uses his long legs to intercept and catch you from behind, nuzzling his chin in your neck while still chuckling. “I love you and your shity looking cookies.”
“You’re lucky, you’re cute and I’m a sucker for men who like my shity looking cookies.”
You finally gave in and giggled in his arms as he rocked you from side to side.
“Did you try them? Are they edible?” He asked, waddling back over to the cookies with you.
“I hadn’t tried them yet. I was so taken with what they looked like.” You admitted.
The both of you agreed to break a cookie in half to try. Now standing side by side, you counted to three and bit into the cookie. It was warm, fluffy and actually tasted sweet. Like gingerbread.
“Damn mi vida (my life), they look horrible, but taste great. This is your first time making them right?” Frankie asked, chewing it and downed the other half. He kissed your forehead, leaving a few crumbs from his patchy beard which you brushed off your head.
“Yeah. I wanted to try and make a tradition for us, and surprise you. I guess I did both. Not exactly how I planned though.” You finished your half of the cookie as well, licking your lips. Proud that you did at least make something that tasted good. In the midst of studying the cookies, you saw a glint of something. Turning, Frankie had pulled out his phone and was snapping pictures of the cookies. “Morales! Don’t you dare!” You lunged in an effort to grab his phone from him, he put his hands up and out of your reach.
“I gotta save the memory of these cookies! You understand mi vida?” That booming laugh of his returned as his hands snaked around your sides. You twisted your mouth, determined to let him know that you weren’t ok with him taking pictures of your baking disaster. But he was laughing so much more, more than he had been in months.
“Just don’t send them to the guys. Please Francisco.” His smile curved into a grin.
“I’m Francisco now? Well maybe I should, since I’ve been downgraded to Francisco.” He touched his prominent nose to yours, rubbing it slightly. It tickled and you drew back before rubbing yours against his.
“I just called you by your name. I’m serious. Don’t. Benny still calls me Baby Legs from when I did shots with you guys.” Morales bites his bottom lips before digging his face into your shoulder, you feel the vibrations of his laughter on your skin.
“I know, I know.” He assured you when he picked his head back up, he put his phone in his pocket and placed his palm on your cheek. “Next time we’ll bake them together, alright mi amor (my love)? We’ll make it a tradition like you said.” You both took another look at the bloated cookies and laughed together, echoing so the neighbors could hear if they chose to.
Tag List:
@fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @iamasaddie @psychedelic-ink @megamindsecretlair @pamasaur @pedrodascal @marcus-is-my-muse @clawdee @mintypossum @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @tessa-quayle @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @magpiepillsjunior @intoanotherworld23 @linzels-blog @joelmillers-whore @guelyury @laurfilijames @missladym1981 @pamasaur @alltheglitterandtheroar @din-djarins-riduur @daddy-dins-girl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @yorksgirl @saturn-rings-writes @gwendibleywrites @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @undercoverpena @musings-of-a-rose @gnpwdrnwhiskey
#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#frankie morales#francisco morales#frankie catfish morales#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x gn!reader#Frankie morales fluff
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For all the moments
✴︎ pairing : Chanyeol x Reader
✴︎ genre : domestic!au, idol!chanyeol, editor!reader, angst, fluff, comfort, yearning
✴︎ summary : For all the moments, you were always by his side. For all the moments, he was always next to you.
✴︎ warning : none, maybe mild cursing but nothing else!
✴︎ word count : 4.2K
✴︎ author’s note : hii! It’s archie! This one has been hanging out on my drafts for way too long and I finally decided it’s time to take it out! Anyways, this fic was initially for Baekhyun but I felt that the scenario fits better with Chanyeol. I was highly inspired by EXO-SC’s Jet-lag and Kyungsoo’s recent birthday party where he sang Beautiful Day! I hope you enjoy this one and feel free to leave feedback or comments! likes are also much appreciated ♥
—
The loud drizzling sounds of rain hitting your apartment window can’t help but stir you up from your deep slumber. What the hell, you thought, rubbing your eyes a little to wash away your sleepiness. The clock beside your bedside table reads 3.40am, the timing indicates that it’s too early for anyone to be awake at the moment. The sky kept rumbling, with thunders flashing every minute and you groaned at the sight of the storm rolling in front of you. Being woken up from a storm was one thing but being awake without your husband, was another thing. You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep again so you grabbed your phone to check if Chanyeol had landed in Seoul from his recent work trip from Paris.
Notifications
02.30am KST
Yeol:
> Babe?
> I just landed with the worst weather ever!
> I can't wait to see you
> I missed you so much :((
Read 03.43am KST
Being married for 2 years to one of the most famous idol in Korea, you were accustomed to his busy schedule. Flying out here and there to attend concerts, award shows, photoshoots and prestigious events was part of the job. With you working as a fashion editor, his daily agenda was not out of the ordinary for you. The difference only being the fact that he works under the limelight, but you don’t—not that you mind at all. Nevertheless, both of you made it work. It was too easy to understand how it feels to work under a tight schedule without any time to breathe. You with your never-ending deadlines and meetings, and him with his idol life.
However, dating him for 6 years and being married to him for three, being away from him never gets easier.
You zoned out for a while before a loud thud distracted your attention, followed by your bedroom door clicking open. Your husband was finally home, his tall frame resting against the door with a huge grin on his face. Even with the minimal lighting of your bedroom, you could make up the bags under his sparkling eyes and the sight made you frown.
“Hii honey,” his voice soft as ever, “I missed you so much..”
You sat up beaming at him while reaching out, welcoming him with open arms. He took a step closer to the bed, engulfing your sleepy figure. You replied with a small ‘hello’ as you melted into his hug. You really can’t help but wonder how he’d smell so nice after a long-haul flight, but nevertheless, you love inhaling his scent that brings you nothing but comfort.
“How long have you been awake? The storm must’ve woken you up.” His voice was laced with worry.
You held his cheeks with your hands and he practically melt under your touch,
“Not too long ago.”
“Please quickly shower and join me in bed, huh? Pretty please…” you pouted at his tired state.
“Anything for you, baby. Give me a while and I’ll join you as soon as possible!”
He didn’t close the door as he showered, not that you’d mind, at this point you were too sleepy to even think of peeking. As the water ran down on his back, he unconsciously kept you awake by chatting with you. He really couldn’t help that he missed his wife so much.
“Babe, do you have plans tomorrow?”
“No? Not that I could think of…I might drop by the studio and the office tomorrow morning but other than that, I don’t think I’ll be booked the whole day. Are you going somewhere tomorrow?”
“The office? Isn’t tomorrow like..Saturday? Is Saerim giving you a hard time? What about the interns? They’re not helping you enough? Are you working too hard again?” He rambled on with concern with a raised voice as the running water muffled his voice.
“I- Uh..” you stammered, “Yeol, I t-told you work is fine” you quipped. The sound of the water subsided as a tall figure emerged from the bathroom. Chanyeol dried his hair, ruffling the soft brown locks with a towel as he frowned at your response. He knew you were having a hard time at work and had asked you to quit a thousand times by now. Even without the math, anyone would know that his pay would be enough for the both of you to live comfortably.
You looked at your golden-retriever husband in the eye, “So where are you going tomorrow?”
A thing about Chanyeol is that he’d waive things out so easily, as easy as shifting the conversation to another topic and he won’t go back to pester the elephant in the room.
At your question he blinks a few times, “Would you mind if I take a day out tomorrow with the boys? Baek said he needed some pointers for his upcoming solo album and Junmyeon-Hyung had things to discuss for the group.” He scratched the back of his head.
“But that is…if it’s okay with you?” he nervously asked.
“That’s okay, babe…” you half yawned, sleep lulled you once again as you tried snuggling inside the comforter,
“I really don’t mind”, the drowsiness took you as the soft satin sheets came in contact with your skin. He smiled at the sight as he returned the towel to its place. Chanyeol didn’t take long to join you in bed, cuddling you in his arms.
After his hectic schedules and weeks without holding you, being beside you was the perfect medicine to charge his tired form. He sighed, relieving all his weariness before the slumber took him out.
He knew, this was home.
You, were home.
—
Morning came faster than you’d like. The rain from last night hadn’t stopped, raindrops trickling on your high-floor apartment as the sky was still dark as ever. Beside you, a tired giant, possessively hugging you amidst his sleep. You giggled at this grown-up man’s clingy behaviour. Chanyeol will always be the cutest, ever.
You blamed your body clock for waking up so early on a Saturday, especially on this dreading Saturday.
With a little struggle, you free yourself from Chanyeol’s hold and tiptoed to the kitchen. It was just 6.00am but you quickly prepared breakfast for the both of you and salad, for Chanyeol just in case he wants a light lunch.
As you sipped your coffee, last night’s conversation went through your head. He knew you had troubles at work, he had plans and you said you were okay, you didn’t mind.
You internally sighed because mind you did.
You were far from okay.
Because even though you’d hate to admit it, you’d love to have him for yourself. In fact, you have missed him so much these past few weeks that it physically hurts.
But no.
You had work.
Your useless-piece-of-a-shit-partner Yoon Saerim, will probably taunt you if you don’t come up with a better concept for this month’s pictorial. So even though you miss being around your ball of sunshine more than you’d like to admit, fate was just not in your favour this Saturday.
You could always quit, is what Yeol usually says after your long rant about your horrible boss and the disgusting amount of workload you had to handle. Sure you have subordinates and interns working under you, but working in fashion for so long, you came to the conclusion that nothing is never ever enough when it comes to the industry.
Thinking back, Chanyeol always loved being under the spotlight as an idol ever since his debut days and making music was as precious as that. After both of you settled down and eventually got married, you were quick to admit that Chanyeol sacrificed a lot for you, even if you didn’t ask him to. He paid the bills, every bill. He took care of the parents, dinner dates with your parents and his every other week were a staple and he’d never miss sending health supplements once in a while. You never asked him to do so but married Chanyeol just stepped up and took on the role as a caring husband so naturally.
Even with his burning passion in music, he went the extra mile, producing countless songs by the count of months. At times he goes on an overdrive, he’d lock himself up in the studio and he would forget about everything else. Situations like this scares the shit out of you. You remembered the first time he went berserk, it took you and his members two days to figure out where he was. He’d gone AWOL and you had to call the police to track down his phone, just to find out that he’d been coping himself in the studio for 48 hours without sleep or food, only water. You and Sehun found him sitting down in front of the recording booth with a guitar in hand, music sheets sprawled on the floor. His eyes were already bloodshot red, it was clear that he was sleep-deprived, very tired and out of focus. Sehun sighed, ready to scold Yeol for his stupid behaviour before your husband quipped,
“Please don’t take me away, not yet…”
his eyes all over the place with brows furrowed, his forehead creasing.
“I swear if you give me more time, I’ll finish this tomorrow and I’ll go but please leave and don’t come here until tomorrow, yeah? I need to finish this song because they’ll pay a huge amount for this one… Give me more time, please?” He is disassociated as ever, you were aware that he didn’t notice you due to his state.
“Hyung…” the younger sighed again.
“S-Sehun-ah, I have Y/N now.. You might not know how it feels now but I- I want to give the world to her. We’re idols but our prime time is way past us, when the momentum is gone, we might too.” He dropped his head to the door of the recording booth as he sighed,
He mindlessly draws patterns on the floor, “I need to save up for Y/N, for our future.. and it won’t happen if I don’t work like this. So-“
In a blink you crouched down, embracing him with tears already wetting your face. Words couldn’t form but the pressure, the knot that he bear was starting to unravel. He got your message,
You’re enough.
Moments like these, his breakdowns, were one of the things that kept you grounded. If you’re being honest, your job also keeps you on your feet. Working as an co-chief editor in fashion was always your dream and to be frank, you enjoyed the job more than you let on. But the past year has been nothing but hell, thanks to the newly appointed co-chief editor Yoon Saerim. You habitually ponder how she got the position as she wasn’t really suitable for the job, she didn’t really have the knack for fashion. But moreover, you just didn’t like the fact that she ogled Chanyeol and Sehun when they came by for a photoshoot.
You quickly snapped out of your deep thoughts when you gulped your last drop of coffee, thinking of Yoon Saerim never fails to make you turn sour.
Without wasting more time, you prepared yourself to head to your studio. For disclaimer, the studio was Chanyeol’s, not the office’s. Not long after you started the job years ago, both of you decided that it would be nice to rent out an old apartment in the city for the both of you to work. The studio has a built-in recording booth, production space for Chanyeol and a creative working-space for you. However, with time passing, you ended up using the space more than your husband.
Before you left the house, you gave him a forehead kiss and stuck a post-it-note on his phone,
‘Good Morning My Happy Virus ♡
thank you for always working so hard,
sometimes you worry me, love :(
have a great time with the boys today!
am out for work - it’s deadline week ◡̈
i love you 3000
— much, much love, Y/N ‘
—
You arrived at the empty studio with your shoulders slumped, looking at the stacked paper, pictorials and mood boards around your disoriented workspace. The interns must’ve sent these yesterday, fucking hell, here we go again.
Not long after, you succumbed to the job you love and hate at the same time. To be honest, as one of the high-ranked chief editor in your company, it wasn’t your share to do these tasks anymore, those days were over you. But reviewing each and every item, every trend that goes into the magazine is a job you love no matter how meticulous it actually is. Besides, the information you extract from all this has proven to help your career so far, making you one of the sought-out fashion editors in Seoul. However the fact doesn’t relieve you from the burden and pressure you get from your useless co-chief editor.
“She’s bossy and pushy but useless— and you’re too compliant, Babe,” Chanyeol would always joke and you’d usually tackle him back with a pillow, leaving both of you cackling in the process.
Speaking of Chanyeol, the man in question just stirred up from bed, barely opening his eyes, adjusting to the gloomy weather in front of his open-windowed bedroom. He instantly rubbed his sides, sleep evidently washed away when he realised his beloved Y/N weren’t there. He called your name out a few times to make sure that maybe, you were outside the room, just to know that his voice had filled the void of your apartment.
As expected, he immediately sat up and grabbed his phone to call you. Before even unlocking his cell, he found your oh-so-lovely note that you stuck on this morning. Chanyeol sighed, he knew you were having a hard time but you never fail to warm his heart with your sweet note, he particularly loved the use of his favourite iron-man quote.
He stared at the note lovingly for a while before heading to the bathroom and freshened up for the day. When he entered the kitchen to see a packed lunch box and another one with breakfast inside, he sulked further. Your puppy-like husband misses you and you doing this, made him sappier. He carefully unpacked the meals you prepared, gratefully munching your cooking. He was supposed to meet his members at 10 and so, he drove quickly as he was running late. When he parked his car in front of the company’s building, a text came from Baekhyun.
Notifications
10.08am KST
Baek:
> Yeol?
> the meeting’s canceled
> Junmyeon-hyung said something came up
> and my mom called, she wanted my help :O
> Really sorry for the sudden intrusion! But have a good rest day with Y/N ^^
> Send her my love too!!
Read 10.15am KST
< BYUN BAEKHYUN YOU LITTLE SHIT
< THANKS FOR THE ‘HEADS UP’
< Picture sent
< LOOK WHERE I AM YOU LITTLE SHIT!!!
Sent 10.16am KST
Baek:
> Oh..
> The message didn’t come through 😅 I texted you way before,, must be the reception?
> But you can always have a good time with y/n!!
> I’m so sorry 🥺
Read 10.17am KST
Chanyeol couldn’t be sulkier. His ears literally drooped down as he huffed in annoyance. He didn’t reply back to Baekhyun as he slid the phone back in his pockets. He drove home in silence, even the thought of going back to bed to aid his tiredness didn’t make him feel better. He entered the foyer of the empty apartment and he shuffled inside lazily. You’d probably melt if you see him right now, his shoulder slumped slightly with a goo-goo look on his face. Especially now, with his buffier-form, compared to his pre-debut lanky state is something you’d administer as a cute change as a result of his exercising habits over the years. But it doesn’t matter because you’re not there and alas he came home to a cold, dark, empty apartment with his love nowhere to be seen.
The sky dark, rain still pouring down, much like his mood. The thing about Chanyeol is the fact that he’s a clingy extrovert when it comes to people he loves. You love that about him. He didn’t care about the hectic schedule, it’s the ‘being away from you’ that made everything hard to surpass. That’s why after every schedule abroad, Chanyeol would love going home when he knows his love is waiting for him. There’s nothing better than coming home to a warm apartment with you snuggled on the couch. However, now, he’s the only one on the couch, alone.
He pondered for more than an hour, zoning out, before deciding to stand up and head to the door once again. The silence is deafening, he misses you too much and he had to do something about it.
—
In your studio, coming in your nearly fifth hour of productivity, you’re starting to break down. You were now on the verge of crying while doing your work, it’s the creativity block, you mentally cursed. You’ve been dealing with it lately but having to work in fashion, it’s inevitable and you never really told anyone about it, especially not Chanyeol. You felt that his occupation demanded more of him than yours did to you, you wouldn’t want to burden him with your problems.
“Fuck.”
“Fucking hell!”
“This is so not happening right now…” tears welled as the screen of your precious laptop turned pitch black. You scoffed at the situation with the waterworks falling down your eyes. You were over this.
You slumped near the corners of the room, hugging your knees as you stared at your now dead device, silently crying as your head whirls for other, worse negative possibilities of happening. Numb, is probably the best way to describe your current state after crying your heart out for 30 minutes straight. You end up curling yourself into a ball, hanging your head low in the corners of the room as your mind goes blank.
As you hid yourself in the darkest corners of your office, you failed to notice the jiggling sound of the key, the clacking locks and the noise of the door opening.
“Babeeeee?” the sound traveled from the hallway. Lo and behold, a sulked Chanyeol is here. His mood is still on the low but the idea of meeting you gets him excited like a puppy.
You couldn’t hear him though, your head still in a blocked-state and the room you’re in was the furthest from the hallway.
Chanyeol entered the studio, footsteps tapping against the hardwood flooring. It puzzled him why he didn’t receive an answer back, but knowing your shoes were on the foyer, he knew you were somewhere inside. He set foot to the break room, your coat was on the couch but where were you?
He continued peeking into his recording studio, the nearest space to the break room. The lights were out, signalling him that you’re probably not there. The bathroom and the other rooms were also empty, your office was the only place left. He slowly knocked, hoping to get an answer. To his surprise, nothing. He then gently pushed the door open, just enough for his head to peek inside. Before he could call your name, he heard sniffles from the farthest corner, he could make up your hunched, clearly crying figure and your favourite beige socks too. He exhaled as his worries washed away. Even though his heart ached more than ever, finding you with a meltdown was a relief as he initially thought you passed out or worse.
He didn’t enter the room. He shuffled himself out as quietly as possible to grab his guitar in his recording room. This should do, he thought.
He re-entered your office, walked closer and sat on the floor near you. The cramped space barely fits his long legs.
“Hey,” he greeted you with a hushed voice.
Noticing his voice, you instinctively lift up your head to see your husband, sitting in front of you. In your shocked-state, you forcefully brushed off your tears in embarrassment, your skin will probably turn red later.
“Hey.. No, no, no..” he reached out, wiping your tears, caressing your disheveled hair.
“Gently, yeah, yeah.. You’ll hurt yourself” he continued as he patted the areas under your eyes with his long sleeves.
After you calmed down, you didn’t have the courage to even say anything to the man. Deep down, you were embarrassed to be found in a silly breakdown, even if it was your husband. Besides, you didn’t know what to say to him anyways. While you were overthinking and avoiding eye contact with him, he pulled the guitar behind him and started to play a familiar song,
“It's a beautiful life
난 너의 곁에 있을게
(I'll stay by your side)
It's a beautiful life
너의 뒤에 서 있을게
(I'll stand right behind you)
Beautiful love”
Slowly but surely, your heart warmed up to the sound of his voice and you couldn’t help but stare at your husband. He stopped singing when your eyes met and he gave you a comforting smile.
“C’mon, let’s get you up princess,” as he helped you stand up, circling his arms around your waist. You haven’t articulated a sound but he didn’t mind, he just let you lean into his sides as he guided you to the couch in the break room. He sat you down before abruptly standing and rummaging a brown paper bag on the coffee table,
“I got your favourite cake and hot chocolate actually,” he grinned, facing your puffy face. “I thought you were having a hard time, well- I know you are having a hard time… But you never tell me you know, Babe?” He rambled as he unboxed a variety of sliced cakes and pastries on the table.
“I-I get the fact that you wouldn’t want to burden me, but I’m kinda your husband and best friend too.. I wish you wouldn’t keep these things from me” he picked up the fork and scooped a piece of cheesecake to feed you,
Before you had the chance to reply,
“I mean—open up a lil’ baby— I don’t mind you working and all, it’s your passion and I will support you either way, but you don’t get to shield your meltdowns from me… Who’s gonna hold you when you cry, huh?” he kept on chattering while feeding you, giving you no room to talk.
“I’ve said a thousand times that we’re super comfortable right now, yet I know it’s not about the money, I’m super cool with you working.. It’s about the workload a-and the pressure you get from your subs and colleagues!!” He raised his arms as a sign of annoyance.
You gulped down the big chunk of cheesecake and shut him up with a peck. The action took him by surprise but it didn’t fail to shut him up.
“Okay, Chanyeol.” you softly replied, followed by another peck on his lips
“I get what you mean” you smiled at your husband.
You then began on telling the troubles you had at work, silently thanking the universe that he came in the right moment and that he was your saving grace. He listened intently, even going to the measures of contacting his technician friends to help fix your laptop as soon as possible. He made jokes too along the way to lighten your mood and gave you warm touches here and there to comfort you further.
You were his home, his ground zero.
He was yours too.
—
Hours passed and now you were back working, Chanyeol in the other room, busying himself in the recording studio.
“Yeol?” you called him.
“Hmm? What’s up princess?”
“Uh- I just remembered, didn’t you had like- plans? You were supposed to go with Baek and the members today right?”
Footsteps were apparent as he walked closer to the opened door of your office, his head peeped through the door.
“Junmyeon-Hyung canceled, Baek too.. I was quite grumpy because I reached the office when Baekhyun texted me” He walked in further.
“Then I came home but the house wasn’t warm enough even though I cranked the heater up!” He sulked, and sulked further.
“I was alone, I don’t want to be…I also don't want you to be alone too Y/N.
I only wanted to be around you, I really tried staying in!! But I couldn’t be alone in the house without you when you’re my home.” he pouted.
You want to die then and there, you miss him as much and he was sad, it makes you sad too, but he was being sulky-cute… Can you turn into a putty of love?
“Come here you big baby!” you excitedly threw yourself in his arms. He buried his soft locks on the crook of your neck as he whispered ‘I miss you' s and you couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh.
“I miss you too, Yeol..
I miss you so, so much.” He hugged you tighter as he giggled too.
This was it, you thought. This was love at its finest and you couldn’t be happier that you’ve found it. For all the moments, good or bad, both of you never failed to become each other's home.
#Chanyeol#ParkChanyeol#chanyeol fic#chanyeol scenario#chanyeol x reader#chanyeol x you#chanyeol fanfic#chanyeol angst#chanyeol fluff#chanyeol imagine#chanyeol x yn#exo imagines#exo fanfic#exo oneshot#exo angst#exo fluff#comfort fic#park chanyeol fluff#pcy x yn#pcy x reader#exo scenarios#exo pcy#pcy fluff#pcy angst#exo#exo fic#exo fic rec
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For your match up requests can you surprise me? 🥰💙
Of course I can, you lovely bean you. Once again I am a cheater and I know who n' what you like, so with that being said...
I assign you; Bo and Vincent Sinclair!
Note: This is NSFW. Strictly because of gore, blood, violence, and mentions of sexual activities. There are allusions to non-con, as well as dub-con, some domestic violence, and forced relationships. Just overall dead dove, stay safe kiddos! This was also not proofread or edited, and my first time writing for them!
Be gentle.
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
There was something deeply unsettling about the smell of burning meat.
When coagulated fat boiled and broke down it released a nauseating odor that permeated the humid Summer air. Sometimes it could take on the smell of barbecue, which was dependent on what animal was chosen.
You didn't care much for it either way.
Lester tosses a lopsided smile in your direction, using one bloodied hand to wave at you before focusing on dragging the decomposing deer toward the burn pile. You offer a tight-lipped smile in return, not wanting to give the impression you didn't have manners. Those were the most important thing to have around this place.
"Jee-zus Christ, why the fuck are you doin' this so close to town?"
The sound of a slamming truck door made you jump, and that familiar voice had you frozen in place. Your fight or flight instincts always had you ready to bolt, but over time and many failed attempts you had learned it was best to stay put. Boots crunch in gravel and you struggle to stay still.
"Ain't got nowhere else t'do it, Bo." Lester retorts before turning his head to spit.
Bo came to a stop beside you and sucked his teeth as his arms folded. You stare forward without looking. Your vision is tunneled now, and all you are aware of is the chirping of birds and crickets. There is a silence that lulls between you, and you've stopped breathing.
"What do you think, firefly?" Came the dull drawl of Bo's voice as his head turned to face you.
Aside from the regular torture, it seemed that Bo enjoyed antagonizing you with biased questions. Always putting you in the middle of things and forcing you to pick a side. The illusion of choice, as you knew agreeing with anyone but him, got you punished.
Both brothers were staring at you now. Bo, with his arms folded and Lester with a fist on his hip. Of the two, you knew Lester handled disappointment far better. That made things marginally easier, though disappointing him still left you uneasy. Aware that you were expected to respond, you begin blinking the sting of smoke out of your eyes. Finally, you cast a gaze upwards, daring to look at the more imposing man beside you.
"T-the breeze c-carries the smell," your voice was a squeak. "S-should try to f-find a different spot, m-maybe-"
A large hand claps your back and makes you gasp.
"Y'see, even she knows better." Bo grinned into his words while his brother scoffed. "Next time find a better spot." He warned, his expression tightened and some of that southern charm lifted, revealing just a glimpse of what he really was under the veil.
Lester waves his hand dismissively and mutters to himself as Bo leads you to his truck. You are silent as you climb into the passenger side, and do not look at the older man as he settles behind the wheel with a grunt. The old engine sputters and then rumbles to life, rattling the frame of the truck.
"Why're you lollygaggin' around with him for?"
The glass of the window cools your forehead as sweat beads along your temple and upper lip. After such a short period outside, the humidity sapped your energy and most of the moisture inside you. Leaving you with a dry mouth and some fatigue. You wanted a clever answer for Bo, something smart and witty that'd appease him, but nothing came to mind.
Impatiently, Bo grips a fist into your hair and yanks your head in his direction. The pain causes you to wince, but you don't fight it. You knew better. Instead, your glassy eyes stare up at him as your face contorts into something apologetic.
"Did the heat fry your fuckin' brain, kid? Answer me." His eyes flick from the dirt road to you.
"I think he gets lonely." Your voice was quiet. "He asked if I wanted to tag along, n' I said sure. That's all."
Blunt nails stung your scalp, his grip relenting only marginally at the answer. Bo snorts and shoves your head away from him.
"Well aint you just a bleedin' heart as always." His large hand fell to your knee, callouses rubbing over the smooth skin before slipping under the hem of your dress. "You wanna fuck him too?"
You knew where this was going. The same thing happened when it came to Vincent. Bo was a confident man with a sizeable ego but got sore as hell when the topic of his brothers came up. He wanted to be your favorite, but he also felt entitled to you, like he owned you. There were impossible, silent conditions he imposed upon you that left you guessing what the right thing was to say.
The trial and error wove itself as scars in various places on your skin. Cruel reminders of what failed attempts got you. Bo liked to caress them, kiss them, tell you what a shame it was to mar that lovely derma and how he wished you hadn't made him do it. Vincent was the opposite. His hands traced along marks while holding you close, remembering which ones he had meticulously stitched together.
When Bo's hand encroached on the junction of your thighs, you were tensing. "No, I don't wanna fuck him." His fingers curl into the yielding flesh of your inner thigh. He said nothing because he was waiting for more out of you. "I-I only wanna fuck you, Bo. P-promise."
He sucked his teeth again and tapped his thumb against the steering wheel, his hand no longer moving. "You sure 'bout that princess? I've seen how you look at Vincent." The words soured on his tongue, causing his brows to vex and his fingers to bruise into your thighs. To call him territorial was an injustice.
"That's a good girl." His palm clapped your leg twice before withdrawing from your dress and back to the wheel. "You're gonna show me once we get to the house."
Nausea settled in your stomach like a bowling ball. Between that and the unbearable heat, you felt certain you were going to puke. You nod because you have no choice, and unless you wanted to be strung up in the dungeon below the station, you had to play the part.
Left to ruminate in your thoughts, Bo drove silently up towards the old home. When he parked, he caught your wrist as you were climbing out. "Straight to the bedroom." His voice lost its pleasant southern twang and had become something angry. His eyes were dark, focused pools staring at you from below the line of his cap.
"O-of course, right away." The power behind his grip would leave your wrist decorated in finger shaped bruises.
Traversing the incline to the front door, you nudge inside and wipe sweat off your face. Before you could move up the old steps, something touches your shoulder and makes you jump.
"Vincent!" You whisper.
Vincent stood tall and silent, staring down at you through black holes in his mask. It had taken quite some time for you to adjust to, but still, the emotionless face could be quite uneasy. More than once, you had seen it from your peripherals, when in the shower or hanging your clothes up to dry. You knew Vincent had a fascination with watching you and often played into being oblivious to indulge him.
The hand on your shoulder withdrew, and he upturned his palm. Your eyes soften, and you offer your wrist. This was routine when you returned from Bo, and while Vincent was no gentle saint, he was far more kinder to you than the latter. His fingers close around your wrist in a gentle but encompassing grip as he begins to look you over.
"No new ones today."
He turns your other arm over, then tilts your chin and checks your throat. Inside the house was much cooler, yet you felt your body getting hot. You couldn't say if he cared out of compassion or pity, though you assumed it was the same care a farmer had towards their livestock. A press to your lips made your eyes widen and warmth bloom across your cheeks.
Your lips part for him as he presses over your bottom teeth and part of your tongue. With your jaw opened wide, you felt fear. Bo had always mentioned how terrible it would be if they had to remove some teeth for bad behavior. While Vincent had a softer touch, he had no problem bruising and taking from you what he could.
Heavy footfalls made you jump, and your eyes go wide. Vincent released your jaw and shoved you up the stairs knowingly. You don't hesitate or look back as you clamber the stairs and round the corner as the front door swings open. Bo's muffled voice emanates up through the floorboards below, and you silence your steps. Tip toeing into the bedroom, you flail your hands out in the dark, your memory of the layout serving you well as you navigate blindly to the bed.
Slipping your dress to your ankles, you step out of your shoes and climb onto the bed. His smell lingers there on the pillow beside yours, which prompts you to turn your head away. In the silence, you hear your pulse and nervous breathing. Your heart sounds like a frightened animal beating against a cage. You also hear Bo asking Vincent to do something for him. Perhaps he was sending him away from the house, back to the museum, where he wouldn't be nearby to listen.
Maybe he was asking him to come watch, to humilate you further by fucking you in front of him. You wouldn't put it past Bo to taunt his brother in such a way. It was no secret Vincent was charmed by you, and while that was no comfort in its own, you delighted in the fact it pissed his brother off.
Everything fell silent as your heart settled to a slower pace. Then, you could hear the steady climbing of stairs and a low whistling tune. Your throat was dry and head pounding from lack of water. If you could spare the moisture, you would have shed tears. After so many weeks trapped in Ambrose, you had hoped that the fear would go away. Instead, the fear had turned into uncertainty; how long would they keep you alive? You wondered if they would grow bored and discard you in the burn pile, or perhaps Vincent would cherish you as one of his figures. You tried to avoid those thoughts.
The whistling and footsteps came to a stop outside the door. "Honey," the knob twists and light cascaded across your bare form. His silhouette was massive and imposing in the doorway. There was a jaunt to his tone now, almost sing-song.
"I'm home "
#bo sinclair#vincent sinclair#bo sinclair x reader#bo sinclair x female reader#beauregard sinclair#vincent sinclair x you#vincent sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair x female reader#lester sinclair#bo sinclair x you#slasher#slashers#slasher x reader#slasher x you#house of wax#HOW#Ambrose#Beauregard sinclair x you#Beauregard sinclair x reader#Beauregard sinclair headcanons#Beauregard sinclair headcannons#Vincent sinclair headcanons#vincent sinclair headcannons
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Chaos // Bradley Bradshaw
Chapter Six: Addicts
Summary: All hell breaks loose when the uranium mission doesn’t go according to plan. Rooster follows you down into enemy territory. It’s a race against time to find a way home safely.
Warning: Bradley Bradshaw x reader. Ex girlfriend ex boyfriend. Angst! Whump!
Word Count: 14.1k
Author Note: Oh my god. I don’t even know what to say. If you’re still here—thank you so much. We’re officially finished the main six chapters of Chaos. It’s been fun!
“So how's that addiction going?” Bob's voice drew you from deep thought as you looked out over the water, flight helmet in hand, hung by your side. Both geared up ready to go for what could very well be your last mission. “He looks strung out–” Gesturing to where Rooster stood talking to Maverick, it wasn't hard to miss the noticeable layer of sweat that had come over him. Looking over your shoulder you could only imagine what Pete must have been saying to Rooster, talking him down from whatever purch he’d plopped himself on.
“Yeah, well, I think I'd be the last person on earth he’d wanna be flying with right now–” singing softly as you turned to face Bob fully. “And as for the addiction, I'm a full blown addict.”
“You’re addicted—“ Robert Floyd was a different breed. He saw the world differently to most, almost like a textbook. With facts and evidence to back up his hypothesis and firm beliefs. He wasn’t a believer in the paranormal and he most certainly wasn’t a fan of politics. “Like full blown addicted—“ He was a man of science, numbers, statistics.
“He’s my ex Bob, not heroin!” The Lemoore sun was almost too much to bear as you and Bob hiked up the steep incline of Grants Creek. Bob’s idea for a team bonding exercise or his version of some sort of sick joke. “And besides, don’t you think it’s important to say no to drugs?” Jerk it out by the Caesars blasting through the speaker that hooked through Bob’s backpack, the carabiner doing God’s work.
“Well, it’s just not that simple.” Somewhere along the way—Bob had removed his T-shirt. It wasn’t that it was out of character for him to do so, it was simply that he trusted you not to comment. A little on the insecure side. But his faith in you to just accept him outweighed his own insecurities. Over the past six months, you had been his closest friend, his front seater, his best friend, his…. Well, Bob would never admit it but, crush? Maybe? He wasn't sure, all he knew for sure was that he thought you deserved the world. This ex you kept talking about? Kept confiding to him about? Just didn't seem to cut it in Bob’s eyes.
“Isn’t it the most simple thing in the world?” You questioned as you dramatically gasped for air, taking in the humidity of the atmosphere around you. Bob couldn't help but to chuckle as he handed you his water bottle. “Thanks—“ Taking it, you paused in your tracks for a breather. “Everyone knows drugs are bad, right? So why even start? I mean they cause crime and death—“
“And they also prop up the US economy.” Passing Bob back his water you frowned in concern.
“What are you talking about?” Bob loved a challenge, he always had. He loved talking to you about anything and everyone. He loved it because you wouldn't shrug him off, you would listen to what he had to say with interest and intent.
“Are you familiar with gross domestic product?” It wasn’t that Bob thought you were stupid, he just wanted to explain his standpoint. Watching as you nodded in response as the sun beamed down and the layer of sweat that had formed across the expanse of your body made it look like you were glowing. A sweaty, disgusting beautiful mess. “Well it’d be great if people didn’t get addicted to drugs, but—people are addicted to drugs.” Turning to face you as you both kept walking, making sure you were still following where he was going. “In order to get the drugs they have to buy them right? And that drug dealer needs to feed his family, they need a house and clothes and the family needs a car right? And there was even this theory that said drug money was the only thing that prevented the collapse of the global economy in two though and eight.”
“Why’s that?” Panting, following Bob up the steam incline, he reached out to lend you a hand, pulling you up the hill as he continued to walk beside you, just in front of you. His hands helping to guide you up as you played damsel. Bob knew you were fine, you just didn't want to be hiking right now, on your one day off the rest and recover.
“Because drug money was the only available cash to prop up big banks—without drugs, without addiction, shit would probably go tits up.”
“So what you’re trying to say is, I’m a closeted drug addict and my drug of choice is my toxic ex?” Bob knew he’d gone a little in depth with the facts, but he wouldn’t deny he was a numbers person. Facts and statistics was his way of life. “How’d you manage to make such a black and white argument grey?”
“I just don’t think it’s inherently something that’s good or bad—just, promise you won’t let whoever this guy is, when you ultimately go back to him—“
“I won’t.” You tried to defend yourself, Bob didn’t let you finish as he jogged ahead of you, turning to face you with a stirn finger pointed your way. The sun in his eyes— he’d forgotten his favourite hat.
“Ah but see! All addicts say the same damn thing, you know he’s bad for you, you recognise the damage he does, but the euphoria that you get with him just outweighs the consequences.” Bob had you trapped in your own defence. “Next thing you know you’re on the street—“
“Could be worse right?” Bob looked at you with concern, evident in his eyes. “Well I mean I could end up dead right? But you can’t overdose on a person can you?” Shrugging your shoulders, following Bob up the incline. Feet crunching the gravel dirt with every step you took. Bob had never seen a clearer addict before in his life—how did he know? Because he was one himself. Only his drug came in the form of adrenaline.
“Just, when it inevitably does happen—don’t forget you aren’t some B-grade constellation prize.” It made you blush, you felt the heat rising in your cheeks as you hid your smile for a brief moment. There was just something about Bob that made you feel at home. “C’mon—we’re running sprint to the top.”
“What!?” You groaned, letting your shoulders slump dramatically as you threw your head back. Bob was the kinda guy who liked to do that In manorial 9/11 stair master workout just for fun. You should have picked up he was psychotic from the get go. “This isn’t funny anymore—“
“Hey, I thought you were great at running away from your problems? It must be exhausting rooting for the anti-hero though, I get it.” Challenging you, Bob took off. His bag clinging to his bare back as you sighed, chasing after him with a huff.
“I've always found that admitting a problem is always the first step to recovery.”
“But I don't think I wanna recover, that's the problem Bob.” You knew you didnt wanna recover, all you’d ever wanted was Bradley bradshaw. But somewhere deep inside you there was a terrible feeling that you'd cut whatever thin thread there was keeping you together. Lying never solved any problem you’d ever had. Perhaps Jake had been right, you should have just told Rooster the truth instead of lying, trying to protect him. But look where that got you?cNowhere and alone. Shaking off the despair, you rubbed your face, pushing the stray hairs away from your face as the wind raced around you and Bob. “Hows’ Hangman?”
“He’s easy to make insecure—I'm sure he’ll get over it.”
“It has been an honour flying with you all. Each one of you represents the very best of the best, this is a very specific mission–my choice is a reflection of that and nothing more.” Maverick stood before the class with his shoulders squared.
“Choose your two foxtrot teams.” Admiral Beau stated firmly as he stood off to the side with his arms behind his back. Watching as Maverick nodded in the opposite direction to where you stood near the back of the room. Hiding amongst the class.
“Payback and Fanboy–” Okay good, you could deal with that. “Phoenix and Bob–” You felt the wind get knocked out of you for a brief moment. Not Bob. Anyone but Bob. in the most sincere, heartfelt way– you couldn't stand the idea of him not coming back from this.
“Choose your wingman–” you had begged, pleaded Pete to choose someone, anyone, besides Rooster to be your wingman. You had even told him that flying with Hangman, although it may cost you your life, would be better than flying with Rooster.
There were a total of two men in your life you never wanted to fly with on a serious mission. Those men being Bradley Bradshaw and Robert Floyd. The only real reason you had to be so reluctant was because to see them burn out would mean the death of you too. You weren't strong enough to come back from seeing that, you knew that much for sure. There was a split second, a brief pause, a glimpse in Mavericks eyes that had you for the briefest of seconds thinking he had listened. But fuck where you wrong.
“Rooster–” Fuck.
“And team lead?” There had never been a worst position to be in. You knew some of the class knew, others maybe not. Standing to the back of the room would mean the quickest escape to grab your gear, get the fuck out and get this voer with.
“Chaos.”
“Chaos!” Jake shouted as he came jogging over. Bob took it as his sign to leave. Deciding a hug was more fitting than a handshake. Embracing you with open and inviting arms, Bob consumed you entirely.
“I'll see you on the other side yeah?” pulling away, he kept his hands firmly on your shoulders. “And dont do anything stupid, we get in, we get out.”
“Absolutely I wouldn't even dream of it.” Tapping your shoulder Bob let you go, turning on his heels to make his way over to his F-18, Phoenix waiting for him as Hangman approached you. “Hangman–”
“You give 'em hell–” Jake stuck his hand out for you to shake, graciously you took it. Looking him square in the eyes as you did so. “There is no better pilot for the job than you.”
“Do me a favour? When this is all over? You and me, we’re gonna settle our differences, you and me– the Hard Deck ,six o’clock.” Jake chuckled as he let his hand drop. Standing before you as you smiled his way. He knew you were deflecting from your own self doubt. But for now he’d let you–because it seemed to be working rough to hold you together.
“Deal–I'll book it in with Penny.”
There wasn't much time left, by the time you had finished taking your tags off– Hondo was coming at you telling you it was time. You couldn't put it off any longer even if you wanted to. Doing one final lap of your F-18, Rooster was walking your way.
“Lieutenant Kazansky!” Rooster shouted over the roaring sounds of F-18 engines. “Ma’am!” of fuck the actual fuck off, was he really resorting to ma’am? “Lieutenant–”
“Rooster, it's Chaos or Y/n, stop with the ma’am bullshit before I decide to knock it out of you.”
“I just wanted to say–” Obnoxiously loud radio chatter cut Rooster off before he could finish. Which was probably a good thing, he was probably about to say something stupid—something he’d regret or most likely wish he never said. Fear riddling his central nervous system to the point he wasn’t thinking straight, that much was clear.
“We’ll talk, when we get back–” You stepped a little closer, fingers reaching for Roosters. Softly playing with his fingertips as you kept your gaze on the ground. Not daring to look up. “We’ll talk about everything–” Nodding in response, Rooster swallowed the lump in his throat he couldn’t seem to get rid of. Stepping back and away. Sweating balls. A nervous mess.
“Hey– Brad! Bradley! Hey!” Shouting you caught his attention. Watching as he turned to face you from across the deck. “You got this– don't think, just do.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
Terrifying. That’s what it felt like to be in your F-18, ready for take off. “Dagger one, up and ready on catapult one.”
“Dagger spare, standing by.” Hangman was the first to confirm his position after you.
“Dagger four up and ready–” Then Payback.
“Dagger three, up and ready” Then Phoenix.
“Dagger two, up and ready. “ And last my certainly not least– Bradley Bradshaw. Something you would never get used to was the force of being propelled from a carrier. The way the cord snapped back and let you go at a million miles an hour–take off from a short runway, moreso a taxiway was one of your greatest fears. That and being used as a personal plaything by Bradley. There was something so dehumanising in the way you would so easily allow him to come back and forth into your life, but when things were good? They were great. But when things were bad? It made the depths of hell seem like a summer vacation. A holiday destination you'd rather visit instead of having to deal with the heartbreak he left every time he’d walk away.
But Bradley bradshaw was a changed man, right?
“Comanche, dagger one standby check in.” Flying steady as you looked at your radio. Trying to push any and all thoughts of Rooster to the side. An achievement you were unlikely to achieve.
“Comanche, one one set, picture clean recommend dagger continue.”
“Copy Daggers descending below radar.” It wasn't very professional of you to be clouded with thoughts of Rooster as you flew closer and closer into enemy territory. If anything, having a clouded mind could easily get you killed. Letting emotion get the better of you was the last thing you wanted to be a victim of while flying a mission like this.
“Daggers now below radar, switching to E-2 picture.” Lilian, Camanche, addressed the carrier as she switched signals. It was unsettling to know you weren't on radar anymore. To begin to think things could go wrong now would be sentencing you and your team to an unlikely death. But you couldn't help but wonder without a radar signal, who would come find you if things went south? Would you have to claw your way back–would Adrial beau care? Would he send a rescue? Would he send his spare in?
“Here we go, enemy territory up ahead in sixty seconds, Comanche dagger one picture.”
“Comanche picture clean, decision is yours.”
“Copy–dagger attack.” Not even a few short seconds went by before you heard and saw the tomahawks fly over the top of you. There was no turning back now. “Daggers, assume attack formation.” Phoenix and Bob settled in on your tail. Rooster behind them, Payback and Fanboy at the tail end of the group. Picture perfect.
With a deep inhale and a slow burn exhale, you closed your eyes for a brief moment and prayed to whatever god was listening. To whatever guardian angel—your or not, who would watch over everyone. Bring them home safe to their families. “Daggers set, proceeding to target, two minutes and 30 seconds in three, two, one, mark.”
“Two mark.” Rooster checked directly after you.
“Three mark.” Payback reported, his timer set and counting.
“Four mark.” Phenix stated, still right on your tail.
“Going in–” The terrain itself was stunning. Snow covered mountains that were decorated with pines. It seemed as if it had been plucked right from a scene in those tacky Christmas holiday love story movies. As you throttled forward, all four of the F-18’s engines began shrieking. Reminding you that this was anything but a Christmas movie. This was real and this was serious and this could be deadly if you didn’t put your entire being into this. “First SAM site overhead.”
“Looks like we're clear on radar Chaos.” Phoenix was quick to interject.
“Let's not take that for granted.” Smirking softly as you turned left and right—sharp corners at every turn.
“More SAM’s, three o’clock high!” Fanboy spotted, you were grateful for the backseats because honestly you hadn’t even seen the SAM’s he was talking about. Your head in the clouds.
”We got two minutes to target.” Bob’s voice rattled through your radio. An underlying nervousness in his tone. Scared–but not enough to not know what an honour it was to fly this mission, with this group of highly skilled, highly trained pilots.
“Copy–” Payback was the first to respond. “We’re a few seconds behind, Rooster, we gotta move.”
“Dagger one, Comanche, we’re picking up two bandits. Single group, two contacts.”
“Comanche, what's their heading?” Phoenix was quick to ask.
“Bulls-eye 090, 50, tacked southwest.”
“They’re heading away from us, they don't know we’re here.” Rooster was sweating head to toe. Nervous as all hell. He didn't think he was ready for this, the way you had so confidently said you didn't believe he was ready either had stunted him. Although Jake had pulled him aside later that same night to say you were full of it–that you’d only said it so he’d stay behind, safe. It was still enough to curve him. Rattle him enough to have his nerves at an all time high.
“The second those Tomahawks hit the air base, those bandits are gonna move to defend the target–we have to get there before they do.Increase speed.” It really wasn't long after you had mentioned the tomahawks that they had hit the runways. Blowing them to smithereens as you got confirmation from the carrier it had been a successful hit.
“We got you Chaos, don't wait for me!” Phoenix’s voice came through strong on your radio.
“Bandits are switching course to defend the target.” The enemy well and truly knew you were coming as Lilian radioed in from her radio station.
“Rooster, where are you?” It wasn’t a question you wanted any response to other than right behind you. But that wasn’t what you were gonna get. His lack of motivation to go any faster then a snail had you generally concerened for his wellbeing, as a pilot of a fucking incredibly high staks mission and as a legitimate friend.
“C’mon Rooster, bandits inbound, we gotta make up time now– let's turn and burn.” Payback was the first to respond, trying to shake Rooster out of whatever state of mind he was in.
“Heads up Phoenix–” Flipping to your side with a sharp pull on your throttle—you sped through the arches of a bridge that hadn’t been simulated on the course you’d all been running the last few weeks. Phoenix still hot on your tail followed suit. Flawlessly.
“Guys, we’re falling behind, we really gotta move.” You heard everything going on behind you, not being able to turn back was killing you because it didn't just feel like you were leaving lieutenant Bradshaw behind. It felt like you were leaving your best friend behind, the love of your life. It probably felt that way because he was, you were leaving him behind–and after your last wingman? That wasn't something you could bring yourself to do. Never again. Fanboy was doing everything he could from his seat in the back of Paybacks F-18.
“If we don't increase our speed right now, those bandits are gonna be waiting for us when we reach the target.” Listening to Payback trying to coerce Rooster into getting his head in the game was starting to take its toll on you. Throwing caution to the wind with everyone around–including but not limited to the entire dager squad, the Admirals and an entire team of operations specialists listening in on over correspondence spoken.
“C’mon Rooster you can do it, don't think–just do.” Something in the way you said it really had Rooster listening, his chest warm as his heart grew. You really didn't understand just how much your words could affect him. The simplest of sentences could send him into overdrive or bring him to his knees. And this—sent him into hyperactive hyperdrive. “Don't think B’rad, just do.”
Channelling his dad's energy, Rooster shoved his throttle forward as he felt the G force around him change. Climbing rapidly as he raced against the clock to catch up.
“Jesus Rooster not that fast” Payback shouted as he suddenly felt like the one who was left behind. Watching in disbelief as Rooster hightailed it through the valley at high speed.
“That's it Bradshaw, that's it.” Smirking to yourself you knew Rooster would catch up. He’d make up for lost time now that he had his thumb out of his ass.
“Damn Rooster take it easy!” Fanboy teased—knowing Rooster was probably going a little faster then he honestly would have liked to have been. Purely to get back to you.
“Thirty seconds to target, Bob check your laser.!” It was becoming a race against the clock more so than ever before as you approached the target.
“Air to ground check complete, laser cose verified one six, eight eight. Laser is a go.” Bob confirmed, he could feel his heart beating out of his chest. He was so nervous.
“Phoenix, stand by for pop-up strike.” This was it, everything came down to this.
“Dagger three in position.” Phoenix confirmed flying hot on your tail.
“Popping in three, two, one.” inverting was always one of your favourite manoeuvres to pull, it made you feel invincible. Immortal for a split second. Coming back to a neutral position as you tried your best to steady your eyes on the target. The pressure on. “Get me eyes on that target, Bob–”
“Dagger three, stand by Chaos–” you could hear the panic lacing Bob's voice as he worked as fast as he could to get control over his weapons systems.
“C’mon Bob, C’mon!” You couldn't hold off for much longer, running out of time as you approached the target. It was now or never and never wasn't an option.
“Stand by!--” It felt like the longest few seconds of your entire life as you waited for the tone to sound. “I've got it, captured.” The sweet sweet sound of Bob's voice filled your cockpit as the radio blared with the confirmation you needed.
“Target acquired bombs away.” There was not another second to spare as your dropped your bombs. “Popping in three, two, one!” Pulling up the nose of your F-18, you fought against everything that told you to pass the fuck out. The force against your body nothing like you’d ever imagined as you felt the black ring around your eyes consuming you.
“We’ve got impact! Check! Direct hit direct hit!” Bob’s voice pulled you back from the brink as he confirmed you’d managed to actually hit the target. The taste of sweet sweet success had never tasted so sweet. But as sweet as success tasted there was a bitter aftertaste– where the hell was Rooster?
“Dagger two status!” It came out more pained than it should have, but fighting against the urge to pass out and the force of a thousand elephants crushing your chest will do that to you.
“Almost there Chaos almost there– Fanboy where my laser.” Rooster replied as he inverted over the lip of the mountain. Not far away at all. But after Roosters initial reply everything seemed to blur together as radio white noise.
“Rooster, there's something wrong with this laser! Shit deadeye deadeye deadeye!”
“C'mon guys we’re running out of him. Get it online”
“Come on Fanboy, get it online.”
“There's no time, im dropping blind–”
“Rooster i got this–”
“No time Pull up!”
Rooster–!”
“Bombs away, Bombs away!!”
“We’re not out of this yet.” Warning signals blared the moment you flew up above the SAM’s. Instantly on you the millisecond you were in their airspace.“Here it comes!” Your radar wasn't that far off. Signalling that you were in shit, deep. “Radar warning! Smoke in the air! Phoenix, break right!”
“Emergency jettison, Dagger three defending!” Phoenix's voice came through strongly on your radio as she followed your instructions.
“Here comes another one!” Bob reported as he tossed and turned in his seat–looking every which way he could to see where the next SAM was coming from. Your second pair of eyes in the sky.
“Dagger one defending!” You coudlnt have smacked your first against your emergency flare trap if you wanted to. Deploying your flares, looking around to see the SAM’s explode behind you. “Rooster status?” it wasn't a question, but an order. Rooster heard it in your voice as he came over coffin corner.
“Oh my god–” You heard him, that was enough confirmation you needed to know he was still in the game. Still alive. “Smoke in the air!! smoke in the air!!” But knowing SAM’s were hot on his tail the second he breached coffin corner was something that made your heart stop. This was a fucking mess. But if you got out of this alive? There was only one thing you wanted to do more than anything else in the entire world. Just make things right.
“Break right Payback!”
“Breaking right!”
“Oh my god, here they come!” Fanboy.
“SAM on your six Rooster!”
“Deploying countermeasures!” “Negative contact.”
“Dagger one defending–”
“Talk to me Bob.”
“Break right phoenix break right! Nine o’clock nine o’clock!”
“Rooster two more on your six!”
“Dagger two defending!” emergency flares.
“Payback, SAM on your nose!”
“Dagger four defending!”
“Rooster tally, seven o’clock–”
It was all becoming too much to hear, too much to focus on, everything seemed to mash into one big mess inside your head.
“Talk to me Bob!”
“Dagger two defending”
“Phoenix break right!”
“I see it!” A mess of overlapping radio chatter until. Well, until it wasn't– until Rooster drew you out of the flurry you were in. deep in it.
“Dagger two defending–” Rooster groaned as he hit his flare cap. “Shit! I'm out of flares!” Your heart sunk, panic rose as you watched Rooster try and shake the SAM’s that kept coming his way.
“Rooster evade evade!” You shouted, tears welling in your eyes as you turned around. Splitting your throttles quicker than you could say I got you. This was Bradley Bradshaw you were protecting, you'd do anything for him– anything. Bob had said it months ago, you were an addict. You’d always go back for more no matter how bad he was for you. How bad you were for him.
“I can't shake em, they're on me! They’re on me!!” Shouting, Rooster panicked as you flew towards him. Not a thought behind your eyes besides protecting the one man who drove you fucking crazy with blind rage. The one man who knew all your secrets, all the flaws. The one man who loved you as fiercely and as passionately as he hated himself for loving you. Bradley Bradshaw wasn't just some pilot on some suicide mission you were leading. He was your best friend, the love of your life. To not save him would be to live a life alone, always regretting that you let him go.
“I can't do this again–” You whispered to yourself as you said a silent prayer to whatever god was watching over you. Whichever one that would listen you didn't really care. All you wanted was for Rooster to be alright. Be safe. Be able to go home. Even if to him his home was you. Wherever Rooster was? Home was wherever you were.
Without thinking, without hesitation, you pulled back on your throttle, sending your F-18 up, climbing in altitude as you swung up and above Rooster, hitting your flares to protect him. You felt the heat rising as you took out one of the SAM’s that were coming at Rooster, but it only grew as another blew out the back of your F-18.
“Fuck!!” Sending you spiralling into the valley below. Your skin burned under your flight suit, shrapnel embedded itself into your shoulder as you pulled your ejection cords. Punching out of the jet as it fell from the sky. Falling to the ground uncontrollably as you struggled with your shoot. “C’mon– c’mon!!” Ripping the cord just in enough time to slow you down before the tree line.
“Chaos!! No!!” Rooster shouted as pure panic consumed him. “Y/n!!” Watching the fireball that had been your F-18 crash into the valley below uncontrollably.
“Dagger one is hit! I repeat, Dagger one is hit! Chaos is down!” Phoenix reported back to the carrier. Bob couldn’t breathe, he’d told you not to do anything stupid. Why did you not listen? Addicts never listened.
“Dagger one status?” Rooster pleaded through the radio as he watched your F-18 go down in what would only be described as a fireball. Thick black clouds of smoke following. “Status?-- shit does anyone see her?” Rooster's voice became more panicked the longer he went without a definitive response. Flying around he couldn't see you. “Dagger one come in!”
“I didn't see a parachute–” Payback confirmed as he followed Rooster right on his tail.
“We have to circle back!” Rooster wasn't putting it to the group for questioning. He was going back, that wasn't an negotiable option. But that didn't stop them from trying.
“Comanche, bandits inbound, single group hot. Recommend dagger flow south– one minute to intercept.”
“All dagger flow to ecp–”
“What about chaos!?” Rooster hissed. Tears welling in his eyes– enough to the point where they steamed down his cheeks.
“Dagger spare requesting permission to launch and fly air cover!” Back on the carrier, Jake Seresin sat idly by at the hands of the Admirals who shook their heads despite his plea.
“Negative spare–” At the sound of the order he’d received Hangman threw his mask down with a frustrated grown. You weren't a quitter, if anything you were a fighter. But this? Was enough to break even the strongest of people. You had told him you wouldn't get to come back from this one, Jake just didn't know you meant like this.
“Dagger two you are not to engage, repeat you are not to engage.” It was a nightmare Rooster had never really thought about. Losing you on a mission, having you there one minute then being gone the next. Sacrificing yourself for him was also something Rooster was not about to let you do. “Dagger two return to carrier– acknowledge.” He’s been lucky this far in his career to not have flown a mission with you. And of course the first was the last.
“Rooster, those bandits are closing, we can't go back.” It killed him to say it but Bob knew he had to, in order to not lose anyone else today. He’d told you not to do anything stupid, so he wasnt going to do that either. Holding back his only emotions, because this wasnt over yet– Bob was the first to make the conclusion everyone was afraid to make. “Rooster, she's gone–Chaos is gone.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
The chill of snow captivated you entirely. It stung, like when you’d hold something cold for far too long. Everything hurt. From the blood that had seeped into your flight suit from the wound you had on your shoulder—to the pressure forcing itself down onto your lungs. Your ribs were on fire, your nose bloodied. Pushing yourself up onto your knees felt like a task only the fittest of people could do. But you pushed through, taking in your surroundings. Snow, trees, more snow and more trees.
With a heavy sigh, you sat back on your feet, legs bent as you focused on breathing– chuckling softly at the disbelief you were alive.
Your head spun at the sound of what you could only assume was an approaching helicopter. Almost definitely not one of yours. Scrambling as fast as you could against the clock to unclip your parachute. Watching in a flurry as it came around the corner—tracking you down.
“Fuck—“ You mermered to yourself as you worked a little faster. “Fuck fuck fuck—“ Struggling to breath, struggling to run, struggling to do just about anything as you ran for your god damn life through the snow– you decided that jumping over a nearby job that looked as if it could hide you would be your best option. You couldn't outrun a helicopter.
“Fuck!” Screaming at the top of your lungs, you curled yourself up into a ball as the enemy helicopter fired rounds your way. Missing every time but only by mere centimetres. So close you could feel the residual heat coming from them. “Oh my god–fuck!” Holding your shoulder you watched as the helicopter came around to face you, staring down the barrel of a gun, accepting your fate– you gave in. Shutting your eyes tight, you heard the sound of explosions, being met with sight of the helicopter blown to pieces when you opened them curiously. Watching as Roosters F-18 came racing by. Enemy SAM’s making contact with the tail of his F-18, forcing him down.
“Oh God No–” With pure panic bubbling to the surface as you stood, you watched as Rooster was struck, his F-18 spiralling down towards earth on fire. “Rooster! Fuck! No no no no no!” It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, you were bleeding from God only knows where with injuries unknown and countless–but you had to get to him. That wasn't negotiable.
Racing through the snow, trees lining the way, you ran as fast as your body would allow you to and then some. Pushing through everything you felt to get to Rooster. Seeing him casually folding up his parachute.
“You alright!?” You didn't let your legs slow down until you got to where Rooster was crouching over. Standing, he replied.
“Yeah, I'm good! What about you?” With a heavy shove to his chest you had Rooster on his back in the snow. Watching as he ripped his helmet from his face as you did the same. “What the hell!?” Rooster stood to his feet in a fluffy, his eyes beaming at you. Anger laced his tone as he got in your face.
“Fucking idiot! What are you doing here!?” You couldn’t hold in your anger. You thought he’d been stupid enough to sacrifice himself for you.
“What am I doing here?” Rooster repeated as you huffed, clearing injured and out of breath. Your good arm, working to cradle your clearly not okay arm. Holding your forearm close to your chest as you held the weight of your arm—taking pressure off your shoulder. Your collarbone throbbing. Ribs collapsing into your lungs.
“You think I took that missile so you could be down here with me!? You should be back on the carrier by now!?”
“I SAVED YOUR LIFE!” Leaning into it, Rooster gritted his teeth. Defending his actions as you puffed your chest. Still cradling your arm.
“No! I saved YOUR life! That’s the whole point! What the fuck where you even thinking!!”
“You told me not to think!” You had nothing to come back at him with. You had told him that, on many occasions. You just never expected he’d use your own logic against you. Stunned into silence– you watched as Rooster held his arms up and slammed them back down into his sides in a what the hell kinda way.
Out of breath and knowing that Rooster was alive, you let out a sigh of relief. Rooster stopped to look around for a brief moment– taking in the terrain.
“Well, it's good to see you.” You cooed, standing tall as blood dripped from your shoulder, seeping into your flight suit. Staining it a dark crimson colour.
“It's good to see you too–” Pausing briefly as his eyes wandered down to where the colour of your suit had changed, Rooster's heart sank. “Your bleeding?” Coming closer, you leaned into his touch. Feeling a little light headed as Rooster worked to unbutton a few of your flight suit buttons to get a closer look. Grimacing at the sight. “Well it certainly looks worse than it probably feels.”
��Feels like I've been shot by a flare.” The taste of iron covered your taste buds as blood dripped from your nose. Working to wipe it away with the sleeve of your suit.
“Little dramatic but I'd say some form of shrapnel.” Rooster mumbled as he worked to do up the buttons he had undone. “Other than that? You alright?” Silence fell between you as you looked up into Rooster's eyes. Noticing the blood on his neck.
Nodding you pressed your lips together—knowing if you spoke you’d be lying through your teeth. You didn't want to say anything else about any other injuries because you didn't know what was wrong. All your knew was that everything fucking hurt.
“I didn’t mean what I said.” It hurt to speak but you pushed it aside. Reaching out with your good arm to wipe the dirt off Roosters cheek. “I just didn’t want you flying this stupid mission.” You did it all for love.
“Yeah, I gathered that.” Rooster smirked as he reached out to cup your cheeks, standing so close although you were standing in the snow? You felt nothing but warmth. His warmth. “Hangman told me—“
“That fucker—I told him in—“ Rooster didn’t let you finish. His lips were warm against yours for what felt like a lifetime. Time stood still as he deepened it, desperately needed to just be with you. “When we get outta this mess, that's it okay—no more games, I wanna make this, us–work.” It hurt to hold your breath or whatever breath your lungs could hold as you kissed Rooster back. His hands still cupping your cheeks, holding you close to him as snow fell around you. “I thought for a moment there that I’d lost you for good and I’ll never shake that feeling.”
“Rooster—“
“Marry me?” Okay yeah now you couldn’t breathe.
“Did you hit your head?” Reaching out to inspect Rooster’s head, you frowned in response to his out there question. Listening to him chuckle as he shook his head. “What the hell—you hit your head didn't you?”
“I’m serious. Marry me Y/n.” Rooster was as serious as a heart attack.
“Bradley, we’re standing in enemy territory, I don’t know how to get us out of here and you already know whatever we are just isn’t—“
“Don’t think, just do.” Rooster smirked as he kissed you again. His hands squishing your cheeks together as you chuckled into his touch. Pulling away because you genuinely couldn’t breathe, your ribs crushing your lungs.
“Okay okay—I’ll think about it.” Silence fell as your eyes met Roosters. “When we get outta this mess, ask me again.” Roosters hands lingering on your hips—keeping you close as snow fell around you. “We need a plan.” Kissing the top of your head as he pulled you in, Rooster was unaware of the pain you were in.
“Well—what's the plan?” But despite the pain, you still had to figure a way out of here.
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
Alarm bells rang throughout the valley as you and Rooster laid parched at the lookout point you'd decided was the best vantage point. Holding your binoculars up, you handed them over to Rooster who was looking at you as if you were crazy. You’d have to have hit your head, this was crazy even for you.
“You're not serious?” looking at you with disbelief evident is his eyes Rooster asked if you were bat shit crazy. “You've gotta be shitting me, an F-14?” Rooster held the binoculars up to his eyes one more time to confirm what he was seeing, what he was hearing. There was no way this was your plan. Stupic, idiotic and absolutely chaotic at best.
“Mav’s shot down two MiG’s in one of those things–” You never took your eyes off the prize. This was the only way to get you and Rooster home. The only way you could come up with. “We need a way out—the only way out is to go out the same way we got in, fly.”
“Are you mentally deficient Chaos? This is a suicide mission—“ Rooster argued as he laid beside you on his stomach.
“What, and you thought blowing up all that Uranium wasn’t?” Rooster had to admit he got you there. “Rooster I learnt a long ago that if the Navy was only going to see a girl that’s dangerous, a force to be reckoned with and way too stubborn, then there’s no point in trying to be anything else—they aren’t coming back for me, for you, this is the only way we’re getting out of this alive.”
“We don't even know if that bag of ass can fly! Also, you've never flown one before!” Hissing through gritted teeth Rooster watched as you sat back on your knees, groaning softly as you cupped your side. Your bad arm still resting against your torso. Trying to keep it still without a sling was proving to be a little difficult.
“Let's find out–” You waisted no time as you pushed yourself up onto your feet—marching out into enemy territory.
“Chaos!” Rooster whisper shouted as he reached out for you, slipping through his fingertips as always. “Okay–” Deciding he didn't want to be left behind, Rooster ran after you, catching up quickly as you continued scouting the area. Feeling the brick wall that was Rooster crashing into the back of you as he lost his footing for a second.
“There's guys up there Chaos–”
“Yep–” You acknowledged Rooster as his hands guided your hips.
“There's more over there–” Looking around frantically, Rooster shoved you softly, forcing you to pick up the pace as you saw people running around you. Most likely heading to their stations.
“Okay–let's start running.”
“Yeah, run, run!” It really didn’t take the two of you long to reach the hangar where the old F-14 sat tucked away. Panting as you struggled to breathe—Rooster's stomach dropped at the feeling something might not be okay. “Hey you good?” His hand on the small of your back as you looked over the generator. A million things you had no idea what did or didn’t do. But a few things stood out.
“I’m fine.” It was a blatant lie, but to mention you felt like you were dying would be to worry Rooster for no good reason. “Okay so when I give you the signal for air, you're gonna flip this switch until the needle gets to one twenty.” Rooster listened as you explained what you needed him to do. “When the engine starts, you gotta pull out the pins and disconnect everything– do you understand?”
“How do you know all this?” There really wasn’t time to go into depth about how you’d taken an old aviation course a while back. Nothing serious, but it gave you enough basic knowledge to guess your way through this.
“No time for that now, do you understand?” Shaking off Roosters curiosity.
“Yeah– yeah I'm good.”
“Good.” Turning to try and get power going, you couldn't hold in your excitement when the generator kicked off. “Yes!--’ Racing off as you held your shoulder firmly, losing blood a little quicker than you would have liked to have been.
“Once I'm up, stow the ladder.” Placing your helmet on as Rooster watched on almost starstruck. He couldn't believe this was happening. He always thought you would be the death of him, but this wasn't what he had on his bingo card. Watching as you climbed up the ladder, stowing it away shortly after you sat down in the cockpit.
“Okay wow–talk to me Mav, what am I looking at here?” You mumbled to yourself as electronic wiring filled the cockpit as you gave Rooster the signal. Firing up the engines, Rooster raced around untagging and pulling pins. Jumping up onto the wing of the F-14 before settling in behind you.
“Oh my god this thing is so old–” Rooster had never flown with you before. Sure, he’d flown with you in terms of training—but he’d never been your back seater. He’d never been in the same cockpit as you.
“Canopy?” Rooster knew what type of pilot you were, reckless and crazy.
“Clear–!” But that was exactly what you both needed to get you out of here alive. Try or die. Pulling out of the hanger slowly, the creaking of aluminium filled your eardrums as you hit the breaks. Fuck— there way nothing left.
“Both runways are cratered, how are we gonna get this museum piece in the air?” Rooster asked as he sat behind you. Watching as you flipped the safety up—extending the wings out as if you were preparing for takeoff.
“Why are the wings coming out, Chaos?” You couldn’t help but to chuckle at how ridiculous it sounded coming out of Roosters mouth. He knew exactly why the wings were coming out—he just didn’t want to believe you were inherently this fucking crazy. This desperate. “Chaos this is a taxiway, not a runway, this is a very short taxiway Chaos!”
“Rooster just hang on–” You didn't see another way out. Committing as you fired up everything the old nF-14 had to give as full speed. Sending you both back against your chairs.
“Holy Shit!” If Rooster lived to see the day, he swore to himself that if he ever had the chance to have children, he’d be sure to tell them about the time their mother used a taxiway as a runway. Hopefully that would be enough to convince them of just how crazy you were. Perhaps maybe they'd be too scared to be reckless themselves.
“C’mon c’mon c’mon needles alive, c’mon– You grinned as you watched the needle climb, pulling up on your throttle as your landing gear left the taxiway.
“Chaos!!” Rooster shouted as he felt you lifting off.
“That's it, c'mon! C’mon! Here we go!”
“Holy shit!” Rooster felt like he was going to be sick, this was crazy even for you. The craziest thing he’d ever seen anyone do, and he knew Maverick. This took the cake. He felt the landing gear rip off the bottom of the F-14 as you just barely missed the top of the lookout. Exhaling in relief, Rooster turned his ESAT on. “You’re fucking crazy–”
“Hey if you have any ideas air them now Bradshaw–” Laughing together, you thought you were home free.”Can you work on getting us in touch with the boat?”
“Yeah, working on it, but the radio’s out, we have no radar, everything is dead back here. What should I do? talk me through it.”
“Okay, um–first the radio, throw the uh–UHF-2 breaker, try that?” There was something incredibly attractive about the way you told him what to do. Rooster knew it was probably really bad timing, but he couldn't help the way he felt. It was empowering, you were strong and fierce and everything his mother told him to find in a woman.
“There are three hundred breakers back there, anything more specific?” Rooster looked around at all the breakers trying to find the one you'd told him to try, completely overwhelmed.
“I’ve only taken a short course on old aviation and navigation, dad and Mav never really talked all that much about anything like that– I think it was more of your dad's department.”
“I'll figure it out.” Flying steady, it was almost too good to be true. Too easy, pulled off without a hitch. There was a small part of you that felt like something else was about to go wrong. The engine would die or the wings would fall off. “Chaos tally two five o’clock low.” Well it wasn't what you were imagining but it was still serious. “what do we do?”
“Okay listen, just be cool, if they knew who we were, we’d be dead already.” That much was ture. Scrambling your brain trying to come up with a plan, but there was nothing–you were running on empty.
“Well, here they come– what's your plan?” You wanted to be honest and say you didn't have one, because you really didn't. But you couldn't go down without a fight–not when you had Roosters life on the line as well. You were getting yourself out of this. Getting Rooster out of this.
“Just put your mask on, remember, we’re on the same team.” Flying up beside you the bandits gestured a few things you weren't sure of, signalling back you tried to say you could hear. That must have told them something was off. Watching as he filled back. “Oh shit his wingman is moving into weapons envelope.” Alright, listen up– when I tell you, you grab those rings above your head.” Rooster looked up to where the yellow and black striped rope was above his head. “That's the ejection handle.”
“Chaos can we outrun these guys?”
“Not their missiles and guns.”
“Then it's a dog fight–” You let Rooster's words linger in the air for a moment. He knew you had it in you, but something was stopping you from being reckless.
“An F-14, against fifth generation fighters?” Arguing the point, you really didn't want to have to admit you didn't think you could do it. Your lungs felt like they were full of water, your heart burned, your shoulder throbbed and your nose felt like it was ten times bigger than it should have been. You’d done a bang up job on yourself that was for sure.
“It's not the plane, it's the pilot.” Rooster's voice was soft, a starck contrast to the situation you were both facing right now. “I know you’d go after then if I wasn't here.”
“But you are here–” The way you said it, such softness in your tone, such a love, with such a desire to protect him. Rooster had to snap you out of it because he knew you better than anyone and there was no one else who could get the two of you out of this. It was do or die trying, there wasn't any room to hold back.
“C’mon Chaos, don't think, just do.” As if something possessed you in the blink of an eye—you were pulling back on the throttle violently. Forcing your jet behind the firs bandit before hammering in with your guns. Peppering the aluminium. “Tell me when you see smoke in the air!” Rooster did his best to stay in his seat as you broke left, then right. Doing your best to evade the second bandit. Turning around to look at the missile coming directly at you—tone ringing throughout the cockpit.
“Smoke in the air!! smoke in the air!”
“Hang on!” Turning left as sharp as you could, you swung low–racing past the bandit that was already on its way down. The missile that had been heading directly at you making contact with the bandit as you cut in front of him.
“Yeah Chaos! Splash one splash one!” Rooster cheered behind you, turning to see the bandit on your tail had fired yet another missile. “Here comes another one.”
“Rooster flares, now, now, now!” Rooster did as he was told, working quickly to deploy countermeasures, flares popping as he held his finst against the button. “Splitting the throttles, coming around.” You knew you were talking to yourself at this point but you didn't really care. It seemed to help as you pulled back and fell behind the bandit. Now positioned behind him once again. Chasing him down as you tried your best to get your targeting system on him. “Give me tone give me tone” The target lock beeped rapidly–notifying you that you had him locked. Or her– you weren't really sure and you didn't really care, it was them or you.
“You got him Chaos you got him!” Rooster kept doing his best to keep you focused, keep you fighting. He couldn't really do anything else. All his systems were down, he wasn't a backseater.
“I'm taking the shot!” As you took the shot with one of only two missiles that you had– you hoped it was a straight shooter. Unfortunately it wasn't, and you couldn't really explain what actually happened even if you tried. Watching as the bandit stalled his engines and flew straight past you, flat in a spin that seemed near impossible to control.
“Holy shit what the fuck was that?” Rooster had never seen a manoeuvre like that, neither had you.
“Hang on, we gotta get low, the terrain will confuse his targeting system.” swinging low, the nose of your F-14 took a steep dive towards the valley, only mere metres above the ground as you took sharp lefts and rights.
“Here he comes!” Rooster announced as he had his head turned. Feeling the not so good sensation of rounds embedding into the aluminium of your F-14.
“We took a hit, we took a hit!” Rooster watched as the bandit gained turf on your tail.
“Talk to me Rooster, where is he?”
“He's still on us!”
“Damit–”
“C’mon Chaos to some of the Vigilante shit!” This felt personal now. You were fucking pissed. You were hurt, bleeding. They say looks could kill and the way you were looking at this bandit right now—How was he not already dead?
“Brace yourself!” You were flying for revenge. Not a single aviation rule applied at this point. Pulling up as you climbed for altitude only to swing back around and cut the engine for a brief second to fall behind again.
“Holy shit!” Rooster usually had a pretty good constitution, but the way you were flying? It had him on the brink of spewing chunks down your back.
“I got tone, taking the shot!” You watched with revenge in your eyes as the Missile went flying towards the bandit. Smoke in the air as he deployed his flares—making contact. “Dammit—I’m out of missiles, switching to guns.”
“You got him Chaos!”
“It's not over yet, once last chance!”
“You can do this!” It felt like you were peering through a window, a deep portal, time travelling
All the love you unravelled and the life you almost gave away as Rooster encouraged you to keep fighting. Memories flashing back as you chased the bandit down.
“I'm trying to break up with you Y/n”
“I can't make you wait for me, I'm not going to do that.”
“I think I'm ready to let go now–”
“Thank you for breaking me to the point where I learned to finally value myself, It took a lot.”
“I'm not doing this anymore, this back and forth bullshit!”
“Well figure out a way to stop because you will be the last person I allow back into my life!”
“Go to hell Kazansky.”
As your mind whipped through a rolodex of memories, you hadnt even noticed you’d pulled the trigger for the final time. Peppering the banit with everything you had left. Roosters cheers, pulling you back from your subconscious.
“Yes! Splash two splash two!!” Bradley couldn't control his excitement if he tried, reacting over to tap your shoulder– not releasing it was your bad one.”
“AH, Fuck!” Hissing through gritted teeth you closed your eyes tight. Flying smooth over the water towards the carrier's last known positioning.
“What, what's wrong?” Rooster asked, not knowing how bad things really were. “Are you alright?”
“Im fine its just–” Pausing briefly, you let out a prolonged exhale as you adjusted yourself. “Just my shoulder Bradshaw, nothing I can't handle, just work on getting us in touch with the carrier.” It didn't take Rooster too long to figure out where that breaker was hiding that you told him about before the bandits had showed up.
Chaos, I got the radio on, gonna get us in touch now–”
“Copy That–” All of a sudden, your alarm systems began blaring. All you could think was not again, had you not been through enough all ready? “Oh my god–” Looking around you began to panic, eyes wide with fear.
“Where the hell is this guy?” Rooster questioned as he did the same, leaving fingerprints on the glass of the cockpit as he twirled in his chair. Looking every which way possible to try and spot the bandit.
“Rooster–he’s on our nose.” There wasn’t a moment more than now where you wished you could wake up screaming from dreaming, quickly acting to fire another round of ammunition—nothing “Dammit it, we’re out of ammo.” With fearful eyes and a heart racing at a million miles an hour—you saw the unimaginable. A missile coming straight for you. “SMOKE IN THE AIR–ROOSTER FLARES!” There was barely any time to react, you’d only just managed to pull up on the throttle. Sending the nose of your F-14 sky high.
“That was close!” Rooster turned in his seat as his eyes followed the bandit, watching with a tight chest and shallow breathing as he came back around. Coming right after you. Pressing his thumb against the flare ignition—nothing. “We’re out of flares Chaos!”
“Shit he's already on us!” Stuck in a tin can, bleeding to death—there wasn’t much else you had up your sleeves. In all accounts you’d put up a pretty good fight, one hell of a fight even. The sound of artillery fire rained down on your F-14, jolting you around as warning bells blared and systems flashed.
“We took another hit.”
“no , no, no, no, no, no–”
“We can't take much more of this!”
“We can't out run this guy, we gotta eject!”
“What?” Rooster would follow you to the end of the earth if you asked him to. But there had to be another way. One more spectacular surprise up your sleeve. You’d gotten him this far, the carrier was in sight.
“We need altitude, pull the ejection handles the second I tell you.”
“Chaos wait–” How could you give up now?
“Rooster there's no other way, eject eject eject!” It felt like the weight of the world was crushing you in on yourself—your lungs burned like smouldering piles of tar. “Rooster–pull the goddamn handle!”
“It's, not, working!” Those three simple words held so much weight. Enough to break you. Rooster tried his best to break the canopy free but it was no use. You’d done even in your power to save him, save yourself. But all your efforts would go unnoticed.
Underneath all your bad blood, you and Rooster still had your sanctum. Despite everything? Bradley Bradshaw was still home.
Although you’d said it a million times over, but it was never too late to build it back everything you had—everything you wanted to have and more. A one-in-a-million chance is still a chance at the end of the day—and for Rooster you would take those odds.
“I’m so sorry—“ There was no time left to unbreak the broken, unsay spoken words, find hope in the hopeless. There was no time to beg for someone to pull you out of the train wreck. There was no time to unbury the ashes or unchain the reactions.
“I'm so sorry Bradley—“ You simply were not ready to die, not yet. As you closed your eyes, knowing soon after you’d be consumed entirely by fire—Rooster voice pulled you back out of the void that had its strong grip around your throat. Numb to almost everything as you held onto whatever life you had in you. Cold, your fingers and toes seemed to be numb. The left side of your body, just nothing. Ghostly.
An air to air kill. That’s what it was. The explosion so big, so powerful—it left clouds of dark black smoke lingering like demons. The gates of hell itself had opened up as a familiar F-18 came soaring through the plumes.
“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, this is your saviour speaking—“ With a sigh of utter relief and a thankful smirk. You had never been so happy to see Jake Seresin. “Please fasten your seatbelts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright positions, and prepare for landing.” Smacking your first twince against the glass of the cockpit, you laughed aloud. So beyond thankful. You were fucking alive—alive long enough to see Rooster back on stable ground. Safe with the people who cared about him the most.
“Hey Hangman–You look good.” Rooster commented from his seat in the back. You couldn’t help but to chuckle as Jake nodded in response before radioing back, the same cocky response he’d given Rooster at the Hard Deck.
“I am good Rooster, I'm very good. I'll see you back on deck.”
“Impeccable timing—“ Rooster sighed as he felt his entire body relax as you followed Hangman back to the carrier. “And exceptional dog fighting, lieutenant Kazansky.”
“I had someone pretty important to protect, I wasn’t going down without a fight.” You had nothing left to give. Fighting with everything you had to stay awake, stay alert and land this F-14. Switching channels as you radios back to the carrier. “Chaos is downwind. No front landing gear, no tailhook, pull the cable and raise the barricade.”
There was something important you had to do. Racing past the bridge of the carrier where both Admiral Beau and Admiral Bates stood. You flew low and close as you held your finger up to the glass. Giving them the bird before your right engine cut out.
“Please don't tell me we lost an engine.” Rooster sighed, what else could possibly go wrong.
“Alright I won't tell you that.” Chuckling you braced for impact. With no landing gear you hit the deck with a thud—scrapping for what felt like miles as the barricade helped to slow you to a complete stop. “You good?”
“Yeah, i'm good–” Nodding as he spoke, Rooster was quick to remove his helmet as the canopy opened. Standing to greet the crowd of overly excited crew who thought for sure you were both goners. “Here, I got you.” It was a simple gesture but a much needed one. Rooster stood on the ladder as he helped you down. Noticing how much blood had soaked your flight suit. “Fucking hell you’re not okay.”
“M’fine.” It came out more of a mumble than a definitive statement but before you could try again Rooster was being hauled away into the crowd of excited cheering men and women. Jake Seresin appeared as the crowd dissipated from around him as they drew their atom Rooster. “Chalked yourself another kill?” You teased as he stood before you. Handing you a handkerchief to wipe the blood off your face that had dripped from your nose. Swollen and surely broken.
“That makes two–”
“Chaos has Five, makes her an ace.” Phoenix was quick to interject as her and Bob joined the conversation. Bob carefully and ever so gently wrapped his arms around you, drawing you in for a hug that he never thought he’d get to give you.
“Lieutenant Kazanksy!” Although even for less then a few minutes,there wasn’t a part of Rooster that didn’t want to be by your side. “Lieutenant Kazansky!” God you couldn't let him speak another word, pulling Rooster in by his flight suit as he neared you. Your lips on his as he leaned into you.
“Thank you for saving my life.” Mumbling against Rooster mouth you felt your heart skipping beats. You tried to tell yourself it was because of Rooster—but deep down? You knew it had something to do with the way everything felt numb. How everything seemed to still, all the noise and colour in the world began to fade.
“You did the same for me–” Rooster cooed just as he noticed how disoriented you’d become. Suddenly dropping forward into him as your legs gave out. “Chaos?” The adrenaline that had been pumping through your veins since that helicopter came after you. “Hey—Y/n?” Tapping your check softly, Rooster dropped to his knees with you limp in his arms. Your eyes on his as you struggled to breathe. “Woah—hey, what’s wrong? Chaos, can you hear me?” You couldn’t hear Rooster, not at all. But you could see his lips moving as Bob worked to clear a space around you—calling for medical staff to intervene.
“Shit—no, no, no, no—hey Y/n you stay with me yeah?” Rooster felt the blood on his hands as it seeped through your flight suit. “Don’t do this, we’re good? Yeah? Your alright—“
“I’ll marry you.” Choking it out as blood leaked from your mouth. “Don’t think, just do.” Eyes rolling as you lost it completely, following whatever force was pulling you away.
***~***~***~***~***~***~
Jake Seresin had become used to the steady melody that was the bells and whistles that let him know you were still fighting. Unlike Rooster, who hadn’t left the hospital let alone Miramar—Hangman would do the usual rounds every few days.
First on his ever growing list of tasks would be to always stop by the nurses station. With his tan service uniform dawned and a smile that could break hearts, he’d lean on the counter and chat to whoever would give him the time of day.
After getting his kicks with the front desk nurses—Jake would make his way to your room. He’d taken it as a good thing when they moved you out of intensive care to general pop. But he didn’t account for the roommates you would acquire. Rooster and Bob had yet to leave, they would tag team watching over you.
Jake would linger at the threshold of the room for a moment, he’d take in the sight of you. Intubated, comatosed, arm in a sling to help your shoulder heel, collarbone broken. With a sigh, he’d put on a brave face. Stalking over to read your chart that hung from the bottom on your bed. By all accounts you seemed to be getting better, so why after three weeks had you shown no sign of waking up.
The next item on the agenda would be to check on Bradley and Bob. The Miramar hospital's latest residences. Jake would pick up the rubbish from takeout, he’d pick dead followers out of the bunches Rooster continued to buy you. He’d place blankets over Bob and Rooster as they laid knocked out old on those uncomfortable as all hell hospital chairs. He’d even go as far as to make sure the window would be cracked open slightly, hoping the fresh air would do good to help you recover.
Today was different though. Because as Jake Seresin stood at the threshold of your hospital room, a bunch of flowers in his hand to replace the decaying ones he’d seen diminishing rapidly on Wednesday—he saw you looking back at him. Eyes tired with a soft smirk evident on your face.
“Well I’ll be damned—“ You didn’t respond, you simply placed your finger over your mouth. Jake understood instantly as he crept into the room. Taking in the fact Rooster and Bob both sat slouched in the corner of the room. One drooling, both slightly snoring with mouths a jar. “How long have you been awake?” Hangman was as quiet as he could be as he placed the bunch of flowers at the foot of your bed.
“About an hour—give or take.” Watching as he pulled up a spare chair, coming close to your bedside as your eyes followed him. “I didn’t wanna wake them.” Gesturing to where Rooster and Bob sat sleeping, leading on one another for support as they caught up on the one thing that seemed to evade them—sleep. Jake followed your gaze for a brief moment before turning back to you. “They look like hell.”
“I dunno if you’ve had a chance to look in the mirror Chaos, but I think it’s safe to say you look the most hellish.”
“And you pick up? With that attitude? Pfft—way to make a girl swoon Seresin.” Laughing hurt, but you pushed throughout the pain. “How long have they been here for?”
“Well Robert decided to join the sleepover after you got out of the intensive care ward—Rooster? I don’t think he’s left your side since the carrier, man had to be detained for a minute there while on board.”
“What why!”
“Because he wouldn’t let you go, people were trying to do their jobs you know, help you—but Rooster just would not let them take you.”You had nearly given your life for him, how could he ever let you go? It probably wasn't the most rational decision, but it was the only one his brain at the time would commit to. In his arms you would be the safest. “Have you spoken to the doctors yet?”
“I told them I’d buzz when I was ready to be poked and prodded—just wanted to kinda lay here and just breathe.” Hangman smirked as he pushed himself out of the chair he sat on, reaching out for the clipboard hanging at the foot of your bed before nestling back into the chair. Leaning back as he flipped through the reports, looking at you grimacing.
“Shrapnel from SAM’s embedded in soft tissue of left shoulder, a broken clavicle—full fitness tear of your subscapularis, seven broken ribs, a punctured lung, broken nose—and to top it all off? Chaos, you had a bloody stroke.” It came as a massive shock to you, Hangman could tell by the way you just shared into his soul. Speechless, stunned. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact you managed to fly an F-14 back to the carrier with a busted collarbone—that would’ve been enough to take me out of the fight.”
“I don’t really remember much.” That part was no surprise as Jake flipped the papers back onto the clipboard, setting it aside. “I remember the mission, being hit—everything after that’s pretty blurry.”
Rustling from the corner of the room at you and Jake turned your heads almost completely synchronised to see what all the commotion was about. Bob had stirred himself awake from the sheer lack of comfort. Rubbing his eyes as he yawned—Bob’s eyes met yours and instantly thought he was still dreaming.
“Hi—“ Only when you said something did he stumble over to your bedside, his glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose.
“What? You’re awake!” Too scared to touch you, Bob's hands shook as they hovered over your arm. He’s always known you to be strong, fearless, independent. This was a whole new ball game though. You looked fragile, like paper thin glass that could shatter into a million pieces instantly if he wasn't careful. Bruises still purple, green and yellow. Bandages and stitches covered cuts and deep lacerations. Your nose looked better though, he'd give you that much.
“Seems like it, yeah.”
“How long? Why didn’t anyone wake me? Wake Rooster—?” Bob questioned as he turned back over his shoulder to see Rooster till sleeping soundly.
“An hour give or take, and you looked like you needed the rest.”
“They only took your interbations out like four days ago.” Bob was quick to pull up a chair as he sat down on the other side of you. Still rubbing his eyes, still waking up. Feeling groggy but god was it worth it to have you awake again.
“Miss Chaos here is still defying odds it seems.” Jake Seresin had developed a new apraction for you. He saw you as something higher than a god.
“How long have I been out for?” You weren't really sure how long it had been, but by the scruff that covered Roosters cheeks as he slept it must have been a hot minute or two.
“Three weeks give or take a few days, Doctors thought it could’ve been a lot longer, something about how your body had been put under a lot of stress.” Bob explained as he monitored your heartbeat, the numbers steady, giving him peace of mind. Always such a numbers guy.
“Admiral Beau is pressing for gross misconduct you know.” Hangman let it slip just as Rooster began to stir awake. “Says your injuries were a direct result of your own actions.”
“Doesn't surprise me.” Coughing slightly as Bob handed you one of those small plastic cups full of water. Helping you take a sip carefully. Holding the back of your head gently for support. “He’s not my biggest stan is he?”
“Nope, but he probably won't get very far, especially since he denied my request to fly aircover–” Jake's eyes were full of rage as he cracked his knuckles. Rooster finally came to as he sat up in his chair, the blanket that covered his legs falling absentmindedly to the ground as he groaned, not in pain–but from something that wasn't comfort. “Ah, this should be good.” Jake smirked as he let out a soft chuckle. Bob couldn't hold back his smile as he did the same, leaning back into his chair as Rooster rubbed his eyes. “Hey Bradshaw– look who’s back in the land of the living.” Jake caught Bradleys attention.
“Oh my god!” Bradley Brashaw had never moved so quickly in his life. Racing across the room like a mad man to get to your side. His eyes full of love and admiration as they welled with tears. The happiest of tears to see your smile again. To see your eyes, big and full of life. “You’re awake.”
“And you have a beard.” You couldn't help but to tease, reaching up to cup Roosters cheek as he leaned in to softly kiss your forehead. Something he had done every day for the last three weeks. “I like it.” Rooster smiled against your forehead before pulling away, gesturing for Hangman to move his ass out of the chair he sat in.
“Can you like, move man?”
“Because you asked so nicely.” Hangman winked as he stood. “C’mon Bobby let's go get a bite to eat, I'm starving.” Bob looked panicked as Hangman gestured to him to get up. You sent him the softest of looks knowing he just didn't wanna leave.
“Robert Floyd, I'll be here when you get back.” The way you said it with such certainly gave Bob peace of mind, you looked
“I know what you felt like when everyone said to leave Sam.” Bob's voice was soft as he looked down at his feet. “Promise you’ll be here.” It wasn't a question, Bob needed you to promise or else he wasn't leaving. Reaching out for his hand you held him as tight as you could, which wasn't all that hard.
“I promise.” It hurt to leave you but he knew he had to give you and Rooster some time alone. Standing to his feet Bob let your hand go as you turned your attention back to Bradley. A soft smile plastering itself across your face as you let your head fall back against the pillow. “Hi–”
“Hi yourself.” Bradley beamed as he kissed the back of your hand over and over again. “Shit I dont even know where to start.” Choking back his tears, Rooster just softened his gaze, taking you in for all your wew. The love of his life. “How are you feeling?”
“Um– yeah I've felt better, I won't lie.” You couldn't take your eyes off Rooster, he looked so damn good with that scruff, that almost beard that covered his cheeks and chin. “I don't remember much at all.”
“What do you remember?” Rooster cooed as he ever so lovingly moved as close to you as the chair would allow him to.
“Um–” You could still hear it, how panicked rooster was when he said he was out of flares. “I remember you saying you were out of flares.” Swallowing to stop yourself from choking up. “I remember the heat from the fire, and the weird way the snow burnt too. I can vaguely remember shoving you at one point but that's all I got.” Rooster nodded softly in response as he sat back in his chair.
“Well boy, do I have a story for you.” Rooster sat with you for what had to have been a good hour and a half explaining in depth what had happened. Everything you had done for him. Doctors and nurses worked around him as they did check ups and small assessments. He held your hand as they drew blood and never left your side.
Bradley Bradshaw told you everything that had happened, his hero. Only excluding one key detail. The fact he’d asked you in full confidence to marry him.
***~***~***~***~***~***~
Four Months Later.
“Whatcha doin?” The sound of your walking stick had become a common noise Bradley Bradshaw had associated with your presence. He’d hear the gentle thud against the hardwood floor and know you were somewhere close by.
Your arm wrapping around Roosters torso from behind, he hadnt heard you coming. Turning in your arms Rooster faced you– looking slightly down and you tilted your chin up towards him. He’d kept the beard.
“Where is your walking cane?” You had been spending your time at Roosters childhood home. With Carole gone it sat empty most of the time while he was deployed. With recovery still months ahead, it only seemed out of necessity for you to move in with the man you swore to be by your side every step of the way. Even if it were only a temporary thing.
“In the bin where it belows.” Rooster had been doing some remodelling in his spare time. He’d ripped up the old carpet in the living room–knocked out the old splash-back in the kitchen, even changed the majority of the light fixtures throughout the house.
“Y/n–” Rooster smirked as he let his hands fall softly to your waist, playing with the strap that ran across the circumference of your waist–your arm still in a sling from your shoulder surgery months ago.
“Bradley–?” You questioned back with raised eyebrows.
“You had a stroke, we've talked about this.” Rooster sighed as you huffed at him, pulling away.
“I don't need it anymore! Look!” Spinning around in a small circle as you touched your nose. “See-perfectly fine.” It had only been four months since the Uranium Mission and by all accounts you had been recovering well from your injuries. But time was definitely something you were struggling to accept you needed to heal completely. You hated being grounded, hated being on sick leave, hated not being able to go to work.
“Shit someone call Mav, may as well get you back up in the pilot's seat.” Rooster teased as he crossed his arms. He knew better than anyone else that was killing you. But he had to be the voice of reason.
“You aren't funny–” Sending him a glare you turned on your heels, heading down the hallway.
“Just get your cane so we can go will you?” It was sad that your favourite day of the week had become grocery shopping day. You and Rooster would make a whole day of it.
“Fine– but not because you told me to.” You’d start with the list the night before, both going through the fridge freezer and pantry to see what you had left and what you needed.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night Chaos!” Then before you’d even make it to the first of three grocery stores plus the specialty butcher—Rooster would stop by the local cafe, picking up the regular coffees and breakfast bagels you’d never get tired of eating.
Meeting Rooster outside by the passenger side door that he had opened and ready for you to jump on in—he’d pull you into him for a loving kiss. This was the domestic bliss he’d craved for so many years.
“Did you get a new air freshener?” Questioning the intense smell of pine that smacked you in the face. His side of the broken heart necklace still hanging from his rear view mirror. “Smells like—“ sniffing, you couldn’t put your finger on it until the memory came flooding back. “Pine—“
“Marry me?”
“Did you hit your head?” What the hell—you hit your head didn't you?”
“I’m serious. Marry me Y/n.”
“Bradley, we’re standing in enemy territory, I don’t know how to get us out of here and you already know whatever we are just isn’t—“
“Don’t think, just do.”
“Okay okay—I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll marry you.”
The smell of pine brought the missing pieces of the puzzle back as Rooster climbed into the driver's seat, fixing his seatbelt.
“Oh my god—“
“What? You good?”
“You’d asked me to marry you?” It came out softer than you thought it would have as you turned to look at Rooster confused. “You asked me to marry you after I found you in the snow—“
“Y/n, listen to me—“ Rooster could physically see the panic rising as your eyes widened in disbelief.
“And all this time you never thought to mention it!?” He’d admit it may have been the wrong thing to do. A judgement call he’d blundered. Rooster knew bits and pieces had started to come back. Not only would you tell him when something would be triggered, but he’d help to curve the nightmares that plagued you.
“Chaos—“ You didn’t want to listen, opening the door of Roosters bronco, stepping out as fast as you could without your cane as you hobbled your way back inside. Rooster hot on your tail. “Wait a second will you.”
“For what exactly! What am I waiting for? Huh? Is all this just some elaborate scheme of yours? I saved your life so I’ll scratch your back huh! Is that it!”
“What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t bother to jog my fucking memory! You told me everything else except the part where you literally asked me to marry you!!”
“I can explain why if you would just let me—“ Trying his best to come closer to you but every step Rooster took you’d take one step back. Holding your hand out as if to protect yourself.
“You’re just waiting for the right time to leave again aren’t you, that’s why you didn’t say anything because you took it back, right?” Within an instant your inherent anger turned to sadness at the thought of being left alone again. “Right, Bradshaw? Because who was I to think that you’d stick around—“
“No—“ Rooster had been in this position before where he’d been too much of a coward to speak. He wouldn’t let that happen again. And he wasn’t about to take it so personally this time when you were so quick to accuse him of leaving. Because he had done that, a million times over. “No, I'm not waiting for some miracle moment to come to leave you.”
“Bradley I—“ Finally getting close enough to pull you closer by your hips, the back of the legs against the couch.
“Hey, shut up.” Bradley pulled you down onto his lap as he sat on the couch. “I’m gonna tell you the truth and you're gonna listen and then we’re gonna go get these bagels before I starve to death alright?”
“Okay—“ Bradley was quick to wipe the tears away that fell from your cheeks as you straddled His waist. His hands cupping your cheeks as your forehand rest against his.
“The only reason, and I mean the only reason why I didn’t tell you I’d asked you to marry me was because I wanted to give you a chance to become yourself again before literally becoming someone else entirely.” It was the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Your heart grew so big as Bradley spoke. “I’ll marry you tomorrow if you’d have me Y/n but I wasn’t gonna do that to you when you’d just been on death's door. I mean I watched you learn to walk again, I just wanted you to find your way back without thinking about me, thinking about a wedding and all the really stupid and stressful things that come along with that.”
“So, where do we go from here? I mean--”
“I have absolutely no intention to ever leave you again, you're it for me—I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to convince you of that if I have to.” On that note Rooster was as gentle as he could have been as he helped you off of him, jumping up as he ran down the hall, the small velvet ring box hidden at the back of his sock drawer. Jogging down and hall back to you before he got down on his knees before you.
“Oh Bradley—“ You sobbed. Covering your mouth as you laughed together. “Now!?”
“Waited my entire life to get this right, so—Y/n Chaos Kazansky, will you marry me?”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
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#bradley bradshaw x female reader#chaos // bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw angst#top gun bob#top gun hangman#top gun bradley bradshaw#top gun maverick imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x y/n
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