#he was right.

re: Bill the malcontent in NASA mission control: nobody's MAKING you work at NASA mission control, Bill. You can always quit your job at NASA mission control, Bill. I'm sure there are at least several people who'd apply to fill that vacancy at NASA mission control, Bill.

there's a post on my dash discussing who the most "competent" character in a fandom is, and some of the qualifiers for what makes someone "competent" made me raise my eyebrows..... so i'll ask:

what qualities do you think make a fictional character "competent"?

tw - unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, somnophilia, implied non/con, mentions of knots.

Puppy!Yuuta, who catches your eye the second you step into the shelter, despite the fact that he’s not at all what you were looking for. You need a service animal, and as cruel as it feels to say, hybrids of undeterminable origins with less-than-stellar past homes aren’t known to be very consistent, let alone trainable when it comes to such a high-stakes job. You were supposed to meet a pure-bred, highly recommended husky hybrid whose previous owner was no longer able to take care of him, but it was over for you as soon as you saw those big, dark, watery eyes – nearly hidden entirely by overgrown hair and jet-black ears that seemed to droop even lower whenever you threatened to look away from him. You’re already a lost cause by the time you ask a shelter employee for his name, and the paperwork’s signed within the hour. He leaves with you the same day, eyes on the ground and tail wagging a mile a minute.

Puppy!Yuuta, who was always meant to be someone's spoiled pet. He's shy, at first, scared to talk too loudly or cling too tightly or do anything that'll get him sent back to the shelter (no matter how clear you make it that that's a non-option), but it only takes him a few days to warm up to you, a couple weeks to come out of his shell, just under a month to start sleeping in your bed and trailing you around your apartment. He almost trips over himself when you ask if he'd like to wear a collar, and soon enough, he's more akin to a second-shadow than a dog. He does have some aggression issues, particularly when it comes to human men, but he's an angel with other hybrids, and when he bows his head and pouts, you really can't help but forgive him. With a life like the one he must've had, you can't really blame him for being so quick to bear his teeth.

Puppy!Yuuta, who's more than ecstatic when you mention still needing a service animal. He might not be qualified on paper, sure, but he's already constantly at your side, constantly worrying about you - it'd just feel wrong to go out and get another hybrid for a job Yuuta is more than capable of. He says he likes that idea of being able to take care of you, too - like you take care of him. You want to ask him not to be so sappy, to think of a slightly less sentimental way to say it, but when he's so happy and so, so proud of himself, it's hard to be even that strict.

Puppy!Yuuta, who cums untouched the first time you comb your fingers through his hair. You don't seem to notice, and he does his best to hide his face in your lap, to bite back the little, pathetic whimpers that crawl up his throat whenever you scratch at the base of his ears. He doesn't want to scare you, to be so needy so suddenly when you've been so kind.

Puppy!Yuuta, whose one and only flaw is that he can't seem to stop riffling through your dirty laundry. He can't be left alone for more than an hour without stealing one of your oldest, most threadbare shirts or worse, claiming a pair of your underwear as his newest chew-toy. You really should chastise him for it, but it's such an awkward thing to talk about, and he has such a sweet face - it's hard to believe he could ever do anything deliberately wrong. You've resigned yourself to just trying to limit the damage and salvage the less damaged items, even if those mysterious stains are a little hard to get out.

Puppy!Yuuta, who wishes he didn't have such a big, bulky knot. It's too thick and too heavy and seems to swell up whenever he gets even a little hard. If he didn't have a knot, he'd be able to actually thrust into you, rather than just fucking his fist over your sleeping body and imagining how tight you'd be, how pretty you'd look, how nice it would be to make you feel as warm and as soft as he feels because of you. He does what he can with his tongue, but you don't seem to like waking up with his saliva soaking everything between your thighs, and he always gets too excited when he tastes you. If he has to rut against your thigh that desperately again, he's afraid you might wake up and scold him.

Puppy!Yuuta, who can't wait until he works up the courage to mate with you properly. He knows it's still too soon, that it'd scare you to do it so abruptly, that he doesn't deserve it yet, but soon, he'll be able to to step up and take care of you as something more than just a pet. He's not there right now, but one day, he just knows he'll be the perfect mate for you <3

Short DPXDC Prompts #987

Tucker works as a forensic detective for the GCPD. The kid is crazy good at his job and only just graduated. Tucker is far too young to have any actual experience in the field and yet he keeps on finding trails and leads that only a highly qualified and seasoned forensic detective would find

Excerpt from an in-progress DP x DC soulmate AU starring Jazz Fenton, a very unfortunate mugger, and a smoothie. Oh, and I guess Jason is there too.

Jazz meets her soulmate in, of all places, Park Row. Or as the locals call it, Crime Alley.

Seems about right for her life, she decides as she kicks the shit out of the guy who was trying to stab him for his wallet fifteen seconds ago. Her soulmate watches her curiously, seeming unconcerned by the fuss, and takes a sip of his smoothie.

Also seems about right, for her soulmate. A guy who got too nervous when necessary violence happened was not going to survive Thanksgiving in Amity Park, much less Christmas.

Well, it is Gotham.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi, sorry, one sec," Jazz says, then leans over the groaning mugger and offers him a card to the best local crisis center she's managed to track down via research and word of mouth in the four months she's been in Gotham. Not her card, obviously, since she just roundhouse-kicked the guy in the head to protect her soulmate from him and that's arguably a conflict of interest. Or close enough, anyway. "So you should check these guys out, they've got a very high success rate in their job program and there's an associated food bank and rent assistance, if you qualify."

"What?" the mugger says dazedly.

"Also if you ever touch my soulmate again I'll make you wish for the cold mercy of the Infinite Realms," Jazz adds pleasantly. The guy goes very, very pale. Then he snatches the card from her and runs for his life and eternal soul.

"This is the nicest thing the universe has ever done to me," her soulmate muses, taking another sip of his smoothie.

"Getting you mugged?" Jazz asks wryly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Are you religious? Do you want kids?" her soulmate asks. "Also, who's your favorite Bat?"

"Robin, obviously," Jazz says. "The overdramatic and feral little stabby one, I mean. He reminds me of my little brother. Makes me feel a little bit maternal, to be honest. So that answers two out of three, and as far as religion goes, I only believe in Psychology Today, highly customized guns, and my mom's ninth-degree black belt."

"This better not awaken anything in me," her soulmate mutters under his breath.

"That seems unlikely, or we wouldn't be soulmates," Jazz says.

"Point," he says, sipping his smoothie again. Jazz didn't even know anywhere in Crime Alley sold smoothies, but she is new around here. "Wanna go break my bed? Or maybe go get coffee?"

"You've already got a smoothie," Jazz says.

"So I do," he says.

Jazz looks him over. He's her soulmate, so she's not surprised to find him gorgeous. She wasn't ever expecting a familial soulmate–Danny is a very intense sibling to have, and her parents are very intense parents to have, not to mention everything about Dani, and "soulcousins" aren't typically a thing–and she's never been especially interested in keeping around too many close friends, so considering all that, she was already expecting her soulmate to be a romantic one. If they are platonic, it's definitely only going to be because her soulmate is an aromantic asexual. Which he probably isn't, since he already asked about kids and religion and if she wanted to go break his bed.

Then again, she's met people who'll posture worse than that. Especially guys, and especially ace ones with a clear investment in their masculinity, and given this particular guy is built like a brick house could only dream to be, chances are he has some feelings about his masculinity. Though he's also drinking a visibly pink smoothie, not a neutral-colored protein shake or generic black coffee, so . . . fifty-fifty there, maybe?

Further inquiry will probably be required.

"I'm Jazz," she tells him. "What's your name?"

"Robin," he says. Then he–pauses. Blinks. "I mean–Robin."

He looks very confused for a second, and Jazz blinks too, and refocuses her eyes a bit. Oh, is he–

"Are you overshadowing that guy?" she assumes. For the love of–of course her soulmate would be a ghost, she thinks dryly. Who'd want a soulmate their mom and dad wouldn't want to grill for information and ask a thousand invasive questions, after all? "I mean, he's really hot, don't get me wrong, he looks good on you, but I'd rather meet you for real."

"'Overshadowing'?" Robin looks bemused.

"I'm Danny's sister," Jazz clarifies. Robin does not look less bemused. "You know, the new king?"

"What?" Robin says. Jazz frowns a little, feeling a bit bemused herself.

"Do you not get out much?" she asks.

"Never, actually, but also yes and constantly and way too often," Robin says. "My job is kind of demanding that way."

"What's your job?" Jazz asks curiously. Ghosts' jobs are always interesting, even if only for how they interact and manifest with their Obsessions. She wonders what his Obsession is, actually, because smoothies seem like an unlikely option but she doesn't have much else to go on here.

Can't be weirder than Box Ghost, either way.

"I'm a Bat," Robin says, then looks absolutely alarmed and also absolutely horrified.

"Huh," Jazz says, tilting her head. He seems really big to be one of the Robins, and a little too old besides. A year or two younger than her, maybe, and even the older Robin she's pretty sure is at best Danny's age. Though that's assuming this body is the one he fights crime in, admittedly. Although it's kinda funny if one of the Bats is just named Robin. Must get annoying on patrol, though. "I didn't know any of you were dead, but I guess that's not actually a surprise either, given the profession."

"Why did I say that to you?" Robin asks tightly.

"I told you, I'm the new king's sister," Jazz says. "You know, it's the royal family thing. Technically I'm his regent, legally speaking, but only because I'm better at paperwork and he doesn't count as a legal adult in the Infinite Realms yet. Hasn't been dead long enough, you know how it is. But I've been alive long enough to, apparently? But his 'being alive' technically stopped tracking at fourteen. It's complicated, basically."

"What the fuck does that mean?!" Robin demands.

"It means you can't lie to me because you're one of my brother's subjects," Jazz says, really not understanding his reaction. Every ghost knows this, after all. The only ones who wouldn't know it are too young to be away from their guardians' haunts or even leave the Infinite Realms at all. Definitely a ghost who knows how to overshadow someone this thoroughly and fully is old enough and experienced enough to know it, though. "Whose body is that, anyway?"

"It's my father's," Robin says. Jazz's eyes widen a little and she has several very concerned internal reactions before he chokes and sputters–"I mean–it's not–he's not–!"

"You realize there is no healthy way to mean that, right?" Jazz says. Robin looks frustrated and freaked out and she feels bad about it, because she didn't mean or want to upset him, but she clearly has. "Sorry. I mean, I still secretly feel like I'm the one parenting my parents half the time, you're not the only one with weird feelings about yours."

"I'm his," Robin says, then grits his teeth in visible pain. He's this close to crushing the smoothie cup he's holding but hasn't actually done it. Jazz wonders if that's an example of deliberate self-control or subconscious restraint.

She's pretty sure Robin didn't mean to say that, though.

"Are you okay?" she asks, a little concerned. Normally ghosts just stop talking about things they want to lie about, when they realize who she is.

"No," Robin says. "I'm just his. I've always been his, I always will be, his good soldier, his worst mistake, not his actual fucking son, why am I telling you this?!"

"I don't know," Jazz says, frowning in increased concern. "Usually people can work around the inability to lie a little bit, but you sound like you're being compelled to speak. Increasingly like, actually. Hm. What's your Obsession? And what kind of core do you have?"

"What?" he says.

"They might be making you unstable, is all," Jazz says. "I don't think it'd be a soulmate thing but to be fair I don't really know how that works. Are you dead, or are you a manifestation of something?"

"I'm dead," Robin says, staring at her. "That bastard clown beat my head in with a crowbar and blew up what was left of me. I woke up in my grave and–I–how did you know that?"

"Well, I didn't, that's why I asked," Jazz says reasonably, idly wondering why the Joker isn't dead yet, since this is Gotham and obviously it wouldn't be another "bastard clown" Robin was referencing, even if he wasn't a Bat. But like, at least dead via the court system, if nothing else. The Joker is insane, yes, but no one can argue he doesn't know right from wrong at this point. Does New Jersey just not have the death penalty, maybe? She hasn't thought to check. "Maybe it's the guy you're in? He's not drunk or high or anything, is he?"

"I hate drugs," Robin says, gritting his teeth again; tightening his grip on the smoothie again. He's trembling, just barely. "I hate them. I'd never touch them. I don't know what you are. You're scaring me. Please stop."

He definitely didn't mean to say that, Jazz can tell.

But . . . he doesn't know what she is.

He doesn't know.

Well, that's a problem.

"Robin," she says gently, and for some reason his face twists painfully at the sound of his own name. "Can I see your core? Please?"

Two hearts, one love

Charles Leclerc x Wife!Reader

Summary: Formula's one cutest couple also happens to be between a reporter and a certain pilot in red

Warnings: Broken bone (leg)

An: Hiiiiii!! I'm very very proud of this work (so if you don't like it pls don't tell me 😌) anywhoss, just remembering yall that I'm brazilian so English is not my first language, that means you have to forgive me if I make any mistakes LOL, ENJOYYY!

Being a reporter for Formula One truly isn't easy, but you love it and always did. You were indeed always fascinated by all the cars, drivers, teams and everything that had to do with the sport, so it wasn't surprising to anyone when you graduated college and soon got a job as a reporter to a highly successful TV channel. Your job was great, you could do together the two things you loved most, work for TV and Formula One. And that is how you met the third thing you love most: Charles Leclerc. He had just signed with Scuderia Ferrari when you two met. It was your first year as a field reporter, which meant you went around interviewing drivers, mechanics and team principals, basically anyone that you passed through who had time and knowledge enough to be interviewed. The day you two officially met was in the first Grand Prix of the season, it was qualifying day and Charles had just done amazingly well for such a young driver, fortunately the universe was on your side and you managed to get a interview with him, il predestinato, all dressed in red and with sweat dripping from his hair to his forehead and onto the sides of his face, that was the first time you saw him so close, and the moment he looked inside your eyes, the driver knew that the purpose of his life, was to make you his wife. And he did it, two years later you married in a beautiful church just outside Monaco, and it was the happiest day of your lives.

Current days

It is race week! And you couldn't be more happy with the excitement of every fan who passes by your side, you just love everything the paddock has to offer, maybe except for the giant cast on your right leg that couldn't go by unnoticed even if you tried. The week before you were walking home and in your way you encountered an old lady whose cane had fallen, without thinking twice you bent down to pick up the object for the poor woman who could clearly barely bend down, unfortunately for you, a car next to you lost control and hit you hard, fortunately he was not driving at a big speed and so the only injury you received was a broken leg, you were released from the hospital a day later with a cast on your leg and a crutch. And that's how you ended up here, this is officially your first race as Charles' wife and not as a reporter and you couldn't be more excited, with Charles help you got out of the car and was immediately flooded by questions and fans wanting to take a picture with your husband or wanting an autograph, you told him it was okay and gave him space to talk to the fans for about ten minutes. After some of the fans went away he walked slowly toward you with a giant smile on his face, "Sorry about that mon amour, let's get you to the garage okay?"

"Okay" You smiled and gave him a small kiss to his cheek, "I love you so much angel" "And I love you more bébé"

As you were walking to the red garage that was near the end of the paddock a reporter stopped you and you immediately recognized her as Rachel, the girl who was filling in for you until you took off your cast and could go back to work.

"Charles! YN! How are you love? Are you getting better after the accident?" She asked smiling towards you. She had a microphone in her hand and the cameraman had the camera pointed at you, Rachel can be your friend but this was still an interview and you had to be careful with what you and Charles said.

"Hey Rach! Fortunately I'm great! The accident wasn't too bad and I'm not feeling pain at all!"

"That is awesome YN!"

"Yeah! And let me tell you a secret..." You felt your husband's hand wrap around your waist and smiled. "...I have this great guy by my side who is helping me with everything I need!"

You turned to Charles who gave you a passionate smile and slowly pulled you in to give you a loving kiss (appropriate for the cameras around you, of course), you smiled and found home in his embrace.

"Okay okay, let's let the lovebirds be! Haha! It was great seeing you both. Good luck on the race today Charles and hope you get better YN!"

"Bye bye Rach! Thank you!"

"Merci Rachel" Said Charles before turning once again to you and helping you continue your way toward the garage. As soon as you entered the space you grabbed your husband's hand carefully.

"I love you so so much and I'm so proud of you my love. You have no ideia how much I look up to you"

"Je t'aime tellement mon ange, je l'ai toujours fait et je le ferai toujours"

*I love you so much my angel, I always have and I always will*

Chapter 105.5 Thoughts: Control, Manipulation and Partnership

Or, how Chuuya is actually the most qualified character to land a victory over Dostoevsky.

I just want to preface this with: I think Chuuya has woken from the brainwashing. We can't see his eyes, he's holding his hat again, and look at the progression of his face and expression from the last few chapters with him (these are in order btw from left to right).

I'm not completely sure how he did this, but I chalk a lot of it up to sheer stubborn determination on Chuuya's part, mostly because it's funny and he was clearly fighting back before Dazai's speech. However, I find it likely the speech did contain some kind of code - others have pointed out how "Goodbye!" might be a reference to the original author's last unfinished book and we know skk's codenames for things generally are based off their real counterparts' works so, maybe he'd already broken out of it, maybe there was something in there that gave him the final push - who knows at this point honestly? Either way, it means Chuuya had the capacity to break out of the vampire curse on his own and that's incredibly funny to me for many reasons but mostly:

Fyodor: "Bold of you to assume Chuuya's ability can't overcome flooding."

Dazai: "Bold of you to assume Chuuya's personality can't overcome brainwashing."

But really, this highlights something interesting here, both in what Chuuya's role is ultimately intended to be in this arc, and in the way Fyodor and Dazai manipulate and value others in very different ways.

I've said it before but it bears repeating: we already know that Fyodor is an excellent long-term planner, while Dazai is effectively able to counter him because Dazai shifts into thinking like his opponent. They're foil characters for a reason; they're both highly intelligent, manipulative, and willing to play the long game for the sake of winning against their opponent.

Thing is, I also stand by the idea that personality-wise, they're not similar at all - and that has serious implications for the people they are connected with. The build-up to the prison escape arc really highlights this. Some examples:

Chapter 46: Fyodor believes that all people are sinful and foolish and that his goal is to remove sin. Dazai believes that all people are sinful and foolish but asks what's so wrong with that.

Chapter 64: They decide to have a "super-happy chit-chat" about their problems. Dazai's solution to Fyodor's issue with his lazy subordinates is to get them to think lazing around is a bad thing so they will put in effort of their own. Fyodor's solution to Dazai being unable to woo the waitress is to isolate her from her job, house and family so that she can only rely on Dazai.

Chapter 77: Fyodor believes god is perfection and harmony, and thus that the people capable of change are the superior ones with most control. Dazai believes god is the accidental and illogical and believes it is the ordinary people who fight and live in that uncertainty who create the greatest change.

So, what's happening here? Fyodor's manipulation is shown to be very exacting and direct. He leaves no room for error and regards people on a hierarchy - God above all, himself as a servant of God's will, and the sinful and foolish humans he has little regard for. Dazai's manipulation involves manipulation of the situation, and is often indirect. It involves people coming to the conclusion he intends for them to on their own. And from his later dialogue with Sigma, we see he doesn't regard the world in that same kind of hierarchy.

Now, look at the way Fyodor picks an item and Dazai picks a person when starting the game. Look at the way Fyodor refers to Chuuya respectfully but brainwashes him entirely and mocks Dazai for not being worthy of "using" his ability. Look at the way Dazai is a complete ass to Chuuya but ultimately lets him make his own choices (begging people to take note of that moment in Stormbringer where Dazai cuts himself off to correct his referring to Corruption as Arahabaki's true power to Chuuya's true power).

So, the actual strength Dazai has over Dostoevsky then, is not really his strength at all, it's the strength of others and their choice and willpower to act in the way they believe is best. It's the only means of getting a leg up on Dostoevsky, otherwise they will continue to go around and around in circles forever.

And Chuuya is the best candidate for finally throwing Fyodor off his game.

Firstly, let's just establish something: no matter how mad he is at Dazai, he's not going to side with Fyodor, not willingly. Fyodor threatened the Mafia in the Cannibalism arc by attacking Mori, first of all. I doubt he's forgiven him for that. Secondly, Fyodor embodies everything Chuuya can't stand about Dazai, at the very least, younger Dazai - the manipulation, the lack of consideration and connection with others, the callousness and lack of regard for life.

Well, perhaps he's not quite as irritating. +1 point for Dostoevsky I guess?

But lastly, it is more advantageous for Chuuya at this point to help fight against Fyodor, especially since most of the Mafia has been vampirized by his organization. Helping the Agency stop the terrorist plot will help the Mafia by extension by undoing that. And we know from Stormbringer that no matter how much Chuuya is personally hurt, he considers taking out the threat to his people a higher priority. Always.

(You could make the argument that he was told whatever Teruko told Atsushi and decided to join, but not only do I find this wildly out of character, but if that was the case then there would've been no reason to brainwash him.)

That said, I don't think this was preemptive "Dazai's master plan #3057", and in fact, I stand by the idea that Dazai had no idea Chuuya was going to be in the prison. It is very, very important to me that for the rest of this arc, no matter what Chuuya does, that his actions are his own. Not Fyodor's, not Dazai's, but his. And not just because I hate that he's being controlled right now and that freedom of choice has always been important for Chuuya.

But because it makes narrative sense.

The vampires are a bit silly, yes, but they represent the way Fyodor and Fukuchi think - humanity will commit atrocities. They cannot be trusted to make their own decisions. They want to make a world that is free by... mind-controlling people so their plans work without a hitch. In short, they choose, on behalf of others, to sacrifice human autonomy for peace. So, if we are going to turn this arc around, we need to have characters breaking out of that control and thinking for themselves, in spite of the uncertainty of the outcome.

We already see this with Atsushi in the last chapter! He finally takes initiative and makes that choice to leave the room when he doesn't exactly know what the right thing to do is. And this is also why I don't think Teruko is wholly convinced by the DoA either - she lets him go. She gives him the freedom to choose what he does with that information.

Another one of the focus characters here is Sigma. Sigma is a guy who has no past, whose humanity is questioned, who keeps being used by organizations for his valuable ability, who has no home but desperately wants one... oh wait. Remind you of anyone's younger self? This could go one of two ways: Chuuya fails to assert his autonomy, leaving Sigma to learn from that failure, or, Chuuya succeeds in asserting his autonomy, leaving Sigma to learn from his success.

I think it, by necessity, has to be the latter. Sigma's at a tipping point right now, and I think seeing someone try to assert their freedom only to fail would damage him greatly. And I think it's a waste of Chuuya's character honestly.

Chuuya needs to assert his autonomy in this arc. Not just for thematic reasons but because I can think of no one else who can effectively break the "super-genius stalemate".

I keep hearing "Dazai knows Chuuya" in response to Fyodor calling their bond shallow, and that is absolutely true! But Chuuya also knows Dazai. Incredibly well. Odasaku knew Dazai's soul, but Chuuya knows Dazai's mind, knows his strategies and ways of thinking without even needing words. What's more, Chuuya has thrown off Dazai before and done what he didn't expect him to.

Which is nifty, because Dazai and Fyodor think a lot alike. Chuuya is in a unique position to thwart Dostoevsky because he may actually be able to predict him to a degree. Chuuya can absolutely land a victory against him, and it's excellent because it would be completely unexpected to Fyodor, who apparently thinks Chuuya's strength lies only in what his ability has to offer and not much else.

But listen. This also can't be skk's plan. I need Chuuya to sideline both of them. Both for the sweet, sweet catharsis of putting those two idiot geniuses in their places and also because I need Dazai to have screwed up. He wasn't wrong about people making their own choices in uncertainty. People need to assert their autonomy to create change. Dazai can't be wrong in this regard.

But with going ahead with the trap to drown Fyodor despite also having to drown Chuuya when he promised not to let him get killed... this needs to have been a mistake, otherwise the value of Dazai's emotional speech to him is diminished.

I want Dazai to try to laugh it off. I want him to say he always knew Chuuya would escape and then for Chuuya to deck him because "no, the fuck you didn't".

I really think Dazai hoped Chuuya would make it. Do remember that Chuuya was one of the first reasons young Dazai decided to try giving life a chance. The fact that he flashbacked to all his key memories with Chuuya says a lot. But his survival was no guarantee and it seemed very unlikely.

So, Chuuya is faced with the fact that Dazai nearly sacrificed him to kill Dostoevsky and save his new Agency friends.

And I hope he finally gets mad. I hope he finally expresses hurt on his own behalf for once. I hope they are forced to break their status quo that they have carefully maintained by not talking about anything ever. I hope they are pushed to uncomfortable places and that it is Chuuya who finally spurs this development.

Let Chuuya break the stalemate between Dazai and Dostoevsky. Let him shatter the status quo that him and Dazai have kept going for year after year.

Autonomous action in the face of uncertainty is necessary for change.

daddies ✦ nanami kento & higuruma hiromi

summary: hiromi is trying to feed his infant daughter, but failed to realize no one can really reason their way out with babies.

this is inspired by my previous higuruma x reader x nanami fic here.

tags and disclaimers: domestic fluff, f!reader, nanami reader and higuruma are a married trio. nanami is a better mother and father than reader and higuruma together, and it fits him so well it hurts.

notes, etc.: pure silly self-indulgence. polyamory/non-monogamy (don't like it, don't read or interact with it, ok?) also, harem =/= polyamory. based on some experiences my mother had with me (according to her) while i was a baby, lol. barely proofread.

“Sweetheart, light of my life, please, eat.”

Hiromi’s voice sounded ten years older than him.

"I have no idea what these tiny humans want," Hiromi complained, trying for the third time to spoon-feed his infant daughter as she sat on the baby chair and he was failing miserably. Meanwhile, you were cleaning up the kitchen, and peeped your head over the counter.

"They want to eat, cry, and sleep, Hiromi. It's not rocket science," you answered. "To be held, also. That might help, you know. She is your daughter too, after all. I thought you'd be good with children."

He sighed. "First of all, I'm great with those able to use language. But this blabbering barely qualifies as such. Second, I highly doubt this is my child."

"... Say what now?" You asked, propping yourself up so intensely you felt you could have hit the ceiling with your head. "Are you seriously implying-"

"No, my love, of course not!" he mustered up to say before you lunged at him with a knife. "We all agreed she was our daughter. What I meant was that she also doesn't look like Kento's daughter, either. She is the spitting image of you, like you generated her all by yourself."

You sighed for a long minute, and then managed to huff a small laugh, relieved.

"Oh, I'm sorry if my family has strong genes!" you joked, throwing a tea towel over your shoulder.

He chuckled with a tiny hint of despair to his voice at his daughter's complete unwillingness to eat.

The former lawyer and reformed jujutsu sorcerer was great at reasoning, but there is no reasoning with babies.

"Dada", the baby suddenly blurted out. She had already called you mama on several occasions, but this was Hiromi's first dada ever.

His tiredness evaporated quicker than water dropping on a hot pan.

His eyes widened and a huge smile pulled on his lips.

"Oh, my God. Ohmygod. Did you hear that? Did you?" Hiromi asked you, sounding more excited than you would have thought he’d be able to after he pulled three consecutive missions in three days. He seemed ready to take flight. "She just called me dada."

His eyes were gleaming, and he kissed the top of her head, nuzzling his hooked nose against her hair. "Good job!"

"Oh, I did, honey!" you answered excitedly, walking towards them both and kissing your daughter on her forehead. "It's dada, see?"

You and Hiromi exchanged a gleeful look before you pressed a tender kiss on his lips. The man seemed ready to come tumbling down like a jenga tower out of sheer happiness.

"I heard that last week."

You and Hiromi turned to face the door as Kento stepped inside carrying a paper bag filled with baguettes for breakfast.

"If you stopped working so intensely, considering you now have an infant daughter, you might've heard it then, too," Nanami chided Hiromi.

Hiromi sighed, still very much on cloud nine.

"Kento, you and our wife are on a leave. Someone needs to keep working."

"We have enough savings for that, Hiromi," Kento noted, "you're simply addicted to work."

Hiromi rolled his eyes to the back of his head, still mindlessly smiling, as Kento walked towards the kitchen to leave the bread on the counter. Then. Kento finally stepped in your direction and gave you a greeting kiss.

"Now, my darling and light of my life, would you please open up and eat, for dada?" Hiromi said to the baby, as if an infant had ease for words.

Of course, it didn't work.

He was having no further luck trying to feed your daughter, who was growing increasingly more annoyed by the minute. She was already mumbling, pushing her little hands against the small table.

"I suck at this," he said with defeat creeping up on him.

Kento looked at that situation and kneeled himself beside Hiromi, rubbing his shoulder, while Hiromi rested his face on Nanami’s hand, sighing defeated. Then, Nanami took the spoon softly from Hiromi’s hand.

"Let me help."

Hiromi pondered for a second, then acquiesced.

Kento adjusted himself to be exactly in front of the baby, and called her a few times before she looked at him. When she did, he smiled, and waited for her to do the same. Then, he began approaching her with the spoon, and when it was close enough to her mouth, she opened it. He proceeded to feed her as if this was the easiest task in the world.

You had seen it dozens of times already, but it never ceased to be adorable.

The former lawyer sighed and threw himself on the couch.

"How the hell does he do that? I mean, our daughter hates me. That's what I can derive from it all."

He was pouting.

You huffed. "Oh, Hiro… First off, she just called you dada. Besides, I struggle to get her to eat, too. Kento is the baby whisperer. I mean, honestly, he's the one who should've been breastfeeding her," you teased, just to see Kento rolling his eyes at you. You grinned widely.

"You both are hopeless," Kento remarked.

"Glad we're not alone in this and have you on board, then," you said, light-hearted.

"Yes. Definitely," Hiromi chimed in.

Kento smiled discreetly before he said, "that's what you get when you have two dadas, apparently."

Webb Of Unfortunate Events //

Summary: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw was and always would be the love of your life. When the pair of you are brought back to Top Gun, neither of you expected Pete Mitchell to be your instructor—a series of unfortunate events leads to your hospitalisation, with Rooster by your side.

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of graphic content.

Word Count: 5.3k

Author Note: Top Gun is definitely not a movie I’d ever thought about writing for—but after watching the first & second movies back to back? Oh yeah, I’m DTF.

The sounds of thunder filled the heavy silence that was your hospital room, breaking the silence between the steady monotone beeping of your heart monitor. Lightning worked to illuminate everything surrounding you, enough to have Bradley jolting awake after falling asleep, slumped over your bedside. A puddle of drool now soaking a small section of the lightweight blanket that covered your lower half.

“She’s going good, stable.” The nurse, Dot-- softly spoke as she worked to change your dressings. “You know, you can go home, have a shower, eat.” Dot tried to reason with Bradley but his grip on your hand just tightened.

“She didn’t leave me, I won’t leave her.” Roosters voice cracked at the thought of loosing you.

“She’s your fiancé, isn’t she?” Dot asked softy as she worked, she already knew, but to make light conversation was a part of her job, her ability to keep loved one’s hopeful was one of her most valued skills as a trauma nurse. Bradley just nodded in response, a pregnant paused filled the room before another clap of thunder.

“My wingwomen, we were flying a training course before her final mission, god she—she couldn’t eject when things went south and the next thing I knew—” Bradley tried to hold back his tears as he twirled your engagement ring, he’d strung it through his dog tags that draped around his neck. “she was just, gone.”

“Well, Lieutenant Bradshaw I can assure you, I’ve seen a lot of fighter pilots come through here in my day with far less severe injuries who have given up, but Y/n here? She’s a fighter, so you must fight for her as well, because when she comes out of this, she’ll need one hell of a support system.” Bradley bent down to take the palm of your hand to his lips, leaving a lingering kiss. His tired eyes were full of sorrow, trauma and above all longing. Longing for his girl to come back to him.

4 days earlier

“Rooster, he will never, and I mean never allow me to fly this mission so what is the point in staying!” You hissed, shovelling your belongings that were scatter across your dorm back into your duffle bag. “I was set up from the beginning to fail! This is what he does Bradshaw, he gives me an inch and then pushes me back a mile! You of all people should know that he, he pulled your bloody papers!!” You hissed. Grabbing handfuls of your clothing as Roosters grip came down on your wrist.

“I know I know, but hey, hey look at me.” Rooster cooed, his hands cupping your face as his thumbs worked to whip away the tears that spilled over from your waterline. “He didn’t know you’d be here, didn’t know I’d be here, if we’re the best of the best he’ll have no choice, absolutely no choice to choose us, choose you, so please—don’t give up this opportunity, this mission, because Maverick’s our instructor.” Bradley tried his best to talk some sense into you after a very confrontational morning.

“Morning, welcome to you special training detachment, be seated.” Admiral Bates looked you in the eye as if he’d come face to face with a ghost, an unbelievable moment shared between two people, who quite frankly, couldn’t stand one another. The gentle nod he gave you just as you sat down was enough to show you, he could put your bloodline to the side, he needed highly skills, highly qualified, highly recommended and above all, dedicated fighter pilots to make sure this mission fell nothing short of successful. Quite frankly due to the nature and importance of this mission, Admiral Bates couldn’t give a rat’s ass about who your dad was, all that mattered is that somehow, you were sitting before him amongst a class full of the best of the best. “I’m Admiral Bates, NAWDC commander, you’re all top gun graduates—the elite.” You felt Roosters knee tap against yours. With a gentle smirk you looked his way. His smile mimicking yours. “The best of the best.” The pregnant pause Admiral Bates took had your attention right back on him. “That was yesterday, the enemy’s new fifth generation fighter has levelled the playing field. Details are few but you can be sure we no longer have the technological advantage, success now more than even, comes down to the man or woman in the box.” The atmosphere in the room felt heavy, like the weight of the world had just come crashing down around each and every one of you.

“Half of you will make the cut, one of you will be named mission leader and the other half will remain in reserve.” The gravity and severity of the mission was only stating the settle in now as Admiral Bates spoke. Hangman made it a point to look back at you and Rooster at the mention of reserve.

“Reserves reserved for the Nepo duo, isn’t that right, Spider.” Hangman chuckled under his breath. You couldn’t help but to bawl your fist, Rooster just nudged you once again when he saw the fire in your eyes.

“Bite me Hangman, you know I’m ten times the pilot you are.” You snarled.

“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see huh?” Hangman smirked as he chewed his gum.

“Why’s her call sing Spider?” Bob whispered under his breath to Phoenix. “Thought her last name was Mitchell?”

“Nah it’s Webb, as in Spider Web? Lieutenant Webb.” Phoenix explained to Bob who would always be known as Bob or to her— bad-ass on board. “I’m pretty sure Y/n legally took her mums maiden name right before she got her wings.” Phoenix explained to Bob. “All through Top Gun I remember her being Spider, but mostly I remember the utter shock it was when us ladies walked in on Rooster butt naked in Spiders bed after a big night out—couldn’t get that picture out of my head for a month.”

“They lasted that’s what matters, right?” Bob questioned as he watched you squire up with Hangman—Rooster holding your knee trying to talk you down. A hot head if he ever knew one, much like your farther.

“He’s just messing with you, don’t take the bait Webb.” Roosters soothing baritone helped extinguish the fire inside you, settling in your chair to focus once again on Admiral Bates.

“Your instructor is a Top Gun graduate with real world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master. His exploits are legendary and his is considered to be one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced.” You watched on as hangman turned the seven colours of bad shit right before your very eyes as he turned to see who was walking down isle. Rooster turned over your shoulder and boy did he wish he didn’t.

“Babe, don’t freak.” Roosters hand came down to rest on your knee, sending a bolt of electricity though your nervous system. Confusing oozed from your pours as you sent him a puzzled look, catching a look at the instructor who had passed by you. “Keep cool or he wins already.” Rooster felt his own panic and betrayal boiling within, but the way he knew this would be one of the most challenging moments of your career thus far made him put his own emotions behind your own.

“What he has to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death.”

“I fucking hate it here.” You slumped into your chair, your eyes trained on the man the myth the legend himself. “Just take me out now Rooster—end my suffering.” You and your dad, Pete, had always had a rocky and unstable relationship, it all came crashing down when you found out he pulled Roosters papers when he applied for the naval academy. The utter heart ache that had caused Bradley made you want to trade places every damn day. the only reason Pete hadn’t pulled yours was because your mother was adamant you were to be your own person without his impute, without his approval. She would have killed him if he had pulled your papers as well, even if Bradley’s mum had a deeply imbedded fear of her loved ones flying, which by extension included you, the daughter she never had.

“Can’t do that babe, you’re just gonna have to face him.” Rooster whispered under his breath, his eyes burning a whole into the back of Mavericks skull before he turned around to face the class, his eyes instantly falling on you, then to Rooster. “He had no idea we’d be here, look at the shock oozing from his dirty old wrinkles.” You couldn’t help but the let a small chuckle escape.

“I give you Captain Pete Mitchell.” Admiral Bates introduced the man you had been in the shadow of your entire life, the bloodline nobody wanted to work with. “Call sign, Maverick.”

“I have no chance here.” You signed, sinking into your sheet a little low every passing second. “I’m up shit creek without a paddle Rooster, we both are.”

------

“But he’s not just our instructor he’s my bloody dad, and if I know anything about my dad it’s that he can never and will never let. Go.”

“Don’t do this to your career Webb.” Rooster cooed. “You deserve to be here, you don’t wanna go out like this, this is it, the big one yeah?” Rooster tried to remind you, tried to get you back on target. You paused for a moment, thinking it over, looking into Roosters beautiful eyes, eyes filled with love and support and admiration for you and only you.

“Yeah, well—” You signed, leaning into the man who gave you the ring that wrapped around your ring finger, soon to be married, soon to be honourably discharged in order to live somewhat or a normal life together. the occupational hazard that was an untimely death was becoming too much for you to handle, although you were a phenomenal pilot, this would be your last mission post. Rooster knew that to be put on reserve for your final mission would mean that whoever was chosen, for better or worse, would be the one to dig the metaphorical knife into your chest, twist and turn till there was no hope of survival. You had to prove to everyone, especially Mav, that you were the clear choice, that you were simply the only one who could fly this mission and still come home to those who loved you. Because at the end of the day? Greatness was in your DNA. “Guess my names not on that plaque for giving up huh?” you chuckled into Bradley’s chest as he hugged you a little tighter, kissing the top of your head as he did so.

“No, no it’s not.” Rooster replied softly. “that’s my girl, besides, if you left who’d be my wingman?”

“I hear Hangman’s available?” You teased, Rooster pulled you closer as he ducked to melt his lips with yours. A passion filled kiss that took your breath away, your best friend, your soulmate. Ever since your academy training, you’d been inseparable, basically joined at the hips ever since. Rooster was and always would be your forever man.

“Now that’s not even funny, you’re playing with my life now Y/n.”

--------

“Rooster, Spider.” Pete called out as you and Rooster walked alongside each other towards your stations. “Bradley, Y/n—” He shouted again, annoyance at your attitudes lacing his tone. When you didn’t stop that’s when Pete had had just about enough. “Lieutenants Bradshaw and Webb!” Mav shouted a little louder, gaining your attention as you stopped in your tracks, turning around to face your dad.

“Yes, sir.” You hissed, reluctantly, holding your helmet at your hip. Your call sign catching his eye. Spider. A little bit of your mother.

“Let’s not do it like this, okay, I’m aware you’re both here because your two of the best pilots the navy has to offer, but—"

“But what, you gonna wash me out?” You hissed again, your heartbeat racing in your chest. “I know if you really had it your way old man, I’d be out of here come sunset, but you and I both know out of this bunch? I’m miles ahead, Roosters miles ahead, because I’m you  and he’s Goose.” The mention of his best friend trapped in time caught Maverick off guard, a rolodex of memories flashing before his eyes. “And as much as you’re a dead-beat dad you’re a great pilot and it is an honour to learn from you, sir.” Rooster placed his hand against the small of your back as you stood your ground, chest puffed. Mav just smiled softly, like father like daughter.

“That’ll be up to you, not me.” Mav explained, “Be better than the rest, that’s all it’ll take.” You were better than the rest, he already knew that you both were, you and Rooster where an unstoppable team, completely unparalleled. “Don’t think, just do—”

“Are we dismissed, sir.” Rooster asked, taking over for you as you ran through a rolodex of memories that reminded you just how hard you had to work to get here, to get to this very moment. So close to an early retirement, so close to achieving your goals, to marrying your best friend. Channelling all that anger, hard work, dedication. “Because we have a mission to prepare for.”

“And a wedding I hear?” Pete smirked, your heart racing in your chest as you locked eyes with your dad. “I believe a congratulations is in order.”

“Don’t—“ You hissed, stepping forward as Rooster gripped your forearm. Pointing a stern finger at Maverick you gritted your teeth. The entire class watching on as you squired your shoulders. “Don’t talk about my life like you were ever a part of it.”

“I always wanted to be but you shut me out!” Maverick whisper shouted through his gritted teeth. “You were just blinded by rage to see that everything I did was in your best interest Y/n.”

“It is and always will be Lieutenant Webb to you, nothing more nothing less, sir.” You hissed. Drinking in the sight of your dad as he looked at you with enough sorrow in his eyes to write an apology letter, but without the courage to do so, that meant nothing to you.

“Webb, c’mon let’s go.” Rooster whispered in your ear. Turning on your heels you sighed in frustration. “He’s in your head, get it together before you get in that jet—“

“What version of you is that advice coming from?” You questioned with frustration lacing your tone. “My fiancé or my friend?” Dtopping at your aircraft, you turned to face Rooster.

“Your wingman who doesn’t want to see you go down in smoke because you’re fog headed Spider.” Rooster snapped, stepping in front of you. “Take a minute and walk it off—“

“I’m fine—“ you tried to push past but Bradley didn’t move, not an inch. “Roos—“

“I need you be to more then fine Y/n, c’mon this is serious, we’re in this together and I need my wing woman to be ready to bring her A game otherwise this would have all been for nothing.” You knew Rooster was right. Nodding as you placed your helmet on you sighed. Rooster followed suit, placing his helmet on.

“I feel the need—“ You smirked, Rooster laid his hand out flat as your palm came crashing down against his before your knuckles bumped against his. Finishing your sentence, Roosting smiled down at you.

“The need for speed.”

It was pristine, not a cloud in the sky as you steadied your controls just behind Rooster, specially to his left— you were always on his left.

“Talk to me Spider, how we are looking?” Roosters voice came through the comms calmly, he knew how you were both doing, but this was his way of checking in on you inconspicuously.

“We’re twelve seconds late on schedule—“ You replied. “We gotta move Rooster, we gotta move.”

“Try stay with me—“ Rooster increased his speed as you did his, the G-form radiating around you. “Nice Spider keep up, keep up.” Bells and whistles started ringing in your cockpit, looking down on your radar you spotted a boogie. “Huh, who is it?” Rooster shouted, looking around as he heard your radar sending out warnings.

“Good morning aviators this is your captain speaking, welcome to basis fighter manoeuvres.” Maverick’s voice chimed over the comms with just a hint of smugness lacing his tone. You could practically see the smirk on his face in your imagination, the upper hand he thought he possessed. “Blue team, you’ve been spotted—“

“What the hells he is doing up here!?” Rooster asked.

“I’m a bandit on course to intercept, blue team, what are you gonna do?” Pete questioned as you looked around. Rooster still in front of you—on target. “Spider? Rooster?” Pete asked again.

“Rooster he’s 20 miles left, ten o’clock! 700 knots closure.” You engaged, choosing to lock in. Fight. “It’s your call man what do you wanna do?” You asked as you locked onto Maverick’s coordinates. “Rooster?”

“Continue, we’re close, stay on target Spider repeat, stay on target.”

“Roger roger.” You confirmed, watching as Maverick changed his course. “Shit Rooster he’s swinging around at the north, stand by for pop-up.”

“Be ready on that laser Y/n—“ Rooster replied.

“Copy.” You made sure to be ready on your laser, following Rooster’s manoeuvring close by.

“Blue team, bandit is getting closer.” Maverick’s voice came through the comms once again, angering you to no end. A dangerous feeling to have in the pilot’s seat, anger clouded rational judgment.

“Yeah, we got it Mav—“ You hissed.

“Popping now.” Rooster grunted and groaned. “Where’s Mav?”

“He’s five miles out, he’s coming fast—targets in sight.” You followed Rooster as he popped out.

“Where’s my laser Spider—“ Rooster replied as he levelled out. As you tried to get a lock on the target your laser wouldn’t focus in. “Spider any time now!”

“It’s a dead eye, repeat I’ve got a dead eye the laser won’t lock, I’m sorry—” Panic laced your voice through the comms as your tried to lock onto the target below, but your laser wasn’t cooperating. “I can’t get a lock I’m sorry Rooster.”

“Where out of time on dropping blind” Rooster replied with a groan. Trying his hardest to gage the target. Missing by a mile. “Dammit missed! Popping now!” Rooster shouted as you pulled up on the stick, following him up as you pulled seven, eight, nine. Your vision was quick to blur from the force, but you fought it all the way up the side of the course you were flying, the steepest part of the ridge,

“C’mon Y/n, stay with me! Stay with me baby!” Roosters voice kept you from drowning as you came up over the edge. Breaking ten as you pulled back on the stick to level out, gasping for air as Maverick came up hot on Rooster tail.

“Rooster break left it’s Mav!” Rooster went left as you went right, circling back around to have your wingman’s back. Tracking down Maverick like your life depended on it. “Not today old man—“ You hissed as he came up beside you.

“Stay focused on your wingman Spider—“ Pete reminded you as you pulled back and inverted above him.

“Jesus Wenb!” Rooster gasped as he looks behind, watching you fly directly above Maverick. Hovering.

“Oh, shit like farther like daughter.” Bob chuckled from the ground, watching on with the rest of the class from down below, It was always an interesting sight to see you and Rooster fly together, but watching you and Maverick come head to head in a dog fight was much more entertaining, especially when your egos where both as big as each other’s. “She’s got him.”

“Check mate old man—“ You pulled back as you flipped over, falling behind as you locked your laser onto Maverick. “And your dead.” The high-pitched beep signalled that your locked on and fired to kill. You’d brought the Maverick, Pete Mitchell, down. “See you in the afterlife dad.” You teased over the comms, watching as Rooster tailed behind you, leveling out. Maverick was quick to come up beside you, looking over at you with a bright smile.

“Sensational manoeuvring there Spider, congratulation’s—” It meant more than you could ever imagine having such phase come from such an extraordinary aviator, but coming from your dad? It meant slightly more. The shadow less dark. “However, Rooster, Spider, the target was not hit, therefore the mission is still a failure, but that’s enough for today you two love birds.” Maverick tailed out, pulling back as he turned north. “See you back on land.” With a wide smirk, still chuffed at yourself, you and Rooster proceeded to make your way back to base, coming closer and closer to the hard deck as you did. “You know, that was some pretty skilled manoeuvring there Webb, might have to rethink this whole early retirement.” Rooster spoke through the comms.

“My objectives have changed Lieutenant Bradshaw, I may be good at this but the risk to reward ratio just isn’t adding up for me anymore—” suddenly, within a millisecond, something has smacked against your windscreen, bounced off and been obliterated by your engine. “Shit--!”

“Oh fuck, bird strike!” Rooster could here you alarms ringing through his comms. “Shit, Y/n your engines on fire!”

“Climbing, climbing, throttling back, shutting off power to left engine.” The commotion coming from your communications was causing a panic down at base, the class watched on as you spiralled out of control. “Attempting to extinguish the fire.” You explained. Your entire dashboard lighting up like a god damn Christmas tree. “Shit it’s not working!” your warning lights were going ballistic. “Right engine is out I repeat right engine is out.” you cried.

“Webb you gotta eject!” Rooster screamed through your comms. “Eject now I repeat eject, eject.”

“It’s still spinning, attempting to restart!”

“Lieutenant Webb! It’s on fire don’t start it!”

“Throttling up!” Spinning out of control fast and loosing altitude you began to panic. “Shit I can’t get control, I’m on fire Rooster.”

“Punch out Spider I repeat eject eject!!” Rooster could feel his heart beating in his chest a million miles a second as he watched on helplessly.

“Warning lights everywhere, hydraulic Failure!” You repeated. “I can’t control it, I’m going down.”

“God dammit Y/n you can’t save it eject, I repeat eject!!” Rooster shouted loud enough for you to hear him through the noise of your dashboard and the roar of the fire.

“Ejecting repeat, eject, eject, eject!” Pulling your hardest on the eject cords something was so utterly wrong. “Rooster it’s not working!” You screamed. “I can’t eject!” Panic overcoming you as you punched up against the glass of the cockpit, pulling against the cords. The automated warning system began screaming your altitude at you, you were too close to the ground now. Pulling as hard as you could only to accept your untimely fate as you came crashing towards the ground. “Bradley—I love you, so much.”

“Don’t do this to me baby, fight, eject I repeat eject.” Rooster couldn’t help his tears fall as he watched your jet go down. “I love you, please don’t leave me—“

“God dammit come on!” With one finally tug you broke free, your seat ejecting you up through the broken cockpit, glass slicing your skin, fire ripping through your flight suit as you fell through the air, warm and fried. Unconscious instantly from the impact.

“Oh my god!” Roosters shocked voice was the only one who dared to speak. The class on the ground stunned into silence, including Mav himself. “Y/n” Rooster couldn’t hear anything else but his screaming. His panic, his heartbreak. “No, no no no no.” Watching as your shoot pulled way too close to the ground, knowing impact would have been deadly. “FUCK!!!— someone get medic on the way! NOW!” It killed Rooster to have to turn around and leave you behind, but he had to get back to base. He was no help up there. “I’m coming Baby, just hold on, don’t leave me, don’t leave me. I’m coming, I’m sorry.”

Present

“She’s doing well.” The doctor explained to a very tied Bradley. “The broken ribs are probably the least of our concerns but will take the longest to heal considering there really isn’t a lot of treatment options besides bed rest and light duties.” Bradley felt his heart sink into his stomach as he sat beside you and held your hand, you’d only just woken from a three-day induced coma. Your body needed as much rest as it could possibly get. Your eyes were still so puffy they looked closed as you rubbed your thumb up and down the palm of Bradleys hand.

“Broken femur is stabilised, swelling in the vertebra has subsided but I wouldn’t be running any marathons anytime soon.” You tried your best to squeeze Bradley’s hand, let him know it was still okay to smile at the Doctors subtle tease. “Broken elbow and collarbone should heal nicely as long as you give it time, the skin grafts took week to the areas that needed additional support to heal, I’d say a few more days in intensive care to watch for internal bleeding before we move you to general for less monitoring, we’re looking at a three-to-four-week stint.”

“Thanks Doc—” Rooster cooed as the doctor left the room, training back to face you with such a sad and tired look on his face. “Hi—”

“I still can’t remember anything beyond taking Mav out.” You whispered, your head lulling to the side. “Heads killing.”

“I’m just so incredibly lucky your still here with me.” Rooster held his tears back as he looked at you, so venerable, so small. He’d never seen you like this before and hell, he wouldn’t wish this on his worst enemy.

“Probably won’t fly again after this.” You groaned, slightly shifting in your bed. “I’ve never been so scared Babe.” You chocked up, the oxygen being pushed through your nose tickled a little. “I’m so sorry you had to see—”

“I’d rather been there then have someone come to my door Y/n, you know that.”

“Still—” You replied, your body feeling tired as your eyes fault to stay awake.

“You need to rest.”

“Why don’t you go home rooster, you look just as bad as me.”

“That’s because he hasn’t left your side since you were brought up here.” Bob interjected as he stepped into the room.

“Ah it’s the badass on board.” You smiled softly as Bob approached your bedside, his hand coming down on Roosters shoulder. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” You questioned. “Or are you here for Rooster?”

“Well, uh, yeah I was actually, Mav’s been named team leader on the mission, I have a gut feeling he’ll want you to fly as his wingman—” Bob explained. “I just came to gauge the situation before I head over to the Hard Deck—”

“Tell him I’ve pulled out—” You shot Rooster a look of utter shock as you tried to sit up, coughing and splattering as you did so. “Babe don’t—” Rooster rushed to your side to help you sit up slightly.

“Like hell you’re pulling out of this Bradley Bradshaw because if you do then this seriously has all been for nothing and we should have gone home at the very beginning.” You explained. Bob just watched on, he’d never seen you like this before, so mortal. He’d always seen you as some sort of immortal goddess who possessed the legend of Pete Mitchell. “If Mav wants you as wingman you go be his wingman end of story, this is the big one remember.”

“What about you though?”

“I’m confide to a bed for a minimum of four weeks, I’m not going anywhere.” You signed. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving you here.” Rooster cooed as he kissed your palm. “Fuck everything else, you are the most important thing to me always.”

“Rooster—” You tried to reason with him, but he just cut you off.

“End of conversation Y/n, no. where done babe, this was it, for both of us.”

“What are you talking about? I applied for discharge just after posting when did—”

“The second I saw you go down that was it, never could I ever put you in that position.” You were stunned into silence for a moment for you scowled at Rooster. “What’s that look for?”

“Don’t throw your career down the drain because I fucked up, I wanted out for months before this, don’t use me as an excuse to give up when shit gets tough Rooster, don’t be stupid.” You hissed, totally mind-boggled. Perhaps it was the drugs.

“That defiantly wasn’t the response I thought I’d receive.” Rooster replied. “How about, after you’ve had some rest, we talk about it, huh?” Bob just watched on a Rooster leaned over to gently kiss your lips. Softly and ever so gently. The harsh reality of the situation had him tossing up whether he was ready to give it all up for the love of his life and if she’d do the same for him. But that discussion would have to be tabled for another time and place.

“I honestly think the two of you should both reconsider, the two of you make an absolutely unstoppable team.” Bob pipped up. You caught his line of sight as Rooster pulled away, you couldn’t help but to chuckle.

“Bob, I almost died.”

“We almost die every day Spider, I just think it’s something you were both meant to do, extraordinary people need extraordinary circumstances to thrive. The pair of you would blow your own brains out with some average mundane nine to five job.” Bob wasn’t holding back, the idea of death scared the hell out of him but at this stage he’d become accustomed to it being an occupational hazard. “Just consider it, please, the both of you.”

“If the pair of you leave imminently so I can get some rest perhaps I’ll sleep on the idea.” You mumbled, looking at the love of your life as he looked at you. “Bob may have a point?”

“Yeah well, he’s a WSO, they’re always right, aren’t they?” Rooster teased as he kissed your temple. Shoving at Bob as they left the room, Rooster turned on his heels for one final glance at you. Blowing a kiss your way as you smiled. “I love you—”

“And I love you.” You replied softly, turning to see your engagement right now sitting back in its box on the little side table next to your bed, a bunch of flowers beside it. “dork” you chuckled to yourself, finding peace with your new reality and the battle yet to come.

“So, are you really not gonna fly this mission of Mav asks you to?” Bob asked as he pressed the doors close button in the elevator.

“I’m gonna fly the fuck outta that mission, for the both of us, and then when it’s all said and done, I’m out, she’s out, and we can just live a normal mundane life, two extraordinary people living an ordinary life in some suburb noone knows how to pronounce.” Rooster replied as Bob just shrugged it off, A bad feeling in the pit of his stomach about this mission. Rooster thought he had it all mapped out, not knowing just how badly the mission would turn and how close to leaving you behind he would come.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Read more Top Gun Fanfiction here

Monsters

Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us (show/game) 4.8K Words (3rd POV) Summary: Two broken people clash. “Even when he hated her presence, it stirred something deep in his belly to see her spitting and angry at the world. Like a confirmation that only the cruel survived. That if something sweet like her had turned into a monster then he shouldn’t have expected better for himself. Permission. He was justified in his edges and bitterness.” Warning: Depictions of graphic violence Part I | Part II

Ellie had told him that the woman had been trying to be a singer before the world went to hell. He hadn’t asked, because he never asked, but had learned it the way most information came from the young girl. Rushed and mostly to fill the silence between them when she wasn’t being entertained. He didn’t care about before because that world was over so why did it matter- who they were before- but he could see it in his mind sometimes.

She would have been young, a lot younger than him by a decade at least, and soft skinned with bright eyes and an eagerness to share something beautiful. An artist type with her voice as the brush. He knew that type well. When he was younger, he’d wanted to be a musician too. Had learned to play the guitar, played a few gigs to keep himself occupied while Tommy went off to the army trying to be a hero. Met a girl that way though it all came screeching to a halt when she got knocked up and then quickly dipped when Sarah was young. There was no time for guitar and dreams while raising an infant as a single father. He had just been an average joe then. Not too smart, not too many goals, but good with his hands and at building things. The only job he was qualified for. He hadn’t had time for beauty or art when he’d been too busy trying to pay the bills, keep his brother out of trouble fresh from discharge, and his daughter fed and taken care of. Now neither of them had time for that. It was only about survival and this teenage girl tethering them together. The mission. The woman, who Ellie had taken to calling Red for some reason he wasn’t paying attention to, wasn’t soft skinned anymore and probably hadn’t been for a long time. She was all bared teeth, sharp edges, and brutality. A bobcat whose first instinct was to tear and shred rather than be gentle. That’s how he first saw Red.

They’d been clearing an old building for the night to possibly stay in and had stumbled upon a group who’d camped the area, knowing what a prime location it was. Scavengers, vultures picking off whoever came through and taking what they could. There’d been a good number of them and Joel was only one man with a highly valuable ward so he did the rational thing and ran. Ellie had stumbled badly, falling behind in the blink of an eye. He’d cursed at himself later and reamed himself a new one at the fact he didn’t keep her in front of him. It was an amateur mistake and he wasn’t an amateur. The scavenger that had been persistently tailing them had been there fast, machete raised, still pissed at the blow the girl had landed on him earlier. Quicker than he could raise his own arm and shoot the guy Red had come barreling from a side room, swinging a metal bat so hard into the guy's head it dented. All teeth, growling like a goddamn animal, bashing the bat over and over into his head until it was nothing but pulp. Breathing hard, her eyes met his and it was like looking into a mirror. Hollow and broken and rage. Even when he hated her presence, it stirred something deep in his belly to see her spitting and angry at the world. Like a confirmation that only the cruel survived. That if something sweet like her had turned into a monster then he shouldn’t have expected better for himself. Permission. He was justified in his edges and bitterness. She’d helped Ellie and gotten them out, her choice made after seeing the asshole go after the girl. It took all night to get out of the city limits and far enough it was safe enough to rest. Then the damn kid got attached. She refused to go on without the woman after only one night, no matter how much Joel growled at her absolutely not. Red didn’t have anyone, was just surviving from one night to the next. The heavy implication that there had been a group, had been other people, once hung in the silence. And against his best wishes, Joel agreed if only to get the kid moving though he kept an eye on the woman diligently for at least a couple weeks.

They both didn’t like each other at first, but she looked after the girl and it helped having someone look over his shoulder after Tess… But she wasn't the smuggler who had been all broken edges and selfishness. Red didn’t give a shit about herself to a fault, so selfless at times it felt like it was a punishment or a goddamn death wish. Like she hated herself. She used her body like a weapon and made Ellie her sole priority as if she had nothing left tethering her to life until she saved the girl. He reasoned that it made his job easier, but if anything it made him more on edge watching her throw herself into every fight like a rabid animal with no care for her own safety. Joel reasoned that it was because seeing another person die would make Ellie harder to manage, but he wasn’t so sure. He wondered who she had lost to act that way and then he shoved that thought into the back of his mind because he didn’t care about her enough to wonder that. As the days went on, he could see the leftover marks from the world before and the person she used to be, small whispers of that bright eyed girl. A small tattooed “Love ya” in someone’s handwriting on her inner arm. Dainty flowers on her ankle. Stars on little strings under her collar bone. What you would expect a young woman to get if there weren’t an apocalypse. When she pissed him off, he called her Starshine mockingly, unable to see something so small and lighthearted without turning it bitter. She called him Tex after Ellie had spilled that’s where he was from. He hadn’t been able to hide the wince at the name so she kept at it like a bird pecking at an open wound. The memory of Tess's voice calling him that late at night had long since merged with her wide scared eyes as he left her to die. It flashed in his mind every time. It made him hate her more, but the anger kept him focused. Starshine. Tex. The pain was a revolving door. Red protected her bag religiously. It held everything that she owned, the only remnants of that life before. A small mixtape cassette of music, a couple of pictures, a pair of keys that were rusted and useless, a journal. He’d seen her damn near behead a guy who had attempted to rip it off her and she hadn’t stopped hacking away until she was soaked in blood and panting. It was the one time Ellie had been scared of her. Joel had been impressed. All teeth. She didn’t speak for days after that. That softness wasn’t completely gone though, just buried underneath thick callus-like skin. Sometimes he could catch it peeking through. When they’d happened upon a stream, she’d forced Ellie to wash her hair and he’d watched as Red helped her lean her hair back into the water and had even laughed when the girl swung it to splash her. She’d sat behind Ellie later on and combed through the long mess, complaining the kid was letting it get matted. Then she’d rolled her eyes when Ellie had complained in turn about Red’s aggressive brushing. She could handle people trying to kill her constantly but not getting her tangles brushed out. Joel had watched them out of the corner of his eye, warm coffee in his hands, and simply shook his head. The kid liked her and it kept Ellie from pestering him constantly, though he was finding he didn’t mind it as much. She would take turns asking them questions whether they be about the world or how things worked or their lives before. Sometimes she simply liked to read things out loud from her dumb joke book to whatever books she’d grab. It was the few times he saw Red crack a smile, her hand on Ellie’s bag to keep the girl moving forward and making sure she didn’t trip on anything while distracted. He was minding them both less and less. When they’d gone through a store, Red’s fingers had trailed over the tops of old records lovingly, wistfully. Joel had watched her linger for a second and the way her eyes had lightened, her lips pressed together as if she were remembering. When she caught him staring, her hand had snatched away and the light had sputtered out before she kept going. He’d resisted going over and seeing what records she had touched, finding the spots in the dust hers had made. One time after having found two whole bottles of booze and a safe enough spot to breathe, they’d both gotten drunk after Ellie had passed out. It’d been a hard day of travel and they had needed it. Joel hadn’t had alcohol in months and his tolerance had diminished, the liquor hitting him harder than it had in a while. She’d mentioned a younger sister and a guy named Harry and he didn’t have to wonder who she had lost anymore. The name burned in his belly along with the taste of the alcohol and he imagined someone handsome and young, maybe the owner of the “love ya” handwriting. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry to see how long that wound had been there. His own was twenty years old and still festering. Hell, there was a new one just a few months old. They’d switched to other topics. Music mostly, Texas, the Fireflies. Nothing too personal, but holding tiny glimpses of themselves. She’d fallen asleep first and his eyes had traced the tiny stars too many times to count, hand gripping the bottle of liquor to keep from reaching out. They both learned each other’s patterns. Months of traveling together, working together to keep Ellie safe, had given her the ability to read what he wanted without him even saying it. Survival did that. Flank left, check around the corner right, keep back with Ellie while he cleared the rooms. He trusted her to take care of the girl, but that selfless tendency sometimes reared its ugly head…except Joel didn’t know when things changed. When it stopped being a pain in the ass for him and instead drove high keeling panic through his body. The sun was getting low and they’d unintentionally come too close to what seemed like a fortified cabin. The owners had been out and stumbled upon them, a case of the wrong people at the wrong time, and Joel knew instantly what type of people these were. Not just preppers like Bill, but kill-first-zero-hesitation survivalists. Apparently simply knowing of the safe house’s location was a death sentence and they’d attacked before he could process. Joel had a guy in a chokehold, squeezing so tight he could hear the distinct crack of bones splintering. There’d been four, the first easy enough to take care of but while Red was finishing him, another was headed towards Ellie and had managed to hit her. The woman had thrown herself at him, literally, clinging onto his back and driving her knife over and over into his chest. But he wasn’t going down so easily and had grabbed onto her arm in turn, trapping her there. She didn’t see the fourth guy walking up with his gun trained. Didn’t see that she was seconds from being another name on the list of people who had died in Joel’s life. But he had. White hot panic shot through his chest and he hadn’t thought, hadn’t even grabbed the pistol that had fallen to the ground. Joel lunged, gunshot ringing through his ear, and tackled the man. Blood warmed his skin as he punched over and over and over again. He hadn’t needed a bat to do the same damage she had done that first time, he was a weapon himself and even as bone fragments embedded in his hands, skin caved, and brain matter splattered all over the ground he destroyed whatever was left of the man underneath him. “Joel!” her fervent whisper shot through him and the sound of his name, not just Tex, finally got him to stop, breathing hard. In the dying sun, he could see her perfectly standing next to him. Like starshine. Still alive, the barest graze of a bullet on her shoulder. But she was okay and Ellie was okay and the man was dead. And she wasn't afraid of him, sitting atop the mutilated corpse that he had done with his own hands. “You okay?” she asked and he wanted to laugh because she was asking him? But he nodded gruffly and attempted to stand, only pausing when she offered him a hand equally covered in blood. She used to be a singer. He’d be a musician. Now they were matching monsters. For some reason, seeing her blood soaked hand in his irked him. She hadn’t been paying attention to herself and was only focused on getting the guy away from Ellie. It was careless and remembering seeing the gun raised at her irritated him even more. “You damn near almost got killed, Starshine,” Joel growled, his anger finding its usual target, “You’re lucky I managed to get to him in time and all you got was a graze instead of your brains splattered all over the damn floor.” “I was protecting Ellie,” Red bit out, hackles raised, “I’m sorry, I thought that was the point? Would you rather I make sure her ass stays alive or mine?” He grit his teeth together and clenched his fists, the pain shooting up from the torn skin helping keep him grounded. The answer should have been easy. Ellie, always. She was the cargo, the whole reason behind this journey. But the fact he couldn’t make himself reply, wasn’t satisfied with either option, made him turn his back and walk towards the house in silence. He didn’t like what that meant. They could see why the group had wanted to protect the small cabin. It was a goldmine and if they didn’t have a goal, a mission, Joel would have loved to keep fixing the place up and stay there for the rest of his life. They had their own generators, a high concrete fence, a water well, and even a small farm behind the house. They even had electricity and running hot water. It was a goddamn oasis in the middle of the forest, a more rustic smaller version of what Bill and Frank had. After clearing the whole place, it was decided they all would stay at least a day or two. It was safe enough and that would give them all time to rest, restock, and breathe before continuing on to Wyoming. It was a luxury and there was no sense not taking advantage of that. 

Ellie had happily raced through the whole house, digging through the previous occupants' belongings as if she hadn’t just witnessed all four of them get massacred. She flipped through their books, went through the pantries, and even shouted happily to Red at the discovery of a radio and collection of tapes. She’d paused only to scrunch up her nose, looking at the two adults, “Actually, you both should take showers first. You both need it so I’ll go last.” Joel had looked down, blood and mud covering his arms and pants while Red’s torso and hands were crimson as well. Now that the adrenaline was seeping from his body, the sting of his knuckles were making themselves known. He nodded his head at the woman, brow furrowed, “You can take a shower in the Master. I’m gonna take stock of all their shit and use the hallway one.” For once, Red didn’t argue, only pressed her lips tightly together and nodded before heading down to where they’d discovered the large master bedroom. She was usually quick to argue about being told what to do, but Joel tried not to think too much about it and chalked it up to exhaustion. The hot water was a godsend for his bunch up muscles though it stung like hell on his wounds. Hands pressed against the shower wall, he let the water run over his skin and wash away all the blood away. The murky rust colored water swirled and disappeared down the drain and though his brain told him to be efficient, clean and get in and out, he allowed him a small bit of time to stand there and zone out. There’d been a fixed up jeep in a makeshift garage out back. They could tear every salvageable supply from the cabin, fill it up, and finally make it to Wyoming in record time instead of the weeks, months, it’d been taking walking there. A couple days to rest and they’d be on their way. But with a plan set, his mind inevitably went to the woman he’d just butchered a man to protect. It hadn’t been like that moment with Ellie, standing in front of the FEDRA soldier. That night his mind had disappeared, seeing the light of the gun and knowing there was a young girl behind him that was the same age Sarah had been made him flashback to that moment. He’d been there again, but different. More brutal, more capable. He wouldn’t let her get hurt again. No, this was different. Pure instinct had taken over his body and he hadn’t thought at all. Ellie hadn’t been the one in danger, Red had, but the reaction had been visceral. He hadn’t wanted her name to end up on that list of people Joel couldn’t save. Hell, he didn’t even know her real name. No one to mourn her but him and the kid. Running a hand over his face, he finished washing up and turned the water off, not wanting to take all the heat before Ellie could get cleaned up. His muscles had loosened but that only let every ache and soreness seep in, his knuckles a mess of skin and small fragments of bone stabbed in. They were going to smart for a while and he needed to get the splinters out. Joel threw on a loose shirt and clean pair of jeans, water dripping from his damp hair even as he tried to comb it back. He’d seen a small suture kit in the master bedroom with some tweezers. Cursing himself for not grabbing it, he left the bathroom and barely missed being bulldozed over as Ellie ran in, “my turn!” He frowned as the door slammed shut loudly in her eagerness, shaking his head at the teenager and sighing. Red had to still be in the shower so that would give him enough time to grab the kit from the bedroom and try to clean up his hand. Most of the fragments were in his right hand, his dominant one, and it was gonna be a bitch to get out. The master bedroom was more like a stockpile than what it previously was. All the outer windows had been boarded up, the only entrance to the house being the front door. Racks of fabric, supplies, all sorts lined the walls. Nothing decorative, purely functional. Turning to the bathroom door to make sure it was still shut, Joel went over and found the shelf of First Aid supplies and rifled through until he came across the small kit. No alcohol, but there was some ointment and bandages so better than nothing. “Shoulda just used the gun,” Red’s voice was soft despite the words and he turned, finding her leaning against the open door frame in nothing but a towel. Steam poured from the entryway, light reflecting off the mist and surrounding her almost in a glow. She looked cleaner than he’d ever seen, skin shiny and hair sticking to her neck. The little tattooed stars winked at him even from across the room. He forgot how quiet she could be sometimes. “You rather I take three seconds to find my gun in the dark and let you get shot or deal with a busted hand?” Joel bit out gruffly, hand clenching reflexively though he wasn’t sure if it was out of pain or because he wanted to trace the long line of her bare neck. She didn’t reply, arms crossed over her torso before padding over and grabbing the kit from his hands. Her face was never relaxed, lips always pressed together in a slight purse and brows lowered. A line between her eyes was beginning to develop, the apocalypse wearing and tearing her down like the rest of them. He wondered if she had been a smiler when she was younger and shared her music but then clamped down on that thought. “Sit,” Red bit out though she accompanied it by shoving a hand against his chest, forcing him to take a seat on the edge of the bed. His own brows furrowed into a hard line, back stiff, at the none too gentle movement though his mouth went dry for an entirely different reason as she kneeled in front of him. He could see the little stars up close, peering down at her as she shoved her way between his knees on the floor. She smelled of soap and something floral which had his brain confused because it didn’t fit her. Maybe the her before, but not the one soaked in blood that usually was at his side. She grabbed his hand in her’s without even asking him and pulled it forward to rest on his thigh, laying out the contents of the kit next to them before pulling the tweezers out. Joel could only watch and control his breathing, trying not to shudder at the feel of her warm skin against his jeans or the brush of her hair over his arms. It’d been a while…since Tess and he wasn’t going to deny that Red was attractive. Hell, any man probably would have a hard time keeping his thoughts pure with a pretty woman between his thighs. But her on her knees, fingers skimming over his knuckles, made him clench his teeth in an attempt to remain neutral.

“You don’t have to-” “Shut up, Miller,” Red muttered, holding the tweezers and working to dig out one of the larger splinters, “I’ve seen you use your left and you’re shit with it.” Joel huffed and tried to focus on the pain, his breathing, anything but her touch. He should have yanked his hand away and shrugged her off, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when she was this close and he could watch her, memorize the freckles along her shoulders and the trail of water sliding down. She pulled out a few large fragments of bone and he watched in morbid curiosity at the small pile. They’d once belonged to the skull of another person. Joel had managed to smash his head in so hard they’d dug underneath his skin, silent retribution in the last moments of that man’s life. Now he was in his house, using his water and his things, taking his bed. “Luckily it doesn’t seem like you fractured your hand,” Red muttered, adding another small bone to the pile. One of her hands was holding the tweezers while the other wrapped around his fingers, his own hand almost gently wrapped around hers. He tried to shrug it off as her holding it to maneuver it around. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Joel grumbled and cleared his throat as her thumb trailed over the cuts on his knuckles. The small movement was surprisingly gentle, something he didn’t expect from her. “You saved me,” the words were whispered softly as if she didn’t want to speak them out loud into existence. But he’d heard them, had been acutely aware of the sound of her breathing and the way her lips formed the words even as she concentrated on pulling the splinters out. And her saying them, confirming what he had done, shot a different kind of pain through him. Because he had saved her and for all the excuses he tried to come up with, they were just that. Excuses. The real reason why wasn’t something he was willing to admit to. But it stirred that anger he relied on when confronted by something he didn’t like. Vulnerability. “I wouldn’t have had to if you’d been watching yourself,” he growled low and tried to jerk his hand out of her grasp, but she held on strong, “Should have stayed back and behind me like I told you to.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his hazel ones under her brow and those long lashes, the look hard and sharp. “Right. It’s always listen to you or do what you say as if you’re the expert on surviving,” her voice was low and rough like a crackling flame, “Anyone ever told you that you have control issues, Tex?” The sight of her angry, on her knees in just a towel and wet hair clinging to her skin, framing those little tattooed stars had something stirring deep inside. His free hand dug into his thigh and he tried to ignore how soft her hands were even as they gripped his injured one, “My control issues have kept me alive this long. You knew what you were signing up for when you tagged along. I didn’t need a second little girl to watch over if that’s how you want to act, Starshine.” She chuckled humorlessly and leaned in towards him between his thighs, “No, you see at first I thought that was your type. That you liked being obeyed and I was almost sure that’s how you liked getting your rocks off. Some sweet damsel in distress who needs you and gets on their knees to please you however you want like good girls.” As if emphasizing her point, she sat up straight all prim and proper and he tried to ignore the trickle of water that slid down her cleavage and into the towel. Red wasn’t wrong entirely. The sight had his mouth watering and as her hand rested on his thigh, squeezing the thick muscle there, arousal flooded him. Then the hand still holding his injured one squeezed and he hissed, a strange combination of pleasure and pain hitting him, “But the more I see you, I don’t think you want some submissive sweet thing at all. I think you like someone arguing with you more, right Tex?” Joel glared at her, blood pounding through his veins. He was loath to admit to her being right, at confirming that she had read that part of him, especially as she sat there half naked and looking so smug. Maybe she was right. Hell, that had been what had drawn him to Tess. He didn’t like gentle, didn’t trust it anymore. Gentle got you killed and even if he did want her to listen and do what she was told, it’d been born out of wanting to keep a distance. But she wasn’t gentle and she didn’t listen. She was a wild animal, all teeth, and hell if that hadn’t made her attractive even while driving him wild. “Guess you got me all figured out, don’t ya Starshine?” he hissed, leaning towards her. Her fingers clenched onto him tighter and he got the urge to lick the star pattern along her collarbone, just to see what she’d do. But he didn’t, eyes narrowing and drilling into her own, “Except you’re wrong if you don’t think I like seeing you on your knees for me.” Her pupils were wide and blown up, skin flushed and scars in even more stark relief. Each deep breath made her chest rise and fall and he knew even if she was trying to hide it, his words had affected her the same. Joel only leaned back and ripped his hand from hers, moving to stand up, “Now get dressed and go to sleep if you’re done bothering me.” He’d snatched the suture kit and tweezers from the bed, stepping around the woman and leaving her still on her knees as he went for the door. He felt the urge to look back at her, to see her reaction, but he only pressed forward and left, shutting the door behind him. If he didn’t look back, she would stay the same monster as him in his head, not the girl who smelled of flowers and gently pressed against his thighs. And he needed that reassurance even as the memory of her skin on his made his fists clench. 

Boss Gojo Imagines

Boss! Gojo who has had flings with every assistant he’s had.

Boss! Gojo who as the CEO of the company was raised to be very weary of letting anyone close to him. Although he would bed many women, he had only a few he called friends.

Boss! Gojo who fired his last assistant after their short term rendezvous and is in need of a new one.

Boss! Gojo who, whilst procrastinating, decides he will conduct the interviews himself. He reasons that it would be easier to test the new secretary himself. See if they could maintain a professional relationship.

Boss! Gojo is tired going through the numerous interviews. Each person was qualified, many over qualified. But they were all boringgg.

Boss! Gojo who was about to resign for the day, until you showed up. Like your competitors, you wore a bright smile and held an impressive resume. Unlike them, you were nonchalant; as if you were meeting with a friend rather than competing for a highly coveted position in the elite Gojo company.

Boss! Gojo who was surprised at how easy the conversation flowed between the two of you. So much so, that he had spent at least 30 more minutes with you than every other applicant.

Boss! Gojo who can’t stop himself from asking,

“How are you so confident you’re going to get the job?”

You looked past him, scrunching your nose thinking.

“I’m not confident at all. Honestly, I only applied on a whim. I guess since I have no hope, I have nothing to lose, right?

This type of thinking was such a breathe of fresh air for him. In the rigid society he was born to, every action had to calculated. Every conversation meticulously planned out. Nothing was organic. Nothing was natural. And here you were, smiles and all, taking a chance without considering the risk.

You had an email for you that same day.

Boss! Gojo who isn’t surprised by your work ethic. Anyone who made it so far into the application process was a a good worker. But he was surprised about your energy. You managed to maintain a positive and almost carefree vibe despite the stress and tribulations.

At first, he was obviously drawn to your personality, but what really impacted him, was how quick you acclimated to him and his personality. By the end of the month, you had learned his favorite snacks, how he likes his coffee (if it could be considered coffee after how much sugar is put into it), and his habits. When he felt clingy, you let him cling to you. When he felt withdrawn, you gave him space. It felt like you were made for him. This was the first time in a while someone was so attentive to him. The first time in a while where he felt seen.

Boss! Gojo who treats you like a hidden snack. Anytime he’s overloaded with work, he’ll seek you out to indulge in your sweetness.

Boss! Gojo who demands you meet with him once an hour. He claims that it’s for check-ins, but really he just wants to see you.

Boss! Gojo who was already an affectionate and touchy person. This has somehow doubled when you started working. He would use you as an arm rest, lay his head on your shoulder, hold you by your waist. Anything to get his hands on you. You were like an actual plush toy to him. Any time you two had to attend meetings, you would be confused as his girlfriend instead of his secretary.

When Shoko first saw you and him, she had assumed that you two had already hooked up. She was pleasantly surprised to hear Satoru deny the claim. When she questioned if he’s been having any sex recently, the loving gaze he sent your way was enough of an answer for her. It was weird. In just a couple months, you had changed Satoru completely. She even noticed that the two of you were on first name basis. When you walked back, you had a cocktail in hand for yourself and a mocktail for Gojo. Shoko couldn’t help but roll her eyes at how intimately you two behaved.

Boss! Gojo who secretly started increasing your wage. While you never complained about your finances, he was aware of your recent graduation and history of low wage jobs. He wanted to make sure that this would be the best paying job you’ve had. Not only would it make you happier, it would also make you less likely to quit.

Boss! Gojo who hates seeing you tired, but can’t stop himself from forcing you to work overtime. Especially when you both would fall asleep in the office. Waking up to see you was the greatest feeling in the world. Unfortunately, the extreme guilt of making you work overtime would weigh heavy on him, so he would forced you to go home.

Boss! Gojo who seethes seeing how close you’ve gotten with the other workers. The same charismatic nature that attracted him was now attracting others. And he hated that too.

Boss! Gojo who demands you start eating lunch at his office. To make up for the ‘inconvenience’ he buys the most extravagant and excessive lunches. You often get sent home with all the leftovers.

Boss! Gojo who has become inseparable from you. Your office was moved into his, you would join him on every retreat. Sometimes he would even send you accessories so that you could match with him. Your phone and his sharing a matching home screen.

When he first started showering you with presents, you denied them excessively. As the days went on, you would accept them and return them by the end of the day. Satoru would, of course return it to your desk, only to find it in his own the next morning. The game of give and return would go on for days until he had you walk into his office where he would put the necklace/ accessory in you and pour until you finally accept it.

He was immensely endeared to you when he found a homemade phone chain on his desk with a little note. He was almost start struck when he saw you had a matching one. This snowballed into a fascination with matching between him and you.

Boss! Gojo who notices immediately when you don’t show up for work one day. Instead of you sitting pretty at your desk, it was Ijichi. Now don’t get Gojo wrong, he also likes Ijichi. But not seeing you there was almost painful. His entire schedule and demeanor relied on you. On your smile, your banter, your everything. He needed you. At these thoughts, Satoru felt a burning pain right where his heart was. Why was he acting like this. Why have you made him so dependent? All at once, the memories of everything he did with you flooded his brain. The matching, the jokes, the smiles. He was undeniably obsessed with you.

Gojo Satoru was in love with his secretary.

Epilogue

During his epiphany, you sent him a little text explaining your absence, you had randomly gotten sick over the weekend and couldn’t make it to work. You asked him not to worry and that you would be better by tomorrow. By the time you sent that second text in, Satoru had already put you in for a week of absence and was making his way to your house, hands full of medication and sweets.

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Notes:

Thanks everyone for reading! This was the winner of the poll! I hope everyone enjoys it! I’m not an amazing writer and I really struggle keeping things concise lol so I hope this wasn’t a total snooze fest.

I know when relationships like Boss and worker are written about, they tend to be a lot… steamier for lack of a better word. I really did try, but I also really liked the childish swooning thing Satoru had going on. Idk maybe one day I’ll try again 🤔

Not edited btw! Pls ignore any small mistakes!

Loving the Lonely!Martin AU so much!

Im curious about how things would go with Martin joining team archives. I feel like he'd be more confident not being raised by his awful mother, so he wouldn't be such a quivering pile of jello around Jon. I also feel like he'd be more competent in the job having grown up around the institute and actually having the relevant qualifications?

Martin is way more confident in this au, not only is he in a really healthy place(aside from being a pseudo avatar for the Lonely) but he's also actually highly qualified for his job this time around. So no silly mistakes or quacking in fear of being fired! The man literally has a degree in Library Science, if it wasn't for Elias' specific requirements for an Archivist, Martin probably would be the most qualified for the position.

Does that mean Jon is nicer to Martin? Of course not!

(Not gonna lie, even though Jon has a slight infatuation with Martin, Jon has major "GET OUT OF MY SCHOOL" energy)

Having Martin around boosts his insecurities and paranoia even more, and he can't take out his negativity on Tim and Sasha because he's friends with them from research. So that leaves Martin as the scapegoat, (no matter how much Jon admires Martin, it doesn't save him from season 1 Jon's attitude!) but at least in this au he feels bad about it as soon as it slips out. But he doesn't actually apologize till way later.

Martin is thankfully calm and professional about the behavior even though Jon's words/action does hurt Martin, but he never actually does anything about it(Tim and Sasha do). Because the sadness and isolation he feels from it does feed his Patron in a way, so there is an underlying comfort in it.

it's pretty close to canon season 1 but Martins behavior is closer to season 4 and 5.

FRIENDS !? [MASTERLIST]

M.Masterlist

Pairing: poly!ateez x f!reader ( A Yandere Ateez Office Au)

Genre: Mature, Angst, Yandere

Warning: The upcoming events in the story will contain themes like stalking, violence, obsession, manipulation, possessive behaviour and restraining acts. Do not kill me for not warning you. This is an Yandere story so you are well aware of what to expect more.

Well just a glimpse of a new upcoming series. This is just a fictional work which doesn't represent them originally as stated here. I am too friendly *wink wonk*so you can interact with me. Network: @cultofdionysusnet

Taglist: (open! dm me/send ask/reply here)

Alone!? Oh we can’t survive like this in the rush of searching for a beautiful life. So we make friends on different occasions like some childhood friends while studying in a school, online friends, friends during family gatherings, friends on entering a new university, friends at our workplace and many more.

We remember the only friends we get attached to more and become close and the others just remain part of our memory staying in a little corner of our mind eventually.

"So you are telling me, we are .....friends?" You eyed the boy with a still confused face as why he is so much eager to help you and trying to convince you as his old friend.

"Yes cupcake! now please come with me for the interview to this office and to submit your resume. I am more than happy that they are looking for a new worker and apparently you are also searching for a job to start after this semester ends." The boy with so much of excitement and eagerness is waiting for your reply.

"okay, but look I still can't remember you and still trusting you. So how come you think they would react to my plain resume for this big company?" You are not sure of your capability for this company where so many highly qualified well-beings apply but still get rejected and this random boy claiming your bestfriend from old town is urging you to apply there.

'Why?'

You looked around the streets to take a final decision with a calm breath releasing,"I will apply but don't get high hopes of me getting into it. I am sure they are not going to take me in."

The boy in front of you smirked and put his hand firmly on your left cheek slightly brushing the lower lip for a blink," Oh trust me, they will love you to join their company."

But what happens when some people suddenly come to your life and claim to be your old friends but you can’t remember them. So, brace yourself because they are here to make your life a living hell. You are no one to build your paradise because they will make sure you to be their puppet. How you wish to be alone now!

“The pretty heaven of yours is going to turn into hell, sweety.”

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

Chapter 1 Chapter 9

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Something about Death Island's Intro

I watched Death Island a few nights ago, and something that has stuck with me was how basically all of Leon's information on his file was blacked out in the intro sequence.

Only his name and gender are shown, along with Hunnigan's name at the bottom and some more blocked out things.

It probably is stupid, but I can't help but focus on it. As the audience, we know a lot of things about Leon. We know his past and all of the things that he's been through, so why bother showing a file with a bunch of that information blacked out? Yes, it does serve as a reminder that Leon does a lot of highly-classified and dangerous wok for the DSO, and we can assume that the intro sequence is supposed to "simulate" Dylan researching everybody, but I can't help but feel that there's more to it than that.

To pretty much everyone aside from the other protagonists and maybe Hunnigan, no one really knows what Leon has gone through. At the beginning of Infinite Darkness, Patrick has a really shitty opinion of Leon: "Qualified? More like lucky. The only reason he's the golden boy now is because he was in the wrong place at the right time." Yes Patrick does come around to Leon, but as the new kid with no experience, he already has a preconceived notion that Leon isn't qualified for the job, likely because he's only heard Leon by name and simply as "the guy who saved the president's daughter one time." And while Shenmei quickly comes to Leon's defense, Patrick isn't yet convinced. Why?

Because the DSO simply treats Leon as an asset to be used and not a human being. Patrick hasn't even met him yet and just assumes that Leon never worked for his position before he's even met the guy. Again, this changes over the course of Infinite Darkness and Patrick ends up really respecting Leon after he sees who he really is.

In Death Island when Leon, Claire, and Chris have been infected, we hear Dylan's big plan and him essentially calling all of them out: "The huge corporations and the corrupt execs that run them, the ones getting big, fat bonuses for maintaining the status quo, that’s who you work for, who you really protect. And the innocent will continue to suffer as long as you do."

As he says that, they cut to a shot of Leon. It's hard to tell exactly what Leon's reaction is because he is fighting the infection from the virus, but there's no snappy comeback, no joke, no quip. Dylan drops the bombshell: "You’re nothing more than pawns, suckers." On the word "pawns," the shot cuts to Chris, who also is dealing with his exposure to the virus, and then Jill, who just readjusts her hold on her gun.

This takes us back to the intro sequence, the agent ID was "pawns:"

Literally in being agents, Jill, Chris, Leon, and Claire are pawns. That's how their organizations see them, not as individuals, but as assets. But again, there's a deeper layer with Leon on top of this as I've seen others online point out, in the actual marketing of Death Island:

"One of the government's most formidable weapons." Not agents, weapons. They see him as an asset, a thing, to be used in their "fight" against bioterrorism. The kicker comes back to the intro sequence and Leon's file is shown:

In a sea of what we can assume to be DSO agents, Leon is shown, with the word "pawn" in big letters. The word doesn't actually finish being written out fully, but based on the spacing of PAW, we can assume that there isn't space for both N and S in the remaining box. The N would simply go over Leon's face and there would be some leftover space in the box (yes it wouldn't fit 100%, but the animators worked really hard on this movie and with how fast the shot is, you really have to analyze it to notice that it would look off!).

So yes, while Dylan is trying to say that all of them are pawns, Leon is the pawn. Patrick says as much in Infinite Darkness, calling Leon the golden boy of the government. Even at the end of Infinite Darkness (which takes place before 6), Leon doesn't let Claire make a copy of the drive with all of the information that will basically expose the US government for its hand in what happened at Raccoon City. Before she walks away, she gives him one final look and says: "Like I said before, that outfit doesn't suit you." Of course she literally is talking about the fact that Leon is wearing a very bureaucratic-looking suit, but she also is referring to what the suit symbolizes. She knows that Leon has a good heart and wants to do the right thing, but she's also frustrated with his actions and him, probably unconsciously, falling further and further in-line with what the government wants. She probably knows that he's "in deep" at this point and is just trying to basically stay alive, but she also is frustrated that he's not taking the path that would basically lead to a way out. It's also worth noting that Eiichirō Hasumi, who directed Infinite Darkness, also directed Death Island.

I'm not sure exactly where I was going with this post, I just wanted to share my thoughts about Leon and where he's headed next. I hope that the next movie (or game!) will feature him and be about him coming to terms with the fact that he can choose to do the right thing and that he doesn't need to just be a pawn anymore. He deserves that and so much more. Thanks for reading!

(tumblr made this so crunchy, click for a better res!)

(Edit: I added more stuff and changed some things because yeah I’m obsessed w these two)

love love everyone’s headcanons about Astarion’s now-forgotten family and decided to make my own! As well as my own story about them. I hope my handwriting is readable :”)

As for a brief summary of his parents, (at the start of the BG3 game, because I headcanon them to still be alive somewhere)

Analelle is a moon high elf and is 391 years old. Definitely the smarts of the family. Very quiet and discrete yet cunning when she wants to be. Has a permanent “knowing look”. Usually about 2-3 steps ahead of you at all times.

Lithuryn is a half sun/half moon high elf and is 410 years old. Has dreams of being a noble within Baldur’s Gate and living lavishly with the other nobles there. He isn’t home very much. His work usually takes over his life.

Lots and lots more, sorry folks but i went crazy about these two:

Analelle and Lithruyn lived in Evereska, both working in politics or law within the community and meeting each other through their work. They weren’t exactly nobles within the community but they were very well-off and would be considered upper class. You can headcanon whatever age you want for Astarion but I always lean towards ~240 because it makes the most sense game-wise. They had him when they were in their 150s (about. Math x—x) while still in Evereska, however he only lived there until he was about 15 or so. (I have toyed with the idea of him having an older sibling (about +60 years or so) who ran off and became a druid after they loved to Baldurs Gate and hasn’t really contacted the family since…but that’s just a random theory because fun fact! I read somewhere that High elves are pretty infertile and usually only have a family of 3. So yeah I will leave out rebellious older Druid sibling for now. For now…)

The Ancunin's arrived to Baldur's Gate to work for a highly regarded law firm. This place was the cat's meow even though life was definitely different than it was in Evereska, as they were nobles there. Here, while they are still very wealthy, aren't exactly bumping elbows with the Baldurian nobles. (yet)

Even though they were still forming these connections, they were pretty popular within the elven communities in the city. This unfortunately was how Cazador was alerted to their presence and began his “hunt”. Really, they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Astarion had a target on his back for a long time before he died.

Astarion becomes a magistrate through these connections his parents have been making. They absolutely pull strings for him and we’re able to land him a very nice, high-paying job even if Astarion was a little under qualified for the position. Everyone was happy not only because of his job, but that given his upper class clientele he can easily work his way into becoming the Baldurian noble his parents were hoping for. Even if he was corrupt and not the best of people.

The story goes on and as you all know Astarion dies in his mid/late 30's due to the Gur attack. I have more headcanons regarding elf age here, which also talks about how elves dying due to murder is extremely rare in elven communities, so Analelle and Lithuryn just thought it literally could never happen. As for age, I can't describe it all here (it's all in the post I linked), but no Astarion was far from being a "child" biologically, he did however lack the life experience of someone who would have made it to 100 years old.

When they find that Astarion’s grave was defaced and his body missing, they were completely outraged. They were angrily contacting every single high noble of Baldur’s Gate and were on a wild emotionally-charged manhunt to find whoever did this. Cazador knew about this (duh) and started up his plan on how to deal with it. He purposely picks the people that don’t have many connections, but he clearly underestimated how involved the Ancunin family was. It was, at that point, easier to have the town turn against them than kill them and cause a big stink.

This all happened throughout the course of... a week or so. They were getting threatened every day, lost their jobs quickly, and their old noble connections turned against them. Unsure of how Cazador would do this but I can imagine he is really really good at it. They had to leave Baldur's Gate out of fear, never really knowing what happened to Astarion and generally being confused about the whole thing. This is also why Astarion never just. ran into them when he was prowling the streets and even if he had memory of them he wouldn't know where they went, and also why his grave stone was so unkept.

I can’t decide if they picked up their pieces back at Evereska and lived a modest life there, trying not to be noticed, or if they now live away from civilization in order to stay safe. It’s sad but unfortunately that’s just the way it goes with vampires :”)

As for eyes, I headcanon Astarion’s eyes to be blue with gold flecks (like his father’s) because I headcanon him to be a moon elf along with his mom. As much as I adore golden eyes him being a moon elf just makes so much sense! I might change my opinion at random because I’m so indecisive.

Anyway, I hope my incoherent rambles make sense. If i forgot something important lore-wise and it doesn’t fit in with these headcanons… let me know, but if anything this can be an AU. I spent so much time thinking abt it lol.