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hopelesslygaysstuff · 3 months

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pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: wanda maximoff, your domme and girlfriend, tests you with impossible rules, and subsequently punishes you for failing to follow them.

content warnings: obvi smut, restraints, impact play, edging, cunnilingus.

word count: 4k+

masterlist

original request

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

My Good Girl

The afternoon sun cast warm hues through the floor-to-ceiling window, illuminating the cozy office and casting soft shadows across the floor. Wanda sat at her desk, fingers absentmindedly tapping on the dark wood. Lines of text filled her screen, yet her mind was elsewhere.

With a soft hum of contemplation, Wanda closed the laptop, a soft click breaking through the peaceful silence of the room.

‘I want to try something new tonight.’

The text is sent with a soft sound, and Wanda traces her phone slowly as she waits for you to read the message. Her mind is thrown back to the plethora of information she’d spent the better half of the afternoon consuming.

Agatha, one of her closest friends, and a well-known domme, had sent her a few websites to check out. Wanda had let it slip during one of their wine nights that although she was happy with you and the dom/sub relationship you’d built, she wanted to try something more.

You were perfect. Truly. Submissive, and willing to do whatever she said. Wanda loved the thrill she got whenever you obeyed an order.

But you were almost too perfect.

One of the sites she’d pursued was full of dominants sharing the ways they put a bratty sub in their place. Wanda had found herself growing wetter with each post she scrolled through. Her mind had found itself wandering over to you.

You, tears welling up as she choked you with her strap. You, pulling uselessly on scarlet ribbon restraints as she teased you for hours. You, with your face scrunched up as she twisted and pulled on your nipples until you begged her for mercy.

The word mommy, slipping from your lips as you blushed.

Wanda had to take several breaks throughout her afternoon, her fingers slipping below her waistband and sliding over the slick arousal coating her panties. She’d thought of you while rubbing herself to a climax, imagining your wide eyes as you knelt before her…

Fuck. She was getting worked up again.

Her phone dinged, and Wanda had to physically shake herself while she scrambled for her phone. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the phone, seeing your message.

‘Of course we can! What did you have in mind?’

You were so eager to please, so willing to succumb to anything Wanda asked of you. She took a few deep breaths, typing out her response with one hand while quickly packing her bag.

‘When I get home, I want you naked and kneeling by the door. You will address me as ma’am, nothing else. Understood?’

Wanda could feel herself slipping into her dominant headspace, the thrill of giving orders rushing through her.

‘And if I break one of those rules?’

Oh, it was almost too easy.

‘I’ll have to punish you, darling. I’m on my way home. Remember my instructions.’

Slipping her phone into her pocket, Wanda cast one last look around her office before turning out the light. Locking up, she strode quickly down the hall, thankfully not seeing any other employees around.

The car ride home was agonizing, the heat between her legs growing into an unbearable inferno. Wanda couldn’t help but squeeze her thighs together at the thought of you breaking her rules.

And she knew just the thing to distract you and cause you to slip up.

At a stoplight just outside the city, about five minutes from your shared home, Wanda pulled out her phone. Knowing the light would take a while to turn green, she pulled up the locked photo album hidden in her files. Selecting a photo, she quickly sent it to you with no caption.

The photo was a selfie, the phone propped up against her work computer. Wanda had popped a few too many buttons, the lace of her red bra peeking out from underneath her silk shirt and jacket. Her eyes were locked on the camera, iridescent and smoldering, while the fingers of one hand were wrapped tightly around her tie, pulling it away from her neck. The other hand was resting on her belt, a single finger slipping beneath the waistband of her dress pants.

Wanda let her imagination run wild, imagining the flush creeping up your neck and coloring your face. Your breath would catch, pupils dilating as arousal shot through you. By the time you positioned yourself at the door, your juices would be smeared all over your delicate inner thighs, your eyes pleading and desperate.

The light turned green, and Wanda refocused. Only a few minutes until she'd be home.

The anticipation was killing her.

—

Wanda forced herself to slow her gait, walking leisurely up the steps to the front door. Her heels clicked on the pavement and she hoped that you could hear her approaching.

The door clicked open, the key sliding easily into the lock.

Green eyes found you easily, a pleased smile stretching across those beautiful lips as Wanda observed your kneeling form. Your eyes were just as wide as she’d hoped, your irises disappearing as your pupils dilated further at the sight of her.

“Hello, darling.”

Wanda made sure to pitch her voice low, a sultry tone making its way through her words. Her gaze pierced yours, a silent demand hidden within them.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” Your voice shook, and you sucked in a shaky breath.

Your hands were placed atop your thighs, palms flat as you subtly parted your thighs. Wanda caught a glimpse of the shiny arousal coating your inner thighs, and she breathed deeply, hoping your scent would envelop her.

“How was your day, sweetheart?” Wanda asked, setting her bag down and slipping her jacket off her shoulders. She hung it up, flicking her fingers in silent order for you to follow.

“It was good, um, ma’am.” You stuttered, crawling after her as she made her way towards the living room.

Seating herself on the couch, Wanda crossed one leg elegantly over the other. You crawled up to her, eyes glancing between her lips and legs. You sat up, posture straight and palms flat, with your fingers thrumming nervously on your thighs.

“And what did my good girl do today?” Wanda smirked at you.

“Oh, I uh…” Your eyes grew distant as you tried to force yourself to focus. “I worked a little bit, and then I made some meal prep for the week, ma’am.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, “Anything else?”

You wracked your brain, trying to remember what you’d done that day. The only thing running through your mind was the insatiable picture Wanda had sent you. Your mind focused on the captivating curve of her breasts, the smoldering look in her eyes, similar to the one she was giving you now.

“Oh!” You remembered something, excitement weaving its way through your words. “I made you something!”

Wanda paused for a moment, seemingly waiting for something, but you were looking up at her with wide eyes and a satisfied grin.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” You could sense the satisfaction in Wanda’s voice, and faltered.

“Ma’am.” You blurted out, but Wanda was already shaking her head.

“Too late, darling.”

You paled slightly, but Wanda could see the excitement glowing in your eyes. You were curious, anticipation thrumming through you. The flush on your face was slowly growing darker, the tips of your ears burning as the weight of Wanda’s gaze settled on you.

“Bedroom, now. You know what position I like you in.”

A punishment. That’s what you were receiving. You hadn’t had one of those in a long time, not since the beginning of your relationship with Wanda.

“Yes ma’am.” Your voice was quiet, and you stood, watching Wanda for any sign of disapproval. When she gave none, you turned and headed toward the bedroom, aware of her gaze burning on your hips.

Approaching the bed, you let your hand caress the soft silk of the comforter. Kneeling on top of the mattress, you take a steadying breath, listening for the click of Wanda’s heels.

You don’t have to wait for long. The slow, measured steps of Wanda’s confident gait reach your ears, and you subconsciously straighten your back. Ensuring that your gaze is locked on your hands, you resist the urge to look up when the soft light from the hallway hits your eyes as Wanda enters the room.

“Such a good girl.” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you feel some of your arousal leak out and drip down your thighs.

You don’t speak, knowing that Wanda likes to command every part of you, including your words. Instead, you offer a small smile, eyes locked on her form as she walks toward the closet. She disappears inside, throwing a smile over her shoulder.

A whimper threatens to escape you, but you choke it down. If Wanda heard one errant sound from you, she’d surely increase your punishment. That’s the last thing you want, so you simply resist the urge to shift on the bed and wait.

The minutes stretch on, and you mentally curse your girlfriend out. You knew she was doing this on purpose, building up the anticipation. You want to call out, but your words get stuck in your throat, not wanting to add to your punishment.

So you wait, your arousal building with each minute until the sheets below you are damp.

You hear the door open, the heady presence of Wanda Maximoff filling the room. The sheer dominance that she emanates washes over you, loosening your muscles as your head grows fuzzier.

You can trust her. Wanda only wants what’s best for you.

“You’re doing so well for me, love,” Wanda says, moving onto the bed and kneeling before you. She’s still fully clothed, her buttoned shirt brushing against your skin in a tantalizing dance as she sets a few items beside her. You don’t dare look, keeping your eyes trained on your hands until she commands you otherwise.

“Look at me.”

Green eyes seem slightly softer in the dim light, and you search them for any clue of what the night entails.

“Tell me why I’m punishing you,” The words jumpstart your brain, and you begin speaking as Wanda picks up a silky, scarlet ribbon.

“I forgot one of your rules, I’m sorry, mo…” The word almost slips from your lips, but you clench them shut.

Wanda raises an eyebrow at you, almost daring you to continue. You remain silent, still not ready to use the title you want. Your mind wars with itself, the waves of indecision subsiding when Wanda gently smiles at you and brushes her fingers lightly against your cheek.

Her eyes are soft, and you know that she won’t press the topic. Not until you’re ready.

“And which rule was that?”

“I forgot to call you ma’am, I’m sorry,” You say, your voice earnest.

At your practically whimpered words, Wanda has already forgiven you. However, the thought of punishing you is far too tantalizing, so she picks up one of the silk ribbons.

“And you know what this is, correct?”

“Yes ma’am,” You won’t be forgetting her title anytime soon, and Wanda feels pride shoot through her at your steadfast obedience. She gently pushes you backwards, until you realize what she’s doing.

Positioning yourself on your back, you stretch your arms out toward the headboard, enjoying the feel of the scarlet ribbon around your wrist as Wanda begins to restrain you. Your clit pulses when she tightens the ribbon securely, and you fight the urge to roll your hips.

Quickly fastening your other wrist to the headboard, Wanda waits for you to test the strength. She smirks while you writhe beneath her, attempting to escape. You squirm, your hips restrained by her thighs as she sits atop you, her fingernails scraping lightly down your sides before you give up.

“Thank you, ma’am.” You say, and Wanda’s eyes light up in pleasure.

In one smooth movement, she flips you over, her fingers digging into your hips as she roughly positions you on your stomach. Your wrists cross over each other at the change of position, her hands pulling your body down until you can barely move an inch.

A hand on the back of your head shoves your face into a soft pillow, and you turn your cheek slightly to be able to breathe. Wanda doesn't seem to notice, her attention focused on the item she now holds in her hand.

You catch a glimpse of the paddle and whine. It’s been a while since she’s used that toy on you, and you vividly remember the last experience. You hadn’t been able to sit down for three days.

“Remember your colors, sweetheart.” Wanda reminds you, and you nod into the pillow as her hand gently squeezes the flesh of your ass.

The first strike takes you by surprise, and your body jolts, attempting to escape the sharp sting. You hear Wanda chuckling above you and can practically feel her eyes appraising the bright red mark that the paddle left. Before you’ve recovered from the first hit, the paddle swings down again, pain and pleasure mixing as she strategically places marks across your whole backside.

When the paddle hits the sensitive skin of your upper thigh, you let out a yelp.

“Darling?” Wanda asks. You can’t formulate a response and your breaths are heavy and fast. You tug at the restraints, a soft green tumbling past your lips.

The hits are quick and hard, pain radiating through you even as your clit throbs. You can feel your juices dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheet beneath you. The humiliation of the situation only turns you on more, and it’s not long before you’re moaning softly into the pillow.

A heavy sigh makes its way through you when Wanda pauses, setting the paddle down beside you. “Color,” She demands, her hands cool against your abused flesh.

“Green, thank… thank you,” Your words are breathy, stuttering when Wanda’s fingers graze your slit.

A single finger circles your clit, and you can’t help but push your ass upwards, trying to appease the tension between your legs.

“Oh,” Wanda says, her voice full of mirth. “It seems like you want more, love.”

Nodding frantically, you roll your hips forward.

A sharp pain makes its way through you, Wanda’s hand coming down quickly against your sensitive backside. You let out a half moan, half yelp at the action.

“Don’t rut against the bed like a pathetic mutt,” She practically growls, bringing her hand down sharply a few more times. “You’re practically begging for a punishment.”

You want to complain, you want to whine about the injustice of it all. Instead, you remain quiet, not wanting to risk more pain. You can feel Wanda shifting, and bite your lip when the cool leather of the paddle drags across your overheated backside.

“Do you want more?” Wanda asks, and you can’t do anything but nod. You turn your head, peeking at her from the corner of your eye. Her green eyes are locked on the swell of your ass, and you shudder at the hungry look in them.

“Beg for it.”

The paddle presses against your clit, the pressure sending pleasure coursing through you. Resisting the urge to grind against it, you grit your teeth and speak. “Please, ma’am. I want you to hit me. Punish me, please, I’ve been a bad girl.”

Wanda doesn’t respond, instead raising the paddle and delivering more blows to your aching backside.

You begin to moan, the pain morphing into a sick sort of pleasure. With each blow, your clit is pressed against the mattress, your orgasm approaching rapidly. You know better than to beg, you’d learned long ago that Wanda liked to control every aspect of your pleasure, including when you were allowed to cum.

“Are you close?” Wanda asks, not giving you a chance to respond before she continues to speak, “I can see you dripping onto the sheets, your hips rutting pathetically of their own will. Do you want to cum, baby? Do you want to cum while mommy hits you with the paddle?”

The words worm their way into your mind, twisting your thoughts while pleasure and pain consume your being. Her hits don’t cease, the leather paddle slapping against you over and over again.

The pillow is damp beneath your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you’d begun to cry, and a whine escaped your mouth without your permission. It only spurs Wanda on.

“Oh, you like this, don’t you darling? You like being mommy’s little fucktoy, taking whatever I give you. Say it.”

You barely register her words, something incoherent spewing from your mouth as she delivers the harshest blows of the night. One of Wanda’s hands tangles with your hair, wrenching your head up from the pillow.

“Say it.” Her voice is deadly, low, and raspy. You don’t dare disobey.

“I like it, I like it when you treat me like this. Please don’t stop. Please, fuck.” You cut yourself off, feeling Wanda swing the paddle harshly at the curse word.

“Mommy, please.”

Relief. Your brain starts to work again. The pain radiating from your backside subsides slightly as Wanda drops the paddle to the floor. You feel as though you should be embarrassed, but don’t.

Truth be told, you’ve wanted to call Wanda by that title for a while, and at this moment, it just felt right.

“Say that again for me, darling.”

You feel your body being manhandled again, your hips twisting until you’re on your back again. Green eyes stare down at you, a slightly dazed look in them. Wanda’s fingers trace patterns on your ribcage, moving up to tease your nipples while she waits.

“Mommy,” Your voice is quiet, almost shy, but the word is genuine. “Please let me cum.”

Wanda can’t bring herself to punish you any longer. Not after you’ve finally used the title she’s been yearning for. She finds herself suddenly incapable of speaking, the words catching in her throat.

Surging forward, Wanda presses her impossibly soft lips to yours. Her tongue dances against yours, tracing your lips and drawing soft moans from you. You fight the urge to roll your hips, her thigh pressed perfectly against your center.

Her tongue explores your mouth for what seems like forever, and you find yourself growing wetter with each minute. You can’t complain, though. Kissing Wanda will always be something you treasure.

Eventually, the need for air becomes too great, and Wanda pulls back. Her eyes search yours, a smile slowly stretching across her face.

“Good girl,” She coos, a hand reaching up and cupping your cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart,”

You grin, sure that your eyes are sparkling as you gaze up at her. From this angle, she looks almost angelic, with her hair falling around you. You don’t mind, if you could choose anything to worship, Wanda would be the first and only thing on your list.

“I’m going to make you feel really good now, okay?” She says, not giving you a chance to respond before she’s descending your body. She leaves open-mouthed kisses on your skin, enjoying the way you jolt beneath her whenever she nips you with her teeth.

The bruises she leaves behind fill her with pride and a hint of possessiveness, and she gazes up at you when her mouth finally reaches the glistening heat between your thighs.

“Please,” You whisper, throwing your head back when her tongue applies gentle pressure against your clit.

It’s practically torture, her skilled mouth alternating between sucking and licking your clit as your orgasm approaches quickly. You want to reach down and tangle your fingers with her hair, pulling her flush against you, and tug uselessly at your restraints.

Your hips twitch violently, a sign that you’re close to an orgasm. A few… more… strokes of that talented tongue…

Wanda pulls away, and you whine loudly. Her fingers twist your nipple harshly in response, and you mumble a quick apology.

“None of that,” Wanda reprimands, “you take whatever I give you, remember?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, burying her head between your thighs before you can fully catch your breath. This time, she sucks your clit violently, red-hot bolts of pleasure shooting through you as your thighs tense.

Her mouth disappears.

Giving you a few moments to recover, Wanda watches the realization enter your eyes. You mumble, “You’re going to edge me, aren’t you?”

Chuckling, Wanda circles your clit with a single finger. She watches your eyes gloss over as your hips twitch. Pressing harder, she moves rhythmically over the hard nub, enjoying the moans reverberating around the room. You tense up, lips parting as your orgasm draws near…

“Only good girls get to cum, darling,” Wanda pulls her fingers fully away from you.

You want to scream. You want to curse her out, you want to escape your restraints and hump her thigh until you cum. You want to…

A moan claws its way out from your chest, and Wanda takes that as a sign to continue.

You don’t know how long she edges you, the only thing you’re aware of is the growing arousal between your thighs and the pleasure that builds and builds and dissipates whenever Wanda senses that you’re close.

After a while, the fuzziness takes over your mind, and you lose count of the edges as Wanda’s tongue relentlessly works against your core. She keeps her fingers locked around your thighs, refusing to give your pussy any sort of real satisfaction.

Practically crazed with arousal and desperation, you attempt to roll your hips against Wanda’s lips.

“Do you want me to bring the paddle out again?” Wanda raises a single eyebrow, her hand raising and striking your swollen pussy. The sting shoots through your clit, and you jerk your hips as you recoil from the pain.

“No, I’m sorry mommy. Please…” You moan as Wanda’s warm mouth encircles your clit. “Please forgive me.”

Time blends with the countless edges, and you find yourself lost in a pleasurable vanilla haze. The only thing you’re aware of is Wanda. Her tongue, building you up. Her eyes, watching you as her fingers hold your thighs and hips against the mattress. Her scent, an addicting drug that you never want to abstain from.

Your orgasm, just barely out of reach. Wanda, bringing you closer and closer and…

—

You open your eyes, your vision seeming sharper than before. Warm water surrounds you, suds covering your chest as a warm washcloth gently rubs against your collarbone.

“Mommy?”

Wanda moves into your field of vision, her eyes filled with concern. You smile widely, relaxing further into the water. You want to reach up and pull her face closer, yearning to feel her lips against yours, but your limbs don’t seem to work properly.

“Hi, sweetheart. You scared me,” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you can sense the worry underneath her accent.

“I’m alright, I promise,” You reassure her, resting your head against the side of the tub. “But…” Trailing off, you watch Wanda’s brows furrow in concern.

“I still really want to cum.”

Wanda scoffs, splashing you lightly as you laugh. Allowing yourself to fully relax, you let her wash away your sweat, her hands gentle as she scrubs the dried arousal off your thighs.

“You don’t get to cum tonight, I'm punishing you.” Wanda sounds like she’s about to whine, and you splash her. The water droplets cling to her hair, and you laugh at her pout, your arms working again as you pull her in by the neck for a kiss.

Her tongue dances languidly alongside yours, and you push down the arousal that attempts to rise. Honestly, you’d get aroused if Wanda simply walked into a room. With her lips on yours, it’s much harder to tamper your desperation for her.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Wanda mumbles against your lips, and you roll your eyes.

Eventually, Wanda ends the impromptu makeout session, finishing the bath and drying you off. She applies some aloe vera to your sore backside, kissing the marks softly as she does so.

You’ve never felt more loved.

Sliding in between fresh, cool sheets, Wanda pulls you flush against her. Your head is comfortably nestled in the crook of her neck, and you can feel her heartbeat against your palm.

Gentle lips kiss the top of your head, and you feel yourself drifting off. Wanda hums, murmuring one final thing before you finally succumb to the waves of drowsiness washing over you.

“Happy Valentine's Day, my love.”

---

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darkcircles4lyfe · 4 months

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Behind the locked door

In honor of Izuku’s mask disintegrating into rubble, I think it’s finally time for me to really dig deep into his character. I’ve been keeping this one in my back pocket for a while. Amid all the talk about Izuku’s fading narration, the “control your heart” subplot, I’ve been trying to find the words to articulate how I know exactly where this is going, at least on a certain level. Most recently, I read this meta from pika who brings up how the word “control” alone can be misconstrued (by us). And then I thought about how a while back I made a similar point, although I said Izuku was the one who got it wrong. At that time, I was holding back a huge piece of evidence because it was external to the story and I wasn’t sure it would be received well. As a result, my argument fell a little flat. Well, now—after 411, right before leaks for 412—it might be my last chance to play this card.

So about that external evidence. I struggle to bring it up because it’s gonna sound an awful lot like I’m projecting onto Izuku if I don’t do it justice. But… I look at the way his storyline has been going lately and I see a pattern emerging that I’m very familiar with. Fortunately, I don’t have to dump a bunch of personal junk on you in order to illustrate this pattern, because a certain personality typing system already has it all figured out: the Enneagram.

Now, hang on. I’m not one to put people in boxes. My trans ass? I managed to get a different result every time I retook the P0ttermore quiz. MBTI, zodiacs—not my thing. But the Enneagram comes the closest I’ve ever seen to covering all the bases and revealing actually meaningful insight, at least for myself. On top of that, I find it extremely useful for fleshing out fictional characters, hence this post will be taking advantage of that.

For those who aren’t familiar with it, here’s a quick overview: The Enneagram consists of 9 individual personality types, each arranged carefully in a sequential, circular manner. They are also simply named 1 through 9. While this might seem kinda basic, there is actually a surprising amount of nuance and fluidity involved. Typing is done largely through personal introspection (you don’t really have to take a test). Adjacent numbers share some core themes with each other, and according to a web of arrows between them, one type can take on either positive or negative traits associated with other types depending on how emotionally ‘healthy’ they are, causing a lengthy spectrum of different ways each type can manifest. That part gets kinda complicated to explain here, so for more info, the Enneagram Institute website is a decent place to start. I also highly recommend the Enneagram album by Sleeping At Last (and if you really want to dedicate some time, the accompanying podcast) to really get inside the heads of the types on a deeper level.

My interest in applying the Enneagram to Izuku comes from observing how differently one can interpret his character based on whether you read him as a 2 or a 9. And even though no one uses this language to talk about him, the distinction accounts for a bunch of different rifts in the fandom: whether you appreciate bkdk’s relationship, whether you can acknowledge Izuku’s flaws and weaknesses, the severity of his vigilante/rogue phase, and most importantly the gravity of his concealed heart, his rage, and what it all means—what he needs in order to grow and triumph.

Discussion of Enneagram types in the fandom is pretty scarce, but where it exists, I have only seen him labeled as a 2. Type 9 and type 2 can be similar at a glance in a lot of ways (actually, 9s can be mistaken for any type because they are like all of them combined). It’s easy to see Izuku as a 2 because he is the helping hero archetype. He puts others’ needs above his own and he is always ready and eager to help. If you listen to Sleeping At Last’s song for 2, you’ll notice that it’s all about care and noble sacrifice with the underlying theme of neglecting or even harming oneself: “I just want to build you up, until your good as new, and maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself too.” Sounds pretty obvious, right? Well, here’s the thing. You really get to know what your type is by how it hits you where it hurts, so I like to focus on each type’s basic fear and basic desire, first and foremost, as a tell. A 2′s basic fear is of being worthless and unloved. Consequently, their most basic desire is to be loved. And 2s have been taught through their negative experiences that love is conditional, something they have to earn from others. They need to be needed. So let’s say you think Izuku is a 2. This means you consider his heroic, self-sacrificing tendencies to be a result of his growing up quirkless and being told he is worthless and powerless because of it. Through this lens, he is trying to prove himself to the world by being useful. Along these lines, you may also assume he is trying to prove himself to Katsuki. Taking this train of thought even further, you may interpret Izuku’s relationship with Katsuki as an obsession of his, where he is either blind to Katsuki’s more negative traits in favor of gaining his love and praise, or else bitterly determined to prove him wrong. This is how a 2 might behave in an unhealthy relationship with an 8, which, yes, I do think Katsuki is an 8. That’s a tangent for another time, though.

But does Izuku ever “need to be needed?” It’s worth noting that while 2s’ search for validation might seem insincere, it is actually motivated by a deep, heartbreaking insecurity. They think they don’t even deserve love unless they are useful to someone, so they do everything they can to be worthy. Does Izuku show signs of this motivation?

If I stop to think about it, I can’t exactly see this in Izuku’s character. Yeah, his dream is to be a hero, and in his childhood, he was denied that dream. However I think we need to take a step back from that for a second if we want to dig deep. I mean, a lot of the other characters also behave heroically, act selflessly, and strive to help. Does that mean all of them are 2s as well? Of course not. So let’s instead turn to observe how Izuku acts with his loved ones, friends, and peers in other/adjacent contexts:

Inko: He is committed to protecting his mother from fearing for his safety. He wants to be good enough to not cause her to worry, rather than good enough to make her proud or make her love him. Idk about his father but at this point I think it’s safe to assume he is deeply unimportant.

All Might: I would describe their relationship as one of mutual responsibility. Izuku feels a responsibility to uphold All Might’s legacy, All Might feels a responsibility to teach him well. Because of this mutuality, I don’t think it quite makes sense to say Izuku deliberately seeks approval for its own sake. You know what I mean? They may be a mentor and a pupil but in practice they are almost more like co-conspirators. They don’t really have a power dynamic going on.

Shouto, Tenya, other friends: Izuku seems to take an interest in what makes his friends tick, and he sets himself aside in order to both analytically and intuitively determine what’s wrong and how to solve it. Examples include his fight against Shouto in the sports festival, and his stubborn concern for Tenya’s reaction to his brother’s forced retirement. He will put himself in the line of fire specifically when confronted with another person’s inner demons. This is not a labor that is asked of professional heroes, it’s just who Izuku is. You can also extend this observation to how he sees through Tomura to Tenko, but I’ll get to that later. Basically, while 2s seek to help in all kinds of ways, a 9’s strategy is always centered on the realm of the mind.

Kota: Adjacent to the paragraph above, before Izuku literally gets into a position where he needs to save Kota, he becomes interested in the boy’s point of view out of genuine curiosity. He doesn’t go “oh no, this kid doesn’t like heroes, I better get him to like heroes.” Instead he seeks out information as to why he thinks that way, and patiently listens. He’s sorry about what happened to Kota, and he understands. Twice (ch 71 and 72), he recognizes the fact that everyone has their own point of view on quirks, and he can’t really do anything about that.

Mirio: This might be one of the most telling examples. Mirio is the platonic ideal of an All Might successor. He’s “perfect.” He even looks the part. While this initially makes Izuku uncomfortable, he doesn’t become insecure and defensive over it. On the contrary, he easily comes to the conclusion that actually, Mirio should have One for All. Just like that (ch 172). If Mirio hadn’t dismissed the “hypothetical,” he probably would have gone through with giving it to him. That’s not how a 2 would respond. A 2 would double down and aim to be better than Mirio by trying to establish some relationship of need, fueled by the insecurity. Their shared subplot with Eri would have looked pretty different, I think.

Katsuki: I’ve mentioned before that I believe their rivalry only exists because Katsuki put it there. First of all, we can see that after the sludge villain incident, Izuku weirdly takes Katsuki’s dismissal of Izuku’s help as practical advice. Like, “oh yeah, I guess what I did was pretty stupid and dangerous, and I’m not cut out for this hero stuff. Now I can move on and find a realistic career.” Hello?? He accepted that so easily. So Izuku clearly isn’t motivated by a desire to prove himself to Katsuki. Even when he proclaims he’s going to surpass him, it’s like he’s happily mimicking Katsuki, not reacting based on insecurity or pride. Izuku is content to meet Katsuki wherever he is, and he’s satisfied with whatever kind of relationship they are able to have, including a rivalry, so he isn’t vying for his affection either. We can observe this when he gives up the role of reaching out a hand to save Katsuki to Kirishima, and also when he thinks about how “blessed” he is to even have a normal conversation with Katsuki. He doesn’t push things. It’s also stated in Deku vs. Kacchan 2 that Izuku doesn’t excuse or overlook Katsuki’s “bad side” but still admires him for his other traits. This is not at all characteristic of a toxic 2x8 relationship.

When 2s are at their very worst or pushed into unhealthy situations, they tend to become more needy and self-centered, even downright manipulative. But at Izuku’s worst, when he went rogue, he pushed everyone away to avoid being a burden. When the refugees at UA tried to prevent him from returning, he was like, “you’re right” and would have turned back immediately if not for his friends, loved ones, and other people who care about him telling him it was all okay. Meanwhile, Katsuki, in true 8 fashion, was pissed off at being rejected and having to deal with Izuku’s stubborn and evasive side (oh yeah, have I mentioned 9s are actually stubborn as hell?), but he made sure to establish that they are (he is) here to step in when Izuku can’t handle things by himself. Katsuki even opened up and admitted to his own weaknesses to show why mutual support is so important. Tbh, a lot of the above can be construed as just super healthy type 2 behavior, but not this. The way Izuku acts at his lowest, and his dynamic with Katsuki? Totally different. Dead giveaway for a 9.

Let’s get into the type 9 itself in more detail to show how it applies to Izuku more deeply—seriously, it’s beat for beat. One of the key differences is, while 2s seek validation, 9s are actually resigned to the belief that they aren’t important. Similar to 2s, a 9′s basic fear is of separation, but their basic desire is actually just peace or harmony rather than love. Notice how these motivations are just like a 2’s, except they have the “self” part taken out. With that in mind, they “achieve” their basic desire through selflessness in and of itself, without the need for recognition. That’s not to say that 9s are better than 2s. In fact, a 9 can be worse, in a way. If unhealthy, they will seek peace at almost any cost to themselves. In other words, they can be more self-destructive while still under the impression that they are doing just fine. “Peace” may refer to the expression of empathy, fulfilling the needs of others, sheltering someone, or mediating a fight—but also to repressing their own opinions and needs, not “rocking the boat,” ignoring negative emotions, or becoming a vessel for someone else to vent to.

What about inner peace? 9s value serenity, and thus they have a complicated relationship with the most tumultuous of emotions: anger. On the surface, 9s look like the type that is extremely slow to anger and highly tolerant. However, as much as they would like to believe this about themselves too, deep down, 9s are afraid of what might happen if they lose control. My phrase for it is this: I feel like a bottled tornado. Personally, I also think of anger as a basic desire to make others feel your pain—not necessarily sadistically, but in an effort to be known, to be understood. The difficult thing to grasp, especially for a 9, is that this is NOT inherently a bad thing. It isn’t wrong to seek sympathy. On the contrary, it is harmful to tell yourself that getting angry is wrong, because it’s like telling yourself that your pain is wrong, your pain doesn’t matter.

The problem is it doesn’t stop there. A 9, in shutting down their anger, ends up with such a low opinion of their own heart, their other emotions dull along with it. They cry less, laugh less, love less. It’s often said that they “fall asleep” to themselves. It all starts with anger. It’s interesting to note how different this whole mindset is from toxic masculinity—where men only feel allowed/able to express emotions through anger. This is sorta like the opposite. Anger becomes the dam rather than the river. For Izuku, I want us to consider that his suppression of anger carries with it the implication that he is hiding other things, too. It’s a given. There’s a whole sea of feelings out there, and we can only see the waves hitting the shore. This brings me to the whole “control your heart” thing. I do think it is worth mentioning that Banjou didn’t just tell Izuku to exercise control. He also told him that his anger could be useful if it is harnessed. With this added context, “control” here means “to master.” And Izuku seemed to grasp this concept… sorta. I think that if Izuku is like a 9, we can assume he has trouble understanding how anger could be a worthy source of strength. His emotions in relation to Katsuki feel more like a weakness to him, a character flaw in a hero, who is supposed to be detached and selfless. But he’s trying to understand, even though he’s afraid of it. He essentially applied the same strategy he used for mastering OFA itself: incremental strength training. Which, okay. Take a moment to absorb how odd that is, in relation to emotions, specifically. Does one learn to cry incrementally? Does one learn to use anger by bottling a fucking tornado?? Like, what, you think you’re gonna be able to let out juuust the right amount of air to avoid an explosion??? No, man… if you want to be the master of your emotions you have to be willing to sit with them. Confront them. Listen to them. Take them in completely and accept them as a part of yourself.

For someone like Izuku, though, it is very difficult to imagine how this is even possible. Tomura, as with every villain, can be used to reflect his hero counterpart’s greatest fear about himself. Tomura literally touches everyone and everything with his rage, and as a physical manifestation of that desire to pass his own pain onto others, destruction radiates from his fingertips. Thus, losing control in this manner must be Izuku’s worst nightmare, as if he would be completely unable to stop the collateral damage like an infinite line of dominoes. But his anger is not something he can overcome, as such.

An overarching theme in this heroes vs. villains conflict is that the villains are not merely obstacles to be overcome. Just think back to Himiko’s bitter rejection of the heroic sense of superiority. She demanded not to be pitied, condescended to, or lied to. Likewise, the answer cannot be that Izuku needs to restrain himself where Tomura doesn’t. What purpose would it serve to show that Izuku is better than him? Certainly not saving Tomura. If this was a battle against AFO, it might have been a different story. In that case, Izuku would have to overcome his emotional manipulation tactics. Tomura, on the other hand, is not so strategic. With his strangely childlike tendencies, he must relish making Izuku mad because it brings them closer to the same wavelength. It’s his own twisted way or seeking sympathy, or at least, the closest thing to sympathy he can get anymore, because he believes he is beyond saving. With that in mind, Izuku isn’t going to get anywhere unless he rises to meet him. Izuku has to match Tomura’s hatred with equally strong emotions of his own, whatever they may be, or else face the loss of OFA (as established in 305). This is not an easy thing to ask of a 9, once they have started to pull the blood from their extremities, become cold and numb. Bringing back circulation is painful and makes the skin crawl.

In case you’re worried about the focus on anger here, I want to reiterate that concealed anger in a 9 is just one sign of so much more. Back when everyone started fretting about Izuku’s habit of self-sacrifice, which would have been the only thing we need to worry about if he were a 2, I was freaking out because Izuku was also starting to look like a person who has too many secrets. You don’t even have to acknowledge the possibility that he lied about what triggered blackwhip. It’s written all over his face all the time these days. It’s especially noticeable when you contrast him with Katsuki after all his own growth. Katsuki confides in people. He acknowledges his weaknesses. He enjoys being himself. He asserts his place. He thinks about Izuku all the damn time and now he even lets himself be soft about it. All this warmth while Izuku is distant, muted, and blank. I know all too well what this state of mind is like. Man, I hate secrets. You get to the point where you don’t know how to talk about even the simplest most inconsequential shit. And the bigger things? They’re like a growing snowball of words in your throat that cannot possibly fit out of your mouth. The “easiest” way to cope is to simply fade into the rhythm of life. Go with the flow.

Since 9s have a natural curiosity about the interiority of other people, they may choose to focus on that in order to divert their own attention away from themselves. Taken to the extreme, they will lose track of their sense of self. Like I said, you can see Izuku doing this as he fights, analyzing the psyche of his opponent, and his match against Shouto in the sports festival was a fantastic early example. They became friends because of how observant Izuku is. His emotional intelligence and intuition are very strong, but gradually, as he has taken on greater responsibilities and experienced more trauma, he has gotten worse at applying these skills to himself. You know, we go on and on about how his narration has been reduced to nearly nothing, and it’s not just an absence of introspection, it’s an absence of self. It creates a lack of ownership over the narrative—what should be his narrative.

Right now, he’s focusing on trying to see Tomura as a person, figuring him out. I think it would be really satisfyingly ironic if in the process, he ends up uncovering insights about himself instead. It’s about time we learn what Izuku’s secrets are. I don’t actually think that Izuku mastering anger will constitute the emotion that is strong enough to keep Tomura from taking OFA. Moreover, he can’t expect to reach Tomura’s core, Tenko, unless he exposes his own. Rather, anger is the conduit for Izuku to unlock something else. Think of the way he described how Katsuki is his image of victory. The feeling manifests when he asserts a stronger sense of self (the urge to win) and he becomes more free with his words. I have no doubt that Tomura has the power to make unfiltered honesty spill out of him. He knows how to bring out his selfish needs, his pain, his pressure points, his fears, his insecurities. Hell, maybe Mt. Fuji erupting is a metaphor. I want to see Izuku explode while Tomura watches with mad glee. But then I want Izuku to Realize Things such that it finally sets him free. Then, instead of Tomura witnessing yet another person he touches fall apart, he gets to see someone become whole.

"I let the scale tip, feel all of it. It's uncomfortable but right. And we were born to try to see each other through. To know and love ourselves and others well is the most difficult and meaningful work we'll ever do." --Sleeping At Last, 'Nine'

#you are very much welcome to send me asks about this and the enneagram etc because it's very fun to talk about!#bnha meta #bnha manga #bnha 411 #bnha 412 #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #character analysis #midoriya izuku #shigaraki tomura #bakudeku #bkdk #dekubaku #dkbk #lin speaks

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luvamps · 2 years

Text

Friday i’m in Love

eddie munson x goth!witch!reader

also this gif of him reminds me of the cure’s greatest hits album cover

a/n: ermmmm couldn’t get this idea out of my head and i admit it’s completely self indulgent bcuz i love eddie and i am both a witch and a goth n i haven’t seen this anywhere and YEA had to do it

warnings: none, but this isn’t a serious fic meaning my punctuation is terrible , nothing is edited and is really just a bunch of word vomit from my brain lol

also i just wanna say that usually when i write for reader inserts they’re almost always for poc readers but while writing this i had caribbean and latinx readers in mind. nothing is specified so it’s pretty open but just wanted to put that out there!

words: 1509 kinda went overboard for a hc but i luv him so shut up

newhosies enjoy <3

—

okay so you’re a kinda new student at hawkins high

you have friends not super close but they’re a group of goth kids that you gravitated towards n they had zero problem taking you in

and although you’re all goths,,, somehow the new kid ,, you ,, have now been labeled the witch of hawkins

why ?

well .

walking down the hallways of hawkins trying to find your class proved easy enough of a gateway for two jocks to make their way towards you

long black flowy skirt , lived in black long sleeve blouse with rips here n there ,, down played with worn dirty converse

easy target i suppose

“hey, y/n right ?”

looking up from the schedule to the unknown jock smiling a little too smug for just a regular greeting

anyways they’re trying to be subtly insulting but everything they throw at you that’s supposed to be an insult is kinda flattering

“death himself” “wednesday addams” “satan's girlfriend”

and “witch”

n to be honest ,, you giggle cuz they’re not wrong

your family comes from a long line of practitioners and it’s something you take great pride in

you don’t necessarily flaunt it,, but your little group knows

“hey y/n ! read my cards i needa know how this dates gonna go,” “you think you can hex my dad ? maybe cut a few years offa him?”

they took your practice serious, but since this was a pretty new concept to them outside of horror movies and fictitious books they never fully understood it

anyways one day while being harassed by these same couple of jocks whose names you’d learned for a little joke you’d been waiting to pull

mr eddie “the freak” munson happens to be passing by

and you knew him,, well of him + his reputation ,, had a few classes with him too

but honestly you never cared

you stayed in your circle and never ventured further than that

and eddie knew you

he knew you kinda had the same wrap as him

it was hard to not hear about this new “witch of hawkins”

and he never understood the nickname bcuz like ??? there were other goths what made you so scary

until that day

so he’s passing by while the jocks have you cornered

and eddie kinda slows down once he picks up pieces of the conversation

at first it’s just them picking at your make up, jewelry and clothes

and then he sees you digging around in your pocket for something

his attention is fully grabbed when he sees you pull out a small worn voodoo doll that looks vaguely like .. the man standing in front of you

then you finally speak up

“did you know, all I need is your last name, this doll and one strand of hair for me to fully curse your bloodline?”

and then your harassers straighten up a bit and scoff

“yea, sure, as if i’d believe that bullshit”

and then you speak again “well carver you’re in luck cause i’ve been looking for another test dummy”

and then what really does it for munson

is when you start speaking a different language, slow and deep

this is what scares off the two boys in front of you and they start to scurry away

not without a “what the fuck! you are a witch!”

you roll your eyes and scoff then mutter to yourself

“dumbasses wouldn’t know the difference between voodoo and witchcraft if it was taught to them as an actual class”

and you start to head in the direction of the class you’re way too late for

when you’re stopped again

with a sharp sigh you consider ditching this class altogether to have a smoke instead of showing up with only 20 minutes left

you turn around and come face to face with “the freak” himself

smiling widely with stars in his eyes

“Can I help you ?”

and the first thing that comes out his mouth is

“i think you might’ve put a spell on me too sweetheart”

from then on the rest is history

—

eddie’s nickname for you might be sweetheart but you can attest that the name fits him 100x more than it fit you

he’s so sweet to you

he’s loving and funny and caring and and and and

super flirty

“my girlfriend would be so jealous of how hot you are”

“eddie i am your girlfriend”

“god don’t i know it”

never said he was a good flirt

eddie might be a metalhead and you a goth but he thinks it’s a match made in hell

you’ve given him a couple of recommendations from bauhaus to the cure to depeche mode

and while eddie loves his loud thrash metal, he finds himself drawn to the dark , eerie yet enchanting sounds of your favorite bands.

he’s also given you band recs ! but you won’t let him know that his recommendations are bands you’ve already known and loved.

metallica, megadeth and black sabbath as well as other metal bands were household favorites for your family but the way eddie lights up when talking about their new songs or how that riff is totally something he could nail

you can’t bring yourself to tell him

he doesn’t completely understand your practice as a witch but he’d never disrespect it

“babe so, like, can you talk to ghosts and stuff then?”

you’re always trying to read his cards

you just wanna make sure he’s fully equipped with knowing how to deal with upcoming situations !

oh and eddie loves your makeup

sometimes you go full trad makeup

but sometimes you’re lazy and you just go black eyeliner and some black lipstick

regardless of the look for the day eddie can’t stop admiring you

your outfits are so much cooler than he’ll ever be and they just make you look so much prettier

you guys now become a “cult couple”

you frequent hellfire every now and then and it makes you giggle to watch how animated he is as DM

the kids all know you and were admittedly a little intimidated of you at first

yea eddie’s known as a cult leader but he wears ripped jeans and a denim jacket

you’re always drenched in black fabric exaggerated makeup and have a certain aura to you

“eddie she looks like she talks to crows in a graveyard!” dustin had voiced his opinion when eddie had mentioned her coming to sit in one day

“is she actually a witch ??? because if i accidentally upset her and get hexed i’m blaming you,”

safe to say once they got used to you they liked having you around

your cynical personality made watching you and eddie converse quite entertaining.

empty threats to hex people were also quite fun and something eddie took advantage of

“dude i’m so getting y/n to curse you,”

also !!! your friends think he’s the funniest

at first they’re like “no way you’re going out with munson”

but one day you have him sit with you and he has the whole table laughing

they love having him around so you guys switch off on friend groups

making each other mixtapes !!!!

he puts bands you actually don’t know on it and you’re super shocked like wow wtf this is so good i didn’t know these people existed

and your mixtape to him is like goth love songs bcuz you’re in love and cheesy and ewwww

he thinks you’re the most romantic person alive even though you have trouble voicing your emotions

you’re definitely a gift giver/ acts of service type of lover

so when he listens to the mixtape you’ve made him he really listens to the lyrics in each song and he’s just heart eyes and butterflies

so in love with you dude idk

gets you a black cat as a birthday gift but it’s really just a stray kitten he found that reminded him of you

obviously you love it because you’ve always wanted a familiar but cats are weirdly pricey

you guys brainstorm names together and finally decide on something that fits all of you

lucifur

get it

no ? just me ?

anyways it’s a play on the reputation you both have at school,, eddie thought of it and it made you laugh so you had to keep it

you call the kitty luci for short after finding out she’s a girl

you and eddie are both constantly at your house or his trailer,, your house when he wants to see luci and watch movies on a giant (but not really) TV with you

his trailer when you want *alone time* away from your parents

wherever you’re at though neither of you care as long as you’re wrapped up with each other with some weed and snacks

you guys are super in love im jealous

he says he loves you first btw

you say it a couple days after and everything is just so warm and love filled idk how to explain it

newhosies yea super in love rock couple who scare kids in public with just their presence mwah love it.

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x poc reader #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x goth reader #eddie munson x witch reader

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akookminsupporter · 1 year

Text

JIMIN AND THE APATHY OF THE FANDOM TO SUPPORT HIM.

The constant apathy of the fandom in general to support Jimin's projects has made me question more than once if it's really his fandom too or if it's just a part - quite a big part I'm sure - of the fandom that is a fan of him.

Here we are again. New year. New post. Same topic. ARMY's apathy to support Jimin. Different excuses, same result.

I haven't talked much about this topic on my blog these days because I'm honestly tired of the damn negativity and because I was dealing with more negativity in my normal life, but I want to say something about everything that happens whenever Jimin releases a song, no matter if it's solo or with someone else.

It's not the first time I've made a post like this and I don't think it will be the last either, but I'd like to be wrong.

The apathy, the disaffection this fandom, in general, feels about Jimin is disturbing. Jimin's achievements are good when they serve to show them off to an "enemy" fandom but when it comes time to support him, everyone has excuses.

It happened last year and it happened again this week.

The absurd fights between kpop fandoms have always seemed absurd to me, although some I can understand but for that to be an obstacle to support the one who is supposed to be your favourite artist seems stupid to me.

From what I could read over the weekend, and before the official release of 'VIBE', several people were saying that they didn't like the artist that Jimin decided to collaborate with. The reasons I don't fully understand and frankly, that's not the problem, the problem is that their problem with that artist and his fans outweighs the love and respect they supposedly have for Jimin and that's something my brain doesn't quite understand. To be honest, my brain has never entirely understood the reasons that many people use for not supporting Jimin's projects as they do with the projects of the other members.

I've always wondered why that happens, why that feeling of rejection almost, that many in this fandom feel for Jimin. I myself have said that it's envy, stupidity and fear and although I still believe it's all that, I think it's something else too. And someday I'd like to know what it is.

This week when many Jimin fanbase and fansites were asking to buy and stream the song 'VIBE' to take it to number one on the charts, many replied asking why, that they better do it for Jimin's solo album, that this honour should be won by him alone and not in collaboration with someone else, the answers are obviously stupid, but at the same time it's sad to read the excuses that many use only when it's about Jimin. That didn't happen with Jungkook, RM and Hobi's recent collaborations, none of them was for their solo albums, they were all for someone else's album and yet ARMY did the best they could, to support them.

The Korean press today basically confirmed that Jimin's album will be released next month. This may be the ultimate test by which many will measure this fandom and their support and respect for Jimin. Many used the excuse that they better save their efforts for Jimin's solo debut, well, let's hope they are true to their word, there will be no more excuses that will be valid, not that the others have any validity.

I've always said that Twitter is not the representation of the fandom, it's only a tiny part of it and while I still hold that opinion, I also understand that on Twitter are many of the most important accounts that organise everything from voting to chart tracking and even funding, so it's worrying and sad that those accounts and therefore their followers don't seem to put the same effort they do for other members when it comes to Jimin.

I am aware that this fandom is quite large and while there are many, probably thousands of "fans" who are apathetic to all things Jimin there are also millions who love him. Who supports him and is excited about whatever Jimin decides to show us on his album. I'm definitely one of them.

I was excited when the guys announced that they would be doing more solo projects, including albums. I can't wait for what they all show us, everything we've seen and heard so far has been great! And so, I can't wait to see and listen to what Jimin has to show. I know it will be unique, I know it will be great, and I know Jimin will once again prove why he is not only the IT Boy of Korea but also, the IT Boy of music.

#jimin #jiminphobics #bts #bts solo careers #bts army #rosie's thoughts

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dappydaffer · 1 month

Text

WW Normal Album Analysis (pt. 4(?)) 💜

Back at it again, people!

I've been wanting to do this again for a while, since I haven't in actual months. And since @interfacefox 's request won, here I am again because even after almost a year of liking Will's music, my fixation refuses to cease.

If you know what's going on, then you know my whole normal album theory, but if not, here's a link to my last few posts where I analyzed the normal album and puked my thoughts out for people to see:

- Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/dappydaffer/733190401716027392/this-rant-im-about-to-go-on-will-probably-not?source=share

- Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/dappydaffer/733737259322474496/ww-normal-album-analysis-pt-2?source=share

- Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/dappydaffer/734550698381950976/ww-normal-album-analysis-pt-3?source=share

• • • • • • • • • •

I'm not only doing this because of interface, but this is a song I have been itching to do for a while, despite how lengthy/complex it seems, and the song I'm going to be analyzing is...

Black Box Warrior

(I am, however, splitting this up into parts. This shit is waaaay too much for me to analyze in one sitting, so you get the chorus and first (maybe couple) of verses for now-)

• • • • • • • • • •

Although I've heard the song was simply just a challenge for Will lyrically and musically, there is a theory I strongly believe about this song, and that it's an allusion/reference to the illegal human experimentation program, MKUltra, which started in 1953, and continued until 1973. The experiment itself was run and designed by the CIA and its sole purpose was to test means of psychological torture, effects of drugs, and even brainwashing in order to force confessions out of people.

(I mean, hell, even the title is a spinoff name of the experiment itself - "OKULTRA-")

(Read more about it here, it is genuinely interesting as hell: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MKUltra)

• • • • • • • • • •

In bits and pieces throughout the song, starting with the first verse, the lyrics have convinced me the song is either a doctor describing the horrid side effects a now-deceased patient endured due to the means of getting confessions out of them, or an unknown narrator is making it seem like the victim/patient's side effects was this nonsensical, psychedelic adventure, when it reality, it was far much worse.

Lyrics that either allude to the side effects or hint at this possibility at all within the first verse and chorus include:

"Trojan Horse'd his blood brain barrier and raised the LD-50.."

I belive the trojan horse invading the "brain barrier" is a metaphor relating to the obliviousness of this particular victim, or MKUltra patients in general, to the psychologically damaging actions being inflicted on them, and the effects they are yet to bring on them. The trojan horse tale tells of greek invaders successfully tricking the Trojans into letting them in, making it seem as if a giant wooden horse were a gift. The victim could also be seeing, or being told so by doctors inflicting them, that these experiments are for the greater good, when it really is just a heap of psychological torture and abuse in disguise, slowly and surely going to attack and seep in once it gets past the patient's defenses. Instead of immeadiately attacking, I believe that's where the LD-50 part of the metaphor kicks in. LD-50 is a term that refers to the amount of chemicals given, which causes 50% of the deaths in a group of test animals (usually before releasing the chemical to public) - Not only does this imply that patients are simply just treated like disposable test objects before they officially solidify these means of interrogation/testing as part of the criminal justice system, but it also shows that once the patient's defenses are downed/weakened, the LD-50 (lethal dose) can be further pushed to see how far the testing can go until the patient confesses or succumbs to the side-effects of the torture.

"- the Black Box Warrior, He skipped this town and headed straight down history-"

While I'm certain black box could be a reference to something else, I believe it not only refers to how CIA Director, Richard Helm ordered evidence of the project to be destroyed before the public was informed about it in 1975, but also alludes to how it adds confidentiality to the patient being referred to and personifies him as a stastistic or another case to destroy and rid of in the eyes of those in charge. Him "heading straight down history" could also be an allusion to how he simply just forgotten and/or killed off so easily and quickly, joining others who passed, and waiting for new patients to join him who will only get treated the same as he did, due to the abuse and effects inflicted by doctors.

"Roman candles at both ends in his synapses"

Burning both ends of the candle is a common phrase that exaggerates or tells that oneself is overworking or doing too much or burning themselves out, etc. Whilst synapses are spaces between cells that transmit nervous impulse (correct me if I am wrong). The patient in question having roman candles at both ends of their synapses is what I believe to be physical sensory overload or the "LD-50 being raised" far too high to the point of his nervous system going haywire. LSD was a common psychoactive drug used in MKUltra and when one takes LSD, the nervous system can be/is heavily effected (depending on how heavy the dosage) and from what science can conclude; since synapses, a part of the nervous system, facillitate communication between neurons via transmission of signals in neurotransmitter forms, and therefore play vital roles in the brain functioning properly (perception, memory, emotions, etc.), burning metaphorical roman candles at the ends of this patients' synapses implies that a scary, damn near lethal dose of LSD has been injected into the patient by doctors working for MKUltra.

"Shields himself from reason in a Kevlar baby-blue Tuxedo"

I believe here the song is panning to the doctor and a 3rd person point of view of what his intentions/thoughts are. Scrubs that doctors wear are typically a shade of "baby-blue," and kevlar is a material commonly used in bullet proof vests. With the doctor wearing a metaphorical baby-blue bulletproof vest, it could symbolize that the doctor may have a heart to at least barely acknowledge that what he is doing is wrong, however, it is his job to do so for the project, therefore he may be rationalizing and hiding behind his status as a doctor (hence the tuxedo metaphor, as I view tuxedos as a sign of high social/financial status) in order to dodge the bullet of actual reason (hence, the kevlar reference).

"If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now / There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down"

This piece of the chorus really feels like a "ride or die" statement towards the alleged patient. The song (or what I assume is the doctor) almost mockingly, or non-chalantly tells the patient that despite everything he has been put through, it wasn't enough to kill him and even though they have far enough pushed him past his physical and mental limit, he (the doctor) almost encourages this patient to continue on and comply with their experiments. This really shines a light on how little regard the higher ups of this program beared for the victims that were unfortunately involved. As for "looking up or looking down," I believe it is the doctor still telling the patient to continue on, until he dies, and either looks "up" to heaven, or "down" at hell. There truly is no more going back. The patient has to keep pushing and not only burn both ends of his synapses with the aforementioned metaphorical roman candles, he has to burn himself out physically and mentally until his body gives into the effects of the torture and LSD.

• • • • • • • • • •

Thank you for coming to my TED talk....holy shit, that took way too long-

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this, and if you have your own Black Box Warrior/Normal Album/Will Wood theory, I'd love to hear them.

I promise I will add more to this analysis with a part 2, however, I may do other WW songs in between that time =)

• • • • • • • • • •

#my hands are in agony #the brainrot is real #will wood #will wood and the tapeworms #the normal album #black box warrior #will wood analysis #“is this shit enough proof for you?”#dappy rants #music analysis

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

Text

Living Up To The Legacy ✈️ | Top Gun: Maverick Series P.2

Contains major spoilers for TGM

Read P.1 here -> Series Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Barbara ‘Legacy’ Mitchell (past romance/eventual romance), Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x daughter!OC (platonic), Lt. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin (platonic), Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floy (platonic), Lt. Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace (platonic), pretty much the rest of the characters are platonic.

Content Warnings: profanity, light angst, banter. Miscommunication troupe. Friends-to-lovers-to-strangers-to-lovers again (I know it’s a mouthful). Mentions of death and violence. Slight implication of sexual themes but nothing explicit | Female OC (she/her) | Wc: 10.2k

Premise: It’s day one of training for the special detachment mission, and Maverick is not coming to play. For his daughter and student, Barbara, she’s gonna have to push herself to the ultimate test if she wants to make it onto the team. Tensions are high between not only father & daughter, but also with Barbara’s ex-husband and son of Mav’s late best friend, Rooster. The team soon learns quickly that Maverick is not like any instructor they’d ever had…..and that his daughter lives up to his legacy.

Note: these parts are LONG just to warn you cause I’m doing close to 20 minutes worth of scenes on top of the fact of adding my own to correlate with the story. Enjoy.

——————————————————

After getting dismissed to begin their dogfight training, the men and women head to the separate locker rooms to get dressed in their gear. Having been unable to place her belongings when she first arrived, Barbara chucks her phone, wallet, and keys into the locker labeled, ‘Legacy’. The vintage tin keeping her cigarettes and matches stayed out, knowing she’d be needing them with the day ahead of her. She could feel the eyes of the two other women behind her, but kept her attention focused on buckling in her gear. Until Natasha decides to break the forming awkward silence.

“So are we just going to ignore the elephant in the room?” Phoenix casually asks, eyes on Barbara when she closes her locker. With an internal groan, the young Mitchell turns to face her.

“Which one?” She tilts her head, as though she wondered what the aviator was referring to. But then again, she really had no clue. “There are two I can think of, Phee. Why don’t you pick one to start—or surprise me with something entirely from what I’m thinking.”

Phoenix rolls her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “How about starting with the fact Maverick is your father. And don’t—,” she points a finger when she sees the look of protest on Barb's face, “try to say some ‘there are plenty of officers with the name Mitchell,’ bullshit. I saw your reaction. And although you never talked about your dad, you did say he was a pilot.”

“There wasn’t anything to talk about,” the locker slammed as she closed it, “Our relationship has been complicated since I was born. You guys would’ve found out sooner or later.” Phoenix’s frown softens, feeling sympathy for her fellow aviator. Barb shakes her head with a sad chuckle and adds, “The cat’s out of the bag now.”

Phoenix glances to the ground, before bringing her eyes back up to Legacy and asks, “Did you know he’d be the instructor?” There was a hint of suspicion in the question. Of course she would be, the others probably too. The Navy’s legendary pilot as their instructor that will choose the six-man team happens to be one of the candidates' fathers. And not to mention he’s also the ex-father-in-law of another.

Surely there would be a conflict of interest.

Barbara lets out a huff, clipping in the last restraint on her gear. “Seeing him at the bar last night was the first time I’d spoken to him in over three years.” And Phoenix was well aware of what took place during that time. It sent another frown to her face, looking away to not meet Barbara’s eye. It was unsure to the pilot if Natasha had knowledge of what really happened between her and Rooster. The two were good friends so she wouldn’t put it past Rooster to tell her.

With a sigh, Barbara leans her back against the lockers. “Look, Phee, imma let you know now you don’t have to worry about him going easy on me or thinking I’ll have a one way ticket on this mission. If there’s anyone whose limit he’s going to push the most, it’s going to be me.” Picking up the tin, Barb pockets it in the side of her flight suit. “Right now you have a better chance of making it on the mission than me. All because you don’t share his blood.”

She grabs her helmet, Phoenix doing the same. They’re about to head out of the locker room when the latter stops them, one more question burning in her mind. “I have one more thing to ask. I know we haven’t talked in awhile so you don’t have to give me the details in full….but I care about you and I care about Rooster. What happened?”

That answered Barbara’s earlier question to herself. Tightening her jaw, the brunette silently wished she could light a cigarette right there. Conversations like the ones her and Phoenix were having stressed her out. It was like Hangman had said, it opened a new can of worms.

“What all did he tell you?” She asked, wanting to know if there was any information Bradley had relayed to Nat. There was no way she was going to spill anything that didn’t need to be said or clarified.

Phoenix thought back to the conversation from years prior. She had just returned from a mission and met up with some friends at the bar where she found Rooster nursing a glass of whiskey on his own. After seeing the look of anger and despair on his face, she walked up to him to ask what was wrong. Never did she expect the words, ‘Barb and I are done,’ to come out of his mouth.

“What the hell are you talking about?” The question flew out of her, shock ridden all over her face. He still had his ring on, it shined under the light of the bar, but soon he pulled it off to examine it. “Bradshaw,” she nudges him when he doesn’t answer.

“I left the house almost a month ago—been staying with Fritz. She served me with papers today.” The pilot couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She gives a light scoff. If there was anything she knew about Lt. Bradley Bradshaw, it was he adored his wife. From the moment she met him at Top Gun, Phoenix would hear of Barbara Bradshaw and her accomplishments because Rooster would not shut up about her. Then the two finally met and she could see why. Him and Barbara were perfect for each other. Every time the group got together Phoenix could see the love radiated off of them for one another.

Now she was hearing they were getting divorced? There was no way.

When she asked him to tell her what had happened, Rooster was reluctant. All he said was, “We had a fight. A bad one, Nat. She refused to tell me something I had the right to know so I left. Then today I got the papers, and when I confronted her at the house I found out she got new orders.” He tossed back the remaining contents of his drink before adding, “it was over after that.”

It dawned on Phoenix then that Rooster would not tell her everything that was said between him and his now ex-wife. She didn’t blame him, he had the right to keep to himself if she pleased. What hurt her was Barb hadn’t reached out to her. The two were friends. If she had then Phoenix would’ve got on a plane back home to get Rooster’s head out of his ass for walking out, and finding out what the fuck Barb was keeping from him. It pained her to see her two friends go through something like that.

“He wouldn’t say anything else,” Phoenix tells Barbara with an unreadable expression. “He refused to speak of it further and left shortly after.” She steps toward her friend, pleading with her when she says, “What the hell, C? Why would you file and just leave like that—without any explanation? And what were you keeping from him—please,” her tone takes a harsher edge, “please don’t tell me you were cheating.”

The accusation has Barbara scoffing, pushing off the lockers causing Phoenix to almost have to step back at the look of anger the pilot was displaying. “If anyone should be asked about their faithfulness in our marriage, It’s Rooster.” At the look of plain shock on Phoenix’s face, Barbara sniffs, trying to contain her emotion. “I love—loved that man with every inch of my soul. I can’t tell you what it is I kept from him because It’ll put you in the same position I was—and let me tell you, you do not want to be in it.” God how she wished she could turn back time and stop herself from having that conversation with her father.

Barb licks her lip, laughing to ignore the heat boiling inside her. “I didn’t stop Rooster from leaving because I knew he needed time. I had hoped we could work it out, Phee, I really did. But then days of silence turned into weeks and finally I had enough.” The image of Rooster leaning with the pretty blonde officer tapping his chest in a flirtatious manner with Rooster smirking plastered in her mind. It brought a wave of sadness and anger to the pilot.

“And filing for divorce right then and there was the best option?” Phoenix throws her arms out, helmet in hand. “And pack it up and leave without even trying to talk things out.”

Barbara squeezed her eyes shut, keeping her cool. She didn’t want to snap at Phoenix. It wasn’t her fault, she was in the dark about her friends suddenly breaking up when she thought they were the strongest couple they were. It wasn’t easy being in a relationship with both parties in active service.

“He seemed to have already found my replacement, so I did us both a favor,” Barbara’s words sent both Phoenix and Halo—who was watching the entire thing unfold from the side—jaw’s dropping. She takes a sharp inhale, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I tried to get a hold of him, he gave me nothing. So I went to his work and found cozying up with another woman.”

Phoenix shook her head, wanting to deny it. No way could she see Rooster cheating on Barbara. If she saw him with another woman it had to have been something else than what she was implying. “No—R-Rooster wouldn’t dare—.”

“I saw his face, Natasha,” Barbara cuts her off with a hiss, sending Phoenix into silence. “I know that look, because it was what he always gave to me when I teased him. It was different when you or anyone else would.” Barb feels herself blinking, tears threatening to spill but she holds them back. “You just know it’s over when they look at someone else the way they would you.”

“Barb…” Phoenix starts but falls flat, unable to form the words. Sadness for the woman in front of her consumed the aviator. Though she was upset Barbara kept something obviously important from Rooster from him, it didn’t mean she deserved to be cheated on. It still was a hard concept to grasp. Deep down, Phoenix felt something was off.

“We’re going to be late,” Barb announces, shaking her head and making a movement to stretch her shoulders. “Let’s not keep them waiting. Captain Mitchell won’t go easy on us so let’s not give him a reason to make it more difficult.” She didn’t wait for Phoenix to follow, taking her chance to leave by hurrying out of the locker room and in the direction of the lounge. The pilots would be taking turns going up in the air therefore the remaining would wait on standby.

Phoenix and Halo shared a look, frowning as they watched the young Mitchell go. It was a tough situation for their aviator. One they couldn’t imagine being in the shoes of. Ex-husband and estranged father? It walk like the universe was out to get her.

With a heavy sigh, Phoenix starts walking with Halo behind her. It was going to be one hell of a day.

Barabara took pleasure in the small moment of peace she had while outside. It was a beautiful day, perfect for flying, and Barbara was itching to get up in the air. The sound of jets gearing up was like music to her ears.

Until it was ruined by the sound of, “Did you know he was coming?” The tone in his voice was harsh and Barbara had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Turning to face Rooster, she narrowed his eyes up at his scowling face.

“Bradshaw,” she greeted with sarcasm, waiting for him to come to a halt in front of her. He towered over her frame, helmet in hand. It was bound for them to face one another. As much as they both wanted to draw out the inevitable, fate had other plans. “Sorry I didn’t hear what you said. Could you repeat that?” She damn well heard him and he knew it. It only made him glare at her more.

“Did you know?” He repeated with a low voice. The answer he got was a scoff followed by, “No.” He found it hard to believe. Rooster was well aware Iceman was her superior and Godfather and had likely told her in advance about the detachment. He wouldn’t have put it past Ice to warn her about her father. And at the briefing that morning Rooster noticed Barb was the only one who did not turn around when Maverick had walked up the aisle.

When she goes to turn around and leave, he cuts her off. “Don’t lie to me, Barbara.” At her offended expression he leans down to her level, “You were the only one who didn’t react to him this morning.”

“What, were you watching me?” she calls him out, tilting her head. The light blush on his cheeks had her smirking. She got him there. Then she goes back to glaring, “I’m not fucking lying, Bradshaw. Ice only told me about you being a candidate. Okay? I only put two and two together when I saw him at the bar last night.”

Rooster huffed, “I find that hard to believe.” He regretted saying the words the moment he left them. By that point it was just his anger from the past speaking. He could tell when Barbara was lying to him and right now she wasn’t.

But it was too late to take it back because the laugh she let out sent a sting to his heart. She tilted her head up, stepping closer so they were barely an inch apart. It was comical because of the height difference, and if the moment hadn’t been so heated Rooster would’ve probably laughed.

“Well I frankly don’t give a fuck what you believe, Bradshaw,” she hissed, blue-green eyes practically glowing from the way the sun was hitting them. It was a beautiful contrast to her jet black hair. Rooster felt another jab to his heart when she added, “I don’t have to prove anything to you anymore.”

Rooster was about to bite back when Payback called out to him, “Ayo, Rooster! Let’s go—we’re up!” Fanboy was beside him, watching the two with a curious expression. By the time he turned back to Barbara, she was already gone, having brushed past him when he was distracted by Payback. Spinning on his heel he caught her as she swung open the door into the lounge. Cursing under his breath, Rooster shook it off before heading to his plane.

In the lounge, Barbara found the rest of the aviators scattered. Yale and Harvard were at the football table, Hangman was sitting on one of the couches and Bob was attempting to get the radio up. Phoenix was beside him, so Barbara made her way around the mini bar to get a bottle of water.

“Good morning, aviators,” Maverick’s voice rang out, Bob making a fist of victory gesture. “This is your captain speaking. Welcome to basic fighter maneuvers.” Up in the air, Rooster, Fanboy and Payback were listening intently to the pilot. On the ground, Barbara leaned against the table to hear everything unfold. “As briefed, today’s exercise is dogfighting. Guns only, no missiles. We do not go below the hard deck of five thousand feet. Working as a team, you have to shoot me down…or else.”

“Or else what, sir?” Payback questions.

“Or else I shoot back.” Barbra smirked, locking eyes with Phoenix and Bob. “If I shoot either one of you down, you lose.”

“This guy needs an ego check,” Hangman comments, eyes on a mini jet in his hands. Barbara scoffs, face forming a look that reads, ‘are you serious?’ Harvard and Yale clap hands going, “we’ll see to that.” Now that had her rolling her eyes. Their confidence humored the young Mitchell.

“What say we put some skin in the game?” Payback challenges the pilot, who then asks, “What do you have in mind.”

“Whoever gets shot down first has to do two-hundred push-ups.” Oh no.

“Guys,” Rooster warns at the same time Barbara mutters, ‘Bad Idea,’ under her breath. Mav gives a chuckle, “that’s a lot of push-ups.”

Fanboy laughs, “Well, they don’t call it an exercise for nothing, sir.” Barbara shakes her head with a tsk, moving so her back is leaned against the counter and the radio is behind her. Both Bob and Phoenix give her a look to which she says, “they have no idea what they just got themselves into.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, gentlemen. Fight’s on. Let’s turn and burn.” Maverick, who had been flying level close to the ground below the pilots, cranks the jet up. He soars up in their direction, none of them noticing he’s on their tail.

“Fanboy, you see him?” Rooster asks, glancing from left to right in the windshield.

“Nothing on radar up ahead. He must be somewhere behind us.”

“He’s under you, boys,” Barbara says to herself, drawing confused looks from Bob and Phoenix. Then comes the explained shouts from the radio as Maverick tilts his plane to squeeze in the space between them. “Damn it!” “What the hell?!” “Shit!”

Barbara unwrapped a dum-dum lollipop, popping in her smirk ridden mouth as the others expressions turned to one of surprise and fear. “Easy, Maverick. Let’s try not to get fired on the first day.” Yeah accomplishing that goal would be a miracle.

“Tally, tally, tally!! Mavericks coming in! Break left!”

“Breaking left!”

“Payback, where’s your wingman?”

“Rooster, where are you!”

“I got your back. I’m coming. Hang in there. Hang in there.”

“Hurry up, man! Hurry up!” Barbara could mentally picture Rooster cutting in between Mav and Payback, causing Mav to go after him instead. And by what comes in on the radio, the aviator was right. “Payback, break right.”

“Breaking right!”

“Rooster just saved your life, fellas. But it’s gonna cost him.” ‘Typical,’ Barb thought to herself at the cockiness of her fathers tone. “Not this time, old man.”

“Don’t let him get to you, Maverick,” Barb could tell that comment was more toward himself.

“Rooster, you’re too low! Pull up! You’re hitting the hard deck.”

“Oh shit,” comes Rooster's panicked tone, forgetting about altitude. Barbara shakes her head, knowing he’d have to pull up and Maverick was going to be right behind him.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” she finishes the candy and keeps the stick in her mouth to chew. A habit she had developed being indoors since she couldn’t smoke. “It’s over for him.”

“How do you know,” Bob asks, just in time as Maverick says, “That’s a kill.” The blonde’s eyes widened in shock, making her chuckle. Rooster’s frustration could be heard and it was ridden on his face when completing his pushups. From the lounge they could hear Hondo call out, “Down! one-oh-nine! Down! One-ten!”

Phoenix was watching from the window, Barbara took a seat on one of the high chairs but still in view of the tarmac. Fanboy and Payback came up behind Phoenix, “That should be us down there.” “Down! One-eleven!”

“But it’s not,” Phoenix said in time with Hondo yelling one-twelve. “And now you know a little something about Rooster.” She walked away, leaving the two men and sitting beside Barb.

Squinting her eyes, the brunette could see Harvard, Yale, and Coyote heckling Rooster. When Harvard took out his phone so the three could take a selfie with Rooster in the background, Barbara shook her head and silently hoped Mav would whoop their ass in the air. “They’re gonna regret that.”

“Is he always like that?” Phoenix asked, referring to Maverick and the intense dogfight they had just overheard. The raised brow and look of, ‘you really want me to answer that’ was enough for Phoenix to slump in her chair. Nerves had started to fill her that she couldn’t even laugh at the expression Bob was giving. He looked like he was about to shit his pants right there.

For the duration of Harvard, Yale, and Coyote’s training, Barbara barely paid attention until she heard, “That’s a kill.” “Damn!” Followed by, “Smoked. “Damn it.” When the trio arrived at the tarmac, shoulders slumped and defeated, Barbara muttered, “Karma.”

Rooster had made it to the lounge at that time, red faced and completely spent. Two hundred push ups later the man looked like his arms were about ready to fall off. Barbara had to look away and keep her back towards him, for it brought back a familiar feeling seeing him sweaty and heaving for air.

Phoenix, Bob, and Hangman were up, so Barbara stayed close to the radio to listen in. “Say Phoenix,” Hangman’s voice echoed in the room. “How‘s about we tell everybody ‘BOB’ stands for something.” Already Barbara had enough of listening to him, taking another lollipop from the tin. “Other than Robert, I mean.”

“Don’t take the bait, Bob,” Phoenix stops him from speaking. “Want to know why we call him Hangman?”

“You tell him, Phee,” Barb nods her head, hyping the woman up despite her not being there.

“Oh, I got it. ‘Baby On Board’.” The sound of Hangman’s laughter rings out, but cuts abruptly at what Barbara assumed was Maverick speeding past him. “Shit!”

“Greetings, aviators. Fight’s on.”

“This should be good,” Barbara chuckles, leaning her arm on the counter. She had been waiting pretty much all day for Maverick to put Hangman in his place. There was no doubt the blonde was good, even Barbara would admit to that. But his ego could use a reality check—and what better way than to go up against one of the greatest pilots the Navy has ever produced.

“All right, Phoenix, let’s take this guy out!”

“Watch your back, Phoenix,” Barbara jumps slightly at the sound of Rooster coming up from behind her to stand on the other side of the radio. The two make eye contact, but the woman is quick to look away, jaw tightening as she does.

“Break right!” Hangman orders, but Barb felt it was too good to be true.

“Breaking right.” Phoenix calls out and seconds later Bob says, “Where’s he going?” The hand that was keeping Barb’s head propped fell when she let out a exaggerated sigh, “Fucking typical, Seresin.”

Phoenix matched her frustration, “That’s why we call him Hangman. He’ll always hang you out to dry.”

“Leaving your wingman. There’s a strategy I haven’t seen in a while.” In Barbara’s head she goes, ‘yeah, you would know that.’

“He called you a man, Phoenix. You gonna take that?”

“So long as he doesn’t call you a man.” Barbara smirks at Phoenix’s clap back, muttering “atta girl.” In the corner of her eyes she could see Rooster smiling too. “Talk to me, Bob. Where’s Maverick?”

“Jesus, his nose is already coming around.”

“Get off me, Hangman!”

“For all you folks at home, this is how you bury a fossil.”

“All right, Hangman. Time to teach you a lesson,” Barbara’s ears perk, adjusting her position so she was directly facing the radio. She completely disregarded the look Rooster gave her, keeping her gaze focused on the speaker. “You’re out, Phoenix.”

“Son of a bitch!”

The fight was on now with Mav vs. Hangman. Everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing and huddled around the counter. It pushed Rooster closer to Barb, the man standing beside her as she sat on the high chair. Both appeared to look stiff at the close proximity, but were two drawn to the dogfight to move away. “Let’s go, Mav. Let’s see what you got.”

“Come get me,” the veteran pilot chastises, practically excited by the challenge.

“Evil be gone. Hangman’s coming.”

“Yeah, you’re good. I’ll give you that.” That nearly had everyone on edge. Was Maverick gonna go down? By Hangman of all people? Barbara was sure her father had some trick up his sleeve.

“Shit,” Hangman muttered, and Barb bit her lip to stop from laughing. There it was. “Phoenix, I can’t see him. How close am I? Phoenix?”

“I’m dead, dickhead.”

“See you in the afterlife, Bagman.”

“The old sun trick,” Barbara said under her breath, but by the reaction from Rooster beside her, she figured he heard her. “Classic.”

“Where is he? Where is he?” Hangman sputtered out, but his alert sounded indicated Maverick locked on him.

“That’s a kill.”

It was a pleasant sight to Barbara when she took her smoke break before heading out to find Hangman on the tarmac. Halo and Omaha were her wingmen for the exercise and had to use the restroom so Barb waited outside in the meantime. And boy was she glad she did. With her aviators on to block the sun, Barbara locked eyes with the blonde as she brought the match to her lips to light the tobacco. His pissed off look at her smug expression had her smirking, blowing the smoke out from her first puff leaning against the wall of the hangar.

She felt bad for Phoenix and Bob, who were sweating buckets as they approached their eightieth push-up. But it was amusing to see Phoenix looking at Hangman like she was about to jump over Bob to kick his ass.

“I thought you quit,” Rooster’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, surprising her once again. She wasn’t expecting him out there since he was done in the skies for the day. His eyes were narrowed at the cigarette in her hand.

She brought it to her lips, locking their eyes as she took a long drag. “More like a tolerance break,” her sarcasm did not impress him, the man now glaring at her. It made her scoff, “What does it turn you off?” Like Mav, Rooster did not like the fact Barbara smoked. It was something she picked up in college that got progressively worse in flight school and becoming active duty. She always made sure to do it away from him, but of course the smell lingered no matter how much perfume she sprayed on. In the later years of their marriage Barbara had stopped after promising Rooster she would quit.

But then 2016 happened with shit hitting the fan, and Barbara picked the bad habit up again the night Rooster left the second time.

“Actually, yes. It does.” Barbara makes a face at his reply, purposely taking another drag and holding it for a second before exhaling. It was amusing to her to get under his skin, although she had to stop herself from thinking about all those nights where her bratty attitude got her into trouble. Good trouble that was.

“Well good thing I don’t care for your opinion, Bradley,” she takes the last drawl and flicks the bud to the ground to step on it. “Now if you’ll excuse me—.”

“Is this how it’s going to be then?” He cuts her off, stepping closer. She crossed her arms, waiting for him to elaborate. Throwing his arms out he huffed, “just going to avoid each other like the damn plague.”

The assumption has her looking him up and down, “From the looks of it that’s what you wanted. I’m just doing us both a favor.”

“And what would that be, Barbara?”

She throws an arm out to emphasize her point, “This!” She then gestures a finger between the two, “In the two times we have spoken today alone has ended arguments. We obviously can’t stand each other, Bradley—why try to be civil?”

“Because this mission isn’t just about us, Barbara,” his voice goes low as he steps closer, nostrils flared. “We’re not just putting our lives on the line here, it’s there’s too so if we can’t chalk it up and act like a team then someone’s gonna get killed. And I will not have that on my conscience.”

She falls silent, biting her tongue in the process. As much as she wanted to say something sarcastic, the man had a point. They had to work together for the sake of the team and completing the mission. Otherwise they’d live a life filled with regret by letting the past control their emotions. Barbara had come close to losing her wingman on her last assignment, and the close call was enough to shake the aviator.

“Fine,” she agrees after a moment, “We put the past behind us for the time being.” Rooster nods, slightly relieved despite having to come to terms with his own idea. Their attention flashes to the side of the tarmac when they hear Omaha yell, “Yo, C! We’re up, let’s go!” Halo was walking ahead, throwing a head gesture in the direction of the planes to Barbara.

“That’s my cue,” she sighs to Rooster, feeling a slight wave of nerves swirl. It had been a long time since she'd gone up against Maverick, each time it ended with disappointment. This time Barb hoped it’d be different.

Turning back to the man in front of her, Barbara gave a pointed look, “Maybe you should call a truce with the one other person in this boat who has you lose focus in the air.” She was turning on her heel before he could answer, well aware he’d protest in a heartbeat. Peace between Maverick and Rooster was like trying to find the holy grail.

But if he wanted to survive then he better get to digging.

“Any last minute advice you could offer, C, before we get the ball rolling?” Omaha asked through the coms as they flew steady. Barbara was in front by a tad, but remained level with her wingman.

“Trust your instinct. Don’t think, just do,” she tells him, checking her surroundings. Maverick was sneaky so she didn’t put it past him to come zooming at any second. She listened closely for Halo to relay radar info, but knowing her father he’d stay below to catch them off guard. “Act quick and don’t underestimate. Remember that and maybe you’ll come close to getting him.”

“I appreciate the faith you have in me, C,” he laughed, causing her to smirk.

“You asked for advice, Omaha, honesty comes with it.” Another few seconds pass without any word from Halo. The pump of her heart started to race, her intuition clouding her mind. “Break right, Omaha.”

“W-what?” He stutters confused, “C there’s nothing on radar.”

“He’s under us! Just trust me, break right!” Without thinking Barbara breaks left, Omaha failing to react in time just as Mav pulls up from beneath resulting in his jet to shake from the impact.

“Jesus Christ!”

“I told you,” she groans, amping her speed to pull around when Maverick says, “Fight’s on, aviators.” Unbeknownst to the pilot, Maverick was nodding his head with a smile beneath his mask. It filled him with pride that his daughter was able to anticipate his moves.

“Talk to me, Halo, where is he?” Barbara calls out, glancing left to right to see if he was on her tail.

“Shit, I can’t see him!” She calls back, making Barbara curse in her head. He had to have been close. She leaned forward, squinting against the sun and saw movement. Halo must’ve seen it too because seconds later she’s shouting to Omaha, “Tally, tally, tally, he’s coming down—break left!”

“Breaking left,” he follows the order. Barbara catches sight of them and speeds in their direction. Mav cuts behind causing her to shout, “He’s on your six, Omaha—evade, evade! I’m right behind you.” Omaha does his best to lose Maverick, but comes up short when Maverick locks on him.

“I got you, Omaha.”

“Damn it,” Barb could hear the disappointment in his voice. Damn that was quick. Now it was just the two Mitchells. The fight was definitely on now.

And on the ground, everyone had huddled around the radio to hear the action.

“Okay, Legacy,” Maverick says, pulling around with fast turns knowing she was chasing him. “Let’s see what you can do.”

She narrowed her eyes at the challenge, “Lucky for you I feel the need for speed.” She could’ve sworn she heard him chuckle and had to hold back a reaction. It was no time to get distracted.

The two begin a cat & mouse chase that lasts for miles. Both the aviators come close to locking on each other but fall short which has even the veteran pilot thinking he may come out the loser.

After about twenty minutes of this—which had every person in the lounge on the edge of their seat—Maverick takes the advantage when he manages to get behind Barbara.

“Goddammit,” she hisses, but manages to break left in time and quickly swing down so she drops altitude. Mav follows her, but she catches him off guard by quickly pulling up and spinning so his laser is unable to lock.

“Playing dirty, Legacy? I see how it is.”

“Yeah, well I’m starting to get a little pissed off, sir,” she quips back, noticing the sun was starting to set. It was nearing the end of the day—her, Halo, and Omaha being the last group—so there was a reddish-orange glow to the darkening sky. It gave her an idea.

Breaking right, Barbara headed east where the sky was darker than in the west. Knowing Mav was going to follow, she amps her speed and goes high all while making tight turns.

When darkness overpowers the little light from the setting sun in the horizon, Barbara makes her move. It would be harder for him to see so she used it to her advantage. She goes high, pulling Gs before spitting the throttles and inverting.

“What the….” She hears Mav go, causing her to smirk.

“You’re not the only one with moves up your sleeve, sir.” It sends her back, Maverick zooming right past her so close it throws him off, resulting in him lining directly in her sight. Not wasting a second, Barb edges the plane level behind Mavick and locks her target.

“That’s a kill,” her voice comes over the radio sending a wave of reactions amongst the crowd. Jaws are dropped, some gasp, Hangman goes ‘Ain’t no fucking way,’ meanwhile Rooster fights the urge to smile. If they didn’t know before they definitely knew now,

Never underestimate the woman who lives up to the legacy.

And when they departed after the team landed to finally end the long day, they still couldn’t believe it wasn’t Barbara joining Omaha and Halo for 200 pushups.

It was Maverick instead.

“Barbara! Barb—wait up!” The sound of Mavericks' voice had the young woman stop her walking and turn around. She had just left the locker room after a much needed shower and was heading to her bike when her father called out to her. Everyone else had already left, leaving Barbara as the last one since she decided to extend her shower to nearly an hour. It was worth it though after the day she had.

“Hey,” Mav caught up to her, panting slightly since he had been running. They were both in their civilian clothes, practically matching with their bomber jackets and jeans. The only difference was Barb had a cigarette hanging from her mouth, rolling her eyes when Mav made a face when he noticed it.

“Yes, Captain?” That had him frowning more—hating she addressed him by his rank again. He expected it when they were in uniform, but as they were off the clock he hoped she’d let up.

“Can we talk? Please?” He pleaded with her. The man had been waiting to pull her aside all day. There were a lot of questions on his mind and answers he needed to know, but felt like their first meeting the previous night was not the time or place. And not knowing where Barb was living since she already was stationed at North Island, Maverick had to ask regardless at some point.

“Right here?” Her voice was muffled from the object in her mouth. With a raised brow, she gestures to the parking lot. “Right now?”

He gave a shrug, not really minding if it was their only option. “If that’s okay with you.” The words make her sigh causing Mav’s heart to sink a bit. But to his surprise, she nods to their bikes and says, “Meet me at the Hard Deck.”

When they get to the bar, the two find a booth in the corner away from the other patrons. As usual service members are in attendance taking claim to the darts and pool table. None of the aviators are there which gives relief to both the Mitchells. They must’ve checked out for the night after getting their pride knocked down.

“You did great out there today,” Maverick says with a small smile, noticing how a light blush forms on her cheeks. It made his throat tighten a bit when he realized he rarely ever praised Barbara when she was growing up. He hardly asked about school, the sports she did, or clubs she was in. It filled him with regret.

“I try my best,” she tightened her lips, fidgeting with the glass of whiskey in front of her.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Though she wasn’t looking at him, eyes on the glass instead, Maverick could see a flicker of amusement when her lips curled up.

“Ice.” Mav smirked at the answer. He should’ve known. After a moment she looks at him with a shake of the head, “What do you want to talk about, Pete?” Again, another jab to his heart at the use of his first name.

Clearing his throat to ignore the emotion coursing through him, Maverick clasped his hands on the table, “I just—I want to know why, Barbara.” He lifts his gaze from the table to connect their eyes. It was like he was looking into his own. “I-I thought things were finally going good between us three years ago. And then you left me with silence again. Why?”

From her reaction it was obvious Barbara was expecting the question. Her jaw tightens, tongue flicking out to lick her lip as she glances away briefly. “At first it started out with me needing time to think,” she spoke with honesty, reconnecting their eyes. “But then everything happened so fast. And, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel resentment for you. More than what I felt when I was in college. ” Well that sure was a nail to the coffin for Maverick. He tried not to react but failed miserably.

“I understand,” his voice is low, unable to look at her.

“Look you were right, okay?” She leans back against the booth. “You warned me about knowing the truth and I should’ve listened. Maybe then I’d still be married—anyways besides the point, I know it was my fault when I put myself in that position.” She leans back forward, pressing her elbows into the table with a firm gaze, “but when I thought of you, all it did was reopen the wound. It would just bring everything back in a constant cycle. And then I would think of the ‘what if’s’. That maybe if you hadn’t pulled his papers, none of it would have happened.”

Barbara has to pause after running out of breath, taking a swig of her drink. Placing the glass down, she sighs, “I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to you. And by the time I finally felt like I could, it had already been two years and you had stopped trying to call.”

The tone in her voice broke Mav’s heart. He hated the position he put her in when he told her—blaming himself for what happened to her and Rooster. Without thinking he reaches a hand across the table to lay it on top of hers. The act surprised her, but she remained emotionless. “I would have dropped everything, to be there for you, Barbara.” It was true. Even if he was flying some mission he would have turned the plane around in an instant. “It’s not your fault, okay. I get why you couldn’t talk to me. It hurts a bit, but I get it. And I-I stopped calling…because I felt you needed space. That you’d reach out when you were ready.”

“I know,” she whispered, glancing at their joined hands. “And I know you kept tabs on me from Ice.” His lips quirk up, not denying since it was true. It pained him all those months of silence from his daughter, but he didn’t want to make it worse by showing up out of the blue. Ice would tell him how she was doing in her squadron and was the one to inform him about the divorce—which he still didn’t know the full story on.

“What all did he tell you about Rooster and I?” She asked, slowly removing her hand from under his. He tried not to frown and replied, “said you two had separated and you called him for a transfer.” Barbara finishes the contents of her glass, pushing it to the edge of the table for someone to pick up.

“We were never officially separated,” Maverick straightens, giving her his full attention. There was a part of him that felt happy she was opening up to him despite the subject being sore. “He came home from a deployment and, with my failed attempt of acting like everything was okay, got me to admit I had confronted you. He demanded to know, as I had expected, but like you warned me I couldn’t bear the thought of telling him,” she bits her lip briefly. “We fought and he walked out. And like I told you last night, I let him—I didn’t think it would be the end of us honestly. I was naive really and thought he needed time and then we could talk it out so I could get him to understand it was better for him to not know for the sake of his heart. But….” She trails off, unconsciously letting her right index finger caress the spot on her left hand where her ring once laid. Maverick saw it and felt his face fall.

“For nearly a month we didn’t speak. None of his friends would tell me where he was at first, but one of them saw how worried I was and said he was staying with Fritz. Then,” she pauses again, not wanting to get into detail about finding Rooster with another woman. She didn’t want Maverick to look at him differently despite her anger at the betrayal. The man still looked at Rooster like a son.

“Basically after a month I knew there was nothing that could be fixed.” Maverick looked like he wanted to question her change of tone, but decided against it. “I filed and called Ice the same day, who was able to pull some strings and have me here though he’s got me working for the Tomcatters when they need back up on missions.” So that explained the tomcat patch addition to her flight suit. “It was done after that. Bradley came back to the house the next day—papers in his hand—and all hell broke loose. Pretty much whatever small part of the string attached to us was severed.” Barbara purposely left out the details of the argument and the fact she threw a bottle at Bradley.

“I’m sorry,” Maverick said after a moment of silence to let everything process. There were a lot of mixed emotions for the aviators. Sadness, anger, sympathy. Anger was mostly for how things played out. And while he loved Rooster, Barbara was his daughter and would feel anger at any man who hurt her. Of course she held responsibility for the events, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t biased. “I’m sorry it ended like that between you two.”

“Like I said, it wasn’t going to work between us,” she said sadly, ignoring the look of protest from her father. “Things were rocky that last year. It only sped up the inevitable.” Mav didn’t even try to fight Barbara on her words. It would only end badly and so far they were having a good heart to heart.

“Have you and Rooster got to talking?” He had noticed in the morning after briefing they were quick to get past each other without a word. It made him wonder if they had finally spoken at some point in the day.

“Yeah, twice we did,” she told him, making him nod, slightly relieved but still worried by the expression on her face. “First time it was to accuse me if I knew you were gonna be the instructor. Didn’t end well,” she grimaced, causing him to do the same. “Then he caught me before we did our run. To call a….somewhat civil truce is what you can say.”

This made the pilot raise his brow, “a truce?”

“For the sake of the team and the mission,” Barb began to explain, licking her lip in the process. “We’re gonna do our best to work together and act like adults who can get the job done. We both know it wouldn’t do anyone any good if we were always butting heads. It would cost someone their life. Let me be clear, I'm not confident it will work, but it’s for the team.”

Maverick wholeheartedly agreed with Barbara. It’s mostly why he had wanted to talk to her. He too, wanted to settle differences—even if it were a short time—to make sure they could work together. “That’s good. That’s really good to hear,” he gave a small smile. “I’m happy for you two—to-to come to an understanding. It will do good for the team and hopefully make things easier these next few weeks.”

Barbara all but gave a look that read, ‘your optimism humors me.’ She reached over to grab her ice water that was on the other end of the table, lightly laughing as she said, “yeah, we’ll see about that. I told him he should take his own advice. But knowing his stubborn ass I doubt it.” He knew she was referring to him by the look on her face when she glanced at him. Maverick felt his smile fall back into a frown.

“Can I ask you something?” she suddenly asked, making him straighten up. “And can you promise to tell me the truth?”

“Anything,” he said without hesitation.

She contemplated for a moment before finally saying, “There’s a reason you’re having us master dogfighting as a team before telling us the details of this mission. Why is that?”

Mav’s blood runs cold. Fuck he should’ve known she’d see through him. It’s not common for squadrons to go back to the basics before knowing the extent of the task at hand. It always amazed Maverick how well Barbara could read into things..but at this moment he sorta despised it.

“It’s good practice” He offers, trying to make a joke but it comes out more of a question. Barb’s head drops a bit as if to say, ‘you think I was born yesterday?’ He looks away, knowing he shouldn’t be telling her anything. “This—this isn’t like what you’ve faced before, Barbara. None of you have pulled off something to the level they are asking of. I can’t tell you the details just yet—I-I—.”

“It’s a suicide mission, is what you’re trying to say,” she cuts him off abruptly, the words he was about to say dissapearing. “You know, deep down, that someone won’t come home from this.” His silence is enough of an answer. She feels the air catch in her throat, coming to terms with the realization. “Well that sure turns the tables.”

At her expression Maverick is quick to assure her that he’s going to do everything in his power to make sure the team is ready. But it’s not the over looming thought of death that has Barbara worrying her. It’s the thought it could be the very reason Maverick won’t choose her for the team—even if she is the best option. That has fear, worry, and slight anger pooling in the woman’s veins.

“Don’t wash me out,” she tells him, determination in her gaze that’s so powerful it gives him chills. “Don’t wash me out, Pete. Or I swear to God I’ll never forgive you.”

Understanding what she was implying, the same way Rooster had when they spoke that morning, Pete nods and repeats the same words he did from earlier in the day, “That’ll be up to you, Barbara. Not me. I promise you.”

The next morning was the same drill, but the teams from the day before were switched. Barbara was paired with Phoenix and Bob this time around and although they ended up losing to Maverick—making the score now 1-1 for father and daughter—it still was a long dogfight. They worked great as a team, as Maverick had complimented them after successfully locking on Barbara. She couldn’t even be mad by that point because she knew they had tired the man out. That in itself was an accomplishment.

“We make a good team, us three,” she heaves to catch her breath once Hondo calls out their 200th push up. Sweat was cascading down her face and neck, making her black undershirt damp.

Phoenix and Bob—who were also panting and red faced—nodded in agreement. “Damn that was intense,” Phoenix said, “but at least we lasted longer than yesterday.” The two high five, making Barbara laugh.

“What exactly did you do up there?” Bob asks as they head towards the locker rooms to wash the sweat and muck off them. They had stopped in the lounge to get bottles of water first and downed them in a heartbeat. Finishing the last drop, Barbara wipes her chin with a smirk.

“Oh just something an old friend taught me once.” By friend she ment Iceman. “I’ll show you up there next time—it’s a little hard to explain.”

“Fair enough,” he smiled. The three parted ways with Bob entering the male locker room while Phoenix and Leacy went to the female one. When they all finished they got dressed in their flight suits and met up in the lounge. At first sight Barbara noticed Hangman and Rooster were the only two missing.

As she took a seat on one of the couches, Hangman’s voice came through the speaker, “So, Rooster, mind if I ask you a personal question?”

‘Oh here we go,’ she thought to herself, adjusting herself on the couch so her body was turned to face the radio and pulled her legs onto the cushions. “Would it matter if I did?” Rooster replied with annoyance.

Hangman wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity, “So what’s the story with you and Maverick—-I mean other than the fact he was your father-in-law at one point,” Barbara felt her fist tighten, aware of the looks some of the aviators were giving her. “It seems like he’s got you rattled.”

“It’s none of your business,” he tells him sternly, and Barbara becoming relieved he wasn’t going to say anything. The last thing Rooster needed was Jake having something else to use against him. “Now where the hell is he?”

“Been here the whole time,” Maverick’s voice rings out, full of smugness. It was followed by Hangman going, “Hooooly shit,” indicating Maverick pulled some kind of trick.

“You see me now? Come on, let’s get it over with.” Ears perking up, Barbara raises from the couch to get closer. There was something about her fathers tone that sent anxiety through her.

“Fight’s on!” Rooster shouted, making the first move of their dogfight. She could only imagine the look on Hangman’s face at whatever the hell they were doing when he said, “What is with these two?”

A few seconds go by before Mav is saying, “All right, you put us here. How you gonna get yourself out?”

“You can bail out anytime.” Rooster clips back, refusing to relent.

“How low you want to go, Rooster?”

“I can go as low as you, sir! And that’s saying something.” Barbara’s heart picks up in pace, Phoenix turning to her with a worried look. None of them could see what was going on. From the sound of it, Mav and Rooster were in some kind of contest.

“What’s past is past,” Maverick tells him sternly, trying to get through to the pilot. “For all of us.” Barbara tensed, feeling it was not just Rooster and his problems he was referring to.

“You’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you,” Rooster’s reply had Barbara cursing under her breath. She was right to believe he wouldn’t let up on his resentment.

“Hard deck is five-thousand-feet, fellas. You are running out of room,” Even Hangman sounded worried which brought on another rush of anxiety in the woman. The others tensed up around her when Maverick said, “Your strategy is about to run us into the ground. What’s your move?”

“These fucking idiots are going to get themselves killed,” Barbara slapped her hand on the table, startling the other pilots. They knew better than to question the woman, aware she had an inkling on what was going on in the air. After all, it was her father and ex-husband.

They must’ve got their head out of their ass because Mav was encouraging Rooster seconds later, “Alright you got it. Don’t think, just do.” It wasn’t rocket science to assume Rooster got behind Mav and was tailing him.

Everyone was on the edge of their seats when Hangman shouted, “Come on, Rooster, you got him! Drop down and take the shot!” It was something to hear the egotistical pilot who always wanted to be the star tell Rooster to take his chance.

“Come on, Bradley,” Barbara muttered, ignoring how Phoenix and Bob both snuck a glance at her. Though she was beyond furious at the two for putting their lives on the line in a damn training exercise, the aviator couldn’t help but slightly cheer Rooster on.

“It’s too low,” he said, causing her head to drop between her shoulders as the disappointment rose. He lost his chance. She was already pushing off the chair and walking out the door, making everyone turn in confusion before they heard Maverick say, “Too late, you had your chance.” Five seconds later came his voice again, “That’s a kill. Knock it off.”

“Damn it,” Rooster cursed while Hangman sighed, “Same old Rooster.”

When the end of the day approached and Rooster was doing his pushups, despite Hondo saying it was okay to stop, Phoenix confronted him. Barbara was nowhere to be found, having left earlier without a word.

“I’m going on this mission,” she spoke with determination, crouching beside him. “But if you get kicked out, you leave us flying with Hangman.” It was no question she’d rather fly with Barbara than Hangman. Phoenix was only telling Rooster to emphasize her point and get it through his head he was acting irrational.

“He pulled my papers,” Rooster tells her, coming to a sitting position on the tarmac. Her expression turned to one of surprise as, “What? Who?”

“Maverick,” his jaw tightens, looking at the ground before lifting his head. “He pulled my application to the Naval Academy. Set me back four years.”

The female aviator couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Is this what Barbara had kept from him? If it was, she could understand his anger for she herself would feel betrayed. Even if it was her father. “Why would he do that?” When he said he didn’t know, Natasha bit her lip before asking, “Did Barbara know?”

“Not in the beginning,” she felt shoulders drop in relief. But the question still remained. What would Barbara not tell him? Rooster then started to explain, “she didn’t know what he did when we reconnected. They were estranged at that time and I believed her. But then when I was deployed three years ago she got him to tell her why,” Rooster makes a face, feeling the familiar emotions within him rise. “Wouldn’t tell me when I confronted her.”

Phoenix processed the information, thinking back to the conversation she and Barbara had the previous morning. There had to be something missing—something important for Barbara to keep information as big as that from Rooster. “That’s why you left,” she says softly, watching him take a sharp breath.

“She left too, Nat” he points out, venom in his tone. “She filed for divorce, called her Godfather—which by the way happens to be Iceman,” the look on her face would’ve made him laugh, but Rooster was too heated at that moment. “And left.”

“Well you didn’t help by ignoring her for a whole month,” she glares, watching the shame and regret taking over his expression. Phoenix looks away briefly, debating on whether or not to make it known the reason why Barb filed so quickly. And although she was upset with both of them with their actions, the aviator felt there was a piece of it not adding up. “She thinks you cheated, Rooster.”

Immediately his head snapped to her in shock, making it clear to Phoenix he didn’t know what she was talking about. He confirmed it when he said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Barbara went to your work the day before you were served,” she began, drawing confusion from Rooster. “She saw what she believed was you about to shack up with another girl—if you hadn’t already. Said you looked pretty happy with the attention you were getting.” The memory must’ve dawned on him because Rooster’s shoulders dropped, shame once again filling him. Phoenix raised a brow, harshness in her tone when she accused, “Did you fucking cheat, Bradshaw.”

“No!” His reaction was instant, clearly offended by the assumption. “I never cheated, Phoenix!”

“Then what the fuck were you doing?!”

He brought a hand to his forehead, letting it fall to his chin as he shook his head. “I wasn’t in the right headspace—I’ll admit that. And I was angry with her for not telling me, I felt betrayed.” He thought back to the day before the papers came. Rooster knew exactly who Barbara must’ve seen. It was one of the female officers who worked in the tower who often tried to flirt with Rooster but he never entertained. That day he didn’t know what came over him, but he ended up talking to her. It shamed him that he allowed himself to even think of possibly getting involved with someone else while married. Rooster never followed through of course, and realized his mistake when the woman tried to kiss him.

“We flirted. That was it,” he told Phoenix, pleading with her to see the truth in his eyes. “Nothing happened and I rejected her when she tried to make a move. I mean it, Nat.” At first she was silent, making him feel unease that she didn’t believe him. When she nods he sighs in relief.

“Look I believe you,” Phoenix replies, stretching up to stand. “But It’s not me you need to tell that too.” When she goes to leave, Rooster stays still, not needing to ask who she was referring to. The sun had started to set, the others were taking their leave, and Maverick had been called to Cyclone’s office the second they landed. Surely in for a chewing after the days antics.

After a few moments to himself to watch the sunset, Rooster finally gets up to retire his stuff in the locker room. He didn’t bother showering, saving it for when he got back to the dorm he was temporarily staying in. All he wanted to do though was get in bed and sleep himself away.

“What the fuck was that today, Bradshaw!?” Barbara’s enraged shouted across the parking lot. He had just thrown his back in the bed of his Bronco when he caught sight of her hightailing in his direction. There was pure fury in her eyes, enought to make him freeze in his tracks. “You think this is some kind of game? You two could’ve gotten yourselves killed up there!”

Instead of answering her question, Rooster had another thing on his mind. “Why didn’t you tell me,” he put his hands on his hips when she marched up to him.

She scoffed in response, “God, not this again.” Anger rose, but Rooster pushed it away and said, “I’m not talking about that, Barbara. I’m talking about you thinking I cheated.”

“I-what?” She spits out with wide eyes, realization dawning on her. It made her curse, “Did Natasha tell you?” It was a rhetoric question, Phoenix was the only one besides Ice who knew—and Rooster never talked to him—so it had to have been her.

Rooster makes a sound, emotion getting to him. “That’s not important. What’s important is you jumped to conclusions instead of talking to me and look what happened.” He drops his arms to his sides, narrowing his eyes. “You just went off on an assumption instead of letting me explain!”

That was rash coming from considering he didn’t let Barbara explain why she kept the truth from him. It was like the pot calling the kettle black. “What are you saying,” she steps back, as if she it was hard to believe what he was implying. She knew what she saw that day—It was her husband enjoying the attention, maybe even giving it as well, to another woman other than her.

“That I didn’t fucking cheat on you!” He exclaims with his arms out. She doesn’t flinch when he yells, instead she steps closer—pressing her chest to his stomach. The action suprises him, body tensing at the contact. Rooster had to fight against the memories it was bringing up.

“But you thought about it, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. More like a fact. And it had his blood run cold. Like Rooster, Barbara could read through him when he was hiding something. This was just another example. And he couldn’t escape from it even if he tried.

When he doesn’t answer, she chuckles, the sound thick with sarcasm. Barbara even brings her finger up to tap his chest, the same way that woman did the day she ended their marriage. “Funny how even after all these years, you can’t fool me, Bradshaw.” The smirk on her face drops to a scowl, “Just like I can’t fool you.” With one last tap to his chest, Barbara pulls away and mounts her bike which just so happened to be parked next to the Bronco. The engine sparks to life before she’s kicking the stand up and leaving him in the dark.

Rooster is left on his own, the man’s face nearly red with anger and regret as he watches his ex-wife haul ass toward the base gate. All he could do was shake his head, slamming the car door of the Bronco when he gets in and slapping the steering wheel in frustration.

How the fuck were they gonna be civil for the next 20 days?

……………………………

Tag list: @multiple-fandoms-girl, @maverick-wingman, @sgt-huntersupremacy, @the-winter-marvel33, @justanothermagicalsara, @calicokel

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rina-writes · 2 years

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Hi Rina, how you doing?

First, I just wanted to say that I'm in love with your stories. I'm not even Jack's biggest fan (meaning, I didn't know much about him), but your stories are all I've been able to read for the past couple of days (and listening to his music in the process).

I know you don't take requests, and as a writer myself I totally understand your reasons. But a line in one of your stories got me thinking about a very specific scenario (I can't remember which one right now. Like I said, I read all your Jack stories in the past two days). It was something about Jack being very strict about condoms, because he was scared he'd get a girl pregnant. So I was thinking maybe a angsty to fluffly (maybe smutty) scenario where the reader finds out she's pregnant and is scared of his reaction to the news?

Please, feel free to answer even if you don't like the idea. I really really do understand your reasons for not taking requests.

Hope you have a lovely day!

Hi!! Sorry this took so long to respond. Life happened while I was editing and it took me longer to get out than I intended. Firstly, thank you for reading my stuff and saying such kind words ♥ It's always an honor when someone outside of a fandom is slowly introduced through your work.

Honestly, I say that a lot in my fics because I thought it was a really funny snippet from his GQ interview last year. However, listening to the album, I think he's let go of that a bit :P. That being said, I love the concept and I want to do a little blurb for it. I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Fem!reader, pregnant!reader, mentions of breeding kink, references to ab-rtion, mentions of infertility, smut (pregnant sex, breast/nipple play, unprotected sex), angsty in the beginning, 18+

Miracle

Shallow breaths escaped your lips as you sat on the bathroom floor. The tile felt ice cold against your burning, sticky skin. A thin layer of sweat had settled across your body after spending hours in the room. You were surrounded by ripped cardboard boxes, folded slips of paper scrawled with instructions, and lots of toilet paper that you had scrunched up into balls to use as tissues. On the bathroom counter was a line of six pregnancy tests. The only things in the room that were perfectly straight and aligned. Each one of them slightly stuck out over the side so you could see the metal tip at the end from your crouched position on the floor. It was like they were mocking you. The image of their status was burned into your brain. You didn’t have to stand to look at them to see the result anymore. Pregnant. You were pregnant.

You balled your hands into fists as you held them at your side, afraid to touch your own body. Although you knew it was in your head, you felt like you could feel your stomach growing and something, or someone, moving inside. The thought made you nauseous and you bent over the toilet to dry heave into it. You had already thrown up everything in your stomach earlier in the day so, there was nothing left. But, the clenching of your stomach numbed the dread in your chest that could no longer be soothed by crying. It was like your body was trying to tell you that you were all out of coping mechanisms. You were also out of tests and slowly running out of time. Jack would be back any minute and you would have to tell him the news.

The thought sent a panic through you that allowed you to jump to your feet. You grabbed the paper shopping bag and shoved all of the tests and discarded boxes in there to hide the evidence. You tossed all the toilet paper into the toilet and flushed. Crunching the bag’s top to seal it, you dropped it behind the bathroom door before turning to the sink to wash your hands. You couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t explain why you felt ashamed. It wasn’t like you were the only one at fault.

In the beginning of your relationship and Jack’s career, Jack was very particular about using condoms. He was terrified of either of your lives being put off course because of family planning. Then, like many high school sweethearts, you two broke up. When you two reunited a couple years later, Jack had a more lax attitude around protection. As long as you both were exclusive and you were on birth control, Jack was okay with forgoing the piece of rubber. The fact that you had a condition that made it difficult for you to get pregnant only seemed to be the icing on the cake.

But somehow, the 0.03% chance of getting pregnant was your current reality. Maybe you should run out and buy a lottery ticket with this luck. You might need a boost after your boyfriend inevitably left you.

You heard the sound of the front door opening and you became incredibly still. Your eyes darted to the shopping bag, unsure of what to do with it. You knew you had to tell Jack, but you were were terrified of losing him. Things were finally starting to get good. He was talking about going public with your relationship and having you join him on radio interviews. Urban had even let it slip that Jack was thinking of asking you to move in with him. This was an offer you welcomed because you currently lived with two roomates in a two-bedroom apartment converted into three with the help of a plexi wall.

Your world was crumbling. Now was the time you were going to need Jack the most and he was going to leave you.

“Babe?” Jack’s deep voice moved through the hotel room. As usual, when Jack visited your city, you stayed with him while he was here. It was always more luxurious than your place and Jack enjoyed having you around.

You tossed the paper bag into the shower just as Jack opened the door. His sky blue eyes were wide and then slowly narrowed as he observed the surroundings. You wondered if the room smelled disgusting: like your sweat or your vomit or your fear. You couldn’t really tell after spending over two hours in the space. Jack’s large pale hand reached out to grab you and pull you to him. He felt so wide and strong as he wrapped his arms tightly around your shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. His soft cotton clothes made you more aware of how hot and sticky you felt in comparison to the cool, dry feeling of him pressed against you. You wanted to relish in this moment, but seeing Jack made you more scared.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” Jack asked, “You look like you’ve been crying. Did something happen?”

You shook your head quickly before you could stop yourself. Your brain searched for an excuse, any excuse. You needed to buy some time.

“I just haven’t been feeling well.” You told him.

Jack pulled back and looked at you through his long, brown lashes. “I heard you throwing up this morning. Was it something we ate last night? You had the fish, didn’t you?”

“Maybe…” You said, staring at his straight nose instead of his eyes. It was easier to lie if you didn’t make eye contact.

“Well,” Jack pulled you close to him again. “I’m back and here for the rest of the night., I can take care of you.”

You held Jack tighter, knowing that if you pulled away the smile you were trying to muster would turn into a sob again. Apparently, your tears weren’t completely done after all. They were very thrilled to make an appearance with the new audience. What’s worse was that your brain was preparing to say goodbye. It was memorizing the strong, but sweet cologne that he spritzed on each morning, the feeling of his taut muscles straining against one of his signature cotton white t-shirts, and the way his trimmed nails raked effortlessly through the hair at your temple, massaging the area because he knew it soothed you. It made this hurt so much more.

“What do you say to a bath?” Jack suggested. “I can run you a nice hot bath. I think I saw some bath salts somewhere…”

Your heart lurched into your throat. You shook your head, pulling back to meet Jack’s confused expression. He was already in motion to pull back the shower curtain so, you broke free of his grasp. Just as he pulled it back, you used your previously non-existent ninja skills to grab the bag in one motion.

“Whoa, what’s all that?” He said, referring the bulge in the bag thanks to your sloppy job of putting everything inside.

“Just some medicine I picked up at the drugstore.” You lied.

Jack quirked a brow. “Why did you put it in the tub?”

You bit your lip and half shrugged. You clutched the bag tightly to your torso as if afraid he would take it. You pushed past him, walking backwards in order to watch him as you spoke. “I forgot.”

“Y/n…” Jack turned to face you as you darted from the bathroom into the bedroom. “...why do I feel like I’m missing something.”

Jack walked closer to you as you stood on the other side of the bed. He ran a hand through his brown curls, freshly cut for a recent magazine spread, and he ruffled them slightly as though forgetting their short length.

“It’s just…” You fumbled with the words. “...sorry, I need to call my mom.”

You explained, grabbing your phone off the night stand and running with the bag. You pushed past Jack, this time forcing him to move out of the way to let you pass.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Jack asked. “Did I do something? Please talk to me…”

Jack said, trying to close the distance between you. You ran into the living room/office area as you fumbled with your phone to make the call.

“I just need a moment, Jack!” You barked back, hating the anger in your voice. You weren’t mad at him. At least, not yet. Right now, he was still your sweet, caring boyfriend. He didn’t deserve your snapping. Fear and anger were so closely linked and you knew it was the terror of losing your boyfriend that was putting you on edge.

Jack was taken aback by your tone. You never spoke to him like that. You had a stern voice, but you never yelled. He almost didn’t recognize it as your voice. It stopped Jack in his tracks and he stared at the ground. A mix of worry and embarrassment settled in his stomach. Similar to the feeling of getting scolded by a parent at school. With his eyes trained on the floor, he was staring at the carpet in front of you. You were still struggling to make the call, a sign that you were nervous.

Jack frowned as he saw the blue and white wand on the floor. He had seen enough movies to recognize it immediately, but the shock made me him walk toward it slowly in disbelief. He reached down and picked up the pregnancy test, his lips going dry. He looked at you, but your back was turned to him, holding the open paper bag, with your ear glued to your phone.

“Y/n…” Jack’s voice was low, making you turn toward him slowly.

He was staring down at the test unblinkingly. It was one of those tests that didn’t do the lines. Instead, it told you in plain English - Pregnant. No pink lines. No misconception. No confusion. Just pregnant. You looked at the bag, confused as to how one of them slipped, but then you noticed a small hole. You closed your eyes, your phone dropping from your ear.

“Jack…” You said softly, tears welding in your eyes.

Jack’s eyes were dark when they met yours again. It was like he was looking through you. It was worse than you had feared. You didn’t want to close the distance between you two, something you had grown accustom to craving these past couple of years. For the first time ever, you wanted to be far away from him.

“You’re pregnant?” Jack asked you.

You nodded. You turned the bag upside down and dumped the contents. Jack’s eyes stared at each of the items littering on the floor. Even though there was no way he could read each test from where he stood, the message was clear. You were sure. You were pregnant.

“I thought you couldn’t get pregnant.” Jack’s voice was so measured that one would think he was emotionless, but you knew it was because he was angry. “And you were on the pill.”

“Low chance.” You reminded him. “0.03% chance. I was also off the pill for a little bit two months ago because of an insurance problem. It was only a couple weeks and I was back on by the time we hooked up when you came to visit. I didn’t think…”

“You’re right, you didn’t f-cking think.” Jack said, his pink mouth tightening in frustration. “You didn’t think you could have clued me in on that before we went raw?”

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “Look I’m not the one with a breeding kink. You were the one that came back into this relationship with this sudden desire to fill me up.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Come on, Y/n! That’s dirty talk.” He threw his hands in the air. “I also call you my little slut, it doesn’t mean I actually think that.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears and sniffled to force them back. You shrugged, hugging yourself. “What do you want me to say, Jack? I’m not exactly thrilled about gaining 30+ pounds and pushing an infant out of my vagina. But, here we are.”

“So you’re keeping it then?” Jack asked, the disappointment and judgment in his voice impossible to ignore.

You were silent for a few moments. While you knew that Jack was the first person you should tell about this, you wished you had asked your mother or best friend about it beforehand. You had yet to sort out your own feelings about this and, yet, you were already on the defensive.

“Yes…maybe…I don’t know.” You frowned, staring at the ground. “I accepted the fact that I would never have children. I don’t want to regret this years from now if this turns out to be my only chance.”

Jack’s lips flattened as he processed what you were saying. He couldn’t tell you what to do with your body. Especially, not with an explanation like that. Jack did want kids one day. He did want to have them with you. But now was not a good time. He was about to embark on his largest and longest international tour to date. There were legends in the business signing up to collaborate with him on their and his next projects. There were days where Jack didn’t remember to eat. How could he take care of a child?

“This isn’t a good time for me, Y/n.” Jack told you, honestly. “I don’t think I can raise a child right now.”

Your eyes fell shut as the tears fell down your cheeks. Droplets dampened your socks as your head was still tilted forward to face the ground. You already knew this. It wasn’t supposed to hurt so hard because you were prepared for this. But somehow, it still felt like your heart was being ripped out and stomped on in front of you.

Jack took a step closer. “I’m happy to help you financially, Y/n, but I don’t think I have the ability to be good father right now.”

You looked up at Jack with wide eyes. You didn’t think Jack would be this upfront about the next steps. You at least thought he would try to make it work. You weren’t even showing yet and he was already backing out. You frowned at him, shaking your head.

“I don’t need a baby daddy right now, Jack.” Your lips trembled and you struggled to keep your voice from wavering. “I needed my boyfriend. I’m terrified, right now. Just as much, if not more, than you are. You haven’t even touched me since you found out I’m pregnant.”

Jack’s blue gaze softened as he attempted to close the distance, but you stepped back to widen it once more. His arms remained glued to his sides. He let out a sigh before biting his lip looking at you. “This is a lot right now. Maybe we should just sit down and talk for a bit.”

Jack gestured to the couch as he slowly lowered on to it. You shook your head. You needed to clear your head. Still clutching the empty bag to your torso, you slipped your phone in your pocket as you walked over to the coffee table. You grabbed your keys and marched to the door to slip on your shoes.

Jack jumped to his feet as he realized you were leaving. “Don’t do anything stupid, Y/n.”

“I already did.” You said, pulling back the door and running out.

You ran to get an elevator and jammed the close elevator door button with your thumb repeatedly. You figured Jack could be following you and wanted to ensure there was enough distance that he wouldn’t catch up. Luckily, you had driven your own car to the hotel and the valet was quick to bring it to you.

The cold air stung your skin as the wind whipped at you. The sky had turned to a bluish gray hue with thick clouds warning of rain. You wrapped your arms around your chest, feeling the shivers creating goosebumps against your skin. You had emerged only in your pajamas and sneakers. You had your keys and your phone in your possession. Oh and the empty paper bag that you had balled into your fist on the elevator ride down. You left your charger and your suitcase in the hotel room, lost in the fury of your escape. Luckily, your credit cards and ID were in your phone case so, you didn’t have to go back. Since you were driving to your parents house, you knew you would be able to get clothes, a charger, and whatever other toiletries you would need. Most importantly, you would get the sympathy that you were craving.

The valet pulled your sedan from the garage. You smiled sweetly, unable to tip, but the person didn’t seem to mind. You sat in the car and took a deep breath. You buckled your seatbelt as you glanced in your rearview mirror. You swore you could see the familiar curly brown locks darting around the lobby. Adrenaline pumped through your veins, your foot pressed the gas before your brain could process if it was really Jack. It was so quick, you wouldn’t be surprised if your car did the cartoonish smoke with skidmarks across the pavement.

There was a blanket of security that enveloped you as you slowed your car to a reasonable speed. Your car obeyed your commands. Your nose filled with the familiar scent of your air freshener. You knew where your emergency lip balm was and your trusty water bottle was half full and chilled from a night in the garage. Being in your car was something familiar in a day full of uncertainty.

Seeing how well Jack’s reaction went over, you decided to call your mother in advance to tell her what was going on. You told your phone to call “Mom” and it connected to your bluetooth as it rang.

“Hi honey!” Your mother’s voice rang into the car. “I think I missed your call earlier. I called you back, but you didn’t pick up. Everything alright?”

Tears welded in your eyes. You tried to blink them away, afraid of obscuring your vision on the highway. You were a two hour drive a way from your childhood home and it had begun to drizzle. You needed to keep a level head to get there safely. To get you and your baby there safely.

“Mom,” Your voice broke despite your best attempts to keep it strong. “I’m pregnant.”

“W-What?” Your mother’s voice was breathless as if she was underwater.

“I’m going to have a baby, Mom. I’m pregnant.” You said again. The words sounded so foreign to your ears. You had to yet say the sentence out loud and it felt so much more real.

“B-But, how? I thought your ovaries --”

You nodded although she couldn’t see you. “I know, I know.” You let out a dry laugh. “0.03% chance. What a miracle.”

“I’m so happy for you, honey.” You suddenly realized your mother was crying, with happiness. “Congratulations. How has Jack taken the news?”

“Uhm, Mom? This isn’t exactly a happy occasion.” You let out a shaky breath. “I’m 24, unmarried, and secretly dating a superstar who is not interested in becoming a parent. This is not something to be celebrated.”

“Oh honey, I had you when I was 26.” She made a dismissal noise. “Jack will come around. He’s just a little scared. Everyone gets scared. But you really do have a little miracle. You should be careful though too much straining --”

“Mom, you’re not listening.” You argued. “Jack straight up told me he doesn’t want to be a father. That he will financially support me, but that’s it. We’re over.”

There was a beat of silence before your mother asked. “Did Jack say it was over?”

“No…”

“Did you say it was over?”

“No…”

“Well, then it isn’t over.”

Your mother said it so confidently you almost believed her. Until you remembered that she didn’t see Jack’s expression -- the dark blue voids that seemed to stare at you like a bug on the wall. If she saw that, she wouldn’t dare tell you that there was still a chance. With that realization, you felt your heart breaking and suddenly, you were now extremely invested in the heart growing inside of you. Maybe you would keep the baby after all.

Four months later

As you rubbed your rounded belly, you stared in the full-length mirror of your childhood bedroom. You knew moving back home was a good idea. Your mother was taking care of you much better than your roommates could. But, sitting in your room still marked with the joys of your teenage years made you feel like a cast member on 16 & Pregnant. Even with your new remote work setup, thanks to your job being understanding about your move, it still didn’t feel like the room of an adult. You were in a time capsule of your youth as you prepared to bring a new life into the world. It made you feel even less prepared and more bitter that you were doing this as a single parent.

As much as you hated that you still kept track, you knew it had been exactly four months since you last spoke to Jack. It would be unfair to make it sound like Jack didn’t try to reach out. He called you and texted you multiple times in the first few days after you left. When you didn’t respond, he mailed your stuff along with a hand-written apology. You had scanned it, disappointed to not find anything that implied he was going to be more than a financial support to his child. You threw it away immediately and sobbed until you couldn’t breathe. It was at that point that you decided that Jack meant nothing to you.

Or as close to nothing as you could feel for someone you still loved.

You walked over to your closet to put on a fresh top. Your stomach wasn’t super big, but it was obvious you were pregnant. Your breasts had swelled as well which made all your current bras uncomfortable. Since you were usually home, you had decided to no longer wear them. You chose a collared floral top that cinched above your waist. It added a bit of bust support without squeezing the top of your stomach. You put on some black leggings and then marched out of your room in your slippers.

As you walked down the steps, you could hear your mother talking to someone. The voice sounded female which meant it wasn’t your father, who should be at work right now anyway. The moment you saw the long, dark brown curly hair, your breath hitched.

You misstepped and slid down the steps, your butt hitting each one on the way down. Your mother’s footsteps thundered toward you as more timid ones quickly followed. You had a hand protectively on your stomach while the other rested on your back.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Your mother asked, with concern. “You should be careful.”

Your mother was worried that you were going to lose your “miracle baby”, as she kept calling it. Your doctor had assured you that you had a healthy pregnancy. You could continue working and engage in light exercise. But, your mother still doted on you worriedly.

“I”m okay, I just slipped.” Your eyes met the light blue eyes of the other guest in the house who stared at you sympathetically. “Good morning, Mrs. Harlow.”

“Hi, Y/n…” She said, “Sorry to intrude like this. I just--”

“I know.” You said, standing up with your mother helping you. You didn’t actually need the assistance. But you didn’t mind it. “I assume you wanted to see about the baby. Well, it’s real.”

“I can see that.” Jack’s mother commented. “You look beautiful, Y/n. Your skin is glowing.”

You smiled softly. Your best friend had teasingly told you to get on dating apps because of how radiant you looked these days. Your hair was fuller, your skin was brighter, and men at the grocery store seemed to be entranced by the extra oomph in your chest. However, you weren’t interested in anyone else right now. You just wanted to meet your baby.

“Thank you.” You smiled wider. “I feel good. We still have awhile to go.”

Jack’s mother looked at yours. Your mother gave Mrs. Harlow an encouraging nod and you frowned. You could tell something was going on, but you couldn’t predict what it could be.

“Jack is outside.” She explained, finally. “He wanted to see you, but he was afraid you wouldn’t let him in if he came alone.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. You didn’t think that Jack would ever show up. And if he was going to send a representative in first, you would have predicted Urban or Neelam before his mother. Your heart clenched knowing that it took a lot of pride for Jack to ask his mother for help. He was so self-sufficient, that he hated admitting that he was over his head. He had to pretty desperate to ask his mother for help.

You felt self-conscious, covering your stomach with your hands. Your body was very different from the last time Jack saw you. Everyone saw the beautiful changes, but there were new stretchmarks and blemishes that had appeared as well. You worried that your face looked fuller than usual and that your occasional breakouts had ruined your complexion. You knew it was stupid to be embarrassed by these things, but you couldn’t help that you were. Just as much as you couldn’t help the fact that your heart fluttered at the thought of seeing Jack again.

“He can come in.” You said, walking toward the living room. “I’ll sit on the couch.”

“Thank you, Y/n.” Jack’s mother said. She motioned to walk to the door, but turned and walked to you first. Standing in front of you, her expression hardened. “I’m so sorry about how Jack treated you. I know I can’t take it away. The hurt that you must have felt nor the betrayal. But just know that I gave him hell and still do every day since he told me. You’re a strong woman, Y/n. However you decide to move forward, know you have my full support. As your friend and the grandmother of your baby.”

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffled loudly. “Thank you so much!” You wiped the fallen tears with the back of your hand. “Sorry, hormones. But, thank you.”

“Do not apologize, love.” Jack’s mother looked like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She walked toward the front door, slowly becoming out of your view.

You squeezed your thighs as you waited. There was a lump in your throat that seemed to get bigger when you heard heavy footsteps enter through your door. As much as you willed yourself to look straight ahead, you couldn’t help, but turn when Jack’s tall frame came into your view. His hair was a little longer than last time you saw him and his light brown beard had been shaped up recently. He was wearing one of his sweat suits, a white and blue one that you always loved him in. You knew that was on purpose. He was holding a bouquet of flowers that was comically large. It was also gorgeous.

Jack pulled his hood down as he searched for you. You stood up slowly as his eyes traced you from your head to your toes and then back up again. You shifted uncomfortably.

“Y/n, you look…”

You turned away from him. “If you say I look fat, I’ll slap you.”

Jack chuckled and walked closer to you. “I was going to say beautiful. But I think I deserve a few slaps anyway.”

You turned to look at him, not expecting the soft, sheepish stare of his clear blue eyes. They were so different from the cold, sapphire pools that you saw four months ago. Jack handed you the flowers and you accepted them, sitting back down on the couch. You were grateful that he gave you something to do with your hands. Instinct made you want to wrap you arms around him, but your heart was still too angry.

Jack sat on the couch as well, leaving the seat in the middle open so you could face each other and talk comfortably. You put the flowers there to create an actual divider between you two. There was a silence as Jack admired you. His eyes didn’t leave your stomach. You were used to it from strangers, but it felt weird to have Jack staring at you like this.

“My eyes are up here…” You joked, usually telling him something similar when he stared at your chest.

The apples of Jack’s cheeks tinted red making you laugh, despite yourself. Blushing Jack always reminded you of the first phase of your relationship -- when Jack wasn’t super famous yet outside of Kentucky and his hair was still long. He was shy when talking to girls he liked, no matter how much he tried to play it off. Nowadays, Jack had more confidence and bravado. But, the blushing boy was still buried inside of him, apparently.

“Y/n,” Jack’s voice came out hoarse and he cleared his throat. “I am so sorry. I have been such a coward these past few months.”

“No kidding.” You said, rolling your eyes as you folded your arms.

Jack hung his head as he nodded, “I was so worried about my world crashing because I wouldn’t be able to commit to you and our child. But, without you, I already feel like everything is so messed up. I told myself that once we got back together, I would never let you walk out again. To think when you needed me most, I turned my back on you makes me sick. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. So, I want to make it better.”

Tears stung your eyes and you sighed. You had dreamed of hearing these words from Jack’s lips. This was the apology you wanted in that letter all those months ago. Except, now you needed more than just kind words. Jack was great with words. His entire career was built around saying the right thing. You learned the hard way that Jack’s actions didn’t always match what he promised.

You frowned as you turned toward Jack to see him fiddling with something in his pocket. He pulled out a black,velvet box and your eyes widened. He opened it to reveal a gorgeous ring. The diamond was incredibly large and in the shape you liked. The band was the color that always looked great on your skin tone. It looked like it should be on the hand of a movie star.

Jack shifted to get down on one knee, but you put your hand on your shoulder to stop him. The tears rolled down your cheeks. Part of you was happy, but another part of you was angry.

“Don’t do this…” You said to him, “...don’t do this if you’re just trying to make an honest woman out of me. This isn’t 1932, we don’t have be married to have a child.”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Do you really think I’m doing this out of some obligation, Y/n?” At the risk of sounding like a douche, a ring like this takes a lot longer than four months to make.”

Your mouth fell open as you felt your cheeks heat. You wiped your tears with the side of your hands and let out a small laugh as you said, “You’re right, you do sound like a douche.”

Jack’s laugh came out raspy and realized he was more nervous than you thought. He was really asking you to marry him and he was afraid you were going to say no. As he should be. But, would you?

“Well?” You asked him.

“Well, what?” He asked, confused.

“Is that all you had prepared? Over four months in the making and no speech?”

Jack’s eyes widened, but when he saw the going of humor in yours, you saw him visibly relax. Jack motioned to get down on one knee again, but you stopped him.

“For god’s sake, what now?” Jack groaned, impatiently. “I’m losing my nerve.”

You laughed. “Let’s go upstairs. I don’t want an audience.” You gestured toward the dining room that was on the other side of the hallway to the living room.

Jack turned around to see both of your mother’s doing a horrible job of pretending they weren’t watching you two. Jack shook his head and closed the box, shoving it in his pocket. He stood up and reached his hand out to help you up as well.

You took it and let Jack hold your hand as you walked up the stairs. He kept looking back at you concerned after each step.

“Is this too much for you?” He asked. “I can carry you.”

As romantic as it sounded to have Jack carry you up the stairs, you couldn’t shake the image of you two falling down the stairs like a slinky. You shook your head and smiled at him,

“This is my usual exercise.” You explained.

“You shouldn’t strain yourself.” Jack chastised you, but he didn’t push it any more.

At the top of the steps, you pointed to your bedroom and Jack walked in that direction. You had briefly forgotten that you were inviting him into your teenage bedroom until one of your many posters came into view.

“I know you like Harry Styles…” Jack commented, still squeezing your hand, “But this is a little humbling.”

You bit your lip to hide your embarrassed smile. “Humbling?”

“I’m about to propose in front of every member of One Direction” Jack squinted at one of the posters. “Wow you have a lot of posters. Several of which have Harry’s face encircled with a heart. Very humbling.”

You laughed, “Well, I hope this speech you have been preparing is better than “Little Things,” because I can’t guarantee I’ll say yes.”

Jack grinned as he got down one knee. He pretended to stop halfway through and gave you a look to check if you were going to stop him again. When you didn’t, he pulled out the ring.

“Y/n Y/l/n, you’ve been a huge part of my life over the last five years. As both a friend and a girlfriend, you have been my greatest supporter and my biggest fan. I got through some of my toughest shows thanks to you. I also was reminded to celebrate my greatest highs thanks to you. You deserve the world for everything you do for me, loved ones, and the people around you. You deserve hell of a lot more than me, but I promise to give 150% to you. You will be above everything to me.” Jack paused and smiled. “You and our family. I love you, Y/n. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You said, nodding rapidly.

Jack slipped the ring on your finger, a bit snug because of your pregnancy, but you didn’t care. It still looked gorgeous nonetheless. He scooped you in his arms and pressed a kiss your lips. You smiled into the peck and Jack chuckled.

“I can’t help, but feel like someone is getting between us.” Jack said, glancing down at your rounded stomach.

You laughed, “Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll feel our baby kick.”

Jack’s eyes lit up. He hesitated and you took his hand and pressed it against your stomach. He didn’t apply any pressure at first. He rubbed it delicately, resting his other hand on your lower back. You couldn’t deny that you imagined this moment for months: Jack’s warm hands on your swollen belly and aching back as he rubbed the fatigue away. After awhile there was a small kick. Jack’s eyes which had been trained on your stomach flicked to yours. You gave him a quick nod and he gasped.

“That was a kick?” Jack asked.

“Yup. A little one.” You explained. “The bigger ones tend to happen when I am going to bed. A night owl, just like Daddy.”

Jack chuckled, beaming. “Do we know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?”

You shook your head. “My mother wants to do a gender reveal party, no matter how much I try to talk her out of it. She thought this would never happen so, she’s going all out. There’s a baby shower too.”

“I’ll be there.” Jack said with a finality. “I don’t care what day it is, I’ll be there. And for any appointments. And anything you want to do for our wedding--”

“Jack, Jack…” You sat down on the bed and patted the space next to you for him to sit as well. “...thank you, but you don’t have to overhaul your whole life for this. Of course, you’re going to be involved, but don’t feel pressure to do all this. I don’t mind signing the marriage papers and postponing the wedding. Besides, I had a different image of how I would look in a wedding dress.”

You stared at your stomach in the mirror. You saw Jack staring at your expression in the reflection and you tried to brighten your features. Jack hated when you got down on yourself and you didn’t want to argue about your self-image. You were sensitive enough as it was.

“You really do look beautiful, Y/n.” Jack said again. “I am happy to go at your pace. If you want to wait for the wedding, we will wait. If you want me at any appointment, just put it on my calendar and I will be there. I love you and I just want to make you happy.”

“Thank you, Jack.” You leaned in and kissed him

Jack’s eyes fluttered close as he cradled your jaw with his hand and deepened the kiss. You missed how he always tasted minty fresh and the force of his tongue against yours. Your body melted as his thumb massaged your cheek while the other hand rubbed circles into your back. You truly missed the affectionate touch of your boyfriend.

“Y/n,” Jack’s voice deep and you recognized his tone immediately. “When you said you were doing light exercise on the stairs…just how much activity are you allowed?”

“Are you asking me if we can have sex, Jack?” You asked him teasingly.

Seeing his face turn red was completely worth it. Jack nodded, glancing away from you as he bit his red lips. “Yeah…”

“Yes, we can.” You said, “But we may have to figure out how we fit together with my bump in between us.”

“I’m sure I can figure it out.” Jack grinned.

You stood up and pulled down your leggings, letting them pool at your feet. You sat on the bed and kicked off your slippers and the leggings fell to the ground.. Jack helped your remove your top and his eyes widened when he saw your bare torso.

“Wow, those are new…” Jack remarked staring at your breasts.

You smiled shyly. “I…uh…haven’t found a bra to fit them quite yet.”

“I’m not surprised.” Jack bit his lip. “Do you mind if I play with them?”

“Please do…” You said in a breathy voice that would have been more embarrassing if you weren’t so needy.

Jack removed his sweatshirt and tossed it on the floor to reveal his black tank top. He had gotten a bit more toned since you last saw him and your eyes couldn’t look away his tapered waist. You licked your dry lips. He sat on the bed and motioned for you to straddle him. You did, holding on to his shoulders to steady yourself, as you pressed your knees on either side of his thighs. He pressed kisses into your neck as he gently massaged your mounds. You moaned softly, not wanting your mothers downstairs to hear you. Jack’s thumbs gently encircling your nipples didn’t help.

“Are they even more sensitive than before?” He whispered against your neck, not too far from your ear.

“Y-Yeah,” You muttered, already feeling a warmth pooling in your underwear.

“I guess I better enjoy these before little Harlow starts hogging them, huh?” Jack teased before placing one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking gently.

You covered your mouth to silence a loud moan. You could feel Jack’s facial hair tickling your breast as his tongue wrapped around your nipple. You grinded yourself gently against his hardening cock and Jack grunted before switching breasts. He used his fingers to tweak the one he was previously sucking on, to make sure your nipple stayed hard. You continued to roll your lower half against him, careful not to push your belly into his stomach.

Jack pulled back and massaged your breasts with both hands. He pressed your your tits together and buried his face in your cleavage making you giggle. His nose and beard made it tickle but his fingers still brushing against your stimulated nipples kept the pit in your core alight.

“Can I tell you something?” Jack asked, pulling back to look at you, but still massaging your breasts, “And you promise not to make fun of me?”

“I would never promise that.” You joked, “But tell me anyway.”

“Ever since you mentioned my breeding kink in our last argument, it’s kinda haunted me.” Jack sighed. “I never thought about it. No one ever said it like that either. But now, seeing you like this--”

Your mouth fell open and you saw the panic in Jack’s eyes. He was already sputtering trying to take it back, but you saw what was going on. It was too late.

“Are you even more turned on having sex with your pregnant girlfriend?”

“Pregnant fiance.” Jack corrected, meekly. “B-But, yeah…this is so hot to me.”

“Well this won’t become a habit, Jack. I’m not getting knocked up constantly just to spice things up in the bedroom.” You teased, “But after the baby is born, I’ll be happy to put on one of those pregnancy bellies if that would get your rocks off.”

Jack groaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

“I’ll even keep my old maternity clothes.” You continued to tease him. “Mhmm, I bet you like this MILF couture.”

“I’m going to lose my hard on.” Jack warned.

You pressed yourself into him, cupping your breasts in your hands over and stared Jack down. “Are you really?”

Jack’s eyes were filled with lust and you felt sexier than you had in months. You were joking with this seductive pose, but seeing how much he wanted you was a huge confidence boost. You bit your lip, continuing to give him a sultry stare.

“F-ck…” Jack shook his head. “I’m so bricked up right now. I hate you. I love you, but I hate you. F-ck you.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing here…” You joked.

Jack smirked at you. “You’re right…”

He leaned back and pulled his waist band down just enough to free himself. You stared down at his cock, unable to remember the last time you saw him this hard. He was already leaking with pre-cum and his head looked angry and red.

“I don’t have a condom.” You said.

Jack gave you a look as he stared down at your naked, rounded belly and then back at your eyes. You both chuckled. There was a lightness in the air that you hadn’t felt ina long time. Jack calmed you and you were thrilled to have him back in your life.

You raised your hips and Jack steadied you by holding onto them. You reached down and placed his tip at your entrance with one hand and twisted the crotch of you underwear to the side with the other. You sunk down on to him with a low moan. Jack grunted as he bit his lip so hard, you thought he would draw blood. You bounced on Jack lightly, trying to find a rhythm. You were worried it would take Jack a moment to adjust to your new weight, but he didn’t seem to notice. His hips lifted to meet yours effortlessly, coaxing you to come down harder and faster.

“God damn…” Jack swore under his breath. “I’m trying so hard to be quiet, princess, but you feel so good around me.”

“I missed feeling you inside me.” You confessed.

Jack reached between you two to play with your clit, making you grip his shoulders. He watched you bouncing on top of him, his eyes filled with adoration. His unwavering expression was making it hard to keep eye contact so, you closed your eyes and leaned your head back. Jack took the opportunity to suck on one of your breasts.

“If you do all of that I’m gonna come.” You groaned.

Jack let go of your breast with a pop. “It’s taking all of my willpower not to explode inside of you right now. The faster you cum, the better it is for both of us.” With that he went back to sucking on your other breast this time, taking in more of your breast in his mouth like he was actually trying to milk you.

You dug your fingernails into his shoulders as your orgasm crashed into you. You squeezed him tightly and Jack’s hands jumped to your lower back to support you. He helped you to ride through your orgasm and it wasn’t long until you felt the warm rush of his release filling you up. Jack let go of your nipple to kiss you deeply, his tongue immediately swirling yours. You swallowed each other’s moans as you held each other tightly until you both stopped shaking from pleasure.

Jack helped you lift off of him. He laid you on your back and got to work cleaning you up. He removed your underwear and got you a tissue to up the mix of your juices that settled between your folds. He got some of the baby wipes off your vanity to wipe down the thin layer of sweat that developed on your skin. He pulled on a fresh pair of underwear too.

Jack held a tub of cocoa butter over you so you could see it laying down. “Should I put this on too?”

You smiled. “I use it for my belly. It’s supposed to help the stretch marks, but honestly it just feels nice.”

Jack immediately unscrewed the top and lovingly massaged cocoa butter on your stomach and breasts. He took his time, laying soft kisses on the stretched skin. You could tell he was truly enamored with your body and not only in a lustful sense.

“You’re so beautiful…” Jack reminded you as he helped you sit up. He pecked your lips before helping you to get dressed. Once you were ready, he adjusted his own appearance in the mirror.

“Shall we go downstairs and share the good news?”

“That you have a serious breeding kink?” You teased.

“No…” Jack rolled his eyes. “That you’re going to be Mrs. Y/n Harlow.”

“Of course…” You laid back down. “After my nap.”

Jack smiled. He waited until you got comfortable before putting himself around you to snuggle you into him. Watching you sleep contently helped to lift a weight that had been on his chest.

Jack knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. He hurt you and broke your trust. He was going to have to show you he was a changed man. But seeing you laying in his arms, his future child in your stomach, he couldn’t imagine how he thought he would be able to stay away from you. Or worse, leave the chance for another man raise his child in his stead. No, you were his world and he was ready to protect you with everything he had. As a husband and a father.

#jack harlow #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow x reader #r-writes-fic

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