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doe-eyed-fool · 6 months

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Prey | Chapter Two

Alastor x Fem!Reader

It was another busy day, rushing and trying not to trip as you brought food and drinks to awaiting costumers, and cleaning up the tables when they left. Thankfully, near the end of the day was somewhat easier. Most people would not be attending the diner that late in the evening, but you still had a few that would come in. Maybe five at the very most, if you were lucky.

As you were cleaning up a table, you hummed a tune. It was a song Alastor had played on his radio show earlier that day, and it had gotten stuck in your head. You sang a few words before going back to just humming them.

You always loved music, ever since you were a child, you would use any free time you had to settle by the radio and listen in. Your parents were just as passionate about music as you were, in fact, encouraging you to sing. When you were a kid, you loved to sing, especially if your parents joined in.

It was a fun thing to do as a family. You'd even put on "performances" for them sometimes. You'd stand up on a chair, and sing your little heart out for them. And they loved it, ate it up practically.

However, when your parents died a few years ago, you didn't feel that same passion for singing like you use to.

But every now and then, you'd find yourself singing. Whether it be looking back on memories of your parents, or just out of boredom.

While occupied by cleaning, you hadn't notice the person walking up behind you.

As you turn, you let out a quick gasp. "Oh!" Then you calmed as you noticed who it was. "Al, my goodness, don't do that." You sigh. How was he so quiet?

Alastor chuckled. "My apologize. I wanted to surprise you." You roll your eyes and cracked a small smile. "Well, you were successful. What are you doing here?" You ask. "Your shift is about to end, right? How about after you finish up here, I take you back home with me to celebrate?" He suggests. I give him a confused look.

"Celebrate my shift ending?" I raise an eyebrow. Alastor returned the same confused glance. "Y/n, dear, did you forget? It's your birthday."

Oh, that's right! Today is my birthday. "Gosh, how could I forget that?" I sigh, putting a hand to my head. "Perhaps, because you are overworked." Alastor smirks. "Better watch what you say Al." I say quietly. "My boss might hear."

My boss didn't care for Alastor, or people who looked like Alastor. It's a shame you have to work for such a man. If you had any choice, you'd give him a piece of your mind and storm out. Alastor's offer became more tempting every day, when it comes that old bigot...

"Let him." Alastor says bluntly. "I'm not afraid of lowly men like himself."

"Alastor. Please." I say firmly. Alastor backs off, for now. "Alright, alright. Anyhow, what do you say? I'd like to treat you to a nice dinner, maybe have a drink or two. You deserve it, you work so hard after all."

My smile returns to my face. He really was too sweet. "Ok. Just let me finish up here and I'll be right out."

The walk to Alastor's home would have been too long, so he drove the two of you there. With the money he had, he could have the best looking car out there. But he had one just like any other person did. As long as it drove, it was fine. That's what he would always thought.

His home on the other hand, was a different story.

It wasn't a mansion, but it was one of the more decent looking homes in town. Bigger than his old childhood home. Anyone could take one look at that house and think, "yeah, he's got money".

Alastor pulled up to the house, got out of the car and walked to the passenger side to let me out, like the gentlemen he is. I thank him and step out.

He leads you up to the house and let's you inside. The inside was just as, if not more, beautiful than the outside. Spacious and well kept, wonderfully decorated. Alastor liked hunting, deer specifically. So of course, he'd have a few antlers hung on his walls here and there. But of course it wasn't all antlers, he had framed pictures like any normal household.

Mostly of his mother.

Alastor lost his mother some time back. He was only seventeen when she died. It was one of the darkest times in his life. The worst you've ever seen him, depressed and unkept. He barely ate, he didn't even want to stay in that house. It hurt him too much, to be in the very place she died. It was haunting.

There so many memories made in that house. And after she died, he couldn't even bare to look at it.

But eventually, he accepted things, and went back. That's were he would stay as he would start his radio show career.

As you walked further into the house, a delicious aroma filled your nose. "You cooking something?" You asked. "It's my mother's old jambalaya recipe. I finished it a while ago, but I made sure to keep it warm for you."

"Ooh, I already know it's gonna to be good." Your stomach growled just thinking about it. "Your mother was always a great cook."

"She was." Alastor smiles fondly. "Come on." He leads you to the dining room.

Dinner was amazing, Alastor inherited many great qualities from his mother, and cooking was most certainly one of them. Throughout the meal, you and him talked about lots of things, but decided to keep work out of the discussion. Even Alastor had enough of his job at certain times, especially when inspiration failed to find him.

"Oh, I really shouldn't have anymore Al. I have work in the morning. I can't work with a nasty hangover, now can I?" You laugh lightly, as Alastor pours you another glass. "I think you can handle one more. You did when you went dancing with me some time back." Alastor says with a smirk. "Why don't we ever do that anymore, Y/n?"

"Well, we did all that when we weren't fully committed to work. You, with your radio show. Me, with the diner." You sigh. "But those we're good times, huh? Oh...to be young again."

"Y/n, you're twenty five as of today." Alastor chuckles. You laugh and take another sip. "See what this does to me." You say, holding up your glass. "I do wish things could be easy as they were back then though. We were new adults, just trying to have some fun before life finally settled in."

Alastor hums. "I don't life is suppose to be easy." He starts. "But I do understand what you mean. Responsibility comes for us all, in the end. Otherwise, we can't really call ourselves adults, now can we?"

"Mhm." You nod. "Al?"

"Yes?"

"What would you be doing, if you didn't start your radio show?" You ask. Alastor took a second to think before answering. "I don't know really. It's always been a passion of mine, the radio. I can't imagine a life without doing it. What about you?" He asks. "If you weren't working in that diner."

"I'd want to sing." Maybe it was the alcohol that made you truthfully answer, because normally you would have kept such a dream to yourself. You set your glass down, not really looking at Alastor as you spoke. "But, I'm afraid I missed the chance to chase after that dream. Like you said, we all got responsibilities. I can't waste my life trying for something, I know I won't be able to achieve."

"What makes you think that?" Alastor asks. You look at him, and smile weakly. "Look at me. Do I look like the type of person that screams, potential?"

Money was always the bane of your existence. You could never afford to make yourself look "proper", it was usually hand-me-downs or dirt cheap dresses you had to mend yourself to fit right. People would take one look at you, and know just what your financial status was.

"I'd be turned down right away." You tell him. "Y/n. I've heard you sing." Said Alastor. "If they heard you, they would have no choice but to accept you...I tell you what." He begins. "How about I talk with Mimzy and-"

"Alastor, you don't have to do that." You cut interrupt him gently. "I don't even know Mimzy that well."

"Oh, but I do." Alastor smirks. "Me and her go way back, she'll listen to me." He stands up from his seat and walks over to you. He takes your hand and you stand as well. "Y/n, you wouldn't let me help you before. And I think it's because you think you can handle yourself and earn whatever money you get. That's fine." He continues. "But, if you are really wanting this, then let me help you take the first step. I want you to be happy Y/n, and I know you're not happy at that diner. Not really. So please..." His hold on your hands tightened slightly.

"Let me do this for you."

You sigh softly. "I get the feeling you wont stop pestering me if I say no." Alastor shrugs, you smile. "Alright. But if she says no, I don't want you bothering her with it any further."

"Wonderful! I'll stop by her lounge, first thing int he morning! You won't regret this, Y/n. I swear it."

You hope you wouldn't. But, you trusted Alastor. If there was anyone who could convince someone to do a favor, it was Alastor. He was just gifted with that charm of his. And the smile didn't hurt either, in fact, it's what landed him in a lot of good situations.

Maybe you had a chance after all...

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel

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euovennia · 2 years

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widow | CH. II

pairing: soap x fem!reader

a/n: i decided to change up the bar scene at the end of the game because this is my story and i'll do as i please. regardless, the boys are finally here, woo!!! there'll be more interactions between them all next chapter (that's probably gonna be the majority of it tbh) but please enjoy this semi-awkward meeting for now <3

friendly reminder that this work is written with a fem!reader in mind, but with no specified features

PROLOGUE, CH. I, CH. III, CH. IV

Four Years Later

It had been just a few short hours after Ghost had saved Soap from what would have otherwise been a certain death by the hands of Hassan Zyani. The past few weeks were nothing short of grueling but as Ghost, Soap, and Gaz all made their way through the bustling streets of Chicago to meet Price and Laswell at a local dive bar, they couldn’t help but want to give themselves a little pat on the back for a job well done. As well as it could have gone at least, there was still the issue of Grave’s death and Shepherd's betrayal on Los Vaqueros and the 141. Perhaps that would be their next mission.

Finally approaching the dingy bar, the three men began filing inside the bar as they each made a beeline over to Price and Laswell who seemed to be having a rather serious conversation if the looks on their faces were anything to go by. Upon seeing the team approach however, Price simply gave them a small nod before taking a swig of this drink. The boys take their seats before each ordering a drink of their choice. With everyone now settled in, Laswell decides to speak.

“You boys did your job and you did it well. Congratulations,” She raises her glass and the four men follow in succession, a sense of pride and accomplishment lingering in the air. The group sits in silence for a few moments before Gaz breaks it.

“So what now?”

“We find Shepherd,” Price announces firmly.

Laswell sighs, “That’s not what we agreed on.”

Price looks at her out of the corner of his eye, “We never agreed on anything, Laswell.”

“We’ve got bigger issues than just finding Shepherd.”

“I reckon that’s the reason you’ve got other teams then,” He lamely states as he takes another sip of his drink.

“Trust me, this is something you’ll want to be involved in,” She says before reaching inside her jacket pocket and pulling out a photo. She plants it face down on the bar counter before sliding it over to Price.

He stares at the photo for a few seconds before taking the photo in his hands and flipping it over. He sucks in a sharp breath upon seeing the familiar dark-haired man. Lips pressed into a thin line, he passes the photo over to Gaz. He studies the photo for a few moments before his eyes flicker up to Price's tense frame. Not wanting to ask quite yet, he hands it over to Soap who tilts his head in confusion upon holding it in his hands. Finally, he gives it to Ghost who merely diverts his attention back over to Laswell and Price after staring down the photo for a few seconds.

This time it’s Soap who speaks up, “Who’s that?”

Price lets out a sigh as his grip on the glass in front of him gets tighter.

“Ivan Volkov.”

“What's he done,” Gaz questions.

“We’ll get into that later. Right now, I need you four to head back to the safe house.”

Ghost speaks up, “What are you gonna do?”

“I have a contact completing a mission out in France at the moment to get the last bit of info we need to go after Volkov. I’ll be awaiting their call.”

“What if they don't get it?” Soap chimes in.

Price finishes off the rest of his drink.

“I’ve got a feeling that won’t be an issue.”

Paris, France

A woman watches as the man lifelessly falls back onto the ground, a bullet firmly nestled into his forehead as a steady stream of blood begins to ooze out of the wound.

“Hah…And they said I couldn't be a sniper,” A familiar German accent rings out through her comms.

A small smile comes across her face as she focuses her attention back on the laptop screen in front of her.

“You did well, König. Perfect shot as always my dear friend,”

“Just living out my dreams,” He pauses for a moment, “Do you think I would've made a good sniper?”

“You are a good sniper.”

“But they said I was too tall and couldn't sit still,”

“Doesn’t change the fact you have yet to miss a shot while you’re with me,” She responds as she attaches a small black hard drive into the side of the computer, leaning back and watching as various files upload to the drive.

“Why do you have Laswell request me for these missions?”

“So you can live out your dream.”

She pays no mind to the small ‘thank you’ that flows through her comms.

After all the files have been copied onto the drive, she quickly detaches it and stores it in the small tactical sling bag she’d brought with her.

“I’ve got the intel, I’ll meet you down at the entrance.”

“Copy that.”

The woman promptly pushes herself up from the raggedy desk chair and makes her way over to the grey metal door before pushing it open and walking out the small office. She steps over the lifeless bodies of the various guards she’d taken out prior to making her way into the office. She had quickly come to find that it was quite easy to get through the dead man’s so-called security detail but she knew she couldn’t take all the credit. König was rather handy with that sniper of his after all.

Finally approaching the exit door, she pushed her way through it to reveal the sight of König mindlessly kicking pebbles around with his feet.

“Having fun?”

“Just wanted to make sure you got out safe.”

“Well I’m here,” She motions over to the car sitting a few feet away from them, “Go start it up. I’ll be there in a moment, I have to make a quick call.”

He simply nods before walking away. The woman pulls out a small burner phone from the side pocket of her bag and flips it open before typing in a number she knew all too well by now. She waits patiently for a few moments before she hears Laswell’s voice ring out through the phone.

“Shadow?”

“Target has been eliminated and I have the hard drive. K and I are gonna start making our way back to the safe house then we’ll be on our way to transport at dawn.”

“Actually there’s been a change of plans.”

The woman tilts her head, “What kind of changes?”

“You’ll still make your way to the safe house but you won’t be spending the night there. Instead, I want you to go four klicks north. You should end up in an open field. A short plane will come down and get you.”

“I take it we’re not going back to Germany?”

”Affirmative. You’ll be flown into Chicago and dropped at base. From there, you’ll be escorted directly to me.”

“What about König?”

“I’m going to reach out to KorTac and let them know he’s ready for transport once you two arrive at base. He should be reunited with them late tomorrow afternoon.”

“Alright. See you then I suppose.” “See you.”

The woman flips the phone closed before walking over to the car and sliding in the driver’s seat upon seeing the passenger side occupied by König.

“Didn’t feel like driving?”

He shakes his head.

“The seat doesn’t extend back far enough…It hurts my knees.”

She gives him a small nod as she begins driving.

“You should have more leg room in the plane.”

“Plane?”

“Yeah. We’re heading to Chicago.”

“Scheiße.”

“I like this one.”

“Yeah? What do you like about it?”

König goes quiet for a moment before speaking once more.

“It’s not too loud and it’s not too quiet. It’s simple.”

The woman mulls over his words for a short while before nodding her head.

“Yeah…It is rather simple isn’t it? Just a man playing the piano.”

“Just a man playing the piano,” König parrots back.

They sit in silence for a few moments before he speaks up once more.

“What song is this again? I know you told me, but I think I blacked out for a bit.”

“Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2 by Frédéric Chopin.”

“What do you know about him?”

“He was a Polish composer born in 1810 known primarily for his solo piano pieces. He published his first composition at the age of seven and began performing when he was eight. Even so, he didn’t make his official debut until 1829. People were enthralled by him and so his fame only grew with time. He eventually passed away at the age of thirty-nine on October 30, 1849. His official cause of death isn’t known, but some theorize it was pulmonary tuberculosis.”

König lets out a hum of acknowledgement.

“How do you always know so much about these people?”

Her mind drifts off for a few moments, memories of ballet shoes and leotards flashing in and out of her mind before she eventually shakes her head and lets out a small sigh.

“I like to read about them when I can’t sleep.”

A lie, but he doesn’t know that.

“Hmm…Maybe I should give it a shot.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but is cut off by the co-pilot shouting over to them through the opening of the cockpit door.

“We’ve touched down, we’ll be parked shortly!”

She and König spare each other a glance before he’s taking out the earbud she lent him as she quickly wraps the cord over her 7th gen. iPod Nano. Despite the black music player being rather dated, she had found an odd comfort in downloading songs off the internet and storing them onto the small device. It was simple and she’d come to like simple.

True to their word, the plane eventually comes to a complete stop as the pair slung their tactical backpacks on their shoulder with König sporting a hefty duffel hand in his right hand that was filled with various weapons he’d brought with him for the mission. They both stand up from their seats with König having to duck his head due to his massive frame as she goes over and slides the plane door open before beginning her descent down the stairs of the plane with König following right behind her.

Her eyes scan over the layout before eventually landing on Price who was currently walking toward the pair who were now standing still on the tarmac. He eventually comes to a stop in front of the pair as he gives a nod of acknowledgement to König who returns an awkward wave.

Bless him.

Price then turns to Shadow as he offers her a small smile.

“Good to see you again, kid.”

“Likewise, but what exactly are you doing here?”

She watches with increased interest as his smile appears to falter just slightly before speaking, “We’ll get to that in a bit. You’ve still got the phone on you?”

She nods as she places a hand over the small bag, “In here.”

He gives her an approving nod before turning to König, “KorTac won’t be here until late this evening. Something about inclement weather. You can do as you please until then.”

König gives him a firm nod before leaning down to Shadow as he gives her arm a small squeeze, “See you next mission then.”

She returns the small gesture before he stands up straight once more and stalks off toward what she assumes is a quiet place for him to sit back and decompress, she knows missions take a lot out of him.

She turns her attention back to Price who is now holding out two granola bars to her.

“It’s not much, but I figure you haven’t eaten in a good while.”

She takes the small snack from him.

“Thanks.”

“Come on, Laswell’s got some water in her office. You wash those down there,” He states as he begins walking forward with her following beside him.

She rips open the first bar and begins munching on it before speaking, “Am I gonna get any context on what’s happening here or do I have to go in blind?”

Price purses his lips, “I think this is something you should work out with Laswell.”

“Is she finally kicking me to the curb?”

“What? No. Where’d you even get that idea from?”

She takes another bite of her granola bar, “Sooner or later she’ll realize she doesn’t need me anymore and toss me to the side. It happens all the time.”

Price gives her shoulder a firm nudge with his arm as he speaks, “You know I don’t like when you talk about yourself like that.”

She shrugs, “Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

The older man releases an exasperated sigh, “You’re a lot darker than I originally thought.”

If only you knew.

She takes one last bite of her first granola bar before tearing open the packaging of the second one as they both approach a door. Price leans forward and pulls the door open and allows her to walk in before taking the lead once more as they weave through the hallways of the building. They eventually come to a stop outside an unmarked door and Price looks down at her.

“Do me a favor and try to hear Laswell out before you make any decisions, okay?”

She narrows her eyes at his words before he pushes the door open and walks inside. Taking a bite of her bar, she follows behind him before coming to a stop by his side as her chewing comes to a halt as she sees Laswell sitting at a circle shaped desk with multiple manila folders sat in front of her. She gulps down her bite of granola as she looks up at Price with a questioning gaze to which he merely gives her a pat on the shoulder before taking a seat beside Laswell. Her eyes dart over to Laswell who simply gestures to the empty seat sitting directly in front of them. Sucking in a small breath, she reluctantly walks over and pulls out the chair before sitting down in it.

She swallows, “What’s this all about?”

Laswell is the one to speak, “The drive. You have it with you, right?”

Upon seeing her outstretched hand, the woman unzips the main compartment of her small bag and grabs the drive before sliding it across the table over to Laswell who picks it up.

“Excellent. Once I get my team to look through this, we should be ready to go ahead.”

“Go ahead on what exactly?”

Laswell looks up at her, “The past four years of your life have been solely dedicated to finding any bit of information you could get me on Volkov and his current whereabouts,” She holds up the drive in her hand, “This will offer us the last piece of the puzzle. We can finally go after him and take him out.”

The woman points a finger at Price.

“Then what’s he here for?”

“His team is going to help you.”

The woman’s hand falls onto the table as her gaze hardens.

“No.”

Laswell sighs, “You don’t have a choice. If I decide I want Price’s team on this mission with you then they’re going on the mission with you, no exceptions.”

“But there’s no need for them to be here. Every piece of information you have on the Red Room is because of me. I don’t like working with teams and you know that.”

“Then what about all the times you’ve worked with König?”

“König is a single person, not a group of four. There’s a difference. Teams only offer more opportunities to fail.” “But they can also offer more opportunities to succeed. Why are you against them anyway? You haven’t even seen them.”

“I don’t want to see them.”

“Well I’m sorry to say this, but I don’t care. Either you work with this team or I pull you from this mission entirely.”

Shadow scoffs, “You can’t do that.” “I have every right to do so and you know it.”

The pair fall into a loud silence before Laswell lets out a soft sigh.

“I know you can do this by yourself, there’s not a single doubt in my mind about that…But I don’t want you to do this by yourself.”

Shadow looks up at her.

“Why not?”

“Because out of every mission you’ve gone on, this is the most dangerous. Ivan Volkov is a dangerous man and the last thing I need is you out there on the field trying to take him out by yourself. I–”

She pauses as she spares a glance to Price out the corner of her eye.

“–We care too much about you to let you do that to yourself.”

Shadow has to refrain from rolling her eyes. “Then send König out there with me, I don’t care! Just don’t stick me with a random team who I know nothing about.”

Laswell shakes her head, “Various members of KorTac will be sent out on missions of their own within the next few days, König is one of them.”

“So that’s it then? Either you stick me in a group with a bunch of random people or I don’t get to go after Volkov at all?”

Laswell nods.

Shadow lets out a humorless laugh, “No offense Las, but you’re a real piece of work.”

Her lips tick up in a small smile, “You’re starting to sound like my wife.”

Shadow goes quiet for a minute before sighing, “You’re not gonna let up on this, are you?”

“Not this time.”

The younger woman seems to bounce a few ideas around her head for a bit before giving a reluctant nod.

“Fine, but if they suck I’m shooting them first chance I get.”

Price offers her a smile, “I’ll hand you the gun.”

“Good. Now that we’re all in agreement, you’re free to go for now. I’ll have my team look through the hard drive to extract any useful information we come across. We’ll meet here again tomorrow at fifteen-hundred hours to go over everything. Does that sound alright?”

“None of this sounds alright, but I’ll be a good little soldier and say yes.”

“Mercenary,” Price corrects.

This time she doesn’t hold back her eye roll.

“Same difference.”

After the short meeting she had with Price and Laswell, Shadow had managed to snag an empty shower long enough for her to scrub away all the dirt and bits of blood that had dried and hardened to her skin. She’d changed out of her kevlar bodysuit and instead opted for some simple leggings and a hoodie with a plain tank top tucked underneath. She didn’t bother switching out her black boots for anything else, they were clean and comfortable enough for her so she didn’t see the need to. Once completely clean and changed, she mindlessly wandered around base for a just over an hour before eventually finding König tucked away in an old conference room as he let old reruns of ‘Modern Family’ play out on a small tv screen just a few feet away from chair he sat in. Not quite wanting to leave him alone, she decided to keep him company.

Seeing as they originally touched down just after twelve pm, that had been more than a few hours ago, considering the sky was now gradually turning into a mix of yellows, oranges, and reds. Not that it felt like it had been that long. She enjoyed spending time with König, whether it be on missions or sitting in an old dusty conference room having hushed conversations where he freely talked her ear off. She didn’t mind though. Despite his sometimes manic and hyper demeanor on the field, she’d come to find he had great difficulty trying to connect with others on a more casual and friendly level, but she and König had spent so much down time together on their missions together that the bond they had formed rather quickly. She was grateful for it.

As much as she enjoyed the time she spent with König, there eventually came a time where one of them would have to depart from the other and this time, it was him. After having received word that his transportation back to KorTac would be landing in ten minutes, he decided it was best to start heading back to the tarmac.

He’d given her a firm hug that was made only slightly awkward due to his massive frame, but she enjoyed it all the same.

“I’ll see you around, Shadow.”

“Until next time, K.”

With König now departed from base, she had taken it upon herself to wander around aimlessly before eventually settling down on a table outside near a building that she could only assume was a training area if the workout gear people wore while filing in and out was anything to go by. She quietly watched everyone from a distance as the soft notes of Debussy’s ‘Claire de Lune’ spilled through the small speakers of her earbuds.

She sat with her legs crossed on the chair and hands clasped in her lap as she watched one soldier narrowly avoid running into a metal pole after being so caught up in whatever app is currently lighting up their phone screen. Her eyes began to drift over to the entrance, but stopped when her ears picked up on the quiet string of footsteps that were growing closer and closer. She whipped her head around, body tense and glare ready, but quickly fell back into her previous semi-relaxed state as she saw Price approaching her with a sandwich and a bottle of water in his hands. She untucked her right leg from its crossed position and used it to push out the spare chair that sat a few feet from hers. She let her leg dangle off the chair she occupied as Price took a seat in the chair and slid the sandwich and water over to her.

“Didn’t see you in the mess hall for dinner, thought you might be hungry.” She gives him a nod of appreciation and removes her earbud before reaching forward, unwrapping the sandwich, and taking a bite. They sit in a comfortable silence as she finishes off the rest of her sandwich and washes it down with the water. She balls up the wrapper and shoves it in the pocket of her hoodie to throw away later. Price looks at her.

“Where have you been all day?”

“Holed up in an old conference room with König. We just watched some TV and talked before he had to go. He left a couple hours ago.”

Price nods as he continues, “How’d you two meet?”

“I met him three years ago when I was doing a mission of my own for Laswell. Apparently he’d been stationed in the same area. I almost shot him until I saw the KorTac emblem on his uniform. He just took that as an opportunity to start throwing punches and yell at me in German,” She responds, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she replays the memory.

“Bloody hell,” He runs a hand over the side of his face in an exasperated motion, “How’d you get yourself outta that?”

“I started yelling back at him in German.”

Price huffs out a laugh, “Sounds about right. I assume you two get on well now though, right?”

She nods, “Yeah, he’s a good guy. Real talented with a sniper too believe it or not.”

“I have a hard time believing a bloke as big as him takes the time to steady up on a sniper rather than ram into everything like a bull.”

She shrugs, “Hasn’t missed a shot so far.”

Price nods as if absorbing the information. He remains quiet for a few moments before speaking up again.

“So…If you can warm up to a man twice your size, surely you can warm up to the idea of working with my team, right?”

She lets out a huff as she looks over to Price.

“No offense, but I want nothing to do with your team.”

“Oh come on, kid. They’re not that bad! A bit on the cheeky side some of them, but they mean well,” He defended.

“Anyone who can work with you long enough to look past that god awful thing on your head shouldn’t be trusted.”

Price’s hands go to touch the edges of his boonie hat.

“It’s a good hat!”

“It’s a disgrace is what it is.”

He huffs out a breath of air as he returns his hands to rest on the table in front of them.

“Unnecessary disrespect to my hat aside, I mean it when I say they’re good people. I’ve fought alongside them and I can firmly say I’d trust any one of those muppets with my life. You’ve just gotta give ‘em a chance.”

She sighs as she fiddles with the crumpled up wrapper in the pocket of her hoodie, “Must’ve put a spell on you if you’re willing to stick your neck out like this for them,” She mumbles.

“No spells, just quality work done by quality men.”

She doesn’t respond.

Price’s lips falter into a frown before he decides to make one last effort.

“Look, I know you’ve gotten used to workin’ alone these past few years save for König and I understand that, but you’ve gotta see where Laswell and I are coming from here. You’ve made yourself one of our most useful assets, not just as an employee, but as a person.” He stops to think about his next words for a few moments before continuing.

“Look, ever since you told us about that emblem you managed to snag off one of those Red Room assassins, the three of us have spent a lot of time together. I’m not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way Laswell and I–” He let out a sigh, trying not to fumble his next words. “–We started to care about you. Probably more than we should’ve,” He pauses, “We just want you to be safe, and we feel the only way to do that this time around is to pair you up with a team. My team. It’s not a punishment or us doubting your abilities, we just wanna keep an eye on you. That’s all it is.”

The woman remains quiet for a while before looking up at Price, a small smile tugging at the edge of her lips.

“I knew you two liked me more than you let on.”

Price rolls his eyes as he leans forward and gives her shoulder a nudge before settling back into a more serious expression.

“Just tell me you’ll at least try to work with them, even if you end up hating all of us by the end of it.”

She lets out a sigh, “I’ll try.”

He smiles at her, “Good, because I’m not sure what I would’ve told Laswell if you said no.”

They share a small laugh and Price stays with her for a while longer before eventually leaving to get some rest, but not before making her promise him that she would also leave to get some rest soon. She refrains herself from rolling her eyes and offers the most disarming smile she could muster before agreeing. While he was able to detect the steady wave of slight annoyance radiating off her, he decided not to pry any further. She was an adult after all and so, he left as he wandered back in the direction of his room.

She watched as the silhouette of the man who had practically saved her from the life she lived before got smaller and smaller the more he walked into the darkness of the night. She tried telling herself it was just to make sure no one snuck up on him despite being within the relatively safe confines of the base, but she knew better. The pit of guilt that had been festering inside of her ever since she did nothing to stop the steam of lies that fell from her lips four years ago seemed to make itself stronger than ever. It was eating her alive.

Shadow takes in a deep breath as she slowly makes her way toward the two before stopping beside Laswell. She stares at the buckle sat in Laswell’s hand before bringing up her right hand and placing her own object on the bed.

Laswell’s chest tightens as she places the metal buckle in her hand beside the one Shadow just brought.

“They’re the same,” Price remarks.

Laswell looks at Shadow, “How do you have that?”

Shadow keeps her eyes concentrated on the tri-colored hourglass emblem that had been burned into her mind for her entire life. A deep pit growing in her stomach, she looks up at the attentive pair.

“It’s the Red Room symbol.”

Price and Laswell spared each other a hesitant glance before turning back to the woman who seemed to be in some sort of trance as her eyes remained glued to the buckle she’d placed on the bed just a few moments ago.

Laswell decided to speak.

“How do you know it’s their symbol?”

Despite feeling herself tense up at the question, Shadow knew she brought this on herself. The moment she set the emblem on the bed, she practically backed herself into a corner and there was nothing she could do about it.

Well, there were a couple things she could do about it.

On one hand she could come clean about her past and potentially get the chance to aid Laswell in her mission to put an end to the Red Room, but there was also the chance she’d get killed, maybe something even worse than death. Neither Price or Laswell knew the full extent of all the things she’d done in her life and she wasn’t too keen on them finding out, much less telling them herself. Who knows what they could do with such information?

On the other hand, she could just try and leg it out of there in hopes of avoiding any further questions. She didn’t completely hate the idea, but she knew it wasn’t worth the trouble that’d come along with doing such a thing.

Having eliminated both of those ideas in the few moments she took to think about them, she knew she had to think of something quick. Nothing that could get her deemed as an immediate threat and imprisoned, but nothing that would raise too many alarms.

She almost cursed herself for revealing the emblem that had been burned into every aspect of her life.

Almost.

She looked up at Laswell, a small sigh falling from her lips as she quickly tried to sort out the story in her head.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

Laswell tilted her head.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m not part of the Red Room.”

Laswell narrowed her eyes as she pointed to the emblem.

“Then why do you have that and how do you know it belongs to them?”

She took a few seconds to sort out the last few bits of her fabricated story before beginning to speak.

“I kill people for a living–”

“We know,” Price bluntly states, seemingly not bothered by his rude interruption.

The woman fights back the urge to jab her fist into his injured side and instead opts for a pointed look in his direction before continuing.

“–But I don’t work for the Red Room.”

Laswell’s look of suspicion morphs into one of confusion.

“What? But I was so sure–”

This time it’s Shadow interrupting.

“Just because I don’t work for them doesn’t mean I don’t know of them.”

Laswell’s gaze hardens, “Elaborate.”

“Look, the whole purpose of the Red Room is to produce assassins who can execute any and all targets without getting themselves caught. While the targets can be virtually anyone, it goes without saying that a lot of them are political figures.”Price speaks, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Different people have different political agendas. What may benefit one person may be detrimental to the next. So while one person may hire an assassin to get rid of someone, another person may hire another assassin to ensure the safety of the original target by going after anyone set to kill them. Kind of like a bodyguard.”

“Is this your way of telling us you were employed as one of these bodyguards?”

“Not exactly. I never took work based on politics, I took it based on the paycheck. Whatever the highest bidder wanted, they’d get.”

“And how does this tie in with the Red Room?”

Shadow points over to the emblem, “I managed to snag that off one of Volkov’s girls while trying to protect my target. I hadn’t seen it before so instead of killing her, I knocked her out and took her back with me. I managed to get a few details I think you may be interested in before I eventually had to get rid of her.”

Laswell straightened out her posture as she looked at Shadow with great interest, “What details?”

Time to strike.

“Details you won’t get until you can promise me a few things.”

Laswell scoffs, “You do realize you just admitted you’re an assassin, right? You’re in no position to be making demands of any kind.”

“Normally you’d be correct, but seeing as how you won’t be able to connect me to any crime as little as shoplifting I think your hands are a bit tied at the moment.”

“And how can you be so sure of that?”

Shadow’s gaze settled back on the hourglass shaped emblem that represented all the pain and suffering she’d inflicted on the world.

She hated it.

She hated herself.

She looked back at Laswell, willing herself to be more brave than she felt.

“A part of me always knew there’d be a time where I wanted to get out. I didn’t want anything to hold me back when I got the chance, so I always made sure things were perfect, that no one could ever prove anything.”

Laswell nods before speaking once more, “And why is it you think I can give you an out?”

“You want the Red Room gone and at this point I think I’m your best bet. You lay off me and I’ll help you take it out.”

Shadow watched with bated breath as Laswell and Price exchanged each other looks of apprehension and hesitation. She could only hope she played her part well enough.

After more than a few moments of them staring each other down, Laswell turned back to Shadow with a particular glint in her eye she hadn’t quite seen before.

“Tell me what you have in mind.”

The woman was ripped away from her thoughts by the loud laughter of a man. She whipped her head to the direction it originated from and was met with the backs of two men hunched over what she assumed was a phone. Letting out a small sigh, she grabbed her iPod and water bottle before deciding to stalk off in the direction of the barracks in hopes of finding an empty room she could claim for the night.

The woman tapped her fingers on the glossy surface of the desk she sat at with Price and Laswell the day before as the lively notes of ‘The Blue Danube’ composed by Johann Strauss plays through her earbuds. She’s gotten to the conference room fifteen minutes early and seeing as she now had nothing better to do than wait, she pulled out her trusty iPod and tapped shuffle on her classical playlist. Despite classical being most of what she listened to, she did have a few other playlists containing various other genres such as pop, jazz, hip hop, and rock. She was simply raised listening to classical so that’s what she often favored despite more than a few pieces having been tainted due to the unpleasant memories she’d come to associate them with. Even so, she still managed to enjoy every song she listened to.

As the last few notes of the composition died out in the left earbud currently lodged in her ear, her eyes shot up to the sound of the creaky door to conference room opened to reveal a tall man clad in an all black outfit paired with a skull print balaclava with black warpaint swiped around his eyes. He paused as he caught sight of the woman already sitting at the rounded table while she simply stared him down with a blank expression. He gave a quick glance to the room number printed on the door and upon confirming he was in the right place, he slowly stepped in and closed the door behind him before taking a seat across from the woman. Once settled down he returned her blank stare with one of his own, almost willing her to say something.

But she didn’t.

She simply looked back down at the small black music player in her hand as she scrolled through her list of songs. After a few more moments of silence, she looked up to see the man idly tapping away on his phone.

The two of them settled into a rather tense silence filled with unanswered questions, one that was only broken by the sound of the door creaking open yet again to reveal another tall man who sported a grey cap that had a Union Flag patch sewn into the front of it. Her eyes roamed over his lean frame that was clad in a long sleeved grey shirt paired with khaki cargo pants and black shoes. It faintly reminded her of an old photo Price had shown her of himself. She watched as he grabbed a seat that was one over from the man who arrived just a few minutes prior. After all three of them exchanged silent glances, they directed their attention to their own devices.

Just a few minutes had passed before the door opened once again, this time revealing Price who had a small stack of manila folders in his hands whereas Laswell carried a laptop. Upon seeing their superiors enter the conference room, the three strangers quickly tucked their electronics into their pockets as Price spoke.

“Glad to see you lot are getting on well with each other,” He remarked, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

The three of them avoided making eye contact with each other causing him to shake his head in mild amusement as he handed them each a folder of their own. Upon getting to the empty chair, he spoke.

“Where’s Soap?”

Soap?

Suddenly, the door practically bursts open and a prominent Scottish accent breaks through the room.

“Sorry I’m late, got caught up at the mess hall!”

The woman’s gaze turned to face the direction of the door once more as her eyes landed on a muscular man with a mohawk.

“Settle down Soap. Just take a seat,” Price spoke as he tossed a folder to where the unoccupied seat was. Her eyes followed the man as he quickly walked over to the empty chair and nabbed himself the seat. His eyes settled on the folder in his hands before looking up and facing the woman. Expecting him to redirect his gaze like the other two, she maintained eye contact but was surprised when he offered her a wide smile. She tried to reign in the look of confusion she was sure was apparent on her face before breaking eye contact and opting to stare down at the folder, effectively missing the way the man’s face fell at her actions. Her attention, however, was quickly redirected once Laswell began to speak.

“Task Force 141, meet Shadow. Shadow, meet Task Force 141.”

TAGLIST: (if i missed anyone or it didn't tag you properly, please let me know!)

@deadpoolsluvrr @simonsbluee @scaredknight @swissy23 @niawritesbs @ethanhawkelovers-blog @watermaylon-writes @ravenhood2792 @shoxji @griimreaperr @galacticstxrdust @cptmaverick-marvel @comedinewithmeyeh @fluffysteampunkd @callmenoiselul @isissakibbs-blog @urfavsunkissedleo @decaffeinatedmom01 @23victoria @silveroak-art @untoldshortsofthefandoms @deadbranch @ella-error505 @water-hemlock18 @abbiesxox @queen-of--roses @kiriki45 @desxr-fx @emrzennn

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ectonuritez · 11 months

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Part 2 of my work for @edgeofhopezine! This comic was intended to be longer, but due to time constraints on my end had to be cut short. I hope to someday have the time to sit down and give it the ending it deserves! Script by caitlinscomics (IG) and @waylaed

ID: Two comic pages, in muted yellow and blue tones. The first page has 7 panels. P1: A younger Hermann Gottlieb walks across the J-tech floor, carrying a stack of papers. Captions in Newt's handwriting read: "Herms, (you will allow me one ‘Herms’ today. I guess two) I’ve finally got my assignment today. Kodiak Island, of course, where else? The best part, they moved my ship out up a month! Fair warning, I’m a hugger. Just thought you should know." P2: A younger Newt Geizsler in his mostly packed-up apartment, tying his boots as he sits on his stripped bed. Captions in Hermann's handwriting read: "Newton, Please refrain from future uses of that ‘nickname.’ They make every recruit do sparring exercises. Of which I have a year’s worth more experience than you. Another asinine rule. Waving a stick around has nothing to do with plotting the topography of the Breach. I appreciate the warning. I’ll keep it in mind." P3: Newton is standing at a boarding gate, looking up at the news broadcasting Knifehead's fight with Lady Danger. Hermann's writing reads: "... It’s a challenge at first, gaining your bearings, learning how to operate in such a bizarre setting, but I promise you it’s all very worthwhile. If we’re going to do anything about this crisis, it starts here. I eagerly await your arrival." P4: Hermann is hunched over his dormitory desk late at night, tiredly reading Newt's latest letter. It reads: "I’m about to take off. For the first flight. Of three. Then there’s a boat ride. And another one. You said it’s going to be hard to get used to the way things are up there. Good. I don’t intend to get comfortable. We’re going to do what we said we’re going to do. Change the world, change the system, show them what they’re doing wrong, how to fix it." P5: Newt stands alone at Kodiak's dock, alone. His writing reads: "If we’re going to survive this, we’re going to have to change. Change starts there. And it’s us who are going to do it. One way or another." P6/7: Lots of officers are gathered in a different part of the Proving Grounds, watching a simulated battle. Hermann is among them, looking up anticipatorily and almost hopeful at the training sequence. The second page has 7 panels. P1: Newt is alone in the mess hall, pouring over files and papers with intense focus. P2: POV of the battle simulation. The Jaeger pilots sling a mean left hook at a simulated Axehead, victorious in the training exercise. Text reads: SIMULATION SUCCESSFUL. P3: The simulation room erupts into cheers, Hermann among those celebrating. P4: Newt is arguing with a superior officer, a stern-looking woman in a crisp PPDC uniform. He holds a folder in his left hand. NEWT: --If we intercept the kaiju far enough away from populated areas, there’s no reason why we need to beat them to a pulp, or leave them there to pollute the area... SUPERIOR: While I appreciate your suggestion-- NEWT: You could do a lot more than appreciate it, sir. SUPERIOR: --That’s not the way we do things here, Officer Geiszler. If you don’t like it, leave. P5: Newt walks through the mess hall, clutching the folder and angrily muttering to himself. NEWT: Good for nothing-- Fascist... Wouldn't know a scientific breakthrough if it bit her on the-- P6: Hermann enters the mess hall with a bunch of the other officers and cadets who were viewing the simulation. They're all talking and laughing with one another, including Hermann. P7: Two silhouettes of Newt and Hermann stand at opposite ends of the panel, staring at each other as they meet face-to-face for the first time. A sine wave moves between them. Text between them reads: "Constructive Interference. Noun. When two waves of equal frequency and phase are combined, the resultant wave is bigger than either of the two original." End ID.

#long post #pacific rim #hermann gottlieb #newt geiszler #newmann #artists on tumblr #artist described #zines #comic

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mieanme · 1 month

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Merman x Siren au

Hualian - (part VI)

First part: PART I

Previous part: PART V

***

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!"

When Xie Lian gets back, he sure expects other mers to be shocked that he actually did what the Emperor forbade. He also knows that there's probably a scolding from the Emperor himself awaiting him.

However, what he doesn't see coming, is bumping into his two friends the second he gets closer to the main cave formation in the pod's territory. The area loosely called a 'capital' by others is usually guarded through out the night and day, but taking into account that both Mu Qing and Feng Xin had a shift just the other day (he checked in with both of them in the canteen twice, to make sure), Xie Lian thinks he got really unlucky that they have another one right when he decides to not sneak around so much anymore.

"Feng Xin, please, calm dow—,"

"Calm down? CALM DOWN? I AM FOR NOW VERY MUCH FUCKING CALM!"

The loud, harsh sounds that escape the merman's mouth are truly something else. Xie Lian knows only one mer that can produce noise of this caliber and it's none other than his friend. Good thing Ruoye left Xie Lian's side as they were passing by the collar reef, cuz it could never withstand those loud, deep squeaks of Feng Xin.

"HOW CAN YOU BE SO RECKLESS? WHERE HAVE YOU EVEN BEEN? I WANTED TO VISIT YOU, BUT YOU WEREN'T HOME. YOU DIDN'T EVEN TELL ANY OF US YOU'RE GOING OUT DURING THE NIGHT! IT'S DANGEROUS! YOU'RE RIDICULOUS!" There's no end to the merman's rage.

"Feng Xin, shut it, you're behaving like you're his mother," Mu Qing chimes in, slapping Feng Xin's back with his deep purple fin, completely not trying to be gentle.

The comment seems a little bit off, because Xie Lian doesn't even remember his mother, but he's not bothered by it. He's sure Mu Qing means no harm.

"Hey!" Feng Xin exclaims, ready to throw a punch at the other merman, but Mu Qing swims around him adroitly. "We're friends! I care about him! Unlike you!"

"Well, at least I didn't try to visit him empty handed yesterday. I came with some food and saw your brown pathetic ass miserably banging at his cave entrance. The bigger the fins, the smaller the brain."

Mu Qing's slay smile seems to enrage the other merman more than his words, even if Feng Xin is known for having one of the biggest fins in the pod. This time he doesn't miss though, getting to punch Mu Qing straight in the face.

Xie Lian sighs. For as long as he remembers, his two friends have always been bickering over the smallest things. Even from the very day they rescued him in the wild, when they all were still children, he can recall a heated argument they had right before his eyes. They both are great mermen in Xie Lian's opinion, so till this day he can't figure out why they are always so hostile against each other. At this point he's certain he will have to live with that question unanswered till the day he passes.

It doesn't mean he can't try and stop them every time he has a chance though.

"Hey, hey, hey, now! It's okay! I'm back and unscratched, right?" Xie Lian swims in between them right after Mu Qing lands a successful slap on Feng Xin's cheek, making them equal for the time being. "And I got something very important!"

They both actually stop to look down at the algae in Xie Lian's hands, to his delight.

"And what is this? Looks like a sperm whale's vomit. Why did you drag some random plants back to the capital?" Mu Qing scrunches his nose, glaring at Xie Lian.

"It's an algae from the oceanic trench," he states with a small smile, but it fades quickly when this time both of his friends yell at him.

"IT'S A WHAT NOW?" Feng Xin and Mu Qing both scream in unison.

Xie Lian grins, shaking his head.

"I guess I have a lot of explaining to do anyways, so why don't we find the Elder medic first? I want to deliver those as soon as possible."

"The medics are still discussing today's search results with the Emperor and all hunters that are off duty. We're an exception as guards," Feng Xin states, looking back at the highest part of the cave formation, that serves as a house of the Emperor and also a kind of a city hall.

"I will hurry up then, it's good that everyone's gathered in one place!"

Xie Lian of course doesn't get to depart alone this time. Feng Xin and Mu Qing both stubbornly insist on escorting him, so the three of them make their way to the Emperor's caves quickly.

Inside, there actually is a lot of merpeople gathered. Xie Lian enters through a small hole on the top of the main hall that's always open to everyone to come and discuss important matters. The cave itself is huge, it could fit every mer that belongs to the pod and there would still be plenty of space left. Jun Wu spends a lot of time here, tending to other merpeople matters and naturally he's here now too, resting on a seat sculptured especially for him inside the hall. He seems troubled even from afar, supporting his chin on one hand, his golden tail and scales lacking their usual shine.

Xie Lian always thought that very tail might have been the only reason the Emperor let him stay in this pod - they share quite a similarity. They both have features that bring one's eye to their person, so Xie Lian thinks Jun Wu might understand his white-tail-stuggles. However, Jun Wu was never untrusted by his pod, on the contrary, he was always priced for his unusual scales. His handsome face and great intelligance lead him on the top, where he remains till this day, while Xie Lian is collecting scrap for a living.

This world is truly unfair.

"Emperor! Elders! Everyone! I'm sorry to interrupt!" Xie Lian exclaims, silencing the discussion that has been going on and on for probably hours before he even came back to the capital. "I have great news!"

Xie Lian makes his way through the hall right to Jun Wu's throne. He lowers his head and extends his hands, showing the Emperor the plants he managed to take back with him.

"I got the algae we have been discussing about during the prior days! If the medic Elder is ready, please, use them as medicine for the mers that had fallen ill!"

A round of heated whispers explodes right after he finishes his sentence. Unbelievable - the merman almost everyone despices came back with the right plant so fast? Where did he get it? Is this a joke of some sort?

"Silence."

One sound from Jun Wu manages to get a hold of the situation.

"Xie Lian," the Emperor calls his name, so the merman obediently lifts his gaze to meet Jun Wu's golden eyes. "How come you found the algae before everyone else had even found a place it might grow in? Are you sure it's the cure we're looking for? Where did you get it?"

Yes. Xie Lian knew these questions were coming. As for being prepared to answer them, well, that's a whole different story.

"Emperor, I got them from... the trench we all know of."

Another round of gasps of disbelief arises in the hall.

"Did he go to the siren's territory?"

"Is he crazy? The Emperor forbade anyone from going there!"

"How is he even alive? There's no way the siren wouldn't notice him with that white tail of his!"

"What if he's lying? Aren't those just a regular looking algae? Maybe it's poison!"

Jun Wu waves his hands, unwilling to scold the crowd verbally yet again. When everyone stops commenting, he asks the medic Elder, that seemed to be the most knowledgeable about the disease, to examine the plants Xie Lian brought with himself.

The old merman studies the algae only for a few moments and, with not much deliberation, but with great disbelief spread on his face, he speaks up.

"It's indeed the algae we need!" The old merman exclaims, looking in shock at Xie Lian's face. "How did you do it?! You shouldn't be able—"

He stops himself before he can finish the sentence, but Xie Lian gets the message.

'It grows too deep for any mer to pick it. Your elder didn't mention it, did they?'

"Very well," the Emperor chimes in. "Please, take the algae and prepare the medicine as soon as possible. Will this be enough to treat the ill merpeople and store something in case the disease resurfaces?"

"Yes, Emperor! More than enough!"

"Then we can stop the search for other places for now. Everyone is dismissed. You worked hard, take some rest," Jun Wu announces and immediately everyone starts leaving the city hall.

Except, when Xie Lian hands over the algae and turns around with a smile to leave as well, the Emperor speaks up again.

"You stay, Xie Lian. I want to have a word with you."

***

Next part: PART VII

Okay, I have to admit, Jun Wu is hot af. I KNOW HE'S A BAD GUY (I haven't reached that part of the books yet, but tiktok spoilered me that), but I can't deny sky daddy is doing things to my brain and I am awaiting the arc in which I get to meet him as a villain, BECAUSE I HAVE TO STOP SIMPING. BUT I CAN'T. DOES ANYONE UNDERSTAND ME.

#tgcf hualian #tgcf #tgcf fanfic #tgcf hua cheng #tgcf xie lian #xie lian #hua cheng #hualian #tian guan ci fu #hualian au #mxtx tgcf #mxtx #merman #siren #merman au

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sxorpiomooon · 3 months

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Hello~ please do Byeon Woo Seok reading? He's quite popular rn, girls flock all over him XD. He's titled as nation's bf and first love💓 Thank you✨

Byeon Woo Seok

He's loving the fame, i can tell you that I think he's all over the moon rightfully so does he has a 5th house stellium? Or a gemini stellium? I see him being very fun and flirty lmao. I think it would be very easily to mistake him as someone "who's just there for the fun" or "isn't that serious" but that's not at all true I see him being extremely hard-working. He has worked alot to get the point where he is now. I see him being a very resilient person and never giving up which has bought him to this day. I think his efforts and hardwork go unnoticed or people never truly saw how much he's enduring. Damn I legit see him like being on the brink of giving up bc he's not reaching to the point where he has always wanted yet him not giving up I just am having a vision of a man with his flag on the top of the mountain and hearing "finally". I think he is the bigger picture kinda guy and contemplates alot I see him always looking for guidance and answers for all the questions that he has.

Overall, he deserves this long awaited success I'm extremely happy for him

#astrology #astrology notes #astrology observations #vedic astrology #free readings #askgames #astrology asks #exchange readings #exchange reading #tarot pac #lovely runner #im sol #ryu sun jae #sun jae #byeon woo seok #koreanastrology #koreantarot

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 10 months

Note

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION: VOODOO WEIGHT GAIN. Anything that happens to the voodoo doll, happens to the person it's moulded after. You stuff the doll with more fluff, and the person's belly grows. You dunk the doll in beer or a glass of wine, it soaks into the fabric and the person gets wasted. You rub at the doll's privates, and you hear startled moaning from the other room. I don't know, I just saw the idea on DeviantArt and I think that it has a lot of potential..

*Note: I, the author of this silly, kinky, little Tumblr fic, am white. And because of the past association between white people saying “voodoo” and cruelty towards people of color, I will not be using the term “voodoo doll.” I know nothing good or bad was necessarily meant by your ask, grey-faced anon user 😊, but I just don’t want to use that! So I’m going to say magic doll 🤷🏻‍♂️*

I FUCKING LOVE THIS IDEA.

JESUS CHRIST.

I AM SO FUCKING HERE FOR THIS.

Immediately, immediately, when you sent this to me I had a whole fucking AU in my head. This idea gives rich-man-Rogers and house-husband-boy-toy-Bucky…

Warning for unbeta'd stucky belly kink. Mostly rapid and magical weight gain, some vague dubious concent vibes but not really, etc.

I am picturing the full fantasy.

Steve is rich as fuck and is the CEO of his successful company. Whatever that is, it’s not important. What is important is that Steve is older than Bucky and is taller and bigger than him, too. Bucky is younger and twinkier. He’s sweet and needy *cough* slutty *cough*. Steve has needs too, though. Needs that are a special kind and can’t be met by just anyone, so rather than sorting through the whole fucking mess that is dating and sparking a new romance… he turns to hire someone who he can take his needs out on. A sex worker.

Steve hires a sex worker.

Specifically, Steve hires Bucky, striking up an exclusive contract with him. He wants Bucky to live with him, he wants Bucky to be ready for use at any time he needs him, and he wants Bucky to - within his limits - give into all of Steve’s dirtiest fantasies.

One of these fantasies is having a boy at home who is at his every beck and call, and who is totally, completely spoiled. Not bratty, but spoiled.

And Steve wants the evidence of Bucky’s spoiling to be on full display. He wants his houseboy - his toy - to be soft. Pale skin completely bare. Waxed, not shaved. Skin lotioned extensively. Soft. Clothed in the finest silk and lace and the like. Manners perfect. Not all skin and bones, not all bulky muscle, but fat and padded as if he’s never had to work a day in his life and is instead doughy and excessive. Always sitting on his comfortable, cushy backside.

Yeah… 🫦

Steve has specific tastes.

But Steve also has more than enough money to acquire said specific tastes. He has so much money, in fact, that he can afford to commission a small, hand-sewn, delicate doll from one of Natasha’s highest-recommended contacts. Said contact is secretive, illusive, and extensively expensive, but she agrees to Steve’s wants immediately, claiming she has just the thing and he doesn’t need to keep explaining, so… Steve has no complaints.

Steve has no complaints whatsoever, reclining in his desk chair with his belt and slacks undone, dick out, at his heavy wooden desk in his private office at work, the top floor, his solid wood door locked, with his personal secretary blocking all of his calls. On his otherwise spotless desk, there are two things: one is his laptop, and the other is a pile of fiber fill stuffing. In one hand he’s holding that little magic doll. Meanwhile, Steve’s other hand is poised to pack some of that stuffing into the doll’s body. But Steve isn’t looking at the doll, nor at the pile of awaiting stuffing, he’s looking at his laptop. The thing that is so interesting on his laptop is Bucky.

In perfect, crystal-clear quality the security camera feed from his penthouse is sprawled across the big screen. The penthouse he’s sharing with his contracted boy toy.

Bucky.

He’s been watching Bucky wander around, cleaning (Steve would prefer if he didn’t, he really does want Bucky helpless and spoiled, but he knows the younger man would go stir crazy if he didn’t have something to do, so he allows it), just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And…

Now is good, right?

Yeah.

Now is good.

So, Steve pushes a big, thick wad of stuffing into the doll and watches, dick jerking, as Bucky’s silence is interrupted by a cacophony of noise - all at once, his boy toy’s sweatpants rip to shreds and his toy lets out a sound that’s half-whimper, half-moan. He’s totally startled by the sudden woomph of his ass tripling, maybe even quadrupling, in size. Bucky is so blatantly confused that he ends up stumbling forward, nearly falling over but catching himself barely. With the flurry of movement, his ass jiggles.

Oh, Lord, Steve groans.

Big and fat.

Perfectly fat.

Bucky’s ass is unreal. It was before, firm and round, but now it is impossibly unreal. There’s no texture of dimpling cellulite and no striped stretch marks over the delicious surface of Bucky’s suddenly exposed ass. It’s perfect. Untouched. Unmarred. Only fat.

Bucky looks, well, Steve has started gnawing on his lower lip without realizing it, drawing blood already, so, it’s easy to say that he looks edible. Such a big ass on the most perfect, good-est boy. And Bucky is such a good boy that when he recovers, whimpering, after a brief, pornographic moment of groping himself, squeezing handfuls of fat where it’s mounding up behind him and twisting sharply around to try and investigate what has happened to his body, he just… goes on.

He keeps cleaning.

Steve is floored.

Oh, this is going to be so, so much more fun than he thought.

Bucky keeps cleaning as if nothing happened.

The only difference is now, Bucky is trying to stifle his precious little whines and he keeps sucking in sharp breaths like he’s embarrassed to let it show that he likes his shiny, new thick ass despite, to his knowledge, being completely alone. Unobserved.

Steve makes a whine of his own, a bitten-off, growling whine, but a whine nevertheless, when Bucky pauses cleaning to arch his back like he’s testing out how it might feel to get fucked with such a fat ass - like having such a big, heavy ass makes him feel sexy and he can’t help it. Immediately, Steve wants to make it better. He wants to make it worse. 😈 He wants to stuff as much stuffing as he can fit into the little doll’s chest to pack Bucky’s tits full of soft, malleable fat. If his boy likes how it feels to have fat, thick curves in the “right” places, then he’s going to give it to him. And then he’s going to ruin it by adding fat to the “wrong” places, too. He’s going to fatten him up. He’s going to make him huge with no effort at all.

Maybe he shouldn’t just give Bucky a taste of what it’s like to be curvy and sexy in a traditionally feminine way, all ass and tits, maybe he should pack him full of stuffing right this second, and see what he does, see how he preens and arches his back and touches himself, see how he spends his day alone, unknowing that Steve is peeping in on him, watching him get off to excess. Despite the dangerous pull... Steve doesn’t. Steve has self-control. Sometimes.

So. He lets it drag on…

He lets Bucky enjoy his fat ass for close to an hour. He simply watches, drooling and passively jerking off, as Bucky waddles around the penthouse, his ass wobbling and jiggling as he walks. His footsteps are much heavier than normal under the weight of his monstrous ass.

Bucky has removed his ruined sweatpants, but he hasn’t taken off his shirt. It should look silly. It doesn’t. It’s sexy as hell. Steve’s going to make him tear his way out of that shirt, too. He’s going to watch it be ripped to shreds. 😮‍💨

With another wave of lust, Steve decides he’s done waiting and he launches into action. He stuffs the doll again, focusing on a new, irresistible part of Bucky’s body that he wants to make even more irresistible by swelling him.

And instantly, with the doll stuffed, Bucky balloons.

His thighs, this time, widen with another sudden whoomph of magic.

His now colossal thighs match his ass delightfully. Thick and perfect. Doughy blubber that has to weigh too much for Steve to lift, despite his extensive gym routine.

Bucky moans outright this time. He’s less confused, too. He just accepts it. This is him now. The perfect, moldable toy. Adaptive and dumb.

Perfect.

He takes to the new fat packed onto his frame like a fish takes to water. Although… he’s nowhere near as physically graceful as that metaphor, Steve is talking purely about how Bucky reacts emotionally to seeing himself swell like a mound of dough left in the oven to proof overnight. Expanding. Bucky can hardly seem to walk now. His lower half is so puffy, so swollen that he’s waddling. Swaggering. Wobbling. All that fat moves captivatingly, jiggling in slow, swollen waves like the ocean after an intense storm. And because Bucky can’t walk anymore, Bucky plops down onto the nearby sofa. So heavy and overgrown that Steve’s expensive, expensive couch lets out a loud creak. Bucky swears, sounding panicked, but not too panicked to get up again and not too panicked to not start touching himself again.

His hands first make contact with his fat ass, squeezing inches of padding between his thumb and fingers at the sides of his body where his ass spills out away his hip flexors.

Steve feels a little faint. He feels more faint when Bucky scoots his thighs apart, setting them wider with a heavy, bothered sigh - they’re not only so fat that he can’t walk, they’re so fat that it’s hard to move.

Christ.

Bucky and this little doll are the best things that Steve has ever paid for. He swears. Then, Bucky moans, drawing his attention back to him and away from his money, the needy, little big minx.

Steve wants to give Bucky everything.

Steve takes the biggest ball of stuffing this far and packs it into the doll’s belly until its seams creak.

The force of the sudden fat being added to Bucky’s poor frame is so intense, whoomph, that Bucky is thrown back against the sofa. His head is thrown back too, eyes rolling to the back of his head, neck arched attractively, mouth hanging open, sweat appearing on his skin all at once. His skin. Oh, God, Steve growls to himself, he’s so fucking delighted that he’s recording all of this footage because he’s going to spend the rest of his life sneaking away into whatever nearby bathroom or closest or bedroom or wherever he can to replay the way Bucky’s shirt bursts off him, getting off to it.

The sound of the seams ripping, popping, and fabric shredding mixing orgasmically with Bucky’s cry of pleasure. Filled more than he could’ve ever dreamed of. Made so impossibly round that he’s stuck to the creaking, overburdened couch.

His gut fills all of the space in front of him.

The surface is taut like a drum and as round as a globe. Totally unmarred. No stretch marks, no bruises, not even the flush of skin struggling to contain so much blubber. He looks incredible. Mouth-watering. Pale. Fat. He’s rising like dough. And there’s only one thing left to do…

Steve stuffs his tits too, watching the way Bucky squirms, the way he writhes on the expensive, luxury couch as if he’s orgasming on the spot. So filled that he can’t take it anymore. He can’t hold anything in. He can’t keep himself from screaming. He can’t stop himself from coming. A blimp. A fat, excessive blimp sitting on top of a monstrous, thick ass and immense thighs with a belly that stretches out past his fat knees, so big and round that it shoves equally over-fattened tits up to his face, leaving him choking on them. He is overripe. Moaning with abandon, lost in the throws of pleasure from being so thoroughly gorged.

Swollen.

Filled.

(Here's part two)

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #weight gain #rapid weight gain #magic weight gain #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #chubby bucky #fat bucky

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lizhrs · 2 years

Text

high school reunion with former bullies kirishima & bakugo

warnings: nsfw, mentions of bullying, dub/noncon (wc: 3K)

It took an embarrassing amount of convincing to get you to attend this reunion.

Which is pathetic in itself because you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed of. It's been ten years since you graduated high school and since then, you've made a pretty decent name for yourself. You own your own house, your own car, have an amazing career in marketing with a promotion ahead. You're more confident than you ever could've been in high school and anyone would want to show off the amount of success you've had to your former peers.

But the fear overtook that need to gloat. The fear of seeing them again. After all these years, you despise how they can still terrify you. Just the thought of seeing them has your blood turning ice cold.

You try and tell yourself you're not that same depressing girl from school anymore and for the most part you aren't, except when it comes to thinking about those two jackasses who made your high school life hell on earth.

Seeing those assholes on tv being paraded around for being astounding heros is one thing but to have them in the same room as you is something entirely different. And you've been gulping down glasses of champagne to calm yourself but your nerves are still running rampant.

"Your ring is so beautiful." Uraraka grins, taking your fingers in her hand as her eyes sparkle at the diamond ring.

You smile, a gleeful feeling always taking over as you're reminded of the rock on your hand. The fact you're engaged is still so surreal, you managed to overcome so many odds and make a life for yourself. And that's what you’ve been telling yourself all night, repeating it like a mantra every-time the anxiety comes back.

"You're so lucky." Momo swoons. "I would kill for a ring like that from my boyfriend."

"I still can't believe I'm engaged."

"I still can't believe it took this reunion for you to invite me to the wedding. Did our friendship mean nothing?" Uraraka feigns hurt, pouting at you.

You smile, although deep down you are ashamed over the fact. You didn't want to associate yourself with that school anymore, even if it meant ditching your former friends. "I’m sorry." You sigh. "But we can reconnect again, I have so much to tell you."

"You can tell me tonight!" She exclaims. "The night doesn't have to end just yet, you should come to the after party."

"Uraraka..." Momo chides. "Bakugo's throwing that party."

Oh.

You hate how you tense at that name. It's been years, why can't you simply just not care?

Uraraka's smile drops. "Oh yeah, sorry."

"It's fine." You nutter, hating the way they look at you like you're a wounded puppy. "We can talk another time, you have my number now."

"I should get going..." You continue. You've already spoken to everyone here and gotten most of their numbers for the next time you guys want to hang out. You know they like to be fashionably late so you've had the luxury of having fun without seeing them. But you know any more seconds spent here, you'll be regretting ever stepping foot in this building.

Uraraka pouts, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's been ten years guys I'm over it. It's just getting late and I have work early tomorrow." You smile.

They both nod, saying their goodbyes and hugging you tightly.

And you were so close.

So close to stepping out of the venue and into your car where sweet freedom awaited you.

But the universe had different plans as you opened the exit door only to bump into a hard chest. A bunch of sorries leave your lips as you step back, straightening your dress, you regret the idea of even apologizing as you look up to see him.

A wave of nausea takes over as you stare, mouth slightly agape. Your fingers clench the jacket in your hands as you try to remain calm.

He's gotten bigger. You've seen him grow up on tv and in the media, everyone either hating or fawning over their hero. He looks as confident and cocky as ever, blonde hair spiking up, muscles evident in the dress shirt he's wearing, lips pulled into a stupid arrogant smirk as his eyes pierce into you.

You could push past him, run away and into your car but you know whenever Bakugo is near, Kirishima isn't far behind.

And you're unfortunately right as you see the red head come into view, looking confused as to why Bakugo stopped walking until his eyes land on you. At first he looks surprised then a look of pure mischief and...something else you can't really describe settle in his eyes, causing your stomach to twist.

"Quirkless." Is the first thing Bakugo says. "I didn't think I'd see you here."

"You didn't think you'd see me at the high school reunion?" You mock, rolling your eyes.

He smirks at you, "Seems like you've grown a set of balls, doesn't it Kiri?"

Kirishima stays silent for a few seconds, eyes traveling up and down your body before he responds. "It does."

"A few years without us and suddenly Quirkless thinks she can talk back." Bakugo tsk. "Seems like we'll have to fix that."

You scoff, "It's been ten years. Have you really not grown up?"

He's still calling you quirkless, like it's the worst thing in the world. It infuriates you at how condescending he can be. And how he got everything he wanted after high school. Good things do unfortunately happen to bad people.

Kirishima snorts, slowly walking up to stand behind you. You tease, he's too close for comfort as his hand settles on your shoulder. "Don't tell me you're leaving already?"

"I have work tomorrow." You're shocked at how well you've been able to handle this situation, you thought you would've been a trembling mess the second you saw them.

"We haven't seen you in years, Quirkless. We have got to catch up." Bakugo grins, walking closer. His finger brushing your cheek. You hate how they think they can just touch you after all this time, hate how you can't do anything about it.

"I have to go." You say, ignoring the lump in your throat.

"You have to come to the after party." Kirishima grins, and its most definitely not a suggestion.

"We've missed our favorite pet."

It's pathetic. So utterly pathetic how easily you give in. In your defense, it's not like you could walk away from the two most powerful pro heroes on the earth but still—it's humiliating. you're not a teenage girl anymore. You're a grown woman, but the second you were in the same vicinity as them it's like you were back in that classroom. So defenseless and small against the two biggest meatheads in your school.

So here you are, in Bakugo's obnoxiously huge and luxurious house. Everyone is having the time of their lives, drinking and taking pictures to show social media they're in the number one heros house. But all you can think about is how you're going to get out of this.

They quite literally forced you into their car, a car you could never afford even if you sold a kidney and drove you here. The car ride was silent except for the incessant beating of your heart, you've gnawed at several fingernails since you saw them—a habit you haven't done in years.

You're scared.

It's annoying how scared you are.

And you try to remind yourself there's nothing they can do in a room filled with people but then you remember all the ways they would taunt you in those classrooms back then. People did nothing then and they probably won't do shit now considering how powerful the two have become.

They left you to yourself after you all entered the house, going to greet everyone else. But now you can see Bakugo making his way towards you and you try your hardest not to puke over your new heels. "Let's go quirkless."

"W-where?"

You're stuttering. You haven't done that shit in years.

He smirks, noticing how anxious you are. "Somewhere private."

"I don't want to." You force out, looking around the house, hoping Momo or anyone that can help is near. To save you from this bastards hold but all you see are drunken faces.

He laughs, the sound causing you to flinch. "How cute." His massive hand closes around your wrist, pulling you out of the chair and further into the house. Away from everyone else.

He walks around like any Number one hero would, obnoxiously cocky. He pulls you into another living room…or bedroom? A mixture of both you conclude as you see the bed in the middle of the massive room. "W-what are we doing here?"

Your breath hitches as you see Kirishima, he's putting ice in a cup then pouring whiskey in it. The tie around his neck has loosened, shirt tucked out of his pants. He looks tipsy.

Not a good combination with his personality.

"Y/N!" He grins as he sees you.

That's the first time you've heard your name tumble out of his lips in years and you jump at the sound. "I—what do you guys want."

Bakugo chuckles. Kirishima laughs.

You hate how they're acting like they're in on some inside joke you don't know about. What the hell do they want? "Look, I know okay? I know you guys hate me and all but it's been ten fucking years and I would think after being hailed as heros, you would have better shit to do then torment a former classmate. So just let me go."

Bakugo hums. "But you're not just a former classmate, are you? You're Quirkless, our little y/n." He takes off his jacket, throwing it to the side and you try not to notice the way his muscles flex.

"You guys are still so obsessed, it's pathetic."

"Did you hear that Kats, we're pathetic." He snorts.

Bakugo doesn't seem to find it so funny. "A quirkless whore calling us pathetic. Now that's something." He sits down on the couch, stretching his legs.

“Excuse me?" You scoff.

“I hear you're engaged." Bakugo starts.

“To some marketing nerd." Kirishima pipes in.

"I saw him the other day y’know he was absolutely terrified of me." He grins. "The freak didn't even bother putting up a fight."

"What did you expect from a little nerd like that?" Kirishima sighs. "You should've gone easier on him."

"I did." He says, "It's not my fault he's weak." They're talking like you're not even here.

The cogs in your brain start to turn, the nausea returning. Your fiancé got into an accident the other day, he said he was mugged by some lowlife robbers but the police took care of it. That's why he wasn't able to come with you tonight, he was still nursing his wounds...you mean Bakugo was the one who did that to him?

"You...w—what?" You breath out. "You did that to him? You attacked my fiancé?"

He rolls his eyes, "So dramatic."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You yell. "Do you think just because you got some medal you can do whatever you want? Your hatred for me runs that deep you have to go and attack the people I care about? You're—you're pathetic!"

"There's that word again." Bakugo sighs, standing up. "You go and get engaged to some loser who doesn't even know how to tie his own shoelaces and yet I'm the pathetic one here Quirkless?" He scoffs, now standing directly in front of you.

"You let him think he had a chance with you and yet I'm the loser. You let that freak touch you and yet I'm in the wrong here?" He asks, fingers ghosting over the strap of your dress. "I suppose it could be our fault, we let you go for too long. Let you think you were allowed to let some extra fuck you."

“W-what?" You take a step back, what's wrong with him? "You're—I'm calling the cops and reporting you. You can't just think—"

He grabs your hand, taking the ring off your finger before you can blink. "What are you—"

He throws it away, to the side and into a corner you can't see. What's wrong with him? You're too terrified to even talk now, seeing the dangerous look in his eyes. You don't think you've ever seen him look at you like that. He's been angry with you before yeah but now for some inexplicable reason he looks infuriated mixed with a flash of disappointment.

“You're ours, Quirkless. Have you forgotten so quickly?"

“You're insane." You take a step back, confused on whatever they're on. Theirs? They've done nothing but torment you and somehow think that...what...you take another step only to bump into a chest. You gasp as a hand snakes around your waist. Kirishima puts his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling you.

"You've grown y/n, looking more gorgeous than ever. Everything taking its natural course." He chuckles, hand ghosting over your breast.

“Let go of me." You whimper, too scared to say anymore.

“Why would we do that? When we've been waiting years for this?"

“Years?"

"We've been watching you over the years, seeing the countless of men that have come and gone. We let you have them because it was never anything serious but this...we had to take some sort of action to fix this. I mean engagement?" Bakugo laughs, although there's no humor behind it. "How could we ever allow that?"

"You have no control over my choices." You grit through your teeth. "Allow? You can't allow me to do anything, you don't fucking own me!"

"That's where you're wrong." Bakugo takes several steps towards you, face inches away from yours, crazed look in his eyes. "We do. And we should've established that sooner it seems. But no worries, we have plenty of time now."

He's too close. Towering over you. Suffocating you.

You need to get out of here, away from these freaks. You thought it was simple bullying, losers needing to feel some sort of importance by picking on the weak kid but...it's not. Not with the way he's looking at you, with the way Kirishima's breath is fanning your neck, hands getting dangerously close to your breasts. This is some sort of sick obsession. An infatuation and sense of possessiveness they've had on you for...god you don't even what to think for how long.

You shake your head, not thinking twice as you jam your elbow into Kirishima's stomach. For a pro hero, he actually stumbles back, coughing in pain. You don't waste a second, using the free space you have to run towards the door.

Just as your fingers are about to wrap about the knob, you're pulled back. Fingers gripping your hair, pulling and yanking you away from the door. You scream, hands coning up to offer some sort of relief to your aching scalp.

It's Bakugo. You know, just from how rough he is. He's always been the one who never cared about the inhumane strength he's had compared to you, tossing you around like a rag doll whenever he pleased. Back then, you thought it brought him some sort of sick satisfaction to witness how weak you were underneath his grip. How he could do whatever he wanted to you and all you could do in retaliation was whimper and cry.

He drags you across the room, your knees hitting the floorboard as you're forced to crawl. He throws you down on the bed with a bounce, a yelp escaping your throat. You scream again, an ear shattering one just in hope anyone will hear. "Shut up." He grits through his teeth. He moves too fast for you to even comprehend what's going on before it's too late, before he's on top of you and his hand around your throat, tight and snug.

"Can you be quiet for us, y/n?" He asks, this time voice so guttural low it frightens you more than before. You're trembling, lips quivering as you do your best to nod.

“Good." He sighs, hand leaving your throat. He grins down at you, eyes looking over every inch of your body. You look at his arms now on either side of your head, can't help but stare at the pumping veins flexing along his arms. He's huge. Has more muscles than you can comprehend and could easily string you up and leave you for dead. And you don't want to die.

Back then during school, they would never hurt you too bad as long as you behaved. So you force the anxiety and terror down, trying to will the trembling away as you look up at him. "A-are you going to kill me?" You can't help but ask, voice painfully low.

He doesn't look like he minds you speaking, only stares at you in mock pity. "Of course not."

“We could never." Kirishima comes up, sitting next to the both of you. His thumb touches your bottom lip, caressing it. "We just want to get some rules down babe, like before. And if you follow them, we'll never have to hurt you."

"R-rules?"

Bakugo nods, knee slightly riding up between your thighs, lifting your dress up just the tiniest bit.

Kirishima smiles, finger running small circles on your shoulder, the small action causing you to shudder. "Like rule number one for instance..." He starts.

"When we offer to fuck you." Bakugo takes over. Fingers going to the straps of your dress, pulling them down. You choke on your fear, on your panic and anxiety as you shake your head no, words failing to escape you. "You beg and thank us for it." He finishes simply. Like this is an ordinary conversation between two consenting adults.

You open your mouth to speak, voice coming out in shuddering, shaking tone. "Please..." It was a plea for them to stop, for them to regain some sort of morality and let you go.

But they only laugh, ignoring your tears as Kirishima smiles. "See? Just like that."

#was going to be longer buttttt—#mha #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #kirishima x you #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x bakugou #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere kirishima

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probablyasocialecologist · 10 months

Text

As the American sociologist Immanuel Wallerstein recognized, capitalism fuels economic growth through shifting the cost of that development onto the Global South. So long as this externalization of costs runs smoothly, those of us living in the Global North can enjoy a rich lifestyle and avoid suffering the consequences of environmental crises. This is how we’ve been able to avoid thinking seriously about the true cost of our expansive lifestyles for so long.

[...]

The dilemma is this: As the economy grows, the range of human economic activity grows too, which means that the volume of resource and energy consumption will also grow, making it difficult to reduce carbon dioxide emissions. This is a historical tendency. In other words, even green economic growth may cause increases in carbon emissions and resource use in direct proportion to its success because economic growth is historically accompanied by more frequent consumption of bigger commodities, including ones in wasteful and carbon-intensive industries. This in turn will necessitate more and more dramatic increases in efficiency, but there is an insurmountable physical limit to the improvement of technological efficiency. This is the Growth Trap, a major pitfall awaiting capitalism as it attempts to establish a zero-carbon economy. The question is, can this trap be avoided? Unfortunately, escaping this trap is unlikely. Sustaining a growth rate of 2–3 percent for the GDP would necessitate the immediate reduction of carbon dioxide emissions by 10 percent every year to hit the 1.5° C target. If we leave it to the market, the likelihood of achieving a yearly reduction rate as dramatic as 10 percent or more is very low.

[...]

Make no mistake: Green New Deal–style governmental platforms enabling large-scale investment into remaking nations at a fundamental level are indispensable in the struggle to combat climate change. It’s undeniable that we must make the transition to solar energy, electric vehicles, and the like. Public transportation systems must be expanded and made free to all, bicycle lanes must be built, public housing fitted with solar panels must be created—these sorts of works projects, driven by public spending, are all vital. But these things are not enough. It might sound counterintuitive, but the goal of any Green New Deal should not be economic growth but rather the slowing down of the economy. Measures to stop climate change cannot double as ways to further economic growth. Indeed, the less such measures aim to grow the economy, the higher the possibility they’ll work.

#kohei saito #degrowth #green new deal #planetary boundaries #Decoupling

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mynameismckenziemae · 10 months

Text

She’s a Fire-Chapter XII

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OFC/Reader (no use of y/n)

Sends your mind spinning

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

Warnings: dom!bradley, spanking, oral (f receiving) humiliation, sir kink, ruined orgasm, orgasm delay/denial, probably more.

“Hard way it is,” Bradley says as you fly up the stairs. Padding as quietly as you can when you reach the top, deciding to hide behind his bedroom door.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you hear him slowly climb the steps. “If you come out now, I promise it won’t be so bad,” he lies.

You flinch (and clench) as you hear him slapping the brush against his palm again. You rub your thighs together; both dreading and craving when he’ll smack it against your skin like that.

He walks into the bedroom and as he opens his closet door, you take your chance. You almost make it, but the floor creaks. You freeze and grin when his eyes meet yours.

You take off down the stairs, your sock-clad feet slowing you down. You hesitate before taking a left at the bottom, sliding around the table as he enters the dining room.

You realize you’re cornered but aren’t ready to give up without a fight. You wait for him to get close and run for it, but your socks on the wood floor are your downfall and you slip. You catch yourself but that split second is all it takes for him to catch you.

He grabs hold of your wrist. “Nonononono,” you say; struggling against his grip as he tugs you toward the living room. He tosses the hairbrush on the couch to use both hands to pull you.

Bradley sits and drags you across his lap, angling you so your top half is resting on the couch. He jerks your pants and undies down to your ankles as you squirm, trying to get away but he’s bigger and stronger.

He gives you several harsh swats with his hand in rapid succession until you settle. You were spanked as a kid just a handful of times but you don’t remember it hurting this much.

You’re both breathing hard when he pauses. “You done squirming yet or do you need more?”

Both sets of your cheeks are burning; you feel exposed with your ass exposed and the position over his knee is humiliating as it is arousing.

You look over your shoulder. “Over your knee? Seriously? I’m not a child-“ you start but Bradley cuts you off with another round of stinging blows to your ass.

“You’re about to find out how serious I am, Rowan,” he says as he rubs his hand over your warmed skin, goosebumps rising at his touch. “If you’re gonna act like a little fucking brat and run from me, I’ll treat you like one.” A flurry of slaps rain down again. You bite your lip to stay silent. It hurts, and he hasn’t even picked up the brush. Yet, your arousal covers your upper thighs. “If you had just taken your punishment like a good girl, it would have been over already and I’d be fucking you right now. But no, you had to be difficult. So now you’re gonna remember this every time I let you take control.”

You start to laugh but it’s cut off by another 2 slaps. You gasp before clearing your throat. “Let me take control? Like you have a choice.” You taunt.

He chuckles darkly. “Says the naughty girl I bent over my knee.”

You shiver and can’t hold back your moan as his fingers dip between your legs, swiping the wetness up to circle your clit.

You hold your breath, not making a sound as your orgasm approaches, but it doesn’t matter. Bradley knows your tells. He stops and lightly slaps your pussy, drawing a startled gasp from your lips.

“For someone who fought me so hard, you sure seem to be enjoying it.” He says lowly.

You shake your head and he gently slaps your clit.

“Use your words, Rowan, and don’t you dare lie to me,” he says, the smile evident in his voice as he uses your previous words against you. Asshole.

“No, I’m not enjoying it. All I can think about is how I’m going to get you back for this,” you lie, tensing as you await more spanks.

He surprises you though, and just trails his fingertips over your skin again and again until you relax, and that’s when he strikes, literally. Spanking you over and over with his hand until you can’t bite your tongue any longer.

“Okay! Okayokayokay,” you pant, “I give. I like it when you spank me…sir.” You add for good measure.

He sucks in a breath and his erection under you twitches. Oh, he likes that.

“Yeah, that’s my girl. Had enough yet?” He murmurs, soothing his hand over your bottom.

“Yes sir,” you say, rising from your forearms.

“Too bad, ‘cause I’m just getting started,” he replies, pushing you back down, “let’s say 10 more and then I’ll start with the hairbrush, yeah?”

You whimper and shake your head, reaching your hand back to try and cover yourself, Bradley just sighs, taking both of your wrists in his left hand, forcing you onto your chest. “Alright, fine. 8 more with my hand,” you sigh in relief, “and I’ll add 2 more with the brush.”

You whine but decide not to press your luck. “Yes sir,” you reply reluctantly.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“and…8,” he says, delivering the final blow with his hand. You flinch slightly exhaling the breath you were holding. Your arousal is now soaking Bradley’s pant leg.

“Color,” he asks as he picks up the brush, stroking the cool wood on your fiery skin. Oh God.

“Green.”

“Good. Yellow to slow down and red to stop, okay?” He slaps the brush on your left cheek before you can answer.

FUCK, that’s way worse than his hand. “Yes sir.”

“That’s one. 11 to go”.

“Yes sir” you mutter.

Bradley groans and his cock surges under your stomach after the fourth. “Fuck Row, that sound.” You won’t admit it to him, but you love the sound each stroke of the wood against your skin makes too.

He delivers 5 and 6th quickly. Tears start to leak from your eyes and you plead. “Please sir, Bradley, baby...it hurts. That’s enough, okay? I don’t want anymore.”

“Did you stop when I asked you to? Did you try and make me cum in front of the squad?” He asks, hitting 7 and 8 on the crease where your thighs meet your ass. You let out a pained yelp.

“I’m sorry, it…it was—I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. Please no more?” You whimper. Even though Bradley still has a hold on your wrists behind your back, you find a way to squirm.

He laughs, “You didn’t mean to turn the cock ring on high? You’re lucky I’m feeling generous. Next time lying will get you double.”

The burning heat from your ass has your pussy throbbing as he gives you numbers 9 and 10 on your sit spots.

He runs the cool wood over your skin again as he taunts you, prolonging the final 2 spanks to torture you further. “What should I do next? Should I make you stand in the corner like the naughty girl you are, so I can jerk off and cum all over your pretty red cheeks? Or how about no pants for the rest of the day, and every time I see the redness starting to fade I could warm ya back up? Would you like that?”

You whimper at his words and shake your head. So humiliating and arousing at the same time.

His fingers dip between your legs; your back arches as you keen. He works you over and you’re so fucking close before he pulls them away again. “Liars don’t get to cum. Alright, last 2. Count ‘em.”

He raises his hand and cracks against the center of the left cheek, the hardest one yet. You hiss, “Eleven sir”.

The final one is to the center of the right, and equally as harsh. “12 sir,” you sob.

Bradley sets down the brush and releases your hands before he lifts you to a standing position, guiding you to step out of your pants and underwear that were still bunched around your ankles. You don’t resist the urge to rub your burning flesh.

He grabs your hand with his left and delivers a stinging slap with his right. You yelp and look back at him with a displeased expression, not expecting that as you thought your punishment was over.

“Did I say you could?” He asks, eyes flicking to your ass and back up to yours with a quirked brow.

“No sir,” you reply, blushing.

“That’s right. I’m not done with you yet. Now go upstairs and bend over the bed while you wait for me. Your pretty red cheeks are the first thing I want to see when I walk in.” He says in a tone that leaves no room for compromise.

He stands and looms over you. “I’ll be up when I decide you’ve had enough time to think about what you’ve done.”

“Yes sir,” you nod before climbing the stairs.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

As soon as you’re out of sight, Bradley reaches down to grip himself.

Holy fuck that was hot. He’d spanked girls during sex before and overpowered them a little, but nothing like that.

The way you fought him, squirmed, and tried to act like you weren’t affected drove him crazy in the best way, and he almost came in his pants when you called him ‘sir’.

He takes a deep breath and releases the hold he has on his cock, already too close. He decides to make you wait a little longer as he collects the Amazon packages on the porch.

He’d ordered a few things after you used the hairbrush on him with the thoughts of turning the tables on you in mind, not realizing he would need them so soon. Thank God for 2-day shipping.

He washes and dries the items, placing them in his pockets, and whistles as he heads up the stairs.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You take a shaky breath as you bend over his bed, resting your head on your folded arms.

You’ve never been this turned on; the chase, the way he easily overpowered you, the lack of mercy and response to your pleading, the intense pleasurepain from the spanking and now this…waiting for him so vulnerable and exposed. You rub your thighs together trying to get some sort of friction as you don’t dare to reach down and touch yourself.

You can hear him moving around downstairs, opening and closing the door, and running the water…is he seriously doing dishes right now?

After what seems to be an eternity, he’s climbing the stairs, whistling like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

You’re too embarrassed to look at him, so you keep your head down. He groans as he walks through the door, freezing as sees you bent over, like he asked. You hear him fumbling around in his pockets before you hear the camera shutter on his phone. “Spank-bank material for the next deployment” he murmurs.

A fresh wave of arousal courses through you as he takes a few steps closer to snap another picture.

He sets his phone next to you on the bed and goes to his closet, returning a moment later and sliding something silky over your eyes. “One of my ties, since I don’t have a fancy mask like you.”

You hide your smile in your arms until he pulls them behind you again, using another one to tie them together. “Please baby, I wanna touch you” you whine.

“Should’ve thought of that before you ran earlier Row,” he chastises and a frustrated groan leaves you. He moves behind you; the material of his sweatpants brushing over the reddened skin of your ass as he starts to kiss a trail down your back, placing one to each palm and then kneeling.

You suck in a breath as he presses his lips tenderly to each cheek before ducking his head and licking into your pussy with no warning. “Finally…” you sigh.

You wiggle your hips, trying to get him where you want but a hand comes up to slap your cheek and grip it tight in warning.

He continues the sweet torture for several minutes, teasing you now and then with a quick flick of his tongue over your clit. You’re close.

His hand fumbles with something in his pocket before touching it to your clit. An animalistic sound is ripped from your throat and you jolt as he turns it on. A vibrator.

Your legs shake as you reach your orgasm, but it’s ripped away just as you tip over the edge when Bradley turns it off and his mouth leaves you, ruining it.

Hot tears of frustration fill your eyes as you shake your head. “No more, Bradley. Please.”

He finally decides you’ve had enough. He rises to his feet and helps you to lay on your stomach, pushing a pillow under your hips so your ass is propped up.

He strips and climbs on the bed over you, pushing into you with ease. You groan in unison.

He fucks you at a punishing pace, his hips slapping the abused flesh of your ass with each thrust. You whimper, it hurts sofuckinggood.

He picks up the vibrator and slips his hand between your hips and the pillow and turns it on, pushing you over the edge you didn’t even know you were on.

You think you scream his name, but you’re not sure as your vision goes white. Your pussy clenches like a vice and there’s a wet gush between your legs, coating Bradley and the pillow underneath you.

“Oh…oh my God. Fuckkkkk,” Bradley pants and grits his teeth, forcing himself to not cum inside you, wanting to mark your reddened skin.

He takes his hand and the vibe out from under you and pulls out to finish on your ass. You whimper as stripes of his cum coat you.

You hear the shutter of his phone again and smile. So dirty.

He climbs off the bed, running water for a bath, and comes back a minute later, taking the tie from your eyes and unwrapping your hands.

He’s murmuring sweet praises to you as he gently wipes his spend from you with a cool washcloth before turning and lifting you to the bathroom, setting you down to check the bath temperature. He gets in and offers his hand and you settle between his legs, hissing as the hot water touches your butt.

“I’m sorry,” he says smugly.

“No, you’re not.” You reply, smiling as you rest your head against his chest.

He laughs. “You’re right, I’m not, seeing as I was just on the receiving end of that brush.”

You close your eyes and hum in agreement.

“I’ll delete those pictures, I only took them because I could tell you were getting off on it.” He says as he trails his fingers over your lower stomach.

“Why? Didn’t you like them?” You ask.

“I did, they were sexy as hell. But we didn’t talk about it first.” He replies, fingers dipping lower.

“Keep them. It’s so hot knowing you’ll be jerking off to them when you’re gone. You can take more too, as long as I get to take some of you. Oh, maybe videos too?”

“Yeah, ‘course” he murmurs in your ear, fingertips ghosting circles over your bundle of nerves.

“You don’t have to…,” you sigh as he circles faster.

“I know, I want to. I wanted to get you off at least 2 more times before I came, but I couldn’t hold it off after you squirted.”

“I—“ you gasp as his other hand finds your breast, “I’ve never done that before. Tonight was the first time.”

A pleased hum leaves his chest. “It won’t be the last.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A/N: BRB, need to go find my husband to rearrange my guts for me 🥴 seriously though. This is a dirty one. I have nothing to say.

Tagging:

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@ingoaliesitrust

@hookslove1592

@eli2447

@bradshawbaddie

#dom!bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw

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ququb444hm · 2 years

Text

thanks a lot, cupid

part 02 / surrounded by homosexuals ☆

masterlist

warning(s): possible typos, profanity

let’s give a little context, shall we? currently, we are set a few months prior to the present timeline– yn’s sophomore year, nearing the end of sophomore year to be specific. she and keiji have been dating for 5 months, and today is the annual art exhibition of yūgen university, a day where all the art students gather their most prized and successful art pieces for the public to view and even buy off during the auction portion of the event. as joyous as this day should be, yn’s mind clouded with thoughts regarding her boyfriend.

keiji was great! he was sweet, thoughtful, evidently handsome, and universally, an ideal boyfriend. but… recently the spark seemed to die out. with promised dates being frequently forgotten and feelings bottled within the two individuals, until they decide to burst and drench the couple with a bitter taste, yn was beginning to think it would be a good idea to break up.

this takes us to a gloomy yn who just finished getting ready for tonight's event, waiting for her brother and his girlfriend to make their way from the downstairs flower shop to the apartment above. identifiable voices followed familiar footsteps up the building’s stairs. “you ready, picasso?” tetsurou chimed, head peeking through the rails.

cecily followed suit, giggling about, “ohh, you got the name right this time!”

“what can I say, I support the art community.”

“yeah, I'm ready.” yn answered, walking over to the two.

“oh wow,” cecily awed, staring at the younger girl. “you look great, peach. let me go freshen up, I’ll meet the two of you in the car. give me five minutes!” in a hurry, the oldest of the three swept over to her bedroom to get dressed as the kuroo siblings grabbed their belongings before exiting the premises.

“keiji texted me,” tetsurou mumbled, opening the car door for his sister. “said he can’t make it to the exhibition.” the second half of the sentence was almost inaudible if not for yn’s perked ears.

“for some reason that doesn’t surprise me.”

“tried to see if it was a surprise and he was just saying that to catch me off guard, but apparently he forgot about today and accidentally scheduled something else that he can't reschedule.”

“how romantic. well, that adds more reasons why we should break up.” yn murmured, picking up her phone to check if keiji decided to text her the news himself, “did he say anything as to why he couldn’t tell me any of this himself? or was it the usual use tetsurou as my personal messenger?”

as a response, tetsurou passed his phone over to yn with the screen showing his conversation with keiji.

please tell yn for me I don’t think I have enough courage to do so myself. I’m sorry.

the car ride to the university was quiet despite cecily’s attempts to try and get the siblings into a conversation. once parked, the three made their way to the art building to transfer yn’s paintings to the place the exhibition was being held where a crowd of friends and family of other art students awaited to enter.

“holy shit. the crowd seems bigger than it was in freshmen year.” mori gasped, fingers fidgeting with his nametag.

ignoring the whole relationship situation, yn couldn’t help the growing feeling of excitement for tonight's event. her art occupied a huge chunk of her heart and soul. she spent laborious days, weeks, and months on her paintings. sure her boyfriend who she was going to break up with couldn’t make it and somehow talk her into not breaking up but! her friends, her brother, and proud administrators who have actually supported and encouraged her passion were with her, and that’s all that mattered.

the event itself went smoothly. various compliments and pictures with admirable professionals struck yn’s heart with pure serotonin, “If I died right at this moment, I swear I would die with no regrets.”

“that’s a lie. you’d die a virgin which is lame.” rin interjected,

“nothing wrong with that.” koushi said matter of factly.

“says the non-virgin.” tooru smirked, earning multiple gags from the group.

rin rolled his eyes at the couple, “first of all, ew. second, the auction is starting in fifteen minutes, mr. vanderaz said to start putting the things you wanna auction off into the stage room.”

“oh! I need help moving my things then,” mori exclaimed, “see you there, yn!” he gave his best friend a quick hug before dragging rintarou, tooru, and koushi over to help him.

“alright! which pretty paintings do you want moved over to the stage room?” koutarou beamed, ruffling the girl’s hair.

“oh, these three please!” yn answered, pointing over to the three beside her, “also, I really gotta make a quick phone call, I’ll meet you guys there?”

cecily, who yn informed about her thoughts regarding breaking up with keiji, quickly understood what was happening. “meet you there, peaches.” she gave a reassuring kiss on the girl’s cheek before going over to tetsurou and koutarou to help carry the canvases.

quickly making her way outside the building to a secluded bench, yn dialed keiji’s number half hoping for him to pick up, half hoping that maybe she wouldn’t have to hear his voice and cry because she hated ending things, especially a 5 month relationship. A few seconds passed before the overfamiliar calming voice of keiji akaashi was heard on the other side of the line,

“yn?”

“hey, uhm are you busy right now?”

“…kind of? not really, why what's wrong? how’s the art exhibition? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it…”

“It’s fine…I mean no it's not fine-”

“what do you mean? did you get hurt?”

“no, no that’s not what I meant. I was referring to you not coming…I actually called because I wanted to talk about us.”

“oh.”

“keiji… you’re a great guy but these few months have been really emotionally draining for me and I just don’t think I can do this anymore. you haven't been keeping your promises and with all the small arguments we’ve had recently, I just…I think it would be best if we…if we broke up.”

“…”

“keiji? keiji please respond. this is really hard for me too and I just really need you to say something. anything. please.”

“I’m sorry for all the hurt I’ve caused you yn…I’m sorry.”

the sound signaling the call ended echoed throughout the empty night, drowning out the bustling noise from the inside of the building and it wasn’t until the soft pitter patter of rain that yn realized she had been holding in bulky tears that now streamed down her face, warming her cold cheeks.

a few minutes passed until someone noticed yn’s absence and went to look for her. finding the crying girl outside and alone made the heart of the individual ache. slow, quiet footsteps made their way to the bench, stopping in front of the girl. no words were exchanged, just pitying eyes and a warm embrace.

“thank you, kozu.”

part 01 ugly and bitchless <- | masterlist | -> part 03 stuck w me

note(s): none of the pictures used are mine!!

#🐈.thanksalotcupid #kozume kenma #kenma kozume #kozume kenma x reader #kozume kenma x fem!reader #kenma kozume x reader #kenma kozume x fem!reader #kenma x reader #kozume x reader #smau #kenma smau #haikyuu #haikyuu smau #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! smau

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

Text

Bigger Than The Whole Sky ☁️ | Top Gun Maverick Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: pilot!reader (call sign: Cloud) x Dagger Squad (platonic), Best friend!Natasha Trace x reader

Content Warnings; major angst, major character death. Description of car accidents caused by drunk driving, blood, and fatal injuries. Sudden miscarriage. Mention of teenage pregnancy & dysfunctional family dynamics. Emotional with no happy ending—read at your own risk. Profanity. | female reader (she/her) | wc: 7.5k+

Premise: It was supposed to be a happy reunion, instead it ended in tragedy. Saying goodbye to friends was not uncommon for their job, but never did it get easy. For the members of the 2019 Top Gun detachment, the last thing they expected was for a senseless accident to take away one of their own. In their grief they relive memories of the woman who, in their eyes, was bigger than the whole sky.

Note: I’m sorry.

—————————————

Gray clouds painted the sky. A fitting yet cruel joke for those who stood below on the grass, staring ahead past the hills as though they could not see the caskets before them. One of which had the American flag draped over the white painted wood. Light rain dripped down from the skies, mixing with the tears cascading down the cheeks of every guest. Off to the side stood six servicemen holding rifles, awaiting their time for the 21 gun salute.

A final send off to their sister in arms.

Dressed in their Dress Whites, members of the uranium enrichment plant mission stood behind the family of Lieutenant Y/n ‘Cloud’ L/n.

Cloud. ‘What an odd call sign’ many of them thought when they first met her in October of 2019. Soon they realized it was perfect for the pilot who always appeared like she was on Cloud 9. Never had they met someone with so much optimism and bliss. Even after getting to know Y/n and discovering all she had gone through in her life, they could not believe she lived everyday with a smile.

From the beginning, Y/n was dealt with a challenging life. Father wasn’t in the picture, mother working two, sometimes three jobs to keep them afloat leaving Y/n to take care of her siblings. A social life was none existent, therefore Y/n put all her focus into caring for her family and school. She worked her ass off in school in hopes of getting a scholarship to college for it was her dream to become a fighter pilot. Having done Navy JROTC all four years in high school, Y/n learned the beauty of aviation, taking school trips to air shows and museums which made the desire grow. At seventeen her dreams were nearly put on hold when she fell pregnant to her high school boyfriend the summer going into senior year. The relationship with her boyfriend didn’t last once the news broke, leaving Y/n to face the reality her own mother went through.

Determined to achieve her dream and give her baby the life they deserved, Y/n got a job as a hotel receptionist while finishing high school. Instead of going to prom, she was in the hospital where she gave birth in March of 2005 to a baby boy she named Atlas. A healthy and perfect baby who stole her heart in ways only a mother would know. Atlas gave Y/n hope. He was her motivation to do better. Being his mother gave Y/n an endless state of bliss, always starting her day with a smile, with the goal of bringing nothing but happiness to Atlas’ life. He would never know hardships like she did. And although his father wasn’t in the picture, Y/n would be both mom and dad.

Good news and bad news came with the birth of Atlas. The good news was Y/n received a full ride to Boston University through their Navy ROTC program after Y/n’s successful interview. The bad, unfortunately, meant Y/n would have to waive her parental rights and give her mother custody at some point before commissioning, as she could not have dependents when coming into the Navy. Until then, Y/n could have her son with her through college. She and her best friend, who also was attending BU, found a little apartment close to campus and coordinated their schedules so her best friend could watch Atlas during Y/n’s morning PT and ROTC classes since her other professors for her major allowed her to bring the baby with her to class. Atlas loved going to Y/n’s classes, sleeping in his carrier or playing with his toys. Sometimes if he got fussy her professors would hold him which made the students' hearts melt.

Much like high school the young woman didn’t have a social life. It was hard to have one, being a full-time student and single mother to an infant. Though her college was paid for, Y/n found a part-time job on campus as a desk assistant for one of the dorms. Doing so allowed her to have Atlas with her while she studied and brought a paycheck to care for him. It was an easy job that pretty much consisted of her watching the lobby and making sure residents were safe. It gave Y/n all the time in the world to get her homework done. All four years she kept the job and split the money between savings and depositing into a trust fund for Atlas.

Commissioned to the rank of Ensign upon graduation from Boston University, Y/n waived her parental rights to her mother, who now had a well paying job and could care for Atlas until Y/n finished flight school and was assigned a squadron. It took a few years, with Y/n seeing her son only for holidays and once in a blue moon but just before Atlas’ eighth birthday Y/n was re-granted custody. She was assigned to the VFA-41, more commonly known as the Black Aces from NAS Lemoore, Atlas became her dependent, the two found a nice home off base to rent. Atlas was enrolled in the base elementary school, and at the end of the school day he’d go to the base youth center where Y/n would pick up after work.

With the Black Aces, Y/n, now known to her fellow aviators as ‘Cloud’ due to constant state of happiness like she was on Cloud Nine 24/7, met Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace. A woman who would become one of Y/n’s best friends. Together they made up the small percentage of female aviators at Lemoore, becoming so close they actually decided to be roommates with Natasha moving into the spare bedroom of Y/n’s home. Nat was surprised to learn Y/n had a child when they first met, but grew to see Atlas like a surrogate nephew, the boy always asking Nat to tell him stories and play games whenever Y/n was busy. “Aunt Tasha, can we play Just Dance?”

“I don’t think that’s fair since you always win, little man,” she teases, causing him to pout, “Oh alright. This time I get to pick the first song.”

A year after Natasha was selected to attend Top Gun, Y/n received the same invitation at 27 and therefore Atlas remained at Lemoore with Nat as his temporary guardian. Upon returning life seemed to be hectic with Y/n running mission after mission to the point she considered sending Atlas back to his grandmother. He was now ten and had trouble with the idea of moving. A momma’s boy through and through, the two were very close considering it was only them at one point in life. “No!” He protested, causing her to frown. “I wanna stay here with you. With aunt Tasha and my friends. Please don’t make me go back to grandma’s, momma.”

“Baby, I don’t want you to leave either,” she tells him, pushing away the hair on his forehead. “But I have to go off shore and aunt Tasha might be coming too.”

“Then please ask Jason’s mom if I can stay with them.” Hesitant to ask such a huge favor, Y/n does so for the sake of her son’s happiness. Jason’s mother was an angel, thank God, having no problem with Atlas staying with them whenever both Y/n and Natasha were on assignments. “I owe you big, Gwenyth. I can’t thank you enough for doing this. You’re an absolute lifesaver.”

And so for the next few years Atlas would stay with Jason or another friend’s family during times Y/n and Nat were on missions. It only happened a few times a year, the longest in 2019 when both pilots were called back to Top Gun for a special detachment. Atlas wanted to come with Y/n to San Diego but unfortunately it was in the middle of October during Atlas’ freshmen year of high school. She’d be gone roughly a month with three weeks for training and possibly one for the mission itself. Kissing her son goodbye, promising to call him everyday, Y/n and Nat left for Fightertown.

Coming into the Hard Deck was like deja vu. Dressed in their Service khakis Cloud and Phoenix led Fanboy and Payback into the bar where they met up with Hangman and Coyote, met Natasha’s new backseater, Bob, and reunited with Rooster and Halo. Of all the aviators besides Nat, Y/n only knew Halo coming into the detachment. She only knew Hangman by reputation and Rooster by name through Phoenix. It was the first time meeting everyone else.

When Y/n strolled up to the bar she was met with a bright smile from Penny. “Y/n!” She came around the bar to hug the aviator, “How are you? Gosh it’s been a while—Are you here for the same reason this place is swimming with Top Gun alum?”

Unaware of the Captain sitting at the bar, Y/n smiled back at Penny, “It’s great to see you again, Penny. And yeah, it looks to be that way,” she nods to the group, “Wasn’t told much details, but it must be something big to call that many of us back.”

“How’s your boy? Atlas is fourteen now, right?” At Penny’s question, Maverick’s hand paused as it was bringing his beer glass to his lips. He didn’t know much about his students besides the basics, so this was the first he was hearing one of them had children.

“Yup, God I can’t believe it sometimes. Feels like yesterday he was starting first grade. Now he’s in high school—plans to try out in spring for baseball. He wanted to come with me but it’s currently the middle of the school year.”

Glancing briefly, Mav didn’t find a ring on Cloud’s finger, causing his head to fall. Stress now consumed him tenfold, knowing the details of the mission could very easily have a flag draped coffin as the outcome. Later that night, after getting kicked out of the bar, Mav looked into Y/n’s file to find she was 31, unwed with a teenage son, and had given up parental rights at the beginning of her career before retaining them years later. Doing the math wasn’t hard, Mav piecing together the pilot had her child young. Right there his worst nightmare would be having to face Cloud’s son to tell him his mother died in action.

What should have been a three weeks of training, turned out to be two when the Pentagon received word the uranium plant would be operational earlier than planned. Brutal was the best way to describe the two weeks Y/n endured. Having to push her limits further than anything she’d ever done. At least she could say she pulled 10Gs and survived to say it. In the end she was part of the reserves, going out with Hangman to save Mav and Rooster from a fifth generation fighter.

“Thanks for the backup, Cloud,” Hangman snickered into the coms. “I guess I wouldn't mind having you as my wingman.”

The woman scoffed, but smirked not nemesis, “Please, you were my backup, Seresin.”

“Good eyes up there, Cloud,” Mav complimented. “I owe you big time.”

“Just doing my job, Captain. I’ll see you boys back on deck. And Hangman, I have a three mission rule before accepting candidates for the position of wingman.”

Arriving back to shore, Y/n was shocked to hear a familiar voice calling out, “Mom!” Immediately her eyes landed on Atlas running across the parking lot.

“Atlas?” She grunted when he slammed into her. The 14 year old was nearly as tall as her and full of straight muscle from all the years of sports Y/n had placed him in. Body already sore from the week she had, the impact made her stumble before steadying. Hugging him first, sighing in relief knowing she made it back to him, the pilot pulls away with a look of incredulous, “wha-what are you doing here? Who brought you here?” Before he could answer she looked up to find his best friend Isaac and his parents walking toward them.

“We’re so sorry to show up without warning,” Issac’s father Brian says, nodding to Atlas, “but he grew really worried—we all did, when we couldn’t get a hold of you the last few days. We called the commanding officer and he said you were off shore with the Pacific fleet.”

Y/n mentally cursed, bringing a hand to her nose while apologizing, “I’m so sorry, the cell service on board isn’t good and every time I tried to use the phone on deck there was a line. I’m so sorry for worrying you.”

“We’re just glad you’re okay,” Julie, Issac’s mother told her, smiling softly at Atlas curled into Y/n’s side.

“Thank you for coming all this way—bringing him to me. I’ll compensate you for the gas and time. Gosh, again I’m so sorry.” The couple politely declined, saying it was no trouble at all and to not worry about it. Still, Cloud made a mental note to make it up to them. While Y/n made the arrangements with Issac’s parents to take Atlas back home with her, the teenager sneaked off to find Natasha.

“Aunt Tasha!” The pilot spun around in surprise, a grin forming as she opened up her arms for a hug.

“Hey, little man!” They did their secret handshake after pulling away. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Well you and mom didn’t answer my calls. I thought something bad happened to you two.” His expression indicated he was a little upset. The anxiety the past couple days was nauseating for Atlas, unable to sleep thinking his mom and surrogate aunt by choice were dead.

Nat ruffled his hair, much to his displeasure, “Awe buddy, I’m glad you care about me that much.” Behind the pilot, the guys—minus Mav—appeared as though they suddenly grew two heads, looking between each other as the same questions popped in their mind: ‘Cloud’s got a kid?’

“Will you clowns stop staring and come over here?” Nat rolled her eyes, throwing an arm around Atlas’ shoulder. “Kid I’d like to meet the greatest pilots the Navy has ever seen,” she then lists them off by callsign, “Fellas, this is Atlas L/n. Cloud’s son.” There was an immediate bond between the dagger squad following the mission, and the discovery their colleague had a child—who she had at 17 and the father bailed—resulted in the guys becoming very protective of the two. That night when they celebrated at the hard deck, Y/n found the guys teaching Atlas to play pool and darts while also answering any questions the teenager had. It made her heart sink a bit, longing for Atlas to have that father figure in his life. For 14 years she was both mom and dad. The two amigos against the world.

The men of the dagger squad, including Maverick, became that ‘father figure’ for Atlas, though he referred to them as uncles like Nat was his ‘aunt’. Whenever he needed advice on something Y/n could not give him, one of the guys would be right there for him. Rooster and Atlas bonded over baseball, the two on each other’s team when the whole squad played a game, which was one of the best days the whole group had with each other. “Let’s go, Atlas. Let’s go, my man,” Rooster clapped, edging off of third base as Atlas came up to bat, “Bring me home. You got this.” Y/n was pitcher, giving a mock glare to her son before throwing the ball which Atlas his dead out of the field in a home run. Rooster ran home in glee as he cheered with their team, all waiting for Atlas to arrive back where the pilot lifted him onto his shoulders. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Hangman, much to Y/n’s annoyance, gave Atlas tips on how to pick up women for when he gets older. “The key is to swoon them. Make them feel like they are the only girl in the entire world. Once you do that, you just gotta keep the charm up.”

“Jake, you better not be having my son become a playboy. I will not have it.”

Bob, Fanboy, Payback, and Coyote loved to play games with Atlas, making it a tradition every Saturday night to reserve a few hours to hop online and join Atlas in whatever game they were currently loving. Sometimes it was Call of Duty, other times it was Fortnight (Which mostly occurred during the pandemic), once in a blue moon they would play Among Us for the hell of it or Friday the 13th. On Among Us nights the others, including Y/n, would join in and they’d all use their call signs for their names. Bob and Atlas were an unstoppable imposter duo, always winning whenever they were paired.

“Dammit, not again!”

“Hey, watch the language, Mickey.”

“I still don’t understand what I’m doing.”

“Mav, you gotta just stay alive and defend yourself if you get accused of being the killer.”

2020 was a hard year. One where the team did not meet up in person until nearly a year after lockdown. In the months leading to New Year’s they decided to get together to ring in 2021 together, taking days off and planning in advance. Luckily it worked out, with the team and their partners/families having a blast as they said ‘fuck you, 2020,’ and ‘hello, 2021.’ That night Mav and Y/n were chilling on the back porch of the hard deck while everyone else was dancing and having a good time. The cool breeze was comforting, the two basking in the relaxing tune of the ocean waves.

“I don’t know how you managed to do it,” Maverick said, making Y/n turn to him confused. “Being a single mom so young, getting through college and flight school all on your own and having to make the difficult decision to not have your son with you for four years. I don’t think I could’ve done it. The kid’s lucky to have you, Cloud. You’re an amazing mom and I don’t think you get told that enough.”

Glancing to her feet, Y/n softly smiled, “you know when I found out I was pregnant I was scared out of my mind. Then the man who I thought loved me and would love him walked out, leaving me alone. It felt like I was that little girl again when my dad left and my mom had to pick up the pieces with so many of us,” she paused as the memories flashed in her mind. “My greatest fear was disappointing him—I could’ve never forgiven myself if I did. The first time I held him, and he stared at me with those baby doe eyes, I said, ‘I guess it’s just you and me buddy. You and I against the world.’” In the window she spotted Atlas playing pool with Hangman and Coyote, smiling at the sight. “I used to go through life like it was a constant weight on my shoulders. Then he came along and I felt an endless bliss that never ended—like I was always walking on Cloud Nine. It’s why I named him Atlas, you know,” she turned back to Mav, “after the Greek Titan who holds the heavens and skies. I’m lucky to be his mom. He’s had to sacrifice a lot, had to adapt to things, but managed to stay happy. I’m so grateful everyday he’s never had to deal with what I went through as a kid. He’s happy, and that’s all a mother could ask for.”

Throughout 2021, meet ups with everyone from the dagger squad were roughly every other month. Usually it would be two or three, but not once since the New Year’s party did all of them find themselves under a single roof. They’d all returned to their squadrons or received new assignments. Phoenix and Bob became Top Gun instructors, leaving Y/n in Lemoore. Hangman was still with the Vigilantes, who were also located in Lemoore, and so was Coyote so Y/n saw them the most throughout the year. They came to Atlas’ baseball games and even house sitted when Y/n was on missions. Fanboy, Payback, and Rooster were back in Virginia, but often called to check in every once in a while. The team also had a group chat which was great when planning get togethers.

2022 was to be a big year. Atlas was turning 17 and would graduate high school with a full ride to UCLA in the fall. Y/n was beyond proud, literally on cloud 9 when he told her the news. She also finally allowed herself to open her heart to someone near the end of 2021, connecting with a nice man who was a civilian contractor. For months they saw each other before making it official. Not long after, about halfway through April, both were rendered speachless by the results of a certain test. Y/n was scared shitless again, but this time she didn’t have to worry about him walking out on her because he was more excited than her, spinning her around with joy. Atlas happened to walk in at that moment, saw the test, and nonchalantly said, “I hope it’s a boy. I’ve always wanted a brother,” playfully giving a disappointed look to Y/n, he added, “Thanks for waiting till I’m about to leave to do so.”

Nat was the first person she called, the pilot screaming into the phone, “Oh my God! Oh my God, Cloud! This is amazing—I’m so happy for you! Holy shit!”

“Don’t tell anyone!” Y/n laughed over her screams. “I wanna tell them when we’re all together next month!” To celebrate Atlas’ impending graduation, the team had all planned to meet in Fightertown to have a pre-celebration. Everyone was excited, taking leave just to travel for the weekend.

Never did they anticipate the tragedy that laid ahead.

On a warm late spring evening in San Diego, just as the sun was starting to set, Phoenix, Bob, Payback, Fanboy, Hangman, Coyote, and even Hondo gathered in their usual corner exchanging hugs and greetings before starting the night with a round of beers.

“When are the others getting here?” Payback asked, settling on a stool while Bob and Mickey racked up a game of pool.

“Cloud and Atlas are staying in TLF on base,” Phoenix explained, “They got in about an hour ago and said they’d be on their way once they settled in. Rooster’s picking up Mav—he texted me he’d be leaving in fifteen or so.”

And so they waited. The bar wasn’t too crowded yet, however some people were already pissed drunk. Many of course were servicemen, including the new Top Gun students. One guy was kicked out and another Penny had to take his keys, telling him to call an Uber.

Unfortunately, those at the bar missed how he took them back when Penny was occupied with a customer…….A grave and ill-fated mistake.

Thirty minutes later and still the four the group were waiting for hadn't shown. Checking her phone, Phoenix saw Cloud had messaged her at about 7:55 saying she was on the way with Atlas. Rooster’s message was just five minutes before saying he got Mav and should be there in ten. The bar wasn’t too far from base, so hypothetically all of them should have arrived. Dialing Y/n, Phoenix waited for her to answer, but it went to voicemail after several rings. She then dialed Atlas. Again, no answer. Next was Rooster and Mav. No answer.

Not wanting to jump to conclusions, Phoenix decided to try again in a few minutes in case they were just around the corner. Maybe they got all the red lights. Maybe Y/n had to stop for gas. Maybe Rooster wasn’t in the mood for bar food and got fast food on the way. Nat didn’t want to worry herself, so she put her phone back down on the table and watched the game.

Ten minutes later Pheonix feels her stomach start to flip, “Something doesn't feel right.” The words aloud strengthened her intuition, the air around became unsettling. Dialing Y/n again and trying to keep a calm demeanor, Nat cursed when it went to voicemail again.

“What are you talking about, Trace?” Jake said, standing straight after taking his turn on the pool table. By now everyone’s attention was on the former Black Ace.

“It’s been over half an hour, and they’re still not here,” tapping Atlas’s contact, she pressed the phone to her ear, each ring making her nerves rise. “And no one’s answering,” she dropped the phone to the table, Atlas not answering the call.

Bob came over, dialing Rooster on behalf of Nat, “Maybe the car broke down. I’m sure they are almost here. Let’s not think ahead of ourselves.”

“I don’t—,” Nat waves a hand in front of her, closing her eyes to calm her breathing, “I don’t want to think of the worst…but they should've already walked through the door. None of them are answering—Cloud always answers and if she can’t she texts me to let me know and calls me back the second she can. I-I—-.” The words fall flat when Nat opens her eyes to see Penny, pale-faced and clutching her belly, approach the team. “Penny.”

The guys turn to see the woman, inhaling deeply as they take in her state. Blue green eyes were glossy, her hands were shaking as they hovered over her stomach.

Payback stood from his seat, breaking the silence no one seemed to want to do, “What’s going on, Penny?”

Her voice was low, cracking as she said, “Y-You guys need to come outside. Right now. Mav a-and Rooster are waiting for you.” Relief came at the news Mav and Rooster were there, but did nothing to settle the unease regarding Cloud and Atlas.

Nat was the first on her feet, practically racing out the door and not missing the fact a police officer entered looking completely distressed. The anxiety was nearly crippling, becoming numb as Nat threw open the doors of the Hard Deck—the others following behind, where they all froze at the sight of Mav and Rooster beside the police car in a state of agony.

Like they’d just witnessed someone die.

Nat felt the bile surface in her mouth, swallowing it with a loud gulp as she pointed an accusatory finger at the pilots, “What is that?” No one could miss the large dark red stains painting Mav’s white tee, Rooster’s Hawaiian shirt, their jeans and hands. If it even remotely belonged to them, they’d be hauling ass to the hospital.

But they weren’t injured. And it wasn’t their blood.

Nat made a pained sound, water lining her eyes at their reaction. Behind her Bob’s knees buckled, as did Fanboy’s and they lowered themselves to the ground. Hondo covered his mouth, Hangman grasped his hair while Coyote and Payback seemed to shake their heads like they didn’t want to accept the silent answer.

They were only missing two people.

“Bradshaw,” Nat hissed, anger now in her tone. She didn’t know why she was angry, but it was the first emotion she felt. “Who’s. blood. is. that?” She took a step with each word, still pointing at his stained shirt, daring Rooster to tell the truth. Deep down she wished it could be a lie, but alarm bells took over her entire body. “Tell me right now.”

Knowing Rooster was in no state to talk, Mav gently came in front of Phoenix, willing himself to stay composed. “There’s been an accident….Y-Y/n and Atlas are en route to UC San Diego,” he pauses to take a shaky breath, making Nat’s stomach plummet. “I won’t lie to you—to any of you. It-it doesn’t look good, o-okay. Rooster and I w-were coming around the corner and saw it happen—we think it was a drunk driver. They were struck head on. We got them o-out and stayed until the ambulance came.”

Now it made sense why a cop was at the bar. If it was a drunk driver who hit them, it was likely they came from the Hard Deck. Phoenix vaguely remembered seeing Penny take away a guy's key cause he was plastered. Never would she allow someone to drink at her bar and get behind the wheel.

Nat’s breath caught in her throat, tears slowly falling down her cheeks, “How bad, Mav? How bad is it?” Judging by his reaction, he didn’t want to say—a haunted look in his eyes. It only made Nat angry.

“How about we go to the hospital, okay? That way the doctors can tell us—.”

“Goddammit, Mav, she’s pregnant!” The only ones who didn’t react with absolute shock were Mav and Rooster, meaning Y/n had to have told them. She had to have been awake when they pulled her out. Her voice cracked again, “S-she’s pregnant. She was planning to tell everyone tonight,” she ended the sentence with a sob. “Oh God, don’t tell me they’re dead. N-No!”

Letting his own tears fall, Mav gently pulled Phoenix into a hug, careful not to let any of the blood stain her clothes. While the two were embraced, Hangman pleaded to Maverick, “Just please tell us right now they were alive when you pulled them out.” Rooster is the one to give the answer, finally speaking after staying silent for so long.

“Cloud passed out right when the ambulance pulled up,” he pauses to let them take it in…before giving the devastating news. “Atlas wasn’t breathing.”

“Oh my God,” Bob hurried to the trash can, feeling like he was about to spill his guts. Nat let out a muffled scream into Mav’s chest, already feeling the loss of her nephew. In tears Fanboy muttered, “Fuck,” as did Coyote. Hangman sank to his knees, while Hondo and Payback looked to the sky in a silent prayer.

“The paramedics were working to get it back,” Mav assured, but it was to no avail. “Let’s all go to the hospital and be there for them. That’s all we can do now.”

No one was in the right mind to drive themselves so Ubers were called. The whole way everyone was quiet or silently crying. Mav had the difficult job of calling Cyclone, who would in turn get in touch with Y/n’s commanding officer, who would then relay the news to her family.

Rooster couldn’t stop replaying the crash.

He’d just picked up Mav, the two catching up as they drove to the bar when they approached a red light in a four-way intersection. They would have turned left once they got the green light, so they waited patiently for it to change. Both had turned forward just in time to witness a silver Hyundai Sonata get completely rammed head on by a speeding black Ford truck as they were coming into the clear intersection. The force of the impact crushed their hood, pushing the poor little Sonata back until it spun away and rolled once over.

“Holy shit!” Without hesitation Rooster and Mav flung the doors of the Bronco open, racing to the Sonata as fast as they could. They could see gas spilling from the car, a tell tale sign it could explode given it was still running. The windshield was destroyed, the front bumper nonexistent. As Rooster used all his strength to get the driver’s door open, the two were met with a gruesome discovery when it finally opened to reveal the bloody and bruised face of their friend they were just minutes from seeing at the bar. “Oh—oh my God,” Bradley furiously worked to unbuckle her seatbelt, “Oh God, Cloud.”

The entire left side of Y/n’s face was covered in blood, spilling from the nasty contusion on her temple. Judging by the crack on the driver’s window they put it together her head collided with it. The other half they could make out pieces of glass from the windshield embedded into her skin. Burns from the airbag and seatbelt were visible on her neck. Her right arm was at a bad angle, so was her left leg which was being crushed due to the hood caving in. And that was only what they could initially see, not counting what internal injuries she sustained.

Coughing, which came out more like a wheeze because her chest was on fire, Y/n put all her energy into saying, “G-get him o-out. M-Mav-M-av…Atlas—get A-atlas out. Please.” The Captain cursed, remembering the boy was with her. The shock from discovering it was Cloud in the car made his entire being blank. Now adrenaline kicked in and he was rushing around the car to get the boy out. With the car running and gas spilling it could blow at any second. They needed to get them out fast and far away from the vehicle.

Rooster hated having to cause pain to Cloud, but her legs were broken and stuck so he had to do what was needed for her to have a chance at surviving. “Baby, put your arm around me okay—I’m gonna drag you out. It’s gonna hurt but I promise I’m gonna make it quick. On the count of three,” Weak and pushing herself to stay awake, Y/n put her good arm around Bradley’s neck, leaning into him when his own went under her thighs and around her back. A light scream escaped her followed by a choked gasp. Rooster apologized, “I know, I know, baby. I’m sorry. On the count of three, Cloud—okay, one…..two….three!” All his strength and adrenaline combined helped him get Y/n out of the vehicle, the woman screaming in his ear. He ran all the way to the Bronco, noticing more people had stopped to help. Some guys in flight suits were attending to the driver of the truck and another man was with Mav, taking a crowbar to open the door to Atlas.

Setting Y/n down as gently as he could, Rooster hurried to get his phone from the car, dialing 9-1-1 in a flash. Y/n was shaking from the pain, Rooster unable to imagine what she was going through. He took her hand in his, kneeling beside her as the operator answered, “9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“My-my friend and her son have been in an accident. They were crossing the intersection just off the freeway heading away from NAS Fallon. We’re about two miles from the Hard Deck bar,” Rooster looked up to find Maverick and the good samaritan dragging Atlas’ limp body toward them. “A black truck was speeding and crashed straight into them. I don’t know about the other driver—bu-but my friend and her son are badly hurt. We need an ambulance here immediately.” Y/n squeezed Rooster’s hand, gasping for air, causing him to look back at her. It broke his heart to see her so scared. “Help is coming, Cloud. Just hang in there.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Rooster’s stomach dropped at the sight of Maverick performing chest compressions on Atlas. “What’s happening, Mav?”

The teenager looked worse than his mother. Nearly unrecognizable by the injuries sustained to his face, The airbag no doubt broke his nose, glass coated his skin, both his legs were bent awkwardly, and a small piece of metal impaled his side. Then Mav gave a grim look, shaking his head, “he’s not breathing.”

“W-what?” Y/n wheezed, pulling Rooster’s attention again. She saw the blood drain from his face, the man pushing her cheek so she couldn’t view the scene behind him. “He—h-he’s not..breathing? Roo—.”

“Cloud, keep your eyes on me,” he gently cradled her cheek, not caring blood was getting all over him. Rooster didn’t want his friend to see the state of her son, especially when it wasn’t looking good for him. Y/n kept calling for Atlas, sobbing when he didn’t answer her. Rooster was having difficulty keeping composure, “Mav is with him—he won’t leave his side. I promise you. Just stay focused on me.”

“Is her son not breathing, sir?” the operator’s worried tone made him blink, forgetting he was on the phone with 9-1-1.

“N-no, no he’s not. My Godfather is currently doing CPR.”

“Paramedics are enroute, have him keep doing compressions until they take over.” Rooster relays the information, all while trying to calm Y/n as she starts to cry.

“My b-baby,” she groans as a new wave of excruciating pain consumes her body. “Roo—ba-baby.”

Thinking she was referring to Atlas, Bradley shushes her, “Your baby is right here, Y/n. Mav is with him—he’s not going anywhere.”

“C’mon kid,” he heard Mav grunt between compressions, “Stay with us. Breath, Atlas. Breath, kid, c’mon!” In the distance sirens could be heard.

“N-no!” Y/n cries suddenly, good hand going to her stomach at the feeling of her womb being torn to shreds, followed by the feeling of moisture in her underwear. Rooster saw the action, look of horror on his face as Y/n kept repeating, “Ba-by. My bab-y. It hurts. Roo it hu-rts.”

“Fuck,” he pulled the phone away, tears springing his eyes. “Oh God.” Hand shaking so bad, he didn’t know how he managed to bring the phone back to his mouth, “My friend just told me she’s pregnant and she’s having pain in her lower abdomen.” The sirens were getting louder, and Y/n’s eyes started to flutter causing Rooster to panic.

“Cloud, stay awake. Don’t close your eyes yet, the paramedics are almost here,” he lightly slapped her cheek, the pilot groaning.

“M-my head hur-urts, Roo. Ev-everything hurts,” Clouds good hand went to her temple, coating it in blood as she winced and shivered. “I feel…I feel tired Roo. My-my head hurts so bad.”

Rooster’s swallowed, holding back the tears threatening to fall. Words could not describe the agony consuming him that his friend, who likely just lost her baby, was dying and her son was too. “I-I know, baby. I know it hurts—but Y/n you gotta stay awake. You gotta stay strong for Atlas,” her eyes were still fluttering, but at the mention of her son she took in a choked breath. Rooster could tell she was fighting back the urge to fall asleep. “That’s it, Cloud. Just keep your eyes open. We’re gonna get you and Atlas to the hospital and you two are gonna be okay.”

As the ambulances pulled up, Rooster stayed by Y/n’s side while they worked to get Atlas on the stretcher. Mav came over to them when the paramedics took over, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder while they encouraged her to stay awake. “It’s gonna be okay, Cloud. You guys are going to be in good hands.”

An oxygen mask was placed over Y/n’s nose, the EMT’s strapping her to the stretcher. Rooster continued to hold her hand until they were ready to place her in the ambulance, bending down to leave a gentle kiss on her forehead not covered by glass or blood. “We'll be right behind you, Cloud. We’re gonna go get the others and be right by your side.” The second Rooster finished his sentence, Y/n succumbed to exhaustion. Letting the sleep finally take over.

It unnerved Rooster and Maverick when she did lose consciousness, fear surfacing at the possibility she would never wake up. It lingered the entire time they were at the Hard Deck delivering the news and when they arrived at the hospital. By the time they arrived, Warlock and Cyclone were already there and the entire former detachment was escorted into a private room. Penny arrived roughly ten minutes later and the waiting game commenced.

In the corner Maverick was talking with the Admirals, Cyclone telling him, “I got in touch with her commanding officer. He’s on his way from Lemoore and her mother is on a flight to SAN and should be arriving around two-thirty close to three. I’ll send someone to pick her up and bring her straight here.”

Everyone was restless. It was pushing 10 pm and they hadn’t heard anything. They weren’t sure to see that as a good or bad thing. Jake and Javy were kind enough to bring coffee for everyone from the cafeteria, but hardly anyone smiled in thanks.

At around midnight the entire room stood from their seats when the doors opened, a doctor, a nurse, and a lady dressed in a suit. All three wore solemn expressions, enough to make Nat and Penny lose it right there while the Admirals dropped their heads, and the guys lost it after the heartbreaking news was announced.

“I’ve been told you all are here for Lieutenant Y/n L/n and her son Atlas on behalf of her family who are currently traveling from out of state. I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this. The boy was pronounced dead on arrival—the blood loss and the impact alone was too severe. In regards to Lieutenant L/n…we did everything we could, but the injury to her head was catastrophic. There’s no brain activity. I’m so sorry.”

Nat doesn’t remember screaming and collapsing into Rueben’s arms, the two sinking to the ground as she pleads it was a lie and her best friend and nephew were alive. “NO! No-no-nooo!!!” She rammed a first against paybacks chest, the man a complete mess as he let, “Oh God, please no—not them!” But she did.

Bob doesn’t remember sinking to his knees, letting out a broken sob as the doctor continued to say Y/n was on life support and they were awaiting her mother to sign off on pulling the plug. But he did.

Mickey doesn’t remember sliding down the wall, curling into a ball on the ground while silently praying it was all a dream. But he did.

Bradley doesn’t remember kicking a chair into a wall and throwing a cup of coffee against another, “Fuck!!” He just kept cursing. But he did.

Jake doesn’t remember asking about the driver who caused the accident and was pulled away by Maverick, Hondo and Coyote when he attempted to go after him after discovering he was alive and well, “that bastard gets to breath while Cloud and her kids are in the fucking ground!? Dammit let me go! He fucking deserves to be dead-not them!” But he did.

Three lives. Three lives were taken by a senseless tragedy. All because some idiot decided to steal back his keys when he knew he shouldn’t have been driving.

Y/n would never get to have her baby. Never would she be able to share the immense love like she had for Atlas with them.

Her baby, who they discovered was going to be a boy, would never live the life he was supposed to have.

And Atlas would never make it to his high school graduation. Never experience college or fall in love. His life was cut short at the young age of 17. The same age his mother was when she brought him into the world.

For hours they stayed at the hospital and grieved together until Y/n’s heart stopped beating. Her mother arrived, broken and in despair, signing the papers with shaky hands. While her mother remained in the room, holding Y/n’s hand, the squad and admirals plus Penny stayed outside. Nat, Jake, Maverick, Rooster, and Cyclone were the only ones to look through the window at Y/n’s sleeping figure. The others couldn't bring themselves to face the scene, but the door was open for them to hear the steady beep of her slowing heart until only silence was heard.

Using all her strength to be composed, Nat came into the room and stood beside Y/n’s bed. The others watched as she leaned down to kiss her bandaged forehead. Nat’s lips quivered, but she mustered the ability to whisper, “you’re safe now, Y/n, go be with them okay?” Nat stoked her best friends hair, “Atlas is waiting for you in the clouds. We’ll take it from here.”

The day of the funeral the sky was covered in gray clouds, a light drizzle pouring down and mixing with the tears of those in attendance. Three white caskets laid ahead; one draped with an American flag, another covered in black sharpie writing with farewell messages from classmates and friends, and the last smallest in size.

Friends and teammates of Atlas’ high school baseball team were his pallbearers. Y/n’s boyfriend, Maverick, Fanboy, Bob, Coyote, Hangman, Payback, and Rooster carried her casket. And Nat, Halo, Y/n’s childhood best friend, and sister held the baby’s.

Y/n’s portrait of her in her Dress Whites stood in front of her casket, as did Atlas’ senior portrait in front of his. A lone teddy bear Y/n had picked out the day after discovering she was pregnant was placed on top of the tiny casket reserved for her unborn baby.

Nat held it together when it came time for her to pin Y/n’s wings into the casket, but the second she lifted her hand to salute as the guns fired off in the distance, the tears flowed at the sight of the sun breaking through the cloundbank. Earth’s atmosphere clearing to allow safe passage for the souls waiting to crossover at the right time. The rain seized, a rainbow in its wake as the clouds turned from gray to white before slowly dispersing into a clear blue sky.

A small smile formed on Phoenix’s lips, a weight lifting off her shoulders. She knew it was all going to be okay.

They were all together. In a place that was bigger than the whole sky.

………………..

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001

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